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THE

OR K S

EDMUND SPENSER

TEL

J, ' )

W © IE K S

M UMD SFEH SEE

OB" HIS

KXILCOJl^MAH' CASTJLE.

PHILAJDEIPHIA.
"W^ILLltJ P. HAZAjRU. 190 CHESTKITT ST

THE

WORKS

EDMUND SPENSER

WITH OBSERVATIONS

H^S LIFE AND WRITINGS.

A NEW EDITION.

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUMK.

PHILADELPHIA:
WILLIS P. HAZARD, 190 CHESTNUT STREET.

1857.

CONTENTS.

Observations on the Life and Writings of E'Imunci
Spenser ... 3

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

A LeUc-r of the Author's expounding his whole

intention in the course of this worke . 3

Verses to the Autlior of the Faerie Queene 5

Sonnets addressed by the Author . • 6

BOOK I.

The Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse,
or of Holinesse.

Canto L

14
18
22
27
31
36
40
45
49
55
60

101

106

113

117

Canto

• • •

Canto

IlL .

Canto

IV,

Canto

V. .

Canto

VIL

Canto

VII L

« • »

Canto

IX.

Canto

X. .

Canto

XI.

Canto

XII.

BOOK II.

The

Legend

of Sir Guyon, or of Ten

Canto

, ,

Canto

IL .

Canto

III.

« • •

Canto

IV.

Canto

• • •

Canto

VI.

Canto

VIL

• • •

Canto

VIII.

Canto

IX.

• • •

Canto

X. .

Canto

, • ,

Canto

XIL

BOOK III.

The Legend of Britomartis, or of C

Canto

1. .

Canto

» • •

Canto

IIL

Canto

IV.

• • •

Canto

V. .

Canto

• • •

( anto

VIL

Ciinto

VI IL

Canto

IX.

Ciinto

^ ^

Cnnto

Canio

xn.

astity.

126
132
136
142
147
152
157
162
167
171
177
182

BOOK IV.
The Legend of Canibel and Tri&mond
ship
I.

Canto
Canto
Canto
Canto
Canto
Canto
(,'anto
Canto
Canto
Canto
Canto
Canto

IL .

IIL

IV.

VIL

VIII.

IX.

X. .

XIL

BOOK V.

The Legend of Artegall,

Canto

Canto IL .

Canto III.

Canto IV.

Canto V.

Canto VI. .

Can to VII.

Canto VIII.

Canto IX.

Canto X. .

Canto XL

Canto XIL

or of Friend-

18''
191

196
201
205
209
213
217

231

or of Justice.

241
244
248
252
2.56
261
•26b
269
273
278
281
287

BOOK VI.

The Legend of Sir Calidore, or of Courlesie

Canto I.

Cauto II

Canto

C>.into

Canto

IIL

IV. .

VI. .

VIL

VIIL

IX.

X. .

XIL

Two Cantos of Mutabilitie ; which, both
for form and matter, appear to be parccd
of .some following Booke of the Faerie
Queene, under the Legend of Constancie

Canto VI.

Canto VII.

Canto VIIL unperfite

292
296
300
305
308
312
316
320
325
329
333
3S7

342
347
358

CONTENTS.

MISCELLANIES.

Colin Clouts Corue Home Againo

Virgils Gnat . . ._ .

The Slieplieards Calender: containing
Twelve Aeglogues, proportionable to
tlie Twelve Monthes
FOWKE IIVMNES.

An Hyinne in Honor of Love .

An Ilymne in Honor of Beautie .

An Hymne of Heavenly Love.

An Hvmne of Heavenly Beautie .
THREE VISIONS.

The Visions of Petrarch

The Visions of Belhiy . .

Visions of the Worlds Vanitie.
Prosopopoia : or, Mother Hubberds Tale
Prothalamion : or, .1 Spousall Verse
Epithaiamion

Poems . • •

Amoretti : or Sonuets

Sonnets collected from the Original Pub-
lications in which they appeared
Daphnaida: an Elegy upon the Death of

thenobleand vertuous Douglas Howard
Astrophel : a Pastoral Elegie, upon the
Dfidth Of the mosi noble and valorous
knight, Sir Philip Sidney .

35S
361

368

391
394
397
399

402
403
405

4or

418
420
423

424

435
436

441

The Doleful Lay of Clorinda . 443

The Mourning Muse of Thestylis . 444
A Pastorall Aeglogue upon the Death of Sir

Phillip Sidney, Knight, &c. , 447

An Elegy '• or, Friends Passion for his

Astrophel . . . 448
An Epitaph upon the Right Hon. Sir

Phillip Sidney, Knight. . 45J

Another of the Same . . 451

The Teares of the Muses . 43a

The Ruir.es of Rome . . 458

'J he Ruines of Time . 462
Muiopotmos ; or, the Fate of the Butter-

flie . . . 468

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

Canto I. . 473

Canto II . .47.1

Canto 111. . . 475

Canto IV. . c , . 476

Canto V. . . 477

Canto VI. . . . . 478

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND 479

GLOSSARY.

OBSERVATIONS

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS

EDMUND SPENSER.

EULOGY ON SPENSER.

FROM SHAKESPEARES PASSIONATE PILGRIM.

" If Mnsick and sweet Poetry agree,

As they must needs, the sister and the brother.
Then must tlie love be great 'twixt thee and me.
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.—
DowLAND to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ;
Spenser, to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence :
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That PhcEbus' lute, the Queen of Musick, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign,
One knight loves both, and both ia thee remain."

WiiiTERS on English Literature are unanimous in assigning to the reign of Elizabeth,
the title of the Augustan age; an application in every way just, as, to her encourage-
ment and example may be attributed the revival of letters in this country. From the
death of Chaucer to the birth of Spenser, a period of nearly two centuries, but few, and
those not important names had been added to the records of our literary history. The
writings of Gower, Occleve, Lydgate, and Caxton, witli some few monkish legends, and the
poems of Surrey, Wyatt, and Sackville, may be enumerated as among the chief addi-
tions to our poetry during that stormy period when the pubhc mind was agitated by
the struggles between the followers of the Church of Rome, and the advocates of the

OBSERVATIONS ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS

Reformation, In every age and country, religious dissensions have been unfavourable
to tlie proixress of Literature ; and to these continued troubles may be ascribed its
utter prostration in England at the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth. Her
accession was hailed with no common feeling of enthusiasm by both the court and the
people, who, weary of the merciless exactions of lier father from which the reign of the
yoiithful Edward proved but a transient relief^ and groaning beneath the bigotry and san-
guinary persecutions of her sister, beheld in their new (;ueen the harbinger of a happier
season ; nor were these hopes disappointed. During the strict seclusion in Avhich she
had been detained by Mary, Elizabeth had acquired, under the able tuition of tlie
erudite and elegant minded Ascham, no small share of those intellectual acquirements
which are usually confined to the sterner sex. Thus nurtured, her inclinations naturally
leaned to the society of those who were conspicuous for either talent or learning : from
among these she selected her counsellors, and, aided by their willing co-operation, laid the
foundation of that impulse to literature which has increased rather than diminished
under every succeeding sovereign. The forty-five years of her reign must be regarded
as the brightest epoch of our national history, and may challenge the annals of Europe
to rival the galaxy of men, so illustrious in arms and arts, who flourished under her
auspices. It is a period which, of all others, has a peculiar charm for the sympathies
of youth ; and though in after years reason and experience may in some degree temper
the warmth of our imaginations, and dispose us to contemplate the character of Elizabeth
m a more just and less romantic light, it must ever retain an especial place in our regards,
as the age which produced such men as Spenser, Raleigh, Sidney, and Shakspeare.
The life and writings of Spenser, " the fascinating poet of Faerie Land," and one of the
fairest ornaments of this era, the following observations are designed to illustrate.

When Sir James Mackintosh was invited by a body of London Booksellers to super-
intend an edition of the Poets, from Chaucer to Cowley, he characterized the life of
Spenser as one which would offer no little difficulty, on account of the paucity of mate-
rials for its execution. This difficulty has certainly not been removed ; but though, un-
able to present the reader with any new facts relating to the " Prince of Poets of his
time, we may, perhaps, while condensing the existing information, so guide him to the
beauties of our author, as to obviate the necessity of wading through the more voluminous
labours of Todd and Warton.

Edmund Spenser, styled the " Sunrise," as Chaucer was the " Day Starre," of
English poetry, was born in the year 1553, in East Smithfield,— in

" Merry London, my most kindly nurse,

That to me gave this life's first native source,
Though from another j)lace I take my name,
A house of ancient fame."

Although frequently referrmg in his poems to his gentle birth, and claiming in some
of his dedications consanguinity with the noble house of Spencer, of his parentage he has
left us no record. The university of Cambridge had the honour of his education ; and
•hough the history of his college life partakes of the same obscurity that envelopes his
origm, it has been ascertained that he was admitted a sizar of Pembroke Hall, May 20,

OF EUMUiN'D SPf:\SER.

J569,— that he took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, June 16, 1572-3,— and that of
Master of Arts, June 26, 1576.

We o-ather from their correspondence, that he here became intimate with the learned,
but pedantic, Gabriel Harvey, of Christclmrch ; and to his critical opinions, although
occasionally fantastic, he seems to h.ive paid great deference*. During his residence at
Cambridge, he gave evidence of his poetical abilities, and was well known to his fellow-
students as avotary of the Muses, having contributed, although anonymously, several poems
to tlie " Theatre of Worldlings," pulilished in 1569. But his hopes of further advance-
ment at the university having been annihilated, in consequence of a quarrel with the master
of the society to which he beloni^ed, respecting some preferment unjustly conferred upon a
rival, he withdrew to the North of Eugknd, where he lived as tutor in the family of one
of his relatives. In this retirement he i)ecanie enamoured of the " vviddowe's daughter of
the glenne," a lady of no common accomiJishments, whom he has celebrated in his
poems, under the name of Rosaliuti. In one of the notes to "The Shepheards
Calendar," she is said to have been one " that for her rare and singular gifts of person and
mind, Spenser need not h.ive been ashamed to love." Nor was she insensible of her
lover's merit; for, according to Harvey, " gentle Mistresse Rosalinde once reported him
to have all the intelligences at commandnient, and another time christened him Signor
Pegaso." — To this attachment we aie indebted tor many of his sweetest productions. He
seems to have loved with the most fervent ardour; and has imparted to the strains in
which he sang the praises of his mistress, a tone of tender entreaty inexpressibly beautiful.
Of this aflair, too little is known ; but the very mysteiy in which it is enshrined, has
thrown around the tradition of the poet's first love, all the " strong interest of reality,
and all the charm of romance and poetry." But the passion which gave birth to so
many exquisite lyrics was doomed to be unt a day-dream ; the aftections of Rosalind
were transferred to another, the Menilcas of the Shepheards Calendar; and Spenser
poured forth in tuneful numbers his complaint, " how he was forsaken unfaithfully;
and in his stead another received disloyally."

Having removed to London at the suggestion of Harvey, he there published the
Shepheards Calendar in 1579. This Poem, which is composed in a style of language,
nearly obsolete in the age in which it was written, is therefore accompanied by a glosse
or commentary, which was furnished, together with an introductory letter to Harvey, by
E. K., respecting whose identity many ingenious -conjectures have been hazarded; but
every attempt at his discovery has been ineffectual : that he was an intimate and partial
friend of the author, is evident.

As a Pastoral, the value of the ^hephean's Calendar is considerably diminished, by
being written in a quaint and antiquated dialect, and by the frequent satire on ecclesias-

" Harvey," says D'Israeli, in those curious and entertaining volumes, " The Calamities of Authors," " is
not unknown to the lover of poetry, from his lonn. ciion with Spenser, who loved and revered Lira. He
IS the Hob^nol, whose poem is prefixed to the Faerie Queene, who introduced Spenser to Sir Philip
Sidney, and besides his intimacy with the literary characters of his time, be was a Doctor of Laws, aa
erudite scholar, 'and distingui^hed as a poet." The most remarkable feature of his life was his quarrel with
Nash, Greene, and the most ' pregnant; Luciuaic wits who ever flourished at one time,' " for aa account of
which, see the work quoted above.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE LIKE AND WRITINGS

tical matters, certainly incongruous in the mouths of tlie rustic heroes, who have been
not inaptly styled by Campbell, " parsons in disguise." Tlie consequence of this
obtrusion of Church Polemics into tlie simplicity of rural affairs has been, that the
Ecloo-ues for May, July, and September, are anything but Pastorals, Indep ndent,
however of these blemishes, the poem is enriched with many passages of tx.|Uisite
beauty ; and in the Eclogues for January, June, October, and December, the descriptions
of nature are minute and luxuriant, and may be cited as among the sweetest specimens
of their class, extant in our language. Dryden and Pope have bestowed upon it tiieir
most emphatic applause; and tlie former has not hesitated to place it in the same rank
with the writings of Theocritus or Virgil. The novelty of its subject and its style ; it
being the first poem of the kind pu])lished in I'ngland, with the exception, perhaps, of
Lord Buckhurst's " Induction and Legend of Henry Duke of Buckingham"* (the allego-
rical pictures of which, in the opinion of Warton, " are so beautifully drawn, that in all
probability they contributed to direct, or at least to stimulate, Spenser's imagination"),
excited universal attention; and such was its popularity that, during the author's life
time, it passed through no less than five editions. It is supposed that some political
passages in these poems, especially the alhisions to Abp. Grindall, in the Eclogue for
April, excited the wrath of the great Burghley, the effects of which had no inconsiderable
influence on the Poet's after-life. In vain he distinguished the minister with the most
flattering adulation in one of the sonnets prefixed to the Faerie Queene : the mighty
Peere remained implacable ; and it is doubtless to the loss of this noble's " grace" that he
alludes in the following terse and pregnant lines from Mother Hubberds Tale :

" Most miserable man, whom wicked fate
Hath brouL;ht to court, to sue, for had-ywist.
That few liatli found, and many one hath mist !
Full little kiiowest thou, that hast not tride.
What hell it is, in suing long to bide:
To loose good dayes, tliat might be better spent;
To wast long nights in pensive discontent ;

To speed to-day, to be put buck to-morrow ; ■

To feede on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow ;
To have thy princes grace, yet waiit her peeres ;
To Lave thy asking, yet waite manie yeares ;
To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares ;
To eate thy heart through comforilesse despaires ;
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne :
To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.
Unha{)pie wight, borne to desastrous end,
That doth his life in so long tendance sjjend !"

But if the Shepheards Calendar procured for its author a powerful enemy, on the other
hand it secured him some no less powerful friends. Tiie poem, partly written at Pens-
hurst, was dedicated to Sir Philip Sidney, who, from this period to the close of his

• Published in " The Mirror for Magistrates," 1.559 — a collection of stories by different authors, on the
plan of IJoccaccio's " De Casihus Virorum Illustrium." Of this Induction and Legend, Hallam.iii his In-
troduction to the Literature of Europe, says, " It displays a feriility of imagination, vividness of description,
and streno'th of language, not only superior to the productions of any of his predecessors, but will beat
conij)arison with some of the most jioetical passages of Spenser."

OF EDMUND SPENSER.

career, continued the kind protector of Spenser, and obtained for him the countenance
and support of his uncle the Earl of Leicester. By Leicester, Spenser was received
into his house, for the furtherance, no doubt, of some literary undertaking ; probably
to assist in the composition of the" Stemmata Dwc^/em/m," an account of the Earl's
genealogy, on which, in one of his letters, the Poet states himself to have been em-
ployed in 1580. About July in the same year, he was indebted to his patron for an
appointment as secretary to Arthur Lord Grey de Wilton, then nominated Lord Deputy
of Ireland, which situation he held during the two years of that nobleman's administra-
tion. Lord Grey's measures with the Irish were energetic and severe, — so much so, as
to have induced his recall to England : and to this event Spenser alludes in his Faerie
Queene, when describing Artegall returning from the succour of Irene, as leaving his

labours incomplete : —

" But, ere be could reform it thoroughly,
He through occasion called was away
To Faerie Court, that of necessity
His course of iustice he was forst to stay."

Many years afterwards, he appeared as the advocate of Lord Grey ; and in his elaborate
" View of the State of Ireland," has successfully vindicated his measures and his reputa-
tion. In 1586, through the combined influence of this nobleman, the Earl of Leicester,
and Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser received a grant of 3028 acres of land in the county of Cork,
being a portion of the forfeited estates of the rebel earls of Desmond. This was tlie last
kindntss which he received from his generous friend and patron Sir Philip Sidney. On the
2'2d of September of the same year, this accomplished scholar, — this gallant knight, — this
'• flowre of chivalrie," received his death-wound before the walls of Zutphen, in Guelder-
land, while nobly fighting the battles of the Protestant religion. He lingered till the
17th October, when he expired in the arms of his secretary and friend, Mr. William
Temple. By the tenor of the grant, our poet was compelled to reside on his newly-
acquired property, and accordingly fixed his residence at Kilcolman castle, about two
miles distant from Doneraile. Although now presenting a very different aspect, this
spot seems to have offered considerable attractions to a man of Spenser's temperament.
The castle was situated on an elevation, on the north side of a fine lake, in the midst of
an extensive plain, whose horizon was terminated by the distant mountains of Waterford,
Ballyhoura, Nagle, and Kerry. The views from its site are most delightfid ; and in
Spenser's time, when the adjacent uplands were wooded, it must have been a most plea-
sant and romantic situation, to which we no doubt are indebted for many of tliose glowing
descriptions of forest and pastoral scenery, with which his writings so richly abound.
'I he river Mulla flowed through his grounds. In this congenial retreat, enlivened by the
society of Sir Walter Raleigh, who had succeeded Sidney as his Maecenas, Spenser
finished the first part of his glorious and imperishable Faerie Queene ; and having received
the critical encomium of the " Shepheard of the Ocean," accompanied his patron toEng-
land, where, in 1590, he gave to the world the fruits of his matured intellect. It was
published with the title of" The Faerie Queene; disposed into Twelve Bookes, fashioning
XII Morall Vertues" (although in this first edition only three books were published),
and, as appears from a conversation in hh friend Ludowick BiYskett's " Discourse o/

10 OBSERVATIONS ON iriK LIKK AND WRITINGS

Civil Life," was intended " to represent all the Morall Virtues, assigning to every virtue a
Knight, to be patron and defender of the same ; in wliose actions, feats of armes, and
chivalry, the operation of that v^irt'ie, whereof he is the protector, are to be expressed ;
and the vices and unruly appetites that oppose themselves against the same, to be beaten
dowue and overcome."

At this period Spenser was introduced by Raleigh to Queen Elizabeth, who, in
February, 1590-1, as we learn from ? patent discovered in the chapel of the Rolls, by
-the indefatigable Malone, conferred upon him a yearly pension of fifty pounds, which he
enjoyed till his death. It has been asserted by some of the poet's biographers, tha%
attached to this pension was the office of laureat ; but it has been satisfactorily proved
by Malone, that Spenser, although addressed by that title by his contemporaries, was never
officially appointed to the situation. In reference to this office, Gibbon (in the 12th volume
of his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire) remarks, " From Augustus to Louis, the
Muse has too often been false and venal ; but I much doubt whether any age or court can
produce a similar establishment of a stipendiary poet, who, in every reign, and at all
events, is bound to furnish, twice a year, a measure of praise and verse, such as may be
sung in the chapel, and, I beheve, in the presence of the sovereign." Setting aside the
adulation whicli the appointment entailed, and which is now obsolete, we are not disposed
to quarrel with the office ; for, at the least, it offers an encouragement to literary men, in
the certainty of an income, no unwelcome benefit to a race not generally possessed of a
superfluity of this world's gear, and though originating, no doubt, in royal vanity, it has
not unfrequently lightened the sorrows and sweetened the labours of" these Foster-babes
of Fame." After the publication of his poem, Spenser returned to Ireland; and during
his absence from court, encouraged by the popularity into vvhich his works were rapidly
advancing, his bookseller collected and printed his minor pieces, in a volume, of which
ti)e following are the title and contents: —

" Complaints, containing sundrie small Poemes of the World's Vanitie : viz. 1, Tiie
Ruines of Time. 2, The Teares of the Muses, 3, Virgils Gnat. 4, Prosopopoia, or
Mother Hubberds Tale. 5, The Ruines of Rome, by Bellay. 6, Muiopotmos, or the
Fate of the Butterflie. 7, Visions of the Worlds Vanitie. 8, Bellayes Visions. 9,
Petrarches Visions." These pieces, although considerably inferior to his great work, have
yet participated in the fame with whieli it endowed its author, and, without reference to
their intrinsic merits, have been equally lauded by his critics. This want of discrimina-
tion may be attributed to the dazzle of his name, which has induced them, with a blind
devotion, to heap upon his minor poems those eulogiums which can only be justly
claimed by the Faerie Qucene. Of these, " Mother Hubberds Tale," tliough written in
the " raw conceit of youth," is certainly the best; it abounds with satirical hits at the lead-
ing features of the times, the priests and the court : the lines devoted to this latter
su!)ject embody the description of the miseries of a place-hunter, already quoted. The
language is bold and nervous, and the narrative in general unembarrassed. Take, for
example, the following description of the ape purloining the crown, sceptre, and hide
" which he had doft for heat," from the King of the Forest. To this adventure he is
incited by the fox : —

OF EDMUND SPENSER. n

" Loath was the ape (though praised) to adventer
Yet faintly gan into his worke to enter.
Afraid of everie leaf that stir'd him by.
And everie stick that underneath did Iv :
Upon his tiptoes nicely he up went.
For making noyse, and still his ears he lent
To everie sound that under heaven blew.
Now went, now stopt, now crept, now backward drew,
That it good sport had been him to have eyde ;
Yet at the last (so well he him applyde).
Through his fine handling, and Ijis cleanly play,
He all those royall signes had stolne away,
And with the foxes helpe them borne aside
Into a secret corner unespide."

In the above, tlie trepidation and anxiety of the robber are admirably drawn. In
" The Ruines of Time," in which he adverts to the untimely death of the Earl of
Leicester, are many noble passages; and Mr. Ellis has selected one of the most
spirited, for insertion in his valuable Specimens. " Muiopotmos" is one of the most ele-
gant of all Spenser's minor poems, and possesses much of the lavishness of imagery and
description so conspicuous in his more polished works. " The Teares of the Muses " com-
prise their lament for the decay of learning. " Daphnaida," an Elegy on Douglas Howard,
daughter of Henry Lord Howard, appeared Jan. 1, 1591-2 ; and in 1595, was published
" Colin Clouts Come Home Againe," in which the Poet gives an account of his visit to
England and his introduction to the queen, with familiar sketches of his contemporaries
under feigned names. Attached to " Colin Clout" was " Astrophel," a collection of
elegiac poems on the death of Sir Philip Sydney, supposed to have been written on
the immediate occasion of his death. The characteristics of this work are conceit and
pedantry, but often redeemed by tender sentiments and noble expressions. The best of
the poems is " The Mourning Muse of Thestylis ;" and in the Ele"y, " A Friends
Passion for his Astrophel," we have an atoning charm in the following graceful portrait
of Sidney : —

" When he descended downe to the mount
His personage seemed most divine :
A thousand graces one might count
Upon his lovely cheerfull eine :

To heare him speake and sweetly smile
You were in Paradise the while.

" A sweet attractive kinds of grace,
A full assurance given by lookes,
Continuall comfort in a face,
The lineaments of Gospel bookes ;

I trowe that countenance cannot lie,

Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.

" Was never eie did see that face,
Was never eare did heare that tong.
Was never minde did minde his grace.
That ever thought the tra\ell longe.

But eies, and eares, and ev'ry thought:,

Were with his sweete perfections caught.''

12 OBSERVATIONS ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS

In this collection occurs " An Elegy on Sir Philip Sidney," written by his sister, Mary
Countess of Pembroke, the celebrated subject of Jonson's pregnant Epitaph : — •

" Underneath this sable herse,
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
Death, ere thou hast killed another
Learn'd, and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee."

In the same year were published his " Amoretti," or Sonnets, apparently written during
his courtship of a less faithless fair than Rosalind, whom he afterwards married, and by
her left several children. These sonnets overflow with chaste sentiments and beautiful
imagery, and are, in truth,

" Such tales, as told to any maid
By such a man, in the green sh ade,
Were perilous to hear!"

The portrait of his Elizabeth is luxuriant and characteristic : —

" Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden haires
With the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke ;
Fayre, when the rose in her red cheekes appeares ;
Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparke ;
Fayre, when her brest, lyke a rich laden barke,
With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay;
F'avre, whentliat cloud of pryde, which oft doth dark
Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away ;
But fayrest she, when so she doth display
The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight ;
Throgh which her words so wise do make their way
To beare the message of her gentle spright.

The rest be woikes of Nature's wonderment;

But this the worke of harts astonishment."

In the tenth Canto of Book VI. of the Faerie Queene, she is also described ; and the
poet claims for her the honours of a " Fourth (irace ;" and in the seventy-fourth sonnet
classing her with his mother, and the queen, as " Ye three Elizabeths," he calls her,

" The third, my love, my lifes last ornament.
By whom my spirit out of dust was raysed :
To speake her prayse and glory excellent,
Of iill alive most vi'orthy to be praysed."

But the " Epithalamion," written on his marriage with the lady of his love, far
transcends everything of the like description. " It is a strain redolent of a Bridegroom's
joy and of a Poet'fj fancy. — It is an intoxication of ecstacy, ardent, noble, and pure."*
There is no other nuptial song of equal beauty in our language. Spenser has thrown
his whole soul into this glorious lay ; and it stands confessed the very essence of his
imaginative genius.

Tlie "Fowre Hymneson Love and Beautie," dedicated to the Countesses of Cumberland
and Warwick, the dedication to whom is not a little curious, and the " Prothalamion," in
honour of the marnages of Ladies Elizabeth and Catherine Somerset, to H. GifFord and

* Hallam.

OF EDMUND SPENSER. IS

W. Peters, Esqis., were also published in 1596. In the first are some spirited lines
in honour of beauty ; and the latter contains much poetical imagery, melodiously
expressed.

Having thus cursorily enumerated the chief of what are generally called Spenser's
Minor Poems, we may here hazard a few words as to their general merit in relation to
" The Faerie Queene." Though possessed in the highest degree of poetical feelings and
imagination, Spenser was evidently of an indolent turn of mind, and required a strong
excitement to exhibit his intellect in all its force. In the production of these stray pieces,
these waifs, — if they may be so denominated, no such inducement was offered. Enamoured
of its " dark conceit," he seems to have placed his whole hopes of fame on his Faerie
Queene, and to have considered the labour bestowed on any other production, as so much
stolen from his great work ; and this may perhaps account for the vast abyss whicli in
general separates it from the offspring of his less disciplined muse. But thougli tnus
dissenting from the judgment of those who assert that he has no faults, we reverentially
concur in the dictum of Warton, that, " in reading Spenser, if the critic is^iot satisfied,
yet the reader is transported." Perhaps the most vigorous of the pieces now under
consideration are the fables of " The Oake and the Brier," and " The Kidde and the
Foxe," in "The Shepheard's Calendar," and " Mother Hubberds Tale," " Muiopotmos,''
and the " Epithalamion."

During this period Spenser had not, notwithstanding the fecundity of his muse, neg-
lected the Faerie Queene ; and accordingly in 1596 appeared a new edition of the first
three books, \yith the addition of a second part, containing the fourth, fifth, and sixth.
These, with two imperfect cantos of" Mutabilitie," first published in the folio of 1609, as
a recovered portion of the lost " Legend of Constancie," comprise all that now remains of
" the XII books fashioning the XII morall vertues." The opinions of his biographers have
been at variance, as to whether the poem was ever finished, or whether it was purposely
left in its present incomplete state. With these opinions, the arguments in support of
which must almost all originate in conjecture, we will refrain from meddling ; and while
we admire the ingenious statements of Sir James Ware, Birch, and Farmer, and the no
less sagacious retorts of their learned adversaries, Fenton, Dryden, and Todd, without
staying to investigate their abstruse theories, we will proceed to the far more pleasing
occupation of considering what remains of this immortal work.

There is no despot so absolute as fashion ; and, in the days of Elizabeth, the fashion,
whether in literature or manners, was derived from Italy, as now from France ; and the
glowing tales of knight-errantry and magic, which Ariosto had given to the world, had
strongly imbued our ancestors with a taste for the chivalric and marvellous. To this
passion we are certainly indebted for the structure of the Faerie Queene ; and though
Spenser has far outstripped the Italian in richness of imagery and fertility ot conception,
the plot of his poem, although inferior to the Orlando, from its want of uniformity, is
evidently borrowed from Ariosto. In no other respect, however, can the two be considered
as rivals : in delineation of character and lavish minuteness of description, our country.nan
stcfuas alone. His creations partake not of the undisciplined and libertine genius of Ariosto :
tiiough perhaps too evanescent and shadow-like to retain a lasting hold on the attentioa,

14 OBSERVATIONS OX illK LI IK AND WRITINGS

they possess all tlie imagined grace of the inliabitants of another world, — a region of
enchantment, created by himself, in which fresh flowers are ever springing, and new
beanties are presented to us at each step in our progress. The success of the Faerie
Queene was instantaneous. " It became at once the delight of every accomplished gen-
tleman, the model of every poet, the solace of every scholar ;"* Panegyrics were written
on its author, — it strengthened his position at court, — it extended the circle of his
friends, — it won for him the smiles of his sovereign, and secured him the applause of the
good. Its publication exercised an influence on our literature and on our language,
whose effects are even yet experienced. To enumerate its imitators would be to recount
the names of the most distinguished of our poets ; for all have been more or less indebted
to the inspiration of Spenser's genius.

The plot of the Faerie Queene is far more entangled than is at first sight apparent ; and
too many are disposed, in the more conspicuous attractions of its poetical embellishment,
to forget the moral wliich is conveyed beneath its surface. Besides the moral allegory whicli
is the distinguishing feature of the poem, Spenser has embodied in his story a second and
political one. " Not only is Gloriana the imaginary concentration of glory sought by
every true knight — she is Queen Elizabeth too: not only does King Arthur present the
spirit and essence of pure chivalry — he is likewise Spenser's (unworthy) patron, the Earl
of Leicester ; and many of the adventures which describe the struggles of virtue and
vice, also shadow forth anecdotes and intrigues of the English court, invisible to those,
as Spenser himself insinuates,

" Who n'ote without a hound fine footing trace."

This complication of meanings may render the Faerie Queene doubly valuable to the anti-
quary v/ho can explore its secret sense; but it must always be an objection to Spenser's
plan, with the common reader, that the attempt at too much ingenuity has marred the
simplicity of his allegory, and deprived it in a great degree of consistency and coherence, "f
The prevailing though less prominent tone of the poem betrays a mildness and gen-
tleness eminently characteristic of the author's disposition : beneath the garb of his
bewitching allegories we trace his desire to inculcate those virtues which are the peculiar
attributes of Christianity. Spenser's feeling for sacred subjects, is admirably pourtrayed in
those exquisite stanxas which form the opening of the eighth Canto of Book II. How
naturally does he burst forth,

" But O ! th' exceeding grace

Of Higliest God that loves his creatures so.
And all his workes with mercv duth emhrace,
That hlessed Angels he sends to and fro.
To servo to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe !

* • * • •

O, why should llevenly God to min have such re**rd !

But while he thus paints, in the most vivid and alluring colours, those endearing sympathies
which hallow existence ; with an energy sturlling as unexpected, ho appears as the

• Ilallam f Sir Walter Scott.

OF EDMUND SPENSER. i5

delineator of our evil passions, depicting them in all the force of their hideous reality,
and in a manner approaching the sublime.

By those who have misunderstood him, it has been asserted that Spenser's poetry is all
sweetness and destitute of strength. For a refutation of this opinion I need only
direct the attention of the reader to the sublime descriptions of " Him who with the night
durst ride, "the House of Riches, the Court of Jealousy, the Caves of Mammon and Despair:
the latter, especially, is nervously written, and the choice of words, as suited to the o'lject
described, admirable ; we see before us the very picture of this gloomy den. The poet
was perfectly master of his art, and possessed that secret which gives one of its greatest
charms to poetry, a choice of expressioii and epithet extremely apposite to the subject.
Virgil has been much praised for a similar quality; but the description of the trees
which form the " shadie grove," Book I, canto i, may bear comparison with any of the
finest passages of the Mantuan bard.

Of the sweetness of his verse every one must be sensible ; it has the melody of falling
waters, apd wins upon the senses as imperceptibly. Speaking of tliis characteristic ot
our poet's numbers, Campbell has elegantly said, " lie is like a speaker whose tones
continue to be pleasing, though he may speak too long ; or like a painter, who makes us
forget the defect of his design, by the magic of his colouring. We always rise from
perusing him with melody in the mind's ear, and with pictures of romantic beauty
impressed on the imagination." That the Faerie Queene has faults, every one unblindcd
by prejudice, must be ready to allow; for though teeming vvith passai^'-es of grandeur,
beauty, pathos, and sui)limity,yet, as a whole, it is wanting in uniformity and compactness.
Each of the books might have been published as a separate poem, without injury to the
remainder. Indeed, the first, esteemed as by far the best of the six, is a complete work
in itself; and, but for the reappearance of rince Arthur, has little connection with the
others. But even this character " appears and vanishes like a spirit, and we lose sis^ht of
him too soon to consider him as the hero of the poem "* To account for the unfinisiied
state of the Faerie Queene, it is said that a servant, entrusted witli his manuscripts,
lost the six remaining books in the precipitate retreat from Ireland at the time of the
insurrection. 'I his story is much"discountenanced by others, who suppose that it was pur-
posely left incomplete. Whatever be the fact, we are inclined to consider that, for the
author's fame, the poem has not lost in the curtailment, the last three books are much
inferior to their predecessors ; and we may infer that the subject had already grown too
tedious to the author to allow of future improvement.

Spenser has been not unfrequently compared vvith >hakspeare ; vve should suppose more
for the sake of contrast than from any similarity that exists between them. The one was
truly, not of an age, but for all time ! the other is uniforudy tinctured with the manners
of his age. " >hakspeare (as Coleridge has finely written) stands like the yew-tree in
Lorton Vale, which has known so many ages tlvat it belongs to none." With Sp; user
how different! In his writings we have the same fertility of imagination, the same \ ivid
powers of description, the same nervous grasp of his subject ; — but that subject is

• Hughes.

16 OBSERVATIONS ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS

ivstricted and unpervading' ; and he lavishes tlie exuberance of his invention and
fancy in depicting manners and customs destined to be forgotten by succeeding
generations, Shakspeare is the poel of the passions, while Spenser is the poet
of habit: the one has an universal command over our intellect; the other, but a
temporary one. Tlie former lakes our sympatliies by storm ; while the latter wins us by
insensible degrees. We fall prostrate before the giant genius of Shakspeare ; while we
become the willing captives of Spenser. He is at once the most picturesque, the most
uraceful, and the most visionary of our poets. None has ever treated with a inoie
masterly or more delicate handling the graceful characteristics of woman. He drew her
beauties and her virtues in colours not more glowing than true, while her foibles are so
lightly touched, and with so much apparent sympathy, that he makes even her failings
lean to Virtue's side.

The same year which brought before the public the last three books of the Faerie
Queene, produced the only prose work of our author: in 1596 he presented to Queen
Elizabeth his " View of the State of Ireland." This masterly performance was intcnde-d
to have had a mediatory effect between the Queen and her Irish subjects, but from its
bitter tone, was not likely to have a pacificatory influence, and remained in MS. till 1633,
when it was published by Sir James Ware, in his collection of the writers on Ireland, from
a MS. in the library of Archbishop Usher. Ledwich, the learned Irish antiquary, writes : —
" Civilization having almost obliterated every vestige of our ancient manners, the remem-
brance of them is only to be found in Spenser ; so that he may be considered at this day
as an Irish antiquary." In the opinion of Ware, " He seems rather to have indulged the
fancy and licence of a poet, than the judgment and fidelity requisite for an historian "
For this work, which is disfigured by prejudice, Spenser has certainly but little claim
upon Irish veneration, but it exhibits vast political knowledge, and ascribes many of the
miseries of that unhappy country to their proper sources.*

Besides the works we have thus enumerated, we learn from his letters, those of Harvey,
and the notes of E. K., that Spenser wrote several, which are now lost; the chief of
these were a" Translation of Ecclesiasticus ;' a' Translation of Canticum Canticorum ;* the
* Dying Pelican;' the ' Hours of Our Lord;' the ' Sacrifice of a Sinner;' the ' Seven Psalms;'
' Dreams;' the ' English Poet;' ' Legends ;' the * Court of Cupid ;' the ' Hell of Lovers :'
his ' Purgatory ;' ' Se'nnight's Slumber;' ' Pageants;' ' Nine Comedies;' ' Stemmata Dud-
leiana' and ' Epithalamion Thamesis.* From this interesting catalogue, it is evident, that
Spenser's muse was as prolific as she was powerful; and it is much to be regretted that
not one of these seventeen pieces has ever been recovered. E. K., in the epistle to Harvey
prefixed to the Shcphcards Calender, speaking of the " Dreams," " Legends," and
' Court of Cupid," says, " whose commendation to set out were verie vaine, the things
though worthie of many, yet being knowne to fewe," and in the argument to the Eclogue

* A MS. copy wliich belonged to Sir Arthur Chichester, Lord Deputy of Ireland, in 1605 6, occurs in
one of Mr. Thorpe's Catalogues, Price £31 10s. Various other MS. copies are known, and exist one in
the oublic library, at Cambridge, one among Lord Keeper Egerton's papers at Lambeth, o.ie in Trinifv
College, Dublin, and one in the Gonville and Cuius College MS.

OF EDMUND SPENSER. ir

for October, on the subject of poetry, which he calls a " worthie and coromendaVie

art : or rather no art, but a divine gift and heavenly instinct not to be gotten bv

labour and learning, but adorned with both ; and poured into the witte by a certain

enthousiasmos and celestiall inspiration, as the author hereof elsewhere at large

dir>courseth in his booke called The English Poete, which booke being lately come to ray

hands. 1 rainde also by Gods grace, upon further advisement, to publish." This

advisement the worthy commentator never fulfilled, and the world is thus deprived

of one ot the most interesting treatises on his art by him, whom Camden justly

calls Poetarum nostri seculi facile princeps. In the Nine Comedies,* Spenser

would I'.ave appeared before us in a new character, rivalling Shakspeare on his own ground,

wnile in the Pageants we might have traced some of the first shadowings of the

curious productions of " rare Ben." That our loss is great, all must feelingly

confess who can appreciate the manner in which Spenser would have treated

these various subjects, shrining them in the graceful beauty of his Faerie numbers.

In this cursory review of his life, it has been our delight, while culling the flowers of

his sweet poesy, to contemplate the career of Spenser still brightened by success,

unclouded by sorrow and unembittered by misfortune. The discontents occasioned

by the capriciousness of court favour, the vexations of —

" expectation vnyne
Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away.
Like empty shadows,"

were of brief duration, and up to this period of his history, the Poet's life had been
bright as a summer holiday. We have seen his name by slow but sure degrees
assume that proud pre-eminence in our literature which it will for ever retain. We
have beheld him" shining like a starre" among his brilliant contemporaries, claiming
alike their admiration and regard — and we have lingered over the details of his domestic
life sympathising in the poet's affection for his Elizabeth in whose fliir heart
" Theie dwells sweet love, and constant chastity,
Uns])Otted fayth, and comelv womanhood.
Regard of honour and mild modesty "

and envying those '* celestial threasuies, and unrevealed pleasures," which shed a
radiance round his Bower of Bliss.

" O Fortuna, ut nunquam perpetuo es bona !'' —

In 1597 Spenser had been recommended to the Irish government by the queen, to be
sheriff of Cork. His tenure of this office was soon ended. In October, the storm which
was to crush at once his prosperity and his life burst forth with resistless fury. Tyrone
having gained that signal victory over Sir Henry Bagnal, long remembered as the defeat
of Blackwater, incited his confederates to aid him in expelling the English settlers from

• la the opinion of Harvey they were superior to the Faerie Queene. In one of his letters to Spenser, he
says, " to be plain, I am voyde of all judgement, if your nine Comedies, whereunto, in imitation of Herodotus,
you give the names of the nine muses, (and in one mans fansie rot unworthily) come not nearer Ariostoes
Corna;dies, eyther for the finenesse of plausible eloqution, or the rareness of poetical invention, than that
Eirish Queene doth to his Orlando Furioso."

13 OBSERVATIONS ON THE LiFH AND WRITINGS OF SPENSER.

Ireland. The Miinstfi insurgents were luacled by James Filztliomas Geraldiiie, titulai
Earl of Desmond, to wliose faaiily tlie castle and estates of Kilcolman had be longed.
Spenser and his family fled. One of his children was left behind, and perished in the
ruins of his dwelling-, which had been fired by the rebels.

Unnerved by these calamities, turning from the scene of former happiness, he made
his way to London, where, after a fruitless struggle against poverty and sickness, in a
lodging house in King-street, Westminster, died the poet of the Faerie Queene! He was
buned in the abbey, near tlie tomb of Ciiaucer, with a splendid funeral, at the expense of
the Earl of ^^sse.^. The pall was borne by poets ; and with a true poetic feelmg, tributary
verses by the most illustrious of his contemporaries, with the pens that wrote tnem, were
thrown into his grave. About thirty years after his death Anne Countess oi Dorsec
erected a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey. It vvas executed by Stone,
at a cost of forty pounds.

In Camden's little tract entitled, " R,eges, Reginse, Nobiles, et alii in Ecclesia Collegiata
B. Petri Westmonasterii sepulti," 1606, 4to, we find the following notice of this monument,
which was defaced by the Puritans during the civil wars, and the present one erected or
restored in 1778 : —

" Edmundus Spencer Londinensis, Anglicorum Poetarum nostri seculi facile princeps
quod ejus poemata faventi bus Musis et victiiro genio conscripta comprobant. Obiit
immatura morte anno salutis 1598, et prope Galfredum Chauccrum conditur qui
foelicissmie poesin Anglicis Uteris primus illustravit. In quern haec scripta sunt Epitaphia : —

" Hie prope Chaucerum situs est Spenserius, illi

Proximus ingenio, proximus ut tumulo.
Hie prope Cliaucerum Spensere poeta poetatn

Conderis, et yersii, quam tumulo propior.
Anglica te vivo vixit, plausit que Poesis

Nunc moritura timet, te moriente, mori.'

The inscription on the restored monument is thus: " Heare lyes (expecting the second
commino-e of our Saviour Jesus) the body of Edmond Spenser, the Prince of Poets in his
tyme, whose divine spirit needs noe othirwitnesse then the works which he left behinde him.
He was borne in London, in the yeare 1553, and died in theyeare 1598."

His contemporaries, by whom he had never been addressed without the epithet * great,'
or ' learned,' vied with each other in Elegiac tributes to his memory ; and the most
eminent of our later poets have successively confessed their obligations to him. Milton
acknowledged to Dryden th.at Spenser was his master, and Dryden has said of h:rn, " no
man was ever born with a greater genius, or had more knowledge to support it." But
the enumeration of all the eulogies which gratitude or admiration has showered upon him,
would too much amplify our sketch, which has already extended beyond the prescribed
limit. In concluding tlicse " Observations," the writer has only to remark, that the
quotations introduced have been selected rather to illustrate the particular subject under
discussion, than as specimens of Spenser's " Beauties," a just appreciation of which can
only be acquired by an attentive study of his writings.

THE

?AERIE QUEENE.

DISPOSED INTO TWELVE BOOKES.

FASHIONING

XII MORALE VERTUES.

TO THE MOST HIGH MIGHTIE AND MAGNIFICENT

EMPRESSE

EENOWNED FOE PIETIE VEETVE AND ALL GEATIOTS GOVEENMENT

ELIZABETH

BY THE GRACE OF GOD

QVEENE OF ENGLAND FRAVNCE AND IRELAND AND

OF VIRGINIA

DEFENDOVR OF THE FAITH &c.

HEE MOST HUMBLE SEEVAUNT

EDMVND SPENSER

DOTH IN ALL HUMILITIE
DEDICATE PRESENT AND CONSECRATE

THESE HIS LABOVRS

TO LIVE WITH THE ETEENITIE OF HEE FAME,

LETTER OF THE AUTHOR'S,

EXPOUNDING HIS WHOLE INTENTION IN THE COURSE OF THIS WORKE; WHICH, FOR THAI

IT GIVETH GREAT LIGHT TO THE READER, FOR THE BETTER

UNDERSTANDING IS HEREUNTO ANNEXED.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS

SIR WALTER RALEIGH, knight,

LO. WAIIDEIN OF THE STANNERYES AND HER MAIESTIE3 LIEFTENAUNT OF THE COUNTY OF CORKEVVAYLLt

Sir,
Knowint. how doubtfully all Allegories may be
construed, and this hooke of mine, which 1 have
entituled The Faery Qiieene, being; a continued
Allegory, or darke Conceit, I have thought good, as
well for avoyding of gealous opinions and miscon-
structions, as also for your better light in reading
thereof, (being so by you commanded,) to discover
unto you the general intention and meiining, which
in the whole course thereof I have fashioned, without
expressing of any particular purposes, or by-acci-
dents, therein occasioned. The general end, there-
fore, of all the booke, is to fashion a gentleman or
noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline ;
which for that I conceived shoulde be most plausible
and pleasing, being coloured with an historical fiction,
the which the most part of men delight to read,
rather for variety of matter then for profile of the
ensample, I chose the Historye of King Arthure, aa
most fitte for the excellency of his person, being
made famous by many mens former workes, and
also furthest from thedaunger of envy, and susjiilion
of present time. In which I have followed all the
antique poets historicall ; first Homere, who in the
persons of Agamemnon and Ulysses hath ensampled
H good governour and a vertuous man, the one in
his llias, the other in his Odysseis ; then Virgil,
whose like intention was to doe in the person of
^neas ; after him Ariosto comprised them both in
his Orlando ; and lately Tasso dissetered them again,
and formed both parts in two persons, namely, that
piirt whicli they in philosophy c;dl Eilnce, or Vertues
of a ])iivafe man, coloured inhis Hiiinaldu ; the other

named Politice, in his Godfredo. By ensample of
which excelFente poets, I labour to pourtraict in
Arthure, before he was king, the image of a bra
knight, perfected in the twelve private Morall Ver-
tues, as Aristotle hath devised ; the which is the
purpose of these first twelve bookes : which if J
finde to be well accepted, I may be perhaps enco-
raged to frame the other part of Polliticke Vertues in
his person, after that hee came to be king. To some
1 know this methode vrill seem displeasaunt, which
had rather have good discipline delivered plainly in
way of precepts, or sermoned at large, as they use,
then thus clowdily enwrapped in allegorical devises.
]3ut such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the use
of these days, seeing all things accounted by their
showes, and nothing esteemed of, thatia not delight-
full and pleasing to commune seuce. For this cause
is Xenophon preferred before Plato, for that the one,
in the exquisite depth of his iudgement, formed a
communewelth, such as it should be ; but the other,
in the person of C\rus, and the Persians, fashioned
a government, such as might best be : so much more
pro.*itable and gratious is doctrine by ensample then
by rule. So have I laboured to do in the person
of Arthure : whom I conceive, after his long educa-
tion by Timon,to whom he was by Merlin delivered
to be brought up, so soone as he was borne of the
Lady Igruyne, to have scene iu a dream or vision
the Paery Queene, with whose excellent beautv
ravished, he awaking resolved to seeke lier out ,
and so being by Merlin armed, and by Timoii
throughly instructed, he went to seeke her forth i:i
Faerye Land. In that Faery Queene [ meane Glrr

SPENSER TO SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

in mygenerall intention, but in my particular I con-
ceive the most excellent and glorious person of our
soveraine the Queene, and her kinsjdom in F^iery
Land. And yet, in some places els, I do otherwise
shadow her. For considerino; she beareih two
persons, the one of a most royal Queene or Empresse,
the other of a most vertiious and beautiful! lady,
this latter part in some places 1 doe express in Bel-
phrebe, fashioning her nanr.e eccor'Lnpr to your owne
excellent conceipt of Cynthia: Phoebe and Cynthia
being both names of Diana. So in the person of
Prince Arthure I sette forth Magnificence in parti-
cular ; which Vertue for that (according to Aristotle
and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and
conteiiieth in it them all, therefore in the whole
course I mention the deeds of Arthure applyable to
tliat Vertue, which I write of in that booke. But of
the xii. other Vertues, 1 make xii. other knights tha
patrones, for the more variety of the history : of
which these three bookes contayn three.

The first, of the Knight of the Redcrosse, in
whom I expresse Ilolynes : the seconds of Sir
Guvon. in whome 1 sette forth Temperaunce : the
third of Britoraartis a lady-knight, in whom I picture
Chastity. But, because the beginning of the whole
worke seemeth abrupte and as depending upon otlier
antecedents, it needs that ye know the occasion of
these three knights severall adventures. For the
methode of a poet historical is not such, as of an
historiographer. For an historiographer discourserh
of afl^avres orderly as they were donne, accounting as
well the times as the actions ; but a poet thrusteth
into the middest, even where it most concerneth
him, ;in(i there recoursing to the thinges forepaste,
and divining of thinges to come; maketh a pleasing
analysis of all.

'i'he beginning therefore of my history, if it were
to be told by an historiographer, should be the
twelf'th booke, which is the last ; where I devise that
the Faerv Queene kept her annual feaste xii. days ;
uppon which xii. severall dayes, the occasions of the
xii. severall adventures liapned, which, being under-
taken by xii. severall knights, are in these xii. books
severally handled and discoursed. The first was
this. Jn the beginning of the feast, there presented
himselfe a tall" clownishe young nii.n, who falling
before the Queene of Faeries desired a boone (as the
manner then was) which during that feast she might
not refuse; which was that bee might have the
atchivement of any adventure, which during that
feaste should happen. That being graunted,lie rested
him on tiie lloore, unfitte tiirougli his rusticity for a
better place. Soone after entred a faire ladye in
mourning weedes, riding on a white asse, with a
dwarte behind her \eviwf, a warlike steed, that bore
tiie arms of a knigiit, a.-,cl Lis sjjeare in the dwarfes
hand. Shee, fallmg before the Queene of Faeries,
complayiied tliat her father and mother, an ancient

king and queene, had bene by an huge dragon many
years shut up in a brasen castle, who thence suffred
tiiem not to yssew ; and therefore besought the
Faerie Queene to assvgne her some one of her knights
to take on him that exployt. Presently that
clownish person, upstarting, desired that adventure;
whereat the Queene much wondering, and the lady
much gainesaying, ytt he earnestly importuned his
desire. In the end the lady told bim, that unlesse
that armour which she brought, would serve him
(that is, the armour of a Christian man specified by
St. Paul, V. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in
that enterprise: which being forthwith put upon
him with dew furnitures thereunto, he seemed the
goodliest man in al that company, and v,-as well liked
of tiie lady. And eftesoones taking on him knight-
hood, and mounting on that straunge courser, he went
forth with her on that adventure ; where beginneth
the first booke, viz.

A gentle knight was pricking on the playne, &c.

The second day there came in a palmer bearing an
infant with bloody hands, whose parents he com-
playned to have bene slayn by an enchauntresse
called Acrasia ; and therefore craved of the Faery
Queene, to appoint him some knight to performe
that adventure; which being assigned toSirGuyon,
he presently went forth with that same palmer ;
which is the beginning of the second booke, and the
whole subiect thereof. The third day there came
in a groome, who complained before the Faery
Queene, that a vile enchaunter, called Busirane, had
in hand a most faire liidy, ca'Ied Amoretta, whom b?
kept in most grievous torment, because she would
not yield him the pleasure of her body. Whereupon
Sir Scudamour, the lover of that lady, presently to' 'ke
on him that adventure. But being unable to jier-
forme it by reason of the hard enchautitments, arter
long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who
succoured him, and reskewed bis love.

But, by occasion hereof, many other adventures
are intermedled ; but rather as accidents then inteiitl-
ments ; as the love of Biitomart, the overthrow of
Marinell, the misery of Florimell, the vertuousnes
of Belphoibe, the lasciviousness of Hellenora; and
many the like.

Thus much. Sir, I have briefly overronne to direct
your understanding to tlie wel-head of the history ;
that, from thence gathering the whole intention of ths
conceit, ye may as in a handful gripe al the discourse,
which otherwise may happily seem tedious and con-
fused. So, humbly craving the continuance of your
honourable favour towards me, and th' eteniall
establishment of your happines, 1 humbly take
leave. *

Yours most humbly affectionate,

ED. SPENSER

23, laniiai-y 158P.

VERSES

AUTHOR OF THE FAERIE QUEENE.

A VISION UrON THE CONCEIPT OF THE FAERY QUEENE.

Me thougl-t I saw the grave where Laura lay,

Witbin that temple where the vestall flame

Was wont to burne ; and passing by that way

To see thai buried dust of living fame,

Whose tomb faire Love, and fairer \'irtue kept _;

All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene :

At whose a^jprocb the soule of Fetrarke wept,

And from thenceforth those Graces were not seene ;

(For they this Queene attended ;) in whose steed

Oblivion laid him down on Lauras herse :

Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed,

And grones cf buried ghostes the hevens did perse;

Where Homtrs sprigbt did tremble all for griefe,

Ai.d curst th' accesse of that celestiall theife.

W. R.

ANOTHER OF THE SAME.

The prayse of meaner wits this Worke like profit

brings, [sings.

As doth the cuckoes song delisrht when Philumena
If thou hast formed right true Vertues face herein,
Vertue herselfe can best discerne to whom they

written bic.
If thou hast Beauty praysd, let her sole lookes divine
Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.
Jf Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew.
Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy

Queene anew. [sore

Meane while she shall perceive, how far her vertues
Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of

yore :
And thereby will excuse and favour thy ^uod will ;
Wliose vertue cannot be exprest but by an angels quill
Of me no lines are lovd, nor letters are of price,
(Of all which speak our English tongue) but those of

thy device.

W R.

To THE LEARNED SHEPHEARD.

CoLT-YN, I see, by thy new taken taske.
Some sacred fury hatf er.richt thy braynes,
I'hat leades thy Muse in haughty verse to maske,
And loathe the layes that longs to lowly swaynes ;
That hltes thy notes from shepheardes unto kino-e's ;
So like the lively larke that mounting singes. °

Thy lovely Rosalinde seemes now forlorne ;
Acd all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight ;
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne,
Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight;
Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well ;
Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee the bell.

Yet, as thou earst with thy sweete roundelayes,
Didst stirre to glee ourladdes in homely bowers ;
So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes
Delight the daiutie eares of higher powers.
And so mought they, in their deepe skanning skill.
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quill.

And faire befall that Faery Queene of thine !
In whose faire eyes Love lintkt with Vertue sittes
Enfusing, by those bewties fyers divine.
Such high conceites into thy humble wittes.
As raised hath poore pastors oaten reeUes
From rusticke tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.

So mought thy Redcrosse knight with happy hand

Victorious be in tliat faire ilands riglit,

(Which thou dost vavle in type of Faery Land,"*

Elizas blessed field, iliat Albion bight:

That shieldes her friendes, and warrea her mightiefoes,

Yet still with people, peace, and plentie, flowes.

But, iollv shepheard, though with pleasing stile

Thou feast the humour of the courtly trayne ;

Let not conceipt thy settled sence beguile,

Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine.

Subiect thy doome to her empyring spright,

From whence thy Muse, and all the world, takes light

HOBYNCLL.

Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately
Runst paying tribute to the ocean seas, [towne

Let all thy nymphes and syrens of renowns
Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes ;
iXere thy sweet banks there livesthat sacred Crowne,
Whose hand strowes ]j:ilnie and never-dying haves :
Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne,
Present her witli this worthy poets prayes ;
For he hath taught hye drifts in r.hepherdes weedes.
And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes.

U.S.

SONNETS ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR.

Grave Muses, march in triumph and with prayses ;
Uur Goddesse here hath given you leave to

land ;
And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces
Bow downe his brow unto her sacred hand.
Deserte iindes dew in that most princely dooms,
In whose sweete hrest are all the Muses bredde ;
So did that great Augustus erst in Roome
With leaves of fame adorne his poets hedde.
Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene,
£"01 ->f the fairest that the world hath seene !

H. B,

When stout Achilles heard of Helens rape,

And what revenge the states of Greece devis'd;

Thinking by sleii^ht the f itall warres to scape.

In womans \<feedes himselfe he then disguis'd :

But this devise Ulysses soone did spy.

And brought him' forth, the chaunce of warre to

try.
When Spenser saw the fame was spredd so large
Through Faery land, of their renowned Queene ;
Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge.
As in such haughty matter to be seeue ;
To seeme a sbepheard, then he made his choice ;
But Sidney heard him sing, and knew his voice.

And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne

From his retyred life to menage armes :

So Spenser was, by Sidneys speaches, wonne

To blaze her fame, not fearing future harmes :

For well he kuew, his muse would soone be

tyred
In her high praise, that all the world admired.

Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes,

Did win the palme from all the Grecian peeres

So Spenser now, to his immortal prayse.

Hath wonne the laurell quite from all his feeres.

What though his taske exceed a humaine witt ;

He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fitt.

W. L

Tt looke upon a worke of rare devise

The which a workman setteth out to view,

And not to yield it the deserved prise

Tbat unto such a workmanship is dew.

Doth either prove the iudgement to be naught,
Or els doth shew a mind with envy fraught.

To labour to commend a peece of worke.
Which no man gots aboat to discommend,
Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did lurke
Some secret doubt whereto the prayse did tend :
For when men know the goodnes of the wyne,
'Tis needless for the boast to have a sygne.

Thus then, to shew my iuderement to be such
As can discerne of colours blacfce and white
As alls to free my minde from envies tucb.
That never gives to any man his right ;

I here pronounce this workmanship is Sucb
As that no pen can set it forth too much.

And thus I hang a garland at the dore ;

(Not for to shew the goodness of the ware ;

But such hath beene the custome heretofore,

And customes very hardly broken are ;)

And when your tast shall fell you this is trew.
Then looks you give your hoast his utmost dew.

Ignotu

SONNETS

ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR.

rO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON,
LORD HIGH CHAUNCELOR OF ENGLAND, ETC.

Those prudent heads, that with their counsels wise

Whvlome the jiillours of th' earth did sustaine.

And taught ambitious Rome to tyrannise

And in the neck of ull the world to rayne ;

Oft from those grave affaires were wont abstaine.

With the sweet lady Muses for to pray :

So Ennius the elder Africane ;

So .Maro oft did Csesars cares allay.

So vou, great Lord, that with your counsell sway

The burdein of this kingdom mightily.

With like delightes sometimes may eke delay

The rugged brow of carefull Policy ;

And totbese ydle rymes lend litle space.

Which for their titles sake may find more grace.

E. S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD BCRLllCH, LCRC
HIGH 1HUEASURER OT ENGLAND.

To you, right noblo Lord, whose carefull brest

To menai^e of most grave affaires is bent ;

And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest

Tlie burdein of this kingdomes governement,

(As the wide corapasse of the firraament

On Atlas mightie shoulders is upstayd,)

Unfitly I tlit'se ydle rimes present,

The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd ;

Vet if their deeper sence be inly wayd.

And tlie dim vele, with which from commune vew

Their fairer jiarts are liid, aside be layd,

Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you.

Such as tliev be, vouchsafe tliem to receave,

And wipe their faults out of vour censure grave.

E.S

SONNETS ADDRESSED BY TflE AUTHOR.

10 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF OXENFORD,
LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAYNE OF ENGLAND, ETC.

Receive, most noble Lord, in gentle gree,

The unripe fruit of an unready "it ;

Which, by thy coutitenaunce, doth crave to be

Defended from foule envies pciisiious bit.

Which so to doe may thee right well befit.

Sith th' antique glory of thinn auncestry

Under a shady vele is therein writ.

And eke thine owne long living memory.

Succeeding them in true nobility:

And also for the love which thou doest beare

To th' Heliconian ynips. and the) to thee;

They unto thee, and thou to them, most deare :

Deare as thou art unto ihyseUe, so love

That loves and honours thee ; as doth behove.

E. S.

rO the RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF NORTHUM-
BEKLANU.

The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame

To be the nourses of nobility.

And registres of everlasting fame,

To all I hat armes professe and chevalry.

Tlien, by like right, the noble progeny.

Which them succeed m fame and worth, are tyde

T' embrace the service of sweet Poetry,

By whose endevouis they are glorifide;

And eke from ail, of wliorn it is envide.

To patronize the auihour of their praise, [dide,

Which gives them life, that els would soone have

And crownes their ashes with immortall baies.

To thee therefore, right noble Lord, 1 send

This present of my paines, it to defend.

E.S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF CUMBERLND.

Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind
The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming faire,
Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind
Which of their praises have left you the haire ;
To you this humble present 1 prepare,
For love of vertue and of martial praise ;
To which though nobly ye inclined are,
(As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies,)
Yet brave ensample of long passed dales,
In which trew honor ye may tashiond see
To like desire of honor may ye raise.
And fill your mind with magnanimitee.
Receive it, Lord, therefore, as it was ment,
For honor of your name and high descent.

E. S.

TO THE MOST HONOURABLE AND EXCELLENT LORD
THE EARLE OF ESSEX, GREAT MAISTER OF THE HORSE
TO HER HIGHNESSE, AND KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE
ORDER OF THE GARTER, EIC.

Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent

Doe merit a most famous poets wilt

To be thy living praises instrument;

Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be writt

In this base poenie, for thee farr unfitt :

Nouj^ht is thy wurth dispiiriiged thereby.

But when my Muse, whose fethers nothing flitt.

Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly.

With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty
To the last praises of this Faery Queene;
Then shall it make most famous memory
Of thine heroicke parts, such as they beene :
Till then, vouclisafe thy noble countenaunce
To their first labours needed furtheraunce.

E. S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF ORMONH
ANn OSSORY.

Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste
Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl hath bred ;
Which, being through long wars left almost waste.
With brutish barbarisme is overspredd :
And, in so faire a land as may be redd,
Not one Parnassu.s, nor one Helicone,
Left for sweeie Muses to be harboured,
But where thyselfe hast thy brave mansione :
There indeede dwel faire Graces many one.
And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned wits;
And in thy person, without paragone,
Ail goodly bountie and irue honour sits.
Such thi'refore. as that wasted sovl doth yield,
Receive, dear Lord, in worth the fruit of barren field,

E. S

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CHARLES
HOWARD, LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND, KNIGHT
OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, AND ONE OP
HER MAJESTIe's PRIVIE COUNSEL, ETC.

And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly personage
And noble deeds, each other garnishing.
Make you ensample, to the present age.
Of th' old heroes, vvhose famous offspring
The antique poets wont so much to sing ;
In this Siirae pageaunt have a worthy place,
Sith those huge castles of Castilian king.
That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace,
Like flying doves ye did before you chase ;
And that proud peoide, woxen insolent
Through many victories, did first deface:
Thy praises everlasting monument
Is in this verse engraven semblably,
That it may live to all posterity.

E. S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF HUNSDO.V,
HIGH CHAMBERLAINE TO HER MAJESTV.

Renowmed Lord, ihat for your worihinesse
And noble deeds, have your deserved place
High in the favour of that Emperusse,
The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace ;
Here eke of right have you a worthie place.
Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,
And for your owne high merit in like cace :
Of wliicli, ajiparaunt proofe was to be seene.
When that tumultuous rago and fearfull deene
Of northerne rebels ye did pacify,
And their disloiall powre defaced clene,
1 he record of enduring memory.
Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse,
Ihat all posteritie thy honor may reherse.

E.S.

SONNETS ADUriKSSi: I) KV TIIK AUTHOR.

TO THE MOST HENOWIIED AND VALIANT I.n((D, TlIK
LORD GREY OF WILTON, KNIGHT OF THE NOULE
ORDER OF THE GARTER, ECT.

Most noble lord, the pillor of my life,
And patrone of my Muses pupill,);::e ;
Throuc^h whose large bountie, poured on me rife,
In the tirst season of my feeble age,
I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage ;
(Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor reave
Out of your endlesse debt, so sure a gage ;)
Vouchsafe, in worth, this small guift to receave,
Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave
Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account :
Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weave
In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount,
And roughly wrought in an unlearned loome :
The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your favourable
doome. E. S.

TO THE right honourable the lord of BI'CKIU'RST,

ONE of her majestie's puivie coun&ell.

In vain 1 ihinke, right honourable Lord,

By this rude rime to memorize thy name,

Whose learned Muse hath writ her own record

In golden verse, worthy immortal fame :

Thou much more fit (wereleasure to the same)

Thv gracious soverains praises to compile,

And her imperial! majestie to frame

In loftie numbers and lieroicke stile.

But, sith thou maist not so, give leave a while

To baser wit his power therein to spend.

Whose grosse defaults thv daintiepen may file,

And unadvised oversights amend.

But evermore vouchsafe, it to maintaine

Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine. E. S.

TO THE RIGHT IIONOVRABLE SIR FRANCIS WALSINGH AM,
KNIGHT, PRINCIPALL SECUITARV TO HER MAJESTY,
AND ONE OF HER HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNSEI.L.

That Mantuane poets incompared spirit

Whose girland now is set in highest place

Had not Meca^nas, for his worthy merit,

Jt first advaunst to great Augustus grace,

Rlight long perhaps have lien in silence bace,

Ne bene so much admir'd of later age.

This lowly Muse, that learns like stejjs to trace.

Flies for like aide unto your patronage,

(Tiiat are the great MeciPnas of this age,

As well to all that civil artes professe,

As those that are inspir'd with martial rage,)

And craves protection of her feeblenesse :

Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse

In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse. E. S.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST VAl.IAUNT C.APTAINE
SIR JOHN NORRIS, KNT. LORD PRSIDENif OF MOHNSTER.

Who ever gave more honourable prize

To the sweet Muse then did the ]\larlia!l crew,

That their brave deeds she might immortalize

In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?

Who then ought more to favour her then you,

Most noble lord the honor of this age,

And precedent of all that amies ensue?

Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage.

Tempered with reason and advisement sage,

liaih fildsad lielgicke with victorious sjiode ;

In ('"ranre and Irehmd left a famous gage;

And lately shakt the l.usitanian soile.

Sith then eac h where thou hast dispredd thy fame,

Lo'.'f him that hath eternized vour name E. S.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT, SIR
WALTER RALEIGH, LORD WARDEIN OF THE STAN-
NERYES, AND LIEFTEN AUNT OF CORNEWAILE.

To thee, that art the sommers nightingale,
Thy soveraine goddesses most deare delight.
Why doe I send this rusticke madrigale.
That may thy tunefull eare unseason ijuite ?
Thou onely fit this argument to write,
In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bo«re,
And daintie Love learnd sweetly to endite.
My rimes I know unsavory and sowre.
To tast the streames that, like a golden showre.
Flow from thy fruitfull head of thv loves praise ;
Fitter perhaps to thornier martiall stowre,
Whenso thee list thv lofty IMuse to raise '
Yet, till that thou thy poeme wilt make luiowne.
Let thy faire Cinthias praises be thus rudely showne.

E. S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND MOST VERTU0l)3
LADY, THE COUNTESSK OF PEMBROKE.

Ri MEMBRAUNCE of that most heroicke spirit,
The hevens pride, the glory of our daies,
Which now Iriumphetli (through immortall merit
Of his brave vertues,) crown'd with lasting bales.
Of heyenlie blis and evf rlasting praies ;
Who first my iNIuse did lift out of the flore,
'Jo sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies ;
Bids me, most noble Ladv, to adore
His goodly image living- evermore
In the divine resemblaunce of your face ;
Which with your vertues ye embellish more,
And native beauty deck with he-avenlv grace ;
For his, and for yourowne especial sake.
Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take

E.S.

TO THE MOST VERTUOUS AND BEAUTIFULL LADV, TH«
LADY CAREW.

Ne may I, without blot of endlesse blame.
You, fairest Lady, leave out of this jjlace ;
But, with remembraunce of your gracious name,
(Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace
And deck the world,) adorne these verses base:
Not that these {ev>- lines can in them comprise
Ihose glorious ornaments of hevenly grace,
\\' herewith ye triumph over feeble eye?
And in subdued harts do tyrannyse ;
(For thereunto doth need a golden <]uill
And silver leaves, them rightly to devise ;)
But to make humble jiresent of good will :
Which, whenas timely meanesit purchase may,
In ampler wise itselfe will forth display. E. S.

TO ALL THE GRATIOUS AND BEAUTIFULL LADIES IN TH ■?

eounT.
The Chian peincter, when he was requir'd
Topourtraict \'enus in her perfect hew ;
To make his worke more absolute, desir'd
Of all the fairest maides to have the vew.
Much more me needs, to draw the semblant trew.
Of Beauties Queene, the worlds sole wonderment.
'J"o sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew.
And steale from each snnii' jiart of ornament.
If all the world to secke 1 over" ent,
A fiiirer crew yet nowhere could I see .
'J'hen that brave court doth to mine eie present,
I'kat the world's pride seemes gathered thereto bee
Of each a part I stole by cunning tliefte :
Forj^ive it me, faire 1/ames! sith lesse ye have not
lefte. E. S.

THE FIRST BOOKE

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

CONTAYNING

THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE, OR OF HOT.INESSE.

Lo ! I, tlie man wbose I\Iuse whylome did maske,

As time her taught, in lowly shepheards weeds.

Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske,

For trumpets Sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds.

And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds ;

Whose praises having slept in silence long,

Me, all to meane, the sacred JMuse areeds

To blazon broade emongst her learned throng:

Fiercewarres andfaithful loves shall moralize mysong.

Help then, holy virgin ! chiefe of nyne,

Thy weaker novice to perform thy will ;

Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne

The Antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

Of Faerie knights and fayrest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

That I must rue his undeserved wrong :

O.belpe thou myweake wit, and sharpen my dull long!

And thou, most dreaded impe of highest love,

Faire Venus sonne.that with thy cruell dart

At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,

That glorious fire it kindled in his hart;

Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart.

And, with thy mother mylde, come to mine ayde ;

Come, both ; and with you bring triumphant Mart,

la loves and gentle iollities arraid,

After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd.

And with them eke, O goddesse heavenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and majestie divine.

Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light

Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine.

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile,

To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile :

The which to heare vouchsafe, Odearest dread,awhile

CANTO I.

The patron of true Holinesse
Foule Errour doth defeate ;

Hypocrisie, him to entrappe,
Doth to his home entreate.

A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine,

Ycladd in roightie armes and silver shielde.

Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine.

The cruel markes of many' a bloody fielde ;

Yet armes till that time did he never wield :

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield :

Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

Afl cue for knightly giusts and tierce encounters fitt.

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore.
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge hi
And dead, as living, ever him ador'd
Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word }
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad ,
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydradr

THE FAERIE QUEENK.

[Book I

Upon a great adventure he was bond,

That greatest Gloriana to liim gave,

(That greatest glorious Queene of Faery lond)

To winne liim worsLippe, and her grace to have,

Which of iill earthly things he most did crave.

And ever as he rode, his hart did earne

To prove his puissance in battell brave

Upon his foe, and his new force to learne ;

Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearue.

A lovely ladle rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white then snow ;
Yet she much whiter ; but the same did bide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ;
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw.
As one that inly mournd ; so was she sad,
And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ;
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ;
And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad.

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe.

She was in life and every vertuous lore.

And b)? descent from royall lynage came

Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore

'i'heir scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore,

And all the world in their subjection held ;

Till that infernal feend with foule uprore

Forwasted all their land, and them espeld ; [peld.

Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far corn-

Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd, in being ever last.

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,

The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast.

And angry love an hideous storme of raine

Did poure into his lemans lap so f.ist,

I'hat everie wight to shroud it did constrain ; [fain.

And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were

Enforst to seeke come covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove not farr away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand;
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sornraers pride
Did S|)re(l so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr ;
Ai.d all within were |(athes and alleies wide,
With footini;- worne, and leading inwjird farr:
Faire harbour that them seems ; so in they entred ar.

And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,
loying to heare the birdes sweete harmony.
Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
iNluch can they praise the trees so straight and by.
The sayling pine; the cedar proud and tall ;
The \ ine-propp elme ; the pojjiar never dry ;
The builder oake, sole king ol forrests all ;
The aspine good for staves ; the cypresse funerall ;

The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours

And poets sage ; the firre that weepeth still ;

"J'he willow, worne of forlorne paramours ;

The eugh, obedient to the benders will ;

1'he birch for shaftes ; the sallow for the mill .

The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound ;

The warlike beech ; the ash for nothing ill ;

The fruitful olive ; and the platane round ;

The carver holme; the maple, seldom inward soun •

Led with delight, they thus beguile the vray,
Untill the blustring storme is o-verblowne ;
W^hen, weening to returne, whence they did strav,
They cannot finde that path, which first was showne
But wander too and fro in waies unknowne.
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne
So many paths, so many turnings seene, [been

That which of them to take in diverse doubt thej

At last resolving forward still to fare,

'I'll! that some end they finde, or in or out,

That ]iath they take, that beaten seemd most bare,

And like to lead the labyrinth about ;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollowe cave

Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout

Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave.

And to the dwarfe awhile his needlesse spere he gave

" Be well aware," quoth then that ladie milde,
" Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rasli provoke :
The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfuU doubts : oft fire is without smoke.
And perill without show ; therefore your stroke.
Sir Knight, with-hold, till further tryall made."
" Ah, Ladie," sayd he, " shame were to revoke
The forward footing for an hidden shade : [wade."
Verlue gives her selfe light tbrough darknesse for to

" Yea, but," quoth she, " the perill of tbis place
I better wot then you : Though nowe too late
To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
'ibis is the Wandring Wood, this Errours Den,
A monster vile, whinn God and man does hate :
Tberetbre I read beware." " Fly, ily,'' quoth tlien
I'he fearefull dwarfe ; "this is'no place for living men.'

But, full of fire and greed)' hardiment,

The youlhfull knight could not for ought be staide ,

But forth unto the darksome hole he went,

And looked in: his glistring armor made

A litle glooming ligbt, much like a sliade ;

liy wiiicb he saw the ugly monster plaine,

llalfe like a serpent liornbly disjihiiile.

But tb' other halfe did woiuans shape retaine.

Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

Canto L]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

And, as she lay upon the durtie ground,

Her huge long tails her den all overspred,

Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwouud,

Pointed with mortall sting : of her there bred

A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed.

Sucking upon her poisnous dugs; each one

Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill-favored :

Soone as that uncouth lignt upon them shone.

Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.

Their dam upstart out of her d^n effraide.
And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her cursed head ; whose folds dis[)laid
Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.
She lookt about, and seing one in mayle,
Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe ;
For light she hated as the deadly bale,
Av wont in desert darknes to remaine, [plaine.

Where plain none might her see, nor she see any

Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he lept
As Ivon fierce upon the flying pray.
And" with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, an 1 forced her to stay:
Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray.
And turning fierce her speckled taile advaunst,
'I'hreatniiig her angrie sting, him to dismay ;
Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst ;
The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder
o-Iaunst.

Much daunted with that dint her sence was dazd ;
Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round,
And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd
^Vith doubled forces high above the ground :
Tho, wrapping up her wrelhed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine
All suddenly about his body wound.
That hand or foot to stirr lie strove in vaine,
God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse
traine !

His lady, sad to see his sore constraint, [bee ;

Cride out, " Now, now. Sir Knight, shew what ye
Add faith unto j our force, and be not faint ;
Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee."
That when he heard, in great perplexitie.
His gall did grate for gnefe and high disdaine ;
And, knitting all his force, got one hand free,
W herewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,
'i hat soone to loose her wicked bands did her con-
straine.

Therewith she spewd out of her filthie maw

A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,

Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw.

Which stunk so vildly, that it forst him slacke

His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe :

iler vomit full of bookes and papers was,

With loathly frog and toades, which eyes did lacke,

And creeping sought way in the weedy gras :

Her filthie parbreake all the place defiled has.

As when old father Nilus gins to swell

With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale.

His fattie waves doe fertile slime outwell,

And overflow each plaine and lowly dale :

But, when his later spring gins to avale,

Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherin there breed

Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male

And partly femall, of his fruitful seed ; [reed.

Such ugly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man

The same so sore annoyed has the knight.

That, wel-nigh choked with the deadly stinke,

His forces fade, ne c;m no lenger fight.

Whose corage when the feend perceivd to shrinke,

She poured forth out of her hellish sinke

Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,

(Deformed monsters, fowle, and bhicke as inke,)

Which swarming all about his legs did crall.

And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.

As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide,
When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west.
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which doe byte their hasty supper best
A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest,
All striving to iiifixe their feeble stiuges,
That from their noyance he no where can rest;
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings

Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame

Then of the certeine perill he stood in,

Halfe furious unto his foe he came,

Resolvd in minde all suddenly to win.

Or soone to lose, before he once would lin ;

And stroke at her with more then manly force.

That from her body, full of filthie sin.

He raft her hateful! heade without remorse: [corse.

A streame of cole-black blood forth gushed from her

Her scattred brood, soone as their parent dears
They saw so rudely falling to the ground,
Groningfull deadly all with troublous feare
Gathred themselves about her body round.
Weening their wonted entrance to have found
At her wide mouth ; but, being there withstood.
They flocked all about her bleeding wound.
And sucked up their dying mothers bloud ; [good.
Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their

XXVI.

That detestable sight him much amazde,

To see th' unkindly impes, of heaven accurst,

Devoure their dam ; on whom while so he gazd.

Having all satisfide their bloudy thursi,

Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst.

And bowels gushing forth : well worthy end

Of such, as drunke her life, the which tliem nurst >

Now needeth him no lenger labour sj end, [contend.

His foes have slaine themselves, with whom heshonld

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Rook

His lady seeino; all, lliat cliaunst, from farre,

Approcht in liast to greet his victorie ;

And saide," Faire kiiii;lit, borne under happie starre,

■\Vhc see your vanquislit foes before you lye;

Well wortliie be you of that armory,

Wherein ye have great glory woniie this day.

And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie ;

Your first adventure : many such I pray.

And henceforth ever wish that like succeed it may !"

Then mounted he upon his steede againe,
And with the lady backward sought to wend:
That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,
Ne ever would to any by-way bend ;
But still did follow one unto the end,
The which at last out of the wood them brought.
So forward on his way (with God to frend)
He passed forth, and new adventure sought:
Lono' way he travelled, before he heard of ought.

At length they chaunst to meet upon the way

An aged sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,

His feete all bare, his beard all lioarie gray,

And by his belt his booke he hanging had;

Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad ;

And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

Simple in shew, and voide of malice bad ;

And all the way he prayed, as he went.

And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.

He faire the knight saluted, louting low,

Who faire him quited, as tliat courteous was;

And after asked him, if he did know

Of straunge adventures, wjiich abroad did pas.

"Ah! my dear Sonne," quoih he, " how s<#ould, alas !

Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell,

Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,

Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell ?

With holy father sits not with such thinges to mell.

" But if of daunger, which hereby doth dwell,
And homebredd evil ye desire to heare,
Of a straunge man I cnn you tidings tell.
That wasteth all this countrie farre and neare."
" Of such," saide he, " 1 cliiefly doe inquere ;
And shall thee well rewarde to shew the place,
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace.
That such a cursed creature lives so long a space.''

" Far hence," quoth he, " in wastfnll wildernesse

His dwelUng is, bv which no living wight

May ever passe, but thorough great distresse."

" Now," saide the ladie, " draweth toward night ;

And well I wote, that of your later fight

Ye all forwearied be ; for what so strong.

But, wanting rest, will also want of might ?

Tlie sunne, that measures heaven all day long.

At night doth baite hissteedesthe ocean waves emong.

" Tlien with the sunne take, sir, your timely rest,
And with new day new worke at once begin .
Untroubled night, they say, gives counsel! best."
" Right well. Sir Knight, ye have advised bin,"
Quoth then that aged man ; " the way to win
Is wisely to advise. Now day is spent:
Therefore with me ye may take up your in
For this same night." The knight was well content;
So with that godly father to his home they went.

A little lowly hermitage it was,

Downe in a dale, hard by a forest's side,

Far from resort of people, that did pas

In traveill to and froe : a little wyde

There was an lioly chappell edifyde,

Wlierein the hermite dewly wont to say

His holy things each morne and eventyde:

Thereby a christall streame did gently play.

Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway

Arrived there, the litle house they fill,
Ne looke for entertainement, where none was ;
Rest is their feast, and all thinges at their will:
The noblest mind the best contentment has.
With faire discourse the evening so they pas ;
For that olde man of pleasing wordes had store,
And well could file his tongue, as smooth as glas :
He told of saintes and popes, and evermore
He strowd an Ave-IMary after and before.

The drouping night thus creepeth on them fast ;

And the sad humor loading their eye-liddes.

As messenger of Morpheus, on them cast [biddes

Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleep them

Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:

Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,

He to his studie goes ; and there amiddes

His magick bookes, and artes of sundrie kindes.

He seeks out mighty charmes to trouble sleepy minds.

Then choosing out few words most horrible,
(Let none them read !) thereof did verses frame:
With which, and other spelles like terrible.
He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly dame ;
And cursed Heven ; and spake rei)rochful shame
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light.
A bold bad man ! that dar'd to call by name
Great Gorgon, prince of darknesand dead night;
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.

And forth he cald out of deepe darknes dredd

Legions of sprights, the which, like litle flyes,

Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd,

Awaite whereto their service he a])plyes.

To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies :

Of ihose he chose out two, the falsest twoo,

."^nd fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes ;

1 he one of them he gave a message too,

'i'be other by himselfe staide other worke to doo.

Cahto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

He, making speedy way through spersed ayre,

And through the world of waters wide and deepe,

To INIorpheus house doth hastily repaire,

Amid tlie bowels of the earth full steepe,

And low, where dawnint; day doth never peepe.

His duelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed

Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

In silver deaw his ever-drouping bed, [spred,

Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth

Whose double gates he fiiideth locked fast •

The one faire fram'd of burnisht yvory.

The othi-r all with silver overcast ;

And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye,

Watching to banish Care their enimy.

Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.

By them the sprite doth passe in quietly.

And unto Morpheus conies, whom dio^vned deepe

In drowsie fit he findes ; of nothing betakes keepe.

And, more, to luUe him in his slumber soft,

A trickling streame from high roc i; tumbling downs,

And ever-drizling raine upon the lolt,

jMixt with a murmuring wiiide, much like the sowne

Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne.

No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes.

As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne.

Might there be heard : butcarelesse Quiet lyes

Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

The messenger approching to him spake ;
But his waste wordes retournd to him in vaine :
So sound he slept, thut nought mought him awake.
Then rudely he him thrust, and puslit with j)aine,
Whereat began to stretch : but he againe
Shooke him so bard, that forced hirn to speake.
As one then in a dreame, whose dr\er braine
Is tost with troubled siglits and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence brea.e.

The sprite then gan more boldly him to wake.

And ihreatned unto him the dreaded name

Of Hecate whereat he gan to qu;ike.

And, lifting up his lompish head, with blame

Halfe aiigrie asked him, for what he came,

" Hether," quoth he, '' me Archimago sent.

He that the stubborne sprites can wisely tame.

He bids thee to him send for his intent [sent."

A fit false Dreame, that can delude the sleepers

The god obayde; and, calling forth straight way
A diverse dreame out of bis prison darke,
Delivered it to him, and downe did lay
His heaviy head, devoide of careful carke ;
Whose sencesall were straight benurabd and starke.
He, backe returning by the yvorie dure,
Remounted up as li^ht as chearelull larke ;
And on his litle win^e.- (he Dreame be bore
In hast unto bis lord, where he him left ufore.

Who all this while, with charmes and bidaen artes,

Had made a lady of that other spright.

And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes.

So lively, and so like in all mens sight,

Tliat weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:

The makers selfe, for all his wondrous witt.

Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight.

Her all in white he clad, and over it

Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit

Now when that ydle Dreame was to him brought,

Unto that elfin knight he bad him fly,

Where he slept soundly void of evil thought,

And with false shewes abuse his fantasy ;

In sort as he him schooled privily.

And that new creature, borne without her dew.

Full of the makers guile, with usage sly

He taught to imitate that lady trew.

Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew.

Thus, well instructed, to their worke they haste ;
And, comming where the knight in slomber lay.
The one upon his bardie head iiim plaste,
And made him dreame of loves and lustfuU play ;
That nigh his m;mly hart did melt away.
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy :
Then seemed him his lady by him lay,
And to him ])laynd, how that false winged boy
Her chaste hart had subdewd to learne dame Flea-
suEes toy.

And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne queene,

Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to brinj

Her, whom he, waking evermore did weene

To bee the chastest flowre that aye did spring

On earthly brauiich, ihe daughter of a king.

Now a loose leman to vile service bound :

And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,

Hi/meii I'u Hitmen, dauncing all around ;

Whylst freshest Flora her with yvie girlond crownd.

In this great passion of unwonted lust.

Or wonted "eare of doing ought amis.

He starleth up, as se'Mning to mistrust

Some secret, ill, or hidden foe of his :

Lo, there before his face his ladie is.

Under blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke ;

And as halfe blushine ofl'red Lim to kis.

With gentle blandishment and lovely Jooke, [took.

Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him

All cleane dismayd lo see so uncouth sight.
And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought have slaine her in his fierce despiglit ,
But, hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde iiis hand , and gan himselfe advise
'lo prove ids sense, iind tempt her faigned truth
Wringing her hands, in weinens pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth
Both for her noble blood, and for her tender youth.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boox 1

And sayd, " Ah sir, my liege lord, and my love,

Sliall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,

And mightie causes wrought in heaven above,

Or the blind god, that doth me thus amate,

For hoped love to winne me certaine hate?

Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

Uie is niv dew ; yet rew my wretched state,

^'ou, wiiom my hard avenging destinie

Hath made iudge of my life or death indififerently :

" Your owne dearesake forst me at first to leave
i\ly fathers kingdom" — there she stopt with teares ;
Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave,
\ntl then againe bet;un ; " My weaker yeares,
Captiv'd to foitune and frayle worldly feares,
Flv to vour fayth for succour and sure ayde:
Let me not die in languor and long teares." [may'd ?
" Why, dame," quoth he, " what hath ye thus dis-
What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me
affrayd ? "

"Loveofyourselfe,"she saide, "and deare constraint.
Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie night
In secret anguish and unpittied plaint,
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight."
Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
Suspect her truth ; yet since no' untrutli he knew,
Her fawning love witii foule disd;iinefull siiight
He would not shend ; but said, " Deare dame, I rew
That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto yo'i
grew :

LIV.

" Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground ;

For all so deare, as life is to my hart,

I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound :

Ne let vaine fears procure your needlesse smart.

Where cause is none ; but to your rest depart."

Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

Her mournefuU plaintes, beguiled of her art,

And fed with words, that could not chose but pleasf :

So, slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.

Long after lay he musing at her mood.

Much griev'd to thinke that gentle dame so light.

For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

At last dull wearines of former fight

Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,

That troublous Dreame gan freshly tosse his braine

With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare delight:

But, when he saw his labour all was vaine,

With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

CANTO II.

The guilefull great enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse knight from Truth :

Into whose stead faire Falshood steps.
And workes him woeful! ruth.

T5y this the northerne wagoner had set

His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast slarre

'I'hat was in ocean waves yet never wet,

]5ut firme is fi.xt, and sendeth light from farre

To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre ;

And chearefull chaunticlere with his note shrill

Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery cane

In hast was climbing up the easterne hill,

Full envious that Night so long his roome did fill :

When those accursed messengers of hell,

'Jhat feigning Dreame, and that faire-forged spright.

Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

Their bootelesse paines, and ill-succeeding night:

Who, all in ra-e to see his skilfull might

Deluded so, gan threaten hellish |iaine

And sad Proserpines wrath, tliem to affright.

But, when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

He cast about, and sestrcht bis baleful bokes againe.

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated Faire,
And that false other spright, on whom be spred
A seeming body of the subtile aire.
Like a young squire, in loves and lustyhed
His wanton dales that ever loosely led,
Without regard of armes and dreaded fight;
Those two he tooke, and in a secrete bed.
Covered with darkenes and misdeeming eight,
Them both together laid, to ioy in value delight.

Forthwith he runnes with feigned-faithfull hast
Unto his guest, who, after troublous sights
And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast ;
Whom suddeidy he wakes with fearful frights,
As one aghast with feends or damned sprights.
And to him calls ; " Rise, rise, unhaj)pv swaine,
'I hat herewex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights
Have knit themselves in Venus shameful chaine :
Corae.seewhereyour false lady doih her honor staiue.'

Canto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

All in a maze be suddenly up start

With sword in hand, and with the old man wentj

Wlio soone him brought into a secret part,

Where that false couple were full closely ment

In wanton lust and leud embracement :

Which when be saw, he burnt with gealous fire ;

The eie of reason was with rage yblent ;

And would have slaine them in Lis furious ire.

But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

Retourning to his bed in torment great,

\iid bitter anguish of his guilty sight.

He could not rest ; but did his stout heart eat,

And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,

Vrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.

At last faire Hesperus in highest skie [I'ght ;

Hnd spent his lampe, and brought forth dawning

I'hen up he rose, and clad him hastily; [fly.

The dwarfe him brought his steed : so both away do

Now when the rosy-fingered Morning faire.

Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed.

Had spread her purple robe through deawy aire ;

And the high hils Titan discovered ;

'I'he royall virgin shooke olf drousvhed :

And, rising forth out of her haser bowre,

Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled.

And for her dwarfe, that wont to waite each howre : —

Then gau she wail andweepe to see that woeful stowre.

But now seemde best the person to put on

Of that good knigiit, his late beguiled guest .-^

In mighty armes he was yclad anon,

And silver shield ;■ upon his coward brest

A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest

A bounch of heares discolourd diversly.

Full ioUy knight he seemde, and wel addrest ;

And, when he sale uppon his courser free, [to be

Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed him

But he, the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,
The true Saint George, was wandied far away.
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare :
\\'\]\ was his guide, and griefe led him astray.
At last him chaunst to meete upon the way
A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde to point,
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay
Suns Joy ; full large of limbe and every ioint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

Hee had a faire companion of his way,

A goodly lady clad in scarlot red,

Purfled witli gold and pearle of rich assay;

And like a Persian mitre on her hed

Shee wore, with crowns and owches garnished,

The which her lavish lovers to her gave :

Her wanton palfrey all was overspred

With tinsell trappings, woven like a wave,

\\ hose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave.

And after him she rode with so much speeoe.
As her slowe beast could make ; but all in vaine ;
For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,
'i'hat him to follow was but fruitlesse paine :
Yet she her weary limbes would never rest ;
But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine,
Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest.
He so ungently left her, whom she loved best.

But subtill Archimago, when his guests

He saw divided into double parts.

And L'na wandring in woods and forrests,

(Th' end of his drift,) he praised his divelish arts.

That had such might over true meaning harts :

Vet rests not so, but other meanes doth make.

How he may worke unto her further smarts :

For her he hated as the Ljssing snake.

And in her many troubles did most j^leasure take.

He then devisde himselfe how to disguise ;

For by his mighty science he could take

As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,

As ever Proteus to himselfe could make :

Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake.

Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell ;

That of himselfe he ofte for feare would quake.

And oft would flie away. O who can tell [spell !

The hidden powre of herbes, and might of aagick

With faire disport, and courting dalliaunce,

She intertainde her lover all the way :

But, when she saw the knight his speare advaunce

Shee soone left ofi her mirth and wanton play,

And bad her knight addresse him to the iray ;

His toe was nigh at hand. He, prickte with pride,

And hope to winne his ladies hearte that day,

Forth spurred last ; adowne his coursers side

The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride,

The knight of the Redcrosse, when him he spide

Spurring so bote with rage dispiteous,

Gan fairely couch his sjjtare, and towards ride :

Soone meete they both, both fell and furious.

That, daunted with their forces hideous,

Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand ;

And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous,

Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,

Doe backe rebutte, and each to other yealdeth land.

As when two rams, stird with ambitious pride.

Fight for the rule of the rich-fleeced flocke.

Their horned fronts so fierce on either side

Uoe meete, that, with the terror of the shocks

Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a blocke,

Forgetfull of the hanging victory:

So stood these twaine, unmoved :is :•. rocke,

Both staring fierce, and holding idi-lv

'J'he broken relitjues of their former cruelty.

THE FAERIE QUERNE.

Tlie Sarazin, sore daunted witli the buffe,
Snatclieth his sworti, and fiercely to him flies ;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuft" with cuff:
Each others equall piiissaunce envies,
And through their iron sides with cruell spies
Does seeke to perce ; repining- courage yields
No foote to foe : the flashing fier flies,
As from a forge, out of their burning shields ;
And streams of purple bloud new die the verdant
fields.

•' Curse on that crosse," quoth then the Sarazin,

That keeps thy body from the bitter fitt ;

Dead long ygoe, I wote, thou haddest bin.

Had not that charme from thee forwarned itt :

But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,

And hide thy head." Therewith upon bis crest

With rigor so outrageous he smitt.

That a large share it hewd out of the rest, [blest.

And glauncing down his shield from blame him fairly

Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
Of native vertue gan eftsoones revive ;
And, at his haughty helmet making mark,
So hugely stroke, that it the Steele did rive,
And cleft his head : he, tumbling downe alive.
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis.
Greeting his grave : his grudging ghost did strive
With the fraile flesh ; at last it flitted is,
Whither the soules doe fly of men, that live amis.

" He, in the first flowre of my freshest age.

Betrothed me unto the ouely haire

Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage J

Was never prince so faithfull and so fairs,

Was never prince so meeke and debouaire .'

But, ere mv hoped day of spousall shone,

My dearest lord fell from high honors staire

Into the hands of hys accursed fone,

And cruelly was slaine; that shall I ever moBe !

" His blessed body, spoild of lively breath.
Was afterward, I know not how, convaid,
And fro me hid ; of whose most innocent death
When tidings came to mee, unhappy maid,
O, how great sorrow my sad soule assaid !
Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,
And many yeares throughout the world I straid,
A virgin widow ; whose deepe-wounded mind
With love long time did languish, as the striken bind.

" At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin

To raeete me wandring ; who perforce me led

With him away; but yet could never win

The fort, that ladies hold in soveraigne dread.

There lies he now with foule dishonor dead,

Who, whihs he livde, was called proud Sansfoy,

The eldest of three brethren ; all three bred

Of one bad sire, whose 3'oungest is Sansioy ; [loy.

And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sans-

The lady, when she saw her champion fall.

Like the old mines of a broken towre,

Staid not to waile his woefull funerall ;

But from him fled away with all her powre :

Who after her as hastily gan scowre.

Bidding the dwarfe with him to bring away

The Sarazins shield, sigue of the concjueroure :

Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay ;

For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

Shee turning backe, with ruefull countenaunce,
Cride, " Mercy, mercy, sir, vouchsafe to show
On silly dame, subiect to hard mischaunce.
And to your mighty will." Her humblesse low
In so ritch weedes, and seeming glorious show,
Did much emmove his stout lieroicke heart;
And said, " Deare dame, your suddein overthrow
Much rueth me ; but now put feare ajjart, [part."
Andtel, both who ye be, and who that tooke your

Melting in teares, then gan shee thus lament ;

" The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre

I'atli now made thrall to your commandement,

Before that angry heavens list to lowre.

And fortune false betraide me to your powre.

Was, (O what now availeth that I wasl^

Borne the sole daughter of an empcrour ;

He that tiie wide west under his rule has.

And high hath set his throne where Tiberis doth pas.

" In this sad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate.
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you, in jiitty of my state,
To doe none ill, if please ye not doe well."
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quicke eies, her face to view.
Then his dull eares, to heare what s-hee did tell ;
And said, " Faire lady, hart of flint would rew
The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.

" Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest,

Having both found a new friend you to aid,

And lost an old foe that did you molest:

Better new friend then old foe is said."

With chaunge of chear the seeming-simple maid

Let fal her eien, as shamefast, to the earth,

And yeelding soft, in that she nought gainsaid.

So forth they rode, he feiningseemely merth, [derth.

And shee coy lookes : so dainty, they say, maketh

Long time they thus together travelled ;

Til, weary of their way, they came at last

Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred

Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcaste;

And their greene leaves, trembling with every blast,

Made a calmeshadovve far in compasse round •

The fearfuU shepheard, often there aghast.

Under them never sat, ne wont there sound

His mery oaten pipe ; but shund th' unlucky ground.

Canto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEFXE.

But this good knight, soone as he them can spie,
For the coole shade him thither hastly got ;
For golden Phoebus, now ymounted hie.
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That living creature mote it not abide ;
' And his new lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.

Faire-seemely pleasaunce each to other makes.

With goodly purposes, there as they sit ;

And in his ftilsed fancy he her takes

To be the fairest wight, that lived yit ;

Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit ;

And, thinking of those braunches greene to frame

A girlond for her dainty forehead tit.

He ])luckt a bough ; out of whose rifte there came

Smal drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the

Tlierewith a piteous yelling voice was heard,

Crying, " O spare with guilty hands to teare

My tender sides in this rough rynd embard ;

But fly, ah ! fly far hence away, for feare

Least to you hap, that happened to me heare,

And to this wretched lady, my deare love ;

O too deare love, love bought with death too deare !"

Astond he stood, and up his heare did hove :

And with that suddein horror could no member

A t last whenas the dreadfull passion
Was overpast, and manhood well awake ;
^'et musing at the straunge occasion.
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake :
' ^^'hat voice of damned ghost from Limbo lake,
l.)r guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
( Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake,)
Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare,
And niefuU plaints, me bidding guiltlesse blood to
spare 1"

XXXIIT.

Then, groningdeep ; " Nor damned ghost," quoth he,
" Xor guileful sprite, to thee these words doth
But once a man Fradubio, now a tree ; [speake ;

\\ retcl'.ed man, wretched tree ! whose nature vveake
A cruell witch, her cursed will to v.reake,
Uihh thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
\\ here Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake,
And scorching sunne does dry my secret vaines ;
For though a tree I seeme, ytt cold and heat me
paines."

XXXIV.

" Say on, Fradubio. then, or man or tree,"

Quoth then the knight ; " by whose mischievous

Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see 1 [arts

He oft finds med'cine who his griefe imparts ;

Bat double griefs afflict concealing harts ;

As raging flames who striveth to suppresse."

" Tlie author then," said he^ " of all my smarts.

Is one L'uessa, a false sorceresse, [nesse.

Ibia many errant knights hath broght to wretched-

" In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hott
The fire of love and ioy of chevalree
First kindled in my brest, it was my iott
To love this gentle lady, whome 3'e see
Now not a lady, but a seeming tree ;
With whome as once I rode accompanyde,
IMe chauuced of a knight encountred bee.
That had a like faire ladv by his syde ;
Lyke a faire lady, but did tbwle Duessa hyde ;

" Whose forged beauty he did take in hand

All other dames to liave exceded farre ;

I in defence of mine did likewise stand,

IMine, that did then shine as the morning starre.

So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre ;

In which his harder fortune was to fall

Under my speare ; such is tlie dye of waiTe.

His ladv, left as a prise martiall,

Did yield her comely person to be at my call.

" So doubly lov'd of ladies unlike faire,

Th' one seeming such, the other such indeede,

One day in doubt I cast for to compare

Whether in beauties glorie did exceede ;

A rosy girlond was the victors meede.

Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee ;

So hard the discord was to be agreede.

Fradissa was as faire, as faire mote bee.

And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.

" The wicked witch, now seeing all this while

The doubtfidl ballaunce equally to sway.

What not by right, she cast to win by guile ;

And, by her helUsh science, raisd streight way

A foggy mist that overcast the day,

A nd a dull blast that breathing on her face

Dimmed her former beauties shining ray.

And with foule ugly forme did her disgrace : [place.

Then was she I'ayre alone, when none was faire ia

" Then cride she out, ' Fye, fye, deformed wight
Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
To have before bewitched all mens sight :
O leave her soone, or let her soone be slaine !'
Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,
Eftsoones I thought her such as she me told,
And would have ki!d her ; but with faigned paine
The false witch did njy wrathfull hand withhold :
So left her, where she now is turned to treen mould.

" Tliensforth I tnoke Duessa for my dame.

And in the witch unweeting iovd long time ;

Ne ever wist, but that she was the same :

Till on a day (that day is everie prime,

W^hen witches wont do penance lor their crime,)

I chaunst to see her in her proper hew,

Batliing her selfe in origane and thyme :

A fiith\^ foule old woman 1 did vew.

That ever to have toucht her I did deadly rew.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I.

" Her neather partes misshapen monstruous,

Were liidd in water, that I could not see ;

But they did seeme more foule and hideous,

Then womans shape man would beleeve to bee.

Thensforth from her most beastly companie

I gan refraine, in minde to slipp away,

Soone as appeard safe opportunitie :

For dang'er great, if not assurd decay,

I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

" The divelish hag, by chaunges of my cheare,
Perceiv'd my thought ; and, drownd in sleepie night,
'iVith wicked herbes and oyntments did besmeare
My body, all through charmes and magicke might,
That all my senses were bereaved quight :
Then brought she me into this desert waste.
And by my wretched lovers side me pight ;
Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,
Banisht from living wights, our wearie daies we
waste."

XLV

" But how long time," said then the Elfin knight,

" Are you in this misformed hous to dwell?"

" We maynot chaunge," quoth he, " this evill plight.

Till we be bathed in a living well ;

That is the terme prescribed bv the spell."'

" O how," sayd he, " mote I that well out find,

That may restore you to your wonted well ?"

" Time and suffised fates to former kynd [unbynd."

Shall us restore ; none else from hence may us

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight.

Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,

And knew well all was true. But the good knight,

Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment.

When all this speech tlie living tree had spent.

The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground.

That from the blood he might be innocent.

And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound :

Then turning to his lady, dead with feare her fownd .

Her seeming dead he fownd with feigned feare.
As all unweeting of that well siie knew ;
And pavnd himselfe with busie care to reare
Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eyelids blew.
And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew.
At last she up gan lift : with trembling cheare
Her up he tooke, (too simple and too trew,)
And oft her kist. At length, all passed feare.
He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.

CANTO III.

Forsaken Truth long seekes her love.
And makes the lyon mylde ;

]\Iarres blind Devotions mart, and fals
In hand of leachour vylde.

Noucrrr is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse,
That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t'unworthio wretchednesse
Through envies snares, <ir fortunes freak<'s unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightnes blynd,
Or through alleagcauce, and fust fealty,
\\hich I do owe unto all womankynd,
Feele my hart perst with so great agony,
When such I see, that all for pitty 1 could dy.

And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest Cnaes sake, of whom I sing,

'1 hut my frayle eies these lines with teares do steepe.

To thiuke how she througii guyleful haiideling,

Tliougn true as touch, though daughter of a king,

'I'hough faire as ever living wight was fayre,

Tiiough nor in word nor deede ill meriting.

Is fron\ her knight divorced in despayre,

And her dew loves deryv'dto that vile witchesshayre

Yet she, most faithfull ladie, all this while

Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd.

Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,

In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight ; who, subtily betrayd [wrought,

Through that late vision which th' euchauuter

Had her abandond ; she of nought afrayd,

Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought ,

Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her brought.

One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,

From her unhastie beast she did alight ;

And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay

j'n secrete shadow, far from all mens sight ;

From her fayre head her fillet she undight.

And layd her stole aside ; Her angels face.

As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright.

And made a sunshine in the shady place ;

Uid never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.

[Canto. III.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

It fortuned, out of the tliickest wood

A ramping lyoti rushed suddeinlv,

Hunting full greedy after salvage blood ;

Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To have attonce devourd her tender corse ;

But to the pi'ay when as he drew more ny,

His bloodv rage aswaged with remorse.

And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

Instead thereof, he kist her wearie feet,
And lickt her liUy hands with fawning tong;
As he her wronged innocence did weet.
O how can beautie maister the most strong.
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong !
Whose yielded prydo and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when see had marked long,
Her h.irt j^au melt in great compassion ;
And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

" The Ivon, lord of everie beast in field,"

Quoth she, " his princely puissance doth abate,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,

Forget'ull of the hungry rage, which late

Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : — •

But he, my lyon, and my noble lord.

How does ne find in cniell hart to hate

Her, tliat him lov'd, and ever most adord

As the god of my life ? why hath he me abhord V'

Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint,

Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood ;

And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint,

The kingly beast upon her gazing stood ;

With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.

At last, in close hart shutting up her payne.

Arose the virgin, borne of heavenly broody

And to her snowy palfrey got agavne.

To seeke her strayed champion if she might attayiie*

The lyon would not leave her desolate.

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard ;

Still, when she slept, he kept both watch, and ward

And, when she wakt, he wayted dilig6n,t.

With humble service to her will prepnrd :

From her fayre e3'es he took command t^ment,

And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.

Long she thus traveiled through deserts wyde,

By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas.

Yet never shew of living wight espyde ;

Till that at length she found the trodden gras.

In which the tract of peoples footing was.

Under the steepe foot of a mountaine hore ;

The same she followes, till at last she has

A damzel spyde slow-footing her before,

I'hat OD her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.

To whom approching, she to her gan call,
To weet, if dwelling-place were nigh at hand :
But the rude wench her answerd nought at all ;
She could not heare, nor speake, nor understand :
Till, seeing by her side the lyon stand,
With suddein fesfi'e her pitcher downe she threw,
And fled away : for never in that land .

Face of fayre lady she before did vew, •

And that dredd lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.

Full fast she fled, ne ever lookt behynd,

As if her life upon the wager lay ;

And home she came, whereas her mother blynd

Sate in eternall night ; nought could she say ;

But, suddeine catching hold, did her dismay

With quiiking hands, and other signes of feare ;

Who, full of ghastly fright and cold aflray,

Gan shut the dore. By this arrived there

Dame Una, weary dame, and entrance did requere ;

Which when none yielded, her unruly page
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,
And let her in ; where, of his cruell rage
Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment,
Shee found them both in darksome corner pent ;
Where that old woman day and night did pray
Upon her beads, devoutly penitent ;
Nine hundred Pater nostn-s every day.
And thrice nine hundred Aves, she was wont to say.

And, to augment her painefull penaunce more,
Thrise every weeke in ashes shee did sitt,
And rtext her wrinkled skin, rough sackecloth wore
And thrise-three times did fast from any bitt :
But now for feare her beads she did forgett.
Whose needlesse dread for to remove away,
Faire Una framed words and count'naunce fitt ;
Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray,
That in their cotage small that night she rest her may

The day is spent ; and commeth drowsie night,
When everj"^ creature shrouded is in sleepe ;
Sad Una downe her laies in weary plight.
And at her feete the lyon watch doth keepe ;
In stead of rest, she does lament, and weepe.
For the late losse of her deare-loved knight.
And sighes, and grones, and evermore does steepe
Her tender brest in bitter teares all night ;
All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for
lio-ht.

Now when Aldeboran was mounted bye,
Above the shinie Cassiopeias chaire.
And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lye.
One knocked at the dore, and in would fare ,
He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware„
That ready entraunco was not at his call ;
For on his backe a heavy load he bare
Of nightly stelths, and pillage severall,
Which he had got abroad by purchas criminali'.

e 9

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book L

He was, to weete, a stout and sturdy tliiefe,

Wont to robbe churches of their ornaments,

And Y)OOTe mens boxes of their due reliefe,

Which given was to them for good intents :

The holy saints of their rich vestiments

He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept ;

And spoild the priests of their habiliments ;

Whiles none the holy things in safety kept.

Then he by conniug sleights in at the window crept.

And all, that he by right or wrong could find.

Unto this house he brought, and did bestow

Upon the daughter of tliis woman blind,

Abessa, daughter of Corceca slow.

With whome he whoredome usd that few did know,

And fed her fatt with feast of offerings,

And plenty, which in all the land did grow ;

Ne spared he to give her gold and rings :

And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.

Thus, long the dore with rage and threats he bett ;
Yet of those fearfull women none durst rize,
(The lyon frayed them,) him in to lett ;
He would no lenger stay him to advize,
But open breakes the dore in furious wize.
And entring is ; when that disdainfull beast,
Encountring fierce, him suddein doth surprize ;
And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest.
Under his lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.

Him booteth not resist, nor succour call,

His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand ;

Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small.

And quite dismembred hath : the thirsty land

Dronke up his life ; his corse left on the strand,

Hib teareiuU freends weare out the wofuU night,

"Ne dare to weejie, nor seeme to understand

Tlie heavie hap, which on tliem is alight ;

AfFraid, least to themselves the like mishapen might.

Now "when broad day the world discovered has,

Up Una rose, up rose the lyon eke ;

And on their fomier iourney forward pas,

In waies unknowne, lier wandring knight to seeke.

With puines far passing that long-wandring Greeke,

That for liis love refused deitye :

Such were the labours of this lady meeke.

Still seeking liim, that from lier still did five ; [nye.

Then furthest from her liope, wlien most she weened

Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull twayne.
That blind old woman, and her daughter dear,
Came forth ; and, finding Xirkrapine there slayne.
For anguish great they gan to rend their heare,
And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare :
And when they both had vi-ept and wayld their fill.
Then forth they ran, like two amazed deare,
Hulfe mad through malice and revenging will,
To follow her, that was the causer of their ill ;

Wliome overtaking, they gan loudly bray,
Witli liollow houling, and lamenting cry ;
Shamefully at her rayling all the wav.
And her accusing of dishonesty,
That was the flowre of fiiith and chastity :
And still, amidst her rayling, she did pray
That plagues, and mischiefes, and long misery.
Might fall on lier, and follow all the way ;
And that in endlesse error she might ever stray.

But, when she saw her prayers nought prevails,
Sbee backe retourned with some labour lost ;
And in the way, as shee did weepe and waile,
A knight her mett in mighty armes embost.
Yet knight was not for all his bragging host;
But subtill Archimag, that Una sought
By traynes into new troubles to have toste :
Of that old woman tidings he besought,
If that of such a lady shee could tellen ought.

Therewith she gan her passion to renew.
And try, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,
Saying, that harlott she too lately knew.
That causd her shed so many a bitter teare ;
And so forth told the story of her feare.
]\Iuch seemed he to mone lier haplessechaunce,
And after for that lady did inquere ;
Which being taught, he forward gan advaunce
His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed
launce.

Ere long he came where Una traveild slow.
And that wikle champion wayting her besyde ;
Whome seeing such, for dread bee durst not show
Him selfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde
Unto an hil ; from whence wh-^n she him spyde.
By his like-seeming shield her knight by name
Shee weeiid it was, and towards him gan ride ;
Approacliing nigh she wist it was the same ;
And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee

And weeping said, " Ah my long-lacked lord.
Where have ye bene thus long out of my sight ?
Much feared I to have bene quight abhord.
Or ought have done, that ye displeasen might
That siiould as death unto my deare heart light
For since mine eie your ioyous sight did mis,
I\Iy cheurcfull day is turiid to chearclesse night,
And eke my night of death the shadow is : [blis !'
But welcome now, my light, and shining lampe of

He thereto meeting said, " My dearest dame,
Far be it from your thought, and fro my wil,
'I'o thinke tliat knighthood J so much should shame.
As you to leaTe that have me loved stil,
And chose in Faery court, of meere goodwil.
Where noblest knights were to be found on earth.
The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skil
To bring ibrtli fruit, and make eternal derih,
Then I leve you, my liefe, yborn of hevenly berth

Canto III.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" And sooth to sav, why I lefte you so long,
\Vas for to seeke adventure in straunge place j
Where, Archimago said, a felon strong
To manv knights did daily worke disgrace ;
Hut knight he now shall never more deface :
Good cause of mine excuse that mote ye please
Well to accept, aud evermore embrace
Mv faithfuU service, that by land and seas
Have vowd you to defend : novr then your plaint
appease."

XXX.

His lovely words her seemd due recompence

Of all her passed paines : one loving howre

For many yeares of sorrow can dispence ;

A dram of sweete is worth a poimd of sowre.

Shee has forgott how many a woeful stowre

For him she late endurd ; she speakes no more

Of past : true is, that true love hath no powre

To looken backe ; his eies be fixt before. [sore.

before her stands her kuight, for whom she toyld so

Much like, as when the beaten marinere,

That long hath wandred in the ocean wide,

Ofte soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare ;

And long time having tand his tawney hide

With blustring breath of heaven, that none can bide,

And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound ;

Soone as the port from far he has espide,

His chearfull whistle merily doth sound, [around

And Nereus crownes with cups ; his mates bimpledg

Such ioy made Una, when her knight she found ;

And eke th' enchaunter iovous seemde no lesse

Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground

His sliip far come from watrie wildernesse ;

He liurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse.

So fortii they past ; and all the way they spent

Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse.

In which he askt hor, what the lyon nient ;

Who told, her all that fell in iourney, as she went.

They had not ridden far, when they might see

One yiricking towards them with hastie heat,

full strongly armd, and on a courser free

That through his fiersnesse fomed all with sweat.

And the sharpe yron did for anger eat,

"When his hot ryder spurd his chaufFed side ;

His looke was sterne, and seamed still to threat

Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde :

A nd on his shield Sans Ioy in bloody lines was dyde.

When nigh he drew unto this gentle payre,
And saw the red crosse, which the knight did beare.
He burnt in fire ; and gan eftsoones prtr-pare
HimseU'e to batteill with his couched speare.
Loth was that other, and did faint through feare,
To taste th' untryed dint of deadly Steele :
But yet his lady did so well him cheare,
Tiiat hope of new good hap he gan to feele ;
So bent his sjieare, and sptird his horse with yron
heele.

But that proud Paynira forward came so ferce
And full of wrath, that, with his sharp-head speare,
Throus^h vainly crossed shield he quite did perce ;
And, had his staggering steede not shronke for feare.
Through shield and body eke he should him beare :
Yet, so great was the puissanc-e of his pu-h,
That from his sadle quite he did him beare ;
He torabling rudely downe to ground did rush,
And from his goreil wound a well of bloud did gu^h.

Dismounting lightly from his loflie steed,

He to him lept, in minde to reave his life,

And proudly said ; " Lo, there the wortliie meed

Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloody knife ;

Henceforth his ghost, freed from repining strife.

In peace may passen over Lethe lake ;

W'hen mourning altars, purgd with enimies life,

The black infernall furies doen aslake : [take."

Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from theo

Therewith in haste his helmet gan unlace.
Till Una cride, " O hold that heavie hand.
Dear sir, what ever that thou be in place :
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand
Now at thy mercy ; mercy not withstand ;
For he is one the truest knight alive.
Though conquered now he lye on lowly land ;
And, whijest him fortune favourd, fayr^^ did thrive
In bloudy field ; therefore of life him not deprive."

Her piteous wordes might not abate his rage ;
But, rudely rending up his helmet, would
Have slayne him streight ; but when he sees his
And hoarie head of Archimago old, [''o^,

His hasty hand he doth amased hold.
And, halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight :
For that old man well knew he, though untold.
In channes and magick to have wondrous might ;
Ne ever wont in field, ne in round lists, to fight ;

And said, " Why Archimago, lucklesse syre,

W^hat doe I see ? what hard mishap is this.

That hath thee hether brought to taste mine yre 1

Or thine the fault, or mine the error is.

Instead of foe to wound my friend amis ?"

He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay.

And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his

The cloude of death did sit ; which doen away.

He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay:

But to the virgin comes ; who all this while
Amased stands, herselfe so mockt to see
By him, who has the guerdon of his gude.
For so misfeigning her true knight to bee :
Yet is she now in more perplexitie,
Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold
From whom her booteth not at all to flie :
W^ho, by her cleanly garment latching hold,
Her from her palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold

THE FAKRIK QUEEXE.

[Book 1

But her fiers servant, full of kingly aw
And liigh disdaine, wheaas his soveraine dame
So rudely handled by her foe he saw,
With gaping- iawes full greedy at him came,
And, nunping on his shield, did weene the same
Have reft away with his sharp rending clawes :
But he was stout, and lust did now uitiame
His corage more, that from his griping pawes
He hath his shield redeemd ; and forth his swerd he
drawes.

xm.

O then, too weake and feeble was the forse
Of salvage beast, his puissance to withstand !
For he was strong, and of so nii-htie corse,
As ever wielded S[ieare in warlike hand ;
And feates of armes did wisely understand.
Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest
Witli Ihiilling point of deadly yron brand.
And launcht his l.rdly hart :"with dearii opprest
He ror'd aloud, whiles life forsooke his stuhborne
brest. ^

Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid

From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will ?

Her faithfull gard remov'd ; her hope dismaiJ;

Her selfe a yielded pray to save or spill !

He now, lord of the field, his pride to till.

With foule rej)rocl)es and disdaineful s])ight

Her vildly entertaines ; and, will or nill,

Beares her awav upon his courser light: [might.

Her prayers nought prevaile : his rage is more of

And all the wav, with great lamenting paine.
And piteous j)laintes, she filleth his dull eares.
That stony hart could riven have in twaine ;
And iill the way she wetts witli flowing teares ;
But he, enrag'd with rancor, nothing heares.
Her servile beast yet would not leave her so,
But follows her far ofl", ne ought he feares
To be partaker of her wandring woe.
JMore mild in beastly kind, then that her beastly foe

CANTO IV.

To sinfuU hous of Pryde Duess-
a guvdes the faithfull knight ;

VVluTe, brothers death to wreak, Sansioy
Doth chaleng lum to fight.

You.vo knight whatever, that dost armes ]irofesse,

And (hrough long labours huntest after fame,

Beware of fraud, bewarf of ticklenesse.

In chdice, and ch;uiiige, of thy deare-loved dame;

Least thou of her believe too lightly blame.

And rash misweening doe thy hart remove :

For unto knight there is no greater shame.

Then liglitnesse and inconstancie in love ; []ir()ve.

That doth this Redcrosse knights ensample plainly

Who, after that he had faire Una lorne.

Through light misdeeming of her loiallie ;

And false IJuessa in her sted had borne.

Called I'idess', and so supi)osd to be ;

Long with her traveild ; till at last they see

A goodly building, bravely garnished ;

The house of mightie ])rince it seeind to be ;

And towards it a broad high way that led,

All half through peojilesfeet, which thether travelled.

Great troupes of people traveild thetherward
Botli (lav and night, of each degree and place;
15vit ffw returned, having scaped hard,
With baleful! beggerv, or foule disgrace ;
Which ever after in most wretched case,
Like 1 lathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thether Duessa badd him bend his ]iace;
For she is wearie of the toilsoin wav;
And al.^o nigh consumed is the lingring day.

A stately pollace built of squared bricke,

Which cunningly was without morti r laid.

Whose wals were high, but nothing strong nor thict

And golden foile all over them displaid.

That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid :

High lifted up were many loftie towres,

And goodly galleries far over laid.

Full of faire windowes and delightful bowres ;

And on the top a diall told the timely howres.

It was a goodly heape for to behould,

And sjiake the praises of the workmans witt :

But full great pittie, that so faire a mouia

Did on so weake foundation ever sitt :

For on a sandie hill, that still did flitt

And fall away, it mounted was full Lie :

That every breath of heaven shaked itt ;

And all the hinder jiartes. that few could spie.

Were ruinous imd old, but jiainted cunningly.

Arrived there, they passed in forth right ;
For still to all the gates stood ojien wide :
Yet charge of them was to a porter hight,
Cald Rlalvenu, who entrance none denide ;
Tlieiice to tl e hall, which was on every sied
Witii lich array and costly arras dight ,
Infinite sortes of people did abide
'I'here w;iiting long, to win the wished sight
Of her, that was the lady of that pallace bright.

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

By them they passe, all gazing on them round.
And to the presence mount ; whose glorious vew
Their frayle amazed senses did confound.
In livina: prmces court nine ever knew
Such endlesse richesse. and so sunipteous shew ;
Ne Persia selfe, the uourse of pompous pride.
Like ever saw : and there a noble crew
Of lords and ladies stood on ever side,
Which, with their presence fayre, the place much
beautifyde.

High above njl a cloth of state was spred.

And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day ;

On which there sate, most brave embellished

With royall robes and gorgeous array,

A raayden queene that slione, as Titans ray.

In glistring gold and perelesse pretious stone ;

Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay

To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne,

As envying her selfe, that too exceeding shone

Exceeding shone, like Phoebus fayrest childe,
That did presume his fathers tyrie wayne,
And flaming mouthes of steedes unwonted wilde.
Through highest heaven with weaker hand to rayne;
Proud of such glory and advancement vayne.
While flashing beames do daze his feeble eyen.
He leaves the welkin way most beaten playne,
And, rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen
With fire not made to burne, but fayrely for to sh3-ne.

So proud she shyied in her princely state.
Looking to heavf n ; for earth she did disdayne:
And sitting higli ; for lowly she did Iiate :
Lo, underneath her scomefuU feete was layne
A dreadfuU dr?gon with an hideous trayne ;
And in her hand she held a mirrhour bright.
Wherein her face she often vewed fayne,
And iv her selfe-lov'd semblance took delight ;
Fo' she was wondrous faire, as any living wight.

Of gxiesly Pluto she the daughter was, •

And sad Proserpina, the queene of hell ;

Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth to pas

That parentage, with pride so did she swell ;

And thundring love, tliat high in lieaven doth dwell

And wield the v»-orid, she claymed for her syre ;

Or if that any else did love excell ;

For to the highest she did still aspyre ;

Or, if ought higher were then that, did it desyre.

And proud Lucifera men did her call.
That made her selfe a queene, and crownd to be;
Yet rightl'ull kingdome she had none at all
Ne heritage of nt.tive soveraintie ;
But did usurpe with wrong and tyrannic
Upon the scepter, which she now did hold :
Me raid her realme with lawes, but pol.icie.
And strong advizement of six wizards old.
That wiih their counsels bad her kingdome did
uphold.

Soone as the elfin knight in presence came.

And lalse Duessa, seeming lady fayre,

A genile Imsher, Vanitie by name,

Made rowme, and passage for them did prepaire :

So goodly brought them to the lowest stavre

Of her high throne ; where they, on Immble kneo

Making obeysaunce, did the cause declare.

Why they were come, her roiall state to see.

To prove the wide report of her great maisstee.

With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so lowe.
She thancked them in her disdainefull wise ;
Ne other grace vouchsafed them to showe
Of princesse worthy ; scarse them bad arise.
Her lordes and ladies all this while devise
Themselves to setten forth to straungers sight :
Some frounce their curled heare in courtlv gui^e ;
Some prancke their ruftes ; and others trimly dight
Their gay attyre : each others greater pride does
spight.

Goodly they all that knight doe entertayne.
Right glad with him to have increast their crew ;
But to Duess' each one himselfe did payne
All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew ;
For in that court whylome her well they knew :
Yet the stout Faery mongst the middest crowd
Thought all their glorie vaine in knightlie vew-.
And that great princesse too exceeding prowd.
That to stransje kni"ht no better countenance allowd.

Suddein upriseth from her stately place

The roiall dame, and for her coche did call :

All hurtlen ibrth ; and she, with princely pace.

As faire Aurora, in her purple pall.

Out of the east the dawning day doth call,

So forth she comes ; lierbrightnes brode doth blaze.

The he-.ipes of people, thronging hi the hall,

Doe ride each other, upon her to gaze :

Her g-lorious glitter and light doth all mens eies

So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme.

Adorned all with gold and girlonds gay.

That seemd as fresh as Flora in lier prime ;

And strove to match, in roiall rich array.

Great lunoes golden chayre ; the wliich, they say.

The gods stand gazing on, when she does ride

To loveshigh hous through heavens bras-paved way,

Drawiie of favre pecocks, that excell in pride,

And full of Argus eyes their tayles dispredden wide

But this was drawne
On which her six sag
Taught to oaby their
With like conditions
Of which the first, t!
Was sluggish Idleiie;
Upon a slouthtull as>i
Arayd iu hab"' blacke
Like to an holy monc

of six unequall beasts,
e counsellours did ryde,
bestiall beheasts,
to their kindes apply de ;
at all the rest did guyde,
;se, the nourse of Sin ;
e he chose to ryde,

and amis thin ;
k, the service to begin.

£4

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book

And in his hand his portesse still he hare,

That much was worne, hut therein little redd ;

For of devotion he had little care,

Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his daies dedd :

Scarse could he once uphold his heavie hedd,

To looken whetlier it were night or day.

JVIav seeme the wayne was very evil ledd,

When such an one had guiding of the way,

That knew not, whether right he went or else astray.

From worldly cares hiraselfe he did esloyne,

And greatly shunned manly exercise ;

From everie worke he chalenged essoyne.

For contemplation sake : yet otbervvise

His life he led in lawlesse riotise ;

By which he grew to grievous malady :

For in his lustlesse limhs, through evill guise,

A shaking fever raignd continually :

Such one was Idlenesse, first of this company.

And hy his side rode loathsome Gluttony,

Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne ;

His belly was upblowne with luxury,

And eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne ;

And like a crane his neck was long and fyne,

AVith which he swallowed up excessive feast,

For want whereof poore people oft did pyne :

And all the way, most like a hruti^h beast.

He spued up his gorge, that all did him deteast.

In greene vine leaves he was right fitly clad ;

For other clothes he could not wear for heate :

And on his head an yvie girland had.

From under which fast trickled downe the sweat .

Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat.

And in his hande did beare a bouzing can,

Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat

His dronken corse he scarse upholden can :

In shape and life more like a monster then a man.

Unfit he was for any worldly thing.

And eke unliable once to stirre or go ;

Not meet to be of counsell to a king.

Whose mind in meate and drinke was drowned so.

That from his frend he seeldome knew his lb :

Full of diseases was his carcas blew.

And a drs' dropsie througli his flesh did flow.

Which hy misdiet daily greater grew;

Such one was Gluttony, the second ef that crew.

And next to him rode lustfuU Lecliery

Ujion a bearded gote, whose rugged heare.

And whally eies, (the signe of ^elosy,)

Was like the person se.lfe, whom he did heare :

Who rough, and blacke, and filthy, did appeare ;

Unscemely man to please fair ladies eye :

Yet ho of l-adies oft was loved deare,

Wneu fairer faces were bid standen by :

O who does know the bent cf womens fantasy !

In a greene gowne lie clothed was full faire.
Which underneath did hide his tillhiiK-sse ;
And in his hand a burning hart he bare.
Full of vaine follies and new-fanglenesse :
J'or he vvas false, and fraught with ficklenesse ;
And learned had to love with secret lookes ;
•And well could daunce ; and sing with ruefulnesse ;
And fortunes tell ; and read in loving bookes :
And thousand other waies, to bait his fleshly hookes.

Inconstant man, that loved all he saw.

And lusted after all, that he did love ;

Ne would his looser life be tide to law.

But ioyd weake wemens hearts to tempt, and prove

If from their loyall loves he might them move :

Which lewdnes fild him with reproachfull pain

Of that foule evill, which all men reprove.

That roits the marrow, and consumes the braine ;

Such one was Lechery, the third of all this traine.

And greedy Avarice by him did ride.

Upon a caihell loaden all with gold :

Two iron coffers hong on either side,

With precious metall full as they might hold ;

And in his lap an heap of coine he told ;

For of his ^vicked pelf his god he made.

And unto hell himselfe for money sold ;

A ccursed usury was all his trade ;

And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.

His lite was nigh unto deaths dore yplaste ;
And thred-bare cote, and C(ibled s^.ioes, hee ware
Ne scarse good morsell all his life did taste ;
But both from backe and belly still did spare.
To fill his bags, and richesse to cosipare ;
Yet childe ne kinsman living had he none
To leave them to ; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne.
He led a wretched life, unto himselfe unknowne.

Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suflise ;

Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store ;

Whose need had end, hut no end covetise ;

Whose welth was want; whose plenty made him pore J

Wlio had enough, yett wisiied ever more ;

A vile disease ; and eke in foote and hand

A grievous gout toriiu'iited him full sore ;

'i'hat well he could not touch, nor goe, nor stand ;

Such one was Avarice, the fourth of ibis i'aire baud !

And next to him malicious Envy rode
Upon a ravenous wolfe, ami still did chaw
]5etween his cankred teeth a venemous tode.
That all the poison ran about his chaw ;
But inwardly he chawed bis owne maw
At neibors welth, that made him ev-er sad ;
Ff)r deatli it was, when any good he saw ;
And wept, that cause of weeping none he had ;
But, when he heard of harine, he wexed wond''OU.-
Slad.

Canto IV.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

All in a kirtle of discolourd say

lie clutlied was, ypaynted full of eies ;

And in his bosome secretly there lay

An hatefull snake, the whicli his taile uptyes

In many folds, and mortall sting implyes ;

Still as he rode, lie guasht his teeth to see

Tliose heapes of gold with griple Covetyse ;

And grudged at the great felicitee

Of proud Lucifera, and his owne companee.

He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds,

And Inni no lesse, that any like did use ;

And, who with gratious bread the hungry feeds,

His almes for want of faith he doth accuse :

So every good to bad lie doth abuse :

And eke the verse of famous poets witt

ile does backebite, and spightfull poison spues

From leprous mouth on all that ever writt :

Such one vile Envy was, that fifte in row did sitt.

And him beside rides fierce revenging AVrath,

I pon a lion, loth for to be led ;

And in his hand a burning brond he hath,

'I'iie which he brandisheth about his hed :

His eies did hurle forth sparcles fiery red,

And stared sterne on all that him beheld ;

As ashes pale of hew, and seeming ded ;

And on his dagger still his hand he held, [sweld.

Trembling through hasty ra^e, when choler in him

His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood

Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent ;

Through unadvized rashnes woxen wood ;

For of his hands he had no governement,

Ne car'd for blood in his avengement :

But, wlien the furious fitt was ovprpast,

His oucU facts he often would repent ;

Vet, wilfull man, he never would forecast, [hast.

How many mischieves should ensue his heedlesse

Full many mischiefes follow cruel! Wrath ;
Abhorred Bloodshed, and tumultuous Strife,
Unmanly Murder, and unthrifty Scath,
Bitter Despight with llancoui s rusty knife ;
^nd fretting Griefe, the enemy of life :
All these, and many evils moe haunt Ire,
The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging life.
The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces fire :
Such one was Wrath, the last of this uiigxnliy tire.

And, after all, upon the wagon beame
Rode Satiian with a smarting whip in hand.
With which he forward lasht the laesy teme.
So oft as Slowth still in the mire did stand.
Huge routs of people did about them band,
Showting for joy ; and still before their way
^ foKgy mist had covered all the land ;
And, underneath their feet, all scattered lay
Dead sculls and bones of men whose life had gone
astray.

So forth they marchen in this goodly sort,

To take the solace of the open aire,

And in fresh flowring fields themselves to sport:

Emongst the rest rode that false lady falre.

The foule Duessa, next unto the chaire

Of proud Lucifer', as one of the traine :

But that good knight would not so nigh re})aire.

Him selfe estraunging from their ioyaunce vaine.

Whose fellowship seemd far unfittfor warlike swanie

So, having solaced themselves a space
With pleasaunce of'the breathing fields yfed.
They backe retourned to the ])nncely place;
Whereas an errant knight in armes j'cled.
And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red
Was writt Smis iny, they new arrived find :
Enflam'd with fury and fiers hardyhed,
He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts unkind,
And nourish bloody vengeaunce in his bitter mind.

Who, when the shamed shield of slaine Sansfoy
He spj'-Js with that same Fary champions page,
Bewr^ ri-ng him that did of late destroy
His eldest brotlier ; burning all with rage.
He to hiia lept, and that same envious gage
Of victors glorv from him snacht away :
]5ut th' F'lfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,
IJisdaind to loose the meed he wonne in fray ;
And, him rencountring fierce, reskewd the nobU
pray.

XL.

Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily.

Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne.

And clash their shields, and shake their swords on by ;

That with their sturre they troubled all the traine :

Till that great queene, upnn eternall paine

Of liigh displeasure that ensewen might,

Commaunded them their fury to refraine ;

And, if that either to that shield had ns'ht.

In equall lists they should the morrow next it rignr.

" Ah dearest dame," quoth then the Paynim bold,
" Pardon the error of enitiged wight,
Whome great griefe made forgett the raines to hold
Of reasons rule, to see this recreaunt knight,
(No knight, but treacnour full of false dispight
And shameful treason,) who thr(jugh guile hath slayn
The prowest knight, tli-^t ever field did fight.
Even stout Sanstoy, i O who can then refrayn ?)
Wnose stiietd lie oeaies renverst, the more to heap
disdayn.

XLII.

" And, to augment the glorie of his guile.
His dearest love, the faire Fidessa, loe
Is there possessed of the traytour vile ;
W'ho reapes the harvest sowen by his foe,
Sowen in bloodie field, and bought with woe :
That — brothers hand shall dearely well reciuight.
So be, O Queene, you equall favour sJiowe."
Him litle answerd th' angry Elfin knight ;
He never meant with words, but swords, to plead
his right :

2,6

THE FAEKIE QULENE.

[T'OOK

But threw his gauntlet, as a sacred pledg,

His cause in combat the next day to try :

So been tliey parted both, with harts on edg

To be aveng-'d each on his enimy.

That night they pas in ioy and iolllty,

Feasting and courting both in bovvre and hall ;

For steward was excessive Gluttony,

Tiint of his iilenty poured ibrtli to all : [them call.

Which doen, the chamberlain Slowth did to rest

Now wlienas dai'ksome night had all displayd

[ler colei>lacke curteui over brightest skye ;

The warlike youthes, on dnyntie couches layd,

Did cliace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye,

To muse on meanes of hojied victory.

But whenas Morpheus had with leaden mace

Arrested all that courtly company,

Uprose Duessa from her resting place.

And to the PajTiims lodging comes with silent pace

Whom broad awake she findes, in troublous fitt,
Fore-casting, how his foe he might annoy ;
And him amoves with speaches seeming iitt,
' Ah deare Sansioy, next dearest to Sansfoy,
Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new ioy ;
loyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,
And greevd, to thinke how foe did him destroy,
I'hat was the tlowre of grace and chevalrve;
Lo, his Fidessa, to thy secret faith I flye."'

With gentle wordes he can her fayrely greet,
And had say on the secrete of her hart :
Then, sighing soft ; " I learne that little sweet
Oit tempred is," quoth she, " with muchell smart :
For, since my brest was launcht witli lovely dart
Of deare Sansfoy I never ioyed howre,
But in eternall woes my weaker hart
Have wasted, loving him with all my powre,
Aadforhis sake have felt full many an heavy sto^A re

" At last, when perils all I weened past,

And hop'd to reape the crop of all my care.

Into new woes unweeting I was cast

By this false faytor, who unworthie ware

Ilis worthie shield, whom he with guilefull snare

Entrapped slew, and brought to shamefull grave •

JMe silly maid awav with him he bare.

And ever since hath kept in darksom cave ;

For that I would not yeeld that to Sansfoy I gave.

" But since faire sunn e hath sperstthatlowrlngclowd.
And to my loathed life now shewes some light.
Under your beames I will me safely shrowd
From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight :
To you th' inheritance belonges by right
Of brothers prayse, to you eke longes his love.
Let not his love, let not his restlesse spright,
Be unreveng'd, ihat calles to you above
From wandring Stygian shores, where it doth end*
lesse move."

Thereto said he, " Faire dame, be nought dismaid
For sorrowes past ; their griefe is with them gone.
Ne yet of present periU be affraid ;
For needlesse feare did never vantage none ;
And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.
Dead is Sansfoy, his vitall paines are past,
Though greeved ghost for vengeance deeji do grone:
He lives, that sliall him pay his dewties last,
And ouiltie Elfin blood slrall sacrifice in hast."

" 0, but I feare the fickle freakes," quoth shee,
'' Of Fortune false, and oddes of armes in field."
" Why, dame," i|Uijtli he, " what oddes can ever bee
Where both doe fight alike, to win or yield?"
" Yea, but," (juotli she, " he beares a charmed shield,
And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce;
Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield."
" Charmd or enchaunted," answerd he then ferce,
" I no whitt reck ; ne you the like need to reherce.

" But, faire Fidessa, sithens Fortunes guile,

Or enimies powre, hafh now captived you,

Keturne fron) « hence ve came, and rest a while,

'I'lJl morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew.

And with Sanslbyes dead dowiy you endew,"

•' Ay me, that is a double death," she said,.

•' Willi proud foes sight my sorrow to renew:

Wh^^re fver Vft .1 he, my secret aide

Simil follow you." So pissing forth, she hiin obaid.

Canto V.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

«7

CANTO V.

Tlie faithfull kniglit in equall field
Subdewes liis faithlesse foe ;

Whom false Duessa saves, and for
His cure to hell does g-oe.

The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought,

And is with childe of ulorious great intent,

Can never rest, untill it forth have brought

Th' eternall brood of g'lorie excellent.

Such restlesse passion did all night torment

The flaming corage of that Faery kniglit.

Devizing, how that doughtie turnament

With greatest honour be atcliieven might : [light.

Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawnin"-

At last, the golden orientall gate

Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre ,

And Phoebus, fresh as brvdegrome to his mate.

Came dauncing- forth, slialdng his deawie havre ;

And liurld his glistring beams through gloomy a\re.

Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiv'd, streightway

He startfd up, and did him selfe prepayre

In sunbright amies, and battailous array ;

For with that Pagan proud he combatt will that day.

And forth he comes into tlie commune ball ;

\Vhere earely waite him many a gazing eye.

To weet what end to straungtr knights may fall.

There many minstrales maken rnelody,

To drive away the dull melancholy ;

And many bardes, that to the trembling chord

Can tune their timely voices cunningly ;

And many chroniclers, that can record [lord

Old loves, and warres for ladies doen by many a

Soone after comes tlie cruell Sarazin,

111 woven maile all armed warily ;

And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin

Does care for looke of living creatures eye.

I'hey bring them wines of Creece and Araby,

And daintie s[)ices fetch from furthest Ynd,

lo kindle heat of corage privily ;

And in the wine a solemne oth thev bynd

' observe the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.

At last forth comes that far renowmed queene ;

With royall pomp and princely maiestie

She is ybrougl.t unto a ]ialed gi-eene.

And placed under stately canapee,

The warlike feates of both those knights to see.

On th' other side in all mens open vew

Duessa placed is, and on a tree

Sansfov his shield is hangd with bloody hew :

those, the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.

A shrilling trompett sownded from on hye.
And unto battaill bad themselves addresse :
Their shining shieldes about their wrestes they tye.
And burning blades about their heades doe blesse.
The instruments of wrath and heavinesse :
^Vith greedy force each other doth assayle,
And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse
Deepe dinted furrou-es in the battled mayle :
The yron walles to ward their blowes are weak and
fraile.

The Sarazin was stout and wondrous strong,
And heaped blowes like yron hammers great ;
For after blood and vengeance he did long.
The knight was tiers, and full of youthly heat.
And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat :
For all for praise and honour did he fight.
Beth stricken strvke, and beaten both doe beat ;
That from their shields forth flvetli firie light,
And helmets, hewen deepe, shew marks of eithers
mi;i'ht.

So til' one for wrong, the other strives for right :
As when a gryfon, seized of his pray,
A dragon fiers encountreth in his iiight.
Through widest ayre making his ydle way,
That would his rightfull ravine rend away ;
\Vith hideous horror both together smight.
And souce so sore, that they the heavens affray :
The wise soothsayer, seeing so sad sight,
Th' amazed vulgar telles of warres and mortal fic>ht

So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right ;
And each to deadly shame v\-oukl drive his foe :
The cruell Steele so greedily doth bight
In tender flesh, that sireames <f blood down flow ;
With which the armes, thatearst so bright did show,
Into a pure veraiillion now are dyde.
Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow.
Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wvde.
That victory they dare not wish to either side.

At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye.
His suddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre.
Upon his brothers shield, which hong thereby :
Therewith redoubled was his raging yre.
And said ; " Ah ! wretched sonne of wofiill syre,
Doest thou sit wayling by blacke Stygian lake,
\Vhylest here thy shield is hangd lor viclors hyre ?
And, sluggish gerinan, doest thy forces slake
To after-send his fi;e, that him may overtake?

"Go

And
Goe,
That

TllIT

'll.at
Kiid
Tiie
The

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book 1

, caytive Elfe, him quickly overtake,
soone redeerae from liis long-wandring woe •
o-uiltie ghost, to him my message make,
i liis shield have quit from dying foe."
■ewith upon his crest he stroke bim so,
twise he reeled, readie twise to fall :
of the doubtfull battaile deemed tho
lookers on ; and lowd to him gan call
false Duessa, " Thine the shield, and I, and all!'

ZII.

Soone as the Faerie heard his ladie speake,

Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake ;

And quickning faitli, that erst was woxen weake,

The creeping deadly cold away did shake ;

Tho mov'd with wrath, and shame, and ladies sake,

Of all attonce he cast aveng'd to be,

And v.-ith so' exceeding furie at him strake.

That forced him to stoupe upon his knee :

Had he not stouped so, he should have cloven bee.

Home is he brought, and layd in sumptuous bed :

Where many skiltull leaches him abide

To salve his hurts, that yet still freslily bled.

In wine and oyle they wash his wuundus wide,

And softly gan embalme on everie side.

And all the while most heavenly melody

About the bed sweet musieke did divide,

Him to beguile of griefe and agony :

And all the while IJuessa wept full bitterly.

As when a wearie traveller, that strayes

By muddy shore of broad seven-mouthed Nile,

Unweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,

Doth meete a cruell craftie crocodile.

Which, in false griefe hyding his liarmefull guile.

Doth weepe full sore, and slieddeth tender leares ;

The foolisli man, that pities all this while

His mournefull plight, is swallowed up unawres ;

FortretfuU of his owne that mindes an others caies.

And to him said ; " Goe now, proud miscreant,
Thvselfe thy message do to german deare ;
Alone he, wandring, thee too long doth want :
Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare."
Therewith his heavie hand he high gan reare.
Him to have ■jlaine ; when lo ! a darkesome clowd
Upon him fell ; he no where doth appeare,
But vanisht is. The Elfe him calls alowd,
But answer none receives ; the darknes him does
shrewd.

In haste Duessa from her place arose.
And to him running sayd ; " O prowest knight.
That ever ladie to her love did chose.
Let now abate the terrour of your might,
And ([uench the flame of furious despight
And bloodie vengeance : lo ! th' infernall powres.
Covering your foe with cloud of deadly night.
Have borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres :
The conquest yours ; I yours ; the shield and glory
yours !"

XV.

Not all so satisfide, with greedy eye

lie sought, all roundabout, his thirsty blade

To bathe in blood of faithlesse enimy ;

Who all that while lay hid in secrete shade :

He standes ama'zed how he thence should fade.

At last the trumpets triumph sound on hie

And running heralds humble homage made,

Greeting him goodly with new victorie ;

And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie.

Wherewith he goeth to that soveraine queene ;
And, falling her before on lowly knee,

To !itr malies pre.^ent of his service scene ;
\Vhi.:h she accej)ts with thankes and goodly gree,
Grea'ly advauncing his great chevalree :
So miriheth home, and by lier fcikes the knight,
Wliom all the peojtle foUowe with great glee,
Shouting, aaid clapping all their hands on bight,
That all the ayre it fils, and tiyes to heaven bright.

So wept Duessa untill eventyde.
That shyning lam pen in loves high house were light ;
Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide ;
But comes unto the place, where th' hethen knight,
In slombring swownd nigh voyd of vitall spriglit,
Lav cover'd with inchaunted cloud all day :
Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,
To wayle his wofull case she would not stay,
But to the easterne coast of heaven makes speedy
way.

XX.

Where griesly Night, with visage deadly sad,
That Phoebus chearefuU face durst never vew.
And in a foule blacke pitchy mantle clad.
She findes forth comming from her darksome mew ;
Where she all day did hide her hated hew.
Before the dore her yron charet stood.
Already harnessed for iourney new,
And cole-blacke steedes yborne of hellish brood,
That on their rusty bits did champ, as they were
wood.

Who when she saw Duessa, sunny bright,
Adornd with gold and iewels shining cleare.
She greatly grew amazed at the sight.
And th' unacquainted light began to feare ;
(For never did such brightnes there appeare ;)
And would have backe retyred to her cave,
Untill the witches speach she gan to beare,
Saving ; " Yet O thou dreaded dame, I crave
Abyde, till I have told the message which 1 have."

She stayd ; and forth Duessa gan proceede ;
" O thou, most auncient grandmother of all,
More old than love, whom thou at first didst breede,
Or that great house of gods Ciclestiall ;
Which wast begot in Da:mogorgons hall,
And sawst the secrets of the world unmade ;
Why suflredst thou thy nephewes deare to fall
With ITfin sword most shamefully betrade 1 [shade !
Lo, where the stout Sansio}' doth sleepe in deadly

Canto. V.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" And. him hefore, I saw with bitter eyes

The bold Sansfoy shrinek underneath his speaiD ;

And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,

Nor wayld of friendes, nor layd on groning beare,

That whylome was to me too dearely deare.

O ! what of gods then boots it to be borne,

If old Aveugles sonnes so evill lieare ?

Or who shall not great Niglites children scorne,

When two of three her nephews are so fowle forlorne?

" Up, then ; up, dreary dame, of darknes queene ;
Go, gayther up tlie reliques of thy race ;
Or else goe, them avenge ; and let be seene
That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place,
And can the children of fayre Light defiice."
Her feeling speaches some compassion mov'd
In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face :
Yet pitty in her hart was never prov'd
Till then ; for evermore she hated, never lov'd ;

And said, " Deare daughter, rightly may I rew
The fall of famous children borne of mee,
And good successes, which their foes ensew :
But who can turne the streame of destinee,
Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee,
Which fast is tyde to loves eternall seat ?
The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see,
And by my ruines thinkes to make them great :
I'o make one great by others losse is bad exclieat.

" Yet shall they not escape so freely all ;
For some shall pay the piice of others guilt :
And he, the man tiiat made Sansfoy to fall.
Shall with his owne blood price that he has spilt.
But what art thou, that telst of nephews kilt 1"
" I, that do seeme not I, Duessa ame,"
Quoth slie, " how ever now, in garments gilt
And gorgeous gold arrayd, I to thee came ;
Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame,"

Then, bowing downe her aged backe, she kist
The wicked witch, saying ; " In that fayre face
The false resemblaunce of Deceipt, I wist,
Did closely lurke ; yet so true-seeming grace
It carried, that I scarse in darksome place
Could it discerne ; though I the mother bee
Of Falbhood, and roote of Duessaes race.
O welcome, child, whom I have longd to see,
And now have seene unwares ! Lo, now I goe with
thee."

Then to her yron wagon see betakes,
And with her beares the fowle welfavourd witch :
Through mirkesome aire her ready way she makes.
Her twyfold teme (of which two blacke as pitch,
And two were browne, yet each to each unlich)
Did softly swim away, ne ever stamp [twitch ;

I'nlesse she r;haun-t their stubborne mouths to
Thtn, foaming tarre, their bridles they would champ.
And trampling the line element would fiercely ramp.

So well they sped, that they be come at length
Unto the place, whereas the Pavnim lay
Devoid of outward sence and native strength,
Coverd with charmed cloud i'rom vew of dav
And sight of men, since his late lucklesse fray.
His cruell woundes with cruddy bloud congeald
They binden up so wiselv as they may,
And handle softly, till they can be heald :
So lay him in her charett, close in night conceald.

And, all the while she stood upon the ground.
The wakefuU dogs did never cease to bay ;
As giving warning of th' unwonted sound,
■With which her yron wheeles did them affray,
And her darke griesly looke them much dismay.
The messenger of death, the ghastly owle.
With drery shriekes did also her bewray ;
And hungry wolves continually did howle
At her ibhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.

Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole.
And brought the heavy corse with easy jjace
To yawning ^ulte of deep Avernus hole :
By that same hole an entraunce, darke and bace.
With smoake and sulphur hiding all the place,
Descends to hell : there creature never past.
That backe retourned without heavenly grace ;
But dreadfull furies, which their chaines have brast,
And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men
aghast.

By that same way the direfuU dames doe drive
Their mournefall churet, fild with rusty blood.
And downe to Plutoes house are come bilive :
Which passing through, on every side them stood
The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,
Chaltring their iron teeth, and staring wide
With stonie eies ; and all the hellish brood
Of feends infernall fiockt on every side.
To gaze on erthly wight, that with the Night durst
ride.

They pas the bitter waves of Acheron,

Where many soules sit wailing woefully ;

And come lo fiery flood of Bhlegeton,

Whereas the damnttd ghostes in torments fry,

And with sharp shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry^

Cursing high love, the which them thither seut.

The hous of endlesse Paine is built thereby.

In which ten thousand sorts of punishment

The cursed creatures doe eternally torment.

XXSIV.

Before tbe threshold dreadfull Cerberus

His three deformed heads did lay along.

Curled with thousand adders venomous ;

And lilled forth his bloody flaming tong :

At thr-m he ^an to reare his bristles s-trong,

And felly gnarre, untill Dayes enemy

Did liim appease ; then downe his taile he bong,

A lid suffered them to pas.- en quietly :

For she in lit 11 and heaven had power equally.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I.

There was Ixion turned on a wheele,
For daring tempt the queene of heaven to sin ;
And Sisvpluis an liuge round stone did reele
Against an hill, ne might from labour lin ;
There thirstv Tantalus hon^;- hy the chin ;
And Titvus fed a vultur on his maw ;
T_V])iianis iovnts were stretclied on a gin ;
Theseus coudemnd to endlesse slouth by law;
And fifty sisters water in lake vessels draw

They, all beholding wordly wights in place,
'^eave orf their worke, unmindiuU of their smart,
To gaze on them ; who forth bv them doe pace,
Till they be come unto the furthest part ;
Where was a cave ywroiight by wondrous art,
Deepe, darke, uneasy, dolefull, comfonlesse,
In which sad Aesculapius far apart
Emprisond was in chaines i eipedilesse ;
For that Hippolytus rent corse he did redresse.

Hippolvtus a iolly huntsman was,

That wont in charett chace the foming bore :

He all his peeres in beauty did surpas :

But ladies love, as iosse of time, forbore :

His wanton stepdame loved him the more ;

But, when she saw her oft'red sweets refusd.

Her love slie turnd to hate, and him before

Plis i'ather fierce of treason false accusd.

And v,-itli her gealous termes his open eares abusd ;

xxxviir.

Who, all in rage, his sea-god syre besought
Some cursed vengeaunce on his sonne to cast :
b'rom surging gulf two monsters streight were

brought ;
With dread whereof his chacing steedes aghast
Both charett swifte and huntsman overcast.
His goodly corps, on ragged cliffs yrent.
Was quite dismembred, and his members chast
Scattered ou everv mountaine as he went.
That of Hijjpolytus was lefte no moniment.

xxxtx.

His cruell stepdaine, seeing what was donne.
Her wi> ked dales with .wretched knife did end.
In death avowing th' innocence of lier sonne.
Which hearing, his rash syre began to rend
His heare, and hasty long that did offend :
Th'o, gathering up the reliques of his smart,
Bv Dianes meanes who was Hipjiolyts frend,
Them brought to Aesculape, that by his art
Did heule them all againe, and ioyned every part.

Such wondrous science in mans witt to raiu
When love avizd, that could the dead revive,
And fates expired could renew again.
Of endlesse life he might him not deprive ;
But unto liell did thrust him downe alive.
With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore ;
Where, long remaining, he did alwaies strive
Hims'"lfe with salves to health for to restore.
And slake the lieavenly fire that raged evermore.

There auncient Night arriving, did alight
From her nigh-weary wayne, and in her amies
To Aesculajiius brought the wounded knight .
Whom having softly disaraid of amies,
Tho gan to him discover all his harmes,
Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,
If either salves, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes,
A fordonne wight from dore of death mote rai^e.
He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.

" Ah dame," quoth he, " thou temptest me in vaine
To dare tlie thing, which daily yet I rew ;
And the old cause of my continued paine
AVith like attempt to like end to renew.
Is not enough, that, thrust from heaven dew,
Here endlesse penaunce for one fault 1 pay ;
But that redoubled crime witii vengeaunce nevv
Thou biddest nie to eeke ? can Night defray
The wrath of thundring love, that rules both Night
and Day ?"

XLIII.

" Not so," quotli she ; " but, sith that heavens king
From Jiope of heaven hath thee excluded quight.
Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing ;
And fearest not that more thee hurten might.
Now in the powre of everlasting Night ?
Goe to then, O thou far renowmed sonne
Of great Apollo, shew thy famous might
In medicine, that els hath to thee wonne [donne."
Great pains, and greater praise, both never to be

Her words prevaild ; and then the learned leach
His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay,
And all things els the which his art did teach .
Which having seene, from thence arose away
The mother of dredd Darknesse, and let stay
Aveugles sonne there in the leaches cure ;
And, backe retourning, took her wonted way
To I'oune her timely race, whilst Phoebus pure
In westerne waves his weary wagon did recure.

The false Duessa, leaving noyous Night,
Returnd to stately pallace of Dame Pryde ;
Where wlien she came, she fomid the Faery knight
Departed thence ; alhee (his woundl'S vv'yde
Not throughly heald) unready were to ryde.
Good cause he had to hasten thence away ;
For on a day his wary dwarfe had spyde
AVhere, in a dungeon deejie, huge nombers lay
Of wiytive wretched thralls, that wayled night and
day ;

(A ruefull sight as could be seene with eie ;)
Of whom he learned had in secret wise
The hidden cause of their captivitie ;
How mortgaging their lives to Covetise,
Through wastfull pride and wanton riotise.
They were by law of that proud tyrannesse,
Provokt with Wiath and Envyes false surmise,
Condemned to that dongeon mercilesse.
Where they should live in wo, and dye in wretched
nesse.

Canto YI.

THE FAERTE QUEENF.

•SI

There was that great proud king of BabyloD,

That would compell all nations to adore

And him, as onelv God, to call iipon ;

'I'ill, through celestiall doonie thrown out of dore.

Into an oxe he was transformd of yore.

There also was king Croesus, that enhaunst

His hart too high through his great richesse store ;

And proud x\ntiochus, the which advaunst

His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altares daunst.

And, them long time before, great Nimrod was,
That first the world with sword and fire warrayd ;
And after him old Ninus far did pas
In princely pomp, of all the world obavd.
There also was that mightie monarch layd
Low under all, yet above all in pride.
That name of native syre did fowle upbrayd.
And would as Ammons sonne be magnitide ;
Till, scornd of God and man, a shameful! death he
dide.

All these together in one heape were throwne,
Like carkases of beastes in butchers stall.
And, in another corner, wide were strowne
The antique ruins of the Romanes fall :
Great Romulus, the grandsyre of tliem all
Proud Tarquin ; and too lordly Lentulus j
Stout Scipio ; and stubbome Hanniball j
Ambitious Sylla ; and sterne iNIarius ;
High Caesar ; great Pompey ; and fiers Antoniu*.

Amongst these mightie men were wemen mixt.

Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their soke ;

The bold Semiramis, whose sides transtixt

With sonnes own blade her fowle reproches spoke ;

Fayre Sthenobrea, that her selfe did choke

With wilfull chord, for wanting of her will ;

High-minded Cleopatra, that with stroke

Of aspes sting her selfe did stoutly kill : ffiH.

And thousands moe the like, that did that don-eon

Besides the endlesse routes of wretched-tliralles,
Which thether were assembled, day by day,
From all the world, after their wofull falles
Through wicked pride and wasted welthes decay.
But most, of all which in that dongeon lay.
Fell from high princes courtes, or ladies bewres ;
AVhere they in vdle pomp, or wanton play.
Consumed had their goods and thriftlesse howres,
And lastly thrown themselves into these heavy
stowres.

Whose case whenas the careful dwarfe had tould,
And made ensample of their mournfull sight
Unto his maister ; he ne lenger wuuld
There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,
But earely rose ; and, ere that dawning light
Discovered had the world to heaven wyde.
He by a privy posterne tooke his flight,
1 hat of no envious eyes he mote be spyde :
For, doubtlesse, death ensewd if any him descyde

Scarse could he footicg find in that fowle way,

For many corses, like a great lay-stall.

Of murdred men, which therein strowed lay

Without remorse or decent funerall ;

Which, al through that great Princesse Pride did fall.

And came to shamefull end : and them besyde.

Forth ryding underneadi the castell wall,

A donghill of dead carcases he spyde ;

The dreadfull spectacle of that sad House of Piyde.

CANTO VI.

From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace

Fayre Una is releast ;
Whome salvage nation does adore.

And leames her wise beheast.

\s when a ship, that flyes fa3Te under sayle,
\n hidden rocke escaped hath unwares,
rhat lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile ;
Ihe mariner yet halfe amazed stares
At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares
Fo ioy at his foolhappie oversight :
So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares
1 he dreadlesse corage of this Elfin knight,
Having escapt so sad ensamples in liis sight.

Yet sad he was, that his too hastie speede
The fayre Duess' had forst him leave bemnd j
And yet more sad, that Una, his deare areen.
Her truth had staynd with treason so unkind ;
Yet cryme in her could never creature find :
But for his love, and for her owne selfe sake.
She wandred had from one to other Ynd,
Him for to seeke, ne ever would forsake :
Till her unwares the fiers Sansloy did overtake ;

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book L

Who, after Archimagoes fowle defeat,

Led lier away into a forest wilde ;

Ami, turning Tv-rathful fyre to lustfull heat,

\\ ith beastly sin thought her to have defilde,

And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.

Yet first he cast by treatie, and by ti-aynes,

Her to pei-suade that stubborn fort to yilde ;

For greater conquest of hard love he gsynes,

That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines.

With fawning wordes he courted her a while ;

And, looking lovely and oft sighing sore.

Her constant hart did tempt with diverse guile :

But wordes, and lookes, and sighes she did abhore ;

As rock of diamond stedfast evermore.

Yet, for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye,

He snatcht the vele that hong her face before :

Then gan her beautie shyne as brightest skve.

And burnt his beastly hart t'enforce her chastitye.

So when he saw his flatt'ring arts to fiyle.

And subtile engines bett from batteree j

AVith greedy force he gan the fort assayle,

Whereof he weend possessed soone to bee,

And win rich spoile of ransackt chastitee.

Ah heavens ! that doe this hideous act behold.

And heavenly virgin thus outraged see,

How can ye vengeance iust so long withhold.

And nurle uot flashing flames upon that Paynim bold?

The pitteous mayden, carefull, comfortlesse.
Does throw outthrillmg shriekes.and slirieking crj'es,
(The last vaine helpe of wemens greate distresse,)
And with loud plaintes importuneth the skyes ;
That molten starres doe drop like weepino- "eyes ;
And Phccbus, flying so most shameful sight.
His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes.
And hydes for shame. What witt of mortal wight
Can now devise to quitt a thrall from such a plight ?

Eternall Providence, exceeding thought,
\Vhere none appeares can make her selfe a way !
A wondrous way it for this lady wrouo-ht.
From lyons clawes to jjlucke the gryped pray.
Hfr shrill outcryes and shrieks so loud did bray,
Tiiat all the woodes and forestes did resownd :
A troupe of faunas and satyres far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd.
Whiles old Sylvanus slej)t in shady aiber sowud :

Who. 'vhen <;hey heard that pitteous strained voice.

In has'.e torsooke their rurall merriment.

And nil towardes the far rebownded noyce,

'JO weet what wight so loudly did lament.

Unto the place they come incontinent .

W horn when the raging Sarazin espyde,

A rude, mishapen, monstrous rablement,

Whose like he never saw, he durst not byde;

but got his ready steed, and fast away gan ryde..

The wyld wood-gods, arrived in the place,

There find the virgin, doolfull, desolate,

AVith ruffled rayments, and favre blubbred face.

As her outrageous foe had left her late ;

And trembling yet through feare of foi-mer hate •

All stand amazed at so uncouth sight.

And gin to pittie her unhaj)pie state ;

All stand astonied at her beauty bright.

In their rude eyes unworthy of so wofull plight.

She, more amazd, in double dread doth dwell.
And every tender part for feare does shake :
As when a greedy wolfe, through honger fell,
A seely lamb far from the flock does take.
Of whom he meanes his bloody feast to make,
A lyon spyes fast running towards him,
The innocent pra}- in hast he does forsake ;
Which, quitt from death, yet quakes in every lim
With chaunge of feare, to see the lyou looke so grim>

Such fearefull fitt assaid her trembling hart ;
Ne worde to speake, ne ioynt to move, she had ;
The salvage nation feele her secret smart.
And read her sorrow in her count'nance sad :
Their frowning forheads, with rough homes 3 clad
And rustick horror, all asyde doe lay ;
And, gently grenning, show a semblance glad
To comfort her ; and, i'eare to put away,
Ttieir backwaid-beat knees teach her humbly to
obay.

XII.

The doubtfull damzell dare not yet commiit
Her single person to their barbarous truth ;
But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sitt.
Late learnd what harme to hasty trust ensu'th •
They, in compassion of her tender youth.
And wonder of her beautie soverayne,
Are wonne Avith pitty and unwonted ruth ;
And, all prostrate upon the lowly playne,
Doe kisse her feete, and iawne on her with c:,unt'-
nance fayne.

XIII.

Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,
And yieldes her to extreinitie of time :
So friim the ground she fearlesse doth arise.
And walkelh forth without suspect of crime:
They, all as glad as birdes of ioyous pryme,
ThoiK-e led lier forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme ;
And with greene braunchos strowingall the ground,
Do worship her as queene with olire girlond cround.

And all the way their merry pipes they sound.
That all the woods with double echo ring j
And with their horned feel doe weare the ground,
Leaping hke wanton kids in pleasant spring.
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring ;
Who, with the iioyse awaked, conimeth out
To weet the cause, his weake steps governing
And aged limbs on cypresse stadle stout;
Aud with an y vie twyue his waste is girt abou

VI.]

THE FAERIE QUEETVE.

Far off he wonders what tliem makes so glad,
Or Bacchus merry fruit they did invent,
Or Cybeles fraiiticke rights have made them mad :
They, drawing nigh, unto their god present
That flowre of fayth and heautie excellent :
The god himselfe, vewing that mirrhour rare.
Stood long amaz'd, and burnt in his intent :
His owne favre Dryope now he thinks not faire,
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.

The wood-borne people fall before her flat,
And worship her as goddesse of the wood ;
And old Sylvanus selfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wi^ht so fayre ; but gazing stood
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood :
Sometimes dame Venus selfe he seemes to see ;
But Venus never had so sober mood :
Sometimes Diana he her takes to be ;
But misseth bow and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

B}^ vew of her he ginneth to revive
His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse ;
And calles to mind his pourtraiture alive.
How favre he was, and yet not fayre to this ;
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle hvnd, the which the lovely boy
Did love as life, above all worldly blisse :
For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after ioy ;
But pynd away in anguish and selfewild annoy.

The wooddy nymphes, faire Hamadryades,
Her to behold do thelher runne apace ;
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades
Flocke all about to see her lovely face :
But, when they vewed have her heavenly grace,
They envy her in tl>eir raalitious mind,
And fly awa}' for feare of fowle disgrace-.
But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind.
And henceforth nothing faire, but her, on earth they
find.

Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky mayd
Did her content to please their feeble eyes ;
And long time with that salvage people stayd.
To gather breath in many miserves:
During which time her gentle wit she plves.
To teach ihem truth, which worshipt her in vaine,
And made her th' image of idolatryes :
But, when their bootlesse zeale she did restra>Tie
From her own worship, they her asse would worship
fayn.

XX.

It fortuned, a noble warlike knight

By iust occasion to that forrest came

To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right.

From whence he tooke his wel-deserved name :

He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,

And fild far lands with glorie of his might ;

Plaine, faithluU, true, and enimy of shame.

And ever lov'd to nght for ladies right :

But in vaine glorious frayes he Utle did delight.

A satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld,
]5y straunge adventure as it did betyde.
And there begotten of a lady myld,
Fayre Thyamis, tlie daughter of Labryde ;
That was in sacred bandes of wedlocke tyde
To Therion, a loose, unruly swayne.
Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde.
And chase the salvage beast with busie payne,
Then serve his ladies love, and waste in plea.'su: i
vayne.

XXII.

The forlorne mayd did with loves longing burne,

And could not lacke her lovers company ;

But to the wood she goes, to serve her turne.

And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly

And followes other game and venery :

A satyre chaunst her wandriug for to finde ;

And, kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,

The loyall linkes of wedlocke did unbiude,

And made her person thrall unto his beastly kind.

So long in secret cabin there he held
Her captive to his sensuall desyre ;
Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld.
And bore a boy unto tliat salvage syre :
Then home he suffred her for to retyre ;
For ransome leaving him the late-borne chilue :
Whom, till to ryper years he gan aspyre,
He nousled up in life and maners wilde,
Emongst wild beastes and woods, from laws of men
exilde.

For all he taught the tender ymp, was but

To banish cowardize and bastard feare :

His trembling hand he would him force to put

Upon the lyon and the rugged beare ;

And from the she-beares teats her whelps to teare ;

And eke wyld roring buls he would him make

To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare ;

And the robuckes in flight to overtake :

That everie beast for feare of him did fly and quake.

Thereby so fearlesse and so fell he grew,
That his owne syre and maister of his guise
Did often tremble at his horrid vew j
And oft, for dread of hurt, would him advise
The angiy beastes not rash!/ to despise,
Nor too much to provoke ; for he would learne
The lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,
(A lesson hard,) and make the libbard sterne
Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did
eame.

And, for to make his powre approved more,
Wyld beastes in yron yokes he would compell;
The spotted panther, and the tusked bore.
The pardale swift, and the tigre cmell.
The antelope and wolf, both tiers and fell ;
And them constiaine in equall teme to draw.
Such ioy he had their stubborne harts to quell.
And sturdie courage tame with dreadfuU aw ;
That his beheast they feared, as a tyrans law.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book i.

His loving motlicr came upon a day
Unto tlie woodes, to see her little sonne ;
And cliaunst unwares to meet him in the way,
After his sportes and cruell jiastime donne j
AVhen after him a lyonesse did runne.
That roaring- all with rage did lowd requere
Her cliildren deare, whom he away had wonne •.
The lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,
And lull in ruoged amies withouten childish feare.

T])o fearefull dame all qu;ilied at the siglit,

And turning backe gan fast to fly away ;

Untill, with love revokt from vaine affright,

She hardly yet perswaded was to stay.

And then to him these womaniah words gan say :

" Ah, Satyrane, my dearling and ray ioy.

For love of me leave oft" this dreadfull play ;

To dally thus with death is no fit toy : [boy."

Go, find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet

In these and like delightes of bloody game
He trayned was, till.ryper years he raught ;
And there abode, whylst anv beast of name
Walkt in that forrest, whom he had not tauglit
'J"o feare his force : and then his courage liaught
Desvrd of forreine foemen to be knowne.
And far abroad for straunge adventures sought;
In wliich his might was never overthrowue ;
But through al Faery lond his famous worth wa?
blowne.

^'et evermore it was his manner faire.
After long labours and adventures spent,
Unto those native woods for to repaire,
To see his syre and oftspring auncient.
And now he thether came for like intent ;
Wliere he unwares the fairest Una found,
Straunge lady, in so straunge habiliment,
'leaching the Satyres, whicli her sat around,
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did
redound.

He wondred at her wisedome hevenly rare,
^\ liose like in womens witt he never knew :
And, when her curtpous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,
Blaming of Fortune, which sucli troubles thre\«,
And ioyd to make proofe of her cruelty
On gentle dame, so Imrtlesse and so trew .
Tiicnceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learnd her discipline of faith and verity.

But she, all vowd unto the Redcrosse knight.
His wandring ]>erill closely did lament,
j\'e in this new actjuaiiitaunce could delight ;
But her deare heart with anguish did torment,
And all her witt in secret counsels spent,
How to escaj)e. At last in privy wise
'J'o Satyrane she shewed her intent ;
AV lio, glad to gain such favour, gan devise,
How with that pensive maid he best might thence
arise.

So on a day, when satvres all were gone
'l"o do their service to Sylvanus old,
The gentle virgin, left behinde alone,
He led away with corage stout and bold.
Too late it was to satyi-es to be told,
Or ever hope recover her againe ;
In vaine he seekes that, having, cannot liold.
So fast he carried her with carefuU p.iine.
That they the woods are past, and come now to ;he
plaine.

XXXIV.

The better ])art now of tlie lingring day
They traveild had, wheiiastliey far espide
A weary wight forwandring by the vi-ay ,
And tOAards him they gan in hast to ride.
To weete of newes that did abroad betyde,
Or tidings of her knight of the Redcrosse;
But he, tliem spying gan to turne asyde
For feare, as seemd, or for some feigned losse :
Rlore greedy they of newes fast towards him do
crosse.

A silly man, in simple weedes forvrome.

And soild with dust of the long dried way ;

His sandales were with toilsome travell tome.

And face all tand with scorching sunny raj-.

As he had traveild many a sommers day

Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde ;

And in his liand a lacobs staft'e, to stay

His wearv limb-; upon ; and eke behind [bind

His scrip did hang, in which his needments he dii

The kniglit, approching nigh, of him inqucrd
Tidings of warre, and of adventures nevr ;
But warres, nor new adventures, none he herd.
Then Una gan to aske, if ought he knew
Or heard abroad of that her champion trew.
That in his armour bare a croslet red.
" Ay me ! deare dame," quoth he, " well may I rew
To tell the sad sight which mine eies have red ;
These eies did see that knight both living and eke
ded."

That cruell word her tender hart so thrild.
That suddcin cold did roiine through every vaine.
And stony horrour all her sences hid
Willi dying fitt, tliat downe she fell for paine.
Tlie knight her lightly reared up againe.
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe :
Then, wonne from death, she bad him tellen plame
The further processe of her hidden griefe :
The lesser pangs can beai-e, who hatli endurd the
chief.

Then gan the pilgrim tluis ; " I chaunst this day,
Tliis fata-11 day, tliat shall 1 ever rew.
To see two knights, in travell on my way,
(A sory sight,) arraung'd in batteill new.
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull Jiew
l\Iy fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife.
To see their blades so greedily imbrew,
That, dronke with blood, yet thristed after life :
What more? the Bidcrosse knight was slaine with
Paynim knife."

Canto VI. j

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" All ! dearest lord," quoth she, " how might that bee,
And he the stoutest knight, that ever wonne ?"
" All ! dearest dame," quoth he, '' how might I see
The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne 1"
" Where is," said Satyrane, " that Paynims sonne,
That him of life, and us of ioy, hath refte ?"
" Not fur away," quoth he, " he hence doth wonne,
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Washing his bloody wounds, that through the Steele
were cleft."

Therewith the knight then marched forth in hast,

Whiles Una, with huge heavinesse opprest,

Could not for sorrow follow him so fast ;

And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,

Whereas that Pagan proud himselfe did rest

In secret shadow by a fountaine side ;

Even he it was, that earst would have supprest

Faire Una ; whom when Satyrane espide.

With foule reprochfull words he boldly him defide ;

And said ; " Arise, thou cursed miscreaunt,

That hast with knightlesse guile, and trecherous train,

Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt

That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain :

Arise, and with like treason now maintain

Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield."

The Sarazin, this hearing, rose amain,

And. catching up in haste his three-square shield

And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field ;

And, drawing nigh him, said ; " Ah ! misborn Elfe,
In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent
Anothers wrongs to wreak upon thy selfe :
Yet ill thou blamest me, for having blent
Wy name with guile and traiterous intent :
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never slew ;
But had he beene, where erst his arms were lent,
Th' enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew :
But thou his errour shall, I hope, now proven trew."

Therewith they gan, both furious and fell.

To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile

Eacl) other, bent his enimy to quell ;

That with their force they perst both plate and maile,

And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,

That it would pitty any living eie :

Large floods of blood adowne their sides did raile ;

But floods of blood could not them satisfie :

Both hongred after death ; both chose to win, or die.

So long they fight, and full revenge pursue,
That, fainting, each themselves to breathen lett ;
And, ofte refreshed, battell oft renue.
As when two bores, with rancling malice mett.
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely frett ;
Til breathlesse both themselves aside retire,
'Where, foming wrath, their cruelltuskes they whett,
And trample th' earth, the whiles they may respire ;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.

So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once,
They gan to fight retourne ; increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce.
With heaped strokes more hugely then before ;
That with their drery woundes, and bloodv gore,
They doth defoi-med, scarsely could bee known.
By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise which through the aire was
thrown, [sown.

Arriv'd, wher they in erth their friiitles blood ha

XL VI.

Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin

Espide, he gan revive the memory

Of his leud lusts, and late attempted sin ;

And lefte the doubtfull battel hastily,

To catch her, newly offred to his eie :

But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, staid,

And stemely bad him other business plie

Then hunt the steps of pure uuspotted maid :

AVherewith he al enrag'd these bitter speaches said ,

" O foolish faeries sonne, what fury mad

Hath thee incenst to hast thy dolefull fate ?

Were it not better I that lady had

Then that thou hadst repented it too late ?

Rlost sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate

To love another : Lo then, for thine ayd,

Hei-e take thy lovers token on thv pate."

So they to fight; the whiles the "royall mayd

Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afravd.

But that false pilgrim, which that leasing told,
Being in deed old Arthimage, did stay-
in secret shadow all this to behold ;
And much reioiced in their bloody fray :
But, when he saw the damsell passe away.
He left his stond, and her jiursewd apace.
In hope to bring her to her last decav.
But for to tell her lamentable cace ,
And eke this battels end, will need another place.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[BookL

CANTO VII.

The Reclcrosse knight is captive made
By gyaunt proud opprest :

Prince Arthure meets with Una great-
ly with those newes distrest.

What man so wise, what earthly witt so ware,

As to discry the crafty cunning traine,

By which Deceit doth maske in visour faire.

And cast her colours died deep in graine,

To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine.

And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,

The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine ?

Great maistresse of her art was that false dame.

The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes name.

■WTio when, returning from the drery Night,
She found not in tliat perilous Hous of Pryde,
Where she had left the noble Redcrosse knight,
Her hoped pray ; she would no lenger byde.
But forth she went to seeke him for and wyde.
Ere long she fownrl, whereas he wearie sato
To rest him selfe, foreby a fountain syde,
Disarmed all of yron-coted plate ;
And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.

Hee feedes upon tlie cooling shade, and hayes
His sweatie forehead in the breathing wynd.
Which through the trembling leaves full gently playes,
Wherein the chearefull bii-ds of sundry kynd
I>oe chnunt sweet rnusick, to delight his mynd :
The witch approching gan him fayrely greet.
And with reproch of carelesnes unkynd
Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet.
With fowle words tempring fiiire, soure gall with
hony sweet.

Unkiudnesse past, they gan of solace treat.
And bathe in pleasaunce of the ioyous shade,
\Vliich shielded them against tlie boyling heat,
And. with greene l)oughes decking a gloomy sJiade,
About the fountaiiie like a girlond made ;
Wliose bubbling wave did ever freshly well,
Ne ever would through fervent summer fade :
The sacred nymph, which tlierein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dianes favor, as it then befell.

The cause was this : One dav, when Phocle fayre

With all her hand was following the chace,

Tliis nymph, quite tyr'd with hiat of scorching ayre,

Sat downe to rest in middcst of the race :

Tlie goddesse wroth gan l''ou ly her disgrace.

And badd the wateis, whicli i'rom her did flow,

Pie such as she her selfe was then in j)lace.

Tlienceforth her waters wexed dull and slow ;

And all, that drinke thereof, do faint and feeble grow.

Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was ;

And, lying downe upon the sandie graile,

Dronke of the streame, as cleare as christall glas :

Eftsoones his manly forces gan to fayle,

And mightie strong was turnd to feeble frayle.

His chaunged powres at first themselves not felt ;

Till crudled cold his corage gan assayle,

And cheareful blood in fayntnes chill did melt.

Which, like a fever fit, through all his bodie sweit

Yet goodly court he made still to his dame,

Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,

Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame :

Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,

Wliich through the woodloud bellowing did rebownd

That all the earth for terror seemd to shake,

And trees did tremble. Th' Elfe, therewith astownd,

Upstarted lightly from his looser make.

And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.

But ere he could his armour on him dight.

Or gett his shield, his monstrous enimy

With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight,

An hideous geaunt, homble and bye.

That with his tallnesse seemd to threat the skye ;

The ground eke groned under him for dreed :

His living like saw never living eye,

Ne durst behold ; his stature did evceed

Tlie hio-ht of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed.

The greatest Earth his lincouth mother was.
And blustring tEoIus his boasted syre ; [p^,

Who with his breatli, which through the world doth
Her hollow womb did secretly inspyre.
And fild her hidden caves with stormie yre.
That she conceiv'd ; and trebling the dew time.
In wliich the wombes of wemen do expyre,
Urought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slyme,
Puft up with emptie wynd, and fild with sinful)
cryme.

So growen great, through arrogant delight.

Of th' high descent whereof he was ybome.

And through presumption of his matchlesse might.

All other powres and knighthood he did scorne.

Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne.

And left to losse; his stalking steps are stayde

Upon a snaggy oke, wliicli ho had torne

Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made

His mortall mace, wherewith his foeraen he dismayde.

Canto VTT.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

That, when the knisjht he spvde, he gan advaunce
With liun;e force and insupportable mayne,
And towardes him witli ch-eadfull fury praunce ;
Who haplesse, and eke liopelesse, all in raiue
Did to him pace sad battaile to darrayne,
Disarmd, disgraste, and mwardly dismayde ;
And eke so faint in every iovut and vavne,
Througli that fraile fountain, which him feeble made,
That sca-sely could he weeld his bootlesse single
blade.

The geaunt strooke so maynly mercilesse,

That could have overthrowne a stony towre ;

And, were it not hevenlv grace that did him blesse,

He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre ;

But he was warv of that deadly stowre,

And lightly lept from underneath the blow :

Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre

That with the winde it did him overthrow,

And all his sences stoond, that still he lay full low.

As when that divelish vron engin, wrought
In deejjest hell, and framd by furies skill.
With windy nitre and quick sulphur fraught,
And ramd with bollet rownd, ordaind to kill,
Conceiveth fvre ; the heavens it doth fill
With thundring noyse, and all the ayre doth choke,
That none can breath, nor see, nor heare at will.
Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke ;
That til' onlv breath him daunts, who hath escaj)C
the stroke.

So daunted when the geaunt saw the knight,

His heavie hand he heaved up on liye,

And iiim to dust thought to have battred quight,

Untill Duessa loud to liim gan crve ;

" O great Orgoglio, greatest under skye.

Oh ! hold thy mortall hand for ladies sake ;

Hold for mv sake, and doe him not to dye,

But vanquisht thine eternall bondslave make.

And me, thy worthy meed, unto thy leman take.'

He hearkned, and did stay from further harmes,

To gavne so goodly guerdon as she spake :

So willinglv she came into his amies.

Who her as willingly to gra' e did take,

And was possessed of his newfound make.

Then up he tooke the slondjred sencelesse corse ;

And, ere he could out of his swowne awake,

Him to his castle brought with hastie forse.

And in a dongeon deepe him threw without remorse.

From that day forth Duessa was his deare.

And highly honourd in iiis haughtie eye •

He gave her gold and purple pall to weare,

And tripde crowne set on her head full hye.

And her endowd with rovall maiestye :

Then, for to make her dreaded more of men,

And peoples hartes with awfuU terror tye,

A monstrous beast ybredd in filthy fen [den.

He chose, v.-hich he had kept long time in darksom

Such one it was, as that renowmed snake

Which great Alcides in Stremona slew.

Long fostred in the filth of Lerna lake :

Whose many heades out-budding ever new

Did breed him endlesse labor to subdew.

But this same monster much more ugly was ;

For seven great heads out of his bodv grew !

An vron brest, and back of scaly bras,

And all embrevvd in blood his eyes did shine as gla3.

His tayle was stretched out in wondrous length.
That to the hous of hevenly gods it rauuht ;
And with extorted powre, and borrow'd strength,
The ever burning lamps from tijence it braught,
And prowdlv threw to ground, as thiiiiis of naught
And underneath his filthy feet did tread
The sacred thinges, and holy heastes foretaught.
Upon this dreadful! beast with sevenfold bead
He sett the false Duessa, for more aw and dread.

The wofull dwarfe, which saw his maisters fall,
(Whiles he had keeping of his grasing steed,)
And valiant knight become a caytive thrall ;
\Vhen all was jiast, tooke up his forlorne weed ;
His mightie armour, missing m(;st at need ;
His silver shield, now idle, maisterlesse ;
His poynant speare, that many made to bleed ;
The rueful nioniments of heavinesse ;
And with them all departes,to tell his great distresse.

He had not travaild long, when on the way

He wofull lady, wofull Una, met

Fast flying from that Paynims greedy pray,

Whilest .Satyrane him from piursuit did let :

Who when her eyes she on the dwarf had set,

And saw the signes that deadly tydinges spake.

She fell to ground for sorrowfull regret.

And lively breath her sad brest did forsake ;

Yet might her pitteous hart be seen to pant and quakOi

The messenger of so unhappie newes
Would faine have dyde ; dead was his hart within
Yet outwardly s^me little comfort shewes :
At last, recovering hart, he does begin
To rub her temples, and to chaufe her chin.
And everie tender part does tosse and turne:
So hardly he the flitted life does win
Unto her native prison to retourne.
Then gins her grieved ghost thus to lament and
raourne :

" Ye dreary instruments of dolefull sight,
That doe this dreadly spectacle behold.
Why due ye lenger feed on loathed light.
Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould,
Sith cruell Fates tlie careful! tlireds unfould.
The which my life and love togetlier tyde ?
Now let the stony dart of sencelesse Cold
Perce to my hart, and pas tlirou^h everie side ;
And let eternall nioht so sad <ight fro me hyde.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I

" O, lightsome Day, the lampe of highest love,
First made by him mens wandripg- wayes to guyde.
When darkaesse he in deepest dongeon drove ;
Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde.
And shut up heavens windowes shyning wyde .
For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed,
And late repentance, which shall long ahyde
Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed,
But, seeled up wiih death, shall have their deadly
meed."

Then downe againe she fell unto the ground ;

But he her quickly reared u]) againe •

Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd,

^nd thrise lie her reviv'd with busie pahie,

At last when life recover'd had the raine,

And over-wrestled his strong enimy.

With foltring tong, and trembling everie vaine,

" Tell on," quoth she, "the wofuU tragedy,

The which these relicjues sad present unto mine eye ;

" Tempestuous Fortune hath spent all her spight,

And thrilling Sorrow throwne liis utmost dart :

Tliy sad tong cannot tell more heavy plight

Tlien that I fcele, and harbour in mine hart :

Wl;o hath endur'd the whole, can beare ech part.

If death it be ; it is not the first wound.

That launched hatli my brest with bleeding fjinai't.

Begin, and end the 1)itter balefull stound ;

If lesse then that 1 feare, more favour I have found.'

Tlien gau the dwarfe the whole discourse declare ;
llie subtile traines of Archiinago old ;
The wanton loves of false Fide^sa fayre,
Bought with the blood of vanquisht Paynim bold ;
The wretched payre transformed to treen mould j
1 he House of Pryde, and perilles round about ;
The combat, which he with Sansioy did hould ;
The lucklesse conflict with the gyaunt stout.
Wherein captiv'd, of life or death he stood in doubt.

She heard with patience all unto the end ;

And strove to maistcr sorrowfull assay,

Which greater grew, the more she did contend,

And almost rent her tender liart in tway ;

And love fresh coles unto lier fire did lay :

For greater love, the greati r is the losse.

Was never lady loved dearer dav

Then she did love the knight of the Redcrosse ;

For whose deare sake so many troubles her didtosse.

At last when fervent sorrow slaked was,
She up arose, resolving him to find
Alive or ch^ad ; and forward forth did pas,
All as the dwarfe tlie way to her assynd :
And evermore, in constant carefull mmd.
She fedd lier wound with fresh renewed bale :
Long tost with stormes, and bet with bitter wind,
High over hills, and lowe adowne the dale, [vale.
She wandred many a wo.id, and measurd many a

At last she chaunced by good hap to meet
A goodly knight, faire marching by the way,
Together with his squyre, arraved meet:
His glitterand armour shined far away,
Like glauncing light of Phoebus briglitest ray ;
From top to toe no place appeared bare.
That deadly dint of Steele endanger mav :
Athwart his brest a bauldrick brave ho ware.
That shind, like twinkling stai's, with stones most
pretious rare :

And, in the midst thereof, one pretious stone

Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,

Shapt like a ladies liead, exceeding shone,

Like Hesperus emongst the lesser lights,

And strove for to amaze the weaker sights :

Thereby his mortail blade full comely hong

In yvory sheath, ycarv'd with curious slights.

Whose iults were burnisht gold ; and handle strons

Of mother perle ; and buckled with a golden tong.

His haughtie helmet, horrid all witJi gold,
Both glorious brightnesse and great teixour bredd:
For all the crest a dragon did enfold
With greedie pawes, and over all did spredd
His golden winges ; his dreadfull hideous hedd
Close couched on the bever, seemd to throw
From flaming mouth bright sparckles fiery redd,
That suddeine horrour to fainte hartes did show ,
And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his back full
low.

Upon the top of all his loftie crest,

A bouncli of heares discolourd diversly.

With sprincled pearle and gold full richly drest,

Did shake, and seemd to daunce for iollity ;

Like to an almond tree ymounted hye

On top of greene Selinis all alone,

With blossoms brave bedecked daintily ;

Whose tender locks do tremble every one

At everie little breath, that under heaven is blowne.

His warlike shield all closely cover'd was,

!Ne might of mortail eye he ever scene ;

Not made of Steele, nor of enduring bras,

(Such earthly mettals soon consumed beene,)

But all of diamond perfect pure and deene

It framed was, one massy entire motild,

Hew'n out of adamant rocke with engines keene,

'J'hat point of speare it never percen could,

Ke dint of direfull sword divide the substance would

The same to wight he never wont disclose.
But whenas monsters huge he would dismay,
Or daunt unetjuall armies of his foes.
Or when the flying ho'aviMis he would affray :
For so exceeding shone his !;listrin^ r.\y,
1'hat Phoebus golden face it did attaint.
As when a cloud his beames doth over-lay ;
And silver Cynthia wexed pale and faynf.
As when her face is staynd with m-.igicke arts
constraint.

Ca TC VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

No magicke arts hereof had any might,
Nor bloody wordes of bold enchaunters call ;
liut all tliat was not such as seemd in sight
Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall :
And, when him list the raskall routes appall,
IMen into stones therewith he could transmew.
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all :
And, when him list the prouder lookes subdew.
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.

Ne let it seeme that credence this exceedes ;
For he, that made the same, was knowne right well
To have done much more admirable deedes :
It IMerlin was, which whylome did excell
All living wightes in might of magicke spell :
T5oth shield, and sword, and armour all he wrought
For this young prince, when first to armes he fell ;
But, when he dyde, the Faery Queene it brought
To Faerie load ; where yet it may be seene, if sought.

A gentle youth, his dearely loved squire,
His speare of heben wood behind him bare,
Whose harmeful head, thrise heated in the fire,
Had riven many a brest with pikehead square :
A goodly person ; and could menage faire
His stubborne steed with curbed canon bitt,
Who under him did trample as the aire,
And chauft, that any on his backe should sitt ;
The yron rowels into frotliy fome he bitt.

Wlienas this knight nigh to the lady drew,

With lovely court he gan her entertaine ;

But, when he heard her aunswers loth, he knew

Some secret sorrow did her heart distraine :

Wliich to allay, and calme her storir.'ag paine,

Faire feeling words he wisely gan display.

And, for her humor fitting purpose faine.

To tempt the cause it selfe for to bewray ; [say ;

Wherewith enmovd, these bleeding words she gan to

" What worlds delight, or iov of living speach,

Can hart, so plungd in sea of sorrowes deep.

And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach ?

The carefull Cold beginneth for to creep.

And in my heart his yron arrow steep,

Soone as I thinke upon m) bitter bale.

Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keep,

Then rip up griefe, where it may not availe ;

My last lefl comfort is my woes to weepe and waile."

" Ah lady deare," quoth then the gentle knight,
" ^^'ell may I ween your griefe is wondrous great ;
For Wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright.
Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat.
But, woefull lady, let me you intrete
For to unfold the anguish of your hart ;
Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete,
And counsell mitigates the greatest smart ;
Foundnever help, who never would his hurts impart."

" Oh ! but," quoth she, " great griefe will not be
And can more easily be thought then said." [tould,
" Right so," quoth he : " but he, that never would.
Could never : will to might gives greatest aid."
" But griefe," quoth she, " does greater grow dis-
If then it find not helpe, and breeds despaire. "[plaid,
" Despair breeds not," quoth he," where faith is staid."
" iS'o faith so fast," quoth she, " hut flesh does paire.'
" Flesh may empaire," quoth he, " but reason caa
repaire."

His goodly reason, and well-guided speach,
So deepe did settle in her gracious thought,
Thac her perswaded to disclose the breach
Which love and fortune in her hart had wrought ;
And said ; " Faire sir, I hope good hap have brought
You to inquere the secrets of my griefe ;
Or that your wisdome will direct mv thought ;
Or that your prowesse can me yield relief'e ;
Then heare the story sad, wliich I shall tell yon
briefe.

" The forlorne maiden, whom your eies have seer

The laughing stocke of Fortunes mockeries.

Am th' onely daughter of a king and queene.

Whose parents deare ('whiles equal destinies

Did ronne about, and their felicities

The favourable heavens did not envy,)

Did spred their rule througli all the territories.

Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by.

And Gehons golden waves doe wash continually :

" Till that their cruell cursed enemv,
An huge great dragon, h rrJhle in sight.
Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartarv,
With murdrous ravine, and devouring might,
Tlieir kingdome spoild, and countvfy wasted quight:
Themselves, for feare into his iavves to fall.
He forst to castle strong to take their fliglit ;
Where, fast embard in miglitv brasen wall.
He has tJiem now fowr years besiegd to make them
thrall.

" Full many knights, adventurous and stout,
Have enterpriz'd, that monster to subdew :
From every coast, that heaven walks about.
Have thither come the noble martial crew,
That famous harde atchievements still pursew ;
Yet never any could that girlond win.
But all still shronke ; and still he greater grew;
All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin.
The pitteous pray of his fiers cruelty have bin.

" At last, vied with far reported praise.
Which flying Fame throughout tlie world had spreCS,
Of doughty knights, whom Fary land did raise,
That noble order hight of Maideuhed,
Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped.
Of Gloriane, great queene of glory bright,
Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis is red ;
There to obtaine some such redoubted knight
That parents deare from tyrants puwre deliver migFti

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I.

*'Yt was my cliaunce (my civaunce was fairoand good)
Tliere for to find a fresh unproved knight ;
Whose manly hands imhrewd in guilty blood
Had never beene, ne ever by his might
Had throwne to ground the unregarded riglit :
Vet of his prowesse proofe he since has made
jl witnes ara~) in manv a cruell fight ;
The groniug ghosts of many one dismaide
Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging blade.

" And ye, the forlorne reliques of Ins powre,
His biting Sword, and his devouring Speare,
Which have endured many a dreadfull slowre.
Can speake his prowesse, that did earst you beare,
And well could rule ; now he hath left you heare
To be the record of his ruetull losse,
And of my dolefull disaventurous deare :
O heavie record of the good Iledcrosse,
Where have ye left your lord, that could so well
vou tosse ?

" Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had,

That he my captive languor should redeeme :

Till all unweeting an enc haunter bad

His sence abusd, and made him to misdeems

My loyalty, net such as it did seeme,

That rather death desire then such despight.

Be judge, ye heavens, that all things right esteniiie,

How I him lov'd, and love with all my mighi I

So thought I eke of him, and think I thought anght.

" Tlienceforth me desolate he quite forsooke,
To wander, where wikle Fortune would me lead.
And other bywaies he himselfe betooke.
Where never foote of living wight did tread.
That brought not backe the baleful! body dead ;
In wIulIi him chaunced false Duessa meete.
Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread ;
Who with Iier witchcraft, and misseeming sweete,
Inveigled him to lollow her desires unmeete.

" At last, by subtile sleights she him betraid
Unto his foe, a gyaunt huge and tall ;
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,
llnwares surprised, and with mighty mall
The monster mercilesse him made to fall,
Wliose fall did never foe before behold :
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Ilemcdiiesse, for aie he doth him hold :
This is my cause of griefe, more great then mav be
told."

Ere she had ended all, slie gan to faint :
But he her comforted, and faire bespake ;
" Certes, madame, ye have great cause of plaint.
That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take ;
For, till I have acquit your captive knight.
Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake."
His chearefuU words reviv'd herchearelesse spright
So forth they went, the dwai-fe them guiding ever
right.

CANTO VIII.

Faire virgin, to redeeme lier deare,

Brings Arthure to the fight ;
Who slayes the gyaunt, wounds the beast.

And strips Duessa quight.

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold
The rigliteous man, to make him dailv fall,
W^ere not that heavenly grace doth liim ii])hoId,
And stedfast Trutli acquite him out of all !
Her love is firme, her care continual!,
So oft as he, througli liis own foolish jiride
Or weaknes, is to sinful! hands made thrall :
Els should this Redcrosse knight in hands have dvde,
For wliose deliverance she this pnnce doth tliether
guyd.

II.

They sadly Iraveild thus, until! they came,

Nigh to a castle bnil(h>d strong and hye :

Tlien cryde the dwarfe, " Lo ! yonder is the same.

In whicli my lord, my liege, doth lucklesse ly,

Thrall to that gyaunts lialefull tyranny :

Therefore, deaie sir, your mighty powres assay."

Tlie noble knight aliglited by and by

From loftie steed, and had tlie ladie stay.

To see wliat end of fight should him befall that day.

So with his squire, th' admirer of his might.
He marclied forth towardes thit castle wall ;
Whose gates lie fownd fast shutt, ne living wight
To Avarde the same, nor answere commers call.
Tlicn tooke that squire an home of bugle small,
Which hong adowne liis side in twisted gold
And tasselle.s gay : wyde wonders over all
Of tliat same Iiornes groat vertues weren told
Whicli had approved bene in uses manifold.

Was never wight that lieard tliat slirilling sownd.

But trembling feare did fiel in every vaine :

Three miles it might be easy lieard arownd.

And ecclioes tliree answer'd it selfe agavne:

No faulse enchauntment, nor deceitful! traine.

Might once abide the terror of that blast.

But presently was voide and wlioUy vaine :

No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast,

But with that piercing noise flew open quite, or brast

n:-: KAF.IUE QUEEXE.

The s:une be'bre tlin ii^enuuts g-ate lie blew.
That all the ciis'le i|Uiiked from the growiid,
And evi^rv d"re of Cree-will open flew.
'I'lie i;yauiit selfe disinaied with that sownd,
Where he with his Duessa dalliaunce fbwiid,
In hast c:nne rushinjj,- forth iroin inner bowre.
With stariiiij countenance sterna, as one astowiid
And stai^gering stt'ps, to weet what suddein stovvre
Had wrought tliat horror strange, and dar'd his
dreaded powre.

And after him the proud Duessa came,

High mounted on her many-headed beas-t ;

And every head with fyrie tongue did flame.

And everv head was crowned on his creast.

And bloodv mouthed with late cruell feast.

That when the knight beheld, his miglitie shild

Upon his manlv arnie he soone addrest.

And at him fiersly flew, with corage fild.

And eger greedinesse through every member thrild.

Therewith the gyaunt buckled him to fight,

Inflamii with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,

And lilting up his dreadfull club on higbt.

All armd with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,

Him tliought at first encnunter to liave slaine.

But wise .ind warv was that noble pere ;

And, lightly leajjing from so monstrous maine,

Did favre avoide the violence him nere ;

Itbooted nought to thinke such thunderbolts to beare:

Ne shame he thought to shonne so hideous might :
The vdle stroke, enforcing furious w-.iv.
Missing tlie marke of his misavmed sight,
Did nil to ground, and wiih liis heavie sway
So deejilv dinted in the driven clay,
That three yardes dee'pe a furrow up did throw :
'J he sad earth, wounded with so sore assay,
Did gro-.H full grievous underneath thi' blow ;
And, trembling with strange feare, did like an ertli-
quake show.

As when almightie love, in wrathfull mood.
To wreake the nnilt of mortall sins is bent,
llurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,
Knrold in flamt-s, and smouldring dreriment.
Through rivt-n cloudes and molten firmament;
1 lie fiers tlreeforked engin, making way,
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent.
And all tliat might his angry passage stay ;
And, shooting in the earth, castes up a mount of
clay.

His bovstrous club, so buried in the grownd.
He could not rearen uj) againe so light,
15ut that the knight liim at advantage fownd ;
And, whiles h- strove his couibred clubbe to ijuight
Out of the eirth, witii blade all burning bright
lie smott off his lel't arnie. which like a block
Did full to ground dejiriv'd of native might;
Iy<iigo strearues of bloud out of the truncked stock
Forth gushed, like fresh-vs'ater streame from riven
locke.

Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound.
And eke impatient of unwonted puyne,
He lowdly brayd witli beastly yelling sownd,
'J'hat all the tieldes rebellowed againe :
As great a noyse as when in Cymbrian plaine
An her.l of bulles, whom kindly rage doth iting.
Doe for the milky mothers want com])hnne.
And fill the fieldes with troublous bellovving : i

The neighbor woodes arovvnd with hollow murmu,'
rinsr.

That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw
The evil stownd that daungerd her estate,
Unto his aide she hastily did draw.
Her dreadfull beast : who, swolen with blood of late,
Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous gate.
And threatned all his heades like flaming brandes.
But him the squire made quickly to retrate,
Encountring fiers with single sword in hand ;
And twixt him and his lord did like a bulwarke
stand.

The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull spight

And fiers disdaine, to be affronted so,

Enforst her purple beast with all her might.

That stop out of the way to overthroe,

Scorning the let of so unequall foe :

Ent nathijmore would that corageous swayne

To her yeeld passage, gainst his lord to goe ;

lUit with outrageous strokes did him restraiae,

And with his body bard the way atwixt them twaine.

Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup,
Which sti.l she bore, replete with magick artes ;
Dea h and despeyre did many thereof -up,
Auil secret poyson througli their inner panes ;
Tir eternall bale of heavie wounded harts :
Which, after charmes and some enchauiuments said.
She lightly sprinkled on his weaker partes :
Therewith his sturdie corage soon was qnayd,
And all his sences were with suddein dread dismayd.

So downe he fell before tlie cruell beast,
\Vho on his neck his bloody clawes did sieze.
That life nioh crushc out of his panting brest :
No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize.
That when the carefuil knight gan well avise,
He lightly left the foe with whom he fought.
And to the beast gan turne his enterprise ;
For wondrous anguish in his liart it wrought,
To see his loved squyre into such thraldom brought ;

And, high advauncing his blood-thirstie blade.
Stroke one of those deformed heades so sore,
I'htit of his puissance proud ensample made ; ^

I lis monstrous scalpe down to his teeth it tore,
\nd that misformed sha|)e misshaj)ed more :
A sea of blood gusht from the gaping wownd.
That lier gay garments staynd with filthy gore.
And ovirflowed all the field arownd ;
That over shoes in blood he waded on the grownd.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book 1.

Thereat he rored for exceeding paine,
That, to have heard, great horror would have bred ;
And scourging th' eniptie avre with his long trayiie,
Throug-I) great impatience of his grieved had,
Ilis gorgeous ryder from lier loftie sted
Would have cast downe, and trodd in durty myre,
Had not the gyaunt soone her succoured ;
AVho, al enrag'd with smart and frantick yre,
Came hurtling in full fiers, and forst the knight
retvre.

The force, which wont in two to be disperst,
In one alone left hand he now unites, [erst ;

Which is through rage more strong than both were
With which his hideous club aloft he dites,
And at his foe with furious rigor smites,
That strongest oake might seeme to overthrow :
The stroke upon his shield so beavie lites,
That to the ground it doubleth him full low : —
^Vhat mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous
blow ?

And in his fall his shield, that covered was.
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew ;
Tlie liuht whereof, that hevens light did pas.
Such blazing brightnesse througli the aver tlirew,
That eye mote not the same endure to vew.
Wliich when the gyaunt spyde with staring eye,
He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew
His weapon huge, that heaved was on bye
For to have slain the man, that on the ground did
lye.

XX.

And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd
At flashing beanies of that sunshiny shield.
Became stark blind, and all his sences dazd,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,
And seemd himselfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maistresse proud perceiv'd to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for fiiintnesse reeld,
L'nto the gyaunt lowdly she gan call ;
O ! helpe, Orgoglio ; helpe, or els we perish all."

At her so pitteous cry was much amoov'd
Her champion stout ; and, for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proov'd,
But all in vaine : for lie lias redd his end
In that bright shield, and all their forces spend
Themselves in vaine : for, since tliat glauncing sight.
He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend.
As where th' Almighties lightning brond does light,
It dimnies the dazed eyen, and daunts the sences
quight.

xxit.
Whom when the prince, to battoill new addrest
And tlireatning high liis dreadfull stroke, did see,
His Sjiarkling blade about his head ho blest.
And smote off quite his left leg by the knee,
That downe he tomb led ; as an aged tree,
liii;]) growing on the toj) of rocky clift.
Whose hart-strings with keeno Steele nigh hewen be ;
Tiie mightie trunck halfe rent wiih ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull
drift.

Or as a castle, reared high and rc<und.
By subtile engins and ma'.itious slight
Is undermined from the lowest ground.
And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,
A t last downe falles ; and with her heaped bight
Her hastie mine does more beavie make,
And yields it selfe unto the victours might :
Such was this gyaunts fall, that seemd to shake
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.

The knight then, lightly leaping to the pray.
With mortall Steele him smot againe so sore,
That headlesse his unweldybodie lay.
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloody gore.
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store.
But, soone as breath out of his brest did pas,
That huge great body, which the gyaunt bore,
Was vanisht quite ; and of that monstrous mas
Was nothing left, but like an emptie blader was.

Whose grievous fall when false Duessa spyde.

Her golden cup she cast unto tlie ground.

And crowned mitre rudely threw asyde :

Such percing griefe lier stubborne hart did wound,

That sbe could not endure that doleful! stound ;

But, leaving all behind her, fled away :

The light-foot squyer her quickly turnd around,

And, by hard meanes enforcing her to stay.

So brought unto his lord, as his deserved pray.

The roiall virgin which beheld from farre.

In pensive plight and sad peqilexitie.

The whole atchievement of this doubtfuU warre.

Came running fast to greet his victorie.

With sober gladnesse and myld modestie ;

And, with sweet ioyous cheare, him thus bespake :

" Kayre braunch of noblesse, flowre of chevalrie,

That with your worth the world amazed make,

How shall I quite the pajnes, ye sutler for my sake '

" And you, fresh budd of vertue springing fast,
Whom these sad eyes saw nigh unto Deaths dore,
What hath poore virgin for sucli perill past
Wherewith you to reward ? Accept therefore
I\Iy simple selfe, and service evermore.
And He that high does sit, and all things see
^^'itll equall eye, their merites to restore.
Behold what ye tliis day have done for raee ;
And, what I cannot quite, requite with usuree !

" But sith the heavens, and your faire liandfiling,

Have made you master of the field this day ;

Your fortune maister eke with governing.

And, well begonne, end all so well, I pray !

Ne let that wicked woman scape away ;

Forslie it is, that did my lord bethrall,

j\Iy dearest lord, and deepe in dongeon lay ;

Where he his better dayes hath wasted all :

O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call !"

Canto YIIL]

THE FAERIF: QIIEEXE.

Forthwith he gave in charge unto his squyre,
That scarlet whore to keepen carefully ;
Whiles lie himselfe with greedie great desyre
Into the castle entred forcibly,
Where living creature none he did espj'e :
Then gau he loudly through the house to call ;
But no man car'd to answere to his crye :
There raignd a solemne silence over all ;
Nor voice was heard nor wight was seene in bowre
or hall !

.XXX.

At last, with creeping crooked pace forth came
An old old man, with beard as white as snow ;
That on a staft'e his feeble steps did frame,
And guvde his wearie gate both too and fro ;
For his eye-sight him fayled long ygo :
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,
The which unused rust did overgrow :
Those were the keyes of every inner dore ;
But he could not them use, but kept them still in
store.

But very uncouth sight was to behold,
How he did fashion his untoward pace ;
For as he forward moov'd his footing old.
So backward still was tutnd his wrincled face
Unlike to men, who ever, as they trace.
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the auncient keeper of that place,
And footer father of the gyaunt dead ;
His name Ignaro tlid his nature right aread.

There all within full rich aravd he found,

With royall arras, and resplendent gold.

And did witli store of every thing abound.

That greatest princes presence miglit behold.

lint aU tlie floore (too filthy to be tuld)

With blood of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew

^V!lich there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold,

Defiled was ; that dre.idfuU was to vew ;

And sacred ashes over it was strowed new.

And there beside a marble stone was built

An altare, carv'd with cunning ymagerv ;

On which trew Christians biood was often spilt.

And holy martvres often doen to dve.

With cruell malice and strong tyranny :

Whose blessed sprites, from underneath the stone,

To God for vengeance cryde continually ;

And with great griefe were often heard to grono ;

That hardest heart would bleede to hear their piteou3

Through every rowme he sought, and evcrie bowr ,

But no where could he find that woful thrall.

At last he came unto an yron doore

That fast was lockt; but key found not at all

Emongst that bounch to open it withall ;

Jjut in tlie same a little grate was pight,

Through which lie sent his vovce, and lowd did call

With all his powre, to weet if living wight

Were housed therewithin, whom he enlargen might.

His reverend heares and holy gravitee
The kniuht much honord, as beseemed well ;
And gently askt, where all the people bee,
\\'hich in that stately building wont to dwell :
\\lio answerd him full soft, He could not tell.
Again he askt, where that same knight was layd.
Whom great Orgoglio with his piiissaunce fell
Had made his caytive thrall : againe he sayde.
He could not tell ; ne ever other answere made.

Then asked he, which way he in might pas :
Ue could not tell, againe he answered.
Thereat, the courteous knight displeased was.
And said ; " Old sj-re, it seemes thou hast not red
How ill it sits ^\-ith that same silver bed.
In vaine to mocke, or raockt in vaine to bee :
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed
With Natures pen, in ages grave degree,
Aread in graver wise what I demaund of thee."

His answere likewise was. He could iiot tell.
Whose senceless speach, and doted ignorance,
Whenas the noble prince had marked v.-ell.
He ghest his nature by his countenance ;
Aud calm'd his wrath with goodly temperance.
Then, to him stepping, from his arme did reache
TTiose keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.
Each dore he opened without anv breach :
There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.

Therewith an hollow, drearv, murmuring voyce
These pitteous plaintes and dolours did resound ;
" O ! who is that, which brings me happv choyce
Of ileatli, that here Ive dying every stound,
Yet live perforce in balefull darknesse bound ?
For now three moones have changed thrice their hew,
And have been thrice hid underneath the ground,
Since I the heavens chearefuU face did vew :
O welcome, thou, that doest of death bring tydings
trew !

Wliichwhen that champion heard, with percing point

Of pittv deare his hart was thrilled sore ;

And trembling hoirour ran through every ionynt

For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore:

Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore

With furious force and indignation fell ;

Where entred in, his foot could find no flore.

But all a deepe descent, as dark as hell.

That breathed ever forth a filthie banetuU smell.

But neither darkenesse fowle, nor hlthy bands,

Nor noyous smell, his purpose could withhold,

(Entire affection hateth nicer hands,)

But that with constant zele and corage bold,

After long paines and labors manifold.

He found the meanes that prisoner up to reare ;

Whose feeble thighes, unable to uphold

His pined corse, him scarse to liglit could beare j

A ruefull spectacle of death aud ghastly drere.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I

His sad dull eies, doepe suiick in liollow pits,
Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to view ;
His biire thin clieelces I'or want of better bits,
And empty sides deceived of tlieir dew,
Could make ii stony liart his hap to rew ;
His rawb me arines, wliose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to rive Steele plates, and helmets hew,
Were clene consum'd ; and all. Iiis vitall powres
Decayd ; and al his flesh shronk up like withered
flowres.

VVhoine when his lady saw, to him she ran
With hasty ioy : to see him made her glad,
A iid sad to view his visage pale and wan ;
VVho earst in ilowres of freshest yonth Was clad.
Tho, when her well of teares she wasted had,
She sad: " Ah, dearest lord ! what evil starre
Oi) you hath frownd, and poured his influence bad,
That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,
Aud tliis misseeming hew your manly lookes doth
marre ?

" But welcome now, my lord, in wele or woe ,

Whose presence 1 have lackt too long a day :

And fve on Fortune mine avowed foe,

Whose wrathful wreakes themselves doe now alay ;

And for these wronges shall treble penaunce pay

Of treble good : good growes of evils priefe."

The chearlese man, whom sorrow did dismay,

Had no delight to treaten of his griefe ;

His lono- endured famine needed more reliefe.

" Faire lady," then snid that victorious knight,
" The things, that grievous were to doe, or bearc,
Them to renew, 1 wote, breeds no delight ;
Best musicke breeds delight in Inathin^ eare :
But th' only good, that grovves of passed feare.
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This daies eusample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen.
That bUsse may not abide in stateof mortalL men.

" Henceforth, sir knight, take to you wonted strength,
And maister these mishaps with patient might :
Loe, where your foe lies stretcht in monstrous length ;
And lo, that wicked woniiin in your sight,
The roote of all your care and wretched plight,
Now ill your powre, to let her live, or die."
"To doe' her die," (pioth Una, " were despight.
And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy ;
But spoile her of her scarlet robe^ and let I""- fly."

So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid.

And ri>bd of roiall robes, and purple pall.

And ornaments that richly were displaid ,•

JVe spared thej' to strip her naked all.

Then, when they had despoyled her tire and call,

Such, as she was, their eies might her behuld.

That her misshaped parts did them appall ;

A loathv, wriuckled hag, ill f\ivoured, old,

Wliose secret filth o-ood manners biddeth not be told.

Her crafty head was altogether bald.
And, as in hate of lionorable eld.
Was overgrowne with scurfe and filthy scald ;
Her teeth out of her rotten guiumes v*-ere feld,
And her sowre breath abhomiiiably smeld ;
Her dried dugs, lyke bladders lacking wind,
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld ;
Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind,
So scabby was, that would have loathd all woman-
kind.

Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind,

Rly chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write :

But at her rompe she growing had behind

A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight :

And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight ;

For one of them was like an eagles claw.

With griping talaunts arnid to greedy fight ;

The other like a beares uneven paw :

More ugly shape yet never living creature saw.

Which when the knights heheld, amazd they were;

And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.

" Such then," said Una, " as she seemeth here.

Such is the face of Falsehood ; such the sight

Of fowle Uuessa, when her borrowed light

Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne."

Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight.

And all her filthy feature open showne.

They let her goe at will, and wander waies unknowne.

Shee, flying fast from heavens hated face.
And from the world that her discovered wide.
Fled to the wastfuU wikhrnesse apace.
From living eies her open shame to hide ;
And lurkt in rocks and caves, long unespide.
But tliat faire crew of knights, and Una faire.
Did in that castle afterwards abide.
To rest themselves, and weary powres repaire ;
Where store tbey fownd of al, that dainty was and
rare.

Canto IX. J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

CANTO IX

His loves and licjnage Arthure tells :
The knights knitt friendly bands :

Sir Trevisan flies from Despeyre,
Whom Redcros knisrht withstands.

O ! GOODLY golden chayne, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in loveh' wize ;
And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
In brave poursuitt of chevalrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid envy to liim, in need that stands ;
But friendly each did otliers praise devize,
How to advaunce with favourable hands,
As this good prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight
from bands.

Who when their powres, empa^Td through labor
With dew repast tliey had recured well, [long,

And that weake captive wight now wexed strong ;
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell.
But forward fare, as their adventures fell :
But, ere tliey parted, Una faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell ;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in thankles
thought.

" Faire virgin," said the prince, " yee me require

A thing without the compas of my witt :

For both the Ugnage, and the certein sire.

From which I sprong, from mee are hidden yitt.

For all so soone as life did me admitt

Into this world, and shewed hevens light.

From mother's pap I taken was iinfitt,

And streight deliver'd to a Fary kniglit, [might.

To be upbrought in gentle thewes and raartiall

" Unto old Timon he me brought by live ;

Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene

In warlike feates th' expertest mnn alive,

And is the wisest now on earth I weene :

His dwelhng is, low in a valley greene,

Under the foot of I>auran mossy bore,

From wlience the river Dee, as silver cleene.

His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore ;

There all ray daies he traind me up in vertuous lore.

" Thether the great magicien Rlerlin came,

As was his use. ofttimes to visitt mee :

For he had charge my discipline to frame.

And tutors nouriture to oversee.

Him oft and oft I askt in privity.

Of what loines and what lignage I did sprinsr,

Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,

That I was sonneand heireunto a king, [hrincr."

As time in her iust terra the truth to light should

" Well worthy impe," said then the lady gent,
" And pupil fitt for such a tutors hand !
But what adventure, or what high intent,
Hath brought you hether into Fary land,
Aread, Prince Arthure, crowne of martiall band ?"
" Full hard it is," quoth he, " to read aright
The course of heavenly cause, or understand
Thi? secret meaning of th' Eteruall flight,
That rules mens %vaies, and rules the thoughts of
livin? wisht.

" For whether He, through fatal deepe foresight,
Me hither sent, for cause to me unghest ;
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest.
With forced fury following his behest,
We hether brought by wayes yet never found ;
You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest." [wound
"Ah ! courteous knight," quoth she, " what secret
Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart on
ground ?"

" Deare dame," quoth he, " you sleeping sparkea

awake.
Which, troubled once, into Luge flames will grow ;
Ne ever will their fervent fury slake,
Till living moysture into smoke do flow.
And wasted life doe lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But, told, it flames ; and, hidden, it does glow;
I will revele what ye so much desire : [respyre.
Ah ! Love, lay down thy bow, the whiles I may

" It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares,

When corage first does creepe in manly chest ;

Then first that cole of kindly heat appeares

To kindle love in every living brest :

But me had warnd old Timons wise behest,

Those creeping flames by reason to subdew.

Before their rage grew to so great unrest,

As miserable lovers use to rew, [new.

Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe still weseth

" That ydle name of love, and lovers life.

As losse of time, and vertues enimy,

I ever scorn'd, and ioyde to stirre up strife,

In middest of their mournfuU traged}' ;

Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry.

And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent :

Their god himselfe, grievd at my libertie,

Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent ;

But I them warded aU with wary government.

THE FAERIE QUEKNE.

[Book I.

" But all in vaine ; no fort can bt so strong,
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sowiid,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or unawares at disadvantage fownd :
Nothing is sure that growes on earthly gro\vnd.
And wiio most trustes in arme of fleshly might.
And boastes in beauties chaine not to he bownd,
Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most
despight.

xir.
" Ensample make of him your haplesse ioy,
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see ;
Whose prouder vaunt that prouil avenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertee.
For on a day, prickt forth with ioUitee
Of looser life and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heavens, with one consent,
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

" Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd ;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd :
Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd.
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay :
So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny day.

" Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment

She to me made, and badd me love her deare ;

For dearely sure her love was to me bent.

As, when iust time expired, should appeare.

But, whether dreames delude, or true it were.

Was never hart so ravisht with delight,

Ne living man like wordes did ever heare.

As she to me delivered all that night ;

And at her parting said, she Queene of Faries hight.

" When I awoke, and found her place devoyd.
And nought hut pressed gras where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so mucli as earst I ioyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forlh 1 lov'd that fsice divyne;
From that day forth I cast in carefuU mynd,
To seek her out with labor and long tyne,
And never vowd to rest till her I fynd :
Nyne uionethes I seek in vain, yet ni'll that vow
unbynd."

XVI.

Thus as he spake, liis visage wexed pale.
And cliaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yett still he strove to cloke his inward bale.
And hide the smoke that did his (Ire display ;
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say ;
" O happy Queene oi' Fiiries, tliat hast fownd,
Mongst many, one tliat with Jiis prowesse may
Defend thine honour, r.iul ihy foes coufownd ?
True loves are often sovvi, but seldom j;row on
grow-»d."

" Thine, O ! then," said the gentle Redcrosse kuigbt,

" Next to that ladies love, shall be the place,

O fayrest virgin, full of heavenly light,

Whose wondrous faith exceeding earthly race.

Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case.

And you, my lord, the patrone of my life,

Of that great queene may well gaine worthie grace

For onlie worthie you through prowes priefe,

Yf living man mote worthie be, to be her liefe."

So diversly discoursing of their loves.

The golden sunne his glistring head gan shew.

And sad remembraunce now the prince amoves

With fresh de>ire his voyage to pursew :

Als Una earnd her traveill to renew.

Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd

And love establish each to other trew,

Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefuU mynd.

And eke, as pledges firme, right hands together ioynd.

Prince Arthur gave a boxe of diamond sure,
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament.
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure.
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wownd could heale incontinent.
WHiich to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gave
A booke, wherein his Saveours Testament
Was writt with golden letters rich and brave ;
A worke of wondrous grace, and hable &oules to
save.

Thus beene they parted ; Arthur on his way
To seeke his love, and th' other for to fight
With Unaes foe, that all her realme did pray.
But she, now weighing the decayed plight
And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight.
Would not a while her forward course pursew,
Ne bring him forth ni face of dreadfuU fight,
Till he recovered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew

So as they traveild, lo ! they gan espy
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly.
Or other griesly tiling, that him aghast.
Still, as he fiedd, his eye was backward cast,
As if his fearo still followed him behynd :
Als flew his steed, as he his bandes "had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wynd.
As he had been a fole of Pegasus his kynd.

Nigh as he drew, he might perceive his head
To be unarmd, and curld uncombed heares
Upstaring stifle, dismaid with uncouth dread :
Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares,
Nor life in linibe ; and lo increase his feares.
In fowle reproach of kiiighthoodes fayre degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring amies does ill agree :
But Jie of rope, or armes, has now no memoree.

Canto IX.]

THE FAEKIE QUEENE.

Tne Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast,
To weet what mister wight was so dismayd :
Tliere him he (indes all senceless and aghast,
That of himselfe he seemd to be afrayd ;
Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd.
Till he these wordes to him deliver might ;
" Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd.
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight?
For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight.

He answerd nought at all ; but adding new
Fear to his first amazment, staring wyde
With stony eyes and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood as one that had aspyde
lufernall Furies with their chaines untyde.
Him yett againe, and >ett againe, bespake
nie gentle knight: who nought to him replyde ;
But trembling every ioint did inly quake,
And i'oltring tongue at last these words seemd forth
to shake J

" For Gods deare love, sir knight doe me not stay j
For loe ! he conies, he comes fast after mee !
Eft looking bac k would faine have runne away :
But lie him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secrete cause of his perplexitie :
Yet nathemore by liis bold hartie speach
Could his blood-Crosen heart eniboldned bee.
But through his boldnes rather feare did reach ;
Yett, forst, at last he made through silence suddein
breach :

" And am I now in safetie sure," quoth he,

" From him, that would have forced me to dye 1

And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,

That I may tell this haplesse history V

" Fear nought," quoth he, " no daunger now is nye,'

" Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,"

Said he, " the which with this unlucky eye

I late beheld ; and, had not greater grace

Me reit from it, had bene partaker of the place.

" I lately chaunst (would I had never chaunst !)
With a fayre knight to keepen companee.
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe advaunst
In all aft'ayres, and was both bold and free ;
But not so happy as mote happy bee :
lie lov'd, as was liis lot, a lady gent.
That him againe lov'd in the least degree ;
For she was j>rou(l,'anil of too high intent,
And iovd to see her lover languish and lament :

" From whom retourning sad and comfortlesse,
As on the way together we did fare.
We met that villen, (God from him me blesse !)
1 hat cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that calls himselfe Dapai/re ;
\Vl,o tirst us greets, and after fayre areedes
Of tydinges straunge, and of a-dventures rare :
So creeping close, as snake in hidden weedes,
laquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.

" Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which Love had launched with his deadly darts ;
With wounding words, and termes of foiile repriefe,
He pluckt from us all hope of dew reliefe,
That erst us held in love of lingring life :
Then hopelesse, hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade us dye, to stint all further strife ;
To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife :

" W^ith which sad instrument of hasty death,

That wofuU lover loathing lenger light,

A wyde way made to let forth living breath.

But I, more fearfull or more lucky wight,

Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,

Fledd faste away, half dead with dying feare ;

Ne yet assur'd of life by you, sir knight,

W'hose like infirmity like clKuince may beare :

But God you never let his cl.>anned speaches heare !"

" How may a man," said he, " with idle speach
Be wonne to spoyle the castle of his health ?"
" I wote," (]U()th he, '• whom triall late did teach.
That like would not for all this worldiis wealth.
His subtile tong, like dropping honny, meaj*'h
Into the heart, and searcheth every vaine ;
That, ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft and weaknes doth remaine.
O never, sir, desire to try his guilefull traine !"

" Certes,' sayd he, " hence shall I never rest,

Till I that treachours art have heard and tryde :

And you, sir knight, whose name mote I request.

Of grace do me unto his cabin guyde."

" I, that hight Trevisan," quoth he " will ryde,

Against my liking, backe to doe you grace :

But not for gold nor glee will I abvde

By you, when ye airive in that same place ;

For lever had I die then see his deadly face."

Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave.
Far underneath a craggy cliff vpight,
Darke, dolefuU, dreary, like a greedy grave.
That still foi carrion carcases doth crave :
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly owlc,
Shriekir.g his balefull note, which ever drave
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fbwle ;
And all about it wandring gliostes did -s^ayla
howle :

And all about old stockes and stubs of trees.
Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seen,
Did hang upon the rai;ged rocky knees ;
On which had many wretches hanged beene.
Whose carcases were scattred on the greene.
And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived there.
That bare-head knight, for dread and dolel'uli teene,
Would faine have fled, ne durst aprochen neare;
But th' other forst him stay e, and comforted in feare

E faekip: queene.

[Boor L

That darksome cave they enter where tlie}- find

'J'hat ciirsed man, low sitting on tlie ground,

Musing full sadly in his sullein mind :

His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound

Disordred hong about his shoulders round.

And hi'l his face ; throui;h which his hollow eyne

Looki deadly dull, and stared as astound ;

His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,

Were shrouke into his iawes, as he hid never dine.

His gannent, nought but many ragged clouts,

^Vith thonies together pind and patched was,

The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts ;

And him beside there lav upon tlie gras

A drenrv corse whose life away did pas,

All wallowed in his own yet luke-warme blood,

That from his wound yet welled fresh, alas !

In which a rust)' knife fast fixed stood,

And made an open passage for the gushing flood.

AVhich piteous spectacle, approving trew
The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,
Wlienas the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew ;
AVith fierie zeale he burnt in courage bold
Him to avenge, before his blood v.-ere cold ;
And to the villein sayd ; '' Thou damned wight.
The authour of this fact we here behold,
\\ hat iustice can but iudge against thee right,
U'ith thine owne blood to price his blood, here sLed
in sight 1"

The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit,

And sayd ; " 1 he temie of life is limited,

Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten, it :

I'he souldier mav not move from watchfull sted.

Nor leave his stand untill liis captaine bed."

" \\'lio life did limit by Ahnightie doome."

Quoth he, " knowes best the termes established ;

And he, that points the centonell his roome.

Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.

" Is not His deed, what ever thing is donne
In heaven and eartli ? Did not He all create
To die againe ? All ends, that was begonne :
Their times in His eteraall booke of fate
Are written sure, and have their certein date.
Who then can strive with strong necessitie,
That holds the world in his still chaunging state ;
Or slmnne the death ordayiul b}- destinie '!
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence,
nor why.

XLIII.

" The lenger life, I wote the greater sin ;

The greater sin, the greater punishment :

All those great battels, which thou boasts to win

Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengement,

Now pravs>i, hereafter deare thou shalt repeat:

For life must life, and blood must blood, repay.

Is not enough thv evill life forespent?

For he that once hatli missed the right way,

The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray.

" What franticke fit,"quothhe, "hath thus distraught
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to give ?
^^'hat iustice ever other iudgement taught,
liut he should dye, who merices riot to live ?
None els to death this man despayring drive
But his owne guiltie mind, deserving death.
Is then uniust to each his dew to give?
Or let him dye, that loatheth living breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath ?

" Who travailes by the wearie wandring way,

To come unto his wished home in haste.

And meetes a flood, that dotli his passage stay ;

Is not great grace to helpe him over past,

Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast?

INIost envious man, that grieves at neighbours good ;

And fond, that ioyest in the woe thou hast ;

Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood

Upon the bancke, yet wilt thy selfe not pas the flood ?

'' He there does now enioy eternal! rest

A nd happy ease, which thou dost want and crave,

And further from it daily wanderest ;

What if some little paynfe the passage have,

That makes frayle flesh lo feare the bitter wave ;

Is not .short jiayne well borne, that bringes long

And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave ? [ease,

Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas.

Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please."

" Then doe no further goe, no further stray j

Hut here ly dowr.e, and to thy rest betake,

Th' ill to prevent, that life ensewen may.

For what hath life, that may it loved make,

And gives not rather cause it to forsake ?

Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife,

Payne, hunger, cold tliat makes the heart to quake,

And ever fickle fortune rageth rife; [life.

All which, and thousands mo, do make a loathsome

" Thou, wretched man, of death hast greatest need,
If in true balhmnce thou wilt weigh thy state;
For never knight, tliat dared warlike deed,
I\Ioi-e luckless disadventures did amate :
Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thv life shutt up for death so oft did call ;
And though good Incke jindonged hath thy date,
Yet death then would the like mishap forestall,
Into the which hereafter thou maist liappen fall.

" Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire

To draw thv dayes forth to their last degree?

Is not the measure of liiy .-infull hire

High heaped up with huge iiiiquitee.

Against the day of wrath, to burden thee ?

Is not enough, that to his lady mild

Thou falsed hast thy faith with jieriuree,

And sold thyselfe to serve Duessa vild..

With whom in all abuse thou hast thyselfe defild !

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

' Is not he i?ist, that all this doth hehold
From higliest he\^en, and beares an equall eie ?
Shall he tliv sins up in his knowledge fold,
Aui guilty be of thine impietie ?
Is not his law. Let every sinner die,
Die shall all flesh ? What then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie.
Then linger till the glas be all out ronne ?
Death is the end of woes : Die sooue, O Faries
Sonne."

The knight was much enmoi^ed with his speach,
That as a swords poynt through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secrete breach.
Well knowing trew all that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembraunce did reverse
The ugly vew of his deformed crimes ;
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes ;
That oftentimes he quakt, and famted oftentimes.

In which amazement when the miscreaunt
Perceived him to waver weake and fraile,
W^hiles trembling horror did his conscience daunt,
And liellish anguish did his soule assaile ;
To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
Hee shewd him painted in a table plaine
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile.
And thousand feends, that doe them eiidlesse patne
W'ith fire and b mstoue, which for ever shall
remaine.

The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid.
That nought but death before his eies he saw,
And ever burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law.
Then gan the villein him to overcraw.
And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire.
And all that might him to perdition draw ;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire :
For death was dew to him, that had provokt Gods
ire.

But, whenas none of them he saw him take.
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene.
And gave it him in hand : his hand did quake
And tremble like a leafe of aspin greene,
/And troubled blood through his pale face was seene
jTo come and goe, with tidings from the heart,
■As it a ronning messenger had heene.
At last resolv'd to work his finall smart,
He lifted up his hand, that bucke againe did start.

Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine

The crudled cold ran to her well of life.

As in a swowne : but, sooue reliev'd againe.

Out of his hand she snatcht tlie cursed knife,

And threw it to the grownd, enraged rife.

And to him said ; " Fie, fie, faint-hearted knight,

What meanest thou by tbis reprochfull strife.

Is this the battaile, which thou vauntst to tight

AVith that fire-mouthed dragon, horrible and bright?

" Come ; come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight,

Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,

Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright :

In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part ?

Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art ?

AVhere iustice growes, there grows eke greater grace.

The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart.

And that accurst hand-writing doth deface :

Arise, sir knight ; arise, and leave this cursed place.'

So up he rose, and thence amounted streight.
Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
Would safe depart, for all his subtile sleight ;
He chose an halter from among the rest.
And with it hong himselfe, unbid, unblest.
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby j,
For thousand times lie so himselfe had drest.
Yet natheless it could not doe him die.
Till he should die his last, that is, eternally.

CANTO X.

Her faithfull knight faire Una brings

To house of Holinesse :
Where he is taught repentaunce, and

The way to hevenly blesse.

What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might

And Faine assurance of mortality.

Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight

Against spirituall foes, yields by and by,

Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly!

Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill.

That thorough grace hath gained factory :

If anv strength we have, it is to ill ;

But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.

By that which lately hapned, Una saw-
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint j
And all his sinewes woxen weake and raw.
Through long enprisonment, and hard constniint,
Which he endured in his late restraint.
That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight.
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint.
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might.
Till he recovered had his late decayed plight.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

['Book 1

There was an auncient. house not far away,

Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore

And pure unspotted life : so well, they say,

It i;overnd was, and guided evermore,

Tliroui;li wisedome of a matrone o;-rave and bore ;

Wliose onely icy was to relieve the needes

Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore :

All nisrht she spent in biddins^ of her bedes,

Aud all the day in doing good and godly deedes.

Dame Ca?lia men did her call, as thought

From heaven to come, or thetber to arise ;

The mother of three daughters well upbrought

In goodly thewes, and godly exercise :

The eldest two, most sober, chast, and wise,

Fidelia and Speranza, virgins were ;

Though spousd, 3-et wanting wedlocks solemnize ;

But faire Charissa to a lovely fere

Was liucked, and by Jiim had many pledges dere.

Arrived there, the dore they find fast lockt ;
For it was warely watched night and dav.
For feare of manv foes ; but, when they knockt,
The porter opened unto them streight way.
He was an aged syre, all hory gray,
With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow,
Wnnt on a staffe bis feeble steps to stay,
Higbt Humilta. They passe in, stouping low ;
Fo: streight and narrow was the way which be did
show.

Each goodly thing is hardest to begin ;

But, entred in, a spatious court they see,

Botli phiine and pleasaunt to be walked in ;

Where them does meete a franckliu faire and free.

And entertaines with comely courteous glee ;

His name was Zele, that liim right well became :

For in bis speacbes and behaveour bee

Did labour lively to expresse the same.

And gladly did them guide, till to the hall they came.

There fayrely them receives a gentle squyre.
Of mild demeaiiure and rare courtesee.
Right flpaniv clad in comely sad attyre ;
In word and deede that sbewd great modeslee,
And knew his good to all of each degree ;
night Reverence: be them with speacbes meet
Does faire entreat ; no courting nicetee,
jijiut simple, trew, and eke unfained sweet.
As might become a squyre so great persons to greet.

And afterwardes them fo bis daiue be leades,

'I'liat i}<xe(\ dame, the l:ulv of the place,

W'h I all this while was ))us\' at her beades ;

Wbirb doen, slie up arose with seemely grace,

Atid toward them full matronely did pace.

Where, when that fairest Una she beheld.

Whom well she knew to spring from lievenly race.

Her heart with ioy unwonted inlv sweld,

As feeling ivondrous comfort ir> her weaker eld ;

And, her embracing, said ; " O happy earth,
W^hereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread !
JMost veituous virgin, borne of hevenly berth.
That, to redeerae thy woefull parents head
From t\rans rage and ever-dying dread.
Hast wandred through the world now long a dav,
Yett ceassest not thy weary soles to lead ;
What grace bath thee now hether brought this wa ,
Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting hether stray 1

" Straunge thing it is an errant knight to see

Here in this place ; or any other wight,

That hether turnes his steps : so few there bee.

That chose the narrow path, or seeke the right !

All keepe the broad high way, and take delight

With many rather for to goe astray.

And be partakers of their evill plight,

Then with a few to walke the rightest way :

O ! foolish men, why hast ye to your own decay '('

' Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbes to rest.
O matrone sage," quoth she, " 1 hether came ;
And this good knight his way with me addrest,
Ledd with ti)y prayses, and broad-blazed fame,
That up to heven is blowne." The auncient dame
Him goodlv greeted in her modest guyse.
And eiiferteynd them both, as best became.
With all the court'sies that she could devyse,
Ne wanted ought to shew her bounteous or wise.

Thus as they gan of sondrie thinges devise,

Loe ! two most goodlv virgins came in place,

Ylinked arme in arn)e in lovelv wise ;

With countenance demure, and modest grace.

They numbred even stej)s and equall pace :

Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hit;bt.

Like sunnv beames threw from her christall face

That could have dazd the rash beholders sight.

And round about her head did shine like hevens lierht.

She was araied all in lillv white.
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fihl uj) to the liight,
In which a serpent did bimselfe enfold.
That horrour made to all that did behold ;
But she no wbitt did ch::unge her constant mood •
And in her other hand she fast did hold
A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood ;
Wherein darke things were writt. hard to be under-
stood.

Her younger sister, that Speranza bight.

Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well ;

Not all so cbearefull seemed she of sight.

As was her sister ; whether dread did dwell

Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell :

Upon her arme a silver anchor lay,

Whereon she leaned ever, as befell;

And ever up to heven, as she did pray.

Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarved other way.

Cavto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Thev, seeing Una, towardes her gan wend,
Who them encounters with like courlesee ;
IVlanv kind speeches they betweene them spend,
And greatly iov each other for to see :
Then to tlie knight wiih shamefast modestie
'J'hey turne themselves, at Unaes raeeke request,
And him salute with well beseeming glee ;
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best,
And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest.

'llien Una thus ; " But she, your sister deare,

The deare Charissa, where is she become ?

Or wants she health, or busie is elswhere?"

" Ah ! no," said they, " but forth she may not come ;

For she of late is lightned of her wombe.

And hath encreast the world with one sonne more,

That her to see should be but troublesome."

" Indeed," quoth she, " that should her trouble sore ;

But tliankt be God, and her encrease so evermore !"

Then said the aged Cslia : " Deare dame,
And you, good sir, I wote that of youre toyle
And labors long, through which ye hether came,
Ve both forwearied be : therefore a whyle
I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle,"
Then called she a groonie, that forth him ledd
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile
Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bedd :
His name was meeke Obedience rightfully aredd.

Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest,
And bodies were refresht with dew repast,
Fa\re Una gan Fidelia favre request.
To have her knight into her schoolehous plaste,
That of her heavenly learning he might tasie.
And heare the wisedom of her wordes divine.
She graunted : and that knight so much agraste
Tliat she him taught celestiall discipline,
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them
shine.

And that her sacred booke, with blood ywritt,
Ihat none could reade except she did them teach.
She unto him disclosed every whitt ;
And heavenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker witt of man could never reach ;
OfOod; of Grace; of lustice ; of Free-will ;
1 hat wonder was to heare her goodly speach :
For she was hable with her wordes to kill, .
And rayse againe to life the hart diat she did thrill.

And, when she list poure out her larger spright,
Slie would commaund the hasty sunne to stay,
Or bai kward turne his course from hevens hight :
Sometimes great bostes of men she could dismay ;
Dry-shod to passe she parts the flouds in tway ,
And eke huge mountaines from their naiive seat
She would commaund themselves to heare away.
Anil throw in raging sea with roaring threat ■
Almightie God her gave such powre and puissaunce
great.

The faitlifuU knight now grew in little space.

By hearing her, and by her sisters lore.

To such perfection of all hevenly grace,

That wretclied world he gan for to abhore,

And mortall life gan loath as thing forlore,

Greevd with remembrance of his wicked weveS;

And prickt with anguish of his sinnes sc sore.

That he desirde to end his wretched dayes :

So much the dart of sinfuU guilt the soule dismayes

But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet,

And taught him liow to take assured hold

Upon her silver anchor, as was meet ;

Els had bis sinnes so great and manifold

Made him forget all that Fidelia told.

In this distressed doubtfull agon)'.

When him his dearest Una did behold

Disdeining li;e, desiring leave to dye.

She found her selfe assayld with great perplexity

And came to Cselia to declare her smart ;

AVho well acquainted with that commune plight,

W hich sinfull horror wurkes in wounded hart.

Her wisely comforted all that she might,

With goodly counsel! and advisement right ;

And streightway sent with carefuU diligence,

To fetch a leach, the which had great insight

In tliat disease of grieved conscience, [Patienc&

Aud well could cure the same ; his name was

W'ho, comming to that sowle-diseased knight,
Could hardly him intreat to tell his grief :
\Vhich knowne, and all, that noyd hisheavie spright,
Well searcht, eftsoones he gau apply relief
Of salves and med'cines, wliich had passing prief ;
And thereto added wurdes of wondrous might :
By which to ease he him recured brief.
And much aswag'd the passion of his plight,
That he his paine endur'd, as seeming now more
light.

XXV.

But yet the cause and root of all his ill.

Inward corruption and infected sin,

Not purg'd nor lieald, behind remained still,

And festring sore did ranckle yett within,

Close creeping twixt the marow and the skin

Which to extirpe, he laid him privily

Dowri« in a darksome lowly place far in,

W iiereas he meant his corrosives to apply.

And with streight diet tame his stubborne malady

In ashes and sackcloth he did array
Mis daintie corse, proud humors to abate ;
And dieted with fasting every da}',
The swelling of his vv-oundes to mitigate ;
And made him prav both earelv and eke late :
And ever, as sujjertluous Hesh did rott.
Amendment readie still at hand did wayt
To pluck it out with pincers fyrie whott
That soone in him was lefte no one corrupted iott.

£ 2

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book L

And bitter Penaunce, with an yorn -whip,

Was wont him once to disple every day :

And sharp Remorse his hart did prick and nip,

That drops of blood thence like a well did play :

And sad Repentance used to embay

His body in salt water smarting sore,

The filthy blottes of sin to wash away.

So in short space they did to health restore [dore.

The man that would not live, but erst lay at deathes

Tn which his torment often was so great,

That, like a lyon, he would cry and rore ;

And rend his flesh ; and his owne synewes eat.

His owne deare Una, hearing- evermore

His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore

Her guiltlesse garments and her golden heare,

For pitty of his payne and anguish sore :

Yet all with patience wisely she did heare ;

For well she wist his cryme could els be never cleare

Whom, thus recovered by wise Patience

And trew R,epentaunce, they to Una brought ;

Who, ioyous of his cured conscience,

Him dearely kist, and fayrely eke besought,

Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought

To put away out of his carefull brest.

By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought,

W^-as woxen strong, and left her fruitful! nest :

To her fayre Una brought this unacquainted guest.

She was a woman in her freshest age.
Of wondrous beauty, and of bounty rare,
W^ith goodly grace and comely personage.
That was on earth not easie to compare ;
Full of great love ; but Cupids wanton snare
As hell she hated ; chaste in worke and will ;
Her necke and brests were ever open bare.
That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill :
The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.

A multitude of babes about her hong,
Playing their sportes, that ioyed her to behold ;
Whom still she fed , whiles they were weake and young,
But thrust them forth still as they wexed old :
And on her head she wore a tyre of gold,
Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous fayre,
Whose passing price uneath was to be told :
And bv her syde there sate a gentle payre
Of turtledoves, she sitting iu an yvory chayre.

The knight and Unaentring fayre her greet,

And bid her ioy of that her hapjjy brood ;

Who them requites wilh court'sies seeming meet,

And entertaynes with friendly chearefull mood.

'I'hen Una her besought, to be so good

As in her veituous rules to schoole, her knight,

Now after all his torment well withstood

In that sad house of Penannce, where his spright

had past the paines of htli aud long-enduring night.

She was right ioyous of her iust request ;
And, taking by the hand that faeries sonne,
Gan him instruct in everie good behest.
Of love ; and righteousness ; and well to donne ,
And wrath and hatred warely to shonne.
That drew on men gods hatred and his wrath.
And many soules in dolours had fordonne :
In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heaven she teacheth him the ready
path.

XXXIV.

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guyde,

An auncient matrone she to her does call.

Whose sober lookes her wisedcme well descryde ;

Her name was mercy ; well knowne over all

To be both gratious and eke liberall :

To whom the carefull charge of him she gave,

To leade aright, that he should never fall

In all his waies through this wide worldes wave ;

That mercy in the end his righteous soule might save

The godly matrone by the hand him beares

Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,

Scattred with bushy thornes and ragged breares.

Which still before him she remov'd away.

That nothing might his ready passage stay :

And ever when his feet encombred were.

Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,

She held him fast, and firmely did upbe^re ;

As carefull nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

Estsoones unto an holy hospital!.

That was foreby the wa}', she did him bring ;

In which seven btad-men, that had vowed all

Their life to service of hij;!i heavens king.

Did spend their dales in doing godly thing :

Their gates to all were open evermore.

That by the wearie way were traveiling;

And one sate wayting ever them before.

To call in commers-by, that needy were and pore.

The first of them, that eldest was and best.
Of all the house had charge and governement.
As guardian and steward of the rest:
His office was to give entertainem^nt
And lodging unto all that came and went ;
Not unto such as could him feast againe.
And double quite for that he on them spent ;
]5ut such, as want of harbour did constraine :
Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

The second was as almner of the place •

His office was the hungry for to feed.

And thirsty give to drinke ; a worke of grace :

He feard not once himselfe to be in need,

Ne car'd to hoord for those whom he did breede :

'J'he grace of God he layd np still in store.

Which as a stocke he left unto his seede :

He had enough ; what need him care for more ?

And had he lesse, yet some he would give to the pore.

Canto X.]

THE FAKR[E QUF,E\E.

The tliird had of their wardrobe custody,

la which were not rich tyres, nor garments ga}^,

The plumes of pride, and witiges of vanity,

Rut clothes meet to keep keene cold away,

And naked nature seemely to aray ;

With which bare wretche-d wights he dayly clad,

The images of God in earthly clay ;

And, if that no spare clothes to give, he had.

His owne cote he would cut, and it distribute glad.

The fourth appointed by his office was
I'oore prisoners to relieve with gratious avd,
And caj)tives to redeems with price of bras
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd ;
And though they faulty were, yet well lie wayd.
That God to us forgiveth e^-ery havire
Much more then that why they in bands were layd ;
And he, that harrowd hell with heavie st^)wre.
The faulty soules from thence brought to his hea-
venly bowre.

The fift had charge sick persons to attend,
And comfort those in jioint of death which lay ;
For them most needeth com'ort in tlie end,
When Sin, and Hell, and Death, doe moit dismay
The feeble soule departing hence away,
All is but lost, that living we bestow.
If not well ended at our dying day.
O man ! have mind of that last bitter throw ;
For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever low.

The sixt had charge of ihem now being dead,

Tn seemelv sort their corses to engrave.

And deck with dainty fiowres their brvdall bed.

That to their heavenly Spouse both sweet and brave

Thev might appeare, when he their soules shall save.

The wondrous workmanship of Gods owne mould.

Whose face he made all beastes to feare, and gave

All in his hand, even drad we honour sliould.

Ah, dearest God, me graunt, I dead be not defould !

The seventh, now after death and buriall done.

Had charge the tender orjihans of the dead

And wydowes ayd, least they should be undone :

In face of iudgement he their right would plead,

Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread

In their defence; nor wou.d for gold or fee

Be wonne their rightfuU causes downe to tread :

And, when they stood in most necessitee.

He did supply their want, and gave them ever free.

There when the elfin knight arrived was.
The first and chiefest of the seven, whose cure
Was guests to welcome, towardes him did jras :
Where seeing IMercie, that his steps upbare
And alwaies led, to her with reverence rare
He humbly louted in met-ke lowlinesse.
And seemel)- welcome for her did prepare :
For of their order she was patronesse,
Albe Charissa were their ciiiefest foundere.sse.

There she awhile him stayes, himselfe to rest,

That to the rest more hable he might bee

During which time, in every good behest,

And godly worke of'almes and charitee,

Shee him instructed with great induscree.

Sliortly therein so perfect he became.

That, from the first unto the last degree,

His mortall life he learned had to frame

In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

Thence forward by that painfull way thev pas
Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy^
On top whereof a sacred ihapel was.
And eke a little hermitage thereby.
Wherein an aged lioly man did lie.
That day and inght said his devotion,
Ne other worldly busines did apply :
His name was llevenly Contemplation ;
Of God and goodness, was his meditation.

Great grace that old man to Inm given had ;
For God he often saw from heavens bight :
All were his earthly eien both blunt and bad.
And through great age had lost their kindly sight.
Yet wondrous ([uick and persauut was his sprigbt,
As eagles eie, that can behold the suune.
That hill they scale with all their powre and might,
That his fraile ihighes, nigii weary and fordonne,
Gan faile; but, by her helpe, the top at last he woune,

There they doe finde that godly aged sire,

With snowy lockes adowne his slioulders shed j

As hoary frost witli spangles doth attire

The mossy braunehes of an oke halfe ded.

Each bone might through his body well be red.

And every sinew seene, tlirough his long fast :

For nought he car'd his carcas long unfed ;

His mind was full of spirituall repast.

And pyn'd his flesh to keep his body low and chast.

Who, when these two ajjproaching he aspide.
At their first j)r( sence grew agrie"ed sore.
That forst him lay his hevenly thoughts aside ,
And had he not that daine respected more,
^Vhom higlily he did reverence and adore,
He would not once have moved for the knight.
They him saluted, standing far afore ;
Who, well them greeting, humbly did requisfht.
And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious hight,

"What end," quoth she, "should cause us take such

paine.
But that same end, which every living wight
Siiould make his iiiarke, high heaven to attaine ?
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right
To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright
With burning starres ami everiiving fire.
Whereof the keies are to thy hand behight
By wise Fid( lia .' She doth ihee require.
I'o shew it to tliis knidit, accordin"- his desire."

THE FAKRIE QUi^RN'

[Book I

" Tlirise happy man," said then the father jrrave,

" U hose stao:o-ering steps thy steady hand doth lead,

Arul sliewes the way his" sinfull soule to save !

Who better can the wav to heaven ar^ad

'llii'ii tliou thvselfe, that was both borne and bred

In lievenlv throne, where thousand angels shine 1

Thou doest tlie praiers of the righteous sead

Present before the jMajesty Divine,

And his avenging wrath to clemency incline.

" Yet, since thou hidst, thy pleasure shal he donne.

Then come, thou man of earth, and see the way,

'Ihsit never yet was seene of Faries sonne ;

'I'liat never leads the trai eiler astray.

But, after labors long and sad delay,

Jirings them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.

l?iit first thou must a season fast and prav.

Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,

And have her strength recur'd from fraile infirmitis."

Tliat done, lie leads him to the highest mount ;

Such one, as that same mighty man of God,

That blood-red bdlowes like a walled front

On either side disparted with his rod.

Till tliat his army di-y-foot through them yod,

Dwelt forty daies upon ; where, writt in stone

With bloodv letters by the hand of God,

The bitter doome of death and balefull mone

He did i-eceive, whiles flashing fire about him shone:

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie,
Adornd with fruitfull olives all arownd,
Is, as it were for endlesse memory
Of that deare Lord who oft thereon was fownd.
For ever with a flo wring girlond crownd ;
Or like that pleasaunt mount, that is for ay
Through famous poets verse each wbere renown d,
On which the thrise three learned ladies play
Their hevenly notes, and make full many a lovely
lay.

From thence, far off he unto him did shew
A little path, that was both steepe and long,
Which to a goodly citty led his vew ; [strong

Whose wals and towres were builded high and
Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell ;
Too high a ditty for my simple song !
The citty of the Create King bight it well,
Wherein eternall peace and hai)pinesse doth dwell.

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see

The blessed Angels to and fro descend

From highest heven in gladsome companee,

And with great ioy into that citty wend.

As cotiiniordy as frend does with his frend,

Wliereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,

Whiit stalely building durst so hij;h extend

Jler l.if'iy towres unto the sttirry sphere.

And what uiiknowen nation there empeopled were.

" Faire knight," quoth he, " Hierusalem that is,
The New Hierus-.ilem, that God has built
For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,
His chosen people purg'd from sinful guilt
With pretious blood, which cruelly was spilt
On cursed tree of thai unspotted Lam,
That for the sinnes of al the world was kilt :
Now are they saints all in that citty sam.
More dear unto their God than younglings to their
dam."

" Till now," said then the knight, " I weened well.
That great Cleopolis where 1 have beene,
In which that fairest Fary Queene doth dwell.
The fairest cittv was that might be seene ;
And that bright towre, all built of christall clene,
Panthea, seemd die brightest thing that was :
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene ;
For this great citty that does far surpas,
And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towr*
of el as."

" Most trew," then said the holy aged man ;
" Yet is Cleopolis, for earthly frame.
The fairest peece that eie beholden can ;
And '•ve.L beseeraes all knights of noble name.
That covett in th' immortall booke of fame
To be eternized, that same to haunt.
And doen their service to that soveraigne dame.
That glory does to them for guerdon graunt :
For she is hevenly borne, and heaven may iustly
vaunt.

" And thou, faire ymp, sprong out from English race,
How ever now accompted I-llfins sonne,
Well worthy doest thy service for her grace.
To aide a virgin desolate fordonne.
But when thou famous victory ha-t wonne,
And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield.
Thenceforth the suitt of eartlily contjucst shonne.
And wash thy hands from guilt of bloody field :
For blood can nought but sin, and wars but sorrows
yield.

I.XI.

" Then seek this patli that I to thee presage,

Which after all to heaven shall thee send ;

Then peaceably thy painefuU pilgrimage

To yonder same Hierusalem doe bend.

Where is for thee ordaiiid a blessed end :

For thou emongst those saints, whom thou doest see

Shalt be a saint, and thine owne nations frend

And patrone : thou Saint Geintie shalt called bee.

Saint George of mery l:7i^land, the signe of victoree.*

" LTnworthy wretch," quoth he, " of so great grace,
How dare I tliinke such glory to attaiiie '"
" 1 liese, that have itattaviul. were in lik'i ■•ace,"
Quuth he, " as wretched, ami liv'd in like paine."
" But deeds of armes must J at last be faine
And ladies love to leave, so dearely bought?"
" \\ hai need of armes, wbere jieaie doth iiyremaine.
Said he, " and battailes none are to !io f' ught?
As for loose loves, they 'are vaine, and vanish into
nousfht."

Canto XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

'* O let me not," quoth he, " then turne ag^aine

Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are ;

13ut let me here for aie in peace remaine,

Or streightvvay on that lust long voinge fare.

That nothing may my present hope enipare."

" That may not he," sail he, " ne maist thou yitt

f orgoe that royal maides heqiieathed care.

Who did her cause into thy hand committ,

Till from her cursed foe thou have her freely quitt."

" Then shall I soone," (]uotli he, " so God me grace,

Abett that virgins cause disconsolate.

And shortly back returne unto this place.

To walke this way in pilgrims poore estate.

But novr aread, old father, why (.f late

Didst thou behight me borne of Ei.glish blood.

Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate I"

" That word shall 1," said he, " avounthen good,

Sith to thee is unknowne the cradle of tliy brood.

" For well I wote thou springst from ancient race
Of Saxon tinges, that have with miglitie hand.
And many bloody battailes fought ir place.
High reard their royall throne in Britane land,
And vanquisht them, unable to withstand :
From ihence a Faery thee unweeting reft,
There !js thou slepst in tender swadling band,
And her base Elfin brood there for thee left :
Such, men do chaungelings call, so chaung'd by
Faeries theft.

" Thence she thee broutjht into this Faery lond,
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde ;
Where thee a ploughman all unweeting fond.
As he his toylesome teine that way did guyde,
And brought thee up in ploughiiians state 1o byde,
Whereof Georgos he thee gave to name ;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pr>de.
To Fary court thou cam'st to seek for fame.
And prove thy puissant armes, as seemes thee best
became."

" O holy sire," quoth he, " how shall I quight

The many favours 1 with thee have fownd.

That hast my name and nation redd aright.

And taught the way that does to heaven bovrnd !"

This saide, adowne he looked to the grownd

To have reiurnd, but dazed were his eyne

Through passing brightnes, which did ipjite confouno

His feeble sence, and too e::ceeding shyne.

So darke are earthly thinges compard to things divine •

At last, whenas himselfe he gan to fynd.

To Una back he cast him to retyre ;

Who him awaited slid with pensive mynd.

Great thankes, and goodly meed, tu that good syre

He thens departing gave for his paynes byre.

8o tame to Una, who him ioyd to see ;

And, after little rest, gan him desyre

Of her adventure mvndfuU for to bee.

So leave they take of Cffilia and her daughters three

CANTO xr.

The knight with that old dragon fights

Tw 1 dayes incessaiitly :
The third, him overthrowes ; and gayns

Most glorious victory.

High time now gan it wex for Una fayre

To thinke of those her captive parents deare,

And their forwasted kingdom to repay re :

Whereto whenas they now approched neare,

With hartie wordes her knight she gan to cheare.

And in her modest manner thus bespake ;

" Deare knight, as deare as ever knight was deare.

That all these sorrows suffer for my sake.

High beven behold the te4ious toyle, ye for me take !

" Now are we come unto my native soyle.
And to the place where all our perilles dwell ;
Here hauntes that feend, and does his daily' spoyle ;
Therefore henceforth bee at your keeping well,
And. ever ready fo' your foeman fell :
Tlie spark of noble corage now awake.
And strive your excellent selfe to excell :
That shall ye evermore renowmed make

ove all knights on earth, tliat batteiJl undertake."

And pointing forth, " Lo I yonder is," said she,

" The brasen towre, in which my parents deare

For dread of that huge feend emprisond be;

Whom I from far see on the walls appeare,

Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare ;

And on the top of all I do espye

The watchman wa\ting tvdings glad to heare ,

That, O my parents, might I happily

Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery 1'

With that thev heard a roaring hideous sownd,
That all the ayre with terror hlled wyde,
And seemd uneath to shake the stedfast ground.
Efisoones that dreadful dragon they espyde,
\Vhere stretcht he lay upon the sunny side
Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill :
J3ut, all so soone as he from far descry de
Those glistring armes that heven with light did fill,
He rousd himselfe full blyth, and hastned them
untai.

THE FAERIE QUFuKXE.

[Book I.

Then badd the knight liis huly yede aloof,

And to an hill herselfe -withdraw asvde :

From whence she might behold that battailles proof,

And eke be safe from daunger for descryde :

She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde. —

Now, O thou sacred ?iluse, most learned dame,

Favre ympe of Phtubus and his aged bryde,

The nourse of time and everlasting- fame,

That warlike handes ennoblestwith immortall name ;

O, gently come into my feeble brest,

Come gently ; but not with that mightie rage.

Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest.

And hartes of great heroes doest enrage,

That nought their kindled corage may aswage :

Soone as thy dreadfuU tromjie begins to sownd,

Tlie god of warre with his liers equipage

Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so sownd ;

Aiid scared nations doest with hoiTor sterne astownd.

Favre goddesse, lay that furious fift asyde,
Till I of warres and l)loodv INIars doe sing.
And Brvton iieldes with Sarazin blood bedyde,
Twixt that great Faery Queene, and Paynim king,
That with their horror heven and earth did ring ;
A worke of labour long and endlesse prayse:
Hut now a while lett downe that haughtie string
And to my tunes thy second tenor ra3'se,
That I this man of God his godly amies may blaze.

By this, the dreadful beast drew nigh to hand,
Halfe flying and halfe footing in his haste.
That with his largenesse measured much land,
And made wide shadow under his huge waste ;
As mountaine doth the valley overcasie.
Approchmg nigh, he reared high afore
His body monstrous, horrible, and vaste ;
VVhich, to increase his wondrous greatnes more,
Was swoln with wrath andpoyson, and with bloody
gore;

\nd over all with brazen scales was armd,
^ike plated cote of Steele, so couched neare [harnid
That nought mote perce ; ne mi-ht his corse be
With dint of suerd, nor push of pointed speare :
Which, as an eagle, seeing pray apjieare.
His aery plumes doth rouze full rudely dight ;
So shaked he, that horror was to heare :
For, as the clash ng of an armor bright,
Such noyse his rouzed scales did send unto the
knijit.

His flaggy winges, when forth he did display,
Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd
Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way :
And eke the fKunes, that did Ids pineons bynd.
Were like mayne-yardcs with flying canvas lynd ;
V\ ith which whenas him list the ayre to beat,
And there by force unwonted {)assage fynd,
'I he cloudes before him flcdd lor terror great.
And all the hevens stood still amazed vi-ith liis tlireat.

His huge lonij tayle, wownd up in hundred foldes.
Does oyerspred his long bras-scaly back,
Wiiose wreathed boughtes when ever he unfoldes,
And thick-entangled knots adown does slack,
Bespotted as with shieldes of red and blacke.
It swee])eth all the land behind him farre,
And of three furlongs does but litle lacke ;
And at the point two stinges infixed arre.
Both deadly sharp, that sharpest Steele exceeden
farre.

But stinges and sharpest Steele did far exceed
Tlie sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes :
Dead was it sure, as sure as death indeed,
^Vhat ever thing does touch his ravenous pawes.
Or what wiihin his reach he ever drawes.
But his most hideous head my tongue to tell
Does tremble ; for his deepe devouring iawes
Wyde gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell.
Through which into his darke abysse all ravin fell.

And. that more wondrous was, in either iaw
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were.
In which yett trickling blood, and gobbets raw.
Of late devoured bodies did appeare •,
That sight thereof bredd cold congealed feare :
^Miiih to increase, and all at once to kill,
A cloud of smoothering smoke, and sulphure seare
Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed still,
That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did
fill.

His blazing eyes, like two bright shining shieldes,
Did burne with wrath, and sparkled living fyre :
As two broad beacons, sett in open fieldes,
Send forth their flumes far off" to every shyre.
And warning give, that enemies conspyre
With fire and sword the region to invade ;
So flam'd his eyne with rage and rancorous yre :
But fitr within, as in a hoi ow glade,
Those glaring lampes were sett, that made a dreadful!
shade.

So dreadfully he towardes him did pas,

Forelifting up aloft his >peckled brest.

And often bounding on the brused gras,

As for ^reat ioyance of his new tome guest.

Eftsoones he ^^an advanie his haugiity crest;

As chaufted bore his bristles doth upreare ;

And shoke bis scales to battaile ready drest, [feare,)

(That made the Bedcrosse knight nigh quake for

As bidding bold defyaunce to his foeman neare.

The knight gan fayrely couch his steady speare,
And fiersly ran at him with rigorous might :
The ])oinfed Steele, arriving rudely theare.
His harder liyde would nether perce nor bight,
But, glauncing by, fo'irth pa-sed forward right:
Yet, sore amoved with so puissaunt push,
The vvrathfull beast about him turned light.
And him so rudely, passing by, did brush
\\ itii his long tayle, that horse and man to ground
did rush.

Canto XL]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Both liorse and man up lightly rose af::ame,
And fresh encounter towardes him addrest ;
But th' ydle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,
And found no place his deadly point to rest.
Exceeding- rage enflam'd the furious beast.
To be avenged of so great d^spight ;
For never felt his imperceable brest
So wondrous force from hand of living wight ;
Vet had he prov'd the powre of many a puissant
knight.

Tlien, with his waving wings displayed w^-de,
Himselfe up high he lifted from the ground,
And with strong flight did forcibly divyde
The yielditig avre, which nigh too feeble found
Her flitting- parts, and element unsound,
To beare so great a weight : He, cutting way
With his broad sayles, about him soared round ;
At last, low stouping with unweldy sway,
Snatcht up both horse and man, to beare them quite
away.

XIX.

Long he them bore above the subject plaine,
So far as ewghen bow a shaft may send ;
Till struggling strong did him at last constraine
To let them downe before his flightes end :
As hagard hauke, presuming to contend
With hardy fowle above his liable might,
His wearie pounces all in vaine doth spend
To trusse the pray too heavy for his flight ;
Which, comming down to ground, dors free itselfe
by fight.

He so disseized of his gryping grosse.
The kniglit his thrillant speare again assayd
In his bras-plated body to embosse,
And tliree mens strength unto the stroake he layd ;
Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked, as affrayd.
And glauncing from his scaly necke did glyde
Close under his left wing, then liro-ad displayd :
The percing Steele there wrought a wownd full wyde ,
That with the uncouth smart the monster lowdly
cryde.

He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore,

AVhen wintry stomie his wrathful wreck does threat

The rolling billowes beate the ragged shore,

As they the earth would shoulder from her seat ;

And greedy gulfe does gape, as lie would eat

His neighbour element in his revenge :

Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat

To move the world from off his stedfast henge,

And boystrous battaile make, eacli other to avenge.

His hideous tayle then hurled he about,
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes
Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout
Striving to loose the knot that fast him tyes,
Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash implyes.
That to the ground he is perforce constravnd
To throw his ryder ; who can quickly ryse
Fiom ofi the earth, with durty blood distaynd.
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd ;

And fercely tooke his trenchard blade in hand,
With which he stroke so furious and so fell,
That nothing seemd the puissaunce could withstand
Upon his crest the hardned yron fell ;
But his more hardned crest was armd so well,
That deeper dint therein it would not make ;
Yet so extremely did the bufie him quell,
That from thenceforth he shund the like to take,
But, when he saw them come, he did them still
forsake.

The knight was wroth to see his stroke beguyld,
And smot againe with more outrageous might ;
But baeke againe the sparcling Steele recoyld,
And left not any marke where it did light,
As if in adamant rocke it had beene piglit.
The beast, impatient of his smarting wound
And of so fierce -.md forcible des|iiglit,
Tliouglit with his winges to stye above the giouud ;
But his late wounded wing unserviceable found.

Tlien, full of grief and anguish vehement,

He lowdly brayd, that like was never heard ,

And from his wide devouring- oven sent

A flake of lire, that, flashing in his beard,

Hi;n all amazd, and almost made afeard :

The scorching flame sore swinged ail his face.

And through his armour all his body seard,

That he could not endure so cruell cace,

But thought liis armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.

Not that great champion of the antique world,
Whom famous pnetes verse S') much doth vaunt,
And hath for twelve huge labouis high extokl,
So many furies ;ind sharpe tits did haunt,
When him the poysond garment did eiichaunt.
With Centaures blood and bloody verses charmd ;
As did tliis knight twelve thousand dolours daunt.
Whom fyrie Steele now burnt, that erst him armd ;
That erst him goodly armd, now most of all him
harmd.

The steely head stuck fast still in his flesh
'lill with his ci-uell clawes lie snarcht the wood.
Ana quite asunrler broke ; forth flowed fr^sh
A gushing river of blacke gory blood,
That drowned all the land, whereon he stood ;
'I'he stream- thereof would drive a water-mill :
Trebly augmented was his furious mood
With bitter sence of his deepe rooted ill.
That flames of fire he threw for'h from his lame
nosethrill.

Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent, [fire
I Witli heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, ; nd inward
! TVt n?ver man such mischiefes did torment ;

.Oeatn better were ; ueath did he oft desiie ;

But death will never come, when needi^s require.

Whom so dismavd when that his foe beheld.

He cast to suffer liim no more respire.

But gan his .stuidy stenie about to weld.

And him so strongl> stroke, that to the ground him
feld.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I.

It tbrtuned, (as fayre it then befell,)
])eh\-nd his bac ke, unweeting where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a spring-ing well.
From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
Full of great vertties, and for med'cine good :
Whylonie, before that cursed dragon got
That ha])py land, and all with innof-ent blood
Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot
The Well of Life ; ne yet his vertues had forgot :

For unto life the dead it could restore,

And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away ;

Those, tliat with sickncsse were infected sore,

It could recure ; and aged long decay

Renew, as one were born that very day.

Both Silo this, and Jordan, did excell,

And th' English Bath, and eke the German Spau ;

Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus, match this well :

Into the same the knight back overthrowea fell.

Now gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe
His fierie iiice in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in ocean deepe.
Whiles from their iournall labours they did rest ;
When that infernall monster, having kest
His wearie foe into that living well.
Can high advaunce his broad discoloured brest
Above his wonted pitch, with countenance fell.
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.

Which when his pensive lady saw from farre,

Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay.

As weening Uiat the sad end of the warre ;

And gan to highest God entirely pray

That feared cliaunce from her to turne away :

With folded hands, and knees full lowly bent,

All night she watcht; ne once adowne would lay

Her dainty limbs in her sad dreriment.

But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.

The morrow next gan early to appeare,
'I'liat Titnn rose to runne his daily race ;
But carely, ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,
Up rose the gentle virgin fr^m her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loved knight to move Lis manly pace :
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enimy.

At last she saw, where he upstarted brave

Out of the well wherein he drenched lay :

As eagle, fresh out of the ocean wave,

Wliert he hath lefte his plumes all hory gray,

Ahd deckt hiuiselfe witli fetliers youthly gay,

T-ike eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies/

His newly-budded pinoons to assay.

And marveiles at himselfe, stil as he flies :

So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

Whom when the damned foend so fresh did spy,
No wonder if he wondred at the sight.
And doubted whether his late eniiny
It were, or other new supplied knight.
lie now, to prove his late-renewed might.
High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,
Upon his crested scalp so sore did smite.
That to the scull a yawning wound it made :
The deadly dint his dulled sences all dismaid.

I wote not, whether the revenging Steele

Were hardned with that holy water dew

Wherein he fell ; or sharper edge did feele ;

Or his baptized hands now greater grew j

Or other secret vertue did ensew ;

Els never could the force of fleshly amie,

Ne molten mettall, in his blood embrew :

For, till that stownd, could never wight him harme

By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

The cruell wound enraged him so Eore,

That loud he yelled for exceeding paine ;

As hundred ramping lions seemd to rore,

Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine.

Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,

And therewith scourge the bvixome aire so sore,

That to his force to yielden it was faine ;

Xe ought his sturdy strokes might stand afore,

I'hat high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore:

Tlie same advauncing high above his head.

With sharpe intended sting so rude him smott.

That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead ;

Ne living wight would have him life behott:

The mortall sting his angry needle shott

Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,

Where fast it stucke, ne would thereout be gott :

The grief- thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,

Ne might his rancling paine with patience be appeasd.

But yet, more mindfull of his honour deare
Then of the grievous smart which liim did wring,
From loathed soile be can him lightly reare,
And strove to loose the far infixed sting :
Which when in vaine he tryde with strugi;'eling.
InHam'd with wrath, his ra;;ing blade lie heCte,
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string
Of Ids huge taile he quite asonder clefte ; [lefte.

Five ioints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him

Hart cannot thinke, what outrage and what cries,

With fowle enfouldred smoake and liasliing tire,

The hell-bred beast thrrw forth unto the skies.

That all was covered with darknesse dire :

Then fraught with rancour, and engorged yre,

lie. cast at once him to avenge for all ;

And, gathering up himselfe out of the mire

With his uneven wings, did iiercely fall

Upon his sunne-bi ight sliield, and grypt it fast withall.

Canto XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Much was the man encombred with his hold,

In feare to lose his v/eapon in his paw,

Ne wist yett, how his talaunts to unfold ;

Nor liarder was from Cerberus greedy iaw

To pliicke a bone, tlien from his cruell claw

'J'o reave by strength the griped gage away :

Thrise he assavd it from his foote to draw.

And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay ;

It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.

The, when he saw no power might prevaile.

His trustv sword he cald to his last aid,

AV herewith he fiersly did his foe assaile.

And double blowes about him stoutly laid.

That glauncing fire out of tlie yron plaid ;

As sparckles from the andvile use to fly,

When heavy hammers on the wedg are swaid ;

Therewith at last he forst him to unty

One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

The other foote, fast fixed on his shield,

Whenas no strength nor stroks mote him constraine

To loose, ne yet the warlike pledg to yield ;

He smott thereat with all his might and maine.

That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine:

Upon the ioint the lucky Steele did light.

And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine ;

1'he paw yett missed not his minisht might.

But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

For griefe thereof and divelish despight,
From liis infernall fournace fourth he threw,
Hu^e flames, that dimmed all the hevens light,
Knrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew :
As burning Aetna from Iris bovling stew
Doih belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke.
And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,
Eiiwrapt in coleblacke clowds and fildiy smoke,
That al the land with stench, and heven with horror
choke.

Tlie heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence.

So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire

A litde backeward for his best defence.

To save his body from the scorching fire.

\\ hich he from hellish entrailes did expire.

It chaunst, ( Eternall God that chaunce did guide,)

As he recoiled backeward, in tiie mire

His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,

And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

There grew a goodly tree him faire beside,

Loaden with fruit and apples rosy redd.

As they in pure veimiUon had been dide.

Whereof great vertues over all were redd :

For liappy life to all whic h thereon fedd.

And life eke everlasting did befall :

Great God it planted in that blessed stedd

With his Almighty hand, and did it call

The Tree of Life, the crime of our first fathers faU.

In all the world like was not to be fownd.
Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprong out of theVruitfull grownd"
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dredd dragon all did overthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby.
Whereof whoso did ea.t, eftsoones did know
Both good and ill : niournfull meniorv !
That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all ;o
dy!

XLVIII.

From that first tree forih flowd, as fiora a well,

A trickling streame of balme, most soveraine

And dainty deare, which on the ground still fell.

And overflowed all the fertile plaine.

As it had deawed bene wilh timely raine :

Life and long health tliat gracious cdntment gave ;

And deadly wounds could heale ; and reare agaiiie

The sencelesse corse ajipointed for the grave :"

Into that same he fell, which did from death him save.

For nigh thereto the ever-damned beast

Durst not ajjproch, for he « as deadly made,

And al that life preserved did detest ;

Yet he it oft adventur'd to invade.

By this the drouping Day-light gan to fade,

And yield his rowme to sad succeeding Night,

Who with her sable mantle gan to shade

Tlie face of earth and wayes of living wiglit,

And high her burning torch set up in heaven hrighu

When gentle Una saw the second fall
Of her deare knight, who, wearv of long fight
And faint through losse of blood, moov'd not at all.
But lay, as in a dreame of deepe deliglit,
Besmeard with pretious balme, wliose vertuous mioht
Did heale his woundes, and scorcliing heat alay ;
Againe she stricken was witli sore affright.
And for his safetie gan devoutly pray.
And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioycus
day.

The ioyous day gan early to appeare ;
And fayre Aurora from the deawy bed
Of aced Tithone gan herselfe to reare
With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red .
Her golden locks, for hast, were loosely shed
About her eares, when Una her did marke
Clymbe to her cbaret. all with flowers si>red.
From heven high to chace the chearelesse darke ;
With mery note her lowd salutes the mountain larke.

Then freshly up arose the doughty knight,
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide.
And did hiniselfe to battaile ready dight ;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde.
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare,
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde.
He woxe dismaid, and gan his fate to feare ;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him adyaunced
ueare ;

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book I.

And in his first encounter, gaping wyde,

He thougbt aitonce him to have swallowd quight,

And rusht upon him with outragious pryde ;

Wlio liim rencounting fierce as liauke in flight,

Periorce rebutted back : the weapon bright.

Taking advantage of his open iaw,

Ran through his mouth with so importune might,

That deepe" emperst liis darksome hollow maw,

And, back retyrd, his life blood forth withall did draw,

So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath.
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift ;
So dovs'ne he fell, that th' earth him underneath
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift ;
So downe he fell, as an huge rocky clift,
Whose false foundacion waves have washt away.
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift.
And, rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay :
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay

The knight himselfe even tiembled at his fall

So huge and horrible a masse it seemd ;

And his deare lady, that beheld it all.

Durst not approcb for dread which she misdeemd ;

But yet at last, whenas the direfuU teend

She saw not stirre, oft-shaking vaine aff"right

She nigher drew, and saw that ioyous end :

Then God she praysd, and thanki her faitbfuU knight,

That had atchievde so great a conquest by his might.

CANTO XII.

Fayre Una to the Redcrosse knight
Betrouthed is with ioy :

Though false Duessa, it to barre.
Her false sleightes doe imploy.

Behold I see the haven nigh at hand.

To which I meane my wearie course to bend ;

Vere the maine shete, and beare up with the land.

The wjiich afore is fayrly to be keud,

And seemetb safe from storms that may offend :

There this fayre virgin wearie of her way

Must landed bee, now at her iourneyes end ;

There eke my feeble barke a while may stay.

Till mery wynd and weather call her thence away.

Scarselv had Phoebus in the glooming east

Vett harnessed his fyrie-footed teeme,

Ne rea.'d above the earth his flaHuns' creast ;

When the la>t deadlv smoke aloft did steeme,

That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme

^Jrito tiie watchman on the castle-wall.

Who thereby dead that balefiill beast did deeme.

And to liis lord and lady lowd gan call,

To tell how he had seene the dragons fatall fall.

Then gan triumphant trompets sownd on hye.

That sent to heven the ecchoed report

Of their new ioy, and happie victory

Ciainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,

And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.

Then all the people, as in solemiie feast.

To him assembled with one full contort,

]\eioyciug at the fall of that great beast,

From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.

Forth came that auncient lord, and aged queene,
Arayd in antiaue robes downe to the grownd,
And sad habiliments right well beseene :
A noble crew ;ibout them waited rownd
Of sage and sober ])eres. all gravely gownd ;
Whom far before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men, all hable amies to sownd.
But now tliev lanrell braunclies bore in hand ;
Glad signe of victory and peace iu all tlieir land.

Uprose with hasty ioy, and feeble speed,
That aged syre, the lord of all that land.
And looked forth, to weet if trew indeed
TTinse tvdinges were, as he did unders,tand :
Which whenas trew by trvall he out fond.
He b:idd to open wyde his brazen gate,
Willi li long time had bcene shut, and out (if bond
Proclavmed ioy and ]ie;ice ilirough all his state ;
For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed
luie.

Unto that doughtie conquerour they came.
And, him before tliemselves prostrating low,
Their lord and patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their lawiell boughes did throw.
Sooiie after tliem, all dauncmg on a row.
The comely virgins came, with girlands dight.
As fresh as fl nvres in medow i;reeiie doe grow.
When morning draw ujwii their leaves doth light;
And in their harides sweet timbrells all upheld on
hiirht.

Canto XII.]

THE FALRIF. QIJP:ENL-.

And, them before, the fry of children yons^
Their wanton sportes and childish mirth did play,
And fo the maydens sownding tymbrels song
In well attuned notes a ioyous lay,
And made delightful musick all the way,
Untill tliej"^ came, where that faiie Virgin stood :
As fayre Diana in fresh sommers day
Beholdes hei nymphes enraung'd in shady wood,
Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall
flood ;

So she beheld tliose maydens meriment

With chearefull vew ; who, when to her they came.

Themselves to ground with gracious humblesse bent,

And her ador'd by honorable name.

Lifting to heven her everlasting fame :

Then on her head they sett a girlond greene.

And crowned her twixt earnest and tviixt game

Wlio, in her self-resemblance well beseene.

Did seeme,such as she was, a goodly maiden queene.

And after all the raskall many ran.

Heaped together in rude rablement,

To see the face of that victorious man.

Whom all admired as from heaven sent,

And gaz'd upon with gaping wonderment.

But when they came where that dead dragon lay,

Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent.

The sight with ydle feare did them dismay,

Ne durst approch liim nigh, 1o touch, or once assay.

Some feard.and fledd ; some feard, and well it faynd :

One, that would wiser seeme tl)en all the rest,

Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd

Some lingring life within his hollow brest,

Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest

Of many dragonettes, his fruitful! seede ;

Another saide, that in his eyes did rest

Yet sparckling fyre, and badd thereof take heed ;

Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed.

One mother, whenas her foolehardy chyld

Did come too neare, and with his talants play,

Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe revyld.

And to her gossips gan in counsel 1 say ;

" How can I tell, but that his talants may

Yet scratch my Sonne, or rend Iiis tender hand?"

So diversly themselves in vaine they fray ;

Whiles some more bold to measure him "nigh stand,

'Jo prove how many acres be did spred of land.

Thus flocked all the folke him rownd about ;

ihe whiles that boarie king, with all his traine,

Being arrived where that champion stout

After his foes defeasaunce did remaine.

Him goodly greetes, and fayre does entertayne

With princely gifts of yvorj- and gold.

And thousand thankes him yeeldes for all his paine.

Then when his daughter deare he does behold,

Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.

And after to his pallace he them bringes.

With shaumes.and trompets, and with clarions sweet ;

And all the way the ioyous people singes,

And with their garments strowes the paved street ,

Whence mounting up, they fynd purveyaunce meet

Of all, that royall princes court became ;

And all the floore was underneath their fe^t

Bespredd with costly scarlott of great name.

On which they lowly sitt, and fitting purpose frame;

What needes me tell their feast and goodly guize.

In which was nothing riotous nor vaine ?

What needes of dainty dishes to devize.

Of comely services, or courtly trayne.

My narrow leaves cannot in them contayne

The large discourse of roiall princes state.

Yet was their manner then but bare and pJayne :

For th' iinticiue world excesse and prj'de did hate

Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.

Then, when with meates and drlnkes of every kinde

Their fervent appetite they quenched had.

That auncient lord gan fit occasion finde,

Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad

Which in his travell him befallen had,

For to demaund of his renowmed guest :

Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance sad.

From poynt to ])oynt, as is before exprest,

Discourst his voyage long, according his request.

Great pleasure, mixt with pittiful regard.
That godly kini; and queene did passionate,
Whyles they his pittifuU adventures heard ;
That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,
And often blame the too importune fate
'i'hat heaped on him so many wrathfull wreakes ,
(For never gentle knight, as he of late.
So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes ;)
And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers
cheaks.

Then sayd that royall pere in sober wise ;

" Deare sonne great beene tiie evils which ye bore

From first to last in your late enterprise,

That I no'te whether praise or pitty more :

For never living man, I weene, so sore

In sea of deadly daungeis was distrest :

But since now safe ye seised have the shore.

And well arrived are (high God be blest !)

Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest."

" Ah, dearest lord," said then that doughty knight,
"Of ease or rest I may not yet devize ;
For by the faith, which I to armes have plight,
I bownden am streight after this emprize.
As that your daughter can ye well advize,
Backe to retourne to that great Faery Queene,
And her to serve sixe yeares in warlike wize,
Gainstthat proud Paynim kingthat works her teene.
Therefore 1 ought crave pardon, till I thors have
beene."

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book I.

" Unhappy falls that hard necessity,"

Quoth he, " the troubler of mv happy peace,

And vowed foe of my felicity ;

Ne I as^ainst the same can justly preace.

But since that band ye cannot now release,

Nor doen undo, (for vowes may not be vayne,)

Soone as the temie of tliose six yeares shall cease.

Ye then shall hether back retourne agayne,

The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twayn:

" WTiich, for my part, I covet to performe,

In sort as tlirouofh the world I did proclame,

That wlioso kild tliat monster most deforme,

And him in hardy battayle overcame,

Should have mine onely daughter to his dame,

And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee:

Therefore since now to thee perteynes the same.

By dew desert of noble chevalree,

Both daughter and eke kingdome lo ! I yield to thee."

Then forth he called that his daughter fayre,

The fairest Un', his onely daughter deare,

His onely daughter and his onelv hayre ;

Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare,

As bright as doth the morning starre appeare

Out of the east, with flaming lockes bedight,

To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,

Anil to the world does bring lontj-wished light

So faire and fresh tliat ladv sbewd heraelfe in sight :

So fiiire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May ;
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her lieavenly beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearv iournev she did ride ;
And on her now a garment she did weare
All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride,
That seemd like silke and silver woven neare ;
But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,

And glorious light of her sunshyny face.

To tell, were as to strive against the streame :

Mv ragued rimes are all too rude and bace

Her heavenly lineaments for to encliace.

Ne wonder ; for her own deare loved knight.

All were she dailv with himselfe in place.

Did wonder much at lier celestial sight :

Oft Iiud he s^ene her faire, but never so faire dight.

So fairelv dight when she in presence came,

She to her svre made humble reverence,

And bowed low, that her right well became,

And added grace untn her excellence :

WIio vvith great wisedome and grave eloquence

Tlius gan to say — But, care lie thus liad sayd,

Willi flvin;; speede, and seeming great jtretence,

(-'ame running in, much like a man dismayd,

A messe^er with letteis which liis message sayd.

All in the open hall amazed stood

At suddeinnesse of that unwary sieilit,

And wondred at his breathlesse hasty mood :

But he for nought would stay his passage right.

Till fast before the king he did alight ;

Where falling flat great humblesse he did make,

And kist the ground whereon his foot was pight ;

Then to his handes that writt he did betake,

Which he disclosing, read thus as the paper spake

" To thee, most mighty king of Eden fayre.
Her greeting sends in thf se sad lines addrest
The wofuU daughter and forsaken heyre
Of that j^reat emperour of all the west ;
And bids thee be advized for the best,
Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
Of wedlocke, to that new unknowen guest :
For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love^ and to another land.

*' To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad,

He was aff"yaunced long time before,

And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,

Fnlse erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore '.

Witnesse the burning altars, which he swore.

And guilty heavens of his bold periury ;

Wliich though he hath polluted oft of yore,

Yet I to them for iudgnient iust doe fly.

And them coniure t' avenge this shameful! iniurv !

" Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
Or false or trew. or living or else dead,
Withhold, O soveravne prince, your hastv bond
From knitting league with him, 1 you aread ;
Ne weene mv riirht with stren.th adowne to tread.
Through weaknesse of my widowlied or woe ;
For Truth is strong her rightl'ull cause to plead,
And shall iinde friends, if need requireth soe.
So bids thee well to fare, thy neither friend nor foe,

" Fides'ni.''

When he these bitter by ting wordes had red,

The tydin^s straunge did him abashed make,

That still he sate lon:i time astonished.

As in great nnise, ne word to creatun^ spake.

At last liis solemn silence tlius he t)ral;f,

A\'itli douhtiiill eyes fast (ixed on his guest;

' Redoubted knight, that for myne only sake

Thy life and litmor late adventurest ;

Let nought be hid from nie, tliat ough', to be exprest

" What ineane these bloody vowes and idle threats,

'I'lirowiie out from womanish impatient mvnd ?

What hevens ? what altars I what enraged lieates.

Here heaped up witli terines of love unkynd.

My ( onsc icnce cle n-e with guiltv hands would bynd?

High God he wiinesse, th;u 1 guiltle--3e ame !

But it ynursi'lfe, sir knight, ye faulty fynd,

Or wrapped be in loves of former dame,

With cry me doe nut it euver, but disclose tlie same "

Canto XIl.j

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

]'o whom the Redcrosse knis'lit this answere sent ;
' JMv lord, my kinj^ ; be nouglit hereat dismayd.
Till well ye wote by orave intendiment,
What woman, and wherefore, doth me upbrayd
With breach of love and loialty betrayed.
It was in niv mishaps, as hitlierward
I lately traveild, th.at unawares I strayd
Out of my wav, through perils straunge and hard ;
That day should faile me ere 1 had them all declard.

" There did I find, or rather I was fownd
Of this false woman vhat Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest dame on grownd,
I\!ost false Duessa, royall richly dight,
That easy was t' inveigle weaker sight :
Who bv her wicked arts and wiely skill,
Too false and strong (or earthly skill or might,
Unawares me wrought utito her wicked will,
And to my foe betray d, when least I (eared ill.

Then steppeth forth the goodly royall mayd,
And, on the ground herselfe pro^,trating low,
W'ltii sober countenaunce thus to him sayd ;
" pardon me, w.y soveraine lord, to show
The secret treasons, which of late I know
To have bene wrought bv that false sorceresse :
Shee, onely she, it is, that erst did throw
This gentle knig'it into so great distresse,
That death him did awaite in daily wretchedi;es£)e.

XXXIV.

' And now it seemcs, that she suborned hath
This crafty messenger with letters vaine.
To worke new woe and unprovided scath,
By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine ;
Wherein she used hath ihe practicke paine
Of this false footman, clokt with simpleiiesse,
Whome if ye please for to discover plaine,
Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse,
The falsest man alive ; who tries, shall find no lesse.''

The kinar was greatly nidveil at her speach ;
And, all with suddein indignation fraight.
Bad on that messenger rude hands to reach.
P^fisoones the gard, which on his state did wait,
Attacht that faytor falsr, and bound him strait :
Who seeming sorely chaufli d at his band,
As cliiiined beare wh<im cruell dogs doe bait,
^Vi•h ydle force did (kine them to withstand ;
And often semblauace made to scape out of their
hand.

But they him layd full i./w i:. dungeon deepe.
And bound him hand and fnnte with yroii chains :
And with continual watch did warely keepe.
\^ ho then would fhinke, that by his subtile I rains
lie could escape fowle d-aih or deadly pains ?
'ihus. when that princes wra'h was paciiide.
He gan renew the late forbidden bains.
And to the knight his daughter dear he tyde
Widi sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.

His owne two hands the holv knotts did knitt.
That none but death for ever can divide ;
His owne two hands, (or such a tunie most fitt.
The housling fire did knidle and provide,
And holy water thereon sprinckled wide ;
At which the bushy teade a groorae did light,
And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide,
Where it should not be quenched day nor ni^lit,
For feare of evil fates, but bumen ever bright.

Then gan they sprinckle ;dl tL-^prs's witli wine.
And made great least to solemj izb that day :
They all perfumde with frankincense divine,
And precious odours fetcht from far away,
'I'hat all the house did sweat with great aray
And all the while sweete musicke did apply
Her curious skill the warblin, notes to play,
To drive away the dull melancholy ;
The whiles one sung a song of love and ioUity.

During the which there was an heavenh^ noise
Heai'd sow nd through all tlie pallace pleasantly.
Like as it hail bene manv an angels voice
Singing- before th' Eternall i\laiesty,
In their trniall trijdicities on hye :
Vett wist no creature wlience that hevenly sweet
Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly
Himselfe therebv reite of his sences meet,
And ravished with rare impression in his sprite.

Great ioy was made that day of young and old.
And solemne feast proclaynid throughout the land^
'I'hat their exceeding merth may not be told :
Suffice ii heare by signes to understand
'i'he usual I ioyes a knitting of loves band.
Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,
Possessed of his ladies hart and hand ;
And ever, when his eie did her behold.
His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold.

Her ioyous presence, and sweet company.

In full content he there did long enioy ;

Ne wii ked envy, ne vile geoiosy,

His deare deliglits were liable to annoy :

Yet, swimmnig in that sea ■ f blissfull ioy,

He nought forgoti how he whilome had sworne,

In ca>e he could th;it monstrous beast destroy.

Unto his Kaerv Queene backe to retourne ;

The which he shortly did ; and Una left to mourne.

Now, strike your sailes, vee iolly mariners.

For vi-e be come unto a tjuiet rode,

Where we must land s me of our passengers.

And light this wearv vessell of her lode.

Here she a v.hile may m-.dce her safe abode,

Till she repaired have her tackles spent.

And wants supplide ; and then againe abroad

On the long voiaue whereto she is bent :

Well may the speede, and (airely finish her intent!

THE Faerie queeni,.

[Book II,

THE SECOND BOOK

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNING

THE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON, OR OF TEMPERAUNCE.

Right well I wote, most mighty soveraiiie.

That all this famous Antique history

Of some th' aboundance of an ydle braine

Will iudged be, and painted forgery,

Rather then matter of iust memory :

Sith none that breatheth living aire doth know

Where is that happy land of Faiiry,

Whicli 1 so much doe vaunt, yet no where show ;

But vouch antiquities, which no body can know

Hut let that man with better sence advize,
Ttiat of the world least part to us is red ;
And daily how through hardy enterprize
Many great regions are discovered.
Which to late age were never mentioned.
Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru ?
r who in venturous vessell measured
lie Amazon huge river, now found trew ?
r fruitfuUest Virsrinia who did ever vew ?

Yet all these were, when no man did them know,
Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene ;
And later times thinges more unknowne shall show
AVhy then should witlesse man so much misweene.
That notliiii ,:• is, but that which he hath seene ?
What, if within tlie moones fayre shining spheare,
What, if in every other starre unseene
Of other worldes he happily should heare ?
He wonder would much more ; yet such to some
appeare.

IV.

Of Faery lond yet if he more inquyre.
By certein signe.s, liere sett in sondrie place.
He may it fynd ; ne let him then admyre,
But yield his sence to bee too blunt and bace,
That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou, O fayrest princesse under sky,
In this fayre mirrhour maist behold thy face.
And thine owne realmes in lond of Faiiry,
And in this antique ymage thy great auncestry.

The which ! pardon me thus to enfold

In covert vele, and wra])t in shadowes light.

That feeble eyes your glory may behold.

Which ells could not endure those beames bright.

But would bee dazled with exceeding liglit.

O ! pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare

The brave adventures of this Faery knight,

The good Sir Guyon, gratiously to heare ;

In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly doth appeare.

Canto l.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

CANTO I.

Guyon, by Archimage abusd,
The Redcrosse knight awaytes ;

Fyndes Mordant and Amavia slaine
With Pleasures poisoned bay tes.

That conning architect of cancred guyle,

Whom princes late displeasure left in bands.

For falsed letters, and suborned \vyle ;

Scone as the Redcrosse knight he understands

To beene departed out of Eden landes,

To serve againe his soveraine Elfin queene ;

His artes he moves, and out of caytives handes

Himselfe he frees by secret meanes unseene ;

His shackles emptie lefte, himselfe escaped cleene ;

And forth he fares, full of malicious mynd,
To worken mischiefe, and avenging woe,
Whereever he that godly knight may fynd,
His onely hart-sore and his onely foe ;
Sith Una now he algates must foregoe.
Whom his victorious handes did earst restore
To native cro\vne and kingdom late ygoe ;
Where she enioyes sure peace for evermore,
As wetherbeaten shiparryv'd on happie shore.

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight

And deadly food he makes : him to offend

By forged treason, or by open fight,

He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end :

Thereto bis subtile engins he does bend,

His practick witt and his fay re fyled tonge,

With tliousand other sleightes ; for well he kend

His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong :

For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong.

Still, as he went, he craftie stales did lay,
With cunning traynes him to entrap unwares,
\nd privy spyals plast in all his way,
To weete what course he takes, and how he fares ;
To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.
But now so wise and wary was the knight
By tryall of his former harmes and cares,
ITiat he descryde, and shonned still, his slight :
The fish, that once was caught, new bayt wil hardly
byte.

Nath'lesse th' enchaunter would not spare his payne.

In hope to win occasion to his will ;

Which when he long awaited had in vayne.

He chaungd his mynd fi-om one to other ill :

For to all good he enimy was still.

Upon the way him fortuned to meete,

Fayre marching underneath a shady bill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,

ITiat from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and uprfght ;
His countenance demure and temperate ;
Butyett so Sterne and terrible in sight,
That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate ;
He was an Elfin borne, of noble state
And mickle worship in his native land ;
Well could he tourney, and in lists debate,
And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huons hand.
When with king Oberon he came to Fary land.

Him als accompanyd upon the way
A comely palmer, clad in black attyre.
Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray.
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
Least his long way his aged limbes should tire :
And, if by lookes one may the mind aread.
He seemd to be a sage and sober syre ;
And ever with slow pace the knight did lead.
Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to
tread.

Such whenas Archimago them did view.

He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle :

Eftsoones, untwisting bis deceiptfull clew.

He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle ;

And, with faire countenance and flattring style

To them approching, thus the knight bespake ;

" Fayre sonneof Wars, that seeke with warlike spoyle,

And great atchiev'ments, great yourselfe to make.

Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake."

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake.
And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt :
Who feigning then in every limb to quake
Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt.
With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt :
" Deare lady ! how shall I declare thy cace.
Whom late I left in languorous constraynt ?
Would God ! tliyselfe now present were in place
To tell this ruefull tale : thy sight could win the"
grace ;

" Or rather would, O ! would it so had chaunst.
That ycu, most noble sir, had present beene
When that lewd rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst.
Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene,
To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene
As on the earth, great mother of us all.
With living eye more fayre was never scene
Of chastity and honour virgiuall : [call !

Witues, ye heavens, whom she in vaine to help did

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

" How mav it be," sayd then the knight halfe wroth,

That kniojht should knightliood ever so have shent?"

" None but that saw," quoth he, " would weene for

How shamefully that ma\ d he did torment : [troth,

Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,

And drew her on the ground ; and his sharpe sword

Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,

And threatned death with many a bloodie word ;

Tounge hates to teO the rest that eye to see abhord."

Therewith amoved from his sober mood,
" And lives he yet," said he, " that wrought this act ?
And doen the heavens afford him vitall food V
" He lives," quoth he, " and boasteth of the fact,
Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt."
" W here may that treachour then," sayd he, " be found,
Or by what meanes may I his footing tract ?"
" That shall I shew," said he, " as sure as hound
The stricken deare doth chaleng by the bleeding
wound."

He stavd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre

And zealous haste away is quickly j^one

To seeke that knight, where him that crafty squyre

Supposd to be. They do aiTive anone

Where sate a gentle ladv all alone.

With garments rent, and heare discheveled.

Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone ;

Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

The knight, approcbing nigh, thus to her said ;

" Faire lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight.

Great pitty is to see you thus disraavd.

And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:

Forthv appease your griefe and heavy plight,

And tell the cause of your conceived payne ;

For, if he live that hath you doen despight,

He shall you doe dew recompence agay'ne.

Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.'

Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise
She wilfully her sorrow did augment,
And offred hope of comfort did despise :
Her golden lorkes most cruelly she rent,
And scratcht her face with ^ihastlv dreriment ,
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne vet Kp seene,
But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene ;

Till her that squyre bespake ; " Madame, my liefe,
For Gods deare love be not so wilfuU bent.
But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you present.
Yor what bootes it to weepe and to wayment
\Vlien ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,
And the weakeminde with double woe torment ?"
When she her squyre heard speake, she gan appease
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said ; " Ah ! gentle trustie squyre,
What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave !
Or why should ever I henceforth desyre
To see faire heavens face, and life not leave,
Sith that false traytour did my honour reave V
" False traytour certes," saide the Faerie knight,
" I read the man, that ever would deceave
A gentle lady, or her wrong through might :
Death were too litle paine for such a fowle despight.

" But now, fayrre ladye, comfort to you make,

And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight,

That short revenge the man may overtake,

Whereso he be, and soon upon him light."

" Certes," said she, " I wote not how he liight.

But under him a gray steede he did wield.

Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight •

Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

He bore a bloodie crosse, that quartred all the field."

" Now by my head," saide Guyon, " much I muse.

How that same knight should doe so fowle amis.

Or ever gentle damzell so abuse :

For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and trew of word ywis :

I present was, and can it witnesse well,

When amies he swore, and streight did enterpris

Th' adventure of the errant damozell ;

In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tel..

" Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde.

And fairely quit him of th' imputed blame ;

Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde,

Or make you good amendment for the same :

All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame

Now therefore, lady, rise out of your paine,

And see the salving of your blotted name."

Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine ;

For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such as she did faine,

Ne yet her person such as it was seene ;

Hut under simple shew, and serablant plaiue,

Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene,

As a chaste virgin that iiad wronged beene ;

l"'o had false Archlmago her disguysd,

'I o cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene ;

And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

To be lier squire, and do her service well aguisd.

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found
\\'here she did wander in waste wildernesse.
Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground.
And with greene mosse cov'ring her nakednesse
I'o hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,
Sith her Frince Arthur of ])roud ornaments
And borrowd beauty spovld : her nathclesse
Th' enchaunter finding fit for his intents
Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

Canto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

For all he did was to deceive good knights,
And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame
To slug in slouth and sensuall delights.
And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.
And now exceeding griefe him overcame,
To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye ;
Therefore this craftie engine he did frame.
Against his praise to stirre up enmitye
Of such, as vertues like mote unto liim allye.

So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way [last

Through woods and mountaines, till they came at

'nto a pleasant dale that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads, overplast,

The valley did with coole shade overcast ;

Through midst thereof a little river rold.

By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,

After his travell long and labours manifold.

" Lo ! yonder he," cryde Archimage alowd,
" Tliat wrought the shamefuU fact which I did shew ;
And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,
To fl}' the vengeaunce for his outrage dew ;
But vaine ; for ye shall dearely do him rew :
(So God ye speed and send you good successe !)
Which we far off will here abide to vew."
So they him left inflam'd with wrathfulnesse.
That streight against that knight his speare he did
addresse.

AVho, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,
His warlike armes about him gan embraoe,
And in the rest his ready speare did sticke ;
Tho, whenas still he saw him towards pace.
He gan rencounter him in equall race.
They bene ymett, both ready to affrap.
When suddeinly tliat warriour gan abace
His threatned speare, as if some new mishap
Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap ;

And cryde, " Mercie, sir knight ! and mercie, lord.
For mine offence and heedelesse hardiment.
That had almost committed crime abhord.
And with reprochfuU shame mine honour shent.
Whiles cursed steels against that badge I bent,
The sacred badge of my Redeemers death.
Which on your shield is set for ornament !"
But his fierce foe his steed could stay uneath,
Who, prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell
breath.

XXVIII.

But, when he heard him speake, streight way he knew

His errour; and, himselfe inclyning, sayd ;

" Ah ! deare Sir Guyon, well becommetli you.

But me behoveth rather to upbrayd,

Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd,

That almost it did haynous violence

On that fayre ymage of that hevenly mayd,

That decks and armes your shield with faire defence :

Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew offence."

So beene they both atone, and doen upreare
Their bevers bright each other for to greet ;
Goodly comporfaunce each to other beare,
And entertaine tliemselves wifli court'sies meet.
Then said the Kedcrosse kniglit ; " Now mote I weet.
Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce.
And fell intent ye did at earst me meet ;
For, sith I know your goodly gouvernaunce.
Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some uncouth
chaunce."

'' Certes," said he, " well mote I shame to tell
The fond encheason that me hetlier led.
A false infamous faitour late befell
Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested.
And playnd of grievous outrage, which he red
A knight had wrought against a lady gent ;
Wliich to avenge, he to this place me led,
Where you he made the marke of his intent,
And now is fled : foule shame him follow wher he
went!"

So can he turne his earnest unto game,

Througli goodly handling and wise temperaunce.

By this his aged guide in presence came ;

Who, soone as on tliat knight his eye did glaunce,

Eftsoones of him had perfect cognizaunce,

Sith him in Faery court he late avizd ; [thaunce,

And said ; " Fayre sonne, God give you happy

And that deare Crosse uppon your shield devizd.

Wherewith above all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd !

" loy may you Ijave, and everlasting fame.

Of late most hard atchiev'ment by you donne.

For which enrolled is your glorious name

In heavenly registers above the sunne,

Where you a saint with saints your sent have wonne '.

But wretched we, wliere ye have left your marke,

JMust now anew begin like race to ronne.

God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke.

And to the wished haven bring thy wearv barke '.'

" Palmer," him answered the Redcrosse knight,

" His be the praise, that this atchiev'ment wrought,

Who made my hand the organ of His might !

More then goodwill to me attribute nought ;

For all 1 did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire sir, whose pageant next ensewes,

Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,

That home ye may report thrise happy newes !

For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle thewes "

So courteous conge both did give and take,
Witli right hands plighted, pledges of good will.
Tiien Guyon forward gan his voyage make
With his blacke palmer, that him guided still :
Still he him guided over dale and hill,
And with his steedy stall'e did point his way ;
His race witli reason, and v>ith words his will.
From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay.
And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps to stray.

r '2

fvS

■J'lIE FAEIIIE QUEENL.

[Be

II.

In rliis faire ■wizp thcv trnveild lonp; yfere,

'I broiii'li mnnv h;ird assaves which did betide ;

() ' which he hnnoiiv still away did hears,

And spred Iris ^lorv tlirou<j-h all countryes wide.

At lust, as chnur.st tlipm by a forest side

To passe, for sudour from the scorching ray,

Tlipv heard a ruefiill voice, that dearnly cride

With percing shriekes and many a dolefull lay ;

VVhicli to attend, awhile their forward steps they stay.

" Rut if that carelesse hevens," quoth she, " despise

The doome of iust revenge, and take delight

To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries.

As hownd by them to live in lives despight ;

Yet can they not warne Death from wretched wight.

Come, then; come soone ; come, sweetest Death, to

And take away this long lent loathed light : [me,

Sliarpe be thy wounds, but sweete the medicines be.

That long captived soules from weary thraldrome free.

" But thou, sweete babe, whom frowning froward fate

Hath made sad wituesse of thv fathers fall,

Sith heven thee deignes to hold in living state.

Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall

Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall !

Live thou ! and to thy motlier dead attest,

That cleare she dide from blemish oriminall :

Tliy little hands embrewd in bleeding brest

Loe ! I for pledges leave ! So give me leave to rest !"

With that, a deadly shrieke she forth did throw
That through the wood re-echoed againe ;
And after gave a grone so deepe and low
T'hat seemd her tender hart was rent in twaine.
Or thrild with point of thorough-piercing paine :
As gentle hynd, whose sides with cruell Steele
Through launched, forth her bleeding life doesraine,
Whiles the sad ])ang approching shee does feele,
Braies out her latest breath, and up her eies doth
seele.

XXXIX.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict

From his tall steed, he rusht into the thick,

And snone arrived where that snd pourtraict

Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe ijuick ;

In whose white alabaster brest did stick

A cruell knife, that made a griesly wownd,

From which forth gushta stream of gore-blood thick,

That all her goodly garments staind arownd.

And into a deep sanguine dide the grassy grownd.

Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart,
Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay,
Wliich shee increased with her bleeding hart,
And the cleane waves with purple gore did ray ;
A Is in her lap a lovely babe did i)lay
f lis cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew •
For in her streaming blood he did embay
His litle hands, and tender ioints embrew :
Pitii'uU spectacle, as ever eie did vew !

Besides them both, upon the soiled gras

The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,

Whose armour all with blood besprincled was;

His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett being ded ;

Seemd to have beene a goodly personage,

Now in his freshest flowre of lustyhed,

Fitt to inflame faire lady with loves rage.

But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

WHiom when the good Sir Guyon did behold.
His hart gan wexe as starke as marble stone,
And his fresh blood did frieze with fearefull cold, ■
That all his sences seemd berefte attone :
At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to grone.
As lion, grudging in his great disdaine,
Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe moue ;
Til ruth and fraile affection did constraine
His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward
paine.

xLiir.

Out of her gored wound the cruell steel

He lightly snatcht, and did the floodgate stop

With his faire garment : then gan softly feel

Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop

Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop :

Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire

To call backe life to her forsaken shop :

So well he did her deadly woui.ds repaire.

That at the last shee gan to breath out living aire.

Which he perceiving, greatly gan rejoice.
And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart
Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweete voice ;
" Ay me I deare lady, which the ymage art
Of ruefull pitty and impatient smart,
What direfuU chaunce armd with avenging fate.
Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell ])art,
Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date?
Speake, O, deai- lady, speake j help never comes too
late."

Therewith, her dim eie-lids she up gan reare,
On which the drery death did sitt as sad
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare :
But when as him, all in bright armour clad,
Before her standing she espied had.
As one out of a deadly dreame affright.
She weakely started, yet she nothing drad :
Streight downe againo herselfe in great despight:
She groveling threw to ground, as hating life and
lisht.

The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine

Uplifted light, and softly did uphold :
Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunck againe,
Till he his armes about her sides gan fold.
And to her said ; " Yet, if the stony cold
Have not all seized on your frozen hart.
Let one word fall that may your grief unfold,
And tell the secrete of your mortall smart :
Ho oft finds present belpe, who does his griefe
impart."

Canto I.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Then, casting- up a deadly looke, full low
She sigh't from bottome of her wounded brest ;
And, after many bitter throbs did throw.
With lips full pale, and foltring; tong- opprest,
These words she breathed fortii from riven chest ;
" Leave, ah ! leave off, n hatever wight thou bee,
To lett a weary wretch from her dew rest.
And trouble dying soules tranquditee ;
Take not away now got, which none would give to
me."

" Ah ! far be it," said he, " dear dame, fro mee,

To hinder soule from her ilesired rest,

Or hold sad lil'e in long captivitee :

For, all I seeke, is but to have redrest

The hitter pangs that doth your heart infest.

Tell then, O lady, tell what fatall priefe

Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest;

That I may cast to compas your reliefe.

Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe.

With feeble hands then s -etched forth on hye, ^
As heven accusini; guilty of her death.
And with dry drops coiise.iied in her eye,
In these sad wordes she s^.tnt her utmost breath ;
" Heare then, O man, the sorrovves that uneath
]\Iy tong can tell, so far all seiice they pas !
Loe ! this dead corpse, that lies jiere underneath,
The gentlest knight, that ever on greene gras
Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir Mor-
dant was:

■* Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now!)
My lord, my love, mj^ deare lord, my deare love,
So long as lievens iust witu equal i brow
Vouchsafed to behold us from above.
One day, when hmi high i orage did emmove,
(As wont ye knightes to seeke adventures wilde,)
He pricked forth his puissant fore e to prove,
Me then h.e lelt enwombtd of this thilde,
This lucklesse childe, whom thus ye see with blood
defild.

" Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse !)
To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne :
Acrasia, a false enchaunteressr,
That many errant knightes have fowle fordonne ;
Within a wandring island, thai doth ronne
And stray in perilous gulte, her dwelling is;
Fayre sir, if ever there ye travell, shonne
The cursed land where many wend amis.
And know it by the name ; it bight the Bowre of
Blis.

" Her blis is all in pleasure, and delight,
Wherewith she makes her 1 .vers dronken mad ;
And then with words.and wpnle:,,of wondrous might,
On them she workes her will to uses bad :
My liefest lord she thus bej;uiled had ;
For he was tiesh : (all flesh doth frayltie breed !)
Whom when 1 heard to beene so ill ijestad,
(Weake wretcli, i 1 wrapt myselfe in palmers weed.
And cast to seek him forth through danger and great
dreed.

" Now had fayre Cynthia by even tournes
Full measured three-quarters of her yeare,
And thrice three tymes had fild her crooked homes,
W'henas my wornbe her burdein would forbeare.
And bad me call Lucina to me neare.
Lucina came : a nianchild forth 1 brouj;ht : [weare.
The woods, the nymphes, my bowres,my midwives,
Hard help at need ! so deare thee, babe, I bought ;
Yet nought too dear I deemd, while so my deare I
souo-ht.

" Him so I sought ; and so at last I fownd.

Where him that witch had thralled to her will.

In chaines of lust and lewde desyres ybownd.

And so transformed from his former skill,

That me he knew not, nether his owne ill ;

Till, through wise handling and faire governaunce,

I him recured to a better will.

Purged from drugs of fowle intemperaunce :

Then meanes I gan devise for his deliverance.

" Which when the vile enchaunteresse perceiv'd.
How that my lord from her I would reprive.
With cup thus cliarmd him parting she deceivd;
' Sad verse, give death to him ihat death does give,
And losse of love lo her that loves to live.
So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke !
So parted we, and on our iourney drive ;
Till, coming to this well, he stoupt to drincke :
I The charme fullild, dead suddeinly he downe did
sincke.

" Which when I, wretch" — Not one word more sh«

But breaking off the end for want of breath, [sayd.

And sis ding soft, as downe to sleepe her layd,

And ended all her woe in quiet death.

That seeing, good Sir Guyon could uneath

From teares abstayne ; for griefe his hart did grate,

And from so heavie sight his head did wreath,

Accusmg fortune, and too cruell fate,

Wiiich plonged had faire lady in so wretched state.

Then, turning to his palmer, said ; " Old syre,
Behold the ymage of mortalitie.
And feeble nature cloth'd with fleshly tyre !
W'hen raging Passion with fierce tyranny
Robs Reason of her dew regalitie,
And makes it servaunt to her basest part ;
The strong it weakens with iniirmitie.
And with bold furie armes the weakest hart :
Ihe strong through jdeasure soonest falles, the weak*
through smart."

LVIII.

" But Temperaunce," said he, " with golden squire
Betwixt theni both can measure out a meane ;
Nether to melt in pleasures whott desvre.
Nor frye in hart, esse griefe and dulel'ull tene :
Thrise hapjjy man, who fares them both atweene !
But sith this vi-retched woman overcome
Ot anguish, rather then of crime, hath bene,
Reserve her cause to her eternal 1 doome ;
And, in the meane, vouchsafe her honorable toombe.''

THE FAKRIE QUEENE.

[B.

" Palmer," quoth he, " death is an equall doome
To good and bad, the common in of rest ;
But after death the trvall is to come,
^Vhen best shall bee to ihem that lived best :
But both alike, wlien death liath both supprest,
Relipous reverence doth burial teene ;
Wliich whoso wants, wants so mucli of his rest :
For all so greet shame after death I weene.
As selfe to dyen bad, unburied bad to beene.

So both agree their bodies to engrave :

The gTeat eartlies wombe thev open to tlie sky.

And with sad cypresse seemelv it embrave ;

Then, covering- with a clod their closed eye,

Thev lay therein their corses tenderly.

And hid them sleepe in everlasting peace.

But, ere they did their utmost obsequy,

Sir Guyon more aftection to increace,

Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should ay releaee,

The dead kniglits sword out of his sheath he drew,
Willi which he cutt a lock of all tlieir heare.
Which medling with their blood and earth he threw
Into the grave, and gan devoutly sweare ;
" Such and such evil God on Guyon reaie,
And worse and worse, young orphane, be thy payne,
If I, or tliou, dew vengeaunce doe forbrare.
Till guiltie blood her guerdon doe obtayne !" —
So, shedding many teares,they closd the earth agavne.

CANTO II.

Babes bloody liandes may not be clensd.

The face of Golden jMeane :
Her sisters, Two Extremities,

Strive her to banish cleane.

This when Sir Guvon with his faithful guyde
Had with dew rites and dolorous lament
The end of their sad fragedie uptyde,
The little babe up in his armes he hent ;
Who with sweet pleasnunce, and bold blandishment,
Gan smvle on them, tliat rather ought to weepe,
As carelesse of his woe, or innocent
Of th;it was doen ; that ruth emperced deepe
In that knightes hart, and wordes with bitter teares
did steepe :

II.

" Ah ! lucklesse babe, home under cruell starre.
And in di'ad parents balefull ashes bred.
Full little weenest thou what sorrowes are
Left thee for j)orcion of thy livelvhed ;
I'oore orpliane ! in the wide worhl scattered,
As budding braunch rent (iom the native tree.
And throwen forth, till it be witljered !
Sucli is tlie state of men ! '1 lius enter we
Into this life with woe, and end with miseree !"

Then, soft himselfe inclyning on his knee

Downe to that well, did in the water weene

(So love does loath disdainefuU nicitee)

His guiltie handes from bloody gore to cleene :

He washt them oft and oft, jet nought they beene

For all liis washing cleaner : still he strove ;

Yet still I he litle hands were bloody seene :

The wliich him into great amaz'ment drove.

And mto diverge doubt his wavering wonder clove.

He wist not whether hlott of fowle offence
JMight not be purgd with water nor with bath ;
Or that High God, in lieu of innocence.
Imprinted had that token of His wrath.
To shew how sore bloodguiltinesse He hat'th ;
Or that tlie charme and veneme, whicli they dronck,
Their blood with secret tilth infected hath,
]5eing diffused through the senceless tronck
That, through the great contagion, direful deadly
St one k.

Whom thus at gaze the palmer gan to bord
With goodly reason, and thus fayre bespake ;
" Ye bene right hard ainated, gratious lord,
And of your ignorance great merveill make
'\\'hiles cause not well conceived ye mistake.
But know, that secret vertues are infusd
In every founiaine, and in everie Ivike,
Which, who hath skill them rightly to have chusd.
To proofe of passing wonders hath full often usd :

" Of those, some were so from their sourse indewd
By great dame Nature, from whose fruitl'ull pa])
Their wellieads spring, and are with moisture deawd;
Which feeds each living jilant wiili liquid sap.
And fills with flowres fayre Florae* painted lap :
liul other some, by gnilte of later grace
Or by good ])rayers, or by other hap.
Had veiiiie ])ourd into their waters bace.
And tliiiicerorth were renowmd, and sought from
place to place.

Canto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

" Such is this well, ■wrought by occasion strauDge,
Wliich to her nymph befell. Upon a day,
As she tlie woodes with bow and shaftes did raunge.
The heai tlesse hynd and roebucke to dismay,
Dan Fauniis chaunst to meet her by the way.
And, kindling fire at her faire-burning eye,
Inflamed was to follow beauties chace.
And chased her, that last from him did flv ;
As hynd from her, so she fled from her enimy.

" At last, when fayKng breath began to faint,
And saw no meaaes to scape ; of shame affrayd.
She set lier downe to weepe for sore constraint ;
And, to Diana calling lowd for.ayde,
Her deare besought to let her dir a mayd.
The goddesse heard ; and suddeine, where she sate
Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd
With stony feare of that rude rustick mate,
Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins
state.

" Lo ! now she is that stone ; from whose two heads,
As I'rom two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,
Yet colde through feare and old conceived dreads •.
And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,
Shiipt like a maide, that such ye may her know ;
And vet her vertues in her water byde :
^or it is chaste and pure as purest snow,
\'e lets her waves with any filth be dyde ;
3ut ever, like herselfe, unstayned hath beene tryde.

" From thence it comes, that this babes bloody hand

May not be clensd with water of this well :

Ne cerles, sir, strive you it to withstand.

But let them still he bloody, as befell,

That they his mothers innocence may tell.

As she bequeathd in her last testament ;

That as a sacred symbole, it may dwell

In her sonnes flesh, to mind revengement.

And be for all chaste dames anendlesse moniment."

He hearkned to his reason ; and the childe
Uptakmg, to the palmer gave to beare ;
But his sad fathers armes with blood defilde.
An heavie load, himselfe did liglitly reare ;
And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie steed with golden sell'
And goodly gorgeous barbes, hnu tound not theare :
By other accident, that earst befell,
He is convaide ; but how, or where, here fits not
tell.

W hich when Sir Guyon saw, all were he wroth,
Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease.
And iairely fare on foot, however loth :
His double burden did hnn sore disease.
So, long they travelled with little ease.
Till that at last they to a castle came,
Built on a roeke aciioyning to the seas :
It was an auiicient worke of antique fame.
And wondrous strcng by nature and by skilful!
irame.

Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort.

The children of one syre by mothers three i

Who, dying whyloine, did divide this fort

To them by equall shares in equall fee :

But stryfuU mind and diverse qualitee

Drew them in partes, and each made others foe :

Still did they strive and daily disagree ;

The eldest did against the youngest goe.

And both against the middest meant to worken woc

WTiere when the knight arriv'd, he was right well

Receiv'd, as knight of so much worth became.

Of second sister, who did far excell

The other two ; Medina was her name,

A sober, sad, and comely courteous dame :

Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize.

In goodly garments that her well became,

Fayre marching forth in honorable wize.

Him at the threshold mett and well did enterprize.

She led him up into a goodly bowre.
And comely courted with meete modestie ;
Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour.
Was lightnesse seene or looser vanitie.
But gratious womanhood, and gravitie,
Above the reason of her }outhly yeares :
Her golden lockes she roundly did uptye
In breaded tramels, that no looser heares
Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame
Seemely to entertaine lier new-come guest,
Newes hereof to her other sisters came,
U ho all this while were at their wanton rest,
Accourting each her frend with lavish fest :
They were two knights of perelesse puissaunce.
And famous far abroad for warlike gest.
Which to these ladies love did countenauiice.
And to his mistresse each iiimselfe strove to ad-
vaunce.

He, that made love unto the eldest dame.
Was bight Sir Huddibriis, an hardy man ;'
Yet not so good of deedes as great of name,
Which he by many rash adventures wan.
Since errant armes to sew he first began.
I\Iore huge in strength then wise in workes he was
And reason with fbol-hardize over-ran ;
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas ;
And was, for terrourmore, all armd in shyning bras.

But he, that lov'd the youngest, was Sansloy ;

He, that (aire Una late ibwle outraged,

The most unruly and the boldest hoy

That ever warlike weapons menaged.

And all to luwlesse lust encouraged

Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might;

Ne ought he car'd whom he endamaged

By tortious wrong, or whom bereav'd of right j

He, now this ladies cliampiou, chose for love to fi^hi

THE FAERIE QUEENH

fBooK II.

These two gay knig-hts vowd to so diverse loves,

Each other does envy with deadly hate,

And daily warre against his foeraan moves.

In hope to win more favour with his mate.

And th' others pleasing- service to abate,

To magiiifie his owne. But when they heard

How in that place straunge knight arrived late,

Both knights and ladies forth right angry far'd,

And fercely unto battell sterne themselves prepar'd.

But, ere they could proceeds unto the place
Where he abode, themselves at discord fell,
And cruell combat ioynd in middle space :
With horriljle assault, and furv fell.
They heapt huge strokes the scorned life to quell.
That all on uprore from her settled seat
The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell ;
Seemd that lowd thunder with amazement great
Did rend the railing skyes with flames of fouldrins
heat.

The noyse thereof cald forth that straunger knight,
To weet what dreadfull thing was there in bond ;
Where whenas two brave knightes in bloody fight
With deadlv rancour he enraunged fond.
His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,
And shyning- blade unsheathd, with which he ran
Unto that stead, their strife to understond ;
And, at his first arrivall, them began
With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.

But they, him spying, both with greedy forse
Attonce upon him ran, and him beset
With strokes of mortall Steele without remorse,
And on his shield like yron sledges bet.
As when a beare and tj-gre, being met
In cruell fight on Lvbicke ocean wide,
Espye a traveller with feet surbet.
Whom they in equall pray hope to divide.
They stint their strife and him assayle on everie
side.

xxni.

But he, not like a wearie traveilere,
Their sharp assault right boldly did rebut,
And sulfred not their blowes to byte him nere,
But with redoubled bufles tliem backe did put :
Whose grieved miades, which choler did enj;]ut,
Against themselves turning their wratlifuU spight,
Gan with new rage their shieldes to hew iind <_ut.
But still, when (juyon came to })art their fight,
With heavie load on him they freshly gan to smight.

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas.
Whom raging windes, thieatning to make the pray
Of the rough rockes, doe diversly disease,
iNIeetes two contrarie billowes by the w-ay.
That her on either side doe sore assay.
And boast to swallow her in greedy grave ; [way,
Shee, scorning both their spights, ddes make wide
And with her brest breaking the fomy wave.
Does ride on both their backs, and faire herself doth
save :

So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth
Betweene them both, by conduct of his blade.
Wondrous great prowesse and heroick worth
He shewd that day, and rare ensample made.
When two so inightie warriours he dismade :
Attonce he wards and strikes ; he takes and paies ;
Now^ forst to yield, now forcing to invade ;
Before, behind, and round about him laies :
So double was his paines, so double be his praise.

XXVI.

Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see

Three combates ioine in one, and to dan-aine

A triple warre with triple enmitee,

All for their ladies froward love to gaine.

Which, gotten, was but hate. So Love does raine

In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre;

He maketh wane, he maketh peace againe,

And yett his peace is but continual iarre :

O miserable men, that to him subject arre !

Whilst thus they mingled were in furious armes.
The faire jMedina with her tresses tome
And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes,
Emongst them ran ; and, falling them beforne.
Besought them by the womb which them had born,
And by the loves which were to them most deare.
And by the knighthood which they sure bad sworn.
Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare.
And to her iust conditions of faire peace to beare.

But her two other sisters, standing by,

Her lowd gainsaiil ; and both their champions bad

Pursew the end of their strong enmity.

As ever of their loves they would be glad :

Yet she with pitthy words, and counsell sad.

Still strove their stubborne rages to revoke ;

That at the last, suppressing fury mad,

They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke,

And barken to the sober speaches which she spoke

" Ah ! puissant lords, what cursed evill spright.
Or fell Erinnys, in your noble harts
Her hellish brond liath kindled with despight.
And stird vou uj) to worke your wili'ull smarts ?
Is this the ioy of ainie> ? he these the jiarts
Of glorious kniglithood, atier blood to thrust.
And not regard dew riglit and iust de.sarts ?
Vaine is the vaunt, and vict(jry uniust.
That more to mighty hands then rightfull cause doti
trust.

" And were there rightfull cause of difference,
Yet were not better fay re it to accord,
Then with blood-guiltinesse to heape offence
And mortal vengcaunce ioyne to crime abhord 1
O ! fly from wrath ; fly, (3 my liefest lord !
Sad be the sigliis, and bitter fruits of warre,
And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sword :
Ne ought the praise of prowesse more doth inarro
Then towle revenging rage, and base contentioas
lane.

II.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" But lovely concord, and most sacred peace,

Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship lireeds ;

VVeake she makes strong, and strong- thing dues in-

Till it the pitch of highest jjraise exceeds : [creuce,

Brave be her warres. and honorable deeds,

By which she triumphs over yre and pride,

And winnes an olive girlond for her meeds.

Be therefore, O my deare lords, pacifide,

And this misseeming discord meekely lay aside."

Her gracious words their rancour did appall,

And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests,

That downe they lett their cruell weapons iall.

And lowly did abase their lefty crests

To her faire presence and discrete behests.

Then she began a treaty to procure.

And stablish terms betwixt both their requests.

That as a law for ever should endure ;

Which to observe, in word of knights they did assure.

Which to confirme and fast to bind their league,
After their weary sweat and bloody toile,
She them besought, during their quiet treague,
Into her lodijing to repair a while,
To rest themselves, and grace to reconcile.
They soone consent : so forth with her they fare ;
W'here they are well receivd and made to spoils
Themselves of soiled armes, and to prepare
Their minds to pleasure, and their mouths to dainty
fare.

And those two froward sisters, their faire loves,
Came with them eke, all were tliey wondrous loth,
And fained cheare, as for the time behoves ;
But could not colour yet so well the troth.
But that their natures bad appeard in both :
For both did at their second sister grutch
And inly grieve, as doth an hidden moth
The inner garment frett, not tli' utter touch ;
One thought her cheare too litle, th' other thought
too mutch.

Elissa (so tlie eldest hight) did deems

Such entertainment base, ne ought would eat,

Ne ought would speake, but evermore did seeme

As discontent for want of merth or meat ;

No solace could her paramour intreat

Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliaunce ;

But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat,

She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunce ;

Unworthy of faire ladies comely governaunce.

But young Perissa was of other mvnd.

Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light,

And quite contrary to her sisters kynd ;

No measure in her mood, no rule of right,

But poured out in pleasure and delight :

In wine and meats she ilowd above the banck,

And in excesse exceeded her owne might ;

In sumptuous tire she ioyd her self to pranck.

But of her love too lavish ■ little have she thanck !

Fast by her side did sitt the bold Sansloy,
Fitt mate for such a mincing mineon,
Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding ioy ;
INIight not be found a francker franion.
*0f her leawd parts to make companion.
But Huddibras, more like a malecontent,
Did see and grieve at his bold fashion ;
Hardly could he endure liis hardiment ;
Yett still he satt, and inly did himselfs torment.

Betwixt them both the faire Medina sate
\^'ith sober grace and goodly carriage :
With equall measure she did moderate
The strong extremities of their outrage ;
That forward paire she ever would asswage.
When tliey would strive dew reason to exceed ;
But that same froward twaine would accorage.
And of her plenty adde unto their need :
So kept she them in order, and herselfe iu heed.

Thus fairely shee attempered her feast.

And ]ileasd them all with meete satiety :

At last, when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,

She Guyon deare besought of courtesie

To tell from whence he came through ieopardy,

And whether now on new adventure bownd :

Who with bold grace, and comely gravity,

Drawing to him the eies of all arownd.

From lofty siege began these words alovvd to sownj.

" This thy demaund, O lady, doth revive

Fresh memory in me of that great queene.

Great and most glorious virgin queene alive.

That with her soveraine power, and scepter shene,

All Faery lond does peaceably sustene.

In widest ocean she her throne does reare,

That over all the earth it may be scene ;

As morning sunne her beames dispredden clears ;

And in her face faire peace and mercy doth appeare^

In her the richesse of all heavenly grace
In chiefe degree are heaped up on hye :
And all, that els this worlds enclosure bace
Hath great or glorious in mortall eye,
Adornes the person of her maiestye ;
That men, beholding so great excellence
And rare perfection in mortalitye.
Doe her adore with sacred reverence.
As th' idole of her Makers great magnificence.

" To her I homage and my service owe,
In number of the noblest knightes on ground,
Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestows
Order of maydenhead, the most renownd.
That may this day in all the world be found.
An yearely solemn feast she wontes to make,
The day that first doth lead the yeare around,
To which all knights of worth and cour.ige bold
Resort, to heare of straunge adventures to be told.

THE FAERIE QUEEXE

[Book II •

" There this old palmer shewd himselfe that day,
And TO that raiohty princesse did complaine
Of grievous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay
Had wrou'^ht, and many whelmd in deadly paine,
"Whereof he crav'd redresse. My soveraine,
Whose o-lorv is in gracious deeds, and ioyes
Throughout tlie world her Uiercy to maintaine,
Eftsoones devisd redresse for such annoyes :
Me, all uufitt for so great purpose, she employes.

" Now hath fjiire Phebe with her silver face

Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,

Sith last 1 left that honorable place,

In which her roiall presence is entrold ;

Ke ever shall I rest in house nor hold.

Till I that false Acrasia have wonne ;

Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to bee told,

1 witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne

Whose wofuU parents she bath wickedly fordonne.

" Tell on, fayre sir," said she, " that dolefull tale.

From wliich sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,

That we may pittv such imhajipie hale.

And learne from Pleasures poyson to abstaine :

111, bv ensample, good doth often gayne.

Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,

And told the story of the mortall payne,

Which Mordant and Amavia did rew ;

As, with lamenting eyes, hhnselfe did lately vew.

Night was far spent ; and now in ocean deep
Orion, flying fast from hissing snake,
His flaming head did hasten for to steep,
W^hen of las pitteous tale he end did make :
Whilst wit!) delight of that he wisely spake
'J'hose guestes beguvled did beguyle their eyes
Of kindly sleepe, that did them overtake.
At last, when they had markt the chaunged skyes.
They wist their howre was spent ; then each to rest
him byes.

CANTO III.

Vaine Braggadoccbio, getting Guy-
ons horse, is made the scome

Of knighthood trew ; and is of fayre
Belphcebe fowle forlorne.

SooNE as the morrow fayre with purjde beames
Uisperst the shadowes of the misty night.
And Titan, playing on the eastern streames,
Gan cleare the deawy ayre with springing light ;
Sir Guyon, mindfuU of his vow yplight.
Uprose from drowsie couch, and him addrest
l7nto the ioumey which he had behight :
His puissant amies about bis noble brest,
And many folded shield he bound about his wrest.

Then, taking cong6 of that virgin pure,
'i'he bloody-banded babe unto her truth
Did earnestly committ, and her coniure
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,
And all that gentle noriture ensu'th ;
And that, so soone as n,'per yeares he raught,
Ae might, for memory of that dayes ruth,
I5e called Ruddymane ; and tliereby taught
T' avenge his parents death on them that had it
wrought.

So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,

Sith bis good steed is lately from him gone ;

I^itience perforce : helplesse what mov it boot

To frett for anger, or for griefe to tnoiie ?

His palmer now shall foot no more alone.

So fortune wrought, as under greene woodes syde

He lately heard that dying lady grone.

He left his steed without, and speare besyde.

And rushed in on foot to ayd her ere she dyde.

The whyles a losell wandring by the way,
One thiit to bountie never cast his mynd,
Ne thought of honour ever did assay
His baser brest, but in his kestrell kynd
A pleasing vaine of glory be did fynd,
To which his flowing to'ung and troublous spright
Gave him great ayd, and made him more inclynd ;
He, that brave steed there finding ready dight,
Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full
lisht.

Now gan his hart all swell in iollity,
And of himselfe great hope and hel]) conceiv'd.
That puffed up with smoke of vanity.
And with selfe-loved personage deceiv'd.
He gan to ho])e of men to l)e receiv'd
For such, as he him thought, or faine would bee:
But for ill court gay portaunce he perceiv'd,
And gallant shew to ho in greatest gree,
Eftsoones to court he cast t' advaunce his first
degree.

TI.

And by the way he chaunced to espy
One sitting ydle on a sunny bancke
To whom avaunting in great bravery.
As peacockc that his painted jilumes doth pranct.
He smote his courser in the trembling flanck,
And to him threatned his hart-thrilling speare
The seely man, seeing him ryde so ranck
And aynie at him, fell fiat to'ground for feare.
And crying, " Mercy," loud, his pitious handes gan
reare.

C.^MO I I I.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

lliereat the scarcrow vvexed wondrous prowd,
Throii;ili fortune of his first adventure fayre.
And with big thundrino- voice revyld him lowd ;
" \'i!e cavtive, vassal of dread and despayre ?
Uiiworthie of the comi;iune breathed ayre,
WIiv livest tliou, dead dog, a lenger day,
And doest not unto death thyselfe prepayre ?
Dv, or thyselfe my captive yield for ay :
Great favour I thee graunt for aunswere thus to
stay.''

Till.

" Hold, O deare lord, hold your dead-doing hand,"

Then loud he cryde, " I am your humble thrall."

'' Ah wretch," quoth he, " thy destinies withstand

j\Iy wrathfull will, and doe for mercy call.

1 give thee life : therefore prostrated fall.

And kisse my stirrup ; that thy liomage bee."

The miser threw himselfe, as an oftall,

Streight at his foot in base humilitee,

And deeped him his liege, to hold of him in fee.

So happy peace they made and faire accord.
Eftsoones this liegeman gan to wexe more bold,
And, when he felt the follv of his lord.
In his owne kind he gan himselfe unfold :
For he was wylie witted, and growne old
In cunning sleightes and practick knaver)'.
From that day forth he cast fur to uphold
His ydle humour with fine flattery,
And blow the bellowes to his swelling vanity.

Trompart, fitt man for Braggadocchio

To serve at court in view of vaunting eye ;

\'aine-glorious man, when fluttring wind does blow

In his hght winges, is lifted up to skye ;

The scorne of knighthood and trew chevalrye,

To tliinke, without desert of gentle deed

And noble worth, to he advaunced hye ;

Such prayse is shame ; but honour, vertues meed,

Doth beare the fayrest flowre in honourable seed.

So forth they pas, a well consorted payre,

Till that at length with Archimage they meet :

AVho seeing one, that shone in armour fayre,

On goodly courser thondring witli his feet,

Eftsoones supposed him a person meet

Of his revenge to make the instrument :

For since the Redcrosse knigl^t he erst did weet

To been with Guyon knitt in one consent.

The ill, which earstto him, he now to Guyon ment.

And comming close to Trompart gan inquere
Of him, what mightie warriour that mote bee,
That rode in golden sell with single spere.
But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee.
" He is a great adventurer," said he,
" That hath liis sword tlirough hard assay forgone.
And now hath vowd, till he avenged bee'
Tf tliat despight, never to vi-earen none ;
That speare is him enough to doen a thousand grone."

Th' enchaunter greatly ioyed in the vaunt.
And weened well ere long his will to win,
And botli his foen wil h equall foyle to daunt :
Tho to him louting lowly did begin
To plaine of wron^es, wliich had committed bin
By Guyon, and by that false Redcrosse knight ;
Which two, through treason and deceiptfuU gin,
Had slayne Sir JModant and his lady bright :
That mote him honour win, to wreak so foule
despight.

XIV

Therewith all suddeinly he seemd enrag'd.
And threatned deatli with dreadfuU countenaunce.
As if their lives had in his hand beene j^ag'd ;
And with stifle force shaking his mortall launce,
7'o let him weet his doughtie valiaunce.
Thus said ; " Old man, great sure shal be thy meed,
If, where those knights for feare of dew vengeaunce
Doe lurke, thou certeinly to mee areed,
That I may wreake on them their hainous hateful
deed."

" Certes, my lord," said he, " that shall I soone,
And give you eke good helpe to their decay,
But mote I wisely you advise to doon ;
Give no ods to your foes, but doe purvay
Yourselfe of sword before that bloody day ;
(For they be two the prowest knights on grownd,
And oft approv'd in many hard assay ;)
And eke of surest Steele, that may be fownd.
Do arme yourselfe against that day, them to
confowtid."

" Dotard," saide he, " let be thy deepe'advise ;
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile.
And that weake eld liath left thee nothing wise.
Els never should thy iudgement be so i'rayle
To measure manhood by the sword or mayle.
Is not enough fowre qu;iiters of a man,
Withouten sword or shield, an hoste to quayle?
Thou litle wotest what this right-hand can :
Speake they, which have beheld the battailes wLicb
it ^van."

The man was much abashed at his boast ;
Yet well he wist that whoso would contend
With either of those knightes on even coast,
Should neede of all his armes him to defend ;
Yet feared least his boldnesse should ofl'end :
W'hen Braggadocchio saide ; " Once I did sweare,
When viith one sword seven knightes I broughttoend,
Thenceforth in battaile never sword to beare.
But it were that which noblest knight on earth doth
weare."

" Perdy, sir knight," saide then th' enchaunter blive,
" That shall I shortly jmrchase to your bond :
For now the best and noblest knight alive
Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond ;
He hath a sword, that flames like burning brond :
The same, by my device, I undertake
Shall by to-morrow by thy side be fond."
At which bold word that boaster gan to quake,
And wondred in his minde what mote that monster
make.

THE FAERIE QUEENE

[Book TI

He stavrl not for more bidding, but away

Was siiddein vanished out of his sight :

The nonlierne winde his wings did broad display

At liis commaund, and reared him up light

From oft" the earth to take his aerie Higlit.

They lookt about, but no where could espye

Tract of his foot : then dead through great affright

Tiiey both nigh were, and each bad other flye :

Both fled attonce, ne ever backe retourned eye ;

Till that they come unto a forrest greene,

la which they shrowd themselves from causeles feare;

Vet feare them followes still, where so they beene :

Each trembling leafe and whistling wind they heare,

As ghastly bug, does greatly ihem afleare :

Yet both doe strive their fearefulnesse to faine.

At last they heard a home that shrilled cleare

Throughout the wood that ecchoed againe.

And made the forrest ring, as it would rive in twaine.

Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush ;

With noyse whereof he from his loftie steed

Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush,

To hide his coward head from dying dreed.

But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed

Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped foorth

A goodly ladie clad in hunters weed.

That seemd to be a woman of great worth.

And by her stately portance borne of heavenly birth.

Her face so faire, as flesh it seemed not,
But hevenly pourtraict of bright angels hew,
Cle.ire as the skye, withouten blame or blot.
Through goodly mixture of complexions dew ;
And in her cheekes the verraeill red did shew
Like roses in a bed of lillies shed,
The which ambrosiall odours from them threw,
And gazers sence with double pleasure fed,
Hable to heale the sicke and to revive the ded.

In lipr faire eyes two living lamps did flame,

Kimllcd above atth' hevenly Makers light.

And darted fyrie beanies out of the same,

So j)iissing persant and so wondrous bright.

That quite bereav'd the rash beholders sight :

In them the blinded god his lustfuU fyre

To kindle oft assayd, but had no might ;

For, with diedd maiestie and awfuU yre,

She broke his wanton darts, and i|uenthed bace desy re.

Her yvorie forliead full of bountie brave,

],ike a broad table did ilselle dispred.

For Love, his loftie triuinplies to engrave.

And write the battailes of his great t.odhed :

All uood and honour might therein be red ;

For there their dwelling wiis. And, when she spake,

Swecte wordes, like dropping honny, t>he did shed j

And twixt the perles and rubiiis sottly brake

A silver sound, that heaveidy musicke setmd to make.

Upon her eyelids many graces sate,
Under the shadow of her even browes,
Working belgardes and amorous retrate ;
And everie one her with a grace endowes.
And everie one with meekenesse to her bowes :
So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,
And soveraine moniment of mortall vowes.
How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face.
For feare, through want of skill, her beauty to dis"
grace !

So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire,
She seemd, when she presented was to sight j
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire.
All in a silken (Jamus lilly whight,
Purfled upon with many a folded plight.
Which ail above besprinckled was throughout
With golden aj'gijlets, that glistred bright,
Like twinckling starves ; and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fringe.

Below her ham her weed did somewhat trayne,

And her streight legs most bravely were embayld

In gikleu buskins of costly cordwdyne.

All bard with golden bemies, which were entayld

With curious antickes, and full fayre aumayld.

Before, they fastned were under her knee

In a rich iewell, and therein entray-ld

The ends of all the knots, that none might see

How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee !

Like two faire marble pillours they were seene.

Which doe the temple of the gods support.

Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,

And honour in their festivall resort ;

Those same with stately grace and princely port

She taught to tread, when she herselfe would grace,

But with the woody nymphes when she did play.

Or when the flying libbaid s!ie did chace.

She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharp bore-speare she held.

And at her backe a how and (juiver ^ay,

Stuft with stoel-headcd dartes wherewith she queld

The salvage beastes in her victorious l)lay.

Knit with a golden bauldricke which forelay

Athwart her snory brest, and did divide

Her daintie paps ; which, like young fruit in May,

Now little gaii to swell, and being tide

Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre,

About her shouldi rs weren loosely shed.

And, when the wind cmongst them did inspyre.

They waved like a penon wyde disj)red.

And low behinde her backe were scattered:

And, whether art it were or heedlesse hap,

As through llie flouring forrest rash slie fled.

In her ruile heares sweet flowres themselves did lap,

And flourishing fresh leaves aud blossoms did

enwrap.

CanpjJII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE

Such ns Diana by tlie sandy shore

Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynfhus greene,

Wlif re all the iiymjjhes have her un wares forlore,

Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,

To seeke lier game : or as that famous queene,

Of Amazons, whom Pyrrlms did destroy,

The day the first of Priame slie was seene,

Did shew herselfe in g;reat triumphant ioy,

To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.

Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew,

He was dismayed in his coward minde,

And doubted whether he himselfe should shew,

Or fly away, or bide alone behinde ;

Both feare and hope he in her face did finde :

V^'hen she at last him spying thus bespake ;

" Hayle, groome ; didst not thou see a bleeding

hynde.
Whose right haunch earstray stedfast arrow strake ?
If thou didst, tell me, that I may her overtake."

XXXIII.

Wherewith reriv'd, this answere forth he threw ;
" O goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee,)
For nether doth thy face terrestriall shew,
Nor voyce sound mortall ; I avo%v to thee,
Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.
But mote thy goodlyhed forgive it mee.
To weete which of the gods I shall thee name,
That unto thee dew worship I may rightly frame."

To whom she thus — But ere her words ensewd,
Unto tlie bush her eye did suddein glaunce.
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewd,
And saw it stirre : she lefte her percing launce.
And towards gan a deadly shafte advaunce.
In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,
Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying ; " O ! whatever hevenly powre,
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly
howre !

" O ! stay thy hand ; for yonder is no game
For thy tiers aiTowes, them to exercize ;
But loe ! my lord, my liege, whose warlike name
Is far renowmd through many bold emprize ;
And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies."
, She staid : with that he crauld out of his nest.
Forth creeping on his caitive liands and thies ;
And standing stoutly up his lofty crest
Did fiercely shake, and rowze as comming late from
rest.

As fearfull fowle, that long in secret cave
For dread of soring hauke herselfe hath hid.
Not caring how, her silly life to save.
She her gay painted plumes disorderid ;
Seeing at last herselfe from daunger rid.
Peeps forth, and soone renews her native pride ;
She gins her feathers fowle disfigured
Prowdly to prune, and sett on eveiy side ;
80 shakes off shame, ue thinks how erst she did her
hide.

So when her goodly visage he beheld,
He gan himselfe to vaunt : but, when he vewd
Those deadly tooles which in her hand she held
Soone into other fitts he was transmewd.
Till she to him her gracious speach renewd ;
" All haile, sir kniglit, and well may thee befall.
As all the like, which honor have pursewd
Through deeds of amies and prowesse martiall !
All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.

To whom he thus ; " O fairest under skie,

Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy praise.

That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.

Therein I have spent all my youthly dales.

And many battailes fought and many fraies

Throughout the world, wherso they might be found,

Endevoring my dreaded name to raise

Above the moone, that Fame may it resound

In her etemall trompe with laurell girlond cround

" But what art thou, lady, which doest raunge
In this wilde forest, wliere no pleasure is.
And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,
Emongst thine cquall peres, where happy blis
A nd all delight does raigne much more then this ?
There thou maist love, and dearly loved be.
And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis ;
There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see;
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fitt for thee.'

''Whoso in pompe of prowd estate," quoth she,
■' Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis.
Does waste his daies in darke obscuritee.
And in oblivion ever buried is :
Where ease abownds, yt's eath to doe amis :
But who his limbs with labours, and his mynd
Behaves with cares, cannot so easy mis.
Abroad in armes, at home in studious kynd.
Who seekes with painfull toile, shall Honor soonest
f}Tid :

xu.

"In woods, in waves, in warres, she wonts to dwell,

And wil be found with perill and with paine ;

Ne can the man, that moulds in ydle cell.

Unto her happy mansion attaine :

Before her gate High God did Sweate ordaine.

And wakefull Watches ever to abide :

But easy is the w-ay and passage plaine

To Pleasures pallace ; it may soone be spide.

And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.

" In Princes Court" — The rest she would have sayd.
But that the foolish man, (fild with delight
Of her sweete words that all his sence dismayd,
And with her wondrous beauty ravisht quight,)
Gan burne in filthy lust ; and, leaping light,
Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.
AVith that she, swarving backe, her iavelin bright
Against him bent, and fiercely did menace :
So turned her about, and fied away apace.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

Which when the peasaunt saw, amazd he stood.
And grieved at her flight ; yet durst lie not
Pursew her steps through wild uuknowen wood ;
besides he feard her wrath, and threatued shott,
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgott :
Ne car'd he greatly for her presence vayne,
But turning said to Trompart ; " What fowle blott
Is this to knight, that lady should agayne
Depart to woods untoucht, and leave so proud dis-
dayne !"

XLIV.

" Perdy," said Trompart, " lett her pas at will,
Least by her presence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)
But that shee is some powre celestiall ?
For, whiles she spake, her great words did appall
My feeble corage, and my heart oppresse,
That yet I quake and tremble over all."
•' And I," said Braggadoccliio, " thought no lesse,
When first I heard her horn sound with such ghast-
linesse.

" For from my mothers wombe this grace I have

I\Ie given by eternall destiny,

That earthly thing may not my corage brave

Dismay with feare, or Cause one foote to flye,

But either hellish feends, or powres on hye :

Which was the cause, when earst that horn I heard,

Weening it had been thunder in the skye,

I hid my selfe from it as one affeard ;

But, when 1 other knew, my self I boldly reard.

" But now, for feare of worse that may betide,

Let us soone hence depart." They soone agree ;

So to his steed he gott, and gan to ride

As one unfitt therefore, that all might see

lie had not trayned bene in chevalree.

Which well that valiaunt courser did discerne ;

For he despisd to tread in dew degree.

But chaufd and fom'd with corage fiers and sterne, ,

And to be easd of that base burden still did erne, /j

CANTO IV.

Guyon does Furor bind in chaines.

And stops Occasion :
Delivers Phedon, and therefore

By Strife is rayld uppon.

In brave poursuitt of honorable deed,

There is I know not what great difference

Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed.

Which unto things of valorous pretence

Seemes to be borne by native influence ;

As feates of armes ; and love to entertaine :

But chiefly skill to ride seemes a science

Proper to gentle blood : some others faine

To menage steeds, as did this vaunter ; but in vaine.

But he, the rightfull owner of that steede.
Who well could menage and suhdew his pride,
Tlie whiles on foot was forced for to yeed
With that blacke palmer, his most trusty guide.
Who suftVed not his wandring feete to slide ;
But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse.
Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,
He would, through teinperaunce and stedfastnesse.
Teach liim the weak to strengthen, and the strong
suppresse.

It fortuned, forth faring on his way,
lie saw from far, or seemed for to see,
Some troublous uprore or contentious fray,
Whtreto he drew in hast it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the heare along uj)0n tlie grownd
A handsom stripling with great crueltee.
Whom ?ore he bett, and gor'd with many a wownd,
Ihat cheekes with teares, and sydes with blood, did
all abownd.

And him behymd a wicked hag did stalke

In ragged robes and filthy disaray ;

Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke.

But on a staft'e her feeble steps did stay :

Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray.

Grew all afore, and loosly hong unrold ;

But all behinde was bald, and worne away.

That none thereof could ever taken hold ;

And eke her face ill-favour'd, full of wriuckles old.

And, ever as she went, her toung did walke

In fowle reproch and termes of vile despight.

Provoking him, by her outrageous talke.

To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight

Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwitli to suii!

Sometimes her stafte, though it her one leg were,

Wi'.liouten which she could not goe upright ;

Ne any evil meanes she did foiheare.

That might him move to wratJi, and indignation rears

The noble Guyon, mov'd with great remorse

Ap])rocliing, first the hag did tlirust away ;

And after, adding more impetuous forse,

I lis miglity hands did on tlie madman lay.

And jilutkt him backe ; who, all on fire streightway

Against him turning all his fell intent,

AVith beastly brutish rage gan him assay.

And sinott, and bitt, and kickt and scratcht, and rent,

And did he wist not what in his avengement.

Canto IV.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

And sure he was a man of mickle might,
[lad he ha<l governauuce it well to guyde :
J3ut, when the frantick fitt inflamd his spright,
His force was vaine, and strooke more often W3'de
Then at the avmed marke which he had eyde :
And oft hiraselfe he chaunstto hurt unwares, [cryde;
Whylest reason, blent through passion, nought des-
I5ut, as a blindfold bull, at random fares,
And where he hits nought knowes, and whom he
hurts nought cares.

His rude assault and rugged handeling

Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe

In fayre defence and goodly menaging

Of armes was wont to fight ; yet nathemoe

Was he abashed now, not fighting so ;

But, more enfierced through his currish play,

Him sternly gn'pt, and, hailing to and fro,

To overthrow him strongly did assay.

But overtlirew himselfe unawares, and lower lay :

And being downe the villein sore did beate

And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face :

And eke the hag, with many a bitter tlireat,

Still cald upon to kill him in the place.

With whose reproch, and odious menace,

The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart

Knitt all his forces, and gan soone unbrace

His grasping hold : so lightly did upstart.

And drew his deadly weapon to maintaine his parr.

Whicli when the palmer saw, he loudly cryde,

" Not so, O Guvon, never thinke that so

That monster can be maistred or destroyd :

He is not, ah ! he is not such a foe.

As Steele can wounde, or strength can oveithroe.

That same is Furor, cursed cruel wight.

That unto knighthood workes much shame and woe

And that same Hag, his aged mother, bight.

Occasion ; the roote of all wrath and despight.

" W'ith her, whoso will raging Furor tame,

Must first begin, and well her amenage :

First her restraine from her reprochfull blame

And evill meanes, with which she doth enrage

Her frantick sonne, and kindles his corage ;

Then, when she is withdrawne or strong withstood,

It's eath his ydle fuiy to aswage.

And calme the tempest of his passion wood :

The bankes are overflowne when stopped is the flood."

Therewith Sir Guyon left his first emprise,

And, turning to that woman, fost her hent

By thy hoare lockes that hong before hrr eyes,

And to the ground her threw' : yet n'ould she stent

Her bitter rayling and foule revilement ;

But still provokt her sonne to wreake her wrong ;

But nathelesse he did her still torment,

And, catching hold of her ungratious tong,

Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and stron"-.

Then, whenas use of speach was from her reft,
With her two crooked handes she signes did make.
And beckned him ; the last help she had left :
But he that last left helpe awav did take.
And both her handes fast bound unto a stake.
That she no'te stin-e. Then gan her sonne to Ave
Full fast awav, and did her quite forsake :
But Guyon after him in hast did bye,
And soone him overtooke in sad perplexitye.

In his strong armes he stifly him embraste.

Who him gain-striving nought at all prevaild;

For all his power was utterly defaste.

And furious fitts at earst quite weren quaild :

Oft he re'nforst, and oft his forces fayld.

Yet yield he would not, nor his ranc^*- slacke.

Then him to ground he cast, and ruut-.y hayld.

And both his hands fast bound behind his Ijacke,

And both his feet in fetters to an vron racke.

With hundred yron chaines he did him bind,
And hundred knots, that did him sore constraine ; %
Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind
And grimly gnash, threatning revenge in vaine :
His burning eyen, whom bloody strakes did staine,
Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fyre ;
And, more for rank despight then for great paine,
Shakt his long locks colourd like copper-wyre.
And bitt his tawny beard to shew his raging yre.

Thus whenas Guyon Furor had captivd.
Turning about he saw that wretched squjTe,
Whom that mad man of life nigh late deprivd,
. Lying on ground, all soild with blood and myre .
Whom whenas he perceived to respyre.
He gan to comfoit, and his woundes to dresse.
Being at last recured, he gan inquyre
What hard mishap him brought to such distresse.
And made that caytives thrall, the thrall of wretched-
nesse.

With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes,
"Fayre sir," quoth he, "what man can shun the hap,
That hidden lyes unwares him to surpryse t
Misfortune waites advantage to entrap
The man most wary in her whelming lap.
So me, weake wretch, of many weakest one,
Unweeting and unware of such mishap.
She brought to mischiefe throui;h occasion,
Where this same wicked villein did me light upcE

" It was a faithelesse squire, that was the sourse
Of all my sorrow and of these sad teares.
With whom from tender dug of commune nourse
Attonce I was upbrought ; anil eft, when yeares
IVIore rype us reason lent to chose our j'eares.
Ourselves in league oi' vowed love we kmtt;
In which we long time, without gealous feares
Oi faultie thoughts, contvnewd as was fitt;
And, for my part 1 vow, dissembled not awlitt.

THE FAERIF QUEENE.

[Book II.

It ^vas mv fortune, commune to that age,
To love a ladv fayre of great degree,
The wliich was borne of noble parentage,
And set in highest seat of dignitee,
Yet seemd no lesse to love then lovd to bee :
Long I her serv'd, and found her faithfuU still,
Ne ever thing could cause us disagree : [will :

Lore, that two hartes makes one, makes eke one
Each strove to please, and others pleasures to fulfill.

" This gracelesse man, for furtherance of his guile.
Did court the handmayd of mv lady deare.
Who, glad t' embosome his affection vile,
Did all she might more pleasing to appeare.
One dav, to worke her to his will more neare,
He woo'd her thus ; ' Prvene,' (so she hight,)
' What great despight does fortune to thee beare,
Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright.
That it should not deface all others lesser light?

" My friend, hight Philemon, I did partake

Of fill my love and all my pvivitie ;

W'ho gently ioyous seemed for my sake,

And gratious to that lady, as to mee ;

N e ever wight, that mote so welcome bee

As he to her, withouten blott or blame ;

Ne ever thing, that she could tliink or see.

But unto him she would impart the same :

O wretched man, that would abuse so gentle dame !

" At last such grace I found, and meanes I wrought,
^hat I that lady to my spouse had wonne ;
Accord of friendes, consent of parents sought,
Affyaunce made, my happinesse begonne,
There wanted nought but few rites to be donne.
Which mariage make : that day too fiirre did seeme !
Most ioyous man, on whome the shining sunne
Did shew his face, myself I did esteeme,
And that ray falser friend did. no lesse io\-ous deeme.

" But, ere that wished day his beame disclosd.
He, either envying my toward good.
Or of himselfe to treason ill disposd.
One day unto me came in friendly mood.
And told, for secret, how he understood
That lady, whom I had to me assynd.
Had both distaind her honorable blood.
And eke the faith which she to me did bynd ;
And therefore wisht me stay, till I my truth should
fynd.

xxiii.

' The gnawing anguish, and sharp gelosy,
W'hich liis sad speach infixed in my brest,
Rvickled so sore, and festred inwardly.
That my engreeved mind could find no rest.
Till tliat the truth thereof I did out wrest ;
And him besought, by that same sacred band
Betwixt us both, to counsell me the best :
He then with solemne oath and plighted hand
Assurd, ere long the truth to let me understand.

" Ere long with like againe he boorded mee,
Saying, lie now had boulted all the floure,
And that it was a groome of base degree.
Which of my love was partner paranioure :
Who used in a darksome inner bowre
Her oft to meete : which better to approve,
He promised to bring me at that howre.
When I sliould see that would me nearer move.
And drive me to withdraw my blind abused love.

" ' But if she had her least helpe to thee lent,

T' adorne thy forme according thy desart,

Tlieir blazing pride tliou wouldest soone have blent,

And staynd their prayses with thy least good part ;

Ne should faire Claribell with all her art,

Tho' she thy ladv be, approch thee neare :

For proofe thereof, this evening, as thou art,

Aray thyselfe in her most gorgeous geare.

That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.

" The mayden proud through praise and mad through

Him liearkned to, and soone herselfe arayd ; [love

The whiles to me the treachour did remove

His craftie engin : and, as he had sayd,

Me leading, in a secret corner layd.

The sad spectatour of my tragedie :

Where left, he went, and his owne false part playd,

Disguised like that groome of base degree.

Whom he had feignd th' abuser of my love to bee.

" Eftsoones he came unto th' appointed place.
And with liim brounht Pryene, rich arayd.
In Claribellaes clotlies : her proper face
I not discerned ia that darkesome shade.
But weend it was my love with whom he playd.
Ah God ! what horrour and tormenting griefe
IMy hart, my handes, mine eies, and all assayd !
Me liefer were ten thousand deathes priefe
Tlien wounde of gealous worme, and shame of such
repriefe.

XXIX.

" I home retouming, fraught with fowle despight.
And chawing vengeaunce all the way I went
Soone as my loathed love appeard in sight.
With wratlifuU hand I slew her innocent ;
That after soone I dearely did lament :
For, when the cause of that outrageous deede
Demaunded I made plains and evident.
Her faultie liandmayd, which that bale did breede,
Confest how Philemon her wrought to chaunge hei
weede.

" Wliich when I heard, with horrible affright

And hellisli fury all enragd, I souglit

Upon inyselfe that vengeable despiglit

To punish : yet it better first I tliought

To wreake my wrath on him, that first it wrought;

To Phflemon, false fatour Philemon,

I cast to pay that I so dearely bought :

Of deadly drugs I gave him drinke anon,

Aud washt away his guilt with guilty potion.

ANTO IV.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" Thus heaping' crime on crime, and griefe on griefe,

To losse of love adioyning losse of frend,

I meant to purg-e both with a third miscluefe,

And in my woes beginner it to end :

That was Pryene ; she did first offend,

She last should smart : with which cruell intent,

When I at her my murdrous blade did bend,

She fled away with ghastly dreriment,

And I, poursewing my fell purpose, after went.

" Feare gave her winges, and Rage enforst my flight ;
Through woods and plaines so long I did her cbace.
Till this mad man, whom your victorious might
Hath now fast bound, me met in middle space :
As I her, so he me poursewd apace,
And shortly overtooke : I, breathing yre,
Sore chaufted at my stay in such a cace,
And with my heat kindled his cruell fvre ;
Which kindled once, his mother did more rage
inspjTe.

XXXIII.

" Betwixt them both they have me doen to dye.
Through wounds, and strokes, and stubbome handel-
That death were better tlien such agony, [ing,

As griefe and fury unto me did bring ;
Of which in me yet stickes the mortall sting,
That during life will never be appeasd !"
When he thus ended had his sorrowing.
Said Guvon ; " SqujTe, sore have ye beene diseasd ;
But all your hurts may scone through temperance
be easd."

Then gan the palmer thus ; " Blost wretched man,
That to Affections does the bridle lend !
In their beginning they are weake and wan.
But soone through sufFrance growe to fearefuU end;
Whiles they are weake, betimes with them contend ;
For, when they once to perfect strength do grow.
Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend
Gainst fort of Reason, it to overthrow :
W'rath, Gelosy, Griefe, Love, this squyre have laide
thus low.

" Wrath, Gealosie, Griefe, Love, do thus expel! :
Wrath is a fire ; and Gealosie a weede ;
Griefe is a flood ; and Love a monster fell ;
The fire of sparkes, the weede of little seede.
The flood of drops, tlie monster filth did breede :
But sparks, seed, drops, and filth, do thus delay ;
The sparks soone quench, the springing seed outweed,
The drops diy up, and filth wipe cleane away :
So shall Wrath, Gealosy, Griefe, Love, die and
decay."

" Unlucky squire," saide Guyon, " sith thou hast
Falne into miscluefe through intemperaunce,
Henceforth take heede of tliat thou now hast past.
And guyde thy waies with warie govemaunce.
Least worse betide thee by some later chaunce.
But read how art thou nam'd, and of what kin."
" Phedon I hight," quoth he, " and do advaunce
Mine auncestry from famous Corudin,
Who first to rayse our Louse to honour did beo-in.'

Thus as he spake, lo ! far away they spyde
A varlet ronning towardes hastily,
^Vhose flying feet so fast tlieir way applyde.
That round about a cloud of dust did fly,
Which, mingled all with sweate, did dim his eve.
He soone approched, panting, breathlesse, whot.
And all so soyld, that none could him descry ;
His countenaunce was bold, and bashed not
For Guyons lookes, but scomefull ey-glaunce at hioi
shot.

Behinde his backe he bore a brasen shield.

On which was drawen faire, in colours fit,

A flaming fire in midst of bloody field.

And round about the wreath this word was writ.

Burnt I doe burne : Right well beseemed it

To be the shield of some redoubted knight :

And iu liis hand two dartes exceeding flit

And deadly sharp he held, whose heads were dight

In poyson and in blood of malice and despight.

When he in presence came, to Guyon first

He boldly spake ; " Sir knight, if knight thou bee.

Abandon this forestalled place at erst.

For feare of further harme, I counsell thee ;

Or bide the chaunce at thine owne ieopardee."

The knight at his great boldnesse wondered j

And, though he scorn 'd his 3'dle vanitee.

Yet mildly him to purpose unswered ;

For not to grow of nought he it coniectured ;

" Varlet, this place most dew to me I deeme.

Yielded by him that held it forcibly : [seeme

But whence shold come that harme, which thou dost

To threat to him that mindes his chaunce t'abye?"

" Perdy,'" sayd he, " here comes, and is hard by,

A knight of wondrous powre and great assay.

That never yet encountred enemy,

But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dismay ;

Ne thou for better hope, if thou his presence stay."

" How hight he," then sayd Guyon, " and from
" Pyrochles is his name, renowmed farre [whence f
For his bold feates and hardy confidence.
Full oft approvd in many ft cruell warre ;
The brother of Cymochles ; both which arre
The sonnes of old Aerates and Despight ;
Aerates, sonne of Phlegeton and larre ;
But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and Fight
But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is highl.

ZLII.

" So from immortall race he does proceede.

That mortall hands may not withstand his might, -

Drad for his derring doe and bloody deed ;

For all in blood and spoile is his delight.

His am 1 Atin, his in wrong and right,

That matter make for liim to workeupon.

And stirre him up to strife and cruell fight.

Fly therefore, fly this fearefuU stead anon.

Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad confiasion."

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boox II

" His be that care, whom most it doth concerne,"
Sayd he : " but whether with sucli hasty flight
Art thou now bownd ? for well mote I disceme
Great cause, that carries thee so swifte and light."
" My lord," quoth he, " mesent,andstreightbehight
To seeke Occasion, where so she bee :
For he is all disposd to bloody fight.
And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltee ;
Hard is his hap, that first fkls in his ieopardee."

" I\Iad man," said then the palmer, " that does seeke
Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife ;
Shee comes unsought, and shonned followes eke.
Happy ! who can abstaine, when Rancor rife
Kindles Revenge, and threats his rusty knife :
Woe never wants, where every cause is caught ;
And rash Occasion makes unquiet life !" [sought,"
" Then loe ! wher bound she sits, whom thou hast
Said Guyon ; " let that message to thy lord be
brought."

That when the varlett heard and saw, streightway
He wexed wondrous wroth, and said; " Vileknight,
That knights and knighthood doest with shame upbray,
And shewst th' ensample of thy childishe might.
With silly weake old woman thus to fight !
Great glory and gay spoile sure hast thou gott.
And stoutly prov'd thy puissaunce here in sight !
That shall Pyrochles well requite, I wott,
And with thy blood abolish so reprochfuU blott.'

With that, one of his thrillant darts he threw.
Headed with yre and vengeable despight :
The quivering Steele his aymed end wel knew,
And to his brest itselfe intended right :
But he was wary, and, ere it empight
In the meant marke, advaunst his shield atween,
On which it seizing no way enter might,
Butbacke rebownding eft the forckhead keene :
Eftsoones he fled aw y, and might no where be
seene.

CANTO V.

Pyrochles does with Guyon fight,

And Furors chayne untyes,
Who him sore wounds ; whiles Atin to

Cymochles for ayd flyes.

Whoever doth to Temperaunce apply

His stedfast life, and edl his actions frame.

Trust me, shal find no greater enimy.

Then stubbome Perturbation, to the same ;

To which right wel the wise doe give that name ;

For it the goodly peace of staied mindes

Does overthrow, and troublous warre proclame :

His owne woes author, who so bound it findes.

As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully unbindes.

After that vailets flight, it was not long
Ere on the plaine fast pricking Guyon spide
One in bright arraes embatteiled full strong,
That, as the sunny beames do glaunce and glide
Ui)on the trembling wave, so shined bright,
And round about him threw forth sparkling fire,
Thill seemd him to enflame on every side :
His steed was bloody red, and fomed yre.
When with the maistring spur he did him roughly
stire.

Approching nigh, he never staid to greete,

Ne cliaftar words, prowd corage to provoke.

But prickt so fiers, that underneath his feete

The smouldring dust did rownd about him smoke,

Bolh horse and man nigh able for to choke ;

And, fayrly couching his steeleheaded speare.

Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke :

It booted nouglit sir Guyon, comming neare,

Vo thincke such hideous jjuissaunce on foot tobeare;

But lightly shunned it ; and passing by,
With his bright blade did smite at him so fell,
That the sharpe Steele, arriving forcibly
On his broad shield, bitt not, but glauncing feU
On his horse necke before the quilted sell.
And from the head the body sundred quight :
So him dismounted low he did compell
On foot with him to matchen equall fight ;
The truncked beast fast bleeding did him fowly
dight.

Sore bruzed with the fall he slow uprose.

And all enraged thus him loudly shent ;

" Disleall knight, whose coward corage chose

To wroake itselfe on beast all innocent.

And shund the murke at which it should be ment ;

Therby thine amies seem strong, but manhood frayl

So hast thou oft with guile thine honor blent,

But litle may such guile thee now avayl.

If wonted force and fortune doe me not much fayL"

With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke

At him so fiercely, that tho ujiper marge

Of his sevenfolded shield away it tooke,

And, glauncing on his helmet, made a large

And open gash therem : were not his targe

That broke the violence of his intent,

The weary sowle from thence it would discharge ;

Nathelesse so sore a buft' to him it lent.

That made him reele, and to his brest his bever bent.

Canto V.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow,

And much ashamd that stroke of hvmg arme

Should him dismay, and make him stoup so low,

Though otherwise it did him litle harme :

Tho, hurling high his yron-braced arme,

He smote so manly on his shoulder plate.

That all his left side it did quite disairme ;

Vet there the steel stayd not, but inly bate

Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate.

Deadly dismayd with horror of that dint
Pyrochles was, and grieved eke entyre ;
Vet nathemore did it his fury stint.
But added flame unto his former fire,
'J hat wel-nigh molt his hart in raging yre :
Ne thenceforth his approved skill, to ward,
Dt strike, or hurtle rownd in warlike gyre,
Remembred he, ne car'd for his saufgard,
But rudely rag'd, and like a cruell tygre far'd.

He liewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thondred blowes,
And every way did seeke into his life ;
Ne plate, ne male, could ward so mighty throwes,
But yielded passage to his cruell knife.
But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife.
Was wary wise, and closely did awayt
Avauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife ;
Sometimes athwart, sometimes he strook him strayt.
And falsedofthis blowes t'illude him with such bayt.

Like as a lyon whose imperiall powie

A prowd rebellious unicorn defyes,

T' avoide the rash assault and wrathful stowre

Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applyes.

And when him ronning in full course he spyes.

He slips aside ; the whiles that furious beast

His precious home, sought of his enimyes,

Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast.

But to the mighty victor yields a bounteous feast.

With such faire sleight him Guyon often fayld,

'J ill at the last all breathlesse, weary, faint.

Him spying, with fresh onsett he assayld.

And, kindling new his corage seeming queint,

Strooke him so hugely, tbat through great constraint

He made him stoup perforce unto his knee.

And doe unwilling worship to the saint.

That on his shield depainted he did see ;

Such homage till that instant never learned hee.

^Vhom Guyon seeing stoup, poursewed fast
The present offer of faire victory.
And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast.
Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye.
That streight on grownd made him full low to lye ;
1 hen on his brest his victor foote he thrust :
With tbat he cryde ; " Mercy, doe me not dye,
Ne deeme thy force by fortunes doome uniust,
Tliat hath (maugre her spight) thus low me laid in
du-u"

Eftsoones Ins cruel hand Sir Guyon stayd,
Tempring the passion witli advizement slow
And maistring might on enimy dismayd ;
For th' equall die of warre he well did know :
Then to him said : " Live, and alleasaunce owe
To him, that gives thee life and liberty ;
And henceforth by this dales ensample trow.
That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardrv,
Doe breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamy.

So up he let him rise ; who, with grim looke
And count'naunce sterne upstanding, gan to grind
His grated teeth for great disdeigne., and shooke
His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind.
Knotted in blood and dust, for grief of mind
That he in ods of armes was conquered ;
Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find.
That him so noble knight had maystered ;
Whose bounty more then might, yet both, he won-
dered.

Which Guyon marking said ; " Be nought agriev'd.
Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre :
Was never man, who most conquestes atcbiev'd.
But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre ;
Yet shortly gaynd, that losse exceeded liirre ;
Losse is no shame, nor to bee lesse then foe ;
But to bee lesser then himselfe doth marre
Both loosers lott, and victour's prayse alsoe ■
Vaine others overthrowes who selfe doth overthrow

" Fly, Pyrochles, fly tlie dreadful warre
That in thyselfe thy lesser partes do move ;
Outrageous Anger, and woe-working larre.
Direful! Impatience, and hart-murdring Love :
Those, those thy foes, those warriours, far remove,
Which thee to endlesse bale captived lead.
But, sith in might thou didst my mercy prove.
Of courtesie to mee the cause aread
That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread."

" Dreadlesse," said he, " that shall I soone declare

It was complaind that thou hadst done great tort

Unto an aged woman, poore and bare.

And thralled her in chaines witli strong effort,

Voide of all succour and needfull comfort :

That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see.

To worke such shame : therefore I thee exhort

To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion free,

And to her captive sonne yield his first libertee."

Thereat Sir Guyon smylde ; " And is that all,"
Said he, " that thee so sore displeased hath .'
Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall.
Whose freedom shall thee turne to greatest scath !
Nath'lesse now quench thy whott emboyling wrath
Loe . there they bee ; to thee I yield them free."
Thereat be, wondrous glad, out of the path
Did lightly leape, where he tliein bound did see.
And gan to breake the bands of their captivitee.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

Soone as Occasion felt her selfe untyde,
iJefore her sonne could well assoyled bee,

he to her use returnd, and streight defyde
Both Guyon and Pyrochles ; th' one (said shee)
Bvcause he wonne ; the other, because hee
VVas wonne : so matter did she make of nought,
To stirre up strife, and garre them disagree :
But, soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought
To kindle his quencht fyre, and thousand causes
wrousht.

It was not long ere she inflamed him so,
That he would algates with Pyrochles fight.
And his redeemer chalengd for his foe.
Because he had not well mainteind bis right.
But yielded had to that same straunger knight.
Now gan Pyrochles wex as wood as hee.
And him affronted with impatient might :
So both together fiers engrasped bee,
Whyles Guyon standing by tJieir uncouth strife does
see.

Him all that while Occasion did provoke
Against Pyrochles, and new matter fram'd
Upon the old, him stirring to bee wroke
Of his late wronges, in which she oft him blam'd
For suffering such abuse as knighthood sham'd.
And him dishabled quyte : but he was wise,
Ne would with vaine occasions be inflam'd ;
Yet others she more urgent did devise :
Yet nothing could him to impatience entise.

Their fell contention still increased more.
And more thereby increased Furors might.
That he his foe has hurt and wounded sore
And him in blood and durt deformed quight.
His motJier eke, more to augment liis spight,
Now brought to him a flaming fyer-brond,
Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning bright.
Had kindled : tliat she gave into his hond,
That armd with fire more hardly he mote him with-
stond.

The gan that villein wex so fiers and strong.
That nothing might sustaine his furious forse :
He cast him downe to ground, and all along
Drew him through durt and myre without remorse.
And fowly battered his comely corse.
That Guyon much disdeignd so loathly sight.
At last he was compeld to cry perforse,
" Help, Sir Guyon ! helj)e, most noble knight.
To ridd a wretched man from handes of hellish
wigjht !"

The knight was greatly moved at his playnt.

And gan him dight to succour his distresse,

Till that the palmer, by liis grave restraynt,

Him stayd from yielding pittifull redresse,

And said ; " Deare sonne, thy causelesseruth represse,

Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne :

He that his sorrow sought through wilfulnesse.

And his foe fettred would release agayne.

Deserves to taste his follies fruit, repented payne."

Guyon obayd : so him away he drew

From neediesse trouble of renewing fight

Already fought, his voyage to poursew.

But rash Pyrochles varlett, Atin hight.

When late he saw his lord in heavie plight,

Under Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall.

Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight,

Fledd fast away to tell his funerall

Unto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call.

He was a man of rare redoubted might.
Famous throughout tlie world for warlike prayse,
And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight :
Full many doughtie knightes he in his dayes
Had doen to death, subdewde in equall frayes ;
Whose carkases, for terrour of his name.
Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous prayes,
And hong their conquerd armes for more defame
On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest dame.

His dearest dame is that enchaunteresse.
The vyle Acrasia, that with vaine delightes.
And ydle pleasures, in her Bowre of Blisse,
Does charme her lovers, and the feeble sprightes
Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes ;
Whom then she does transforme to monstrous hewes,
And horribly misshapes with ugly sightes,
Captfv'd eternally in yron mewes
And darksom dens, where Titan his face never shewes.

There Atin fownd Cymochles soiouming.

To serve his lemans love ; for he by kjrnd

Was given all to lust and loose living.

Whenever his fiers handes he free mote fynd :

And now lie has pourd out his ydle mynd

In daintie delices and lavish ioyes.

Having his warlike weapons cast behynd.

And flowes in pleasures and vaine pleasing toyes,

JMingled emongst loose ladies and lascivious boyes.

And over him Art, stryving to compayre
With Nature, did an arber greene dispred,
Framed of wanton yvie, flouring fayre.
Through which the fragrant eglantine did spred
His prickling armes, entrayld witli roses red.
Which daiTitie odours round about them threw :
And all within witli flowres was garnished,
Tliat, vvlicu niyld Zcpliyrus emongst thorn blew,
Did breatl) out bounteous smels, and painted colors
shew.

And fast beside there trickled softly downe

A gentle strcame, whose murmuring wave did play

Emongst the jmmy stones, and made a sowne.

To lull him soft asleepe that by it lay :

The wearie traveiler, wandring that way,

Tlierein did often quench his thirsty heat,

And then by it his wearie limbcs display,

( Whiles cree])ing slomber made him to forget

His former payne,) and wypt away his toilsom sweat.

Canto Vl.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

A.nd on the other syde a pleasaunt grove

Was shott up high, full of the stately tree

That, dedicated is t' Olympick love.

And to his somie Alcides, v\-lienas hee

In Nemea gayned goodly victoree :

Therein the mery birdes of every sorts

Chauuted alovvd their chearefull harmonee,

And made emongst themselves a sweete consort,

That quickned the dull spright with musicall comf6rt.

There he him found all carelesly displaid.

In secrete shadow from the sunny ray.

On a sweet bed of liUies softly laid.

Amidst a flock ot damzelles fresh and gay.

That rowud about him dissolute did play

Their wanton lollies and light meriment ;

Every of which did loosely disaray

Her upper partes of meet habiliments.

And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments.

And every of them strove with most deliglits
Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew :
Some framd laire lookes, ghtncing like evening

lights ;
Others sweet wordes^, dropping like honiiy Jew ;
Some bathed kisses, and did soft emijrew
'I'he sugred licour tlirough his meltmg lips.
One boastes her beauiie, and does yield to v<w
Her daintie limbes above her tender hips :
Anotlier her out boastes, and all for tryall strips.

XXXIV.

He, like an adder lurking in the weedes,
His wandriug thought ui deepe desire does steepe.
And his frayle eye with spoyle of beauty feedes :
Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe,
Whiles through their luis his wanton eies do peepe
To steale a tnatcli of amorous conceipt,
Whereby close fire into his hart does creepe :
So' he them deceives, deceivd in his deceipt,
Made dronke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt.

Atin, arriving there, when him he spyde
Thus in still waves of deepe delight to wade,
Fiercely approching to him lowdly cryde,
" Cymochles ; oh ! no, but Cyinocliles shade.
In which that manly person late did fade !
What is become of great Acraies sonne !
Or where hath he hong uj) his mortall blade,
That hath so many hiuightv comjuests wonne ?
Is all his force forloriie, and all his glory doniie?'

Then, pricking him with his sharp-pointed dart,
He said : " Up, up, thou womanish weake knight.
That here in ladies lap entombed art,
Unmindfull of thy praise and pi o west might,
And weetlesse eke of lately-wrought despight ;
Whiles sad Pyrocles lies on sencelesse ground,
And groneth out his utmost grudging spright
'i'lirougli many astioke and many a sireammg wound.
Calling thy help in vaine, that here in ioyes art
dround."

Suddeinly out of his delighttuU dreame

The man awoke, and would have questiond more ;

But he would not endure thai wofuU theame

For to dilate at large, but urged sore.

With percing wordes and pittifull implore.

Him hasty to arise ; as (.ne ati'right

With hellish feei:ds, or furies mad uprore,

He then uprose, inflanid with fell despight.

And called for his amies ; (or he would algates fio-ht

They bene ybrought ; he quickly does him dight,
And lightly mounted passeth on his way ;
Ne ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties, might
Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay ;
For he has vowd to beeue avengd that day
(That day itselfe him seemed all too long)
On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay :
So proudly pricketh on his courser strong.
And Atin ay him pricks with spurs of shame and
wrong.

CANTO VI.

Guyon is of immodest Merth
Led into loose desyre j

Fights with Cymochles, whiles his bro-
ther burnes in furious fyre.

A HARDER lesson to learne continence

In ioyous pleasure then in grievous paine :

For sweelnesse doth allure the weaker sence

So strongly, that uneathes it can retraine

From that which feeble nature covets taine :

But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies

And foes of life, she better can restraine :

Yet Vertue vauntes in both her victories ;

And Guyon in them all sliewes goodly maysteries.

Whom bold Cymochles travelling to finde,
W ith cruell purpose bent to wreake on hira
The wrath which Atin kindled in his mind.
Came to a river, by whose utmost biim
Way ting to passe he saw whereas did swim
Along the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye,
A litle gondelay. bedecked trim
With boughes and arbours woven cunningly^
Thai like a litle forrert seemed outwardly.

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book fl.

And therein sate a lady fresh and fayre,
MakinE^ sweete solace to lierselte alone :
Sometimes she soni;; as lewd as larke in ayr^,
Sometimes shelaua;lit, that nigh her breath was gone j
Yet was there not with her else any one,
That to her mio-ht move cause of meriment :
Matter of merth enough, though there were none.
She could devize ; and thousand waies invent
To feeJe her foolish humour and vaine iolliment.

Which when far off Cjinochles heard and saw,

He lowdlv cald to sucli as were abord

Tlie little barke unto the shore to draw,

And him to ferry over that deepe ford.

The merry mariner imto his word

Soone hearkned, and her painted bote streightway

Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike lord

She in receiv'd, but Atin by no way

She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.

Ef'tsoones her shallow ship away did slide,
More swift than swallow sheres the liquid skye,
Withoiiten oare or pilot it to guide,
Or winsjed canvas with the wind to fly :
Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave,
(Ne cared she her course for to apply,)
For it was taught the way which she would have.
And both from rocks and flats itselfe could wisely
save.

And all the way the wanton damsell found

Kew merth her passenger to entertains ;

For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound.

And greatlv ioyed merry tales to fayne.

Of which a store-house did with her reraaine ;

Yet seemed, nothing well they her became :

For all her wordes she drowiid with laughter vaine.

And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,

That turned all her pleasaunce to a scoffing game.

And other whiles vaine toyes she would devize,
As her fantasticke wit did most delight :
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets (light
About her neckc, or rings of rushes jiliglit :
Sometimes, to do hirn laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of the leavi's light.
Or to behold the water worke and play
About her little frigot, therein making way.

Jfer light behaviour and loose dalliaunce

(jave wondrous great contentment to the knight,

That of his wav he had no sovenaunce,

Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruell fight ,

But to weake wench did yield his iiiartiall might.

So easie was to quencli his fl lined mincle

With one sweete drop of sensuall deliglit!

So easie is t'appease the stormy winde

Of malice in the calme of [ileasaunt womankind !

Diverse discourses in their way they sjient ;

Mongst which Cyriiochles of lier (juestioned

Both what she was and what that usage ment,

Wliicii in her colt she daily practized :

" Vaine man," saide she, " that wouldest be reckoned

A straunger in thy Lome, and ignoraunt

Of Pha^dria, (for so my name is red,)

Of Phipdria, thine owne fellow servaunt ,

For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt.

" In this wide inland sea, that bight by name
The Idle Lake, my wandring ship I row,
That knowes her port, and thether sayles by ayme,
Ne care ne feare I how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend or whether slow :
]5oth slow and swift alike do serve ray tourne ;
Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd-thundring love
Can chaunge my clieare, or make me ever mourne :
My litle boat can safely passe thi,s perilous bourne."

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And come unto an island waste and voyd,
That floted in the midst of that great lake ;
There her small gondelay her port did make,
And that gay payre issewing on the shore
Disburdned her : their way they forward take
Into the land that lay them faire before,
Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and plentiful!
sreat store.

It was a chosen plott of fertile land,
Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest,
As if it had by Natures cunning hand
Bene choycelv picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best :
No daintie flowre or herbe tliat growes on grownd.
No arborett with painted blossomes drest
And smelling sweete, but there it might he fownd
To bud out faire, and her sweete smels throwe al
arownd.

No tree, whose braunclies did not bravely spring ;

No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sitt :

No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetely sing ;

No song, but did containe a lovely ditt.

Trees, braunclies, birds, and songs, were framed fitt

For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.

Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake witt

Was overcome of thing that did him ])lease :

So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.

Tims when shee had his eves and sences fed
With false delights, and fild with pleasures vayn.
Into a shady dale she soft him led,
And la.'d I'im dowiie u])on a grassy ]>liiyn ;
And her sweete selfe without dread or disdayn
She sett beside, laving his head disuniid
In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn,
VVhere soone he slumbred fearing not be barnid :
The whili's with a love lay she thus iiim sweetly
charmd :

Canto VI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take,
The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleasaiint growes.
How they themselves doe thine ensample make,
Whiles r.othino; envious Nature them forth throwes
Out of her fruitfull lap : how, no man knowes,
They spring, they hud, they blossome fresh and faire,
^.nd decke the world with their rich pompous showes;
Vet no man for them taketh paines or care.
Vet no man to them can his careful! paines compare.

" The lilly, lady of the fiowring field,
The flowre-deluce, her lovely paramoure.
Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield.
And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure :
Loe ! loe, how brave she decks her bounteous boure,
With silken curtens and gold coverletts,
Therein to shrowd her sumptuous belamoure !
Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts.
But to her mother Nature all her care she letts.

" Why then doest thou, man, that of them all
Art lord, and eke of nature soveraine,
Wilfully make thyselfe a wretched thrall,
And waste thy ioyous howres in needelesse paine,
Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine ?
What bootes it al to have and nothing use ?
Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine
Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse ?
Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures
chuse."

By this she had him lulled fast asleepe.
That of no worldly thing he care did take :
Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe.
That nothing should him hastily av^-ake.
So she him lefte, and did herselfe betake
Unto her boat again, with which she clefte
The slouthfull vsave of that great griesy lake :
Soone shee that island far behind her lefte.
And now is come to that same place where first she
■wefte.

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Unto the other side of that wide strond
Where she was rowing, and for passage sought :
Him needed not long call ; shee soone to bond
Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond
With his sad guide : himselfe shee tooke aboord,
But his black palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price or prayers once aftbord
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord.

Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being entred might not backe retyre ;
For the flitt barke, obaying to her mind.
Forth launched quickly as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to "bid tliat aged sire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course
Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire.
Whom nether wind out of their seat could forse,
Nor timely tides did drive out of theij sluggish
sourse.

And by the way, as was her wonted guize.

Her mery fitt she freshly gan to reare.

And did of ioy and iollity devize

Herselfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare.

The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare

Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake :

But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare.

And passe the bonds of modest merimake,

Her dalliaunce he despis'd and follies did forsake.

Yet she still followed her former style,

And said, and did, all that mote him delight,

Till they arrived in that pleasaunt ile,

Where sleeping late she lefte her other knight.

But, whenas Guyon of that land had sight,

He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said ;

" Ah ! dame, perdy ye have not doen me right,

Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid :

Mee litle needed from my right way to have straid."

" Faire sir," quoth she, " be not displeasd at all ;
Who fares on sea may not commaund his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call :
The sea is wide, and easy for to sti-ay ;
The wind unstable, and doth never stay.
But here a while ye may in safety rest.
Till season serve new passage to assay :
Better safe port then be in seas distrest."
Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end iniest

But he, halfe discontent, mote nathelesse
Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore :
The ioyes whereof and happy fruiffulnesse,
Such as he saw, slie gan him lay before,
And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made much more,
The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring.
The trees did bud, and early blossomes bore ;
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,
And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling.

XXV.

And she, more sweete than any bird on bough.
Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part,
And strive to passe (as she could well enough)
Their native musicke by her skilful art :
So did slie all, that might his constant hart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,
And drowne in dissolute delights apart.
Where noise of armes, or vew of martiall guize,
Might not revive desire of knightly exercize ;

But he was wise, and wary of her will.

And ever held his hand upon his hart ;

\ et would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill.

As to despise so curteous seemina; part

That gentle lady did to him impart •

But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd.

And ever her desired to depart.

She list not heare, but her disports poursewd,

And ever bad him stay till time the tide renewd.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boot jr.

And no'.v by tliis Cvmochles liowre was spent,

'J'lmt be awoke out of bis vdle dreme ;

And, sbakinp; oii" liis drowsy dreriment,

Gan bim avize, bowe ill did biin beseme,

In sloutbtull sleepe bis molten bait to steme.

And quencb tbe brond of liis conceived yre.

I'bo u}) be started, stird witb shame extreme,

Ne staled for bis damsell to inquire.

But marcbed to tbe strond, tbere passage to require.

And in tbe way he witb Sir Guyon mett,

Accompanvde witb Pba>dria the faire :

Eftsoohes be gan to rage, and inlv frett,

Crying ; " Let be tliat lady debonaire.

Thou recreaunt knight, and soone tbyselfe prepaire

To batteile, if thou meane ber love to gayn,

Loe ! loe already how the fowles in aire

Doe fiocke, awaiting sbortlv to o])tavn

Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of thy payn.'

And there-witball he fiersly at liim flew,
And witb importune outrage bim assayld ;
Who, soone ])repard to field, his sword forth drew.
And him with equall valew countervayld :
Their mightie strokes their liaberieons dismayld,
And naked made each others manly spalles ;
Tbe raortall Steele despiteously entayld
Deepe in their flesh, quite through tbe yron walles.
That a large purple streame adown their giambeux
falles.

Cymocbles, that had never mett before

So puissant foe, with envious despight

His prowd presumed force increased more,

Disdeigning to bee held so long in tight.

Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might

As those unknigbtly raylinges which lie spoke,

With wratbfull lire bis corage kindled bright,

Thereof devising' shortly to be wroke,

And doubling all bis powres redoubled every stroke.

Both of them high attonce their bands enhaunst,
And both attonce their bugeblowes down did sway :
Cymocbles swofJ on Guyons shield vglaunst,
And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away :
But Guyons angry blade so fiers did play
On th' others helmett, which as Titan slione,
That quite it clove his plumed crest in tway,
And bared all his head unro the bone ;
Where-with astonisht still he stood as sencelesse
stone.

.^till ns hi stood, fayre Phadria, that beheld
'I'll!' (Inadly dann<;er, soone atweene tliem ran ;
*nil at tlit-ir feet herselfe most humbly feld,
Crving with pitteous voyce, and count'nance wan,
" Ah, \vf 11 away ! most noble lords, bow can
Your cruell eves endure so yiitteous sight.
To slied your lives on ground ? Wo worth the man,
st did teach the cursed Steele to bight
owne flesh, and make way to tbe living
spngbt !

" If ever love of lady did empierce
Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place,
\\'itbbold your bloody handes from battaill fierce ;
And, sith for me ye fight, to me this grace
Both yield, to stay your deadly stryfe a space "
They stayda while : and forth she gan proceede :
" Most wretched woman and of wicked race,
That am the autbour of this bainous deed.
And cause of death betweene two dougbtie kuigbt3
do breed !

" But, if for me ye fight, or me will serve,
Not this rude kynd of battaill, nor these armes
Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterre.
And doolefull sorrowe heape witb deadly hamies :
Such cruell game my scannoges disarmes.
Anotlier warre, and other weapons, I
Doe love, where Love does give his sweete alarrfies
A\ ithout bloodshed, and where tlie enimy
Does yield unto bis foe a pleasaunt victory.

" Debatefull strife, and cruell enmit}',
Tbe famous name of knighthood fowly shend ;
But lovelv peace, and gentle amity.
And in amours the passing howres to spend.
The mightie martiall handes doe most commend ;
Of love they ever greater glory bore
Then of their armes : Wars is Cupidoes frend.
And is for Venus loves renowmed more
7'hen all bis wars and spoiles, tbe which he did of
yore.

Therewith she sweetly smyld. Tliey, though full

To prove extremities of bloody fight, [bent

Yet at her sjieacb their rages gan relent,

And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight :

Such powre have pleasing wordes ! Such is the might

Of courteous clemency in gentle hart !

Xow after all was ceast, the Faery knight

Besought that damsell sutler bim depart.

And yield him ready passage to that other part.

She no lesse glad then be desirous was

Of bis departure thence ; for of her ioy

And vaine delight she saw he light did pas,

A foe of folly and immodest toy.

Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy;

Delighting all in annes and cruell warre.

That her sweete ])eace and pleasures did annoy,

Troubled with terrour and uncjuiet iarre.

That she well pleased was thence to amove bim farre^

Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote
Forthwith directed to that further strand ;
The which on the dull waves did lightly flote.
And soone arrived on tbe sliallow sand.
Where gladsome (iuyon sailed forth to land.
And to that damsell thankes gave for reward.
Upon that shore he spyed Atin stand.
There by bis maister left, when kite he far'd
In Pbivdrias flitt barck over that perlous shard.

4NTO VL]

IHE FAERIE QUEENE.

Well could he him remember, sith of late

He with Pyrocles sharp debatenient made :

Streight gan he him revvle, and bitter rate,

As shepheardes curre, that in darke eveninges shade

Hath tracted forth some salvage beastes trade :

" Vile miscreaunt," said he, " whether dost thouflye

The shame and death, which will thee soon invade ?

What coward hand shall d'^e thee next to dye,

That art thus fowly fledd from famous enimy !"

With that he stifly shooke his steelhead dart :
But sober Guyon hearing him so rayle.
Though somewhat moved in his mightie hart,
Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile.
And passed fayrely torth : he, turning taile,
Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd,
Awaiting passage, which him late did i'aile ;
The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd
The hasty heat of his avowd revenge delayd.

Whylest there the varlet stood, he saw from farre

An armed knight that towardes him fast ran;

He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre

His forlorne steed from him the victour wan :

He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan j

And all his armour sprinckled was with blood,

And soy Id with durtie gore, that no man can

Discerne the hew thereof ; he never stood.

But bent his hastie course towardes the Ydle flood.

The varlet saw, when to the flood he came
How without stop or stay he fiersly lept,
And deepe himselfe beducked in the same,
That in the lake his loftie crest was stept,
Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept ;
But with liis raging amies he rudely flasht
The waves about, and all his armour swept,
That all the blood and filt-h away was washt ;
Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht.

Atin drew nigh to weet what it mote bee ;
For much he wondered at that uncouth sight :
Whom should he but his own deare lord there see.
His owne deare lord Pyrochles in sad plight.
Ready to drowne himselfe for fell despight :
" Harrow now, out and well away !" he cryde,
" What dismall day hath lent this cursed light.
To see my lord so deadly damnifvde ?
P}Tochles, O Pyrochles, what is thee betyde ?

* I bume, I bume, 1 burne," then lowd he cryde,

" O how I burne with implacable fyre !

Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde.

Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of myre ;

Nothing but death can doe me to respyre."

" Ah ' be it," said he, " from Pyrochles farre

After pursewing death once to requyre.

Or think, that ought those puissant hands maymarre:

Death is for wretches borne under unhappy starre."

" Perdye, then is it fitt for me," said he,

" That am, I weene, most wretched man alive ;

Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see,

And, dying dayly, dayly yet revive :

Atin, helpe to me last death to give !"

The varlet at his plaint was grievd so sore.

That his deepe- wounded hart in two did rive ;

And, his owne health remembring now no more.

Did follow that ensample wliich he blam'd afore.

XLVI.

Into the lake he lept his lord to ayd,

(So love the dread of daunger doth despise,)

And, of him catching hold, him strongly stayd

From drowning ; but more happv he then wise

Of that teas nature did him not a vise :

The waves thereof so slow and sluggish were,

Engrost with mud which did them fowle agrise,

That every weighty thing they did upbeare,

]S e ought mote ever siuck downe to the bottom there

Whyles thus they strugled in that Ydle wave,
j^nd strove in vaine, the one himselfe to drowne
The other both from drowning for to save ;
Lo ! to that shore one in an auncient gowne,
Whose hoary locks great gravitie did crowne,
Holding in hand a goodly arining sword,
By fortune came, ledd with the troublous sowne :
Where drenched deepe he fownd in that dull ford
The carefull servaunt stryving with his raging lord

Him Atin spying knew right well of yore, •
And lowdly cald ; "Help! helpe, O Archimage,
To save my lord in wretched plight forlore ;
Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsel! sage :
Weake handes, but counsell is most strong in age.
Him when the old man saw, he woundred sore
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage :
Yet sithens heljie, he saw, he needed more
Then pitt)-, he in hast approched to the shore.

And cald ; " Pyrochles, what is this I see ?

Mhat hellish furv hath at earst thee hent 2

Furious ever I tliee knew to bee.

Vet never in this straunge astonishment."

" These flames, these flames !" he cryde, " doe me

torment !"
" What flames," quoth he, " when I thee present see
In daunger rather to be drent then brent f"
" Harrow ! the flames which me consume," said he,
" Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowelles bee.

" That cursed man, that cniel feend of hell,
Furor, oh! Furor hath me thus bedight :
His deadly woundes within my liver swell.
And his whott fyre bumes in mine entralles bright,
Kindled throui;h his infernal! brond of spight,
Sith late with him I batteill vaine would boste ;
That now I weene loves dreaded tlnnuler light
Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned glioste
In flaming: Phlegeton does not so felly roste "

FAERIE QUEENE.

£Boo» n.

Whicli whenas Archimago heard, his ^riefe

He knew ri;;lu well, and him attonce disarm'd :

Then searclit his secret woundes, and made a priefe

Of every place that was with hruzing harmd,

Or with the hidden fier inly warmd.

Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,

And everm'iro with mig-Iitie spels them charmd ;

That in short space he has them qualifyde,

And him restord to helth, that would have algates djde.

CANTO VII.

Guyon findes IMammon in a delve
Sunning his threasure hore ;

Is by him tempted, and led downe
To see his secrete store.

As pilot well expert in perilous wave.
That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,
\Vhen fog-gy mistes or cloudy tempests have
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,
And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment ;
Upon his card and compas firmes his eye
The maysters of his long experiment,
And to them does the steddy helme apply.
Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly :

So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,

Late left beyond that Ydle Lake, proceedes

Yet on his way, of none accompanyde ;

An evermore himselfe with comfort feedes

Of his owne vertues and praise-wortliie deedes.

So, long he yode, yet no adventure found.

Which Fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes :

For still he traveild through wide wastfiill ground,

That nought but desert wiJiernesse shewd all around.

At last he came unto a gloomy glade,
Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
And uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight.
Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight ;
His face witli smoke was taiid, and cies were bleard,
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,
His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard
In smytlies fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes
appeard.

IV.

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust.

Was underneath enveloped with gold ;

Whose glistring glosse, darkned witli filthy dust,

\\e\\ yet a])pered to have beene of old

A worke of rich entayle and curious mould.

Woven with antickes and wyld yraagery :

And in his lap a masse of covne lie told,

And turned upside downe, to feede his eye

And covetous desire with his huge threasury.

And round about him lay on every side
Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ,
Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
Of Mulcibers devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent
Into great ingowes and to wedges square ;
Some in round plates withouten nwniment :
But most were starapt, aud in there metal bare
The antique shapes of kings and Kesars straung and
rare.

Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
And haste he rose for to remove aside
Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight.
And downe them poured through an hole full wide
Into the hollow earth, them there to hide :
But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
His hand that trembled as one terrifyde ;
And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd.
Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfu
sayd ;

" What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art,)

That here in desert liast thine habitaunce,

And these rich hils of vvelfh doest hide apart

From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce 1"

Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce.

In great disdaine he ansvverd : " Hardy Elfe,

That darest view my direful countenaunce !

I read thee rash and heedlesse of thyselfe,

To trouble my still seate and heapes of pretious pelfe

" God of the world and worldlings I me call.

Great IMammon, greatest god below the skye,

That of my plenty poure out unto all,

And unto none my graces do envye :

Riches, renowme, and principality,

Honour, estate, and all this wordes good.

For which men swinck and sweat incessantly,

Fro me do flow into an ample flood,

And in the hollow earth have their etemall brood.

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

" Wherefore if me thou deigne to serve and sew,

At thv commaund lo ! all these mountaines bee :

Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,

All these may not suffise, there shall to thee

Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."

" ISlammon," said he " thy godheads vaunt is vaine,

And idle offers of thy golden fee ;

To them tliat covet su^h eye-glutting gaine

Profler thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.

" Me ill befits, that in 4erdoing armes
And honours suit my "owed dales do spend,
Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,
With which weake men thou witchest, to attend ;
Regard of worldly roucke doth fowly blend
And low abase the bigh heroicke spright,
That ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend :
Faire shields, gay cteedes, bright aimes, be my delight ;
Those be the ricbes fit for an advent'rous knight."

•Vaine gloriou" Elfe,"saidebe, " doest not tliou weet,
riiat money can thy wantes at will supply ?
Sl)ields, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee
It can purrav in twinckling of an eye ; [meet,

And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
Do not I kings create, and throw the crowns
Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,
And liim that raignd into his rowme thrust downe ;
And, whom I lust, do heape with glory and renowne?'

" All otherwise," saide he, " I riches read,

And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse ;

First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,

And after spent with pride and iavislmesse.

Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse :

Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize ;

Strife and debate, bloodslied and bitternesse,

Outrageous wrong and hellish covetize ;

That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despize.

" Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine ;
But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound.
And loyall truth to treason doest incline :
Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground ;
The crow ned often slaine ; the slayer cround ;
The sacred diademe in peeces rent;
And purple robe gored with many a wound :
Castles surprizd ; great cities sackt and brent :
So mak"st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull
government '

" Long were to teU the troublous stormes that tosse
The private state, and make ihe life unsweet :
Who swelling sables in Caspian sea doth crosse,
And m irayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet.
Doth not, 1 weene, so many evils meet." [sayd.

Then Mammon wexing wroth ; " And why then,"
" Are mortall men so fond and undiscreet
So evil) thing to seeke unto their ayd ;
And, having not, complaine ; and, havinp- it
uribnivd /"

" Indeed," quoth he, " through fowle intemperaunce,

Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise :

But would tliey thinke with how small allowaunce

Untroubled nature doth herselfe suffise.

Such superfluities they would despise,

Which with sad cares empeach our native ioyes.

At the well-head the purest streames arise ;

But mucky filth his braunching amies annoyes,

And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes

" The antique world, in his first flowring youth,

Fownd no defect in his Creators grace ;

But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth.

The guiftes of soveraine bounty did embrace :

Like angels life was then mens happy race:

But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,

Abusd her plenty and fat-swolne encreace

To all licentious lust, and gan exceed

The measure of her meane and naturall first need.

" Then gan a cursed hand tlie quiet wombe

Of his great grandmother with Steele to wound,

And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe

With sacriledge to dig : therein he fownd

Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,

Of which the matter of his huge desire

And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd ;

Then Avarice gan through his veines inspire

His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."

" Sonne," said he then, " lett be thy bitter scome,
And leave the rudenesse of that antique age
To them, that liv'd therin in state forlorne.
Thou, that doest live in later times must wage
Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
If then thee list my oftred giace to use.
Take what thou please of all this surplusage;
If tliee list not, leave have thou to refuse :
But thing refused doe not afterward accuse."

" !Me list not," said the Elfin knight, "receave
Thing oftred, till I know it well be gott ;
Ne wote I but thou didst these goods bereave
From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,
Or that blood-guiltinesse or guile them blott."
" Perdy," quoth he, " yet never eie did vew,
Ne tong did tell, ne hand these bandied not •
But safe I have them kejjt in secret mew
From hevens sight -and powre of al which them
poursew.'

XX.

" What secret place," quoth he, " can safely hold
So huge a masse, and hide from heavens eie 1
Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold
Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery V
" Come thou," quoth he, "and see." So by and by
Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd
A darksome way, which no man could descry.
That deepe descended through the hollow grownd.
And was with dread and horror compassed arownd

99.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

At length they came into a larger space,
'I'hat stretcht itselfe into an ample playne ;
Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
That slreight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne :
Bv that waves side there sate infernall Payne,
And iast beside him sate tumultuous Strife ;
1 he (ine in hand an yron whip did strayne,
The other brandished a bloody knife ;
And both did gnash their teeth, and borfi did threaten
life.

On th'other side in one consort there sate

Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,

Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning IJate;

But gnawing Gealosy, out of their sight

Sitting alone, his bitter lijis did bight ;

And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,

And found no place vvher safe he shroud him might :

Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye ;

And Shame his ugly face did liide from living eye.

And over them sad Horror with grim hew
Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings ;
And after him owles and night-ravens flew,
The liatefull messengers of heavy things.
Of death and dolor telling sad tidings ;
Whiles sad Celeuo, sitting on a clifte,
A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings.
That liart of flint asonder could have rifte ;
Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.

All these before the gates of Pluto lay ;
By whom they passing spake unto them nought.
]'>ut tir Elfin knight with wonder all the way
Did feed his eyes, and flld his inner thought.
At last him to a little dore lie brought,
That to the gate of hell, which gaped wide.
Was next adioyning, ne them parted ought :
Betwixt them both was but a little stride.
That did the House of Richesse from Hell-mouth
divide.

XXV.

Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,
Day and night keeping wary watch and ward.
For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware
Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard :
Ne uouhl he suiter Sleepe once thether-ward
Approch, albe his drowsy den were next ;
For next to 13eatli is Sleepe to be compard ;
Therefore his house is unto his anncxt :
Here Sleep, there Richesse, and Hel-gate them both
betwext.

XXVI.

So soon as Mammon there anivd, the dore

To him did open and aiVoorded way :

Him followed eke Sir Ciuyon evermore,

Ne darknesse him ne daunger miglit dismay.

Soone as he enlred was, tlie (lore strei-htvvay

Did shutt, ami from behind it forth there lept

An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day ;

The which with monstrous sfalke behind him stept,

And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.

Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,
If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye.
Or lips he layd oi thing that likt him best,
Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye.
Should be his pray : and therefore still on hye
He over him did hold his cruell clawes,
Tlireatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye.
And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes.
If ever he transgrest the fatall Stygian lawes.

That houses forme within was rude and strong,
Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte.
From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong
Embost with massy gold of glorious guifte,
And with rich metall loaded every rifte.
That heavy mine they did seeine to threatt
And over them Amchiie high did lifte
Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett.
Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black
than ielt.

Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,
But overgowne with dust and old decay,
And hid in darknes, that none could behold
The hew thereof ; for vew of cherefuU day
Did never in that house itselfe display,
But a faint shadow of uncertein light ;
Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away ;
Or as the moone, cloathed with clowdy night.
Does shew to him that walkes in i'eaie and sad
aft'ri"-lu.

In all that rowme was nothing to be seene
Ikit huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,
All bard with double bends, that none could weene^
I hem to enforce by violence or wrong ;
On every side they placed were along.
But all the grownd with sculs was scattered
And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;
Whose lives, it seemed, whilome there were shed,
And there vile carcases now left unburied.

They forward passe ; ne Guyon yet spoke word.

Till that they came unto an yron dore,

\\ liieli to them ojiened of his owne accord.

And shewd of riciiesse such exceeding store.

As eie of man did never see before,

Ne ever cotdd within one place be fovvnd.

Though all the wealth, which is or was of yore.

Could gatherd be through all the world arownd.

And that above were added to that under grownd.

The charge thereof unto a covetous spright
CoinniaunikMl was, who thereby did attend,
And warily awaited day and night,
Im-oui other covetous feeiids it to defend,
\\ ho it to rob and ransacke did intend.
Then Mammon, turning to that warriour, said ;
" Jjoe, here thu worldes blis ! loe, here the end
To whic'h al men do ayme, rich to be made !
Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid."

Canto VII.]

THE FAKRIE QUEKXE.

' Certes," sayd he, " I n'ill thine ofFred g-race,
Ne to be made so happy doe intend !
Another blis before mine eyes I place,
Anotlier happines, another end.
To them, that list, these base regardes I lend :
But I in amies, and in atchievements brave,
Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend.
And to be lord of those that riches have,
Then them to have my selfe, and be their servile
sclave."

Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate,
And griev'd, so long to lacke his greedie pray ;
For well he weened tliat so glorious bayte
Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay :
Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away
More light than culver in the faulcons fist :
Eternall God thee save from such decay !
But, whenas IMammon saw his purpose mist,
Him to entrap unwares another way he wist.

Thence, forward he him ledd and shortly brought
Unto another rowme, whose dore forthright
To him did open as it had beene taught :
Therein an hundred raunges weren pight,
And hundred fournaces all burning bright :
I5v every fournace many feends did byde.
Deformed creatures, horrible in sight ;
And ever}' feend his busie paines applyde
To melt the golden metall, ready to be tryde.

One with great bellowes gathered filling ayre.
And with forst wind the fewell did inflame;
Another did the dying bronds repavTe
With yron tongs, and sprinckled ofte the same
With liquid waves, fiers Vulcans rage to tame,
Who, maystring them, renewd his former heat :
Some scumd the drosse that from the metall came j
Some stird the molten owre with ladles great :
And every one did swincke, and every one did sweat.

But, when an earthly wight they present saw
Glistring in armes and battailous aray.
From their whot work they did themselves withdraw
To wonder at the sight ; for, till that day.
They never creature saw that cam that way :
Their staring eyes sparckling with fervent fyre
And ugly shapes did nigh the man dismay.
That, were it not for shame, he would retvre ;
Till that him thus bespake their soveraine lord and
svre :

" Behold, thou Faeries sonne, with mortall e}-e.
That living eye before did never see !
The thing, that thou didst crave so earnestly,
To weet whence all the wealth late shewd by mee
Proceeded, lo ! now is reveald to thee,
'lere is the fountaine of the woi-ldtes good !
Now tlierefore, if thou wilt enriched bee,
Avise thee well, and chaunge thy wilful mood ;
Least thou perhaps hereafter \\izh, and be with-
stood."

" SuflSse it then, thou monev-god," quoth hee,

" Tliat all thine vdle offers I refuse.

All tliat I need I have ; what needeth mee

To covet more then I have cause to use ?

With such vaine shewes thv worldlinges vvle abuse ?

But give me leave to follow mine emprise."

]Mammon was much displeasd, j'et no'te he chuse

But beare the rigour of his bold mesprise :

And thence him forward ledd, him further to entise.

He brought him, through a darksom narrow stravt.

To a broad gate all built of beaten gold :

The gate was open ; but therein did w;iyt

A sturdie villein, stryding stifte and bold.

As if the Highest God defy he would :

In his right hand an yron club he held,

But he himselfe was all of golden mould,

Yet had both life and sence, and well could weld

That cursed weapon, when his cruejl foes he cjueld.

Disdayne he called was, and did disdayne
To be so cald, and who so did him call :
Sterne was his looke, and full of stomacke vayne ;
His portaunce terrible, and stature tall.
Far passing tli' hight of men terrestriall ;
Like an huge gyant of the Titans race ;
That made him scorne all creatures great and small.
And with his pride all others powre deface :
More fitt emonst black fiendes then men to have his
place.

Soone as those glitterand armes he did espye,

That with their brightnesse made that darknes light.

His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye,

And threaten batteill to the J'aery knight ;

Who likewise gan himselfe to batteill dight.

Till JMammon did his hasty hand withhold,

And counseld him abstaine from perilous fight ;

For nothing might abash the villein bold,

Ne mortall Steele emperce his miscreated mould.

So having him with reason pacifyde.
And that fiers carle commaunding to forbeare,
Ilebrought him in. The rowme was large and wyde,
As it some gyeld or solemne temple weare ;
Many great golden pillours did upbeare
"llie massy roofe, and riches huge sustayne ;
And every pillour decked was full deare
With crownes, and diademes, and titles vaine,
Which mortall princes wore whiles they on earth did
rayne.

XLIV.

A route of people there assembled were,

Of every sort and nation under skye,

^^ hich with great uprore preaced to draw nere

To th' upper part, where was advaunced hye

A stately siege of soveraine maiestye ;

And thereon satt a woman gorgeous gay.

And richly cladd in robes of royaltye,

That never earthly prince in such aray

Hi:3 glory did enhaunce, and pompous pryde display

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

Her face right wondrous fuire did seeme to bee,
That her broad beauties beam great brightnes threw
1 hrough the dim shade, that all men might it see ;
Yet was not that same her owne native hew.
But wrought by art and counterfeited shew.
Thereby more lovers unto lier to call ;
Nath'lesse most hevenly faire in deed and vew
She by creation was, till she did fall ;
Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloke her crime
withall.

There, as in glistring glory she did sitt,
She held a great gold chaine ylincked well,
Whose upper end to highest neven was knitt,
And lower part did reach to lowest hell ;
And all tiiat preace did rownd about her swell
To catclien hold of that long chaine, thereby
To clinibe aloft, and others to excell :
That was Ambition, rash desire to sty,
And every linck thereof a step of dignity.

Some thought to raise themselves to high degree

By riches and unrighteous reward ;

Some by close shouldring ; some by flatteree ;

Others tlirough friendes ; others for base regard ;

And all, by wrong waies, for tliemselves prepard:

Those, that were up themselves, kept otliers low ;

Those, that were low themselves, held others hard,

Ne suffred them to ryse or greater grow ;

But every one did strive his fellow downs to throw.

Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan inquire.
What meant that {)reace about that ladies throne.
And what she was that did so high aspyre?
Him Mammon answered ; " That goodly one,
Whom all that folke with such contention
Doe flock about, my deare, my daughter is :
Honour and dignitie from her alone
Derived are, and all this worldtis blis.
For which ye men doe strive ; few gett, but many
mis:

" And fayre Philotime she rightly hight.

The fairest wight that wonneth under skie.

But that this darksom neather world her light

Doth dim with horror and deformity,

Worthie of heven and hye felicitie.

From whence the gods have her for envy thrust :

But, sith thou hast found favour in mine eye,

Thy spouse 1 will her make, if that thou lust ;

That she may thee advance for works and merits iust.'

" Gramercy, Mammon," said the gentle knight,
" For so great grace and offred hiirh estate ;
But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly wight,
Unworthy match for such immortall mate
Myselfe well wote, and mine unequall fate:
And were I not, yet is my trouth ypliglit,
And love avowd to other lady late.
That to remove the same 1 have no might :
To chaunge love causelesse is reproch to warlike
knight."

Mammon emmoved was with inward wrath ;
Yet, forcing it to fayne, him forth thence ledd,
Through griesly shadowes by a beaten path.
Into a gardin goodly garnished [redd :

With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be
Not such as earth out of her fruitfull woomb,
Throwes forth to men, sweet and well savored,
But direfuU deadly black, both leafe and bloom,
Fitt to adorne the dead and deck the drery toombe.

There mou/nfull cypresse grew in greatest store ;

And trees of bitter gall ; and heben sad

Dead sleeping poppv ; and black hellebore ;

Cold coloquintida ; and tetra mad ;

Mortall samnitis ; and cicuta bad.

With which th' uniust Atheniens made to dy

Wise Socrates, who, thereof quaffing glad,

Pourd out his life and last philosophy

To the fayre Critias, his dearest belamy !

The gardin of Proserpina this hight :

And in the midst thereof a silver seat,

Witli a thick arber goodly over dight,

In which she often usd from open heat

Herselfe to shroud, and pleasures to entreat ;

Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree,

With braunches broad dispredd and body great.

Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote see,

And loaden all with fruit as thick as it miofht bee.

Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright,
That goodly was their glory to beliold ;
On earth like never grew, ne living wight
Like ever saw, but they from hence were sold ;
For tliose, which Hercules with conquest bold
Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began.
And planted there did bri)ig fortli fruit of gold ,
And those, with which th' Euba^an young man wan
Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran.

Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit.

With which Acontius got his lover trew.

Whom he had long time sought with fruitlesse suit:

Here eke that famous golden apple grew.

The which emongst the gods false Ate threw ;

For which tli' Itf.van ladies disagreed.

Till partial! Paris dempt it Venus dew.

And had of her fayre Helen for his meed.

That many noble Greekes and Troians made to bleed.

The warlike Fife much wondred at this tree.
So fayro and great, that shadowed all the ground ;
And his broad braunches laden with rich fee.
Did stretch themselves without the utmost bound
Of this great gardin, compast with a mound :
Which over-hanging, they themselves did steepe
In a i)l;icke flood, which flow'd about it round ;
That is the river of Cocytus deepe.
In which full many soules do endlesse wavle and
weepe.

TO VII.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

'Wliich to behold he clomb up to the bancke ;
And, lookiiig downe, saw many damn^ wightes
In those sad waves, which direful! deadly stancke,
Plonged continually of cruell sprightes,
That with their piteous cryes, and yelling shrightes,
They made the further shore resounden wide :
Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sightes,
One cursed creature he by chaunce espide,
'J'hat, drenched lay full deepe under the garden side.

Deepe was he drenched to the upmost chin,
Yet gaped still as covetirtg to drinke
Of the cold liquor which he waded in ;
And, stretching forth his hand, did often thinke
To reach the fruit which grew upon the brincke ;
But both the fruit from hand, and flood from mouth,
Did fly abacke, and made him vainely swincke ;
The whiles he sterv'd with hunger and with drouth
He daily dyde, yet never throughly dyen couth.

The knight, him seeing labour so in vaine,

Askt who lie was, and what he meant thereby 1

Who, groning deepe, thus answerd him againe ;

" Most cursed of all creatures under skye,

Lo Tantalus, I here tormented lye !

Of whom high love wont whylome feasted bee ;

Lo, here I now for want of food doe dye !

But, if that thou be such as 1 thee see,

Of grace I pray thee give to eat and drinke to mee !"

" Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus," quoth he,

'" Abide the fortune of thy present fate ;

And, unto all that live in high degree,

Ensamjde be of mind intemperate.

To teach them how to use their present state."

Then ean the cursed Mretch alowd to cry,

Accusmg highest love and gods ingrate ;

And eke blaspheming heaven bitterly.

As author of uniustice, there to let him dye.

He lookt a litle further, and espyde

Another wretch, whose carcas deepe was drent

Within the river which the same did hvde ;

But both his handes most filthy feculent,

Above the water were on high extent.

And faynd to wash themselves incessantly,

Vet nothmg cleaner were for such intent,

But rather fonler seemed to the eye ;

So lost his labour vaiue and ydle industry.

The knight, him calling, asked who he was 1

Who, lifting up his head, him answerd thus ;

" I Pilate am, the falsest iudge, alas !

And most uniust ; that, by unrighteous

And wicked doome, to lewes despiteous

Delivered up the Lord of Life to dye.

And did acquite a murdrer felonous ;

The whiles my handes I washt in purity,

The whiles my soule was soyld with fowle iniquity.

Infinite moe tormented in like paine

He there beheld, too long here to be told :

Ne Mammon would there let him long remayne,

For terrour of the tortures manifold,

In which the damned soules he did behold,

But roughly him bespake : " Thou fearet'uU foole,

A\'hy takest not of that same fruite of gold ?

Ne sittest downe on that same silver stoole.

To rest thy weary person iix the shadow coole?"

All which he did to do him deadly fall

In frayle intemperaunce through siufuU hayt ;

To which if he inclyned had at all,

That dreadfull feend, which did behinde him wavt.

Would him have rent in thousand peeces strayt :

But he was wary wise in all his way.

And wel perceived his deceitfuU sleight,

Ne suflfred lust his safety to betray :

So goodly did beguile the guyler of his pray.

And now he has so long remained theare,
That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan
For want of food and sleepe, which two upbeare,
Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of man.
That none witliout the same enduren can :
For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,
Since he this hardy enterprize began :
Forthy great jNIammon fayrely he besought
Into the world lo guyde him backe, as he him
brought.

The god, though loth, yet was constraynd t' obay ,

For lenger time, then that, no living wight

Below the earth might suffred be to stay .

So backe againe him brought to living light.

But all so soone as his enfeebled spright

Gan sucke this vitall ayre into his brest.

As overcome with too exceeding might.

The life did flit away out of her nest.

And all his sences were with deadly fit opprest.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Booa U.

CANTO VIIT.

Sir Guyon, l;ivd in swowne, is by
Aerates sounes despoyld ;

Wliom Artliure soone hath reskewed,
And Paynim brethren foyld.

AvD is there care in heaven? And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace,

That may compassion of their evils move?

There is : — else much more wretched were the cace

Of men then beasts : but O ! tli' exceeding grace

Of Hinhest God that loves his creatures so,

And all his workes with mercv dotli embrace,

That blessed ang-els he sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe !

How oft do they their silver bowers leave
To come to succour us that succour want !
How oft do they with golden pineons cleave
The flitting skyes, like flving pursuivant,
Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant !
They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant ;
And all for love and nothing for reward :
O, whv should Hevenly God to men have such
re£,ard !

During the while that Guyon did abide

In Mammons house, the palmer, whom whyleare

That wanton mayd of passage had denide.

By further search had passage f nind elsewhere ;

And, being on his way, ajiproaclied neare

Where Guyon lay in traunce ; when suddeinly

lie heard a voyce that called lowd and cleare,

" Come hether, come hether, O ! come hastily !"

That all the fields resounded with the rueful! cry.

The palmer lent his eare unto the noyce.
To weet who called so importunely ;
Againe b.e heard a more efforced voyce.
That bad him come in haste : he by and by
His fpeble feet directed to the cry ;
Which to that shady delve him brought at last,
Where i\Iammon earst did sunne bis threasury :
There the good Guyon he found sluml)ring fast
in senceles dreame ; wliich sight at first him sore
aghast.

Beside his head there satt a faire young man,
Of wondrous beauty and of freshest yeares,
Whose tender bud to blossome new began,
-And florish faire above his equall peares :
His snowy front, curled with golden heares,
liike Phoebus tace adornd with sunny rayes,
Divinely shone ; and two aharpe winged sheares,
Decked with diverse plumes, like painted javes,
Were fixed at his backs to cut his ayery vvayes.

Like as Cupido on Id?ean hill,

When having laid his cruell bow away

And mortall arrowes wherewith he doth fill

The world with murdrous spoiles and bloody pray,

With his faire mother he him dights to play,

And with his goodly sisters, Graces three ;

The goddesse, pleased with his wanton play.

Suffers herselfe through sleepe beguild to bee,

The whiles the other ladies mind theyr mery glee.

Whom when the palmer saw, abasht he was
Through fear and wonder, that he nought could say,
Till him the childe bespoke ; " Long lackt, alas.
Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay !
Whiles deadly fitt thy puj)ill doth dismay.
Behold th! , lieavv sight, thou reverend sire !
But dread of death and dolor doe away ;
For life ere long shall to her home retire.
And he, that breathlesse seems, shal corage bold
respire.

" The charge, which God doth unto me arrett,

Of his deare safety I to thee commend ;

Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forgett

The care thereof myselfe unto the end,

But evermore him succour, and defend

Against his foe and mine : watch t'.iou, I pray ;

For evill is at hand him to offend."

So having said, eftsoones he gan display

His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away.

The palmer seeing his lefte empty place.

And his slow eies beguiled of their sight,

Woxe sore afraid, and standing still a space

Gaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight :

At last, him turning to his charge behight.

With trembling liaud his troubled pulse gan try ;

Where finding life not yet disloilgpd quight,

He much reioyst, and counl it tenderly,

As chickori newly haclit, from dreaded destiny

At last he spide where towards him did pace
Two Paynim knights al armd as bright as skie.
And tliem beside an a'^ed sire did trace.
And far before a lii,dit-foote fiage did flie
That breathed strife and troublous enmitie.
Those were the two sonnes of Aerates old,
Wlio, meeting earst with Archimago slie
Foroby that Idle Strond, of him were told
That he, whicii earst them combatted, was Guyon
bold.

Canto ^'III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Wliich to avenge on him they dearly vowd,
Whereever that on ground they mote him find :
False Archimage provokt their cor.ige prowd,
And stryful Atin in their stubhorne mind
Coles of contention and whot vengeaunce tind.
Now bene they come whereas the palmer sate,
Keeping- that slombred corse to him assind :
Well knew thev both his person, sith of late
With Lim in bloody armes they rashly did debate.

Whom when Pyrochles saw, inilam'd with ragje
That sire he fowl bespake ; " Thou dotard vile.
That with thy brutenesse shennst thy comely age,
A-bandon soone, I read, the caytive spoile
Of that same outcast carcas, that erewhile
Made itselfe famous tlirough false trechery,
And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile ;
Loe ! where he now inglorious doth lye,
To proove he lived il, that did thus fowly dye."

To whom the palmer fearelesse answered ;
" Certes, sir knight, ye bene too much to blame,
Thus for to blott the honor of the dead,
And with fowle cowardize his carcas shame
Whose living handes immortalizd his name.
Vile is the vengeaunce on the ashes cold ;
And envy base to barke at sleeping fame :
W'as never wight that treason of him told •
Yourselfe his prowesse prov'd, and found him fiers
and bold."

Then sayd Cymochles ; " Palmer, thou doest dote,
Ne canst of prowesse ne of knighthood deeme,
Save as thou seest or hearst : but well I wote.
That of his puissaunce tryall made extreme :
Yet gold all is not that doth golden seeme ;
Ne al good knights that shake well speare and shield :
The worth of all men by their end esteeme ;
And then dew praise or dew reproch them yield :
Bad therefore I him deeme that thus lies dead on
field."

" Good or bad," gan his brother fiers reply,
" What do I recke, sith that he dide entire 1
Or what doth his bad death now satisfy
The greedy hunger of revenging yre,
Sith wrathfuU hand wrought not her owne desire ?
Yet, since no way is lefte to wreake my spight,
I will him reave of armes, the victors hire,
And of that shield, more worthy of good knight ;
For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour
bright 1"

XVI.

' Fayr sir, said then the palmer suppliaunt,
' For knighthoods love doe not so fowle a deed,
Ne blame your honor with so shamefuU vaunt
Of vile revenge : to spoile the dead of weed
Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed :
But leave these rehcks of his living might
To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke steed."
" What herce or steed," said he, " should he have
But be entombed in the raven or the kight 1" [dight,

With that, rude hand upon his s-hield he laid;
And th' other brother gan his helme unlace j
Both fiercely bent to have him disaraid ;
Till that they spyde where towards them did pace
An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace,
Whose squire bore after him an heben launce
And coverd shield : well kend him so for space
Th' enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce.
When under him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce

And to those brethren sayd ; " Rise, rise bylive.

And unto batteil doe yourselves addresse ;

For yonder comes the prowest knight alive.

Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobilesse.

That hath to Paynim knights wrought gret distresse,

And thousand Sar'zins fowly doniie to dye."

That word so deepe did in their harts impresse.

That both eftsoones upstarted furiously,

And gan themselves prepare to batteill greedily.

But fiers Pyrochles, lacking his owne sword.

The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine,

And Archimage besought, him that afford

W^hich he had brought for Braggadochio vaine.

" So would I," said th' enchaunter, " glad and faine

Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend,

Or ought that els your honour might maintaine ;

But that tliis weapons powre I well have kend

To be contrary to the worke which ye intend :

" For that same knights owne sword this is, of yore

Which IVIerKn made by his almightie art

For that his noursling, when he knighthood swore,

Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart.

The metall first he mixt with medeewart,

That no enchauntment from his dint might save ;

Tlien it in flames of Aetna wrought apart,

And seven times dipped in the bitter wave

Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it gave.

" The vertue is, that nether Steele nor stone

The stroke thereof from entraunce may defend j

Ne ever may he used by his fone ;

Ne forst his rightfull owner to offend ;

Ne ever will it breake, ne ever bend ;

Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is bight.

In vaine therefore, Pyrochles, should I lend

The same to thee, agamst his lord to fight ;

For sure yt would deceive thy labor and thy might.*

" Foolish old man," said then the Pagan wroth,

" Tliat weenest words or charms may force wi'hsfond.

Soone shalt thou see, and then beleeve for troth, *

That I can carve with this inchaunted brond

His lords owne flesh." Therewith out of his bond

That vertuous Steele he rudely snatcht away ;

And Guyons shield about his wrest he bond :

So ready dight, fierce battaile to assay.

And match his brother proud in battailous aray.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IL

By this, that straunger knight in presence came,

And goodly salved them ; who nought againe

Him answered, as courtesie became ;

But with Sterne lookes, and stomachous disdaine,

Gave signes of grudge and discontentment vaine :

Then, turning to the palmer he gan spy

Where at his feet, with sorrowfull demayne

And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye,

In whose dead face he redd great magnanimity.

Said he then to the palmer ; " Reverend syre,
What great misfortune hath betidd this knight ?
Or did his life her fatall date expyre,
Or did he fall by treason, or by fight ?
However, sure I rew his pitteous plight."
" Not one, nor other," sayd the palmer grave,
" Hath him befalne ; but cloudes of deadly night
Awhile his heavy eylids cover'd have.
And all his sences drowned in deep sencelesse wave ;

" Which those his cruell foes, that stand hereby,
IMaking advantage, to revenge their spight,
Would him disanne and treaten shamefully ;
Unworthie usage of redoubted knight !
But you, faire sir, whose honourable sight
Doth promise hope of helpe and timely grace,
Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight.
And by your powre protect his feeble cace !
First prayse of knighthood is, fovvle outrage to de-
face."

" Palmer," said he, " no knight so rude, I weene,

As to doen outrage to a sleeping ghost :

Ne was there ever noble corage seene,

That in advauntage would his puissaunce host:

Honour is least, where oddes appeareth most.

Ma}' bee, that better reason will aswage

The rash revengers heat. Words, well dispost,

Have secrete powre t' appease inflamed rage :

If not, leave unto me thy knights last patronage."

Tho, turning to those brethren, thus bespoke ;
" Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might.
It seemes, iust wronges to vengeaunce doe provoke,
To wreake your wrath on this dead-seeming knight.
Mote ought allay the storme of your despight,
And settle patience in so furious heat?
Not to debate the chalenge of your right.
But for his carkas pardon I entreat.
Whom fortune hath already laid in lowest seat.''

To whom C)-mochles said ; " For what art thou,
That mak'st thyselfe his dayes-man, to prolong
Tiie vengeaunce prest? Or who shall let me now
On this vile body from to wreak my wrong.
And make his carkas as the outcast (long?
Why should not that dead carrion satisfye
The guilt, which, if he lived had thus long.
His life for dew revenge should deare abye ?
Die trespass still doth live, albee the person dye."

" Indeed," then said the prince, " the evill donne
Dyes not, when breath the body first doth leave ;
But from the grandsyre to the nephevtes sonne
And all his seede the curse doth often cleave,
Till vengeaunce utterly the guilt bereave :
So streightly God doth iudge. But gentle knight.
That doth a^^ainst the dead his hand upreare.
His honour staines with rancour and despight.
And great disparagment makes to his former might.

Pyrochles gan reply the second tyme,
And to him said ; "Now, felon, sure I read,
How that thou art partaker of his cryme :
Therefore by Temiagaunt thou shalt be dead."
With that, his hand, more sad than lomp of lead,
Uplifting high, he weened with Morddure,
His owne good sword jMorddure, to cleave his head.
The faithfull Steele such treason no'uld endure.
But, swarving from the marke, his lordes life did
assure.

Yet was the force so furious and so fell.
That horse and man it made to reele asyde :
Nath'lesse the prince would not forsake his sell
(For well of yore he learned had to ryde,)
But full of anger fiersly to him cryde ;
" False traitour, miscreaunt, thou broken hast
The law of armes, to strike foe undefide :
But thou thy treasons fruit I hope shall taste
Right sowre, and feele the law, the which thou hasi
defast."

With that his balefull spearo he fiercely bent

Against the Pagans brest, and therewith thought

His cursed life out of her lodg have rent :

But, ere the point arrived where it ought.

That seven-fold shield, which liefromGuyon brought,

He cast between to ward the bitter stownd :

Through all those foldes the steelehead passage

wrought.
And through his shoulder perst ; wherwith to ground
He groveling fell, all gored in his gushing wound.

Which when his brother saw, fraught with great griefa
And wrath, he to him leaped furiously,
And fowly saide ; " By jNlahoune, cursed thiefe.
That direfiill stroke thou dearely shalt aby."
Then, hurling up his harmefull blade on hy.
Smote him so hugely on his haiightie crest,
'J hat from his saddle forced him to fly :
Els mote it needes downe to his manly brest
Have cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dis*
possest.

Now was the prince in daungerous distresse.
Wanting his sword, when he on foot should fight
His single speare could doe him small redresse
Against two foes of so exceeding might.
The least of which was match for any knight.
And now the other, whom he earst did daunt.
Had reard himselfe againe to cruel fight
Three times more furious and more puissaunt,
Unmindfull of his wound, of liis fate ignoraunt.

Canto VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

So both attonce him charge on either syde
Witli liideous strokes and importable powre,
That forced him his ground to traverse wyde,
And wisely watch to ward that deadly stowre :
For on his sldeld, as thicke as stormie showre.
Their strokes did raine ; yet did he never quaile,
Ne backward shrinke ; but as a stedfast towre.
Whom foe with double battry doth assaile,
Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids them nought
availe.

So stoutly he withstood their strong assay ;

Till that at last, when he advantage spyde,

His poynant speare he thrust with puissant sway

At proud Cymochles, whiles his shield was wyde,

That through his thigh the mortall Steele did gryde :

He, swarving with the force, within his flesh

Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde :

Out of the wound the red blood flowed fresh,

'1 hat underneath his feet soone made a purple plesh.

Horribly then he gan to rage and rayle,
(Cursing his gods, and himselfe damning deepe :
Als wh'-n his brother saw the red blood raj'le
Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe.
For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe,
And said ; " Caytive, curse on thy cruell bond,
That twise hath spedd ; yet shall it not tliee keepe
From the third brunt of this my fatall brond :
Lo, where the dreadfull Death behynd thy backe
doth stond!"

With that he strooke, and th' other strooke withall,

That nothing seemd mote beare so monstrous might:

The one upon his covered shield did fall,

And glauncing downe would not his owner byte:

But th' other did upon his troncheon smyte ;

Which hewing quite asunder, further way

It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte,

The which dividing with imp6rtune sway.

It seizd in his right side, and there the dint did stay.

XZXIX.

Wyde was the wound, and a large lukewarme flood.

Red as the rose, thence gushed grievously ;

That when the Paynym spyde the streaming blood.

Gave him great hart and hope of victory.

On th' otlier side, in huge perplexity

1 he prince now stood, having his weapon broke ;

Nought could he hurt, but still at warde did ly :

Yet with his troncheon he so rudely stroke

Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his foot revoke.

Whom when the palmer saw in such distresse.
Sir Guyons sword lie lightly to him raught, [blesse,
And said ; " Fayre soniie, great God thy right hand
To use that sword so well as he it ought !""
Glad was the knight, and with fresh courage fraufht,
When as againe he aimed felt his bond :
Then like a lyon, which had lonu time saught
His robbed whelpes, and at the last them fond
Emongst the shepheard swaynes, then wexetli wood
and yond :

So fierce he laid about him, and dealt blowes
On either side, that neither mayle could hold,
Ne shield defend the thunder of his throwes :
Now to Pyrochles many strokes he told ;
Eft to Cymochles twise so many fold ;
Then, backe againe turning his busie bond.
Them both attonce compeld with courage bold
To yield wide way to his liart-thrilling brond ;
And though they both stood stiffe, yet could net
both withstond.

As salvage bull, whom two fierce mastives bayt.

When rancour doth with rage him once engorge,

Forgets with wary warde them to awayt,

But with his dreadfull homes them drives afore.

Or flings aloft, or treades downe in the flore,

Breathing out wrath, and bellowing disdaine,

That all the forest quakes to hear him rore :

So rag'd Prince Arthur tvvixt his foemen twaine,

That neither could his raightie puissaunce sustaine.

Rut ever at Pyrochles when he smitt,
(Who Guyons shield cast ever him before.
Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was writt,)
His hand relented and the stroke forbore,
And his deare hart the picture gan adore ;
Which oft the Paynim sav'd from deadly stowre :
But him henceforth the same can save no more ;
For now arrived is his fatall howre,
That no'te avoyded be by earthly skill or powre.

For when Cymochles saw the fowle reproch,
Which them appeached ; prickt with guiltie shame
And inward griefe, he fiercely gan approch,
Resolv'd to put away that loathly blame,
•Or dye with honour and desert of fame ;
And on the haubergh stroke the prince so sore,
That quite disparted all the linked frame.
And pierced to the skin, but bit no more ;
Yet made him twise to reele, that never moov'd
afore.

Whereat renfierst with wrath and sharp regret.

He stroke so hugely with his borrowd blade.

That it empierst the Pagans burganet ;

And, cleaving the hard Steele, did deepe invade

Into his head, and cruell passage made [ground

Quite through his brayne : he, tombling downe on

Breath'd out his ghost, which, to th' infernall shade

Fast flying, there eternall torment found

For all the sinnes wherewith his lewd life did abound

Which when his german saw, the stony feare
Ran to his aiT. , . i, his sence dismayd ;
Ne thenceforth life ne corage did appeare :
But, as a man whom hellish feendes have i'myd,
Long trembling still he stoode ; at last thus sayd ;
" Traytour, what hast thou dovn '. How ever mav
Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayd
Against that knight ! Harrow and well away !
After so wicked deede why liv'st thou lenger day !"

11 s;

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

With that all desperate, as loathing light.
And with revenge desyring' soone to dye.
Assembling all his force and utmost might,
With his owne swerd he fierce at him did flye.
And stroote, and fojTid, and lasht outrageously,
W itLouten reason or regard. Well knew
The prince, with pacience and suiFeraunce sly,
So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew :
'I'ho, when this breathlesse woxe, tliat batteil gan
renew.

As when a windy tempest bloweth hye,
That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre.
The clowdes, as thinges affrayd, before him flye ;
But, all so soone as his outrageous powre
Is layd, they fiercely then begin to showre :
And, as in scome of his spent stormy spight.
Now all attonce their malice forth do poure :
So did Prince Arthur beare himselfe in fight,
And suflfred rash Pyrochles waste his ydle might.

At last whenas the Sarazin perceiv'd
How that straunge sword refusd to serve his neede,
But, when he stroke most strong, the dint deceiv'd ;
He flong it from him ; and, devoyd of dreed,
Upon him lightly leaping without heed
Twixt his two mighty armes engrasped fast,
Thinking to overthrowe and downe him tred :
But him in strength and skill the prince surpast.
And through his nimble sleight did under him down
cast.

Nought booted it the PajTiim then to strive ;

For as a bittur in the eagles clawe.

That may not hope by flight to scape alive.

Still waytes for death with dread and trembling aw ;

So he, now subject to the victours law.

Did not once move, nor upward cast his eye.

For vile disdaine and rancour, which did gnaw

His hart in twaine with sad melancholy ;

As oca that loathed life, and yet despysed to dye.

But, full of princely bounty and great mmd,

The conqueror nought cared him to slay ;

But, casting wronges and all revenge behind.

More glory thought to give life then decay.

And sayd ; " Paynim, this is thy dismall day ;

Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscrcaunce,

And my true liegeman yield thyselfe for ay,

Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce.

And all thy wronges will wipe out of my sovenaunce."

" Foole," said the pagan, " I thy gift defye ;

But use thy fortune, as it doth befall ;

And say, that I not overcome doe dye.

But in despight of life for death doe call."

Wroth was the prince, and sory yet withall,

That he so wilfully refused grace ;

Yet, sith his fate so cruelly did fall.

His shining helmet he gan soone unlace.

And lefte his headlesse body bleeding all the place.

By this. Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt.

Life having maystered her senceless foe ;

And looking up, whenas his shield he lakt

And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous woe :

But when the palmer, whom he long ygoe

Had lost, he by him spyde, right glad he grew.

And saide ; " Deare sir, whom wandring to and fro

I long have lackt, I ioy thy face to vew !

Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never fro me drew

" But read what wicked hand hath robbed mee

Of my good sword and shield?" The palmer, glad

With so fresh hew uprysing him to see.

Him answered : " Fayre sonne, be no whit sad

For want of weapons ; they sliall soone be had."

So gan he to discourse the whole debate,

Which that straunge knight for him sustained had,

And those two Sarazins confounded late.

Whose carcases on ground were horribly prostrate.

Which when he heard, and saw the tokens trew.
His hart with great affection was embay d,
And to the prince, with bovring reverence dew.
As to the patrone of his life, thus sayd ;
" My lord, my liege, by whose most gratious ayd
I live this day, and see ray foes subdewd.
What may suflice to be for meede repayd
Of so great graces as ye have me shewd.
But to be ever bound" —

To whom the infant thus ; "Fayre sir, what need
Good tumes be counted, as a servile bond.
To bind their dooers to receive their meed ?
Are not all knightes by oath bound to withstonrl
Oppressours powre by armes and puissant bond?
Suffise, that 1 have done my dew in place."
So goodly purpose they together fond
Of kindnesso and of courteous aggrace ;
The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled apace.

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

101

CANTO IX.

The House of Temperaunce, in wbich

Doth sober Alma dwell,
Besiegd of many foes, whom straunge-

er knightes to flight compell.

Of all Gods workes, which doe this worlde adome,

There is no one more faire and excellent

Then is mans body, both for powre and forme,

Whiles it is kept in sober government ;

But none then it more fowie and indecent,

Distempred through misrule and passions bace ;

It grows a monster, and incontinent

Doth lose his dignity and native grace :

Behold, who list, both one and other in this place.

After the Paynim brethren conquer'd were,
The Briton prince recov'ring his stolne sword.
And Guyon his lost shield, they both yfere
Forth passed on their way in fayre accord,
Till him the prince with gentle court did bord ;
' Sir knight, mote I of you this court'sy read.
To weet why on j'our shield, so goodly scord,
Beare ye the picture of tliat ladies head ?
FuU lively is the semblaun*, though the substance
dead."

" Fayre sir," sayd he, " if in that picture dead

Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine shew ;

What mote ye weene, if the trew lively-head

Of that most glorious visage he did vew !

But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew,

That is, her bount)', and imperiall powre.

Thousand times fairer then her mortall hew,

O ! how great wonder would your thoughts devoure.

And infinite desire into your spirite poure !

" She is the mighty Queene of Faery,
Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe beare ;
Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity.
Throughout the world renowmed far and neare.
My life, my liege, my soveraine, my deare.
Whose glory shineth as the morning starre.
And with her light the earth enlumines cleare ;
Far reach her mercies, and her praises farre,
As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in warre."

Said Guyon, " Noble lord, what meed so great,

Or grace of earthly prince so soveraine,

But by your wondrous worth and warlike feat

Ye well may hope, and easely attaine ?

But were your will her sold to entertaine,

And numbred be mongst Knights of Maydenhed,

Great guerdon, well I wote, sliould you remaine,

And in her favor high bee reckoned,

As Arthegall and Sophy now beene honored."

" Certes," then said the prince, " I God avow,
That sith I armes and knighthood first did plight,
My whole desire hath beene, and yet is now,
To serve that queene with al my powre and might.
Now hath the sunne with his lamp-burning light
Walkt rnund about the world, and I no lesse,
Sith of that goddesse I have sought the sight.
Yet no where can her find : such liappinesse
Heven dotli to me envy and fortune lavourlesse."

" Fortune, the foe of famous chevisaunce.
Seldom," said Guyon, "yields to vertue aide.
But in her way throwes mischiefe and mischaunce.
Whereby her course is stopt and passage staid.
But you, faire sir, be not herewith dismaid,
But constant keepe the way in which ye stand ;
Which were it not that I am els delaid
Wiih hard adventure, v\hich I hiive in hand,
I labour would to guide you through al Fary land."

" Gramercy sir," said he ; " but mote I weete
What straunge adventure doe ye now pursew ?
Perhaps my succour or advizement meete
Mote stead you much your purpose to subdew. '
Then gan Sir Guyon all the story shew
Of false Acrasia, and her wicked wiles ;
Which to avenge, the palmer him forth drew
From Faery court. So talked they, the whiles
They wasted had much way, and measurd many
nules.

* Thrise happy man," said then the Briton knight,
" Whom gracious lott and thy great valiaunce
Have made thee soldier of that princesse bright.
Which with her bounty and glad countenaunce
Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high advaunce!
How may straunge knight hope evfr to aspire,
Bj' faithful! service and meete amenaunce
Unto such blissel sufficient were that hire
For losse of thousand lives, to die at her desire."

And now faire Phoebus gan decline in haste

His weary wa,L;on to the westerne va'e.

Whenas they spide a goodly castle, jiiaste

Foreby a river in a pleasaunt dale ;

Which choosing for that evenings hospitale.

They thether marcht : but when they came in sight.

And from their sweat)^ coursers did avale.

They found the gates fast barred long ere night.

And every loup fast lockt, as fearing foes despight.

102

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

Wliich when they saw, they weened fowle reproch
Was to them doen, their entraunce to tbrstall ;
Till that the squire gan nigher to approch,
And wind his home under the castle wall,
That with the noise it shooke as it would fall.
Eftsoones forth looked from the higiiest spire
The watch, and lowd unto the knights did call,
To weete what they so rudely did require:
Who gently answered, they entraunce did desire.

" Fly, fly, good knights," said he, " fly fast away,
If that your lives ye love, as meete ye should ;
Fly fast, and save joursehes from neare decay ;
Here mav ye not have entraunce, though we would :
We would and would againe, if that we could ;
But thousand enemies about us rave.
And with long siege us in this castle hould :
Seven veares this wize they us besieged have.
And many good knights slaine that have us sought
to save."

Thus as he spoke. Ice ! with outragious cry
A thousand villeins rownd about them swarmd
Out of the rockes and caves adioyning nye ;
Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, deformd.
All threatning death, all in straunge manner armd ;
Some with unweldy clubs, some with long sjieares,
Some rusty knives, some staves in fier warmd :
Sterne was their louke ; like wild amazed steares,
Staring with hollow eies, and stiff upstanding heares.

Fierslv at first those knights they did assayle,

And drove them to recoile : but, when againe

Tliey gave fresh charge, their forces gan to fayle,

Unhable their encounter to sustaine ;

For with such puissauiice and impetuous maine

Those champions broke on them, that forst them fly,

Like scattered sheejie, whenas the shepherds swaine

A lion and a tigre doth espye

With greedy pace forth rushing from the forest nye.

A while they fled, but soon retournd againe
With greater furv then before was found ;
And evermore their cruell capitaine
Sought with his raskall routs t'enclose them rownd.
And ovcrronne to tread them to the grownd :
But soone the knights with their bright-burning blades
Broke their rude troujies, and orders did confownd.
Hewing and slashing at their idle shades ;
I'or thoug'h tliey bodies seem, yet substaunce from
them fades.

As when a swarme of gnats at eventide
Out of the fennes of AUati doe arise.
Their murmuring small trompctts sownden wide.
Whiles in the aire their clusiring army flies,
That as a cloud doth seeme to dim the skies ;
Ne man nor beast may rest or take repast ■
For their sharpe wounds and novous iniuries,
Till the fierce northerne wina with blustring blast
Doth blow them quite away, and in the ocean cast.

Thus when they had that troublous rout disperst^

Unto the castle gate they come againe.

And entraunce crav'd, wliich was denied erst.

Now when report of that their perlous paine,

And combrous conflict which they did sustaine,

Came to the ladies eare which there did dwell,

Shee forth issewed with a goodly traine

Of squires and ladies equipaged well,

And entertained them right fairely, as befell.

Alma she called was ; a virgin bright.

That had not yet felt Cupides wanton rage ;

Yet was shee woo'd of many a gentle knight.

And many a lord of noble parentage.

That sought with her to lincke in marriage :

For shee was faire, as faire mote ever bee.

And in the flowre now of her freshest age ;

Yet full of grace and goodly modestee.

That even heven reioyced her sweele face to see.

In robe of lilly white she was arayd,

That from her shoulder to her heele downe raught;

The traine whereof loose far behind her stravd,

Braunched witli gold and perle most richly wrought

And borne of two faire damsels which were taught

That service well : her yellow golden heare

Was trimly woven, and in tresses wrought,

Ne other tire she on her head did weare,

But crowned with a garland of sweete rosiere.

Goodly shee entertaind those noble knights.
And brought them up into her castle hall ;
U'here gentle court and gracious delight
Shee to them made, with mildnesse virginall,
Shewing herselfe both wise and liberall.
There when they rested had a season dew,
They her besought of fiivour speciall
Of that faire castle to affoord them vew :
Shee graunted ; and, them leading forth, the same
did shew.

First she them led up to the castle wall,

That was so high as foo might not it clime

And all so faire and fcnsible withall ;

Not built of bricke, ne yet of stone and lime.

But of thing like to that .Egyptian slime,

Whereof king Nine whilome built Babeil towre :

But O great pittv, that no Icngi r time

So goodlv workmanshiji should not endure !

Soone it must turne to earth : no earthly thing is sura.

The frame thereof seemd partly circulare.
And part triangulare : O worke divine !
Those two tiie first and last pro])ortions are ;
Tlie one imperfect, mortall, frrmiiiine ;
Th' other immorfall, perfect, masculine ;
And twixt them both a (|uaurate was the base,
Proportioiid equally by seven and nine ;
Nine was the circle seit in lieavens jilace :
All which compacted, made a goodly diapase.

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

103

Therein two gates were placed seemly well :

The one before, by which all in did pas,

Did th' other far in workmanship excell ;

For not of wood, nor of enduring bras,

But of more worthy substance fram'd it was :

Doubly disparted, it did locke and close,

That, when it locked, none might thorough pas.

And, when it opened, no man might it close ;

Still opened to their friendes,aQd closed to their foes.

Of hewen stone the porch was fayrely wrought,
Stone more of valew, and more smooth and fine,
Then iett or marble far from Ireland brought ;
Over the which was cast a wandring vine,
Encbaced with a wanton yvie twine :
And over it a fayre portcullis hong,
Which to the gate directly did incline
With comely compasse and comjiacture strong.
Nether unseemly skort, nor yet exceeding long.

Within the barbican a porter sate.

Day and night duely keeping watch and ward ;

Nor wight nor word mote passe out of the gate,

But in good order, and with dew regard ;

Utterers of secrets he from thence debai d,

Bablers of folly, and blazers of cryme :

His larum-bell might lowd and wyde be hard

When cause requyrd, but never out of time;

Early and late it rong, at evening and at prime.

And rownd about the porch on every syde

Twise sixteene warders satt, all armed briglit

In glistring Steele, and strongly fortifyde :

Tall yeomen seemed they and of great might,

And were enraunged ready still for fight.

By them as Alma passed with her guestes.

They did obevsaunce, as beseemed right.

And then againe retourned to their restes :

The porter eke to her did lout with humble gestes.

Thence she them brought into a stately hall,
Wherein were many tables fayre dispred,
And. ready dight with drapets festivall,
Against the viaundes should be ministred.
At th' upper end there sate, yclad in red
Downe to the ground, a comely personage.
That in his hand a white rod menaged ;
He steward was, hight Diet; rype of age,
And in demeanure sober, and in counsel! sage.

And through the hall there walked to and fro

A iolly yeoman, marshall of the same.

Whose name was Appetite ; he did bestow

Both guestes and meate, whenever in they came,

And knew them how to order without blame.

As him the steward badd. They both attone

Did dewty to their lady, as became ;

Who, passint; by, forth ledd lier guestes anone

Intc the kitchin rowme, ne spard for nicenesse none.

It was a vaut ybuilt for great dispence,
With many raunges reard along the wail,
j And one great chimney, whose long tonnell thence
The smoke forth threw : and in tlie midst of all
There placed was a caudron wide and tall
Upon a mightie fornace, burning whott,
]\Iore whott then Aetn', or flaming INIongiball :
For day and night it brent, ne ceased not.
So long as any thing it in the caudron gott.

But to delay the heat, least by mischaunce
It might breake out and set the whole on fyre,
There added was by goodly ordinaunce
An huge great payre of bellowes, which did styre
Continually, and cooling breath inspyre.
About the caudron many cookes accoyld
With hookes and ladles, as need did requyre ;
The whyles the viaundes in the vessell boyld.
They did about their businesse sweat, and sorely
toyld.

XXXI.

The maister cooke was cald Concoction ;
A carefuU man, and full of comely guyse;
The kitchin clerke, that hight Digestion,
Did order all th' achates in seemely wise.
And set them forth, as well he could devise.
The rest had severall offices assynd ;
Some to remove tlie scum as it did rise ;
Others to beare the same away did niynd;
And others it to use according to his kynd.

But all the liquour, which was fowle and waste.
Not good nor serviceable elles for ought.
They in another great rownd vessell plaste.
Till by a conduit pipe it thence were brought ;
And all the rest, that noyous was and nought,
By secret waves, that none might it espy.
Was close convaid, and to the backgate brought.
That cleped was Port Esquiline, whereby
It was avoided quite, and throw ne out privily.

Which goodly order and great workmans skill
Whenas those knights beheld, with rare delight
And gazing wonder they their mindes did fill;
For never had they seene so strauuge a sight.
Thence backe againe faire Alma led them right.
And soone into a goodly parlour brought,
That was with royall aiTas richly dight,
In which was nothing pourtrahed nor wrought ;
Not wrought nor podrtrahed, but easie to be thought '

And in the midst thereof upon the floure
A lovely bevy of faire ladies sute.
Courted of many a iolly paramoure.
The which them did in modest wise araate.
And each one sought his lady to aggrate :
And eke emongst them little Cupid playd
His wanton sportes, being retourned lute
From his fierce warres, and having from him layd
His cruell bow, wherewith be thousands hath dis*
mayd.

104

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IL

Diverse delights they fownd themselves to please ;

Some song in sweet consort ; some laught for ioy ;

Some plaid with strawes ; some ydly satt at ease ;

But other some could not abide to toy,

All pleasaunce was to them griefe and annoy :

Thisfround; that faund ; the third for shame did blush ;

Another seemd envious, or coy ;

Another in her teeth did gnaw a rush :

But at these straungers presence every one did hush.

xxxvr.

Soone as the gracious Alma came in place,
Thev all attonce out of their seates arose,
And to her homage made witli humble grace:
Whom when the kniglits beheld, they gan dispose
Themselves to couit, and each a damzell chose :
The prince by cliaunce did on a lady light,
That was right faire and fresh as morning rose.
But somwhat sad and solemne eke in sight.
As if some pensive thought constraind her gentle
sprig ht.

XXXVII.

In a long purple pall, whose skirt with gold

Was fretted all about, she was arayd ;

And in her hand a poplar braunch did hold :

To whom tlie prince in courteous maner sayd;

" Gentle Madame, wliy beene ye tlius disraayd,

And your fiiire beautie doe with sadnes spill?

Lives any that you hath this ill apayd !

Or doen you love, or doen you lack your will?

Whatever bee the cause, it sure beseemes you ill."

" Fayre sir," said she, halfe in disdaineful wise,
" How is it that this word in me ye blame.
And in yourselfe doe not the same advise?
Him ill beseemes anothers fault to name.
That may unwares be blotted with the same :
Pensive I yeeld I am, and sad in mind.
Through great desire of glory and of fame ;
Ne ought I weene are ye therein behynd,
That have twelve months sought one, yet no where
can her find."

The prince was inly moved at her speach,

Well weeting trew what she had rasldy told ;

Yet with faire semblaunt sought to hyde the breach,

Which chaunge of colour did perforce unfold,

Now seeming flaming wliott, now stony cold :

Tho, turning soft aside, he did inquyre

Wliat wight she was that poplar brauncli did hold :

It answered was, her name was Prays-desire,

That by well doing sought to honour to aspyre.

The whiles the Faery knight did entertaine

Another damsoll of tliat gentle crew.

That was right favre ana modest of demuyne.

But that too oft she chaung'd lier native 1)pw:

Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew.

Close rownd about her tuckt with many a plight :

Upon her fist the bird which shonneth vew

And keeps in coverts close from living wight,

Did sitt, as yet ashnrnd how rude Pan did her dight.

So long as Guvon with her communed.

Unto the grownd she cast her modest eye.

And ever and anone with rosy red

The bashfuU blood her snowy cheekes did dye,

l^hat her became as polisht yvory

Which cunning craftesman hand hath overlayd

With fayre vermilion or pure castory.

Gneat wonder had tlie knight to see the mayd

So straungely passioned, and to her gently said ,

" Fayre damzell, seemeth by your troubled cheare,

That eitlier me too bold ye weene, this wise

You to molest, or other ill to feare

That in the secret of your hart close lyes,

From whence it dotli, as cloud from sea, aryse :

If it be I, of pardon I you pray ;

But, if ought else that I mote not devyse,

I will, if please you it discure, assay

To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may."

She answerd nought, but more abasht for shame
Held downe her head, the whiles her lovely face
The flashing blood with blushing did inflame,
And the strong passion mard lier modest grace,
Tliat Guyon mervayld at her uncouth cace j
Till Alma him bespake ; " Why wonder yee,
Faire sir, at tliat which ye so much embrace 1
She is tlie fountaine of your modestee ;
You shamefast are, but Shamefastnes itselfe is shee."

Thereat the Elfe did blush in privitee.
And turnd his face away ; but she the same
Dissembled faire, and faynd to oversee.
Thus they awhile with court and goodly game
Themselves did solace each one with his dame.
Till that great lady thence away them sought
To vew her castles other wondrous frame :
Up to a stately turret she tliem brought.
Ascending by ten steps of alabaster wrought.

That turrets frame most admirable was.
Like highest heaven compassed around,
And lifted high above this earthly masse,
\Vhich it survewd, as hils doen lower ground :
But not on ground mote like to this be found;
Not that, which anticjue Cadmus whylome built
III Thebes, which Alexander did confound ;
Nor that proud tovvre of Troy, though richly guilt.
From which young Hectors blood by cruell Greekea
was spilt.

xi.vi.

Tlie roofo hereof was arched over head.

And dt'ckt with flowres and herbars daintily ;

Two goodly beacons, set in watches stead.

Therein gave light, and flamd continually :

For they of living fire most subtilly

Were made, and set in silver sockets bright,

Cover'd with lids deviz'd of substance sly,

I'liat readily they shut and open might.

O, who can tell the prayses of that makers might '

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

105

Ne can I tell, ne can I stay to tell,

This parts great workemanship and wondrous powre,

That all this otlier workles worke doth excell.

And likest is unto that heavenly towre

That God hath built for his owne blessed bowre.

Therein were divers rowmes, and divers stages;

But three the chiefest and of greatest powre,

In which there dwelt three honorable sages.

The wisest men, I weene, that lived in their ages.

Not he, whom Greece, the nourse of all good arts.
By Phoebus doome the wisest thought alive.
Might be compar'd to these by many parts :
Nor that sage Pylian syre, which did survive
Three ages, such as morlall men contrive.
By whose advise old Priams cittie fell.
With these in praise of pollicies mote strive.
These three in these three rowmes did sondry dwell,
And counselled faire Alma how to governe well.

XLIX.

The first of (hem could things to come foresee ;

The next could of thinges present best advize ;

The third tilings past lould keep in memoree :

So that no time nor reason could arize,

But that the same could one of these compnze.

Forthy the first, did in the forepart sit.

That nought mote hinder his quicke preiudize ;

He had a sharpe foresight and working wit

That never idle was, ne once would rest a whit.

His chamber was dispainted all within
With sondry colours, in the which were writ
Infinite shapes of thinges dispersed thin ;
Some such as iii the world were never yit,
Ne can devized be of mortall wit ;
Some daily seene and knowen by their names.
Such as in idle fantasies do flit ;
lufernall hags, centaurs, feendes, hippodames.
Apes, lyons, aegles, owles, fooles, lovers, children,
dames.

And all the chamber filled was with flyes
Which buzzed all about, and made such sound
That they enconibred all mens eares and eyes ;
Like many swarmes of bees assembled round,
After their hives with h^ainy do abound.
All those were idle thoughtes and fantasies.
Devices, dreames, opinions unsound,
Shewes, visions, sooth-sayes, and jtrojihesies ;
And all that fained is, as leasings, tales, and lies.

Emongst them all sate he which wonned there.
That bight Phantastes by his nature trew ;
A man of yeares yet fresh, as mote ap; ere.
Of swarth complexion, and of crabbed hew.
That him full of melancholy did shew;
Bent hollow beetle browes, sharpe staring eyes
1 liat mad or foolish seemd : one bv his vew
iMote deenip him borne with ill-dispo.>-ed skyes,
Wheu oLliijue Saturne sate in th' house of agonyes.

Whom Alma having shewed to her guestes,

Thence brought them to the second rowme, whose

Were painted faire with memorable gestes [wals

Of famous wisards ; and with picturals

Of magistrates, of courts, of tribunals.

Of commen wealthes, of states, of ))ollicy.

Of lawes, of iudgementes, and of decretals.

All artes, all science, all philosophy.

And all that in the world was ay thought wittily.

Of those that rowme was full ; and them among
There sate a man of ripe and perfect age,
Who did them meditate all his life long,
That through contmuall practise and usage
He now was growne right wise and wondrous sage:
Great plesure had those straunger knightes to see
His goodly reason and grave personage.
That his di>ciples both desyrd to bee :
But Alma thence them led to th' hindmost rowme of
three.

Tliat chamber seemed ruinous and old.
And therefore was removed far behind.
Yet were the wals, that did the same uphold.
Right firmeandstrong.tliough somwhat they declind;
And therein sat an old old man, halfe blind.
And all decrepit in his feeble corse.
Yet lively vigour rested in his mind.
And recomj>enst them with a better scorse :
Weake body well is chang'd for minds redoubled
forse.

This man of infinite remembraunce was.
And things foregone through many ages held.
Which he recorded still as they did pas,
Ne suffred them to perish through long eld.
As all things els the which this world doth weld ;
But laid them up in his immortall serine,
Where they for ever incorrupted dweld :
The warre-s he well remembred of king Nine,
Of old Assaracus, and Inachus divine.

The yeares of Nestor nothing were to his,

Ne yet Blathusalem, though longest liv'd ;

For he remembred both their iufancis :

Ne wonder then if that he were depriv'e

Of native strength now that he them surviv'd.

His chamber all was hangd about with rolls

And old reL6rds from auncient times derivd.

Some made in books, some in long parchment scrolls,

That were all worm-eaten and full of canker holes.

Amidst them all he in a chaire was sett.

Tossing and turning them withouten end;

But for he was unhable them to fett,

A little boy did on him still attend

To reach, whenever he for ought did send ;

And oft when thinges were lost, or laid amis,

That boy them sought and unto him did lend :

Therefore he Anamnestes cleped is ;

And that old man Eumnestes, by their propertis.

106

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IL

The kiiig^lites there entring did him reverence dew,

And vvoiidred at hi.s endlesse exercise.

Tlieii as tljey gun his library to vew,

And antii|ne reg'esters for to avise,

'J'hiMe chaunced to the princes hand to rize

An auiu'ioiit booke, hig-ht Briton Moniments,

'I'liat of this lands first conquest did devize,

And old division into regiments,

lili it reduced was to one mans governeraents.

Sir Guyon chaunst eke on another booke,
That liiglit Antiquitee of Faery Land:
In which whenas he greedily did looke,
Th' ofspring of Elves and Faryes there he fond,
As it delivered was from bond to bond :
Whereat they, burning both with fervent fire
Their countreys auncestry to understond,
Crav'd leave of Alma and that aged sire
To read those bookes ; who gladly graunted theii
desire.

CANTO X.

A chronicle of Briton kings.
From Brute to Utbers rayne;

And rolls of Elfin emperours,
Till time of Gloriane.

Who now shall give unto me words and sound

Ek|u;ill unto this haughty enterprise ?

Or who shall lend me wings, with which from

My lowly verse may loftily arise, [ground

And lift itselfe unto the highest skyes ?

IMore ample spirit than hetherto was wount

Here needes me, whiles the famous auncestrj'es

Of my most dreadred soveraigne I recount,

By which all earthly princes she doth far sunnount.

Xe under sunne that shines so wide and faire,
W'htiice all tliat lives does borrow life and light,
I.!vt-s ought that to her linage may compaire ;
\\'liich though from earth it be derived right,
Yet doth itselfe stretch forth to hevens bight,
Anfl all the world with wonder overspred;
A labor huge, exceeding far my might !
Ilow shall fraile pen, with fear disparaged.
Conceive such soveraine glory and great bountyhed !

Argument worthy of ]Ma'onian quill ;

Or rather worthy of great Phoebus rote,

\\ hereon the ruines of great Ossa hill.

And triumphes of Phlcgra-an love, he wrote,

That all the gods admird his lofty note.

But, if some relish of that hevenly lay

His learned daughters would to me report

To decke my song withall, I would assay

Ihy name, soveraine Queene, to blazon far away.

Thy name, O soveraine Queene, thy realm, and race.

From this renowmed prince derived aire,

W'lio mightily upheld that royall mace

\\']ii(di now thou Ijear'st, to thee descended farre

From mighty kings and conquerours in warre,

Thy fathers and great grandfathers of old.

Whose noble deeds above the northern starre

Immortall Fame for ever hath enrold ;

As in that old mans booke they were in order told.

The land which warlike Britons now possesse,
And therein have their mighty empire raysd,
In antique times was salvage wildernesse,
Unpeopled, unmannurd, unprovd, unpraysd ;
Ne was it island then, ne was it paysd
Amid the ocean waves, ne was it sought
Of merchants farre for profits therein praysd ;
But was all desolate, and of some thought
By sea to have bene from the Celticke mayn-land
brouj^lit.

Ne did it then deserve a name to have.

Till that the venturous mariner that way

Learning his ship from those white rocks to save,

Which all along the southerne sea-coast lay

Tlireatning unheedy wrecke and rash decay,

For saftety that same his sea-marke made,

And nara'd it Albiox : but later day.

Finding in it fit ports for fishers trade,

Gan more the same frequent, and further to invade.

But far in land a salvage nation dwelt

Of hideous giaunts, and halfe-beastly men,

That never tasted grace, nor goodnes felt ;

But wild like beastes lurking in loathsome den,

And flying fast as roebucke through the fen.

All naked witiiout shame or care of cold.

By hunting and by spoiling liveden ;

Of stature huge, and eke of corage bold.

That sonnes of men amazd their sternesse to behold.

But whence they sprong, or how they were begott,

Uneath is to assure ; uneath to wene

That monstrous error which doth some assott.

That Dioclesians fifty daughters shene

Into this land by chaunce have driven bene;

Where, companirig with feends and filthy sprights

Through vaiiie illusion of their lust unelene,

'J'hey brought forth geaunts, and such dreadful wighti

As far exceeded men in their immeasurd mights.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

107

They held tliis land, and with their filthinesse
Polluted this same gentle sovle long- time ;
That their owne mother loatlid their beastlinesse,
And oau abhorre her broods unkindly crime.
All were tliey b-irne of her owne native slime :
Until that Brutus, anciently deriv'd
From roiall stocke of old Assaracs line,
Driven by fatall error here arriv'd,
And them of their unjust possession depriv'd.

But ere he had established his throne,
And spred his empire to the utmost shore,
He foun;ht great batteils with his salvage fone ;
In which he them defeated evennore,
And many giauiits left oi, rroning flore :
That well can witnes vet unto this day
The westerne Hogh, besprincled with the gore
Of mighty GotJmot, whome in stout fray
Corineus conquered, and cruelly did slay.

And eke that ample pitt, yet far renownd

For the larue leape which Uebon did eompell

Coulin to make, being eight lugs of grovvnd,

Into the which retourning backe he fed :

But those three monstrous stones doe most excell,

Which that huge sonne of hideous Albion,

Whose father Hercules in Fraunce did quell,

Great Godmer threw, in fierce contention,

At bold Canutui i but of him was slaine anon.

In meed of these great conquests by them gott,
Corineus had that province utmost west
To him assigned for his worthy lott,
Which of his name and memorable gest
He called Cornwaile, yet so called best :
And Debous shayre was, that is Devonsbyre :
But Canute had his portion from the rest.
The which he cald Canutium, for his hyre ;
Now Cantium, which Kent we comenly inquyre.

Thus Brute this realme unto his rule subdewd,

And raigned long in great felicity,

Lov'd of his freends, and of his foes eschewd :

He left three sonnes, his famous progeny,

Borne of fayie Inogene of Italy ;

Mongst whom he parted his imperiall state.

And Locrine left chiefe lord of liritany.

At last ripe age bad him surrender late

His life, and long good fortune, unto final! fate.

Locrine was left the soveraine lord of all ;

But Albanact had all the northerne part.

Which of himselfe Albania he did call ;

And Camber did possesse the westerne quart,

W'bich Severne now from Logris doth depart :

And each his portion peaceably enioyd,

Ne was there outward breath, nor grudge in hart,

That once their cjuiet government annoyd ;

But each his paynes to others profit still employd.

Untill a nation straung, with visage swart

And corage fierce that all men did aflray.

Which through the world then swarmd in every part.

And overflowd all countries I'ar away,

Like Noves great flood, with their importune sway.

This land invaded with like violence,

And did themselves through all the north display :

Untill that Locrine for his realmes defence.

Did head against them make and strong munificence

He them encountred, a confused rout,

Foreby the river that whvlome was bight

The ancient Abus, where with courage stout

He them defeated in victorious fight,

And chaste so fiercely after fearefuli flight.

That forst their chiefetain, for his safeties sake,

(Tlieir chiefetain Humber named was aright,)

Unto the mighty streame him to betake,

Where he an end of batteill and of life did make.

The king retourned proud of victorv
And insolent wox through unwonted ease.
That shortly he forgot the ieopardy,
Which in bis land he lately did appease,
And fell to vaine voluptuous disease:
He lov'd faire Ladie Estrild, leudly lov'd.
Whose wanton jileasures him too much did please,
That quite his hart from Guendolene remov'd,
From Guendolene his wife, though ahvaies faithfu
prov'd.

XVIII.

The noble daughter of Corineus

Would not endure to bee so vile disdaind.

But, gathering force and coraj;e valorous,

Encountred him in battedl well ordaind,

In which him vanquisht she to fly constraind:

But she so fast pursewd, that him she tooke

And threw in bands, where he till death remaiud;

Als his faire leman flying through a brooke

She overheut, nought moved with her piteous looke,

But both herselfe, and eke her daughter deare
Begotten by her kingly paramoure,
The faire Sabrina, almost dead with feare.
She there attached, far from all succoiire:
The one she slew in that impatient stoure;
But the sad virgin innocent of all
Adowne the rolling river she did poure.
Which of her name now Severne men do call :
Such was the end that to disloyall love did fall

Then for her sonne, which she to Locrin bore,
(^Madan was young, unmeet the rule to sway,)
In her owne hand the crowne she kept in store.
Till ryper years he raught and stronger stay:
During which time hei- powre she did display-
Through all this realme, the glory of her sex.
And first taught men a woman to obay :
But, when her sonne to mans estate did wex.
She it surrendred, ne her selfe would lenger vei.

108

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

The INIadan raigrid, unworthie of his race ;
For witli all shame that sacred throne he fild.
Next jMemprise, as unworthy of that place,
In which being consorted with iNIanild,
For thirst of single kingdom him he kild.
But Ebianck salved both tlieir infamies
With noble deedes, and warreyd on Brunchild
In Henault, where yet of his victories
Brave monimeuts remaine, which yet that land
envies.

An hajipy man in his first dayes he was,
And happy father of faire progeny :
For all so many weekes, as the yeare has,
So manv children he did multiply ;
Of which were twentie sonnes, which did apply
Their miudes to prayse and chevalrous desyre :
Those germans did subdew all Germany,
Of whom it hight ; but in the end their syre
With foule repulse from Fraunce was forced to
re tyre.

xxui.

Which blott his sonne succeeding in his seat,
The second Brute, the second both in name
And eke in semblaunce of his puissaunce great.
Right well recur'd, and did away that blame
With recompence of everlasting fame :
He with his victour sword first opened
The bowels of wide Fraunce, a forlorne dame.
And tauglit her first how to be conquered ;
Since which, with sondrie spoiles she hath been
ransacked.

Let Scaldis tell, and let tell Hania,
And let the marsh of Esthambruges tell.
What colour were their waters that same dav.
And all the moore twixt Elversham and Dell,
With blood of Henaiois wliich therein fell.
How oft th:U (lav did sad liruiichildis see
The greeiie shield dvde in dolorous vermeil ?
That not sciiitli guiridh it mote ^sel'me to bee.
But rather y acuith gogh, signe of sad crueltee.

His sonne king Leill, by fathers labour long,
Kniovd an heritage of lasting ptace,
And built (nirleill, and built Cairleon strong.
Next Ihuldibras his realme did not encrease,
But taught ti.e land from «■ aiie wars to cease.
Whose foiifste])S Uladiid following, in artes
Exceld at Athens all the learned preace, [parts.

From whence he brought them to these salvage
And with sweet science mollilide tlieir stubborne
harts.

Ensample of his wondrous faculty.
Behold the bovling baths at Cairdahan,
Which seeih with secret fire (!ternallv,
And in their entrailles. full of quick brimstim.
Nourish the flames whi( h thev are warmd ujion,
That to their peojde wealth thev forth do well,
And health to every forrevne nation :
Vet he at last, contending to excell
The reach of men, through flight into fond mischief
fell.

Next him king Leyr in happie peace long raynd,

But had no issue male him to succeed,

But three faire daughters, which were well uptraind

In all that seemed fitt for kingly seed ;

IVIongst whom his realme he equally decreed

To have divided : tho, when feeble age

Nigh to his utmost date he saw proceed.

He cald his daughters, and with speeches sage

Inquyrd, which of them most did love her parentage

The eldest Gonorill gan to protest.
That she much more than her owne life him lov'd ;
And Regan greater love to him profest
Then all the world, whenever it wereproov'd ;
But Cordeill said she loved him as belioov'd :
Whose simple answere, wanting colours fayre
To paint it forth, him to displeasaunce moov'd.
That in his crown he counted her no hayre,
But twixt the other twain his kingdom whole did
shayre.

So wedded th' one to INIaglan king of Scottes,
And th' other to the king of Cambria,
And twixt them sliayrd his realme by equall lottes ;
But, without dowre, the wise Cordelia
Was sent to Aganip of Celtica :
Their aged syre, thus eased of his crowne,
A private life ledd in Albania
With Gonorill, long had in great renowne.
That nought him griev'd to beene from rule deposed
downe.

But true it is that, when the oyle is spent

The light goes out, and weeke is throwne away ;

So, when he had resignd his regiment.

His daughter gan despise his drouping day.

And wearie wax of his continuall stay :

Tho to his daughter Reyan he repayrd.

Who him at first well used every way ;

J5ut, when of his departure she despayrd.

Her bountie she abated, and his cheare empayrd.

The wretclied man gan then avise too late,

That love is not where most it is profest ;

Too truelv tryde in his extremest state!

At last, resolv'd likewise to prove the rest,

He to Cordelia hiiiis(>lfe addrest.

Who with eiityre atl'ection him receav'd,

As for lier syre and king her seemed best ;

And after idl an army strong she leav'd.

To war on those which liim iiad of liis realme bereav'd.

So to his crowne she him restord agame ;

In which he dyde, made ripe for death by eld.

And after wild it should to her remaine :

Who per.ceably tlie same long ,ime did weld,

And all mens liarts in dew obedience held ;

Till that her sisters children, woxen strong.

Through proud timhition against her rebeld.

And overcommen kejit in ])rison long,

Till weary of that wretched life herselfe she hong.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

109

riien sran the bloody brethren both to raine :

But fierce Cundah gan shortly to envy

His brother Morgan, prickt with proud disdaine

To have a pere in part of soverainty ;

And, kindling coles of cruell enmity,

Raisd warre, and him in batteill overthrew ;

Whence as he to those woody hilles did fly,

Which hight of him Glamorgan, there him slew :

Then did he raigne alone, when he none equal knew.

His Sonne Rivall' his dead rowme did supply ;
In whose sad time blood did from heaven rayne.
Next great Gurgustus, then faire Caecily,
In constant peace their kingdomes did contayne,
After whom Lago and Kmmarke did rayne.
And Gorbogud, till far in years he grew :
Then his ambitious sonnes unto them twayne
Arraught the rule, and from their father drew ;
Stout Ferrex and sterne Porrex him in prison threw-

But O ! the greedy thirst of royall crowne.
That knowes no kinred, nor regardes no right,
Stird Porrex up to put his brother downe ;
Who, unto him assembling forreigne might,
Made warre on him, and fell himselfe in fight :
W^hose death t' avenge, his mother mercilesse.
Most mercilesse of women, Wyden hight.
Her other sonne last sleeping did oppresse.
And with most cruell hand kim murdred pittilesse.

Here ended Brutus sacred progeny,

Which had seven hundred years this sceptre borne

With high renowme and great felicity :

The noble braunch from th' antique stocke was torne

Through discord, and the roiall throne forlorne.

Thencefortli this realme was into factions rent,

W^hilest each of Brutus boasted to be borne.

That in the end was left no moniment

Of Brutus, nor of Britons glorie auncient.

Then up arose a man of matchlesse might.

And wondrous wit to menage high affayres,

Who, stird with pitty of the stressed plight

Of this sad realme, cut into sondry shayres

By such as claymd themselves Brutes rightfull hayres.

Gathered the princes of the people loose

To taken counsell of their common cares ;

W^ho, with his wisedom won, him streight did choose

llieir king, and swore him fealty to win or loose.

Then made he head against his enimies.
And Ymner slew of Logris miscreate ;
Then Ruddoc and proud Stater, both allyes.
This of Albany newly nominate.
And that of Cambry king confirmed late.
He overthrew through his owne valiaunce ,
Whose countries he redus'd to quiet state.
And shortly brought to civile governaunce.
Now one, which earst were many made through
variaunce.

Then made lie sacred lawes, which some men say

Were unto him reveald in vision ;

By which he freed tlie travellers high-way.

The churches part, and ploughmans portion.

Restraining stealth and strong extortion ;

The gratious Numa of great Britany :

For, till his dayes, the chiefe dominion

By strength was wielded witliout pollicy :

Therefore he first wore crowne of gold for dignity

Donwallo dyde, (for what may live for ay?)

And left two sonnes, of pearelesse prowesse both.

That sacked Rome too dearely did assay.

The recompence of their periured oth ;

And ransackt Greece wel tryde, when they were

Besides subiected France and Germany, [wroth ,

Which yet their praises speake, all be they loth,

And inly tremble at the memory

Of Brennus and Belinus, kinges of Britany.

Next them did Gurgunt, great Belinus sonne,
In rule succeede, and eke in fathers praise ;
He Easterland subdewd, and Denmarke wonne.
And of them both did foy and tribute raise,
The which was dew in his dead fathers dales :
He also gave to fugitives of Spayne,
Whom he at sea found wandring from their waies,
A seate in Ireland safely to remayne,
Which they should hold of him as subiect to Bri-
tkyne.

ZLn.

After him raigned Guitheline his hayre,
Tlie iustest man and trewest in Jiis daies.
Who had to wife Dame Mertia the fayre,
A woman worthy of immortal] praise,
Which for this realme found many goodly layes.
And wholesome statutes to her husband brought :
Her many deemd to have beene of the Fayes,
As was Aegerie that Numa tought :
Those yet of her be Mertian lawes both nam'd and
thought.

TLIII.

Her sonne Sifillus after her did rayne ;

And then Kimarus ; and then Danius :

Next whom Morindus did the crowne sustayne ;

Who, had he not with wrath outrageous

And cruell rancour dim'd his valorous

And mightie deedes, should matched have the best

As well in that same field victorious

Against the forreine Morands he exprest ;

\ et lives his memorie, though carcase sleeps in rest

Five sonnes he left begotten of one wife.
All which successively by turnes did rayne :
First Gorboman, a man of virtuous life ;
Next Archigald, who for his proud disdayne
Deposed was from princedome soverayne.
And pitteous Elidure put in his sted ;
Who sliortly it to him restord agayne,
Till by his death I:e it recovered ;
But Peridure and Vigent him disthronized :

I to

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

?n wretched prison lonc^ he did remaine,
rill they out-raigaed had their utmost date,
And then therein reseized was againe,
And ruled long with honorable state,
Till he surrendred realme and life to fate.
Then all the sonnes of these five brethren raynd
By dew successe, and all their nephewes late ;
Even thrise eleven descents the crowne retaynd,
Till aged flely by dew heritage it gaynd.

He hud two sonnes, whose eldest, called Lud,

Left of his life most famous memory,

And endlesse moniments of his great good :

The ruin'd wals he did retedifve

Of Trovnovant, gainst force of enimy,

And built that gate which of his name is hight,

By wnich he iyes entombed solemnly :

He left two sonnes, too young to rule aright.

Androgens and Tenantius, pictures of his might.

Whilst they were young, Cassibalane their eme

Was by the people chosen in their sled.

Who on him tooke the roiall diademe,

And goodly well long time it governed ;

Till the prowde Romanes him disquieted.

And warlike Cresar, tempted with the name

Of this sweet island never conquered.

And envying the Britons blazed fame,

(O hideous hunger of dominion!) hether came.

Yet tvcise they were repulsed backe againe.
And twise renforst backe to their ships to fly ;
The whiles with blood they all the shore did staine,
And the gray ocean into purple dy :
Ne had they footing found at last perdie.
Had not Androgens, false to native soyle,
And envious of uncles soveraintie,
Betrayd his country unto forreine spoyle.
Nought els but ti-eason from the first this land did
foyle !

XLIX.

So by him Cffisar got the victory.

Through great bloodshed and many a sad assay,

In which himselfe was charged heavily

Of hardy Nennius, whom he yet did slay.

But lost his sword, yet to be seene this day.

Thenceforth this land was tributarie made

T' ambitious Rome, and did their rule obay,

Till Arthur all that reckoning defrayd :

Yet oft the Briton kings against them strongly swayd.

Next him Tenantius raignd ; then Kimbeline,
What time th' Eternall Lord in fleshly slime
Enwombed was, from wretched Adams line
To purge away the guilt of sinful crime.
O ioyous memorie of happy time,
That heavenly grace so plenteously displayd '.
O too high ditty for my simj)le rime ! —
Soone alter this the Romanes him warrayd ;
For that their tribute he refusd to let be payd.

Good Claudius, that next was emperour,

An army brought, and with him batteile fought,

In which the king was by a treachetour

Disguised slaine, ere any thereof thought :

Yet ceased not the bloody fight for ought :

For Arvirage his brothers place supplyde

Both in his armes and crowne, and by that draught

Did drive the Romanes- to the weaker syde,

Tnat they to peace agreed. So all was pacifyde.

Was never king more highly magnifide.

Nor dredd of Romanes, then was Arvirage :

For which the emperour to him allide

His daughter Genuiss' in marriage :

Yet shortly he reiiounst the vassallage

Of Rome againe, who hether hastly sent

^^espasian, that with great spoile and rage

Forwasted all, till Genuissa gent

Persuaded him to ceasse, and her lord to relent.

He dide ; and him succeded Marius,

Who ioyd his dayes in great tranquillity.

Then Coyll ; and after him good Lucius,

That first received Christianity,

The sacred pledge of Christes Evangely,

Yet true it is, that long before that day

Hither came loseph of Arimathy,

Who brought with him the Holy Grayle, (they say.)

And preachtthe truth ; but since it greatly did decay.

This good king shortly without issew dide.
Whereof great trouble in the kingdome grew.
That did herselfe in sondry parts divide.
And with her powre her owne selfe overthrew,
Whilest Romanes daily did the weake subdew :
Which seeing, stout Bunduca up arose,
And taking armes the Britons to her drew ;
With whom she marched straight against lier foes,
And them unwares besides the Severne did enclose.

There she with them a cruell batteill tryde.

Not with so good successe as shee deserv'd ;

By reason that the captaines on her syde.

Corrupted by Paulinus, from her swerv'd;

Yet such, as were through former flight preserv'd,

Gathering againe her host she did renew.

And with fresh corago on the victor servd :

But being all defeated, save a kw,

Rather than fly, or be captiv'd heirselfe she slew

O famous moniment of womens prayse !

Matchahle either to Semiramis,

Whom ;'inti(]ue history so high doth rayse,

Or to llyj>siphir, or to Thomiris :

Her host two hundred thousand numbrcd is,

Who, whiles good fortune favoured her might

'J'riuniplicd oft against her enemis ;

And yet, though overcome in haplesse fight,

Shee triumphed on death, in enemies despight.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Ill

Her reliques Fulgent having gathered,

Fought with St'verus, and liim overthrew ;

Yet in the chace was slaine of them that fled :

So made them victors whome he did subdew.

Then gan Carausius tirannize anew,

And gainst the Romanes bent their proper powre ;

But Iiim Allectus treacherously slew,

And tooke on him the robe of emperoure ;

Nath'lesse the same enioyed but short happy howre.

For Asclepiodate him <?i'ercame.

And left inglorious on the vanquisht playne.

Without or robe or rag to hide his shame :

Then afterwards he in his stead did raigne ;

But shortly was by Coyll in 1 atteill slaine :

Who after long debate, since Lucies tyme,

Was of th-e Britons first crownd soveraine :

Then gan this realme renew her passed prime :

He of his name Coylchester built of stone and lime.

Which when the Romanes heard, they hether sent

Constantius, a man of mickle might.

With whome king CovH made an agreement.

And to him gave for wife his daughter bright,

Faire Helena, the fairest living wight,

Who in all godly thewes and goodly praise

Did far excell, but was most famous hight

For skil in musicke of all in her daies.

As well in curious instruments as cunning laies :

Of whome he did great Constantine begett.

Who afterward was emperour of Rome ;

To which whiles absent he his mind did sett,

Octavius here lept into his roome,

And it usurped by unrighteous doome :

But he his title iustifide by might.

Slaying Traherne, and having overcome

The Roraane legion in dreadfull fight :

So settled he his kingdoine, and confirmd his right:

But, wanting yssew male, his daughter deare

He gave in wedlocke to Maximian,

And him with her made of his kingdome heyre,

Who soone b}' meanes thereof the empire wan.

Till murdred by the freends of Ciratian.

Then gan the Hunnes and Picts invade this land.

During the raigne of JMaximiiiian ;

Who dying left none heirc- them to withstand :

But that they oyerran all pans u-ith easy hand.

The weary Britons, whose war-hable youth
Was by iNIaximian lately ledd away.
With wretched miseryes and woefull ruth
Were to those pagans made an open pray.
And daily spectacle of sad decay : [yearea

Whome Romane wanes, which now fowr hundred
And more had wasted could no whit dismay ;
Til, by consent of Commons and of Peares,
They crownd the second Constantine with iojous
teares.

Who having oft in batteill vanquished

Those spoyiefuU Picts, and swarming Easterlinfs,

Long time in peace his realme established,

Fet oft annoyd with sondry bordragings

Of neighbour Scots, and forrein scatterlings

With which the world did in those dayes abound .

Which to outbarre, with painefuU pyonings

From sea to sea he heapt a mighty mound.

Which fromAlcluid to Panwelt did thatborderbo^vnd

Three sonnes he dying left, all under age ,
By meanes whereof their uncle A^ortigere
Usurpt the crowne during their pupillage ;
Which th' infants tutors gathering to feare,
Them closely into Armorick did beare :
For dread of whom, and for those Picts annoy es,
He sent to Germany straunge aid to reaie ;
From whence eftsoones arrived here three hoyes
Of Saxons, whom he for his safety imployes.

Two brethren were their capitayns, which hight
Hengistand Horsus, well appniv'd in warre,
And both of them men of renowmed might;
Who making vantage of their civile iarre.
And of those forreyners which came from farre.
Grew great, and got large portions of land,
That in the realme ere long they stronger arre
I'hen they which sought at first their helping hand.
And Vortiger enfoist the kingdome to aband.

But, by the helpe of Vortimere his Sonne,

He is agaiiie unto his rule restord ;

And Hengist, seeming sad for that was donne,

Received is to grace and new accord.

Through his faire daughters face and flattring word

Soone after which, three hundred lords he slew

Of British blood, all !^itting at his bord ;

Whose dolefull moniments who list to rew,

Th' eternall marks of treason may at Stonheng vew.

By this the sonnes of Constantine, which fled,

Ambrose and Uther, did ripe yeares attayne,

And, here arriving, strongly challenged

The crowne which Vortiger did long detayne:

Who, flying from his guilt, bv them was sluyne;

And Hengiht eke soone brought to shametull death.

Thenceforth Aurelius peaceably did r;ivne,

Till that through povson stopped was his breath;

So now entombed lies at Stoiieheng by the heath.

After him Uther, which Pendragon hight,
Succeeding — There abruptly it did end.
Without full point, or other cesure right ;
As if the rest some wicked hand did rend.
Or th' author selfe could not at least attend
To finish it : that so untimely breach
The prince himselfe halfe seemed to oflfend ;
Yet secret pleasure did oflence empeach.
And wonder of antiquity long sto])t his speach.

112

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boor II.

At last, quite ravislit with delight to heare

The royall ofspring of his native land,

Crvde out ; " Deare countrey ! O how dearely deare

Ouo-bt thy remembraunce and perpetuall band

Be°to thy foster child, that from thy hand

Did commun breath and nouriture receave !

How brutish is it not to understand

How much to her we owe, that all us gave ;

That gave auto us all whatever good we have !"

LXX.

But Guyon all this while his books did read,

Ne yet has ended : for it was a great

And ample volume, tliat doth far excead

I\Iy leasure so long leaves here to repeat :

It 'told how first Prometheus did create ^

A man, of many parts from beasts deryv'd,

And then stole fire from heven to animate

His worke, for which he was by love depryv'd

Of life himselfe, and bart-strings of an aegle ry v'd.

That man so made he called Elfe, to weet
Quick, the first author of all Elfin kynd ;
Who, wandring through the world with wearie feet,
Did in tlie gardins of Adonis fynd
A goodly creature, whom he deemd in mynd
To^be no earthly wight, but either spright,
Or angell, th' authour of all woman kynd ;
Therefore a Fay he her according bight.
Of whom all Faryes spring, and fetch their lignage
right.

LXXII.

Of these a mighty people shortly grew,

And puissant kinges which all the world warrayd.

And to themselves all nations did subdew :

The first and eldest, wliich that scepter swayd,

Was Elfin ; him all India obayd.

And all that now America men call :

^ext h'm was noble Elfinan, who laid

Cleopolis foundation first of all :

But Elliliae enclosd it with a golden wall.

His Sonne was Elfinell, wLo overcame
The wicked Gobbelines in bloody field ;
But Elfant was of most renowmed fame.
Who all of christall did Panthea build •
Then Elfar, who two bretiiren gyauntes kild,
Tlie one of which had two heades, th' other tlirMi
Then Elfinor, who was in magick skild ;
He built by art upon the glassy see
A bridge of bras, whose sound hevens thunder
seem'd to be.

He left three sonnes, the which in order raynd.

And all their ofspring, in their devi^ descents ;

Even seven hundred princes, which maintaynd

With migbtie deedes their sondry governments j

That were too long their infinite contents

Here to record, ne much materiall :

Yet should they be most famous moniments,

And brave ensample, both of martiall

And civil rule, to kinges and states imperiall.

After all these Elficleos did rayne,
The wise Elficleos in great maiestie,
Who mightily that scepter did sustayne.
And with rich spoyles and famous victorie
Did high ndvaunce the crowne of FatJry :
He left tw > sonnes, of which faire Elferon,
The eldest brother did untimely dy ;
Whose emptie place the migbtie Oberon
Doubly supplide, in spousall and dominion.

Great was his power and glorie over all
Which, him before, that sacred seate did till
That yet remaines his wide memoriall :
He dying left the fairest Tanaquill,
Him to succeede thereun, by his last will :
Fairer and nobler liveth none this hovvre,
Ne like in grace, ne like in learned skill ;
Therefore they Glorian call that glorious flowre .
Long mayst thou, Glorian, live in glory and grpat
powre !

LXXVII,

Beguyld thus with delight of novelties.

And naturall desire of countryes state.

So long they redd in those antiquities,

That how the time was fled they quite forgate ;

Till gentle Alma, seeing it so late.

Perforce their studies broke and them besought

To tbinke how supper did them long awaite :

So belfe unwilling from their bookes them bro-^ght,

AJid fayrely feasted as so noble knightes she ought.

Ci-VTo XL]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

113

CANTO XI.

The enimies of Temperaunce

Besiege her dwelling; place ;
Prince Arthure them repelles, and fowls

Maleger doth deface.

What warre so cruel, or what siege so sore.

As that, which strong Affections doe apply

Against the forte of Reason evermore.

To bring the sowle into captivity !

Their force is fiercer through infirmity

Of the fraile flesh, relenting to their rage ;

And exercise most bitter tyranny

Upon the partes, brought into their bondage .

No wretchednesse is like to sinfull vellenage.

But in a body which doth freely yeeld

His partes to Reasons rule obedient,

And letteth lier that ought the scejjter weeld.

All happy peace and goodly government

Is setled there in sure establishment.

There Alma, like a Virgin Queene most bright,

Doth florish in all beautie excellent ;

And to her guestes doth bounteous banket dight,

Attempred goodly well for health and for delight.

Early, before the mome with cremosin ray
The windowes of bright heaven opened had,
Through which into the world the dawning day
Might looke, that maketh every creature glad.
Uprose Sir Guyon in bright armour clad,
And to his purposd iourney him prepar'd :
With him the palmer eke in habit sad
Himselfe addrest to that adventure hard :
So to the rivers syde they both together far'd :

Them in twelve troupes their captein did dispart,
And round about in fittest steades did place,
Where each might best offend his proper part.
And his contrary obiect most deface.
As every one seem'd meetest in that cace.
Seven of the name against the castle-gate
In strong entrenchments he did closely place.
Which with incessaunt force and endlesse hate
They battred day and night, and entrauncedid awate.

The other five five sondry wayes he sett

Against the five great bulwarkes of that pyle,

And unto each a bulwarke did arrett,

T' assayle with open force or hidden guyle,

In hope thereof to win victorious spoile.

They all that charge did fervently apply

With greedie malice and importune toyle,

And planted there their huge artillery,

With which they dayly made most dreadfull batterv

The first troupe was a monstrous rablement

Of fowle misshapen wightes, of which some were

Headed like owles, with beckes uncomely bent ;

Others like dogs ; others like grj^hons dreare ;

And some had wings, and some had clawes to teare:

And every one of them had IjTices eyes ;

And every one did bow and arrowes beare:

All those were lawless Lustes, and corrupt Envyes,

And covetous Aspects, all cruel enimyes.

Where them awaited ready at the ford

The Ferriman, as Alma had behight,

With his well-rigged bote : they goe abord.

And he eftsoones gan launch his barke fortliright.

Ere long they rowed were quite out of sight.

And fast the land behynd them fled away.

But let them pas, whiles winde and wether right

Doe serve their tumes : here I a while must stay.

To see a cruell fight doen by the Prince this day.

For, all so soone as Guyon thence was gon

Upon his voyage with his trustie guyde.

That wicked band of villeins fresh begon

That castle to assaile on every side,

And lay strong siege about it far and wyde.

So huge and infinite their numbers were.

That all the land they under them did hyde ;

So fowle and ugly, that exceeding feare

Their visages imprest, when they approuhed neare.

Those same against the bulwarke of the Sight

Did lay strong siege and battailous asssult,

Ne once did yield it respitt day nor night ;

But soone as Titan gan his head exault,

And soone againe as he his light withhault.

Their wicked engins they against it bent ;

That is, each thing by which the eyes may fault •

But two then all more huge and violent,

Beautie and Money, they that bulwarke sorely rent.

The second bulwarke was the Hearing Sence,
Gainst which the second troupe dessignment makes,
Deformed creatures, in straunge difference :
Some having heads like harts, some like to snakes.
Some like wild bores late rouzd out of the brakes :
Slaunderous Reproches, and fowle Infamies,
Leasinges, Backbytinges, and vain-glorious Crakes,
Bad Counsels, Prayses, and false Flatteries :
All those aprainst that fort did bend their batteries.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book 11.

Likewise that same third fort, that is the Smell,

Of tliat third troupe was cruelly assayd ;

Whose hideous shapes were like to feendes of hell,

Some like to houndes, some like to apes, dismayd;

Some, like to puttockes, all in plumes arayd ;

All shnp't according their conditions :

For, bv those ugly formes, weren pourtrayd

Foolish Delights and fond Abusions,

Which doe that sence besiege with fond illusions.

And that tourth band which cruell battry bent

Against the fourth bulwarke, that is the Taste,

Was as the rest, a grysie rablement ;

Some mouth'd like greedy oystriges ; some faste

Like loathly toades ; some fashioned in the waste

Like swine : for so deformd is Luxury,

Surfeat, Misdiet, and unthriftie Waste,

Vaine Feastes, and ydle Superfluity:

All those this sences fort assayle incessantly.

But the fift troupe, most horrible of hew

And ferce of force, is dreadfull to report ;

For some like snailes, some did like spyders shew,

And some like ugly urchins thick and short :

Cruelly they assayled that fift fort.

Armed with dartes of sensuall Delight,

AV'ith sfinges of carnall Lust, and strong effort

Of feeling Pleasures, with which day and night

Against that same fift Bulwarke they continued fight.

Thus these twelve troupes with dreadfull puissaunce
A gainst that castle restlesse siege did lay,
Aud evermore their hideous ordinaunce
Upon the bulwarkes cruelly did play.
That now it gan to threaten neare decay:
And evennore their wicked capitayn
Provoked them the breaches to assay,
Sometimes with tlireats, sometimes with hope of gay.
Which bv the ransack of that peece they should at-
tayn.

On th' other syde, th' assieged castles ward
Their steadfast stonds did mightily maintaine,
And many bold repulse and many hard
Atchievement wrought, with peril! and with payne,
That goodly frame from ruine to sustaine :
And tiiose two brethren gyauntes did defend
'J'he walles so stoutly with their sturdie mayne.
That never entraunce any durst pretend,
But tliey to direfuU death their gioning ghosts did
send.

The noble virgin, ladie of the place.

Was much dismayed with that dreadful sight,

(For never was she in so evill cace,)

Till that the prince, seeing her wofull plight,

•Gan her recomfort from so sad afl'right,

OS'ring his service and his dearest life

For her defence against that carle to fight,

V\ Inch was their chiefe and th' author of that strife-

She him remercied as the patrone of her life.

Eftsoones himselfe in glitterand armes he dight,

And his well proved weapons to him hent ;

So taking courteous conge, be behight

Those gates to he unbar'd, and forth he went.

Fayre mote he thee, the prowest and most gent,

That ever brandished bright Steele on hye !

Whom soone as that unruly rablement

Wim nis gay squyre issewing did espye,

They reard a most outrageous dreadfull yelling cry ;

And therewithal! attonce at him let fly
Their fluttring arrowes, thicke as flakes of snow,
And round about him flocke impetuously,
Like a great water-flood, tliat tombling low
From the high mouiitaines, threates to overflow
With suddein fury all the fertile playne,
And the sad husbandmaiis long hope doth throw
Adowne tlie streame, and all his vowes make vayne ,
Nor bounds nor banks his headlong ruine may sus-
tayne.

XIX.

Upon his shield their heaped liayle he bore.

And with his sword disperst the raskall flockes,

Which fled asonder, and him fell before;

As withered leaves drop from their dryed stockes,

When the wroth western wind does reave their locks.

And underneath him his courageous steed.

The fierce Spuraador, trode them down like docks ,

The fierce Spumador borne of heavenlie seed ;

Such as Laomedan of Phoibus race did breed.

Which suddeine horrour and confused cry
When as their capteine heard, in haste he yode
The cause to weet, and fault to remedy :
Upon a tygre swift and fierce he rode,
That as Uif) winde ran underneath his lode,
Whiles his long legs nigh raught unto the ground :
Full large he was of limbe, and shoulder^ brode ;
But of such subtile substance and unsound.
That like a ghost he seem'd whose grave-clothes were
unbound :

And in his hand a bended bow was seene.
And many arrowes under his right side.
All deadly daungerous, all cruell keene.
Headed with flint, and fethers bloody dide ;
Such as tlie Indians in their ([uivers hide :
Those could he well direct and streight as line.
And bid them strike the marke wliich he had eyde ;
Ne was there salve, ne was there medicine.
That mote recure then- woundes; so inly they did
tine.

As pale and wan as ashes was his looke;
His body leane and meagre as a rake;
And skin all witliered like a dryed rooko;
Tliereto as cold and drery as a snake;
That seemd to tremble evermore and quake :
All in a canvas thin he was bedight,
And girded with a belt of twisted brake:
Upon Ids head he wore an helmet light,
IMade of a dead mans skull, that seemd a ghastly
sight:

Canto XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

115

Mulep;'er was his name : and after him
Tnere tbllow'd fast at liand two wicked has;'s,
With hoary lockes all loose, and visage grim ;
Their feet unshod, their hodies wrapt in i"ags,
And both as swift on foot as chased stags ;
And yet the one her other legge had lame,
Which witli a stafte all full of litle snags
She did support, and Impotence her name :
But th' other was Impatience armd with raging
flame.

Soone as tlie carle from far the prince espyde
Glistring in armes and warlike ornament,
His beast he felly prickt on either syde,
And his mischievous bow full readie bent.
With which at him a cruell shaft he sent :
But he was warie, and it warded well
Upon his shield, that it no further went.
But to the ground the idle quarrell fell :
Then he another and another did expell.

Which to prevent, the prince his mortall speare

Soone to hira raught, and fierce at him did ride,

To be avenged of that shot whyleare :

But he was not so hardy to abide

That bitter stownd, but, turning quicke aside

His light-foot beast, fled fast away for feare ,

Whom to poursue, the Infant after hide

So fast as his good courser could him beare :

But labour lost it was to weene approch him neare.

Far as the winged wind his tigre fled,
That vew of eye could scarse him overtake,
Ne scarse his feet on ground were seene to tred ;
Through hils and dales he speedy way did make,
Ne hedge ne ditch his readie passage brake,
And in his flight the villeine turn'd his face,
(As wonts the Tartar by the Caspian lake,
Whenas the Russian him in fight does chace,)
Unto his tygres taile, and shot at him apace.

Apace he shot, artd yet he fled apace.
Still as the greedy knight nigh to him drew ;
And oftentimes he would relent his pace.
That him his foe more fiercely should poursew :
But, when his uncouth monner he did vew.
He gan avize to follow him no more.
But keepe his standing, and his shaftes eschew,
Untill he quite had spent his perlous store.
And then assayle hira fresh, ere he could shift for
more.

But that lame hag, still as abroad he strew
His wicked arrowes, gathered them againe,
And to him brought, fresh batteill to renew ;
Which he espying cast her to restraine
From yielding succour to that cursed swaine.
And her attaching thouglit her hands to tye ;
But, soone as him dismounted on the plaine
That other bag did far away espye
Bmding her sister, she to him ran hastily ;

And catching hold of him, as downe he lent.
Him backewarde overthrew, and downe him stayd
Witli their rude handes and gryesly graplemeut ;
Till that the villein, comming to their ayd,
Upon him fell, and lode upon him layd •
Full litle wanted, but he had him slaine,
And of the battell balefull end had made.
Had not his gentle squire beheld his paine,
And commen to his reskew ere his bitter bane.

So greatest and most glorious thing on ground
May often need the lielpe of weaker hand ;
So feeble is mans state, and life unsound.
That in assuraunce it may never stand,
Till it dissolved be from earthly band !
Proofe be thou, prince, the pro west man alvve,
And noblest borne of all in Briton land ;
Yet thee fierce Fortune did so nearely drive.
That, had not Grace thee blest, thou shouldest not
survive.

XXX..

The squyre arriving, fiercely in his armes

Snatcht first the one, and then the other jade.

His chiefest letts and authors of his harmes,

And them perforce withheld with threatned blade.

Least that his lord they should behinde invade ;

The whiles the prince, prickt with reprocliful shame.

As one awakte out of long slombring shade,

Revivyng thought of glory and of fame,

United all his powres to purge himselfe from blame.

xxxir.

Like as a fire, the which in hollow cave

Hath long bene underkept and down supprest,

AVith murmurous disdayne doth inly rave,

And grudge, in so streight prison to be prest.

At last breakes forth with furious unrest.

And strives to mount unto his native seat;

All that did earst it hinder and molest,

Yt now devoures with flames and scorching heat.

And carries into smoake with rage and hon'or great,

So mightely the Briton prince him rouzd
Out of his holde, and broke his cavtive bands ;
And as a beare, whom angry curres have touzd.
Having ofF-shakt them and escapt their hands.
Becomes more fell, and all that him withstands
Treads down and overthrowes. Now had the carle
Alighted from his tigre, and his hands
Discharged of his bow and deadly quar'le,
To seize upon his foe flatt lying on the marie.

Which now him tumd to disavantage deare •,
For neither can he fly, nor other harme.
But trust unto his strength and manhood meare,
Sitli now he is far from his monstrous swanne.
And of his weapons did himselfe disarme.
The knight yet wrothfuU for his late disgrace.
Fiercely advaunst his valorous right arme,
And him so sore smott with his vron mace.
That groveling to the ground he fell, and fild his
place. I 2

116

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

We\ weened hee tliat field was then his owne,
And all liis labor brought to happy end ;
When suddein up the villeme overthron-ne
Out of his swowne arose, fresh to contend,
And gan himselfe to second battaill bend,
As hurt he had not beene. Thereby there lay
An huge great stone, which stood upon one end,
And had not bene removed many a day :
Some land-marke seemd to bee, or signe of sundry
way:

XXXVI.

The same he snatcht, and with exceeding sway
Threw at his foe, who was right well aware
To shonne the engine of his meant decay ;
It booted not to thinke that throw to beare.
But grownd he gave, and lightly lept areare ;
Eft fierce retourning, as a foulcon fayre.
That once hath failed of her souse full neare,
Remounts againe into the open ayre.
And unto better fortune doth herselfe prepayre :

So brave retourning, with his brandisht blade,
He to the carle himselfe agayn addrest,
And strooke at him so stemely, that he made
An open passage through his riven brest.
That halfe the Steele behind his backe did rest ;
Which drawing backe, he looked evermore
When the hart blood should gush out of his chest.
Or his dead corse should fall upon the flore ;
But his dead corse upon the flore fell nathtimore :

XXXVIII.

Ne drop of blood appeared shed to bee,

All were the wownd so wide and wonderous

That through his carcas one might playnly see.

Halfe in amaze with horror hideous,

And halfe in rage to be deluded thus.

Again through both the sides he strooke him quight,

Tliat mi.de his spright to grone full piteous ;

Yet nathemore forth fled his groning spright.

But freshly, as at first, prepard himselfe to fight.

Thereat he smitten was with great aff"right,

And trembling terror did his hart appall ;

Ne wist he wliat to thinke of tliat same sight,

ZV e what to say, ne what to doe at all :

He doubted least it were some magicall

Illusion that did beguile his sense.

Or wanilring gliost tliat wanted funerall.

Or aery spirite under false pretence.

Or hellish feend raysd up through divelish science.

His wonder far exceeded reasons reach.
That he began to doubt his dazeled sight.
And oft of error did himselfe appeach;
Flesh without blood, a [lerson witliout spright,
Wounds without hurt, a body without miglit.
That could doe harme, yet could not harmed bee.
That could not die, yet seemd a niortall wight.
That was most strong in most infinuitoe ;
lAke did he never heare, like did he never see.

Awhile he stood in this astonishment.

Yet would he not for all his great dismay

Give over to eflect his first intent,

And th' utmost meanes of victory assay.

Or th' utmost yssew of his owne decay.

His owne good sword RI ordure, that never fayld

At need till now, he lightly threw away.

And his bright shield that nought him now avayld^

And with his naked hands him forcibly assay Id.

Twixt his two mighty armes him up he snatcht,

And crusht his carcas so against his brest,

That the disdainfull sowle he thence dispatcht.

And th' ydle breath all utterly exprest :

Tho, when he felt him dead, adowne he kest

The lumpish corse unto the sencelesse grownd ;

Adowne he kest it with so puissant wrest,

That backe againe it did alofte rebownd.

And gave against his mother Earth a gronefuU sownd.

As when loves harnesse-bearing bird from hye
Stoupes at a flying heron with proud disdayne.
The stone-dead quarrey falls so forciblye.
That yt rebownds against the lowly playne,
A second fall redoubling backe agayne.
Then thought the prince all peril sure was past,
And that he victor onely did remayne ;
No sooner thought, then that the carle as fast
Gan heap huge strokes on him, as ere he down was
cast.

Nigh his wits end then woxe th' amazed knight.
And tliought his labor lost, and travcll vayne.
Against this lifelesse shadow so to fight :
Yet life he saw, and felt his mighty luayne,
That, whiles he marveild still, did still him payne;
Forthy he gan some other wayes advize.
How to take life from that dead-living awayne.
Whom still he marked freshly to arize
Froui th' earth, and from Ifer womb new spirits to
reprize.

XLV.

He then remembred wdl, that had bene sayd.

How th' Earth his mother was, and first him bore;

She eke, so often as his life decayd.

Did life with usury to him restore.

And reysd him up much stronger than before,

So soone as he unto her wombe did fall :

Therefore to grownd he would him cast no more,

Ne liiin committ to grave terrestriall.

But beare him farre from hope of succour usuall.

Tho up he caught him twixt his puissant hands,
And having scruzd out of his carrion corse
The lotlifuU life, now loosd from sinfull bands,
Upon his shoulders carried him perforse
Above three furlongs, taking his full course.
Until lie came unto a standing lake :
Him tliereinto he threw without remorse,
Ne stinl, till hope of life did him forsake :
So end of tliat carles dayes and his owne paynes did
make.

Canto XII.]

TflE FAERIE QUEENE.

117

XLVII.

Which when those vcickul hao-s from far did spye,
Like two mad dogs they ran about the lands ;
And th' one of them witli (h-eadfuU yt-Uino- crye,
Throwing- awaye her l)ruken chaines and bands,
And having quencht her binning- fier-brands,
Hedlong- herselfe did cast into tliat lake;
But Impotence witli her owne wilfull hands
One of Malegers curbed dunes did take,
So ryv'd her trembling hart, and wicked end did make.

Thus now alone he conqueror remaines :

'I'ho, cumming to his squyre that kept his steed,

Thought to have mounted; but his feeble vaines

Him faild thereto and served not his need, [bleed

Through losse of blood wliich from his wounds did

'i'hat he began to faint, and life decay :

But his good stpiyre, him helping up with speed,

With stedfast hand upon his horse did stay,

And led Lim to the castle by the beaten way.

\^'here many groomes and squiers ready were

To take him from his steed full tenderly ;

And eke the faviest Alma mett him there

With balrae, and wine, and costly spicery,

To comfort him in his infirmity :

Eftsoones she causd him up to be convayd,

And of his annes despoyled easily

In sumptuous bed shee made him to be l-ayd ;

And, al the while his wounds were dressing, by him stayd.

CANTO XII.

Guvon by palmers governaunce,
Passing ti'.rough perilles great.

Doth overthrow the Bowre of Blis,
And Acrasy defeat.

Now g-innes that goodly frame of Temperaunce
Fayrely to rise, and her adorned lied
To pricke of highest pravse fortli to advaunce.
Formerly grounded and fast setteled
On firmc foundation of true bountyhed :
And this brave knight, that for this vertue fightes,
Now comes to point of that same perilous sted.
Where Pleasure dwelles in sensuall delights,
MoDgst thousand dangers and ten thousand magick
mights.

Two daves now in that sea he savled has,

Ne ever land beheld, rie living wight,

Ne ought save perill, siill as lie did pas :

Tho, when appeared the tliird morrow bright

Upon the waves to sprt-d her trrmbling light,

An hideous roaring far away they heard.

That all their sences filled with aft'right ;

And streight they saw the i-agiiig surges reard

Up to the skyes, that them of drownmg made atleard.

Said then the boteman, " Palmer, stere" aright

And keepe an even course ; for yonder way

We needes must pas ((iod doe us well aciiuight!)

Tliat is the Gulfe cf Gnedinesse, they say,

That deepe engorgeth ail this worldes pray;

Which having swallowd uji excessively,

He soone in vomit up againe doth 1-ay,

And belcheth forth his supi rtiuity,

That all the seas for tea re doe seeme away to fly.

" On th' other syde an hideous rock is pight
Of mightie magnes stone, whose craggie clift
Depending from on high, dreadfull to sight,
Over the waves his rugged annes doth lift,
And thre-atneth downe to throw his ragged rift
On whoso Cometh nigh : yet nigh it drawes
All passengers, th-at none from it can shift:
For, whiles they fly that gulfe's devouring iawes,
They on the rock are rent, and sunck in helple9
wawes."

Forward they passe, and strongly he them rowes,
I'ntdl they nigh unto that gulfe arryve,
\\'here streame more violent and greedy growes:
Then he with all his puisaunce doth stryve
To strike his oares, and mightily doth dryve
The hollow vessell through the threatfull wave;
Which, gaping wide to swallow them alyve
In th' huge abysse of his engulfing grave.
Doth rore at them in vaine, and with gre-at terrour
rave.

VI.

They, passing by, that grisely mouth did see
Sucking the seas into his entr-alles deepe.
That seemd more hoi-rible than hell to bee,
Or that darke dreadfull hole of Tartai-e steepe
Through which the damned ghosts doen often erf i
J5acke to the world, bad livers to torment:
But nought that falles into this direfuU deepe,
Ne that approclieih nigh tlie wyde descent,
]\lay backe retourne, but is condemned to be drent

118

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book II.

On th' other side they saw that perilous rocke,

Tlireatning- itselfe on them to ruinute,

On whose sharp cliftes the rihs of vessels broke ;

And shivered ships, which had beene wrecked late,

Yet stuck with carcases exanimate

Of such, as having all their substance spent

In wanton ioves and lusles intemperate.

Did afterwardes make shipwrack violent

Both of their life and fame for ever fowly blent.

Forthy this hight the Rock of vile Reproch,

A daungerous and detestable place,

To which nor fish nor fowle did once approch,

But yelling raeawes, with seagulles, hoars, and bace,

And cormoyraunts, with birds of ravenous race,

AVhich still sat wayting on that wastfuU clift

For spoile of wretches, wliose unhappy cace.

After lost credit and consumed thrift.

At last them driven hath to this despairefuU drift.

The palmer, seeing them in safetie past.

Thus saide : " Behold th' ensamples in our siglites

Of lustfull luxurie and thriftlesse wast !

What now is left of miserable wightes,

Which spent their looser daies in lend delightes.

But sliame and sad reproch, here to be red

By these rent reliques speaking their ill-plightes !

Let all that live hereby be counselled

To shunne Hock of Reproch, and it as death to dread !"

So fortli they rowed ; and that ferryman

With his stiffe oares did brush the sea so strong,

That the hoare waters from his frigot ran.

And tl.'e light bnbles daunced nil along.

Whiles the salt brine out of the biHovves sprong.

At last, far off, they many islandes spy

On every side floting the floodes emong :

Then said the knight ; " Lo ! I the land descry ;

Therefore, old syre, thy course doe thereunto ajtply.

" Tliat may not bee," said then the ferryman,
" Least wee unweeting hap to he fjrdoiine :
For those same islands, seeming now and than,
Are not firme land, nor any certein wonne,
But stragling plots, which to and fro doe ronne
In the wide waters : thererefore are they hight
The Wandring Islands : therefore doe them shonne ;
For they liave oft drawne many a wandring wight
Into most deadly daunger and distressed plight.

" Yet well they seeme to him, that farre doth vew.

Both faire and fiuitfull, and the grownd dispred

With grassy greene of delectable hew ;

And ihe tall trees with leaves apjjareled

Are deckt with blossoms dyde in whit(! and red,

That mote the passengers i hereto allure ;

But whosoever once hath fastened

His foot thereon, may never it recure,

But wandreth evermore uncertein and unsure,

• As th' isle of Delos whylome, men report.
Amid th' Aega^an sea long time did stray,
Ne made for shipping anv certeine port.
Till that Latona traveiling that way,
Flying from lunoes wnith and hard assay.
Of- her fayre twins was there delivered.
Which afterwards did rule the night and da
Thenceforth it rirmely was established,
And for Apolloes temple highly berried."

They to him hearken, as beseemeth meete ;
And ]iasse on forward : so their way does Iv,
That one of those same islands, which doe fleet
In the wide sea, they ueedes must passen by.
Which seemd so sweet and pleasaunt to the eye.
That it would tempt a man to touchen there ;
Upon the banck they sitting did espy
A daintie damsell dressing of her heare.
By whom a little skippet lioting did appeai'e.

She them espying, loud to them gan call.

Bidding them nigher draw unto the shore.

For she had cause to busie them withall ;

And therewith lowdly laught • but natlit'more

Would they once turne, but kept on as afore :

Which when she saw, she left her lockes undight.

And running to her boat withouten ore.

From the departing land it launched light,

And after them did drive with all her power and might.

Whom overtaking, she in merry sort

Them gan to bord, and purpose diversly ;

Now faining dalliaunce and wanton sport,

Now throwing forth lewd wordes immodestly;

Till that the palmer gan i'ull bitterly

Her to rebuke, for being loose and light :

W hich not abiding, but more scornfully

Scoffing at him that did her iustly wite.

She turnd her bote about, and from them rowed quitfe

That was the wanton Phadria, which late

Did ft-riy him over the Idle Lake :

Whom nought regarding they kept on their gate.

And all her vaine allurements did forsake ;

VVlien them the wary boteman thus bespake ;

" Here now behoveth us well to avyse.

And of our safety good heede to take ;

For here before a perlous passage lyes.

Where many mermayds haunt, making false melodies

" But by the way there is ;i great quicksand.
And a whirlepoole of hidden leopard v ;
Tlicrefore, Sir Palmer, keejie an even hand ;
For tvvixt tht m both the narrow wav doth ly."
Scarse had he saide, when hard at hand they spy,
That (piicksand nigh with water covered ;
But by the checked wave they did descry
It j)laine, and by the sea di.-coloured :
It called was the Quickesand of Unthriftyhed.

CiiNTO XII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

119

They, passing by, a goodly ship did see

Laden from far with precious mercliandize,

And bravely furnished as ship might bee.

Which through great disaventure, or mesprize,

Herselfe had ronne into that hazardize ;

^Vhose mariners and merchants with much toyle

Labour'd in vaine to have recur'd their prize,

And the rich wares to save from pitteous spoyle ;

But neither toyle nor traveill might herbackt recoyle.

On th' other side they see that perilous poole,

I'liat called was the Whirlepoole of Decay ;

In which full many had with haplesse doole

BeeHe suncke, of whom no memorie did stay :

\Miose circled waters rapt with whirling sway.

Like to a restlesse wheele, still ronning round,

Did covet, as they passed by that way.

To draw their bote within the utmost bound

Of his wide labyrinth, and then to have them dround.

But th' heedful boteman strongly forth did stretch

His brawnie armes, and all his bodie straine,

That th' utmost sandy breach they shortly fetch.

Whiles the dredd daunger does behind remaine.

Suddeine they see from midst of all the maine

The surging waters like a mountaiiie rise

And the great sea, puft up with proud disdaine,

To swell above the measure of his guise.

As threatning to devoure all that his powre despise.

The waves come rolling, and the billowes rore

Outragiously, as they enraged were,

Or wrathfull Neptune did them drive before

His whirling charet for exceeding feare ;

For not one pufFe of winde there did appeare ;

That all the three thereat woxe much afrayd,

Unweeting what such horrour straunge did reare.

Eftsoones they saw an hideous boast arrayd

Of huge sea-monsters, such as living sencedismayd ;

Most ugly shapes and horrible aspects.
Such as dame Nature selfe mote feare to see,
Or shame, that ever should so fowle defects
From her most cunning hand escaped bee :
All dreadfuU pourtraicts of deformitee :
Spring-headed hydres ; and sea-shouldring wliales ;
Great whirlpooles, which all fishes make to flee ;
Bright scolopendraes arm'd with silver scales ;
Mighty monoceros with immeasured tayles ;

The dreadful fish, that hath deserv'dthe name
Of Death, and like him lookes in dreadfull hew ;
The griesly wa'-serman, that makes his game
The flying ships with swiftnes to pursew ;
The horrible sea-satyre, that doth shew
His fearefull face in time of greatest storme ;
Huge zitfius, whom mariners eschew
No lesse then rockes, as travellers informe ;
And greedy rosmarines with visages deforme :

All these, and thousand thousands many more.
And more deformed monsters thousand fold,
W^ith dreadfull noise and hollow rombling rore
Came rushing, in the fomy waves enrold
Which seem'd to fly for feare tliem to behold :
Ne wonder, if these did the knight appall ;
For all that here on earth we dreadfull hold.
Be but as bugs to fearen babes wirhall,
Compared to the creatures in the seas entrall.

" Feare nought," then saide the palmer well aviz'l,

" For these same monsters are not these in deed.

But are into these fearefull shapes disguiz'd

B}'' that same wicked witch, to worke us dreed.

And draw from on this iourney to proceed."

Tho, lifting up his vertuous staffe on bye.

He smote the sea, which calmed was with speed,

And all that dreadfull armie fast gan flye

Into great Tethys bosome, where they hidden iye.

Quit from that danger forth their course they kept ;

And as they went they heard a ruefuU cry

Of one that wayld and pittii'uUy wept,

That through the sea th' resounding plaints did fly .

At last they in an island did espy

A seemely maiden, sitting by the sh;)re.

That witli great sorrow and sad agony

Seemed some great misfortune to deplore,

And lowd to them for succour called evermore.

Which Guyon hearing, streight his palmer bad

To stere the bote towaras that dolefull mayd,

That he might know and ease Iier sorrow sad •

Who, him avizing better, to him sayd ; .

" Faire sir, be not displeasd if disobayd :

For ill it were to hearken to her cry ;

For she is inly nothing ill apayd ;

But onely womanish tine forgery,

Your stuhborne hart t'aff'ect with fraile infirmity

" To which when she your courage hath inclind
Through foolish pitty, then her guilefull bayt
She will embosome deeper in your mind,
And for your ruine at the last awayt."
The knight was ruled, and the boteman stray t
Held on his course with stayed stedfastnesse,
Ne ever shroncke, ne ever sought to bayt
His tyred armes for toylesome wearinesse ;
But with his oares did sweepe the watry wilder-
nesse.

And now they nigh approched to the sted
Whereas those mermayds dwelt : it was a siill
And calm3r bay, on th' one side sheltered
With the brode sliadow of an hoarie hill ;
On th' other side an high i-ocke toured still,
That twixt them botli a pleasaunt port they made.
And did like an halfe theatre fulfill :
There those five sisters bad continuall trade,
Andusd to bath themselves in that deceiptfuU sbsda

120

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Booz II.

Tbpy were faire ladies, till tliey fondly striv'd
AVith th* Heliconian Maides for maystei y ;
Of whom they over-comen were depriv'd
Of their proud beautie, and tli' one moyity
Transforin'd to fish for their bold surquedry ;
But th' upper halfe their hew retayned still.
And their sweet skill in wonted melody ;
Which ever after they abusd to ill,
T' allure weake traveillers, whom gotten they did
kill.

So now to Guyon, as be passed by,
Their pleasaunt tunes they sweetly thus ajiplyde ;
" O thou fayre sonne of gentle Fat'ry,
That art in mi^litie armes most majnifyde
Above all knights that ever batteil tryde,
O turne thy rudder hetherward awhile :
Here may thy storrae-bett vessel 1 safely ryde ;
This is the port of rest from troublous toyle.
The worlds sweet in from paine and wearisome tur-
moyle."

With that the rolling sea, resounding soft.

In his big base them titly answered ;

And on the rocke the waves breaking aloft

A solemne meane unto them measured ;

The whiles sweet Zephyrus lowd whisteled

His treble, a straunge kinde of harmony ;

Which Guyons senses softly tickeled,

That he the boteman bad row easily.

And let him heare some part of their rare melody.

But liim the palmer from that vanity

With temperate advice discounselled,

That they it j)ast, and shortly gan descry

The land to which tlieir course tliey levelled ;

When suddeinly a grosse fog over spred

With his dull vapour all that desert has.

And heavens chearefuU face enveloped,

That all things one, and one as nothing was,

And this great universe seerad one confused mas.

Thereat they greatly were dismayd, ne wist

IIov.' to (iiivct theyr way in darkenes wide,

But feard to wander in that wasteful! mist.

For tonibling into mischiefe unespyde :

Worse is the daunger hidden then descride.

Suddeinly an innumerable (light

Of harmefuU fowles about them fluttering cride,

And with their wicked wings tliem ofte did smight,

And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly night.

XXXVI.

Even all tho nation of unfortunate

A id fatall birds about tiieni flocked were,

Si ch a« by nature men abliorre and liate ;

T..e ill-fasle owle, deaths dreadfull messengere ;

The hoars night-raven, trump of dolefull drere j

Tile lether-winged baft, dayes eniiny ;

The ruefull strich, still waiting on the here ;

The whistler shrill, tliat wlioso heares doth dy ;

The hellish harpyes, prophets of sad destiny:

All those, and all that els does horror breed,
About them flew, and iild their sayles with feare :
Yet stayd they not, but forward did proceed,
Whiles th' one did row, and th' other stifly steare ;
Till that at last the weather gan to cleare,
And the fiiire land itselfe did playnly show.
Said then the palmer ; " Lo ! where does appeare
The sacred soile where all our perills grow !
Therefore, Sir Knight, your ready arms about you
throw."

He hearkned, and his armes about him tooke.

The whiles the nimb'e bote so well her sped.

That with her crookod keele the land she strooke :

Then forth the noble Guyon sallied.

And his sage palmer that him governed;

But th' other by his bote behind did stay.

They marched fayrlv forth, of nought ydred,

Both firmely annd for every hard assay,

With constancy and care, gainst daunger and dismay.

Ere long they lieard an hideous bellowing

Of many beasts, that roard outrageously.

As if that hungers poynt or Venus sting

Had them enraged with fell surquedry ;

Vet nought they feard, but past on hardily,

Untill they came in vew of those wilde beasts.

Who all attonce, gaping full greedily.

And rearing fercely th.-ir upstaring crests.

Ran towards to devour those unexpected guests.

But, soone as tliey approcht with deadly threat,
The palmer over them his stafl'e upheld.
His mighty staffe, that could all charmes defeat :
Eftsoones tlieir stubborne corages weie queld.
And high advaunced crests downe meekely feld j
Instead of fraying they themselves did feare.
And trembled, as them jiassing they beheld :
Such wondrous powre did in that staft'e appeare.
All monsters to subdevv to him that did it beare

Of that same wood it fram'd was cunningly.
Of which Caducciis whilome was made,
Caduciius, the rod ot ]\Iercury,
\Vith which he wonts the Stygian realmes invade
Through ghastly horror and eternall shade ;
Th' iiifernall feends with it he can asswage.
And Orcus tame, uhome nothing can ])ersuade.
And rule the Furyes when they most doe rage;
Such vertue m his staffe h.id eke this palmer sag«

Tlience passing forth, they shortly doe arryvo
Whereas the Bovvre of Bliss was situate ;
A j)lace ])ickt out by choyce of best alyve,
That natures worke by art can imitate :
In which whatever in tliis worldly state
Is sweeii' and pleasing unto living sense,
Or that niav dayiitest fantasy aggrate,
Was poured forth with plcntifull dispence,
And made there to abound v/ilh lavish affluencu.

Canto XII.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

121

Goodly it was enclosed rownd about,

As well their entred guestes to keep vfitliin.

As those unrul}- beasts to hold without ;

Yet was the fence thereof but weake and thin ;

Nought feard their force, that fortilage to win,

But Wisedomes powre, and Temperaunces might,

By which the mightiest things eft'orced bin :

And eke the gate was wrought of substaunce light,

Rather for pleasure then for battery or fight.

Yt framed was of precious y^ory.
That seemd a worke of admirable witt ;
And therein all the famous history
Of lason and ^leda-a was ywritt ;
Her mighty churmes. her furious loving- fitt;
His goodlv conquest of th- golden tleece.
His falsed fayth, and love too lightly Uitt;
The wondied Avgo, which in venturous peece
First throu^h the Euxiue seas bore all the flowr of
Greece.

Ye miglit liave seen 'he frothy billowes fry
I'nder the sliip as thorouL,h them she went,
1 hat seenid the waves were into yvory.
Or yvory into ti.e wuves were sent ,
And otherwhere the snowy substaunce sprent
With vermeil, like tlie boyes blood therein shed,
A piteous spectacle did represent ;
And otherwliiles with gold besprinkeled
Yt seemed tb' enchaunted flame, which did Creusa
wed.

All this and more might in that goodly gate

Be red, that ever open stood to all

Wliich thether came : but in tlie porcli there sate

A comely personage of stature tall,

And semblaunce pleasing, more then natural!,

That travellers to him seemd to entize ;

His looser garment to the ground did foil,

And flew about his heeles in wanton wize,

Not fitt for speedy pace or manly exercize.

They in that place him Genius did call :

Not that celestiall Powre, to whom the care

Of life, and generation of all

That lives, perteines in charge particulare.

Who wondrous things concerning our welfare.

And straunge phantomes, doth lett us ofte foresee.

And ofte of secret ills bids us beware :

That is our Selfe, whom though we do not see.

Yet each doth in himselfe it well perceive to bee :

Therefore a god him sage Antiquity

Did wisely make, and good Agdistes call ;

But this same was to that quite contrary.

The foe of life, that good envyes to all.

That secretly doth us procure to fall [see :

Through guilefull semblants, which he makes us

He of this gardin had the govtmall,

And Pleasures jiorter was devizd to bee.

Holding a staffe in hand for more fonnalitee.

With diverse flowr^s he daintily was deckt,
And strowed rownd about ; and by his side
A mighty mazer bowle of wine was sett.
As if it had to him bene sacrifide ;
Wherewith all new-come guests he gratyfide :
So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by ;
But he his ydle curtesie defide,
And overthi'ew his bowle disdainfully,
And broke his staft'e, with which he charmed sem-
blants sly.

Thus being entred they behold arownd
A large and spacious phiine, on every side
Strowed with pleasauns ; whose fayre grassy grownd
Mantled with greene, and goodly beautitide
With all the ornaments of Floraes pride.
Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in scorne
Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride
Did decke her, and too lavishly adonie,
^Vhen forth from virgin bowre she comes in th
early monie.

Thereto the hevens alwayes joviall
Lookte on them lovely, still in stedfaste state,
Ne suflfred storme nor frost on them to fall.
Their tender buds or leaves to violate:
Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate,
T' afflict the creatures which therein did dwell; '
But the milde ayre with season moderate
Gently attempred, and disposd so well,
That still it breathed forth sweet spirit and holesom
smell :

More sweet and liolesome then the pleasaunt hill

Of Rhodope, on which (he nymphe, that bore

A gyaunt babe, her^elfe for griefe did kill ;

Or the Thessalian Tempe, wliere of yore

Fayre Daphne Phtt'bus hart with love did gore;

Or Ida, where the gods lov'd to repayre.

Whenever they tht ir h^ venly bowres forlore ;

Or sweet Parnasse the haunt of muses fayre :

Or Eden selfe, if ought with Eden mote compayre.

Much wondred Guyon at the fayre aspect

Of that sweet ])lace', yet sufl'red no delight

To sincke into his seiice nor mind afl'ect ;

But passed forth, and lookt still forward right,

Brydling his will and maystering his might:

Till that he came unto another gate ;

No gale, but like one, being goodly diglit

Witii bowes and braunches, which did broad dilate

Their claspin- armes in wanton wreathings intricate

So fashioned a porch with rare device.

Archt over head with an embracing vine,

W hose bounches hanging downe seenid to entica

All passers-by to taste their lushious wine.

And did themselves into their hands incline.

As ireely offering to be gathered ;

Some deepe en;purpled as the hyacine.

Some as the riibine laughing sweetely red,

Some like faire emeraudes, not yet well ripened:

122

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

And them amongst some were of burnisht gold,
So made by art to beautify the rest,
Which did themselves emongst the leaves enfold.
As lurking from the vew of covetous guest,
That the weake boughes with so rich load opprest
Did bow adowne as overburdened.
Under that porch a comely dame did rest
Clad in fayre weedes but fowle disordered,
\nd gamients loose Uiat seemd unmeet for woman-
iied:

In lier left hand a cup of gold she held.

And with her right the riper fruit did reach,

\Vhose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse sweld,

Into her cup she scruzd with daintie breach

Of her fine fingers, without fowle empeach.

That so taire winepresse made the wine more sweet :

Thereof she usd to give to drinke to each,

Whom passing by she happened to meet:

It was her guise all straungers goodly so to greet.

So she to Guy on offred it to tast ;

\Vho, taking it out of her tender bond.

The cup to ground did violently cast,

That all in peeces it was broken fond,

And with the liquor stained all the lond :

Whereat Excesse exceedingly was wroth.

Yet no'te the same amend, ne yet withstond,

But suffered him to passe, all were she loth ;

Who, nought regarding her displeasure, forward goth.

There the most daintie paradise on ground

Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye.

In wliich all pleasures plenteously abownd,

And none does others happinesse envye ;

The painted flowres ; the trees upshooting bye ;

The dales for shade ; the hilles for breathing space ;

The trembling groves ; the christall running by ;

And, that which all faire workes doth most aggrace,

The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place.

One would have thought, (so cunningly the rude

And scorned partes were mingled with the fine,)

That Nature had for wantonesse ensude

Art, and tliat Art at Nature did repine ;

So striving each th' other to undermine,

Each did the otliers worke more beautify;

So diTriiig botli in willes agreed in fine:

So all agreed, through sweete diversity,

This gardin to adorne with all variety.

And in the midst of all a fountaine stood,

Of richest substance that on earth might bee,

So pure and shiny that the silver flood

Through every channell running one might see ;

Most goodly it with curious ymageree

"VVas over-wroufiht, and shapes of naked boyes,

Of wliich some seemd with lively iollitee

io fly about, j)laying their wanton toycs,

tVhylest others did themselves embay in liquid ioyes.

And over all of purest gold was spred
A trayle of y vie in his native hew ;
For tiie rich metall was so coloured.
That wight, who did not well avis'd it vevr,
W^ould surely deeme it to bee yvie trew :
Low his lascivious amies adown did creepe,
That themselves dipping in the silver dew
Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe.
Which drops of christall seemd for wantones to
weep.

ixn.

Infinit streames continually did well
Out of this fountaine, sweete and fairs to see.
The which into an ample laver fell.
And shortly grew to so great quantitie,
That like a litle lake it seemd to bee ;
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits bight.
That through the waves one might the bottom see,
All pav'd beneath vs-ith jaspar shining bright,
That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle up-
right.

And all the margent round about was sett
With shady laurell trees, thence to defend
The sunny beames which on the billowes bett,
And those which therein bathed mote oftend.
As Guyon hapned by the same to wend.
Two naked damzelles he therein espyde.
Which therein bathing seemed to contend
And wrestle wantonly, ne car'd to hyde
Their dainty partes from vew of any which them
eyd.

LXIV.

Sometimes the one would lift the other quight

Above the waters, and then downe againe

Her plong, as over-maystered by might,

Where both awhile would covered remaine,

And each the other from to rise restraine ;

The whiles their snowy limbes, as through a vele.

So through the christall waves appeared jilaine:

Then suddeinly both would themselves unhele.

And th' amorous sweet spoiles to greedy eyes revele.

As that faire starre, the messenger of morne,

His deawy face out of the sea doth reare:

Or as the Cyprian goddesse, newly borne

Ofth' ocean's fruitful! frotli, did first appeare:

Such seemed thev, and so their yellow heare

Christalline humor drojiped downe ajiace.

Whom such when Guyon saw, lie drew him neare,

And somewhat gan relent his earnest ])ace;

His stubborne brest gan secret pleasaunce to embrace.

The wanton maidens him espying, stood

Gazing awhile at his imwoiited guise ;

Then th' one herselfe low ducked in tiie flood,

Abasht that lier a straunger did avise :

I3ut th' other ralher higher did arise,

And her two lilly pajis aloft dis{)layd.

And all, that might his melting hait entyse

To her delights, she unto him bewrayd ;

The rest, hidd underneath, him more desirous made.

Can-to XI.]

THE FAERTE QUEENE.

123

With that the other likewise up arose,

Ami her faire lockes, which foimerly were bownd

Tp in one knott, she low adowue did lose,

^^ hich flowing long and thick jier cloth'd arownd,

And th' worie in golden mantle gowud :

So that faire spectacle from him was reft,

Vet tliat which reft it no lesse faire was fownd :

So hidd in lockes and waves from lookers theft,

IN' ought but her lovely face she for his looking left.

Withall she laughed, and she blusht withall,
That blushing to her laughter gave more grace,
And laughter to her blushing, as did fall.
Now when they spyde the knight to slacke his pace
Them to behold, and in his sparkling face
The secrete signes of kindled lust appeare.
Their wanton merriments they did encreace,
And to him beckned to approch more neare,
And shewd him many sights that corage cold could
reare :

On which when gazing him the palmer saw,

He much rebukt those wandring eyes of his.

And counseld well him forward thence did draw.

Now are they come nigh to the Bowre of Blis,

Of her fond favorites so nam'd amis ;

When thus the palmer ; " Now, sir, well avise ;

For here the end of all our traveill is :

Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must surprise,

Els she will slip away, and all our drift despise."

Eftsoones thev heard a most melodious sound.
Of all that mote delight a daintie eare,
Such as attonce might not ou living ground.
Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere :
Right hard it was for wight which did it heare.
To read what manner musicke that mote bee ;
For all that pleasing is to living eare
Was there consorted in one harmonee ;
Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all
agrree :

The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade,
ITieir notes unto the voice attempred sweet ;
Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made
To th' instruments di\'ine respondence meet;
The silver-sounding instruments did meet
With the base murmure of the waters fall ;
The waters fall with difference discreet,
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ;
The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.

There, whence that musick seemed heard to bee

Was the faire witch herselfe now solacino-

With a new lover, whom, through sorceree

And witchcraft, she from farre did thether brino- :

There she had him now laid a slomberino-

In secret shade after long wanton ioyes ;

Whilst round about them pleasauntly did sine

Many faire ladies and lascivious boyes,

That ever mixt their song with light licentious toyes.

And all that while right over him she hong'

With her false eyes fast fixed in his siglit,

As seeking medicine whence she was st'onff.

Or greedily depasturing delight ;

And oft inclining downe with kisses light.

For feare of waking him, his lips bedewd.

And through his humid eyes did sucke his spiight.

Quite molten into lust and pleai-ure lewd;

Wherewith she sighed soft, as if his case she rewd.

The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay ;

Ah! see, whoso fayre thing doestfaine to see.

In springing Jioure Ute image of thy day !

Ah ! see the virgin rose, how sweetly shee

Dothjirst peepefoorth witlt bushfull modestee.

That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may !

Lo ! see, soone ajter how more hold and free

Her bared bosome she doth broad display ;

Lo ! see soone after how she fades and falls away !

So passeth, in the passing of a day,

Of mortall life the leafe, the hud', iheflowre;

Ke more dothforish after first decay.

That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre

Of many a lady, and many a paramoure !

Gather therefore the rose u:J}ilest yet is prime,

For soone comes age that will her pride defiowre :

Gather the rose of lore luhilest yet is time,

Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime.

LXXVI.

He ceast; and then gan all the quire of birdes

Their diverse notes t'attune unto his lay.

As in approvaunce of his pleasing wordes.

The constant payre heard all that 'he did say.

Yet swarved not, but kept their forward way

Through many covert groves and thickets close,

In which they creeping did at last display

That wanton lady, with her lover lose.

Whose sleepie head she in her lap did soft dispose.

Upon a bed of roses she was layd.

As faint through heat, or dight to pleasant sin ;

And was arayd, or rather disarayd.

All in a vela of silke and silver tliin,

That hid no whit her alablaster skin,

But rather shewd more white, if more might bee :

More subtile web Arachne cannot spin ;

Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see

Of scorched deaw, do not in th'ayre more lightly flee.

Her snowy brest was bare to ready spoyle
Of hungry eies, which n'ote therewith'be fild ;
And yet, through languour of her late sweet toyle.
Few drops, more cleare then nectar, forth distild.
That like pure orient perles adowne it trild ;
And her faire eyes, sweet smyling in delight,
Moystened their fierie beames, with which she thr
Fraile harts, yet quenclied not ; like starry light.
Which, sparckling on the silent waves, does^soema
more bright.

124

niE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II.

The 3-outig: man, sleeping- by lier, seemd to be
Some s;oodly swaviie of lionora])le place ;
Tliat certes it great pittv was to see
Him his nobility so fowle deface :
A sweet regard and amiable grace,
Mixed with manly sternesse, did appeare,
Yet sleejiing, in his well-proportiond face ;
And on his tender lips the downy heare
Did not but freshly spring, and silken blossoms
beare.

His warlike armes, the ydle instruments
Of sleeping praise, were hong upon a tree :
And his brave shield, full of old moniments,
Was fowly rns't, that none the signes might see;
Ne for them ne for honour cared hee,
Ne ought that did to his advauncement tend ;
But in lewd loves, and wastfull luxuree,
His dayes, his goods, his bodie he did spend :
O horrible enchantment, that him so did blend !

The noble elfe and carefull palmer drew
So nigh them, minding nought but lustful! game,
That suddein forth they on them rusht, and threw
A subtile net, which only for that same
The skilfull palmer formally did frame :
So held them under fast ; the whiles the rest
Fled all away for feare of fowler shame.
The faire enchauntresse, so unwares opprest,
Tryde all her arts and all her sleights thence out to
wrest ;

And eke her lover strove ; but all in vaine :

For that same net so cunningly was wound,

That neither guile nor force might it distraine.

They tooke them both, and both them strongly bound

In ca])tive bandes, which there they readie found:

But her in chaines of adamant he tyde;

For nothing else might keepe her safe and sound :

I5ut Verdant (so he bight) he soone untyde.

And counsell sage in steed thereof to him applyde.

But all those pleasaunt bowres, and pallace brave,
Guyon broke dovvne with rigour pittilesse :
Ne ought their goodly workmanship might save
Them from the tempest of his wrathfulnesse
But that their blisse he turn'd to balefulnesse ;
Tlieir groves he feld ; tlieir gardins did deface ;
Their arbers spoyle ; tlieir cabinets suppresse ;
Their banket-houses burne; their buildings race;
And, of the fayrest late, now made the fowlestplacQ

LXXXIV.

Then led they her away, and eke that knight
They with them led, both sorrowfuU and sad :
The way they came, the same retourn'd thev right,
Till thev arrived where lliey lately had
Charm'd those wild beasts that rag'd with furie mad ;
Which, now awaking, fierce at them gan fly.
As in their mistresse re-skew, whom they lad;
But them the palmer soone did pacify.
Then Guyon askt, what meant those beastes which
there did ly.

LXXXV.

Savd he ; " These seeming beasts are men in deed,
^Vliom this enchauntresse hath transformed thus-,
Wliylome her lovers, which her lustes did feed,
Now turned into figures hideous,
According to their mindes like monstruous."
" Sad end," quoth he, " of life intemperate,
And mourneful meed of ioyes delicious !
But, palmer, if it mote thee so aggrate,
Let them returned be unto their former state."

Streiglitway he with his virtuous stafFe them stroote,

And streight of beastes they comely men became;

Yet being men they did unmanly looke,

And stared ghastly ; some for inward shame.

And some for wrath to see their captive dame :

But one above the rest in speciall

Tliat had an hog beene late, hight Grylle by name,

Repvned greatly, and did him miscall

That had from hoggish forme him brought to naturnll

LXXXVII.

Saide Guyon; "See the mind of beastly man,

'I'hat hath so soone forgot the excellence

Of his creation, when he life began,

That now he cliooseth with vile difference

To be a beast, and lacke intelligence !"

To whom the ])almer thus ; " I he donghill kinde

Delightes in filth and fowle incontinence :

Let Gryll be Gryll, and have his hoggish minde :

But let us hence depart whilest wether serves and wmde."

THE THIRDE BOOKE

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNENO

THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS, OR OF CHASTITY.

It falifs me here to write of Chastity,
That fayrest vertue, far above the rest :
For which what needes me fetch from Faery
Forreine ensamples it to have exprest ?
Sith it is shrined in my soveraines brest,
And formd so lively in each perfect part,
That to all ladies, which have it jjrofest.
Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart ;
If pourtrayd it might bee by any living art :

But living art may not least part expresse,
Nor life-resembling pencUl it can paynt :
All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles,
His dffidale hand would faile and greatly faynt.
And her perfections with his error tajiit :
Ne poets witt, that passeth painter farre
In picturing the parts of beauty daynt.
So hard a workeraauship adventure darre,
For feare through want of words her excellence to
marre.

How then shall I, apprentice of the skill
That whilome in divinest wits did rayne,
Presume so high to stretch mine humble quill?
Yet now my luckelesse lott doth me constrayne
Hereto perforce: but, O dredd soverayne.
Thus far forth pardon, sith that choicest witt
Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure plajTie,
That I in colourd showes may shadow itt.
And antique praises unto present persons fitt.

But if in living colours, and right hew,
Thyselfe thou covet to see pictured,
Who can it doe more lively, or more trew.
Then that sweete verse, with nectar sprinckeled
In which a gracious servaunt pictured
His Cvnthia, his heavens fayrest light?
That with his melting sweetnes ravished,
And v/ith the wonder of her beames bright,
INIy sences lulled are in slomber of delight.

But let that same delitious poet lend

A little leave unto a rusticke muse

To sing his mistresse prayse ; and let him mend,

If ought amis her liking may abuse :

Ne let his fayrest Cynthia refuse

In mirrours more then one herselfe to see ;

But either Gloriana let her chuse.

Or in Belphuebe fashioned to bee ;

In th' one her rule, in tli' other her rare cLostitee.

1«6

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III,

CANTO L

Guyon encountreth Britomart:
Fayre Florimell is chaced :

Duessaes traines and Malecas
taes champions are defaced.

The famous Briton prince and Faery knight,
After Ions: ways and perilous paines endur'd
Having' their weary limbes to perfect plight
Restord, and sory wounds right -svell recur'd,
Of the faire Alma greatly were procur'd
To make there lenger soiourne and abode ;
But, when thereto tliey might not be allur'd
From seeking praise and deedes of amies abrode,
They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode.

But the captiv'd Acrasia he sent,
Because of traveill long, a nigher way,
With a strong gard, all reskew to prevent,
And her to Faery court safe to convay;
That her for witnes of his liard assay
Unto his Faery Queene he might present :
But he himselfe betooke another way.
To make more triall of his hardiment,
And seek adventures, as he with Prince Arthure
went.

Long so they travelled through wastefull wayes,

Where daungers dwelt, and perils most did wonne,

To hunt for glory and renowmed prayse :

Full many countreyes they did overronne,

From the uprising to the setting sunne.

And many hard adventures did atchieve ;

Of all the which they honour ever wonne.

Seeking the weake oppressed to relieve.

And to recover right for such as wrong did grieve.

At last, as through an open plaine they yode,
They spide a knight that towards pricked fayre;
And him beside an aged squire there rode.
That seemd to couch under his shield three-square.
As if that age badd him that burden spare,
And yield it those that stouter could it wield:
He, them espying, ^an himselfe prepare,
And on his anne addresse his goodly shield
Tliat bore a liop passant in a golden field.

Which seeing good Sir Guyon deare besought
The Prince, of grace, to let him roime that turne.
He graunted : then the Faery quickly raught
His j)oynant speare, and shar])ly gan to spume
Hisfomv steed, whos fiery feete did burne
Tlie verdant gras as he thereon did tread ,
Ne did tiie other backe his foote returne,
But fiercely forward came witliouten dread.
And bent his dreadful speare against the others hoad

They beene jTnett, and both theyr points arriv'd ;
But Guyon drove so furious and fell, [riv'd ;

That seemd both shield and plate it would have
Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell,
But made him stagger, as he were not well :
But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware,
Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell ;
Yet in his fall so well himselfe he bare,
That mischievous mischaunce his life and limbs did
spare.

Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke ;
For never yet, sith warlike armes he bore
And shivering speare in bloody field first shooke,
He fownd himselfe dishonoured so sore.
Ah ! gentlest knight, that ever armor bore.
Let not thee grieve dismoxmted to have beene,
And brought to grownd, that never wast before ;
For not thy fault, but secret powre unseene ;
That speare enchaunted was which layd thee on the
greene !

But weenedst thou what wight thee overthrew.

Much greater griefe and shamefuUer regrett

For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew.

That of a single damzell thou wert mett

On equall plaine, and there so hard besett :

Even the famous Britomart it was,

Whom straunge adventure did from Britayne fett

To seeke her lover (love far sought alas!)

Whose image shee had scene in \'enus looking-glas.

Full of disdainefull wrath, he fierce uprose
For to revenge that fowle reprochefuU shame.
And snatching his bright sword began to close
With her on foot, and stoutly forward came;
Dye rather would he then endure that same.
^V'hich when his palmer saw, he gan to feare
His toward ]ierill, and untoward blame.
Which by that new rencounter he should reare ;
For Death sate on the point of that enchaunted
speare :

And hasting towards him gan fayre perswade
Not to provoke misfortune, nor to weene
His speares default to mend with cmell blade;
For by his mightie science he had seene
1 ho secrete vertue of that weapon keene,
Tliat raortall jmissaunce mote not withstond :
Nothing on earth mote alvvaies happy beene!
Great hazard were it, and adventure fond.
To loose long-gotten honour with one evill bond.

Ch-inf 1.1

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

iVf

By such good meanes lie him discounselled
From prosecuting his revenging rage :
And eke tlie prince like treaty bandeled,
His wrath full will with reason to as wage ;
And laid the blame, not to his carriage.
But to his starting steed that swarv'd asyde,
And to the ill purveyaunce of his page,
That had his furnitures not firmely tyde :
So is his angry corage fayrly pacifyde.

Thus reconcilement was betweene them knitt,
Through goodly temperaunce and affection chaste ;
And either vowd witli all their power and witt
To let not others honour be defaste
Of friend or foe, whoever it embaste,
Ke armes to bear against the others syde :
In which accord the prince was also plaste.
And with that golden chaine of concord tyde :
So goodly all agreed, tbey forth yfere did ryde.

O, goodly usage of those antique t}Tnes,
In which the sword was servauHt unto right ;
When not for malice and contentious crymes,
But all for prayse and proofe of manly might,
The martiall brood accustomed to fight :
Then honour was the meed of victory,
And yet the vanquished had no despight :
Let later age that noble use envy,
Vyle rancor to avoid and cruell surquedry !

Long they thus travelled in friendly wise.
Through countreves waste, and eke well edifyde,
Seeking adventures hard, to exercise
Their puissaunce, whylome full dernly tryde :
At length they came into a forest wyde.
Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sownd
Full griesly seemed : therein they long did ryde,
Vet tract of living creature none they fownd,
Save beares, lyons, and buls, which romed them
arownd.

All suddenly out of the thickest brush,
Upon a milk-white palfrey all alone,
A goodly lady did foreby them rush.
Whose face did seeme as cleare as christall stone.
And eke, through feare, as white as whales bone :
Her garments all were wrouglit of beaten gold,
And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone,
^V'hich fledd so fast that nothing mote him hold,
And scarse them leasure gave her passing to behold.

Still as she fledd her eye she backward threw.
As fearing evill that poursewed her fast ;
And her faire yellow locks behind her fiew,
Loosely disperst with pufi' of every blast :
All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast
His hearie beames, and flaming locks dispredd.
At sight whereof the people stand aghast ;
But the sage wisard telles as he has redd,
That it importunes death and dolefuU dreryhedd.

So as they gazed after her awhyle,
Lo ! where a griesly foster forth did rush.
Breathing out beastly lust her to defyle :
His tyreling jade he fiersly forth did ])us(i
Through thicke and thin, both over banck and bush,
In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke.
That from his gory sydes tlie blood did gush
Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke,
And in his clownish hand a sharp bore-speare he
shooke.

Which outrage when those gentle knights did see,

Full of great envy and fell gealosy

They stayd not to avise who first should bee,

But all spurd after, fast as they mote fly.

To reskew her from shamefull villany.

The prince and Guyon equally bylive

Herselfe pursewd, in hope to win thereby

]\Iost goodly meede, the farest dame alive :

But after the foule foster Timias did strive.

The whiles faire Britomart, whose constant mind
Would not so lightly follow beauties chace,
Ne reckt of ladies love, did stay behynd ;
And them awaited there a certaine space.
To weet if they would turne backe to that place :
But when she saw them gone, she forward went.
As lay her iourney, through that perlous pace.
With stedfast corage and stout hardiment ;
Ne evil thing she feard, ne evill thing she ment.

At last as nigh out of the wood she came,
A stately castle far away she spyde.
To which her steps directly she did frame.
That castle was most goodly edifyde,
And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde .
But faire before the gate a spatious playne,
jMantled with greene, itselfe did spredden wyde,
On wlrich she saw six knights, that did darrayne
Fiers battaill against one with cruell might and
mayne.

XXI.

Mainely they all attonce upon him laid,

And sore besett on every side arownd,

That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid,

Ne ever to them yielded foot of grownd,

All had he lost much blood through many a wowed ;

But stoutly dealt his blowes, and every way.

To which he turned in his wrathfull stownd,

jMade them recoile, and fly from dredd decay,

That none of all the six before him durst assay •

Like dastard curres, that, having at a bay
The salvage beast embost in wearie chace,
Dare not adventure on the stubborne pray,
Ne byte before, but rome from place to place
To get a snatch when turned is his face.
In such distresse and doubtfuU leopardy
When Britomart him saw, she ran apace
Unto his reskew, and with earnest cry
Badd those same six forbeare that single enimv.

128

THE FAKRIK Q UK I INK

Book III.

But to lier cry tliey list not lenden eare,

Ne out;-lit the more their nii^htie strokes surceasse ;

But, gatlierincj liim rownd about more neare.

Their direfull rancour rather did encreasse ;

Till that she rushins; through the thickest preasse

Perforce disparted their compacted g;yre,

And soone compeld to hearken unto peace :

Tho p-an she niyldly of them to inquyre

The cause of tlieir dissention and outrageous yre.

\Vhereto that sintjle k-niglit did answere frame ;
" These six would me enforce, by oddes of might,
To chaunge my liefe, and love another dame ;
That death me liefer were then such despight,
So tmto wrong to yield my wrested right :
For I love one, the truest one on grownd,
Ne list me chaunge ; she th' errant damzell hight ;
For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd
I harve endurd, and tasted many a bloody wownd."

" Certes," said she, " then beene ye sixe to blame,

To weene your wrong by force to iustify :

For knight to leave his lady were great shame

That faithfuU is ; and better were to dy.

All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamy.

Then losse of love to him that loves but one :

Ne may love be compeld by maistery ;

For, soone as maistery comes, sweet love anone

Taketh his nimble winges, and soone away is gone.'

Then spake one of those six ; " There dwelleth here

Within this castle-wall a lady fayre,

Whose soveraine beautie hath no living pere ;

Thereto so bounteous and so debonayre,

That never any mote with her compayre :

She hath ordaind this law, which we approve,

Tliat every knight which doth this way repayre,

]n case he have no lady nor no love.

Shall doe unto her service, never to remove :

" But if he have a lady or a love,

Then must he her forgoe with fowle defame.

Or els with us by dint of sword approve.

That she is fairer then our fairest dame ;

As did this knight, before ye hether came."

" Perdy," -.aid J5ritomart, "the choise is hard !

But what reward had he that overcame 1"

" He should advaunced bee to high regard,"

Said they, and Lave our ladies love for his reward.

" Therefore aread, sir, if thou have a love."
'■ Love have I sure," (juoth she, " but lady none ;
Vet will I not fro mine owne love remove,
Ne to your lady will I service done, [alone,

JJut wreake your wronges wrought to this knight
And prove his cause." With that, her mortall speare
She mightily aventred towards one.
And downe him smot ere well aware he weare ;
Then to the next she rode, and dowue the next did
beare .

Ne did she stay till three on ground she layd,
That none of tliem himselfe could reare againe :
Tlie fourth was by that other knight dismayd.
All were he wearie of his foraier paine ;
Tliat now there do but two of six remaine ;
VVhicli two did yield before she did them smight.
" Ah 1 " said she then, " now may ye all see plaine,
That trutli is strong, and trew love most of might.
That for his trusty servauuts doth so strongly fight."

" Too well we see," saide they, " and prove too well
Our faulty weakness, and j'our matchlesse might :
Fortliy, faire sir, yours be the damozell.
Which by her owne law to your lot doth light,
And we your liegemen faith unto you plight."
So underneath her feet their swords they mard.
And, after, her besought, well as they might
To enter in and reape the dew reward :
She grauuted ; and then in they all altogether far'd

Long were it to describe the goodly frame

And stately port of Castle Joyeous,

(For so that castle hight by common name,)

VVhere they were entertaynd with courteous

And comely glee of many gratious

Faire ladies, and of many a gentle knight ;

Who, through a chamber long and spacious,

Eftsoones them brought unto their ladies sight,

That of them cleeped was the lady of delight.

But, for to tell the sumptuous aray
Of that great chamber, should be labour lost ;
For living wit, I woeue, cannot display
The roiall riches and exceeding cost
Of every pillour and of every post.
Which all of purest bullion framed were.
And with great perles and pretious stones embost ;
That tlie bright glister of their beames cleare
Did sparckle forth great light, and glorious did
appeare.

XXXIII.

These stranger knights, through passing, forth were
Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee [led

And rich purveyance might uneath be red ;
Mote Princes place beseeme so deckt to bee.
Which stately manner whenas they did see.
The image of superfluous riotize.
Exceeding much the state of meane degree,
They greatly wondred whence so sumjjtuous guize
Might be maintaynd, an^^ each gaii diversely devize.

The wals were round about apparelled

With costly clothes of Arras and of Totire ;

In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed

The love of X^euus and her paramoure.

The fayre Adonis, turned to a flowre ;

A work of rare device and wondrous wit.

First did it shew the bitter balefuU stowre,

Which her essayd with many a fervent fit.

When first her tender hart was with his beautie Binit

Canto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

129

Tlien with what sleights and sweet allurements she

Entyst the boy, as well that art she knew,

And wooed him her paramoure to bee ;

Now making girlonds of each flowifa that grew,

To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew ;

Now leading him into a secret shade

From his beauperes, and from bright heavens vew,

Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade.

Or bathe him in a fountaine by some covert glade :

And, whilst he slept, she over him would spred
Her mantle colour'd like the starry skyes,
And her soft arme lay underneath his hed.
And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes ;
And, whilst he bath'd. with her two crafty spyes
She secretly would search each daintie lim,
And throw into the well sweet rosemaryes.
And fragrant violets, and paunces trim ;
And ever with sweet nectar she did sprinkle him.

So did she steale his heedelesse hart away,
And ioyd his love in secret unespyde:
But for she saw him bent to cruell play.
To hunt the salvage beast in forrest wyde,
Dreadfull of daunger that mote him betyde
She oft and oft adviz'd him to refraine
From chase of greater beastes, i^hose brutish pryde
Mote breede him scath unwares : but all in vaine ;
For who can shun the chance that dest'ny doth or-
daine?

Lo ! where beyond he lyeth languishing.
Deadly engored of a great wilde bore ;
And by his side the goddesse groveling
Makes for him endlesse mone, and evermore
\Vith her soft garment wipes away the gore
Which stajTies his snowy skin with hatefuU hew :
But, when she saw no helpe might him restore.
Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew.
Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it lively grew.

So was that chamber clad in goodly wize :

And rownd about it many beds were dight,

As wh3'lome was the antique world'es guize.

Some for untimely ease, some for delight,

As pleased them to use that use it might :

And all was full of damzels and of squyres,

Dauncing and reveling both day and night.

And swimming deepe in sensuall desyres ;

\nd Cupid still emongest them kindled lustful! fyres

And all the while sweet musicke did divide

Hei looser notes with Lydian harmony ;

And all the while sweete birdes thereto applide

Their daintie layes and dulcet melody,

Ay caroling of love and iollity,

That wonder was to heare their trim consort, [eye

Which when those knights beheld, with scornefuU

They sdeignei such lascivious disport.

And loath'd tha loose demeanure of that wanton sort. !

Thence they were brought to that great ladies vew,
Whom they found sitting; on a sumjttuous bed
That glistred all with gold and gloiious shew.
As the proud Persian queenes accustomed :
She seemd a woman of great bountihed
And of rare beautie, saving that askaunce
Her wanton eyes (ill signes of womanlied)
Did roll too lightly, and too often glaunce.
Without regard of grace or comely amenaunce

Long worke it were, and needlesse, to devize

Their goodly entertainement and great glee :

She caused them be led in courteous wize

Into a bowre, disarmed for to be,

And clieared well with wine and spiceree :

The Redcrosse Knight was soon disarmed there ■

But the brave mayd would not disamied bee,

But onely vented up lier umbriijre,

And so did let her goodly visage to appere.

As when fayre Cynthia, in darksome night.

Is in a noyous cloud enveloped.

Where she may linde the substance thin and light,

Breakes forth her silver beames, and lier bright hed

Discovers to the world discomfited ;

Of the poore traveller that went astray

With thousand blessings she is heried :

Such was the beautie and the shining ray.

With which fayre Britomart gave light unto the day.

And eke those six, which lately with her fought,

Now were disarmd, and did themselves present

Unto her vew, and company unsought ;

For they all seemed courteous and gent,

And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent.

Which had tliem traynd in all civilitee.

And goodly taught to tilt and turnament ;

Now were they liegmen to this ladie free.

And her knights-service ought, to hold of her in fee.

The first of them by name Gardante hight,

A iolly person, and of comely vew ;

The second was Parlante, a bold knight-

And next to him locante did ensew ;

Basciante did himselfe most courteous shew ;

But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and keene ;

And yett in amies Noctante greater grew :

All were faire knights, and goodly well beseene ;

But to faire Britomart they all but shadowes beene.

For shee was full of amiable grace

And manly terror mixed therewithall ;

That as the one stird up affections bace.

So th' other did mens rash desires apall.

And hold them backe that would in error fall •

As hee that hath espide a vermeill rose.

To which sharp thornes and breres the way forstall,

Dare not for diead his hardy hand expose,

But, wishing it far off, his ydle wish doth lose.

ISO

THE FAERIE QUELNE.

[Book III,

Wliom when the ladv saw so faire a wight,

All ignorant of her contrary sex,

TFor shea her weend a fresh and lusty kniglit,)

Shee greatly gan enamoured to wax,

And with vaine tlioughts her falsed fancy vax :

Her fickle hart conceived hasty fyre,

Like sparkes of fire which fall in sclender flax.

That shortly brent into extreme desyre,

And riinsackt all her veines with passion entyre.

Eftsoones shee grew to great impatience,

And into termes of open outrage brust,

That plaine discovered her incontinence;

Ne reckt shee who her meaning did mistrust;

For she was given all to fleshly lust,

And poured forth in sensuall delight.

That all regard of shame she had discust.

And meet respect of honor put to flight :

So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a loathly sight.

Faire ladies, that to love captivad arre.

And chaste desires doe nourish in your mind.

Let not her fault your sweete affections marre ;

Ne blott the bounty of all womankind

'Rlongst thousands gqpd, one wanton dame to find

Emongst the roses grow some wicked weeds :

For this was not to love, but lust, inclind;

For love does alwaies bring forth bounteous deeds,

And in each gentle hart desire of honor breeds.

Nought so of love this looser dame did skill,
But as a cole to kindle fleshly flame,
(jiving the bridle to her wanton will.
And treading under foote her honest name :
Such love is hate, and such desire is shame.
Still did she rove at her with crafty glaunce
Of her false eies, that at her hart did ayma.
And told her meaning in her countenaunce ;
But Britomart dissembled it with ignoraunce.

Supper was shortly dight, and downe they satt ;

Where they were served with all sumptuous fare,

Whiles fruitfull Ceres ajid Lyaius fatt

Pourd out their plenty, without spight or spare ;

Nought wanted there that dainty was and rare:

And aye the cups their bancks did overflow:

And aye betweene the cuj)s sh« did prepare

Way to her love, and secret darts did throw ;

But Britomart would not suchguilfull message know.

So, when they slaked had the fervent heat

Of appetite with meates of every sort,

The lady did faire Britomart entreat

Her to disarme, and with delightfull sjjort

T« loose lier warlike limbs and strong efiurt :

But wlien shee mote not thereunto be wonne,

(For shc-e her sexe under that straunge purport

Did use to hide, and plaine apparaunce shonne,)

In playaer wise to tell her grievaunce she begonne ;

And all attonce discovered her desire [griefe,

With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, and piteous
The outward sparkes of her in-burning fire :
Which spent in vaine, at last she told her briefe.
That, but if she did lend her short reliefe
And doe her comfort, she mote algates dye.
But the chaste damzell, that had never priefe
Of such malengine and fine forgerye.
Did easely belaeve her strong extremitye.

Full easy was for her to have beliefe,
Who by self-feeling of her feeble sexe.
And by long triall of the inward griefe
Wherewith imperious love her hart did vexe,
Could iudge what paines doe loving harts perplexe.
Who means no guile, be guiled soonest shall.
And to faire semblaunce doth light faith annexe :
The bird, that knowes not the false fowlers call.
Into his hidden nett full easely doth fall.

Forthy she would not in discourtaise wise
Scorne the faire offer of good will profest ;
For great rebuke it is love to despise.
Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request ;
But with faire countenaunce, as beseemed best,
Her entertaynd ; nath'lesse shea inly deemd
Her love too light, to wooe a wandring guest;
Which she misconstruing, thereby esteemd
That from like inward fire that outward smoke had
steemd.

Therewith awhile she her flit fancy fedd.
Till she mote winne fit time for her desire;
But yet her wound still inward freshly bledd.
And through her bones the falsa instilled fire
Did spred itselfe, and venime close inspire.
Tho were the tables taken all away ;
And every knight, and every gentle squire,
Gan choose his dame with hasciomani gay.
With whom he ment to make his sport and courtly
play.

LVII.

Some fell to daunce ; some fell to hazardry ;
Some to make love ; some to make meryment.
As diverse witts to diverse things apply :
I And all the while faire JNIalecasta bent
Her crafty engins to her close intent.
By this th' eternall lampes, wherewith high love
Dotli light tho lower world, were halfe yspent.
And the moist daughters of huge Atlas strove
Into tho ocean deepe to drive their weary drove.

High time it seemed then for everie wight
Them to betake unto their kindly rest :
Eftesoones long waxen torches weren light
Unto their bowres to guyden every guest :
Tho, when the Britonesse saw all the rest
Avoided cjuite, she gan herselfe despoile.
And safe ccjmmitt to her soft fethered nest;
Wlier through long watch, and late daies weary toile.
She soundly slept, and careful! thoughts did quite
assoile.

Canto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

131

Now whenas all the world in silence deepe

\'shrowded was, and every mortall wight

Was drowned iu the depth of deadly sleepe ;

Faire Malecasta, whose engrieved spright

Could find no rest in such perplexed plight,

Lightly arose out of her wearie bed,

And, under the blacke vele of guilty night,

Her with a scarlott mantle covered

That was with gold and ermines faire enveloped.

Then panting softe, and trembling every iojTit,
Her fearefull feete towards the bowre she mov'd
Where she for secret purpose did appoynt
To lodge the warlike maide, unwisely loov'd ;
And, to her bed approching, first she proov'd
Whether she slept or wakte : with her softe hand
She softely felt if any member moov'd,
And lent her wary eare to understand
If any pufie of breath or signe of sence shee fond.

Which whenas none she fond, with easy shifte,

For feare least her unwares she should abrayd,

Th' embroder'd quilt she lightly up did lifte,

And by her side herselfe she softly layd.

Of every finest fingers touch affrayd ;

Ne any noise she made, ne worde she spake,

But inly sighd. At last the royall mayd

Out of her quiet slomber did awake.

And chaungd her weary side the better ease to take.

Where feeling one close couched by her side.

She lightly lept out of her filed bedd.

And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride

The loathed leacbour : but the dame, halfe dedd

Through suddeine feare and ghastly drerihedd.

Did shrieke alowd, that through the hous it rong,

And the whole family therewith adredd

Rashly out of their rouzed couches sprong,

And to the troubled chamber all in armes did throng.

And those sixe knightes, that ladies champions,
And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the stownd,
Halfe armd and halfe unarmd, with them attons ;
Where when confusedly thej' came, they fownd
Their lady lying on the sencelesse grownd ;
On th' otlier side they saw the warlike mayd
Al in her snow-white smocke, with locks unbownd,
Threatning the point of her avenging blade ;
That with so U'oublous terror they were all dismayd.

About their ladye first they flockt arownd ;
AVhom having laid in comfortable couch,
Shortly they reard out of her frosen swownd ;
And afterwardes they gan with fowle reproch
To stirre up strife, and troublous contecke broch :
But, by ensample of the last dayes losse,
None of them rashly durst to her approch,
Ne in so glorious spoile themselves embosse :
Her succourd eke the champion of the bloody crosse.

But one of those sixe knights, Gardante hight.
Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene,
Which forth he sent with felonous despight
And fell intent against the virgin sheene :
The mortall Steele stayd not till it was seene
To gore her side ; yet was the wound not deepe.
But lightly rased her soft silken skin,
That drops of purple blood thereout did weepe.
Which did her lilly smock with staines of vermeil
steep.

LXVI.

Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at them flew.
And with her flaming sword about her layd,
That none of them foule mischiefe could eschew
But with her dreadfull strokes were all dismavd:
Here, there, and every where, about her swavd
Her wrathfull Steele, that none mote it abyde;
And eke the Redcrosse knight gave her good avd,
Ay ioyning foot to foot, and syde to svde ;
That in short space theii- foes they have quite terrify de.

Tho, whenas all were put to shamefuU flight,

The noble Britomartis her arayd,

And her bright armes about her body dight ;

For nothing would she lenger there be stayd.

Where so loose life and so ungentle trade.

Was usd of knightes and ladies seeming gent:

So, earely, ere the grosse earthes gryesy shade,

Was all disperst out of the firmament,

T! ey tooke their steeds, and forth upon their ioumey wenu

132

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book II

CANTO II.

Tlie Redcrosse kniglit to Britoraart

Describeth Artegall :
The wondrous myrrhour, by which she

In love with him did fall.

Here have I cause in men iust blame to find,

That in their proper praise too partiall bee.

And not indifferent to woman kuid,

To whom no share in amies and chevalree

They doe impart, ne maken memoree

f tlieir brave gesles and prowesse martiall :

Scarse do they spare to one, or two or three,

Rowme in their writtes ; yet the same writing small

Does all their deedes deface, and dims their glories all.

I'lUt by record of antique times I finde

That wemen wont in warres to beare most sway,

And to all great exploites themselves inclin'd.

Of which they still tlie girlond bore away ;

Till envious men, fearing' their rules decay,

Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their liberty :

Yet, sith they warlike amies have laide away,

Tiiey have exceld in artes and pollicy.

That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t'envy.

Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent.
Be thou, faire Britomart, whose prayse I wryte ;
But of all wisedom be thou precedent,
O soveraine Queene whose prayse 1 would endyte,
Eudite I would as dewtie doth excyte ;
But all ! my rymes too rude and rugged arre.
When in so high an object tliey doe lyte,
And, striving lit to make, I feare, doe marre:
'I hyselfe thy prayses tell, and make them knowen
farre.

She, travelling with Guyon, by the wav

Of sondry thinges faire purpose gan to find,

T' abridg their iourney long and lingring day:

Mongst which it fell into that l-'airies mind

To aske this Briton IMaid, what uncouth wind

Brought her into those ))artes, and what inquest

I^Iade lier dissemble her disguised kind :

K.iire lady slie him seemd lil;e lady drest.

But fairest knight alive when armed was her brest.

Tlxereat she sighing softlv had no powre

'Jo speake awhile, ne ready answere make ;

])ut with hart-tlirillin^ throbs and bitter stowre.

As if she had a fever fitt, did quake.

And every daintie limbe with horrour shake;

And ever and anone the rosy red

Flaslit througli lier face, as it had beene a flake

Of liglitnin.; tlirough bright lieven fulmined:

At last, the passion past, she thus him answered :

" Faire sir, I let you weete, that from the howre

I taken was from nourses tender pap,

I have been trained up in warlike stowre.

To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap

The warlike ryder to his most mishap ;

Sithence I loathed have my life to lead,

As ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap,

To finger the tine needle and nyce thread,

Me lever were with point of foemans speare be dead.

'' All my delight on deedes of armes is sett,
To hunt out perilles and adventures hard.
By sea, by land, wliereso they may be mett
Onely for honour and for high regard.
Without respect of richesse or reward •.
For such intent into these partes 1 came,
Withouten compasse or withouteii card.
Far fro my native soyle, that is by name
Tlie Greater Brytayne, here to seeke for praise and
lame.

" Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery Lond

Doe many famous knightes and ladies wonnc,

And many straunge adventures to bee fond.

Of which great worth and worship may be wonne •

Which to prove, I this voyage have begonne.

But mote I weet of you, right courteous knight,

Tydings of one that hath unto me donne

Late foule dishonour and reprochfuU spight.

The which I seek to wreake, and Arthegall he bight.

The worde gone out she backe againe would call.

As her repenting so to have missayd,

But that he, it uplaking ere the fall.

Her shortly answered ; " Faire martiall mayd,

Certes ye misavised beene t'u])brayd

A gentle knight with so unkniglitly blame;

For, week ye well, of all that e\'er playd

At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game.

The noble Arthegall hath ever borne the name.

" Forthy great wonder were it, if such shame
Should ever enter in his bounteous thouglit.
Or ever doe that mote deserven blame :
'J'lie noble corage never weeneth ought
'J'hat may unworthy of itselfe be tliought.
Therefore, faire damzell, be ye well aware.
Least tliat too farre ye have your sorrow sought :
You and your country both I wisli welfare,
And honour both ; for each of other worthy are."

Canto II.J

THE i-AEitil. QUEEXE.

133

The royall maid vro\e inly wondrous glad,

To heare her love so highly magnifyde ;

And ioyd that ever she affixed had

Her hart on knight so goodly-glorifyde,

However finely she it faind to hyde.

The loving mother, that nine monethes did heare

In the deare closett of her painefull syde

Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare,

Doth not so much reioyce as she reioyced theare.

But to occasion him to further talke,

To feed her humor with his pleasing style,

Her list in stryfull termes with him to bailee,

And thus replyde ; " However, sir, ye fyle

Your courteous tongue his prayses to compyle,

It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort,

Such as ye have him boasted, te beguyle

A simple maide, and worke so hainous tort,

In shame of knighthood, as I largely can report.

" Let bee therefore my vengeaunce to disswade,

And read, where 1 that Faytour false may find."

" Ah ! but if reason faire mii;ht you perswade

To slake your wrath, and mollify your mind,"

Said he, "perhaps ye should it better find :

For hardie thing it is, to weene bv might

That man to hard conditions to bind ;

Or ever hope to matcli in equall fight.

Whose prowesse paragone saw never living wight.

Yet him in everie part before she knew,
However list her now her knowledge faj-ne,
Sith him wliyhime in Hritavne she did vew,
To her revealed in a rairrhour jilavne ;
Whereof did grow her first engrafted payne,
Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did taste,
That, but the fruit more sweetnes did contayne,
Hei- wretched dayes in dolour slie mote waste.
And yield the pray of love to lothsome death at last

By straunge occasion she did him behold.
And much more straungely gan to love his sight,
As it in bookes hath written beeiie of old.
In Deheubarfh, that now South-Wales is hight.
What time King Ryence raign'd and dealed right,
The great magitien Rlerlin had deviz'd.
By his deepe science and hell-dreaded might
A looking-glasse, right wondrously aguiz'd,
Whose vertues through thewyde worlde soone were
solemniz'd.

It vertue had to shew in perfect sight

Whatever thing was in the world contaynd,

Betwixt the lowest eartli and hevens hight,

So that it to the looker appertavnd :

Whatever foe had wrought, or frend had faynd,

Therein discovered was, ne ought mote pas,

Ne ought m secret from the same remaynd ;

Forthy it round and hollow shaped was,

Like to the world itselfe, and seemd a world of glas.

" Ne soothlich is it easie for to read
Where now on earth, or liow, he may be fownd;
For he ne wonneth in one certeine stead,
But restlesse walketh all the world urownd
Ay doing thinges that to his fame redownd,
Defending ladies cause and orphans right,
Whereso he heares that any doth conlownd
Them comfortlesse through t\ ranny or might ;
So is his soveraine honour rnisde to hevens hisht.'

His feeling wordes her feeble sence much pleased.

And softly sunck inio her molten hart :

Hart, that is inly hurt, is greatly eased

With hope of thing that may ailegge his smart;

For pleasing wordes are like to magick art,

That doth the charmed snake in slomber lay- :

Such secrete ease felt gentle Britomart,

\ et list the same efibrce wich faind gainesay ;

(So dischord ofte in musick makesthe sweeter lay;)

And sayd ; " Sir knight, these ydle termes forbeare;

And, sith it is uneath to find his haunt,

Tell me some niarkes by which he may appeare.

If chaunce I may him encounter jtamvauiit ;

For perdy one shall other slay, or daunt :

What shajie, what shield, what armes, what steed,

what stedd.
And whatso else his person most may vaunt?"
All which the Redcrosse knight to point ared.
And him in everie part before her fashioiied.

Who wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke?
But who does wonder, that has red the towre
\\ herein th'Aegyptian Phao long- did lurke
From all mens vew, that none might her discoure.
Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre ?
Great Ptoloma?e it for his Lemans sake
Ybuilded all of glasse, by magicke powre,
And al o it impregnable did make ;
Yet, when his love was false, he with a peaze it
brake.

Such was the glassy globe that IMerlin made.
And gave unto King Ryence for his gard,
That never foes his kingdome might invade,
But he it knew at home before he hard
Tydings thereof, and so them still debar'd :
It was a famous present for a prince,
And worthy worke^ of infinite reward,
That treasons could bewray, and foes convince:
Happy this realme, liad it remayned ever since !

One day it fortuned fayre Britomart
Into her fathers closet to repayre ;
For nothing he from iier reserv'd apart.
Being liis onely diiughter and his hayre ;
^^'here when slie had espyde that mirrhour fayre
Herselfe awhile therein she vewd in vaine :
1 ho, her avizing of the vertues rare
Which thereof spoken were, she gan againe
Her to hethinke of that mote to herselfe pertaine.

131

TlIK FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book TIT

But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts

Imperious Love hath highest set bis throne,

And tvrannizetli in the bitter smarts

Of them, that to him buxome are and prone :

So tl)oui;ht this mavd (as maydens use to done)

Wlioiu fortune for lier husband would allot;

Not that she lusted after any one,

For she was pure from blame of sinful! blott ;

Yet wist her life at last must lincke iu that same knot.

Eftsoones there was presented to her eye
A comely knight, all arm'd in complete wize,
Through whose bright ventayle lifted up on bye
His manly face, that did his foes agrize
And frends to termes of gentle truce eiitize,
Lookt foorth, as Phcrbus face out of the east
Betwixt two shadv mountaynes doth arize :
Portly his person was, and much increast
Throuo-h his heroicke e-race and honorable gest.

His crest was covered with a couchant hownd,
And all his armour seemd of antiejue mould,
But wondrous massy and assured sownd,
And round about yfretted all with gold.
In which there written was, with cyphers old,
Achilles armes which Arthegull did win :
And on his shield enveloped sevenfold
He bore a crowned little ermilin,
That deckt the azure field with her fayre pouldred
skin.

The damzell well did vew his personage,
And liked well ; ne further fastned not,
But went her way ; ne her unguilty age
Did weene, unwares, that her unlucky lot
Lav hidden in the bottome of the pot :
of hurt unwist most daunger doth redound :
But the false archer which that arrow shot
So slyly that she did not feele the wound.
Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse wofull
stound.

XXVII.

Thenceforth the fether in her lofty crest,

Ruffed of love, gan lowly to availe;

And her prowd jjortaunce and her princely gest.

With which she ears^ tryum])bed, now did (|uai!e :

Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies frailo,

She woxe ; yet wist she nether how, nor why ;

She wist not, silly mayd, what she did aile,

Yet wist she was not well at ease ])erdy ;

Yet thought it was not love, but some melancholy.

So soone as Night had with her pallid hew
Defaste thebeautie of the shyning skye.
And refte from men the worldes desired vew.
She with her nourse adowne to sleepe did lye ;
But sleepe full far away from her did fly :
Instead thereof sad sighes and sorrovves deepe
Kept watch and ward about her warily ;
That nought she did but wayle, and often steepe
Her dainty couch with teares which closely she did
weeoe.

xyjF..

And if that anv drop of slombring rest

Did chaunce to still into her weary spright.

When feeble nature felt herselfe opprest,

Streightway with dreames, and with fantastiek sight

Of dreadfull things, the same was put to flight ;

1'hat oft out of lier bed she did astart,

As one with vew of ghastly feends affright :

Tho gan she to renew lier former smart,

And thinke of that favre visage written ip her hart.

One night, when she was tost with such unrest.
Her aged nourse, whose name was Glauce bight,
Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest.
Betwixt lier feeble amies her (juickly keighf,
And downe againe in her warme bed her diglit :
" Ah ! my deare daughter, ah ! my dearest dread.
What uncouth fit," savd she, " what evill ])light
Ifath thee opprest, and with sad dreary head
Chaunged thy lively cheare, and living made thee
dead ?

" For not of nought these suddein ghastly feares
All night afflict thy naturall repose :
And all the day, whenas thine equall peares
Their fit disports with fuire delight doe chose.
Thou in dull corners doest thyself inclose ;
Ne tastest princes pleasures, ne doest spred
Abroad thy fresh youths favrest flowre, but lose
Both leafe and fruite, both too untimely shed.
As one in wilfull bale for ever buried.

" The time that mortall men their weary cares

Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest.

And every river eke his course forbeares,

Then doth this wicked evill thee infest,

And rive with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest :

Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed gryefe.

Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest.

Whence foorth it breakes in sighes and anguish ryfe,

As smoke and sulphure mingled with confused stryfe.

" Ay me! how much I feare least love it bee !

But if that love it be, as sure I read

By knowen signes and passions which I see.

Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead.

Then I avow, by this most sacred head

Of my dear foster childe, to ease thy griefe

And win thy will : therefore away doe dread :

For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe

Shall me debarre : tell me, theieforo, my liefest liefe !"

So having sayd, her twixt her armes twaine

Shee streightly straynd, and colled tenderly;

And every trenibiing ioynt and every vaine

Shee softly felt, and rubbed busily.

To doe the frosen cold away to fly ;

And her faire deawy eies with kisses deaie

Shee olte did bathe, and ofte againe did dry :

And ever In r irnjiurluud not to feare

To let the secret of her hart to her appeare

Canto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

135

The damzell pauzd ; and then thus fearfully;
" All! nurse, what needeth thee to eke my payne?
Ts not enough that 1 alone doe dye,
But It must doubled bee with death of twaine ?
For nought for me but death there doth remaine!"
" daughter deare," said she, " despeire no whit;
For never sore but might a salve obtaine :
That blinded god, which hath ye blindly smit,
Another arrow hath your lovers hart to hit."

" But mine is not," quoth she, " like other wownd ;
For which no reason can finde remedy."
" Was never such, but mote the like befownd,"
Said she ; "and though no reason may apply
Salve to your sore, yet love can higher stye
Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne."
" But neither god of love nor god of skye
Can doe," said she, " that which cannot be donne."
" Things oft impossible," quoth she, " seeme ere
begonne."

"These idlewordes," said she, " doe nought aswage
Mv stubborne smart, but more annoiaunce breed :
For no, no usuall fire, no usuall rage
Yt is, O nourse, which on my life doth feed,
And sucks the blood which from my hart doth bleed.
But since thy faithfull zele lets me not hyde
My crime, (if crime it be,) I will it reed.
Nor prince nor pere it is, whose love hath gryde
My feeble brest of late, and launched this wound
wyde.

xxxviir.

" Nor man it is, nor other living wight ;
For then some hope 1 might unto. me draw;
But th' only shade and semblant of a knight.
Whose shape or person yet I never saw,
Hath me subiected to loves cruell law :
The same one day, as me misfortune led,
I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw.
And, pleased with that seeming goodlyhed,
Unwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed :

" Sithens it hath infixed faster hold,

Within my bleeding bowells, and so sore

Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould,

That all mine entrailes flow with poisnous gore,

And th' ulcer groweth daily more and more ;

Ne can my ronning sore finde remedee.

Other than my hard fortune to deplore.

Ana languish as the leafe fain from the tree,

Till death make one end of my daies and miseree !'

" Daughter," said she, " what need ye be dismavd ?

Or why make ye such monster of your minde 1

Of much more uncouth thing I was aflFrayd:

Of filthy lust, contrary unto kinds :

But this aftection nothing straunge I finde ;

For who with reason can vou aye reprove

To love the semblaunt pleasing most your minde,

And yield your heart whence ye cannot remove'!

No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of love.

" Not so th' Arabian Myrrhe did sett her mynd;
Nor so did Biblis spend her pining hart;
But lov'd their native flesh against al kjTid,
And to their purpose used wicked art:
Yet playd PasipLaii a more monstrous part.
That lov'd a bull, and learnd a beast to bee :
Such shamefuU lustes who loaths not, which dejiart
From course of nature and of modestee?
Swete love such lewdnes bands from his faire com«
panee.

" But thine, my deare, (welfare thy heart, my deare !)

Though straunge beginning had, yet fixed is

On one that worthy may perhaps appeare ;

And certes seemes bestowed not amis :

loy thereof have thou and eternall blis !"

With that, upleaning on her elbow weake.

Her alablaster brest she soft did kis.

Which all that while sliee felt to pant and quake,

As it an earth-quake were : at last she thus bespake ;

" Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease ;
For though my love be not so lewdly bent
As those ye blame, yet may it nought appease
My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent,
But rather doth my helpelesse griefe augment.
For they, howe\'er shamefuU and unkinde,
Yet did possesse their horrible intent :
Short end of sorrowes they therby did finde
So was their fortune good, though wicked were their
minde.

" But wicked fortune mine, though minde be good.
Can have no end nor hope of my desire,
But feed on shadowes whiles 1 die for food,
And like a shadow wexe, whiles with entire
Aftection I doe languish and expire.
I, fonder then Cephisus foolish chyld,
Who, having vewed in a fountaine shere
His face, was with the love thereof beguyld ;
1, fonder, love a shade, the body far exyld."

" Nought like," quoth shee ; " for that same Avretched

Was of himselfe the ydle paramoure, [P°y

Both love and lover, without hope of ioy ;

For which he faded to a watry ttowre.

But better fortune thine, and better howre.

Which lov'st the shadow of a warlike knight;

No shadow, but a body hath in powre :

I'bat body, wheresoever that it light.

May learned be by cyphers, or by magicke might*

" But if thou may with reason yet represse
The growing evill, ere it strength have gott,
And thee abandond wholy do possesse ;
Against it strongly strive, and yield thee nott
Til thou in open fielde adowne be smott :
But if the I assion mayster thy iraile might.
So that needs love or death must be thy lott.
Then I avow to thee, by wrong or rignt
To compas thy desire, and find that loved knight.''

136

TiiK FAF.RiK gu i:[':\r..

fBooK ±1

Her cliearefull words much clieard tlie feeble spright

Of the sicke virgin, ibat, lier doune she layd

Tn her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might 3

And the ohl-woman carefully disi)layd

The clothes about her round with busy ayd ;

So that at last a litle creeping sleepe

Surpiizd her sence : shee, therewith well apayd,

The dronken lamp down in the oyl did steepe,

And sett her by to watch, and sett her by to weepe.

Enrely, the morrow next, before that Day

His ioyous face did to the world revele,

They both uprose and tooke their ready way

Unto the church, their praiers to appele,

With great devotion, and with liile zele :

For the faire damzell from the holy herse

Her love-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale •

And that old dame said many an idle verse,

Out of lier daughters hart fond fancies to reverse.

Retourncd home, the royall infiint fell
Into her farmer fitt ; for why ? no powre
Nor guidaunce of herselfe in her did dwell.
But th' aged nourse, her calling to her bowre,
Had gathered rew, and savine, and the flovyre
Of caraphora, and calamint, and dill ;
All which she in a earthen pot did poure,
And to the brim with coltwood did it fill,
And many drops of milk and blood through it did
spill.

Then, taking thrive rhree heares from off her head,

Them trebly bre;ided in a threefold lace,

And round about the pots mouth bound the thread

And, after having whispered a space

Certein sad words with hollow voice and bace,

Shee to the virgin savd, thrise sayd she itt ;

" Come, daughter, come ; come, spit upon my face,

Spitt thrise upon me, thrise upon me spitt ;

Th' uneven nomber for this busines is most fitt."

That sayd, her rownd about she from her turnd,

She turned her cimtrary to the sunne ;

Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd

All contrary; for she the riijht did shunne ;

And ever what she did was streight undonne.

So thought she to undoe her daughter's love :

But love, that is in gentle brest begonne.

No ydle charmes so lightly may remove ;

That well can witnesse, who by try all it does prove

Ne ought it mote the noble mavd avayle,

Ne slake the fury of her cruell Hame,

]?ut that shee still did waste, and still did wayle,

That, through long languour and hart-burning bi"ame,

She shortly like a pyned ghost became

Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond ;

That when old Glauce saw, for feare least blame

Of her miscarriage should in her be fond,

She wist not how t' amend, nor how it to wilhstond

CANTO III.

Merlin bewrayes to Britomart

The state of Arthegall :
And shewes the famous progeny,

Which from them springen shall.

5Iosi sacred fyre, that burnest mightily
In living brests, ykindled first above
Emongst th' eternall spheres and lamping sky,
And thence pourd into men, which men call Love ;
Not that same, wiiii h doth base affections move
In brutish mindcs, and filthy lust inflame ;
But that swecte fit that doth true beautie love,
And choseth Vertue for his dearest dame.
Whence spring all noble deedes and never-dying
fame :

Well did Antiquity a god thee deeme,
That over mortall mindes hast so great might,
'l"o order them as best to thee doth seeme,
And all their actions to direct aright:
The fatall purpose of divine foresight
Thou doest efl'ect in destined descents,
Through deepe impression of thy secret might.
Aid stirredst up th' heroes high intents.
Which the late world admyres for wondrous moni
ments.

But thy dredd dartes in none doe triumph more,
Ne braver proofe in any of thy powre
Shewd'st thou, then in 'this royall maid of yore,
Making her seeke an unknowne jiaramoure.
From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre ;
IVoni whose two loynes thou afterwardes did rayse
Most famous fruites of matrimoniall bowre, [prayse.
\\ hich through the earth have spredd their living
That fame in tromp of gold eternally disjilayea.

Begin then, my dearest sacred dame,
Daughter of I'hdbus and of Memorye,
That doest ennoble with immortall name
The warlike worthies, from anticjuitye,
In thv great volume of eternitye :
j'figin, () (Hio, and recount from hence
j\Iv glorious soveraines goodly Auncestrye,
Till that by dew degrees, and long pretense.
'J hou have it lastly brought unto hev excellence

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENK.

137

Full many wayes within lier troubled mind
Old Glauce cast to cure tliis ladies griefe ;
Full many wayes she sought but none could find,
Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsel that is cLiefe
And choisest med'cine for sick harts relief e :
Forthy great care she tooke, and greater feare,
Least that it should her turne to fbwle repriefe
And sore reproch, whenso lier father deare
Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune
heare.

At last she her avisde, that he which made

That mirrhour, wherein the sicke damosell

So straungely vewed her straunge lovers shade,

To weet, the learned jNlerlin, well could tell

Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell,

And by what means his love might best be wrought:

For, though bevond the Africk Ismael

Or th' Indian Peru he were, she thought

Him forth throun-h infinite endeavour to have sousfht.

ForthwitI) themselves disguising both in straunge
And base attvre, that none might them bewray.
To JNIaridunum, that is now by chaunge
Of name Cayr-lNIerdin cald, they tooke their way :
There the wise IMerlin whylome wont (they say)
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground.
In a deepe delve, farre from the vew of day.
That of no living wight he mote be found,
W henso he counseld with his sprights encompast
round.

And, ifxhou ever happen that same way
To traveill, go to see tliat dreadful place :
It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)
Undtr a rock that lyes a litle space
From tlie swift Barry, tombling downe apace
Emongst the woody hilles of Dvneuowre :
But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace
To enter into that same baleful! bowre.
For feare the cruell feendes should thee unwares
devowre :

But standing high aloft low lay thine eare.
And there such ghastly noyse of yron chaines
And brasen caudrons thou shall rombling heare,
\\ hich thousand sprights with long enduring paines
Doe tosse, that it will stonn thy feeble braines ;
And oftentimes yreat grones, and grievous stownds,
When too huge toile and labour tliem constraines ;
And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sowndes
From under that deepe rock most horriblyrebowndes.

The cause, some say, is this : a litle whyle
Before that ]Merlin dyde, he did intend
A brasen wall in compas to conipvle
About Cairmardin, and did it conimend
Unto these sprights to bring to perfect end •
During which worke the Lady of the Lake,
Whom lon<;- he lov'd for him in hast did send ;
W iio, there by forst his workemen to forsake.
Them bownd, till his retourne, their labour not to
slake.

In the mean time through that false ladies traine

He was surprisd, and buried under heare,

Ne ever to his worke returnd againe :

Nath'lesse those feends may not their worke forbears,

So greatly his commandt;ment they feare.

But there doe toyle and traveile day and night,

Uiitill that brasen wall tliey up doe reare •

For Merlin had in magick more insight

Then ever him before or after living- wiirht :

For he by wordes could call out of the sky
Both sunne and moone, and make them him obay ;
The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry.
And darksom night he eke could turne to dayj
Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay,
And hostes of men of meanest thinges could frame
Whenso him list his enimies to fray .
That to this day for terror of his fame.
The feendes do quake when any him to them does
name.

And, sooth, men say that he was not the sonne

Of mortall svre or other living wight,

But wondrously begotten, and begonne

By false illusion of a guileful! spright

Un a faire lady Nonne, tliat whdome hight

JMatilda, daugliter to Puhidius

Wlio was the lord of JMarthtraval by right.

And coosen unto king Ambrosius ;

Whence he indued was with skill so marvellous.

They, here arriving, staid awhile without,
Ne durst adventure rashly in to wend.
But of their first intent gan make new dout
For dread of daunger, which it miglit portend :
Until! the hardy mayd (with Love to trend)
First entering, the dreadful! Mage there fownd
Deepe busied 'bout worke of wondrous end.
And writing straunge characters in the grownd
With whicli the stubborne feendes he to his servire
bownd.

He nought was moved at tlieir entraunce bold,
For of their coniming well he wist afore ;
Yet list them bid their busines.se to unfold.
As if ouglit in tliis world in secrete store
AVere from liim hidden, or unknowne of yore.
Then Glauce thus ; " Let not it thee offend,
Tliat we thus rashly through tliy darksom dore
Unwares have prest ; for either fatal! end,
Or other mightie cause, us two did hether send.'

He bad tell on : and then she thus began ;

" Now have tliree moones with borrowd brotliers ligh

Thrise sinned faire, and tln-ise seemd dim and wan,

Sitli a sore evill, which this virgin bright

Tormenteth and doth plonge in doleful! plight.

First rooting tooke ; but what thing it mote bee.

Or wiience it sprong, I cannot read ariglit :

But tliis I read, tliat, but if remedee

Thou her aftord, full shortly T her dead shall see.'

138

niE FAEEIE QUEENE.

[E)OK III

Therewith th' enchaunter softly gan to smyle
At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well
That she to him dissembled womanish guyle,
And to her said ; " Beldame, by that ye tell
JMore ueede of leach-crafte hath your Damozell,
Then of my skill: who helpe may have elsewliere,
In vaine seekes wonders out of magick spell."
Til' old woman wox half blanck those wordes to

lieare :
And yet was loth to let her purpose plains appears ;

XVIII.

And to him said ; " Yf any leaches still,

Or other learned meanes, could have redrest

This my deare daughters deepe-engraffed ill,

Certes I should be loth thee to molest :

But tliis sad evill, which doth her infest.

Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed,

And housed is within her hollow brest,

Tliat either seemes some cursed witches deed,

Or evill spright, thatiii her doth such torment breed."

The wisard could no lenger beare her bord,

But, bursting forth in laughter, to her sayd ;

" Glauce, what needes this colourable word

To cloke the cause that hath itselfe bewrayd 2

Ne ye, fayre Britomartis, thus arayd,

More hidden are then sunne in cloudy vele ;

Whom thy good fortune, having fate obayd,

Hath hether brought for succour to appele ;

The which the powres to thee are pleased to revele."

The doubtfull mayd, seeing herselfs descryde.

Was all abasht, and her pure yvory

Into a cleare carnation suddeine dyde ;

As favre Aurora, rysing hastily,

Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye

All night in old Tithonus frozen bed,

Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly :

But her olde nourse was nought dishartened,

But vauntage made of that which Merlin had ared ;

And sayd ; " Sith then thou knowest all our griefe,
(For what doest not thou knowe 1) of grace 1 pray,
Pitty our playnt, and yield us meet reliefs ! "
Witli tliiU the projihet still awliile did stay.
And tlien his sj)irite tlius gan f'oorth display ;
" i\Iost noble virgin, that by fatall lore
Ilast learn'd to love, let no wliit thee dismay
The liard begiiine that meetes tliee in the dore,
And with sharps fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore :

" For so must all things excellent begin ;
And eke enro'^ted deepe must be that tree,
AVhose big emb'idied braunches shall not lin
Till tliey to hevens hight fortli stretched bee.
For from thy wombe a famous progenee
Shall s])ring out of the auncient Trojan blood.
Which shall revive the sleej)ing memoree
Of those same antique peres, the hevens brood,
Which Greeks and Asian rivers stayned with their
blood.

" Renowmed kings, and sacred emperours,
Thy fruitful} oftsjiring, sliall from thee descend ;
Brave captaines, and most mighty warriours,
'i'hat shall their conquests through all lands extend,
And their decayed kingdomes shall amend :
The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,
They shall upreare, and mightily defend
Against their forren foe that commes from farre.
Till universall peace compound all civill iarre.

" It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye
Glauncing unwares in charmed looking-glas.
But the streight course of hevenly destiny,
Led with Eternall Providence, that has
Guyded thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas :
Ne is tliy fate, ne is tliy fortune ill.
To love the prowest knight that ever was :
Therefore submit thy wayes unto his will.
And doe, by all dew meanes, thy destiny fulfill.'

" But read," said Glauce, " thou magitian,
What meanes shall she out-seeke, or wliat waies take?
How shall she know, how shall she finde the man ?
Or what needes her to toyle, sith fates can make
Way for themselves their purpose to pertake V
Then Merlin thus ; " Indeede the fates are firms.
And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake :
Yet ought mens good endevours them confirme,
And guyde the heavenly causes to their constant
terms.

" The man, whom heavens have ordaynd to bee

The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall :

He wonneth in the land of Fayeree,

Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all

To Elfes, but sprong of seed terrestriall,

And whylome bv false Faries stolen away,

\\'hyles yet in infant cradle he did crall ;

Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day.

But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay :

" But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlois,
And brother unto Cador, Cornish king ;
And for his warlike featos renowmed is,
From wliere the day out of the sea doth spring,
Untill the closure of the evening :
From thence him, firmely bound with faithfull band,
To this his native soyle thou backe shalt bring,
Strongly to ayde his countrcy to withstand
Ihe powre of forreins paynims which invads thy
land.

" Great ayd thereto his mighty puissaunce

And dreaded name shall give in that sad day ;

Where also jiroofo of thy prow valiaunce

Thou tlieii shalt make, t' increase thy lover's pray :

Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway

Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call,

And his last fate him from thee take away ;

Too rathe cut off by practise criminall

Of secrete foes, that him shall make in mischiefs falL

Casio III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

159

" Witli thee yet shall he leave, for memory

Of his late puissaunce, his ymage dead,

That living him in all activity

To thee shall represent : he, from the head

Of his coosen Constantius, without dread

Shall take the crowne that was his fathers right.

And therewith crowne himselfe in tli' others stead :

Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might

Against his Saxon foes in bloody field to fight.

" Like as a lyon that in drowsie cave

Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake ;

And, comming forth, shall spred his banner brave

Over the troubled south, that it shall make

The warlike Mertians for feare to quake :

Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win ;

But the third time shall fayre accordaunce make :

And, if he then with victorie can lin.

He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly in.

" His sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him succeede

In kingdome, but not in felicity :

Yet sliall he long time warre with happy speed

And with great honour many batteills try ;

But at the last to tli' importunity

Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield :

But his Sonne Malgo shall full mightily

Avenge his fathers losse with speare and shield.

And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field.

" Behold the man ! and tell me, Britomart,
If av more goodly creature thou didst see?
How like a gyaunt in each manly part
Beares he himselfe with portly maiestee,
That one of tli' old heroes seemes to bee !
He the six islands, comprovinciall
In auncient times unto great Britainee,
Shall to the same reduce, and to him call
Their sondry kuigs to do their homage severall.

" All which his sonne Careticus awhile
Shall well defend, and Saxons powre suppresse ;
Untill a straunger king, from unknowne soyle
Arriving, him with multitude oppresse ;
Cireat Gormond, having with huge mightinesse
Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne,
Like a swift otter, fell through emptinesse,
Shall overswim the sea with many one
Of his Norveyses, to assist the Britons fone.

" He in his furie all shall over-ronne.

And holy church with faithlesse handes deface,

That thy sad people, utterly fordonne.

Shall to the utmost mountaines fly apace :

Was never so great waste in any place,

Ts'or so fowle outrage doen by living men ;

For all thy citties they shall sacke and race,

And the greene grasse that groweth they shall bren,

And even the wUde beast shall dy in starved den.

" Whiles thus thy Britons doe in languour pnie,

Proud Etheldred shall from the north arise,

Serving th' ambitious will of Augustine,

And, passing Dee, with hardy enterprise

Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brockwell twise.

And Bangor with massacred martyrs fill ;

But the third time shall rew his fool-hardise :

For Cadwan, pittying his peoples ill.

Shall stoutly him defeat, and tliousand Saxons kill.

" But, after liim, Cadwallin mightily

On his sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall wreake;

Ne shall availe the wicked sorcery

Of false Pellite his purposes to breake.

But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleak

Shall give th' enchaunter his unhappy hire :

Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake.

From their long vassallage gin to respire.

And on their Paynim foes avenge their ranckled ire.

" Ne shall he yet his wrath mitigate.

Till both the sonnes of Edwin he have slayne,

Oftricke and Osricke, twinnes unfortunate.

Both slaine in battaile upon Layburne playue.

Together with the King of Louthiane,

Hight Adin, and the King of Orkeny,

Both ioyni partakers of their fatall payne :

But Penda, fearefull of like desteney.

Shall yield himselfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty ;

" Him shall he make his fatall instrument
T' afflict the other Saxons unsubdewd :
He marching forth with fury insolent
Against the good King Oswald, who indewd
AV^ith heavenly powre, and by angels reskewd.
All holding crosses in their hands on hye,
Sliall him defeate withouten blood imbrewd :
Of which that field for endlesse memory
Shall Hevenfield be cald to all posterity.

" Whereat Cadwallin wroth shall forth issew.
And an huge hoste in Northnmber lead,
^Vith which he godly Oswald shall subdew,
And crowne with martiredome his sacred head :
Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like dread.
With price of silver shall his kingdome buy;
And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread.
Shall tread adowne, and doe him fowly dye;
But shall with gifts his lord Cadwallin pacify.

" Then shall Cadwallin die ; and then the raine
Of Britons eke witli him attonce shall dye ;
ISe shall the good Cadwallader, with paine
Or pov.-re, be liable it to remedy.
When the full time, prefixt by destiny.
Shall be expird of Britons regiment :
P"or heven itselfe shall their successe en^T,
And them with plagues and niurrins pestilent
Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spe

140

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boos III.

'' ^ et efler all these sorrowes, and huge hills
Ct dying people, during- eight yeares space,
Ciidwalb.der, not yielding to his ills,
From Annoricke, where long in wretched cace
He liv'd, retourning to his native place,
Shal be my vision staid e from liis intent :
For th' heavens have decreed to displace
Tlio l5ritons for their sinnes dew punishment,
And to the Saxons over-give their government.

" Then woe, auu woe, and everlasting woe,
Be to the Briton babe that shal be borne
To live in thraldom of his fathers foe !
Late liing, now captive ; late lord, now forlorne ;
The worlds reprocli ; the cruell victors scorne ;
Banislit from princely bowre to wasteful wood !
O ! who shall helpe me to lament and mourne
The royall seed, the antique Trogan blood.
Whose empire lenger here then ever any stood !"

The damzell was full deepe empassioned

Both for his griefe, and for her peoples sake.

Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned ;

And sighing sore, at length him thus besjjake ;

" Ah ! but will lievens fury never slake.

Nor vengeaunce huge relent itselfe at last ?

Will not long misery late mercy make,

But shall their name for ever be defaste

And quite from oti" the earth their memory De raste ?'

" Nay but the terme," said Ije, " is limited,
'i'hat in this thraldome Britons shall abide ;
And the iust revolution measured
That they as strnungers shal be notifide :
For twise fowre hundreth yeares shal be supplide.
Ere they to former rule restor'd slial bee,
And their iinjiortune fates all satisfide :
Vet, during this their most obscuritee.
Their beanies shall ofte breake forth, that men tliem
faire may see.

xi.v.

" For Rhodoricke, whose surname shal he Great,
Shall of liiniscUe a brave cnsainple shew,
That Saxon kings his friendsliij) shall intreat ;
And Howell Dlia shall goodly well iiidevv
The salvage minds with skill of iust and trew :
Then (iritf'yth C!onan also siiall upreare
His dreaded head, and the old sparkes renew
Of native coiage, that his foes shall feare
Least hack aganie the kingdom hnfroin them should
beare.

" Ne shall the Saxons selves all jjeaccably

Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne

First ill, and aftt-r ruled wickedly:

For, ere two huiulred yeares he iuli outronne,

'J'here shall a raven, far from rising sunne,

With his wide wings ujioii them fiercely Hy,

And bid his faiihlesse chickens overroiine

The iruitfull ])laines, and vvitii fell cruelty

In their avenge tread downe tlie victors surcjuedry.

" Yet shall a third both these and thine subdew :
There shall a lion from the sea-bord wood
Of Neustria come roring, with a crew
Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood,
Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood.
That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend
Th' usurped crowne, as if that he were wood.
And the spoiie of the countrey conquered
Emongst his young ones shall divide with bountylied.

" Tho, when the terme is full accomplishid.
There shall a sparke of fire, which hath longwhile
Bene in his ashes raked up and hid,
Bee freshly kindled in the fruitfuU ile
Of ]\Iona, where it lurked in exile ;
Which shall breake forth into bright burning flame.
And reach into the house that beares the stile
Of royall maiesty and soveraine name :
So shall the Briton blood their crowne againe
reclaime.

" Thenceforth eternal! union shall be made
Betweene the nations different afore.
And sacred peace shall lovingly persuade
The warlike minds to learne her goodly lore.
And civile amies to exercise no more :
Then shall a royall virgin raine, which shall
Stretch her white rod over the Belgicke shore,
And the great castle smite so sore withall.
That it shall make him shake, and shortly learn to
fall:

" But yet the end is not." — There Merlin stayd.
As overcome!! of the spirites powre,
Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd,
That secretly he saw, yet note discourse :
Whicli suddein fitt and halfe extatick stoure
When the two fearefuU wemen saw, they grew
Greatly confused in behaveoure :
At last, the fury past, to former hew
He turnd againe, and chearfuU looks as earst did
shew.

'I'hen, when themselves they well instructed had
t)f all that needi'd them to be in quird.
They botli, conceiving lio])c of cnmfort glad,
With lighter hearts unto their home retird ;
Where they in secret counsell close conspird.
How to effect so hard an enterprize.
And to possesse the pur])ose they desird :
Now this, now that, twixt them they did devize.
And diverse plots did frame to maske in strange
dis'Tuise.

At last the nourse in her fool-hanly wit
Conceiv'd a hold devise, and thus bespake ;
" iJaughter, I deeme that counsel aye most fit,
That of the time doth dew advauiitage take :
Ve see that good king Uther now doth make
Strong warre ujion the Paynim brethren, hight
Octa and Oza, wlionie hee lately brake
lieside Cayr \'erolame in victorious fight,
That now all Bri^any doth buine in armes bright.

c.vNTo in.j

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

1*1

'' That therefore nought our passage may empeach,

Let us in feigned atTiies ourselves disguize,

And our weake hands (need makes good schollers)

teach
The dreadful speare and shield to exercize ;
Ne certes, daughter, that same warlike wize,
I weene, would you meseeme ; for ye beene tall
And large of limbe t' atchieve an hard emprize ;
Ne ought ye want but skil, which practize small
Will bring, and shortly make you a mayd martiall.

LIV,

'' And, sooth, it ought your corage much inflame

To heai-e so often, in that rovall hous.

From whence to none inferior ye came,

Bards tell of many weraen valorous.

Which have full many feats adventurous

Perform'd, in paragone of proudest men:

The bold Bunduca, whose victorious

Exployts made Rome to quake ; stout Guendolen ;

Renowmed Martia; and redoubted Emmilen ;

' And, that which more then all tiie rest may sway.
Late dayes ensample, which these eies beheld :
In the last field before Menevia,
Which Uther with tliose fnrrein Pagans held,
I saw a Saxon virgin, the whi^h feld
Great Ulfin thrise upon the bloody plavne;
And, had not Carados her hand witliheld
From rash revenge, she had him surely slayne ;
Yei Carados himselfe from her escapt with payne."

" Ah ! read," quoth Britomart, " how is she hight'!"

" Fayre Angela," quoth she, "men do her call,

No whit lesse faj're then terrible in fight:

She hath the leading of a martiall

And mightie people, dreaded more then all

The other Saxons, which doe, for her sake

And love, themselves of her name Angles call.

Therefore, faire infant, her ensample make

Unto thyselfe, and equall corage to thee take."

Her harty wordes so deepe into tlie mynd
Of the young damzell sunke, that great desire
0." warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd,
And generous stout courage did inspyre,
'Jhat she resolv'd, unweetnig to her syre,
Advent'rous knighthood on heiselfe to don ;
And counseld with her nourse her maides attyre
To turne into a massy habergeon ;
Aud bad her all things put in readiness anon.

Th' old woman nought tliat needed did omit ;

But all thinges did conveniently purvay.

It fortimed (so time tlieir turne did fitt)

A band of Britons, r3"ding on fonay

Few dayes before, had gotten a great pray

Of Saxon goods ; emongst the which was seene

A goodly armour, and full rich aray,

^Vhich long'd to Angela, the Saxon (|ueene.

All fretted round with gold and goodly wel beseene.

The same, with all the other ornaments,
King Ryence caused to be hanged hy
In his chiefe church, for endlesse moniments
Of his siiccesse and gladfull victory :
Of which herselfe avising readilv,
In th' eveninir late old Glance thether led
Faire Britomart, and, that same armory
Downe taking, her therein appai'eled
Well as she might, and with brave bauldrick gar-
nished.

Beside those armes there stood a mightie speare.
Which Bladud made by magicke art of yore.
And usd the same in batteill aye to beare;
Sith which it had beene here preserv'd in store.
For his great virtues proved long afore;
For never wight so fast in sell could sit.
But him perforce unto the ground it bore:
Both speare she tooke and shield which liong by it;
Both speare and shield of great powre, for her pur-
pose fit.

Thus when she had the virgin all arayd.
Another harnesse wliich did hang thereby
About herselfe she dight, that the yong mayd
She might in ecjuall armes accompanv.
And as her squyre attend her carefully:
Tho to their ready steedes thev clombe full light ;
And through back waies, that nonemight them espy.
Covered with secret cloud of silent night.
Themselves they forth convaid, and passed forward
rioht.

Ne rested they, till that to Faery Lond
They came, as JMerlin them directed Ia*o;
Where, meeting with this Redcrosse knight, she fond
Of diverse thinges discourses to dilate.
But most of Arthegall and his estate.
At last their waves so fell, that they mote part.:
Then eacli to otiier, well affectionate
Friendship professed with unfained hart*
The Redcrosbri kniglit diverst; but forth rode Bri-
tomart.

142

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III.

CANTO IV.

Bold Marinell of Britomart
Is throwne on the Rich Strond

Faire Florimell of Arthur is
Long followed, but not fond.

Where is the /intique glory now become,
That whylome wont in wemen to appeare ?
Where be tlie brave atchievements doen by some?
\\ heie be the batteilles, where the shield and speare,
And all the conquests which them high did reare,
That matter made for famous poets verse,
And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare ?
Beene they all dead, and laide in dolefuU herse?
Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reverse 1

If they be dead, then woe is me therefore ;

But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake !

For all too long I burne with envy sore

To lieare the warlike feates which Homere spake

Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake

Of Greekish blood so ofte in Trojan plaine ;

But when I reade, how stout Debora strake

Proud Sisera, and how Camill' hath slaine

Tlie huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdaine.

Yet these, and all that els had puissaunce,

Cannot with noble Britomart compare,

Aswell for glorie of great valiaunce.

As for pure chastitee and vertue rare.

That all her goodly deedes doe v»ell declare.

Well worthie stock, from which the branches sprong

That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare.

As thee, (jueene, the matter of my song,

Whose lignage from this lady I derive along !

Who when, through speaches with the Redcrosse
She learned had th' estate of Arthegall, [knight,

And in each point herselfe informd aright,
A friendly league of love perpetual!
She with him bound, and conge tooke withall.
Then he forth on his ifiurney did proceede,
To seeke adventures which mote him befall,
.And win him worsliip through his warlike deed,
Which alwaies of his pames he made the chiefest
meed.

But Britomart kept on her former course,
Ne ever dofte her armes ; but all the way
Grew pensive through that amorous discourse.
By which the Redcrosse knight did earst display
Her lovers shape and chevalrous aray :
A thousand thoughts she fiishiond in her mind;
And in her feigning fancie did pourtray
lliin, sucli as fittest she for love could find,
Wise, wai'like personable, courteous, and kind.

With such selfe-pleasmg thoughts her wound she

fedd.
And thought so to beguile her grievous smart ;
But so her smart was much more grievous bredd.
And the deepe wound more deep engorgd her hart,
That nought but death her dolour mote depart.
So forth she rode, without repose or rest.
Searching all lands and each remotest part,
Following the guydance of her blinded guest,
Till that to the sea-coast at length she her iuldrest.

There she alighted from her light-foot beast.

And, sitting down upon the rocky shore,

Badd her old squyre unlace her loftv creast :

Tho, having vewd awhile the surges liore

That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore.

And in their raging surquedry disdaynd

That the fast earth affronted them so sore,

And their devouring covetize restraynd ,

Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd :

" Huge sea of sorrow and tempestuous griefe,

Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long

Far from the hoped haven of reliefe.

Why doe thy cruel billowes beat so strong.

And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,

Threatning to swallow up my fearefull lyfe ?

0, doe thy cruell wrath and spightfuU wrong

At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,

Which in these troubled bowels raignes and rageth

ryfe!

iz.
" For els ray feeble vessell, crazd and crackt
Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,
Cannot endure, but needes it must be wrackt
On the rougli rocks, or on the sandy shallowes.
The whiles that Love it stores, and Fortune rowes •
Love, my lewd pilott, hath a restlesse miiide ;
And Fortune, boteswaine, no assuraunce knowes ;
But saile withouten starres gainst tyde and winde :
How can they other doe, sith both are bold and

blinde !

" Thou god of windes, that raignest in the seas,

That raignest also in the contiiu'ut,

At last blow up some gentl' gale of ease.

The which may bnng my ship, ere it be rent,

Unto the gladsome port of her intent !

Then, when I shall myselfe in safety see,

A tal)l{', for eternall monimcnt

Of thy great grace and my great ieopardee.

Great Neptune, I avow to liallow unto thee !"

Canto TV.]

THE ftAERlE QUEENE.

liS

Then sigliins: softly sore, and inly deepe,
SliP shut up all her plaint in privy griefe ;
("For her great courage would not let her weepe ;)
Till that old Glauce gan with sharpe repriefe
Her to reslraine, and give her good reliefs
Through hope of those, which Merlin had her told
Should of her name and nation be chiefe.
And fetch their being from the sacred mould
Of her immortall womb, to be in heven enrold.

Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde

Where far away one, all in armour bright.

With hasty gallop towards her did ryde :

Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight

Her helmet, to her courser mounting liglit :

Her former sorrow into sudden wrath

(Both coosen passions of distroubled spright)

Converting, forth she beates the dusty path :

Love and despight attonce her corage kindled hath.

As, when a foggy mist hath overcast

The face of heven and the cleare ayre engroste.

The world in darknes dwels ; till that at last

The watry southwinde from the seaborde coste

Upblowing doth disperse the vapour lo'ste,

And poures itselfe forth in a stormy showre ;

So the fiiyre Britomart, having discloste

Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre, [powre.

The mist of griefe dissolv'd did into vengeance

Eftsoones, her goodly shield addressing fayre,

That mortall speare she in her hand did take.

And unto battaill did herselfe prepayre.

The knight, approaching, sternely her bespake ;

" Sir Knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make

By this forbidden way in my despight,

IVe doest by others death ensample take ;

I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,

Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight."

Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat,
She shortly thus ; " Fly they, that need to fly ;
^V ordes fearen babes : I meane not thee entreat
To passe ; but maugre thee will passe or dy : "
Xe lenger stayd for th' other to reply.
But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne.
Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily
Strooke her full on the breast, that made her downe
Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her
crown.

XVI.

But she againe him in the shield did smite

With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,

That, through his three-square scuchin percing quite

And through his mayled hauberque, by misehaunce

The wicked Steele through his left side did glaunce :

Him so transfixed she before her bore

Beyond iiis croupe, the length of all her launce ;

Till, sadly soucing on the sandy shore,

He tombied on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.

Like as the sacred oxe that carelesse stands
^^'ith gilden homes and flowry girlonds crownd,
Proud of his dying honor and deare bandes,
AVhiles th' altars fume with frankincense arownd,
All suddeinly with mortall stroke astownd
Doth groveling fall, and with his streaming gore
Distaines the pillours and the holy grownd.
And the faire flowres that decked him afore :
So fell proud JMarinell upon the pretious shore.

The martiall mayd stayd not him to lament.
But forward rode, and kept her readv way
Along the Strond ; which, as she over-went,
She saw bestrowed all with rich aray
Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,
And all the gravell mixt with golden owre :
Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay
For gold, or perles, or pretious stones, an liowre,
But them despised all ; for all was in her powre.

Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment,
Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare ;
His mother was the blacke-browd Cymoent,
The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare
This warlike sonne unto an earthly peare,
The famous Dumarin ; who on a day
Finding the nymph asleepe in secret wheare,
As he by chaunce did wander that same way.
Was taken with her love, and by her closely lay.

There he this knight of her begot, whom borne
She, of his father, jNIarinell did name ;
And in a rocky cav^ as wight forlorne
Long time she fostred up, till he became
A mighty man at armes, and mickle fame
Did get through great adventures by him donne :
For never man he suftred by that same
Rich Strond to travell, whereas he did wonne.
But that he must do battail with the sea-nymphes
Sonne.

An hundred knights of honorable name
He had subdew'd, and them his vassals made :
That through all Farie Loud his noble fame
Now blazed was, and feare dil all invade,
That none durst passen througli that perilous glade ;
And, to advaunce his name and glory more.
Her sea-god syre she dearely did perswade
T' endow her sonne with threasure and rich store
Bove all the sonnes that were of earthly wombes
ybore.

The god did graunt his daughters deare demaund.
To doen his nephew in all riches flow :
Eftsoones his heaped waves he did commauud
Out of their hollow bosome fort!) to throw
All the huge threasure, which the sea below
Had in his greedy gulfe devoured deej)e.
And him enriched through the overthrow
And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe
And often wayle their wealth which he from them
did keepe.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IIL

Shortlv upon that shore there heaped was

Exceeding' riches and all ])retioiis tliiiiL^'s,

The syiovle of all (ho world; that it did jias

The welth of th' East, aiid pompe of rer>ian kings:

Gold, amher, yvorie, perles, owches, rings,

And all that els was pretious and deare.

The sea unto him voluntarv brings ;

That shortlv he a great lord did appeare,

As was in all the lend of Faery, or elsewheare.

Tliereto he was a doughty dreaded knight,
Tryde often to the scath of many deare,
That none in equall armes him matchen might :
The which his mother seeing gan to feare
Least his too haughtie liardines might reare
Some hard mishap in hazard of his life :
Forthy she oft him counseld to forbeare
The bloody batteill, and to stirre up strife.
Bat after all his warre to rest bis wearie knife :

And, for his more assuraunce, she inquir'd
One day of Proteus by his mighty spell
(For Proteus was with prophecy inspir'd)
Her deare sonnes destiny to her to tell,
And the sad end of her sweet IVIarinell :
Who, through foresight of his eternall skill,
Bad her from womankind to keepe him well ;
For of a woman he should have much ill ;
A virgin straunge and stout him should dismay or
kill.

Forthy she gave him warning ever day
The love of women not to entertaine ;
A lesson too too hard for living clay.
From loye in course of nature to refraine !
Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,
And ever from fayre ladies love did fly ;
Yet many ladies fayre did oft com])laine.
That they for love of him would algates dy :
Dy, mIioso list for him, he was loves enimy.

But ah ! who can deceive his destiny.

Or weene by warning to avoyd his fate ?

That, when he slee[)es in most security

And safest scemes, him soonest doth amate.

And findeth dew effect or soone or late ;

So feeble is the powre of fleshly arme !

His mother bad him wemens love to hate,

For she of womans force did fearc no liarme ;

So weening to have arm'd him, she did (piite disarme.

This was that woman, this that deadly wownd.

That Proteus pro]ihecidc should him dismay ;

The which his mother vaincly did expownd

To be hart-wownding love, which should assay

'I'o bring her Sonne unto his last decay.

So tickle be the termcs of mortall state

And fidl of stibtile sophismes, which doe play

With double sences, and with false debate,

T' approve the unknowen purpose of eternall fate.

Too trew the famous Marinell it fownd ;
Who, through late triall, on that wealthy strond
Inglorious now lies in sencelesse swownd,
Tliroui;h lieavy stroke of Britoniartis bond.
Which when his mother deare did understond,
And heavy tidings heard, whereas she playd
Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,
Gathering sweete daffudillyes, to have made
Gay girlonds from tke sun their forheads fayr to
shade ;

Eftesoones both flowres and girlonds far away

She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent ;

To sorrow huge she turnd her former play.

And gamesom merth to grievous dreriment :

Shee threw herselfe downe on the continent,

Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne,

W liiles all her sisters did for her lament

With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne ;

And every one did teare her girlond from hercrowne.

Soone as she up out of her deadly fitt

Arose, she bad her charett to be brought ;

And all her sisters, that with her did sitt,

Bad eke attonce their charetts to be sought :

Tho, full of bitter griefe and pensive thought.

She to her wagon clombe ; clombe all the rest.

And forth together went, with sorow fraught :

The waves obedient to theyre beheast

Them yielded ready passage, and their rage surceast,

Great Neptune sfoode amazed at their sight.
Whiles on his broad rownd backe they softly slid.
And eke himselfe mournd at their mournful plight
Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did,
For great compassion of their sorow, bid
His mighty waters to them buxome bee :
Eftesoones the roaring billovv^es still abid.
And all the griesly monsters of the see
Stood gaping at their gate, andwondred them to see.

A teme of dolphins raunged in aray

Drew the smooth rharctt of sad Cymoent ;

Tliey were all taught by Triton to obay

To the long raynes at her commaundiinient :

As swifte as swallowcs on tho waves tliey went.

That their brode flaggy finnes no fome did reare,

Ne bubling rowndell they behinde them sent ;

The rest, of other fishes drawen woaro.

Which with their finny oars tho swelling sea did sheare.

Soone as they bene arriv'd upon tl>e brim

Of the rich strond, their charets they forlore,

And let their temcd fishes softly swim

Along tho inargent of tin; fomy shore,

Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore

Their tender feetc upon the stony grownd :

And comming to the place, where all in gore

And cruddy blood enwallowcd they fownd

The lucklesse IMarinell lying in deadly swownd

Canto IA^j

TUh FAERIE QUEENE.

145

His mother swowned thrise , and the third time
Could scarce recovered bee out of her paiae ;
Had she not beene devoide of mortal! slime.
She should not then have bene relyr d againe :
But, soone as life recovered had the raine,
Shee made so piteous mone and deare vs-aj-ment,
That the hard rocks could scarce from tears retraine :
And all her sister nymphes with one consent
Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.

' ' Deare imasje of myselfe," she sayd, " that is
The wretched sonne of wretched mother bonie,
Is this thine high advauncement ? O ! is this
Th' immortall name, with which thee yet unbome
Thy grandsire Nereus promist to adorne ?
\ow lyest thou of life and honor refte ;
No*v lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne;
\e of thy late life memory is lefte ;
N e can thy irrevocable desteny bee wefte !

" Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis !

And thev more fond that credit to thee give !

X^it this the worke of womans hand ywis, [drive.

I liiif so deepe wound through these deare members

I feared love ; but they that love doe live ;

Hut tliev that d^e, doe nether love nor hate:

Na'h'ifsse to thee thy folly I forgive ;

And to mvselfe, and to accursed fate, [late !

The guilt L doe ascribe : deare wisedome bought too

XXXVIII.

•• ! what availes it of immortall seed
To beene ybredd and never borne to dye?
I'.irve better 1 it deeme to die with speed
'Mien waste in woe and waylfull miserye :
\\ ho dyes, the utmost dolor doth abye ;
l'>ur who that lives, is lefte to waile his losse :
Sii iife is losse, and death felicity :
>;id life worse then glad death ; and greater crosse
To see frends grave, then dead the grave selfe to
ensrrosse.

" Hut if the heavens did his days envie,
And m\' short blis maligne ; yet mote they well
Thus much aftbrd me, ere that he did die,
That the dim eies of my deare Marinell
I mote have closed, and him bed farewell,
Sith other offices for mother meet

They would not graunt

Yett ! maulgre them, farewell, my sweetest sweet !
Farewell, my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall
meet !"

Thus when they all had sorrowed their fill,
They softly gan to search his griesly wownd :
And, that they might him handle more at will,
They him disjrmd ; and, spredding on the grownd
Their watchet mantles frindgd with silver rownd.
They softly wipt away the gelly blood
From th' orifice ; which having well upbownd
They pourd in soveraine balme and nectar good.
Good both for erthly med'cine and for hevenly food.

Tho, when the lilly-handed Liagore

(This Liagore whilome had learned skill

In leaches craft, by great Apolloes lore,

Sith her whilome upon high Pindus hill

He loved, and at last her wombe did fill

With hevenly seed, whereof wise P;eon sprong,)

Did feele his pulse, shee knew there staled still ,

Some little life his feeble sprites emong ; ''

Which to his mother told, despeyre she from her flonr.

Tho, up him taking in their tender hands,

They easely unto her charett beare :

Her teme at her commaundement quiet stands,

Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare,

And strowe with flowres the lamentable beare :

Then all the rest into their coches dim.

And through the brackish waves their passage sheare ;

Upon great Neptunes necke they softly swim,

And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him.

Deepe in the bottome of the sea, her bowre

Is built of hollow billowes heaped bye,

Like to thicke clouds that threat a stormy showre,

And vauted all within like to the skye.

In which the gods doe dwell eternally :

There they him laide in easy couch well dight ;

And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply

Salves to his wounds, and medicines of might :

For Trypon of sea-gods the soveraine leach is hight.

The whiles the nymphes sit all about him rownd,
Lamenting his mishap and heavy plight ;
And ofte his mother, vewing his wide wownd.
Cursed the hand that did so deadly smight
Her dearest sonne, her dearest harts delight :
But none of all those curses overtooke
The warlike maide, th'ensample of that might ;
But fajrrely well shee thryvd, and well did brooke
Her noble deedes, ne her right course for ought
forsooke.

Yet did false Archimage her still pursew.

To bring to passe his mischievous intent.

Now that he had her singled from the crew

Of courteous knights, the prince and Fary gent,

Whom late in chace of beauty excellent

Shee lefte, pursewing that same foster strong ;

Of whose fowle outrage they impatient.

And full of firy zele, him followed long,

Toreskewher from shame, and to revenge her wrong

Through thick and thin, through mountains and

through playns.
Those two great champions did attonce pursew
The fearful! damzell with incessant payns ;
Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew
Of hunter swifte and sent of howndes trew.
At last they came unto a double way ;
Where, doubtful! which to take, her to reskew.
Themselves they did dispart, each to assay
Whether more happy were to win so goodly pray

14(

THE KAERIE QUEENE.

[Book lA.

But Timias, the princes gentle squyre.
That ladies love unto his lord forlent,
And with proud envy and indis;nant yre
After that wicked foster fiercely Trent :
So heene they three three sondry wayes ybent :
But fayrest fortune to the prince befell ;
Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did repent,
To take that way in which that damozell
Was fledd afore,' affraid of him as feend of hell.

At last of her far off he gained vew :

Then gan he freshlv pricke his fomy steed,

And ever as he nigher to her drew,

?o evermore he did increase his speed,

And of each turning: still kept wary heed :

Alowd to her he oftentimes did call

To doe away vaine doubt and needlesse dreed :

Full mvld to her he spake, and oft let fall

Many meeke wordes to stay and comfort her withall.

But nothing might relent her hasty flight ;

So deepe the deadly feare of that foul swaine

Was earst impressed in her gentle spright :

Like as a fearefuU dove, which through the raine

Of the wide ayre her way does cut amaine,

Having farre off espyde a tassell gent.

Which after her his nimble winges doth straine,

Doubleth her hast for feare to bee for-hent,

And with her pineons cleaves the liquid fermament.

n'ith no lesse hast, and eke with no lesse dreed,
That fearefull ladie fledd from him that ment
To her no evill thought nor evill deed ;
Yet former feare of being fowly shent
Carried her forward with her first intent ;
And tliougli, oft looking backward, well she vewde
Herselfe freed from that foster insolent.
And that it was a knight which now her sewde.
Yet she no lesse the knight feared then that villein
rude.

His uncouth shield and straunge armes her dismayd,
Whose like in Faery Lond were seldom seene ;
I'hat fast she from him fledd, no lesse afrayd
'I'lien of wilde beastes if she had chased beene :
Yet he her followd still with corage keene
So long, that now the golden Hesperus
Was mounted high in top of heaven sheene,
And warnd his other brethren ioyeous
To light their blessed lamps in Joves eternall hous.

All suddeinly dim wox the dampish ayre.

And griesly sliadowes covered heaven bright.

That now with thousand starres was decked fayxe :

Which when the prince beheld, a loth full sight,

And that perforce, for want of lenger light,

He mote surceasse his suit and lose the hope

Of his long labour ; he gan fowly wyte

His wicked fortune that had turnd aslope.

And cursed night that reft from him so goodly scope.

Tho, when her wayes he could no more descry,
F)Ut to and fro at disaventure strayd ;
Like as a ship, whose lodestar suddeinly
Covered with clouds her pilott hath dismayd ;
His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd.
And from his loftie steed dismounting low
Did let him forage : downe himselfe he layd
Upon the grassy ground to sleepe a throw ;
The cold eartli was his couch, the hard Steele bis
pillow.

LIV.

But gentle Sleepe envyde him any rest ;

Instead thereof sad sorrow and disdaine

Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest.

And thousand fancies bett his ydle brayne

With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine :

Oft did he wish that lady faire mote bee

His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine ;

Or that his Faery Queene were such as shee :

And ever hasty Night he blamed bitterlie:

" Night ! thou foule mother of annoyaunce sad,
Sister of heavie Death, and nourse of Woe,
Which wast begot in heaven, but for thy bad
And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below.
Where, by the grim floud of Cocytus slow,
Thy dwelling is in Herebus black hous,
(Black Herebus, thy husband, is the foe
Of all the gods,) where thou ungratious
Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous ;

" What had th' Eternall Maker need of thee
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all thinges deface, ne lettest see
The beautie of bis worke ? Indeed in sleepe
The slouthfull body that doth love to steepe
His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind.
Doth i)raise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe
Calls thee his goddesse, in his errour blind.
And great dame Ns>tures handmaide chearing every
kind.

Lvir.

" But well I wote that to an heavy hart
Thou art the roote and nourse of bitter cares.
Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts :
Instead of rest thoti lendest rayling teares ;
Instead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares
And dreadfull visions, in the which alive
Tlie dreary image of sad Death appeares :
So from the wenrie spirit thou doest drive
Desired rest, and men of happinesse deprive.

" Under thy mantle black there hidden lye

Liicht-shonniiig Thefte, and traiterous Intent,

Abhorred Bloodshed, and vile Felony,

Shamefnll Deceipt, and Daunger imminent.

Fowle Horror, and eke hellish Dreriment:

All these I wote in thy protection bee,

And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent :

For liglit ylike is lotli'd of them and thee;

And all, that lewdnesse love, do hate the light to see

Canto V.]

THE FAERTE QUEENE.

147

" For Day discovers all dislionest wayes.
And sheweth each thing as it is in deed :
The prayses of High God he faire displayes.
And His large hountie rightly doth areed :
Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed
Which Darknesse shall subdue and heaven win :
Truth is his daughter ; he her first did breed
Most sacred virgin without spot of sinne :
Our life is day ; but death with darknesse doth
begin.

" 0, when will Day then turne to me againe.
And bring with him his long-expected light !
O Titan ! hast to reare thy loyous waine ;
Speed thee to spred abroad thy beamt-s bright,
And chace away this too long lingring Night ;
Chace her away, from whence she came, to hell :
She, she it is, that hath me done dospight :
There let her with the damned spirits dwell.
And yield her rowme to Day, that can it goveme
well."

Thus did the prince that wearie night outwears

In restlesse anguisli and unquiet paine ;

And earely, ere the Morrow did upreare

His deawy head out of the ocean maine.

He up arose, as halfe in great disdaine,

And clombe unto his steed : so forth he went

With heavy looke and lumpish pace, that plaine

In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent :

His steed eke seemd t' apply his steps to his intent.

CANTO V.

Prince Arthur hears of Florimell :
Three fosters Timias wound ;

Belphcebe findes him almost dead,
And reareth out of swownd.

Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes
How diversly Love doth his pageaunts play
And shewes his powre in variable kindes :
The baser wit, whose ydle thout;hts alway
Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay.
It stirreth up to sensuall desire,
And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day ;
But in brave sprite it kindles goodly" fire,
That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.

Xe sufFereth it uncomely Idlenesse

In his free thought to build her sluggish nest ;

Ne suftereth it thought of ungentlenesse

Ever to creepe into his noble brest ;

Bui to the highest and the worthiest

Lifteth it up that els would lowly fall :

It lettes not fall, it lettes it not to rest ;

It lettes not scarse this prince to breath at all,

But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call :

Wlio long time wandred through the forest wyde
To finde some issue thence ; till that at last
He met a dwarfe that seemed terrifyde
With some late perill wliich he hardly past.
Or other accident which him aghast ;
Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,
And whether now he tra veiled so fast :
For sore he swat, and, ronning through that same
Thicke forest, was bescracht and both his feet nigh
lame

Panting for breath, and almost out of hart.
The dwarfe him answerd ; " Sir, ill mote I stay
To tell the same : I lately did depart
From Faery court, where I have many a day
Served a gentle lady of great sway
And high accompt throughout all Elfin Land,
Who lately left the same, and tooke this way :
Her now I seeke ; and if ye understand
Which way she fared hath, good sir, tell out of
hand,"

" What mister wight," saide he, " and how arayd 1 '

•• Royally clad," quoth he, " in cloth of gold.

As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd ;

Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,

A fayrer wight did never sunne behold ;

And on a palfrey rydes more white then snow,

Yet she herselfe is whiter manifold ;

The surest signe, whereby ye may lier know

Is, that she is the fairest wight alive, I trow."

" Now certes, swaine," saide he," such one, I weene,
Fast flying through this forest from her fo,
A foule ill-favoured foster, I have scene ;
Herselfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho.
But could not stay ; so fast she did foregoe.
Carried away with wings of speedy feare."
" Ah ! dearest God," quoth he, " that is great woe,
And wondrous rutli to all that shall it heare :
But can ve read, sir, how I may her finde, or where 'i "

L 2

148

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book III

" Perdy me lever were to weeteri that,"
Saide lie, " then ransome of tlie richest knight,
Or all the g-ood that ever yet I gat :
But iVoward fortune, and too forward night,
Such haj)pinesse did, maulgre, to me spight.
And fro me reft both life and light attone.
But, dwarfe, aread what is that lady bright
That through this forrest wandreth thus alone ;
For of her errour straunge I have great ruth and
mone."

" That ladie is," quoth he, " whereso she bee,

The bounties! virgin and most debonaire

That ever living eye, I weene, did see :

Lis^es none this day that may with her compare

In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare,

Tiie goodly ornaments of beauty bright ;

And is ycleped Florimell the fayre,

Faire Florimell belov'd of many a knight.

Yet she loves none but one, that Marinell is bight ;

" A sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is hight,

Of my deare dame is loved dearely well ;

In other none, but him, slie sets delight ;

All her delight is set on Marinell ;

But he sets nought at all by Florimell :

For ladies love his motlier long ygoe

Did him, they say, forwarne through sacred spell :

But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe

He is vslaine, which is the ground of all our woe.

" Five daies there be since he (they say) was slaine,

And fowre since Florimell the court forwent,

And vowed never to returne againe

Till him alive or dead she did invent.

Therefore, i'aire sir, for love of knighthood gent

And honour of trew ladies, if ye may

By your good counsell, or boltl hardirnent.

Or succour her, or me direct the way.

Do one or other good, I you most humbly pray :

" So may ye gaine to you full great renowme
Of all good ladies throuj^h the worlde so wide,
And haply in her hart finde highest rowmo
Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide !
At least eternall meede shall you abide."
To whom the jirince ; " Dwarfe, comfort to thee take ;
For, till thou tidings learne wliat her betide,
I here avow thee never to forsake :
III weares he armes, that nill them use for ladies
sake."

So with the dwarfe he back retourn'd againe.
To seeke his lady, where he mote her finde ;
But by the way he greatly gan complaine
The want of his good squire late left behinde.
For whom ho wondrous ])ensive grew in minde.
For doubt of daunger which mote him betide ;
For him he loved above all mankinde.
Having him trew and faithfull ever tride,
\u6 bold, as ever squyre that waited by knights
Aide

Who all this while full hardly was assayd

Of deadly daunger which to him betidd :

For, whiles his lord pursewd that noble mayd,

After that foster fowle he fiercely ridd

To bene avenged of the shame he did

To that faire damzell : him he chaced long

Through the thicke woods wherein he would have hid

His shameful! head from his avengement strong,

And oft him threatued death forhis outrageous wrong.

Nathlesse the villein sped himselfe so well.
Whether through swiftnesse of his speedie beast.
Or knowledge of those woods where he did dwell.
That shortly he from daunger was releast.
And out of sight escaped at the least ;
Yet not escaped from the dew reward
Of his bad deedes, which daily he increast,
Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard
The heavie plague that for such leachours is pre-
pard.

For, soone as lie was vanisht out of sight.

His coward courage gan emboldned bee.

And cast t' avenge him of that fowle despight

Which he had borne of his bold enimee :

Tho to his brethren came, (/or they were three

Ungratious children of one gracelesse syre,)

And unto them compUiyned how that he

Had used beene of that foole-hardie squ>Te :

So them with bitter words he stird to bloodie yre.

Forthwith tliemselves with their sad instruments
Of spoyle and murder they gan arme bylive.
And with him foorfh into the forrest went
To wreake the wrath, which he did earst revive
In there Sterne brests, on him which late did drive
Theii brother to reproch and shamefull flight :
For they had vow'd that never he alive
Out of that forest should escape tlieir might ;
Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with such
despight.

XVII.

Witliin that wood there was a covert glade,
I'oreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne,
'i'hrough which it was uneath for wight to wade ;
And now by fortune it was oyerflowne :
By that same way they knew that squyre unknowne
Mote algates passe ; forthy themselves they set
There in await with thicke woods overgrowne.
And all llie while their malice they did whet
With cruell threats his passage through the ford to
let.

It fortuned, as (hey devized had.
The gentle scjuire came ryding that same way,
Unweeting of their wile and treason bad.
And through the ford to passen did assay ;
But that fierce foster, which late fled away.
Stoutly foorth stepping on the further shore.
Him boldly bad his passage there to stay,
'i'ill lie had made amends, and full restore
VoY all the damage which he had him doen afofe

Canto \'.J

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

149

With that, at him a quiv'ring dart he threw
With so fell force, and villeinous despite.
That through his haberieon tlie forkehead flew,
And through the linked mayles empierced quite,
But had no powre in liis soft flesh to bite:
That stroke the hardy squire did sore displease.
But more that him he could not come to smite ;
For by no meanes the high banke he could sease.
But labour'd long in that deepe ford with vaine dis-
ease.

And still the foster with his long- bore-speare

Him kept from landing at his wished will :

Anone one sent out of the thicket neare

A cruell shaft headed with deadly ill,

And fethered with an unlucky tjuill;

The wicked Steele stayd not till it did light

In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill :

Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight,

&ut more Uiat with his foes he could not come to fight.

At last, through wrath and vengeaunce, making way
He on the bancke arryvd with mickle payne ;
Where the third brotlier him did sore assay.
And drove at him with ail his might and mayne
A forest-bill, which both his hands did strayne ;
But warily he did avoide the blow,
And with his Sjieare requited him a^ayne,
That both his sides were thrilled with the throw,
And a large streame of bloud out of the wound did
flow.

With that, he would have fled into the wood;
I3ut Timias him lightly overhent,
Eight as he entring was into the flood.
And strooke at him with force so violent.
That headlesse him into the foord he sent ;
The carcas with the streame was carried downe.
But th' head fell backeward on the continent ;
So mischief fel upon the meaners crowne :
They three be dead with shame ; the squire Uvea
with renowne :

He lives, but takes small ioy of his renowne ;

For of that cruell wound he bled so sore,

That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne :

Yet still the blood forth gusht in so great store

That he lay wallowd all m his owne gore.

Now God thee keepe ! thou gentlest squire alive.

Els shall thy loving lord thee see no more ;

But both of comfort him thou shalt deprive,

And eke thyselfe of honor which thou didst atchive.

Providence hevenly passeth living thought,
And doth for wretched mens reliefe make way :
For loe ! great grace or fortune thether brought
Comfort to him that comfortlesse now lay.
In those same woods ye well remember may
How that a noble hunteresse did wonne,
Shee, that base Braggadochio did affray,
And made him fast out of the forest ronne ;
Belphcebe was her name, as faire as Phcebus sunne.

He, torabling downe, with gnashing teeth did bite
The bitter earth, and bad to lett him in
Into the baleful! house of endlesse night,
Where wicked ghosts doe waile their former sin.
Tho gan the battaile freshly to begin ;
For nathemore for that spectacle bad
Did th' other two their cruell vengeaunce blin.
But both attonce on both sides him bestad.
And load upon him lavd, his life for to have had.

Tho when that villayn he aviz'd, which late

Affrighted had the fairest Florimell,

Full of flers fury and indignant hate

To him he turned, and with rigor fell

Smote him so rudely on the pannikell.

That to the chin he clefte his head in twaine :

Downe on the ground his carkas groveling fell ;

His sinfull sowle with desperate disdaine

Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place of paine.

That seeing, now the only last of three
Who with that wicked sliafte him wounded had,
'J'rerabling with horror, (as that did foresee
The fearefull end of his avengement sad,
Through which he follow should his brethren bad,)
His bootelessf bow in feeble hand upcanght.
And therewith shott an arrow at the lad ;
Which favntly fluttring scarce his helmet raught.
And glauncing fel to ground, but him annoyed naught.

Shee on a day, as shee pursewd the chace
Of some wilde beast, which with her arrowes keena
She wounded had, the same along did trace
By tract of blood, which she had freshly seene
To have besprinckled all the grassy greene ;
Bv the great persue which she there perceav'd,
Well hoped shee the beast engor'd had beene.
And made more haste the life to have bereav'd :
But ah ! her expectation greatly was deceiv'd.

Shortly slie came whereas that woefull squire
With blood deformed lay in deadly swownd ;
In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire
The chiistall humor stood congealed rownd ;
His locks, like faded leaves fallen to grownd.
Knotted with blood in bounches rudely ran ;
And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd
The bud of youth to blossome faire began,
Spoild of their rosy red were woxea pale and wan.

Saw never living eie more heavy sight.

That could have made a rocke of stone to rew.

Or rive in twaine : which when that lady bright.

Besides all hope, with melting eies did vew,

All suddeinly abasht shee chaunged hew,

And with Sterne horror backward gan to start :

But, when shee betier him beheld, shee grew

Full of soft passion and unwonted smart :

I'he point of pitty perced through her tender hart.

150

TJIE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boor III

I\Ieel<elv sbee bowed clowne, to weete if life

\'ett in Ills frozen members did remaine ;

And, feelint; bv bis pulses beating- rife

'J'bat tbo weake sowle ber seat (li(l yett retaine,

fSliee cast to comfort iiim witb busy jiaine:

J lis double-folded necke slie reaid uprJL^bt.

And rubd bis temples and eacli frenii)ling- vaine ;

J lis mavled baberieon sbe did undiglit.

And from bis bead bis beavy burganet did ligbt.

Into tlie woods tbencefortli in Iraste sbee went,
I'o seeke for liearbes tbat mote biin remedy ;
For sbee of berbes bad great intendiment,
'J'augbt of tbe nvni]>lie wbicb from lier infancy
Her nourced bud in trew nobilitv :
Tbere, w];etber vt ilivine tobacco were,
Or panacbai'a, or ])olvsonv,
Sbe fownd, and brougbt it to ber patient deare,
Wbo al tliis wbile lay bleding out bis bart-blood
neare.

Tbe soveraine weede betwixt two marbles plaine
Sbee pownded small, and did in peeces bruze ;
And tben atweene ber lilly bandt-s twaine
Into bis wound tbe juice tbereofdid scruze;
And round about, as sbe could well it uze,
Tbe flesb tberewitb sbe suppled and did steepe,
T' abate all spasme and soke tbe swelling- bruze ;
And, alter baving searcbt tbe intuse deepe,
Sbe witb ber scarf did bind tbe wound, from cold to
keepe.

XXXIV.

By tins be bad sweet life recur'd agayne.
And, groning inly deepe, at last bis eies.
His watry eies drizling like deawy rayne,
He up gan lifle toward the azure skies,
From wbence descend all bopelesse remedies ;
Tberewitb be sigb'd ; and, turning- bim aside,
Tbe goodly maide full of divinities
And gifts of beavenly grace be by bim spide.
Her bow and gilden quiver lying bim beside.

" Mercy ! deare Lord," said be, " what grace is this
Tbat thou bast shewed to me sinfuU wight,
To send thine angell from her bowre of blis
To comfort me in my distressed plight !
Angell, or goddesse doe I call thee riglit ?
Wiiat service may I doe unto thee meete,
That bust from darkenes me returnd to light.
And with tiiy bevenly salves and med'cinessweete
Hast drest my sinfull wounds ! I kisse thy blessed
feete."

Thereat she blushing said ; " Ah ! gentle squire,

Nor goddesse 1, nor angell ; but the mayd

And daughter of a woody nymphe, desire

No service but thy safety and ayd ;

AVhich if thou gaine, I shal be well apayd.

V\ ee mortall wights, -whose lives and fortunes bee

Jo commun accidents stil open layd.

Are hownd with commun bond oi fraVltee,

To succor wretched wights whom we captived see."

By this ber damzells, which tbe former cbace

Had undertaken after ber, arryv'd.

As did Helpba^be, in tbe bloody ])lace.

And thereby deenid tbe beast bad bene de]>riv'd

Of life, whom late tljeir ladies arow rsv'd :

Fortby tbe bloody tract tbey followd fast.

And every one to ronne the swiftest str3-v'd ;

]5ut two of them tbe rest far overpast,

And where their lady was arrived at the last.

Where when they saw tiiat goodly boy with blood
Defowled, and their lady dresse his wownd,
Tbey wondred much ; and shortly understood
How him in deadly cace their lady fownd,
And reskewed out of tbe beavy stovvnd.
Ettsoones bis warlike courser, which was strayd
Farre in tbe woodes whiles that he lay in swownd.
She made those damzels search ; wbicb being stavd,
Tbey did bim set thereon, and forth witb theia
convayd.

XXXIX.

Into that forest farre they thence him led
^\'llere was their dwelling- ; in a pleasant glade
With niountaines rownd about environed
And migbtie woodes, which did tbe valley shade.
And like a stately the;Ure it made
Spreading itselfe into a spatious plaine ;
And in tbe midst a little river jdaide
Emongst tbe pumy stones, which seemd to plaine
Witii gentle munnure that his course they did
restraine.

Beside tbe same a dainty place there lay,

Planted with mirtle trees and laurells greene,

In wbicb the birds song many a lovely lay

Of Gods high praise, and of their loves sweet teene.

As it an earthly paradize bad beene :

In whose enclosed shadow there was pigbt

A faire pavilion, scarcely to be scene.

The which was al within most richly digbt.

That greatest princes living it mote -well delight.

Thether thevbrouglitthat wounded squyre, and layd
In easie couch iiis feeble limbes to rest.
He rested him awhile ; and tben the mayd
His readie wound with better salves new drest :
Daily she dressed bun, and did tbe best.
His grievous hurt to guarish, tbat she might;
'J'bat shortly sbe his dolour balb redrest.
And bis foule sore reduced to faire plight:
It sbe reduced, but himselfe destroyed quigfal.

O foolish physick, and unfruitful! paine,

'J'bat heales up one, and makes another wound !

She his hurt thigh to bim reciiid againe.

But hurt bis hart, tbe whicli before was sound,

'I'lirough an unwary dart which did rebownd

From ber faire eyes and gratious eountenaunce.

^^ bat bootes it liim from deiilb to be unbovvnd.

To be captived In end. esse duraunce

Of sorrow and despeyre witliout aleggeaunce !

Canto V.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

151

Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole,
So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd :
iMadiiesse to save a part, and lose the whole!
Still whenas he beheld the heavenly mayd,
Whiles daily playsters to his wownd she layd,
So still his malady the more increast,
The whiles her matchlesse beautie liim dismayd.
Ah God ! what other could he do at least.
But love so fayre a lady that his life releast!

Long while he strove in his corageous brest
With reason dew the passion to subdew.
And love for to dislodge out of his nest :
Still when her excellencies he did vew,
Her soveraine bountie and celestiall hew,
The same to love he strongly was constraynd :
But, when his meane estate he did revew.
He from such hardy boldncsse was restraynd,
And of his lucklesse lott and cruell love thus playnd :

" Unthankfull wretch," said he, " is this the meed.

With which her soverain mercy thou doest (juight ?

Thy life she saved by her gratious deed ;

But thou doest weene with villeinous clespight

To blatt lier honour and her heavenly light :

Dye ; rather dye then so disloyally

Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light :

Favre death it is, to shonne more shame, to dy :

Dye ; rather dye then ever love disloyally.

" But if, to love, disloyalty it bee.

Shall I then hate her that from deathtjs dore

]Me brought? ah ! farre be such reproach fro mee !

What can I lesse doe then her love therefore,

Sith I her dew reward cannot restore ?

Dye ; rather dye, and dying doe her serve ;

Dying her serve, and living her adore ;

Thy life she gave, thy life she doth deserve :

Dye ; rather dye then ever from her service swerve.

" But, foolish boy, what bootes thy service bace

To her, to whom the heavens doe serve and sew ?

Thou, a meane sijuyre, of meeke and lowly place;

She, heveiily borne and of celestiall hew.

How then ? of all love taketh equall vew :

And doth not highest God v«uchsafe to take

The love and service of the basest crew?

If she will not ; dye meekly for her sake :

Dye ; rather dye then ever so faire love forsake 1'

XI.VIII.

Thus warreid he long time against his will ;
Till tliat through weakness he was forst at last
To yield himselfe unto the mightie ill.
Which, as a victour proud, gan ransack fast
His inward partes and all his entrayles wast.
That neither blood in face nor life in hart
It left, but both did quite drye up and blast ;
As percing levin, which the inner part
Of everv thing consumes and calcineth by art.

I Which seeing fayre Belphocbe gan to feare.
Least that his wound were inly well not heald,
Or that the wicked Steele empoysned were :
Litle shee weend that love he close concealed.
Yet still he wasted, as the snow congeald
When the bright sunne his beams theron doth beat !
Yet never he his hart to her reveald ;
But rather chose to dye for sorow great
Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.

She, gracious lady, yet no paines did spare

To doe him ease, or doe him remedy :

Many restoratives of vertues rare

And costly cordialles sli^ did apply,

To mitigate his stubborne malady :

But that sweet cordiall, which can restore

A love-sick hart, she did to him envy ;

To him, and to all th' unworthy world forlore,

She did envy that soveraine salve in secret store.

That daintie rose, the daughter of her morne.
More deare then life she tendered, whose fiowre
The girlond of her honour did adorne :
Ne suffred she the middayes scorching powre,
Ne the sharp northerne wind thereon to showre ;
But lapped up her silken leaves most chayre,
Whenso the froward skye began to lowre ;
But, soone as calmed was the cristall ayre.
She did it favre dispred and let to ilori.di fayre.

Eternall God, in his almightie powre,
To make ensample of his heavenly grace,
In paradize whylome did plant this flowre ;
Whence he it fetcht out of her native place.
And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace.
That mortall men her glory should admyre.
In gentle ladies breste and bounteous race
Of woman-kind it fayrest flowre doth sp)Te,
Aad beareth fruit of honour and all chast desyre.

Fayre ympes of beautie, whosebright shining beamea
Adorne the world with like to heavenly light,
And to your willes both royalties and reames
Subdew, through conquest of your wondrous might ;
With this fayre flowre your goodly girlonds dight
Of chastity and vertue virginall.
That shall embellish more your beautie bright.
And crowne your heades with heavenly coronall.
Such as the angels weare before God's tribunall !

To youre faire selves a faire ensample frame
Of this faire virgin, this Belphwhe fayre ;
To whom, in perfect love and sjiotless fame
Of chastitie, none living may conipayre:
Ne poysnous envy iustly can empayre
The prayse of her fresh-'flowring maydenhead ;
Forthy she standetb on the highest slayre
Of th' honourable stage of womanhead.
That ladies all may follow her ensample dead.

'.6>1

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IH

In so great prayse of stedfast cliastity
Nathlesse she was so courteous and kynde,
Tempred with grace and goodly modesty,
That seemed those two vertues strove to lynd
The liigher place in her heroick mynd :
So striving each did other more augment,
And both encreast the prayse of womankynd
And both encreast her beautie excellent :
So all did make in her a perfect complement.

CANTO VI.

The birth of fayre Belphcebe and

Of Amorett is told :
The gardins of Adonis fraught

With pleasures manifold.

Well may I weene, faire ladies, all this while

i'e wonder how this noble damozell

So great perfections did in her compile,

Sith that in salvage forests she did dwell,

So farre from court and royal citadell,

'Jlie great schoolmaisfresse of all courtesy :

Seemeth that such wilde woodes should far expell

All civile usage and gentility.

And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

But to this faire Belphcebe in her berth

The hevens so favourable were and free.

Looking with mvld aspect upon the earth

In th' horoscope of her nativitee.

That all the gifts of grace and chastitee

On her thev ])oured forth of plenteous home:

love laught on Venus from his soverayne see.

And Phffibus with faire beanies did her adorne.

And all the "races rockt her cradle being borne.

It were a goodly storie to declare
By what straunge accident faire Chrysogone
Conceiv'd these infants, and how them she bars
In this wilde forrest wandring all alone.
After she had nine nioneths fulfild and gone:
For not as other weinens commune brood
They were enwombed in the sacred throne
Of her chaste bodie ; nor with commune food.
As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood

But wondrously they were begot and bred

Through influence of th' hevens fruitful! ray.

As it in antique bookes is mentioned.

It was u]ion a sommers shinie day.

When Titian faire his beami^s did display,

In a fresh fountaine, far from all mens vew.

She bath'd her brest the boyling heat t'allaj ;

She bath'd viith roses red and violets blew.

And all the sweetest flowers that in the forrest grew .

Her berth was of the wombe of morning dew.
And her conception of the ioyous prime ;
And all her whole creation did her shew
Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime
That is ingenerate in fleshly sl'me.
So was this virgin home, so was she bred ;
So was she Iravned up from time to time
In all chaste vertue and true bountihed,
I'ill to her dew j)erfection she were ripened.

Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee,

The daughter of Amphisa, who by race

A Faerie was, yborne of high degree :

She bore ]iel])hnbe; she bore in like cace

Fayre Ainoretta in the second place : [share

These tuo were twiiines, and twixt them two did

The heritage of all celestiall grace;

That all the re^-t it seemd they robbed bare

Of bounty, and of beautie, and all vertues rare.

Till faint through yrkesome werines adowne

Upon the grassy ground herselfe she layd

I'o sleepe, the whiles a gentle slorabring swowne

Upon her fell all naked bare displayd ;

The sunbeames bright uj)on her body [ilayd,

Being through former bathing mollifide.

And pierst into her wombe ; where they embavd

With so sweet sence and secret powre unspido,

Tliat in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.

Miraculous may seenie to him that reades

So straunge ensample of conception ;

But reason teacheth that the fruitfuU seades

Of all things living, through imjiression ,

Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion,

Doe life conceive and (|uickned are by kynd:

So, after Nilus inundation.

Infinite shapes of creatures me<n doe fynd

Informed in the mud on which the suune hath shynd

Canto'TI.I

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

153

Great father lie of generation

ightlv cald, th' autliour of life and light;
And his faire sister for creation
iMinistretli matter fit, which, temjired right
With heate and humour, breedes tlie living ^iglit.
So sprong these tu innes in womb of Clirysogone ;
Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright
AVondred to see lier belly so upblone.
Which still increast till she her ternie had full out-
gone.

Whereof conceiving shame and foule disgrace,
Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard,
She fled into the wildernesse a space,
Till that unweeldy burden she had reard.
And shund dishonor which as death she feard :
Where, wearie of long traveill, downe to resi
Herselfe she set, and comfortably cheard ;
There a sad cloud of sleepe her overkest,
And seized every sence with sorrow sore opprest.

It fortuned, faire Venus having lost
Her little sunno, the winged god of love,
\\'lio for Some light displeasure, which him crost.
Was from her fled as flit as avery dove.
And left her blisfull bowre of ioy above;
(So from her often he had fled away,
When she for ought him sliarpely did reprove,
And wandred in the world in straunge aray,
Uisguiz'd in thousand shapes, that none might him
bewray;)

XII. ^

Him for to seeke, she left her heavenly hous
The house of goudlv formes and faire aspects,
^Vhence all the world derives the glorious
Features of beautie, and all shapes select.
With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;
And searched everie way through which his wings
Had borne him, or his tract she niote detect :
She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things.
Unto the man that of him tydings to her brings.

First she him sought in court ; where most he us'd
Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not ;
But inatiy there she found which sore accus'd
His falshood, and with fowle infamous blot
His cruell deedes and wicked w\les did spot:
Ladies and lordes she every where mote heare
Complaynizij, how with his empoysoiied shot
Their woiuU harts he wounded had whyleare,
A ndso had left them languishing twixt hope and leare.

She then the cities sought from gate to gate,
And everie one did aske. Did he him see .'
And everie one her answerd, that loo lute
He had him seene, and felt the ciueltee
Of his sharp dartes and whot artilleree :
And every one threw forth reproches rife
Of his mischievous deedes, and sayd that bee
Was the disturber of all civill life,
The eniii'v of peace, and authour of all strife.

Then in the countrey she abroad him sought,
And in the rurall cottages iiujuir'd ;
\Miere also many plaiiites to her were brouglit.
How he their heedelesse harts with love had flr'd.
And his false veniin through their veines inspir'd ;
And Ae the gentle shepheard swaynes, whdch sat
Keeping their fleecy fluckes as they were hyr'd,
She sweetly heard complaine both how and what
Her Sonne had to them doen ; yet she did smile
thereat.

But, when in none of all these she him got.
She gan avize where els he mote him hyde :
At last she her bethought that she had not
Yrt sought the salvage woods and forests wyde,
In which full many lovely nymphes abyde;
Mongst whom might be that he did closely lye.
Or that the love of some of them him tyde:
Forthy she thether cast her course t' apply.
To search the secret haunts of Dianes company.

Shortly unto the wastefull woods she came.
Whereas she found the godiiesse with her crew.
After late chace of the'" ibrewed game,
Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew ;
Some of them washing with the liquid dew
From off" their dainty limbs the dusty sweat
And soyle, which did delorme their lively hew,
Otiiers lay shaded from the scorching heat ;
The rest upon her person gave attendance great.

She, having hong upon a bough on high

Her bow and painted ([uiver, had unlaste

Her silver buskins from her nimble thigh.

And her lanck loynes ungirf, and brests unbraste.

After her heat the breathing cold to taste ;

Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright

Embreaded were for hindring of her haste.

Now loose about her shoulders hong undight,

And were with sweet ambrosia all besprinckled light.

Soone as she Venus saw behinde her backe,

She was ashani'd to be so loose surprizM ;

And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacken

'Jhat had not her thereof before aviz'd,

But suflVed her so carelesly disguiz'd

Be overtaken : soone her garments loo^^e

Upgath'ring, in her bosome she c ompriz u

Well as she might, and to tue goddesse rose ;

Whiles all her nymphes did like a girlond her enclose

Goodly she gan faire Cytherea greet.
And shortly asked her what cause her brought.
Into that \\ildernesse for her unmeet, [fraught;

P'rom her sweete bowres and beds with pleasures
That suddein chaung she straung adventure thought.
To whom halfe weeping she thus answered ;
That she her dearest sonne ( upido sought
Who in his frowardnes from her was fled ;
That she reiJeuieU sore ii- :i..\r n Lfcreu.

154

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III

Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne
Of her vaine playnt, and to her scoffing sayd ;
" Great pitty sure that ye be so forlorue
Of your gay Sonne, that gives you so good ayd
I o vour disports ; ill mote ye bene apayd !''
But slie was more engrieved, and replide :
'■ K;iire sister, ill beseemes it to upbrayd
A diilefuU heart with so disdainfull pride ;
'I'lie like that mine may be your paine another tide.

" As you in woods and wanton wildernesse
Vour glory sett to chace the salvage beasts ;
So my delight is all in ioyfulnesse,
In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feasts :
And ill becomes you, with your lofty creasts.
To scorne the ioy that love is glad to seeke :
We both are bownd to follow heavens beheasts
And tend our charges with obeisaunce meeke :
Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my pame to eeke ;

" And tell me if that ye my sonne have heard
To lu^ke emongst your nimphes in secret wize,
Or keepe their cabins : much I am afteard
Least he like one of them himselfe disguize,
And turne his arrows to their exercize :
So may he long himselfe full easie hide ;
For he is faire, and fresh in face and guize
As any nimphe ; let not it be envide."
So saying every nimph full narrowly shee eide.

But Phoebe therewith sore was angered, \y"^y>

And sharply saide ; " Goe dame ; goe, seeke your

Where you him lately lefte, in Mars his bed:

He comes not here ; we scorne his foolish ioy,

Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy :

But, if I catch him in this company,

By Stygian lake I vow, wliose sad annoy

'J'he gods doe dread, he dearly shall abye :

lie clip his wanton wings that lie no more shall flye."

Whom whenas Venus saw so sore displeasd,
Shee inly sory was, and gan relent
\\ hat shee bad said : so her shee soone appeasd
With sugred words and gentle blandishment,
^Vhich as a founiaine from her sweete lips went
And welled goodly forth, that in short space
She was well pleasd, and forth her damzells sent
Through all the woods, to search from place to place
It any tract of him or tidings they mote trace.

To search the god of love her nimphes she sent
'i hroughout the wandering forest every where :
And after them lierselfe eke with liei went
I'o seeke the fugitive both farre and nere.
So long they sough;, till they arrived were
In that same shady covert whereas lay
I'aire C'rysogone in slombry traunce whilere ;
W ho in her sleej)e (a wondrous thing to say)
Uuwares hud borne two babes as faire as springing
day.

Unwares she tnem conceivd, unwares she bore :
She bore withouten paine, that she conceiv'd
U'ithouten pleasure ; ne her need implore
Lucinaes aide : which when they both perceiv'd.
They were through wonder nigh of sence berev'd.
And gai'ing each on other nought bespake :
At last they both agreed her seeming griev'd
Out of her heavie swowne not to awake.
But from her lovins; side the tender babes to take.

Up they them tooke, each one a babe uptooke.
And with them carried to be fostered :
Dame Phoebe to a nymphe her babe berooke
To be upbrought in perfect maydenhed,
And, of lierselfe, her name Belphccbe red :
But Venus hers thence far away convayd.
To be upbrought in goodlv womanhed ;
And, in her little Loves stead wliich was strayd.
Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dismayd.

She brought her to her ioyous paradize [dwell

^Vher most she wonnes, when she on earth does

So faire a place as nature can devize :

Wether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill.

Or it in Gnidus bee, I wote not well ;

But well I wote by triall, that this same

All other pleasaunt places doth excell.

And called is, by her lost lovers name,

The gardin of Adonis, far renowmd by fame.

In that same gardin all the goodly flowres,
^Vherewith dame Nature doth iier beautify
And decks the girlonds of her paramoures.
Are fetcht : there is the first seminary
Of all things that are borne to live and dye,
According to their kynds. Long worke it were
Here to account the endlesse progeny
Of all the weeds that bud and blossome there ,
But so much as doth need must needs be counted
here.

It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old.

And girt in with two walls on either side;

The one of yron, the other of bright gold,

That none might thorough breake, nor overstride ;

And double gates it had which o])ened wide,

By which both in and out men moten jias ;

']ir one faire and fresh, the otlier old and dride ;

Old (ienius the porter of tliem was,

Old Genius, the which a double nature has.

XXXII.

He letteth in, he letteth out to wend
All that to come into the world desire :
A thousand thousand naked babes attend
About him day and night, whicln doe require
That he with fleshly weeds would them attire:
Such as him list, such as eternall fate
Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire.
And seiideth forth to live m mortall state,
Till they agayn relurne backe by the hindtjr gate.

Cas-to vr.j

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

15!:

After t'liat they ap;aine retourned beene,

TliHV in that oardin planted bee agayne,

And grow afi-tsh, as they had never seene

Klesldv corruption nor mortall payne :

Some tliousand yeares so doen they there remayne.

And tlien of him are clad with other hew,

Or sent into the chaungefuU world agayne,

Till thether they retourne where first they grew :

So, like a wheere,arownd theyronne from old to new.

Ne needs there gardiner to sett or sow.
To plant or prune; for of their owne accord
All things, as they created were, doe grow,
And yet remember well the mighty word
Which first was spoken by th' Almighty Lord,
'I'hat bad them to increase mid mi^ltiplu :
Ne doe they need, with water of the ford
Or of the clouds, to moysten their roots dry ;
For in themselves eternall moisture they imply.

Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred.

And uncouth formes, which none yet ever knew :

And every sort is in a sondry bed

Sett by itselfe, and ranckt in comely raw :

Some fitt for reasonable sowles t'indew ;

Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare ;

And all the fruitfuil spawne of fishes hew

In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,

That seemd the ocean could not containe them there.

Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent

Into the world, it to rejdenish more ;

Yet is the stocke not lessened nor spent.

But still remaines in everlasting store

As it at first created was of yore :

For in the wide worabe of the world there lyes.

In hatefull darknes and in deep horrore.

An huge eternall chaos, which supplyes.

The substaunces of natures fruitfuil progenyes.

All things from thence doe their first being fetch,

And borrow matter whereof they are made ;

Which, whenas forme and feature it does ketch,

Becomes a body, arid doth then invade

The state of lile out of the griesly t-hade.

That substaunce is eterne, and bideth so ;

Ne, when the life decaves and forme does fad^

Doth it consume and into nothing goe.

But chaunged is and often altred to and froe.

The substaunce is not chaungd nor altered.

But th' only forme and outward fashion ;

For every substaunce is conditioned

To chaunge her hew, and sondry formes to don.

Meet for iier temper and complexion :

For formes are viiriable, and decay

By course of kinde and by occasion ;

And that faire flowre of beautie fades away.

As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

Great enimy to it, and to all the rest

That in the gardin of Adonis sprinas.

Is wicked Time ; who with his scyth addrest

Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things.

And all their glory to the ground downe flings.

Where they do wither and are fowly mard :

He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings

Beates downe both leaves and buds without regard,

Ne ever pitty may relent his malice bard.

Yet pitty often did the gods relent,

To see so faire thinges mard and spoiled quight :

And their great mother Venus did lament

The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight :

Her hart was pierst with pitty at the sight.

When walking through the gardin them she spyde.

Yet no'te she find redresse for such despight :

For all that lives is subiect to that law :

All thing-'? decay in time, and to their end doe draw.

J3ut were it not that Time their troubler is.

All that in this delightfull gardin growes

Should happy bee, and have immortall blis :

For here all plenty and all pleasure flowes ;

And sweete Love gentle fitts emongst them throwes

Without fell rancor or fond gealosy :

Franckly each paramour his leman knowes ;

Each bird his mate ; ne any does envy

Their goodly meriment and gay felicity.

There is continuall spring, and harvest there
Continuall, both meeting at one t)Tne :
For both the boughes doe laughing blossoms bean
And with fresh colours decke the wanton pryme.
And eke attonce the heavy trees they clynie,
Which seeme to labour under their fruites lode:
1 he whiles the ioyous birdes make their pastyme
Emongst the shady leaves, their sweet abode.
And their trew loves without suspition tell abrode.

Right in the niiddest of that Paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise.
Whose shady boughes sharp Steele did never lop.
Nor wicked beastes their tender buds did crop,
But like a girlond compassed the hight.
And from their fruitfuil sydes sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground, with pretious deaw bedight.
Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet
delight.

XLIV.

And in the thickest covert of that shade

There was a pleasant arber, not by art

But of the trees owne inclination made.

Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,

AVith wanton yvie-twine entrayld athwart,

And eglantine and caprifole emong,

Fashiond above within their inmost part.

That netherPhffibus beams could through them throng

Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong

l.v

THE FAERIE QUEEN E

[Book III.

And all about grew every sorte of flowre,

To wliich sad lovers were transformde of yore;

Fresh Hyacinthus, Phccbus paramoure

And dearest love ;

Foolish Narcisse, that likes the vratry shore ;

Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late,

Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore

Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate,

To whom sweet poets verse hath given endless date.

There wont fayre Venus often to enioy

Her deare Adonis ioyous company,

And reap sweet pleasure of the wanton boy :

There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,

i.apped in flowres and preiious spycery.

By her hid from the world, and from the skill

Of Stygian gods, which doe her love envy :

But she herselfe, whenever that she will,

Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill :

And sooth, it seemes, they say ; for he may not

For ever dye, and ever buried bee

In balefuU'night where all thinges are forgot;

All be he subiect to mortalitie.

Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

And by succession made perpetuall,

Transformed oft, and channged diverslie :

For him the fother of all formes they call ;

Therfore needs mote he live, that living gives to all.

XLVIII.

There now he liveth in eternal blis,
loying his goddesse, and of her enioyd ;
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of bis,
^\'hich with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd :
For tliat wild bore, the which him once annoyd,
She firmely hath emjtrisoned for ay,
(That her sweet love his malice mote avoyd,)
In a strong rocky cave, which is, they say,
Hewen underneath that mount, that none him losen
may.

XLIX.

There now he lives m everlasting ioy,

With manv of the gods in company

Which tbetber bannt, and with the winged boy,

Sporting hiinselfe in safe felicity :

VVho when he liuth with spoiles and cruelty

Ransackt the world, and in the wufuU harts

Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,

Thether resortes, and, laying his sad dartes

Asyde, with laire Adonis playes his wanton partes.

And his trew love faire Psvche with him plaves,
Fayre Pysche to him lately reconcvld,
After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes.
With which his mother \^enus her revyld.
And eke himselfe her cruelly exvid :
But now in stedfast love and happy state
She with him lives, and hath him borne a cinid.
Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aii-ura'e.
Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Pysche la e.

Hether great Venus brought this infant favre

The younger daughter of Cbrysogonee,

And unto J'syche with great trust and care

Committed her, y fostered to bee

And trained up in trew ferninitee :

Who no lesse carelully her tendered

Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom she^

Made her companion, and her lessoned

In all the lore of love and goodly womanhead.

In which when she to perfect ripeness grew,
Of grace and beautie noble paragone.
She brought her forth hito the worldes vew,
To be th' ensample of true love alone.
And lodestarre of all chaste affectione
To all feyre ladies that doe live on grownd,
To Faery court she came ; where many one
Admyrd her goodlv haveour, and fownd
His feeble hart wide launched with loves cruel
wownd.

Put she to none of them her love did cast.

Save to the noble knight Sir Scudamore,

To whom her loving hart she linked fast

In faithfull love, t' abide for evermore ;

And for his dearest sake endured sore.

Sore trouble of an hainous enimy,

Who her would forced have to have forlore

Her former love and stedfast loialty :

As ye may elsewhere reade that ruefull history.

But well I weene ye first desire to learne
What end unto that fearefuU damozell,
Which fiedil so fast from that same foster stearne
Whom with his brethren 'i'imias slew, befell :
1 hat was, to wcet, the goodly Florimell ;
Who wandring for to seeke her lover deare.
Her lover deare, her dearest INIarinell,
Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare.
And from Prince Aithure fled with wings of idlt
fear^.

Ca>jto 'VU.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

157

CANTO VII. /

The witcbes sonne loves Florimell •
She flyes ; he faines to dy.

Satyrane saves the Squyre of Dames
From gyaunts tyranny.

Like as an hynd forth singled from the heard.

That hath escaped from a ravenous beast,

Yet flyes away of her ovrne feete afeard ;

And every leafe, that shaketh with the least

Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast :

So fledd fajTe Florimell from her vaine feare^

Long after she from perill was releast :

Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did beare,

Did seeme to be the same which she escapt wbileare.

All that same evening she in flying spent,
And all that night her course continewed :
Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent
Nor wearmesse to slack her bast, but fled
Ever alike, as if her former dred
Were hard behind, her ready to arrest :
And her white palfrey, having conquered
Tlie maistriug raines out of her weary wrest.
Perforce her carried where ever he thouo-ht best.

So long as breath and bable puissaunce

Did native corage unto him supply,

His pace be freshly forward did advaunce.

And carried her beyond all ieopardy ;

But nought that wanteih rest can long aby :

He, having through incessant traveill spent

His force, at last perforce adowne did ly,

Ne foot could further move : the lady gent

Thereat was suddein strook with great astonishment ;

And, forst t'alight, on foot mote algates fare

A traveller unwonted to such way ;

Need teacheth ber this lesson bard and rare.

That Fortune all in equall iaiince doth saay,

And mt/rtall miseries dotli make lier play.

So long slie traveild, till at length she came

To an hilles side, which did to ber bewray

A litle valley subiect to the same,

Ail coverd with thick woodes that quite it overcame.

Through th' tops of tlie high trees she did descry

A litle smoke, whose vapour tliin and light

Reeking aloft uprolled to the sky :

Wbich chearefull signe did send unto ber sight

1 hat in the same did wonne some livmg wight.

Lftscopes her steps she thereunto applyd.

And came at last in weary wretched plight

Unto the place, to which her hope did guyde

To £Lde some refuge there, and rest her wearie syde.

There in a gloomy hollow glen she fo'ind
A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes
In homely wize, and wald with sods around ;
In wbich a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes
And wilfull want, all carelesse of ber needes ;
So choosing solitarie to abide
Far from all neighbours, that ber divelish deedes
And hellish arts from people she might bide.
And hurt far off unknowne whomever she envide.

The damzell there arriving entred in ;
Where sitting on the flore the bag she found
Busie (as seem'd) about some wicked gin :
Who, soone as she beheld that suddein stoiind,
Lightly upstarted from the duslie ground.
And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze
Stared on her awhile, as one astound,
Ne had one word to speake for great amaze ;
But shewd by outward signes that dread ber sence
did daze.

At last, turning her feare to foolish wrath,
She askt. What devill bad ber thetber brought.
And who she was, and what unwonted path
Had guided her, unwelcomed, unsought ?
To whicl) the damzell full of doubtfull thought
Her mildly answer'd ; " Beldame, be not wroth
With silly virgin, by adventure brought
Unto your dwelling, ignorant and loth.
That crave but rowme to rest wliile tempest over-
blo'th."

With that adowne out of her christall eyne

Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall.

That like two orient perles did purely sbyne

Upon ber snowy cbeeke ; and tberewithall

She sighed soft, that none so bestiall

Nor salvage hart but ruth of her sad plight

Would make to melt, or pitteously appall ;

And that vile hag, all were her whole delight

In mischiefe, was much moved at so pitteous sight j

And gan recomfort her, in her rude wyse,

\\ ith womanish compassion of ber plaint.

Wiping the teares from ber suflTused eyes,

And bidding her sit downe to rest her faint

And wearie iimbes awhile : she nothing quaint

Nor 'sdeignfull of so homely fashion,

Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint.

Sate downe upon the dusty ground anon ;

As glad of that small rest, as bird of tempest gon.

16S

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book III.

Tho o^an she gather up her garments rent,
And her loose lockes to dight in order dew
With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament ;
Whom such whenas the wicked hag did vew,
She was astonisht at her heavenly hew,
And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,
But or some goddesse, or of Dianes crew,
And thought her to adore with humble spright :
T' adore thing so divine as beauty were but right.

This wicked woman had a wicked sonne,
The comfort of her age and weary dayes,
A laesy loord, for nothing good to donne,
But stretched forth in ydlenesse alwayes,
Ne ever cast his mind to covet prayse.
Or ply liimselfe to any honest trade ;
But all the day before the sunny rayes
He us'd to slug, or sleepe in slothful! shade :
Such laesienesse both lewd and poore attonce him
made.

He, comming home at undertime, there found

The fayrest creature that he ever saw

Sitting beside his mother on the ground ;

The sight whereof did greatly him adaw,

And his base thought with terrour and with aw

So inly smot, tliat as one, which hath gaz'd

On the bright sunne unwares, doth soone withdraw

His feeble eyne with too much brightnes daz'd ;

So stared he on her, and stood long while amaz'd.

Softly at last he gan his mother aske.

What mister wight that was, and whence deriv'd,

That in so straunge disguizement there did maske,

And by what accident she there arriv'd?

But she, as one nigh of her wits depriv'd,

With nought but ghastly lookes him answered;

Like to a ghost, that lately is reviv'd

From Stygian shores where late it wandered :

So both at her, and each at other wondered.

But the fa)rre virgin was so meeke and myld,

Tiiat she to them vouchsafed to embace

Her goodly port, and to their senses vyld

Her gentle speach applyde, that in short space

She grew familiare in that desert place.

During which time the cliorJe, through her so kind

And courteise use, conceiv'd affection bace.

And cast to love her in his brutish mind ;

^lO love, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind.

Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent.

And shortly grew into outrageous fire;

Yet ha<l he not the hart, nor hardiment.

As unto her to utter his desire ;

Mis caytive thought durst not so high aspire .

But with soft sighes and lovely semblaunces

He weeii'd that his affection entire

She should aread ; many resemblaunces

To Kei he made, and many kinde remembraunces.

Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring,
Whose sides empurpled were with smyling red ;
And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing
His maistresse praises sweetly caroled :
Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire bed
He fine would dight ; sometimes the squirrel wild
He brought to her in bands, as conquered
To be her thrall, his fellow-servant vild :
All which she of him tooke with countenance meeke
and mild.

But, past a while, when she fit season saw

To leave that desert mansion, she cast

In secret wize herselfe thence to withdraw,

For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast

Might by the witch or by her sonne compast ;

Her wearie palfrey, closely as she might.

Now well recovered after long repast,

In his proud furnitures she freshly dight.

His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.

And earely, ere the dawning day appear'd.

She forth issewed, and on her iourney went;

She went in perill, of each noyse afteard

And of each shade that did itselfe present;

For still she feared to be overhent

Of that vile hag, or her uncivile sonne ;

Who when, too late awaking, well they kent

That their fayre guest was gone, they both begonne

To make exceeding mone as they had beeneundonne.

But that lewd lover did the most lament
For her depart, that ever man did heare ;
He knockt his brest with desperate intent.
And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare
His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare:
That his sad mother seeing his sore plight
Was greatly woe-begon, and gan to teare
Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight,
And love to frenzy turnd ; sith love is franticke hight.

All wayes shee sought him to restore to plight.

With herbs, with charms, with counsel,and with teares;

But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell might

Asswage the fury which his fentrails teares :

So strong is passion that no reason heares !

Tho, when all other helpes she saw to fade,

She turnd herselfe backe to lier wicked leares ;

And by her divelish arts thought to jjrevaile

To bring her backe againe, or worke her final bale.

Eftsoones out of her hidden cave she cald

An hideous beast of horrible aspect,

That could the stoutest corage have appald ;

Monstrous, mishapt, and all his backe was spect

With thousand spots of colours queint elect ;

Thereto so swifte that it all beasts did pas :

Like never yet did l.ving eie detect ;

But likest it to an hyena was

That feeds on wemeas flesh, as others feede on gras.

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[t forth she cald, and gave it straight in charge
Tlirough thicke and thin her to poursew apace,
Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large
Till her he had attaind and brought in place,
Or quite devourd her beauties scornefull grace.
The monster, swifte as word that from her went,
Went forth in haste, and did her footing trace
So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent
And passing speede, that shortly he her overhent.

Whom when the fearefull damzell nigh espide,

No need to bid her fast away to flie ;

That ugly shape so sore her territide,

That it slie shund no lesse then dread to die j

And her flitt palfrey did so well apply

His nimble feet to her conceived feare.

That whilest his breath did strength to him supply,

From perill free he her away did beare ;

But, when his foice gan faile, his pace gun wex areare.

W'hich whenas she perceiv'd, she was dismayd

At that same last extremity ful sore.

And of her safety greatly grew afrayd :

And now she gan approch to the sea shore,

As it befell, that she could flie no more,

But yield herselfe to spoile of greedinesse :

Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore.

From her dull horse, in desperate distresse,

And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickemesse.

Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha fled
From dread of her revenging fathers bond ;
N or halfe so fast to save her maydenhed
Fled fearefull Daphne on th* ^-Egajan strond ;
As Florimell fled from that monster yond.
To reach the sea ere she of him were raught :
For in the sea to drowne herselfe she fond,
Rather then of the tyrant to be caught :
Thereto fear gave her wings, and need her corage
tausiht.

It fortuned (High God did so ordaine)

As shee arrived on the roring shore,

In minde to leape into the mighty maine

A little bote lay hoving her before,

In which there slept a fisher old and pore.

The whiles his nets were drying on the sand ;

Into the same shee lept, and with the ore

Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand :

So safety fownd at sea, which she fownd not at land.

The monster, ready on the pray to sease.
Was of his forward hope deceived quight ,
Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas.
But, greedily long gaping at the sight,
Ai last in vaine was forst to turn his flight,
And tell the idle tidings to his dame :
Yet, to avenge his divelish despight.
He set upon her palfrey tired lame.
And slew him cruelly ere any reskew came ;

And, after having him embowellea

To fill his hellish gorge, it chaunst a knign,

To passe that way, as forth he travelled :

Yt was a goodly svvaine, and of great might.

As ever man that bloody field did fight ;

But in vain sheows, that wontyong knights bewitch.

And courtly services, tooke no delight ;

But rather ioyd to bee than seemen sich :

For both to be and seeme to him was labor lich.

It was to weete the good Sir Satyrane
That raungd abrode to seek adventures wilde.
As was his wont, in forest and in plaine :
He was all armd in rugged Steele unfilde.
As in the smoky forge it was compilde.
And in his scutchin bore a satvres hedd :
He comming present, where the monster vilde
Upon that milke- white palfreyes carcasfedd.
Unto his reskew ran, and greedily him spedd

There well perceivd he that it was the liorse

V/hereon faire Florimell was wont to ride.

That of that feend was rent without remorse :

]Much feared he least ought did ill betide

To that faire maide, the tiowre of wemens pride ;

For her he dearely loved, and in all

His famous conquests highly magnifide :

Besides, her golden girdle, which did fall

From her in flight, he fownd, that did him sore apalL

Full of sad feare and doubtfull agony
Fiercely he flew upon that wicked feend ;
And with huge strokes and cruell battery
Him forst to leave his pray, for to attend
Himselfe from deadly daunger to defend;
Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh
He did engrave, and muchelt blood did spend,
Yet might not doe him die ; but aie more fresh
And fierce he still appeared, the more he did him
thresh.

XXXIII.

He wist not how him to despoile of life,

Ne how to win the wished victory,

Sith him he saw still stronger grow through strife,

And himself weaker througli infirmity :

Greatly he grew enrag'd, and furiously

Hurling his sword away he lightly lept

Upon the beast, that with great cruelty

Rored and raged to be underkept ;

Yet he perforce him held, and strokes upon him hept.

As he that strives to stoy a suddein flood,
And in strong bancks his violence restrame,
Forceth it swell above his wonted mood,
And largely overflow the fruitfull plaine.
That all the countrey seemes to be a maine
And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonue*
I'he wofull husbandman dotli luwd complaiue
To see his whole yeares labor lost so soone.
For which to God he made so many an idle hoone.

InO

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book III

So him he held, and did through might amate :

So long lie lield iiim, and liira bett so long,

That at the last his fiercenes g-an abate,

And meekely stoup unto the victor strong :

Who, to avenge tlie implacable wrong

Wlucli he supposed donne to Florimell,

Sought by all meanes his dolor to prolong,

Sith dint of Steele his carcas could not quell ;

His maker with her charmes had framed him so well.

The golden ribband, which that virgin wore

About iier sclender waste, he tooke in hand.

And with it bownd the beast that lowd did rore

For great despight of that unwonted band.

Yet dared not his victor to withstand,

But trembled like a lambe fled from the pray ;

And ail the way liim foUowd on the strand

As he had long bene learned to obay ;

Yet never learned he such service till that day.

Tuus as he led the beast along the way,
He spide far oft' a mighty giauntesse
Fast flying, on a courser dapled gray,
From a bold knight that with great hardinesse
Her hard pursewd, and sought for to suppresse :
She bore before her lap a dolefull squire,
Lying athwart her horse in great distresse,
Fast boundeu hand and foots with cords of wire,
Wliome she did meane to make the thrall of her
desire.

Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in haste

He lefte his captive beast at liberty,

And crost the nearest way, by which he cast

Her to encounter ere she passed by ;

15ut she the way shund nathemore forthy.

But forward gallopt fast ; which when he spyde.

His mighty speare he couched warily.

And at her ran ; she, having him descryde,

Herselfe to fight addrest, and threw her lode aside.

Like as a goshauke, that in foote doth beare
A trembling culver, liaving s])ide on bight
An eagle that with j)lumv wings doth sheare
The subtile ayre stouping witli all his might,
The quarrey throwes to ground with fell despight,
And to the batteill doth herselfe prepare :
So ran the geauntesse unto the fight ;
Her fyrie eyes with furious sparkes did stare,
Aud with blasphemous bannes High God in peeces
tare.

She caught in hand an huge great yron mace,
Wherewith she many had of life dej)riv'd ;
But, ere the stroke could seize his aymed place,
His speare amids her sun-brode shield arriv'd ;
Yet nathemore the Steele asonder riv'd.
All were the beame in bigaes like a mast,
Ne her out of the stedfast sadle driv'd ;
But, glauncmg on the tempred nietall, brast
la tliousand sJiivers, and so forth beside her past.

Her steed did stagger with that puissaunt strooke;
But s'v no more was moved with that might
Then iL iiad lighied on an aged oke,
Or on the marble pillour that is pight
Upon the top of mount Olympus bight,
For the brave youthly champions to assay
With burning charet wheeles it nigh to smite j
15ut who that smites it mars his ioyous play,
And is the spectacle of ruinous decay.

Yet, therewith sore enrag'd, with sterne regard
Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest,
\Vhich on his helmet martelled so hard
That made him low incline his lofty crest,
And bowd his battred visour to his brest :
Wherewith he was so stund that he n'ote ryde.
But reeled to and fro from east to west :
Which when his cruell enimy espyde.
She lightly unto him adioyned syde to syde ;

And, on his collar laying puissaunt hand.

Out of his wavering seat him pluckt perforse,

Perforse him pluckt unable to withstand

Or helpe himselfe ; and laying tliwart her horse.

In loathly wise like to a carrion corse,

She bore him fast away : which when the knight

That her pursewed saw, with great remorse

He neare was touched in his noble spright,

And gan encrease his speed as she encreast her flight.

Whom whenas nigh approching she espyde,

She threw aw;iy her burden angrily;

For she list not the batteill to abide.

But made herselfe more light away to fly .

Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye

That almost in the backe he oft her sliake j

But still, when him at hand slie did espy,

She turnd, and semblaunce of faire fight did make ;

But, when he stayd, to flight againe she did her take.

By this the good Sir Satyrane gan wake
Out of his dreame that did him long entraunce.
And, seeing none in place, he gan to make
Exceeding mone, and curst that cruell chaunce
Which reft from him so faire a chevisaunce :
At length he sjiyde whereas that wofull squyre
Whom he had reskewed from captivaunce
Of his strong foe, lay tombled in the myre^
Unable to arise, or foot or hand to styre.

To whom apprciching, well he mote perceive

In that fowli^ I'light a comely personage

And lovely face, made fit for to deceive

Fraile ladies haix with loves consuming rage,

Now in the blossome of his freshest age :

He reard him up and loosd his yron bands.

And after gan inquire his parentage.

And how he fell into that gyaunts hands.

And who that was which chaced her along the lands.

i;anto Vli.J

THE FAERIE gU£F..\E.

ITien trembling; yet through fearethe squire bespake;
'That geauntesse Argante is bebight,
A daughter of the Titans which did make
Warre against heven, and lieaped hils on bight
To scale the skyes and put love from liis right:
Her syre T\'phoeus was ; who, mad through merth,
And dronke with blood of men slaine by his might,
Through incest her of his owne mother Earth
Whylome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth :

" For at that berth another babe she bore ;

To weet, the mightie Ollyphant, tbat wrought

Great wreake to many errant knights of yore,

And many hath to foule confusion brought.

These twinnes, men say,(athii;g far passing thought,)

Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosd they were.

Ere they into the lightsom world were brought.

In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere.

And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere.

" So liv'd they ever after in like sin.

Gainst natures law and good behaveoure :

But greatest shame was to that maiden twin ;

Who, not content so fowly to devoure

Her native flesh and staine her brothers bowre,

Did wallow in all other fleshly mvre,

And suftVed beastes her body to deflowre ;

So whot she burned in that lustfuU fyre :

"i'et all that might not slake her sensuall desyre :

" Her well beseemes that quest," quoth Satyrane :
"But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what vow is this,
Which tliou upon thyselfe has lately ta'ne V
" Tbat shall I you recount," quoth he, " ywis,
So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis.
That gentle lady whom I love and serve,
After long suit and wearie servicis.
Did aske me how I could her love deserve.
And how she might be sure that I would nevtt
swerve.

" I, glad by any meanes her grace to gaine,
Badd her commaund my life to save or spill :
Eftsoones slie badd me with incessaunt [laine
To wander through the world abroad at will.
And every where, where with my power or skill
I might doe service unto gentle dames,
That I the same should faithfully fulfill ; [names
And at the twelve monethes end should bring their
And pledges, as the spoiles of my victorious games.

" So well I to faire ladies service did.

And found such favour in their loving hartes.

That, ere the yeare his course had compassid,

Three hundred pledges for my good desartes.

And thrice three hundred thanks for my good partes,

I with me brought and did to her present :

Which when she saw, more bent to eke my smartes

Then to reward my trusty true intent,

She gan for me devise a grievous punishment ;

" But over all the countiue she did raunge.

To seeke young men to quench her flaming thrust.

And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge :

Whom so she fittest Andes to serve her lust, [trust.

Through her maine strength, in which she most doth

She with her bringes into a secret ile,

Where in eternall bondagte dye he must.

Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile,

And in all shamefuU sort hunselfe with her defile.

" Me seely wretch she so at vauntage caught,
After she long in waite for me did lye.
And meant unto her prison to have brought.
Her lothsom pleasure there to satisfye ;
That thousand deathes mt>. lever were to dye
Then breake the vow that to faire Columbell
I phghted have, and yet keepe stedfastly :
As for my name, it mistreth not to tell ;
Call me the Squyre of Dames : that me beseemeth
M-ell.

" But that bold knight, whom ye pursuing saw

That geauntesse, is not such as she seemd.

But a faire virgin that in martiall law

And deedes of armes above all dames is deemd.

And above many knightes is eke esteemd

For her great worth ; she Palladine is bight :

She you from death, you me from dread, redeemd :

Ne any may that monster match in fight,

liut she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wijiht."

" To weet, that I my traveill should resume.

And with like labour walke the world arownd,

Ne ever to her presence should presume,

Till I so many other dames had fownd,

The which, for all the suit I could propownd.

Would me refuse their pledges to afford.

But did abide for ever chaste and sownd."

" Ah ! gentle squyre," quotn he, " tell at one word,

How many fowud'st thou such to put in thy record V

"Indeed, Sir Knight," said he, " one word may tell

All that I ever fownd so wisely stayd,

For onely three they were disposd so well ;

And yet three yeares I now abrode have strayd,

To find them out." "JMote I," then laughing sayd

The knight, " inquire of thee what were those three

The which thy proffred curtesie denayd 1

Or ill they seemed sure avizd to bee,

Or brutishly brought up, that nev'r did fashions see."

" The first which then refused me," said hee,
" Certes was but a common courtisane ;
Yet flat refusd to have adoe with mee,
Because I could not give her many a jane."
(Thereat full hartely laughed Satyrane.)
" The second was an holy nunne to chose,
Which would not let me be her chappellane,
Because she knew, she sayd, 1 would disclose
Her counsell, if she should her trust in me repose.

162

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III

"--The third a damzell was of low degree,
Whom 1 in countrey cottage fownd by chaunce :
Full litle weened 1 that chastitee
Had lodging in so meane a maintenaunce ;
Yet was she fayre, and in her countenaunce
Dwelt simple truth in seemely fashion :
Long thus I woo'd her with due observaunce,
In hope unto my pleasure to have won ;
But was as far at last, as when I first begon.

" Safe her, I never any woman found
That chastity did for itselfe embrace,
But were for other causes firme and sound ;
Either for want of handsome time and place.
Or else for feare of shame and fowle disgrace.
Thus am I hopelesse ever to attaine
My ladies love, in such a desperate case.
But all my dayes am like to waste in vaine.
Seeking to match the chaste with th' unchaste ladies
traine."

" Perdy," sayd Satyrane, " thou Squyre of Dames,

Great labour fondly hast thou hent in hand,

To get small thankes, and therewith many blames ;

That may emongst Alcides labours stand."

Thence backe returning to the former land.

Where late he left the beast he overcame,

He found him not ; for he had broke his band.

And was returnd againe unto his dame,

To tell what tydings of fayre Florimell became.

CANTO VIII.

The witch creates a snowy la-
dy like to Florimell ;

Who wrong'd bv Carle, by Proteus sav'd
Is sought by Paridell.

So oft as I this history record.
My hart doth melt with meere compassion.
To thinke how causelesse of her owne accord
This gentle damzell, whom I write upon.
Should plonged be in such affliction
Without all hope of comfort or reliefe ;
That sure I weene the hardest hart of stone
Would hardly finde to aggravate her griefe :
For misery craves rather mercy then repriefe.

But that accursed hag, her hostesse late.
Had so enranckled her malitious hart,
Tliat she desyrd tli' abridgement of her fate,
Or long enlargement of Iier j)ainefull smart.
Now when the beast, which by her wicked art
Late foorth she sent, slie backe retourning spyde
Tyde witli her golden girdle ; it a part
Of lier rich spoyles whom lie had earst destroyd
She weend, and wondrous gladnes to her hart
apply de :

And, with it ronning hast'ly to her sonne.
Thought with tliat sight him much to have reliv'd ;
W'lio, thereby deeming sure tlie thing as donne,
His former griefe with furie fresh reviv'd
Much more than earst, and would have algates riv'd
The hart out of his brest : for sitii her dedd
He surely dempt, himselfe he thouglit depriv'd
Quite of all ho|)e wherewitli he long had fe(hl
His foolish malady, and long time had misledd.

With thought whereof exceeding mad he grew.
And in his rage bis mother would have slaine.
Had she not fled into a secret mew,
Where she was wont her sprightes to entenaine.
The maisters of her art : there was she faine
To call them all in order to her oyde,
And them conjure, upon eternall paine.
To counsell her so carefully dismayd
How she might heale her sonne whose senses were
decayd.

By their advice, and her owne wicked wit,
She there deviz'd a wondrous worke to frame.
Whose like on earth was never framed yit ;
That even Nature selfe envide the same.
And grudg'd to see the counterfet should shame
The tiling itselfe: In hand she boldly tooke
To make anotlier like tlie former dame,
Anotlier Florimell, in shape and looke
So lively, and so like, that many it raistooke.

The substance, whereof she the body made,
Was purest snow in massy mould congeald,
Which slie had gathered in a shady glade
Of tlie Riphtt-an hils, to her reveald
By errant sprights, but from all men conceald :
The same she tempred with fine mercury
And virgin wex that never yet was seald.
And mingled them with perfect vermily ;
'J'hat like a lively sanguine it seemd to tlie eye.

Canto VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

163

Instead of eyes two burning lampes she set
In silver sockets, shyning like the skyes,
And a quicke moving- spirit did arret
To stirre and roil them like to womens eyes •
Instead of yellow lockes she did devyse
With golden wyre to weave her curled head :
Yet golden wyre was not so 3'ellow thryse
As Florimells fayre heare : and, in (he stead
Of life, she put a spright to rule the carcas dead j

A wicked spright, yfraught with fawning guyle

And fayre resemblance above all the rest,

Which with the Prince of Darkenes fell somewhyle

From heavens blis and everlasting rest :

Him needed not instruct which way were best

Himselfe to fashion likest Florimell,

Ne how to speake, ne how to use his gest ;

For he in counterfesaunce did excell,

And all the wyles of wemens wits knew passing well.

Him shaped thus she deckt in garments gay.

Which Florimell had left behind her late :

That whoso then her saw, would surely say

It was herselfe whom it did imitate,

Or fayrer then herselfe, if ought algate

Might fayrer be. And then she forth her brought

Unto her sonne that lay in feeble state ;

W'ho seeing her gan streight upstart, and thought

She was the lady selfe whom he so long had sought.

Tho, fast her clipping twixt his armes twayne.
Extremely ioyed in so happy sight,
And soone forgot his former sickely payne :
But she, the more to seeme such as she hight.
Coyly rebutted his embracement light ;
Yet still, with gentle countenaunce, retain'd
Enough to hold a foole in vaine delight :
Him long she so with shadowes entertain'd,
As her creatresse had in charc^e to her ordain'd :

Till on a day, as he disposed was

To walke the woodes with that his idole faire.

Her to disport and idle time to pas

In th' open freshnes of the gentle aire,

A knight that way there chaunced to repaire ;

Yet knight he was not, but a boastfull swaine

That deedes of armes had ever in despaire.

Proud Braggadochio, that in vaunting vaine

His glory did repose and credit did maintaine.

He, seeing with that chorle so faire a wight
IJecked with many a costly ornament,
-Much marveiled thereat, as well he might.
And thought that match a fowle disparagement :
His bloody speare eftesoones he boldly bent
Against the silly clowne, who dead through feare
Fell streight to ground in great astonishment :
' Villein," sayd he, " this lady is my deare ;
Dy, if thou it gainesay : I will away her beare."

The fearefull chorle durst not gainesay nor dooe.

But trembling stood, and yielded him the pray;

Who, finding litle leasure her to wooe.

On Tromparts steed her mounted without stay.

And without reskew led her quite away.

Proud man himselfe then Braggadochio deem'd,

And next to none, after that liappy day,

Being possessed of tliat spoyle, which seem'd

The lairest wight on ground and most of men esteera'd.

But, when he saw himselfe free from poursute,

He gan make gentle purpose to his dame

With termes of love and lewdnesse dissolute ;

For he could well his glozing speaches frame

To such vaine uses that him best became :

But she thereto would lend but light regard.

As seeming sory that she ever came

liito his powre, that used her so hard

To reave her honor which she more then life prefard.

Thus as they two of kindnes treated long,
There them by chaunce encountred on the way
An armed knight upon a courser strong.
Whose trampling feete upon the hollow lay
Seemed to thunder, and did nigh afl'ray
That capons corage ; yet he looked grim,
And faynd to cheare his lady in dismay.
Who seemd for feare to quake in every lim.
And her to save from outrage meekely prayed him.

Fiercely that straunger forward came ; and, nigh

Approaching, with hold words and bitter threat

Bad that same boaster, as he mote on high,

To leave to him that lady for excheat,

Or bide him batteill without further treat.

That challenge did too peremptory seeme,

And fild his senses with abashment great ;

Yet, seeing nigh him ieopardy extreme.

He it dissembled well, and light seemd to esteeme j

Saying," Thou foolish knight, tliatweenst with words

To steale away that I with blowes have wonne.

And brought through points of many perilous swords!

But if thee list to see thy courser ronne.

Or prove thyselfe ; this sad encounter shonne.

And seeke els without hazard of thy hedd."

At those prowd words that other knight begonue

To wex exceeding wroth and him aredd

To turne his steede about, or sure he should he dedd.

" Sith then," said Braggadochio, "ne^des thou wilt
Thy daies abridge, through proofe of puissaunce ;
Turne we our steeds ; that both in eijuall tilt
May meete again, and each take happy chaunce."
This said, they both a furlongs mountenaunce
Retird their steeds, to ronne in even race :
But Braggadochio with his bloody launce
Once having turnd, no more returnd his face.
But lefte kis love to losse, and fled himselfe apace.

a 2

164

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Book IIJ

The knis:lit, him seeing flie, had no regard
Him (0 poursew, but to the lady rode ;
And, having her from Trompart lightly reard,
ll^pon his courser sett the lovly lode,
And with her fled away without abode :
Well weened he, that fairest Florimell
It was with wliom in company he yode,
And so herselfe did alwnies to him tell ;
So made him thinke himselfe in heven that was in
hell.

But Florimell herselfe was far away,
Driven to great distresse by fortune straunge,
And taught the carefull mariner to play,
Sith late mischaunce had her compeld to chaunge
The land for sea, at randon there to raunge :
Yett there that cruell queene avengenesse.
Not satisfyde so far her to estraunge
From courtly blis and wonted happinesse,
Did heape on her new waves of weary wretched-
nesse.

For, being fled into the fishers bote

For refuge from the monsters cruelty.

Long so she on the mighty maine did flote,

And with the tide drove forward carelesly ;

For th' ayre was niilde and cleared was the skie.

And all his windes dan Aeolus did keeps

From stirring up their stormy enmity,

As pittying to see her waile and weepe ;

Jiut all the while the fisher did securely sleepe.

At last when droncke with drowsinesse he woke,
And saw his drover drive along the streame.
He was dismayd ; and thrise his hrest he stroke.
For marveill of that accident extreame :
But when he saw that blazing beauties beame,
Which with rare light his bote did beautifye.
He raarveild more, and thought he yet did dreame
Not well avs'akte ; or that some extasye,
Assotted had his sence, or dazed was his eye.

But, when her well avizing hee perceiv'd
To be no vision nor fantasticke sight.
Great comfort of her presence he conceiv'd.
And felt in liis old corage new delight
To gin awake, and stir liis frosen spright :
Tho rudely askte her, how she thether came ?
" Ah ! " sayd she, " father, 1 note read aright
What hard misfortune brought me to this same ;
Yet am I glad that here 1 now in safety ame.

'' But thou, good man, sitli far in sea we bee,
And the great waters gin ajjace to swell,
That now no more we can the mayn-land see.
Have care, I pray, to guide the cock-bote well,
Least worse on sea then us on land befell."
Thereat th' old man did nought but fondly grin.
And saide, his boat the way could wisely tell :
But his deceiptfuU eyes did never lin
To looke on her faire face and marke her snowy
skin,

The sight whereof in his congealed flesh
Infixt such secrete sting of greedy lust.
That the drie withered stocke it gan refresh,
And kindled heat, that soone in flame forth brust:
The driest wood is soonest burnt to dust.
Rudely to her he lept, and his rough hand.
Where ill became him, rashly would have thrust;
But she with angry scorne him did withstond,
And shamefully reproved for his rudenes fond.

But he, that never good nor maners knew.

Her sharpe rebuke full litle did esteeme ;

Hard is to teach an old horse amble trew :

The inward smoke, that did before but steeme.

Broke into open fire and rage extreme ;

And now he strength gan adde unto his will,

Forcyng to doe that did him fowle misseeme :

Beastly he threwe her downe, ne car'd to spill

Her garments gay with scnles of fish, that all did fill.

The silly virgin strove him to withstand

All that she might, and him in vaine revild ;

Shee strugled strongly both with foote and hand

To save her honor from that villaine vilde,

And cride to heven, from humane help exild.

O ! ye brave knights, that boast this ladies love,

Where be ye now, when she is nigh defild

Of filthy wretch ! well may she you reprove

Of falsehood or of sloutli, when most it may behove ■

But if that thou. Sir SatjTan, didst weete,
Or thou, Sir Peridure, her sory state.
How soone would yee assemble many a fleete.
To fetch from sea that ye at land lost late !
Towres, citties, kingdomes, ye would ruinate
In your avengement and despiteous rage,
Ne ought your burning fury mote abate :
lint, if Sir Calidore could it presage,
No living creature could his cruelty asswage.

But, sith that none of all her knights is nye.

See how the heavens, of voluntary grace

And soveraine favor towards chastity.

Doe succor send to her distressed cace :

So much High God doth innocence embrace!

It fortuned, whilest thus she stifly strove.

And the wide sea importuned long si)ace

\Vith shrilling shriekes, Proteus ubrode did rove,

Along tlie fomy waves driving his finny drove.

Proteus is sliepheard of the seas of yore.
And hath tho charge of Neptune's mighty heard ;
An aged sire with head all frowy hore.
And sitrinckled frost upon his deawy beard:
Who when those jiittifull outcries he heard
Through all the seas so ruefully resownd.
His charett swifte in hast he thether steard.
Which with a teeme of scaly Phocas bownd
Was drawne upon the waves, that fomed him
arownd :

Canto VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

16.5

And comming to that fishers wandring bote.
That went at will withouten card or sayle,
He therein saw that yrkesome sight, which smote
Deepe indignation and compassion fravle
Into his hart attonce : streii;ht did he hayle
The greedy villein from his hoped pray.
Of which he now did very little fayle ;
And with his statfe, that drives his heard astray,
Him bett so sore, that life and sence did much
dismay.

Tlie wliiles the pitteous ladv up did ryse.
Ruffled and fowly raid with tilthy soyle.
And blubbred face with teares of her faire eyes ,
Her heart nigli broken was with weary toyle,
I'o save herselfe from that outrageous s])oyle :
But when she looked up, to weet what wight
Had her from so infamous fact assoyld,
For shame, but more for feare of his grim sight,
Downe in her lap she hid her face, and lowdly
shright.

Herselfe not saved yet from daunger dredd

She thought, but chaung'd from one to other feare ;

Like as a fearefull partridge, that is fledd

From the sharpe hauke winch her attached neare,

And fals to ground to seeke for succor theare,

Whereas the hungry spaniells she does spye

With greedy iawes her ready for to teare :

In such distresse and sad perplexity

Was Florimell, when I'roteus she did see her by.

But he endevored with speaclies milde
Her to recomfort, and accourage bold.
Bidding her teare no more her iWman vilde,
Nor doubt himselfe ; and who he was her told :
Yet all that could not from atiright her hold,
Ne to recomfort her at all prevayld ;
For her faint hart was v,ith the frosen cold
Benurabd so inlv that her wits nigh fayld.
And all her sences with abashment quite were
quayld.

Her up betwixt his rugged hands he reard.
And with his (rory lips lull softly kist.
Whiles the cold ysickles from his rough beard
Dropped adowne upon her j'vory brest :
Yet he himselfe so busily addrest,
I'irjt her out of astonisiwnent ho wrought ;
And, out of that sami- fishers filthy nest
Removing her, into his charet brought,
Aad there v.ith many gentle teimes her faire be-
sought.

XXXVI.

But that old leacliour, which with bold assault

That beautie durst presume to violate.

He cast to punish for his haiiious fault :

Then tooke he liim yet trembling sith of late

And tyde hehind Ins cir.iret, to aggrate

The virgin whom he had abusde so sore ;

So diag'd him through the waves in scornful state,

And after cast him up upon the shore ;

But Florimell with him unto his bowre lie bore.

His bowre is in the bottom of the maine.
Under a raightie rocke gainst which doe rave
The roring billowes in their proud disdaine,
That with the angry working of the wave
Therein is eaten out an hollow cave,
That seemes rougli masons hand with engines keene
Had long while laboured it to engrave .
There was his wonne ; ne living wight was seene
Save one old nymph, hight Panope, to keepe it
cleane.

Thether he brought the sory Florimell,
And entertained her the best he might,
(And Panope her entertaind eke well,)
As an immortal! mote a mortall wight.
To winne her liking unto his delight :
AVith flattering wordes he sweetly wooed her.
And offered faire guiftes t' allure her sight;
But she both offers and the ofi'erer
Despysde, and all the fawning of the flatterer.

Dayly he tempted her with this or that.

And never suii'red her to be at rest :

But evermore she him refused flat,

And all his fained kindnes did detest ;

So firmely she had sealed up her brest.

Sometimes he boasted that a god he hight ;

But she a mortall creature loved best :

Then he would make himselfe a mortall wight ;

But then she said she lov'd none but a Faeiy knight

Then like a Faerie knight himselfe he drest ;

For every shape on hira he could endew :

Then like a king he was to her exprest.

And offred kingdoms unto her in vew

To be his leman and his lady trew :

But, when all this he nothing saw prevaile.

With harder meanes he cast her to subdew.

And with sharpe threates her often did assa)'Ie f

So thinking for to make her stubbome corage quayle

To dreadful! shapes he did himselfe transforme :

Now like a gyaunt ; now like to a feend ;

Then like a centaure ; then like to a stcrme

Raging within the waves : thereby he weend

Her will to win unto his wished eend :

But when with feare, nor favour, nor with all

He els could doe, he saw himselfe esteemd,

Downe in a dongeon deepe he let her fall,

And threatned there to make her his eternal! thralL

Eternall thraldome was to ner more liefe
Then losse of chastitie, or chaunge of love ;
Dye had she rather in tormenting griefe
Then any should of falsenesse her reprove,
Or loosenes, that she lightly did remove.
jMost vertuous virgin ! glory be thv meed.
And crowne of lieavenlv pray.-e with saintes above,
Where most sweet hymmes of tliis thy famous deed
Are still emongst them song, that far my rymes
ceed r

i66

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III

Fit song of angels caroled to bee !

Hut yet whatso ray feeble Muse can frame,

Slial be t' advance thy goodly cliastitee,

And to enroll thy memorable name

In til' heart of every lionourable dame,

That tbey tb)^ vertuous deedes may imitate,

4nd be partakers of thy endlesse fame.

i't yikes me leave thee in this wofull state,

To tell of Satyrane where I him left of late :

Who having ended with that Squj-re of Dames
A long discourse of liis adventures vayne,
The which himselfe tlien ladies more defames,
And finding not tli' hyena to be slayne,
With that same squyre retouined backe againe
To his first way : And, as tliey forward went.
They spyde a knight favre pricking on the playne,
As if lie were on some adventure bent,
And in his port appeared manly hardiment.

Sir Satyrane him towardes did addresse.

To weet what wight he was, and what his quest :

And, comming nigh, eftsoones he gan to gesse

Both bv the burning hart which on his brest

He bare, and by the colours in his crest,

That Paridell it was : Tlio to him yode,

And, him saluting as beseemed best,

Gan first inquire of tydings farre abrode ;

And afterwardes on what adventure now he rode.

Who thereto answering said ; " The tydinges bad,

\Vliicli now in Faery Court all men doe tell,

AVhicli turned hath great mirth to mourning sad

Is the late ruine of proud IMarineli,

And suddein parture of faire Floriinell

To find him forth : and after her are gone

All the brave kniglites, that doen in armes excel].

To savegard her ywandred all alone ;

Emongst the rest my lott (unworthy') is to be one.'

" Ah ! gentle knight," said then Sir Satyrane,
" Thy labour all is lost, I greatly dread.
That hast a thanklesse service on thee ta'ne.
And offrest sacrifice unto the dead :
For dead, I surely doubt, tliou maist aread
Hencefortli for ever Klorimell to bee:
'i'hat all the noble Knights of IMaydenliead,
Which her ador'd, may sore repent with mee.
And all faire ladies may for ever sory bee."

Which wordes when Paridell had heard, his hew

Gan greatlv chaung, and seemd dismaid to bee :

Then savd ; " Fayre sir, how may I weene it trew.

That ye do tell in such uncerteintee ?

Or speake ye of report, or did ye see

lust cause of dread, that makes ye doubt so sore?

For perdie elles how mote it ever bee.

That ever hand should dare for to engoie

Her noble blood ! The hevens such crueltie abhore.

" These eyes did see that they will ever rew
T' have scene," quoth he, " whenas a monstrous beast
The palfrey whereon she did travell slew,
And of his bowels made his bloody feast :
Which speaking token sheweth at the least
Her certein losse, if not her sure decay :
Besides, that more susjiicion encreast,
I found her golden girdle cast astray,
Distaynd with durt and blood, as relique of the
pray."

I..

" Ab me !" said Paridell, " the signes be sadd ;

And, but God turne the same to good soothsay,

That ladies safetie is sore to be dradd :

Yet will I not forsake mv forward way, '

Till trial! doe more certeine truth bewray."

" Faire sir," quoth he, " well may it vou succeed !

Ne long shall Satyrane behind you stay ;

But to the rest, which in this quest proceed,

IMy labour adde, and be partaker of tlieir speed."

" Ye noble knights," said then the Squyre of Dames,
" Well miiy yee speede in so praise wortliy jiayne '
But sitb the sunne now ginnes to slake liis beames
In deawy vapours of tlie westerne mayne,
And lose the teme out of his weary wayne.
iMote not mislike you also to abate
Your zealous hast, till morrow next againe
Both light of heven and strength of men relate:
Which if ye please, to yonder castle turne your
gate."

That counsell pleased well ; so all yfere

Forth marched to a castle them before ;

Where soone arriving they restrained were

Of ready entraunce, which ought evermore

To errant ktiigbts be commune : Wondrous sore

Thereat dis])leas('d they were, till that young squyre

Gan them informe the cause why that same dore

Was shut to all which lodging did desyre :

The which to let you weet -ill further time requyr€i

Clkto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

i«r

CANTO IX.

Malbecco will no straunge Knights host.

For peevish gealosy :
Paridell giusts with Britomart ;

Both shew their auncestry.

Redoubted knights and honorable dames,

To whom I levell all my labours end,

Right sore I feare least with unworthy blames

This odious argument my rymes should shend,

Or ought your goodly patience offend,

Whiles of a wanton lady I doe write,

Which with her loose incontinence doth blend

The shvning glory of your soveraine light;

And knighthood fowle defaced by a faith lesse knight.

Bu never let th' ensample of the bad

Offend the good : for good.bv paragons

Of evill, may more notably be rad ;

As wliite seemes fayrer macht with blacke attone:

Ne all are shamed by the fault of one :

For lo ! in heven, whereas all goodnes is

Emongst the angels, a whole legione

Of wicked sprightes did fall from happy blis ;

What wonder then if one, of women all, did mis ■>

Then listen, lordings, if ye list to weet
The cause why Satyrane and Paridell
Mote not be entertaynd, as seemed meet,
Into that castle, as that squvre does tell.
" Therein a cnncred crabbed carle does dwell.
That has no skill of court nor courtesie,
Ne cares what men say of him ill or well :
For all his dayes he drownes in privitie.
Yet has full large to live and spend at libertie.

" But all his mind is set on mucky pelfe.

To boord up heapes of evill-gotten masse.

For which he others wrongs, and wreckes himselfe :

Yet is he lincked to a lovely lasse.

Whose beauty doth her bounty far surpasse ;

The which to him both far unequall yeares

And also far unlike conditions has ;

For she does ioy to play emongst her peares,

And to be free from hard restrayntand gealous feares.

" But he is old, and withered like hay,

Unfit faire ladies service to supply ;

The privie guilt whereof makes him alway.

Suspect her truth, and keepe continual! spy

Upon her with his other blincked eye ;

Ne suffreth he resort of living wight

Approch to her, ne keep her company.

But in close bowre her mewes from all mens sight,

Depriv'd of kiudly ioy and .^uturall delight.

" Malbecco he, and Hellenore she hight j

Unfitly yokt together in one teeme.

That is the cause wh)^ never any knight

Is suffred here to enter, but he seeme

Such as no doubt of him he need misdeeme,"

Thereat Sir Satyrane gan smyle, and say ;

" Extremely mad the man I surely deeme

That weenes, with watch and liard restraynt, to stay

A womans will which is disposed to go astray

" In vaiue he feares that which he cannot shonne •
For who wotes not, that womans subtiltyes
Can guylen Argus, when she list misdonne?
It is not yron bandes, nor hundred eyes
Nor brasen walls, nor many wakefull spyes.
That can witjiliold her wilfuU-wandring feet ;
But fast goodwill, with gentle courtesyes.
And timely service to her pleasures meet,
INIay her perhaps containe that else would algates
fleet."

" Then is he not more mad," sayd Paridell,
" That hath himselfe unto such service sold.
In dolefull thraldome all his dayes to dwell ?
For sure a foole I doe him firmely hold,
That loves his fetters, though they were of gold.
But why doe wee devise of others ill,
Whyles thus we suffer this same dotard old
To keepe us out in scorne, of his owne will,
And rather do not ransack all, and himselfe kill !'

" Nay, let us first," sayd Satyrane, " entreat
The man by gentle meanes, to let us in ;
And afterwardes affray with cruel! llireat,
Ere that we to efforce it doe begin :
Then, if all fiiyle, we will by force it win,
And eke reward the wretch for !iis mespnse.
As may be worthy of his havnous sin."
That counsel! pleasd : Then I'aridel! did ri<e.
And to the castle-gate approcht in quiet w ise

Whereat soft knocking, entrance he dosvrd.
The good man selfe, which then tiie portci- jihiyd^
Him answered, that all were now retvrd
Unto their rest, and all the keyes convayd
Unto tlieir maister who in bed was lavd.
That none l]im durst awake out of liis dreme ,
And therefore them of patience gently pra, d.
Then Paridell began to clr.uinge liis theme.
And threatned him witli force and punishment
extreme.

168

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

Book III

But all in vaine ; for nouglit mote him relent:

And now so long before the wifket fast

'J hev wayted, th"lit the ni>j;-ht was forv.-ard spent,

And' the fairs welkin fowly overcast

(Jan blowen up a bitter stormy blast,

Witli showre and hayle so horrible and dred,

'J")jat this faire many were compeld at last

To fiv for succour to a little shed.

The which beside the gate for swyne was ordered.

It fortuned, soone after they were gone,
Another knight, whom temjiest thether brought,
Came to that castle, and with earnest mone,
Like as the rest, late entrance deare besought ;
But, like so as the rest, he prayd for nought ;
For flatly he of entrance was refiisd :
Sorely thereat he was displeasd, and thought
How to avenge himselfe so sore abusd.
And evermore the carle of courtesie accusd.

But, to avoyde th' intollerable stowre.

He was compeld to seeke some refuge neare,

And to that shed, to shrowd him from the sliowre,

He came, which full of guests he found whyleare,

So as he was not let to enter there :

Whereat he gan to wex exceeding wroth.

And swore that he would lodge with them yfere

Or them dislodg, all were they liefe or loth ;

And so defyde them each, and so defyde them both.

Both were full loth to leave that needful! tent,
And both full loth in darkenesse to debate ;
Yet both full liefe him lodgnig to have lent.
And both full liefe his boasting to abate :
But chiefely Pandell his hart did grate
To heare him threaten so des])ightfully.
As if he did a dogge in kenell rate
That durst not barke : and rather had he dy
Then, when he was defyde, in coward corner ly.

Tbo, hastily remounting to his steed,
He forth issew'd ; like as a boystrous winde,
Which in th' earthes liollow caves hath long ben hid
And shut up fast within lier ]irisons blind,
Makes the huge element, against her kinde,
'J'o move and tremble as it were aghast,
Unfill that it an issew forth may tinde ;
'I'hen forth it breakes, and witli his furious blast
('onfounds both land and seas, and skyes doth over-
cast.

Their steel-bed speares tliey strongly coucht, and
TiiL;ether with im])('tuous rage and forse, ' [met
I hat with the terrour of their (ierce aftret
Thev rudely drove to ground both man and horse.
That each awliile lay like a sencelesse corse.
But Baridell sore brused with tlie blow
Could not arise, the counterchaunge to scorse ;
'I'ill that young s'|uyrft him reared from below ;
Then drew he his bright sword, and gan about him
til row.

But Satyrane forth stepping did them stay,
And with faire treaty pacifide their yre :
Then, when they were accorded from the fray,
Against that castles lord they gan consjjire.
To heape on him dew vengeaunce for his hire.
They beene agreed, and to the gates they goe
'I'o burn the same with unquenchable lire.
And that uncurteous carle, their commune foe.
To doe fowle death to die, or wrap in grievous foe.

XVIII.

Malbecco seeing them resolvd in deed
To flame the gates, and hearing them to call
For fire in earnest, ran with fearfuU speed.
And, to them calling from the castle wall.
Besought them humbly him to beare withall,
As ignorant of servants bad abuse
And slacke attendaunce unto straungers call.
The knights were willing all things to excuse,
Though nought belev'd, and entraunce late did not
refuse.

They beene ybrought into a comely bowre.
And servd of all things that mote needfull bee ;
Yet secretly tlieir hoste did on tliera lowre.
And welcomde more for feare then charitee ;
But they dissembled what they did not see.
And welcomed themselves. Each gan undight
'J'heir garments wett, and weary armour free,
To dry themselves by Vulcanes flaming light,
And eke their lately bruzed parts to bring in plight.

And eke that straunger knight emongst the rest
\Vas for like need enforst to disaray :
Tho, whenas vailed was her lofty crest.
Her golden locks, that were in tramells gay
Ui)bounden, did themselves adowne display
And raught unto her heeles ; like sunny beames,
That in a cloud their light did lonj; time stay.
Their vapour vaded, shewe their golden gleames,
And through the persant aire shoote forth their azure
streames.

Shee also dofte lier heavy haberieon",

^\■llicll the faire feature of her limbs did liyde ;

And her well-])lighted frock, which she did won

To tucke about her short when she did ryde,

Shoe low let fall, tliat flowd from her lanck syde

Downe to her foot with carelesse modestee.

Then of them all she plainly was esjtyde

To be a woman-wight, unwist to bee,

The fairest woman -wijiht that ever eie did see.

Like as Bellona (being late returnd

From slauglit(!r of the giaunts conquered ;

^Vll(•^e ]ir(unl J",nrela(le, whose wide nosethrilsburnd

^\'ith Ijieatlicd flames like to a furnace redd,

Transfixed witli her sjieare downe tombled dedd

P'rom top of Henius by him heaped bye ;)

Hath loosd her helmet from her lofty hedd,

And her Corgonian shield giuii to untye

From her lefte arme, to rest in glorious victorye.

Canto IX. j

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

169

Which whenas thev belield, thpy smitten were

Witli i^^reat amazement of so wondrous sight ;

Ami eac-Ii on olliei, and they a-1 on her,

Stood gazing- ; as it' suddein great aft'right

Had them surprizd : At last avising right

Hei goodlv personage and glorious hew,

\Vhich ihey so much mistooke, thev tooke delight

In their first error, and vett still anew

With wonder oi her beauty fed their hongry vew ■•

Yet n'ote their hongry vew be satisfide,

But, seeing, still the more desir'd to see.

And ever tirmely fixed did abide

In contemjdation of divinitee :

But most they mervaild at her chevalree

And noble prowesse which they had approv'd,

That much thev faynd to know who she mote bee :

Yet none of all them her thereof amov'd ;

Yet every one her likte, and every one her lov'd.

And Paridell, though partly discontent
With his late fall and fowle indignity.
Yet was soone wonne his malice to relent,
Tlirough gracious regard of her faire eye,
And knightly worth which he too late did try,
Yet tried did adore. Supper was dight ;
Then they IMalbecco prayd of courtesy,
That of his lady they might have the sight
And company at meat, to do them more delight.

But he, to sbifte their curious request,

Gan causen why she could not come in place;

Her erased helth, her late recourse to rest.

And humid evening ill for sicke tblkes cace :

But none of those excuses could take place ;

Ke would thev eate, till she in p^e^^ence came :

Shee came in presence with right comelv grace.

And fairely them saluted, as liecame.

And shewd herselfe in all a gentle courteous dame.

They sate to meat ; and Satvrane his chaunce

Was her before, and Paridell beside ;

But he himselfe sate looking still askaunce

Gainst Britomart, and ever closely eide

Sir Satyrane, that glaunces might not glide :

But his blinde eie, that sided Paridell,

All his demeasnure from his sight did hide :

On her faire face so did he feede his fill.

And seni close messages of love to her at will

And ever and anone, when none was ware,
With speaking Icokes, that close embassage bore.
He rovM at Im r, and told his secret can; ;
For all tba' art he learned had of yore :
Ne was she ignoraunt of that leud lore,
But in hi^ eve his meaning wiselv redd,
And with tlic like him aunswerd evermore :
Shee sen' a! him one fyrie dart, whose liedd
Empoisneii «as with privy lust and gealoiis dredd.

He from that deadly throw made no defence.
But to the wound his weake hear: opened wyde :
The wicked engine through false influence
Past through his eies, and secretly did glyde
Into his heart, which it did sorely grvde.
But nothing new to him was that same paine,
Ne paine at all ; for he so ofte had tryde
The powre thereof, and lov'd so ofi in vaine.
That thing of course he counted, love to entertaine.

Thenceforth to her he sought t intimate

His inward griefe, by meanes to him well knowne

Now Bacchus fruite out of the silver plate

He on the table dasht, as overthrowne,

Or of the fruitful! liquor overflowne ;

And by the dauncing bubbles did divine,

Or therein write to lett his love be showne ;

Which well she redd out of the learned line :

A sacrament prophane in mistery of wine.

And, wbenso of his hand the pledge she raught,
The guilty cup she fained to mistake.
And in her lap did shed her idle draught.
Shewing desire her inward flame to slake.
By such close signes they secret way did make
Unto their wils, and one eies watch escape :
Two eies him needeth, for to watch and wake,
Who lovers will deceive. Thus was the ape,
By their faire handling, put into Malbeccoes cape.

Now, when of meats and drinks they had their fill,

Purjiose was moved by tliat gentle dame

Unto those knights adventurous, to tell

Of deeds of amies which unto them became.

And every one his kindred and his name.

Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pride

Of gratious speach and skill his words to ii'ame

Abounded, beins glad of so fitte tide

Him to commend to her, thus spake, of al well eide

" Troy, that art now nought but an idle name,

And in thine ashes buried low dost lie,

Though whilome far much greater then thy fame,

Before that angry Gods and cruell skie

Upon thee heapt a direful destinie ;

^Vllat boots it lioast thv glorious descent.

And fetch from heven thy great genealogie,

Sith all thv worthie pravses being blent

Their ofspring hath embaste, and later glory shent •

" Mo ;t famous worthy of the world, by whome

That warre was kindled which did Troy inflame,

And stately towres of llion whilume

Brought uii'o balefull mine, was bv name

Sir Paris f;ir reiiownd through noble fame ,

\Vho, through great prowesse and bold hardinesse,

From Lacedaemon fetcht the f'ayrest ihime

That t v( r Gixece did boast, or knight possesse,

U ho.u \ enu:s to him gave for meed o-f worthinesse;

170

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IIL

" Fayre Helene, flowre of beautie excellent,

And girlond of the mij^litv comiuerours,

That madest many hulies deare lament

The heavie Icsse of tlieir brave paramours,

Which thev far off beheld from Trojan toures,

And saw the fieldes of faire Scamander strowne

With carcases of noble warrioures

Whose Iruiilesse lives were under furrow sowne,

And Xanthus sandy bankes with blood all overflowne !

" From him my linage I derive aright,
Who long- before the ten yeares siege of Troy,
Whiles yet on Ida he a shepeheard hight,
On faire Oenone got a lovely boy,
Whom, for reniembrance of her passed ioy,
f>he, of his father, Parius did name ;
Who, after Greekes did Priams realme destroy,
Gathred the Trojan reliques sav'd from flame.
And, with them sayling thence, to th' isle of Faros
came.

" That was by him cald Pares, which before

Hight Nausa ; there he many yeares did raine,

And built Nausicle by the Pontick shore ;

The which he dying lefte next in remaine

To Paridas his sonne.

From whom I Paridell by kin descend :

But, for faire ladies love and glories gaine,

My native soile have lefte, my dayes to spend

lu seewing deeds of armes, my lives and labors end."

Wlienas the noble Britomart heard tell

Of Trojan warres and Priams citie sackt,

(The ruefull story of Sir Paridell,)

She was empassiond at that piteous act.

With zelous envy of Greekes cruell fact

Against that nation, from whose race of old

Slie heard that she was lineally extract :

For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold,

And Troynovant was built of old I'royes ashes cold.

XXXIX.

Then sighing soft awhile, at last she thus :
" O lamentable fall of famous towne.
Which raignd so many yeares victorious,
And of all Asie bore the soveraine crowne.
In one sad night consumed and throwen downe !
What stonv hart, that heare.s thy haplesse fate.
Is not empierst with deepe com])assiowne.
And makes ensample of mans wretched state,
That iioures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening
late!

" Behold, sir, how your pitiful! complaint
Ilatii fovvnd another partner of your ])ayne :
For nothing may impresse so deare constraint
As countries cause, and commune foes disdayne.
But, if it should not grieve you backe agayne
To turne your course, I would to heare desyro
What to Aeneas fell; sith th;rt men sayne
He was not in the cities wofull fyre
Consum'd. but did bimselfe to safety retyre."

'' Anchyses sonne begott of Venus fayre,"
Said he, " out of the flames for safegard fled,
And witli a remnant did to sea repayre ;
\\'here he, through fatall errour long was led
Full many yeares, and weetlesse wandered
From shore to shore emongst the Lybick sandes.
Ere rest he fownd : Much there he suffered.
And many perilles past in forreine landes.
To save his people sad from victours vengeful!
bandes :

XLII.

" At last in Latium he did arry ve,

Where he with cruell warre was entertaind

Of th' inland folke which sought him backe to drive

Till he with old Latinus was constraind

To contract wedlock, so the fates ordaind ;

Wedlocke contract in blood, and eke in blood

Accomplished ; that many deare complaind :

The rivall slaine, the victour (through the flood

Escaped hardly) hardly praisd his wedlock good

XLIII.

" Yet, after all, he victour did survive.
And with Latinus did the kingdom ])art:
But after, when both nations gan to strive
Into their names the title to convart.
His Sonne liilus did from thence depart
With all the warlike youth of Troians bloud.
And in long Alba plast his throne apart ;
\Vhere faiie it florished and long time stoud,
Till Romulus, renewnig it, to Rome removd."

XLIV.

" There ; there," said Ikitomart, " afresh appeard

The glory of the later world to spring,

And Troy againe out of her dust was reard

To sitt in second seat of soveraine king

Of all the world, under her governing.

But a third kingdom yet is to arise

Out of the Troians scattered ofsj>ring,

'I'hat, in all glory and great enterprise.

Both first and second 1 roy shall dare to equalise.

" It Troynovant is hight, that with the waves
Of wealthy Thamis washed is along,
Upon whose stubborne neck (whereat he raves
With roring rage, and sore bimselfe does throng,
■j'hat all men feare to tempt his billowes strong,)
She fastned hath her foot ; which stand so by.
That it a wonder of the world is song
In forreine landes ; and all, which passen by.
Beholding it from farre doe think it threa
skye.

XLVI.

" The Troian Brute did first that citie fownd.
And Hygate made the inearo thereof by West,
And Overt-gat(i by North : that is the bownd
Toward the land ; two riAers bownd the rest.
So huge a scoj)e at first him seemed best,
To he the compasse of his Mugdon-.es seat :
So huge a mind could not in lesser lest,
Ne in small meares containe 1 is glory gri'at.
That Albion had conquered liist by warlike feat.**

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

171

' Ah ! fairest lady-knight," said Paridell,
" Pardon I pray mv lieedlesse oversight,
Who had forgot that wliylome I heard tell
From aged Mnemon ; for mv wits beene light.
Indeed he said, if I remember riglit,
That of the antique Trojan stocke there grew
Another plant, that rauglit to wondrous biglit,
And far abroad his mighty braunches threw
Into the utmost angle ofjJie world he knew.

" Fo- that same Brute, whom much he did advaunce
Ir all his speach, was Sylvius his sonne,
'v'hom having slain through lucklesarrowes glaunce,
He fled for feare of that he had misdonne,
Or els for shame, so fowle reproch to slionne,
And with him ledd to sea an youthly trayne ;
Where wearie wandring they long time did wonne,
And many fortunes prov'd in th' ocean mayne,
And great adventures found, that now were long to
sayne.

XI.IX.

'' At last by fatall course they driven were

Into an island spatious and brode,

The furthest North that did to them appeare:

Which, after rest, they, seeking farre abrode,

Found it the fittest soyle for their abode,

Fruitfull of all thinges fitt for living foode,

l)Utwholy waste and void of peoples trode.

Save an huge nation of the geaunts broode

That fed on living flesh, and dronck mens vitall blood.

" W^hom he, through wearie wars and labours long

Subdewd with losse of many Britons bold :

In which the great (iotimagot of strong

Corineus, and Coulin of Debonold,

Were overthrowne and laide on th' earth full cold,

Wliicli quaked under their so liideous masse :

A famous history to bee enrold

In everlasting monimeuts of brasse.

That all the antique worthies merits far did passe.

His worke great Troynovant, his worke is eke

Fair Lincolne, both renowned far away ;

That who from F.ast to West will endlong seeks.

Cannot two fairer cities find this day,

Exce])t Cleopolis ; so heard I say

Old JMnemon : Therefore, Sir. I greet you well

Your countrey kin : and you entyrely pray

Of pardon for the strife, which late befell

Betwixt us both unknowne," So ended Paridell,

But all the while, that he these speeches spent.

Upon his lips hong faire Dame Hellenore

With vigilant regard and dew attent.

Fashioning worldes of fancies evermore

In her fraile witt, that now her quite forlore :

The whiles unwares away her wondring eye

And greedy eares her weake hart from her bore :

Wliich he perceiving, ever privily.

In speaking, many false belgardes at her let fly.

So long these knightes discoursed diversly
Of straunge affaires, and noble hardiment,
Which they had past with mickle ieopardy.
That now the humid night was farforth spent.
And hevenly lampes were halfendeale ybrent :
Which th'old man seeing wel, who too long thought
Every discourse, and every argument,
AV^Jiich by the hours he measured, besought
Them go to rest. So all unto their bowres were
brought.

CANTO X.

Paridell rapeth Hellenore;

ISIalbecco her poursewes ;
Fynds emougst Satyres, whence with him

To turne she doth refuse.

The morrow next, so scone as Phoebus lamp

Bewrayed had the world with early light,

And fresh Aurora had the shady damp

Out of the goodly heven amoved quight,

Faire Britomart and that same Faery knight

I'jirose, forth on their iourney for to wend :

But Paridell complaynd, that his late fight

With Britomart so soie did him offend,

That ryile he could not till his hurts he did amend.

So foorth they far'd ; but he behind them stayd,
Maulgre his host, who grudged grivously
To house a guest that would be needes obayd,
And of his owne him lefte not liberty :
Might wanting measure, moveth surquedry.
Two things he feared, but the third was death;
1 hat fiers youngmans unruly maystery ;
His money, which he lov'd as living breath;
And his faire wife whom honest long he kept uneatli.

172

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book HI.

But patience perforce ; he must abie

What fortune and his fate on him will lay :

Fond is the foare th it findes no remedie.

Yei warilv he watclieth everv way,

Bv wliicli he feareth evill happen may ;

So th' evil! tliinkes by watchino^ to prevent :

Ne (loth he sutler her, nor niti;lit nor day,

Out of his sight herselfe once to absent :

3o doth he punish her, and eke himself torment.

But Paridell kept better watch then hee,

A tit occasion for his turne to finde.

False love ! why do men say thou canst not see.

And in tlieir foolish fancy feigne thee blinde.

That with thy charmes the sharpest sight doest binde.

And to thy will abuse ? Thou walkest free,

And seest every secret of the mimle ;

Thou seest all, yet none at all sees thee :

All that is by the working of thy deitee.

So perfect in that art was Paridell,

'J'liat he -Malbeccoes halfen eye did wyle ;

His hali'en eye he wiled wondrous well,

And Hellenors both eyes did eke beguyle,

J5oth eyes and hart attonce, during the vvhyle

That he there soiourned his woundes to heale;

That Cupid selfe, it seeing, close did sinyle

To Aveet liovv he her love away did steale,

And bad that none their ioyous treason should reveale.

The learned lover lost no time nor tyde
That least avantage mote to him afford,
Vet bore so faire a sayle, that none espyde
His sf'cret drift till he her layd abord.
W henso in open place and commune bord
He fortun'd her to meet, with commune speach
He courted her ; yet bay ted every word,
'I'hat his ungentle hoste note him appeach
Of vile ungeutlenesse or hospitages breach.

But when apart (if ever her apart

He found) then his false engins fast he plyde,

And all the sleights unbosoind in his hart :

He sigh'd, he sobd, he swoownd, he jierdy dyde,

And cast himselfe on ground her fast bi-syde :

Tho' when againe he him betiiought to live.

He wept, and wayld, and false laments belyde,

Saying, but if she mercie would him give,

That he mote algates dye, yet did his death forgive.

And otherwhyles with amorous delights

And pleasing toyes ho would her entertaine ;

Now singing sweetly to surprize her sprights,

Now making layes of love and lovers paine.

I'ransles, ballads, virelayes, and verses vaine ;

Oft purposes, oft riddles, he devysd.

And tliousands like which flownd in his brainc,

With whicii he fed her fancy, and entysd

To take to his new love, and lest-e Ser old despysd.

And every wiiere he might and everie while

He ilid her service dewtifuU, and sewd

At hand with humble pride and pleasing guile;

So closely yet, that none but she it vewd.

Who well perceived all, and all indewd.

Thus finely did he his false nets dispred,

With which he many weake harts had subdewd

Of yore, and many had ylike misled :

^Vhat wonder then if she \(jere likewise carried ?

No fort so fensible, no wals so strong.

But that continuall battery will rive,

Or daily siege, through dispurvayaunce long

And lacke of reskewes, will to parley drive ;

And peece, that unto parley eare will give,

Will shortly yield itselfe, and will be made

The vassall of the I'ictors will bylive :

That stratageme had oftentimes assayd

This crafty paramoure, and now it plains display'd.

For through his traines he her intrapped hath,

Tiiat she her love and hart hath wholy sold

To him without regard of gaine, or scath,

Or care of credits, or of husband old,

Whom she hatji vow'd to dub a fayre cucqu61d.

Nought wants but time and place, which shortly shea

Devized hath, and to her lover told.

It pleased well : so well they both agree ,

So readie rype to ill, wemens counsels bee 1

Darke was the evening, fit for lovers stealth.

When chaunst Malbecto busie be elsewhere.

She to his closet went, where a 1 his wealth

Lay hid ; thereof she countlesse summes did reare,

The which she meant away witii her to beare ;

The rest she fyr'd, for sport or for despight :

As Hellene, when she saw aloft appeare

Tiie i'roiane flames and reach to hevens hight,

Did clap her hands, and ioyed at that doleful sight ;

The second Hellene, fayre Dame Hellenore,
The whiles her hu.'-biuid ran with sory haste
To (lueiich the flames which she had tyn'd before,
Laught at his foolish labour sjjeut in waste,
And ran into her lovers amies right fast ;
Where streight embraced she to him did crv
And call alowd for helpe, ere lieljje were past;
For lo ! that guest did beare her forcibly,
And meant to ravish her, that rather had to dy I

'J"he wretched man hearing her call for ayd,
And ready seeing him with her to fly,
In his distjuiet mind was much dismayd :
But when againe he backeward cast his eye,
And saw the wicked fire so furiously
Consume his hart, and scorch his idoles face.
He was therewith distressed diversely,
Ne wist he how to turne, nor to what jilace :
Was never wretched man in such a wofuU cace-

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

173

Ay when to him she cryde, to her he turnd.
And left the fire ; love, money overcame :
But, when he marked how his money burnd,
He left bis wife; money did love disclaime :
Both was he loth to loose his loved dame,
And loth to leave his liefest pelfe behinde ;
Yet, sith he no'te save both, he sav'd that same
Which was tlie dearest to his dounsfhill minde,
The god of his desire, the ioy of misers blinde.

Thus whilest all thino;s in troublous uprore were,
'And all men busie to suppresse the flame,
The loving couple neede no reskew feare,
But leasure had and liberty to frame
Their purpost flight, free from all mens reclame ;
And A'ight, the patronesse of love-stealth fayre,
Gave them safe conduct till to end they came :
So beene they gone yfere, a wanton payre
Of lovers loosely knit, where list them to repayre.

Soone as the cruell flames yslaked were,

Malbeeeo, seeing how his losse did lye,

Out of the flames which he had quencht whylere,

Into huge waves of griefe and gealosye

Full deepe emplonged was, and drowned nye

Twixt inward doole and felonous despight :

He rav'd, he wept, he starapt, he lowd did cry ;

And all the passions, that in man may light,

Did himattonce oppresse, and vex his caytive spright.

Long thus be chawd the cud of inward griefe
And did consume his gall with anguish sore :
Still when he mused on his late mischiefe,
Then still the smart thereof increased more,
And seemd more grievous then it was before ;
At last when sorrow he saw booted nought,
Ne griefe might not his love to him restore.
He gan devise how her he reskew mought ;
Ten thousand wayes he cast in his confused thought.

At last resolving, like a pilgrim pore,
To search her forth whereso she might be fond,
And bearing with him treasure in close store.
The rest lie leaves in ground : so takes in bond
To seeke her endlong both by sea and lond.
Lon^; he ht- r sought, he sought her far and nere.
And every where that he mote understond
Of knightes and ladies any meetings were ;
And of each one he mett he tidings did inquere.

But all in vaine ; his woman was too wise

Ever to come into his clouch againe,

And bee too simple ever to surprise

The iolly Paridell, for all his paine.

One day, as he forpassed by the plaine

\\'ith weary pace, he far away espide

A couple, seeming well to be his twaine.

Which hoved close under a forest side,

As if they lay in wait, or els themselves did hide.

Well weened bee that those the same mote oee ;

And, as he better did their shape avize.

Him seemed more their nianer did agree ;

For th' one was armed all in warlike wize.

Whom to be Paridell he did devize ;

And til' other, al yclad in garments light

Discolourd like to womanish disguise,

He did resemble to his lady bright ;

And ever liis faint hart much earned at the sight .

And ever faine he towards them would goe.

But yet durst not for dread approchen nie,

But stood aloofe, unweeting what to doe ;

Till that prickt forth with loves extremity,

That is the father of fowle gealosy,

He closely nearer crept the truth to weet :

But, as he nigher drew, he easily

JMight scerne that it was not his sweetest sweet,

Ne yet her Belamour, the partner of his sheet:

But it was scornefull Braggadochio,
That with his servant Trompart hoverd there
Sith late he fled from his too earnest foe :
Wliom such whenas Malbeeeo spyed clere.
He turned backe, and would have fled arere ;
Till Trompart, ronning hastely, him did stay
And bad before his soveraine lord appeare :
That was him loth, yet durst he not gainesay.
And comming him before low louted on the lay.

The boaster at him sternely bent his browe.

As if he could have kild him with his looke,

That to the ground him meekly made to bowe

And awfuU terror deepe into him strooke,

That every member of his body quooke.

Said he, " Thou man of nought ! what doest thou here

Unfitly furnisht with thy bag and booke,

AVhere I expected one with shield and spere

To prove some deedes of armes upon anequall jjere? "

The wretched man at his imperious speach

Was all abasht, and low prostrating said ;

" Good sir, let not my rudeness be no breach

Unto your patience, ne be ill ypaid ;

For I unwares this way by fortune straid,

A silly pilgrim driven to distresse,

Tliat seeke a lady" — There he suddein staid.

And did the rest with grievous sighes suppresse,

While teares stood in his eies,few drops of bittemesse.

" What lady?" — " I\Ian," said Trompart, " take sfood
And tell thy griefe, if any hidilen lye : [hart.

Was never better time to shew thy smart
Then now that noble succor is thee by,
That is the wliole worlds commune remedy."
That chearful word his weak heart much did cheare
And with vaine hope his spirits faint supply.
That bold he sayd, " O most rodoubted Fere,
Vouchsafe with mild reg-ard a wretches cace to Ueare.

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

[Book 111.

Then sighing sore, " It is not long," saide hee,
" Suh I eniovd tlie gentlest dame alive ;
Of whom a knight, (no knight at all perdee,
But shame of all tliat doe for lionor strive,)
By treacherous deceipt did me deprive ;
Througli open outrage he her bore away.
And with fowle force unto his will did drive ;
Wliich al good knights, that amies do bear tliis day,
Are bownd for to revenge and punish if they may.

" And you, most noble lord, that can and dare
Redresse thd wrong of miserable wight.
Cannot employ your most victorious speare
In better quarrell then defence of right.
And for a lady gainst a faithlesse knight :
So shall your glory be advaunced much,
And all faire ladies magnify your might,
And eke myselfe, albee I simple such.
Your worthy paine shall wel reward with guerdon
rich."

With that, out of his bouget forth he drew
Great store of treasure, therewith him to tempt ;
But he on it lookt scornefully askew,
As much disdeigning to be so misdempt,
Or a war-monger to be basely nempt ;
And savd : " Thy oilers base I greatly loth.
And eke thy words uncourteous and unkempt :
I tread in dust thee and thy money both ;
That, were it not for shame " — So turned from him
wroth.

But Trompart, that his maistres humor knew

In lofty looks to hide an humble minde,

Was inly tickled with that golden vew,

And in his eare him rownded close behinde ■

Yet stoupt he not, but lay still in the winde.

Waiting advauntage on the pray to sease ;

Till Trompart, lowly to the grownd inclinde.

Besought him his great corage to appease.

And pardon simple man that rash did him displease.

Big looking like a doughty doucepere,

At last he thus ; " Thou clod of vilest clay,

I pardon yield, and with thy rudenes beare ,

But weete henceforth, that all that golden pray,

And all that tls the vaine world vaunten may,

I loath as doung, ne deeme my dew reward :

Fame is my meed, and glory vertuous pay :

But minds of mortall men are muchell mard

And mov'd amisse with massy mucks unmeet regard.

" And more ; I graunt to thy great misery
Orations respect ; thy wife shall backe be sent :
And that vile knight, whoever that he bee,
WhicJi hath thy lady reft and knighthood shent.
By Sanglamort my sword, wliose deadly dent
The blood hath of so many thousands shedd,
I sweare ere long shall dearely it repent ;
Ne he twixt heven and earth shall hide his liedd,
But soone he shall be fownd, and shortly doen be
dedd."

The foolish man thereat woxe wondrous blith.
As if the word so spoken were halfe donne.
And humb y thanked him a thousand sith
That had from death to life him newly wonne.
Tho forth the boaster marching brave begonne
His stolen steed to thunder furiously,
As if he heaven and hell would over-ronne.
And all the world confound with cruelty ;
That much Malbecco ioyed in his ioUity.

Thus long they three together travelled,
Through many a wood and many an uncouth way,
To seeke his wife that was far wandered :
But those two sought nought but the present pray
To weete, the treasure which he did bewraj%
On which their eies and harts were wholly sett,
With purpose how they might it best betray ;
For, sith the howre that first he did them lett
The same behold, therwith their keene desires were
whett.

It fortuned, as they together far'd,

They spide where Paridell came piicking fast

Upon the plaine, the which himselfe prepar'd

To giust with that brave straunger knight a cast,

As on adventure by the way he past :

Alone he rode without his paragone ;

For, having iilcht her bells, her up he cast

To the wide world, and lett her fly alone ;

He nould be clogd : so had he served many one.

The gentle lady, loose at random lefte.

The greene-wood long did walke, and wander wide

At wilde adventure, like a forlorne wefte ;

Till on a day the Satyres her espide

Straying alone withouten groome or guide :

Her up they tooke, and with them home her ledd.

With them as housewife ever to abide, [bredd ;

To milk their gotes, and make them cheese and

And every one as commune good her handeled :

That shortly she Malbecco has forgott.
And eke Sir Paridell all were he deare ;
Who from her went to seeke another lott.
And now by fortune was arrived here.
Where those two guilers with Malbecco were.
Soone as the old man saw Sir Paridell,
He fainted, and was almost dead with feare,
Ne word he had to speake his griefe to tell.
But to him louted low, and greeted goodly well ;

XXXVIII.

And, after, asked him for Hellenore :

" 1 take no keepe of her," sayd I'aridell,

" She wonneth in the forrest there before."

So forth he rode as his adventure fell ;

The whiles the boaster from his loftie sell

Faviid to alight, something amisse to mend ;

liut the frt'sii swayne would not his leasure dwell.

I'ut went his way ; whom when he ])assed kend,

lie up remounted light, and after faind to wend.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

175

" Perdv nay," said Malbecco, shall ye not ;
But let him j)asse as lightly as he came ;
for little good of him is to be got,
And mickle perill to bee put to shame.
But let us goe to seeke my dearest dame,
Whom he hath left in yonder forest wyld .
For of her safety in great doubt I ame.
Least salvage beastes her person have despoyld :
Then all the world is lost, and we in vaine have
toyld !"

XL.

They all agree, and forward them addrest :

" Ah ! but," said crafty Trompart, " weete ye well,

That yonder in that wasteful! wildernesse

Huge monsters haunt, and many dangers dwell ;

Dragons, and minotaures, and feendes of hell.

And many wilde woodmen which robbe and rend

All travellers ; therefore advise ye well,

Before ye enterprise that way to wend :

One may his iourney bring too soone to evill end."

Malbecco stopt in great astonishment.

And, with pale eyes fast fixed on the rest.

Their counsell crav'd in daunger imminent.

Said 'J'rompart ; " You, that are the most opprest

With burdein of great treasure, I thinke best

Here for to stay in saft-tie behynd :

My lord and 1 will search the wide forest."

That counsell pleased not Malbeccoes mynd ;

For he was much afraid himselfe alone to fynd.

" Then is it best," said he, " that ye doe leave
Your treasure here in some security,
Either fast closed in some hollow greave.
Or buried in the ground from ieopardy,
Till we returne againe in safety :
As for us two, least doubt of us ye have.
Hence farre away we will blyndfolded ly,
Ne privy bee unto your treasures grave."
It pleased ; so he did : Then they march forward
brave.

Now when amid the thickest woodes they were,
Ihey heard a noyse of many bagpipes shrill.
And shrieking hububs them approching nere,
Which all tlie forest did with horrour till :
'lliat dreadfull sound the bosters hart did thrill
With such amazement, that in hast he fiedd,
Ne ever looked back for good or ill ;
And after him eke fearful! Trompart spedd :
'J he old man could not fly, but fell to ground half
dedd:

Yet afterwardes close creeping as he might.

He in a bush did hyde his fearefull hedd.

'I'he ially satyres full of fresh delij;ht

Came dauncing forth, and with thfm nimbly ledd

Faire Ilelenore with girlonds all bespredd.

Whom their May-lady they had newly made :

She. j.roude of that new honour which they redd.

And of their lovely fellowship full glade,

Daunst lively, and her face did with a lawrell shade.

The silly man that in the thickett lay

Saw all this goodly sport, and grieved sore ;

Yet durst he not against it doe or say.

But did his hart with bitter thoughts engore.

To see th' unkindnes of his Hellenore.

All day they daunced with great lustyhedd,

And with their horned feet the greene gras wore ;

The whiles their gotes upon the brouzes fedd.

Till drouping Phoebus gan to hyde his golden hedd

Tho up they gan their mery pypes to trusse,
And all their goodly heardes did gather rownd ;
But every satyre first did give a busse
To Hellenore ; so busses did abound.
Now gan the humid vapour shed the grownd
With perly deaw, and th' earthes gloomy shade
Did dim the brightnesse of the welkin rownd.
That every bird and beast awarned made
To shrowd themselves, while sleep their senses did
invade.

Which when Malbecco saw, out of the bush

Upon his handes and feete he crept full light,

And like a gote emongst the gotes did rush;

That through the helpe of his faire homes on hightj

And misty dampe of misconceyving night.

And eke through likenesse of his gotish beard,

He did the better counterfeite aright :

So home he marcht emongst the horned heard,

That none of all the satyres him espyde or heard.

At night, when all they went to sleepe, he vewd.

Whereas his lovely wife emongst them lay.

Embraced of a satyre rough and rude.

Who all the night did mind his ioyous play :

Nine times he heard him come aloft ere day.

That all his hart with gealosy did swell ;

But yet that nights ensample did bewray

That not for nought his wife them loved so well.

When one so oft a night did ring his matins bell.

So closely as he could he to them crept.
When wearie of their sport to sleepe they fell.
And to his wife, that now full soundly slept.
He whispered in her eare and did her tell.
That it was he which by her side did dwell ;
And therefore prayd her wake to heare him plaint.
As one out of a dreame not waked well
She turnd her, and returned backe againe :
Yet her for to awake he did the more constraine.

At last with irkesom trouble she abrayd ;

And then perceiving, that it was indeed

Her old Malbecco, which did her upbrayd

With loosenesse of her love and loathly deed,

She was astonisht with exceeding dreed.

And would have wakt the satyre by her syde ;

But he her prayd, for mercy or for meed.

To save his life, ne let him be descryde.

But hearken to his lore, and all his counsell hyde.

176

THE faerip: queene.

[Book III.

The gan be her perswade to leave that lewd
And loatlisom lite, of God and man abhord,
And home retiirne, wliere nil should be rerewd
With perfect peace and bandes of fresh accord
And siie receivd againe to bed and bord,
As if no trespas ever had beene donne :
IJut she it all refused at one word,
And by no meanes would to his will be wonne,
.But chose emongst the iolly satyres still to wonne-

Still fled he forward, looking backward still ,

Ne stavd his flig-ht nor fearefull agony

'J'ill that he came unto a rocky hill

Over the sea suspended dreadfully.

That living- creature it would terrify

To looke adowne, or upward to the bight :

From thence be threw himselfe dispiteously,

All desperate of his fore-damned spright,

That seemd no help for him was left in living sight.

He wooed her till day-spring he espyde ;

I)Ut all in vaine : and then turnd to the heard,

Who butted him with homes on every syde,

And trode downe in the durt, where his hore beard

Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard.

Early, beiore the heavens fairest light

Out of the ruddy East was fully reard.

The heardes out of their foldes were loosed quight,

Aad he emongst the rest crept forth in sory plight.

But, through long anguish and selfe-murd'ring
He was so wasted and forpined quight, [thought.
That all his substance was consum'd to nought,
And nothing left but like an aery spright ;
That on the rockes he fell so flit and light,
That he thereby receiv'd no hurt at all ;
But chaunced on a craggy clitf to light ;
W^hence he with crooked clawes so long did crall.
That at the last he found a cave with entrance smaiL

So soone as he the prison-dore did pas.

He ran as fast as both his feet could beare.

And never looked who behind him was,

Ne scarsely who before : like as a beare,

That creeping close amongst the hives to reare

An hony-combe, the wakefull dogs espy.

And him assayling sore his carkas teare.

That hardly he with life away does fly,

Ne stayes,'tdl safe himselfe he see from ieopardy.

Into the same he creepes, and thenceforth there

Resolv'd to build his balefull mansion

In drery darkenes and continuall feare

Of that rocks fall, which ever and anon

Threates with huge ruine him to fall upon,

That he da e never sleepe, but that one eye

Still Ope he keepes for that occasion ;

Ne ever rests he in tranquillity.

The roring billowes beat his bowre so boystrously

Ne stayd he, till he came unto the place
Where late his treasure he entombed had ;
Where when he found it not, (for Trompart bace
Had it purloyned for his maister bad,)
With extreme fury lie became quite mad.
And ran away ; ran with himselfe away :
That who so straungely had him seene bestadd.
With upstart haire and staring eyes dismay.
From Limbo lake him late escaped sure would say.

Ne ever is he wont on ought to feed
But todes and frogs, his pasture poysonous,
Which in his cold complexion doe breed
A filthy blood, or humour rancorous,
flatter of doubt and dread suspitious.
That doth with curelesse care consume the hart.
Corrupts the stomacke with gall vitious.
Cross-cuts the liver with internall smart.
And doth transfixe the soule with deathes eternal!
dart.

High over hilles and over dales he fledd,

As if the wind him on his winges had borne ;

Ne banck nor bush could stay him, when he spedd

His nimble feet, as treading still on thorne :

Griefe, and Desi)ight, and Gealosy, and Scorne,

Did all the way him follow hard behynd ;

And he himselfe himselfe loatli'd so forlorne.

So shamefully forlorne of womankynd :

That, as a snake, still lurked in liis wounded myud.

Yet can he never dye, but dying lives.
And doth himselfe with sorrow new suslaine,
That death and life attonce unto him gives.
And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.
There dwels he ever, miserable swaine,
Hatefull both to himselfe and every wight ;
Where he, tlirough jirivy griefe and honour
Is woxen so deform'd, tliat he has quiglit
Forgot he was a man, and Gelosv is hiuht.

P<)OK JII.J

Tlir: PAKRIK gUF.ENT.

177

CAxXTO XI.

Britoraart clracetli OUypliiint ;

Fimles Scudamour distrest:
Assayes the house of Husyrane,

Where loves spoyles are expres'.

HATEFUL hellish snake! what furie furst
Brought thee from balefull house of Proseriiine,
Where in her bosome she tiiee long had nurst,
And fostred up with bitter milke of tine ;
Fowle gealosy ! tliat turnest love divine
To ioyles&e dread, and niak'st the loving hart
W^ith hateful! thoughts to languish and to pine,
And feed itselfe with selfe-consuming smart,
Of all the passions in tlie mind thou vilest art !

O let him far be banished away,

And in his stead let love for ever dwell !

Sweete love, that doth his golden wings embay

In blessed nectar and pure pleasures well,

Untroubled of vile feare or bitter fell.

And ye, faire ladies, that your kingdomes make

In th' harts of men, them governe wisely well.

And of faire Britomart ensample take.

That was as trew in love as turtle to her make

Who with Sir Satyrane, as earst ye red.
Forth ryding from INIalheccoes hostlesse hous.
Far off aspyde a young man, the which fled
From an huge geaunt, that with hideous
And hateful outrage long him chaced thus;
It was that Ollyphant, the brother deare
Of that Argante vile and vitious,
From whom the Squyre of Dames was reft whylere ;
This all as bad as she, and worse, if worse ought
were.

For as the sister did in feminine

And filthy lust exceede all womankinde ;

So he surpassed his sex masculine,

In beastly use, all that I ever finde :

Whom when as Britomart beheld behinde

The fearefull bey so greedily poursew.

She was emmoved in her noble minde

T' employ her puissaunce to his reskew,

And pricked fiercely forward where she did him vew.

Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde
But with like fiercenesse did ensew the chace :
Whom when the gyaunt saw, he soone resinde
His former suit, and from them fled apace :
They after both, and boldly bad him bace,
And each did strive the other to otitgoe ;
But he them both outran a wondrous space,
For he was long and swift as anv roe,
nd now made better speed t'escape ibis feared foe.

It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare,

Biit Britomart the fiowre of chastity ;

For he the powre of chaste hands might not beare.

But alwayes did their dread encounter fly

And now so fast his feet he did apply.

That he has gotten to a forre-st aeare.

Where he is shrowded in security.

The wood thev enter, and searcli everie where ;

They searched diversely ; so both divided were.

Fayre Britomart so long him followed,
That she at last came to a fountaine sheare,
By which there lay a knight all wallowed
Upon the grassy ground, and by^ him neare
His haberieon, his helmet, and his speare :
A little off, his shield was rudely throv\-ne.
On which the winged boy in colours clears
Depeincted was, full easie to be knowne.
And he thereby, wherever it in field was showne.

His face upon the grownd did groveling ly.
As if he had beene slombring in the shade;
That the brave mayd woulil not for courtesy
Out of his quiet slomber hmi abrade.
Nor seeme too suddeinly him to invade :
Still as she stood, she heard with grievous throb
flim grcne, as if his hart were peeces made.
And with most painefull pangs to sigh and sob,
That pitty did the virgins hart of patience rob.

At last forth breaking into bitter plaintes
He sayd ; " O soverayne Lord that sit'st on hye
And raignst in blis emongst thy blessed saintes.
How sutFrest thou such shamefull cruelty
So long unwreaked of thine enimy !
Or hast thou. Lord, of good mens cause no heed ?
Or doth thy iustice sleepe and silent ly 1
What booteth then the good and righteous deed,
If goodnesse find no grace, nor righteousnesse no
meed !

" If good find grace, and righteousnes reward,
Why then is Amoret in caytive band,
Sith that more bounteous creature never far'd
On foot upon the face of living land !
Or if that hevenly iustice may withstand
Tlie wrongful! outrage of unrighteous men.
Why thenis Busirane with wicked hand
Sufified, these seven monethes day, in secret den
My lady and my love so cruelly to pen I

178

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III

" My lady and my love is cruelly pend

In doleful! darkenes from the vew of day,

Whilest deadly torme-iits doe her chiist brest rend,

And the sharpe Steele doth rive her hart in tway.

All for she 8cudamore will not denay.

Vet thou, vile man, vile Sciidamore, art sour.d,

Ne canst her ayde, ne canst her foe dismav ;

Unworthy wretch to tread upon the gTound,

J^or whom so faire a lady feeles so sore a wound."

There an huge heape of singulfes did oppresse
His strug'ling soule, and swelling throbs empeach
His foltring toung with pangs of drerinesse,
Choking the remnant of his plaintife speach,
As if Ills dayes were come to their last reach.
Which when she heard, and saw the ghastly fit
Threatning into his life to make a breach.
Both with great ruth and terrour she was smit,
Fearing least from her cage the wearie soule would
flit.

xin.

Tho, stouping downe, she him amoved light ;
Who, therewith somewhat starting, up gan looke.
And seeing him behind a stranger knight,
Whereas no living creature he mistooke,
W^ith great iudignaunce he that sight forsooke.
And, downe againe himselfe disdainefully
Abiecting, th' earth with his faire forhead strooke :
Which the bold virgin seeing, gan apply
-Fit medcine to his griefe, and spake thus courtesly ;

'" Ah ! gentle knight, whose deepe-conceived griefe
Well seenies t'exceede the powre of patience,
Yet, if that hevenly grace some good reliefe
You send, submit you to High Providence ;
And ever, in your noble hart, prepense,
That all the sorrow in the world is lesse
Then vertues might and values confidence :
For who nill bide the burden of distresse.
Must not here thinke to live ; for life is wretched-
uesse.

XV.

" Therefore, faire sir, doe comfort to vou take.

And freely read what wicked felon so

Hath outrag'd you, and thrald your gentle make.

Perhaps this hand may help to ease your woe,

And wreake your sorrow on your ci uell foe ;

At least it faire endevour will ap))ly."'

Those feeling words so near the (juicke did goe.

That up his head' he reared easily ;

And, leaning on his elbowe, these few words lett fiy i

" What boots it plains that cannot be redrest.

And sow vainc sorrow in a fniitlesse care,

Sith powr" of hand, nor skill of learned brest,

Ne worldly price, cannot redceine my deare

Out of her thraldonie and coiilinuall feare !

For he, the tyrant, which her hath in ward

By strong enchauntnients and hlacke niagicke leare,

Hath in a dungeon deepe her close emlr.iid,

And many dreadfull feends hath pointed to her gard.

" There he tormenteth her most terribly.

And day and night afflicts with mortaU'pame,

Because to yield him love she doth deny.

Once to me yold, not to be yolde againe :

But yet by torture he would her constr'aine

Love to conceive in her disdainfuU brest :

Till so she doe, she must in doole remaine,

Ne may by living meanes be thence relest :

What boots it then to plaine that cannot be redrest !

With this sad hersall of his heavy stresse

The warlike damzell was empassiond sore.

And sayd ; " Sir knight, your cause is nothing lesse

Then is your sorrow certes, if not more:

For nothing so much pitty doth implore

As gentle ladyes helplesse misery ;

But yet, if please ye listen to my lore,

I will, with proofe of last extremity.

Deliver her fro thence, or with her for you dy."

" Ah ! gentlest knight alive," sayd Scudamore,
" What huge heroinke magnanimity [more.

Dwells in thy bounteous brest? what couldst thou
If shee were thine, and thou as now am l'>.
O spare thy happy dales, and them a\^]>\y
To better bnot ; but let me die that ought:
JMore is more losse ; one is encugh to dy!"
" Life is not lost," said she, •' for which is bought
Endlesse renowra; that, more then death, is to be
sought."

Thus she at length persuaded him to rise.

And with her wend to see what new successe

Mote him befall upon new enterprise ;

His amies, which he had vowed to disprofesse,

She -gathered up and did about him dresse,

And his forwandred steed unto him gott :

So forth they loth yfere make their progresse.

And march, not past the mountenaunce of a shott,

Till they arriy'd whereas their purpose they did plott.

There thry dismounting drew their weapons bold,
And stovitly came unto the castle gate,
\V'hereas no gate they found them to withhold,
Nor wdi"d to waite at morne and evening late ;
I'ut in the ])orch that did them sore amate,
A fla/uiiigfiri' ymixt with sinouhlry smoke
And stinking sul]ihurp, that with griesly hate
And dreadfull horror did all entraunce choke,
Enforced them their i'orward footing to revoke.

Greatly thereat was Britomart dismayd,

Ne in that slowr.a wist how herselfe to beare ;

For diiunger vaine it were to have assayd

Tliat cruell element, which all things feare,

Ne none can suffer to apj)roachen neare :

Ami, turning backe to Scudarnour, thus sayd ;

" \\ hat monstrous enmity jnovoke we here ?

Foolhardy as th' carthes children, tin- which made

Battcill against the gods, so we a god invade.

Cavto XL]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

179

" Daunger without discretion to attempt,
Inglorious, beast-like, is : therefore. Sir Knight,
Aread what course of 3'ou is safest dempt.
And how we with our foe may come to fig'ht."
" This is," quoth he, " the dolorous despight.
Which earst to you I playnd : for neither may
This fire be quencht by any witt or might,
Ne yet by any meanes remov'd away ;
So mighty be' th' enchauntments which the same do^
stay.

XXIV.

" What is there ells but cease these fruitlesse paines,

And leave me to my former languishing !

Faire Amorett must dwell in wicked chaines.

And Scudamore here die with sorrowing !"

" Perdy not so," saide sliee; " for shameful thing

Yt were t' abandon noble chevisaunce.

For shewe of perill, without venturing :

Rather, let try extremities of chaunce

Then enterprised praise for dread to disavaunce."

Therewith, resolv'd to prove her utmost might.

Her ample shield she threw before her face,

And her swords point directing forward right

Assayld the flame ; the which eftesoones gave place,

And did itselfe divide with equall space.

That through she passed : as a thonder-bolt

Perceth the yielding ayre, and doth displace

The soring clouds into sad showres yinolt ;

So to her yold the flames, and did their force revolt.

Whom whenas Scudamour saw past the fire

Safe and untoucht, he likewise gan assay

With greedy will and envious desire.

And bade the stubborne flames to yield him way :

But cruell Mulciber would not obay

His threatfuU pride, but did the more augment

His mighty rage, and with imperious sway

Him forst, maulgre his fercenes, to relent.

And backe retire all sorcht and pitifully brent.

With huge impatience he inly swelt,

More for great sorrow that he could not pas

Then for the burning torment which he felt ;

That with fell woodnes he effierced was.

And wilfully him throwing on the gras

Did beat and bounse his head and brest fiill sore :

The whiles the championesse now entred has

1 he utmost rowme, and past the foremost dore ;

The utmost rowme abounding with all precious store :

For, round about the walls yclothed were
With goodly arras of great maiesty.
Woven with golde and silke so close and nere
That the rich metall lurked privily,
As faining to be hidd from envious eye ;
\ et here, and there, and every where, unwares,
It shewd itselfe and shone unwillingly ;
l.ike to' a discolourd snake, whose hidden snares
Th'-oiigh the greene gras his long bright burni"ht
back declares.

And in those tapets weren fashioned

jMany faire pourtraicts, and many a faire feate :

And all of love, and al of lusty-hed.

As seemed by their sembluunt, did entreat :

And eke all Cupids warres they did repeate,

And cruell battailes, v.'hich 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 thraldome brought.

Therein was writ how often thondring love
Had felt the point of his hart-]iercing dart.
And, leaving heavens kingdome, here did rove
In straunge disguize, to slake his scalding smart;
Now, like a ram, faire Ilelle to pervart.
Now, like a bull, Europa to withdraw :
Ah, how the fearefull ladies tender hart
Did lively seeme to tremble, when she saw
The huge seas under her t' obay her servaunts law !

Soone after that, into a golden showre
Himselfe he cbaung'd, faire Danae to vew ;
And through the roofe of her strong brasen towre
Did raine into her lap an bony dew ;
The whiles her foolish garde, that little knew
Of such deceipt, kept th' yron dore fast bard.
And watcht that none should enter nor issew ;
Vaine was the watch, and bootlesse all the ward,
Whenas the god to golden hew himselfe transfard.

Then was he tumd into a snowy svean,

To win faire Leda to his lovely trade :

O wondrous skill, and sweet wit of the man.

That her in daffadillies sleeping made

From scorching heat her daintie limbes to shade !

Whiles the proud bird, ruffing his fethers wyde

And brushing his faire brest, did her invade.

She slept ; yet twixt her eielids closely spyde

How towards her he rusht, and smiled at his pryde

Then shewd it how the Thebane Semelee,

Deceivd of geaious Juno, did require

To see him in his soverayne malestee

Armd with his thunderbolts and lightning fire,

Whens dearely she with death bought her desire.

But fair Alcmena better match did make,

loying his love in likenes more entire :

Three nights m one they say that for her sake *

He then did put, her pleasures lenger to partake.

Twice was he scene in soaring eagles shape.
And with wide winges to beat the buxome ayre :
Once, when he with Asterie did scape ;
Againe, whenas the Trojane boy so fayie
He snatcht from Ida hill, and with him bare:
Wondrous delight it was there to behould
How the rude shepheards after him did stare.
Trembling through feare least down he fallen should
And often to him calling to take surer hould.

N 2

130

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book III

In satjTes shape Antiopa he snatcht ;
And like a fire, when he Aegiii' assayd :
A shepeheard, when Mnemosyne he catcht ;
And like a serpent to the Thracian mayd. [playd,
Whyles thus on earth great love these pageaunts
The winged boy did thrust into his throne.
And, scoffing, thus unto his mother sayd ;
" Lo ! now the hevens ohey to me alone.
And take me for their love, whiles love to earth is
gone."

And thou, faire Phosbus, in thy colours bright
Wast there enwoven, aud the sad distresse
In which that boy thee plonged, for despight
That thou bewray'dst his mothers wantonnesse,
When she with Mars was meynt in joyfulnesse :
Eorthy he thrild thee with a leaden dart
To love fair Daphne, which thee loved lesse ;
Lesse she thee lov'd than was thy iust desart.
Yet was thy luve her death, and her death was thy
smart.

So lovedst thou the lusty Hyacinct ;
So lovedst thou the faire Coronis deare :
Yet both are of thy haplesse hand extinct ;
Yet both in flowres doe live and love thee beare,
The one a paunce, the other a sweete-breare :
For griefe whereof, ye mote have lively seene
The god himselfe rending his golden heare.
And breaking quite his garlond ever greene,
With other signes of sorrow and impatient teene.

Both for those two, and for his owne deare sonne,

The Sonne of Climene, he did repent ;

Who, bold to guide the charet of the sunne,

Himselfe in thousand peeces fondly rent,

And all the world with flashing fier brent ;

So like, that all the walles did seeme to flame.

Yet cruell Cupid, not herewith content,

Forst him eftsoones to follow other game,

And love a shepheards daughter for his dearest dame.

He loved Isse for his dearest dame,

And for her sake her cattell fedd awhile,

And for her sake a cowheard vile became :

Tlje servant of Admetus, cowheard vile.

Whiles that from heaven he suffered exile.

Long were to tell each other lovely fitt ;

Now, like a lyon hunting after spoile ;

Now, like a hag ; now, like a faulcon flit:

All which in that faire arras was most lively writ.

Next unto bim was Neptune pictured.
In his divine resemblance wondrous lyke :
His face was rugged, and his hoarie bed
Dropped with brackish deaw : his threeforkt pyke
He stearnly shooke, and therwith fierce did stryke
The raging billow^ s that on every syde
They trembling stood, and mado a long broad dyke.
That his swift charet might have passage wvde.
Which foure great hippodames did draw in teme-wise
tyde.

His seahorses did seeme to snort amayne.

And from their nosethrilles blow the brynie stream©

That made the sparckling waves to smoke agayne

And flame with gold ; but the white fomy creame

Did shine with silver, and shoot forth his beame :

The god himselfe did pensive seeme and sad.

And hong adowne his head as he did dreame ;

For privy love his brest empierced had,

Ne ought but deare Bisaltis ay could make him glad..

He loved eke Iphimedia deare.

And Aeolus faire deughter, Arne hight,

For whom he turned himselfe into a stearo.

And I'edd on fodder to beguile her sight.

Also, to win Deucalions daughter bright.

He turned himselfe into a dolphin fayre ;

And, like a winged horse, he tooke his flight

To snaky-locke Medusa to repayre,

On whom he got faire Pegasus that flitteth in the ayre.

Next Saturne was, (but who would ever weene

That sullein Saturne ever weend to love 1

Yet love is sullein, and Saturnlike seene,

As he did for Erigone it prove,)

That to a centaure did himselfe transmove.

So proov'd it eke that gratious god of wine.

When, for to compasse Philliras hard love.

He turnd himselfe into a fruitfuU vine.

And into her faire bosome made his grapes decline

Long were to tell the amorous assayes,
And gentle pangues, with which be maked meeke
The niightie Mars, to learne his wanton playes;
How oft for Venus, and how often eek
For many other nymphes, he sore did shreek ;
With womanish teares, and with unwarlike smarts.
Privily moystening his horrid cheeke :
There was he j)ainted full of burning dartes.
And many wide woundes launched through his inner
partes.

XLV.

Ne did he spare (so cruell was the elfe)

His owne deare mother, (ah! why should he so?)

Ne did he spare sometime to pricke himselfe,

That he might taste the sweet consuming woe,

Which he had wrought to many others moe.

But, to declare the niournfull tragedyes

And spoiles wherewith he all the i;round did strow,

IMore eath to number with hoiv many eyes

High heven beholdes sad lovers nightly theeveryes.

Kings, queenes, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels

Were heap'd together with the vulgar sort, [gent

And mingled with the raskall rablement.

Without respect of jierson or of port,

To shew Dan Cupids powre and great eflTiirt :

And round about a border was entrayld

Of broken bowes and arruwes shivered short;

And a long bloody river through them rayld,

So lively, and so like, that living sf'uce it fayld.

Cai^to XL]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

181

And at tbe upper end of that faire rowme
riiere was au altar built of pretious stone
Of passing valew and of great renowme,
On which there stood an image all alone
Of ma>sy gold, whicli with his owne light shone ;
And winges it had with sondry colours dight,
Wore sondry co'ours tlit'n the proud pavoue
Beares in his boasted fan, or Iris biight.
When her discolourd bow she spreds through heven
brisrht.

Blyndfold lie was ; and in his cruell fist
A morlall bow and arrowes keene did hold,
With wliich he shot at raiidon when him list,
Some headed Avith sad lead, some with pure gold ;
(Ah ! man, beware how thou those darles behold !)
A wounded dragon under him did ly.
Whose hideous tayle his lefte foot did enfold.
And with a shaft was shor through either eye.
That no man forth might draw, iie no man reraedye.

And underneath his feet was written thus,
Unto the Victor of the gods this bee:
And all the people in that ample hous
Did to thar image bowe their humble knee.
And oft committed fowle idolatree.
That wondrous sight faire i5ritoniart amazd,
Ne seeing could her wonder satislie,
But ever more and more upon it gazd,
The whiles the passing brightnes her fraile sences
dazd.

Tho, as she backward cast her busie eye
To search each secrete of that goodly sted,
Over the dore thus w-ritten she did spye.
Bee bold : she oft and oft it over-red,
Yet could not find what sence it figured-:
But whatso were therein or writ or ment.
She was no whit thereby discouraged
From prosecuting of her first intent,
But forward with bold steps into the next roome
went.

IMuch fayrer then the former was that roome.
And richlier, by many partes, arayd ;
For not with arras made in painefull loome,
But with pure gold it all was overlayd,
W'rought with wilde antickes which their follies pliyd
In the rich metall, as tliey living were :
A thousand monstrous formes therein v\-ere made.
Such as false Love doth oft upon him weare ;
For love in thousand monstrous formes doth oft
appeare.

LII.

And, all about, the glistring walles were hong
With warlike spoiles and with victorious pniyes
Of mightie coni|uerours and captaines strong.
Which were wliilome captived in their dayes
To cruell love, and wrought their owne decayes :
Their swerds and speres were broke, and haubt-rques

rent.
And their proud girlonds of tryumphant bayes
Troden in dust with fury insolent.
To shew the victors miuht and merciless intent.

The warlike mayd, beholding earnestly
The goodly ordinaunce of this rich place,
Did greatly wonder : ne could satisfy
Her greedy eyes with gazing a long space :
But more she mervaild that no footings trace
Nor wight appeard, but wastefull emptiness
And solemne silence over all that place :
Straunge thing it seem'd, that none was to possesse
So rich purveyaunce, ne them keepe with careful
nesse.

And, as she lookt about, she did behold
How over that same dore was likewise writ,
Be bolde, be bolde, and every where. Be bold ;
That much she muz'd, yet could not construe it
By any ridling skill or commune wit.
At last she spyde at that rowmes upper end
Another yron dore, on which was writ,
Be not too bold ; whereto though she did bend
Her earnest miude, yet wist not what it might ioa
tend.

Thus she there wayted untill eventyde,
Yet living creature none she saw appeare.
And now sad shadowes gan the world to hyde
From mortall vew, and wrap in darkenes dreare j
Yet nould she d'off her weary armes, for feare
Cf secret daunger, ne let sleepe oppresse
Her heavy eyes with natures burdein deare,
But drew herselfe aside in sickernesse.
And her welpointed wepons did about her drease/

Ifc3

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IlJ

CANTO XII.

Tlie niaslie of Cupid, and tli' enchaun-
ted chamber are displayd ;

Whence Britomart redeemes faire A.
moret. through charmes decayd.

Tho, whenas chearelesse night yeovered had

Fa\Te heaven with an universal! clowd,

That every wight dismayd witlj darkenes sad

In silence and in sleepe themselves did shrowd,

She heard a shrilling trumpet sound alowd,

Signe of nigh battaill, or got victory :

Nought therewith daunted was her courage prowd.

But rather stird to cruell enmity,

Expecting ever when some foe she might descry.

With that, an hideous storme of winde arose,
With dreadfuU thunder and lightning atwixt,
And an earthquake, as if it streight would lose
The worlds foundations from his centre fixt :
A direfull stench of smoke and sulphure mixt
Ensewd, whose novaunce fild the fearefull sted
From the fourth liowre of night untill the sixt ;
Yet the bold Britonesse was nought ydred,
Though much emmov'd, but stedfast still persevered.

All suddeinly a stormy whirlwind blew
J'liroughout the house, that clapped every dore,
\\ ith which that yron wicket open flew.
As it with mighty levers had bene tore;
And forth yssewd, as on the readie flore
Of some theatre, a grave personage
ri'iit in his hand a braunch of luurell bore,
With comely liaveour and count'nance sage,
Vclad in costly garments fit for tragicke stage.

Proceeding to the midst he stil did stand,
As if in minde he somewhat had to say ;
And to the vulgare beckning with his hand.
In signe of silence, as to heare a play,
By lively actions he gan bewray
Some argument of matter ])assioned;
Which doen, he backe rotyrcil soft away,
And passing by, his name discovered.
Ease, on his robe in golden letters cyphered.

The noble mayd still standing all this vewd.
And merveild at his straunije intendiment ;
With that a ioyous fellowship issewd
Of minstrales making goodly meriment.
With wanton bardes, and rymcrs impudent;
All which together song full chearefully
A lav of loves delight wilh sweet concent;
After whom murcht a iollv coiiipanv.
In manner of a maske, enranged orderly.

The whiles a most delitious harmony

In full straunge notes was sweetly heard to sound.

That the rare sweetnesse of the melody

The feeble sences wholv did confound.

And the fravle soule in deepe delight nigh drownd :

And, when it ceast, shrill trompets lowd did bray.

That their report did far away rebound ;

And, when they ceast, it gan againe to play.

The whiles the maskers marched forth in trim aray.

The first was Fansy, like a lovely hoy
Of rare aspect and beautie without peare,
JMatchable either to that ympe of Troy,
Whom love did love and chose his cup to beare ;
Or that same daintie lad, which was so deare
To great Alciiies, that, whenas he dyde,
He wailed womanlike with many a teare.
And every wood and every vallev wyde
He filld with Hylas name ; the nymphes eke Hylas
cryde.

vni.

His garment neither was of silke nor say,

I')Ut paynted plumes in goodly order dight.

Like as the sunburnt Indians do aray

Their tawney bodies in their proudest plight :

As those same plumes, so seemd he vaine and light,

That bv his gate might easily appeare ;

P'or still he far'd as dauncing in delight.

And in his hand a windy fan did beare.

That in the ydle ayre he mov'd still here and theare.

And him beside marcht amorous Desyre,
Who seemd of ryper J'eares then th' other swayne,
Yet was that other swayne this elders syre,
And gave him being, commune to them twayne:
His garment was disguysed very vayne.
And his emhrodered bonet sat awry :
Twixt both his hands fewsjvarks he close did strayne,
Which still he blew and kindled busily.
That sooiie they lile conceiv'd, and i'orth in flames
did fly.

Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad
In a discolour'd cote of straunge disguyse,
That at his bncke a brode capuciio had,
And sleeves dcpendaunt Albanese-wyse ;
He lookt askew with his mislrustfull eyes.
And ijyccly trode, as thornes hiy in his way.
Or that the fiore to shriiike he did avyse ;
And on a broken re( d he still did stay
His feeble steps, which shrunck when hard thereoi
he lav.

Canto XII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

ili3

With him went Daunger, cloth'd in ragged weed
Made of beares skin, that him more dreadfull made
Yet his owne face was dreadfull, ne did need
Straunge horrour to deforme his griesly shade :
A net in th' one hand, and a rusty blade
In th' other was ; this IMischiefe, that Mishap ;
With th' one his foes he threatned to invade,
With th' other he his friends ment to enwrap :
For whom he could not kill he practizd to entrap.

Next him was Feare, all arra'd from top to toe,
Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby,
But feard each shadow moving to or froe ;
And, his owne amies when glittering he did spy
Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,
As ashes pale of hew, and winged heeld ;
And evermore on Daunger fixt his eye.
Gainst whom he alwayes bent a brasen shield.
Which his right hand unarmed fearetully did wield.

With him went Hope in rancke, a handsome mayd,

Of chearefull looke and lovely to behold ;

In silken samite she was light arayd.

And her fayre lockes were woven up in gold :

She alway smyld, and in her hand did hold

An holy-water-sprinckle, dipt in deowe,

With which she sprinckled favours manifold

On whom she list, and did great liking sheowe.

Great liking- unto many, but true love to feowe.

And after them Dissemblaunce and Suspect
Marcht in one rancke, yet an unequall paire ;
For she was gentle and of milde aspect.
Courteous to all and seeming debonaire.
Goodly adorned and exceeding faire ;
Yet was that all but paynted and purlojTied, [haire ;
And her bright browes vi-ere deckt with borrowed
Her deeds were forged, and her words false coynd.
And alwaies in her hand two clewes of silke she
twynd :

XV.

But he was fowle, ill favoured, and grim.
Under his eiebrowes looking still askaunce ;
\nd ever, as Dissemblaunce laught on him,
Her lowrd on her with daungerous eve-glaunce,
Shewing his nature in his countenaunce ;
His rolling eies did never rest in place.
But walkte each where for feare of hid mischaunce.
Holding a lattis still before his face.
Through which hestil did peep as forward he did
pace.

XVI.

Next him went Griefe and Fury matcht yfere ;

Griefe all in sable sorrowiully clad,

Downe hangmg his dull head with heavy chere.

Yet inly being more then seeming sad :

A paire of pincers in his hand he had.

With which he pinched people to the hart,

That from henceforth a wretched life they ladd.

In willfull hmjjuor and consuming smart.

Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart.

But Fury was fidl ill appareiled
In rags, that naked nigh she did appeare.
With ghastly looks and dreadfull drerilied ;
And from her backe her garments she did teare,
And from her head ofte rente her snarled hears ;
In her right hand a tirehrand shee did tosse
About her head, still roaming here and there ;
As a dismayed deare in chace embost,
Forgetfull of his safety, hath his right way loit.

After them went Displeasure and Pleasaunce,

He looking lompish and full suUein sad.

And hanging downe his heavy countenaunce ;

She chearfull, fresh, and full of ioyaunce glad.

As if no sorrow she ne felt ne dr;id ;

That evill matched paire they seemd to bee :

An angry waspe th' one in a viall had,

Th' other in hers an hony lady-bee.

Thus marched these six couples forth in faire degree.

After all these there marcht a most fau-e dame.

Led of two grysie villeins, th' one Despight,

The other cleped Cruelty by name :

She dolefull lady, like a dreary spright

Cald by strong charmes out of eternall night,

Had Deathes own ymage figurd in her face.

Full of sad signes, fearfuU to living sight ;

Yet in that horror shewd a seemely grace.

And with her feeble feete did move a comely pace.

Her hrest all naked, as nett yvory
Without adorne of gold or silver bright
Wherewith the craftesman wonts it beautify.
Of her dew honour was despoyled quight ;
And a wide wound therein (O ruefuU sight !)
Entrenched deep with knyfe accursed keene.
Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting spright,
(The worke of cruell hand) was to be seene,
That dyde in sanguine red her skin all snowy cleene ■

At that wide orifice her trembling hart
Was drawne forth, and in silver basin layd,
Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart,
And in her blood yet steeming fresh embayd.
And those two villeins (which her steps upstayd.
When her weake feete could scarcely her sustaine,
And fading vitall powres gan to fede,)
Her forward still with torture did coustraine.
And evermore encreased her consuuihig paine.

Next after her. the winged god himselfe

Came riding on a lion ravenous.

Taught to obav the menage of that elfe

That man and beast with j)owre imperious

Subdeweth to his kingdonie tyrannous :

His blindfold eies he bad awhile unbinde.

That his proud spoile oi' that same dolorous

Fair dame he might behold in perfect kicde ;

Which seene, he much reioyced in his criiell minda

184

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book 111.

Of which ful prowd, himselfe uprearing hye

1!p looked round about with sterne disdayne,

And did survay his goodly company ;

And. marshalling- the evil-ordered trayne,

With that the darts which his right hand did straine

Full dreadfully he shooke, that all did quake.

And clapt on hye his coulourd wingiis twaine,

'J'hat all his many it affraide did make :

Jho, blinding him againe, bis way he forth did take.

Behinde him was Reproch, Repentaunce, Shame ;
Reproch the first, Shame next, Repent behinde •
Repentaunce feeble, sorrowfull, and lame ;
Reproch despightful, carelesse, and unkinde ;
Shame most ill-favourd, bestiall, and blinde :
Shame lowrd, Repentaunce sighd, Reproch did scould;
Reproch sharpe stings, Repentaunce whips entwinde,
Shame burning brond-yrons in her band did hold :
All three to each unlike, yet all made in one mould.

And after them a rude confused rout

Of persons flockt, whose names is hard to read :

Emongst them was sterne Strife ; and Anger stout ;

Unquiet Care ; and fond Unthriftybead ;

Lewd Losse of Time; and Sorrow seeming deadj

Inconstant Chaunge ; and false Disloyalty ;

Consuming Riotise ; and guilty Dread

Of heavenly vengeaunce ; 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 jshantasies

In wavering wemens witt, that none can tell,

Or paines in love, or punishments in hell :

All which disguized marcht in masking-wise

About the chamber by the damozell :

And then returned, having marched thrise.

Into the inner rowme from whence they first did rise.

So soone as they were in, the dore streightway

Fast locked, driven with that stormy blast

Which first it opened, and bore all away.

Then the brave maid, which al this while was plast

In secret shade, and saw both first and last.

Issewed forth and went unto the dore

To enter in, but fownd it locked fast :

In vaine she thought with rigorous uprore

For to efforce, when charmes had closed it afore.

Wliere force might not availe, there sleights and art
She cast to use, both fitt for iiard emjirize :
Fortliv from that same rowme not to de|jart
rill morrow next shee did herselfe avize.
When tliat same maske aj;aine should forth arize.
The morrowe next apj)enrd with iouyous clieare,
Calling men to their daily exercize ;
Then she, as morrow fresh, herselfe did rears
Out of her secret stand thiit day for to outweare.

All that day she outwore in wandering

And gazing on that chambers ornament.

Till that againe the second evening

Her covered with her sable vestiment,

Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she hath blent

Then, when the second watch was almost past.

That brasen dore flew open, and in went

Bold Britomart, as she had late forecast.

Nether of ydle showes nor of false charmes :i;j,hast

So soone as she was entred, rownd about
Shee cast her eies to see what was become
Of all those persons which she saw without.
But lo ! they streight were vanisht all and some ;
Ne living wight she saw in all that roome.
Save that same woefull lady ; both whose hands
Were bounden fast, that did her dl become.
And her small waste girt rownd with yron bands
Unto a brasen pillour, by the which she stands.

And, her before, the vile enchaunter sate,
Figuring straunge characters of his art ;
With living blood he those characters wrate.
Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,
Seeming transfixed with a cruel! dart :
And all perforce to make her him to love.
Ah ! who can love the worker of her smart !
A thousand charmes he formerly did prove ;
Yet thousand charmes could not her stedfast hart
remove.

Soon as that virgin knight he saw in place.

His wicked bookes in hast he overthrew,

Not caring his long labours to deftice ;

And, fiercely running to that lady trew,

A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew.

The which he thought, for villeinous despight.

In her tormented bodie to embrew :

But the stout damzell to him leaping light

His cursed hand withheld, and maistered his might.

XXXIII.

From her, to whom his fury first he ment,
The wicked weapon rashly he did wrest.
And, turning to herselfe his fell intent,
Un wares it strooke into her snowie chest,
That litle drops empurjded her faire brest.
Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin grew,
Albe the wound were nothing deepe imprest,
And fiercely forth her mortall blade she drew,
To give him the reward for such vile outrage dew.

XXXIV.

So mightily she smote him, that to ground

He fell halfedead ; next stroke liim should have slaine,

Had not tlie lady, which by him stood bound,

Dernly unto her called to abstaine

IVom doing him to dy ; for else her paine

Should be remedilesse ; sith none but bee

Which wrought it could the same recure againe.

Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd to bee ;

For life she liim envyde, and long'd revenge to see.

Canto XII. t

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

185

And to him said ; " Thou wicked man, whose meed

For so huge mischiefe and vile villany

Is death, or if that ought doe death exceed ;

lie sure that nought may save thee from to dy

Put if that thou this dame do presently

Ilestore unto her health and former state ;

'1 111-; doe, and live ; els dye undoubtedly.*'

Ill', glad of life, that lookt for death but iafe,

Did yield himselfe right willing to prolong his date :

And rising up gan streight to over-looke

'J iiose cursed leaves, his charmes hack to reverse :

Full dreadfull thinges out of that baleful! booke

He red, and measur'd many a sad verse.

That horrour gan the virgins hart to perse,

And her fuire locks up stared stift'e on end.

Hearing him those same bloody lynes reherse ;

And, all the while he red, she did extend

Her sword high over him, if ought he did oflend.

Anon she gan perceive the house to quake,

And all the dores to rattle round about ;

Yet all that did not her dismaied make,

Nor slack her threatfull hand for daungers dout,

l)Ut still with stedfast eye and courage stout

Abode, to weet what end would come of all :

At last thatmightie chaine, which round about

Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan fall,

And that great brasen pillour broke in peeces small.

The cruell Steele, which thrild her dying hart,

Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord ;

And the wyde wound, which lately did dispart

Her bleeding brest and riven bowels gor'd,

W as closed up as it had not beene sor'd ;

And every part to safety full sownd.

As she were never hurt, was soone restord :

I ho, when she felt herselfe to be unbownd

And perfect hole, prostrate she fell unto thegrownd;

Before faire Britomart she fell prostrate,
Sviymg ; " Ah ! noble knight, what worthy meede
Can wretched lady, quitl from wofull state,
\ield you in lieu of this your gracious deed ?
Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall breed,
Even immoitall prayse and glory wyde,
\\ hich I your vassall, by your prowesse freed.
Shall through the world make to be notifyde.
And goodly well advaunce tliat goodly well was
tryde."

But Britomart, uprearing her from grownd,
Said ; " Gentle dame, reward enough I weene.
For many labours more than 1 have found.
This, that in safetie now 1 have you seene,
And meane of your deliverance have beene :
Henceforth, faire lady, comfort to you take,
And put away remembrance of late teene ;
Insted thereof, know that your loving make
Hath no lesse griefe endured for your gentle sake.

She much was cheard to heare him mentiond,

Whom of all living wightes she loved best.

Then laid the noble championesse strong bond

Upon th" enchaunter which had her distrest

So sore, and with foule outrages opprest :

With that great chaine, wherewith not long vgoe

He bound that pitteous lady prisoner now relest,

Himselfe she bound, more worthy to be so.

And captive with her led to wretchednesse and wo.

Returning back, those goodly rowmes which erst
She saw so rich and royally aravd,
Now vanisht utterly and cleane subvorst
She found, and all their glory quite decavd ;
That sight of such a chaunge lier much dismavd.
Thence forth descending to that pei-lous porch.
Those dreadfull flames she also found delay d
And quenched (juite like a cons-umed forch,
That erst all entrers won, so cruelly to scorch.

More easie issew now then entrance late

She found;' for now that fained dreadfull flame,

Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted gate

And passage bard to ;ill that thither came

Was vanisht quite, as it were not the same,

And gave her leave at pleasure forth to passe.

Th' enchaunter selfe, which all tliat fraud did frame

To have efturst the love of that faire lasse,

Seeing his worke now wasted, deepe engrieved was.

But wlien the victoresse arrived there
Where late she left the pensife Scudamore
With her own trusty squire, both full of feare.
Neither of them she found where she them lore :
Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore ;
But most faire Amoret, whose gentle spright
Now gan to feede on hope, which she before
Conceived had, to see her own deare knight.
Being thereof beguyld, was fild with new affright.

But he, sad man, when he had long in drede
Awayted there for Britomarts returne.
Yet saw her not, nor signe of her good speed,
His expectation to despaire did turne,
IMisdeeming sure that her those flames did bume ;
And therefore gan advize with her old squire.
Who her deare nourslings losseno lesse didmoume,
Tbence to depart for further aide t' enquire :
Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doa
respire.

THE FOURTH BOOKE

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYJJING

THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TRIAMOND, OR OF FRIENDSHIP

The ruo;ged forhead, tbat with grave foresight
Welds king-domes causes and affaires of state,
My looser rimes, I wote, doth sharply wite
For praising love as I have done of late,
And magnifying lovers deare debate ;
By which fraile youth is oft of foUie led,
Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,
That better were in vertues discipled.
Then with vaine poemes weeds to have their fancies
fed.

Such ones ill iudge of love, that cannot love,

Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame :

Forthy they ought not thing unknowne reprove,

Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame

For fault of few that have abusd the same ;

For it of honor and all vertue is

The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,

That crowne true lovers with immortall blis,

The meed of them that love, and do not live amisse.

Which whoso list looke backe to former ages,

And call to count the things that then were donne.

Shall find that all the workes of those wise sages.

And brave exploits which j;reat heroes wonne,

In love wpre either ended or begunne :

^Vitnesse the father of Philosophie,

Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne,

Of love full manie lessons did apply,

The which these stoicke censours cannot well deny.

To such tlierefore I do not sing at all ;
Ikit to that sacred saint my soveraione queene
In whose chast brest all bountie naturall
And treasures of true love enlocked beene,
]5ove all her sexe that ever yet was seene ;
To her I sing of love, that loveth best,
And best is lov'd of all alive I weene ;
To her this song, most fitly is addrest,
The Queene of Love, and Prince of Peace from Lcs>
yen blest.

Which that she may the better deigne to heare,

Do thou, dread infant, Venus dearling dove,

From her Jiigh spirit chase imperious feare.

And use of awfull maiestie remove :

Insted thereof with drops of melting love,

Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten

From thy sweete-smyling mother from above,

Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,

That she may hearke to love, and reade this lesson often.

Canto l.J

THE FAERIE QULENE,

CANTO I.

Fayre Britomart saves Amoret :

buessa discord breedes
Twixt Scudaraour and Blandamour ;

Their fight and warlike deedes.

Of lovers sad calamities of old

Full many piteous stories doe remaine,

But none more piteous ever was ytold

Then tl)at of Amorets hart-binding chaine,

And this of Florimels unworthio paine :

The deare compassion of whose bitter fit

My softned heart so sorely doth constraine,

That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,

And oftentimes doe wish it never had bene writ.

For, from the time that Scudamour her bought

In perilous fight, she never ioyed day ;

A perilous fight ! when he with force her brought

From twentie knights that did him all assay ;

Yet fairely well he did them all dismay,

And with great glorie both the shield of Love

And eke the ladie selfe he brought away ;

Whom having wedded, as did him behove,

A new unknoweu mischiefe did from him remove.

For that same vile enchauntour Busyran,
The very selfe same day that she was wedded,
Amidst the bridale feast, whilest every man
Surcharg'd with wine were heedlesse and ill-hedded.
All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,
Brought in that mask of love which late was showen ;
And there the ladie ill of friends bestedded,
By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen.
Conveyed quite away to living wight unknowen.

Seven moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,
Because his sinfuU lust she would not serve,
Untill such time as noble Britomart
Released her, that else was like to sterve
Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerve :
And now she is with her upon the way
Marching in lovely wise, that could deserve
No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay
To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell
The diverse usage, and demeanure daint,
That each to other made, as oft befell :
For Amoret right fearefull was and faint
Lest she with blame her honor should attaint.
That everie word did tremble as she spake,
And everie looke was coy and wondrous quaint,
And everie limbe that touched her did quake ;
Yet should she not but curt.flus countenance to her
make.

For well she wist, as true it was indeed.

That her live's lord and patrone of her health

Right well deserved, as his duefuU meed,

Her love, her service, and her utmost wealth :

All is his iustly that all freely deal'th.

Nalhlesse htT honor dearer then her life

She sought to save, as thing reserv'd from stealth ;

Die had she lever with enchanters knife

Then to be false in love, profest a virgine wife.

Thereto her feare was made so much the greater
Through fine abusion of (hat Briton mayd ;
Who, for to hide her fained sex the better
And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd
Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd.
That well she wist not what by them to gesse :
For othorwhiles to her she purpos made
Of love, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse.
That much she feard his mind would grow to some
excesse.

His will she feard ; for him she surely thought

To be a man, such as indeed he seemed ;

And much the more, by that he lately wrought,

When her from deadly thraldonie he redeemed.

For which no service she too much esteemed :

Yet dread of shame and doubt of fowle dishonor

]\Iade her not yeeld so much as due she deemed.

Yet Britomart attended duly on her.

As well became a knight, and did to her all honor.

It so befell one evening that; they came
Unto a castell, lodged there to bee,
^Vheve many a knight, and many a lovely dame.
Was then assembled deeds of amies to see :
Amongst all which was none more faire then shee.
That many of them mov'd to eye her sore.
The custome of that place was such, that hee.
Which had no love nor lemman there in store.
Should either winne him one, or lye without the dore,

Amongst the rest there was a iolly knight.

Who, being asked for his love, avow'd

That fairest Amoret was his by right.

And offred that to iustifie alowd.

The warlike virgine, seeing his so prowd

And boastfull chalenge, vvexed inlie wroth.

But for the present did her anger shrowd ;

And sayd, her love to lose she was full loth,

But either he should neither of them have, or both.

188

THE FAi:rxiF, Qur:j:NE

[Book IV

So foorth they went, and booth together giiisted;
But that sameyounker soone was overthrowue,
And made repent tliat he had raslily lusted
For thing unlawful! that was not liis owne :
Vet since he seemed valiant, though unknowne,
She, that no lesse was courteous then stout,
Cast how to salve, that both the custome showne
Were kept, and yet that kniglit not locked out;
That seem'd full hard t'accord two things so far iu
dout.

The seneschall was cal'd to deeme tlie right;
Whom she requir'd, that tirst favre Amoret
Might be to her allow'd, as to a knight
That did her win and free from clialenge set :
Which straight to her was yeelded without let:
Then, since that strange knights love from him was
She claim'd that to herselfe, as ladies det, [quitted.
He as a knight might iustly be admitted ;
So none should be out shut, sith all of loves were fitted.

With that, her glistring helmet she unlaced ;
Which doft, her golden lockes, that were upbound
Still in a knot, unto her heeles downe traced,
And like a silken veile in compasse round
About her backe and all her bodie wound :
Like as the shining skie in summers night.
What time the dayes with scorching heat abound,
Is creasted all with lines of firie light.
That it prodigious seemes in common peoples sight.

uch, when those knights and ladies all about
Beheld her, all were with amazement smit.
And every one gan grow in secret dout
Of this and that, according to each wit :
Some thought that some enchantment faygned it:
Some, that Bellona in that warlike wise
'J'o them appear'd, with shield and armour fit ;
Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise :
So diversely each one did sundrie doubts devise.

But that young knight, which through her gentle deed
Was to that goodly fellowship rest'or'd,
Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed.
And, doubly overcommen, her ador'd :
So did they all their former strife accord ;
And eke fay re Amoret, now freed from feare,
More franke affection did to her aflbrd ;
And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare.
Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance
theaie :

A'here all that night thfy of their loves did treat,
And hard adventures, twixt themselves alone,
That each t!ie other gau with i)assion great
And griefuU pittie privately bemone.
The niorow next, so soone as I'itan shone.
They both uprose, and to their waies them di"-hl ;
Long waiidred they, yet never met witii none
That to their willes could them direct aright.
Or to them tydings tell that mote their harts delight.

Lo thus fhev lode, till at tlie last they spide
Two armed knights that toward them did pace,
And ech of tliem had ryding by his side
A ladle, seeming in so farre a space .
But ladies none they were, albee in face
And outward shew faire semblance they did beare ;
For, under maske of beautie and good grace
Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were.
That mote to none but lo the warie wise appears

XVIII.

The one of thfm the false Duessa bight.

That now had chang'd her former wonted hew ;

For she could d'on so manie shapes in sight,

As ever could cameleon colours new ;

So could she forge all colours, save the trew :

The other no whit better was than shee.

But that, such us she was, she pliine did shew;

Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee.

And da^ly more offensive unto each degree •

Tier name was Ate, mother of debate
And all dissention which doth dayly grow
Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state
And many a pri\-ate oft doth overtlirow.
Pier false Duessa, wdio full well did know
To be most fit to trouble noble knights
Which hunt for honor, raised from below
Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,
W here she in darkues wastes her cursed daies and
nights.

Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is ;
There, whereas all the jdagues and hannes abound
Which punish wicked men that walke amisse :
It is a darksome delve farre under ground.
With thornes and barren brakes environd round,
That none the same may easily out win ;
Yet many waies to enter mav be found,
But none to issue forth wiien one is in :
For discord harder is to end then to begrin.

And all within, the riven walls were hung
With ragged monuments of times fbrepast,
All which the sad effects of discord sung :
There were rent robes and broken scepters plast ;
Altars defyld, and holy things defast ;
Disshivered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine ;
Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast :
Nations captived, and huge armies slaine :
Of all which ruiues there some relicks did remaine.

There was the signe of antique Babylon ;

Of fatall Thebes ; of Rome tliat raigned long;

Of sacred Salem ; and sad Ilion,

For meniorie of which on high there Iiong

The golden ap])le, cause of all their wrong,

For which the three faire goddesses did strive :

There also was the name of iNimrod strong ;

Of Alexander, and his i)rinces five

Which shar'dto them the sj)oiles that he had got alive:

Canto I.J

THE FAKRIP: QUKENE.

189

And there the relicks of the drunken fray,
The which amongst the Lapithees befell ;
And of the bloodie feast, which sent away
So many centaures drunken soules to hell,
That under great Alcides furie fell :
And of the dreadfull discord, which did drive
The noble Argonauts to outrage fell,
That each of life sought others to deprive,
AU mindlesse of the goldeeu fleece, which made
them strive.

And eke of private persons many moe,
That were too long a worke to count them all ;
Some, of sworne friends that did their faith forgoe ;
Some, of borne brethren prov'd unnaturall :
Some, of deare lovers foes perpetuall :
Witnesse their broken bandes there to be seene,
Their girlonds rent, their bowres despoyled all ;
The moniments whereof there byding beene.
As plaine as at the first when they were fresh and
greene.

XXV.

Such was her house within ; but all without,
The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,
Which she herselfe had sowen all about.
Now growen great, at first of little seedes,
The seedes of evill wordes and factious deedes ;
Which, when to ripenesse due they growen arre,
Bring forth an infinite increase that breedes
Tumultuous trouble, and contentious iarre,
''"he which most often end in bloudshed and in warre.

And those same cursed seedes doe also serve

To her for bread, and yeeld her living food :

For life it is to her, when others sterve

Through mischievous debate and deadly feood,

That she may sucke their life and drinke their blood,

With which she from her childhood had bene fed :

For she at first was borne of hellish brood.

And by infefnall furies nourished ;

That by her monstrous shape might easily be red.

Her face most fowle and filthy was to see,
With squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended.
And loathly mouth, unmeete a mouth too bee,
That nought but gall and venim comprehended,
And wicked wordes that God and man offended :
Her lying tongue was in two parts divided,
And both the parts did speake, and both contended ;
And as her tongue so was her hart discided,
That never thought one thmg, but doubly stil was
guided.

Ah as she double spake, so heard she double,
W ith mutclilesse eares deformed and distort,
Fild with false rumors and seditious trouble.
Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort,
That still are led with every ligiit report :
And as her eares, so eke her feet were odde,
And much unlike ; th' one long, the other short.
And both misplast ; that, when th' one forward yode.
The other backe retired and contrarie trode.

Likewise unetjuall were her handes twaine ;
'J'hat one did reach, the other pusht away;
That one did make, the other mard againe.
And sought to bring all things unto decay ;
^Vhereby great riches, gathered manie a day,
She in short space did often bring to nought,
And their posse.'^sours often did dismay :
For all her studie was and all her thought
How she might overthrow the things that Concord
wrought.

So much her malice did her might surpas.

That even th' Almightie selfe she did maiigne,

Because to man so mercifull he was.

And unto all his creatures so benigne,

Sith she herselfe was of his grace indigne :

For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride

Unto his last confusion to bring,

And that great golden chaine quite to divide,

AVith which it blessed Concord hath together tide.

Such was that hag, which with Duessa roade;
And, serving her in her malitious use
To hurt good knights, was, as it were, her baude
Te sell her borrov/ed beautie to ahuse :
For though, like withered tree that wanteth iuyce
She old and crooked were, yet now of late
As fresh and fragment as the floure-deluce
Slie was become, by chaunge of her estate,
And made full goodly ioyance to her new-found
mate :

Her mate, he was a iollie youthfull knight

'J hat bore great sway in armes and chivalrie.

And was indeed a man of mickle might ;

His name was Blandamour, that did descrie

His fickle mind full of inconstancie :

And now himselfe he fitted had right well

^Vith two companions of like qualitie,

Faithlesse Duessa, and fal^se Paridell,

That whether were more false, full hard it is to tell.

Now when this gallant with his goodly crew
From farre espide the famous Britomart,
Like knight adventurous in outward vew.
With his faire paragon, his conquests part,
Approching nigh ; eftsoones his wanton hart
Was tickled with delight, and iesting sayd ;
" Lo ! there. Sir Paridel, for your desart.
Good lucke presents you with yond lovely mayd ,
For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd."

By that the lovely paire drew nigh to bond :

Whom whenas Paridel more plaine beheld,

Albee in heart he like affection fond,

Yet mindful! how he late by one was feld

That did those armes and that same scutchion weld

He had small lust to buy his love so deare.

But answered ; " Sir, him wise I never held,

That, having once escai)ed perill neare,

AYould afterwards afresh the sleeping evill reare.

190

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV

" This knight too late his manhood and his might
I did assay, that me right dearely cost ;
Ne list I for revenge provoke new fight,
Ne for light ladies love, that soone is lost."
The hot-spurre youtli so scorning to be crost,
' Take then to you this dame of mine," quoth has,
" And I, without your perill or your cost.
Will chaleuge yond same other for my fee."
So forth he fiercely prickt, that one him scarce could
see.

The warlike Britonesse her soone aildrest,

And with such uncouth welcome did receave

Her fayned paramour, her forced guest.

That, being forst his saddle soone to leave,

Himselfe he did of his new love deceave ;

And made himselfe th' ensample of his follie.

Which done, she passed forth, not taking leave,

And left him now as sad as whilome iollie.

Well warned to beware with whom he dar'd to dallie.

Which when his other companie beheld,
They to his succour ran with readie ayd ;
And, finding him unable once to weld.
They reared him on horse-backe anf* upstayd,
Till on his way they had him forth convayd :
And all the way, with wondrous griefe of mynd
And shame, he shewd himselfe to be dismayd
!More for the love which he had left behynd,
Then that which he had to Sir Paridel resynd.

Nathlesse he forth did march, well as he might,
And made good semblance to his companie.
Dissembling his disease and evill plight;
Till that ere long they chaunced to espie
Two other knights, that towards them did ply
With speedie course, as bent to charge them new
\Vhom whenas Blandamour approching nie
Perceiv'd to be such as they seemd in vew.
He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.

For th' one of them be perfectly descride
To be Sir Scudamour, (by that he bore
Tlie god of love with wings displayed wide,)
Whom mortally he hated evermore,
Both for his worth, that all men did adore.
And eke because liis love he wonne by right :
Which when he thought, it grieved him full sore.
That, through the bruses of his former fight.
He now unable was to wreake his old despight,

t'orthy he thus to Paridel bespake :
" Faire Sir, of friendship let me now you pray,
That as I late adventured for your sake,
Tlie hurts wliereof me now from battell stay,
^'e will me now with like good turne repay,
And iustifie my cause on yonder knij^ht."
" Ah ! Sir," said Paridel, " do not dismay
Vourselfe for this ; inyselfe will for you fight.
As ye have done for me : The left liund rubs the
right."

With that he put his spurres unto his steed.
With speare in rest, and toward him did fare.
Like shaft out of a bow preventing speed.
But Scudamour was shortly well aware
Of his approch, and gan himselfe prepare
Him to receive with entertainment meete.
So furiously they met, that either bare
The other downe under their horses feete,
That what of them became themselves did scarslj'
weete.

As when two billowes in the Irish sowndes,

Forcibly driven with contrarie tydes.

Do meete together, each abacke rebowndes

With roaring rage ; and dashing on all sides,

That filleth all the sea with fome, divydes

The doubtfull current into divers wayes :

So fell those two in spight of both their prydes ;

But Scudamour himselfe did soone uprayse,

And, mounting light, his foe for lying long upbrayes.

Who, rolled on an heape, lay stil in swound
All carelesse of his taunt and bitter rayle ;
'I'ill that the rest him seeing lie on ground
Ran hastily, to weete what did him ayle :
Where finding that the breath gan him to fayle.
With busie care they strove him to awake.
And doft his helmet, and undid his mayle :
So much they did, that at the last they brake
His slomber, yet so mazed that he nothing spake.

Which whenas Blandamour beheld, he sayd ;

" False faitour Scudamour, that ha*;t by slight

And foule advantage this good knight dismayd,

A knight much better then thyselfe behight,

Well falles it thee that I am not in plight

This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne !

Such is thy wont, tliat still when any knight

Is vveakned, then thou doest him overronne :

So hast thou to thyselfe false honour often wonno."

He little answer'd, but in manly heart

J lis mightie indignation did forbeare ;

\Vliich was not yet so secret, but some part

Tlioreof did in his frouning face appeare :

Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare

An liideous storme, is by the northerne blast

(()uite overblowne, yet doth not ])asse so cleare

I'.uf that it all tlie skio doth overcast

With darknes drcd, and threatens all the world to wast

" Ah ! gentle knight," then false Duessa sayd,
" Why do ye strive for ladies love so sore.
Whose chiefe desire is love and friendly aid
Mongst gentle knights to nourish evermore !
Ne be ye wroth. Sir Scudamour, therefore,
That she your love list love another knight,
Ne do vourselfe dislike a whit the more ;
For love is free, and led with selfe-delight,
Ne will enforced be with n>aisterdome or might.'

Camo II ;j

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

191

So false Duessa: but vile Ate thus ;
" Both foolish knights, I can but laugh at both,
That strive and storme with stirre outrageous
For her, that each of 3'ou alike doth loth.
And loves another, with whom now she go'th
In lovely wise, and sleepes, and sports, and playesj
Whilest both you here with many a cursed oth
Sweare she is yours, and stirre up bloudie frayes.
To win a willow bough, whilest other weares the
bayes.

XL VIII.

" Vile hag," sayd Scudamour, "why dost thou lye,
And frtlsly seekst a virtuous wight to shame ?"
" I'ond knight," sayd she, "the thing that with this
I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same 1" [eye
" 'Ihentell," quoth BlanJamour, " and feare no blame ;
'I (-11 what thou saw'st, maulgre whoso it heares."
" I saw," quoth she, " a straunger knight, -^hose name
I wote not well, but in his shield he heares
( That well I wote) the heads of many broken speares j

" I saw him have your Amoret at will ;
i saw him kisse ; I saw him her embrace ;
I saw him sleepe with her all night his fill ;
All, manie nights ; and manie by in place
That present were to testifie the case."
Which whenas Scudamour did heare, his heart
Was thrild with inward griefe : as when in chace
The Parthian strikes a stag with shivering dart,
1 he beast astonisht stands in middest of his smart j

So stood Sir Scudamour when this he heard,
Ne word he had to speake for great dismay.
But lookt on Glauce grim, who woxe afeard
Of outrage for the words which she heard say,
Albee untrue she wist them by assay.
But Blandamour, whenas he did espie
His chaunge of cheere that anguish did bewray,
He woxe full blithe, as he had got thereby.
And gan thereat to triumph without victorie.

" Lo ! recreant," sayd he, " the fruitlesse end
Of thy vaine boast, and spoile of love misgotten,
Whereby the name of knight-hood tliou dost sliend,
And all true lovers with dishonor blotten :
All things not rooted well will soone be rotten.
" Fy, fy, false knight," then false Duessa crvde,
" Unworthy life, that love with guile hast gotten ;
Be thou, whereever thou do go or ryde,
Loathed of ladies all, and of all knights defyde !

But Scudamour, for passing great despight,
Staid not to answer ; scarcely did refraiue
But that in all those knights and ladies sight
He for revenge had guiltlesse Glauce skine :
But, being past, he thus began amaine ;
" False traitour squire, false squire of falsest knight,
Why doth mine hand from thine avenge abstaine,
Whose lord hath done my love this foule despight !
Why do I not it wreaks on thee now in my might !

" Discourteous, disloyall Britomart,
Untrue to God, and unto man uniust !
What vengeance due can equall thy desart.
That hast with shamefull spot of sinfull lust
Defil'd the pledge committed to thy trust !
Let ugly shame and endlesse infamy
Colour thy name with foule reproaches rust !
Yet thou, false squire, his fault shall deare aby,
And with thy punishment his penance shalt supply.

The aged dame him seeing so enraged

Was dead with feare ; nathlesse as neede required

His flaming furie sought to have assuaged

With sober words, that sufferance desired

Till time the tryall of her truth expyred ;

And evermore sought Britomart to cleare :

But he the more with furious rage was fyred.

And thrise his hand to kill her did upreare.

And thrise he drew it backe : so did at last forbeare.

CANTO IL

Blandamour winnes false Florimell ;

Paridell for her strives :
They are accorded : Agape

Doth lengthen her sonues lives.

Firebrand of hell first tynd in Phlegeton
By thousand furies, and from thence out-throwen
Into this world to worke confusion
And set it all on fire by force unknowen.
Is wicked Discord; whose small sparkesonce blowen
None but a god or godlike man can slake :
Such as was Orj,heus, that, when strife was growen
Amongst those famous jonpes of Greece, did fake
His silver harpe in hand and shortly friendes them
make :

Or such as that celestial! psalmist was,
That, when the wicked feend his lord tormented, '.
^Vith heavenly notes, timt did all other pas.
The outrage of his furious fit relented.
Such musicke is wise words with time concented.
To moderate stiife mindes disposd to strive :
Such as that prudent Romane well mvented ;
What time his people into partes did rive,
Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes did
drive.

192

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV

Such us'd wise Glance to that wrathfull knight,
To caline the tempest of his troubled thought :
Yet Blandamour, with termes of foule despight.
And Paridell her scornd, and set at nought,
As old and crooked and not good for ought.
Both they unwise, and warelesse of the evill
'J'hat by themselves unto themselves is wrought.
Through that false witch, and that foule aged drevill ;
The one a feend, the other an incarnate devill.

With whom as they thus rode accompanide.
They were encountred of a lustie knight
That had a goodly ladie by his side.
To whom he made great dalliance and delight ;
It was to weet the bold Sir Ferraugh hight.
He that from Brag^adochio whilome reft
The snowy Floriraell, whose beautie bright
INIade him seeme happie for so glorious theft ;
Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.

Which whenas Blandamour, whose fancie light

Was alwaies flitting as the wavering wind

After each beautie that appeard in sight,

Beheld ; eftsoones it prickt his wanton mind

^Vitll sting of lust that reasons eye did blind,

That to Sir Paridell these words he sent ;

" Sir knight, why ride ye dumpish thus behind,

Since so good fortune doth to you present

So fayre a spoyle, to make you ioyous meriment V

But Paridell, that had too late a tryall
Of tlie bad issue of his counsell vaine.
List not to hearke, but made this faire denyall ;
" Last turne was mine, well proved to my paine ;
Tliis now be yours ; God send you better gaine !"
Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in scorne.
Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in disdaine
Against that knight, ere he him well could torne ;
By meanes whereof he hath him lightly overborne.

Who, with the sudden stroke astonisht sore,

Upon the ground awhile in slomber lay ;

The whiles liis love away the other bore.

And, shewing her, did Paridell upbray ;

" Lo ! sluggish knight, the victors happie pray!

So fortune friends the bold." Whom Paridell

Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say.

His hart with secret envic gan to swell.

And inlv grudge at him that he had sped so well.

Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other deemed,

Having so peerlesse paragon ygot :

For sure the fayrest Florimell him seemed

To him WPS fallen for his ha})pie lot,

\Vhose like alive on eartli he weened not:

Therefore he her did court, did serve, did wooe,

With humblest suit that he imagine mot.

And all things did devise, and all things dooe.

That might jier love prepare, and liking win thereloo.

She, in regard thereof, him recompenst
With golden words and goodly countenance.
And such fond favours sparingly dispenst :
Sometimes liim blessing with a light eye-glance,
And coy lookes tempring with loose dalliance ;
Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise ;
That, having cast him in a foolish trance.
He seemed brought to bed in Paradise,
And prov'd himself most foole in what he seem'd
most wise.

So great a mistresse of her art she was,

And perfectly practiz'd in womans craft,

That though therein himselfe he thought to pas.

And by this false allurements wylie draft

Had thousand women of their love beraft.

Yet now he was surpriz'd : for that false spright,

Which that same witch had in this forme engraft,

Was so expert in every subtile slight.

That it could overreach the wisest earthly wight.

Yet he to her did dayly service more.

And dayly more deceived was tliereby ;

Yet Paridell him envied tlierefore.

As seeming plast in sole felicity :

So blind is lust fidse colours to descry.

But Ate soone discovering his desire.

And finding now fit opportunity

To stirre up strife twixt love and spight and ire,

Did privily put coles unto his secret fire.

By sundry meanes thereto she prickt him forth ;
Now with remembrance of those spightfuU speaches,
Now with opinion of his owne more worth.
Now with recounting of like former breaches
Made in their friendship, as that hag him teaches:
And ever, when his passion is allayd.
She it revives, and new occasion reaches :
That, on a time as they together way'd,
He made him open chalenge, and thus boldly sayd ;

" Too boastfull Blandamour ! too long I heare
The open wrongs thou doest me day by day :
Well know'st thou, when we friendship first did swear
The covenant was, that every spoyle or pray
Should equally be shard betwixt us tway :
Where is my part then of this ladie bright.
Whom to thyselfe thou takest quite away?
Render therefore therein to me my right.
Or answere for thy wrong as shall fall out in fight."

Exceeding wroth thereat was Blandamour,
And gan this bitter answore to him make ;
" Too foolish Paridell ! that fayrest floure
Wouldst gather faine, and yet nopaineswouldsttake
But not so easie will I her forsake ;
This hand her wonne, that hand shall her defend."
With that they gan their shivering speares to shake
And deadly points at cithers breast to bend,
ForgetfuU each to have bene ever others frend.

Canto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

193

Their firie steedes with so untamed forse
Did beare them both to fell avenges end,
That both their speares witli pitilesse remorse
Through sliiekl and mavle and haberieon did wend,
And in their flesh a g-riesly passage rend,
That with the furie of their owne aft'ret
Each other horse and man to ground did send ;
Where, Iving- still awhile, both did foi'get
The perilous present stownd in which their lives
were set.

As when two warlike brigandines at sea.

With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight.

Do meete together on the watry lea,

They stemme ech other with so fell despiglit,

That with the shocke of tlieir owne heedlesse might

Their wooden ribs are shaken nigh asonder ;

They which from shore behold the dreadfull sight

Of flashing fire, and heare the ordeiiance thonder,

Do greatly stand amaz'd at such unwonted wonder.

At length they both upstarted in amaze,
As men awaked rashly out of dreme,
And round about themselves a wliile did gaze ;
Till seeing her, that Florimell did seme,
In doubt to whom she victorie should deeme.
Therewith their dulled sprights thev edgd anew,
And, drawing both their swords with rage extreme,
Like two mad mastiffes each on other flew.
And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and
helmes did hew.

So furiously each other did assayle.

As if their soules they would attonce have rent

Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle

Adowne, as if their springs of life were spent ;

That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,

And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore ;

Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent,

So mortall was their malice and so sore

Become, of fayned friendship which they vow'd afore.

And that which is for ladies most befiiting.
To stint all strife, and foster friendly peace,
Was from those dames so farre and so unfitting.
As that, instead of praying them surcease.
They did much more their cruelty encrease ;
Bidding them fight for honour of their love.
And rather die then ladies cause reiease : [move.
With which vaine termes so mucli they did them
That both resolv'd the last extremities to prove.

There they, I weene, would fight untill this day.
Had not a squire, even he the sc)uire of dames.
By great adventure travelled that way ;
Who seeing both bent to so bloudy g'ames.
And both of old well knowing by their names,
Diew nigh, to weete the cause of their debate :
And first laide on those ladies thousand blames,
That did not seeke t' appease their deadly hate, '
Hut gazed on their hannes not pittying their estate

And then those knights he humbly did beseech
To stay their hands, till he awhile had spoken:
Who lookt a little up at that bis speech,
^'et would not let their battell so be broken,
]5oth greedie fiers on other to be wroken.
^ et he to them so earnestly did call.
And them coniur'd by some well knowen token,
Tliat they at last their wrothfuU hands let full,
Content to heare him speake, and glad to rest withaU

First he desir'd their cause of strife to see :

They said, it was for love of Florimell. [bee,

"Ah! gentle knights," quoth he, " liow may that

And she so farre astray, as none can tell !"

" Fond stjuire," full angry then sayd Paridell,

" Seest not the ladie there before thy face I"

He looked backe, and, her avising well,

Weend, as he said, by that her outward grace

That fayrest Florimell was present there m place.

Glad man was he to see that ioyous sight,
For none alive but ioy'd in Florimell,
And lowly to her lowting thus behight;
" Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest excell.
This happie day I have to greete you well.
In which you safe I see, whom thousand lato
INIisdoubted lost through mischiefe that befell ;
Long may you live in health and happie state !"
She litle answer'd him, but liglitly did aggrate.

Then, turning to those knights, he gan anew ;
" And you. Sir Blandamour, and Paridell,
That for this ladie present in your vew
Have rays'd this cruell warre and outrage fell,
Certes, me seemes, bene not advised well ;
But rather ought in friendship for her sake
To ioyne your force, their forces to repell
That seeke perforce her from you both to take,
And of your gotten spoyle their owne triumph to
make."

Thereat Sir Blandamour, with countenance sterna

All full of wrath, thus fiercely him bespake ;

" Aread, thou squire, that [ the man may learne,

That dare fro me thinke Florimell to take ! "

" jN ot one," quoth lie, " but many doe jiartake

Herein ; as thus : it lately so beiell.

That Satyran a girdle did uptake

Well knowne to appertaiue to FhTimell,

Which for her sake he wore, as him beseemed well

" But, whenas she herselfe was lo^t nnd gone,
Full many knights, that loved hf^r like d("are,
Thereat did greatly grudge, tliat he ai me
That lost faire ladies ornament should weave.
And gan therefore clos;^ spiglit to him to beare ;
\\ hu-h he to shun, and slop vile envies stills'.
Ihith la:ely caus'd to be proclaim'd each wtie-f»
A soler.iiie feast, wi'h publike turneying.
To which all knights with them thiir ladies are tO
brinu' o

J9i

rilK FAERIE Ql.'EKNE.

[Book IV

" And oftliPin all slie, that is fayrest found,
SIr.il! btive tliat golden ijirdle for reward ;
Ant! of thor^e knis;lits, who is most stout on ground,
Shall to that fairest hulie he yirefard.
Since therefore she herselfe is nov/ your ward.
To vou that ornament of hers pertaines,
Against all those that chalenge it, fo gard,
And save her honour with your ventrous paines ;
That shall vou win more glory than ye here find
gaines."

xxviir.

When tliey the reason of his words had hard.
They gan abate the rancour of their rage,
And with their honours and their loves regard
The furious flames of malice to ass wage.
Tho each to other did his faith engage.
Like faithful! friends thenceforth to ioyne in one
With all their force, and battell strong to wage
Gainst all those knights, as their professed fone.
That chaleng'd ought in Florimell, save they alone.

So, well accorded, forth they rode together

In friendly sort, that lasted but a while ;

And of all old dislikes they made faire weather :

Yet all was forg'd and spred with golden foyle,

That under it hidde hate and hollow guyle.

Ne certes can that friendship long endure,

However gay and goodly he the style.

That doth ill cause or evill end enure:

Forvertue is the band that bindeth harts most sure.

Tlius as they marched all in close disguise

Of fayned love, they chaunst to overtake

'J'wo knights that lincked rode in lovely wise,

As if tliey secret counsels did partake ;

And each not farre behinde him had his make,

To weete, two ladies of most goodly hew.

That twixt themselves did gentle jmrpose make,

UnnundfuU both of that discordfull crew.

The which with speedie pace did after them pursew:

Wlio, as they now approched nigh at hand,

JJeeming them doughtie as they did appeare.

They sent that s(|uire afore, to understand

What mote they be : who, viewing them moreneare,

Returned readie newes, that those same weare

Two of the prowest knights in Faery Lond ;

And these two ladies their two lovers deare ;

Couragious Cambell, and stout Triamond,

With Canacee and Cambine linckt in lovely bond.

Wliylome, as antique stories tellen us,
'I'hose two were foes the fellonest on ground,
And battell made the dreddest daungerous
That ever shrilling trumpet did resound ;
Though now their acts be no where to be found,
As that renownied poet them compyled
With w arlike numbers and heroicke sound,
Uan Cliaucer, well of English undcfyled,
On fames etertall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

But wicked time that all good thoughts doth waste;
And workes of noblest wits to nought outweare,
Tiiat famous moniment hath cjuite defaste.
And robd the world of threasure endlssse deare.
The which mote have enriched all us heare.
O cursed eld, the canker-worme of writs !
How may these rimes, so rude as doth appeare,
Hope to endure, sith workes of heavenly wits
Are quite devourd, and brought to nought by hfl3
bits!

Then pardon, O most sacred happie spirit,

That I thy labours lost may thus revive.

And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,

That none durst ever whitest thou wast alive.

And, being dead, in vaine yet many strive:

Ne dare I like ; but, through infusion sweete

Of thine owne spirit which doth in me survive,

I follow here the footing of thy feete.

That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.

Camhelloes sister was fayre Canacee,
That was the learnedst ladie in her dayes.
Well seene in everie science that mote bee.
And every secret worke of nature's wayes ;
In wittie riddles ; and in wise soothsaves ;
In power of herbes ; and tunes of beasts and burds ;
And, that augmented all her other prayse.
She modest was in all her deedes and words.
And wondrous chast of life, yet lov'd of knights and
lords.

Full many lords and many knights her loved.

Yet she t9 none of them her liking lent,

Ne ever was with fond affection moved,

But rul'd her thoughts with goodly governement,

For dread of blame and honours blemishment ;

And eke unto lier lookes a law she made.

That none of them once out of order went,

But, like to warie centonels well stayd.

Still watcht on every side, of secret foes afrayd,

XXXVII.

So much the more as she refusd to love.
So much the more she loved was and sought.
That oftentimes unquiet strife did move
Amongst her lovers, and grea' quarrels wrought ;
That oft for her in bloudie amies they fought.
Which wheniis Cambell, that was stout and wise,
Pcrceiv'd would breede groat mischiefe, he be-
How to prevent the pcrill that mote rise, [thought
And turne both him and her to honour in this wise.

One day, when all that troupe of warlike wooers
Assembled were, to weet whose she sliould bee.
All mightie men and dreadful! derring dooers,
(The harder it to make them well agree,)
Amongst them all this end lie did decree ;
That, of them all which love to her did make.
They by consent should chose tho stoutest three
That Willi himselfe should combat for her sake.
And of them all the victour should his sister take.

^'an'to II.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE

19f

Bold was the chalenge, as himselfe was bold,
And courage full of haughtie hardiment,
Apjiroved oft in perils manifold,
Which he atchiev'd to his great ornament :
But j'et his sisters skill unto liim lent
]Most confidence and hope of happie speed,
Conceived by a ring- which she him sent,
That, mongst the manie vertues which we reed,
Had power to staunch al wounds that mortally did
bleed.

Well was that rings great vertue knowen to all ;
That dread thereof, and his redoubted might,
Did all that youthly rout so much appall.
That none of them durst undertake the fight:
!More wise they weend to make of love delight
Then life to hazard for faire ladies looke ;
And vet uncertaine by such outward siglit.
Though for her sake they all that perill tooke,
VVliether she would them love, or in her likinc
brooke.

Amongst those knights there were three brethren
Three bolder brethren never were yborne, [bold.
Borne of one mother in one happie mold,
Borne at one burden in one happie morne ;
Thrise happie motlier, and thrise happie morne.
That bore three such, three such not to be fond !
Her name was Agape, whose children werne
All three as one ; the first hight Priamond,
The second Dyamond, 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 horsebaoke used Triamond to fight,

And PriamQ;id on foote had more delight ;

But horse and foote knew Diamond to wield :

With curtaxe used Diamond to smite,

And Triamond to handle speare and shield.

But speare and curtaxe both usd Priamond in field.

These three did love each other dearely well,
And with so firme affection were allyde,
As if but one soule in them all did dwell,
Which did her powre into three parts divyde ;
Like three faire branches budding farre and wide.
That from one roote deriv'd their vitall sap :
And, like that roote that doth her life divide,
Tlieir motlier was ; and had full blessed hap
These three so noble babes to bring forth at one clap.

Their mother was a fay, and liad the skill
Of secret things, and all the powres of nature,
Which she by art could use unto her will,
And to her service bind each living creature,
'I hrough secret understanding of their feature.
Thereto she was right faire, whenso her face
She list discover, and of goodly stature ;
But she, as fayes are wont, in privie place
Did spend her dayes, and lov'd in forests wjld to
space.

There on a day a noble youthly knight.
Seeking adventures in the salvage wood.
Did by great fortune get of her the sight.
As she sate carelesse by a cristall flood.
Combing her golden lockes, as seemd her good ;
And unawares upon her laying hold.
That strove in vaine him long to have withstood,
Oppressed her, and there (as it is told)
Got these three lovely babes, that prov'd three chani«
pions bold : ^

XLVI.

Which she with her long fostred in that wood,
Till that to ripenesse of mans state they grew :
Then, shewing forth signes of their fathers blood.
They loved amies, and knighthood did ensew.
Seeking adventures where they anie knew.
Which when their mother saw, she gan to dout
Their safetie ; least by searching daungers new
And rash provoking perils all about,
Their days mote be abridged through their corago
stout.

Therefore desirous th' end of all their dayes
To know, and them t' enlarge with long extent.
By wondrous skill and many hidden wayes
To the three fatall sisters house she went ;
Farre under ground from tract of living went,
Downe in the bottome of the deepe abysse.
Where Demogorgon in dull darknesse pent
Farre from the view of gods and heavens bliss
The hideous chaos keepes, their dreadfull dwelling

There she them found all sitting round about
The direfuU distaffe standing in the mid.
And with unwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from living knowledge hid.
Sad Clotho held the rocke, the whiles the thrid
By griesly Lachesis was spun with paine,
Tliat cruell Atropos eftsoones undid,
\Vith cursed knife cutting the twist in twaine :
Most wretched men, whose dayes depend on thrida
so vaine !

She, them saluting there, by them sate still

Beholding how the thrids of life they span :

j\nd when at last she had beheld her fill.

Trembling in heart, and looking pale and wan.

Her cause of comming she to tell began.

To whom fierce Atropos ; " Bold fay, that durst

Come see the secret of the life of man,

\Vell wortliie thou to be of love accurst.

And eke thy childrens thrids to be asunder burst

Whereat she sore affrayd vet her besought
To graunt her boone, and rigour to abate.
That she might see her childrens thrids forth brough
And know the measure of their utmost date
To them ordained by eternall fate :
\^ hich (Totho grauuting shewed her the same.
That when she saw, it did her much amate
'i'o see their thrids so thin, as spiders frame.
And eke so short, that seemd their ends out shortly
came. 2

f96

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV

She then began them humbly to intreute
'Jo draw them longer out, and better twine,
'That so their lives might be prolonged late :
Hut Lacliesis thereat gan to repine,
And sayd ; " Fond dame ! that deem'st of things
As of humane, that they may altred bee, [divine

And chaung'd at pleasure for those impes of thine :
Not so ; for what the fates do once decree.
Not all the gods can chaunge, nor love himself can
free !"

" Then since," quoth she, " the terme of each mans
For nought may lessened nor enlarged bee ; [life
(Jraunt this ; that when ve shred with fatall knife
His line, wliich is the eldest of the three,
Which is of them the shortest, as I see,
Eftsoones his life may passe into the next ;
And, when the next shall likewise ended bee,
That both their lives may likewise be annext
Unto th third, that his may be so trebly wext."

They graunted it ; and then that carefull Fay
Departed thence with full contented mynd ,
And, comming home, in warlike fresh arav
Them found all three according to their kynd ;
But unto tliem what destinie was assynd.
Or how their lives were eekt, she did not tell ;
But evermore, when she fit time could fvnd,
She warned them to tend their safeties well.
And love each other deare, whatever them' befell.

So did they surely during all their dayes,
And never discord did amongst them fall ;
Which much augmented all their other praise :
And now, t' increase affection naturall.
In love of Canacee they ioyned all :
Upon which ground this same great battell grew
(Great matter growing of beginning small,)
The which, for length, I will not here pursew.
But rather will reserve it for a canto new.

CANTO III,

The Battell twixt three brethren with

Cambell for Canacee :
Cambina with true friendships bond

Doth their long strife agree.

! WHY doe wretched men so much desire
To draw their dayes unto the utmost date.
And doe not rather wish them soone expire;
Knowing the miserie of their estate.
And thousand perills which them still awate.
Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne.
That every houre they knocke at Deathes gate !
And he that happie seemes and least in payne,
Yet is as nigh his end as he that most doth playne.

Therefore this fay I hold but fond and vaine,
Tlie which, in seeking for her children three
Eong life, thereby did more prolong their paine :
Yet whilest they lived none did ever see
j\lore happie creatures then they seem'd to bee ;
I'.'rr more ennobled for their courtesie,
'I liar, made them dearelv lov'd of each degree;
IS'(> more n'nownied for their chevalrie,
'I hat made them dreaded much of all men farre and
nie.

These three that bardie chalenge tooke in band,
For Canacee with Cambell for to fight :
The day was set, that all might understand,
And pledges pawnd the same to keepe aright:
That day, (the dreddest day that living wight
Did ever see upon this world to shine,)
So soone as heavens window showed light,
1'bese warlike champions, all in armour shine,
Assembled were in field the chalenge to define.

The field with listes was all about enclos'd,
To barre the prease of people farre away ;
And at th' one side sixe iudges were dispos'd,
7"o view and deeme the deedes of armes that dayj
And on the other side in fresh aray
Fayre Canacee upon a stately stage
Was set, to see the fortune of that fray
And to be seene, as his most worthy wage
That could her jjurchase with his five's advent ur'd
gage.

Then entred Cambell first into the list,
With stately steps and fearelesse countenance.
As if the conquest his he surely wist.
Soone after did the brethren three advance
In brave aray and goodly amenance,
W'itii suctchins gilt and banners. broad displayd;
And, marciiing thrise in warlike ordinance,
Thtisc lowted lowly to the noble IMayd ;
The whiles shril trompets and loud clarions sweetly
playd.

Which doen, the doughty chalenger came forth.

All arm'd to point, his chalenge to abet :

Gainst whom Sir I'riamond, with equidl worth

And ecjuall amies, himselfe did forward set.

A trompet blew ; they both together met

With dreadfuU force and furious intent,

Carelesse of perill in their fiers atl'rot,

As if that life to losse they had forolent,

And cared not to spare that should be shortly spent.

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE

197

Right practicke was Sir Priamond in figlit,
And throughly skild in use of shield and speare ;
Ne lesse ppproved was Cambelloes might,
Ne lesse his skill in weapons did appeare ;
That hard it was to weone which harder were.
Full many mightie strokes on either side
Were sent, that seemed death in them to beare ;
]5at thev were both so watchfuU and well eyde,
That they avoyded were, and vainely by did slyde.

Yet one, of manv, was so strongly bent
]\\' Priamond. that with nnluckie glaunce
Tlirough Cambels shoulder it unwarely went,
That forced him his shield to disadvaunce :
Much was he grieved with that gracelesse chaunce ;
^'et from the wound no drop of bloud there fell,
ISiit wondrous paine that did the more enhaunce
Hi-i huughtie courai;e to aveni;ement fell :
Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes them
more to swell.

^V'ith that, his poynant speare he fierce aventred
With doubled force close underneath his shield,
That tlirough the mayles into his thigh it entred.
And, there arrestinrr, readie way did yield
For bloud to gush forth on the grassie field ;
That he for ])aine himselfe n'ot right upreai-e,
13ut to and fro in great amazement reel'd ;
Like an old oke, whose pith and sap is seare,
At puffe of every storme doth stagger here and theare.

Whom so dismayd when Cambell had espide,
Againe he drove at him with double migjit,
That nought mote stay the Steele, till in his side
The mortall point most cruelly empiglit ;
Where fast infixed, whilest he sought by slight
It forth to wrest, the staffe asunder brake.
And left the iiead behinde : with which despight
Ife all enrag'd his shivering speare did shake.
And charging him afresh thus felly him bespake :

" Lo ! faitour, there thy meede unto tliee take,
The meede of thy mischalenge and abet :
Not for tliine owne, but for thy sisters sake,
Have I thus long thy life unto iliee let :
But to forheare doth not forgive the det."
The wicked weapon heard his wrathfuU vow ;
And, passing forth with furious aft'ret,
Pierst through his bever quite into his brow.
That with the force it backward forced him to bow.

Therewith asunder in the midst it brast.

And in his hand nought but the troncheon left ;

The other lialfe behind yet sticking fast

Out of his head-peec;- Cambeli fii-rcely reft.

And with such furie baeke at him it ht-ft,

That, making way unto his dearest life.

His weasand-pipe it through his gorget cleft :

Thence streames of puqile bloud is.'-uing rife

Let forth his wearie ghost, and made an end of strife

His wearie ghost assoyld from fleshly band

Did not, as others wont, directly fly

llnto her rest in Plutoes griesly land ;

Ne into ayre did vanish presently ;

Ne chaunged was into a starre in sky ,

15ut through traduction was eftsoones derived.

Like as his mother prayed the Destinie,

Into his other brethren that survived.

In whom he liv'd anew, of former life deprived.

Whom when on ground his brother next beheld.
Though sad and sorrie for so heavy sight.
Yet leave unto his sorrow did not yeeld ;
But rather stir'd to vengeance and despight,
Tlirough secret feeling of his generous spright,
Ruslit fiercely forth, the battell to renew.
As in reversion of his brothers right ;
And chalenging the virgin as his dew.
His foe was soone addrest : the trompets freshly
blew.

With that they both together fiercely met.

As if that each ment other to devoure ;

And with their axes both so sorely bet.

That nether plate nor mayle, whereas their powre

They t'elt, could once sustaine the hideous stowre.

But rived were, like rotten wood, asunder; [sliowre,

\Vliilest through their rifts the ruddie bloud did

And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder,

1 iiatiild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.

As when two tygers prickt with hungers rage
Have by good fortune found some beasts fresh spovle,.
On which they weine their famine to asswnge.
And gaine a feastfull guerdon of their toyle ;
Both falling out doe siirre up strifefull broyle.
And cruell battell twixt themselves doe make.
Whiles neither lets the other touch the soyle.
But either sdeigns with other to partake :
So cruelly those knights strove for that ladies sake.

Full many strokes, that mortally were ment.
The whiles were interchaunged twixt them two ,
Yet thev were all ■with so good wariment
Or warded, or avovded and let goe.
That still the life stood fearelesse of her foe;
Till Diamond, disdeigning long delay
Ot douljtfuU cortune wavering to and fro,
Resolv'd to end it one or other way ;
And heav'd his murdrous axe at him with mighty
sway.

The dreadfull stroke, in case it liad arrived
Where it was ment, (so deadlv it was ment,)
The soule had sure out of his body nved,
And stinted all the strife incontinent ;
But Cambels fate that fortune did prevent :
Fo" , seeing it at hand, he swarv'd asyde,
And so gave wav unto his fell intent ;
Who, missing of the marke which he had e^-de,
Was with the force nigh feld whilst his right f:ot
did sb'de.

]98

THE FAERIE QL'EENE.

[Book IV

As when a vulture greedie of liis pray,
'J lii-oui>-li lum.o-er long that liart to liim dotli lend,
Strikes ;it an heron with all his bodies sway,
That from his force seemes nought may it defend ;
'1 he warie fowie, that spies him toward bend
lli:i (Ireadfull souse, avoydes it, shunning light.
And niaketh him his wing in vaine to spend ;
Tiiat with the weight of his owne weeldlesse might
He falleth ni^b to ground, and scarse recoveretb
flight.

Wliich faire adventure when Cambello spide.
Full liglitly, ere hiraselfe he could recower
From drtungers dread to ward his naked side.
He can let drive at him with all his power.
And with his axe him smote in evill hower,
That Irom his shoulders quite his head be reft :
The headlesse tronke, a; lieedlesse of that stov/er.
Stood still awhile, and his fast fooling- kept ;
Till, feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly slept.

Tliey, which that piteous spectacle beheld.

Were much amaz'd the headlesse tronke to see

Stand up so long and weapon vaine to weld,

Unweeting of the Fates divine decree

For lifes succession in tiiose brethren three.

For notwithstanding that one soule was reft.

Yet liad tlie bodie not dismembred bee.

It would have lived, and revived eft ;

But, finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse it left.

Yet nought thereof was 'I'riamond adredde,

Ne des])erate of glorious victorie ;

]3ut sharpely him assayld, and sore bestedde

With heapes of strolies, which be at him let flie'

As thicke a-j liayle forth poured from the skie:

He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, he lasht.

And did his yron brond so fast applie.

That from the same the fierie sparkles flasht,

As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rocke are das;

IMuch was Cambello daunted with Ins blowcs
So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent.
That he was forst from daunger of the throwes
Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent.
Till th' heat of his fierce furie he had sjjcnt :
Which when for want of breath gan to abate.
Fie tht^n afresh with new encouragement
Did him assayle, and mightily amate.
As fast, as forward erst, now backward to retrate

Like as the tide, that comes fro th' ocean mayne,
Flowes up the Shenan with contrarie forse.
And, over-ruling him in his owne rayne,
Drives backe the current of liis kindly course.
And makes it seeme to have some otlier sourse ;
lint wlien the flond is spent, then backe againe
His borrowed waters forst to re-disbonrse.
He sends the sea his owiie with double !;aine.
And tribute eke withall, as to his soveraine.

It left ; but that same soule which therein dwelt,

Streight entring into Triamond him fild

\\ ith double life and griefe ; which when ne felt.

As one whose inner parts had bene ytln-ild

^Vith point of Steele that close his hartbloud spild.

He lightly lept out of his place of rest.

And, rushing forth into tlie em])tie field,

Against Cambello fiercely him addrest ;

Who, him aft'ronting soone, to fight was I'eadie prest.

Well mote ye wonder how tliat noble knight.
After he had so often wounded beene,
(]oidd stand on foot now to renew the fight :
But had ye then him forth advauncing seeno.
Some newborne wight ye would him surely weene ;
So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight ;
Like as a snake, whom wearie winters teene
Hath worne to nought, now feeling sommers might
Casts off bis ragged skin and freshly doth him dight.

All was, through vertue of the ring he wore ;
The wliich not onely did not from liim let
One dro]) of bloud to fall, but did restore
His weakned powers, and dulled spirits wliet,
Throunh working of the stone tlierein yset.
Else how could one of e(|uall might with most,
Against so many no lesse mightie met.
Once thinke to match tliree such on ecjuall cost.
Three such as able were to match i puissant host 'l

xxvm.

T'jus <lid the battell varie to and fro.

With diverse fortune doubtfull to be deemed :

Now this the better had, now bad bis fo ;

Then be halfe vancpiisbt, then the other seemed ;

Yet victors both tliemselves alwayes esteemed :

And all the while the disenlrayled blood

Adowne their sides like litle rivers stremed.

That witJi the wasting of his vital! flood

Sir Triamond at last full faint and feeble stood.

But Cambell still more strong and greater grew,
Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres emperisht,
Through that rings vertue, that with vigour nevr^
Still whenas lie enfeebled was, him cherisht.
And all bis wounds and all his bruses guarisht :
Like as a withered tree, through husbands toyle^
Is oiten seene full freshly to have florisbt.
And frnitfuU ajiples to have borne awhile.
As fresh as when it first was planted in the soyl**

Through which advantage, in his strength he rose

And smote the other with so wondrous might,

That through the seame which did bis hauberk close

Into his throate and life it pierced cjuight.

That downe he fell as dead in all mens sight:

Vet devid he \\as not ; yet lie sure dill die.

As all men do that lose the living sjinglit:

So did oiif soule out of his bodie iiie

Unto her native home fiom mortall miserie.

Can-to III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

199

But nathelesse whilst all the lookers-on

Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,

\11 unawares he started up anon,

As one that had out of a dreme bene reard,

And fresh assayld his foe ; who halfe affeard

Of th' uncouth sight, as he some ghost had seene,

Stood still amaz'd, holding his idle sweard ;

Till, having often by him stricken beene,

He forced was to strike and save himselfe from teene.

Yet from thenceforth more waril}'' he fought,
As one in feare the Stygian gods t' offend,
Ke foUowd on so fast, but rather sought
Himselfe to save, and daunger to defend.
Then life and labour botli m vaine to spend.
Which Triamond perceiving, weened sure
He gan to faint toward the battels end,
And that he should not long on foote endure ;
A signe which did to him the victorie assure.

XXXIII.

Whereof full With eftsoones his mightie hand
He heav'd on high, in mind with that same blow
To make an end of all tliat did withstand :
Which Cambell seeing come was nothing slow
Himselfe to save from that so deadlv throw;
And at that instant reaching forth his sweard
Close underneath his shield, that scarce did show,
Stroke bim, as he his hand to strike upreard.
In th' arm-pit full, that through both sides the
wound appeard.

XXXIV.

Yet still that direfull stroke kept on his way.
And, falling heavie on Cambelloes crest,
Strooke him so hugely that in swowne he lay,
And in his head' an liideous wound imprest:
And sure, had it not happily found rest
Upon the brim of his hrode-plateJ shield.
It would have cleft his braine downe to his brest :
So both at once fell dead upon the field.
And each to other seemd the victorie to yield.

Which whenas all the lookers-on beheld,
They weened sure tjie warre was at an end ;
And iudgf s rose ; and marslials of the firld
Broke up the listes, their amies away to rend ;
And Canacee gan wa\ le her dearest frend.
All suddenly they both upstarted light,
1 he one out of the swownd which him did blend,
The other breathing now another spriglit :
And fiercely each assayling gan afresh to fight.

Long while they then continued in that wize,

As if hut then the battell had begonne : [despise ,

Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did

Ne either car'd to ward, or perill shonne,

Desirous both to have the battell donne ;

Ne either cured life to save or spill,

Ne wliich of them did winne, ne which were wonne •

So wearie both of fighting had their fill,

That life itselfe s-'emd loathsome, and long safetie ill.

Whilst thus the case in doubtfull ballance hong.
Unsure to whether side it would incline.
And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among
Stood gazing, filled were with ruful line
And secret feare, to see their fatall fine ;
All suddenly they heard a troublous noyes,
That seemd some perilous tumult to desine,
Confus'd with womens cries and shouts of boyes,
Such as the troubled theatres ofttimes annoyes.

XXXVIII.

Thereat the champions botli stood still a space.

To weeten what that sudden clamour merit :

Lo ! where they spyde with sjieedie wliirling pace

One in a charet of straunge furniment

Towards them driving like a storme out sent.

Tlie charet decked was in wondrous wize

AVith gold and many a gorgeous ornament,

After the Persian monarks antique guize.

Such as the maker selfe could best by art devize.

And drawne it was (that wonder is to fell)
Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood
In which their powre all others did e.xcell.
Now made forget their former cruell mood,
T' obey their riders best, as seemed good :
And therein sate a lady passing faire
And bright, that seemed borne of angels brood ;
And, with her beautie, bountie did comjiure,
Whether of them in her should have the greater
share.

Thereto she learned was in magicke leare.
And all the artes that sublill wits discover,
Having therein bene trained many a yeare,
And well instructed by the fay her motiier,
That in the same she farre exceld all other :
Who, understanding by her mightie art
Of th' evill plight in which her dearest brother
Now stood, came forth in hast, to take his part.
And pacifie the strife which causd so deadly smart.

And, as she passed through th' unruly preace
Of people thronging thicke her to behold.
Her angrie teame breaking their bonds of peace
Great heapes of them, like sheepe in narrow fold.
For hast did over-runne in dust enrould ;
That, thorough rude confusion of the rout.
Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed hould.
Some laught for sport, some did for wonder shout.
And some, that would seeme wise, their wonder
turnd to dout.

In her right hand a rod of peace shee bore,

Ahout tlie which two serpents weren wound,

Entrayled mutually in lovely lore.

And by the tailes together lirmely bound,

And both were with one olive garland crownd ;

(Like to the rod which Maias Sonne doth wield,

\Vherewith the hellisli fiends he doth confound ;)

And in her othe-r hand a cup she hild,

The which was with Ne])entlie to the brim upfild.

?00

THE FAERIE QUP:ENE.

[Boos IV.

Nepenthe is a driiick of soverayne grace,
Devized by the gods for to nsswage
Harts grief, and bitter gall .iway to chace
Which stirs up anguish and contentious rage :
Instead thereof sweet peace and quietage
It doth establish in the troubled mynd.
Few men, but such as sober are and sage,
Are by the gods to drinck thereof assynd ;
But siach as drinck, eternall happinesse do fynd.

Such famous men, such worthies of the earth,
As love will have advaunced to the skie,
And there made gods, though borne of mortull berth.
For their high merits and great dignitie.
Are wont, before they may to heaven flie.
To drincke hereof ; whereby all cares forepast
Are washt away quite from their memorie :
So did those olde herol's hereof taste,
Before that they in blisse amongst the gods were
plaste.

XLV. ^

Much more of price and of more gratious powre

Is this, then that same water of Ardenne,

The which Rinaldo drunck in happie liowre.

Described by that fam.ous Tuscane penne :

For that had might to change the hearts of men

Fro love to hate, a change of evdl choise :

But tliis doth hatred make in love to brenne,

4nd heavy heart with comfort doth rejoyce.

Who would not to this vertue rather yeeld his voice !

^t last arriving by the listes side
.Sliee with lier rod did softly smite the raile,
Which straight flew ope and gave her way to ride.
Eftsoones out of her coch slie gan availe.
And pacing fairely forth did bid all haile
First to her brother whom she loved deare,
That so to see him made her heart to (|uaile ;
And next to Cambell, whose sad ruefuU clieare
Made her to change her hew, and hidden love t' ap-
peare.

XLVII.

rhey lightly her reqiiit, (for small delight

Fhev had as then her long to entertaine,)

\nd' eft them turned both againe to fight :

Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy plaine

Herselfe she threw, and teares gan shed amaine ;

■Vmongst her teares immixing prayers nieeke,

\m\ with her prayers reasons, to restraine

From blouddy strife; and, blessed peace to seeks,

I3y all that unto them was deare did them beseeke.

But whenas all might nought with them prevaile,
She smote them lightly with her jiowretull wand :
Then suddenly, as if their hearts did ftile,
Their wratlifull blades downe fell out of their hand.
And thev, like men astonisht, still did stand.
Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully distraught,
And mighty spirites bound with mightier band,
lier golden cup to them for drinke she raught.
Whereof, full glad for thirst, ech drunk an harty
draught :

Of which so soone as they once tasted had,
A\'onder it is that sudden change to see :
Instead of strikes, each otiier kissed glad.
And lovely haulst, from feare of treason free,
And plighted hands, for ever friends to be.
When all men saw this sudden change of things,
So mortall foes so friendly to agree,
For passing icy, which so great niarvaile brings.
They all gan sliout aloud, that all the heaven rings.

All which when gentle Canacee beheld.
In hast she from her lofty chaire descended.
To weet what sudden tidings was befeld :
Where wlien she saw that cruell war so ended.
And deadly foes so faithfully atfrended.
In lovely wise she gan that lady greet,
Which had so great dismay so well amended ;
And, entertaining her with curt'sies meet,
Profest to her true friendship and affection sweet.

Thus when they all accorded goodly were,
I he trumpets sounded, and they all arose.
Thence to depart with glee and gladsome chere.
Those warlike chamjiions both together chose
Homeward to march, themselves there to repose :
And wise Cambina. taking by her side
Faire Canacee as fresh as morning rose.
Unto her coch remounting, home did ridp,
Admir'd of all the people and much glorifide.

Where making ioyous feast their daies tliey spent
In perfect love, devoide of hatefull strife,
ATlide with hands of inulindl couplement ;
For Triamond had Canacee to wife.
With whom he ledd a long and happie life ;
And Cainbel tooke Cambina to his fere,
Tiie which as life were each to other liefe.
So all alike did love, and loved were.
That since their days such lovers were not fouad
elswere.

Casto IV.l

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

201

CANTO IV.

Satyrane makes a turneyment

For love of Fiorimell :
Britoman winnes the prize from all.

And Artegall dotli quell.

It often fals, (as here it earst befell,)
That mortall foes doe turne lo fuitbfull frends,
And friends profest are chaungd to foenien fell :
The cause of both of both their minds depends ;
And th' end of both likewise of both their ends:
For enmitie, that of no ill proceeds
Hut of occasion, with th' occasion ends ;
And friendship, which a faint aflection breeds
\Vitliout regard of good, dyes like ill-grounded seeds.

That well (me seemes) appeares by that of late

Twixt Cambell and Sir '1 riamond befell ;

As als by this ; that now a new debate

8tird up twixt jjlandaniour and Paridell,

'I he which by course befals me here to tell :

Who, having those two other knights espide

JMarching' afore, as ye remember well,

Sent forth their squire to have them both descride,

And eke those masked ladies riding them beside.

Who backe returning told, as he had seene.
That tliev were douglitie knights of dreaded name;
And those two ladies ti.eir ti\o loves unseene ;
And therefore wisht them without blot oi- blame
To let them passe at will, fur dread of shame.
But Blandamour full of vain-glorious spright,
And rather stird by his discordfull dame.
Upon them gladly would have prov'd his might,
But that he yet was sore of his late lucklesse tight.

Yet nigh apprcching he them fowle bespake,
Disgracmg them, himselfe thereby to grace
As was his wont ; so weening way to make
To ladies love, whereso he came in place,
And with lewd termes their lovers to 'leface.
Whose sharjje provokement them incenst so sore.
That both were bent t' avenge his usage base.
And gan their shields addresse themselves afore :
For evill deedes may better then bad words be bore.

But faire Cambina with perswasions myld
Did mitigate the fiercenesse of their mode.
That for the present they were reconcyl'd,
And gan to treate of deeds of amies abrode,
And strange adventures, all the wav they rode:
Amongst the which they told, as then befell,
Of that great turney which was blazed brode,
For that rich girdle of faire Florimeil,
The prize of her which did in beautie most excell.

To which folke-mote they all with one consent,

Sitli each of them his ladie had him by,

Whose beautie each of them thought excellent.

Agreed to tiavell, and their fortunes try.

So as they passed forth, they did espy

One in bright armes with ready speare in rest.

That toward them his course seem'd to apply ;

Gainst whom Sir Parid.ell himselfe addrest,

Him weening, ere he uigh approcht, to have represt.

vn.

\Vhich th' other seeing gan his course relent,
And vaunted si)eare eftsoones to disadvaunce,
As if he naught but peace and pleasure menl,
Now falne into their fellowship by chance ;
Whereat they shewed curteous countenaunce.
So as he rode witli them accompanide,
His roving eie did on the lady glaunce
Which Blandamour had riding by his side :
Whom sure he weend that he somewhere tofore had
eide.

It was to weete that snowy Fiorimell,
Which Ferraii late from Braggadochio wonne ;
Whom he now seeing, her remembred well.
How having relt her from the witches sonne.
He soone her lost : wherefore he now begunne
To challenge her anew, as his owne prize,
Whom formerly he had in battell wonne,
And profler made by force her to reprize :
Which scurneiuU offer Blandamour gan soone des-
pize ;

IX.

And said ; " Sir Knight, sith ye this lady clame.

Whom he that hath were loth to lose so light,

( For so to lose a lady were great shauie,)

Yee shall her winiie, as I have done, in tight :

And lo ! shee shall be placed here in sight

Together with this hag beside her set,

Thcu whoso winnes her may her have by right ;

But he shall have the hag that is'ybet,

And with her alwaies ride, till he anotlier get."

lliat offer pleased all the comjiany .

So Florimeil wi'.b Ate forth was brought,

At whicli they all gan laugh full merrily:

But Braggadochio said, he never thought

For such an hag, that seemed worst then nought,

His person to emi)erill so in fight :

But if to match that lady they had sought

Another like, that were like faire and bright,

His life he then would spend to iustifie his right.

102

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boor IV

At which his vaine excuse they all gan smile.

As scorning his uniuanly cowardize :

And Florimell him lowly gaa revile,

That for lier sake ret'us'd to enterprize

The battell, offred in so knightly wize ;

And Ate eke provokt him privily

With love of bar, and shame of much mesprize.

Hut naught he car'd for friend or enemy ;

For ill base mind nor friendshij) dwels nor enmity.

l>ut Camhell thus did shut up all in iest ;

'• 15rave knights and ladies, certes ye do wrong

To stirre up strife, when most us needeth rest,

'i'hat we may us reserve both fresh and strong

Against die turneiment 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."

They all agreed ; so, turning all to game
And pleasaunt bord, they past forth on their way ;
And all that while, whereso they rode or came ;
■ 'J'hat Tuasked mock-knight was their sport and play.
Till that at length upon th' appointed day
Unto the place of turneyment they came ;
^\'here they before them found in fresh aray
iNIanie a brave knight and manie a daintie dame
'assembled for to get the honour of that game.

There this faire crew arriving did divide
Themselves asunder: Blandamour with those
Of iiis on th' one, the rest on th' other side,
iiut boastful Braggadochio rather chose.
For glorie vaine, their fellowship to lose,
That men on him the more might gaze alone.
The rest themselves in troupes did else dispose,
Like as it seemed best to every one ;
The kuights in couples marcht with ladies linckt
attoue.

Then first of all forth came Sir Satyrane,

Jiearing that jirecious relicke in an arke

Of gold, that bad eyes might it not prophane ;

Which drawing softly forth out of tlie darke,

lie open shewd, that all men it mote marke ;

A gorgeous girdle, curiously embost [marke ;

With pearle and precious stone, worth many a

Yet did the worki'nanship farre passe the cost :

It was the same which lately Florimell had lost.

The same alofte he hung in open vew,
'J"o be the prize of beautie ind of might ;
The which, eftsoones discovered, to it drew
The eyes of all, allur'd witli close delight,
And hearts quite robbed with so glorious sight,
I'hat all men threw out vowes and wishes vaine.
'J'hrise liappie ladie, and thrise happie knight.
Them seemd that could so goodly riches gaine.
So worthie of the perill, worthy of the paine.

Then tooke the bold Sir Satyrane in hand

An huge great s|ieare, such as he wont to wield,

And, vauncing forth from all the other band

Of knights, addrest his maiden-headed shield.

Shewing himselfe all ready for the field :

Gainst whom there singled from the other side

A Painim knight that well in armes was skil'd.

And had in many a battell oft bene tride,

Hight Bruncheval the bold, who fiersly forth did ride

So furiously they both together met.

That neither could the others force sustaine :

As two fierce buls, that strive the rule to get

Of all the heard, ineete with so hideous maine.

That both rebutted tumble on the plaine ;

So these two champions to the ground were feld ;

Where in a maze they both did long remaine.

And in their hands their idle troncheons held,

\Vhich neither able were to wag, or once to weld.

Wliich when the noble Ferramont espide.
He pricked forth in avd of Salyran ;
And him against Sir Blandamour did ride
With all the strength and slifnesse that he can :
]5ut the more strong and stiflTely that he ran,
So much more sorely to the ground he fell,
That on an heape were tumbled horse and man .
Unto whose rescue forth rode Paridell ;
But him likewise with that same speare he eke did
quell.

XX.

Which Braggadochio seeing had no will

To hasten greatly t'j his parties ayd,

Albee his turne were next , but stood there still,

As one that seemed doubtfuU or dismayd :

But Triamond, halfe wroth to see him staid.

Sternly stept forth and raught away his speare,

^^'ith which so sore he Ferramont assaid,

'i'hat horse and man to ground he quite did beare,

That neither could in hast themselves again upreure

Which to avenge Sir Devon him did dight,

Iiut with no better fortune than the rest ;

For him likewise he (juickly downe did smight :

And after him Sir l^ouglas him addrest ;

And after him Sir Paliniord forth jirest ;

Jiut none oi them against his strokes could stand ;

Pnit, all the more, the more his praise increst :

For either they were lel't upon the land,

Or went away sore wounded of his haplesse hand.

And now by this Sir Satyrane ahraid

Out of the swo'.vne, in which too long he lay ;

And looking round about, like one dismaid,

\\ henas he saw the mercilesse affray

\Viiich doughty Triamond had wrought that day

Unto the noble knights of Maidenhead,

I lis mighty heart did almost rend in twuy

For very gall, that rather wholly dead

Himselfe he vvisht have beene then iu so bad a stead.

Canto IV.]

THE FAERIE QUKEXE.

203

Eftsoones he gan to p^atlier u-p around

His weajions which lav scattered all abrode,

Atul, as it fell, his steed he readv found :

On whom remounting fiercely forth he rode,

Like sparke of fire tliat from the andvile glode,

Tliere where he saw the valiant Triamond

Chasing, and laying- on them heavy lode,

That none liis force were able to withstond ;

So dreadful! were Lis strokes, so deadly was his bond.

With that, at him his boamlike speare he aimed,
And thereto all his power and miL;lit applide :
The wicked Steele tor miscliiefe first ordained
And liaving now misfortune got for guide,
Staid not till it arrived in his side,
And therein made a ver}' griesly wound,
That streames of blood his armour all bedide.
Much was he daunted with that direfull stownd,
TJjat scarse he him ujjheld from fulling in a sound.

Yet, as he might, himselfe he soft withdrew
Out of the field, that none perceiv'd it plaine ■
Then gan the ])art of chalengers anew
To range the field, and viclorlike to raine,
Ihat none against them battell durst maintaine.
Bv that the gloorav evening on them fell,
Tiiat forced them from fighting to refraine.
And trumpets sound to cease did them compell :
So Satyrane that day was iudg'd to beare the bell.

The morrow next the tuniey gan anew ;
And with tlie first the hardy Satvrane
Appear'd in place, with all his noble crew :
On th' other side full many a warlike swaine
Assembled were, that glorious ])rize to gaine.
But mongst them all was not Sir Triamond ;
Unable he new battell to darraine.
Through grievaunce of his late received wound,
That doubly did him. grieve when so himselfe he
found.

Which Cambell seeing, though he could not salve,
Ne done undoe, yet, for to salvo his name
And purchase honour in his friends behalve,
Tkis goodly counterfesaunce he did frame :
The shield and amies, well knowne to be the same
Which Triamond had worne, unawares to wight
And to his friend unwist, for doubt of blame
If he misdid, he on himselfe did digbt,
That none could him discerne ; and so went forth to
fight.

There Satyrane lord of the field he found,

Triumphing in great ioy and iolity ;

Gainst whom none able was to stand on ground ;

That much he gan his glorie to envv.

And cast t'avenge his friends indignity :

A mightie speare eftsoones at him he bent ;

Wlij, seeing him come on so furiously,

iNIet him mid-way with eijuall hardiment.

That forcibly to ground they both together went.

They u]) againe themselves can lightlv reare,
And to their trved swords themselves betake ;
With which tiiey wrought such wondrous marvels
That all the rest it did amazed make, [there,

Ne any dar'd their perill to partnke ;
Now cuffing close, now chasing to and fro
Now hurtling round advantage for to take :
As two wild boares together grapling go,
Chaufino- and foming- choler each against his fo.

So as they courst, and turneyd here and theare.
It chaunst Sir Satyrane his steed at last.
Whether through foundring or through sodein feare
To stumble, that his rider nigh he cast ;
AVhich vauntage Cambell did pursue so fast.
That, ere himselfe he had recovered well,
So sore he sowst him on the compast creast,
That forced him to leave his lofty sell.
And nidely tumbling downe under his horse-feete
fell.

Lightly Cambello leapt downe from his steed
For to have rent his shield and amies away.
That whylome wont to be the victors meed ;
When all unwares he felt an hideous sway
Of many swords that lode on him did lay :
An hundred knights had him enclosed round.
To rescue Sat\rane out of his ]irav ;
All which at once huge strokes on him did pound,
In hope to take him prisoner, where he stood on
ground.

xxxir.

He with their multitude was nought disniayd
But with stout courage turnd upon them all.
And with his brond-iron round about him layd ;
Of which he dealt large almes, as did befall :
Like as a lion, that by chaunce doth fall
Into the hunters toile, doth rage and rore.
In royali heart disdaining to be thrall :
]5ut all 111 vaine : for what might one do more ?
They have him taken captive, though it grieve him
sore.

XXXIII.

Whereof when newes to Triamond was brought
Thereas he lav, his wound he soone forgot.
And starting up streight for his armour sought .
In vaine he sought ; for there he found it not ;
Cambello it away before had got :
Cambelloes arnies therefore he on him threw.
And lightly issewd forth to take his lot.
There he in troupe found all that war:ike crew
Leading his friend away, full sorie to his vew.

Into the thickest of that knightlv preasse
He thrust, and smote downe all that was betweene
Caried with fervent zeale ; ne did he ceasse.
Till that he came where he had Cambell seene
Like captive thral two other knights atweene :
There he amongst them cruell havocke makes,
That they, which lead him, soone enforced beene
To let him loose to save their proper stakes ;
Who, being freed, from one a weapon fiercely takes

THE KAERIE QUEENE.

[Rook IV

With that he drives at tliem with dneadfull might,
5>otli in remembrance of his friends hife harme.
And in revengement of Ins owne despight :
So both together give a new allarme,
As if but now the battell wexed warme.
As nlien two greedy wolves doe breaks by force
Into an heard, farre from the Imshand farme,
T!iev spnile and ravine without all remorse :
So did these two through all the field their foes
enforce.

Fievcelv they followd on their bolde emprize,
'I ill trumj)ets sound did warne them all to rest :
Then all with one consent did veeld the prize
To Triamond and Cambell as the best :
But Triamond to Cambell it relest,
And Cambell it to Triamond transferd ;
Each labouring t' advance the others gest,
And make his praise before his ovvne preferd :
So that the doome was to another day difterd.

The last day came ; when all those knightes againe

Assembled were their deedes of armes to shew.

Full manv deedes that day were shewed plaine :

But Satyrane, bove all the other crew,

His wondrous worth declard in all mens view ;

For from the first he to the last endured :

And though some while Fortune from him withdrew,

Yet evermore his honour he recured.

And with unwearied powre his party still assured.

Ne was there knight that ever thought of armes.
But that his utmost prowesse there made knowen :
That, by their many v.-ounds and carelesse liarmes,
Bv shivered speares and swords all under strowen,
)K' scattered shields, was easie to be showen.
There might ye see loose steeds at randon ronne,
Whose lucklesse riders late were overthrowen ;
And squiers make hast to helpe their lords fordonne :
But still the knights of iMaidenhead the better wonne.

XXXIX.

'I'ill that there entred on the other side

A straungi r knight, from whence no man could reed,

In quvent disguise, full h:ird to be descride :

For all his armour was like salvage weed

With woodv mnsse bedight, and all his steed

With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit

For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed

Ilis word, which on his ragged shield was writ,

Halviigi'sse sausjinesse, shewing secret wit.

lie, at his first incomming, diarg'd his spere
At him that first appeared in his sight ;
'I'haf was to weet the stout Sir Saiigliere,
Who well was knowen to be a valiant knight,
Approved oft in many a perlous fight :
Ilim at the first encounter downe he smote,
And over-bore beyond his crouper quight ;
And after him another knight, that bote
Sir Brianor, so sore, tJiat none him life behote.

Then, ere his hand he reard, he overthrew

Seven knights one after other as they came :

And, when his speare was brust, his sword he drew

The instrument of wrath, and with the same

Far'd like a lyon in hi*' bloodie game.

Hewing and slashing shields and helmets bright,

And beating downe whatever nigh him came,

That every one gan shun his dreadfull sight

No lesse then death itselfe, in daungerous affiigh'

IMuch wondred all men what or whence he cam'-:
That did amongst the trou[ies so tyrannize ;
And each of other gan in(|uire his name :
But, when they could not learne it by no wize,
Most answerable to his wyld disguize
It seemed, him to terme the salvage knight :
But certes his right name was otherwize,
'Jhough knowne to lew that Arthegall he hight,
The doughtiest knight that liv'd that day, and v^Ci'i
of mioht.

Thus was Sir Satyrane with all his band

By his sole manhood and atchievement stout

Dismay 'd, that none of thc-m in field durst stand.

But beaten were and chased all about.

So he continued all that dav throughout.

Till evening that the sunne gan downward bend ;

Then rushed forth out of the thickest rout

A straunger knight, that did his glorie shend :

So nought may be esteemed liappie till the end !

lie at his entrance charg'd his powrefull speare

At Arthegall, in middest of his pryde,

And therewith smote him on his unibriere

So sore, that tumbling backe he downe did slyde

Over his horses taile above a stryde ;

\Vhence litle lust he had to rise againe.

Which Cambell seeing, much the same envyde.

And ran at him with all his might and maine ;

But shortly was likewise scene lying on the plaine.

Whereat full inly wroth was Triamond,
And cast t'a\enge the shame doen to his freend :
JUit by Ilis friend hiniselfe eke soone he fond
In no lesse mede of heljie then him he weend.
All which when Blandamour from end to end
Beheld, he woxe therewith displeasi-d sore.
And thought in mind it shortly to amend :
Ilis s]ieaie he feutred. and at him it bore ;
But with no better fortune then the rest afore.

Full manv others at him likewise ran ;

I5ut all of them likewise dismounted were:

Ne ceitcs wonder ; for no jK)wre of man

Could bide th(» force of that enchauiited speare,

The which this famous |}ritomart did beare ;

\A'ith which she wondrous deeds of arms atchievtd

And overthrew whatever came her neare,

'I'hat all those stranger knights full sore agneved,

And that late weaker band of chalenaers relieved.

Canto V.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

.05

Like as in sommers dav wlien rag-ing heat
Doth hiirne the earth and boyled rivers drie,
Tljat all brute beasts forst to refraine fro meat
Doe hunt for shade where shrowded they may lie^
And, missing it, faine from themselves to flie;
All travellers tormented are with paine :
A watry cloud doth overcast the skie.
And poureth forth a sudden shoure of raine,
That all the wretched world recomforteth againe :

XLvrri.

So did the warlike Britomart restore

The prize to knights of Alavtlenhenl tint t\w,

Which else was like to have lii-nc lost, h.kI bore

Tlie pravse of prowesse from ti)eiii :ill nw.iv.

Then shrilling trompets lou'Jlv u'iiii to \>r,^v.

And bad them leave their labours ami long tovie

To ioyous feast and otiier genile pla\

Where beauties prize sliould win that prelious sjiovie

Where I with sound of trompe will also rest awf.yle

CANTO Y.

Tlie ladies for the girdle strive

Of famous Florimell :
Scudamour, comming to Caresl house

Doth sleepe from him expel.

It hath l)eno through all ages ever seene,

That with the praise of amies and chevalrie

The prize of beautie still hath ioyned beene ;

And that for reasons speciall privitee ;

For either doth on other much relie :

For he me seemes most fit the faire to serve,

That can her best defend from villenie ;

And she most tit his service doth deserve,

That fairest is, and from her faith will never swerve.

So fitly now here commeth next in place.

After the proofe of prowesse ended well,

The controverse of beauties soveraine grace ;

In which, to her that doth the'most excell,

Shall fall the girdle of faire Florimell :

That many wish to win for glorie vaine,

And not for vertuous use, which some doe tell

That glorious belt did in itselfe containe,

\\ hich ladies ought to love, and seeke for to obtaine.

That girdle gave the vertue of chast love
And wivehood true to all that did it beare ;
But whosoever contrarie doth prove,
Alight not the same about her middle weare
But it would loose, or else asunder teare.
\\ hilom.e it was (as Faeries wont report)
Dame \'enus girdle, by her 'steemed deare
\\'hat time she usd to live in wively sort,
But layd aside vvhenso she usd her looser sport.

Her husband Vulcan whylome for her sake,
When fust he loved her with heart entire,
This pretious ornament, they say, did make.
And wrought in Lemnos with unquenched fire •
And afterwards did for her loves first hire
tjive it to her, for ever to remaine,
'i'lierewith to bind lascivious desire,
And loose affections streightly to restraine ;
U hich vertue it for ever after did retaine

The same one day, when she hcrselfp d'sj.osd
To visite her beloved paramouie.
The god of warre. she fiom ht^r middle loosd,
And left behind her ;n her secret bowre
On Acidalian mount, where maiiv an liowre
She with the pleasant graces wont to jd-iv.
There Florimell in her first ages tiowre
Was fostered by those graces, (as thev s-.iv, >
And brought with her from thence that guoiiu
away.

belt

That goodly belt was cestus bight by name,
And as her life by her esteemed deare :
No wonder then, if that to winne the same
So many ladies sought, as shall appeart^ ;
For pearelesse she was thought that it did beare.
And now by this their feast all being ended.
The iudges, which thereto selected were.
Into the JMartian field adovvne descendeil
To deeme this doubtfuU case, for which they all
contended.

But first was question made, which of those Icnighta

'i'hat lately turneyd had the wager wonne :

There was it iudged, by those worthie wights.

That Satyrane the first day best had donne :

For he last ended, having first begonne.

The s. cond was to Triamond behight,

lor that he sav'd the victour from fordonne :

For Canibell victour was, in all mens sight.

Till by mishap he in his foemens hand did light.

The third daj'es prize unto that straunger knight,
\Vhom all men term'd knight of the hebene speare.
To Britomart was given by good right ;
For that with puissant stroke she downe did beare
The salvage knight that victour was whileare.
And all the rest which had the best afore.
And, to the last, unconquer'd did appeare ;
For last is deemed best : to her therei'ore
The fayrest ladie was aiudged for parainore.

206

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

UOOK IV

But thereat g-reatly grudged Arthegall,

And much repynd, tliat both of victors meede

And eke of honour she did him forestall :

Yet mote he not withstand what was decreede ;

15ut inly thought of that despightfuU deede

Fit time t'awaite avenged for to bee.

This bemg ended thus, and all agreed

Then next ensew'd the paragon to see

Of beauties praise, and yeeld the fayrest her due fee.

Then first Cambello brought into their view
His faire Cambina covered with a veale ;
Wliich being once withdrawne, most perfect hew
And passing beautie did eftsoones reveale,
rhat able was weake harts away to steale.
Next did Sir Triamond unto their sight
Tlie face of his deare Canacee unheale ;
Whose beauties beame eftsoones did shine so bright,
That daz'd the eyes of all, as with exceeding light.

And after her did Paridell produce

His false Duessa, that she might be seene ;

Who with her forged beautie did seduce

The hearts of some that fairest her did weene ;

As diverse wits affected divers beene.

Then did Sir Ferramont unto them shew

His Lucida, that was full faire and sheene ;

And after these an hundred ladies moe

Appear'd in place, the which each other did outgoe.

All which whoso dare thinke for to enchace,

Him needeth sure a golden pen I weene

To tell the feature of each goodly face.

For, since the day that they created beene,

So many heavenly faces were not seene

Assembled in one place : ne he that thought

For Cliian folke to pourtraict beauties (jueene,

Bv view of all the fairest to him brought,

So many faire did see, as here he might have sought.

At last, the most redoubted Britonesse

Her lovely Amoret did open shew ;

Whose face, discovered, plainely did expresse

'I"he heavenly pourtraict of bright angels hew.

W^ll weened all, which her that time did vew,

That she should surely beare the bell away ;

Till I'hindamour, who thouglit he had the trevv

Aid very Florimell, did her display :

The sight of whom once seene did all the rest dismay.

For all afore that seemed fayre and bright,
Now base and conteiiii)tible did a]ipeare,
Comj)ar'd to her that shone as Pliebes light
Amongst the lesser starres in evening cleare.
All that her saw with wonder ravisht weare,
And weend no mortall creature she should bee,
Brit some celestiall sliape that flesh did beare •
Yet all were glad there Floiimell to see ;
Yet tliouirht tnat Florimell was not so faire as shee.

As guilefuU goldsmith that by secret skill
With golden foyle doth finely over-spred
Some baser metall, which commend h§ will
Unto the vulgar for good gold insted,'
He much more goodly glosse thereon doth shed
To hide his falshood, then if it were trew :
So hard this idole was to be ared.
That Florimell herselfe in all mens vew
She seem'd to passe • So forged things do fairest;
shew.

Then was that golden belt by doome of all
Graunted to her, as to the fayrest dame,
Which being brought, about her middle small
They thought to gird, as best it her became ;
But by no meanes they could it thereto frame :
For, ever as they fastned it, it loos'd
And fell away, as feeling secret blame.
Full oft about her wast she it enclos'd ;
And it as oft was from about her wast disclos'd ;

That all men wondred at the uncouth sight,
And each one thought, as to their fancies came :
But she herselfe did thinke it doen for spight.
And touched was with secret wrath and shame
Therewith, as thing deviz'd her to defame.
Then many other ladies likewise tride
About their tender loynes to knit the same ;
But it would not on none of them abide.
But when they thought it fast, eftsoones it was un-
tide.

WHiich when that scornefull squire of dames did vev

He lowdlv gan to laugh, and thus to iest;

" Alas for pittie that so faire a crew.

As like cannot be seene from east to west,

Cannot find one this girdle to invest I

Fie on the man that did it first invent,

To shame us all with this, luigirt uublestf

Let never ladie to his love assent.

That hath this day so many so unmanly shent"

Thereat all knights gan laugh, and ladies lowre ,

Till that at last the gentle Amoret

Likewise assayd to ])rove that girdles powre ;

And, having it about her middle set.

Did find it fit withouten breach or let ;

Whereat the rest gan greatly to envie :

But Florimell exceed'nglv did fret,

And, snatcliing from her hand halfe angrily

The belt againe, about her bodie gan it tie :

Yet nathemore would it her bodie fit ;
Yet nathi'lesse to her, as her dew right,
]t vielded was by them that iudged it ;
And she herselfe adiudged to the knight
That bore the hebene speare, as wonne m fight-
But i'ritomart would not thereto assent,
Ne her owne Amoret forgoe so light
For that strange dame, whose beauties wonderment
She lesse esteem'd then th' others vertuous govern-
ment.

Canto X.']

THE FAKUIK QUEENt.

207

\Vl)om when the rest did see her to refuse,
Thev were full glad, in liope themselves to get lier
Yet at her choice thev all did greatly muse.
But. after that, the iudges did arret her
Unto the second best that lov'd her better ;
That was the salvage knight : but he was gone
In great displeasure, that he could not get her.
Then was she iudged Triamond his one ;
But Triamond lov'd Canacee and other none.

The unto Satvran she was ndiudged,
Wlio was rigiit glad to gaine so goodly meed :
But Bhuidamour thereat full greatly grudged,
And litle pravs'd his labours evill speed,
ll'hat for to winne the saddle lost the steed.)
Ne lesse tliereat did Paridell complaine,
And thought t'appeale, from that which was decreed,
I'o single combat with Sir Satyrane :
Thereto him Ate stird, new discord to maintaine.

And eke, with these, full many other knights
She through her wicked working did incense
Her to demaund and clialenge as their rights,
Deserved for their ]ierils recompense.
Amongst the rest, with boastfull vaine pretense
Stept Braggadochio forth, and as his tlirall
Her clayni'd, bv him in battell wonne long sens :
Wliereto herselfe he did to witnesse call ;
Wlio, beuig askt, accordingly confessed all.

Thereat exceeding wroth was Satyran ; .
And wroth with Satyran was Blandamour ;
And wroth with Blandamour was Erivan ;
Aiid at tliem both Sir Paridell did loure.
So all togetlier srird up strifull stoure,
And readie were new battell to darraine :
Each one profest to be her paramoure.
And vow'd with speare and shield it to maintaine;
Ne iudges powre, ne reasons rule, mote them res-
traine.

Which troublous stirre when Satyrane aviz'd
He gan to cast how to appease the same,
And, to accord them all, tliis meanes deviz'd :
First in the midst to set that fayrest dame.
To whom each one his clialenge should disclame,
And he himselfe his right would eke releasse :
Then, looke to whom she voluntarie came.
He should without disturbance her possesse :
Stveete is the love that comes atone with willinsnesse.

Tliey all agreed ; and then that snowy mayd

\\ as in the middest plast among them all :

All on lier gazing wisht, and vowd, and prayd,

And to the (jueene of beautie close did call,

TJiat she unto their portion might befall.

1 hen when she long had lookt upon each one.

As thou ill she wished to have pleasd them all.

At last to Braggadochio selfe alone

She came of her accord, in spight of all his fone.

Which when they all beheld, they chaft, and rag'd.

And woxe nigh mad for very harts despight.

That from revenue their willes they scarse asswag'd .

Some thought from him her to have reft by might ;

Some proft'er made with him for her to fight :

But he nought car'd for all that they could say ;

For he their words as wind esteemed light :

Yet not fit place he thought it there to stay.

But secretly from thence that night her bore away.

They which remaynd, so soone as they perceiv'd
That she was gone, departed thence with sj)eed.
And follow'd them, in mind her to have reav'd
From wight unworthie of so noble meed.
In Avhich poursuit how each one did succeede,
Sliall else be told in order, as it fell.
But now of Britomart it here doth neede
Tl-.e hard adventures and strange haps to tell ;
Since with the rest she went not after Florimell.

For soone as she them saw to discord set.
Her list no longer in that place abide ;
But, taking with her lovely Amoret,
Upon lier first adventure forth did ride.
To seeke her lov'd, making blind love her guide.
Unluckie mayd, to seeke her enemie !
Unluckie mayd, to seeke him farre and wide.
Whom, when he was unto herselfe most nie,
She through his late disguizement could liim not
descrie !

So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle :
Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did spare.
In seeking liini that should her paine assoyle ;
Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare
Was Amoret, companion of her caie :
Who likewise sought her lover long miswent.
The gentle Scudamour, whose heart whileare
That stryfull hag with gealous discontent
Had fild, that he to fell reveng was fully bent ;

XXXI.

Bent to revenge on blamelesse Britomart

The crime which cursed Ate kindled earst,

The which like thornes did pricke his gealous hart,

And tlirough his soule like ]ioysned arrow perst.

That by no reason it might be reverst,

For ought that Glance could or doe or say :

For, aye the more that she the same reherst.

The more it gauld and griev'd him night and day.

That nought but dire revenge his anger mote de ray

So as thev travelled, the drouping night
Covered with cloudie storme and bitter showre.
That dreadlull seem'd to every living wight.
Upon them fell, before her timely howre ;
That forced them to seeke some covert bowre,
Where they might hide their heads in quiet rest.
And shrowd their persons from that stormie stowre.
N ot farre away, not meete for an.y guest ,
They spide a little cottage, like some pooie uious
nest ;

208

THE FA i: 11 IK QLKKNE.

[Book IV

Under a Rtee])e Inlles side it placed was,
There where the mouldred earth had cav'd tlie hanke ;
And fast beside a little brooke did pas
Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,
P)V wliich few crooked sallowes grew in ranke :
Whereto approaching nigl), they heard the sound
Of tiiany yron liammers beating ranke,
And answering- their wearie lurries around,
That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert
ground.

There entring in, they found tlie goodmun selfe

Full busily unto his worke ybent ;

Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe,

With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,

As if he had in prison long bene pent :

Full blacke and griesly did liis face appeare,

Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eve-sight blent ;

With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare,

I he which he never wont to combe, or comely shears.

Rude was bis garment, and to rags all rent,

Ne better had he, ne for better cared :

With blistrcd hands emougst the cinders brent,

And fingers filthie with long nayles unpared,

llight fit to rend the food on which he fared.

liis name was Care ; a blacksmith by his trade,

'i hat iieilher dav nor niglit from working spared,

iWit to small purpose yron wedges made ;

Those be unquiet thoughts that carefull minds invade.

XXXVI.

' 1 which his worke he had sixe servants prest,
About the andvile standing evermore
With huge great hammers, that did never rest
I'roni heaping stroakes wliich thereon soused sore:
Ail sixe strong- groomes, but one then other more ;
J'or by degrees they all were disagreed ;
So likewise did the hammers which tliev bore
Like belles in greatnesse orderl)- succeed,
That he, which was the last, the first did farre
exceede.

xxxvir.

He like a monstrous gyant seem'd in sight,
Farre passing JJronteus or Pyracmon great.
The which in Lipari doe day and night
Frame thunderbolts for loves avengeful! threate.
So dreadfully he did the andvile beat.
That seem'd to dust he shortly would it drive :
So huge his liammer, and so fierce his heat,
That seem'd a rocke of diamond it could rive
And rend asunder quite, if lie thereto list strive.

xxxvm.

Sir Scudainour there entring much admired
i lie manner of their worke and wearie jwine :
And, having long beheld, at last encjuired
The cause and end thereof; but all in vaine ;
I'or they for nought viould from their worke refraine.
No let his speeches come unto their eare.
And elie the breathfull bell iws blev.' amaine,
) ikp to the norihren winde, that none could heare ;
Those rjensiTi-nesse dii! more ; and sighes the bel-
lows weare.

xxxix.

Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,
]')Ut in his armour layd him downe to rest :
To rest he hiyd him downe upon the flora,
(U'hylome for ventrous knights the bedding best,)
And thought his wearie limbs to have redrest.
And that old aged dame, his faith full S(iuii-e.
Her feeble ioynts layd eke adowne to rest ;
That needed much lier weake age to desire,
After so long a travell which them both did tire.

There lay Sir Scudamour long while expecting
When gentle sleepe his heavie eves would close ;
Oft chaunging sides, and oft nevs- place electing.
Where better seem'd he mote liimselfe repose;
And oft in wrath he thence againe uprose ;
And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.
But, wheresoere he did liimselfe dispose,
He by no rneaiies could wislied ease obtaine :
So every place seem'd painefull, and ech changiu§
vaine.

And evermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,
The hammers sound his senses did molest ;
And evermore, when he began to winke,
The bellowes noyse disturb"d his quiet rest,
Ne suft'refl sleepe to settle in his brest.
And all fl.c night the dogs did barke and howle
About the house, at sent of stranger guest:
And now the crowing cocke, and now the owle
Lowde shriking, him afflicted to the very sowle.

And, if by fortune any litle nap

Upon his heavie eye-lids cliaunst to fall,

Eftsoones one of those villeins him did ra;i

Upon his head-peece with his yron mall ;

'That lie was soone awaked therewiihtill,

And lightly started up as one affrayd.

Or as if one him suddenly did call :

So oftentimes he out of sleejie ahravd,

And then lav musing long on that liiin ill apayd

So long he muzed, and so long he lay,
That at the last his wearie sprite ojijirest
With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may
Long time resist, gave place to kindly rest.
'J'liat all his senses did full soone arrest :
Yet, in his soundest sleepe, his dayly feare
His ydle braine gan busily molest.
And made him dreame those two disloyall were:
The things, that day most minds, at night doe mos
appeare.

XLIV.

W' ith that the wicked carle, the maister smith
A paire of red-whot yron tongs did take
Out of the burning cinders, and therewith
I'lider his side liim nipt; that, forst to wake.
He felt his hart for very paine to quake.
And started up avenged for to be
On him the which his (juiet slomber brake :
\ et, l()(jking round about him, none could see :
^ et did the smart remaine, though he himselie oiu
flee.

Canto VI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

209

In such disquiet and hart-fretting payne

He all that niglit, that too long night, did passe.

And now the day out of the ocean mayne

Beo-an to peepe above this earthly masse,

With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse :

Then up he rose like heavie lumpe of lead.

That in his face, as in a looking glasse.

The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,

And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread.

Unto his lofty steede he clombe anone.
And forth upon his former voiage fared.
And with him eke that aged squire attone ;
Who, whatsoever perill was prepared,
Both equall paines and equall perill shared :
The end whereof and daungerous event
Sliall for another canticle be spared :
But here my wearie teeme, nigh over-spent,
Shall breath itselfe awhile after so long a went.

CANTO VI.

Both ScudamourtQfid Arthegall
Doe figlit with Britomart :

He sees her face ; doth fall in love,
And soone from her depart.

What equall torment to the gnefe of mind

And pyning anguish hid in gentle Iwrt,

That inly feeds itselfe with thoughts unkmd,

And nourisheth her owne consuming smart !

What medicine can any leaches art

Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance hide,

And will to none her maladie impart !

Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride ;

For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salve provide.

Who having left that restlesse house of Care,
Tlie next day, as he on his way did ride,
Full of melancholie and sad misfare
Through misconceipt, all unawares espide
An armed knight under a forrest side
Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede ;
Who, soone as them approaching he descride,
Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,
That seem'd he was full bent to some mischievous
deede.

Which Scudamour perceiving forth issewed
To have rencountred him in equall race ;
But, soone as th' ether nigh approaching vewed
The arraes he bore, his speare he gan abase
And voide his course ; at which so suddain case
He wondred much : but th' other thus can say ;
' Ah ! gentle Scudamour, unto your grace
I me submit, and you of pardon pray,
That almost had against you trespassed this day."

Whereto thus Scudamour ; " Small liarme it were
For any knight upon a ventrous knight
Without displeasance for to prove his spere.
But reade you, sir, sith ye my name have hight,
What is your owne, that 1 mote you requite."
" Certes," sayd he, " ye mote as now excuse
Me from discovering you mv name aright:
For time yet serves that I the same refuse ;
But call ye me the salvage knight, as others use."

" Then this, sir salvage knight," quoth he, "areede;
Or doe you here within this forrest wonne.
That seemeth well to ansvvere to your weede.
Or have ye it for some occasion donne?
That ratlier seemes, sith knowen amies ye shonne."
" This other day," sayd he, " a stranger knight
Shame and dishonour hath unto me donne ;
Qn whom I waite to wreake that foule despight.
Whenever be this way shall passe by day or night."

" Shame be his meede," quoth he, " that meanef b
But what is he by whom ye shamed were ?" [shame '.
" A stranger knight," sayd he, " unknowne by name.
But knowne by fame, and by an hebene S])eare
With which lie all tliat met him downe did beare.
He, in an open turney lately held.
Fro me the honour of that game did reare;
And having me, all wearie earst, downe feld.
The fayrest ladie reft, and ever since withheld."

When Scudamour heard mention of that speare,
He wist right well that it was Britomart,
The wliich from him his fairest love did beare.
Tho gan he swell in every inner part
For fell despiglit, and gnaw his gealous hart.
That thus he sharply sayd ; " Now bv my head.
Yet is not this the first unknigbtly part,
V^'hich that same knight, whom by his launce I read
Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him
dread :

" For lately he my love hath fro me reft.

And eke defiled with foule villanie

The sacred pledge which in his faith was left.

In shame of knighthood and fidelitie ;

The which ere long full deare he shall abie ;

And if to that avenge by you decreed

This hand may helpe, or succour ought supplw.

It shall not fayle whenso ye shall it need."

So both to wreake their wrathes on Britomart agree ^

210

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

[Book IV

Whiles thus they communed, lo ! farre away
A kni'o-ht soft ryding towards them they spyde,
Attvr'd in forralne armes and straunge aray :
Wliom when they nigh approcht, they plaine des-
To he the same for whom they did abyde. [cryde
Sayd then Sir Scudamour, " Sir Salvage Knight,
Let me tliis crave, sith first I was defydje,
That first I may that wrong to liim requite :
And, if I hap to fayle, you shall recure my right."

Which being yeelded, he his threatfull speare

Gan fewter, and against lier fiercely ran,

Who soone as she him saw approching neare

Witli so fell rage, herselfe she lightly gan

To dight, to welcome him well as she can ;

But entertaind him in so rude a wise,

That to the ground she smote both horse and man ;

Whence neither greatly hasted to arise,

But on their common harmes together did devise.

But Artegall, beholding his mischaunce,

New matter added to his former fire ;

And, eft aventring his steele-headed launce,

Against her rode, full of despiteous ire.

That nought but spoyle and vengeance did require :

But to himselfe his felonous intent

Returning disappointed his desire,

Whiles unawares his saddle he forwent,

And found himselfe on ground in great amazement

Lightly he started up out of that stound.
And snatching forth his direfull deadly blade
Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound
Thrust to an hynd witiiin some covert glade,
Whom without perill he cannot invade:
With such fell greedines he her assayled,
That though she mounted were, yet he her made
To give him ground, (so much his force prevayled,)
And shun his mightie strokes, gainst which no
armes avayled.

XIII.

So, as they coursed here and there, it chaunst
That, in her wheeling round, behind her crest
So sorely he her strooke, that thence it glaunst
Adowne her backe, the which it fairely blest
From foule mischance ; ne did it ever i-est,
Till on her horses hinder j)arts it fell ;
Where byting deepe so deadly it imprest.
That (juite it chynd his backe behind the sell.
And to alight on foote her algates did compell :

Like as the lightning-brond from riven skie,
riirowne out by angrv love in his vengeance.
With dreadfull force falles on some steeple hie ;
Which battring downe, it on the church doth glance,
And teares it all with terrible mischance.
Yet she no whit dismayd her steed forsooke ;
And, casting fiom her that onchaunted lance,
L'nto her sword and sb.ield her soone betooke ;
Ana therewithal! at him right furiously she strooke.

So furiously she strooke in her first heat,
Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was.
That she him forced backward to retreat,
And yeeld unto her weapon way to pas :
Whose raging rigour neither Steele nor bras
Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went.
And pour'd the purple bloud forth on the gras ;
That all his mayle yriv'd, and plates yrent,
Shew'd all his bodie bare unto the cruell dent.

I XVI.

At length, whenas he saw her hastie heat
Abate, and panting breath began to fayle.
He through long sufferance growing now more grea
Rose in his strength, and gan lier fresh assayle,
Heaping huge strokes as tliicke as showre of havle,
And lashing dreadfully at every part,
• As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.
Ah ! cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,
That workst such wrecks on her to whom thou
dearest art !

What yron courage ever could endure
To works such outrage on so fairs a creature .
And in his madnesse thinke with hands irapuie
To spovle so goodly workmanship of nature,
The INIaker selfe resembling in her feature !
Certes some hellish furie or some feend
This mischiefe framd, for their first loves defeature.
To bath their hands in bloud of dearest freend,
Thereby to make their loves beginning their lives
end.

Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro.

Sometimes pursewine:, and sometimes pursewed.

Still as advantage they espyde thereto :

But toward th' end Sir Arthegall renewed

His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.

At last his lueklesse hand he heav'd on hie.

Having his forces all in one accrewed.

And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie.

That seemed nought but death mote be her (lestirJ-

The wicked stroke upon her helmet chaunst.
And with the force, which in itselfe it bore.
Her ventayle shard avav, and thence forth glaunst
Adowne in vaine, ne harm'd her any more.
With that, her angels face, unseene afore.
Like to t\w. ruddie morne apjieard in sight,
Deawed with silver drojis tiirough sweating sore ;
J5ut somewhat redder then heseem'd aright,
Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary
fight:

XX.

And round about the same her yellow heare,
Having through stirring loosd their wonted band,
Like to a goblen border did appeare.
Framed in goldsmithes iorge with cunning hand :
Yet goldsmithes cunning could not understand
To frame sucli subtile wire, so ^hinie cleare ;
For it did glister like the golden sand,
'I'he which Factolus with his waters shere
Throwes forth upon the rivage round about lum
nere.

Casto VI.]

THE FAERIR QUEENE.

211

And as his hand he up againe did reare,
Thinking to worke on her his utmost wracke,
His powrelesse arme benumbd with secret feare
From his revengefull purpose shronke abacke,
And cruell sword out of his fingers slacke
Fell downe to ground, as if the Steele had sence
And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,
Or both of them did thinke obedience
To doe to so divine a beauties excellence.

And he himselfe, long gazing thereupon.
At last fell humbly downe upon his knee,
And of his wonder made religion,
Weening some heavenly goddesse he md see.
Or else unweeting what it else might bee ;
And pardon her besought his errour frayle,
That had done outrage in so high degree :
Whilest trembling horrour did his sense assayle,
And made ech member quake, and manly hart to
quayle.

XXIII.

Xathelesse she, full of wrath for that late stroke.
All that long while upheld her wrathful! hand,
With fell intent on him to bene ywroke ;
And, looking sterne, still over hini did stand,
Threatning to strike unlesse he would withstand ;
And bad him rise, or surely he should die.
But, die or live, for nought he would upstand ;
But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie,
Or wreake on him her will for so e;reat iniurie.

Which whenas Scudamour, who now abrayd,
Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside,
He was therewith right wondrously dismayd;
And drawing nigh, whenas he plaine descride
That peerelesse paterne of dame natures pride
And heavenly image of perfection.
He blest himselfe as one sore terrifide ;
And, turning feare to faint devotion.
Did worship her as some celestiall vision.

But Glauce, seeing all that chaunced there.
Well weeling how their errour to assoyle.
Full glad of so good end, to them drew nere.
And her salewd with seemely bel-accoyle.
Joyous to see her safe after long tovle :
Then her besought, as she to her was deare,
To graunt unto those warriours truce awhvle ;
Wliich yeelded, they their bevers up did reare.
And shew'd themselves to her such as indeed they
were.

\\ hen Britomart with sharp avizefull eye
Beheld the lovely face of Artegall
Tempred with sternesse and stout maiestie,
She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call
To be the same which, in her fathers hall,
l-ong since in that enchaunted glasse she saw :
Therewith her wrathful! courage gan apjiall.
And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw.
That her enhaunced hand she downe can soft with-
draw

Yet she it forst to have againe upheld.
As favning choler which was turn'd to cold :
But ever, when his visage she beheld.
Her hand fell downe, and would no longer liold
The wrathfull wea])on gainst his countnance bold :
But, when in vaine to fight she oft assayd.
She arm'd her tongue, and thought at him to scold :
Nathlesse her tongue not to her will obayd.
But brought forth speeches myld when she would
have missayd.

But Scudamour now woxen inly glad
That all his gealous feare ho false had found.
And how that hag his love abused had
With breach of faith and lovaltie unsound,
The which long time his grieved hart did wound,
He thus bespake ; " Certes, Sir Artegall,
1 iov to see you lout so low on ground,
And now become to live a ladies thrall,
That whylome in your minde wont to despise them
all.

Soone as she heard the name of Artegall,

Her hart did leape, and all her heart-strings tremble,

For sudden ioy and secret feare withall ;

And all her vitall powres, with motion nimble

To succour it, themselves gan there assemble ;

That by the swift recourse of flushing blood

Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble.

And faj-ned still her former angry mood,

Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.

When Glauce thus gan wisely all upknit;
" Ye gentle knights, whom fortune here hath brought
To be spectators of this uncouth fit.
Which secret fate hath in this ladie wrought
Against the course of kind, lie mervaile nought;
Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo
Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,
Fearing least she your loves away should woo ;
F^eared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there \\ants
tlieretoo.

"And you, Sir Artegall, the salvage knight.

Henceforth ma}"^ not disdaine that womans hand

Hhih >.onquered you anew in second fight :

For whylome they have conquered sea, and land,

And heaven itselfe, that nought may them withstand*

Ne henceforth be rebellious unto love,

That is the crowne of knighthood and the band

Of noble minds derived from above.

Which, being knit with vertue, never will remove.

" And you, faire ladie knight, my dearest dame
Relent the rigour of j'our wrathtuU will,
Whose fire were better turn'd to other flame ;
And, wiping out remembrance of all ill,
Graunt him your grace ; but so that he fulfill
The penance which ye shall to him enipart :
For lovers heaven must passe by sorrowes hell"
Thereat full inly blushed Britomart ;
1 Rut Artegall dose-smyling ioy'd in secret hart.

THE FAERIE Q'JEEXE.

[Book IV.

Yet durst he not make love so suddenly,
Ne thinke tli' affection of her hart to draw
From one to other so quite contrary :
Besides her modest countenance he saw
So g'oodly grave, and full of princely aw,
Tliat it his rangins^ fancie did refraine.
And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw ;
AVhereby the passion grew more fierce and faine.
Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would
restraine.

13ut Scudamour, whose hart twixt doubtful! feare
And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,
Desiring of his Amoret to heare
Some gladfuU newes and sure intelligence,
Her thus bespake ; " But, sir, without offence
]Mote I request you tydings of m> love,
Mv Amoret, sith you her freed fro thence
\Vhere she, captived long, great woes did prove ;
That where ye left I may her seeke, as doth behove."

To whom thus Britomart ; " Certes, sir knight.

What is of her become, or whether reft,

I cannot unto you aread aright.

For from that time I from enchaunters theft

Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,

I her preserv'd from perill and from feare.

And evermore from villenie her kept :

Ne ever was there wight to me more deare

Then she, ne unto whom I more true love did heare :

" Till on a day, as through a desert wyld
We travelled, both wearie of the wav
We did alight, and sate in shadow myld ;^
Where fearelesse I to sleepe me downe did lay :
But, whenas 1 did out of sleepe abray,

found her not where I her left wliyleare.
But thought she wandred was, or gone astray :
I cal'd her loud, 1 sought her farre and neare ;
But no where could her find, nor tydings of her
heare."

When Scudamour those heavie tydings heard,
His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare,
Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard ;
But seiiselesse stood, like to a mazed steare
'J hat yet of mortall stroke the stound doth heare :
Till Glauce thus ; " Faire sir, be nouglit dismayd
\Vith needlesso dread, till certaintie ye heare;
For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd :
Its best to hope the best, though of the worst afl'rayd."

Nathelesse he hardly of her chearefull speech
Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight
Shew'd change of better cheare ; so sore a breach
Tl'.at sudden newes had made into his S])right ;
Till liritomart him fairely thus behight ;
" Great cause of sorrow certes, sir, ye have ;
But comfort take ; for, by this heavens light,
I vow you dead or living not to leave,
Til I her find and wreake on him that did her reave."

Therewith he rested, and well pleased was.
So, peace being confirm'd amongst them all,
They tooke their steeds, and forward thence did
Unto some resting place, which mote befall ;
All being guided by Sir Artegall :
Where goodly solace was unto them made.
And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,
Untill that they their wounds well healed had,
And wearie limmes recur'd after late usasre bad.

In all which time Sir Artegall made way

Unto the love of noble Britomart,

And with meeke service and much suit did lay

Continuall siege unto her gentle hart ;

Which, being whylome launcht with lovely dart,

]\Iore eath was new impression to receive :

However she her paynd with womanish art

To hide her wound, that none might it perceive :

Vaine is the art that seekes itselfe for to deceive.

So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her,

With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,

That at the length unto a bay he brought lier,

So as she to his speeches was content

To lend an eare, and softly to relent.

At last, through many vowes which forth he pour'd

And many othes, she yeeldcd her consent

To be his love, and take him for her lord.

Till they with marriage meet might finish that accord.

Tho, when they had long time there taken rest.
Sir Artegall, who all this while was bound
Upon an hard adventure yet in quest,
Fit time for him tlience to depart it found,
To follow that which he did long propound ;
And unto her his congee came to take :
]5ut her therewith full sore displeasd he found,
And loth to leave her late betrothed make ;
Her dearest love full loth so shortly to forsake.

Yet he with strong perswasions her asswaged,

And wonne her will to suffer Jiim depart ;

For which his faith with her he fast engaged.

And thousand vowes from bottome of his hart,

'J'liat, all so soone as he by wit or art

Could that atchieve whereto he did aspire,

He unto her would speedily revert :

No longer space thereto he did desire.

But till the horned moone three courses did expire.

With which she for the present was appeased,

And veelded leave, however malcontent

She inly were and in her mind displeased.

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 whylome was the custome ancient

Mongst knights when on adventures they did ride

Save that she algates him a while accompanide.

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

S13

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 feare whereof seem'd much her to affray ;
But all she did was but to weare out day.
Full oftentimes she leave of him did take ;
And eft againe deviz'd somewhat to say,
Which she forgot, whereby excuse to make :
So loth she was his companie for to forsake.

At last when all her speeches she had spent,

And new occasion fayld her more to find

She left him to his fortunes government,

And backe returned with right heavie mind ;

To Scudaraour, whom she had left behind ;

With whom she went to seeke foire Araoret,

Her second care, though in another kind :

For vertues onely sake, which doth beget

True love and faithful! friendship, slie by her did st

Backe to tliat desert forrest they retyred.
Where sorie Britomart had lost her late :
There they her sought, and every where inquired
Where they might tydings get of her estate ;
Yet found they none. But, by what haplesse fate
Or hard misfortune she was rhence convayd.
And stolne away from her beloved mate.
Were long to tell ; therefore 1 here will stay
Untill another tyde, that I it finish may.

CANTO VII.

Amoret rapt by gieedie lust

Belphebe saves from dread :
The squire her loves; and, being blam'd,

His daies in dole doth lead.

Great god of love, that with thy cruell darts

Doest conquer greatest conquerors on ground.

And setst thy kmydome in the captive harts

Of kings and keasars to thy service bound ;

What giorie or what guerdon hast thou found

In feeble ladies tyranning so sore.

And aildin^ anguish to the bitter wpund

With which their lives thou lanchedst long afore,

By heaping stormes of trouble on them daily more !

So v.'hylome didst thou to faire Florimell ;

And so and so to noble Britomart :

So doest thou now to her of whom I tell,

Tlie lovely Amoret, whose gentle hart

Thou martyrest with sorrow and with smart,

In salvage forrests and in deserts wide

V\ ith bt'ares and tygers taking heavie part,

Withouten comfort and withouten guide ;

That pittie is to heare the perils which she tride.

So soone as she with that brave Britonesse

Had left that turneyment for beauties prise.

They travel'd long ; that now for wearinesse.

Both of the way and warlike exercise.

Both through a forest rydiiig did devise

T' alight, and rest their wearie limbs a while.

There heavie sleepe the eye-lids did surprise

Of Britomart after long tedious toyle.

That did. her passed paines in quiet rest assoyle.

That wliiles fair Amoret, of nought affeard,
Walkt through the wood, for pleasure or for need,
When suddenly behind her backe she heard
One rushing forth out of the thickest weed,
That, ere she backe could turne to taken heed,
Had unawares her snatched up from ground:
Feebly she shriekt, but so feebly indeed
That i3ritomart heard not the shrilling sound.
There where through weary travel she lay sleeping
sound.

It was to weet a wilde and salvage man ;

Yet was no man, but onely like in shape,

And eke in stature higher by a span ;

All overgrowne with haire, that could awhape

An hardy hart ; and his wide mouth did gape

With hui;e great teeth, like to a tusked bore :

For he liv'd all on ravin and on rape

Of men and beasts; and fed on fleshlv gore.

The signe whereof yet staia'd his bloudy lips afore.

His neatlier lip was not like man nor beast,

But like a wide deepe poke downe hatiging low.

In which he wont the relickes of his feast

And cruell sjioyle, which he had spard, to stow:

And over it his huge great nose did grow.

Full dreadfully empurpled all with bloud ;

And downe both sides two wide long eares did glow.

And raught downe to his waste when up he stood,

IMore great then th' eares of elephants by Indus flood.

21+

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Rook IV

FTis wast was with a wreath of yvie g-reene

Engnt about ne other garment wore ;

For vill his hrtire was like a garment seene ;

And in his hand a tall young oake he bore.

Whose knottie snags were sliarpned all at'ore,

And beath'd in fire for Steele to be in sted.

]5ut whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,

Of beasts, or of the earth, I have not red ;

hut certes was with milke of wolves and tygres fed.

This ngly creature in his amies her snatcht.
And through the forrest boie her quire away
.Vith briers and bushes all to rent and scratcht ;
jVe care he had, ne pittie of the pray,
Which many a knight had sought so many a day :
He stayed not, but in his amies her bearing
Ran, till he came to th' end of all his way.
Unto liis cave farre from all peoples hearing,
And there he threw her in, nought feeling, ne nought
fearing.

For she (deare ladie) all the way was dead,

Whilest lie in amies her bore ; but, when she felt

Herselfe downe soust, she waked out of dread

Streight into griefe, that her deare hart nigh swelt,

And eft gan into tender teares to melt.

Then when she iookt about, and nothing found

But darknesse and dread horrour where she dwelt,

Slie almost fell againe into a swound ;

Ne wist whether above she were or under ground.

AVith that she heai'fl some one CiOse by her side
Sighing and sobbing sore, as if 'lie jianie
Her tender heart in pieces would divide :
Which she so long listning, softly askt againe
What mister wight it was that so did plaine ?
To whom thus aunswer'd was, " Ah ! wretched wight.
That seekes to know anothers griefe in vaine,
Unweeting of thine owne like liaplesse plight :
Selfe to forget to mind another is ore-si"ht!"

''Aye me !" said she, "where am I, or with whom?
Eniong the living, or emong the dead ?
What shall of me unhap])y maid become ?
Shall death be th'end, or ought else worse, aread?"
■' Unhappy inayd," then answerVl she, " wliose dread
Untride is lesse tlien when thou shalt it try :
Death is to him, tliat wreicliud life doth lead,
Both grace and gaine ; but he in liell doth lie.
That lives a loathed life, and wishing cannot die.

" This dismal] day hath thee a caytive made.
And vassall to the vilest wretcli alive ;
Whose cursed usage and ungodly trade
The heavens abhon-e, and into darknesse drive :
For on the spoile of women he doth live.
Whose bodies chast, whenever in his jiowre
He may them caich unalile to gainestrive,
He with his shainefuU lust doth first deflowre,
rind afterwards themselves doth cruelly devoure.

" Now twenty dales, bv which the sonnes of men
Divide their works, have past through heveii sheene,
Since 1 was brought into this doleful! den ;
During which space these sory eies have seen
Seaven women by him slaine and eaten clene ;
And now no more for him but I alone,
And this old woman, here remaining beene.
Till thou cam'st liither to augment our inoiie ;
And of us three to morrow he will sure eat one."'

" Ah dreadfull tidings which thou doest declare,"

Quoth she, " of all that ever liatli beene knowen !

Full many great calamities and rare

This feeble brest endured hath, but none

Equall to this, whereever I have gone.

But what are you, whom like unlucky lot

Hath linckt with me in the same chanie attone-?"

" To tell," quoth she, " that which ye see, needs not ;

A wofull wretched maid, of God and man forgot '

" But what I was, it irkes me to reherse ;
Daughter unto a lord of high degree ;
That ioyd in happy peace, till fates perverse
With guilefull love did secretly agree
To overthrow my state and dignitie.
It was my lot to love a gentle swaine.
Yet was he but a scjuire of iow degree ;
Yet was he meet, unless mine eye did faine.
By any ladies side for leiuan to have laine.

" Ijut, for his meannesse and disparagement.
My sire, wlio me too dearely well did love.
Unto my choise by no nieanes would assent,
But often did my folly fowle reprove :
Yet nothing could ray fixed mind remove,
]3ut, whether wiU'd or nilled friend or foe,
I me resolv'd the utmost end to prove ;
And, rather then my love abandon so,
Both sire and friends and all for ever to forgo.

" Thenceforth I sought by .secret raennes to worke

Time to my will, and from his wratlifull sight

'I'o hide th' intent wliidi in my heart dia iurke.

Till I thereto had all things ready dight.

So on a day, unweeting unto wight,

1 with that scpiire agreede away to flit,

And in a jirivy place, betwixt us liigiit,

Within a grove apjiointed him to nieete ;

To which 1 boldly came upon my feeble feeto.

" But ah ! unhappy houre me tliither brought :
For in ihat place where 1 him thought to find,
'I'liere was 1 found, contrary to my thought.
Of this accursed carle of helliih kind,
Tlie shaiue of men, and plague of womankind ;
Who trussing me, as eagle dotli his ]>ray,
iMe hr'ther brought with liim as switt as wind.
Where yet untouchwl till tiiis jiresent day,
I rest his wretched thrall the sud yEmylia."

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

216

* Ah ! sad j^lmylia," then sayd Amoret,

' Thy rueful! plight I pitty as mme owne !

But read to me, bv what devise or wit

Hast thou in all this time from him unknowne

Thine honour sav'd, though intothraldome throvsTie?"

" Through helpe," quoth she, " of this old woman

I have so done, as she to me hath showne : [here

For, ever when he burnt in lustfull fire,

She in my stead supplide his bestiall desire."

Thus of their evils as they did discourse,
And each did other much bewaile and mone ;
Loe ! where the villaine selfe, their sorrowes sourse,
Came to the cave ; and rolling thence the stone,
Which wont to stop the mouth thereof that none
Might issue forth, came rudely rushing iu.
And, spredding over all the flore alone,
Gan dight himselfe unto his wonted sinne ;
Which ended, then his bloudy banket should beginne«

Which whenas fearefull Amorett perceived,
She staid not th' utmost end thereof to try,
But, like a ghastly gelt whose wits are reaved,
Ran forth in hast with hideous outcry,
For hoirour of his shamefull villany :
But after her full lightly he uprose.
And her pursu'd as fast as she did flie :
Full fast she flies, and farre afore him goes,
Ne feeles the thorns and thickets pricke her tender
toes.

Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she staies.
But over-leapes them all, like robucke light.
And through the thickest makes her nighest waies;
And evermore, when with regardful! sight
She looking backe espies tlie griesly wight
Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace.
And makes h* r feare a spur to hast her fliglit ;
More swift than JMyrrh' or Daphne in her race.
Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in salvage chace.

Long so she fled, and so he follow'd long ;

Ne living aide for her on earth appeares,

But if the heavens helpe to redresse her wrong,

Moved with pity and her plenteous teares.

It fortuned Belphebe with lier peares

The woody Nimphs, and with that lovely boy,

Was hunting then the libbards and the beares

In these wild woods, as was her wonted ioy.

To banish sloth that ott doth noble mindes annoy.

It so befell, as oft it falls in chace,

Tliat each of them from other sundred were ;

And that same gentle squire arriv'd in place

Where this same cursed caytive did appeare

Pursuing that faire lady ftiU of feare :

And now he her quite overtaken had ;

And now he her away with him did beare

Under his arme, as seeming wondrous "lad.

That by his grenning laughter mote farre otf be rad.

Which drery sight the gentle squire esp3-ing
Doth haste to crosse him by the nearest way.
Led with that wofull ladies piteous crying,
And him assailes with all the might he may ;
Yet will not he the lovely spoile down lay.
But with his craggy club in his right hand
Defends himselfe, and saves his gotten pray :
Yet had it bene right hard him to withstand,
But that he was full light and nimble on the land.

Thereto the villaine used crafte in fight :

For, ever when the squire his iavelia shooke.

He held the lady forth before him right.

And with her body, as a buckler, broke

The puissance of his intended stroke :

And if it chaunst, (as needs it must in fight,)

Whilest he on him was greedy to be wroke,

That any little blow on her did light.

Then would he laugh'aloud, and gather great delight,

Which subtill sleight did him encumber much.
And made him oft, when he would strike, forbeare ;
For hardly could he come the carle to touch.
But that he her must hurt, or hazard ueare :
Yet he his hand so carefully did beare.
That at the last he did himselfe atlaine.
And therein left the pike-head of his speare :
A streame of coalblacke bloud thence gusht amaine,
That all her silken garments did with bloud bestame.

With that he threw her rudely on the flore.
And, laving both his hands ujion his glave.
With dreadful! strokes let drive ar him so sore,
That forst him flie abacke, liimsell'e to save :
Yet he therewith so felly still did rave,
That scarse the squire his hand could once upreare,
But, for advantage, ground unto him gave.
Tracing and traversing, now liere, now there ;
For bootlesse thing it was to think such blowes to
beare.

Whilest thus in battel! they embusied were,

Belphebe, raunging in her forrest wide,

The liideous noise of their Imge strokes did lieare.

And drew thereto, making her eare her guide :

Whom when that theefe approching nigh espide

With bow in hand and arrowes ready bent.

He by liis former combate would not bide.

But fled away with ghastly dreriment,

Wei! knowing her to be his deaths sole instrument.

Whom seeing flie, slie speedily poursewed
With winged feete, as nimble as the winde,
And ever in her bow slie ready shewed
The arrow to his deadly marke desynde .
As when Latonaes daughter, cruell kynde.
In vengement of her mothers great disgrace,
With fell despight her cruell arrowes tynde
Gainst wofull Niobes unhappy race.
That all the gods did mone her miserable case.

21.

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[''OOR ]V

So well she sped her nncl so far slie ventred,
Tliat, ere unto his hellish deii he raiight,
Even as he readv was there to have entred,
She sent an arrow forth with mighty draught,
That in the very dore him overcaught,
And, in his nape arriving, throUi;h it thrild,
His greedy throte therewith in two distraught,
Tliat all his vitall spirites thereby spild.
And all his hairy brest with gory bloud was fild.

Whom wlien on ground she groveling saw to rowle,
She ran in liast his life to have bereft ;
But, ere she could him reach, the sinfull sowle
Having his carrion corse cpiite sencelesse left
Was fled to hell, surcharg'd with spoile and theft :
Yet over him she there long gazin^i stood,
And oft admir'd his monstrous shape, and oft
His mighty limbs, whilest all with filthy bloud
The place there over-flowne seemd like a sodaiue
flood.

Thenceforth she past into his dreadfull den,
Where nought but darkesome drerinesse she found,
Ne creature saw, but hearkned now and then
Some litle whispering, and soft-groning sound.
With that she askt, what ghosts there under ground
Lay hid in horrour of eternall night ;
And bad them, if so be they were not bound.
To come and shew themselves before the light.
Now freed from feare and danger of that dismall
■wioht.

Then fortli the sad ^^mylia issewed,

Yet trembling every iovnt through former feare ;

And at'ter her the hag, there with her mewed,

A foiile and lothsome creature, did apjieare ;

A leman fit for such a lover deare :

That mov'd Belpliebe her no lesse to hate,

Then for to rue the others heavy cheare ;

Of whom she gan enquire of her estate ;

Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.

Thence she them brouglit toward the place where
She left the gentle scjuire witli Amoret : [late

Tliere she him found by that new lovelv mate.
Who lay the whiles in swoune, full sadly set,
From her faire eves wiping the deawy wet
AVhich softly sti)d, and kissing them atweene,
And handling s'.ft the hurts which slie did get :
For of that cane she sorely bruz'd had beene,
Als of his owne rash hand one wound was to be seene.

XXXVI.

Wliich when she saw with sodaine glauncing eye.

Her noble heart, with siglit thereof, was fild

With deepe disdaine and great indignity,

That in her wrath slie thouglit them both have thrild

With that selfe arrow vhicli the carle had kild :

Yet held her wrathful! liand from vengeance sore :

But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld,

'• Is this the faith ? " she said — and said no more,

But turnd her face, and fled away for evermore.

He, seeing her depart, arose up light.

Right sore agrieved at her sharpe reproofe,

And follow'd fast: but, when he came in sight,

He durst not nigh apjiroch, but kept aloofe,

For dread of her displeasure's utmost proofe :

And evermore, when he did grace entreat.

And framed speaches fit for his behoofe.

Her mortall arrowes she at him did threat,

And forst him backe with fowle dishonor to retreat

At last, wlien long he follow'd had in vaine.
Yet found no ease of griefe nor hope of grace.
Unto those woods he turned backe againe.
Full of sad anguish and in heavy case :
And, finding there fit solitary place
For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy glade.
Where hardly eve mote see bright heavens face
For mossy trees, which covered all with shade
And sad melancholy ; there he Ids cabin made.

His wonted warlike weapons all he broke

And threw away, with vow to use no more,

Ne thenceforth ever strike in battell stroke,

Ne ever word to speake to woman more ;

But in that wildernesse, of men forlore

And of tlie wicked world forgotten quight.

His hard mishap in dolor to dejjlore.

And wast his wretched daies in wofull plight:

So on himselfe to wreake his follies owne despight.

And eke his garment, to be thereto meet.

He wilfully did cut and sha])e anew ;

And his faire lockes, that wont with omtment sweet

To be embaulm'd , and sweat out dainty dew.

He let to grow and grieslv to concrew,

Uncomb'd, uncurl'd, and carelesly unshed ;

Tliat in short time his face they overgrew,

And over all his shoulders did dispred.

That who he whilonie was uneath was to be red.

There he continued in this carefull plight,

Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares,

Through wilfull penury consumed quight,

'I'hat like a pined ghost he soone appeares :

For other food then that wildc forrest beares,

Ne other drinke there did he ever tast

Then running water temjired willi his teares,

The more his weakened body so to wast :

That out of all mens knowleilge he was worne at last.

For on a day, by fortune as it fell.
His own deare Lord Prince Arthure came that way,
Seeking adventures where lie mote heare tell ;
And, as he through the wandring wood did stray.
Having espide his cabin far away.
He to it drew, to wcet who tlu-re did wonne ;
Weening therein some holy hermit Jay,
That did resort of sinfull ])eople shonne ;
Or else some woodman shrowded there from scorcb*
ing sunne.

Canto VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE

Sir

Arriving there lie found this wretched man
Spending his daies in dolour and despaire,
And, through long fasting, woxen pale and wan,
All over-growen with rude and rugged haire ;
That albeit his owne dear squire he were.
Yet he him knew not, ne aviz'd at all ; [where,

But like strange wight, whom he had seene no
Saluting him, gan into speach to fall,
And pitty much his plight, that liv'd like outcast
thrall.

But to his speach he aunswered no whit,

But stood still mute, as if he had beene dum,

Ne signe of sence did shew, ne common wit,

As one with griefe and anguishe over-cum ;

And unto every thing did aunswere mum :

And ever, when the prince unto him spake,

He louted lowly, as did him becum,

And humble homage did unto him make ;

Midst sorrow shewing ioyous semblance for his

At which his uncouth guise and usage quaint
The prince did wonder much, vet could not gbesse
The cause of that his sorrowful! constraint ;
Yet weend, by secret signes of manlinesse.
Which close appeard in that rude brutishnesse.
That he whilome some gentle swaine had beene,
Traind up in feats of amies and knig>!itlinesse ;
Which he observ'd, by that he him had seene
To weld his naked sword and trv the edges keene •

And eke hy that he saw on every tree

How he the name of one engraven had

Which likly was his liefest love to be.

From whom he now so sorely was bestad ;

Which was by him Belphebe rightly rad :

Yet who was that Belphebe 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 himselfe he blist.

Tho, when he long had marked his demeanor.

And saw that all he said and did was vaine,

Ne ought mote make him cliange his wonted tenor,

Ne ought mote cease to mitigate his paine ;

He left him there in languor to remains

Till time for him should remedy provme.

And him restore to former grace againe :

Which, for it is too long here to abide,

I will deferre the end untill another tide

CANTO VIII.

The gentle squire recovers grace :
Sclauiider lier guests doth staine :

Corflambo thaseth Placidas,
And is by Arthurs slaine.

Well said the wiseman, now prov'd true by this

Which to this gentle squire did happen late,

That the displeasure of the miglity is

Then death itselfe more dread and desperate ;

For naught the same may calme, ne mitigate.

Till time the tempest doe thereof delay

With sutferaunce soft, whicli rigour can abate.

And have the sterne remembrance wypt away

Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay.

Till on a day, as in his wonted wise

His doole he made, tnere chaun.st a turtle dove

To come where he his dolors did devise,

'I hat likewise late had lost her dearest love,

W hich losse her made like passion also prove:

Who^ seeing his sad plight, her tender heart

With deare compassion deeply did emmove.

That she gan iiione his undeserved smart.

And with her dolefuU accent beare with him a part.

Like as it fell to this unhappy boy.
Whose tender heart the faire Belphebe had
\Mth one sterne looke so daunted, that no iov
In all his life, which afterwards he lad.
He ever tasted ; but with peiiaunce sad
And pensive sorrow pind and wore away,
Ne ever laught, ne once sliew'd countenance glad ;
But alwaies wept and wailed night and day.
As blasted bloosme through heat dolli languish and
decay :

Shee sitting by him, as on ground he lay.
Her mournefull notes full piteously did frame.
And thereof made a lamentable lay,
So sensibly compyld that in the same
Him seemed oft he heard his owne right name.
With that he forth would poure so plenteous tearea>
And beat his breast unworthy of such blame,
And kniicke his head, and rend his rugged heares.
That could have perst the hearts of tigres and of
beares

218

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[Book iV

Thus, long this gentle bird to him did use

Withouten dread of peril! to repaire

Unto his wonne, and with her mournefull muse

Him to recomfort in his greatest care,

Tliat much did ease his mourning and misfare :

And everv day, for guerdon of her song,

He part of Iiis small feast to her would share ;

That, at the last, of all his woe and wrong

Companion she became, and so continued long.

Upon a dav. as she him sate beside,

Hv chance he certaine miniments forth drew,

\Vhich yet with him as relickes did abide

Of all the bounty which Belphebe threw

On him, wliilst goodly grace she did him shew ;

Amongst the rest a iewell rich he found,

1'liat was a ruby of right perfect hew,

Shap'd like a lieart vet bleeding of the wound.

And with a litle oolden chaine about it bound.

Tlie same he tooke, and with a riband new,
In whicli his ladies colours were, did bind
About the turtles necke, that with the vew
Did greatly solace his engrieved mind.
All unawares the bird, when she did find
Herselfe so dekt, her nimble wings displaid,
And flew away as lightly as the wind :
Which sodaine aicident him much dismaid ;
And, looking after long, did niarke which way she
St raid.

But whenas long he looked had in vaine,
Yet saw her forward stUl to make her flight.
His weary eie returnd to him againe.
Full of discomfort and disquiet plight,
That both his iuell he bad lost so light,
And eke his deare companion of his care.
But that sweet bird departing flew fortliright,
Through the wide region of tlie wastfull aire,
Untill she came where wonned his Belphebe faire.

There found she her (as then it did betide)
Sitting in covert shade of arbors sweet.
After late wearie toile wliich she liad tride
In salvage cliase, to rest as seem'd Iier meet.
Tliere she, aligliting, fell before her feet.
And gan to her !ier mournfull plaint to make,
As was her wont, thinking to let her weet
The great tormenting griefe that for her sake
Her gentle squire through her displeasure did per-
take.

■ihe, her beholding witli attentive eye,
■\t length did marke a])out licr purple brest
That ])recious iuell, which she formerly
lad Kiiowne right well with colourd ribbands drest :
'Hierewith she mse in hast, and hor addrest
With ready hand it to have reft away :
But the swift bird obayd not her behest,
But swarv'd aside, and there againe did stay ;
She iciiow'd her, and thought againe it to aseay.

And ever, wlien she nigli approcht, the dove
Would flit a little forward, and then stay
Till she drew neare, and tiien againe remove •.'
So temjiting her still to pursue the pray,
And still from her escaping soft away :
Till that at length into that firrest wide
She drew her far, and led with slow delay :
In th' end she her unto that place did guide.
Whereas that wofuU man in lang-uor did abide.

Eftesoones she flew unto his fearlesse hand.
And there a piteous ditty new deviz'd,
And if slie would have made liim understand
His sorrowes cause, to be of her despis'd :
Whom when she saw in wretched weeds disgui.. J
With hearv glib deform'd, and meiger face,
Like ghost late risen from his grave agryz'd.
She knew him not, but pittied much his case.
And wisht it were in her to doe him any grace.

He, her beholding, at her feet downe fell

And kist the ground on which her sole did tread.

And washt the same with water which did well

From his moist eies, and like two streames procead

Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread

What mister wight he was, or what he ment:

But, as one daunted witli her presence dread,

Onely few ruefull lookes unto her sent,

As messensres of his true meaning: and intent.

Yet nathemore his meaning she ared.

But wondred much at his so selcouth case ;

And by his persons secret seemlyhed

Well weend that he iiad beene some man of place,

Before misfortune did his hew deface ;

That, being mov'd with rulh, she thus bespake :

" Ah 1 wofuU man, what Heavens hard disgrace,

Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake.

Or selfe-disliked life, doth thee thus wretched make 1

" If Heaven ; then none may it redresse or blame,

Sith to His powre we all are subiect borne !

If wrathfull wight ; then fowle rebuke and shame

Be theirs that have so cruell thee forlorne !

13ut, if through invv-ard griefe or wilful! scorne

Of life, it be ; then better doe advise :

For he, whose daies in wilful! woe are worne,

The grace of his Creator doth despise,

That will not use his <;ifts for thanklesse nigardise."

When so he heard her say, eftsoones he brake,

His sodaine silence wliich he long liad pent.

And, sighing inly deepe, lier thus bespake ;

" Then liave they all themselves aginst me bent !

For Heaven, first author of my languishment.

Envying my too threat felicity,

Did cosely with a cruel! one consent

To cloud my daies in doleful! misery.

And make me loath this life, still longing for to dio.

C.KS10 VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

219

" Xe any bm yourself, O dearest Dred,

Ilatli done this wrong, to wreake on worthlesse wight

Your liigh displeasure, through misdeeming bred:

That, when your pleasure is to deeme aright,

Ye may redresse, and me restore to light !"

U hicli sory words her mightie hart did mate

With mild regard to see his ruefull plight.

That her inburning wrath she gan abate.

And him receiv'd aoaine to former favours state.

In which he long time afterwards did lead

An happie life with grace and good accord,

Fearlesse of fortunes chaunge or envies dread,

And eke all mindlesse of his own deare lord

The noble prince, who never heard one word

Of tydings, what did unto him betide.

Or what good fortune did to him afford ;

But through the endlesse world did wander wide.

Him seeking evermore, yet no where him descride :

Till on a day, as through that wood he rode.

He chaunst to come where those two ladies late,

^T>mylia and Amoret, abode,

Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate ;

The one right feeble through the evill rate

Of food, which in her duresse she had found ;

The other almost dead and desperate [wound

Through her late hurts, and through that haplesse

With which the squire, in her defence, her sore astound.

Whom when the prince beheld, he gan to rew
The evill case in which those ladies lay ;
But most was moved at the piteous vew
Of Amoret, so neare unto decay,
That her great daunger did him much dismay.
Ettsoones that pretious liquor forth he drew,
\Vlach he in store about him kept alway.
And with few drops thereof did softly dew
Her wounds, that unto strength restor'd her soone
anew.

The, when they both recovered were right well,
He gan of ihem inquire, what evill guide
Them thetlier brought, and how their harmes befell ;
To whom thej' told all that did them betide.
And how from thraldome vile they were untide.
Of that same wicked carle, by virgins bond ;
Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him there beside,
And eke his cave in which they both were bond :
At which he wondred much when all those signes he
fond.

And evermore he greatly did desire

To know, what virgin did them thence unbind ;

And oft of them did earnestly inquire,

Where was her won, and how he mote her find.

But, whenas nought according to his mind

He could out-learne, he them from ground did reare,

(^j\'o service lothsome to a gentle kind,)

And on his warlike beast tliein both did beare,

Himselfe by them on foot to succour them from feare.

xxiir.

So when that forrest they hud ])assfd well,

A litle cottage farre away they siiiiic.

To which they drew ere night ujxm tlieiu fell ;

And, entring in, found none therein abide,

But one old woman sitting there beside

Upon the ground in ragged rude attyre,

With filthy lockes about her scattered wide,

Gnawing her navies for felnesse and for vre,

And there out sucking venime to her j)arts entvre.

A foule and loathly creature sure in sight,

And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse :

For she was stuft with rancour and despiglit

Up to the throat tliat oft with bitternesse

It forth would breake and gush in great excesse.

Pouring out streames of poyson and of gall

Gainst all that truth or vertue doe professe ;

Whom she with leasings lewdlv did miscall

And wickedly backbite ; her name did Sclaunder call

Her nature is, all goodnesse to abuse,
And causelesse crimes continually to frame.
With which she guiltlesse persons may accuse.
And steale away the crowne of their good name :
Ne ever knight so bold, ne ever dame
So chast and loyal liv'd, but she would strive
With forged cause them falsely to defame ;
j\ e ever thing so well was doeii alive.
But she with blame would blot, and of due praise
deprive.

Her words were not, as common words are meat,
T'expresse the meaning of the inward mind.
But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit sent
From inward parts, with cancred malice lind.
And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind ; [hart,
Which passing through tlie eares would pierce the
And wound the soule itselfe with griefe unkind :
For, like ti)e stings of aspes that kill with smart.
Her spightful Iwords did pricke and wound th^ inner
part.

xxvii.

Such was that hag, unmeet to host such guests.
Whom j^reatest princes court would welcome fayne:
But neede, that answers not to all requests.
Bad them not looke for better entertertavne ;
And eke that age despysed nicenesse vaine,
Enur'd to hardnesse and to homely fare.
Which them to warlike discipline did trayne.
And manly limbs endur'd with litle care
Against all hard mishaps and fortunelesse misfare.

XXVIII.

Then all that evening, welcommed with cold
And chearelesse hunger, they together spent ;
Yet found no fault, but that the bag did scold
And rayle at them with grudgefuU discontent.
For lodging there without her owne consent;
Yet they endured all with patience niilde.
And unto rest themselves all onely lent,
Regardlesse of that queane !.o base and vilde
To be uniustly blamd and bitterly revilde.

220

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV

Here well I weene, whenas these rimes be red
With misregard, that some rash-witted wight,
Whose loos<^r thought will lightly be misled,
These gentle Indies will misdeeme too light
For thus conversing with this noble knight ;
Sith now of dayes such temperance is rare
And hard to finde, that heat of youthfuU spright
For ouglit will from his greedie pleasure spare :
Wore liard for hungry steed t'abstaine from pleasant
lare.

But antique age, yet in the infancie

Of time, did live then, like an innocent.

In simple truth and blamelesse chastitie ;

Ne then of gude had made experiment ;

But, voide of vile and treacherous intent,

Held vertue, for itselfe, in soveraine awe :

Then loyal love had royall regiment,

And each unto his lust did make a lawe,

From all forbidden things his liking to withdraw.

The lyon there did with the lambe consort,
And eke the dove sate by the faulcons side ;
Ne each of other feared fraud or tort.
But did in safe securitie abide,
Witliouten perill of the stronger pride :
But when the world woxe old, it woxe warre old,
(Whereof it hight,) and, having shortly tride
The trainesof wit, in wickednesse woxe bold,
And dared of all siunes the secrets to unfold.

nien beautie, which was made to represent
The great Creatours owne resemblance bright,
I Dto abuse of lawlesse lust was lent.
And made the baite of bestiall delight :
Then iaire grew foule, and foule grew faire in sight ;
And tliat, wliicli wont to vanc|uisli God and man,
Was made tlie vassall of tlie victors might ;
Then did her glorious fiowre wex dead and wan,
Despisd and troden dovvne of all that over-ran :

And now it is so utterly decayd.

That any bud thereof doth scarse remaine.

But if lew jilants, jireserv'd tlirough heavenly ayd,

In ]>rinces court doe hap to sprout againe,

Dew'd with her drops of bountie soveraine,

VVliich from tliat goodly glorious fiowre proceed.

Sprung of the auncient stocke of princes straine,

Now th' onely remnant of that royall breed,

Whose noble kind at first was sure of heavenly seed.-

Tho, soone as day discovered heavens face
To sinfull men with darkiies overdight,
'I'his gentle crew gan from tiieir eye-lids chace
The drowzie humour of the dampish night.
And did themselves unto their iourney dight.
So forth they vode, and forward sofilv paced.
That them to view had bene an untouth sight ;
How all the way the prince on footjiace traced.
The ladies both on horse to.gether fast embraced.

Soone as they thence departed were afore.

That shamefuU hag, the slaunder of her sexe,

Them follow'd fast, and them reviled sore.

Him calling theefe, them whores ; that much did vexe

His noble hart : thereto she did annexe

False crimes and fiicts, such as they never ment,

That those two ladies much ashamed did wexe :

The more did she pursuf lier lewd intent.

And ray I'd and rag'd, till she had all her poyson spent^

At last, when they were passed out of sight.
Yet she did not her spightfull speach forbeare.
But after them did barke, and still backbite,
Though there were none her hatefuU words to heare:
Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare
The stone, wliich passed straunger at him threw ;
So she, tiiem seeing past the reach of eare,
Against the stones and trees did rayle anew.
Till she had duld the sting, vv-hich in her tongs end
grew.

XXXVII.

They passing forth kept on their readie way.

With easie steps so soft as foot could strvde,

Both for great feeblesse which did oft assay

Faire Amoret, that scarcely she could ryde.

And eke through heavie armes which sore annoyd

The prince on foot, not wonted so to fare.

Whose steadie hand was faine his steede to guvde.

And all the way from trotting hard to spare ;

So was his toyle the more, the more that was his care.

XXXVIII.

At length they spide where towards them with speed
A squire came galli)])ing, as he would flie.
Bearing a litle dwarfe before his steed,
That all the way full loud for aide did crie,
That seem'd his shrikes Avould rend the brasen skie*
Whom after did a mighty man pursew,
Rvding upon a dromedare on hie.
Of stature huge, and horrible of hew.
That would have maz'd a man his dreadful! face to
vew :

XXXIX.

For from his fearefidl eyes two fierie beames,
IMore sl)ar]i(' then jioints of ne^nlles, did proceede.
Shooting lorth farre awav two flaming streames.
Full of sad powre, that poysnous bale did breede
To all that on idm lookt without good heed;
And secretly his enemies did slay :
Like as the basiliske, of serpents seede.
From jiowrefull eyes close venim doth convay
Into tije lookers hart, and killeth farre away.

lie all the way did rage at that same squire.

And after him full many threatnings threw,

With curses vaine in his avengefull ire:

But none of them (so fast away he flew)

Ilim overtooke before he came in vew :

Where wlien he saw the prince in armour bright.

He cald to him aloud his case to rew,

And rescue him, through succour of his might.

From that his cruell foe that him pursewd in sight

Canto VIII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

221

Kftsoones the prince tooke downe those ladies twaine

(■"loni loftie steede, and mounting in their stead

Came to that squire yet trembling every vaine ;

Of whom he gan enquire his cause of dread :

Who as he gan the same to him aread,

Loe ! hard behind his backe his foe was prest,

With dreadfull weapon aymed at his head,

That unto death had doen him unredrest,

Had not the noble prince his readie stroke represt :

Who, thrusting boldly twixt him and the blow,
The burden of the deadly brunt did lieare
Upon his shield, which lightly he did throw
Over his head, before the harme came neare :
Nathlesse it fell with so despiteous dreare
And heavie sway, that hard unto his crowne
The shield it drove, and did the covering reare :
Therewith both squire and dwarfe did tomble downe
Unto the earth, and lay long while in senselesse
swowne.

XLIII.

Whereat the prince, full wrath, his strong right hand

In full avengement heaved up on hie,

And stroke the pagan with his steely brand

So sore, that to his saddle-bow thereby

He bowed low, and so a while did lie:

And sure, had not his massie yron mace

Betwixt him and his hurt bene happily,

It would have cleft him to the girding place ;

Vet, as it was, it did astonish him long space.

But, when he to himselfe returnd againe.
All full of rage he gan to curse and sweare,
And vow by Mahoune that he should be slaine.
With that his murdrous mace he up did reare.
That seemed nought the souse thereof could beare,
And therewith smote at him with all his might:
But, ere that it to him approched neare.
The rovall child with readie quick foresight
Did shun the proofe thereof and it avoyded light.

But, ere his hand be could recure againe

To ward his bodie from the balefull stound,

He smcte at him with all his might and maine

So furiously that, ere he wist, he found

His head before him tombling on the ground ;

i lie whiles his babling tongue did yet blaspheme

And curse his god that did him so confound ;

1 he whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie streams,

His soule descended downe into the Stygian reame.

Which when that squire beheld, he woxe full glad
lo see his foe breath out his spright in vaine :
But that same dwarfe right sorie seem'd and sad,
And howld aloud to see his lord there slaine.
And rent his haire and scratcht his face for paine.
'I'lien gan the prince at leasure to inquire
(Jf all the accident there hapned plaine.
And what he was whose eyes did flame with fire :
Al which was thus to him declared by that squire.

" This mightie man," quoth he, " whom you hava

Of an huge geauntesse whvlome was bred ; [slaine,

And by his strength rule to himselfe did gaine

Of many nations into thraldome led.

And mightie kingdomes of his force adred ;

Whom yet lie conquer'd not by bloudie fight,

Ne hostes of men with banners brode dispred.

But by the povi-re of his infectious sight,

With which he killed all that came within his might.

" Ne was he ever vanquished afore,

But ever vanquisht all with whom he fought ;

Ne was there man so strong, but he downe bore ;

Ne woman yet so faire, but he her brought

Unto his bay, and captived her thought :

For most of strength and beautie his desire

Was spoyle to make, and wast them unto nought.

By casting secret flakes of lustfuU fire

From his false eyes into their harts and parts entire.

" Therefore Corflambo was he cald aright.

Though namelesse there his bodie now doth lie :

Yet hath he left one daughter that is hight

The faire Psana : who seemes outwardly

So faire as ever yet saw living eie ;

And, were her vertue like her beautie bright,

She were as faire as any under skie :

But ah ! she given is to vaine delight.

And eke too loose of life, and eke of love too liiiht.

" So, as it fell, there was a gentle squire
That lov'd u ladie of high parentage ;
But, for his meane degree might not aspire
To match so high, her friends with counsell sage
Dissuaded her from such a disparage :
But she, whose hart to love was wholly lent.
Out of his hands could not redeeme her gage.
But, firmely following her first intent,
Resolv'd with him to wend, gainst all her friends
consent.

" So twixt themselves they pointed time and place :
To which when he according did repaire,
An hard mishap and disaventrous case
Him chaunst ; instead of his .-Emylia faire.
This Gyants sonne, that lies there on the laire
An headlesse heape, him unawares there caught ,
And all dismayd through mercilesse despaire
Him wretched thrall unto his dongeon brought,
Where he remaines of all unsuccour'd and unsought

" This grants daughter came upon a day
Unto the prison, in her ioyous glee.
To view the tlijals which there in bondage lay :
Amongst the rest she cbaunced there to see
This lovely swaine, the squire of low degree ;
To whom she did her liking lightly cast.
And wooed him her paramour to bee :
From day to day she woo'd and prayd him fast.
And for his love him promist libertie at lasU

S22

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV

" He, thoiitjh affide unto a former love,

To whom faith he firmely merit to hold,

Yet seeing not bow thence he mote remove,

But by that meanes which fortune did unfold,

Her graunted love, but with affection cold,

To win lier grace his libertie to get :

Vet he him still detaines in captive hold.

Fearing, least if she should him freely set.

He would her shortly leave, and former love forget.

" Yet so much fiivour she to him hath bight
Above the rest, that he sometimes may space
And wallce about her gardens of delight.
Having a keeper still with bim in place ;
Which keeper is this dwarfe, her dearling base.
To whom the Iceyes of every prison dore
By her committed be, of speciall grace.
And at bis will may whom be list restore,
And, whom he list, reserve to be afflicted more.

" Whereof when tydings came unto mme eare.
Full inly sorie, for the fervent zeale
Which I to him as to my soule did beare,
I tbether went ; where I did long conceale
IVlyselfe, till that the dwarfe did me reveale.
And told his dame her squire of low degree
Did secretly out of her prison steale ;
For me he did mistake that squire to bee ;
For never two so like did living creature see.

" Then was I taken and before her brought ;
Who, through the likenesse of my outward hew,
BeiniC likewise beguiled in her thought,
Gan blame me much for being so untrew
To seeke by flight her fellowship t'cschew,
Tliat lov'd me deare, as dearest thing alive.
Thence she commaunded me to prison new :
W hereof I glad did not gaine-say nor strive.
But suffred that same dwarfe me to her dongeon
drive.

" There did I finde mine onely faithfull frend

In heavy plight and sad perplexitie ;

Whereof I sorie, yet myselfe did bend

Him to recomfort with my companie ;

But him the more agreev'd I found thereby :

For all his ioy, be said, in that distresse

V\'as mine and his yl^niylias libertie.

/I'',ni\lia well he lov'd, us 1 mote ghesse ;

Yet greater love to me then her be did professe.

Lviir.

" But I with better reason him aviz'd

And shew'd bim bow, through error and misthought

Of our like persons euth to be disguiz'd,

Or his exchange or freedom might be wrought.

\Vheieto full loth was be, ne would for ought

Consent that I, who stood all fearelesse free,

Sliould wilfully he into thraldoine brought,

'I'ill lortuiie did jierl'orce it so decree :

\et, over-ruUi at last, he did to me agree.

" The morrow next, about the wonted bowre,
The dwarfe cald at the doore of Amyas
To come forthwith unto his ladies bowre:
Insteed of whom forth came I Placidas,
And undiscerned forth with bim did pas.
There with great ioyance and with gladsome glee
Of faire Parana I received was.
And oft imbrast, as if that I were bee,
And with kind words accoyd, vowing great love tcu
mee.

" Which I, that was not bent to former love
As was my friend that had her long refus'd.
Did well accept, as well it did behove,
And to the present neede it wisely usd.
]\Iy former hardnesse first I faire excusd ;
i And, after, promist large amends to make.
I With such smooth termes her error I abusd
I To my friends good more then for mine owne sake,
For whose sole libertie I love and life did stake.

" Thenceforth I found more favour at her hand ;

That to her dwarfe, which had me in his charge.

She bad to lighten my too beavie band.

And graunt more scope to me to walke at large.

So on a day, as by the flovvrie marge

Of a fresh streame I with that elfe did play.

Finding no meanes how I might us enlarge,

But if that dwarfe I could with me convay,

I lightly snatcht him up and with me bore away.

" Thereat be sbriekt aloud, that with his cry
The tyrant selfe came forth with yelling bray,
And me pursew'd ; but nathemore would I
Forgoe the purchase of my gotten pray,
But have perforce him betber brought away."
Thus as they talked, loe ! where nigh at hand
Those ladies two, vet douhtfull through dismay,
In presence came, desirous t' understand
Tydings of all which there had hapned on the land.

Where scone as sad ^mylia did espie
Her captive lovers friend, young Placidas;
All mindlesse of her wonted modestie
She to him ran, and, bim with streight embras
Enfolding, said ; " and lives yet Amyas?"
" He lives," quoth he, " and bis ^Emylia loves."
" Then lesse," said she, " by all the woe I pas.
With which my weaker patience fortune proves:
But what mishap thus long bim fro myselfe re«
moves V

Then gan be all this storie to renew,

And tell the course of bis captivitie ;

That her deare hart full deepely made to rew

And sigh full sore, to beare the miserie

In which so long he mercilesse did lie.

Then, after many teares and sorrowes spent,

She deare besought the prince of remedie:

Who thereto did with readie will consent,

And well perforrn'd ; as shall apjH'ai-e by his evcnu

Canto IX. ]

THE i-^AERIE QUEENE.

223

CANTO IX.

The Squire of low degree, releast,

Paeana takes to wife :
Bntomart fightes with many knights j

Prince Arthur stints their strife.

Hard is the doubt, and difficult to deeme,

\\ lien all three kinds of love together meet

And doe dispart tlie hart with povvre extreme,

Whether shall weigh the balance downe ; to weet,

The deare affection unto kindred sweet,

Or raging fire of love to womankind.

Or zeale of friends combynd with vertues meet.

But of them all the band of vertuous mind,

Me seemes, the gentle hart should most assured bind.

For naturall affection soone doth cesse.
And quenched is with Cupids greater flame ;
But faithful! friendship doth them botli suppresse.
And them with maystring discipline doth tame,
Through thoughts aspyring to eternall fame.
For as the soule doth rule the earthly masse.
And all the service of the bodie frame ;
So love of soule doth love of bodie passe.
No lesse then perfect gold surmounts the meanest
brasse.

All which who list by tryall to assay.

Shall in this storie find approved plaine ;

In which these squires true friendship more did sway

Then either care of parents could refraine,

Or love of fairest ladle could constraine.

For though Pffiaaa were as faii-e as morne,

Yet did this trustie squire with proud disdaine

For his friends sake her offred favours scorne,

And she herselfe her syre of whom she was yborne.

Now, after tha<t Prince Arthur graunted had

To yeeld strong succour to that gentle swayne,

Who now long time had lyen in prison sad ;

He gan advise how best he mote darrayne

I'hat enterprize, for greatest glories gayne.

That headlesse tyrants tronke he reard from ground.

And, having ympt the head to it agayne.

Upon his usuall beast it firmely bound,

And made it so to ride as it alive was found.

Then did he take that chased squire, and layd

Before the ryder, as he captive were ;

And made his dwarfe, though with unwilling ayd,

'I'd guide the beast that did his maister beare.

Till to his Castle they approched neare :

Whom when the watch, that kept contiuuall ward,

Saw cumming home, all voide of doubtfull feare

l^le. running downe, the gate to him unbard ;

Whom straight the Prince ensuing in together far'd.

There did he find in her delitious boure

The faire Pseana playing on a rote,

Complayning of her cruell paramoure.

And singing all her sorrow to the note.

As she had learned readily by rote ;

That with the sweetnesse of her rare delight

The Prince half rapt began on her to dote ;

Till, better him bethinking of the right,

He her unwares attacht, and captive held by might,.

Whence being forth produc'd, when she perceived
Her owne deare sire, she cald to him lor aide :
But when of him no aunswere she received,
But saw him sencelesse by the squire upstaide.
She weened well that then slie was betraide :
Then gan she loudlv cry, and weepe, and waile,
And that same squire of treason to upbraide :
But all in vaine ; her jdaints might not prevaile ;
Ne none there was to reskue her, ne none to baile.

Then tooke he that same dwarfe and him compeld
To open unto him the prison dore,
And forth to bring those thrals which there he held.
Thence forth were brought to him above a score
Of knights and squires to him unknowne afore :
All which he did from bitter bondage free.
And unto former liberty lestore.
Amongst the rest that squire of low degree
Came forth full weake and wan, not like himselfe to
bee.

Whom soone as faire ^Emylia beheld
And Placidas, they both unto him ran.
And him embracing fast betwixt them held.
Striving to comfort him all that they can,
And kissing oft his visage pale and wan :
That faire Fa?ana, them beholding both,
Gan both envy, and hitterly to bin ;
Tlirough iealous passion weeping inly wroth,
To see the sight perforce that both her eyes were
loth.

But when awhile they had together beene.

And diversly conferred of their case.

She, though full oft she both of them had scene

Asunder, vet not ever in one place,

Began to doubt, when she them saw embrace.

Which was the captive squire she lov'd so deare,

Deceived through great likenesse of iheir face:

For thev so like in person did a])peaiv.

That she uneath discerned whether whether weare.

IHE FAERIE QUEEN E.

[book IT.

A ifl.pke the prince whenas lie them avized,
'i Iieir like reserublaunce much admired there.
And mazd how natuie had so well disguized,
Her vvorke, and counterf'et herselfe so nere,
As if that by one patterne seene somewhere
SJje had tliem made a parag-one to be ;
Or wliether it through skdl or errour were.
Thus gazing long at them much wondred he ;
1 ditl the other knights and squires which him did
see.

Then gan thev ransacke that same castle strong,

In which he found great store of hoorded threasure,

'J'he wliich that tyrant gathered had by wrong

And tortious powre, without respect or measure.

Upon all which the Briton prince made seasure,

And afterwards continu'd there a while

To rest himselfe, and solace in soft pleasure

Those weaker ladies after weary toile ;

To whom he did divide part of his purchast spoils.

And, for more ioy, that captive lady faire,
The faire Parana, he enlarged free,
And by the rest did set in sumptuous chairs
To feast and frollicke ; nathemore would she
Shew gladsome countenaunce nor pleasaunt glee ;
But grieved was for losse both of her sire.
And eke of lordship with both land and fee ;
Btit most she touched was with griefe entire
For losse of her new love, the hope of her desire.

But her the prince, through his well-wonted grace,
To better termes of myldnesse did entreat
From that fowle rudenesse which did her deface ;
And that same bitter cor'sive, which did eat
Her tender heart and made refniine from meat,
He with good thewes and speaches well applyde
Did mollifie, and calme her raging heat :
For though she were most faire, and goodly dyde,
Yet she it all did mar with cruelty and pride.

And, for to shut up all in friendly love,
Sith love was first the ground of all her griefe,
That trusty squire he wisely well did move
Not to despise that dame which lov'd him liefe.
Till he had made of her some better priefe ;
|jut to accept her to his wedded wife :
Thereto he offred for to make him chiefe
Of all her land and lordship during life :
He yeelded, and her tooke ; so stinted all their
strife.

From that day forth in peace and ioyous blis
They liv'd together long without debate ;
Ne private iarre, ne spite of enemis,
Could shake the safe assuraunce of their state*
And she, whom nature did so faire create
That she mote match the fairest of her daies,
let Willi lewd loves and lust intemjierate
/tild it defaste, thenceforth reformed her waies,
TliHt hU men much admyrde her change, and spake
her praise.

Thus when the prince had perfectly comp^dde
These paires of friends in peace and setled rest ;
Himselfe, whose minde did travell as with chylde
Of his old love conceav'd in secret brest,
Resolved to pursue his former guest ;
And, taking leave of all, with him did bears
Faire Amoret, whom fortune by bequest
Had left in his protection whileare,
Exchanged out of one into another feare.

Feare of her safety did her not constraine ,

For well she wist now in a mighty bond

Her person, late in ])erill, did remaine.

Who able wr^ all daungers to withstond :

But now in feare of shame she more did stond,

Seeing herselfe all snly succourlesse,

Left in the victors powre, likevassall bond;

^Vhose will her weakenesse could no way represse.

In case his burning lust should breake into excesse.

But cause of feare sure had she none at all
Of him, who goodly learned had of yore
The course of loose affection to foistall,
And lawlesse lust to rule with reasons lore ;
That, all the while he by his side her bore,
She was as safe as in a sanctuary.
Thus many miles they two together wore,
To seeke their loves dispersed diversly ;
Yet neither shewed to other their hearts privity

At length they came whereas a troupe of knights
They saw together skirmishing, as seemed :
Sixe they were all, all full of fell despight.
But foure of them the battell best beseemed,
That which of them was best mote not be deemed
These foure were thev from whom false Florimel
By Braggadochio lately was redeemed ;
To weet, sterne Druon, and lewd Claribell,
Love-lavish Blandamour, and lustfull Paridell.

Druons delight was all in single life.

And unto ladies love would lend no leasure :

The more was Claribell enraged rife

With fervent flames and loved out of measure :

So eke lov'd J51andamour, but yet at pleasure

Would change his liking, and new lemans prove:

But Paridell of love did make no threasure,

But lusted after all that him did move :

So diversly these foure disposed were to love.

But those two other, which beside them stoode,

Were Britomnrt and gentle Scudamour ;

Who all the wliile licheld their wrathful! moode.

And wondred at their imjilacable stoure,

W'liose like they never saw till that same boure :

So dreadfull strokes each did at other drive.

And laid on load with all their might and powre.

As if that every dint the ghost would rive

Out of tiieir w-etched corses, and their lives deprive

Canto IX.J

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

225

As when Dan ^olus, in great displeasure
For losse of his deare love by Neptune bent,
Sends forth the winds out of bis bidden tbreasure
Upon the sea to ^vreake bis full intent ;
They, breaking forth with rude unruliment
From all foure parts of heaven, doe rage full sore.
And tosse the deepes, and teare the firmament,
And all the world confound with wide uprore ;
As if instead thereof they Chaos would restore.

Cause of their discord and so fell debate

Was for the love of that same snowy maid,

VVhome they had lost in turneyment of late ;

And, seeking long to weet which way slie straid,

Alet here together ; where, through lewd uphraide

Of Ate and Duessa, they fell out;

And each one taking part in others aide

This cruell conflict raised thereabout,

Whose dangerous successe depended yet in doubt :

For sometimes Paridell and Blandamour
The better had, and bet the others backe;
Eftsoones the others did the field recoure.
And on their foes did worke full cruell wracke ;
Yet neither would their fiend-like fury slacke,
But evermore their malice did augment;
Till that uiieath tbev forced were, for lacke
Of breath, their raging rigour to relent,
And rest themselves for to recover spirits spent.

There gan they change their sides, and new parts
For Paridell did take to Druons side, [take ;

For oid aespight which now forth newly brake
Gainst Blandamour whom alwaies he envide :
And Blandamour to Claribell relide :
So all afresh gan former fight renew.
As when two harkes, this caried with the tide,
That with the wmd, contrary courses sew.
If wind and tide doe change, their courses change
anew.

Thenceforth they much more furiously gan fare.

As if but then the battell liad begonne ;

Ne helmets bright ne hawberks strong did spare,

That through the clifts the vermeil bloud out sponne,

And all adowne their riven sides did ronne.

Such mortall malice wonder was to see

In friends profest, and so great outrage donne :

But sooth is said, and tride in each degree,

Faint friends when they fall out most cruell fomen bee.

Thus they long while continued in fight ;

Till Scudamour and that same Briton raaide

By fortune in that place did chance to light :

\\ hom soone as they with wrathfull eie bewraide,

They gan remember of the fowle uphraide,

The which that Britonesse had to them donne

In that late turney for the snowy maide ;

^^ liere she liad tliem both sliamefuUy ibrdonne.

And eke the famous prize of beauty from them wonne.

XXIX.

Eftsoones all burning with a fresh desire

Of fell revenge, in their malicious mood

They from themselves gan turne their furious ire.

And cruell blades yet steeming with whot bloud

Against those two let drive, as they were wood :

Who wondring much at that so sodaine fit.

Yet nought dismayd, them stoutly well withstood

Ne yeelded foote, ne once abacke did flit.

But, being doubly smitten, likewise doubly smit.

Tlie warlike dame was on her part assaid

Of Claribell and Blandamour attone ;

And Paridell and Druon fiercely laid

At Scudamour, both his professed fone :

Four charged two, and two surcharged one ;

^'et did those two themselves so bravely bears,

1'hat th' other litle gained by the lone.

But with their owne repayed duely weare.

And usury wilhall : such gaine was gotten deare.

Full oftentimes did Britomart assay
To speake to them, and some emparlance move ;
But they for nought their cruell hands would stay,
Ne lend an eare to ought that might behove.
As when an eager mastifl'e once doth prove
The tast of bloud of some engored beast,
No words may rate, nor rigour him remove
From greedy hold of that his blouddy feast :
So, litle did they hearken to her sweet beheast.

Whom when the Briton prince afarre beheld

With ods of so uiiequall match opprest.

His mighty heart with indignation sweld.

And inward grudge fild hi, heroicke brest :

Eftsoones himsehe l,e to their aide addrest.

And thrusting fierce into ihe thickest preace

Divided them, boweyer loth to rest ;

And would them i'aine from battell to surceasse.

With gentle words pi rs wading them to friendly peace.

But they so farre from peace or patience were.

That all at orc^ at tim gan fiercely flie,

And lay on load, as they him downe would bears :

Like to a storme which hovers under skie,

Long here and there and round about doth stie,

At length breakes downe in raiue, and haile, anJ

sleet,
First from one coast, till nought thereof be drie ;
And then another, till that likewise fleet ;
And so from side to side till all the world it weet.

But now their forces greatly were decayd,

The prince yet being fresh untoucht afoie ;

\\ ho them with speaches milde gan first disswade

From such foule outrage, and them long iorbore ;

Till, seeing them through suftrance hartned more,

Ilimselfe he bent their furies to abate.

And layd at them so sharpely and so sore,

'J'hat shortly them compelled to retrate,

And being brought in daunger to relent too late.

<»<i

THE FAERIE QtlEENE.

[Book IV

But now Lis courasre beinp; throughly fired, _
He ment to make them know their follies pnse,
Had not those two liim instantly desired
T' asswage his wrath, and pardon their mesprise :
At whose request he g;in himselfe advise
To stay his hand, and of a truce to treat
In milder tearmes, as list them to devise ;
Mongst which the cause of their so cruell heat
He did them aske ; who all that passed gan repeat ;

And told at large how that same errant knight,

To weet. faire Britomart, them late had foyled

In open turney, and by wrongfull fight

Both of their publicke praise had them despoyled,

And also of their private loves beguyled ;

Of two full hard to read the harder theft.

But she that wrongfull challenge soone assoyled,

And shew'd that she had not that lady reft,

(As they suppos'd,) but her had to her liking left.

To whom the prince thus goodly well replied ;
" Certes, sir knight, ye seemen much to blame
To rip up wrong" that battell once hath tried ;
Wherein the honor both of armes ye shame.
And eke the love of ladies foule defame ;
To whom the world this franchise ever yeelded,
That of their loves choise they might freedom clame,
And in that right should by all knights be shielded :
Gainst which, me seemes, this war ye wrongfully
have wielded."

" And yet," quoth she, "a greater wrong remaines •
For I thereby my former love have lost ;
Whom seeking ever since with endlesse paines
Hath me much sorrow and much travell cost.
Aye me, to see that gentle maide so tost !"
But Scudamour then sighing deepe thus saide ;
" Certes her losse ought me to sorrow most,
Whose right she is. wherever she be straide,
Through many perils wonne, and many fortunes
waide :

" For from the first that I her love profest,
Unto this houre, this present lucklesse howre,
I never ioyed happinesse nor rest;
But thus tormoild fiom one to other stowre
I wast my life, and doe my daies devowre
In wretclied anguishe and incessant woe,
Passing the measure of my feeble powre ;
That, living thus a wretch and loving so,
I neither can my love ne yet my life forgo."

Then good Sir Claribell him thus bespake;

" Now were it not, Sir Scudamour, to you

Dislikefull paine so sad a taske to take.

Mote me entreat you, sith this gentle crew

Is now so well accorded all anew,

That, as we ride together on our way.

Ye vvil! recount to us in order dew

All that adventure which ye did assay

For that faire ladies love : past perils well apay."

So gan the rest him likewise to require :

But Britomart did him imp6rtune hard

To take on him that paine ; whose great desire

He glad to satisfie, himselfe prepar'd

To tell through what misfortune he had fai'd

In that atchievement, as to him befell.

And all those daungers unto them declar'd;

Which sith they cannot in this canto well

Comprised be, I will them in another tell.

CANTO X.

Scudamour doth his conquest tell

Of vertuous Amoret :
Great Venus temple is describ'd ;

And lovers life forth set.

" True lie ',t said, whatever man it sayd,

That love with gall and bony doth abound :

IB it if the one be with the other wayd,

Foi fyo-' dram of liony, therein found,

A pc'.rd of gall doth over it redound:

That I too true by triall have approved ;

I'or since the day that first with deadly wound

.\ly heart was launcht, and learned to have loved,

[ never ioyed howre, but still with care was moved.

" And yet such grace is given them from above.
That ail the cares and evil) which they meet
May nought at all their setled mindes lemove.
But seeme gainst common sence to them mostsweet",
As hosting in their martyrdome unmeet.
So all that ever yet I have endured
I count as naught, and tread downe undei feet,
Since of my love at length I rest assured,
That to disloyalty she will not be allured. ■

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEEME.

S97

' Long; were to tell tbe travell and long toile,
Through which this shield of Love I late have wonne.
And purchased this peerlesse beauties spoile,
That harder may be ended, then begonne :
But since ye so desire, your will be donne.
Then hearke, ye gentle knights and ladies free,
My hard mishaps that ye may learne to shonne ;
For though sweet love to conquer glorious bee,
Yet is the paine thereof much greater then the fee.

" What time the fame of this renowmed prise
Flew first abroad, and all mens eares possest ;
1, having armes then taken, gan avise
To winne me honour by some noble gest,
And purchase me some place amongst the best.
I boldly thought, (so young mens thoughts are bold).
That this same brave emprize for me did rest,
And that both shield and she whom I behold
Might be my luckv lot ; sith all by lot we hold.

" So on that hard adventure forth I went,
And to the place of perill shortly came :
That was a temple faire and auncient,
AVhich of great mother Venus bare the name,
And farre renowmed through exceeding fame ;
Much more then that which was in Paphos built,
Or that in Cyprus, both long since this same,
'I'hough all the pillours of the one were guilt,
And all the others pavement were with yvory spilt:

" And it was seated in an island strong.

Abounding all with delices most rare,

And wall'd by nature gainst invade** wrong,

That none mote have accesse, nor inward fare,

But by one way that passage did prepare.

It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wize

With curious corbes and pendants graven faire.

And arched all with porches did arize

On stately pillours fram'd after the Doricke guize

" And for defence thereof on tb' other end

There reared was a castle faire and stiong.

That warded all which in or out did wend.

And flancked both the bridges sides along,

Gainst all that would it faine to force or wrong :

And therein wonned twenty valiant knights ;

All twenty tride in warres experience long ;

Whose office was against all manner wights

By all meanes to maintaine that castels ancient rights.

" Before that castle vfas an open plaine,

And in the midst thereof a pillar placed ;

On which this shield, of many sought in vaine,

'I HE SHIELD OF LOVE, whose guerdon he bath graced.

Was hangd on high with golden ribbands laced ;

Ami in tlie marble stone was written this,

With golden letters goodlv well enchaced ;

Bkssed the man that well can use this I'Hs :

IVhaw eter be the shield, Jaire Amorel be hit.

" Which when I red, my heart did inly earne.
And print with hope of that adventures hap :
Ne stayed further newes thereof to learne,
But with my speare upon the shield did rap,
1'hat all the castle ringed with the clap.
Streight forth issewd a knight all arm'd to pioote,
And bravely mounted to his most mishap:
Who, staying nought to question from aloofe.
Ran fierce at me, that tire glauust from his hcrses
boofe.

" Whom boldly I encountred (as I could)
And by good fortune shortly him unseated.
Eftsoones outsprung two more of equajl mould ;
But I them both with equall hap defeated :
So all the twenty 1 likewise entreated,
And left them groning there upon tbe plaine.
Then, preacing to the pillour, I repeated
The read thereof for guerdon of my paine,
And, taking downe the shield, with me did ir re-
taine.

" So forth without impediment I past,

Till to the bridges utter gate I came ;

The which I found sure lockt and chained fast.

I knockt, but no man answred me by name ;

I raid, but no man answred to my clame :

Yet I persever'd still to knocke and call;

Till at the last I spide v.ithin the same

Where one stood peeping through a crevis small.

To whom 1 cald aloud, halfe angry thereuitjail.

" That was to weet the porter of the place,
Unto whose trust the chiirge thereof was lent:
His name was Doubt, that had a double face,
Th' one forward looking, th' other backeward bent,
Therein resembling lanus auncient
Which hath in charge the ingate of the yeare :
And evermore his eyes about him went.
As if some proved perill he did feare,
Or did misdoubt some ill whose cause did not ap-
peare.

xin.

" On th'one side hu, on th' other sate Delay,
Behindfe the g"!c, tijat none her might espy;
Whose manner was, all passengers to stay
And entertaine with her occasions sly ;
Through which some lost great hope unheedil)'',
Which never they recover might againe ;
And others, quite excluded forth, did ly
Long languishing there in unpittied paine,
And seeking' often entrauuce afterwards in vaine.

" Me wbenas he bad privily espide
Bearing the shield which 1 had conquerd Ir.te,
He kend it streight, and to me opened wido :
So in 1 past, and streight he closd the gate.
But being in, Delay in close awaite
Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay.
Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate.
And time to steale, the threasure of mans day,
Whose smallest minute lost no riches render may
1 2

228

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book TV

*' But hv no meanes my way I would forslow
For ought tliat ever she could doe or say ;
But from my lofty steede dismounting low
Past forth on foote, beholding all the way
The goodlv workes, and stones of rich assay,
Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill,
That like on earth no where T recken may ;
And underneath, the river rolling still
With raurmure soft, that seem'd to serve the work-
mans will.

" Thence forth I passed to the second gate,
The Gate of Good Desert, whose goodly pride
And costlv frame v/ere long here to relate :
The same to all stoode alwaies open wide ;
But in the porch did evermore abide
An hideous giant, ilreadfuU to behold,
Tiiat stopt the entraunce with his spacious stride,
And vi'ith the terrour of his countenance bold
Full many did affray, that else faine enter would :

" His name was Daunger, dreaded over all ;

Who day and night did watch and duely ward

From fearefull cowards entrance to forstall

And faint-heart-fooles, whom shew of perill hard

Could terrific from fortunes faire adward :

For oftentimes faint hearts, at first espiall

Of his grim face, were from approaching scard :

Unworthy they of grace, whom one deniall

Excludes from fairest hope withouten further triall.

" Yet many doughty warriours often tride
In greater perils to be stout and bold.
Durst not the sternnesse of his looke abide ;
But, soone as they his countenance did behold,
Began to faint, and feele their corage cold.
Againe, some other, that in hard assaies
AVere cowards knowne, and litle count did hold.
Either through gifts, or guile, or such like waies,
Crept in by stouping low, or stealing of the kaies.

" But I, though meanest man of many moe.
Yet much disdaining unto him to lout,
Or creejie betweene his legs, so in to goe,
Resolv'd him to assault with manhood stout,
Arid either beat him in or drive him out.
F'.frsoones, advauncing that enchaunted shield,
AVitli all my might I gan to lay about :
AVhich when he saw, the glaive which he did wield
He gan forthwith t' avale, and way unto me yield.

" So, as I enfred, I did backeward looke,

For feare of harme that might lie hidden there ;

And loe! his hindpurts, whereof heed I tooke,

Much more deformed, fearfull, ugly were.

Then all his former parts did earst appere :

For hatred, murther, treason, and despight,

With many raoe lay in ambfishment there,

Awayting to entrap the warelesse wight

Which did not them prevent with vigilant foresight.

" Thus having past all perill, I was come

Within the compasse of that islands space ;

The which did seeme, unto my simple doome,

The onely pleasant and delightfull place

That ever troden was of footings trace :

For all that nature by her mother-wit

Could frame in earth, and forme of substance base,

Was there ; and all that nature did omit,

Art, playing second natures part, supply ed it.

" No tree, that is of count, in greenewood growes,

From lowest iuniper to ceder tall ;

No flowre in field, that daintie odour throwes,

And deckes his brancli with blossomes over all.

But there was planted, or grew naturall :

Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice.

But there mote find to please itselfe withall ;

Nor hart could wish for any queint device.

But there it present was, and did fraile sense entice.

" In such luxurious plentie of all pleasure.

It seem'd a second paradise I ghesse,

So lavishly enricht with natures threasure,

'Jhatif the liappie soules, which doe possesse

Th' Elysian fields and live in lasting blesse,

Should happen this with living eye to see.

They soone would loath their lesser happinesse,

And wish to life return'd againe to bee,

That in this ioyous place they mote haveioyance free.

" Fresh shadowes, fit to shroud from sunny ray;
Faire lawnds, to take the sunne in season dew ;
Sweet springs, in which a thousand nymphs did plaj
Soft-rombling brookes, that gentle slomberdrew;
High-reared mounts, the lands about to view ;
Low-looking dales, disloignd from common gaze ;
Delightfull bowres, to solace lovers trew ;
False labvrinthes, fond runners eyes to daze ;
All which by nature made did nature selfe amaze.

" And all without were walkes and alleyes dight
With divers trees enrang'd in even rankes ;
And here and there were j)leasant arbors pight.
And shadie seates, and sundry flowring bankes
To sit and rest the walkers wearie shankes :
And therem thousand payres of lovers walkt,
Praysing their god, and yeelding him great thankes,
Ne ever ought but of their true loves talkt,
Ne ever for rebuke or blame of any balkt.

" All these together by themselves did sport
Their spotlesse pleasures and sweet loves content.
But, farre away from these another sort
Of lovers lincked in true harts consent ;
Which loved not as these for like intent.
But on cliaste vertue grounded their desire,
Farre fiom all fraud or fayned blandishment ;
AVhicli, in their spirits kindling zealous fire,
Brave thoughts and noble deedes did evermore aspire.

Canto X.|

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

229

" Such were p;reat Hercules, and Hyllus deare :

Trew lonathan, and David trustie trvde ;

Stout Theseus, and Piritlious his feare ;

Pylades, and Orestes by his syde ;

Wyld Titus, and Gesippus %vitliout pryde ;

Damon and Pythias, whom death could not sever :

All tliese, and all that ever had bene tyde

In bands of friendship, there did live for ever ;

Whose lives although decay 'd.yetlovesdecayed never.

" Which whenas I, that never tasted blis
Nor happy howre, beheld with gazefull eye,
I thought there was none otiier heaven then this ;
And gan tlieir endlesse happinesse envye,
'I'hat being free from feare and gealosye
Might frankely there their loves desire possesse ;
Whilest I, through pains and perlous ieopardie,
^Vas forst to seeke my lifes de;ire patronesse :
Much dearer be the things which come through hard
distresse.

" Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw,
Might not m)' stei)s witlihold but that forthright
Unto that purpose! place 1 did me draw,
Whereas my love was lodged dav and night.
The temple of great Venus, that is higlit
The queene of beautie, and of love the mother,
There worshipped of every living wight ;
Whose goodly workmanship farre past all other
That ever were on earth, all were they set together.

" Not that same famous temple of Diane,
Whose bight .dl Ephesus did oversee.
And which all Asia souglit with vowes prophane.
One of the world's seven wonders sayd to bee,
IMight match with this by many a degree ;
Nor that, which that wise king of lurie framed
With endlesse cost to be tli' Almighties see ;
Nor all, that else through all the world is named
To all the heathen gods, might like to this be clamed.

XXXI.

" I, much admyring that so goodly frame.
Unto the porch approcht, which open stood ;
But therein sate an amiable dame,
That seem'd to be of very sober mood,
And in her semblant shew'd great womanhood :
Strange was her tyre ; for on her head a crowne
tihe wore, much like unto a Danisk hood,
Poudred with perle and stone ; and all her gowne
Enwoven was with gold, that raught full low adowne.

xxxir.
" On either side of her two young men stood.
Roth stronglv urm'd, as fearing one another ;
Yet were they brethten both of halfe the blood.
Begotten by two fathers of one mother.
Though of contrarie natures each to othe" :
'll:e one of them bight Love, the other Hate ;
Ih.te was the elder, Love the younger brother;
Yet was the younger stronger in his state
Ihcii tlj' elder, and hira n^aystred still in all debate.

" Nathlesse that dame so well them tempred both.

That she them forced hand to iovne in hand,

Albe that Hatred was tht-reto full loth,

And turn'd his face away, as he did stand,

Unwilling to behold that lovely band -

Yet she was of such grace and vertuous might.

That her commaundment he could not withsiauc!,

But bit his lip for felonous despight,

And gnasht his yron tuskes at that displeasing sight.

" Concord she cleeped was in common reed,

jMother of blessed Peace and Friendship trew;

They both her twins, both borne of heavenly seed,

And she hevselfe likewise divinely grew ;

The which right well her workes divine did shew :

For strength and wealth and happinesse she lends,

And strife and warre and anger does subdew ;

Of little much, of foes she maketh frends,

And to afflicted minis sweet rest and quiet sends.

" By her the heaven is in his course contained.
And all the world in state unmoved stands,
As their Almightie Maker first ordained,
And bound them with invio'able bands ;
Else would the waters overflow the lands,
And fire devoure the ayre, and hell them quight j
But that she holds them with her blessed hands.
She is the nourse of pleasure and delight,
And unto Venus grace the gate doth open right.

" By her I entring half dismayed was ;
But she in gentle wise me entertayned.
And twixt herselfe and Love did let me pas ;
But Hatred would my entrance have restrayned,
And with his club me threatned to have brayned,
Had not the ladie with her powrefuU speach
Him from his wicked will uneath refiayned :
And th' other eke his malice did erapeach,
Till I was throughly past the periU of his reach.

" Into the inmost temple thus I came.
Which fuming all with frankensence I found
And odours rising from the altars fiame.
ITjioii an hundred marble pillors round
The roof up high was reared from the ground.
All deckt with crownes, and chaynes,and girlands gay.
And thousand pretious gifts worth many a pound,
The which sad lovers for their vowes did ]iav ;
And all the ground was strow'd with flowres as fresh
as i\lay.

" An hundred altars round about were set,

All flaming with their sacrifices fire,

That with the stnme thereof the te-mple swet,

\\'hich rould in clouds to heaven did aspire,

And ill them bore true lovers vowes entire :

And eke an hundred brasen caudrons bright

To bath in ioy and amorous desire.

Every of which was to a damzell hight ;

For all the jjnests were damzels in soft linnen digbt.

2 so

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book IV.

XXXIX,

' Rio;lit in tlie midst the i^oddesse selfe did stand
Upon an altar of some costlv m;isse.
Whose substance was uneath to understand:
For neitiier pretious stone, nor durefull brasse,
N'or sliining gold, nor mouldrinn- clay it was ;
But much more rare and pretious to esteemo,
Pure in aspect, and like to christall ghisse ;
Yet glasse was not, if one did rightly deeme ;
I5ut, being faire and brickie, likest glassedid seerae,

" But it in shape and beautie did excell
All other idoles which the heath'en adore,
Farre passing that, which bv surpassing skill
Phidias did make in Paphos isle of yore.
With which that wretched Greeke, that life forloro,
Did fall in love : yet this much fairer sinned,
But covered with a slender veile afore :
And both her feete and legs togeflier twyned
Were with a snake, whose bead and tail were fast
combyned.

XLI.

' The cause why she was covered with a vele
Was hard to know, for that her priests the same
From peoples knowledge labour'd to concele :
But sooth it was not vure for womanish shame.
Nor any blemish, which the worke mote blame ;
But for (tbey say) she hath both kinds in one,
Both male and female, both under one name :
'^he svre and mother is herselfe alone.
Begets and eke conceives, ne needeth odier none.

" And all about her necke and shoulders flew
A flocke of little loves, and sports, and ioyes,
\\ii\i nimble wings of gold and purple hew,
NMiose shapes seem'd not like to terrestriall boj'es.
But like to angels ]jlaying heavenly toyes ;
Tlie whilest their eldest brother vvas away,
Cupid their eldest brother: he enioyes
The wide kingdome of love with lordly sway.
And to bis law compels all creatures to obay.

" And all about her altar scattered lay

Great sorts of lovers piteously complayning.

Some of their losse, some of their loves delay.

Some of their ])ride, some paragons disdaining,

Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently fayning.

As every one had cause of good or ill. [stravning

Amongst the rest some one, through Loves con-

Torinenled sore, could not conleine it Ktill,

But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill ;

" ' Great Venus ! queene of Ix^autie and of grace,
The iov of gods and men, that under skie
Doest fayrest shine, and most adorne thy place ;
That with thy smyling looko doest paciKe
The raging seas, and makst the stormes to flie ;
Thee, goddesse, thee the winds, the clouds doe feare ;
And, vvlien thou spredst thy mantle forth on hie,
The waters play, and pleasant lands appeare.
And heavens laugh, and al the world shews ioyous
cheare *

" ' Then doth the da:dale carlh throw forth to thee
Out of her fniitfull lap aboundant flowres ;
And then all living wights, soone as they see
The spring breake forth out of his lusty bowres.
They all doe learne to (dav the paramours:
First doe the merry birds, thy prety pages,
Privily pricked with thy lustfull powres,
Chirpe loud to thee out of their leavy cages,
And thee their motiier call to coole their kindly rages

" ' Then doe the salvage beasts begin to play
Their jdeasaiit friskes, and loath their wonted food
The lyons rore ; the tvgers loudly br.iy ;
The raging buls rebellow through the wood,
And breaking fortli dare tempt the deepest flood
To come where thou doest draw them with desire :
So all things else, that nourish vitall blood,
Soone as with fury thou doest them insjiire,
In generati6n ^eeke to quench their inward fire.

" ' So all the world by thee at first was made,
And dayly yet thou doest the same repayre:
Ne ought on eartli that merry is and glad,
Ne ought on earth that lovely is and fayre.
But thou the same for pleasure didst prcpaj're :
Thou art the root of all that iojous is :
Great god of men and women, (jueene of tli' ajre,
Mother of laughter, and wel-sprmg of blisse,

graunt that of my love at last 1 may not misse !'

XLVIIl.

" So did he say : but I witli murmure soft.
That none might heare the sorrow of my hart.
Yet inly groning deepe and sighing oft.
Besought her to graunt ease unto my smart,
And to my wound her gratious help impart.
Whilest thus I spake, behold ! with happy eye

1 spyde where at the idoles feet a])art
A bevie of fayre damzels close did lye,
Waytingwhenas the antheme should be sung on live.

" The first of them did seeme of ryper yeares
And graver countenance then all the rest:
Yet all the rest were eke her equall jjeares,
Yet unto her obayed all the best :
Her name was \\ oinanhood ; that she esprest
By her sad semblant and donieanure wyse ;
For stedfost still her eyes did fixed rest,
Ne rov'd ;it randon, after gazers guyse,
Whose luring baytes oftiines due heedlesse liarts
entyse.

"And nex,t to her sate goodly Shamefastnesse,
Ne ever durst her eyes from ground upreare,
Ne ever once did looke up troin her desse.
As if some blame of evill she did fearj.
That in her cheekes made roses oft appeare :
And her against sweet Cheerfulnesse ^vas placed.
Whose eves, like twinkling stars in evening clearo,
Were deckt with smiles that all sad humors chaced,
And darted ibrtii delights the which her goodly graced.

Cakio XL]

THE FAERIE QDEEIVE.

?3l

" And next to her sate sober Modestie,

Holdino; her hand upon her gentle hart ;

And lier against sate comely Curtesie,

That unto every person knew her part ;

And lier before was seated overthwart

Soft Silence, and submisse Obedience,

Both linckt together never to dispart ;

Both gifts of God not gotten but from thsnc-^ ;

Both oirlonds of his saints ao-ainst their foes ojtence.

'' Thus sate they all around in seemely rate :
And in the midst of them a goodly mayd
(Even in the lap of womanhood) there sate,
Tlie which was all in lilly white arayd,
With silver streames amongst the hnnen stray 'd ;
Like to the IMorne, when first her sbyning face
Hath to the gloomy world itself bewray 'd :
That same was fayrest Anioret in place,
Shyning with beauties light and heavenly vertues
grace.

LIII.

" Whome soone as I beheld, my hart gan throb
And wade in doubt whal best were to be donne :
For sacrilege me seem'd the cliurch to rob ;
And folly seem'd to leave ihe thing undonne.
Which with so strong attempt 1 had begonne.
Tho, shaking off" all doubt and sharaefast feare.
Which ladies love I heard had never wonne
Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped neare,
And by the lilly hand her labour'd up to reare.

" Thereat that fonnost matrone nie did blame,
And sharpe rebuke for being over-bold ;
Saying it was to knight unseemi-ly shame.
Upon a recluse virgin to lay hold,
That unto Venus services was sold.
To whom I thus ; Nay, but it f tfeth best
For Cupids man with Venus mayd to hold ;
For ill your goddesse services are drest
By virgins, and her sacrifices let to rest.

" With that my shield I forth to her did show.
Which all that while I closely had conceld ;
On which when Cupid with his killing bow
And cruell shafts emblazond she beheld.
At sight thereof she was with terror queld.
And said no more : but I, which all that while
The pledge of faith her hand engaged held,
(Like warie hynd within the weedie so vie,)
For no intreatie would forgoe so glorious spoyle.

" And evermore upon the goddesse face

Mine eye wast fixt, for feare of her offence

Whom when I saw with amiable grace

To laugh on me, and favour my pretence,

I was emboldned with more confidence ;

And, nought for nicenesse no for envy sparing,

Li presence of them all forth led her thence.

All looking on, and like astonisht staring.

Yet to lay hand on her not one of all them daring

" She often prayd, and often me besought,
Sometime with tender teares to let her goe,
Sometime with witching smyles : but yet, for nought
That ever she to me could say or doe,
Could she her wished freedome fro me wooe ;
But forth I led her through the temple gate.
By which I hardly past with much adoe :
But that same ladie, which me friended late
In entrance, did me also friend in mv retreate.

" No lesse did Daunger threaten me with dread,
Whenas he saw me, maugre all his powre,
That glorious spoyle of lieautie with me lead,
Then Cerberus, when Orpheus did recoure
His leman from the Stygian princes boure.
But evermore my shield did me defend
Against the storme of every dreadfuU stoure :
Thus safely with my love I thence did wend."
So ended he his tale : where I this canto end.

CANTO XI.

Marinells former wound is heald ;

He comes to Proteus hall.
Where Thames doth the RIedway wedd,

And feasts the sea-2.ods all.

But ah \ for pittie that I have thus long

Left a fayre ladie languishing in payne !

Now well away ! that 1 have doen such wrong.

To let faire Florimell in bands remayne,

In bawds of love, and in sad thraldomes chayne ;

From which unlesse some heavenly power her free

By miracle, not yet ap]iearing playne.

She lenger yet is like captiv'd to bee ;

That even to thinke thereof it inly pitties mee.

Here neede you to remember, how erewhiie
Unlovely Proteus, missing to his mind
That virgins love to win by wit or wile.
Her threw into a dongeon dee])e and blind.
And there in chaynes her cruelly bid bind.
In hope thereby her to his bent to draw :
For. whenas neither gifts nor graces kind
Her constant mind could move at all he saw.
He thought her to compell by crueltie and awe.

232

THE FAP:11IE gUEENE.

[Book IV

Deepe in tlie bottome of an liug-e great roclce
The dongeon was, in wliich her bound he left,
Th'it neither vron barres, nor brasen locke,
Did neede to gard from force or secret tlieft
Of all lier lovers which would her have reft :
For waird it was with waves, which rag'<i and ror'd
As they the cliffe in ]ieeces would have cleft ;
Besides, ten thousand monsters foule abhor'd
Did waite about it, gaping griesly, all begor'd.

And in the midst thereof did Horror dwell,
And Darkenesse dredd that never viewed day,
Like to the balefull house of lowest hell.
In which old Styx her aged bones ahvay
(Old Styx the grandame of the gods) doth lay.
There did this lucklesse raayd seven months abide,
Ne ever evening saw, ne mornings ray,
Ne ever from the day the night descride,
But thought it all one night, that did no houres
divide.

And all this was for love of IMarinell,

Who her despysd (ah ! who would her despyse !)

And weinens love did from his hart expell,

And all those ioves that weake mankind entyse.

Nathlesse his pride full dearely he did pryse ;

For of a womans hand it was ywroke.

That of the wound iie yet in languor lyes,

Ne can he cured of tliat cruell stroke

Which Britomart him gave, when he did her provoke.

Yet farre and neare the nymph his mother sought,

And many salves did to his sore applie,

And many herbes did use : but whenas nought

She saw could ease his rankling maludie ;

At last to Tryphon she for helpe did hie,

(This Tryphon is the sea-gods surgeon hight,)

Whom she besought to find some remedie :

And for his paines a whistle him beliight,

Tiiat of a fishes shell was wrought with rare delight.

So well that leach did hearke to her request,

And did so well employ his carefull paine,

TJiat in short sj)ace his hurts he had redrest.

And him restor'd to healtlifull state againe :

In wliich he long time after did remame

There with the nymph liis motlier, like her thrall ;

Who sore agaitist his will did him retaine,

For feare of porill wliicli to him mote fall

'I'lirough his too ventrous prowesse proved over all.

It fortun'd then, a solemn feast was there

To all the sea-gods and their fruitfull seede,

ill honour of tlie spousalls which then were

Hftwixt the Medway and the Thames agreed.

Long had the 'I'hames (as we in records reed)

before tliat day her wooed to his bed ;

But the proud nymph would for no worldly meed,

Nor no entreatii-, to his love be led ;

Till now »t last relenting she to him was wed.

So botli agreed that this their bridale feast
Should for the gods in Proteus house be made ;
To which they all repayr'd, both most and least.
As well which in the mightie ocean trade,
As that in rivers swmi, or brookes doe wade •
All which, not if an hundred tongues to tell.
And hundred mouthes, and voice of brasse I had.
And endlesse memorie that mote excel),
In order as they came could I recount them welL

Helpe therefore, O thou sacred impe of love.

The noursling of dame iMemorie his deare.

To whom those rolles, layd up in heaven above.

And records of antiquitie appeare,

To which no wit of man may comen neare ;

Helpe me to tell the names of all tliose floods

And all those nymphes, which then assembled were

To that great banquet of the watry gods.

And all their sundry kinds, and all their hid abodes.

First came great Neptune, with his three-forkt mace,
Thiit rules the seas and makes them rise or fall ,
His dewv lockes did drop with brine apace
Under his diademe imperiall :
And by his side his queene with coronall,
Faire Amphitrite, most divinely faire,
Whose yvorie shoulders weren covered all.
As with a robe, witli her owne silver haire,
And deckt with pearles wliich th' Indian seas for
her prepaire.

These marched farre afore the other crew :
And all the way before them, as they went,
Triton his trompet shrill before them blew.
For goodly triumiih and great iollyment,
That made the rockes to roare as they were rent.
And after them the royall issue came,
Which of them sprung by lineall descent :
First the sea-gods, whicli to themselves doe clame
Tiie ]iowre to rule the billowes, and the waves to
tame :

Phorcys, the father of tliat fatall brood,

By whom those old lieroes wonne such fame ;

And Glaucus, that wise southsayes understood;

And tragicke Inoes sonne, the which became

A god of seas through his mad motliers blame,

Now hight I'alemoii, and is saylers frend ;

Cireat Brontes; and Astranis, that did shame

Hiinsclfe with incest of his kin unkend ;

And huge Orion, that doth tempests still portend;

The rich Ctentus ; and Eurytus long;
Neleus and Pelias, lovely brethren both ;
Mightie Chrysaor; and Cai'cus strong ;
Eurypulus, that calmes the waters wroth ;
And faire Eujiliocmus, that upon them go'th.
As on the ground, without dismay or dread;
Fierce Ervx ; and Alebius, (hat know'th
'J'he waters df-j)ih, and doth tlicir bottome trearl ;
And sad As-^pus, comely with his hoarie head.

Canto XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

There also some most famous founders were

Of puissant nations, wliich the world possest,

Yet sonnes of Neptune, now assembled here :

Ancient Ogyges, even th' auncientest ;

And Inaclius renowmd above the rest ;

Phoenix ; and Aon ; and Pelasgus old ;

Great Belus ; Phoeax ; and Agenor best ;

And mightie Albion, father of the bold

And warlike people which the Britaine Islands hold :

For Albion the sonne of Neptune was ;
Who, for the proofe of his great puissance,
Out of his Albion did on dry-foot pas
Into old Gall, that now is cleeped France,
To fight with Hercules, that did advance
To vanquish all the world with matchlesse mighte ;
And there his morfall part by great mischance
Was slaine ; but that which is th' immortall spright
Lives still, and to this feast with Neptunes seed was
dight.

But what do I their names seeke to reherse,
Which all the world have with their issue fild ?
How can they all in this so narrow verse
Contayned be, and in small comjiasse hild?
Let them record them that are better skild,
And know the moniments of passed age :
Onely what needeth shall be here fulfild,
T' expresse some part of that great equipage
Which from great Neptune do derive their parentage.

ZVIII.

Next came the asjed Ocean and his dame
Old Tethys, th' oldest two of all the rest;
For all the rest of those two parents came,
Which afterward both sea and land jjossest ;
Of all which Nereus, th' eldest and the best,
Did first proceed ; then which none more upright,
IN'e more sincere in word and deed profest ;
Most voide of guile, most free from fowle despiglit.
Doing himselfe and teaching others to doe rijiht :

Thereto he was expert in prophecies,
And could the ledden of the gods unfold ; [prise.
Through which, when Paris brought liis famous
The foire Tindarid lasse, he him forelold
That her all Greece with many a champion bold
Should fetch againe, and finally destroy
Proud Priams towne : so wise is Nereus old.
And so well skild ; nathlesse he takes great ioy
Oft-times amongst the wanton nymphs to sport and
toy.

XX.

And after him the famous rivers came.
Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie:
The fertile Nile, which crea:ures new doth frame ;
Long Rhodanus, whose sourse springs from the skie ;
Faire Ister, flowing from tlie mountaines hie;
Divine Scamander, purpled yet with blood
Of Greeks and Troians, which therein did die ;
Pactolus glistring with his golden flood ;
And Tygris fierce, whose streames of none may be
withstood ;

Great Ganges ; and immortall Euphrates ;
Deepe Indus; and Ma'ander intricate;
Slow Peneus ; and tempestuous Phasides;
Swift Rhene ; and Alpheus still immaculate j
Ooraxes, feared for great Cyrus fiite ;
Tjbris, renownied for the Romaines fame ;
Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late ;
And that huge river, which doth beare bis name
Of warlike Amazons which doe possesse the same.

Joy on those warlike women, which so long

Can from all men so rich a kingdome hold !

And shame on you, men, which boast your strong

And valiant hearts, in thoughts lesse hard and bold,

Yet quaile in concjuest of that land of gold !

But this to you, O Britons most ])erlaines.

To whom the right hereof itselfe hath sold ;

The which, for sparing litle cost or paines,

Loose so immortall glory, and so endlesse gaines.

Then was there heard a most celestiall sound
Of dainty musicke, which did next ensew
Before the spouse : that was Arion crownd ;
Who, playing on his harpe, unto him drew
The eares and hearts of all that goodly crew;
That even yet the dolphin, which him bore
Through the ^Egeun seas from pirates vew,
Stood still by him astonisht at his lore,
And all the raging seas for ioy forjjot to rore.

So went he playing on the watery plaine :
Soone Hfter whom the lovely bridegroonie came,
The noble Thames, with all his goodly traine.
But him before there went, as best became,
His auncient pnrents, namely th' auncient Thame ;
But much more aged was his wife then he.
The Ouze, whom men doe Isis rightly name ;
Full weake and crooked creature seemed shee.
And almost blind through eld, that scarce her way
could see.

Therefore on either side she was sustained

Of two smal grooms, which by then' names were hight

The Churne and Charwell,two small streames, which

pained
Themselves her footing to direct aright,
Whicii fayled oft through faint and feeble plight:
But Thame was stronger, and of better stay ;
Yet seem'd lull aged by his outward sight.
With head all hoary, and his beard all gray,
Deawed with silver drops that trickled downe ahvay :

XXVI.

And eke he somewhat seem'd to stoupe afore

With bowed backe, by reason of the lode

And auncient heavy burden which he bore

Of that faire city, wherein make abode

So many learned impes, that shnote abrode.

And with their braunches spred all Briiany,

No lesse then do her elder sisters broode.

Ioy to you both, ye double noursery

Of arts! but, Oxford, thine doth Thame most glorify.

S54

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[DooK IV.

But lie their sonne full fresh and iolly was,

All decked in a robe of watchet liew,

On which the waves, glitterinp^ like christall glas,

So cunningly enwoven were, that few

Could weenen whether they were false or trew :

And on his head like to a coronet

He wore, that seemed strange to common vew.

In which were many towres and castels set,

That it encompast round as with a golden fret.

Like as the mother of the gods, they say,

In her great iron charet wonts to ride,

\Vhen to loves pallace she doth take her waj-,

Old Cybele, arayd with pompous pride,

Wearing a diademe emhattild wide

With hundred turrets, like a turribant.

With such an one was Thamis beautifide ;

That was to weet the famous Troynovant,

In which her kingdomes throne is chiefly resiant.

And round about him many a pretty page
Attended duely, ready to obay ;
All little rivers which owe vassallage
To him, as to their lord, and tribute pay:
Thf) chaulky Kenet ; and the Thetis gray ;
The morish Cole ; and the soft-sliding Breane ;
The wanton I-ee, that oft doth loose his way ;
And the still Darent, in whose waters cleane
Ten thousand fishes play and decks his pleasant
streame.

Then came his neighbour flouds which nigh him

dwell,
Aid water all the English soile 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 Severne grudg'd at all,
Ne storming Ilumber, though he looked stout ;
But both him honor'd as their principall.
And let their swelling waters low before him fall.

There was the speedy Tamar, which divides
The Cornish and the Devonish confines ;
Througli both whose borders swiftly downe it glides.
And, meeting Plim, to Plimmouth thence declines*
And Dart, nigh chockt with sands of tinny mines :
But Avon marched in more stately path.
Proud of his adamants with which he sliines
And glisters wide, as als of wondrous Bath,
\nd Bristow faire, which on his waves lie budded
hath.

And there came Stoure with terrible aspect,
IJearing his sixe deformed heads on hye.
That dolli his course through Hlandford plains direct,
And vvasheth Winborne meades in season drye.
Next him went Wylibourne witli passage slye,
That of his wylinesse his name doth take.
And of himselfe doth name the shire thereby :
And Mole, tliat like a nousling mole doth make
His way still under ground till Thames he overtake.

Then came the Rother, decked all with woods
Like a wood-god, and flowing fast to Rhy ;
And Sture, that parteth with his pleasant floods
The casterne Saxons from the southerne ny.
And Clare and Harwitch both doth beautify .
Him follow'd Yar, soft washing Norwitch wall.
And with him brought a present ioyfully
Of his owne fish unto their festival!.
Whose like none else could shew, the which they
rulfins call.

Next these the plenteous Ouse came far from land,

By many a city and by many a towne,

And many livers taking under-hand

Into his waters, as he passeth downe, [Rowne,)

(The Cle, the Were, (he Guant, the Sture, the

Thence doth by Huntingdon and Cambridge flit,

My mother Cambridge, whom as with a crowne

He doth.adorne, and is adorn'd of it

With many a gentle muse and many a learned wit.

And after him the fatall Welland went,
That if old sawes prove true (which God forbid !)
Shall drowne all Holhmd with his excrement,
And shall see Stamford, though now homely hid,
Then shine in learning more then ever did
Cambridge or Oxford, Lnglands goodly beumes.
And next to him the Nene downe softly slid ;
And bounteous Trent, that in himselfe enseames
Both thirty sorts of fish and thirty sundry streames.

Next these came Tyne, along whose stony bancke

That Romaine monarch built a brasen wall.

Which mote the feebled Britons strongly ilancke

Against the Picts that swarmed over all.

Which yet thereof Gualsever they doe call :

And Twede, the limit betwixt Logris land

And Albany : and Eden, though hut small.

Yet often stainde with bloud of many a band

Of Scots and English both, that tyned on his strand.

xxxvii.

Then came those sixe sad brethren, like forlorne.
That whilome were, as antique fathers tell,
Sixe valiant knights of one faire nymphe yborne,
Which did in noble deedes of amies excell.
And wonned there wliere now Yorke people dwell -
Still Ure, swift Werfe,and Oze the most of might,
High Swale, unquiet Nide, and troublous Skell;
All whom a Scythian king, that lluniber bight,
Slew cruelly, and in the river drowned quite :

But past not long, ere Brutus warlicke sonne
Locrinus thorn nveng'd, and the same date.
Which the ])r()ud ILimber unto them liad donne,
By e(|uall dome rcpayd on his owne pate :
For in tlie selfe same river, where he late
Had drenched them, he drowned him againe ;
And nam'd the river of his \*'retche(l fate ;
Whose bad condition yet it doth retaine.
Oft tossed with his stornres which therein still re-
maine.

C»KTO XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

2.15

These after came the stony shallow Lone,
Tliat to old Loncaster his name dotli lend ;
And following' Dee, whicli Britons long- ygone
Did call divine, that doth bv Cliester tend ;
And Conwav. which out ot" his streame doth send
Plenty of pearles to decke his dames witliall ;
And Lindus, that liis pikes dotli most commend.
Of which the auncient Liiicolne men doe call :
All these too-ether marched toward Proteus hall.

Ne thence the Irishe rivers absent were :
Sith no lesse fsimous then the rest tliey bee.
And ioyne in neighbourhood of kingdome nere,
AVhy should they not likewise in love agree,
And ioy likewise this solemne day to see ?
Tliey saw it all, and present were in place :
Though I them all, according their degree.
Cannot recount, nor tell tlieir liidden race,
Nor read the salvage countries thorough which they
pace.

XI,I.

There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea ;
The Sandy Slane ; the stony Aubrion ;
The spacious Shenaa spreading like a sea ;
The pleasant Boyne ; the fishy fruitfuU Ban ;
Swift Awniduff, which of the English man
Is cal'de Black e-water ; and the Liffar deep ;
Sad Trowis, that once his people over-ran;
Strong Alio tombling from Slewlogher steep ;
And Mulla mine, whose waves I whilom taught to
weep.

XLII.

And there the three renowmed brethren were,
Which that great gyant Blomius begot
Of the faire nimph Rhelisa wandring there :
One day, as she to shunne the season whot
Under Slewboome in shady grove was go:.
This gyant found her and by force deflovvr'd ;
Whereof conceiving, she in time forth brought
Tliese three faire sons, which thenceforth powrd
In three great rivers ran, and many countreis scowrd.

xmi.

The first the gentle Shure that, making way

By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford ;

fhe next, the stubborne Newre whose waters gray

By faire Kilkenny and Rosseponte boord;

The thiid, the goodly Barow which doth hoord

Great heaps of salmons in his deepe bosome :

All which, long sundred, doe at last accord

To ioyne in one, eie to the sea they come ;

So, flowing ail from one, all one at last become.

There also was the wide embayed Mayre ;

The pleasaunt Bandon crown J with many a wood;

The spreading Lee that, like an island fayre,

Encloseth Corke with his divided flood ;

And balei-'ull Oure late staind with English blood :

With many more whose names no tongue can tel!.

All which that day in order seemly good

Did on the Thames attend, and waited well

To doe their dueful service, as to them befell.

Then came the bride, the lovely Medua came.

Clad in a vesture of unknowen geare

And uncouth Aishion, yet her well became,

I'hat seem"d like silver sprinckled here and theare

With glittering spangs that did like starres appeare,

And wav'd upon, like water chamelot.

To hide the metall, which yet every where

Bewrayd itselfe, to let men plainelv wot

It was no mortall worke, that seem'd and yet was not.

Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow
Unto her waste, with flowres bescattered,
'J he which ambrosiall odours forth did throw
To all about, and all her shoulders spred
As a new spring ; and likewise on her hed
A chajjelet of sundry flowers she wore.
From under which the deawy humour shed
Did tricle downe her haire like to the hore
Congealed litle drops which doe the morne adore.

On her two pretty handmaides did attend.
One cald the Theise, the other cald the Crane;
Whicli on her waited things amisse to mend.
And botli behind upheld her spredding- traine ;
Under the which her feet appeared plaine.
Her silver feet, faire washt against this day;
And her before there paced pages twaine.
Both clad in colours like and like array,
The Douna^and eke the Frith, both whici prepared
her way.

XLVIII.

And after these the sea-nymphs marched all.

All goodly damzels, deckt with long gr3ene haire,

Whom of their sire Nereides men call.

All which the Oceans daughter to him bare.

The gray-eyede Doris ; all which fifty are;

All which she there on her attending had :

Swift Proto ; milde Eucrate ; Thetis faire ;

Soft Spio ; sweete Endore ; Sao sad ;

Light Doto j wanton Glauce ; and Galeue glad ;

White-hand Eunica ; proud Dynamene ;

loyous Thalia ; goodly Amphitrite ;

Lovely Pasitbee ; kinde Eulimene ;

Light-foote Cymothoe ; and sweete Melite ;

Fairest Pherusa ; Phao lilly white ;

Wondred Agave; Poris ; and Nesrea;

With Erato that doth in love delite;

And Panopa; ; and wise Protomeda-a ,

And snowy-neckd Doris ; and milke-white Galathasa;

Speedy Hippothoe ; and chaste Actea ;

Large Lisianassa ; and Prona>a sage ;

Euagore ; and light Pontoporea ;

And, she that with her least word can asswage

The surging seas when they do sorest rage,

Cymodoce ; and stout Autonoti ;

And Neso ; and Eione vs'ell in age ;

And seeming still to smile Glauconome;

And, she that hight of many heastes, Pol)'norae ;

236

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boor IV

Fresh Alimeda deckt with girlond greene ;
Hyponeo witli salt-bedewed wrests ;
Laomedifi hke flie chrv stall sheene;
Liagoie much praisd for wise behests ;
And Psamathe for her brode snowy brests ;
Cynio ; Eupompe ; and Themiste iust ;
And, she that vertue loves and vice detests,
Euarna ; and Menijipe true in trust ;
And Nemertea learned vtell to rule her lust.

All these the daughters of old Nereus were.
Which have the sea in charge to them assinde,
To rule his tides, and surges to uprere,
To bring forth stormes, or fast tliem to uphinde,
And sailers save from wreckes of wrathfull winde.
And yet besides, three thousand more there were
Of th' Oceans seede, but loves and Phccbus kinde ;
The which in floods and fountaines doe appere.
And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere.

The which, more eath it were for mortall wight
To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye,
Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right.
But well 1 wote that these, which I descry,
Were present at this great solemnity :
And there, amongst the rest, the mother was
Of luckelesse RIarinell, Cymodoce ;
Which, for mv muse herselfe now tyred has,
Unto an other canto 1 will overpas.

CANTO XII.

Marin, for love of Florimell,
In languor wastes his life :

The nym])h, his mother, getteth her
And gives to him for wife

O WHAT an endlesse worke have I in hand.
To count the seas abundant progeny,
Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land,
And also those which wonne in th' azure sky !
For much irore eath to tell the starres on hy,
Alhe thev er.dlesse seeme in estimation,
Then to recount the seas posterity :
So fertile be the flouds in generation.
So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their
nation.

IT.

Therefore the antique wisards well invented
That Venus of the fomy sea was bred ;
For that the seas by her are most augmented.
Witnesse th' exceeding frv which there are fed.
And wondrous slioles wliicli may of none be red.
Then blauK! me not if I have err'd in count
Of gods, of nymplis, of rivers, yet unred :
For though tiieir numbers do much more surmount,
Yet all those same were there which erst I did re-
count.

AH those were there, and many other more.
Whose names and nations were too long to tell,
That Proteus house they fild even to the dore ;
Yet were they all in order, as belell.
According their degrees disposed well.
Amongst the rest was faiie Cymodoce,
The mother of unlucky iMarinell,
Who thither \riih her came, to learne and see
31ie Hianner of the gods when they at baniiuet be.

But for he was halfe mortall, being bred
Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe,
He might not witii immortall food be fed,
Ne with th' eternal! gods to bancket come ;
But walkt abrode, and round about did rome
To view the building of tiiat uncouth place.
That seem'd unlike unto his earthly home :
^Vhere, as he to and fro hy chaunce did trace.
There unto him betid a disadventrous case.

Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe
He heard the lamentable voice of one,
That piteously complaind her careful grieflfe,
Which never she before disclosd to none.
But to herselfe her sorrow did bemone :
So feelingly her ease she did complaine.
That rutli it moved in the rocky stone,
And made it seeme to feele her grievous paine.
And oft to grone with biUowes beating from the
maine :

" Though vaine I see my sorrowes to unfold
And count my cares, when none is nigh to hea:«;
Yet, hojjing griefe may lessen being told,
I will them tell though unto no man neare:
For heaven, that unto all lends eijuall eare,
Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight ;
And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare.
Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight;
And greedy seas doe in the spoilo of life delight.

C-«NT0XII.]

THE FAERIE v^LLENE.

237

** Yet loe ! the seas I see by often beating

Doe pearce the rockes ; and liardest marble weares :

But his hard rocky hart for no entreating

Will yeeld, but, when my piteous plaiitts he heares,

Is hardned more with my aboundant teares :

Yet though he never list to me relent,

But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,

Yet will I never of mv love repent.

But ioy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.

" And when my weary ghost, with griefe outworne,
By timely death shall winne her wished rest,
Let then this plaint unto his eares be borne,
That blame it is, to him that armes profest,
To let her die whom he might have redrest !"
There did she pause, inforced to give place
Unto the passion that her heart opprest ;
And, after she had wept and wail'd a space,
She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case :

" Ye gods of seas, if anj^ gods at all

Have care of right or ruth of wretches wrong,

By one or other way me woefull thrall

Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong,

In which I daily dying am too long:

And if ye deeme me death for loving one

That loves not me, then doe it not prolong.

But let me die and end my dales attone,

And let Lim live unlov'd, or love himselfe alone.

'• But if that life 5-6 unto me decree,

Tlien let mee live, as lovers ought to do.

And of my lifes deare love beloved be :

And, if he should through pride your doome undo.

Do you by duresse him compell thereto.

And in this prison put him here with me ;

One prison fittest is to hold us two :

So had I rather to be thrall then free ;

Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.

" But O vaine iudgment, and conditions vaine,
'I'lie which the prisoner points unto the free !
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine.
He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me :
So ever loose, so ever happy be !
But whereso loose or happy that thou art,
Know, iMarinell, that all this is for thee !"
^\ ith that she wept and wail'd, as if her hart
Would quite have burst through great abundance of
her smart.

All which complaint when Marinell had heard.

And understood the cause of all her care

To come of him for using her so hard ;

His stubborne heart that never felt misfare,

\\ as toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare ;

That even for grief of minde he oft did grone,

And inly wish that in his powre it weare

Her to redresse : but since he nieanes found none,

He could no more but hei- great misery bemone.

Thus, whilst his stony heart with tender ruth.
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifine.
Dame Venus sonne that tameth stubborne youth
With iron bit, and maketh him abide
Till like a victor on his backe he ride.
Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw.
That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride :
Then gan he make him tread his steps anew.
And learne to love by learning lovers paines to rew

Now gan he in his grieved minde devise.
How from that dungeon he might her enlarge :
Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise
To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge :
But then he fear'd his mothers former charge
Gainst womens love, long given him in vaine :
Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe
Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine :
But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.

Then did he cast to steale her thence away,

And with him beare where none of her might know

But all in vaine : for why? he found no way

To enter in, or issue forth below ;

For all about that rocke the sea did flow.

And though unto his will she given were.

Yet, without ship or bote her thence to row.

He wist not how her thence away to here ;

And dauno-er well he wist long to continue there.

At last, whenas no meanes he could invent,
Backe to himselfe he gan returne the blame.
That was the author of her punishment ;
And with vile curses and reprochfuU shame
To damne himselfe by every evil name,
And deeme unworthy or of love or life,
That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,
Which him had sought through trouble and long strife
Yet had refusde a sod tiat her had sought to wife.

In this sad plight he walked here and there.
And romed round about the rocke in vaine.
As he had lost himselfe he wist not where;
Oft listening if he mote her heare againe ;
And still bemoning her unworthy paine :
Like as an hynde whose calfe is falne unwares
Into some pit, where she him heares comp laine.
An hundred times about the pit side fares.
Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved cares.

And now by this the feast was throughly ended.
And every one gan homeward to resort :
W hich seeing, Marinell was sore offended
That his departure thence should be so short,
And leave his love in that sea- walled fort
Yet durst he not his mother disobay ;
But, her attending in full seemly sort.
Did march amongst the many all the way ;
And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray

S38

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Hook JF

Beina: returned to liis mothers bowre,
In solitary silence far from wiglit
He gan record the lamentable stowre,
In which his wretched love lay day and night,
For his deare sake, that ill deserv'd that plight:
The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
Ne davly food did take, ne nightly sleepe,
But pvn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, and alone
did weepe ;

XX.

That in short space his wonted chearefull hew
Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quight :
His cheeke-bones raw, and eie-pits liollow grew,
And brawney armes had lost their knowen might,
That nothing like himselfe he seem'd in sight.
Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of love
He woxe, that lenger he note stand upright,
But to his bed was brought, and layd above.
Like ruefull ghost, unable once to stir or move.

Which when his mother saw, she in her mind
VVas troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene ;
Ne could by search nor any meanes out find
The secret cause and nature of his teene,
Whereby she might apply some medicine;
But weeping day and night did him attend.
And mourn'd to see her losse before her eyne,
Which griev'd her more that she it could not mend ;
To see an helplesse evill double griefe doth lend.

Nought could she read the ro(<f of his disease,

Ne weene what mister maladie it is.

When by to seeke some means it to appease.

]\lost did she thinke, but most she thought amis.

That that same former fatall wound of his

Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed.

But closely rankJed under th'orifis :

Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed,

That love it was, which in his hart lay unrevealed.

Therefore to Tryphon she againe dotn hast,
And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent,
That fayld the trust, which she in him liad plast.
To cure her Sonne, as he his faith had lent ;
Who now was falne into new languishment
Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.
So backe he came unto her patient ;
Where searching every part, her well assured
That it was no old sore which his new paine pro-
cured ;

But that it was some other maladie.
Or grief unknowne, which he could not discerne:
So left he her withouten remedie.
Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne,
And inly troubled was, the truth to learne.
Unto himselfe she came, and him besought, [sterne.
Now with faire speeches, now with threatnings
If ought hiy hidden in his grieved thought,
U to rf veale : who still her answered, there was
nought.

Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide ;

But leaving watry gods, as booting nought.

Unto the shinie heaven in haste she hide.

And thence Apollo king of leaches brought.

Apollo came ; who, soone 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 red to be, that leads each living kind.

Which when he had unto his mother told,

She gan thereat to fret and greatly grieve :

And, comming to her sonne, gan first to scold

And chyde at him that made her misbelieve :

But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieve.

And wooe with fair intreatie, to disclose

Which of the nymphes his heart so sore did mieve :

For sure she weend it was some one of those.

Which be had lately seene, that for his love he chose.

Now lesse she feared that same fatall read.
That warned him of womens love beware :
Which being ment of mortal creatures sead.
For love of nymplies she thought she need not cf.re
But promist him, whatever wight she weare,
'J'hat she her love to him would shortly game :
So he her told : but soone as she did heare
That Florimell it was which wrought his paHie,
She gan afresh to chafe, and grieve in every vaine

Yet since she saw the streight extremitie,
In which his life unluckily was la\d.
It was no time to scan the prophecie.
Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd,
That his decay should happen by a mayd ;
(It's late, in cleath, of daunger to advize ;
Or love forbid him, that is life denavd ;)
Hut rather gan in troubled mind devize
How she that ladies libertie might enterprize.

XXIX.

To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it vaine.
Who was the root and worker of her woe ;
Nor unto anv meaner to complaine ;
But unto great King Neptune selfe did goe,
And, on her knee before l)im falling lowe,
IMade humble suit unto Iiis maiestie
To graunt to her her sonnes life, which his foe,
A cruell tyrant, had j)resumpteouslie
By wicked doome condemn'd a wretched death to
die.

To whom god Neptune, softly smyling, thus ;
" Daugh.ier, mo seemes of double wrong ve plaine.
Gainst one that hath botli wronged you and us:
For death t'adward I ween'd did a]iperlaine
'J"o none but to the seas sole soveraine :
Read therefore who it is which this hath wrought.
And for what cause ; the truth discover plaine :
For never wight so evil) did or thought.
But would some rightfuU cause pretend, though
rightly nought."

Canto XII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENK.

■':59

To whom she answer'd ; " Then it is by name

Prott'us, that hath ordayn'd my sonne to die;

For that a waift, the which by fortune came

Upon your sjeas, he claym'd as propertie :

And yet nor his, nor his in equitie,

But yours the waift by high prerogative :

Therefore I humbly crave your majestie

It to replevie, and my sonne reprive :

So shall you by one gift save all us three alive."

He graunted it : and streight liis warrant made,
Under the sea-god's seale autenticall,
Commaunding Proteus straight t' enlarge the mayd
Which wandring ( n his seas imperiall
He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall.
Which she receiving with meete thankefulnesse,
Dej)arted straight to Proteus therewithal! :
Who, reading it with inward loathfulnesse,
Was grieved to restore the pledge he did possesse.

Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand,
But unto her delivered Florimell :
Whom she receiving by the lilly hand,
Admyr'd her beautie much, as she mote well,
For she all living creatures did excell,
And was right ioyous that she gotten had
So faire a wife for her sonne Rlarinell.
So home with her she streight the virgin lad,
And shewed her to him then being sore bestad.

Who soone as he beheld that angels face

Adorn'd with all divine perfection,

His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace

Sad death, revived with her sweet inspection,

And feeble spirit inly felt refection ;

As withered weed through cruell winters tine,

That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection,

Liftes up his head that did before decline.

And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine.

Right so himselfe did Marinell upreare.
When he in place his dearest love did spy ;
And though his limbs could not his bodie bearo,
Ne former strength returne so suddenly,
Yet chearefuU signes he shewed outwanlly.
Ne lesse was she in secret hart afl'ected,
But that she masked it with modestie,
Por feare she should of lightnesse be detected :
Which to another place I leave to be perfected.

niE i'lFTII BOOK

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNINO

THE LEGEND OF ARTEGALL, OR OF JUSTICE.

So oft as I with state of present time
The image of the antique world compare,
^\ henas mans age was in his freshest prime,
And, the first blossome of faire vertue bare ;
Such oddes I finde twixt those, and these which are,
As that, through long continuance of his course,
Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square
From the first point of his appointed sourse ;
And being once amisse growes daily wourse and
wourse :

f'or from the golden age, that rirst was named,

!i's now at earst become a stonie one ;

Anil men themselves, the whicli at first were framed

Of earthly mould, and form'd of flesh and bone.

Are now transformed into hardest stone ;

Such as behind their backs (so backward bred)

Were throwne by Pyrrha and Deucalione :

And if then those may any worse be red.

They into that ere long will be degendered.

].et none then blnme me, if, in discipline

Of vertue and of civill uses lore,

1 do not forme them to the common line

Of present dayes which are corruj)ted sore ;

J5ut to the antique use which was of yore,

^\ hen good was onely for itselfe desyred,

And all men sought their owne, and none no more;

^Vhen iustice was not for most meed outhyred,

Hut simple truth did rayne, and was of all admyred.

! nr that wliicli all men then did verfuocall,

K now cald vice ; and that which vice was hi^-ht,

1^ now-hight vertue, and so us'd of all :

111;; lit now is wrong, and wrong that was is right ;

As all things else in time are chaunged qui"-ht :

Ne wonder; for the heavens revolution

Is wandicd farre from where it first was piglit,

And so doe make contraiie constitution

Of all this lower world toward his dissolution.

For whoso list into the heavens looke,
And search the courses of the rowling spheares
Shall find that from the point where they first tcoke
'J'here setting forth, in these few thousand yeares
They all arc vi-andred much ; that plaine appeares :
For that same golden fleecy ram, which bore
Pbrixus and Jleile from their stepdames feares,
Hath now for?'-ol. where he was plast of yore.
And shouidreil iiath the bull which fayre Europa
bore :

And eke the bull hath with his bow-bent home

So hardly butted those two twinnes of love,

That they have crusht the crab, and quite him borne

Into the great Nema'an lions grove.

So now all range, and doe at randon rove

Out of their pro])er places farre away,

And all this world with them amisse doe move,

And all his creatures from their course astray;

Till they arrive at their last ruinous decay.

Ne is that same great glorious lampe of light,

That doth enlumine all these lesser fyres.

In better case, ne keepos his course more right.

But is miscaried with the other spheres :

For since the terine of fourteen hundred yeres,

That learned Ptoloma'e his bight did take,

He is declyned from that marke of theirs

IS'igh thirtie minutes to the southerne lake ;

That makes me feare in time he will us quite forsake.

And if to those Egyptian wisards old

(Which in star-read were wont have bestmsight)

Faith may be given, it is by them told

That since the time they first tooke the sunns hight,

Foure times his place he shifted hath in sight.

And twice hath n^en where he now doth west,

And wested twice where he ought rise aright.

But most is Mars amisse of all the rest ;

And next to him old Saturne, that was wont be best

Cavio

THE faerip: queene.

941

For during Saturnes ancient raigne it's sayd

'J'lnU all the world with goodnesse did abound;

All loved vertue, no man wa.s aftrayd

Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found ;

No warre was knowne, no dreadful trompets sound ;

Peace universal rayn'd mongst men and beasts :

And all things freely grew out of the ground :

lustice sate high ador'd with solemne feasts,

And to all people did divide her dred beheasts :

Most sacred Vertue she of all the rest,
Resembling God in his imperiall might ;
Whose soveraine powre is herein most exprest.
That both to good and bad he dealeth right.
And all his vvorkes with iustice hath bedight.
That powre he also doth to prmces lend, '^
And makes them like himselfe in glorious sicrht
To sit in his own seate, his cause to end,
And rule his people right, as he doth recommend.

Dread soverayne goddesse, that doest highest sit
Jn seate of iudgement in th' Almighties stead,
And with magnificke might and wondrous wit
Doest to thy people righteous doome aread.
That furthest nations filles with awfull dread,
Pardon the boldnesse of thy basest thrall,
That dare discourse of so divine a read.
As thy great iustice praysed over all ;
The instrument whereof loe here thy Artegall.

CANTO I.

Artegall trayn'd in iustice lore
Irenaes quest pursewed ;

He doeth avenge on Sanglier
His ladies bloud embrewed.

Though vertue then were held in highest price
In those old times of which I doe inh-eat '

Yet then likewise the wicked seede of vice
Began to spring ; which shortly grew full great.
And with their boughes the gentle plants did be;t :
But evei-more some of the vertuous race
Rose up, inspired with heroicke heat
fhat cropt the branches of the sient base

See ''™°° '^^nd their fruitfuU rancknes did de-

All th east before untam'd did over-ronne
And wrong repressed, and estabhsht right^
Which la wlesse men had formerly fordonne •
There Justice first her princely rule begonne

Wh nT"^*^" ^'^ ^'^' ^"^^™Pl« shewed,
Wl 1 f ""'' ^''^ ^^"^" ^™q"est w'onne.

The club of Justice dread with kingly powre ende^ed.

And such was he of whom I have to tell
1 he champion of true iustice, Arteoall • '
Uhom (as ye lately mote remembe°r wd!)
An hard adventure, which did then befall
nto redoubted perill forth did call •
1 Irnt was, to succour a distressed dame
\Vhom a strong tyrant did uniustly thrall
Ana from the heritage, which she'd delate
Did widi^s^ong hand withhold; CirantorZwas his

W herefore the lady, which Irena hio-ht

Did to the Faerie Queene her way addresse,

lo whom complayning her afflicted plight,

fehe her besought of gratious redresse :

1 hat soveraine queene, that mightie emperesse.

VV iiose glorie is to aide all suppliants pore

And of weake princes to be patronesse.

Chose Artegall to right her to restore ;

For that to Her he seem'd best skild in righteous lore

For Artegall in iustice was upbrought

Fven from the cradle of l,is infancie

And all the depth of rightful! doome was taught

-by taire Astra^a, with great Industrie

VVhilest here on earth she lived mortallie •

for, till the world from his perfection fell

Into all filth and foule iniquitie,

Astrrea here mongst eartlily men did dwell.

And in the rules of iustice them instructed well.

Whdes through the world she walked iu this sort.
Upon a day she found this gentle childe
Amongst Ins peres playing his childish sport;
Whom seeing fit, and with no crime defilde,
t^lie did allure with gifts and speaches milde
lo wend with her : so thence him fai-re she brouo-h»
into a cave from companie exilde, "

In which she noursled him, till yeares he rau-ht •
And all the discipline of iustice there him taught.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

There she him taug^ht to weigh both right and wrong
In equall ballnnce with due recompence.
And e(|uitie to measure out along
According to the line of conscience,
Whenso it needs with rigour to dispeuce :
Of all the which, for want there of mankind,
She caused him to make experience
Upon wyld beasts, which she in woods did find,
Witii wrongful! powre oppressing others of theu
kind.

Thus she him traT,Tied, and thus she him taught
In all the skill of deeming wrong and right,
Untill the ripenesse of mans yeares he aught ;
That even wilde beasts did feare his awfull sight,
And men admyr'd bis over-ruling might ;
Ne any liv'd on ground that durst withstand
His dreadful! beast, much lesse him match in iiglit.
Or bide tlie liorror of his wreakfull hand,
Whenso he list in wrath lift up his steely brand :

Whicli steely brand, to make him dreaded more
She gave unto him, gotten by her slight
And earnest search, where it was kept in store
In loves eternal! house, unwist of wiglit.
Since he liimselfe it us'd in that great tight
Against the Titans, that whylome rebelled
Gainst highest lieaven ; Chrysaor it was night ;
Chrysaor, that al! other swords excelled.
Well prov'd in that same day when love those
gyants quelled :

For of most perfect metal! it was made,
Tempred with adamant amongst the same.
And garnisht all with gold upon the blade
In goodly wise, whereof it tooke liis name,
And was of no lesse vertue then of fame :
For there no substance was so firme and hard,
But it would pierce or cleave whereso it came ;
Ne any armour could his dint out-ward ;
But wheresoever it did light, it throughly shard.

Now when the world with sinne gan to abound,
Astr:i!a loathing lenger liere to space
IMongst wicked men, in whom no truth slie found,
Return'd to lieaven, whence slie derir'd her race ;
Where she hath now an everlasting place
Mongst those twelve signes, wliich nightly we do see
The heavens bright-sluniiig baudricke to enchace ;
And is the \'irgin, sixt in her degree,
An<i next herselfe her righteous ballance lianging
bee.

But when she parted hence she left her groome,
An yron man, which did on her attend
Always to pxecu{e her stedfast doome,
And willed him witli Artegall to wenil.
And doe whatever thing he did intend :
His name was 'J"alus, made of yron mould.
Immoveable, resistlesse, without end ;
\V''fi in his hand an vron flale did liould,
With wtiicli he ihresht out falshood, and did truth
ujifould.

He now went with him in this nsw inquest.

Him for to aide, if aide he cliaunst to neede,

Against that cruell tyrant, which opprest

Tiie faire Irena with his foule misdeede.

And kept the crowne in which she should succeed :

And now together on their way they bin,

Whenas they saw a squire in squallid weed

Lamenting sore his sorrowful! sad tyne

With many bitter teares shed from his blubbred eyne.

To whom as they approclied, they espide

A sorie sight as ever seene with eye.

And headlesse ladie lying him beside

In her owne blood all wallow'd wofully,

That her gay clothes did in discolour die.

Much was he moved at that rueful! siglit ;

And flam'd with zeale of vengeance inwardlv

He askt who had that dame so fouly dight,

Or whether his owne liaud, or whether other wight?

" All ! woe is me, and well away," quoth hee

Bursting forth teares like springs out of a banke,

" That ever I this dismal! day did see !

Full farre was I from thinking such a pranke ;

Yet litle losse it were, and mickle thanke.

If I should graunt that I liave doen the same,

'i hat I mote drinke the cup whereof she dranke;

But that I should die guiltie of the blame.

The which another did who now is fled with shame.

" Who was it then," sayd Artegall, "that wrought
And why ? doe it declare unto me trew."
" A knight," said he, " if knight he may be thought
That (lid his hand in ladies bloud embrew,
And for no cause, but as I shall you shew.
This day as I in solace sate hereby
With a fayre love whose losse I now do rew.
There came this kniglit, having in corapatie
This lucklesse ladie which now here doth headlesse
lie.

XVII.

" He, whether mine seem'd fayrer in his eye.
Or that he wesed weary of his owne,
^Vould change with me ; but I did it denye.
So did the ladies both, as may be knowne ;
]?iit he, whose spirit was with pride u])blowne.
Would not so rest contented with his riglit ;
15ut, having from his courser lier dovvne tlirowne.
Fro me reft mine away by lawlesse might,
And on Lis steed her set to beare her out of sight.

" Which when his ladie saw, slie follow'd fast
And on him catching hold gan loud to crie
Not so to leave her nor away to cast.
But rather of his hand besought to die :
With that his sword he drew all wrathfully.
And at one stroke cropt oil' her head with scorne.
In that same place wliereas it now doth lie.
So he my love away with him hath borne.
And left me here both his and mine owne love td
mourne."

Canto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

243

" Avead," saj'd he ; " which way then did he make ?
And by what markes may he be knowne againe ?"
" To hope," quoth lie, " iiim soone to overtake,
That hence so long departed, is but vaine :
Hut 3'et he pricked over yonder plaine,
And as I marked bore upon his shield,
By which it's easie him to know againe,
A broken sword within a bloodie held ;
Expressing' well his nature which the same did
wield."

No sooner sayd, but streight he after sent

His yron page, who him pursew'd so light.

As that it seem'd above the ground he went :

For he was swift as swallow in her flight.

And strong as lyon in his lordly might.

It was not long before he overtooke

Sir Sanglier, (so cleeped was that knight,)

Whom at the first he ghessed by his looke.

And by the other markes which of his shield be tooke.

He bad him stay and backe with him retire ;
Who, full of scorne to he commaunded so,
The ladv to alight did eft require,
Whilest he reformed that uncivil! fo ;
And streight at him with all his force did go :
Who mov'd no more therewith, then when a rocke
Is lightly stricken with some stones throw;
But to him leaping lent him such a knocke,
'J'hat on the ground he layd him like a sencelesse
blocke.

Hut, ere he could himselfe recure againe.

Him in his iron paw he seized had ;

Ihiit when he wak't out of his warelesse paine.

He found himself unwist so ill bestad,

(hat lim he could not wag : thence he him lad,

liound like a beast appointed to the stall :

The sight whereof the lady sore adrad,

A nd fain'd to fly for feare of being thrall ;

But he her quickly stayd, and forst to wend withall.

Ulien to the place they came where Artegall

By that same carefull squire did then abide,

He gently gan him to demaund of all

That did betwixt him and that squire betide :

\\ ho with Sterne countenance and indignant pride

Did aunswere, that of all he guiltlesse stood.

And his accuser thereuppon defide ;

For neither he did shed that ladies bloud,

j\or tooke away his love, but his owne proper good.

W'ell did the squire perceive liimseKe too weake

To aunswere bis detiaunce in the field.

And rather chose his challenge oflf to breake

I hen to approve his right with s])eare and shield.

And rather guilty chose himselfe to yield.

!5iit Anegall by signes perceiving: yilaine

That he it w;is not which that lady kild,

(Jut that strange knight, the fiiiier love to gaine,

Did casfahuutby sleighttlie truth thereout tostraine;

And sayd : " Now sure this doubtfull causes right

Can hardly but by sacrament be tride,

Or else by ordele, or by blooddv fight ,

That ill perhaps mote fall to either side :

But if 3'e pleise that I your cause decide.

Perhaps I may all further quairell end,

So ye will swoare my iudgement to abide."

Thereto they doth did franckly condiscend,

And to his doome with listfall eares did both attend.

" Sith then," sayd he, " ye both the dead deny.
And both the living lady claime your right,
Let both the dead and living equally
Devided be betwixt you here in sight.
And each of either take his share aright.
But looke, who does dissent from this my read,
He for a twelve moneths day shall in despight
Beare for his penaunce that same ladies head ;
To witnesse to the world that she by him is dead.'

Well pleased with that doome was Sangliere,
And offred streight the lady to be slaine :
But that same squire to whom she was more dere,
Whenas he saw she should be cut in twaine,
Did yield she rather should with him remaine
Alive then to himselfe be shared dead ;
And rather then his love should suffer paine.
He chose with shnme to beare that ladies head :
True love despiseth shame when life is cald in dread.

WHiom when so willing Artegall perceaved ;
" Not so, thou squire," he sayd, " but thine I deeme
The living lady, which from thee he reaved :
For worthy thou of her doest rightly seeme.
And you, sir knight, that love so light esteeme,
As that ye would for little leave the same.
Take here your owne that doth you best beseeme.
And with it beare the burden of defame;
Your owne dead ladies head, to tell abrode your
shame."

But Sangliere disdained much his doome,
And sternly g-an rej)ine at his heheast ;
Ne would for ought obay, as did become,
I'o beare that ladies head before his breast*
Untill that Talus had his pride re])rest.
And forced him, maulgre, it up to reare.
Who when he saw it bootelesse to resist,
He tooke it up, and thence with him did beare ;
As rated spaniell takes his burden up for feare.

INIuch did that sqnire Sir Artegall adore
For his great iustice held in high regard ;
And as liis squire him ofl'rcd evermore
To serve, for want of other ineete reward,
And wend with him on his adventure hard :
But ho thereto would by no meanes consent ;
But leaving him forth on his iourney far'd :
Ne wight with him but onely Talus went :
They two enough t'encounter an whole regiment

••i-V-l

THE PA ERIE QUEENE.

[Book

CANTO II.

Artcgall heares of Florimell ;

Does with the pagan fight-
Him slaies ; drownes Lady Rlunera ;

Does race her castle quight.

Nought is more honourable to a knight,

Ne better doth beseeme brave chevalry,

Then to defend the feeble in their right,

And wrong redresse in sucli as wend awry :

Whilome those great heroes got thereby

Their greatest glory for their rightfull deedes,

And place deserved with the gods on hy :

Herein the noblesse of this knight exceedes.

Who now to perils great for iustice sake proceedes ;

To which as he now was uppon the way,

He chaunst to meet a dwarfe in hasty course ;

Whom he requir'd his forward hast to stay.

Till he of tidings mote with him discourse.

Loth was the dwarfe, yet did he stay perforse,

And gan of sundry newes his store to tell,

As to his memory they had recourse ;

But chiefly of the fairest Florimell,

How she was found againe. and spousde to IMarinell,

For this was Dony, Florimells owne dwarfe,
Whom having lost (as ye have heard whyleare)
And finding in the way the scattred scarfe,
The fortune of her life long time did feare :
}}ut of her health when Artegall did heare.
And safe returne, he was full inly glad,
And askt him where and when her bridale cheare
Should be solemniz'd ; for, if time he had,
He would be there, and honor to her spousall ad.

" Within three daies," quoth he, " as I do heare.
It will 1)e at the castle of the strond ;
What time, if naught me let, I will be there
To do her service so as I am bond.
r>ut in n)y way a little here beyond
A cursed cruell sarazin doth wonne,
'lliat kee])es a bridges passage by strong hond.
And many errant knights hath there fordonne ;
'i liat makes all men for feare that passage for to
shonne."

" Wliat mister wight," quoth he, "and how far hence
I.-, he, that doth to travellers such harmesT'
" He is,' said he, " a man of great defence ;
KxjtTt in battell and in d^cdes of armes ;
And more cmboldned by the wicked charmes,
With which his daughter doth him still support;
H iving great lordsliips got and goodly farmes
ThroTigh strong oppression of liis powre extort ;
By which iiestil them holds, and keepeswith strong
eflbrt.

" And daylyhe his wrongs encreaseth more ;
For never wight he lets to passe that way,
Over his bridge, albee he rich or poore.
But he him makes his passage-penny pay :
I^lse he doth hold him backe or beat away.
Thereto he hath a groome of evill guize.
Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray,
Which pols and pils the poore in piteous wize;
But he liimselfe upon the rich doth tyrannize.

" His name is bight Pollente, rightly so.
For that he is so puissant and strong,
'I'hat with his powre he all doth over go.
And makes them subiect to his mighty wrong ;
And some by sleight he eke doth underfong :
For on abridge lie custometh to fight.
Which is but narrow, but exceeding long ;
And in the same are many trap-fals pight,
Through which the rider downe doth fall through
oversight.

" And underneath the same a river flowes,

'I'hat is both swift and dangerous deepe withall ;

Into the which wliomso he overthrowes,

All destitute of helpe dotli headlong fall ;

But he himselfe through practise usuall

Leapes forth into the floud, and there assaies

His foe confused through his sodaine fall,

That horse and man he equally dismaies.

And either both them drownes, or trayterously slaies

" Then doth lie take the spoile of them at will,
And to his daughter brings, that dwells thereby :
Who all that conies doth take, and therewith fill
The coll'ers of her wicked threasury ;
Which she with wrongs halh heaped up so hy
That many princes she in wealth exceedes,
And ])urchast all the countrey lying ny
Willi the revenue of her plenteous meedes :
Her name is iVIunera, agreeing with her deedes.

" Thereto she is full faire, and rich attired,

With golilen hands and silver feete beside.

That many lords have her to wife desired :

liut she them all despiseth for great pride."

" Now by my life," sayd he, " and God to guide.

None other way will I this day betake,

But hy that biidge whereas he doth abide :

'J'hcrcfbie me thither lead." No more he spake^

But thitherward forthright his ready way did make

Canto II.J

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

245

Unto the place he came within a while,
Wliere on the bri(lp,e he ready armed saw
The Sarazin, awavting for some spoile:
Who as thev to the passage gan to draw,
A villaine to th^m came with scull all raw.
That passage-monev did of them retjuire,
According to the custome of their law :
To whom he aunswerd wroth, " loe there thy hire ;"
And with that word Iiim strooke, that streighthe did
expire.

XII.

Which when the pagan saw he wexed wroth,
And streight himselfe unto the fight addrest;
Ne was Sir Ariegall behinde : so both
Together ran wilh readv speares in rest.
Right in the midst, whereas they brest to brest
Should nieete, a trap was letten downe to fall
Into the floud : streight leapt the carle unblest,
\Vell weening that his foe was falne witliall :
But lie was well aware, and leapt before ids /iill.

There being both together in the floud,

Thev each at other tyrannously flew ;

Ke ought the water cooled iheir whot bloud.

But rather in them kindled clioler new :

But there the Paynim, who that use well knew

To fight in water, great advantage had,

That oftentimes him nigh he overthrew :

And eke the courser whereuppon he rad

Could swim like to a fish whiles he his backe bestrad.

Which oddes whenas Sir Artegall espide.

He saw no way but close with him in hast;

And to him driving strongly downe the tide

Uppon his iron coller griped fast.

That with the siraini his wesand nigh he hrast.

There thev together strove and struggled long.

Either the other from his steed to cast ;

Ne ever Artegall his griple strong

For any ihinge wold slacke, but still upon him hong.

As when a dolphin and a sele are met

In the wide charaj)ian of ihe ocean plaine,

With cruell chaufe their courages they whet.

The mayslerdome of eacli by force to gaine,

And dreadfuU battaile twixt them do darraine ;

Thev snuf, they snort, they bounce, they rage, thev

That all the sea, disturbed with their traine, [rore,

Dotli frie witli fome above the surges hore:

Such was betwixt these two the troublesome uprore.

So Artegall at length him forst forsake

His horses backe for dread of being drownd,

And to his handy swimming him betake.

Eftsoones himselfe he i'rnui his hold unbownd.

And then no ods at all in him he fownd ;

For Artegall in swimmiMg skiifuU was.

And durst the depth of any water sownd.

So ought ea li knii;lit, that use of perill has,

In swimming be expert, through waters force to pas.

Then very doubtfull was the warres event,

Uncertaine whether had the better side :

For both were skild in that experiment,

And both in amies well traind and throughly tride.

But Artegall was better breath'd beside.

And towards th' end grow greater in his might,

That his faint foe no longer could abide

His puissance, ne beare himselfe upright ;

But from the water to the land betooke his flight

Rut Artegall pursewd him still so neare
\\ ith bright Chrysaor in his cruell hand,
'i'hat, as his head he gan a litle reare
Above the brmcke to tread upon the land.
He smote it oit', that tumbling on the strand
It bit the earth for very fell despiglit,
And gnashed with his teeth, as if he band
High God, whose goodnesse he despaired quight,
Or curst the hand which did that vengeance ou him
diffht.

His corps was carried downe along the lee,
Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned :
But iiis blasphemous head, that all might see,
He pitcht upon a pole on high ordayned ;
Where many years it afterwards remayned.
To be a mirrour to all mighty men,
In whose right hands great power is contavned.
That none of them the feeble over-ren.
But alwaies doe their powre within iust corapasse
pen.

That done, unto the castle he did wend.

In which the Paynims daughter did abide.

Guarded of many which did her defend:

Of whom he entrance sought, but was denide.

And with reprochfull blasphemy defide,

Beaten with stones downe from the battilment,

That; he was forced to withdraw aside ;

And bad his servant Talus to invent

Which way he enter might without endangerment.

Eftsoones his page drew to the castle gate.

And with his iron flale at it let flie,

That all the warders it did sore amate,

The which ere-while spake so reprochfully.

And made them stoupe, that looked earst so hie.

Yet still he bet and bounsi upijon the dore.

And thundred stokes theron so hideouslie.

'That all the peece he thaked from the flore.

And filled all the house with feare and great uprore

With noise whereof the lady forth appeared
U|ipon the castle wall ; and, when she saw
'The daungerous state in which she stood, she feared
'The sad eft'ect of her neare overthrow ;
And gan intreat that iron man below
To cease his outrage, and him faire besought ;
Sith neither force of stones whic:i thev did throw.
Nor powr of charms, which she against him wrought
Wight ofher^'ise prevaile. or make him cease for
OU';ht.

246

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

But, ^lipnas yet she saw him to proceede

IJnniov'i with praieis or with piteous thought,

8he meiit him to corrupt with goodly meede ;

And causde great saclces with endlesse riches fraught

Into liie battilment to be ujjbrought,

And i)Ovvred forth over the castle wall,

That bbe might win some time, though dearly bought,

Whilest he to gathering of the gold did fall ;

But Jie was notliing mov'd nor tempted tberewithall:

But still continu'd liis assault the more,
And layd on load with his huge yrou flaile.
That at the length lie has yrent the dore
And made way for liis maister to assaile :
Who being entred, nought did them availe
For wight against his powre themselves to reare :
Each one did flie ; their hearts began to faile ;
And hid themselves in corners here and there ;
And eke their dame hall'e dead did hide herself for
feare.

Long they her sought, vet no where could they finde
That sure they ween'd she was escapt away : [her.
But Talus, that could like a lime-bound uinde her,
And all things secrete wisely could bewray,
At lengtli found out whereas she hidden lay
Under an heape of gold : thence he her drew
By the iaire lockes, and fowly did array
Withouten pitty of her goodly hew,
I'hat Artegall himselfe her seemelesse plight did rew.

Yet for no pitty would he change the course
Of iustice, which in J'alus hand did lye;
Who rude!}' hayld her fortli without remorse.
Still holding up her suppliant hands on hye.
And kneeling at his ieete submissively:
But he her suppliant hands, those hands of gold.
And eke her feete, tliose feete of silver trye,
Which sought unrighteousiiesse, and iustice sold,
Chopt iff. and nay Id on high, that all might them
behold.

Herselfe then tooke he by the sclender wast

In vaine loud crying, and into the flood

Over tlie casile wall adowne her cast.

And there her drowned in the dirty mud :

But the streame washt away her guilty blood.

Thereafter all that mucky pelie he tooke.

The sjjoile of jieojiles evil gotten good.

The which her sire had scrajj't by liookeand crooke.

And burning all to ashes powr'd it down the brooke.

And lastly all that castle quite he raced.

Even from the sole of his foundation,

And all the hewen stones thereof defaced.

That tiiere mote be no liope of reparation,

A or memory thereof to any nation

All whieh when Talus throughly liad perfournied,

Sir Artegall undid the evil fashion.

And vviclied customes of that bridge refourmed :

Whicli done, unto his former iourney heretourned.

In which they measur'd mickle weary way.
Till that at length nigh to the sea they drew ;
By which a^ lev did tiavell on a day.
They saw befor>' them, far as they could vew.
Full many peojjle jatht; jd in a crew :
Whose great assembly they did much admire,
For never there the like resort they knew.
So towardes thera they coasted, to en piire
What thing so many nations met did tiiere desire.

There they beheld a mighty gyant stand

Upon a rocke, and hoUUng forth on iiie

An huge great paire of ballance in his hand.

With whi, h he boasted in his surquedrie

I'hat all the world he would weigh equallie,

If ought he had tlie same to couiiterpoys :

For want whereof he weighed vanity.

And fild his ballaunce full of idle toys:

Yet was admired much of fooles, women, and boys.

He sayd that he would all the earth uptake

And all the sea, divided each from either:

So would he of the fire one ballaunce make.

And one of th'ayre, without or wind or wether:

Then would lie ballaunce heaven and hell together,

And all that did within them all containe ;

Of all whose weight he would not misse a fether :

And looke what surplus did of each remaine.

He would to his owne part restore the same againe.

For why, he sayd, they all unequal! were.
And had encroched upon others share ;
Like as the sea (wliich plaine he shewed there)
Had wonie the earth ; so did the fire the aire 3
So all the rest did others parts empaire :
And so were realmes and nations run av/ry.
All which he undertooke for to rejiaire.
In sort as ihey were formed auiicieiitly ;
And all things would reduce unto eijuality

Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke.

And cluster thicke unto his leasings vaine;

Like foolish flies about an hony-crocke;

In hope by him great benefile to gaiue.

And uncontrolled freedonje to obtaine.

All which when Artegall did see and heare.

How he misled the simple peojdes traine,

In sdeignfuU wi/.e he drew unto him neare.

And thus unto him spake, without regard or feare,

'' Thou, that presum'st to weigh the world anew.

And all things to an equall to restore.

Instead of right me seemes great wrong dost shew,

And far above thy forces ])itch to sore :

For, ere thou limit what is lesse or more

In every thing, thou oughtest first to know

What was the poyse of every jiart of yore :

And looke then, how much it doth overtiow

Or faile thereof, so much is n>ore then iust to trow

Canto ll.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

24T

" For at the first they all created were
In goodly measure hv their Makers might;
And wtighed out in ballaunces so iier°,
That not a dram was missing of their right :
The earth was in the middle centre pight,
In v.-liich it doth immoveable abide,
Herad in with waters like a wall in sight,
And thev with aire, that not a drop can slide :
Al which the heavens containe, and in their courses
guide.

XXXTI.

" Such heavenly iustice doth among them raine,
That every one doe know their Cf rtaine bound ;
In which they doe tliese many yeares remaine.
And rnongst them al no change hath yet beene found :
But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound,
We are not sure they would so long remaine :
All change is perillous, and all chaunce unsound.
Therefore leave otf to weigh them all againe,
Till we may be assur'd they shall their course
retaine."

" Thou foolisbe elfe," said then the gyant wroth,

" Seest not how badly all things present bee,

And each estate quite out of order goth ?

The sea itselfe doest thou not plainely see

Encroch uppon the land there under thee ?

And th' earth itselfe how daily its increast

By all that dying to it turned be }

Were it not good that wrong were then surceast.

And from the most that some were given to the least 1

" Therefore I will throw downe these mountains hie,
And make them Icveli with t!ie lowly plaine.
These towring rocks, which reach unto the skie,
I will thrust downe into the deepest maine,
And, as they were, them equalize againe.
Tyrants, that make men subiect to their law,
I will suppresse, that they no more may raine;
And lordings curbe that commons over-aw ;
And all the wealth of rich men to the poore will
draw."

" Of things unseene how lanst thou deeme aright,"

Then answered the righteous Artegall,

" Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight?

What though the sea with waves continuall

Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all ;

Xe is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought:

For whatsoever from one place doth fall

Is with the tyde 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 doe fade ;

For of the earth thev formed were of yore :

However gay their blossome or their blade

Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade.

What wrong then is it if that when they die

They turne to that whereof tliey first were made?

All in tlie jjowre of their great Maker lie :

All creatures must obey the voice of the IMost Hie.

" They live, they die, like as He doth ordaine,

Ne ever any asketh reason why.

The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine ;

The dales doe not the lofty hils envy.

He maketh kingij to sit in soverainty ;

He maketh subiects to their powre obay ;

He pulleth downe. He setteth up on by ;

He gives to this, from that He takes away :

For all we have is His : what He list doe. He may

" Whatever thing is done, by Him is donne,
Ne any may His mighty will withstand ;
Ne any may His soveraine power shonne,
Ne loose that He hath bound with stedfast band •
In vaine therefore doest thou now take in hand
To call to count, or weigh His workes anew,
Wliose counsels depth thou canst not understand;
Sith of things subiect to thy daily vew
Thou doest not know the causes nor their courses
dew.

" For take thy ballaunce, if thou he so wise,
And weigh the winde that under heaven doth blow •
Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise ;
Or weigh the thought that from mans 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 doest not know the least thing of tliem all ?
Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.'

Therewith the gyant much abashed sayd
That he of little things made reckoning light ;
Yet the least word that ever could be layd
\\ ithin his ballaunce he could way aright.
" Which is," said he, " more heavy then in weight,
The right or wrong, the false or else the trew?"
He answered that he would try it streiglit :
So he the words into his ballaunce threw ;
But streight the winged words out of his ballaunce
flew.

Wroth wext he then, and sayd that words were light,
Ne would witliin his ballaunce well abide :
But he could iustly weigh the wrong or right.
" Well then," sayd Artegall, " let it be tride :
First in one ballance set the true aside."
He did so first, and then the false he layd
In th' other scale ; but still it downe did slide.
And by no meane could in tlie weight be stayd :
For by no meanes the false will with the truth be
wayd.

" Now take the right likewise," savd Artegale,
" And counterpeise the same with so much wrong,'
So first the right he put into one scale ;
And then the gyant strove with puissance strong
To fill the other scale with so much wrong :
But all the wrongs that he therein could lay-
Might not it peise ; vet did he labour long,
And swat, and chaufd, and proved every way:
Yet all the wrongs could not a litis right downe wa ^

248

THE fap:rie QUKENE.

[Book V

Which when he saw, he (rreatly grew in rage,
And -almost would his balances liave broken:
But Artf<;all him fairelv g'an asswage,
And said, " Be not upon thy balance wroken ;
For thev do nought but right or wrong betoken ;
Jjut in the mind the dooms of right must bee :
And so likewise of words, the which be spoken,
The eare must be the ballance, to decree
Andiudge, whether with truth or falshood they agree.

XLVIII,

" But set the truth and set the right aside,
For they with wrong or falshood will not fare,
And put two wrongs together to be tride,
Or else two falses, of each equal sliare.
And then together doe them both compare ;
For truth is one, and right is ever one."
So did he ; and then plaine it did appeare.
Whether of them the greater were attone :
But right sat in the middest of the beame alone.

But he the right from thence did thrust away ;
For it was not the rii;ht which he did seeke :
But rather strove extremities to way,
Th' one to diminish, th' otljcr for to eeke:
For of the meane he greatly did misleeke.
Whom when so lewdly minded Talus found,
Approching nigh unto him cheeke hy cheeke,
lie shouldered him from oft' the higher ground,
And down the rock him throwing in the sea him
dround.

Like as a ship, whom cruell tempest drives

l'))on a rccke with liorrible dismay.

Her shaitered ribs in tliousand peeces rives

Aiid sjioyling all her genres and goodlj' ray

Does make herselfe misfortunes ]iiteous jiray :

So downe the clifi'e the wretched gyant tumbled;

H is battred ballances in peeces lay.

His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled :

bo was the hi};h-aspyring witii huge ruine humbled.

That when the people, which had there about
Long wayted, saw his sudden desolation,
They gan to gather in tumultuous rout,
And mutining to stirre up civill faction
For certaine losse of so great expectation :
For well they hoped to have got great good.
And wondrous riches by his innovation :
Therefore resolving to revenge liis blood,
They rose in armes, and all in battell order stood.

Which lawiesse multitude him comming' to

In warlike wise when Artegall did vew.

He much was troubled, ne wist what to do :

For loth he was his noble hands t'embrew

In the base blood of sucli a rascall crew ;

And otherwise, if that he should retire.

He fear'd lest they with shame would him pursew :

Therefore he Talus to tbem sent t'inquire

The cause of their array, and truce for to desire.

But soone as they him nigh approching spide,

Tliey gan with all their weapons him assay,

And rudely stroke at him on every side ;

Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought dismay:

But when at them lie with his flaile gan lay,

He like a swarm of flyes them overthrew :

Ne any of them durst come in his way,

But here and there before his presence ilew.

And hid themselves in holes and bushes from his vew;

As when a faulcon hath with nimble flight

Flowne at a tiusb of ducks forebv the brooke.

The trembling foule disniayd witli dreadfull sight

Of death, the which tiiem almost overtooke.

Doe hide then. selves from her astonying looke

Amongst the flags and covert round about.

\\ hen Talus saw they all the field forsooke,

And none appear'd of all that raskall rout.

To Artegall he turn'd imd went with him throughout.

CANTO in.

The spousals of faire Florimell,
Wlierc turney many knights;

There Braggadochio is uncas'd
In all the ladies sights.

After long stormes and tempests over-blowne
1 he suime at length his ioyous face doth cleare :
So wlienas fortune all iier spight bath showne.
Some blisfull lioures at last must r.eedes appeare ;
Else should afflictfd wights oft-times dtspeire.
So comes it now to Florimell by lourne,
After long sorrowes suftered whyleare,
In which cajitiv'd slie manv moiietlis ilid mourne,
'i'o tast of ioy, and to wont pleasures to retourne :

Who being freed from Proteus cruell band

By Marinell was unto him affide,

And by him brought againe to Faerie Land ;

A\ here he her s])ous"d, and made his ioyous bride.

'] lie time and place was blazed farre and wide.

And soiemne ieastes and giusts ordain'd therefore :

To which tliere did resort from every side

Of lords anil latlies in Unite great store ;

Ne any knight was absent that brave courage bore.

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

219

o tell the glorie of the feast that day,
be goodly service, the devicef'uU sights,
The bridegroines state, the brides most rich aray,
The pride of ladies, and the worth of kniglits,
The royall banquets, and the rare delights,
Were worke fit for an herauld, not for me :
But for so much as to my lot here lig'hts,
That with this present treatise doth agree.
True vertue to advance, shall here recounted bee.

When all men had with full satietie

Of meates and drinkes their appetites suffiz'd,

To deedes of armes and y)roofe of chevalrie

They gan themselves addresse, full rich aguiz'd,

As each one had his furnitures deviz'd.

And first of all issu'd Sir INIarinell,

And with him sixe knights more, wliich enterpriz'd

To chalenge all in ngiit of Florimell,

And to maintaine that she all others did excell.

The first of them was hight Sir Orimont,
A noble knight, and tride in h-.ird assayes ;
The second had to name Sir Bellisonf,
But second unto none in prowesse prayse :
The third was Brunei!, famous in his dayes :
The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might :
The fift Armeddan, skild in lovely layes :
The sixt was Lansack, a redoubted knight :
All sixe well seene in armes, and prov'd in many a
fight.

And them against came all that list to giust.
From every coast and countrie under sunne :
None was debard, but all had leave that lust.
The trompets sound ; then all together ronne.
Full many deeds of armes that dav were donne ;
And many knights unhorsr, and many wounded.
As fortune fell ; yet little lost or vionne :
But all that day the greatest prayse redounded
To Marinell, whose name the heralds loud resounded.

The second day, so soone as morrow light

Appear'd in heaven, into the field they came.

And there all day continew'd cruell fight,

With divers fortune fit for such a game,

In whiih all strove with perill to wnine fame ;

Yet whether side was victor note be ghest :

But at the last the trompets did procianie

That IMarinell that day deserved best.

So they disparted were, and all men went to rest.

The third day came, tliat should due tryall lend
Of all the rest ; and then tliis warlike ciew
Together met, of all to make an end.
There Marinell great deeds of armes did shew;
And through the thickest lilce a Ivon flew,
Rashing off helnies, and ryving plates asonder ;
That every one his daunger did eschew :
So terribly his dreadful! strokes did thonder.
That all men stood amaz'd, and at his might did
wonder.

But what on earth can alwaies happie stand ?
The greater prowesse greater perils find.
So larre he past amongst his enemies band,
Th:it tliey have him enclosed so beliind.
As bv no meanes he can himselfe outwind :
And novv jjerlbrce they have him prisonei taken ;
And now tliey doe with captive bands him hind ;
And now they lead him hence, of all forsaken,
Unlesse some succour had in time him overtaken.

It fortun'd whylest they were thus ill beset.

Sir Artegall into the tilt-yard came.

With Hraggadochio, whom he lately met

Upon the way wiih that his snowy dame :

Where when he understood by common fame,

W'hat evil hap to Marinell betid,

Fie much was mov'd at so unworthie shame.

And streight that boaster prayd, with whom he rid.

To change his shield with him, to be the better hid.

So forth he went, and soone them overhent,
^\ here they were leading IMarinell away ;
\Vliom iie assavld with dreadlesse hardiment.
And forst the burden of tlieir prize to stay.
They were an hundred kniglits of that array ;
Of which th' one halfe upon himselfe did set,
The other stayd behind to gard the pray :
But he ere long the former fittie bet ;
And from the other fiftie soone the prisoner fet.

So backe he brought Sir IMarinell againe ;
Whom having quickly arm'd againe anew,
I They hoth together inyned might and maint-.
To set airesli on ail the other crew :
Whom with sore havocke soone they overthrew.
And chased ijuite out of '.he field, that none
Against them durst his head to perill shew.
So were they left lords of the field alone :
So jJarinell by him was rescu'd from his fone.

Which when he had perform'd, then bat.te againe

To Braggadochio did his shield restore :

Who all this while beliind him did remaine,

Keeping there close wiih him in pretious store

That his false ladie, as ye Heard afore.

Then did the trompets sound, and iudges rose,

And all these kniglits, which that day armour bore.

Came to the open hall to listen whose

The honour of the prize should be adiudged by those.

And thether also came in open sight
Fayre Florimell into tlie common hall.
To greet his guerdon 'into every knight,
And best to him to wlioin the b st si ould fail.
Then for that stiangei knight the. loud did call^
I'o whom that dav ihey should the girlond yield ;
Who came not liirth: but for Sir Artegall
Came Biagg;idocliio, and did shew his shield.
Which bore the sunne brode blazed in a golden field.

250

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[lioOK V.

The sif^ht whereof did all with o-ladnesse fill :
So unto bim they did addeeme the prise
Ot'all that trvumph. Then the trompets shrill
DoiT Hrao'gailochios name resounded thrise :
Si) courage lent a cloke to cowardise :
And then to him came fayrest Florimell,
And goodly gan to greete his brave emprise,
And thousand thankes him yeeld, that had so well
Appror'd that day that she all others did excell.

To whom the boaster, that all knights did blot,

With proud disduine did scornefull answere make,

That what he did that day, he did it not

For her, but for his owne deare ladies sake,

Whom on his perill he did undertake

Both her and eke all others to excell :

And further did uncomely speaches crake.

Much did his words the gentle ladie quell,

And turu'd aside for shame to heare what he did tell.

Then forth he brought his snowy Florimele,
Whom Trompart had in keeping there beside.
Covered from peoples gazement with a vele :
Whom when discovered they had throughly eide,
With great amazement they were stupefide ;
And said, that surely Florimell it was.
Or if it were not Florimell so tride,
That Florimell herselfe she then did pas.
So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has.

Which whenas Marinell beheld likewise.

He was therewith exceedingly dismayd ;

Ne wist he what to thinke, or to devise :

But, like as one whom feends had made affrayd.

He long astonisht stood, ne ought he sayd,

Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eies

He gazed still upon that snowy mayd.

Whom ever as he did the more avize.

The more to be true Florimell he did surmize.

As when two sunnes appeare in th' azure stye,

Mounted in Plncbus charet fiei-ie bright,

Both darting forth faire beames to each mans eye,

And both adorn'd with lampes of flaming light ;

All that behold so strange prodigious sight.

Not knowing natures worke, nor wliat to weene.

Are rapt with wonder and with rare aflVight.

So stood Sir IVarinell when he had scene

"•le semblaut of this false by his faire beauties queene.

All which when Artegall, who all this while
Stood in the preasse close covered, well advewed.
And saw that boasters pride and gracelesse guile,
lie could no longer heare, but forth issewed.
And unto all himselfe tiiere open shewed,
A.nd to the boaster said ; " Thou losell base,
That hast with borrowed jilumes tliyselfe endewed.
And others wortii with leasings doest deface,
When tliey are all restor'd thou shalt rest in dis-
grace.

" That shield, which thou doest beare, was it indeed

Which this dayes honour sav'd to JNIarinell ;

]^ut not that arme, nor thou tlie man I reed,

Which didst that service unto Florimell :

For proofe shew forth thy sword, and let it tell

What strokes, what dreadfuU stoure, it stird this day:

Or shew the wounds which unto thee befell ;

Or shew the sweat with which thou diddest sway

So sliarpe a battell, that so many did dismay.

" But this the sword which wrought those cruell

stounds,
And this the arme the which that shield did beare.
And these the signs," (so shewed forth his wounds,)
" By which that glorie gotten doth appeare.
As for this ladie, which he sheweth here.
Is not (I wager) Florimell at all ;
But some fiiyre franion, fit for such a fere,
That by misfortune in his hand did fall."
For proofe whereof he bad them Florimell forth call.

XXIII.

So forth the noble ladie was ybrought,
Adorn'd with honor and all comelv grace :
Whereto her bashfull sbamefastnesse vwrought
A great increase an her faire blushing face ;
As roses did with lillies interlace :
For of those words, the which that boaster threw.
She inly yet conceived great disgrace :
Whom whenas all the people such did vew.
They shouted loud, and signes of gladnesse all did
shev?.

Then did he set her by that snowy one,
Tike the true saint beside tlie image set ;
Of both their besiuties to make paragone
And triall, whether should tlie honor get.
Streightvvay, so soone as both together met.
Th' enchaunted damzeil vanisht info nought :
Her snowy substance melted as with heat,
Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought.
But th' einjitie girdle which about her wast was
wrought.

As when the daughter of Thaumantes faire

Hath in a watrv cloud dis]dayed wide

Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid ayre ;

That all men wonder at her colours })ride ;

All suddenlv, ere one can looke aside.

The glorious picture vanisheth away,

Ne any token doth thereof abide :

So did this ladies goodly forme decay.

And into nothing goe, ere one could it bewray.

WHiicli whenas all that jtresent were beheld,

They stricken were with great astonishment,

And their faint harts with senselesse horrour queld,

To see the thing, that seem'd so excellent.

So stolen from their fancies wonderment ;

'Jliat what of it became none understood :

And Braggadocliio selfe witli dreriment

So daunted was in his despeyring mood.

That like a lifelesse corse immoveable he stood.

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

251

But A.rtegall tliat golden belt uptooke,
The which of all her spovle was onelv left;
Which was not hers, as many it iiiistoolie,
But Florimells owne girdle, from her reft
While she was flyinj;-, like a weary weft,
From that foule monster which did her compell
To perils great ; which he unbuckling eft
Presented to the fayresc Floriniell ;
Who round about her tender wast it fitted well.

Full many ladies often liadassayd

About their middles that faire belt to knit;

And many a one suppos'd to be a mayd :

Yet it to none of all their loynes would fit,

Till Florimell about her fastned it.

Such power it had, that to no womans wast

By any skill or labour it would fit,

Unlesse that she were continent and chast ;

But it would lose or breake, that many had disgrast.

Whilest thus they busied were bout Florimell,
And boastful! Braggadochio to defame,
Sir Guyon, as bv fortune then befell,
Forth from the thickest preasse of people came,
His owne good steetl, which he had stolne, to clame ;
And, th' one hand seizing on his gulden bit,
W^ith th' other drew his sword ; for with the same
He meant the thiefe there deadly to have smit :
And, had he not bene held, he nought had fayld of it.

Thereof great hurlv burly moyed was
Throughout the hall for that same warlike horse:
For Braggadochio would not let him j)as ;
And Guyon would him algates have perforse.
Or it approve upon his carnon corse.
Which troublous stirre when Artegall perceived,
He nigh them drew to stay th' avengers forse ;
And gan inquire how was that sieed bereaved,
Whether by might extort, or else by slight deceaved.

Who all that piteous storie, which befell
About that wofuU couple which were slaine,
And their young bloodie babe to him gan tell ;
With whom whdes he did in the wood remuine.
His horse purloyned was by subtill traine;
For which he chalenged the thiefe to fight:
But he for nought could him thereto constraine ;
For as the death he hated such despight.
And rather had to lose than trie in armes his riaht.

Which Artegall well hearing, (though no more
By law of armes there neede ones right to trie.
As was the wont of warlike knights of yore.
Then that his toe should him the field denie,)
Yet further right by tokens to descrie,
He askt, what privie tokens he did beare.
" If that," said Guyon, " may you satii-tie.
Within his mouth a blacke jpotdoih ajjjieare,
Shapt like a horses shoe, who list to seeke it there.''

XXXIII,

Whereof to make due trvall one did take
The horse in hand within his mouth to looke :
But with his lieeles so sorely lie him strake,
That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke,
That never word from that day forth he spoke.
Another, that would seeme to have more wit.
Him by the bright enibrodered hedstall tooke :
But by the shoulder him so sore he bit,
That he him inaymed quite, and all his shoulder split.

Ne he his mouth would open unto w-ight,
Untill that Guyon selfe unto him spake.
And called Brigadore, (so was he hight,)
Whose voice so soone as he did undertake,
F^ttsoones he stood as still as any stake.
And suffred all his secret marke to see ;
And, whenas he him nam'd, for ioy he brake
His bands, and follow 'd him with gladfull glee.
And f'riskt, and flong aloft, and louted low on knee.

Thereby Sir Artegall did plaine areed,

TJiat unto him the horse belong'd: and sayd,

" Lo there, Sir Guyon, take to you the steed,

As he with golden saddle is arayd ;

And let that losell, plainely now displayd,

Hence fare on foot, till he an horse have gayned."

But the proud boaster gan his doome upbrayd.

And him revil'd, and rated, and disdayned,

That iudgement so uniust against him had ordayned.

XXXVI.

iMuch was the knight incenst with his lewd word.

To have revenged that his villeny ;

And thrice did lay his hand upon his sword.

To have him slaine, or dearely doen aby :

But Guyon did his choler pacify,

Saying, " Sir knight, it would dishonour bee

To you that are our iudge of equity,

Te wreake your wrath on such a carle as hee :

It's punishment enough that all his shame doe see."

XXXVII.

So did he mitigate Sir Artegall ;
But Talus by the backe the boaster hent.
And drawing him out of the open hall
Upon him did inflict this punishment:
lirst he his beard did shave, and fowly shent ;
Then from him reft his shield, and it renverst,
And blotted out his amies with falshood blent ;
And himselfe bafiuld, and his armes unherst ;
And broke his sword in tuaine, and all his armour
sperst.

XXXVIII.

The whiles his guileful! groome was fled away;
But vaine it was to tlnnke from liim to file :
Who overtaking him did disarav.
And all his face deform 'd with iuilimie,
And out of court him scourged openly.
So ought all faytours, that true knighthood shame,
And armes dishonour with base villanie.
From all brave knights be banisht with defame :
For oft their lewdness bloiteth good deserts with
blame.

S52

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V.

XXXIX.

Now wl)en these counterfeits were thus uncased

Out of the foveside of their forgerie.

And ill ilie sii;ht of all men cleane disgraced,

All s::\n to iest and gibe full merilie

At the rememhrance of their knaverie :

Ladies can laugh at ladies, knights at knights.

To thinke with how great vaunt of braverie

He them abused through his subtill slights,

And what a glorious shew he made in all their sights.

There leave we them in pleasure and repast,
Spending their ioyous dayes and gladfull nights.
And taking usurie of time forepast.
With all deare delices and rare delights,
Fit for such ladies and such lovely knights :
And turne we here to this faire t'urrowes end
Our wearie j'okes, to gather fresher sprights,
That, whenas time to Artegall shall tend,
We on his first adventure may him forward send.

CANTO IV.

Artegall dealeth right betwixt
Two brethren that doe strive:

Saves Terpine from tlie gallow tree.
And doth from death reprive.

W'hko upon himselfe will take the skill

True iustice unto people to divide.

Had need have mightie hands for to fulfill

That which he doth with righteous doome decide,

And for to maister wrong and puissant pride :

For vaine it is to deenie of things aright.

And makes wrong doers iustice to deride,

Unlesse it be perform'd with dreadlesse might :

For powre is the right hand of iustice truely hight.

Therefore whylome to knights of great emprise
'J lie charge of iustice given was in trust,
That they might execute her iudgements wise,
And with their might beat downe licentious lust,
Wliicii proudly di<l iinpugne lier sentence iust ;
Whereof no braver president this day
Remaines on earth, preserv'd from yron rust
Of rude oblivion and long times decay.
Then this of Artegall, which here we have to say.

Who having lately left that lovely payre,
Eiilincked fast in wedlockes loyall bond,
J}ol(l Marinell with Florimell the fayre,
With whom great feast and goodly "glee he fond.
Departed iVoni the castle of the strond
To follow his adventures first intent,
Whicli long agoe he taken had in bond :
Ne wight with him for his assistance went,
but that great yron grooine, his gard and govern-
ment :

With whom, as lie did passe by the sea-shore,
lie chaunst to come whereas two comely squires,
J5oth brethren whom one wombe together bore,
But stirred up with different desires,
Together strove, and kindled wrathl'ull fires :
And them beside two seemely damzcls stood,
By all me mes seeking to asswage tlioir ires.
Now with faire words ; but words did little good ;
Now with sharpe threats; but threats the more
increasl their mood.

And there before them stood a coffer strong
Fast bound on every side with iron bands,
}5ut seeming to have suffred mickle wrong.
Either by being wreckt uppon the sands.
Or being carried farre from forraine lands :
Seem'd that for it these squires at ods did fall.
And bent against themselves their cruell hands;
But evermore those damzels did forestall
Their furious encounter, and their fiercenesse pall.

But firmely fixt they were with dint of sword

And battailes doubtfull proofe their rights to try.:

Ne otlier end their furv would afford,

]5ut what to them fortune would iustify:

So stood they both in readinesse tliereby

To ioyne the coinbate with cruell intent:

When Artegall arriving happily

Did stay awhile their greedy bickerment.

Till he had questioned the cause of their dissent.

To whom the elder did this aunswere frame;
" Then weet ye, sir, that we two brethrea be.
To whom our sire, IMilesio bv name,
Did ecpiallv be()ueath his lands in fee.
Two ishinds, which ve there before you see
Not farre in sea ; of which the on<^ appeares
But like a lit;le mount of small degree ;
Yet was as great and wide ere many yeares.
As that same other isle, that greater bredth now
beares.

VIII.

" But tract of time, that all things doth decay,
And this devouring sea, that nought doth spare.
The most part of my land hath washt away.
And tlirowne it uji unto my brothers share:
So his encreased, but mine did empaire.
15efore which time I lov'd, as was my lot,
'J'liat further mayd, hight Philtera the faire,
\V ith whom a goodly iloure I should have got.
And should have loyiied bene to her in wedlock
knot..

Canto IV.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

253

" Then did my younger bretl)er Amidas

Love that same otiier damzell, Lucy bright,

To whom but little dowre allotted was :

Her vertue was the dowre that did deliglit :

What better dowre can to a dame be hight?

But now, when Pliiltra saw my lands decay

And former livel'od favle, she left me (juight,

And to my brother did elope streightway :

Who, taking her from me, his owiie love left astray.

" She, seeing then herselfe forsaken so,
Through dolorous despaire which she conceyved.
Into the sea herselfe did headlong throw,
Thinking to have her griefe by death bereaved ;
But see how much her purpose was deceived !
Whilest thus, amidst the billowes beating of her,
'i'wixt life and death long to and fro she weaved,
She chaunst unwares to light upon this coffer.
Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer.

" The wretched mayd, that earst desir'd to die,

W'nenas the paine of deatli she tasted had.

And but halfe seene his ugly visnoniie,

Gan to repent that she had beene so mad

For any death to chaunge life, though most bad :

And catching hold of this sea-beaten chest,

Ci'he lucky pylot of her passage sad,)

After long tossing in the seas distrest.

Her weary barke at last uppon mine isle did rest.

" Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore
Did her espy, and through my good endevour
From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore
Tier to have swallow'd up, did helpe to save her.
She then, in recompence of that great favour.
Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me
The portion of that good which fortune gave her,
'iogether with Ijerselfe in dowry free ;
]5oth goodly portions, but of both the better she.

" Yet in this coffer which she with her brought
(ireat threasure sithence we did finde contained ;
Which as our owne we tooke, and so it thought j
Hut this same other damzell since hath fained
'I'hat to herselfe that threasure a|)pertained ;
And that she did transport tlie same by sea,
'io bring it to her husband new ordained,
lUit suftred cruell shipwracke by the way :
Lut, whether it be so or no, I cannot say.

" But, whether it indeede be so or no,

Tiiis doe I say, that whatso good or ill

Or God, or fortune, unto me did throw,

( Not wronging any other by my will,)

1 hold mine owne, and so will hold it still.

Ami thougli my land he first did winne away.

And then my love, (tjiough now it little skill,)

\ pt my good lucke he shall not likewise pray ;

But I will It defend whilst ever that I may."

So havmg snyd, the younger did ensew ;

" Full true it is whatso about our land

Rly brother here declared hath to you ■

But not for it this ods twixt us doth stand,

But for this threasure throwne uppon his strand ;

Which well 1 prove, as shall appeare by triall.

To be this maides with whom 1 fastned hand.

Known by good markes and perfect good espiall :

Therefore it ought be rendred her without deniall."

When they thus ended had, the knight began ;
" Certes your strife were easie to accord,
Would ye remit it to some righteous man."
" Unto yourselfe," said they, " we give our woi'il.
To bide that iudgement ye shall us afford."
" Then for assurance to my doome to stand,
Under my foote let each lay downe his sword ;
And then you shall my sentence understand."
So each of them layd downe his sword out of his
band.

Then Artegall thus to the younger sayd ;
" Now tell me, Amidiis, if that ye may.
Your brothers land the which the sea hath layd
Unto your part, and pluckt from his away.
By what good right doe you withhold this dav ?"
" What other right," quoth he, " should you esteeme,
But that the sea it to my share did lay i"
" Your right is good, " sayd he, " and so I deeme,
1 hat what the sea unto you sent your owne should
seeme."

Then turning to the elder, thus he sayd :
" Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be showne ;
Your brothers threasure, which from him is strayd,
Being the dowry of his wife well knowne.
By what right doe you clainie to be your owne?"
" What other right," quoth he, "should you esteeme,
But that the sea hath it unto me throwne?"
" Your right is good," sayd he, " and so I deeme,
That what the sea unto you sent your owne should
seeme.

" For equall right in equall things doth stand :
For what the mighty sea hath once possest.
And plucked quite from all possessors hand.
Whether by rage of waves that never rest.
Or else by wracke that wretches hath distrest.
He may dispose by his impenall might,
As thing at randon left, to whom he list.
So, Amidas, the land was yours first hight ;
And so the threasure yours is, Bracidas, by right."

^Vhen he his sentence thus pronounced had.

Both Amidas and Philtra were disjileased ;

But Bracidas and Lucy were right glad.

And on the threasure by that iudgement seased.

So was their discord by this doome appeased,

And each one had his right. Then Artegall,

Whenas their sharpe contention he liad ceased,

Departed on his way, as did befall.

To follow his old quest, the which him forth did call.

25 k

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

So, as lie travelled uppon the way,

He cliaunst to come, \vl)ere liappily he spide

A rout of many people farre away ;

To whom his course he hastily applide.

To weete the cause of their assemblaunce wide :

To whom when he approched neare in sight,

CAn uncouth sight,) he plainely then descride

To he a troupe of women, warlike dight,

With weapons in their hands, as ready for to fight :

And in the midst of them he saw a knight,

A\ ith both his hands hehinde him pinnoed hard,

And round about his necke an halter tight,

And ready for the gallow tree prepard :

His face was covered, and his head was bar'd,

That who he was uneath was to descry ;

And with full heavy heart with them he far'd,

Griev'd to the soule, and groning inwardly.

That he of womens hands so base a death should dy.

But they, like tyrants mercilesse, the more

Reioyced at his miserable case,

And him revded, and reproched sore

With bitter taunts and termes of vile disgrace,

Now whenas Artegall, arriv'd in place,

Did aske what cause brought that man to decay,

They round about him gan to swarm apace.

Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay,

And to have wrought unwares some villanous assay.

XXIV.

But he was soon aware of their ill minde.

And drawing backe deceived their intent :

Yet, though hiniselfe did shame on womankinde

His mighty hand to shend, he Talu-s sent

To wrecke on them their follies hardyment .

Who with few sowces of his yron flale

Dispersed all their troujie incontinent,

And sent them home to tell a piteous tale

Of their vaine prowesse turned to their proper bale;

But that same wretched man, ordaynd to die,
They left behind them, glad to be so quit:
Him Talus tooke out of jierplexitie,
And horror of fowle death for knight unfit,
W'lio more than losse of life ydreaded it ;
And, !)im restoring unto living light,
So brougiit unto his lord, where he did sit
J^eholding all that womanish weake fight ;
Whom soone as he beheld he knew, and thus he-
hight;

" Sir Turpine, haplesse man, what make you here ?

Or have you lost yourselfe and your discretion,

'I'ljat ever in this wretched cast ye were?

Or have ye veelded vou to jiroude o])pression

Of womens powre, that boast of mens subicction?

Or (l^e w hat other deadly dismall day

Is faliie on vou by henvens hard direction.

That ye were runne so fondlv far astray

As tor to lead yourselfe unto 3'our owne decay 1"

Rluch was the man confounded in his mind.
Partly with shame, and partly with dismay.
That all astonisht he himselfe did find.
And little had for his excuse to say.
But onely thus ; "JMost haplesse well ye may
Me iustly terme, that to this shame am brought.
And made the scorne of knighthood this same day •
But who can scape what his owne fate hath wrought?
The worke of heavens will surpasseth humaine
thouo;ht."

" Right true : but faulty men use oftentimes

To attribute their folly unto fate,

And lay on heaven the guilt of their owne crimes.

But tell, Sir Terpin, ne let you amate

Your misery, how fell ye in this state 1"

" 'I'hensithye needs," quoth he,"willknowmyshame,

And all the ill which chaunst to me of late,

I shortly will to you rehearse the same,

In hope ye will not turne misfortune to my blame.

" Being desirous (as all knights are woont)
Through hard adventures deedes of amies to try.
And after fame and honour for to hunt,
I heard report that farre abrode did fly.
That a proud araazon did late defy
All the brave knights that hold of Maidenliead,
And unto them wrought all the villanv
That she could forge in her malicious head,
Which some hath put to shame, and many done be
dead.

XXX.

" The cause, they say, of this her cruell hate,

Is for the sake of Bellodant the bold.

To whom she bore most fervent love of late,

And wooed him by all the waies she could :

I5ut, when she saw at last that he ne would

For ought or nought be wonne unto her will,

She turn'd her love to hatred manifold,

And for his sake vow'd to due all the ill [fulfill.

Which she could doe to knights ; which now she doth

" For all those knights, the which by force or guile
She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate :
First, she doth them of warhk« amies despoile.
And cloth in womens weedes ; and then with threat
Uoth them compell to worke, to earne their meat,
To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring;
Me doth she give them other thing to eat
But bread and water or like feeble thing ;
Them to disable from revenge adventuring.

xxxir.

" But if through stout disdaine of manly mind

Any her proud observaiince will withstand,

Uppon that gibbet, which is there behind,

She causeth them be hang'd uj) out of hand ;

In whicl) condition I right now did stand :

For, being overcome by her in fight,

And {)ut to that base service of her band,

I rather chose to die in lives des])ight.

Then lead that shamefull life, uuworiiiy of a knighi."

Canto IV. "I

THE FAERTE QUEENE.

" How hig-lit that aniazon," sayd Arteg-all,
" And where and liow fiir hence does she abide?"
" Her name," quoth he, " they Radigund doe call,
A princesse of great powre and greater pride,
•And (jueene of amazons, in armes well tride
And sundry battels, which she hath achieved
With great successe, that her hath glorifide,
And made her famous, more then is believed ;
Ne would I it have ween'd had I not late it prieved."

" Now sure," said he, " and by the faith that I
To Maydenhead and noble knighthood owe,
1 will not rest till I her might doe trie.
And venge the shame that she to knights doth show.
Therefore, Sir Terpin, from you lightly tlirow
This squalid weede, the patterne of dispaire,
And wend with me, that ye may see and know
How fortune will your ruin'd name repaire
And knightsof Maidenhead, whose praise she would
empaire."

XXXV.

With that, like one that hopelesse was repryv'd

From deathes dore at whicli he lately lay,

Those yron fetters wherewith he was gw'd.

The badges of reproch he threw away.

And nimbly did him dight to guide the way

Unto the dwelling- of that amazone :

Which was from thence not past a mile or tway;

A goodly citty and a mighty one,

'lae wDich, of her owne name, she called Radegong.

Where they arriving by the watchmen were
Descried streight ; who all the citty warned
How that three warlike persons did appeare.
Of which the one him seem'd a knight all armed.
And th' other two well likely to have harmed.
Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran.
And like a sort of bees in clusters swarmed :
Ere long their queene herselfe, halfelike a man,
Came forth into the rout, and them t' array began.

And now the knights, being arrived neare,
Did beat uppon the gates to enter in ;
And at the porter, skorning them so few.
Threw many threats, if they the towne did win,
To teare his flesh in jjieces for his sin :
Which whenas Radigund there comming heard,
Her heart for rage did grare, and teeth did grin :
She bad that streight the gates should be unbard,
And to them way to make wiih weapons well pre-
pard.

xxxviii.

Soone as the gates were open to them set.
They pressed forward, entraunce to have made :
Ijut in tLe middle way they were ymet
\\ ith a sharpe showre ot arrowes, which them staid,
Ami better bad advise, ere they assaid
Uiiknowenperill of bold womens pride.
Then all that rout uppon them rudely laid.
And ht aped strokes so fast on every side,
And unowes haild so thicke, that they could not
abide.

But Radigund herselfe, wlien she espide

Sir Terpin from her direfull doome acquit

So cruell doale amongst her maicles divide,

T' avenge that shame they did on him comm;t.

All sodainely enflam'd with furious fit

Like a fell lionesse at him she flew.

And on his head-piece him so fiercely smit, *

Tl>at to the ground him quite she overthrew,

Dismayd so with the stroke that he no colours knew

Soone as she saw him on the ground to grovell,
She lightly to him leapt ; and, in his necke
Her proud foote setting, at his head did levell,
Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake,
And his contempt, that did her iudgment breake .
As when a beare hath seiz'il her cruell clawes
Uppon the carkasse of some beast too weake.
Proudly stands over, and awhile doth pause
To heare the piteous beast pleading lier plaintiffe
cause.

Whom whenas Artegall in that distresse

By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy slaughter

In which he swam, and ranne to hisredresse :

There her assavling fiercely fresh he raught her

Such an huge stroke, that it of sence distraught her ,

And, had she not it warded warily,

It liad depriv'd her mother of a daughter :

Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply

It made her stagger oft, and stare w ith ghastly eye '

Like to an eagle, in his kingly pride
Soring through his wide empire of the aire.
To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce hath spide
A goshauke, which hath seized for her share
Uppon some fowle, that should her feast prepare ,
With dreadfull force he flies at her bylive,
I'hat with his souce, which none enduren dare.
Her from the quarry he away doth drive,
And from her griping pounce the greedy prey dotli
rive.

XLIII.

But, soone as she her sence recover'dhad.

She fiercely towards him herselfe gan dight, [mad ;

Through vengeful wrath and sdeignfull pride half

For never had she suflfred such de^])lgl]t:

But, ere she could ioyne hand with him to fight.

Her warlike maides about her floikt so fast,

That they disparted them, maugre their might.

And with their troupes did far asunder cast :

But mongst the rest ihe fight did untill evening last

And every while that mighty yron man.

With his strange weapon, never wont in warre.

Them sorely vext, and courst. and over-ran.

And broke their bowes, and diil tlieir shooting marre

That none of all the many once did darre

Jlim to assault, nor once approach iiini nie ;

But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre.

For dread of their devouring enemie.

Through all the fields and valUesdid before iiim Hie

2^G

THE FAERIE (JUEENE.

rB"0«- V

hut wheims daies f;iire sliinie beanie, yclowded
AVitli fearefull shadowes of deformed night,
W arn'd man and beast in quiet rest be slirowded,
l>old Hadigund with sound of trumpe on )iiglit,
Causd all her people to surcease from fight ;
And, gathering them unto her citties gate,
Made fhem all enter in before her sight;
And all the wounded, and the weake in state,
'lo be convaved in, ere she would once retrate.

Wlien thus the field was voided all away,

And all things quieted ; the elfin knight,

Weary of toile and travell of that day,

Causd his pavilion to be richly pight,

liefore the city-gate, in open sight ;

Where he bimselfe did rest in saftjty

I ogether with Sir Terpin all that night:

]!iit Talus usde, in times of ieojjardy,

'I'd keepe a nightly watch for dread of treachery.

l?ut Radigund, full of heart-gnawing griefe
I'(,r the rebuke wiiich she sustain'd that day,
Could take no rest, ne would receive reliefe ;
liut tossed in her troublous minde wlsit way
She mote revenge that blot which on her lay.
There she resolv'd herselfe in single fight
Til try her fortune, and his force assay,
Kather than see her people Sf.oiled quigbt,
As she had scene that day, a disadventerous siglit.

She called forth to her a trustv mavd.
Whom she thought fittest for that businesse :
Her name was Clarin, and thus to her sayd ;
" Goe, damzell, quicklv, doe tliyselfe addiesse
To doe the message which I shall expresse :
Goe thou unto that stranger faery knight.
Who yesterday drove us to such distresse ;
Tell, that to-morrow I with him will fight,
And try in equall field whether hath greater might.

" 15ut these conditions doe to him propound ;

That, if 1 vanquishe him, he shall obay

i\Iy law, and ever to my lore be bound ;

And so will I, if me he vanquish may ;

Whatever he siiall like to doe or say :

Go streight, and take with thee to vritnesse it

Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array,

And beare with you both wine and iuncates fit.

And bid him eate: henceforth he oft shall hungry sit."

The damzell streight oba3'd ; and, putting all
In readinesse, forth to the town-gate went ;
Where, sounding loud u trumpet from the wall,
Unto those warlike knights she warning sent.
Then Talus forth issuing from the tent
I Unto the \\ \\\ his way did fearlesse take,
j To weeten what that trumpets sounding ment.
j Where thi't same damzell lovvdly him besijake,
j Aud siiew'd that with his lord she would emparlaunc*
make.

So he them streight conducted to his lord ;
Who, as he could, them goodly well did greete.
Till they had told their message word by word ;
Wlucli he accepting, well as he could weete.
Them fairely entertaynd with curt'sies meete.
And gave them gifts and things of deaie delight:
So backe againe they homeward turn'd their feete ;
But Artegall himselfe to rest did dight,
That he mote fresher be against the next daies fight

CANTO V.

Artegall fights with Radigund,
And is subdew'd by guile :

He is by her emprisoned.

But wrought by Chains wile.

So scone as day forth dawning from the east
Nights iiumid curtaine from the heavens withdrew.
And earely calling forth both man and beast
(!otrimaunded them their daily workes renew;
I'hese noble warriors, niindefull to pursew
'1 lie last daies purpc e of their vowed fight,
'Jhtmselves thereto ^reparde in order dew j
'J 'le Knigiit, as besi tvas seeming for a knight,
Aiul th' amazon, as best it lik-t herselfe to dight,

All in a camis light of purple silke
Woven ujipon with silver, subtly wrought.
And quilted uppon suttin white as milke ;
Trayled with ribbands diversly distraught,
Like as tlio workeman had their courses taught J
Which was short tucked for light motion
Up to her ham ; hut, when she list, it raught
Downe to her lowest heele, and thereupjiou
She wore for her defence a miyled habergeon.

Canto V.]

Till, f ^VRLE QUKLNK.

25"

And on Iier legs she painted buskins wore,
Basted with bends of gold on every side,
And mailes betweene, and hiced close atbre ;
Uppou her thigh her cemitare was tide
With an embrodered belt of mickell pride ;
And on her shoulder hung her sliield, bedeckt
Uppon the bosse with stones that shined wide,
As the faire moone in her most full aspect ;
That to the moone it mote be like in each respect.

So forth she came out of the citty-gate

With stately port and proud magnificence,

Guarded with many damzels that did waits

Uppon her person for her sure defence,

Playing on shaumes and trumpets, tliat from hence

Theii sound did reach unto the heavens liight :

So forth into the field she marched thence,

Where was a rich pavilion ready piglit

Her to receive, till time they should begin the fight.

Then forth came Artegall out of his tent,
All arm'd to point, and first the lists did enter :
Scone after eke came she with full intent
And countenaunce fierce, as having fully bent her
That battels utmost triall to adventer.
The lists were closed fast, to barre the rout
From rudely pressing on the middle center ;
Which in great heapes them circled all about,
Wayting how fortune would resolve that dansrerous
dout.

The trumpets sounded, and the field began ;

With bitter strokes it both began and ended.

She at the first encounter on him ran

With furious rage, as if she had intended

Out of his breast the very heart have rended :

But he, that had like tempests often tride,

From that first flaw himselfe right well defended.

The more she rag'd, the more he did abide ;

She hewd, she foyud, she lasht, she laid on every side.

Yet still her blowes he bore, and her forbore,

Weening at last to win advantage new ;

let still her crueltie increased more.

And, though powre faild, lier courage did accrew j

Which fayling, he gan fiercely her pursew :

Like as a smith that to his cunning feat

The stubborne mettal seeketh to subdew,

Scone as he feeles it mollifide with heat,

With his great yron sledge doth strongly on it beat.

So aid Sir Artegall upon l)er lay.

As if she had an yrcn andviie beene.

That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray,

Out of her steely armes were flashing seene,

'J'hat all on fire ye would her surely weene :

But with her shield so well herselfe she warded

1-rom the dread daunger of his weapon keene,

That all that while her life she safely garded ;

But he that helpe from her against her will discarded :

For with his trenchant blade at the next blow
Halfe of her shield he shared quite away,
That halfe her side itselfe did naked show,
And thenceforth unto daunger opened way
i\Iuch was she moved with the mightie swav
Of that sad stroke, that halfe enrag'd she grew;
And like a greedie beare unto her pray
\\'\U\ her sharpe cemitare at him she flew,
That glauncing dovvne his thigh the purple blo
forth drew.

Thereat she gan to triumph with great boast.

And to upbrayd that chaunce which him misfell.

As if the prize she gotten had almost.

With spightfull speaches, fitting with her well ;

That his great hart gan inwardly to swell

With indignation at her vaunting vaine.

And at her strooke with puissaunce fearefuU fell ;

Yet with her shield she warded it againe.

That shattered all to pieces round about the plaine.

Having her thus disarmed of her shield,
Upon her helmet he againe her strooke.
That dovi-ne she fell upon the grassie field
In sencelesse swoune, as if her life forsooke.
And pangs of death her spirit overtooke:
Whom when he saw before his foote prostrated,
He to her lept with deadly dreadfuU looke.
And her sun-shynie helmet soone unlaced,
Thinking at once both head and helmet to have raced.

But, whenas he discovered had her face,
He saw, his senses straunge astonishment,
A miracle of natures goodly grace
In her faire visage voide of ornament.
But bath'd in bloud and sweat together ment ;
AVhich, in the rudenesse of that evill plight,
Bewrayd the signes of feature excellent :
Like as the moone, in foggie winters night,
Doth s'.eme to be herselfe, though darined be hei
lisht.

At sight thereof his cruell minded hart

Erapierced was with pittifull regard,

That his sharpe sword he threw from him apart,

Cursing his hand that had that visage mard:

No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard.

But ruth of beautie will it mollifie.

]>y this, upstarting from her swoune she star'd

A while about her with confused eye ;

Like one that from his dreame is waked suddenlye.

Soone as the knight she there by her did spy
Standing with emptie hands all weaponlesse,
\Vith fresh assault upon him she did fly,
And gan renew her former cruelnesse :
And though he still retyr'd, yet nathelesse
\Vith huge redoubled strokes she on him layd ;
And more increast her outrage mercilesse.
The more that he with meeke intreatie prayd
Her wrathful hand from greedy vengeance to have
stayd. s

THE F.4ERTE QUEENE,

[Book V.

Like as a puttocke liavinoj spyde in sight

A gentle ftuilcon sitting- on an Iiil],

Whose other wing, now made unmeete for flight,

Wns lately broken by some fortune ill ;

The foolish kyte, let with licentious will.

Doth beat upon the gentle bird in vaine,

With many idle stouj)s her troubling still :

Even so did Radigund with bootlesse paine

Annoy this noble knight, and sorely him constraine.

Nought could he do but shun the dred despight

Of her fierce wrath, and backward still retyre ;

And with his single shield, well as he might,

iieare off the burden of lier raging yre ;

And evermore he gently did desyre

To stay her strokes, and he himselfe would yield ;

Yet noukl she hearke, ne let him once respyre,

Till he to her delivered had his shield,

And to her mercie him submitted in plaine field.

So was he overcome, not overcome ;

But to her yeelded of his owne accord ;

Yet was he iustly damned by the doonie

Of his owne mouth, that spake so warelesse word,

To be her thrall and service her afford:

For though that he first victorie obtayned,

Yet after, by abandoning his sword,

He wilfull lost that he before attayned :

No fayrer conquest then that with goodwill is gayned.

Tho with her sword on him she flatling strooke.
In signe of true subiection to her powre.
And as her vassall him to thraldome tooke :
But Terpine, borne to a more unhappy howre,
As he on whom the lucklesse starres did lowre,
She causd to be attacht and forthwith led
Unto the crooke, t' abide the baleful! stowre
i'Vom which he lately had through reskew fled :
Where he full shamefully was hanged by the bed.

But, when they thought on Talus liands to lay.
He with his yron fiaile amongst them thondre'd,
That they were fayne to let him scape av.'ay.
Glad from his tompanie to be so sondred ;
Wliose presence all their troups so much encombred,
That tii'heapes of those which be did wound and slay,
Besides the rest dismayd, might not be nombred :
Yet all that while he would not once assay
To i.^skevv his owne lord, but thought it iust t' obay.

Tlien tooke the amazon tiiis noble kniglit,

j^cit to her will by his owne wilfull blame,

And caused him to be disarmed (plight

Of all the ornai ents of knightlv name,

VViti) which whylome he godeii had great fame;

Instead whereof sue made him to be dight

In woioans weedes, that is to manhood shame,

And put before his lap an apron white,

Instead of curiets and bases til for liglit.

So being clad she brought him from the field.
In which he bad bene trayned many a dav.
Into a long large chamber, which was sield
With moniments of many knights decay
By her subdewed in victorious fray :
Amongst the which she caused his warlike amies
Be liang'd on high, that mote his shame bewray;
And broke ids sword for ftare of further harmes,
With which be wont to stirre up battailous alarmes.

There entred in he round about him saw
Many brave knights whose names right well he knew
'["here bound t' obay that amnzons proud law,
Spinning and carding all in comely rew,
'i'hat his bigge hart loth'd so uncomely vew :
Hut they were forst, through jienurie and pyne
To doe those workes to them appointed dew :
For noiii;ht was given them to sup or dyne.
But what their hands could earne by twisting linnen
twyne.

XXIII.

Amongst them all she jdaced him most low.

And in his hand a distafie to him gave,

That he thereon should spin both flax and tow ;

A sordid office for a mind so brave:

So hard it is to be a woinans slave !

Yet he it tooke in his owne selfes despight,

And thereto did himselfe right well behave

Her to obay, sith he his faith had plight

Her vassall to become, if she him wonne in fight.

Who had him seene, imagine mote thereby
'J'hat wliylome hath of Hercules bene told,
How for Jolas sake he did a]iply
His mightie hands the distafie vile to hold
Foi his huge club, \\hich had subdevv'd of old
So many monsters which the world annoyed;
His lyons skin chaungd to a pall of gold.
In which, forgetting warres, he onely ioyed
In combats of sweet love, and with his mistresse
toyed.

XXV.

Such is the crueltie of womenkynd,

\Vhen they have shaken off the shamefast band.

With which wise nature did them strongly bynd

T' obay the beasts of mans well-ruling hand,

That thpii all rule and reason tliey withstand

'J'o purchase a licentious libertie :

Hut vertuous women wisely understand,

That they viere borne to base humilitie,

Unlesse the heavens them lift to lawfuU soveraiiilie.

Thus there long while continu d Artegall,
Serving proud lladigund with true subiection :
However it his noble heart did gall
T' (jhay a womans tyrrannous direction,
'J'hat might have had of life or death election :
But, having chosen, now be might not chaungft
During whicli time the warlike amazon.
Whose wandring fancie after lust did raunge.
Gun cast a secret liking to this captive straunge.

('anto v.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

259

Which long- concealing in her covert brest,
She chaw'd the cud ot" lovers carefull j)light;
Yet could it not so thoroughly digest,
Being fast fixed in her wounded spright,
But it tormented her both day and night :
Vet would she not thereto yeeld free accord
To serve the lowly vassall of her might,
And of her servant make her soverayne lord :
So great her pride tliat she such basenesse much
abhord.

So much the greater still her anguish grew.
Through stubborne handling of her love-sicke hart ;
And still the more she strove it to subdew.
The more she still augmented herowne smart,
And wyder made the wound of th' hidden dart.
At last, when long she struggled had in vaine,
She gan to stoupe, and her proud mind convert
To meeke obeysance ot loves niightie raine,
And him entreat for grace that had procur'd her
paine.

Unto herselfe in secret she did call

Her nearest handmayd, whom she most did trust,

■Ynd to J;er said ; " Clarinda, whom of all

I trust alive, sith I thee fostred first;

Now is the time that I untimely must

Thereof make tryall, in my greatest need !

It is so hapned that the heavens uniust,

Spighting my happie freedome, have agreed

To thrall my looser life, or my last bale to breed."

With that she turn'd her head, as halfe abashed.
To hide the blush which in her visage rose
And through her eyes like sudden lightning flashed,
Decking her cheeke with a vermilion rose :
But soone she did her countenance compose,
And, to her turning, thus began againe :
" This griefes deepe wound 1 would to thee disclose,
Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine ;
But dread of shame my doubtfuU lips doth still
restraine."

" Ah ! my deare dread," said then the fearefull mayd,
' tan dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold,
That many hath with dread of death dismayd,
And dare even deathes most dreadfuU face behold?
Say on, my soverayne ladie, and be bold:
Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?"
Therewith much comforted she gan unfold
1 he cause of her conceived maladie ;
As one that would confesse, yet faine would it denie.

" Bound unto me; but not with such hard bands.

Of strong compulsion and streight violence,

As now in miserable state ho stands ;

But with sweet love and sure benevolence,

Voide of malitioi.s mind or foule offence :

To which if thou canst win him any way

Without discoverie of my thoughts pretence.

Both goodly meede of liim it purchase may,

And eke with gratefuU service me right well apay.

" Which that thou mayst the better bring to pass,
Loe ! here this ring, which shall thy warrant bee
And token true to old Eumenias,
From time to time, when thou it best shalt see,
That in and out thou mayst have passage free.
Goe now, Clarinda , well thy wits advise.
And all thy forces gather unto thee.
Armies of lovely lookes, and speeches wise,
With which thou canst even love himselfe to lovt
entise."

The trustie mayd, conceiving her intent.
Did with sure promise of her good endevour
Give her great comfort and some harts content .
So from her parting she thenceforth did labour,
By all the meanes she mighte to curry favour
With th' elfin knight, her ladies best beloved :
With daily shew of courteous kind behaviour.
Even at the marke-white of his hart she roved,
And with wide-glauncing words one day she thus
him proved :

xxxvr.

" Unhappie knight, upon whose hopelessa state
Fortune, envj'ing good, hath felly frowned.
And cruell heavens have heapt an lieavy fate ;
I rew that thus thy better dayes are drowned
In sad despaire, and all thy senses swowned
In stupid sorow, sith thy luster merit
Might else have with felicitie bene crowned:
Looke up at last, and wake thy dulled spirit
To thinke how this long deatli thou mightest disin-
herit!"

Much did he marvell at her uncouth speach.
Whose hidden drift he could not well perceive ;
And gan to doubt least she him sought t'a|)peach
Of treason, or some guilefull traine did weave,
'J'hrough which she might his wretched life bereave ,
Both which to barre he with this answere met her ;
" Faire damzell, that vvath ruth, as I perceave.
Of my mishaps art mov'd to wish me better.
For such your kind regard I can but rest your detter

" Clarin," sayd she, " thou seest yond fayry knight,

Whom not my valour, but his owne brava mind

Subiected hath to my unequall might !

What light is it, that he should thraldome find

For lending life to me a wretch unkind.

That for such good hiin recompence with ill !

Therefore 1 cast how I may him unbind,

And by his freedome get his free goodwill ,

Vet so, as bound to me he may continue still •

" Yet weet ye well, that to a courage great

It is no lesse beseeming well to beare

The storme of fortune's frowne or heavens threat,

Then in the sunshine of her countenance cleare

Timely to ioy and carrie comely cheare :

For though this cloud hath now me overcast,

Yet doe I not of better times despeyre;

And though (unlike") they should for ever last,

Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast,"

260

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

" But what so stonie minde," she then replyde,
" But if in his owne powre occasion lay.
Would to his hope a windowe open wyde,
And to his fortunes helpe make readie way?"
" Unworthy sure," quoth he, " of better day,
That will not take the oifer of good hope.
And eke juirsew, if he attaiiie it may."
Which sjieaches she applying to the scope
Of her intent, this further purpose to him shope :

" Then why dost not, thou ill-advized man.
Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,
And trv if thou by faire entreatie can
Move Radigund] who though she still have worne
Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne
Of beares and tygres. nor so salvage mynded
As that, albe all love of men she scorne.
She yet forgets that slie of men was kynded ;
Aud sooth oft seene that proudest harts base love
hath blynded."

" Certes, Clarinda, not of cancred will,"
Sayd he, " nor obstinate disdainefull mind,
I have forbore this duetie to fulfill ;
For well I may this weene, by that I fynd,
That she a queene, and come of princely kynd,
15oih worthie is for to be sewd unto,
Chiefely by him whose life her law doth hynd.
And eke of powre her owne doome to undo.
And als' of princely grace to be inclyn'd thereto.

" But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let

From seeking favour where it doth abound ;

Which if I might by your good office get,

I to yourselfe should rest for ever bound."

And ready to deserve what grace I found."

She feeling him thus bite upon the bayt.

Yet doubting least his hold was but unsound

And not well fastened, would not strike him strayt.

But drew him on with hope, fit leasure to awayt.

liut foolish mayd, whylos heedlesse of the hooke

Slie thus oft-times was beating oft" and on,

Tlirougli slipperie fooling fell into the brooke.

And there "^as caught to her confusion;

/'oTj seekin;; thus to salve the aniazon,

She wounded was with her deceijjts owne dart,

And gan thenceforth to cast affection,

Conceived close in her beguiled hart,

io Artegall, through pittie of his causelesse smart.

Vet durst she not disclose her fancies wound,

IS'e to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned,

IV e yet to any other wight on ground,

For feareher mistresse sliold have knowledge gayned ;

But to herselfe it secretly retayned

Within the closet of her covert brest :

J'he more thereby her tender hart was payned ;

Yet to awayt fit time she weened best,

Aud fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts unrest

One day her ladie, calling her apart,
Gan to demaund of her some tydings good,
Touching her loves successe, her lingring smart;
Therewith she gan at first to change her mood.
As one adaw'd, and halfe confused stood ;
But quickly she it overpast, so soone
As she her face had wypt to fresh her blood ;
Tho gan she tell her all that she had donne,
And all the wayes she sought his love for to have
TTonne :

But sayd, that he was obstinate and sterna.
Scorning her offers and conditions vaine ;
Ne would be taught with any termes to lerne
So fond a lesson as to love againe :
Die rather would he in penurious paine.
And his abridged dayes in dolour wast,
Then his foes love or liking entertaine :
His resolution was, both first and last,
His bodie was her thrall, his hart wasj'reely plast.

Which when the cniell amazon perceived,
She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall.
For very fell despight, which she conceived.
To be so scorned of a base-borne thrall.
Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall ;
Of which she vovv'd, with many a cursed threat.
That she therefore would him ere long forstall.
Nathlesse, when calmed was her furious heat.
She chang'd that threatfull mood, and mildly gan
entreat :

" What now is left, Clarinda ? what remaines,
That we may compasse this our enterprize ?
Great shame to loi^e so long employed paines,
And greater shame t'abide so great misprize,
With which he dares our offers thus despize:
Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare.
And more my gratious mercie by this wize,
I will awhile with his first folly beare.
Till thou have tride againe, and tempted him more
neare.

" Say and do all that may thereto prevails ;
Leave nought unjjromist that may him perswade,
Fife, freedome, grace, and gifts of great availe,
With which the gods themselves are mylder made :
Thereto adde art, even womens witty trade,
The art of mightie words that men can charme;
AVilh which in case thou canst him not invade.
Let him feele hardnesse of thy heavy arme :
Who will not stoupe with good shall be made stoupe
with harrae.

" Some of his diet doe from him withdraw;
For I him find to be too proudly fed:
Give liiin more labour, and with streighter law,
lliat he with worke may be forwearied :
Let him lodge hard, and lie in strawen bed,
That may puil downe the courage of his pride :
And lay upon him, for his greater dread.
Cold yron chaines with wliich let him be tide ;
And let, whatever he desires, be him denide.

Canto VI.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" When thou hast all this doen, then bring ine newes

Of his deineane ; theiicet'orth not like a luver,

But like a rebell stout, I will him use :

For I resolve tiiis j-iege not to give over.

Till 1 the conquest of my will recover."

So she departed full of griefe and sdaine,

Which inly did to great impatience move her :

But the false raayden shortly turn'd againe

Unto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine.

There all her subtill nets she did unfold.

And all the engins of her wit display ;

In which she meant lain warelesse to enfold.

And of his innocence to make her pray.

So cunningly she wrougiit her cratfs assay,

That both her ladie, and herselfe withall,

And eke the kmght ..ttonce she did betray ;

But most the knight, whom slie with guilefull call

Did cast for to allure, into her trap to fall.

As a bad nurse, which, fayning to receive
In her owne mouth the food ment for her chyld,
Withholdes it to herselfe, and doeth deceive
The infant, so for want of nouriure spo^'ld ;
Even so Clarinda her owne dame beguvld,
And turn'd the trust, which was in her affyde.
To feeding of her private tire, which boyld
Her inwarii brest, and in her entrayles fryde,
'J "be more that she it sought to cover and to hyde.

For, comming to this knight, she purpose layned.
How earnest suit she earst for him had made
Unto her queene, his freedome to have gayned ;
But by no meanes could her thereto perswade,
But that instead thereof she sternely bade
His miserie to be augmented more.
And many yron bands on him to lade;
All which nathlesse she for his love forbore
So praying him t'accept her service evermore.

And, more then that, she promist that she would,
In case she migiit finde favour in his eve,
Devize how to enlarge him out of hould.
Tlift fayrie, glad to gaine his libertie.
Can yeeld great thankes for such her curtesie ;
And with faire words, fit for the time and place.
To feede the humour of her maladie,
Promist, if she would free him from that case,
He wold by all good meaues he might deserve such
grace.

So daily he faire semblant did her shew,

Yet never meant he in his noble mind

To his owne absent love to be untiew :

Ne ever did deceiptfull Clariii find

In her false hart his bondage to unbind ;

But rather how she mote him faster tye.

Therefore unto her mistresse most unkind

She daily told her love he did defye ;

And him she told her dame his freedome did denve.

Yet thus much friendship she to him did show.
That his scarse diet somewhat was amended.
And his worke lessened, that his love mote grow :
Yet to her dame him still she discommended.
That she with him mote be the more olfeiuled.
riius he long while in thraldome there lemayned,
3f both beloved well, but little friended ;
Untill liis owne true love his freedome gavned :
Which in another canto will be best coiuayned.

CANTO VI.

Talus brings newes to Britoraart

Of Artegals mishap :
She goes to seeke him ; Dolon meetes,

VV ho seekes her to entrap.

Some men, T wote, will deeme in Artegall
Grea: weaknesse, and report of him much ill.
For yeelding so himselte a wretched tljrall
To th' insolent commaund of womens will ;
That all his former praise doth fowly spill;
But he the man, that say or doe so dare.
Be well adviz'd that he stand stedfast still;
For never yet was wight so well aware,
But Le at first or last was trapt in womens snare.

Yet in the streightnesse of that captive state
'1 his gentle knii;ht himselle so well behaved,
'Ihat notwithstanding all the subtill bait,
\\ ith which tiiose amazons his love still craved.
To his owne love his loialtie he saved :
Whose character in th' adamantine mould
Of his true hart so firmely was engraved,
1 hat no new loves imjiression ever could
Bereave it thence: suth blot his honour blemish
should.

262

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Hook V

Yet his owne lore, the noble Britomart,
.Sc'.irse so conceived in hei'ieulous thought,
\\ hut time sad tydings of his baleful! smart
In womans bom'lage Talus to her bri;Ught;
15iou"ht in untimely houre, ere it was sought:
For, after that the utmost date assynde
For his returue she waited had for nought,
She o-an to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde
A thousand feares, that love-sicke fancies faine to
fynde.

IV.

Sometime she feared least some bard mishap

Had him misfalne in his adventurous quest;

Sometime least liis false foe did him entrap

In craytrous traine, or had unwares opprest ;

Uut most she did her troubled mynd molest,

And secretly afflict with iealous feare,

Least some new love had him from her possest ;

Yet loth she was, since she no ill did heare,

To thinke of him so ill ; yet could she not forbeare.

One while she blam'd herselfe ; another whyle
She him condemn 'd as trustlesse and untrew :
And then, her gnefe with errour to beguyle.
She fayn'd to count the time againe anew,
As if before she had not counted trew :
For houres, but dayes ; for weekes that passed were,
She told but moneths to malce them seeme more few :
Yet, when she reckned them still drawing neare,
Each hour did seeme a moueth, and every moneth a
years.

VI.

But, whenas yet she saw him not returne.
She thought to senil some one to seeke him out ;
But none she found so tit to serve that turne,
As her owne selle, to ease herselfe of dout.
Now she deviz'd, amongst the warlike rout
Of errant knights, to seeke her errant knight;
And then againe resolv'd to hunt liim out
Amongst loose ladies lapped in delight :
And then both knights envide, and ladies eke did
spight.

One day whenas she long had sought for ease
In every ])lace, and every place thought best.
Yet found no place that could her lildng please,
She to a window came, tlr.it opened west,
Towaids which coast her love his way addrest*
There looking forth shee in her heart did lind
Many vain fancies working her unrest ;
And sent her winged thoughts more swift then wind
To beare unto her love the message of her mind.

There as she looked long, at last she spide
One comming towards her vvitli hasty s])eede;
Well weend she then, ere him she phiine descride,
That it was one sent fri m her love indeede:
\V ho when he nigh approacht, shee mote arede
'Jhat it was Talus, Artegall his groonie :
\A hereat her hart was tild with hope and drode;
Ne would she stay tdl he in place could come.
But ran to meete him forth to know his tidings
summe.

Even in the dore him meeting, she begun ;

" And where is he thy lord, and how iai- honce''

Declare at once: and hath he lost or wun !"

The yron man, albe he wanted seiice

And sorrowes feeling, yet, with conscience

Of his ill newes, did inly chill and (juake.

And stood still mute, as one in great suspence;

As if that by his silence he would make

Her rather reade his meaning then himselfe it spake.

Till she againe thus sayd ; " Talus, be bold.

And tell whatever it be, good or bad.

That from thy tongue thy hearts intent doth hold."

To whom he thus at length ; " The tidings sad.

That I would hide, will needs I see be rad.

My lord (your love) by hard mishap doth lie

In wretched bondage, wofully bestad."

" Ay me," quoth she, " what wicked destinie!

And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy 1 "

" Not by that tyrant, his intended foe;

But by a tyrannesse," he then replide,

" That him captived hath in haplesse woe."

" Ceasethou, bad newes-man ; badly doest thou hide

Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage tide ;

The rest myselfe too readily can sjiell."

With that in rage she turn'd from him aside.

Forcing in vaiiie the rest to lier to tell ;

And to her chamber went like solitary cell.

There she began to make her moanefull plaint
Against her kniglit for being so untrew ;
And him to touch with falshoods fowie attaint.
That all Ids other honour overthrew.
Oft did she blame herselfe, and often rew.
For yeelding to a straungers love so light.
Whose life and manners straunge she never knew;
And evermore she did him sharpeiy twight
For breach of faith to her, which he had firmely
plight,

XIII.

And then she in her wrathfull will did cast
How to revenge that blot of honour blent.
To figlit with him, and goodly die her last:
And then againe she did herselfe torment.
Inflicting on herselfe his punishm-ent.
Awhile she walkt, and chauft ; awhile she threw
Herselfe ufipon her bed, and did lament:
Yet did she not lament with loude alew,
As women wont, but with deepe sigl>es and singulfs
iew.

Like as a wavward childe, whose sounder sleepe
Is broken with some fearelull dreames aftViglit,
With froward will doth set himselfe to weepe,
Ne can be stild for all his nurses might,
But kicks, and sciuals,and shriekes for fell despight ;
Now scratching lier, and her loose locks misusing.
Now seeking darkenesse, and now seeking light.
Then craving sucke, and then the sucke refusing:
Such was this ladies lit in her loves fond accusing.

Canto VI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

i62

But when she had with such unquiet fits

Herself there close attlicted long in vaine.

Vet found no easement in her troubled wits,

Slie unto Talus forth return'd againe.

By change of place seeking- to ease her paine ;

And gan enquire of him with mylder mood

The certaine cause of Artegals detaine,

And what he did, and in what state he stood,

And whether he did woo, or whether he were woo'd.

" Ah wellaway !" said then the yron man,

"That he is not the while in stale to woo ;

But lies in wretched thraldome, weake and wan,

Not by strong hand compelled thereunto,

But his owne doome, that none can now undoo."

" Sayd I not then,'" quoth she, " ere-while aright.

That this is thinge conipacte betwixt you two

JMe to deceive of faith unto me plight,

Since that he was not forst, nor overcome in fight ?"

With that he gaii at large to her dilate
The whole discourse of his captivance sad.
In sort as ye have heard the same of late :
All which when she with hard enduraunce had
Heard to the end, she was right sore bestad,
\Vith sodaine stounds of wraih and grief attone ;
N^e would abi !e, till she had aunswere made;
But streight herselfe did dight, and armor don.
And mounting to her steede bad Talus guide her on.

So forth she rode uppon her ready way,

To seeke her knight, as Talus her did guide :

Sadly she rode and never word did say

Nor good nor bad, ne ever lookt aside,

But still right downe ; and in her thought did hide

The felnesse of her heart, right fully bent

To fierce avengement of that womans pride.

Which had her lord in her base ])rison pent.

And so great honour with so fowie reproch had blent.

So as she thus melancholicke did ride,
Chawing the cud of griefe and inward paine,
She chaunstto meete toward the eventide
A knight, that softly paced on the plaine.
As if hiniselfe to solace he were faiiie :
Well shot in yeares he seem'd, and rather bent
To peace then needlesse trouble to coiistraine ;
As well by view of that his vestiment.
As by his modest semblant, that no evill mert.

For little lust had she to talke of ought,
Or ought to heare that mote deliglittull bee ;
Her minde was whole possessed of one thought.
That gave none other place. Which when as bee
By outward signes (as well he might) did see.
He list no lenger to use lothfuU speach.
But her besought to take it viell in gree,
Sith shady dampe had dimd the heavens reaeli,
To lodge with him that night, unless good cause em-
peach.

The championesse, now seeing night at dore,
Was glad to yeeld unto his yood request;
And with him went without gaine-saying more.
Not farre away, but little wide by west.
His dwelling was, to which he him addrest ;
Where soone arriving they receiveil were
In seemely wise, as them beseemed best ;
For he their host them goodly well did cheare.
And talk't of pleasant things the night away to weare.

Thus passing th' evening well, till time of rest.
Then Britomart unto a bowre was brought ;
Where groomes awayted her to haveundrest:
But she ne would undressed be for ought,
Ne doft'e her armes, though he her much besought:
For she had vow'd, she sayd, not to forgo
Those warlike weedes, till she reven-e had wrought
Of a late wrong uppon a mortall foe ;
Which she would sure performe betide her wele or
wo.

Which when their host perceiv'd, right discontent
In minde he grew, for feare least by that art
He should his purpose misse, which close he ment •
Yet taking leave of her he did depart :
There all that night remained Britomart,
Restlesse, reconifortlesse, with heart deepe-grievecl,
Not sufFe4'ing the least twinckling sltepe to start
Into her eye, which th' heart mote have relieved ;
But if the least appear'd, her eyes she streight re-
prieved.

XXV.

"Ye guilty eyes," sayd she, "the which with guvle
My heart at first betrayd, will ye betray
My life now too, for which a little whyle
Ye will not watch ? false watches, wellaway!
I wote when ye did watch both night and day
Unio your losse ; and now nei^des will ye sleepe '.'
Now ye have msxde my heart to waive alway,
Now will ye sleepe? ah! wake, and rather weepe
To thinke of your nights want, that should yee wa-
king keepe."

He coraming neare gan gently her salute
With curteous words, in the most comely wize ;
Who though desirous rather to rest mute,
Then termes to entertaine of common guize.
Vet rather then she kindnesse would despize.
She would herselfe displease, so him requite.
Then gaij the other further to devize
Of things abrode, as next to hand did light.
And many things demaund, to which she answer'd
liaht :

Thus did she watch, and weare the weary night
In waylfull plaints, that none was to appease ;
Now walking soft, now sitt ng still upright.
As sundry chaunge her seemed best to ease.
Ne lesse did '1 alus sutler sleepe to seaze
His eye-luls sad, but watcht continually,
Lying without her dore in great disease;
Like to a spaniel w^jyting carefully
Least anv should betray his lady treacherously.

264

THE FA Kill P: QuKKiVK.

[Boc^ V

AVhat time tlie native belnv.in of t'lie night,

The bird that \v;irned IVter of' liis I'ldl,

First rings his silver bell t' each sleepy wight.

That should their mindes up to devotion call,

She heard a wondrous noise below the hall :

All sodainely the bed, where she should lie,

IJy a false trap was let adowne to fall

Irito a lower roome, and by and by

The loft was raysd againe, that no man could it spie.

With siofht whereof she was dismayd right sore,
Perceiving well the treason which was ment :
Yet stirred not at all for doubt of more.
But kept her place with courage confident,
Wayting what would ensue of that event.
It was not long before she heard the sound
Of armed men comming with close intent
'J'owards her chamber; at which dreadfull stound
She quickly caught her sword, and shield about her
bound.

XXIX.

With that there came unto her chamber dore
Two knights all armed ready ibr to fight ;
And after ihem full many other more,
A raskall rout, with weapons rudely dight :
Whom soone as 'I'alus spide by glims of niglit,
He started u]), theie where on ground he lay,
And in his hand his thresher ready keigiit :
"J'hey, seeing that, let drive at him streightway.
And round about him preace in riotous aray.

XXXIII.

lie had three sonnes, all three like fiithers sonnes,
Like treacherous, like full of fraud and guile,
Of all that on this earthly compasse wonnes :
The eldest of the which was slaine erewhile
1 Hy Aiteiiall, through his owne guilty wile ;
His name was Guizor ; whose untimely fate
For to avengi^, full many treasons vile
His father Dolon had deviz'd of late
With these his wicked sons, and shewd his caiikred
hate.

For sure he weend that this his present guest
^Vas Artegall, by many tokens plaine ;
But chiefly by that yron page he ghest,
Wlicli still was wont with Artegall reraaine ;
And therefore ment him surely to have slaine :
15ut by Gods grace, and her good lieedinesse.
She was preserved from their traytrous traine.
Thus she all night wore out in watchfulnesse.
Ne suft'red slothfull sleepe her eyelids to oppresse.

The morrow next, so soone as dawning houre
Discovered had the light to living eye,
She forth yssew'd out of her loathed bowre.
With lull intent t' avenge that villany
On that vilde man and all his family :
And, comming down toseekethem where they Avond,
Nor sire, nor sonnes, nor any could she spie ;
Each rovvme she sought, but them all empty fond :
They all were fled for feare ; but whether, neither
kond.

But, soone as he began to lay about
With his rude vron tlaile, they gan to flie,
Both armed knights and eke unarmed rout :
Yet Talus after them apace did jdie,
Wherever in the darke he couUl them spie ;
That here and there like scattred sheei>e they lay,
Then, backe returning where his dame did lie,
He to her told the story of that fray,
And all that treason there intended did bewray.

W'herewith though wondrous wroth, and inly burn-
To be avenged for so fowle a deede, [ing
Yet being forst t' abide the dales returning.
She there remain'd ; but with right warv heede.
Least anv more such ])ractise should ]iroceede.
Now mote ye know (that whidi to Britomart
L'nknowen was) whence all this did proceede ;
And for what cause so great mischievous smart
Was ment to her that never evill ment in hart.

XXXII.

The ;:oodman of this liouse was Dolon bight j

A man of subtill wit and wicked minde,

That whilome in his youth had bene a knight.

And armes had borne, Init little ^ood could fiiide,

And much lesse honour by that wiirlike kinde

Of lil'e : for he was nothing valorous,

ISut with slie shiftes and wiles diu uiiderminde

All noble knights, wh.ch were adventurous, ,

And manv brought to shame by treason treacherous.

She saw it vaine to make there lenger stay.
Hut tooke her steede ; and thereon mounting light
Gan her addresse unto her former way.
She had not rid the mountenance of a flight,
J5ut that she saw there present in her sight
1 hose two false brethren on that perillous bridge,
On which Pollente with Artegall did fight.
Streight was the passage, like a ploughed ridge,
That, if two met, the one mute needs fall o'er the
lidge.

XXXVII.

There they did t.hinke themselves on her to wreake ;
Who as she nigh unto them drew, the one
'J'liese vile reproches gan unto her speake ;
" Thou recreant false traytor, that with lone
Of armes hast knighthood stolne, yet knight art none,
No more shall now the darkenesse of the night
Defend tiiee from the vengeance of thy fone ;
15ut with thy blond thou shalt appease the spright
Of Guizor by thee slaine and murdred by thy slight."

Strange were the words in Britomartis eare ;
Yet stayd she not for them, hut forward fared.
Till to the perillous bridge she came ; and there
Talus (U'-!r'd that he might have prepared
The war to her, and those two losels scared :
Bnit she thereat was wroth, that far desjiight
'J'lie clauiicing sparkles through her bever glared,
And li-um her cies did flash out fiery light.
Like coles that through a silver censer sparkle bright.

Canto VII.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

265

She stayd not to advise which way to take ;
But, putting- spun-es unto her fiery beast,
Tliorough the midst of them she way did make.
The one of them, which most her wrath increast.
Upon her spenre slie bore before her breast.
Till to the bridg'es further end she past :
Where falling- downe his challenge he releast :
The ether over side tlie bridge she cast
Into the river, where he drunke his deadly last.

As when the flashing levin haps to light

Uponn two stubborne oakes, which stand so neare

That way betwixt them none appeares in sight ;

Tiie engin, fiercely flying- fortli, doth teure

Th' one from the earth, and through the aire doth

The other it with force doth overthrow [beare ;

Ui)pon one side, and from his rootes doth re-are .

So did the championesse these two there strow.

And to there sire their carcasses left to bestow.

CANTO VII.

Britomart comes to Isis church.
Where shee strange visions sees:

She fights with R-ddigund, her slaies,
And Arte^all thence frees.

Nour.iir is on earth more sacred or divine,
Tliiit gods and men doe equally adore,
Then this same vertue that doth right define ;
For th' hevens themselves, whence mortal men im-
plore
Right in their wrongs, are rul'd by righteous lore
Of liighcst love, who dot!) true iustice deale
To his iiifiriour gods, and evermore
I lierewiih containes his heavenly commonweale :
The skill whereof to princes hearts he doth reveale.

II.

Well therefore did the antique woi-ld invent

That Justice was a god of soveraiiie grace,

And altars unto him and temples lent,

A nd heavenly honours in the highest place ;

Calling him great Osyris, of the race

Of th' old .Egyptian kings that whylorae were;

With fayned colours shading- a true case ;

For that Osyris, whilest he lived here,

The iustest man alive and truest did appeare.

His wife was Isis ; whom they likewise made

A goddesse of great powre and soverainty.

And ill her person cunningly did shade

Th-at part of iustice which is equity,

^^ hereof I have to treat here jiresently :

Unto whose temjile whenas lintoinart

Arrived, shee with great humility

Did enter in, ne would that night depart,

But Talus mote not be admitted to her part.

There she received was in goodly wize

Of many priests, which duelv did attend

Uppon the riies and daily sacrifize.

All clad in linnen robes with silver hemd ;

And on t'eir heads with long locks comelv kemd

They wore rich mitres shaped like the iiioone.

To shew that Isis doth the inooiie portend ;

Like as O.-^vris signifies the sunne :

For thill they both like race ia eijuall iustice runne.

The championesse them greeting, as she could.
Was thence by them into the temple led ;
Whose goodly building when she did behould
Borne uppon stately jiillours, all dis])red
With shining gold, and arched over bed,
She wondred at the workmans passi*ig skill,
Whose like before she never saw nor red ;
And thereuppon long while stood gazing still,
But thought that she thereon could never g-aze hei
fill.

Thenceforth unto the idoll 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,

Hemd all about with fringe of silver twine:

Uppon her head she wore a crowne of gold ;

To shew that she bad powre in things divine :

And at her feete a crocodile v\as rold,

That with her wreathed taile her middle did enfold.

One foote was set uppon the crocodile.
And on the ground the other fiist did stand ;
So meaning to suppresse both forged guile
And open force r and in her other hand
She stretched forth a long white sclender wand.
Such was the goddesse: whom when Britomarf
Had long beheld, herselfe uppon the land
She did jjrostrate, and with right humble hart
Unto herselfe her silent prayers did impart.

To which the idoll as it were inclining

Her wand did move with ami-able looke,

By outward shew her inward seiice desining :

Who well perceiving how her wand she shooke.

It as a token of good fortune tooke,

By this the d;iv with <ranii)e vas ovit-Ciist,

And loyous light the hou>e of love forsooke ;

Wliicli'when she saw, her helmet she unlasfe

And by the altars side herselfe to slumber plaste.

Z66

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Book V.

For other beds the priests there used none,
But on their mother earths deare hip did lie,
And bake their sides uppon tlie cold hard stone,
T' enure tbemselces to suft'eraunce thereby.
And proud rebellious flesh to mortify :
For, by the vow of their religion,
They tied were to stedfast chastity
And continence of life ; that, all forgon.
The)' mote the better tend to their devotion.

Therefore tliev mote not taste of fleshly food,
Ne feed on ought the which doth bloud containe,
Ne drinke of wine ; for wine they say is blood,
Even the bloud of g^'ants, which were slaine
liy thundring love in the Phlegrean plaine :
For which the earth (as they the story tell)
AVroth with the gods, which to perpetuuU paine
Had damn'd hersonnes wliich gainst them didrebell,
With inward oriefe and malice did against them swell :

With that the crocodile, which sleeping lay

Under the idols feete in fearelesse bowre,

Seem'd to awake in horrible dismay,

As being troubled n itli that stormy stowre ;

And gaping greedy wide did streight devours

Both flames and tempest ; with which growen great,

And swolne with pride of his owne peerelesse j)owre.

He gan to threaten lier likewise to eat :

But that the goddesse with her rod Limbacke did beat.

Tho, turning all his pride to liumblesse meeke,
Hiniselfe before her feete he lowly threw
And gan for grace and love of her to seeke :
Which she accepting, he so neare her drew
That of his game she soone enwombed grew,
And forth did bring a lion of great migiit,
Tbat shortly did all other beasts subdew:
With that she waked full of feareful fright,
And doubtfully dismayd through tbat so uncoutl
si°ht.

And of their vitall bloud, the which was shed
Into her pregnant bosome, forth she brought
The fruitful! vine; whose liquor blouddy red,
Having the mindes of men with fury fraught,
Mote in them stirre up old rebellious thought
To make new warre against the gods againe :
Such is the powre of that same fruit, that nought
Tlie fell contagion may thereof restraine,
Ne within reasons rule her madding mood containe.

There did the warlike maide horselfe repose,
Under the wings of Isis all that night ;
And with sweete rest her heavy eyes did close,
After that long daies toile and wearie plight :
W>ir.re whilest her earthly parts with soft delight
Of sencelesse sleepe did deeply drowned lie.
There did appeare unto her heavenly spright
A wondrous vision, which did close inii)lie
The course of all her fortune and posteritie.

Her seem'd as she was doing sacrifize

To Isis, deckt with mitre on her lied

And linnen stole after those priestes guize,

All sodainely she saw transfigured

Her linnen stole to robe of scarlet red,

And moone-like mitre to a crowne of gold;

That even she herselfe much wondered

At such a chaunge, and ioyed to behold

Herselfe adorn 'd with gems and iewels manifold.

And, in the midst of her felicity,

An hideous tpm])est seemed from below

To rise through all the tem[)le >()(lainely,

'I'hat from the altar all about did blow

'1 he holy Are, and all the embers strow

Uppon the ground ; whicli, kindled privily,

Into outragious flames unwares tlid grow.

That ail tlie tem|>le |iut in ieo])ar(lv

Of flaming, and herselfe in great perplexity.

So thereuppon long while she musing lay,
^Vith thousand thoughts feeding her fantasie
Untill she s])ide the lanipe of lightsome day
Up-lifted in the porch of heaven hie :
Then up she rose fraught with melancholy.
And forth into the lower parts did pas,
\Vhereas, the priestes she found full busilv
About their holy things for morrow mas ;
Whom she saluting faire, faire resaluted was

But, by the change of her unchearefull looke.
They might perceive she was not well in jilight.
Or that some pensiveness to heart she tooke :
Therefore thus one of them, who seem'd in sight
To be the greatest and the gravest wight.
To her bespake ; " Sir knight, it seems to me
That, thorough evill rest of this last night.
Or ill apayd or much dismayd ye be;
That by your change of chearie is easie for to see.'

" Certes," sayd she, " sith ye so well liave spide

The troublous passion of my pensive mind,

I will not seeke the same from you to hide:

But will my cares unfolde, in hope to find

■^'our aide to guide me out of errour blind."

" Say on," (|uoth he, " the secret of your hart:

For, by the holy vow which me doth bind,

I am adiur'd best counsell to impart

To all that srhall require my comfort in their smart.'

Then gan she to declare the whole discourse
Of all that vision which to her appeared.
As well as to her minde it had recourse.
All which when he unto the end liad heard.
Like to a weake faint-hearted man he fared
Through great astonishment of that strange sight,
And, with long locks u])-standing stifly. slared
Tike one adawed with some dreadfull spright:
So tild with heavenly fury thus he her behight;

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

267

" Magnihcke virgin, that in queint disguise

Of Jiritisli armes doest maske thy royall blood.

So to pursue a perlUous empiize ; [hood,

How couldst tiiou weene, through that disguized

To hide thv state from being understood !

Can from tli' immortall gods ought hidden bee 1

Thev doe tliy linage, and thy lordly brood,

Thev doe thy sire lamenting sore for thee,

They doe thy love forlorne in womens thruldome see.

" The end whereof, and all the long event,
They do to thee in this same dreame discover :
For that same crocodile doth represent
The righteous knight that is thy faithfull lover,
Like to Osyris in all iust endever ;
For that same crocodile Osyris is.
That under Isis feete doth sleepe for ever ;
To shew that clemence oft, in things amis,
Restraines those sterne behests and cruell doomes of
bis.

" That knight shall all the troublous stormes asswage
And raging flames, that many foes shall reare
To hinder thee from the iust heritage
Of thy sires crowne, and from thy countrey dears:
Then shah thou take him to thy loved fere.
And ioyne in equall portion of thy realme :
And afterwards a sonne to him shall beare.
That lion-like shall shew his povvre extreame.
So blesse thee God, and give thee ioyance of thy
dreame !"

All which when she unto the end had heard,
She much was eased in her troublous thought,
And on those priests bestowed rich reward ;
And royall gifts of gold and silver wrouglit
She for a present to their goddesse brought.
Then taking leave of them she forward went
To seeke her love, where he was to be sought,
Ne rested till she came without relent
Unto the land of amazons, as she was bent.

Whereof when newes to Radigund was brought.
Not with amaze, as women won.ed bee.
She was confused in her troublous thought ;
But fild with courage and with ioyous glee.
As glad to heare of armes, the which now she
Had long surceast, she bad to open bold,
That she the face of her new foe might see :
But when they of that yron man had told.
Which lute her lolke had slaine, she bad them forth
to hold.

So there without the gate, as seemed best.
She caused her pavilion be pight ;
In which stout Britcjmart herselfe did rest,
Whiles Talus watched at the dore all nij^ht.
All night likewise they of the towne in fright
Uppon ther wall good watch and ward did keepe.
The morrow next, so soone as dawning light
Bad doe away the dampe of drouzie sleepe,
The warlike jmazou out of her bowre did peepe ;

And caused streight a trumpet loud to shrill.
To warne her foe to battfll soone be prest •
Who, long before awoke, (for she full ill
Could sleepe all night, that in un(|uiet brest
Did closely harbour such a iealous guest,)
Was to the battell whilome ready dight.
Eftsoones that warriouresse with haughty cres:
Did forth issue all ready for the fight ;
On th' other side her foe appeared soone in sight.

xxTiir.

But, ere they reared hand, the amazone

Begun the streignt conditions to ]iropound.

With which she used still to tve her fune,

To serve her so, as she the rest had bound :

Whicii when the other heard, she sternly frownd

For high disdaine of such indignity.

And would no lenger treat, but bad them sound :

For her no other termes should ever tie

Then what prescribed were by lawes of chevalrie.

The trumpets sound, and they together run
With greedy rage, and with their faulchins smot;
Ne either sought the others strokes to shun,
I3ut through great fury both their skill forgot.
And practickeiise in armes ; ne spared not
1 heir dainty parts, which nature had created
So faire and tender without staine or spot
For other uses then they them translated ;
Which they now hackt and hewd as if such use they
hated.

As when a tygre and a lionesse
Are met at spoyling of some hungry pray,
Botl) challenge it with etjuall greedinesse :
But first the tygre ciawes thereon did lay ;
And therefore loth to loose her right away
Doth in defence thereof full stoutly stond :
To which the lion strongly doth gainesay.
That she to hunt the beast first tooke in bond ;
And therefore ought it have wherever she it fond.

Full fiercely layde the amazon about.
And dealt her blowes unmercifully sore;
Which Biitomart withstood with courage stout,
And them rejiaide againe with double more.
So long they fought, that all the grassie flore
Was fild with bloud which from their sides did flow,
And gushed through their armes, that all in gore
They troile, and on the ground their lives did strow,
Like fruitles seede, of which untimely death should
grow.

XXXII.

At last proud Radigund with fell despight.
Having by chaunce es])ide advantage neare.
Let drive at her with all her dreadfuU might.
And thus ui)bruyding said ; " i his token beare
Unto the mun whom thou doest love so deare ;
And tell him for his sake thy life thou gavest."
Which spiteful! words she sore engriev'd to lieare
Thus answer'd ; " Lewdly thou my love depravest.
Who shortly must repent that now so vainely bravest."

^68

THE FAKUIE QUEE>rE.

[Book V.

Nath'lesse tliat stroke so cruell passage found,
That glauncing- on her shoulder-plate it bit
Unto tlie bone, ami made a griesly wound,
That she lier shield through raging smart of it
Could scnrsp uphold; yet soone she it requit:
For, having force increast through furious paine.
She hrr so rudely on the helmet smit
Tliat it enipierced to the very braine,
And her proud person low prostrated on the plains.

XXXIV.

A\'lipre heing lavd, the wrothfull Britonesse
Stavd iK.t till she came to herslfe againe;
J>ut ill revenge both of her loves distresse
Ai'A her hite vile reproch though vaunted vaine.
And also of her wound which sore did paine,
She wiih one stroke both head and helmet cleft:
\\ liicli dreadful sight when all her warlike traine
'I'Jiere [iresent saw, each one of seiice bereft
Fled fast into the towne, and her sole victor left.

But yet so fast they could not home retrate,
JUit tiiat swift Talus did the formost win ;
And, pressing through the preace unto the gate,
Pelmell with them attonce did enter in:
There then a piteous slaughter did begin ;
For all that ever came wiiliin his reach
He witii liis yron flale did thresh so tiiin,
'I'liat lie no worke at all left lor the leach ;
Like to an hideous storme, wliich nothing may em-
peach.

XXXVI.

And novi- by this the noble conqueresse

Herselfe came in, her glory to par'ake ;

Where though revengefull vow she did professe.

Vet, when she saw the heapes which he did make

Of slaughtred carkasses, her heart did quake

For very ruth, which did it almost rive,

Tliat she his i'ury willed him to slake :

For else he sure had left not one alive ;

But all, in his revenge, of spirite would deprive.

Thn, when she had his execution stayd.

She for that yron jirison did enquire,

In which her wretched love was ca])tive layd :

Which broaliing Ofien with indignant ire,

She oiitred into all the partes entire :

Where when she saw that lothly uncoutii sight

Of men disf^uiz'd in womanishe attire.

Her h^art gan grudge for very deepe despight

Of so unmanly maske in misery misdight

At last whenas to her owne love she came.
Whom like disguize no lesse deformed had.
At sio'ht thereof abasht with secrete shame
She! turnd her head aside, as nolhing glad
To have beheld a sjiectacle so bad ;
And tiien too well believ'd that whicli tofoie
lealous suspect as true unfruely drad :
Wlucli vaine concei])t now iiourishiug no more,
She sought with ruth to salve his sad mislortunes
son;.

XXXIX.

Not so great wonder and astonishment
Did the most chast Penelope possesse,
'J'o see her lord, that was reported drent
And dead long since in dolorous distresse.
Come home to her in piteous wretchednesse,
After long travell of full twenty yeares ;
That she knew not his favours likelynesse,
F^or many scarres and many hoary heares ;
But stood long staring on him mongst uncertaine
feares.

" Ah ! my deare lord, what sight is this," quoth she,
" What may-game hath misfortune made of you?
Wliere is that dreadfuU manly looke? where be
Those mighty palmes, the which ye wont t' embrew
In bloud of kings, and great hoastes to subdew 1
Could ought on earth so wondrous change liavfl
As to liave robde you of that manly hew ? [wrought
Could so great courage stouped liave to ought ?
Then farevvell, fleshly force ; I see thy pride is
nouo;ht !"

Thenceforth she streight into a bowre him brought
And causd him those uncomely weedes undight ;
And in their steede for other rayment sought,
Whereof there was great store, and armors bright,
\Vliicli had bene reft from many a noble knight;
Whom that ]iroud amazon subdewed had,
Whilest ibrtune favourd her successe in fight :
In which whenas she him anew had clad,
She was reviv'd, and ioyd much in his semblance
elad.

So there awhile they afterwards remained,

Him to refresh, and her late wounds to heale :

During which space she there as princess rained ;

And changing all that forme of common-weale

'ihe liberty of women did repeale,

U'liich they had long usurpt ; and, them restoring

To mens ^ubieelion, did true iustice deale :

i'hat all they, as a goddesse, her adoring.

Her wisedome did admire, and liearkned to her loring

For all those knights, which long in captive shade

Had shrowded bene, she did from thraldome free j

And magistrates of all that city made.

And gave to them great living and large fee:

And, that they should for ever faithfull bee,

Made them sweare fealty to Artegall :

Who wlieti himselfe now well record did see,

He purposd lo jiroceed, whatso befall,

Uppon his iirst adventure which him forth did call.

Full sad and sorrowful! was Britomart
For his departure, her new cause of griefe;
Yet wisely moderated her owne smart,
Seeing his honor, which she teadred chiefe.
Consisted much in that adventures priefe :
The care whereof, and ho])e of his successe,
Ciave unto her great comfort and reliefe :
That womanish complaints she did rejiresse,
And teinpred for tlie time her present heavinesse.

CamoVIII.]

T[1K FAKIIIK QUKI-:.\E.

269

There she continu'd for a certaine space,
Till through liis want her woe did more increase :
Then, hoping that the change of aire and place
Would change her paine and sorrow somewhat ease
She parted thence, her anguish to appease.
Meane while her noble lord Sir Artegall
Went on his way ; ne ever howre did cease,
Till he redeemed had that lady thrall :
That for another canto will more fitly fall.

CANTO VIII.

Prince Arthure and Sir Artegall

Free Samient from feare :
They slay the soudan ; drive his wife,

Adicia to despaire.

Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure
The sence of man, and all his minde possesse,
As beauties lovely baite, that doth procure
Great warriours oft their rigour to represse,
And mighty hands forget their manlinesse ;
Drawne with the powre of an heart-robbing eye.
And wrapt in fetters of a golden tresse,
That can with melting pleasaunce mollifye
Their hardned hearts enur'd to bloud and crueltv.

So wliylome learnd tliat mighty Tewish swaine,

Each of whose lockes did match a man in might.

To lay his spoiles befort bis lemans traine :

So also did that great Oetean knight

For his loves sake bis lions skin undiglit ;

And so did warlike Antony neglect

The worlds whole rule for Cleojiatras sight.

.Sucli wondrous powre hath wemens faire aspect

To captive men, and make them all the world reiect.

Yet could it not sterne Artegall retaine,

Nor hold from suite of his avowed quest,

\Vhich he had undertane to Gloriane ;

But left his love (albe her strong request)

Faire Britomart in languor and unrest.

And rode himselfe uppon his first intent :

Ne day nor night did ever idly rest ;

Ne wight but onelv Talus with him went,

rise true guide of his way and vertuous government

So travelling, he chaunst far off to heed

A damzell living on a palfrey fast

I>f-fore two knights that after her did speed

With all-their powre, and her full fiercely chast

III hope to have her overhent at last:

Vet fled she fast, and both them fnrre outwent,

(Juried with wings of feare, like fowle aghast,

Witi) locks all loose, and rayment all to rent ;

And ever as she rode her eye was backeward bent.

Soone after these he saw another knight.

That after those two former rode apace

\Vith speare in rest, and prickt with all his might:

So ran they all, as they had bene at bace,

They being chased that did others chace.

At length he saw the hindmost overtake

One of those two, and force him turne his face ;

However lotli he were his way to slake.

Yet mote he algates now abide, and answere make.

But th' other still pursu'd the fearefull mayd ;
Who still from him as fast away did flie,
Ne once for ought her speedy passage stayd.
Till that at length she did before her spie'
Sir Artegall, to whom she streight did hie
With gladfull hast, in hope of him to get
Succour against her greedy enimy :
Who seeing her approch gan forward set
To save her from her feare, and him from force to
let.

But he, like hound full greedy of his pray.
Being impatient of impediment,
Continu'd still his course, and by the way
Thought with his speare him quight have overwent.
So both together, ylike ftlly bent,
Like fiercely met : but Artegall was stronger.
And bf^tter skild in tilt and turnament,
And bore him quite out of his saddle, longer
Then two speares length : so mischiefe over-matciit
the wronger:

And in his fall misfortune him mistooke ;

For on his head unhappily he pight.

That his owne waight his necke asunder broke.

And left there dead. IMeane while the other knight

Defeated had the other favtour (juight.

And all his bowels in his body brast :

Whom leaving there in that dispiteous plight.

He ran still on, thinking to follow fast

His other fellow pagan which before him past.

570

THE FAERIE QUEKXE.

[POGK V

Instead of whom finding there ready prest
Sir Arten;all, without discretion
He at him ran with ready speare in rest:
AVho, seeing- him come still so fiercely on,
Against him made againe : so both anon
Together met, and strongly either strooke
And broke their speares ; yet neither has forgon
His horses backe, vet to and fro long shooke
And tottred, like two towres which through a
tempest quooke.

But, when againe they had recovered sence.

They drew tiieir swords, in mind to make amends

For what their speares had foyld of their pretence:

W'liicli when the damzell, who those deadly ends

Of both her foes had seene, and now her frends

For her beginning a more fearefuU fray ;

She to them runnes in hast, and her haire rends

Crying to them their cruell hands to stay,

Untill they both do heare what she to them will say.

They stayd their hands ; when she thus ganto speake;
" Ah ! gentle knights, what meane ye thus unwise
U])Oii yourselves anothers wrong to wreake?
I am the wrong'd, whom ye did enterprise
Both to redresse, and both redrest likewise:
Witnesse the paynims both, whom ye may see
There dead on ground : what doe ye then devise
Of more revenge? if more, then I am shee
Which was the roote of all ; end your revenge on
me."

Whom when they heard so say, they lookt about

To weete if it were true as she had told ;

Where when they saw their foes dead out of doubt,

Eftsoones they gan their wrothfull hands to hold,

And ventailes reare each other to behold.

Tho, whenas Artegall did Arthure vew,

So faire a creature and so wondrous bold.

He much admired both his heart and hew.

And touched with intire affection nigh him drew ;

Saying, " sir knight, of pardon I you pray.
That ail unweeting have you wrong'd thus sore,
Sutfring my hand against my heart to stray:
Which if ye pleuse forgive, I will therefore
\'eeid for amends .myselfe yours evermore,
Or whutso penaunce shall by you be red."
'Jo wliorn the prince; " certes me needeth more
'I o crave the same; whom errour so misled,
As that I did mistake the living for the ded.

" But, sith ye please that bith our blames shall die.

Amends m:iy for the trespasse soone be made,

Since neither is endamadg'd much thereby."

So can they both themselves full eath perswade

To faire accordaunce, and both faults to shade,

Either embracing other lovingly,

And swearing faith to either on his blade.

Never thenceforth to nourish enmity,

I'lUt either others cause to maintaine mutually.

Then Artegall gan of the prince enquire, [layd,

What were those knights which there on ground were
And had receiv'd their follies worthy hire.
And for what cause they chased so that raay-d.
" Certes I wote not well," the prince then sayd,
" But by adventure found them faring so.
As by the way unweetingly I strayd.
And lo ! the damzell selfe, whence all did grow.
Of whom we may at will the whole occasion know."

Then they that damzell called to them nie,

And asked her, what were those two her fone.

From whom she earst so fast away did flie ;

And what was she herselfe so woe-begone,

And for what cause pursu'd of them attone.

To whom she thus ; " Then wote ye well, that I

Doe serve a queene that not far hence doth wone,

A princesse of great powre and maiestie,

Famous through all the world, and honor'd far and

" Her name Mercilla most men use to call

That is a mayden queene of high renowne.

For her great bounty knovven over all

And soveraine grace, with which her rovall crowne

She doth sujiport, and strongly beateth downe

The malice of her foes, which her envy

And at her happinesse do fret and frowne ;

Yet she herselfe the more doth magnify.

And even to her foes her mercies multiply.

" Mongst many which maligne her happy state.
There is a mighty man, which wonnes here by.
That with most fell despight and deadly hate
Seekes to subvert her crowne and dignity^
And all his powre doth thereunto apply:
And her good knights, (of which so brave a band
Serves her as any princesse under sky,)
He either spoiles, if they against him siand,
Or to his part allures, and bribeth under hand.

" Ne him sufficefh all the wrong and ill,

Which he unto her people does each day;

But that he seekes by trayierous traines to spill

Her i)erson, and her sacred selfe to slay :

That, O ye heavens, defend ! and turne away

From her vjnto 'lie miscreant himselfe;

That neither hath reli<>ion nor fay,

15ut makes his god of his ungodly pelfe,

And idoles serves : so let his idols serve the elfe!

" To all which cruell tyranny, they say.

He is provokt, and stird up day and night

By his bad wife that hight Adicia;

Who counsels him, through c iifidence of might,

'i'o brcake all bonds of law and rules of right:

For she herselfe professeth mortall foe

'I o Justice, and against her still doth fight,

Working, to all that love her, deadly woe,

And maiihig all her knights and peojde to doe so

OANTO \III.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

2/1

" WliR-li niv liege lady seeing, thought it best

Witli tliat liis wife in friendly wise to deale

For stint of strife and stablishment of rest

Jioiii to herselfe and to her common-weale,

And all forepast displeasures to repeale.

So nie in message unto her she sent,

To treat with her, by way of enterdeale,

Of finall peace and faire attonement

Which might concluded be by mutuall consent.

" All times have wont safe passage to afford

To messengers that come for causes iust :

J)Ut tliis ])roude dame, disdayning all accord,

Not onelv into bitter termes forth brust.

Reviling me and rayling as she lust,

15ut lastly, to miiice proofe of utmost shame,

JNIe like a dog she out of dores did thrust.

Miscalling me by man}- a bitter name,

That never did her ill, ne once deserved blame.

" And lastly, that no shame might wanting be,
^Vllen I was gone, soone after me she sent
These two false knights, whom there ye lying see,
'l"o be by them dishonoured and shent :
But, thankt be God, and your good hardiment !
'1 hey have the price of their owne folly payd."
So said tliis damzell, that higiit Samient ;
And to those knights for their so noble ayd
Herselfe most gratefull shew'd, and heaped thanks
repayd.

XXIV.

But they now having throughly heard and seene
All those great wrongs, the which that mayd com-
plained
To have bene done against her lady queene
By that proud dame, which her so much disdained,
\\ ere moved much thereat, and twixt them fained
VVitli all tbeir force to worke avengement strong,
U]ipon the souldan seife, which it mayntained.
And on his lady, th' author of that wrong.
And uppon all those knights that did to her belong.

XXV.

But, thinking best by counterfet disguise

To tlieir deseigne to make the easier way,

They did this complot twixt themselves devise :

First, that Sir Artegall should him array

Like one of those two knights which dead there lay;

And tiiea that damzell, the sad Samient,

Should as his purchast prize with him convay

Unto the souldans court, her to present

Unto his scornefull lady that for her had sent.

xxvr.

50 as they had deviz'd. Sir Artegall
Him clad in th' armour of a pagan knight,
An<l taking with him, as liis vanquisht thrall,
Tiiat damzell, led her to the souldans right :

V\ here soone as his proud wife of her had sight.
Forth of her window as she looking lay,

51 e weened streight it was her paynim knight,
Wliicli brought that damzell as his purchast pray ;
And sent to him a page that mote direct his way :

Who, bringing them to their appointed place,

Otfred his service to disarme the knight;

But he refusing him to let unlace,

For doubt to be discovered by his sight,

Kept himselfe still in his straunge armour dight :

Soone after whom the prince arrived there.

And, sending to the souldan in despight

A bold defyante, did of him requere

That damsell whom he held as wrongfuU prisoncre

Wherewith the souldan all with furie fraught,
Swearing and banning most blasphemously,
Commaunded straight liis armour to be bi ought ;
And, mounting straight upon a charret hve,
(With yron wheeles and hookes arm'd dreadfully,
And drawne of cruell steedes whiih he had fed
^Vith flesh of men, whom through fell tyranny
He slaughtred had, and ere they were halte ded
Their bodies to his beastes for provender did spred ;

So forth he came all in a cote of plate

Burnisht with bloudie rust; whiles on the greeue

The Briton prince liiin readie did awayte

In glistering armes right goodly well beseene.

That shone as bright as doth the heaven sheene ,

And by his stirrup Talus did attend.

Playing his pages part, as he had heene

Before directed by his lord ; to th' end

He should his flaile to finall execution bend.

Thus goe they both together to their geare
With like fierce minds, but meanings difi'erent:
F"or the proud souldan, with jiresumptuous cheare
And countenance sublime and insolent.
Sought onely slaughter and avengtiment;
But the brave prince for honour and for right.
Gainst tortious powre and lawlesse regiment.
In the behalfe of wronged weake did fight:
More in his causes truth he trusted then in might.

Like to the Thracian tyrant, who they say
Unto his horses gave his guests for meat.
Till he himselfe was made their greedie pray.
And torne in pieces by Alcides great;
So thought the souldan, in his follies threat,
F^ither the |>rince in peeces to have torne
With his sharpe wheeles in his first rages heat.
Or under his tierce horses feet have borne.
And trampled downe in dust his thougiits disdained
scorne.

But the bold child that perill well espying.

If he too rashly to his charret drew.

Gave way unto his horses speedie flying.

And their resistlesse rigour did eschew :

Yet, as he passed by, the jiagan threw

A shivering dart witli so impetuous force.

That, had he not it siiunn'd with heedful! vew.

It had himselfe transfixed or his horse.

Or made them both one masse withouten more

THE FAERIE QUE^-NE.

[Book V

Oft drew the prince unto liis cliarret nigh,

In hojie some stroke to fasten on him neare ;

But he was mounted in his seat so high,

And his wing-footed coursers Iiim did beare

So fast away, that, ere his readie >peare

He could advance, he farre was gone and past :

Yet still he him did follow every where,

And followed was of liiia likewi-se full fust,

So Ions as in his steedes the fiamin"; breath did last.

Againe the pagan threw another dart,

Of wliicli he had with him abundant store

On every side of his enibatteld cart,

And of all other weapons lesse or more.

Which warlike uses had deviz'd of yoi'e :

The v.-icked shaft, guyded through ih' ayrie wyde

By some bad spirit that it to mischiefe bore,

Slayd not, till through his curat it did glyde.

And made a griesly wound in his enrivea side.

Much was he grieved with that haplesse throe,
'I hat opened had the welspring of his blood ;
But much the more that to his hatefull foe
He mote not come to wreake his wrathful! mood :
That made him rave, like to a lyon wood,
Whicli being wounded of the liuntsmans hand
Cannot come neare him in the covert wood.
Where he with boughes hath built his shady stand.
And fenst himselfe about with many a flaming brand.

Still when he sought t'approch unto him ny
His charret wl)eeles about him whirled round,
And made him backe againe as fast to fly ;
And eke his steedes, like to an hungry hound
That hunting after game hath carrion found,
So cruelly did him pursew and thace.
That his good steed, all were he much renound
For noble courage and for hardie race,
Durst not endure their sight, hut fled from place to
place.

XXXVIl.

Thus long they trast and traverst to and fro,

Seeking by every w^y to make some breach ;

Yet could the prince not nigh unto him goe.

That one sure stroke he might unto him reach,

Wherebv his strengthes assay he might him teach:

At last, from his victorious shield he drew

The vaile, which did liis powrefull light empeach j

And comming full before his horses vew,

As they upoii him prest, it plaine to tliem did shew.

XXXVIII.

Like lightening flash that hath the gazer burned,
So did the sight thereof their sense dismay.
That backe againe uj)on themselves they turned,
And with their rvder ranne perforce away :
Ne could the souldan them from flying stay
Witli raynes or wonted rule, as well he knew :
Nought feared flicv what he could do or say,
T?ut th' onclv feare that was bcfun' their vew ;
From which like mazed deere dismayfully they flew.

Fast did they fly as them there feete could beare
High over hilles, and lowly over dales.
As they were follow'd of their former feare :
In value the pagan bannes, and sweares, and rayles,
And backe with both iiis hands unto him hayles
The resty raynes, regarded now no more :
He to them calles and speakes, yet nought avayles ;
They heare him not, they have forgot his lore ;
But go which way they list; their guide ihey have
forlore.

As when the firie-mouthed steedes, which drew
The sunnes bright wayne to Phaetons decay,
Soone as they did the monstrous scorpion vew
With ugly craples crawling in their way,
The dreadfuU sight did them so sore affray,
That their well-knowen courses they forwent;
And, leading th' ever burning lam])e astray.
This lower world nigh all to ashes brent.
And left their scorched path yet in the jirmameut.

Such was the furie of these head-strong steeds,
Soone as the infants sunlike shield they saw,
That all obedience both to words and deeds
They quite forgot, and scornd all former law
Through woods, and rocks, and mountaines they did
The yron i liaret, and the wheeles did teare, [draw
And tost the paynim vi'ithout feare or awe ;
From side to side they tost him here and there,
Crymg to them in value that nould his crying heare.

Yet still the prince pursew'd him close behind.
Oft making offer him to smite, but found
No easie meanes according to his mind :
At last they have all overthrowne to ground
Quite topside turvey, and the pagan hound
Amongst the yron hookes and gr^iples keene
Torne all to rags, and rent with many a wound;
That no whole peece of him was to be seene.
But scattred all about, and strow'd upon the greene.

xi.iir.

Like as the cursed sonne of Thesiius,

That following his chace in dewy morne.

To fly his stepdames love outrageous.

Of his owne steedes was all to peeces torne.

And his faire limbs left in the woods forlorne;

That for his sake Diana did lament.

And all the woody nyniphes did wayle and mourne-:

So was this souldain rapt and all to rent.

That of his shape, appear'd no litle moniment.

Onely his shield and armour, which there lay,

'J hough nothing wiiole, but all to briisd and brok&Oj

He u]) did take, and with him brougiit away.

That mote reinaine for an eternall token

To all, mongst whom this storie should be spoken,

Mow worthily, by Heavens high decree,

luslice that day of wrong herselfe had wroken j

Tliat ail men, which that s[)uctacle did see.

By like ensample mote for ever warned bee.

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

273

XLV.

So on a tree, before the tyrants dore,

He caused tliem be hung- in all mens sight,

To be a moniment for evermore.

Which when his ladie from the castles hight

Beheld, it much appald her troubled spright:

Yet not, as women wont, in dolefull lit

She was dismavd, or faynted through affright,

Hut gathered unto her her troubled wit.

And gan eftsoones devize to be aveng'd for it.

Streight downe she ranne, like an enrasjed cow

Tiiat is berobbed of her youngling dere,

With knife in hand, and fatally did vow

To wreake her on that may den messengere,

Whom she liad causd be kejst as prisonere

By Artega-il, misween'd for her owne knight,

That brought her backe: and.comming present there.

She at her ran with all her force and might,

All flaming with revenge and furious despight.

Like raging Ino, when with knife in hand

She threw her husbands murdred infant out ;

Or fell jNIedea, when on Colchicke strand

Her brothers bones she scattered all about;

Or as that madding mother, mongst the rout

Of Bacchus priests, her owne deare flesh did tears :

Yet neither Ino, nor Medea stout,

Nor all the Mcenades so furious were.

As tliis bold woman when she saw that damzell there.

xi.yiii.

But Artegall being thereof aware

Did stay her cruell hand ere she her raught ;

And, as she did herselfe to strike prepare.

Out of her fist the wicked weapon caught:

With that, like one enfelon'd or distraught,

She forth did rome whether her rai^e lier bore,

^Vith franticke passion and with furie frauglit ;

And, breaking fordi out at a posterne dore.

Unto the wilde wood ranne, her dolours to deplore;

XLIX.

As a mad bytch, wlienas the franticke fit
Her burning tongue with rage mflamed hath,
Doth runne at randon, and with furious bit
Snatching at every thing dolh wreake her wrath
On man and beast that commeth in her path.
»There they doe say that she transformed was
Into a tigre, and tliut tvgres scath
In crueltie and outrage she did pas,
To prove her surname true, that she imposed has.

Then Artegall, himselfe discovering plaine.
Did issue forth gainst all tliat warlike rout
Of knights and armed men, which did maintaine
That ladies part and to the souldan lout :
All which he did assault with courage stout.
All were they nigh an hundred knights of name,
And like wyld goates them chaced all about,
Flying from place to place with cowheard shame;
So that with finall force them all he overcame.

Then caused he the gates be opened wyde ;

And there the prince, as victour of that day.

With tryumph entertayn ) and glorifyde,

Presenting him with all the rich array

And roiall pompe, which there long hidden lay,

Purchast through lawlesse powre and tortious wrong

Of that proud souldan, whom he earst did slay.

So both, for rest, there having stavd not long,

Marcht with that mayd : fit matter for another song. /

CANTO IX.

Arthur and Artegall catch Guyle,
Whom Talus doth dismay;

They to Mercillaes pallace come,
And see her rich array.

What tygre, or what other salvage wight,
Is so exceeding furious and fell
As wron;^, when it hath arm'd itselfe with might?
Not fit mongst men that doe with reason mell,
"But mongst wyld beasts, and salvage woods, to dwell ;
Where still the stronger doth the weake devoure.
And the}' that most in boldnesse doe exeell
Are dreadded most, and feared for their powre,
Fit for Adicia there to build her wicked bowre.

There let her wonne, farre from resort of men,
Where righteous Artegall her lato exyled;
There let her ever keepe her damned den,
AVhere none may be with her lewd parts defyled.
Nor none but beasts may be of her despoyled :
And turnc we lo the noble prince, where late
We did him leave, after that he had foyled
The cruell souldan, and with dreadfull fate
Had utterly subverted his unrighteous state.

^7 J.

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boor

Wiiere having witli Sir Artegall a space

Well solast in that souUluns late delight,

They both, resolving now to leave the place,

Both it and all the wealth therein behight

Unto that danizell in lier ladies right.

And so would have departed on their way : .

But she tliem woo'd, by all the nieanes she might,

And earnestly besought to wend that day

With her, to see her ladie thence not farre away.

By whose entreatie both they overcommen
Agree to goe with lier ; and by the way.
As often falles, of sundry things did commen ;
Mongst which that dainzell did to tliem bewray
A straunge adventure which not farre thence lay ;
To weet, a wicked villaine, bold and stout,
Which wonned in a rocke not farre away.
That robbed all the countiie thereabout.
And brought the pillage home, whence none could
o-et it out.

Thereto both his owne wvlie wit, she sayd.
And eke the fastnesse of his dwelling i>lace.
Both unassaylable, gave him great ayde :
For he so crafty was to forge and face.
So light of hand, and nymble of Lis pace.
So smooth of tongue, and subtile in his tale.
That could deceive one looldng in his face:
Therefore by name Malengin tliey him call.
Well knowen by his feates, and famous over all.

Through these his slights he many doth confound :

And eke the rocke, in which he wonts to dwell,

Is wondrous strong and hewn farre under ground,

A dreadful! depth, how deepe no man can tell j

But some doe say it goeth downe to hell :

And, all within, it full of wyndings is

And hidden waj'es that scarse an hound by smell

Can follow out those false footsteps of his,

Ne none can backe returne that once are o-one amis.

Which when those knights had heard, their hearts gan

To understand that villeins dwelling place, [earne

And greatly it desir'd of her to learne.

And by which way they towards it should trace.

" Were not," sayd she, " that it should let your pace

Towards my ladies ])resence by you ment;

I would you guyde directly to the place."

" Then let not ihat," said they, " stay your intent;

For neither will one foot, till we that carle have hent."

So forth they past, till thev approched ny
Unto the rocke where was the villains won:
Which when the damzell neare at hand did spy.
She warn'd the knights thereof: who thereupou
Gan to advize what best were to be done.
So both agreed to send that mayd afore,
Where she might sit nigh to the den alone,
Wayiing, and raysing ])ittifull uprore.
As if she did some great calamitie deplore.

With noyse whereof whenas the caytive carle
Should issue forth, in hope to find some spoyle.
They in awayt would closely him ensnarle.
Ere to his den he backward could recoyle ;
And so would hope him easily to foyle.
The damzell straight went, its she was directed,
Unto the rocke ; and there, upon the soyle
Having herselfe in wretched wize abiected,
Ganweepeand wayle as if great griefe had her affected.

The cry whereof entring the hollow cave
Eftsoones brought forth the villaine, as they ment,
With hope of her some wishfuU boot to have :
Full dreadfull wight he was as ever went
Upon the earth, with hollow eyes deepe pent,
And long curkl locks that downe his shoulders shag-
And en his backe an uncouth vestiment [g'P'l*

INIade of straunge stuflie, but all to worne and ragged.
And underneath his breech was all to torne and lag-
ged.

And in his hand an huge long staffe he held.

Whose top was arm'd with many an vron hooke.

Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld,

Or in the compasse of his cloutches tooke ;

And ever round about he cast his looke :

Als at his backe a great wyde net he bore.

With which he seldom fished at the hrooke.

But usd to fish for fooles on he dry shore>

Of which he in faire weather wont to take great store

Him when the damzell saw fast by her side,

So ugly creature, she was nigh dismayd :

And now for helpe aloud in earnest cride :

But, when the villaine saw her so aft'rayd.

He gau with guilefull words her to perswade

To banish fenre : and with Sardonian smyle

Laughing on her, his false intent to shade,

Gun forth to lav his bavte her to beguyle, [w<jyie.

That from herself unwares he might her steale the

Like as the fouler on his guilefull pype
Charmes to the birds full many a pleasant lay,
That they the whiles may take lesse lieedie keepe*
How he his nets doth for their ruuie lay,
So did the villaine to her prate and play.
And many jdeasant trickes before her show.
To turne her eves from his inteiit away:
For lie in slights and iugling feates did flow.
And of legierdemayne the mysteries did know.

To which whilest she lent her intentive mind.

He suddenly his net upon her threw,

That oversj)rad her like a puffe of wind ;

And snatching her sonne up, ere well she knew

Kan with her fast away unto his mew,

Crying for helpe aloud . but whenas ny

He came unto his cave, and there did vew

The armed knights sto])ping his ])asage by,

He threw his burden downe and fast away did flf.

Canto I X.J

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

275

But Artegall him after did pursew ;

The whiles tlie prince tliere kept tlie entrance still :

Up to the rncke he ran, and thereon flew

Like a wyld gote, leaping- from hill to hill,

And dauncing on the craggy clift'es at will ;

That deadly daunger seem'd in all mens sight

To tempt such steps, where footing- was s'j ill :

Ne ought avayled for the armed knight

To thinke to follow him that was so swift and liaht.

Which when he saw, his yron man he sent

To follow him ; for he was swift in chace :

He him pursewd wherever that he went ;

Both over rockes, and hilles, and every place

Whereso he fled, he follovvd him apace :

So that he shortly forst him to forsake

The hight, and downe descend unto the base :

There he him courst afresh, and soone did make

To leave his proper forme, and other shape to take.

Into a foxe himselfe ho first did tourne ;

But he him hunted like a foxe full fost :

Then to a bush himselfe he did transforme ;

But he the bush did beat, till that at last

Into a bird it chaung'd, and from him past,

Flying from tree to tree, from wand to wand .

But he then stones at it so long did cast,

That like a stone it fell upon the land ;

But he then tooke it up, and held fast in his hand.

So he it brought with him unto the knights.

And to his lord Sir Artegall it lent.

Warning him hold it fast for feare of slights :

\\ ho whilest in hand it grvping hard he hent,

Into a hedgehogge all unwares it went.

AT\d prickt him so that he away it threw :

Then gan it runne away incontinent,

I5eing returned to his former hew ;

Hut Talus soone him overtooke, and backward drew.

But, whenas he would to a snake againe

Have turn'd himselfe, he with his yron flayle

Gan drive at him with so huge might and maine,

I hat all his bones as small as sandy grayle

He broke, and did his bowels disentrayle,

Crying in vaine for helpe, when helpe was past ;

So did deceipt the selfe-deceiver fayle :

Tliere they him left a carrion outcast

For beasts and foules to feede upon for their repast.

Thence forth they passed with that gentle mayd

To see her ladie, as they did agree :

To which when she approched, thus she sayd ;

" Loe now, right noble knights, arriv'd ye bee

Nigh to the pl-ace which ye desir'd to see :

There shall ye see my sovt-ravne lady queene.

Most sacred wight, most debonavre and free,

That ever yet upon this earth was seene,

Or that with diademe hath ever crowned beene."

The gentle knights reioyced much to heare
The piayses of that prince so manifold ;
And, passing litle further, commen were
Where they a stately pallace did behold
Of pompous show, much more then she had told,
With many towres and tarras mounted hj^e.
And all their lops bright glistering with gold.
That seemed to out-shine the dimmed skye.
And with their brightnesse daz'd the straunge be-
holders eye.

XXII.

There they alighting, by that damzell were
Directed in, and shewed all the sight ;
Whose ]jorch, that most magnificke did appeare.
Stood open wyde to all men day and night ;
Yet warded well by one of mickle might
That sate thereby, with gyant-like resemblance,
To keepe out guyle, and malice, and despight,
That under shew oft-times of favned semblance
Are wont in princes courts to worke great scath and
hindrance :

His name was Awe ; by whom they passing in
Went up the hall, that was a large wyde roome,
All full of people making troublous din
And wrondrous noyse, as if that there were some
Which unto them was dealing righteous doome :
By whom they passing through the thickest pieasse,
The marshdU of the hall to them did come.
His name hight Order ; who, commaunding peace,
Them guyded through the throng, that did their
clamours ceasse.

They ceast their clamors upon them to gaze ;
Whom seeing all in armour bright as dav,
Straunge there to see, it did them much amaze,
And with unwonted terror halfe aft'ray :
For never saw they there the like array ;
Ne ever was the name of warre there spoken,
But ioyous peace and quietnesse alway
Dealing iust iudgments, that mote not be broken
For aiiy brybes, or threates of any to be wroken.

There, as they entred at the scriene, they saw
Some one, whose tongue was for his trespasse vj-le
Nayld to a post, adiudged so by law ;
For that therewith he falsely did revyle
And foule blasphtme that queene for forged guyle,
Both with bold speaches which he blazed had.
And with lewd poems which he did compyle;
For the bold title of a poet bad

He on himselfe had ta'en, and rayling rymes had
sprad.

XXVI.

Thus there he stood, whylest high over his head

There written was the purport of his sin,

In cyphers strange, that few could rightly read,

Bt/i Foiis; but lion, that once had written bin,

^Vas raced out, and Mai was now put in :

So now Malj'ont was plainely to be red ;

F2yther for th' evill which he did therein,

Or that he likened was to a welhed

Of evill words, and wicked sclaunders by him shed.

T52

276

THE FAERIE QUEENF.

[Booi V,

Thev, passing by, were giiyiled by degree
I'nto ilie pieseiice of tliat gratious queene ; "
\Vho s;ite on high, that she might all men see
And misht of all men royally be seene,
Upon a throne of gold full bright and sheene.
Adorned all with gemmes of endlesse price,
As either might for wealth have gotten beene,
Or could be fram'd by workmans rare device ;
And all euibost with lyons and with flourdelice.

A'i\ over her a cloth of state was spred,
Not of rich tissew, nor of cloth of gold.
Nor of ought else that may bt '•ichest red,
IJut like a cloud, as likest may oe told,
'J'hat her brode-spreading wings did wyde unfold ;
^\ hose skirts were bordred with bright sunny beames,
Glistring like gold among the plights enrold.
And here and there shooting forth silver streames,
Mongst which crept litle angels through the glit-
terins: iileames.

Seemed tliose litle angels did uphold
'I'lie cloth of state, and on tlieir purpled wings
Did beare the pendants through theirnimblesse bold ;
liesides, a thousand more of such as sinys
Hymns to high God, and carols heavenly things.
Encompassed the throne on which she sate ;
She, angel-like, the heyre of ancient kings
And mightie conquerors, in royall state ;
Wiiylest kings and kesars at her feet did them pros-
trate.

Thus she did sit in soverayne maiestie.
Holding a scepter in her royall hand,
'J he sacred pledge of peace and clemencie,
\\ ith which High God had blest her hajipie land,
Maugre so many foes which did withsiand:
But at her feet her sword was likewise layde,
Whose long rest rusted the bright steely brand ;
Yet whenas foes enforst, or friends sought ayde.
She could it sternely draw, that all the world dis-
mayde.

XXXI.

And round about before her feet there sate

A hc'vio of faire virgins clad in white,

'J'hat goodly seem'd t'adorne her royall state ;

All hjvely ilaughters of high love, that bight

Lit;L', by him begot in loyes delight

L'])0n the righteous Themis ; those they say

Ujion loves iudgment-seat wayt day and night ;

And, when in wrath he threats the worlds decay.

They doe his anger cahne and cruell vengeance stay.

'I'hey also doe, by his divine permission,

L'pon the thrones of mortall princes tend.

And often treat for pardon and remission

To suppliants, through frayltie which offend;

Those did upon lAlercillacs throne attend,

lust Dice, wise Eunomie, myld Eirene ;

Antl them amongst, her glorie to commend,

Sate goodly 'J'emj)eritnco in garments clone,

And sacred Reverence yborue of heavenly strene.

Thus did she sit in royall rich estate,

Admyr'd of many, honoured of all ;

VVhylest undernenth her feete, there as she sate,

An Jiuge great lyon lay, (that mote appall

An bardie courage,) like captived thrall

With a strong yron chaine and coller bound.

That once he could not move, nor quich at all ;.

Yet did he murmure with rebellious sound.

And softly royne, when salvage choler gan redound.

So sitting high in dreaded soverayntie, [brought ;

Those two strange knights were to her presence

Who, bowing low before her maiestie.

Did to her myld obeysance, as they ought.

And meekest boone that they imagine mought :

To whom she eke inclyning her withall,

As a faire stoupe of her high-soaring thought,

A chearefull countenance on them let fall,

Yet tempred with some maiestie imperiall. •

As the bright sunne, what time bis fierie teme

Towards tlie weslerne brim begins to draw.

Gins to abate the brightnesse of his heme.

And fervour of his flames somewhat adaw

So did this mightie ladie, when she saw

Those two strange knights such homage to her make,

Bate somewhat of that maiestie and awe

'ihat whylome wont to doe so many quake.

And with more m^ld aspect those two entertake.

Now at that instant, as occasion fell.

When these two stranger knights arriv'd in place,

She was about affaires of common-wele,

Dealing of iustice \\ith indifterent grace.

And hearing pleas of peo])le mean and base :

Mongst which, as then, there was for to be heard

'J'he tryall of a great and weightie case.

Which on both sides was then debating hard :

But, at the sight of these, those were awhile debard.

But, after all her princely entertayne,

ri'o th' hearing of that former cause in hand

Herselfe eltsoones she gan convert againe ;

Wliich that those knights likewise mote understand,

And witnesse forth aright in fbrrain land,

Taking them il^> unto her stately throne,

Where, they mote heare the matter throughly scand

On either ])art, she placed th' one on th' one,

Th' other on lb' other side, and neare them none.

XXXVIII.

Then was there brought, as prisoner to the barre,

A ladie of great countenance and place,

J5ut that she it with foule ahuse did inarre ;

Yet did aj)j)pare rare beautie in her face,

]3ut blotted with condition vile and base,

That all her other honour did obscure.

And titles of nobilitie deface :

Yet, in that wretched semhlant, she did sure

'1 he peoples great compassion unto her allure.

Canto IX.J

THE FAERIE QUEEN E.

ill

Then up arose a person of deepe reach,

And rare ia-sight, hard matters to revele;

'I'hat well could cliarme his tongue, and time his spt-ach

To all assayes ; his name was called Zele :

He gan that lady strongly to appele

Of many liavnous crymes by her enured ;

And with sharp reasons rang her such a pele,

That those, whom she to pitie had allured,

He now t'abhorreand loath her person had procured.

First gan he tell how this, that seem'd so faire
And royally arayd, Due>sa hight;
That false buessa, which had wrought great care
And niickle mischiefe unto many a knight
By her beguyled and confounded <|uight:
But not for those she now in question came.
Though also those mote question 'd be aright.
But for vvld treasons and outrageous shame.
Which slie against the dred Alercilla oft did frame.

For she whylome (as ye mote vet right well
Remember) had her counsels false consjiyred
V\'itli faithlesse Hlandamour and Paridell,
(Both two her paramours, both by her hyred,
And both with iiope of shadowes yaine inspyred,)
And with them practiz'd, how for to depryve
Mercilla of her crowne, by her aspyred.
That she might it unto herselfe deryve.
And trvuniph in their blood whom she to death did
dryve.

But through high heavens grace, which favour not
The wicked dr.ftes of trayterous desynes
Gamst loiall princes all this cursed plot
Ere proofe it tooke discovered was betymes,
And th' actours won the meede meet for theircrymes :
Such be the meede of all tliat by such meane
Unto tlie type of kingdomes title cKmes !
But false Duessa, now untitled queene.
Was brought to her sad doome, as here was to be
seene.

But then, for her, on the contrarie part,
Rose many advocates for her to plead :
First there came Pittio with full tender hart,
And with her ioyn'd Regard of Womanhead ;
And then came Daunger threatning hidden dread
And high alliance unto forren powre ;
Then came Nobilitie of Birth, that bread
Great ruth through her misfortunes tragicke stowre ;
And lastly Griefe did plead, and many teares forth
powre.

xvn.

With the neare touch whereof in tender liart
Tlie Briton prince was sore enipassionate.
And woxe inclined much unto her part,
Tlirough the sad terror of so dreadful fate,
And wretched ruine of so high' estate ;
That for great rutli his courage gan relent :
Which whenas Zele perceived to abate.
He gan his earnest fervour to augment.
And manyvfearefull obiects to them to present.

He gan t' efForce the evidence anew.

And new accusements to produce in place:

He brought forth that old hag of hellish hew

The cursed Ate, brought her face to face,

Who privie was and ])artie in the case :

She, glad of s])oyle and ruinous decay.

Did her appeach ; and, to her more disgrace.

The plot of all her practise did display,

And all her traynes and all her treasons forth did lay

Then brought he forth with griesly grim aspect
Abhorred .Murder, who with bloudie knyfe
Yet dro|)ping fresh in hand did her detect.
And there with gxiltie bloudshed charged ryfe :
Then brought he forth Sedition, breeding- stryfe
In troublous wits and mutinous uprore :
Then brought he fortli Incontinence of l3'fe,
Even foule Adulterie her face before.
And lewd Imjiietie, that her accused sore.

Strongly did Zele her haynous fact enforce,
And many other crimes of foule defame
Against her brought, to banish all remorse.
And aggravate tiie horror of her blame :
And with him, to make jiart against her, came
3Iany grave persons that against Jier pled
First was a sage old syre, that had to name
The Kingdomes Care, with a white silver lied.
That many high regards and reasons gainst her red.

Then gan Authority her to oppose

With ])eremptorie powre, that made all mute ;

And then the Law of \ations gainst her rose,

And reasons br<.ught, that no man could refute ;

Xext gan Religion gainst her to impute

High Gods belieast, and powie of holy lawes ;

Then gan the Peoples Cry and Commons Sute

importune care of rliei. owne publicke cause;

And lastly lustice chars'ed her with breach of lawcs.

All which whenas the prince had heard and seene.

His former fancies ruth he gan repent.

And from her partie eftsoones was drawn cleene

But Artegall, with constant firme intent

For zeale of iustice, was against her bent :

So was she guiltie deemed of them all.

Then Zele began to urge her punishment.

And to their queene for iudgement loudly call.

Unto iMercilla myld, for iustice gainst the thraH.

But slie, whose princely breast was touched neare
With piteous ruth of her so wretched plight.
Though plaine she saw, by all that she did heare.
That she of death was guiltie found by right.
Yet would not let iust vengeance on her light ;
But ratlier let, instead thereof, to fall
Few perling drops from her faire lampes of light
The wh ch she covering with her purple pall
Would have the passion hid, and uj) arose withall.

278

THE FAERLE QUEENE.

CANTO X,

Prince Arthur takes the enteipize
For Belgee for to tight :

Gerioneos seneschall

He Slavs in Belires risrht.

Some clarkes doe doiibt in their devicefuU art
Whether this heavenly tliintr whereof I treat,
To weeten mercie, be of iustice part,
Or drawne forth I'rom her bv divine extreate :
This well I wote, that sure she is as great.
And meritet'h to have as high a place,
Sith in th' Almighties everlasting seat
She first was bred, and borne of heavenly race ;
From thence pour'd down on men by influence of
grace.

II.

For if that vertue be of so great might
Which from iust verdict will for nothing start,
But, to preserve inviolated right,
Oft spilles the principall to save the part ;
So much more then is that of powre and art
'J'hat seekes to save the subiect of her skill.
Yet never doth from doome of right depart ;
As it is greater pvayse to save then spill,
And better to reforme then to cut oft" the ill.

Who then can thee, INIercilla, throughly prayse.
That lierein doest all earthly ))rinces pas?
What heavenly muse shall thy great honour rayse
Up to the skies, whence first deriv'd it was.
And now on earth itselfe enlarged has,
From th' utmost brinke of the Armericke shore.
Unto the margent of the JMolucas ?
Those nations farre thy iustice doe adore ;
But thine owne people do thy mercy prayse much
more.

iNIuch more it praysed was of those two knights,

The noble prince and righteous Artegull,

When they had scene and heard her doome arights

Against Duessa, damned by them all ;

But by her tem[)red without griefe or gall.

Till strong constraint did her thereto enforre :

And yet even then ruing her wilfull fall

With more then needfull natnrall remorse,

And yeelding the last honour to her wretched corse.

During all which, those knights continu'd there
Both doing and receiving curtesies
Of that great ladie, who with goodly chere
'J'hem entertayn'd fit for their dignities,
Api)roving dayly to their noble eyes
Royall examples of her mercies rare
And worthie paterns of her clemencies;
Which till this day mongst many living are,
Who them to their posterities doe still declare.

Amongst the rest which in that space befell,
'J'here came two springalls of full tender yeares,
Farre thence from forrein land where they did dwell
J'o seeke for succour of her and her peares,
Witli humble prayers and intreatfull teares ;
Sent by their mother who, a widow, was
Wraj)! in great dolours and in deadly feares
By a strong tyrant, who invaded has
Her land, and slaine her children ruefully, alas!

Her name was Beige ; who, in former age

A ladie of great worth and wealth had beene.

And mother of a fiutefuU iieritage.

Even seventeene goodly sonnes ; which who had scene

In their first flowre, before this fatal I teene

Them overtooke and their faire blossomes blasted.

More happie mother would her surely weene

Then famous Niobe, before she tasted

Latonaes childrens wrath that all her issue wasted

But this fell tyrant, through his tortious powre,

Had left her now but five of all that brood :

For twelve of them he did by times devoure,

And to his idols sacrifice their blood,

Whylest he of none was stopped nor withstonj

For soothly he was one of matcblesse mig'jt.

Of horrible aspect and dreadfull mood.

And had three bodies in one wast empight.

And ih' anues and legs of three to succour him in

fioht.

And sooth they say that lie was home and bred

Of g\ants race, the sonne of Geryon ;

He that whylome in Spaine so sore was dred

For his huge powre and great oppression.

Which brought that land to his subiection.

Through his three bodies powre in one conibyn'd;-

And eke all strangers, in that region

Arryving, to his kyne for food assynd ;

The iayrest kyne alive, but of the fiercest kynd :

For they were all, they say, of pnrple hew.

Kept bv a cowheard, hii;ht Kurytion,

A crueil carle, tlie which all strangers slew,

Ne day nor night did sleepe t'attend them on,

]5ut vvalkt about them ever and anone

With his two-headed dogge that Orthrus bight:

Orthrns begotten by great lyphjinn

And ibule Echidna in the liou>e of Xigbt :

But Hercules them all did overcome in fi;;ht.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

279

His Sonne was this Geryoneo hi2;ht ;

Who, after that his monstrous fiither fell

Under Alcides club, streight tooke his flight

From that sad land, where he his syre did quell,

And came to this, where Beige then did dwell

And flourish in all wealth and happinesse.

Being then new made widow, as befell,

After her noble husbands late decesse ;

Which oave besjinning to her woe and wretched-

Then this bold tyrant, of her widowhed
Taking advantage and her yet fresh woes,
Himselfe and service to her offered,
Her to defend against all forrein foes
That should their powre against her right oppose :
Whereof she glad, now needing strong defence.
Him entertayn'd and did her champion chose ;
Which long he usd with carefull diligence.
The better to confirme her fearelesse confidence.

Bv meanes whereof she did at last commit

All to his hands, and gave him soveraine powre

To doe whatever he thought good or fit :

Whicii having got, he gan fortli from that howre

To stirre up strife and many a tragicke stovvre ;

Giving her dearest children one by one

Unto a dreadfull monster to devours,

And setting up an idole of his owne,

The image of his monstrous parent Geryoue.

So tyrannizing and oppressing all,

The woefuU widow had no meanes now left,

But unto gratious great iMercilla call

For avde against that cruell tyrants theft,

Eire all lier children he from her had reft :

Therefore these two, her eldest sonnes, she sent

To seeke for succour of this ladies gieft :

To whom their sute they humbly did present

In th' hearing of full many knights and ladies gent.

Amongst the winch then fortuned to bee
The noble Briton prince with his brave peare ;
Who when he none of all those knights did see
flasfiiv bent that enterprise to heare,
Nor undertake the same for cowheard feare,
He stejiped forth with courage bold and great,
Admyr'd of all the rest ni presence there,
And humbly gan that mightie <[ueene entreat
To grauiit him that adventure lor his former feat

She gladly graunted it: then he straightway

Himselfe unto his iourney gan prepare.

And all his armours readie (light that day,

'I'hat nought the morrow next mote stay his fare.

The morrow next appear'd with purjde hayre

Yet dropping fresh out of the Indian fount,

And bringing light into the Leavens favre.

When he was rea<iie to his steeue to mount

Unto his way, which now was all his care and count.

' Then taking humble leave of that great queene,
Who gave him roial giftes and riches rare,

. As tokens of her thankefull mind beseene.
And leaving Artegall to his owne care,

I Upon his voyage forth he gan to fiire
With those two gentle youthes, which him did guide
And all his way before him still prepare :
Ne after him did Artegall abide.
But on his first adventure forward fortli did ride. ■

It was not long till that the prince arrived

Within the land where dwelt that ladie sad j

Whereof that tyrant had her now deprived.

And into moores and marshes banisht had.

Out of the pleasant soyle and citties glad.

In which she wont to harbour happily :

But now his cruelty so sore she drad.

"I'hat to those fennes for fastnesse she did fl^^

And there herselfe did hyde from his hard tyranny.

There he her found in sorrow and dismay,

All solitarie without living wight ;

For all her other children, through affray,

Had hid themselves, or taken further flight:

And eke herselfe through sudden strange affright,

When one in armes she saw, began to fly ;

But, when her owne two sonnes she had in sight.

She gan take hart and looke up ioyfully ;

For well she wist this knight came succour to suppl

And, running unto them with greedy ioyes.
Fell straight about their neckes as they did kneele.
And bursting forth in teares ; "Ah! my sweet
Sayd she, " yet now I gin new life to feele ; [boyes,"
And feeble spirits, that gan faint and reele,
Now rise againe at this your ioyous siglit.
Alreadie seemes that fortunes headlong wheele
Begins to turne, and sunne to shine more bright
Then it was wont, through comfort of this nobU
knight."

Then turning unto him ; " And you, sir knight,"

Said she, " that taken have this toylesome paine

For wretched woman, miserable wight,

Ma)' you in heaven immortall guerdon gaine

For so great travell as you doe sustaine !

For other meede may hope for none of mee.

To whom nought else but bare life doth remaine ;

And that so wretched one, as ye do see

Is liker lingrincf death then loathed life to bee."

IMuch was he moved with her piteous plight;
And low dismounting from his ioftie steede
Gan to recomfort her all tliat he miglit.
Seeking to drive away deepe-rooted dreede
With hope of helpe in that her greatest neede.
So thence he wished her witli him to wend
Unto some place where tiiey mote rest and feede,
And she take comfort whuii God now did send :
Good hart in evils doth the evils much amend.

280

THE FAERII-: QUr^EXE.

'"Bmok V

" Ay me !" savcl she, "and wliitlier shall I goe ?
Are not all places full of forraine powres ]
My pallaces possessed of my foe,
INly cities sackt, and their skv-threatning- towres
Kaced and made smooth fields nou- full of Howres?
Onely these marishes and myi'ie bogs,
In which the fearefuU ewftes do build their bowres,
Yeeld me an Instry mongst the croking frogs.
And harbour here in safety from those ravenous
doss."

" Nathlesse," said he, " deare ladie, witli me goe ;
Some place shall us receive and harbour yield ;
If not, we vi'ill it force, maugre your foe,
And purchase it to us with speare and shield :
And if all fayle, yet farewell open field !
The earth to all her creatures lodging lends."
AVith such his chearefull speaches he doth wield
Her mind so well, that to his will she bends ;
And, byuding up her locks and weeds, forth with
him wends.

They came unto a citie farre up land,
Tlie which whylome tliat ladies owne had bene ;
But now by force extort out of iier hand
By lier strong foe, who had defaced cleene
Her stately tovvres and buildings sunny sheene,
Shut up her haven, raard her marchants trade,
Kobhed her people that full rich had beene,
And in her necke a castle huge liad made.
The which did her commaund without needing- per-
swade.

That castle was the strength of all that state,
Untill that state by strength was j)ulled downe :
And tiiat same citie, so now ruinate.
Had bene the keye of all that kingdomes crowne ;
Both goodly castle, and both goodly towne.
Till that th' offended heavens list to lowre
Upon their blisse, and balefull fortune frowne.
When those gainst states and kingdomes do coniure,
Who then can thinke their liedlong ruine to reci.re !

XXVII.

But he had brought it now in servile bond.

And made it beare the yoke of incpiisition,

Stryving long time in vaine it to withstond ;

Yet glad at last to make most base submission,

And life enioy for any composition :

So now he hath new hiwes and ord(>rs new

Imposd on it with many a hard condition,

And forced it, the honour that is dew

'Jo God, to doe unto his idole most untrevf.

To him he hath liefore this castle greene

Built a faire chaj)])ell, and an altar framed

Of costly ivory full rich beseene,

On which tiiat cursed idole, farre ])roclamed,

He hath set up, and him his god hatii named;

Otlring to him in siiifuU sacritice

The flesh of men, to (jods owne likenesse framed,

And powring forth their bloud in brutishe wize.

That any yron eyes, to see, it would agrize.

And, for more horror and more crueltie.

Under that cursed idols altar-stone

An hideous monster doth in darknesse lie.

Whose dreadfull shaj)e was never seene of none

Tljat lives on earth ; but unto those alone

The which unto him sacrificed bee :

Those he devoures, they say, both flesh and bone ;

AVhat else they have is all the tyrants fee :

So that no whit of them remayning one may see.

There eke he placed a strong garrisone.

And set a seneschall of dreaded might.

That by his powre oppressed every one,

And vaiKjuislied all venturous knights in fight ;

To whom he wont shew all tlie shame he miglit.

After that them in hattell he had wonne :

To which wlien now thev gan approch in siglit,

The ladie counseld him the plat-e to shonne.

Whereas so many knights had fouly bene fordonne.

Her fearefull speaches nought he did regard ;
But, ryding streight under the castle wall.
Called aloud unto the watchfull ward
Which there did wayte, willing them forth to call
Into the field tlieir tyrants seneschall :
To wliom when tydings thereof came, he streight
Cals for his armes, and arming him withall
Eftsoones forth pricked proudly in his might.
And gan with courage fierce addresse him to the
fiVht.

They both encounter in the middle plaine,

And their sharpe speares doe both together smite

Amid their shields with so huge might and niaiiie

'J'hat seem'd their soules they would have ryven

Out of their breasts with furious despight : [(juight

"\'et could the seneschals no entrance find

Into the princes shield where it empight,

(So ])ure the metall was and well refynd,)

But shivered all about, and scattered in the wynd

Not so the princes ; but with restlesse force

Into his shield it readie passage found,

Both through his haberieon and eke his corse ;

AVhich tombling downe upon the senselesse ground

Gave leave unto his gliost from thraldome bound

To wander in the griesly shades of night:

There did the prince him leave in deadly swound,

And thence unto the castle marched right,

To see if entrance there as yet obtaine he might.

But, as he nighcr drew, three knights he spyde,.

All arin'd to ponit issuing forth apace.

Which towards him with all their powre did ryde.

And meeting him right in the middle race

Did all their speares attonce on him enchace.

As three great culverings for batterie bent,

And leveld all against one certaine place.

Doe all attonce their thunders rage forthrent,

That makes the wals to staiiffer witli astonishment:

Camu XI.J

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

'28]

So all attonce thev on the prince did thonder ;

^Vho from Lis saddle swarved nought asyde,

Ne to their force gave wav. that was great wonder;

But like a bulwarke firmely did abyde,

Rebutting him, which in the midst did ryde,

With so liuge rigour, that his niortall speare [syde;

Past through Ins shit'd and pierst through either

That downe he fell uppon bis mother deaie,

f^nd powred forth his wretched life in deadly dreare.

Whom when his other fellowes saw, they fled

As fast as feete could carry them away ;

And after them the prince as swiftly sped.

To be av-eng'd of their unknightly play.

There, wildest they entring th' one did th' other stay.

The hindmost in the gate he overhent.

And, as he pressed in, liim there did slay :

His carkasse tumbling on the threshold sent

His groning soule unto Lor place of punishment.

XXXVII.

The other which was entred laboured fast
To sperre the gate ; but that same lumpe of clay,
Whose grudging gjiost was thereout fled and past.
Right in the inidd^st of the threshold lay,
That it the posterne did *Vom closing stay:
The whiles the prince liard preased m be'tweene,
And entrannce wonne : streight th' other fled away.
And ran into the hall, where he did weene
Himselfe to save ; but he there slew him at the
skreene.

Then all the rest which in that castle were.
Seeing that sad ensample them before,
Durst not abide, but fled away for feare.
And them convayd out at a posterne (lore.
Long sought the prince ; but, when he found no more
T' oppose against his powre, he forth issued
Unto that lady, where he her hail lore.
And her gan cheare with what she there had vewed,
And, what she had not seene within, unto her
shewed :

Who with right humble thankes him goodly greeting
For so great prowesse as he there had proved,
IVluch greater then was ever in her weeting.
With great admiraunce inwanUy was moved.
And honourd him with all that lier behoved.
Thenceforth into that castle he her led
With her two sonnes riglit deare of her beloved ;
Where all tliat night themselves they cherished,
And from her balefull minde all care he banished.

CANTO XI.

Prince Arthure overcomes the great,

Gerioneo in fight :
Doth slay the monster, and restore

Beige unto her right.

It often fals, in course of common life,
That right long time is overborne of wrono-
Through avarice, or powre, or guile, or strife,
'I'hat weakiins her, and makes her party strong:
But iustice, thoui^h her dome she doe prolong.
Vet at the last she will her owne cause riohtl
As by sad Beige seenies ; whose wrongs though Ion"
She suft'red, yet at length she did leijuight,
And sent redresse thereof by this brave Briton
knight.

II.

Whereof when newes was to that tyrant brought.

How that the lady Bolge now had found

A champion, that had with his champion fought.

And laid his seneschall low on the ground,

And eke himselfe did threaten to cou/'ound ;

He gan to burne in raoe, mui irie-ie m feare,

Doubting sad end of jjrinciple un»oiind :

Yet, sith he heard but one that did apjieare.

He did himselfe encourage and take better cheare.

Nathelesse himselfe he armed all in hast.

And forth he far'd with all his many bad,

Ne stayed step, till that he came at last

Unto the castle which tliey conquerd had :

There with huge terrour, to be morej-drad.

He sternely marclit before the castle gate.

And, with bold vaunts and ydle tlireatning, bad

Deliver him his owne, ere yet too late,

To which they had no right, nor any wrongefull state

The prince staid not his aunswere to devize.

But opening streight the sparre forth to him came,

Full nobly mounted in right warlike wize;

And asked him, if that he were the same,

Who all that wroui; unto that wofull dame

So long had done, and from her native land

Exiled her. that all the world sjiake shame.

He boldiv aunsweni him, he there did stand

That wouid his doiiisis iustihe with his owne hand.

282

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Book

Willi that so furiously at liim be flew,

As if he would have over-run him strcight;

And with his huge great yron axe gan hew

So hideously uppon his armour bright,

As he to peeces would have chopt it quight ;

That tiie bold prince was forced foote to give

To his first rage, and yeeld to his despight;

'Jlie whilest at him so dreadfully he drive,

That seem'd a marble rocke asunder could have rive.

'I'hereto a great advauntage eke he has
'i'hrough liis three double hands thrise nniltiplyde,
Besides the double strength which in them was:
For stil, when fit occasion did betyde.
He could his weapon shift from side to syde,
From hand to hand ; and with such nimblesse sly
(^ould wield about, that, ere it were espide.
The wicked stroke did wound his enemy
Behinde, beside, before, as he it list apply.

Which uncouth use whenas the prince perceived.
He gan to watch the wielduig of his hand.
Least by such slight he were unwares deceived ;
And ever, ere he saw the stroke to land.
He would it meete and warily withstand.
One time when he liis weapon faynd to shift,
As he was wont, and chang'd from hand to hand,
Me met him with a counter-stroke so swift.
That quite smit off his arme as he it up did lift.

Therewith all fraught with fury and disdaine

He brayd aloud for very fell despight;

And sodainely, t' avenge himselfe againe

Gan into one assemble all the might

Of all his hands, and heaved them on hight,

Thinking to ])ay him with that one for all:

But the sad Steele seizd not, where it was hight,

Uppon the childe, but somewhat short did fall.

And lighting ou his horses bead him quite did mall.

Downe streight to ground fell his astonisht steed.
And eke to th' earth his burden with him bare ;
But he himselfe full lightly from him freed.
And gan himselfe to fight on foote prepare :
Whereof whenas the gyant was aware,
He wox right blyth, as he had got thereby,
And lauglit so loud, that all his teeth wide bare
One might have scene enraung'd disorderly.
Like to a rancke of piles that pitched are awry.

ijftsoones againe his axe he raught on hie,
Ere he were throughly buckled to his geare,
And can let drive at him so dreadfuliie.
That bad he chaunced not his shield to reare,
Ere that huge stroke arrived on limi neare,
He had him surely cloven (|uite in tvvaiiie :
But tir adamantine shield which bo did beare
80 u-ell was tempred, that for all ids niuine
It would no passage yeeld unto his j)urpose vaine.

Yet was the stroke so forcibly ap])lide.

That made him stagger with uncertaine swav,

As if he would have tottered to one side :

Wherewith full wroth he fiercely gan assay

That curt'sie with like kinclnesse to repay,

And smote at him with so importune might,

That two more of his amies did fall away,

Like fruitlesse braunches, which the hatchets slight

Hath pruned from the native tree and cropped quight.

With that all mad and furious he grew.
Like a fell mastifte through enraging heat,
And curst, and band, and blasjihemies forth threw
Against his gods, and fire to them did threat,
And hell unto himselfe with horrour great :
Thenceforth he car'd no more which way he sfrooke,
Nor vi'here it light ; but gan to chaufe and sweat,
And gnasht his teeth, and his head at him sliooke,
And sternely him beheld with grim and ghastly looke

Nought fear'd the childe his lookes, ne yet his threats;
But onely wexed now the more aware
To save himselfe from those his furious heats,
And watch advauntage how to worke his care,
The which good fortune to him ofl'red i'aire :
For as he in his rage him overstrooke.
He, ere he could his weapon backe repairp.
His side all bare and naked overtooke.
And with his mortal steel quite through the body
strooke.

Through all three bodies he him strooke attonce,
That all the three attonce fell on the [daine,
Else should he thrise have needed for the nonce
Them to have stricken, and thrise to have slaine.
So now all three one sencelesse luinpe remaine,
Enwallow'd in his owiie blacke bloudy gore,
And byting th' earth for very deaths disdaine;
Who, with a cloud of night him covering, bore
Downe to the house of dole, his dales there to
deplore.

XV.

Which when the lady from the castle saw.
Where she with her two sonnes did looking stand,
She towards him in hast herselfe did draw-
To greet him the good fortune of his hand:
And all the people both of towne and land.
Which there stood gazing from the citties wall
Uj)poii these warriours, greedy t' understand
To whether should the victory befall.
Now when they saw it falne, they eke him greeted
all.

But Beige with lier sonnes prostrated low
Before his feete, in all that peo])les sight, [wo.

Mongst ioyes mixing some tears, mong>t wele some
Him thus bespake ; " O most redoubted knight.
The which hast me, of all most wretched wight,
'Jhat earst was dead, restor'd to lift- againe,
And these weake impes re]ilanied by thy might;
What guerdon can 1 give thee for thy paine,
But ev'n that which thou savedst thine still to re-
maine I"

'anto XI."]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

283

He tooke lier up forbv the lilly liand,
And her recoiiitbited the best he might,
Sayino; ; " Deare lady, deedes ought not be scand
Bv th' autliors manhood, nor the doers might,
But by their truetli and bv the causes right :
'/'liat same is it whicli tbught for you this day.
What other meed tlien need me to requight,
iiut that which yeekieth vertues meed alway?
That is, the vertue selfe, which her reward dotli pay."

She liumbly thankt him for that wondrous grace.

And further say ; " Ah ! sir, but mote ye please,

Siih ye thus farre have tendred my poore case,.

As from my chiefest foe me to release.

That your victorious arme will not vet cease,

Till ye have rooted all the relickes out

Of that vilde race, and stablished my peace."

" What is there else," savd he, " left of their rout?

Declare it boldly, dame, and doe not stand in dout."

" Then wote you, sir, that in this church hereby
Tliere stands an idole of great note and name.
The which this gyant reared lirst on iiie,
And of his owne vaine fancies thought did frame :
To whom, for endlesse horrour of his shame,
He oftVed up for daily sacrifize
My children and my people, burnt in flame
With all the tortures that he could devize,
The more t' aggrate his god with such his blouddy
guize.

XX.

" And underneath this idoU there doth lie

An hideous monster, that doth it defend,

And feedes on all the carkasses that die

In sacrifize unto that cursed feend :

AVhose ugly slrape none ever saw, nor kend.

That ever scap'd : for of a man they say

It has the voice, tliat speaches forth doth send.

Even blasphemous words, which she doth bray «

Outof herpoysnous entrails fraught with dire decay."

Which when the prince heard tell, his heart gan

For great desire that monster to assay ; [earne

And prayd the place of her abode to learne :

W Inch being shew'd, he gan hiniselfe streightway

Thereto addresse, and his bright shield display.

So to the church he came, where it was told

The monster underneath the altar lay ;

There he that idoll 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 he strooke ;
And, the third time, out of an hidden shade
J'here forth issewd from under th' altars smooke
A dreadfuU feend with fowle deformed looke,
Tliat stretclU itselle as it hud long lyen still ;
And her long taile and fethers strongly shuoke,
Thai all tlie temple did witli terrour fill ;
Vec hnn nought ternlide that feared nothing ill.

An huge great beast it was, when it m length

Was stretched forth that nigh fild all the place,

And seem'd to be of infinite great strengtli ,

Horrible, hideous, and of hellish race.

Borne of the brooding of Echidna base

Or other like infernall furies kinde :

For of a mavd she had the outward face,

To hide the horrour which did lurkp behinde.

The better to beguile whom she so fond did finrle.

Thereto the body of a dog she had,
Full of fell ravin and fierce greedinesse ;
A lions clawes, with powre and rigour clad,
To rend and teare whatso she can oppresse ;
A dragons taile, whose sting without redresse
Full deadly wounds whereso it is empight ;
And eagles wings, for scope and speedinesse.
That nothing may escape lier reaching miglit,
Whereto she ever list to make her hardy fiight.

]\Iuch like in foulnesse and deformity

Unto that monster, whom the 'Theban knight.

The father of that fatall progeny.

Made kill herselfe for very hearts despight

'J'hat he had red her riddle, wliich no wight

Could ever loose, but suftVed deadly doole-

So also did this monster use like slight

To many a one which came unto her schoole,

Whom slie did put to death deceived like a foole.

She comming forth, v/henas she first beheld
The armed prince with shield so blazing bright
Her ready to assaile, was greatly queld.
And much dismayd with that dismayfull sight.
That backe she would have turnd for great" afiVio-bt ■
But he gan her with courage fierce assay.
That forst her turne againe in her despight
'J'o save herselfe, least that he did her slay :
And sure he had her slaine, had she not turnd Lei
way.

Tho, when she saw that she was forst to fight,

She flew at him like to an hellish feend.

And on his shield tooke hold with all her might.

As if that it she would in peeces rend.

Or reeve out of the hand that did it hend :

Strongly he strove out of her greedy gripe

To loose his shield, and long while did contend ;

But, when he could not quite it, with one stripe

Her lions clawes he from her feete awav did wipe.

With that alcude she gan to bray and yell.
And fowle blasphemous speaches forth did cast.
And bitter curses, horrible to tell ;
That even the temple, wherein she was plast,
Did ((uake to iieare, and nigh asunder brast ;
Tho w'ith her huge long taile she at him strooke.
That made iiim stagger and stand halfe aghast
With trembling ioynts. as he for terrour shooke ;
Who nouglit was terntide, but greater courage tooko.

284

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

As when tiie mast of some well-limbred l)ulke
Is witli the blast of some outiagious storme
Hlowne (lowne, it sliakes (he bottoms of the bulke,
And makes her ribs to cracke as tliev were torne ;
Whiles! still she stands as stonisht and forlorne ;
"^o was he stound with stroke of her huge taile:
Hut, ere that it she backe againe had borne,
lie vvitli Ills sword it strooke, tliat without faile
He ioynted it, and mard the swinging of her flaile.

Then gan she crv much louder than afore,
That all the jieople, there without, it heard,
And" Beige selfe was therewith stonied sore,
As if the onely sound thereof she feard.
Hut then tiie feend herselfe more fiercely reard
Uppon her wide great wings, and strongly flew
With all her body at his head and beard,
That had he not foreseene with heedfuU vew,
And tlirown his shield atween, she had him done to
rew :

Hut, as she prest on him with heavy sway.
Under her wombe his fatall sword he thrust,
And for her entrailes made an open way
'i'o issue forth ; the which, once being brust,
Like to a great mill-damb forth fiercely gusht.
And powred out of her infernall sinks
Most iiglv filth ; and povson therewith rusht,
'I'liat liim nigh choked with tiis deadly stinke :
Such loatlily matter were small lust to speake or
thinke.

XXXV,

There be with Beige did awhile remains

JMaking great feast and iovous merriment,

IJntill he had her settled in lier raiue

^Vith safe assuraunce and establishment.

Then to his first emprize his mind he lent,

full loath to Beige and to all the rest ;

Of whom vet taking leave thenceforth he went.

And to his former iourney him addrest ;

On which long way he rode, ne ever day did rest.

But turne we now to noble Artegall;

Who, having left IMercilla, streightway went

On Ms first rpiest, tlie whicli him forth did call,

To weet, to worke Irenaes franchisement.

And eke Grantortoes worthy punishment.

So forth he fared, as his manner was,

^\'ith onely Talus wayting diligent,

Through many perils; and much way did pas,

Till nigh unto the place at length apjirocht he has.

There as he traveld by the way, lie met

An aged wight wayfaring all alone.

Who through his yeares long since aside had set

The use of amies, and battel! quite forgone:

To whom as he approcht, he knew anone

That it was he which whilome did attend

On iUire Irene in her affliction,

When first to faery court he saw her wend,

Unto his soveraine queene her suite for to commend.

The-:i downe to ground fell that deformed masse,
I'reathing out clouds of sulphurs fowle and blacke.
In which a puddle of contagion was,
.More loathd then Leriia, or then Stygian lake.
That any man would nigh awhajied make:
Whom when he saw on ground, he \yas full glad.
And streight went forth his gladnesse to partake
With Beige, who v.'atcht all this while full sad,
Wayting what end would be of that same daunger
drad.

XXXIII.

Whom when she saw so ioyously come forth.
She gan reioyce and shew triumphant chere,
Lauding and jiraysing bis renowined worth
liy all the names that iionorahle were.
'1 hen in he brought her, and her shewed there
The ])resent of his paines, that monsters sjiovle.
And eke that idoll deem'd so costly <lere ;
\\ hom I e did all to ]ieeces breaks, and foyle
In filthy durt, and left so in the loathely soyle.

I hen all tiie petijilc which beheld that day
Ciau siiout aloiid, that unto heaveri it roiig; ;
And all tlie dam/.els of that towue in ray
Came <launcing forth, and iovous carrels song :
So him they led tlirouuh all tlieir srreefes along
("iown<!d witli girloiids of iinmortall bales;
And all the vul^nr diil ahout liiein llirong
I o see the man, wliose everlasliiig praise.
'Ihey all were bound to all posterities to raise.

Whom by bis name saluting, thus he gan ;
" Haile, good Sir Sergis, truest knight alive.
Well tride in all thy ladies troubles than
When her that tyrant did of crowne deprive ;
What new occasion doth thee hither drive.
Whiles she alone is left, and thou here found?
Or is she thrall, or doth she not survive?"
To whom he thus ; " She liveth sure and sound ;
But by that tyrant is in wretched thraldoms bound ;

"For she presuming on th' appointed tyde.

In which ye promist, as ye were a knight.

To meete her at tlie salvage lands syde,

And then and there for triall of her right

With her unrighteous enemy to fight,

Did tliiiher come ; where she, afrayd of nought

By guilerull treason and by subtill slight

Sur]irized was, and to (irantorto brought,

Who her inij)rison'd hath, and her life often sought.

" And now he hath to her jirefixt a day.

By which if that no chamjiion doe appeare,

Which will her cause in battailous army

Against him iustilie, and jirove her clears

(Jf all those crimes that he gainst her doth reare.

She deatii shall sure aby." Those tidings sad

Dill much abash Sir Artegall to hearo,

And grieved sore, tliat ihrnugh his fault she bad

lidieii into that tyran's hand and usage bad^

Canto XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

285

'J lien thus replide : " Now sure and by my life,
'] 00 niucli am I to blame tor that f'aire maide.
That have her drawne to all this troublous strife,
'i'lirough promise to aftbrd her timely aide,
W Inch by default I have rot yet defraide :
But witnesse unto me, ye heavens ! that know
How cleare I am from blame of this upbraide :
For ve into like thraldome me did throw,
And'kept from complishingthe faith which I did owe.

" But now aread, Sir Sergis, how long space

Hath he her lent a champion to provide."

" Ten dales," (juoth he, " he graunted hath of grace,

For that he weeneth well before that tide

None can have tidings to assist her side :

For all the shores, which to the sea accoste.

He day and night doth ward both farre and wide.

That none can there arrive without an hoste :

So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste."

' Now turne againe," sir Artegall then sayd;

"For, if 1 live till those ten daies have end,

A ssure yourselfe, sir knight, she shall have ayd.

Though I this dearest life for her doe sjjend."

So backeward he attone with him did wend.

Tho, as they rode together on their way,

A rout of people they before them kend.

Flocking together in ponfusde array ;

As if that there were some tumultuous afi'ray.

To which as they approcht the cause to know,
'I hey saw a knight in daungerous distresse
Of a rude rcut him chasing to and fro,
Tliat sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse.
And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse .
And (arre away, amid their rakehell bands.
They spide a lady left all succourlesse.
Crying, and holding up her wretched hands
'Jo him for aide, who long- in vaine their rage with-
stands.

Yet still he strives, ne any perill spares,
Jo reskue her from their rude violence 1
And like a lion wood amongst them fares,
Dealing his dreadfuU blowes with large dispence,
(jainst which the pallid death lindes no defence:
15ut all in vaine : their numbers are so great,
'I'hat naught may boot to banisiie them from thence;
1- or, sooue as he their outrage backe doth beat,
'i'hev turne alresh, and oft renew their former threat.

And now they doe so sharpely him assay,

'1 hat they his shield in peeces battred have,

And forced him to throw it quite away.

Fro dani'ers dread his doubtfuU life to save ;

Aloe tliat It most safely to him gave,

And much did magniiie bis noble name :

I'or. from the uay ttial he thus did it leave,

AmcDp-st all kiiiijhts he blotted was wiUi blame.

And coULtedtjurarecieaLit kiu."ht wiUiendieastiume.

Whom when they thus distressed did behold,
They drew unto his aide ; but that rude rout
'i'liem also gan assaile with outrage bold,
And forced them, however strong and stout
They were, as well approv'd in many a doubt,
Bacice to recule ; untill that yron man
With his huge llaile began to lay about ;
From whose sterne presence they diffused ran,
Like scattred chafl'e, the which the wind away doth
fan.

XLVIII.

So when that knight from ])erill cleare was freed,

He drawing neare began to greete them faire.

And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed.

In saving- him from daungerous despaire

Of those which sought his life for to empaire :

Of whom Sir Artegall gan then eniiuere

The vi-hole occasion of his late misfare.

And who he was, and what those villaines were.

The which with inortall malice him pursu'd so nere.

To whom he thus; "My name is Burbon hight,
WeW knowne, and far renownied heretofore,
Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light.
That all my former praise hath blemisht sore :
And that faire lady, which in that uprore
Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis hight,
Is mine owne love, though me she have foilore ;
Whether withheld from me by wroiigfuU might,
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.

" But sure to me her faith she first did plight

To be my love, and lake me for her lord ;

Till that a tyrant, which Grandioito hight,

With golden giftes and nmny a guilefull word

Entvced her to him for to accord.

0, who may not with gifts and words be templed !

Sith which she hatli me ever since abliord.

And to my foe hath guilefully consented :

Ay me, that ever guyle in wemen was invented.

" And now he Rath this troupe of villains sent

By open force to fetch her quite away :

Gainst whom myselfe 1 long in vaine have bent

'J"o rescue her, and daily meanes assay ;

Yet rescue her thence by rio meanes 1 may;

For they doe me with multitude o])presse.

And with unequall might doe overlay.

That oft 1 driven am to great distresse,

And forced to forgoe th' attempt remedilesse."

" But why have ye," said Artegall, " forborne
Your owne good shield in daungerous dismay '.
That is the greatest shame and foulest scorne,
Wliich unto any knight behai)pen may.
To loose the bad?;e that shouUl his deedes disjilay."
To whom su- hiurhon, blushintv halle for shame ,
" That sliall f ur'o voii '' quoth Jie, " bewray ;
Least ye therefore mole hu))]iiiyn'e blame.
And d'eeme it Uoen ui «ill, O.i'H throu^li inforn nieui
cauie.

286

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Book V

'■ True is that I at first was clubbed knight
By a good knight, the knight of the Red-crosse ;
W'ho, when he gave me annes in field to fight,
Gave me a shield, in which he did endosse
His deare Redeemers badge upon the bosse :
The same long while I bore, and therewithall
Fought may battels without wound or losse ;
Therewith G rand torto selte I did appall,
And made him oftentimes in field before me fall.

But, whenas overblowen was that brunt,
Those knights began afresh them to assayle.
And all about the fields like squirrels hunt j
But chiefly Talus with his yron flayle,
Gainst which no flight nor rescue mote avayle,
Made cruell havocke of ihe baser crew,
And chaced them both over hill and dale :
The raskall manie soone they overthrew ;
But the two knights themselves their captains d
subdew.

" But for that many did that shield envie.
And cruell enemies increased more ;
To stint all strife and troublous enmitie.
That bloudie scutchin being battred sore
1 layd aside, and have of late forbore ;
Hoping thereby to have my love obtayned :
Vet can I not my love have nathemore;
For she b\' force is still fro me detayned,
And with corruptfuU brybes is to untruth mis-
trayned."

To whom thus Artegall ; " Certes, sir knight,
Hiird is the case the which ye doe complaine ;
Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light
That it to such a streight mote you constraine)
As to abandon that which doth containe
Your honours stile, that is, your warlike shield.
All peril! ought be lesse, and lesse all paine
Then losse of fame in disaventrous field :
Dye, rather then doe ought that mote dishonour
yield !"

" Not so," quoth he ; " for yet, when time doth serve,

My former shield I may resume againe :

To temporize is not from truth to swerve,

Ne for advantage terme to entertaine,

Whenas necessitie doth it constraine."

" Fie on such forgerie," said Artegall,

*' Under one hood to shadow faces twaine :

Knights ought be true, and truth is one in all ;

Of all things, to dissemble, fouly may befall ! "

" Yet let me j-ou of courtesie request,"
Said Burbon, " to assist me now at need
Against these pcsants which have me opprest.
And forced me to so infamous deed,
Tliaf yet my love may from their hands be freed."
Sir i'\rtfgall, albe he earst did wyte
His wavering mind, yet to his aide agreed.
And buckling him eftsoones unto the fight
J)id set u])on those troupes with all his powre and
miuht.

Who flocking round about them, as a swarme
Of fives upon a Ijirchcn bnugli doth cluster,
Did ilicm assault with terrible allarine.
And over all the fields themselves did muster.
With bils and glavves making a dreadfuil luster;
That torst at first those knifjhls backe to vptyre ;
As when the viratlifull ilotvas dolb blus'er.
Nought may ahwio the leniliest ot his vre,
liotb man aid beast doe flv, and succour Hoe in-
ouvre.

At last they came whereas that ladie bode.
Whom now her keepers had forsaken quight
To save themselves, and scattered were abiode :
Her halfe dismayd they found in doubtfull plight
As neither glad nor sorie for their sight ;
Yet wondrous faire she was, and richly clad
In roiall robes, and many iewels dight ;
But that those villens through their usage bad
Them fouly rent, and shamefully defaced had.

But Burbon, streight dismounting from his steed
Unto her ran with greedie great desyre.
And catching her fast by her ragged weed
Would have embraced her with hart entyre :
But she, backstarting, with disdainefuU yre
Bad him avaunt, ne would unto his lore
Allured be for prayer nor for meed :
Whom when those knights so froward and forlore
Beheld, they her rebuked and upbrayded sore.

Sayd Artegall ; " What foule disgrace is this
To so faire ladie, as ye seenie in sight.
To blot your beautie, that unblemisht is,
AVith so foule blame as breach of iaith once plight,
Or change of love for any worlds delight ?
Is ought on earth so pretious or deare
As piayse and honour? or is ought so bright
And beautifull as glories beames appeare.
Whose goodly light then Phabus lampe duili shine
more cleare ?

" Why then will ye, fond dame, attempted bee
Unto a strangers love, so lightly placed,
For guiftes of gold or any worldly glee,
To leave the love that ye before embraced.
And let vour fame with talshood be defaced 1
¥ie on the pell'e for which good name is sold.
And honour with indignitie debased !
Dearer is love then life, and fame then gold ,
But dearer then them both vour faith once plighted
hold."

LXIV.

IMucli was the ladie in her gentle mind
Abaslit at his rebuke, that bit her neare ;
Ne ought to ansvvere thereunto did find :
But, hanging down her head with heavie chearo,
Stood long amnz'd as she amated weare :
Which ]5uvbon seeing;-, ber agr.iiie a.ssayd ;
And, claspinsr twixt his armes, her up <iid reare
Upon nis steede, whiles slie no wlat siainesavu :
oo bore her auite away nor weil i:or ill apayu.

Caavo XII.]

T- E FAKRIE QUEENE.

2B7

Nathlesse the yron man did still pursew

That raskall many with unpittied spoyle ;

Ne ceassed not, till all their scattred crew

Into the sea he drove quite from that soyle,

The which tliey troubled had with great turmoyle .

But Artegall, seeing- his cruell deed,

Commaunded him from slaughter to recoyle.

And to his voyage gan againe proceed ,:

lor that the terme, approching fast, required speed.

CANTO XII.

Artegnll doth Sir Burbon aide.
And blames for changing shield :

Ht^ with the great Grantorto fights.
And slaieth him in field.

SACRED hunger cf ambitious mindes,
And ijnpotent desire of men to raine !
Whora neither dread of God, that devils bindes,
\or lawes cf men, that common-weales containe,
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine,
Can Iceepe from outrage and from doing wrong,
W here tliey may hope a kingdome to obtaine :
Xo faith so firme, no trust can be so strong,
X o love so lasting then, that may enduren long.

Witnesse may Burbon be ; whom all the bands,

Which mav a knight assure, had surely bound,

Uuntill the love of lordship and of lands

Made him become most iaiihless and unsound :

And witnesse be Gerioneo found,

\\'\u, for like cause fai'e Beige did oppresse,

And right and wrong most cruelly confound .

And so be now Grantorto, who no lesse

Tluin all the rest burst out to all outragiousnesse.

Gainst whom Sir Artegall long having since
Taken in hand th' exploit, (being theretoc
A]ipointed by that migliiie faerie jirince,
Grehc Gloriane, that tyrant to fordoo,)
Through other great adventures hethertoo
Had it forslackt : but now time drawing ny,
Iv him assvnd her high beheast to doo,
To tV)H sea-shore lie gan his way ajjply
To »\'eete if shipping readie he mote there descry.

rho, when thev came to the sea-coast, they found

\ ship all readie, as good fortune fell,

To put to sea, with whom they did compound

Tn n;>sse tiiem over where them list to tell :

'1 ne wiiaie and weather served them so well,

'J hai in one day they with llie coast did f\ill ;

\\ litreas thev readie fcomd, tliem to repel',

Gre-' ':o;-es of n.cn ir o'dor ira''iad,

V\ hich tuem torbad to land, and tooung dirl forslail.

But nathemore would they from land refraine :
But, whenas nigh unto the shore Ihey drew
That foot of man might sound the bottome plaine,
Talus into the sea did forth issew [threw ;

'J'hoiigh darts from shore and stones tliey at him
And wading through the waves with stedfast sway,
IMaugre the might of all those troupes in vev>-,
Did win the shore ; whence he them chast away
And made to fly like doves, whom th' eagle doth
alfra)'.

The whyles Sir Artegall with that old knight
Did forth descend, there being none them iieare.
And forward marched to a towne in sii;lit.
By this came tydings to the tyrants eare.
By those which earst did fly awav for feare.
Of their arrivall : wherewith troubled sore
He all his forces streight to him did reare.
And, forth issuing with his scouts afore,
iNIeant them to have incountred ere they left the
shore :

But ere he marched f\irre he M-itli them met.

And fiercely charged them with all his force ;

But Talus sternely did upon them set.

And brusht and battred them withour remorse,

That on the ground he left full many a corse ;

Ne any able was him to withstand.

Hut he them overthrew both man and horse.

That they lay scattred over all the land.

As thicke as doth the seede after the sowers hand

Till Artegall him seeing so to rage

Willd him to stay, and signe of truce di 1 mate;

To which all harkning did awhile asswage

Their forces furie, and their terror slake ;

Till he an herauld cakl, and to him sjvake.

W illiiig him wend unto the tyrant sfieijht,

And tell (jim that nol toi such slaui'hlers sake

He ihelner rauie Lut lor lo trie lue T\yhi

Of lavie ileUJcS cauie v.itli him in single tight r

288

THE FAERIE QUKENE.

And willed him for to reclavme with speed

His scuttred people, ere they all were slaine ;

And tiine and place convenient to areed,

In which they two the combat mi^lit darraine.

Whicli message when Grantirto hear.i, full tiiyne

And glad lie was the slaughter so to stay :

And pointed for the combat twixt them twayne

'J he morrow next, ne gave him longer day:

rjo sounded the retraite, ani drew iiis folke away.

That night Sir Artegall did cause his tent
There to be pitched on the open ])laine ;
For he had given streigi.t commauiulement
That none should dare liim once to cntertaine :
Which none durst breake, though many would right
For faire Irena whom they loved deare : [faine

But yet old Sergis did so well him paine.
That from close friends, that dar'd not to appeare.
He all things did purvay which for them needfuU
vs-eare.

The morrow nest that was the dismall day

Appointed for Ireuas death before.

So soone as it did to the world display

His chearefull face, and light to men restore.

The heavy mayd, to whom none tydings bore

Of Artegals airivall her to free,

J.ookt up with eyes full sad and hart full sore,

\Veening her lifes last howre then neare to bee ;

Sith no redemption nigh she did nor heare nor see.

Then up she rose, and on herselfe did dight

Most squalid garments, fit for such a day ;

And with duil countenance and with doleful spriglit

She forth was brought in sorrowfull dismay

For to receive the doome of her decay :

But comming to the place, and finding there

Sir Artegall in battailous array

Wayting his foe, it did her dead hart cheare,

And new life to her lent in midst of deadly feare.

Like as a tender rose in open plaine,

That with untimely drought nigh withered was,

And hung the head, soone as few drops of raine

Thereon distill and deaw her daintie face.

Gins to look u]), and with fresh wonted grace

Hispreds the gloiie of lier leaviis gay ;

Such was Irenas countenance, such her case,

\\ hen Artegall she saw in that array.

There wayting for the tyrant till it was farre day :

Who came at lengtli with proud presumpteous gate

Into the field, as if he fearelesse were.

All armed in a cote of yron ])late

Of great defence to ward the deadly feare,

And on his head a steele-cap he did weare

Of colour rustie-browne, but sure and strong :

And ill iim hand an hu^e polaxe dul beare,

Whose steaio \.as vron-stu'^dcil, but nor lonp.

Wilt; vLicli ! e wor.t V: t^^l>X. to irisiiV'e bis wron^.

Of stature huge and hideous he was,
Like to a giant for his monstrous bight.
And did in strength most sorts of men surpas,
Ne ever any found his match in might ;
'Ihereto he had great f kill in single fight :
His face was ugly and his countenance Sterne,
That could have frayd one with the very sight.
And gajied like a gulto when be did gerne ;
That whether man ov monster one could scarse
discerne.

Soone as he did ■p/ithin the listes appeare,
With dreadfull looke he Artegall beheld,
As if be would have daunted him with feare ;
And, grinning grieslv, did against him weld
His deadly weajion which in hand he held :
But th' elfin swavne, that oft had seene like sight.
Was wi(l3 bii ghastly count'nance nothing queld ;
But gan i.nm streight to buckle to the fight,
And cast L^s shield about to be in readie plight.

The trompets sound ; and they together goe
With dreadfull terror and with fell iaLeiit ;
And their huge strokes full daungerousiy bestow.
To doe most dammage whereas most thej' ment :
But with such force and furie violent
The tyrant I hundred his thicke blowes so fast.
That through the yron walles their way they rent.
And even to the vitall |)arts they past,
jS'e ouglit could them endure, but all they cleft or
brast.

Which cruell outrage whenas Artegall
Did well avise, thenceforth with warie heed
He shund his strokes, where-ever fhey did fall,
And way did give unto their gracelesse sjieed :
As when a skilfull niarriner doth reed
A storme approching that doth perill 'ihreat.
He will not bide the daunger of such dread,
But strikes his sayles, and vereth his main-sheat.
And lends unto it leave the emptie ayre to beat.

So did the faerie knight himselfe abeare.
And stouped oft his head from shame to shield :
No shame to stoupe, one head more high to reare
And, much to gaine, a litle for to yield:
So stoutest knights doen oftentimes in field.
But still the tyrant sternely at him layd.
And did his yron axe so nimblv wield.
That many wounds into his flesh it made,
And with his burdenous blowes him soie riia
overlade.

Yet whenas fit advantage lie did spy.

The whiles the cursed felon high did reare

His cruell hand to smite bira mortally.

Under his stroke he to him stepping neare

Right in the flanke him strooke with ocadH' unni«*

'J'hat the gore-bloud thence gushing grievousiy

Did underneatli hini like a pond appeare

And all Ins urniour did with purj)le dve:

Therft-U be braye'i loui, and yelicd dreailixi

Canto vtt t

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

289

Vet the hup.-e stroke, which lie hefore intended,
Kept on his course, as he did it direct.
And with such monstrous ])oise adowne descended,
That seemed nought could him from death protect :
Hut he it well did w ard with wise respect,
And twixr Iiiui and the blow his shield did cast,
Which thereon seizing- tooke no great effect;
But, bvting deejie, therein did sticke so fast
That bv no meanes it hacke againe he forth could
wrast.

Long while he tug'd and strove to get it out.
And all his powre applyed thereunto,
That he therewith the knight drew all about:
Kathlesse, for all that ever he could doe,
His axe he could not from his shield undoe.
Which Artegall perceiving, strooke no more.
But loosing soone his shield did it forgoe ;
And, whiles he conibred was therewith so sore,
He gan at him let drive more fiercely than afore.

So well he him pursew'd, that at the last
He stroke him with Chrysaor on the hed,
'J'hat with the souse thereof full sore aghast-
He staggered lo and fro in doiibiFull sted :
Againe, whiles he him saw so ill bested.
He did him smite with all his might and maine.
That, falling, on his mother earth he fed :
Whom when he saw prostrated on the plaine,
He lightly reft his head to ease him of his paine.

Which when the people round about him saw,
They shouted all for ioy of his successe,
Glad to be quit from that proud tyrant's awe.
Which with strong powre did them long time op-
And, running all with greedie ioyfulnesse [presse ;
To faire Irena, at her feet did fall.
And her adored with due humhlenesse
As their true liege and princesse naturall ;
And eke her champions glorie sounded over all :

Who, streight her leading with meete maiestie

Unto the pallace where their kings did rayne.

Did her therein establish peaceablie.

And to her kingdomes seat restore agayne ;

And all such persons, as did late maintayne

'I'hat t\ rants part with close or open ayde.

He sorely punished with heavie payne ;

That in short space, whiles there with her he stayd.

Not one was left that durst her once have disobayd.

During which time that he did there remayne.
His studie was true iustice how to deals,
And day and niglit employ 'd his busie pame
How to reforme that ratrged common- weale :
And that same yron man, which could reveale
All hidden crimes, through all that realme he sent
To senrc'ii out those that usd to rob and steale,
Or did rebell gainst lawfull government;
On whom he did inflict most grievous punishment.

But, ere he could reforme it thoroughly,

He through occasion called was away

To faerie court, that of necessity

His course of iustice he was forst to stay,

And Talus to revoke from the right wav.

In which he was that realme for to redresse :

But envies cloud still dimmeth vertues ray !

So, having freed Irena from distresse,

He tooke his leave of her there left in heavinesse.

Tho, as he backe retu-iied from that land.
And there arriv'd asjai le whence forth he set.
He had not passed farre upon the strand,
\\ henas two old ill-fa vour'd hags he met.
By the way-side being together set.
Two griesly creatures ; and, to that their faces
JNIost foule and filthie were, their garments yet,
Being all rag'd and tatter'd, their disgraces
Did much the more augment, and made most ugly
cases.

The one of them, that elder did appeare.
With her dull eyes did seeme to looke askew.
That her mis-shape much helpt ; and her foule heare
Hung loose and loathsomely ; thereto her hew
Was wan and leane, that all her teeth arew
And all her bones might through hercheekes be red,
Her lips were, like raw lether, pale and blew:
And as she spake, therewith she slavered ;
Yet spake she seldom ; but thought more, the lesse
she sed :

Her hands were foule and durtie, never washt
In all her life, with long nayles over-raught [scratcht
Like puttocks clawes ; with th' one of which she
Her cursed head, although it itched naught;
The other held a snake with venime fraught.
On which she fed and gnawed hungrily.
As if that long she had not eaten ou^ht ;
That round about her iawes one might descry
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping lothsomely

Her name was Envie, knowen well thereby ;
Whose nature is to grieve and grudge at all
That ever she sees doen prays- worthily;
Whose sight to her is greatest crosse may fall
And vexeth so, that makes her eat her gall:
For, when she wanteth other thing to eat.
She feedes on her owne maw unnaturall,
And of her owne foule entrayles makes her meat,
Meat fit for such a monsters monsterous dyeat :

And if she hapt of any good to heare.

That had to any happily betid.

Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and teare

Her flesh for felnesse, which she inward hid ;

But if she heard of ill that any did.

Or harnie that any had, then would she make

Great cheare, like one unto a banquet bid ;

And in anothers losse great pleasure take,

As she had got thereby and gayned a great stake.

290

THE FAERIE QU^^NE.

[Book V

XSXIII.

The other nothing better was then shee;
An-reeino- in bad will and cancred kynd,
i'jiit in had maner they did disag-ree :
For whatso envie good or bad did fynd
She did couctale, and murder her owne mynd ;
lint this, whatever evill she conceived,
Dill spred abroad and throw in th' open wynd :
\ct this ia all her words might be perceived,
'I'hiit all she sought was mens good name to have
bereaved.

For, v.-hatsoever good by any sayd

Or doen she heard, she would streightwayes invent

How to deprave or slaunderously upbrayd.

Or to misconstrue of a mans intent.

And turne to ill the thing that well was ment :

'I'herefore she used often to resort

To common haunts, and companies frequent,

To hearke 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 ceke, and make much worse by telling.

And lake great ioy to publish it to many .

That every matter worse was for her melling :

Her name was bight Detraction, and her dwelling

U as neare to Envie, even her neighbour next;

A wicked hag, and Envy selfe excelling

In mischiefe; for herselfe she only vext:

But this same both herselfe and others ekeperplext.

Her face was ugly, and her mouth distort,

Fomiiig with poyson round about her gils.

In which her cursed tongue full sharpe and short

Appeard like aspis sting, that closely kils.

Or cruelly does wound whomso she wils;

A (listaffe in her otlier hand she had.

Upon ihe which she litle spinnes, but spils ;

And fayues to weave false tales and leasings bad,

To throw amongst the good, which others had disprad.

These two now had themselves combynd in one,
And linckt together gainst Sir Artegall ;
For whom they wayted as his mortall fone,
How they might make him into mischiefe fall,
For freeing from their snares Irena thrall:
Besides, unto themselves they gotten had
A monster which the blatant beast men call,
A dreadfuU feend of i:ods and men ydrad,
Whom they by slights allur'd and to their purpose
lad.

XXXVIII.

Such were these hags, and so unhandsome drest-
Who when they nigh approching had espyde
Sir Artegall return'd from his late quest.
They both arose, and at him loudly cryde.
As it bad bene two shepheards curres bad scryde
A ravenous wolfe amongst the scattered flockes ■
And Envie first, as she that first him eyed,
Towardes him runs, and witii rude flaring lockes
About her eares does beat her brest and forehead
knockes.

Then from her mouth the gobbet she does take,

The which whyleare she was so greedily

Devouring, even that halfe-gnawen snake.

And at him throws it most despightfully :

The cursed serpent, though she hungrily

F2arst chawed thereon, yet was not all so dead,

But that some life remayned secretly ;

And, as he past afore withouten dread.

Bit him behind, that long the marke was to be read.

Then th' other comming neare gan him rerilc,

And fouly rayle, with all she could invent;

Saying that he had, with unmanly guile

And foule ahusion, both his honour blent.

And that bright sword, the sword of lustice lent

Had stayned with reprochfuU crueltie

In guiltlesse blood of many an innocent:

As for Grantorto, him with treacherie

And traynes having surpriz'd he fouly did to die.

Thereto the blatant beast, by them set on,
At him began aloud to barke and bay
With bitter rage and fell contention ,
That all the woods and rockes nigh to that way
Began to quake and tremble with dismay ;
And all the aire rebellowed againe;
So dreadfully his hundred tongues did bray :
And evermore those hags themselves did paine
To sharpen him, and their owne cursed tongs did
straine.

XI.Il

And, stdl among, most bitter wordes they spake,
Most shamefull, most unrighteous, most untrew,
I'hat they the mildest man alive would make
Foro-et his patience, and yeeld vengeaunce dew
To her, that so false sclaunders at him threw :
And more to make them i)ierce and wound more

deepe.
She, with the sting which in her vile tongue grew
Did sharpen them, and in fresh poyson steepe .
Yet he past on, and seem'd of them to take no

keepe.

XMII.

But Talus, hearing her so lewdly raile
And sjieak" so ill of him that well deserved.
Would her have cl.astiz'd with his yron flaile.
If her Sir Artegall had not preserved.
And him forbidden, who his beast observed:
So much the more at him still did she scold.
And stones did cast ; yet be for nought would swerve
From his right course, but still the way did hold
To Faerii^ court ; where what him fiill shall else be
told.

THE SIXTH BOOKE

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNING

THE LEGEND OF SIR CALIDORE, OR OF COURTESIE.

f The wiies, through which my weary steps I guyde
In this delightful land of Faery,
Are so exceeding spacious and wyde,
And sprinckled with such sweet variety
Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye,
That 1, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts delight,
My tedious travell doe forget therehy ;
And, when I gin to feele decay of might;
It strength to me supplies and chears my dulled
spright.

It.

Such secret comfort and such heavenlie pleasures,
Ye sacred imps, that on Parnnsso dwell.
And there the keeping have of learnings tlireasures
Which doe all worldly riches farre excellj
Into the mindes of raortall men doe well,
And goodly furv into them infuse ;
Guvde ye my footing, and conduct me well
In these strange waies where never foote did use,
Ne none can tind hut who was taught them by the
muse :

Bevele to me the sacred noursery

Of vertue, which with you doth there remaine,

Where it in silver howre does hidden ly

From view of men and wicked worlds disdaine ;

Since it at first was by the gods with pame

Planted in earth, being deriv'd at furst

From heavenly seedes of bounty soveraine.

And by them long with careful! labour nur>t,

Till it to ripenesse grew, and forth to honour burst.

Amongst them all growes not a fairer flowre
'I'hen is (he bloosme of con\ely courtesie ;
Which though it on a lowly stalke doe bowre.
Yet brancheth forth in brave nobilitie.
And spreds it?elfe throu-h all civilitie :
Of which though present age doe plenteous seeme.
Yet, being matclit with plaine antiquitie.
Ye will them all but fayned stiowes esleeme,
Which carry colours faire that feeble eies misdeeme

But, in the trinll of true curtesie.
Its now so farre from that which then it was,
That it indeed is nought but forgerie.
Fashioned to please the eies of them that pas,
^Vhich see not perfect things but in a glas :
Yet is that glasse so gay that it can blynd
The wisest sight, to fhi'tike gold that is bras :
But vertues seat is deepe within the mynd.
And not in outward shows but inward thoughts d^
fynd.

VI.

But where shall I in all antiquity

So faire a patrerne timle, where may be seene

The goodly praise of princely curtesie.

As in yourselfe, O soveraine lady queene ?

In whose pure minde, as in a mirrour shcene.

It showes, and with her brightnesse doth inllame

The eyes of all which thereon fixed beene ;

But meriteth indeede an higher name :

Vet so from low to high, uplifted is your Dtm©^

Then pardon me, most dreaded soveraine,

'I'hat from yourselfe I doe this vertue bring.

And to yourselfe doe it returne againe ;

So from the ocean all rivers spring,

And tribute backe rejiay as to their king :

Right so from you all goodly vertues well

Into the rest wliich round about you ring,

I'aire lords and ladies which about you dwell,

And doe adorne your court where courtesies excelL

292

THE FALRIE QUEENE.

[Book YI.

CANTO I.

Calidore saves from INIaleffort

A damzell used vylde :
Doth vanquish Cruder ; and doth make

Briana wexe more mylde.

Of court, it seemes, men courtesie doe call,
For tliat it tliere most useth to ahound ;
And well heseemeth tliat in princes hall
I'hat vertue should be plentituUy found,
Wliich of all goodly manners is the ground,
And roote of civill conversation:
Riia:ht so in faery court it did redound,
Wiiere curteous knights and ladies most did won
Of all ou earth, and made a matchlesse paragon.

But mon^i^st them all was none more courteous knight

Then Calidore, beloved over all:

In whom it seemes that gentlenesse of spright

And manners mvlde were planted naturall ;

To which he adding comely guize withalL

And gracious speacli, did steale mens hearts away!

Nalhiesse thereto he was full stout and tall,

And well approv'd in batteilous affray,

That him did much renowme, and far his fame display.

Ne was there knight ne was there lady found
In faerie court, but him did deare embrace
For his faire usage and conditions sound.
The which in all mens liking gayned place,
And with the greatest purchast greatest grace;
Which he could wiselv use, and well apply.
To please the best, and th' evill to embase :
For he loathd leas>ing and base flattery.
And loved simple truth and stedfast honesty.

And now he was in travell on his way,

Uppon an hard adventure sore bestad,

VVhenas by chaunce he met up]]on a day

With Artegall, returning yet halfe sad

From Ills lute concpiest which he gotten had:

Who wiienas each of other had a sight,

Thev knew themselves, and both their persons rad :

When Calidore thus first ; " haile, noblest knight

Ol'all this day on ground that breathen living spriglit'

" Now tell, if please you, of the good successe

Which ve have had in your late enterprize."

'o whom Sir Artegall gan to expresse

Jlis whole exploite and v.dorous emprize.

In order as it ditl to him arize.

*• \<)\v, )i;ippy man," said then Sir Calidore,

" Wliich have, so goodly as ye can devize,

Atchit'v'd so hard a (]uest, as few before ;

That shall you most renowmed make for evermore.

" But where ye ended have, now I begin

To tread an endlesse trace ; withouten guvde

Or good direction how to enter in,

Or how to issue forth in waies untryde.

In perils strange, in labours long and wide ;

In which although good fortune me befall.

Yet shall it not by none be testifyde."

" What is that quest," quoth then Sir Artegall,

" That you into such perils presently doth call?'

" The blattant beast," quoth he, " I doe pursew,

And through the world incessantly doe chase,

Till I him overt;ike, or else subdew :

Yet know I not or how or in what place

To find him out, yet still I forward trace."

" What is that blattant beast then?" he replide.

" It is a monster bred of hellishe race,"

Then answered he, " which often hath annoyd

Good knights and ladies true, and many else destroyd.

" Of Cerberus whilome he was begot

And fell Chimajra, in her darkesome den,

Thiough fowle commixture of his filthy blot;

Where he was fostred long in Stygian i\'n,

Till he to perfect ripenesse grew ; and then

Into this wicked world lie forth was sent

To be the jtlague and scourge of wretched men

Whom with vile tongue and venemous intent

He sore doth wound, and bite, and cruelly torment."

" Then, since the Salvage Island I did leave,"

Sayd Artegall, " I such a beast did see,

The which did seeme a thousand tongues to have.

That all in spight and malice did agree.

With which he bayd and loudly barkt at mee.

As ifth-.it he attonce would me devoure:

But I, that knew myselfe from peril! free.

Did nought regard his malice nor liis j)owre ;

But he the more his wicked poyson forth did poure.'

" That surely is that beast," saide Calidore,
" Wliich I pursue, of whom 1 am right glad
To heare these tidings wliich of none afore
Through all my weary travell 1 have had :
Yet now some hojie your words unto me add."
" Now (jod you speed," ipiotli then Sir Artegall,
" And keepe your body from the daunger diad ;
For ve have much adoe to deale withall !"
So both tooke goodly leave, and parted several].

Canto I.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

293

Sir Calidore tlience travelled not long,
VVlioiias b)^ cliaunce a comely squire he found,
That tliorough some more mighty enemies wrong
Both hand and foote unto a tree was bound ;
Who, seeing him from farre, with piteous sound
Of liis shrill cries him culled to his aide :
To w!)om approching, in that paincfull stound
When he him saw, for no demaunds he staide,
But first him losde, and afterwards thus to him said ;

" Unhappy squire, what hard mishap thee brought

Into this bay of perill and disgrace?

What cruell hand thy wretched thraldome wrought.

And thee captyved in this shameful! place?"

To whom he answered thus; " My haplesse case

Is not occasiond through my misdesert,

But through misfortune, which did me abase

Unto this shame, and my young hope subvert,

Ere that I in her guilefuli traines was well expert.

" Not farre from hence, uppon yond rocky hill.
Hard by a streight there stands a castle strong.
Which doth observe a custome lewd and ill.
And it hath long mayntaind with mighty wrong :
For may no knight nor lady passe along
That way, (and yet they needs must passe that way.
By reason of the streight, and rocks among,)
Bui they that ladies lockes doe shave away.
And that knights beard, for toll which they for pas-
sage pay."

XIV.

' A shamefull use as ever I did heare,"
Sayd Calidore, " and to be overthrowne.
But by what meanes did thev at lirst it reare.
And for what cause ? tell if thou have it knowne."
Sayd then that squire ; " The lady, which doth
This castle, is by name Briana hight ; [ovvne

'1 hen which a prouder lady liveth none :
she long time hath deare lov'd a doughty knight,
And sought to win his love by all the meanes she
might.

XV.

" His name is Cruder ; who, through high disdaine

And proud desjiight of his selCe-pleasing mynd,

Refused Iiath to veeld her love againe,

Untill a mantle she for him doe fynd,

With beards of knights and locks of ladies lynd;

Which to provide, she hath this castle dight.

And therein hath a seneschall assynd,

Cald Maletfort, a man of mickle might,

Who executes her wicked will with worse despight.

". He, this same day as I that way did come

^\'ith a faire damzell my beloved dt-are,

In execution of her lawlesse doome

Did set upon us flying both for feare ;

For little bootes against him hand to reare:

Me first he tooke unhable to withstond.

And whiles he her pursued every where.

Till h-is returne unio this tree he bond ;

\e wote 1 surely whether he her vet have fond."

Thus whiles they spake they heard a ruefull sliriete
Of one loud crying, which they streightwav gliest
That it was she the which for helpe did seeke.
The, looking up unto the cry to lest,
1 hey saw that carle from farre with hand unblest
Haylina: that mayden by the yellow heare,
That all her garments from her snowy brest,
And from her head her lockes he nigh did teare,
Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.

Which haynous sight when Calidore beheld,
Eftsoones he loosdthat s(]uire, and so him left
With hearts dismay and inward dolour queld.
For to pussue that villaine , which had reft
That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft :
Whom overtaking loude to him he cryde ;
" Leave, faytor, quickely that misgotten weft
To him thai hath it better iustifyde,
And turne thee soone to him of whom thou art de-
fyde."

XIX.

Who, hearkning to that voice, himselfe unreard,

And, seeing him so fiercely towaraes make.

Against him stoutly ran, as nought ateard,

But rather more enrag'd for those words sake ;

And with Sterne count'naunce thus unto him spake ;

" Art thou the caytive that defyest me,

And for this mayd, whose party thou doest take.

Wilt give thy beard, though it but little bee?

Yet shall it^ not her lockes for rauusome fro me free.'^

With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd
On hideous strokes with most importune might,
That oft he made him stagger as unstayd,
And oft recuile to shunne liis sharpe desjiight:
But Calidore, that was well skild in fight.
Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar'd.
Lying in waite how him he daniadge might:
But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward.
He greater grew, and gan to drive at him more hard.

Like as a water-streame, whose swelling sourse
Shall drive a mill, within strong bancks is pent,
And lung restrayned of his ready course ;
So soone as passage is unto him lent,
Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent ;
Such was the fury of bir Calidore :
When onco he felt his Ibe-man to relent.
He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore ;
Who as he still decayd, so be encreased more.

The heavy burden of whose dreadfull might

^Vhellas the carle no longer could sustaine.

His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight

loward the castle, where, if need constraine,

His hope of refuge used to remaiiie :

Whom Calidore ])erceiving fast to flie,

He hiiu pursu'd and ch-.iced through the piaine,

That he tor dread of death gan loude to crie

Unto the ward to open to him iiastilie.

294

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

They, from die wall him seeing- so aghast,
The gate soone opened to receive him in ;
But Ccilidore did follow him so fast,
That even in the porch lie him did win.
And cleft his Iiead asunder to his chin :
Ti'.e carkasse tumbling downe within the dore
Did choke the entraunce witli a lumjie of sin,
That it I'ould not he shut; wliilest (Jalidore
Did enter in, and slew the porter on the flore.

^Vith that the rest the which the castle kept

About hira tiockt, and hard at him did lay ;

I5ut he them all from him full lightly swept,

As doth a steare, in heat of soinmers day,

With his long taile the bryzes brush away.

Thence passing forth into the hall he came,

Where of the lady selfe in sad disniav

He was vmett, who with uncomely shame

Gan liim salute, and fowle upbrayd with faulty blame ;

" F'alse traytor knight," said she, " no knight at all,
But scorne of amies ! that hast with guiltv hand
Murdered my men, and slaine my seneschall ;
Now coraest thou to rob my house unmand,
And spoile mvselfe, that cannot thee withstand ?
Vet doubt thou not, but that some better knight
Then thou, that shall thy treason understand,
Will it avenge, and pay thee with thy right :
And if none do, yet shame shall thee with shame re-
(juight."

XXVI.

IMuch was the knight abashed at that word ;

Vet answer'd thus ; " Not unto me the shame,

But to the shamefuU doer it afford.

Bloud is no blemish ; for it is no blame

To punish those that doe deserve the same ;

But they that breake bands of civilitie.

And wicki'd customes make, those doe defame

Both noble armes and gentle curtesie :

No greater shame to man then inhumanitie.

xxvii.

"Then doe yourselfe, for dread of shame, forgoe
This evill manner which ye here maintaine,
And doe instead thereof mild curt'sie showe
To all that passe : that shall you glory gaine
JMore then his love, which thus ye seeke t'ohtaine."
Wherewith all full of wrath she 'thus replyde ;
"Vile recreant ! know that J doe much disdaine
Thy courteous lore, that doest my love deride,
Wlio scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thee be de-
fyde."

" To take defiaunce at a ladies word,"
Quoth he, " I hold it no indignitv ;
But were he liere, that would it witli his sword
Abett, ]ierhaps he mote it deare aby." [fly

" Coivherd," (]uoth she, " were not that thou wouldst
Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place."
" If ' doe so," sayd he. " then liberty
1 leave to you for aye me to disgrace

it!i all tliose shames, tliat erst ye spake me to de-
lace."

With that a dwarfe she cald to her in hast,

And taking from her hand a ring of gould

(A privy token whicli betweene them past)

Bad him to Hie with all the speed he could

To Crudor ; and desire him that he would

Vouchsafe to reskue her against a knight.

Who thnmgh strong powre had now herself in hould,

Having late slaine her seneschall in light,

And all her people murdred with outragious might:

The dwarfe his way did hast, and went all night:

But Calidore did with her there abyde

Tlie comming of that so much threatned knight ;

AVhere that discourteous dame with scornfull pryde

And fowle entreaty him indignifyde.

That yron heart it hardly could sustaine :

Vet he, that could his wratli full wisely guyde,

Did well endure her womanish disdaine,

And did himselfe from fr^iiJe imputieuce refi'.nne.

Tlie morrow next, before the lampe of light

Above the earth ujjreard liis flaming head.

The dwarfe, which bore that message to lier knight,

Brouglit aunsvvere backe, that ere he tasted bread

He would her succour, and alive or dead

Her foe deiaer up into her hand :

Therefore he wil'd her doe away all dread ;

And, that of him she mote assured stand,

He sent to her his basenet as a faiihfuU band.

Thereof full blvth the lady streight became,
And gan t' augment her bitternesse much more :
Yet no whit more appalled for the same,
Ne ought dismayed was Sir Calidore ;
But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore :
i\nd, having soone his armes about him diglit,
Did issue forth to meete his foe afore ;
Where long he stayed not, whenas a knight
He apide come pricking on with all his powre and
might.

XXXUI.

Well weend lie streight that he should be the same

Which tooke in hand her (juarrell to maintaine,

Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name.

But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine.

They bene yinett in middest of the ])laine

With so fell fury and despiteous forse.

That neither could the others stroke sustaine,

But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,

Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

But Calidore uprose againe full light,

\Vhiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse sound ,

Vet would he not him hurt although he might :

J'or shame he weend a sleeping wight to wound.

But vvhen Briana saw that drery stound,

There where she stood uppon the castle wall,

She dcem'd him sure to have bene dead on ground ,

And made such jjiteous mourning therewithal!,

'i'hat from the battlements she ready seem'd to fall.

CAtnn I.]

THE FAERTE QUEENE.

StrS

Nathlesse at length himselfe he did upreare

III lustlesse wise ; as if a(;ainsthis will,

Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were,

And gan to stretch his liinhs; which feeling ill

Of his late fall, awhile he rested still :

But, when he saw his foe before in vew,

He shooke ofFluskishnesse ; and, courage chill

Kindling afresh, gan battell to renew,

To prove if better footethen horsebacke would ensew.

There then began a fearefull cruell fray

Betwixt them, two for maystery of might :

For both were wondrous prac-ticke in that play.

And passing well expert in single fight,

And both inflam'd with furious despight ;

Which as it still encreast, so still increast

Their cruell strokes and terrible affright ;

Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast,

Ne once to breath awhile their angers tempest ceast.

Thus long they trac'd and traverst to and fro,
And tryde all waies how each mote entrance make
Into the life of his malignant foe ;
Thev hew'd their helmes, and plates asunder brake,
As they had potshares bene ; for nought mote slake
Their greedy yengeaunces but goary blood ;
That at the last like to a purple lake
Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them stood,
Which from their riven sides forth gushed like a
flood.

At length it chaunst that both their hands on hie
At once did heave with all their powre and might,
Thinking the utmost of their force to trie,
And prove the finall fortune of the fight ;
But Calidore, that was more quicke of sight
And nimbler-handed then his enemie,
Prevented him before his stroke could light,
And on the helmet smote him formerlie,
That made him stoui^e to ground with meeke humi-
iitie :

And, ere he could recover foote againe.
He following that faire advantage fast
His stroke redoubled with such might and maine,
'I'hat iiim upon the ground he groveling cast ;
And leaping to him light would have unlast
His helnie, to make unto his vengeance way :
Who, seeing in what daunger he was plast,
Cryde out ; " Ah mercie, sir ! doe me not slav.
But save my life, which lot before your foot doth lay."

With that his mortall hand awhile he stavd ;
And, having somewhat calm'd his wrathfull heat
With goodly patience, thus he to him sayd;
" And is the boast of that proud ladies threat.
That menaced me from the field to beat,
Now brought to this? By this now may ye learne
Strangers no more so rudely to entreat:
lUit put away ])roud looke and usage sterne,
The which shal nought to you but foule dishonor
vearne.

" For nothing is more blameful5 to a knight,
That court'sie doth as well as armes professe.
However strong and fortunate in fight,
Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse:
In vain he seeketh others to suppresse.
Who hath not learnd himselfe first to subdew :
All flesh is frayle and full of ficklenesse,
Siibiect to fortunes chance, still chaunging new,
What haps to day to me to morrow may to you.

" Who will not mercie unto others shew,

How can he mercy ever hope to have ?

To pay each with his owne is right and dew :

Yet since ye mercie now doe need to crave,

I will it graunt, 3'our hopelesse life to save,

With these conditions which I will propound :

First, that ye better shall yourselfe behave

Unto all errant knights, whereso on ground ;

Next, that ye ladies ayde in every stead and stound.

The wretched man, that all this while did dwell

In dread of death, his beasts did gladly heare,

And promist to performe his precept well,

And whatsoever else he would requere.

So, suffring him to rise, he made him sweare

By his owne sword, and by the crosse thereon.

To take Briana for his loving fere

Withouten dowro or composition :

But to release his former foule condition.

All which accepting, and with faithfull oth

Bynding himselfe most firmely to obay.

He up arose, however liefe 01 loth.

And swore to him true ft^altie for aye.

Then forth he cald from sorrowfull dismay

The sad Briana which all this belield ;

Who comming forth j^et full of late affray

Sir Calidore upcheard, and to her teld

All this accord to which he Cruder had compeld.

Whereof she now more glad than sory earst,

All overcome witli infinite affect

For his exceeding courtesie, tliat pearst

Her stubborne hart with inward deepe effect,

Before his feet herselfe she did proiect ;

And him adoring as her lives deare lord.

With all due thankes and dutifull respect,

Herselfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord,

By which he had to her both life and love restord.

So all returning to the castle glad,
Most ioyfuUy she them did entertaine ;
Where goodly glee and feast to them she made.
To shew her thankefull mind and meaning faine.
By all the meanes slie mote it best explaine
And, after all, unto Sir Calidore
She freely gave that castle for his paine.
And herselfe bound to him for evermore ;
So wondrously now ohaung'd from that she waa
afore.

896

liIE FAERIE QUEENE.

[V,:u,y VI,

But Calidore liiraselfe would not retaine
Nor land nor fee for hyre of his good deede,
But gave them straight unto that s(juire againe,
Whom from her seneschall he lately freed.
And to his damzell, as their rightfull meed
For recompence of all their former wrong :
There he remaind with them right well agreed,
Till of his wounds he wexed hole and strong ;
And then to his first quest he passed forth along.

CANTO II.

Calidore sees young Tristram slay
A proud discourteous knight :

He makes him squire, and of him learnes
His state and present plight.

Whaf vertue is so fitting for a knight.

Or for a ladie whom a knight should love.

As curtesie ; to beare themselves aright

'i'o all of each degree as doth behove 1

For whether they be placed high above

Or low beneath, yet ougiit they well to know

'Jheir good ; that none tiiem rightly may reprove

Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe :

(Jreat skill it is such duties timely to bestow.

Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe doth lend :
For some so goodly gratious are by kind,
That every action doth them much commend,
And in the eyes of men great hking find ;
Whith others that have greater skill in mind.
Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine :
For everie thing, to which one is inclin'd.
Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine :
Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with
paine.

III.

That well in courteous Calidore appeares ;

Whose everie act and deed, that he did say,

Was" like enchantm.ent, that through both the eyes

And both the eares did steale the hart awa}%

He now againe is on his former way

To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde

A tall young man, from thence not (arre away,

Fighiing on foot, as well he him descr\-de,

Against an armed knight that did on horsebacke ryde.

And them beside a ladie faire he saw
Standing alone on foote in foule array ;
To whom himself'e he hastily did draw
lo weei the cause of so uncomely fray.
And to depart them, if so be he may :
But, ere he came in ])lace, that youth had kild
That armed knight, that low on ground he lay ;
Whicli when he saw, his hart was inly child
With great amazement, and his thought with won-
der fild

Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee

A goodly youth of amiable grace,

Yet but a slender slip, that scarse did see

Yet seventeene yeares, but tall and faire of face,

That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race :

All in a woodmans iacket he was clad

Of Lincoliie greene, belayd with silver lace ;

And on his head an ood with aglets sprad.

And by his side his hunters borne he banging bad.

Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne,

Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part.

As then the guize was lor each gentle swayne. :

In his right hand he held a trembling dart.

Whose fellow he before had sent apart ;

And in his left he held a sharpe bore-speare,

\\ ith which he wont to launch the salvage hart

Of many a lyon and of many a beare,

That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare.-

Whom Calidore awhile well having vewed,

At length besjiake; " what meanes this, gentle swaine'

Why hath thy hand too bold itselfe embrewed

In blood of knight, the which by thee is slaine.

By thee no knit ht ; which armes impugneth plaine !"

" Certes," said he, " loth were 1 to have broken

The law of armes ; yet breake it should againe.

Rather then let myselfe of wight be stroken,

So Ions as these two armes were able to be wrokeu

" For not I him, as this his ladie here
]\lay witnesse well, did oti'er first to wrong,
Ne surely thus unarm'd 1 likely were ;
But he me first through pride and puissance strong
Assuyld, .iOt knowing what to armes doth long."
" Perdie great blame," then said Sir Calidore,
' ' For armed knight a wight unarm'd to wrong :
j But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore
' Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore.

Canto II.]

THE FAF.RIE QfJEENE.

297

'•■ That sliall I sootb," said lie, " to you declare.

I, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit

For thing; of weight or worke of greater care,

Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit

To salvap^e chace, where I tliereon may hit

In all this forrest and wyld woodie raine ;

Where, as this day I was enraunging- it,

I chaunst to meete this knight who there lyes slaine,

Together with this ladie, passing on the pluine.

" The knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was,
And this his ladie, that him ill became.
On her faire feet by his horse-side did pas
Through tbicke and thin, unfit for any dame :
Yet not content, more to increase his shame,
Whenso she lagged, as shee needs mote so,
He with his speare (that was to him great blame)
AVould thum])e her forward and inforce to goe.
Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.

" Which when I saw, as they me passed by,
Much was I moved in indignant mind,
And gan to blame him for such cruelty
Towards a ladie, whom with usage kind
He rather should have taken up behind.
Wherewith he wroth and full of proud disdaine
Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did find,
And me in lieu thereof revil'd asjaine,
Threatning to chastize me, as doth t' achyld pertaine.

" Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned
His ?cornefull taunts unto his teeth againe,
That he streightway with haughtie choler burned.
And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine ;
Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine,
(.'ast to requite; and with a slender dart.
Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine,
Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart.
Thai through the wound his spirit shortly did depart."

Much did Sir Calidore admyre his speach

Temjired so well, but move admyr'd the stroke

That through the mayleshnd made so strong a breach

Into his Lart, and had so sternely wroke

His wrath on him that first occasion broke •

Vet rested not, but further gan inquire

Of that same ladie, wliether what he spoke

Were soothly so, and that th' unrighteous ire

Of heroune knight had given him his owne due hire.

Of all which whenas she could nought deny.
But eleard that stripling of tli' imputed blame ;
Sayd then Sir Calidore : " Neiilier will I
Him chirge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame :
For, what he spake, for you he spake it, dame ;
And what he did, he did himselfe to save : [shame :
Against both which that knight wrought knightlesse
For knights and all men tliis by nature have,
Towards uU womenkind them kindly to behave.

" But, sith that he is gone irrevocable.

Please it you, ladie, to us to aread

What cause could make him so dishonourable

To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread

And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead."

" Certes, sir knight," sayd she, "full lotli I were

To rayse a lyving blame against the dead :

But, since it me concernes myselfe to clere,

I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere

" This day, as he and I together roade

Upon our way to which we weren bent,

We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade

Within a wood, whereas a ladie gent

Sate with a knight in ioyous iolliinent

Of their franke loves, frte from all gealous spyes:

Faire was the ladie sure, that mote content

An hart not carried with too curious eves.

And unto him did shew all loveij curtesyes.

" Whom when my knight did see so lovely faire.
He inly gan her lover to envy,
And wish that he part of his spoyle might share :
Whereto whenas my presence lie did spy
To be a let, he bad me by and by
For to alight : but, whenas I was loth
Wy loves owne part to leave so suddenly,
He with strong hand down from his steed me throw'th.
And with jn-esumpteous powre against that knight
streio-ht go'th.

" Unann'd all was the knight, as then more meete

For ladies service and for loves delight,

I ben fearing any foeman there to meete-

Whereof he taking oddes, streiglit bids him djglit

Himselfe to yeeld his love or else to fighc:

Whereat the other starting up dismayd.

Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly migiit,

To leave his love he should be ill apayd,

In which he had Rood ri>;ht gainst all that it jjaiae-

" Yet since he was not presently in plight

Her to defend, or Lis to iustifie.

He him requested, as he was a knight.

To lend him day his better right to trie,

Or stay till he his amies, which were thereby,

INIight lightly fetch : but he was fierce and whot

Ne time would give, nor any termes aby,

But at him flew, and with his speare him smot ;

From which to thinke to save himselfe it booted not.

" Meane while his ladie, which this outrage saw,
Wildest they together for the quarrey strove.
Into the covert did herselfe withdraw.
Ami closely hid herselfe within the grove.
Rly knight hers soone, as seemes, to (Jaunger drove
And left sore wounded: but, when her he mist.
He woxf lialfe mad : and in that rage gan rove
And range through all the wood, whereso he wist
She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list.

208

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book tU

" But, wlienas ber lie bv no meanes could find,
After long- searcb and cbauft'Le turned backe
Unto the place where me he left behind :
There gun he me to curse and ban, for lacke
Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong :
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe
Strove to appease him, and perswaded long- ;
But still his passion grew more violent and strong.

' Then, as it were t'avenge his wratL on mee.
When forward we should fare, he flat refused
To take me up (as tliis young man did see)
Upon his steed, for no iust cause accused.
But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused,
Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare,
In vaitie complayning to be so abused ;
For he regarded neither playnt nor teare,
But more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to
heare.

*' So passed we, till this young man us met :

And being moov'd with pittie of my plight

Spake as was meete, for ease of my regret :

Wliereof befell what now is in your sight."

" Xow sure," then said Sir Calidore, "and right

Rleseemes that him befell by his owne fault :

\VhoeTer thinkes through confidence of might,

Or through support of count'nance proud and hault.

To wrong- the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault."

Then turning backe unto that gentle boy,

Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit ;

Seeing his face so lovely Sterne and coy.

And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit.

He jiraysd it much, and much admyred it ;

Thar sure he weendhim born of noble blood,

^\ irh whom those graces did so goodly fit :

And, when he long had liim beholding stood,

He burst into these wordes, as to him seem3d good ;

" Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre.

That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne.

Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre.

As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne

After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne ;

AVell may I certes such an one thee read,

As by thy worth thou -worthily liast wonne.

Or surely borne of some heroicke sead.

That iu thy face appeares and gratious goodly-liead.

" Bet, should it not disjilcase thee it to tell,
(Unlesse thou in these woods thvselfe conceale
For love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,)
I would thyselfe recjuire tliee to reveale ;
For deare affection and unfayned zaele
Wliich to thy noble personage I beare,
And wish thee grow in worslii[) and great weale ;
For, since the day that armes 1 first did reare,
I never saw iu any greater h'.ipe appeare."

To whom then thus the noble youth ; " May be,
Sir knight, that, by discovering my estate,
Harme may arise unweeting unto me :
Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late,
To you I will not feare it to relate.
Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne,
Sonne of a king, (however tliorough fate
Or fortune I my countrie have forlone.
And lost the crowne which should my head by right
adorne.)

"And Tristram is my name : the onely heire

Of good king Meliogras which did rayne

In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire

Untimely dyde, before 1 did attaine

Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine :

After whose death his brother, seeing mee

An infant, weake a king-dome to sustaine,

Upon him tooke the roiall high degree.

And sent me, where him list, instructed for to bee.

"The widow queene my mother, which then bight

Faire Emiline, conceiving- then great feare

Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might

Of him that did the kingly scepter beare.

Whose gealous dread induring not a peare

Is wont to cut off all that doubt may breed ;

Thought best away me to remove somewhere

Into some forrein land, whereas no need

Of dreaded daunger might bis doubtfuU humor feed,

" So, taking counsell of a wise man red.
She was by him adviz'd to send me quight
Out of the countrie wherein 1 was bred,
Tlie which the fertile Lionesse is bight.
Into the land of Faerie, where no wight
Should weet of me, nor worke me any -wrong :
To vihose wise read she hearkning sent me streight
Into this land, where I have wond thus long
Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature
strong-.

" All which my daies I have not lewdly spent.
Nor spilt the blossonie of my tender yeares
In ydleiiesse ; but, as was convenient.
Have trayned bene witli many noble feres
In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres:
I\Iongst which my most delight hath alwaies been
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres.
Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene.
Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was
seene.

" Ne is there hauke which mantleth her on pearch,
Whether high towring or accoasting low.
But 1 the measure of her flight doe search,
And all her pray and all her diet know :
Such bn our ioyes which in these forrests grow;
Onely the use of armes, which most I ioy.
And fitteth most for noble swayne to know,
I have not tasted yet; yet past a boy.
And being now high time thesie strong ioynts to
imploy.

Cauto II.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

299

" Therefore, good sir, sith now occasion fit
Doth fall, wliose like hereafter seldorae may.
Let me this crave, unwortliy thou^-h of it,
That ye will make me squire without delay,
That from henceforth in batteilous array
I may heare armes, and learne to use them right}
The rather, since that fortune hath this day
Given to me the spoile of this dead kniglit,
These .goodly gildea armes which I have woe in
fioiit."

All which when well Sir Calidore had heard,
Him much more now, then earst, he gan admire
For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd,
And thus replide ; " Faire chyld, the high desire
To love of armes, which in j-ou doth aspire,
[ may not certes without blame denie ;
But rather wish that some more noble hire
'Though none m-ore noble then is chevalrie)
I had, you to reward with greater dignitie."

There him he causd to kneele, and made to swears
Faith to his knight, and truth to ladies all,
And never to be recreant for feare
Of perill, or of ought that might befall :
So he him dubbed, and his squire did call.
Full glad and ioyous then young Tristram grew j
Like as a flowre, whose silken leaves small
Long shut up in the bud from heavens vew,
At lengtli breaks forth, and brode displayes his smyl-
iua; hew.

Thus when they long had treated to and fro.

And Calidore betooke him to depart,

Chyld Tristram prayd that he with him might goe

On his adventure, vowing not to start,

But wayt on him in every place and part :

Whereat Sir Calidore did much delight,

And greatly ioy'd at his so noble hart,

In hope he sure would prove a doughtie knight :

Vet for the time this answere he to him hehight;

" Glad would I surely be, thou courteous sqiiire,
To have thy presence in my present quest.
That mote thy kindled courage set on fire.
And flame forth honour in thy noble brest :
But I am bound by vow, which I profest
To my dread soveraine, when I it assayd,
That in atchievement of her high behest
I should no creature ioyne unto mine ayde ;
Forthy I may not grauut that ye so greatly prayde.

XXXVIII.

" But since this ladie is all desolate,
And needeth safegard now upon her way.
Ye may doe well in this her needfuU state
To succour her from daunger of dismay,
1 hat thankfuU guerdon may to you repay."
The lioble ympe, of such new service fayne,
It gladly did accept, as l-.e did say :
So taking courteous leave they parted twayne ;
And (Calidore forth passed to his former payne.

But Tristram, then despoyling that dead knight
i Of all those goodly implements of pravse
Long fed his greedie eyes with the fayre sight
Of the bright mettall shyning like sunne rayes ^
Handling and turning them a thousand wayes
And, after having them upon him diglit,
He tooke that ladie, and her up did rayse
Upon the steed of her owne late dead knight :
So with her marched forth, as she did him behicjht.

There to their fortune leave we them awhile,

And turne we backe to good Sir Calidore ;

Who, ere he thence had traveild many a mile.

Came to the place whereas ye heard afore

This knight, whom Tristram slew, had wounded sore

Another knight in his despiteous pryde ;

There he that knight found lying on the flore

With many wounds full perilous and wvde,

That all his garments and the grasse in vermeill dyde :

And there beside him sate upon the ground
His wofuU ladie, piteously complayning
With loud laments that most unluckie stound,
And her sad selfe with carefull hand constrayning
To wype his wounds, and ease their bitter paynino
Which sorie siglit when Calidore did vew,
With heavie eyne from teares uneath refrayning,
His mightie hart their mournefuU case can rew,
And for their better comfort to them nii;her drew

Then, speaking to the ladie, thus he said ;

" Ye dolefull dame, let not your griefe empeach

To tell what cruell hand hith tlius aravd

This knight unarni'd with so unknightly breach

Of armes, that, if I yet him nigh may reach

I may avenge him of so foule despight."

The ladie, hearing his so courteous speach,

Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefuU light,

And from her sory hart few heavie words forth sigh't

In which she shew'd, how that discourteous kniglit.
Whom Tristram slew, them in that shadow found
loying together in unblam'd delight ;
And him unarm'd, as now he lay on ground,
Charg'd with his speare, and mortally did wound,
Withouten cause, but onely her to reave
From him, to whom she was for ever bound:
Yet, when she fled into that covert greave,
He, her not finding, both them thus niuli dead did
leave.

XLIT.

When Calidore this ruefull storie had

Well understood, he gan of her demand.

What manner wight he was, and how yclad.

Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand

She then, like as she best could understand,

Him thus describ'd, to be of stature large.

Clad all in gilden armes, with azure band

Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe

A ladie on rough waves row'd in a sommer barge.

300

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book V

I'hen gan Sir Calidore to ghesse streiglitway,
By manv signos which she described had,
Thai this was lie whom Tristram earst did slay.
And to her said ; " Dame, be no longer sad ;
For he, that hath your knight so ill bestad.
Is now himselfe in much more wretched plight;
Tliese eyes him saw upon the cold earth sprad,
The meede of his desert for that despight,
AVhicli to yourselfe he wrought and to your loved
kuiofht.

' Therefore, faire ladie, lay aside this griefe,
Which yohave gathered to vour gentle hart
For tliat clisjjleasure ; and thinke what reliefe
Were best devi>e for this your lovers smart :
And how ye may him hence, and to what part.
Convay to be recur'd." She thankt him deare,
Both for that newes he did to her impart,
And for the courteous care which he did beare
Both to ner love ana to herselfe in that sad dreare.

Yet could she not devise by any wit.

How thence she might convay him to some place ,

For him to trouble she it thought unfit,

That was a straunger to her wretched case .

And him to beare, she thought it thing too base.

Which wlienas he perceiv'd he thus bes]>ake ;

" Faire lady, let it not you seeme disgrace

To beare this burden on your dainty backs ;

Myselfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe.'

So off he did his shield, and downeward layd

Upon the ground, like to an hollow beare ;

And powring balme, which he had long purvayd.

Into his wounds, him up thereon did reare,

And tvvixt them both with parted paines did beare,

Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne

Theuce they him carried to a castle neare.

In which a worthy auncient knight did vvonne :

Where what ensu'd shall in next canto be begonne.

CANTO III.

Calidore brings Priscilla home ;

Pursues the blatant beast :
Saves Serena, whilest Calepine

By Turpine is opprest.

True is, that whilome that good poet sayd,
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne:
For q nvin by nothing is so well bewrayd
As by Ins manners ; in which plaine is showne
Of what degree and what race he is growne :
F'or seldume seene a trotting stalion get
An ambling colt, that is his proper owne :
So seldora« seene that one in basenesse set
Doth noble courage shew with curteous manners
met.

But evermore contrary hath bene tryde.

That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed ;

As well may be in Calidore descryde,

By late eRsaini)le of that courteous deed

Don<^ to that wounded knight in his great need.

Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought

Unto tlie castle where they liad decreed :

There of the knight, the which that castle ought,

lo make abode that night he greatly was besought.

He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,

i hat in liis youth had beene of luickle might,
And borne great sway in annes among his ])eares !
But now weake age had dirnd his candlelight :
Vet was he courteous still to everv wight.
And loved all that did to armes incline ;
And was ihe father of that wounded knight,
Whom Calidore thus carried on his chine ;
And Aldus was his name ; and bis sonnes, Aladine.

Who when he saw his Sonne so ill bedight

With bleeding wounds, brought home upon a beare

By a faire lady and a straunger knight,

Was inly touched with compassion deare.

Ami deare affection of so dolefull dreare,

That he these words burst forth ; " Ah ! sory boy !

Is this the hope that to my hoary heare

Thou brings '. aie me ! is this the timely ioj'.

Which I expected long, now turnd to sad annoy 1

" Such is the weakenesse of all mortal] hope-,
So tickle is the state of earthly things ;
That, ere they come unto their aymed scope,
'J'liey fall too short of our fraile reckonings,
And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.
Instead of comfort which we should embrace ;
1'his is the state of keasars and of kings 1
Let none therefore, that is in meaner place.
Too greatly grieve at any his unlucky case ;"

So well and wisely did that good old knight
Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare,
'Jo cheare his guests whom he had stayd that night.
And make their welcome to them well appeare :
'J hat to Sir Calidore was easie geare ;
]5ut that faire lady would be cheard for nought,
But sigh'd and sorrow 'd for her lover deare,
And inly did afflict her pensive ihouglit
With ihiiiiving to what ca£;e her name should now be
brouiiLt.

Canto III.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

301

For she was daughter to a noble lord
Which dwelt thereby, who sought her to affy
'J'o a great pere ; but she did disacdird,
Ne could her liking to his love apply,
But liiv'd this fresii voung knight who dwelt her ny.
The lusty x\ladine, though meaner borne
And of lesse livelood and liability.
Yet full of valour the which did adorne
His meanesse much, and make her th' others riches
scorne.

So, having both found fit occasion,
They met together in that luckelesse glade ;
Where that proud knight in his presumption
The gentle Aladine did earst invade.
Being unnrm'd and set in secret shade.
Whereof she now betliinking, gan t'advize
How great a hazard she at earst had made
Of her good fame ; and further gan devize
How she the blame might salve with coloured dis-
guize.

IX.

But Calidors with all good courtesie
Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away
The pensive fit of her melancliolie ;
And that old knight by all meanes did assay
To make them both as merry as he may.
So thev the evening past till time of rest;
When Calidore in seemly good array
Unto his bowre was brouglit, and there undrest
Did sleepe all night through weary travell of his
quest.

But faire Priscilla (so that lady hight)
Would to no bed, nor take no kindely sleepe,
But by her wounded love did watch all night,
And all the night for bitter anguish wee])e,
And with her teares his wounds did wash and steepe,
So well shewasht them, and so well she watcht him,
That of the deadly swound, in which full deepe
He drenched was, she at the length dispatcht him.
And drove away the stound which mortally attacht
him.

The morrow next, when day gan to uplooke.

He also gan uplooke with drery eye,

Like one that out of deadly dreame awooke :

Where when he saw his faire Priscilla by.

He deepely si.h'd, and groaned mwardly.

To thinke of this ill state in which she stood ;

To which she for his sake had weetingly

Now brought herselfe, and blam'd her noble blood :

For first, next after life, he tendered her good.

Which she perceiving did with plenteous teares

His care more then her owne compassionate,

ForgetfuU of her owne to minde his feares :

So both conspiring gan to intimate

Each others griefe with zeale aiiectionate.

And twixt them twaine with ecjuall care to cast

How 'o save whole her hazarded estate ;

For which the onely helpe now left them last

Seem'd to be Calidore : all other helpes were past.

Him they did deeme, as sure to them he seemed,
A courteous knight and full of faithful! trust ;
Therefore to him their cause they best esteemed
Whole to commit, and to his dealing iust.
Earely, so soone as Titans beames forth brust
Through the thic-ke clouds, in which they steeped lay
All night in darkenesse, duid with yron rust,
Calidore rising up as fresh as day
Gan freshly him addresse unto his former way.

But first him seemed fit that wounded knight

To visite, after this nights [lerillous passe ;

And to salute him if he were in plight,

And eke that lady his faire lovely lasse.

There he him found much better then he was ,

And moved speach to him of things of course.

The anguish of his paine to over-passe ;

Mongst which he namely did to him discnurse

Of former dales mishaj), his sorrowes wicked sourse.

Of which occasion Aldine taking hold

Gan brrake to him the fortunes of his love.

And all his disadventures to unfold;

T hat Calidore it nearly deepe did move •

In th* end, his kyndly courtesie to prore;

He him by all the bauds of love besought.

And as it mote a failhfull friend beh'.ve.

To safe-conduct his love, and not for ought

To leave, till to her fathers house he had her brought.

Sir Calidore liis faith thereto did plight

It to performe : so after little stay,

That she herselfe had to the iourney dight.

He passed forth with her in faire array,

Fearlesse who ought did thinke or ought did say,

Sith his own thought he knew most cleare from wite .

So, as they past together on their way.

He gan devize this counter-cast of slight,

To give faire colour to that ladies cause in siglit.

Streight to the carkasse of that knight he went,
(The cause of all this evill, who was shiine
The day before by iust avengement
Of noble Tristram,) where it did remaine ;
There he the necke thereof did cut in twaine,
And tooke with him the head, the signe of shame.
So forth he passed thorough that dales paine,
'I'ill to that ladies fathers house he came ;
IVIost pensive man, through feare what of his childa
became.

There he arriving boldly did present

The fearefuU lady to her father deare,

Most perfect pure, and guiltless innocent

Of blame, as he did on his kni-hthood sweare,

Since first he saw her, and did free from feare

Of a discourteous knight, who her had reft

And by outragious force away did beaie:

Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head theie left.

And wretched life forlorne for vengement of his theft.

so«

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book VI

Most iovfull man her sire was, lier to see,

And heare th' adventure of her late mischaunce ;

And thousand thankes to Calidore foe fee

Of his larue paines in lier deliveraunce

Did veeld ; ne lesse the lady did advaunce,

'I'lms liaving her restored trustily,

As lie had vow'd, some small continuance

He there did make, and then most carefully

Unto his first exj)loite he did himselfe apply.

So, as he was pursuinf;' of his quest,

He chaunst to come whereas aiolly knight

In covert shade himselfe did safely rest,

To solace with his lady in deliti-lit :

His warlike amies he had from liim undight ;

For tiiat himselfe he thought from daunger free.

And far from envious eyes that mote him spiglit :

And eke the ladv was full faire to see.

And courteous withall, becomming her degree.

To whom Sir Calidore approaching nye,
Kre thev were well aware of living wight.
Them much ahaslit, but more himselfe thereby,
That he so rudelv did up]ion them light,
And troubled had their (piiet loves delight:
Yet since it was liis fortune, not his fault,
Himselfe thereof he lahour'd to acquite.
And ]>ardon crav'd for his so rash default.
That he gainst courtesie so fowly did default.

\Vitli which his gentle words and goodly wit

He soone ajlayd that knights conceiv'd dis])leasure,

That he besought him downe by him to sit,

'J'hat thev mote treat of things abrode at leasure

And of adventures, which had in his measure

Of so long waies to him befallen late.

So downe he sate, and with deligiitfull pleasure

His long adventures gan to him relate

Which he endured had through daun"erous debate:

Of wliich whilest they discoursed both together,
'J'he faire Serena ( so his lady hight)
Allur'd with myldnesse of the gentle wether
And plesaunce of the place, the which was dight
With divers flowres distinct with rare delight,
Wandred about the fields, as likirg led
Her wavering lust after her wandring sight,
To make a garland to adorne her lied.
Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden dred.

XXIV.

All sodaiiiely out of the forrest nere
'I'he blatant beast forth rushing unaware
Caiiglit her thus loosely wandring here and there,
And in iiis wide great mouth away her bare
'Crying aloud to shew her sad misfare
Unto the knights, and calling oft for ayde ;
Who with the iiorrour of her hajilesse care
Hastily starting up, like men dismayde,
Kan after fast to reskue the distressed mayde.

The beast, witli their jiursuit incited more.
Into the wood was bearing her apace
For to have spovled her ; when Calidore,
Who was more light of foote and swift in chacc
II im overtooke in middest of his race ;
And, fiercely cliarging him with all his might,
Forst to forgoe his pray there in the place.
And to betake himselfe to fearefuU flight ;
For he durst not abide with Calidore to fight.

Who nathelesse, when he the lady saw
There left on ground, though in full evill plight.
Yet knowing that her knight now neare did draw,
Staide not to succour her in that affright,
]5ut follow'd fast the monster in his flight :
Tlirough woods and liils he follow'd him so fast.
That he nould let Iiim breath nor gather spright,
liut forst him gape and gaspe, with dread aghast,
As if his lungs and lites were nigh asunder brast.

And now by this Sir Calepine, so hight,
Came to the jilace where he his ladv found
In dolorous dismay and deadly plight.
Ail in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground.
Having both sides through grypt with griesiy wound:
His weapons soone from him he threw away.
And stouping downe to her in drery swouiid
Uprear'd her from the ground whereon she lay
And in his tender armes her forced up to stay

So well he did his busie paines apply,

'J hat the faint sjiright he did revoke againe

To her fraile mansion of mortality :

Tlien up he tooke her twixt his armes twaine,

And setting on his steede her did sustaine

With careful! hands, soft footing lier beside ;

Till to some place»of rest they mote attaine,

Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide.

Till she recured were of those her woundiis wide.

Now whenas Phccbus with his fiery waine

Unto his inne began to draw ai)ace ;

Tho, wexing weary of that toylesome paine,

In travelling on foote so long a space,

Not wont on foote with heavy armes to trace ;

Downe in a dale forby a rivers syde

He chaunst to sjiie a faire and stately place,

To which he meant his weary sle]>s to guyde,

In hope there for his love some succour to provyde.

T?ut, comming to the rivers side, he found
'J'hat hardly passable on foote it was ;
Therefore there still he stood as in a stouna,
Ne wist which way he through the foord mote pas.
Thus whilest he was in this distressed case.
Devising what to doe, he nigh espyde
An armed knight approacliiiig to the place
With a faire lady lincked by his syde.
The wiiici) themselves prejiaid thorough the foord
to ride.

Cawio III.]

HIE FAF.iUE QUEENE.

303

Whom Calepine salutino:, as became,

Besounfht of courtesie, in that his r.eede,

For safe conducting- of his sickelv dame

TLi'Oiigh that same perillous foordwith better heede,

To take him up behinde upon his steed :

To whom that other did tliis taunt returne ;

" Perdy, thou peasant knii;ht mi^htst rightly reed

Me then to be full base and evill bnrne,

If I would bears behinde a burden of such scorne.

" But, as thou hast thv steed forlorne with shame,
So fare on foote till thou another gayne.
And let thy lady likewise doe the same,
Or beare her on thy baclce with pleasing^ payne.
And prove thv manhood on the billowes vayne."
With which rude speach his lady much displeased
Did him reprove, vet could him not restrayne.
And would on her owne palfrey him have eased
I'or p tiy of his dame whom she saw so diseased.

Sir Calepine her thanckt ; vet, inly wroth

Against her knight, her gentlenesse refused.

And careleslv into the river go'rh,

As in des[>ight to be so fowie abused

Of a rude cliurle, -.vhoin often he accused

Of fowle discourtesie, unfit for knight ;

And, strongly wading through the waves unused,

Willi speare in th' oiih haiid stavd himselfe upright,

With th' other staide liis lady up with steddy might.

But he, nought weighing what he sayd or did,

Turned his steede about another way.

And with his lady to the castle rid,

Where was his won ; ne did the other stay,

15ut after went directly as he may,

For his sicke charge some harbour there to seekft;

Where lie arriving with the fall of day

Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke

And myld entreaty lodging did for her beseeke.

But the rude porter that no manners had
Did shut the gate against him in his face
And entraunce boldly unto him forbad :
Nath'le.sse the knight, now in so needy case,
Gan him entreat even with submission base,
And humbly praid to let them in that night :
W ho to him aunswer'd, that there was no place
Of lodging fit for any errant knight,
Uulesse that with his lord he formerly did fight.

" Full loth am I," quoth he, " as now at earst

When day is spent, and rest us needeth most,

And that this lady, both whose sides are pearst

With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost ;

]\'e would I gladly combate with mine host.

That hhould to me such curtesie aftbrd,

llnlesse that I were thereunto enforst:

But yet aread to me, how iiight thy lord.

That doth thus strongly ward the castle of the ford.'

xxxiv.

And all the while that same discourteous knight
Stood on the further bancke beholding him ;
At whose calamity, for more despight,
He lauglit, and niockt to >ee him like to swim.
But wheiias Calepine came to the hriin,
•And saw Ins carnage (jast that penll well,
Looking at that same car e w^rli coniit'iiance Ljrim,
His heart with veiii^eatince invvar«llv did .-sWi II,
Ajid forth at last did i.ieake in speaclies sliarjje and
fell :

" Unkniglitly knigllt, tiie blpuii.sli of tlu.t name.
And blot of all that amies uppon them take,
Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
Loe ! I defie thee ; and ht-re challenge make.
That thou for ever doe those arme.s forsake.
And be for ever held a recreant knight,
Unlesse thou dare, for thy deare ladies sake
And for thine oune defence, on foote aliylit
To iustitie thy fault gainst me in equall t'ight."

XXXVI.

The dastard, that did heare himselfe defyde,
Seem'd not to weigh his ihreatfuU words at all.
But laught them out, as if his greater pryde
Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall -,
Or had no courage, or else had no gall.
So much the more was Calepine offended.
That him to no revenge he forth could call,
But both his challenge and himselfe conteniued,
e cared as a coward so to be condemned.

" His name," quoth he, " if that thou list to learne

Is hight Sir Turpine, one of mickle might

And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne

In all assaies to every errant knight,

Because of one that wrought him fowle despight ''

" III seenies," sayd he, "if he so valiaunt be,

That lie should be so sterne to stranger wight:

For seldome yet did living creature see

That curtesie and manhood ever disagree.

" But go thy waies to him, and fro me say

That here is at his gate an errant knight.

That house-rome craves : yet would be loth t' assay

The proofe of battell now in doubtfull night,

Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite:

Yet, if he needes will light, crave leave till mome,

And tell witliall the lamentable plight

In which this lady languLsheth forlorne,

Ihat pitty craves, as he of woman was yborne."

: The groome went streightway in, and to his lord
Declar'd the message which that knight did move j
\Vho, sitting with his lady then at bord.
Not onely did not hisdeni'aund approve.
But both himselfe revil'd and eke his lore;
Albe his lady, that Blandina hight,
Him of ungentle usage did reprove.
And earnestly entreated that thev might
Finde favour to be lodged there for that same night

3"H

THE FAERIE QUEENE

[Boor \ 1

Yet would he not perswaded be for ought,

Ne from his currish will awhit reclame.

Which answer when die groome returning brought

To Calepine, bis heart did inlv flame

Witli wrathfull fury for so foule a shame,

That he could not thereof avenged bee ;

But most for pitfv of his dearest dame,

Wliom now in deadly daunger he did see ;

Yet bad no meanes to comfort, nor procure her glee.

But all in vaine ; for why ? no remedy

He saw the present miscliiefe toredresse,

liut th' utmost end perforce for to aby.

Which that nights fortune would for him addresse.

So downe he tooke his lady in distresse,

And lavd her underneath a bush to sleepe,

Cover'd with cold, and wrapt in wreichednesse;

Whiles hehimoelfe all night did nought but weepo,

And wary watch about her for her safegard keepe.

The morrow next, so soone as ioyous day

Did shew itselfe in sunny bearaes bedight,

Serena full of dolorous dismay,

1'wixt darkenesse dread and hope of living light,

Upreard her head to see that cheareful sight.

Then Calepine, however inly wroth,

And greedy to avenge that vile despight,

Vet for the feeble ladies sake, full loth

To make there lenger stay, forth on his ioumey go'th.

He go'th on focte all armed by her side,
Upstaying still herselfe uppon her steede,
Being unlable else alone to rule ;
So sore her sides, so much her wounds did bleede :
Till that at length, in his extreamest neede,
He chaunst far oft" an armed knight to spy
Pursuing him apace with greedy speede ;
Whom well he wist to be some enemy.
That meant to make advantage of his misery.

1 Xl.VIX.

\Vherefore be stayd, till that he nearer drew.
To weet what issue would thereof betyde :
Tho, whenas he approcbed nigh in vew.
By certaine signes he plainly Inm descryde
To be the man that with such scornfull pryde
Had him abusde and shamed yesterday :
Therefore, misdoubting least he should misguvdp
His former malice to some new assav.
He cast to keepe himselfe so safely as be may

By this the other came in place likewise.

And couching close his speave and all his powre.

As bent to some malicious enterj)rise.

He bad him stand t' abide the bitter stoure

Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make avoure

Of the lewd words and deedes which be had done ,

With that ran at him, as be would devoure

His life attonce ; who nought could do but shun

The peril! of his pride, or else be over-run.

Yet he him still pursew'd from ]ilace to place,

With full intent him cruellv to kill,

And like a wilde goate round about did chace

Flying the fury of his bloudy will :

But his best succour and refuge was still

Behind his ladies back ; who to him cryde.

And called oft with prayers loud and shrill.

As ever he to lady was aftyde,

1 "o spare her knight, and rest with reason pacifyde ;

But he the more thereby enraged was.

And with more eager felnesse him pursew'd;

So that at length, after long weary chace.

Having by chaunce a close advantage vew'd,.

He over-raught him, having long eschew'd

His violence in vaine ; and with his spere

Strooke through his shoulder, that the blood essewd

In great aboundance, as a well it were.

That forth out of an lull fresh gushing did appere.

Yet ceast he not for all that cruell wound,

]5ut chaste him still for all his ladies cry j

Not satisfyde till on the fatall ground

He saw his life powrd forth despiieously ;

The which was certes in great ieopnrdy,

Had not a wondrous cbauuce bis reskue wrought,

And saved from his cruel! villany.

Such cliaunces oft exceed all humaine thought ;

That in another canto shall to end be broughl.

Canto IV.]

THE VAERIE QUEENE.

305

CANTO IV.

Calepine by a salvage man
From Turpine reskewed is ;

And, whylest an infant from a be are
He saves, his love dotli misse.

LncE as a ship with dreadfull storme long lost,
Having spent all her mastes and her groundhold.
Now farre from harbour likely to be lost,
At last some fisher-barke d(.th neare behold.
That giveth comfort to her courage cold ;
Such was the slate of this most courteous knight
Bemg oppressed by that faytour bold,
That he remayned in most perilous plight,
And his sad ladie left in pitifuU atfright :

Till that, by fortune passing all foresight,

A salvage man, which in those woods did wonne,

Drawne with that ladies loud and piteous shright

Toward the same incessantly did ronne

To understand what there was to be donne:

There he this most discourteous craven found

As fiercely yet, as when lie first begonne,

(Miasing the gentle Calepine around,

Ne £[:aruig him the more for all his grievous wound.

The salvage man, that never till this houre
Did taste of pittie, neither gentlesse knew.
Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure
Was much emmoved at his perils vew,
That even his ruder hart began to rew.
And feele compassion of his evill plight,
Against his foe that did him so purse w ;
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him avenge of that so villenous despight.

Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight, '

Ne knew the use of warlike instruments,

Save sucli as sudden rage him lent to smite;

But naked, without needfuU vestiments

To clad his corpse with meete habiliments,

He cared not for dmt of sword nor speere,

No more then for the stroke of strawes or bents :

For from his mothers wombe, which him did beare,

He was invulnerable made by magicke leare.

He staved not t'advize which way were best

His foe t'assayle, or how himselfe to gard,

I!ut with fierce furv and with force infest

Upon liiiu ran : who being well prepard

His first assault full warily did ward,

And with the push of bis sharp-pointed speare

Full on tlie hreast him strooke, so strong and hard

Thar forst him backe recoyle and reele areare ;

\t-£ ia his bodie made no wound nor bloud apjaeare.

AVith that the \\'yld man more enraged grew.

Like to a tygre that hath mist his pray,

And with mad moode againe upon him flew.

Regarding neither s])eare that mote him slay,

Nor his fierce steed that mote him much dismay .

The salvage nation doth all dread despize :

Tlio on his shield he griple hold did lay.

And held the same so hard, that by no wize

He could him force to loose, or leave his enterprize.

Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro.

And every way did try, but all in vaine ;

For he would not his greedie grype forgoe,

But hayld and puld with all his might and maine,

That from his steed him nigh he drew againe :

Who having now no use of his long speare

So nigh at hand, nor force Jiis shield to strains.

Both speare and shield, as things that needlessa

were,
He quite forsooke, and fled himselfe away for feare.

VIII.

But after him the wyld man ran apace,

And him pursewed with importune speed,

For he was swift as any bucke in chace ;

And, had he not in his extreamest need

Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his steed,

He had him overtaken in his flight.

Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed,

Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,

And shrieked out ; a thing uncomely for a knight.

But, when the salvage saw his labour vaine

In following of him that fled so fiist.

He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe

With speede unto the place, whereas he last

Had left that coui)le nere their utmost cast:

There he that knight full sorely bleeding found

And eke the ladie fearefuUy aghast.

Both for the perill of the present stound.

And also for the sharpnesse of her rankling wound

For though she were right glad so rid to bee
From tliat vile lozell which her late offended ;
Yet nou- no lesse encombrance she did see
And perill, by this salvage man pretended ;
Gainst whom she saw no meanes to be defended
By reason that her knight was wounded sore:
Therefore herselfe she wholy recommended
To Gods sole grace, whom she did oft imjjlore
To send her succour, being of all hope forlore.

506

TH-^ FAERIE QUEENE,

FBoos VI

]5uttlie wyld man, contrarie to her feare,
Came to her creeping like a fawning hound,
And by rude tokens made to her apjjeare
Mis deepe compassion of her doletuU stound,
Kissing- his hands, and crouching to tlie ground ;
l-^or other language had he none nor speach,
IJiit a soft murmure and confused sound
Of senselesse words (which nature did him teach
T" expresse his passions) which his reason did em-
peach :

XII.

And comining likewise to the wounded knight,
When he beheld the streames of purple blood
Yet flowing fresh, as moved with the sight,
lie made great mone after his salvage mood ;
And, running streight into the thickest wood,
A certuine herbe from thence unto him brought,
^Vhose vertue he by use well understood ;
'Die inyce whereof into his wound he wrought,
And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it staunched
thouo-ht.

Then taking up that recreants shield and speare,
\Vhicli earst he left, he signes unto them made
^\'itll him to wend unto his wonning neare ;
'J"o which he easily did them perswade.
I'arre in the forrest, bv a hollow glade
Covered with mossie shrubs, which spreddingbrode
Did underneath them make a gloomy shade,
VViiere foot of living creature never trode,
Ne scarse wvld beasts durst come, there was this
wights abode.

Thither lie brought these unacquainted guests ;
To whom foire semblance, as he could, he shev/ed
15y signes, by lookes, and all his other gests :
15ut tlie bare ground with hoarie mosse bestrowed
Must be their bed ; their pillow was unsowed ;
And the frutes of the forrest was their feast :
For their bad stuard neither plough'd nor sowed,
Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wyld beast
Did taste the bloud, obaying natures first beheast.

^'et, howsoever base and ineane it were.
They tooke it well, and thanked Ciod for all,
Which had them freed from that deadly feare.
And sav'd from being to that caytive thrall.
Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
Compelled were themselves awhile to rest,
(ilad of that ('asement, though it were but small ;
That, having there tiieir wounds awhile redrest,
'J hey mote the abler be to passe unto the rest.

During uhich time that wyld man did apply
Ills best endevour and his daily ]iame
In seeking all tiie woods both iarre and nye [faine
For herbes to dresse their wounds ; still seeming
When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine.
S ■ a-i ere long he had th:it kninhtes wound
Htciired well, and made him wiiole againe :
lint that same ladies hurts no lierbe he found
Which could ledresse, for it was inwardly unsound.

Now whenas Calepine was wosen strong,

Upon a day he cast abrode to wend.

To take the ayre and heare the thrushes song,

Unarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend.

And without sword his person to defend ;

There him befell, unlooked for before,

An hard adventure with unhappie end,

A cruell beare, the which an infant bore,

Betwixt his bloodie iawes, besprinckled all with gore

The litle babe did loudly scrike and squall.
And all the woods with piteous plaints did till,
As if his cry did means for to hel[)e to call
To Calepine, whose eares those shrieches shrill,
Percing his hart, with pities point did thrill ;
That after him he ran with zealous haste
To rescue th' infant, ere he did him kill :
Whom though he saw now somewhat overpast.
Yet by the cry he follow'd, and pursewed fast.

Well then him chaunst his heavy armes to want,
Whose burden mote emjjeach his needful speed,
And hinder him from libertie to pant :
For having long time, as his deadly weed.
Them wont to weare, and wend on foot for need,
Now wanting them he felt himselfe so light.
That like an liauke, which feeling herselfe freed
From bels and iessies which did let her flight.
Him seem'd his feel did fly and in their speed delight.

So well he sped him. that the wearie beare
Ere long he overtooke and forst to stf.y ;
yVnd, without weapon him assayling neare,
Compeld him soone the spoyle adowne to lay.
Wherewith the beast enrag'd to loose his pray
Upon him turned, and, with greedie force
And furie, to be crossed in his way,
Gaping full wyde, did thinke without remorse
To be aveng'd on him, and to dovoure his corse.

But the bold knight no whit thereat dismayd.

But catching u]) in hand a ragged stone

Which lay thereby (so fortune him did ayde)

Upon him ran, and thrust it all attone

Into his gaping throte, that made him grone

And giisjie for breath, that he nigh choked was,

Being unable to digest that bone ;

i\'e conlil it upward come, nor downward passe.

Ne could he brookethe coldnesse of the stony mussc

XXII.

Whom whenas he thus combred did behold,
Stryviiig in vaine that iiigli his I)'m\ els brast,
He with him closd. and. laying iiiightie hold
l'])on his throte, did gripe his gorge so fast.
That wanting breath him downe to ground he cast ;
And, then oppressing him with urgent paine,
]'',re loiiu' enforst to breath his utmost blast,
(irn-ihing his cruell teeth at him in vaine.
And threatiiing his sharjie cla\^'^.■s, now wantlDg
powre to strains.

oIV]

THE KAKRIi: Ql KKNK

307

Then tooke be up betwixt his armt's twaine
The little babe, sweet relicices of his prav ;
Whom pitying to heare so sore complaine,
From his soft eyes the teares he wypt away,
And from his face the filth that rlid it ray ;
And everv little limbe he searcht around.
And every part that under sweath-bands lay,
Least that the beasts sharpe teeth had any wound
Made in his tender flesh ; but whole them all he
found.

So, havino; all his bands againe uptyda

He with him thought backe to returne againe;

But when he lookt about on every svde.

To weet which way were best to entertaine

To bring him to the place where he would faine.

Me could no path nor tract of foot descry,

\'e by inquirie learne, nor ghesse by ayme ;

For nought but woods and forrests farre and nye.

That all about did close the compasse of his eye.

Much was he then encombred, ne could tell
Which way to take : now west he went awiiile.
Then north, then neither, but as fortune fell :
So up and downe he wandred many a mile
With wearie travell and uncertaine toile.
Vet nought the nearer to his iourneys end ;
And evermore his lovely little spoile
Crying for food did greatly him offend :
So all that day, in wandring, vainely he did spend.

At last, about the setting of the sunne,

Himselfe out of the forest he did wynd.

And by good fortune the ])laine cliampion wonne :

\\ here, looking all about where he mote fynd

Some place of succour to content his mynd.

At length he heard under the forrests syde

A voice, that seemed of somo womank3'nd,

W liich to herselfe lamenting loudly cryde.

And oft complayn'd of fate, and fortune oft defvde.

To whom approaching, whenas she perceived

A stranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd.

As if she doubted to have bene deceived,

Or loth to let her sorrowes be bewrayd :

\\ lioni whenas Calejiine saw so disinayd.

He to lier drew, and, with fuire blandishment

Her cheariug up, thus gently to her said :

'• What be you, wofull dame, which thus lament,

And for what cause, declare ; so moteyenot repent.'

To whom she thus ; " What need me, sir, to tell

That which yourself have earst ared so right?

A wotull dame ye have me termed well ;

So much more wofull, as my wofull plight

{-'aniiot redressed be by living wight !"

•■ .\iithlesse," quoth he, " if need doe not you bynd.

Doe it disclose, to ease your grieved sprig'ht :

Oftimes it haps that sorrowes of the mynd

Find remedie unsought, which seekmg cannot fynd."

Jhen thus liegan the lamentable dame ;

" Sith then ye needs will know the griefe I hoord

I am th' unfortunate iMatilde by name.

The wife of bold Sir Bruin, who is lord

Of all this land, late conquer'd by his sword

From a great gyant, called Cormoraunt,

Whom he did overthrow by yonder fourd ;

And in three battailes did so deadly daunt.

That he dare not returne for all his daily vaunt.

" So is my lord now seiz'd of all the land.

As in his fee, with peaceable estate.

And quietly doth holil it in his hand,

Ne any dares with him for it debate :

But to these happie fortunes cruell fate

Hath ioyn'd one evill, which doth overthrow

All this our ioyes, and all our blisse abate ;

And like in time to further ill to grow.

And all this land with endlesse losse to over- flow.

" For th' heavens, envying our prosperitie,

Have not vouchsaft to graunt unto us twaine

The ghdfuU blessing of posteritie.

Which we might see after ourselves remaine

In th' heritage of our unhappie paine :

So that for want of heires it to defend.

All is in time like to returne againe

To that foule feend, who dayly doth attend

'I'o leape into the same after our lives end.

" But most my lord is grieved herewithall.
And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke
That all this land unto his foe shall fall.
Fur which he long in vaine diii sweat and swinke.
That now the same he greatly doth forthinke.
Yet was it sayd, there should lohim a sonne
Be gotten, not begollen ; uliich should drinke
And dry up all the ivater which doth ronne
In the neit broohe, by whom that feend should be tor-
donne.

" Well hop't he then, when this was propheside,
That from his sides some noble chyld should rize.
The which through fame should farre be magniiide,
And this proud gyant should with brave emprize
Quite overthrow, who now ginnes to despize
i'he good Sir Bruin growing farre in years.
Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.
Lo! this my cause of griefe to you aj)peares ;
For which 1 thus doe mourue, and poure forth cease*
lesse teares."

XXXIV.

Which when he heard, he inly touched was

With tender ruth for her unworthy griefe ;

And, when he had devized of her case.

He gan in mind conceive a fit reliefe

For all her jjaine, if please her make the priefe :

And, having chear,d her, thus said ; " F'aire Damej

In evils counsell is the comfort chiefe ;

Which though I be not wise enough to frame,

Vet, as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without blame

jc 2

308

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[LlooK VI

XXXV.

" If that the cause of this your languishment
Be laclie of children to supply your place,
Lo ! liow good ibrtur.e doth to you present
This litle babe, of sweete and lovely face,
A.nd spotlesse spirit in which ye may enchace
Whatever formes ye list thereto apply.
Being now soft and fit them to embrace ;
Whether ye list him truine in chevalry,
Or noursle up in lore of learn'd philosophy

" And, certes, it hath oftentimes bene seene.
That of the like, whose linage was unknowne,
Blore brave and noble knights have raysed beene
(As their victorious deedes have often showen.
Being with fame through many nations blowen,)
Then those which have bene dandled in the lap.
Therefore some tiiought that those brave imps were

sowen
Here by the gods, and fed with heavenly sap.
That made them grow so high t' all honorable hap."

The ladie, hearkning to his sensefull speach,
Eouiid nothing that he said unmeet nor geason,
Having oft seene it tryde as he did teach :
Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason,
Agreeing well both with the place and season,
She gladly did of that same babe accept.
As of her owne by liverey and seisin;
And, having over it a little wept,
She bore it thence, and ever as her owne it kept.

Right glad was Calepine to be so rid
Of his young charge whereof he skilled nought ;
Ne she lesse glad ; for she so wisely did.
And with her husband under hand so wrought,
That when that inlant unto him she brought.
She made him think it surelv was his owne j
And it in goodly thewes so well upbrought.
That It became a famous knight well knowne.
And did right noble deedes ; the which elswhere are
shovvne.

But Calepine, now being left alone

Under the greenewoods side in sorie plight,

Withouten amies or steede to ride upon,

Or house to hide his head from heavens spight •

A I be that dame, by all the meaiies she might.

Him oft desired home with her to wend.

And oflred him, his courtesie to requite

Both horse and amies and whatso else to lend.

Yet he them all refusd, though thankt her as a frenil •

And, for exceeding griefe which inly grew.
That he his love so lucklesse now had lost,
On the cold ground maugre himselfe he threw
For fell despight, to be so sorely crost ;
And there all night himselfe in anguish tost,
Vowing that never he in bed againe
His limbes would rest, iie lig in ease embost,
Till that his ladies sight he mote attaine,
Or understand that she in safetie did remaine.

CANTO V.

The salvage servos Serena well,
Till she Prince Arthure fynd ;

Who her, together with his squyre.
With th' Hermit leaves behvnd.

O WHAT an easie thing is to descry
The gentle bloud, however it be wrapt
In sad misfortunes foule deformity.
And wretched sorrowes, which have often hapt !
For howsoever it may grow mis-shapt.
Like this wyld man being undisciplynd.
That to all vertue it may seeme unapt ;
Vet will it shew some sparkes of gentle mynd,
And at the last breake forth in his owne proper
kynd.

II.

That plainely may in this wyld man be red,

Who. though he were still in this desert wood,

JMongst salvage beasts, both rudely borne and bred,

Ne ever saw faire guize, ne learned good,

Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood

By gentle usage of that wivtched dame :

For certes he was borne of noble blood.

However by hard hap he hether came ;

As ye may know, when time shall be to tell the same.

Who, whenas now long time he lacked had

The good Sir Calepine, that farre was strayd

Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad,

As he of some misfortune were afrayd ;

And, leaving there this ladie all dismayd.

Went forth slreightway into the forrest wyde

To seeke if he perchance asleep were layd.

Or whatso else were unto him betyde ; [spyde.

1 le sought him farre and neare, yet liim no where he

Tho, backe returning to that sorie dame.

He shewed semblant of exceeding mone

]?y speaking signes, as he them best could frame,

Now wringing both his wretched hands in one.

Now beating his hard head upon a stone,

That ruth it was to see liim so lament :

]?y which she well perceiving what was done,

Can teare her hayre, and all her garments rent.

And beat her breast, and piteously herselfe torment.

Casio V.]

THE FAEHIE QLEENE.

30%

Upon thp ground herselfe she fiercely threw,
Hej;ar(llesse of her wounds yet bleeding rife,
That with their bloud did all the Acre imbrevv.
As if Iier breast new launcht with murdrous knife
Would streight dislodge the wretched weane life:
There she long groveling and deepe groning laj',
As if her vital! powers were at strife
With stronger death, and feared tlw'vc decay:
Such were this ladies pangs and dolorous assay.

Whom when the salvage saw so sore distrest,

He reared her up from the bloudie ground.

And sought, by all the ineanes that he could best,

Her to recure out of that stony swound,

And staunch the bleeding of her dre;iry wound:

Vet nould she be recomlorted for nought,

Nor cease her sorrow and impatient stound.

But day and night did \exe her carefuU thought,

And ever more and more her owne affliction wrought.

At length, whenas no hope of his retourne

She saw now left, she cast to leave the ])lace.

And wend abrode, though feeble and furlurne,

To seeke some comfort ni that sorie case :

His steede, now strong throui;h re^ so long a space

Well as she could she got, and did bedight;

And being theieon mounted forth did ])ace

Withouten guide her to coi.duct aright.

Or guard her to defend from bold oppressors might.

Whom her host saw readie to depart.

He would not sufter her alone to (are.

But gan himselfe addresse to take her part.

Those warlike arrnes, which C'alepirie whvleare

Had left behind, he gan ettsoones prepare.

And ])ut them all about himself unfit.

His shield, his helmet, and lus curats bare.

But without sword upon his thigh to sit;

Sir Calepine himselfe away had hidden it.

So forth they traveld an uneven pa\ re,
'ihal mote to all men seeme an uncouth sight;
A salvage man matcht with a ladie fayre
That rather seem'd the conquest of his might
Gotten by spoyle then purchaced aright:
But he did her attend most carefully,
And faithlully did serve both day and night
Withouten thought of shame or villenv,
N'e ever shewed signe of foule disloyalty.

Upon a day, as on their way they went.

It chaunst some furniture about her steed

To be disordred by some accident ;

Which to redresse she did th' assistance need

Of this her groome ; which he by signes did reede;

And streight his combious armes aside did lay

I pen the ground, withouten doubt or dreed ;

And, in his homely wize, begun to assay

T' amend Avhat was amisse, and put in right aiay.

Bout which whilest he was busied thus liard,
Lo ! where a knight, together with his s(]uire,
All arm'd to point came rydiiig ihetherward ;
Which seemed, by their poitnnce and attire,
I'o be two errant knights, that did incjuire
After adventures, where they mote them get:
Those were to weet (if that ye it require)
Prince Arthur and young Timias, which met
By straunge occasion, that here needs forth be set.

After that Timias had againe recured
The favour of Bel]ihebe, as ye heard,
And of her grace did stand againe assured.
To happie blisse he was full high uprear'd.
Nether of envy nor of chaunge afeard :
Though many foes did him maligne therefore.
And with uniust detraction him did beard ;
Vet he himselfe so well and wisely bore.
That in her soveraine lyking he dwelt evermore.

But, of them all which did his ruine seeke.
Three mightie enemies did him most aespight,
Three mightie ones, and cruell minded eeke,
That him not oiiely souj;ht by ojien might
To overthrow, but to supplant by slight:
'i he first of them by name was cald Despetto,
Exceeding all the rest in powre and bight;
The second, not so strong but wise, Decetto ;
The third, nor strong nor wise but spightfuilest,
Defetto.

Oftimes their sundry powres they did employ,
And several dtceipts, but nil in vaine ;
For neither they by force could him destroy,
Ne vet entrap in treasons subiill tniiiie:
Therefore, conspiring all together plaine,
They did their counsels liow in one compound
Where singled forces faile, conioynd may game.
The blatant beast the fittest ineanes they found
To worke his utter shame, and throughly him coa-
found.

Upon a day, as they the time did waite
When he did raunge the wood for salvaj;e game,
I hev sent that blatant beast to be a baite
To draw him from his deare beloved dame
Unwares into the daunger of defame :
For well they wist that s(iuire to be so bold,
1 hat no one beast in torrest wylde or tame
Met him in chase, but he it challenge would,
And plucke the pray oltiines out of their greedy
bould.

The hardy boy, as they devised had.

Seeing the ugly m.onster passing by.

Upon him set, of peiiil nought adiad,

Ne skilfuU of the uncouth leupardy ;

And charged him so tierce and luriously.

That, his great force unable to endure.

He forced was to turne from h.m and fly :

Vet, ere he fled, be with liis tooth impure

Him heedlesse bit, the whiles he was thereof secur

310

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Book VI.

Securely he did after liim piirsew,

Thiiikiiij; by sjieed to overtake liis flight ; [drew,

A\ l)o tlirou^h tliicke woods and brakes and briers him

'I'o wearv him the more and waste his spis^ht,

So that ho now lias almost S|)eiit his spright ;

lill that at length unto a woody glade

i\n came, whose covert stojit his further sight ;

'I'here his three foes shrowded in guileful! shade

Out of their ambush broke, and gan him to invade.

Sharpely they all attonce did him assaile,

Burning with inward rancour and despight,

And heaped strokes did round about him haile

With so huge force, that seemed nothing might

JJeare off their blowes from piercing thorough quite :

Yet he them all so warily did ward.

That none of them in his sort flesh did bite ;

And all the while his backe for best safegard

He lent against a tree, that backeward onset bard.

Like a wylde bull, that, being at a bay,

Is bayted of a mastifie and a hound

And a curre-dog, that doe him sharpe assay

On every side, and heat about him round ;

!!ut most that curre, barking with bitter sownd.

And creeping still behinde, doth him incoinber,

1'hat in his chaufi'e he digs the trampled ground.

And threats his horns, and hellowes like the thonder:

So did that squire his foes disperse and drive asonder.

Him well behoved so ; for his three foes
Sought to encompasse him on every side,
And dangerously did round about enclose :
But, most of all, Defetto him annoyde.
Creeping behinde him still to have destroyde ;
So did Decetto eke him circumvent;
But bloui J^espetto in his greater pryde
]Jid front him, face to face against him bent :
Yet he them all withstood, and often made relent.

Till that at length nigh tvrd with former chace,
And weary now with carefull keeping ward,
lie iinn to shrinke and somewhat to give place,
Eull like ere long to have i'>ca])ed hard ;
\Vheiias un wares he in the forrest heard
A trampling steede, that with his neighing fast
Did warne his rider be uppon his gaid ;
With noise whereof the squire, now nigh aghast
Revived was, and sad disjiaire away did cast.

Eftsoones he spide a knight approching nye j

Who, seeing one in so great daunger set

Mongst many foes, himselt (lid laster liye

To reskue iiim, and his weake jiartabet.

For ])itty so to s( e him overset :

^^'llOln soone as his three enemies did vew.

They flfd, and fast into the wood did get :

Him booted not to thinke them to pursew ;

The covert was so thicke, that ilid no passage shew.

Then, turning to that swaine, liim well he knew
To be his limias, his owiie true sipiire ;
Whereof exceedin;; glad, he to him drew,
And, him embracing twixt his amies entire, '
Him thus bes]iake ; " i\ly liefe, my lifes desire.
Why have ye me alone thus long ylefl i
'Jell me what world's despighl, or heavens yre.
Hath you thus long away from me bereft ?
Where have ye all this while bin wandriug, where
bene weit V

With that he sighed <leepe for inward tyne :
To whom the squire nought aunswered againe,
]5u(, shedding few solt teares from tender eyne.
His dear aft'ect with silence did restniine.
And shut up all his plaint in privy paine.
J here they awhile some gracious speeches spent.
As to tliem seem'd fit time to entenaine:
After all which u]) to their steedes they went.
And forth togethei' rode, a comely couplement.

So now they be arrived both in sight
Of this wvld man, whom they full biisie found
About the sad Serena things to dight,
\\ ith those brave an«ours lying on ihe ground,
'Jliat seem'd the spoile of some right well renownd.
Which when that scjuire beheld, he to them stept
Th nking to take them from that hylding hound;
J5ut he it seeing lightly to him lept,
And sternely with strong hand it from his handling
kept.

Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly looke,

And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne.

Him with his fist unwares on th' head he strooke.

That made him downe unto the earth encline ;

Whence soone ui>starting, much he gan repine,

And laying hand upi)oii his wrathfull blade

Thought therevvithail forthwith him to have slaine ;

Who it perceiving hand upon him layd.

And greedily him griping his avengement stayd.

XXVII.

With that aloude the faire Serena cryde

Ihito the kniglit, tliein to «lis{iart in twaine :

Who to them step])iiig did them soone divide.

And did from furtiicr violence rcstraine.

Alhe the wyld man hardly would rel'raine.

1 hen gan the prince of her for to demand

\\ hat and from whence she was; and by what trains

She fell into that salvage villaines hand ;

And whether free with liiin she now were, or in band.

To whom she thus ; " I am, as now ve see,

'J'he wretchedst dame that lives tliis day on ground,

V\ ho both in minde (the which most gricvelh me)

And body have receiv'd a mortall wound,

i'hat hath me driven to this drei y stoiiml.

I was erewhili^ the love of ('ale|iine ;

\\ ho whether he alive be to he found.

Or by some deadlv chaunce he done to pine,

Since J him lately lost, uneath is to define.

Canto V.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

" In salvage forrest I him lost of late,
Where 1 had surely long ere this hene dead,
Or else remained in most wretched state.
Had not this wylde man in that wofull stead
Kept and delivered me from deadly dread.
Ir such a salvage wight, ot brutish kynd,
Amongst wilde beastes in desert forrests bred,
It is most straunge ami woiideriul to fynd
So milde humanity and perfect gentle mynd.

•' Let me therefore this favour for him finde,
'i'hat ye will not your wrath upon h.m wreake,
8ith he cannot expresse his simjile mmde,
Ne yours conceive, ne but by tokens speake:
Small praise to prove your powre on wight so

weake !"
With such faire words she did their hea!e asswage,
\nd the strong course of their disj)leasure breake,
I'hat they to pitty turnd their former rage,
iud each sought to supply the othce of her page.

XXXI.

^o, having all things well about her dight.
She on her way cast forward to jiroceede ;
And they her forth conducted, where they might
Finde harbour fit to comfort her great neede :
For now her wounds corruption gan to breed :
And eke this squire, who likewise wounded was
Of that same monster late, for lacke of heed
Now gan to faint, and further could not pas
Through feeblenesse, which all his limbes oppressed
Las.

So forth they rode together all in troupe

To seeke some place, the which mote yeeld someease

To these sicke tviaine that now began to droupe:

And all the way the j)rince sought to appease

The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease

By all the courteous meanes he could invent ;

Somewhile with merry purpose, fit to please.

And otherwhile with good encouragement.

To make them to endure the pains did them torment.

Mongst which, Serena did to him relate

The foule discourt'sies and imknightly parts.

Which Turpine had unto her shewed hite

Without compassion of her cruell smarts :

Although Blandina did with all her arts

Him otherwise perswade all that she might,

Yet he of malice, without her desarts,

Xot onely her excluded late at night.

But also trayterously did wound her weary knight.

Wherewith the prince sore moved there avoud

That, soone as he returned backe aguine,

He would avenge th' abuses of that ])roud

And shameful knight, of whom she did complaine.

This wize did they each other entertaine

To passe the tedious travell of the way :

1'ill towards night they came unto a plaine.

By which a little hermitage there lav.

Far from all neighbourhood, the whicn aunov it niav.

And nigh thereto a little chappel stoode.
Which being all with yvy overspred
Deckt all the roofe, and, shadowing the roode,
Seem'd like a grove faire braunched over hed:
Therein the hermite, which his life here led
In streight observaunce of religious vow,
Was wont his howres ami holy things to bed ,
And therein he likewise was f)raying now,
Whenas these knights arrived, they wist not where
nor how.

They stayd not there, but streightwav in did p;is:
Whom when the hermite present saw in place.
From his devotion s^treight he troubled was ;
Which breaking oft" he toward theij did pace
\\ ith staved steps and grave beseeming grace :
For well it seem'd that whilome he had beene
Some goodly person, and of gentle rac.
That could his good to all; and well did weene
How each to entertaine with curt'sie well beseene ;

XXXVII.

And soothly it was savd by common fame,
So long as age enabled him thereto,
That he had bene a man of mickle name,
Renowmed much in amies and derring doe :
But being aged now, and weary to
Of vv-arres delight and worlds contentious toyle,
The name of knighthood he did disavow ;
And, hanging up his armes and warlike spoyle.
From all this worlds incombrance did himselfe
assoyle.

XXXVIII.

He thence them led into his hermitage.
Letting their steedes to graze njion the greene
Small was his house, and, like a little cage.
For his owne turne; yet inly neate and clene,
Deckt with greene boughes and flowers gay beseene •
'I herein he them full fare did entertaine
Not with such forged showes, as fitter beene
F(ir courting fooles that curtesies would faine
But with entire affection and appearaunce plaiiie.

XXXIX,

Yet was their fare but homely, such as hee
Did use his feeble body to sustaine ;
The which full gladly they did take in glee.
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine.
But, bjing well sutfiz'd, them rested faine:
But fair Serene all night cuuld take no rest,
Ne yet that gentle squire, for grievous paine
Of their late woundes, the which the blatant beast
Had given them, whose griefe through suffraunce
sore incieast.

So all that night they past in great disease,
Till that the morning, bringing earely light
To guide mens labours, brought them also ease,
And some asswagement of their painefuU plight.
Then up they rose, and gan themselves to dight
Unto their iournev ; but that squire and dame
So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
I Endure to travel!, nor one foote to frame:
1 Their hearts were sicke; their sides were sore; their
' feete were lame.

312

THE FAERIE gUEENE.

[Book VI

Therefore the prince, wliom oreat affaires in mynd
Would not permit to make there leng-er stay,
Was forced there to leave them both behynd
In that good hermits charge, whom he did pray
To tend them well : So forth he went his way,
And with him eke the salvage (that whyleare
Seeing- his royal usage and array
Was greatly growne in love of that brave pere)
Would needes depart ; as shall declared be elsewhere.

CANTO VI.

The hermite lieales both squire and dame

Of their sore maladies :
He Turpine doth defeale and shame

for his late villanies.

No wound, wliich warlike hand of enemy

Inflicts with dint cf sword, so sore doth light

As doth the poysnous sting, which infamy

Infixeth in the name of noble wight :

For, by no art nor any leaches might,

It ever can recnred be againe ;

Ne all tile skill, which that immortall spright

Of Fodalyrius did in it retaine.

Can remedy such hurts; such liurts are hellish paine.

Such were the wounds the which that blatant beast
Made in the bodies of that squire and dame ;
And, being such, were now much more increast
For want of taking heede unto the same,
That now corrupt and curelesse they became :
Howbe that carefull hermite did his best.
With many kindes of medicines meete, to tame
The poysnous humour which did most infest
Their ranckliiig wounds, and every day them duely
drest.

For he right well in leaches craft was seene ;
And, through the long experience of his dayes,
Wliich had in many fortunes tossed beeiie
And past through many perillous assayes.
Ho knew the diverse went of mortall wayes.
And in the miiides of men had great insiglit ;
Wliicli with sage counsell, when they wt-nt astray,
Me could enfornie, and them reduce aright ;
And all the jtussions heale, which wound the weaker
spright.

IV.

For whylome he liad bene a doughty knight.

As any one that lived in his daies.

And ])roved oft in many perillous f.ght.

In which he grace and gh'ry woniie ahvaies.

And in all battels bore away the bales :

iJut being now attacht ^vith timely age.

And weary of this worlds uncjuiet waies,

He tooke liiiiiselfH unto tiiis hermitage,

'u which he liv'd alone, like carelesse bird in cage.

One day, as he was searching of their woaiid
He found that they had festred privily ;
And, ranckling inward with unruly stounds.
The inner parts now gau to putrify,
That quite they seem'd past helpe of surgery;
And rather needed to be disciplinde
^Vitll holesoine reede of sad sobriety,
To rule the stubborne rage of passion blindo :
Give salve to every sore, but coiuaeii to the iniiule.

So, taking them apart into his cell,

He to that point fit speaches gan to frame,

As he the art of words knew wondrous well.

And eke could doe as well as say the same ;

And thus he to them sayd ; " Faire daughter dame.

And you, faire sonne, which here thus long now lie

In piteous languor since ye hither came ;

In value of me ye hope for remedie.

And I likewise in vaine doe salves to you applie •

" For in yourselfe your onely helpe doth lie
To heale yourselve-;, and must proceed alone
From your owne will to cure your maladie.
Who can him cure that will be cur'd of none ?
If therefore health ye seeke, observe this one :
First Icarne your outward senses to refraine
IVom tilings that stirre up fraile affection ;
Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your talk restraine
From that they most affect, and in due tennes con-
taine.

" For from those outward sences, ill affected,
The seede of all this evill first doth spring,
Which at the lirst, before it had infected,
i\loie easio be supprest with little thing :
R'lt, being growen strong, it forth doth bring
Sornj'.v, ami anguish, and impatient paine,
Ii. tir inner jiarts ; and lastly, scattering
Contagio..s ])oyson close through every vaine.
It never rests till it have wrought his fiiiall bone.

Caxto VI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

313

" For that beastes teeth, which wounded you tofore,

Are so exceeding' venemous and keene,

Made all of rusty vron rantkling- sore,

'i'liat, where they bite, it bootetii not to weene

AVitli salve, or antidote, or other niene,

It ever to amend : ne marvaile oui^ht ;

For that same beast was bred of hellisli strene.

And long in darksome stygian den uiibronght.

Begot ot" foule Echidna, as in bookes is taught.

'' Echidna is a monster direfull dred.
Whom guds doe hate, and heavens abhor to see ;
So Indeous is her shape, so huge her lied.
That even the hellish fiends aftVighted bee
At sight thereof, and from her presence flee :
Yet did her face and former parts professe
A faire young mayden, full of comely glee;
But all her hinJer parts did plaine expresse
A monstrous dragon, full of fearful! uglinesse.

"To her the £:ods, for her so dreadfull face,
In fearefull darknesse, furthest from the skie
And from the earth, appointed have her place
Wongst rocks and caves- where she enrold doth lie
In hideous horrour and obscuritv,
W^astiiig the strength of her immortall age :
1 here did Tvphaon with her company ;
Cruel! J'vphaon, whose tempestuous rage
INIakes th' heavens tremble oft, and him with vowes
asswage.

XII.

" Of that commixtion they did then beget

This hellish dog. that hight the blatant bea~t ;

A wicked monster, that his tongue doth whet

Gainst all, both good and bad, both most and least.

And ])ours his jioysnous gal! tbrth to infest

The noblest wights with notable defame :

Ne ever knight that bore so lofty creast,

Ne ever lady of so honest name.

But he them spotted with reproch, or secrete shame.

" In vaine tlierefore it were with medicine

To goe about to salve such kind of sore.

That rather needes wise read and discipline

'I'hen outward salves that may augment it more."

" Aye me!" savd then Serena, sighing sore,

" Wliat hope of lielpe dotli then for us remaine,

If that no salves may us to health restore !"

" liut sith we need good counsell," sayd the swaine,

"Aread, good sire, some counsell thatmay us sustaine."

" The best," sayd he, " that I can you advize,

Is, to avoide th' occasion of the ill :

For wlien the cause, wlienc evil! doth arize,

Kenidved is, th' effect surceasetli still.

Abstaiiie from pleasure, and restraine your will j

Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight;

Use scanted diet, and forbeare your till ;

Shun secresie, and taike in open sight:

So shall you soone repaireyour present evill ])li"ht "

Thus having sayd, his sickely patients
Did gladly hearken to his grave beheast.
And kept so well liis wise commaundiiments.
That in short space their malady was ceast.
And eke the biting of that harmeful! beast
Was througlily heal'd. Tho when they did perceive
Their v^'ounds recur'd, and forces reincreast.
Of that good hermite botli they tooke their leave,
And went both on their way, ne ech would oihtt
leave :

But each the other vow'd t'accompany :

The lady, for that she was much in dred.

Now left alons in g'reat extremity ;

The squire, for tliat he courteous was indeed.

Would not her leave alone in her great netd.

So both together traveld, till they met

With a faire mayden clad in mourning weed.

Upon a mangy iade unnif-etely set,

And a lewd foole her leading thorough dry and wet.

But by what meanes that shame to her befell.
And how thereof herselfe she did acquite,
1 must a while furbeare to you to tell ;
Till that, as comes l)y course, I doe recite
\\ liat fortune to the Briton prince did lite.
Pursuing that proud knight, the which whileare
Wrouglit to Sir Cale[)ine so foule desjiight;
And eke his lady, tliough she sickly were.
So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately heare.

The prince, according to the former token,
\\ Inch fai-e Serena to him delivered had,
Purt.u'd 'jim streight ; in mynd to bene ywroken
Of all the vile deineane ancLusage bad,
With wliich he had those two so ill hestad :
Ne wight with him on that a<lventure went.
But that wylde man ; whom though he oft forbad,
Yet for no bidding, nor for being shent,
Would he restrained be from his attendemeut.

Arriving there, as did by chaunce befall.
He found the gate wyde ope, an' I in he rode,
Ne stayd, til! that he came into the hall ;
Where soft dismounting, like a weary lode,
Upon the ground with feeble feete he trode,
As he unable were for very neede
To move one foote, but there must make abode;
The whyles the salvage man did take his steede
And in some stable neare did set him uj) to feed '

Ere long to him a homely groome there came.
That ill rude wise him asked what he was.
That durst so boldly, without let or shame
Into his lords forbidden hall to j)asse :
To whom the prince, him fayning to erabase,
IMylde answer made, he was an errant knight.
The wliicli was fall'n into this feeble case
Ihr.iugh many wounds, which lately he in tight
lleceived had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.

514

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Boon VJ

Rut lie, tlie more oiitrngeous and bold

Sternelv (lid bid bim qiiiekelv thence avaiint,

Or deiire iibv ; for why 1 bis lord of old

Dill li-.ife all errant knights \vbich there did haunt,

JVe lodj^iiit;- would to any of them nraunt ;

And therefore lightly bad bim packs away,

N^it sjiaring him with bitter words to taunt ;

And tiierewitball rude band on bim did lay,

To thrust him out of dore doing bis worst assay.

\\ liicb when the salvage comming now in place

lieheld, eftsoones he all enraged grew.

And, running streight upon that villaine base.

Like a fell lion at lum fiercely Hew,

And with his teeth ai.d nailes, in present vew,

llim rudely rent and all to peeces tore ;

So miserably bim all belpelesse slew,

'J'hat with the noise, whilest be did loudly rore,

The people of the house rose forth in great uprore.

Who when on ground thev saw their fellow slaine.

And that same knight and salvage standing bv,

I'jion them two they fell w!tb might and maine

And on them lavd so huue and horribly,

As if they would have sbune them presently :

15ut the bold ]irince defended bim so well,

And their assault withstood so mightily,

'I'hat, niaugre all their might, he did repell [fell.

And beat them back, whilst many underneath him

Vet he thetn still so sharpely did pursew.
That few of them be left alive, which fled,
Those evill tidings to their lord to shew :
Wlio, bearing how bis people badly sjied,
Came forth in bast ; where whenas with the dead
fie saw the ground all strow'd, and that same knight
And salvage with their bloud fresh steeming red.
He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell despigbt.
And with reproachful! words bim thus bespake on
bight ;

" Art thou be, traytor, that with treason vile

Hast slaine my men in this unmanly maner,

And now trium]ilii'st in the jiiteous spoile

Of these ](()ore f ilk, whose soules with black dishonji

And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner?

The meede whereof .shall shortly be thy shame.

And wretched end which still attendeth on her."

A\ iib that hiniselfe to battell he did frame;

So did his forty yeomen, which there with bim came.

Willi dreadfull force they all did bim assaile,
And round about with bovstrous strokes 0])presse,
'I hat on his shield did rattle like to haile
In a ereat tempest ; that in such disiresse
Jle wist not to whidi side him to aildresse:
And evermore that craven cowherd knight
\\ as at bis backe with beartlesse beedinesse,
Wayting if be unwares biin murtiier might :
Eor cowardize doth still ia villany delight.

Whereof whenas the prince was well aware.

He to him turnd with furious intent,

And bim against his powre gan to prepare ;

Like a fierce bull, that being husie bent

To fight with many foes about him inent,

Feeling some ciirre behinde bis heeles to bite,

Turtles bim about with fell avengiiment :

So likewise turnde the prince upon the kiiigbt.

And layd at him ainaine with all bis will and mighU

XXVIII.

Who, when be once bis dreadfull strokes bad tasted,

Durst not the furie of his force abvde.

But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him basted [ ' de •

Through the thick ])rease, there thinking him ta

But, when the jirince had once him plainely eyde.

He foot by foot him followed alway,

Ne would bim suffer once to sbrinke asyde ;

15ut, ioyning close, huge lode at bim did lay ;

Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.

But, when bis foe he still so eger saw.

Unto bis heeles bimselfe be did betake,

Ho])ing' unto some refuge to withdraw :

Ne would the prince bim ever foot forsake

Whereso he went, but after llim did make.

He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,

Wbylest every ioynt for dread of death did ipiake.

Still looking after him that did bim chase;

I'liat made bim evermore increase his speedie pace.

! At last he up into the chamber came
! Whereas his love was sitting all alone,
Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
'J'liere did the prince bim overtake anone
Crying in vaine to her bim to bemone ;
And with bis sword him on the bead did smyte,
1 bat to the ground he fell in senselesse swone :
Vet, whether thwart or flatly it did lyte.
The tempred Steele did not into bis braynepan byte.

Which when the ladie saw, with great affright

She starting up began to shrieke aloud ;

And, with her garment covering him from sight,

Seem'd under her protection bim to shrond ;

And, falling lowly at bis feet, her bowd

Upon her knee, intreating him for grace.

And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd ;

'J'hat, with the ruth of her so wretched case,

He stayd bis second strooke and did his band abase.

Her weed she then withdrawing did bim discover ;
Who now come to bimselfe yet would not rize,
lUit still (lid lie as dead, and (piake. and quiver.
'J'hat even the prince bis baseness did desnize .
And eke bis dame, bim seeing in such gnize,
(Jan bim recoinfort and from ground to rearo :
Who rising up at last in ghastly a\ ize.
Like troubled ghost, did dreadfully appeare.
As one that had no life him left thiough former feaf

C.Nio VL]

ItiL tAtAUE QUEENE.

315

Whom when the prince so deadly saw dismayd,
lie for .sucli biisenesse shamefully him shent,
And with sharpe words did bitterlv u]ibniyd ;
" Vile cowheard dogue, now doe 1 much repent,
That ever 1 this life unto thee lent,
Whereof thou cavtive so unworthie art,
That both thy love, for lacke of hardinjent,
And eke thvselfe for want of manly hart,
And eke all knights hast shamed with this knightlesse
part.

XXXIV.

" Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,
And crime to crime, by tliis thv cowheard feare :
For first it wrs to thee reproclifull blame,
T' erect this wicked custome, which 1 heare
Gainst errant knights and ladies thou dost reare ;
Whom when thou mayst thou dost of arms despoile,
Or of their upper garment which they weare :
Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with i;uile,
Maintaiae this evil use, thy foes thereby to foile.

" And lastly, in approvance of thy wrong,
To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize
Is greatest shame ; for oft it falles, that strong
And valiant knights doe rashly enterprize
Either for fame, or else for exercize,
A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight ;
Yet have through prowesse and their brave emprize
Gotten great worship in this worldes sight:
For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong then
right.

XXXVI.

" Yet since thy life unto this ladie fayre
I given have, live in rejiroch and scorne !
Ne ever armes ne ever knit;hthood dare
Hence to professe ; for shame is to adorne
With so brave badges one so basely borne ;
But onely breath, sith that 1 did forgive !"
So having from his craven bodie torne
Those goodly armes, he them away did give.
And onely suifred him this wretched life to live.

There whilest he thus was setling things above,
Atweae tiiat ladie myld and recreant knight,
To whom his life he graunled for her love.
He gan bethinlce him in what perilous jdight
He had behynd him left that salvage wight
Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought
By this quite slaine in so unequall figh' :
1 h^refore descending backe in haste he sought
If yet he were alive, or to destruction brought.

XXXVIII.

There he him found environed about
With slaughtred bodies, wjjiih bis liand Iiad slaine;
And laying yet afresh with courage stout
Upon the rest that did alive remaine ;
Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine.
Like scattred sheepe to seeke for safetie.
After he gotten had with busie paine
Some of their weapons which thereby did lie,
With \\ hich he layd about, and made them fast to
flie.

Whom when the ])rince so fellv saw to rage,
Aj)])roaching to him neare, his hand lie s'avd,
And sought, by making signes, him to asswage:
Who them perceiving, streight to him obavd.
As to his lord, and downe his weajions lavd.
As if he long had to his beasts bene travned.
Theme he him brought away, and up coiivavd
Info the chamber, where that dame !\^niaviii d
W ith her unworthy knight, who ill him (_'ulerta\ Led

Whom when the salvage saw from daunger free.

Sitting beside his hidio there at ease.

He well remeir.bred that the same was hee,

Which lately sought his led for to fiisjilease :

'Jho all in rage he on him streight did seize.

As if he would in peeces him have rent ;

And, were not that the prince did him appeaze.

He had not left one linibe of him unrent •

But streight he held his hand at his commaundt-ment.

Thus having all things well in peace ordavned.
The prince himsell'e there ail that nii^ht tlid rest;
^Vhere him Blandina favrely entertavned
With all the courteous glee and goodly feast
The wliich for him she could imagine best:
For well she knew the waves to win good will
Of every wight, that were not too infest ;
And how to please the minds of good and ill.
Through tempering of her words and lookes by won.
drous skill.

Yet were lier words and lookes but false and fayned,
To some hid end to mvike more easie way,
Or to allure such fondlings whom she trayned
Into her trap unto their owne decay :
'J'hereto, when needed, she could weepe and prav.
And when her listed she could fawne and flatter ;
Now smyling smoothly like to sommers day,
Now glooming sadly, so to choke her matter ;
Yet were her words but wynd, and all her tearesbut
water.

Whether such grace were given her by kynd.

As women wont their guilefiill wits to guyde;

Or learnd the art to please, I doe not fynd :

This well I wote, that she so well applyde

Her pleasing tongue, that soon she pacifyde [peace •

The wrathfull prince, aud wrought her husbands

Who nathelesse, not therewith satisfyde,

His rancorous despight did notreleasse,

Ne secretly from thought of fell revenge surceasse:

For all that night, the whyles the prince did rest

In carelesse couch not weeting what was ment,

He watcht in close awayt with weapons prest,

Willing to worke his villenous intent

On him, that had so shamefully him shent:

Yet durst he not for very cowardize

Effect the same, whylesr all the niglit was spent.

The morrow next the prince did early rize,

And passed forth to follow his first enterprize.

916

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book VI.

CANTO VII.

Tnrpine is baffuld ; bis two knights
Doe gaine their treasons meed.

Fayre Wirabellaes punisliment
For loves disdaine decreed.

Lire as the gentle hart itselfe bewraves
In doing gentle deedes with franke cUdight,
Even so the baser mind its-elfe displayes
In cancred malice and revengefuU spight :
for to mnligue, t' envie, t'use shifting slight,
lie arguments of a vile donghiU mind;
Which, what it dare not doe by open might,
'J"o wnrke by wicked treason waves doth find,
By such discourteous deeds discovering his base
kind.

That well appears in this discourteous knight,

The coward 'J'urj)ine, whereof now I treat ;

Wlio notwithstanding that in former fight

lie of tlie prince liis life received late,

Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate

He gan devize to be aveng'd anew

For all that shame, which kindled inward hate:

riierefo'e, so soone as he was out of vew,

Ilimselfe in hast he arm'd, and did him fast pursew.

Well did he tract his steps as he did ryde,

Vet would not neare approch in daungers eye,

IVjt kept aloofe for dread to be descryde,

Untill fit time and place he mote espy,

Where he mote wovke him scath and villenv.

At lust he met two knights to him unknowiie,

The which were armed botli agreeably.

And botii combynd, wliatever chauiice were blowne,

Betwixt them to divide and each to make his owne.

'i'o whom false Turpine comming courteously.

To cloke the mischiefe which lie inly ment,

Gan to conqilaine of great discourtesie,

Which a straunge knight, that neare afore him went.

Had doen to him, and bis deare ladie shent ;

Which if they would afford him ayde at need

For 10 avenge in nine conveiiit-nt,

They should acconi]ili^h hotli a knightly deed,

And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.

The knights beleev'd that all he sayd was trew ;
And, being fresli and full of youthly spright.
Were glad to lieare of that adventure new,
In which they mote make trial! of their might
Wliich never yet they had a])])rov'd in fight,
And eke desirous of the oflred meed :
Said lliin the one of them ; " Where is that wight,
'J'he which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed,
Ihat we may it avenge, and j;unis!ihiin with speed?"

' He rides," said Turpine, " there not farre afbre^
With a wyld man s jft footing by his syde ;
That, if ye list to haste a litle more.
Ye may him overtake in timely tyde."
Eftsoones they pricked forth with forward pride ;
And, ere that litle while they ridden had,
The gentle prince not farre away they spyde,
Ryding a softly pace with jiortance sad,
Devizino- of his love more then of daunger drad.

Then one of them aloud unto him cryde.
Bidding him turne againe ; " False traytour kniglit,
Foule woman-wronger!" — for lie him defyde.
U itl) that they b«th at once with equall spight
Did bend their speares, and both with etpjall might
Against him ran ; but th' one did misse iiis marke.
And being carried with his force forthright
Glaunst swiftly bv ; like to tliat heavenly sparke.
Which gluling through tlie ayre lights all the hea-
vens darke.

Rut th' otlier, ayming betttr, did him smite

Full in the shield with so impetuous powre,

Tliat all his launce in peeces shivered (piite,

And scatiered all about fell on the flowre :

But tlie stout prince with much more steddy stowre

Full oil his bever did him strike so sore,

That tlie cold Steele through jiiercing did devowre

His vitall breath, and to the "round him bore,

W here still he bathed lay in his own bloody gore.

yAs when a cast of faukons make their flight
'^At an berneshaw, that lyes aloft on wing,
'J he whylesthey strike at him with heedlesse might,
The warie foule his bill doth backward wring;
On which the first, whose force her first doth bring,
Herselfe (|uite through the bodie doth engore,
And falleth duwne to ground like senselesse thing;
But tir other, not so svvilt as she before,
Fayles of her souse, and passing by doth hurt no
more.

By this the otlier, which was passed by,
Ilimselfe recovering, was return'd to fight;
Where when he saw his fellow lifelesse ly.
He much was daunted with so dismal sight;
Vet, nought abating of his former spight,
Let drive at him with so inalilious niyiid.
As it he would have passed through him ([uight*
But ihe stecle-bead no stedlast hold could fynd.
But glauncing by deceiv'd him of that he desyud.

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

317

Not so the jirince ; for Ijis well-learned speare
'/'ooke surer hould, and from liis horses hacke
Above a launces lenjith liim forth did heare,
And gainst the cold hard earth so sore him strake,
That all his bones in peeces nioh he brake,
Where seeinp- him so lie, he left his steed,
And, to him leaping, vengeance thought to take
Of him, for all liis former follies meed,
With flaming sword in hand his terror more to breed.

The fearfull swayne beholding death so nie
Cryde out aloud, for mercie, him to save ;
In lieu whereof he would to him descrie
Great treason to him meant, his life to reave.
The prince soone hearkned, and his life forgave.
Then thus said he : " There is a slraunger knight,
The which, for promise of great meed, us drave
To this attempt, to wreake his hid des))ight.
For that bimselfe thereto did want sufficient might."

The prince much mused at such villenie, [meed ;
And sayd : " Now sure ye well have earn'd your
For fh' one is dead, and th' other soone shall die,
Unlesse to me thou hither bring with speed
The wretch that hyr'd vou to this wicked deed."
He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake
The guilt on him which did this mischiefe breed.
Swore by his sword, that neither day nor weeke
He would surceasse, but him whereso he were would
seeke.

So up he rose, and forth streightway he went

Backe to the place where Turpine late he lore ;

There he him found in great astonishment.

To see him so bedight with bloodie gore

And griesly wounds, that him appalled sore.

Yet thus at length he said ; " How now, sir knight,

What meaneth this which here I see before '.'

How fortuneth this foule uncomely plight.

So different from that which earstye seem'd in sight?"'

" Perdie," said he, " in evill houre it fell,
'i'hat ever I for meed did undertake
So bard a taske as life for hvre to sell ;
The which I earst adventur'd for your s-ake ;
\Vitnesse the wounds, and this wide bloudie lake,
Which ye may see yet all about me steeme.
Therefore now veeld, as yc did promise make,
Mv due reward, the which right well I deeme
I yearned have, that life so dearely did redeeme."

" I?ut where then is," quoth he halfe wrofhfully,
' U here is the bootie, which therefore I bought.
That cursed caytive, my strong enemy.
That recreant knight, whose hated life I sought ?
And where is eke your friend which halfe it ought'!"
" He lyes," said he, " upon the cold bare ground,
Slavne of that errant knight with whom he fought ;
Whom afterwards myselfe with many a wound
Did slay agame, as ye may see there in the stound."

Thereof false Turpin was full glad and faine,

And needs with him streight to the place would ryd '

Where he himselfe might see his foeman slaine ;

For else his feare could not be satisfyde.

So, as they rode, he saw the way all dyde

With streames of bloud ; which tractin^- by thetraile,

Ere long thev came, whenas in evill tyde

That other swayne, like ashes deadly pale.

Lay in the lap of death, rewing his wretched bale

Much did the craven seeme to mone his case,
That for his sake his deare life had forgone ;
And, him bewayling with affection base.
Did counterfeit kind pittie where was none :
For where's no courage, there's no ruth nor mone.
Thence passing forth, not farre away he found
Whereas the prince himselfe lay all alone,
Loosely displayd upon the grassie ground.
Possessed of sweete sleepe that luld him soft in
swound.

Wearie of travell in his former fight,

He there in shade himselfe had layd to rest.

Having his armes and warlike things undight,

Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace molest ;

The whyles his salvage page, that wont be prest.

Was wandred in the wood another way.

To doe some thing, that seemed to him best ;

'J'he whiles his lord in silver slomber lay.

Like to the evening starre adorn'd with deawy ray.

^^'hom whenas Turpin saw so loosely layd.
He weened well that he indeed was dead.
Like as that other knight to him had sayd :
But, when he nigh approcht, he mote aread
Plaine signes in him of lifn and livelihead.
Wlierer.t much gviev'd against that straunger knight.
That him too light of credence did mislead,
He would have backe retyred from that sight,
'J'hat was to him on earth the deadliest despight.

But that same knight would not once let him start:

]5ut plainely gan to him declare the case

Of all his mischiefe and late lucklesse smart ;

How both he and his fellow there in place

Were vanijuished, and put to foule disgrace ;

And how thiit he, in lieu of life him lent,

Had vnw'd unto the victor, him to trace

And follow through the world whei-eso he went.

Till that he him delivered to his punishment.

He, therewith much abashed and affrayd
Began to tremble every limbe and vaine ;
And, softly whispering him, entyrely prayd
T' advize him better then by such a traine
Him to betray unto a straunger swaine;
Yet rather coiinseld him contrarywize,
Sitli he hkewise did wrong by him sustaine.
To ioyne with him and vengeance to devize,
Whyiest time did offer meanes him sleeping to sur-
prize.

S18

THE FAERIE QUEEXE,

Natbelesse, for all his speach, the gentle kniyht

Would not be tempted to such villenie,

lies4-,irding more his faith which Ije did plight,

All were it to his niortall eiiemie,

Tiieii to eiilrap him bv false treacherie :

(Jreat shame lu lieges blood to be embrew'd !

i iius whylest they were debating diverslie,

I'lie salvage forth out of the wood issew'd

|-la(jketo the place, whereas hisloidhe sleeping vew'd.

There when he saw those two so neare him stand.
He doubted much what mote their meaning bee ;
And, throwing downe his load out of his hand,
C To weet, great store of forrest frute which hee
Had for his food late gathered from the tree,)
Hiniselfe unto his weapon he betooke,
'I'hat was an oaken plant, which lately hee
Rent by the root ; wiiich he so sternly shooke,
That like an hazell wand it quivered and quooke.

Whereat the prince awaking, wlien he spyde
The traytour Turpin with that other knight.
He started up ; and snatching neare his syde
His trustie sword, the servant of his might,
Like a fell lyon leaped to him light.
And iiis left hand upon his collar layd.
Therewith the cowheard, deaded with affright.
Fell flat to ground, ne word unto him sayd.
But, holding up his hands, with silence mercie prayd.

But he so full of indignation was.
That to his prayer nought he would incline,
But, as he lay upon the humbled gras.
His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe
Of servile yoke, that nobler harts repine.
Then, letting him arise like abiect thrall.
He gan to him obiect his havnous crime.
And to revile, and rate, and recreant call.
And lastl)' to despo^de of knightly bannerall.

And after all, for greater infainie,

He bv the heeles liim liung upon a tree.

And baffuld so, that all which [>a5ised by

1"he picture of his punishment might see.

And by the like ensainple warned bee.

However they throu>^h treason doe trespasse.

But tnrne we now backe to that ladie iiee,

Whom late we left rydirig upon an asse.

Led by a carle and foole which by her side did passe.

xxvin.

Slie was a ladie of great dignitie.
And lilted uji to honorabh^ j)lace.
Famous through all the land of Fatirie :
Though of ineane parentage and kindred base,
Yet deckt ^^■ith wondrous giftes of natures grace,
That all men did her person much admire,
Aiul jiraise the feature of her goodly face ;
'1 he lieaines whereof did kindle iovelv fire
In th' harts of many a knight, and many a gentle
s'luire :

But she tliereof grew proud and insolent.

That none she worthie thought to bs her fere.

But scornd them all that love unto her ment ;

Yet was she lov'd of many a worthy pere :

Unworthy she to be belov'd so dere,

That could not weigh of worthinesse aright :

For beautie is more glorious bright and clere.

The more it is admir'd of many a wight,

And noblest she that served is of noblest kni"ht.

XXX.

But this coy damzell thought contrariwize,

I'hat such pioud looks w mid make her praysed more;

And that, the more she did all love despize.

The more would wretched lovers her adore.

W hat cared she who sighed for lier sore.

Or who did wayle or watch the wearie night?

Let them that list their lucklesse lot deplore ;

She was borne free, not bound to any wight.

And so would ever live, and love her own delight.

Through such her stubborne stifnesse and hard hart,
INlany a wretch for want of remedie
Did languish long in life-consuming smart,
And at the last through dreary dolour die :
Whylest she, the ladie of her libertie.
Did boast her beautie had such soveraine might.
That with the onely twincklo of her eye
The could or save oi' spill whom she would bight :
\\ hat could the gods doe more, but doe it more
arisiht .' '

Butloe ! the gods, tliat mortall follies vew,

Did worthily revenge this maydens pride ;

And, nought regarding her so goodly hew,

Did laugh at her that many did deride,

Wildest she did weepe, ot no man mercifide :

For on a day, when Cupid kept his court,

As he is wont at each 8aint V'aleiiti'.le,

Unto the whicii all lovers doe resort, [rejiort ;

'I'hat of their loves succe.-'Se they there may make

It fortun'd then, that when the roules were red,

In which the names of all Loves foike were fyled.

That many there were mi^sing ; which were ded,

Or kept in bands, or from their loves exyled,

Or by some other violence despoyled.

Whicli vvhenas Cupid heard, he wexed wroth ;

And, doubling to be wronged or beguyled.

He bad his eyes to be unblindfold bcjtli.

That he might see his men, and muster them by otlu

Then found he many missing of his crew.
Which wont doe suit and service to his might ;
Of whom what was becomen no man knew.
Therefore a iurie was imjianeld streight
T' eiupiire of them, whether by force or sleight.
Or their owne guilt, they were away convayd :
'J'o whom foule Iniainie and fell Dei^jiii^ht
(jave evidence, that they were all betrayd
And murdied cruelly by a rebellious maytl.

:anto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

;i9

Fayre iMirnbella was Iier name, whereby
Of all tliose crymes she thsre indited was :
All which when Cupid heard, he by and by
In great displeasure wil'd a capias
Should issue forth t'attacli that scornefull lasse.
The warrant straiglit was made, and therewithal!
A bavlieffe errant fortli in post did passe,
Whom thev by name tliere Porlamore did call ;
He which doth summon lovers to Loves iudgeraent
hall.

The damzell was attacht, and shortly brought
Unto the barre wherrus she was arrayned :
liut she thereto nould plead, nor answere ought,
Even for stubborne pride, which her restrayned :
So iudgement past, as is by law ordayned
In cases like ; whicli, when at last she saw,
Her stubborne hart, which love before disdavned,
Gan stuu[)e ; and, falling- downe with humble awe,
Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.

The Sonne of Venus, who is myld bv kvnd,

But where he is provokt witl) pee\ishnesse.

Unto her prayers piteously enclynd,

And did the rigour of his doome represse ;

Yet not so freely, but that nathelesse

He u]ito her a penance did impose.

Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildernes

She wander should in companie of those.

Till she had sav'd so many loves as she did lose.

XSXVIII.

So now she had bene wandring two whole yeares
Throughout the world, in this uncomely case,
Wasting lier goodly hew in heavie teares.
And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace ;
Yet iiad she not in all these two yeares space
Saved but two ; yet in two yeares before,
'i'lirough her dispiteous pride, whilest love lackt place.
She had detroyed two and twentv more.
Aie me, how could her love make halfe amends there-
fore !

And now she was uppon the weary wav,
Whenas the gentle sijuire, with faire Serene,
.Met her in such misseeming foule »rray ;
1 he whiles that mighty man did her demeane
With all the evill termes and cruell meane
That he could make ; and eeke that angry foole
Wliich follow'd her, with cursed hands uncleane
^\'ll pping her horse, did with his smarting toole
Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much augment lier
doole.

For he was sterne and terrible bv nature,

And eeke of person huge yjid liideous.

Exceeding much the measure of man's slature.

And rather like a gyant monstruous :

For sooth ht) was descended of the hous

Of those old gvants, whicli did warres darraine

Against the heaven in order battailous ;

And sib to great Orgolio, which was slaine

By Arthure, whenas Unas knight he did maintaine.

His lookes were dreadfull, and his fierv eies.

Like two great beacons, glared bright and wyde,

Glauncing askew, as if his enemies

He scorned in his overweening pryde ;

And stalking stately, like a crane, did stryde,
I At every step uppon the tij)toes hie ;

And, all the way he went, on every syde
I He gazed about and stared horriblie,

As if he with his lookes would 'ill men terrifie.

He wore no armour, ne for none did care.

As no whit dreading any living wight ;

But in a iacket, quilted richly rare

Upon checklaton, he was siraungely digbt;

And on his head a roll of linnen plight,

Like to the IMores of IMalaber, he vv-ore,

\Vitli which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night.

Were bound about, and vovded fnim before ;

And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.

This was Disdaine, who led that ladies horse
Through thick and thin, through mountains and

through |ilains.
Compelling her, where she would not, by force.
Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines :
But that same foole, which most increast her paiiies.
Was Scorne ; who, having in his hand a whip.
Her therewith yirks ; and still, when she comj)la'mes.
The more he huighes, and does her closely (|uip,
To see her sore lament, and bite her tender lip.

XLV.

^Vhose cruell handling when that squire beheld,

And saw those villaines her sovildely use.

His gentle heart with indignation sweld,

And could no lenger beare so great abuse

As such a lady so to beate and bruse ;

But, to him stepping, such a stroke him hjnt.

That forst him th' halter from his hand to loo^e,

And, maugre all his might, bucke to relent :

Else had he surely there bene slaine, or fowlv sheiit.

Ne ought it mote availe her to entreat

The one or th' other better her to use ;

For both so wilfull were and obstinate

That all her piteous plaint they did refuse,

And rather did the more her beate and bruse:

i!ut most the former villaine, which did lead

U^T tvreling iade, was bent her to abuse ;

Who, though she were with wearinesse nigh dead

Vet would not let her lite, nor rest a little'stead • '

The villaine, wroth for greeting him so sore.
Gathered himselfe together soone againe,
And with his yron batton which he bore
Let drive at him so dreadfully amaine,
That for his safety he did him consiraine
To give him ground, and shift to every side,
Rather than once his biinleii to sustaine :
For bootlesse thing liim seemed to abirle
So mighty blowes, or prove the puissaunce of bis
pride.

320

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[BccK V7

XtVII.

Like ns a mastiffe liavint:; at a bay

A sah'a2;e bull, wliose criipll hornet doe threat

Desperate dnuiigpr, if lie tlieni assay,

Traceth liis ground, and round about doth beat,

To sjiv where he may some advantaj;e get,

The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly rire;

So did the squire, the whiles the carle did fret

And fume in his disdninefuU niynd the more,

And oftentimes by 'J'urmagant and .Mahound swore.

Nathelesse so sharpely srill he him pursewd,

That at advantage liim at last he tooke.

When his foote slipt, Cthat slip he dearely rewd,)

And with his yron club to ground him strooke ;

Where still he lay, ne out of swoune awooke,

Till heavy hand the carle upon him layd.

And bound him fast : tho when he up did looke

And saw himselfe captfv'd, he was dismayd,

Ne povvre had to withstand, ne hope of any ayd.

Then up he made him rise, and forward fare.
Led iu a rcjie which both his hands did byndj
Ne ought that foule for pittv did him sjiare,
But with his whip him following- l)ehvnd
Ilim often scourg'd, and forst his feete to fynd :
And otherwhiles with bitter mockes and mowes
lie would him scorne, that to his gentle mynd
Was much more grievous then the other blowes :
Words sharpely wound, but greatest griefe of scorn
ing growes.

The faire Serena, when she saw him fall
Under that villaines club, then surelv thonglit
'J'hat slaine he was, or made a wretched thrall,
And fled away with all the speede she mought
To seeke for safety ; which long time she sought,
Asd past through many perils by the way,
Ere slie againe to Calepine was brought :
The which discourse as now I must delay,
Till jMirabellaes fortunes I doe further say.

CANTO VIIL

Prince Arthure overcomes Disdaine ,
Quites Mirabell from dreed :

Serena, found of salvages.
By Calepine is freed.

Ye gentle ladies, in whose soveraine powre

Love iiath the glory of his kingdome left.

And th' hearts of men, as your eternal dowre.

In yron chaines, of liberty bereft.

Delivered hath unto your hands by gift ;

Be well aware how ye the same doe use,

That pride doe not to tyranny you lift;

Least, if men you of cruelty accuse,

He from you take that chiefedome which ye doe abuse.

And as ve soft and tender are by kynde,

Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties grace.

So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde ;

But cruelty and hardnesse from you chace,

That all your other praises will deface.

And from you turne the love of men to hate :

Ensam])le take of INlirabellaes case.

Who from the high degree of lia])py state

Fell into wretched woes, which she repented late.

\Vho after thraldome of the gentle stpiire.

Which she beheld with lamentable eye.

Was touched with comj)assion entire.

And much lamented his calamity,

Tliat for her sake fell into misery ;

Whi^'h booted nought for jirayers nor for threat

To hope for to release or mollify ;

For aye the more that she did them entreat.

The more thfy him misust, and cruelly did beat.

So as they forward on their way did pas,

Him still reviling and afflicting sore.

They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias,

(That was that courteous knight, whom he before

Having subdew'd yet did to life restore ;)

To whom as they approcht, thev gan augment

Their cruelty, and him to punish more,

Scourging and haling him more vehement ;

As if it them should grieve to see his punishment.

The squire himselfe, whenas he saw his lord

The witnessp of his wretchednesse in place.

Was much asham'd that with an hempen cord

He like a dog was led in captive case,

And did his head for bashfulnesse abase.

As loth to see or to be seene at all ;

Shame would be hid ; but whenas Enias

Beheld two such, of two such villaines thrall.

His manly mj-nde was much emmoved therewithallj

And to the prince thus sayd ; " See you, sir knight,

The greatest shame that ever eye yet saw,

Yond lady and her squire with foOle despight

Abusde, against all reason and all law,

\\ ithout regard of pitty or of awe !

Seel how they doe that squire heat and revile!

See ! how they doe the lady hale and draw !

J3ut, if ye please to lend me leave awhile,

I will tiiem sooneacquite, and both of blame assoile."

Canto VI 1 1.1

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

331

The prince assented ; and tlien he, streigbtway
Dismounting ligl't, ''is shield about him threw,
With which approaching- thus he gan to say ;
" Abide ye caytive treachetours untrew,
That have with treason thralled unto you
These two, unworthy of your wretched bands ;
And now your crime with cruelty ])ursew :
Abide, and from them lay your loatblv hands ;
Or else abide the death that hard before you stands.'

The villaine stayd not aunswere to invent ;
But, with his yron club preparing way,
His mindes sad message backe unto him sent ;
The which descended with such dreadfull sway.
That seemed nought the course thereof could stay,
No more then lightening from the lofty sky :
Ne list the knight the powre thereof assay.
Whose doome was death ; but, lightly slipping by,
Ua wares defrauded his intended destiny :

And, to requite him with the like againe.
With his sharpe sword he fiercely at him flew.
And strooke so strongly, that the carle with paine
Saved himselfe but that he there him slew ;
Yet sav'd not so, but that the blood it drew.
And gave his foe good hope of victory :
W'ho, therewith flesht, upon him set anew,
And with the second stroke thought certainely
To have supplyde the first, and paide the usury.

But fortune aunswerd not unto his call ;

For, as his hand was heaved up on bight.

The villaine met him in the middle fail.

And with his club bet backe his brond-yron brioht

So forcibly, that with his owne hands might

Rebeaten backe upon himselfe againe

He driven was to ground in selfe despight;

From whence ere he recovery could gaine.

He in Lis necke had set his foote with fell disdaine.

With that the foole, which did that end awayte.
Came runrung in ; and, whilest on ground he lay,
Laide beavie hands on him and held so strayte,
Thatdowne he kept him with his scornefuU swav.
So as he could not weld him any way :
The whiles that other villaine went about
Him to have bound and thrald without delay ;
The whiles the foole did him revile and fiou't,
Threatning to yoke them two and tame their corage
stout.

As when a sturdy ploughman with his hynde
]'>y strength have overthrowne a stubborne steare,
'J'hey doi\ ne him hold, and fast with cords do bynde.
Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare :
*o did these two this knight oft tug and teare.
\\ hich when the prince beheld, there standing by,
He left his lofty sfeede to aide him neare ;
And, buckling soone himselfe, gan fiercely fly
I ^>on that carle, to save his friend from ieopardy.

The villaine, leaving him unto his mate

To be captiv'd and handled as he list,

Himselfe addrest unto tljis new debate.

And with his club him all about so blist,

'I'hat he which way to turne him scarcely wist :

Sometimes aloft he lavd, sometimes alow,

Nov/ here, now there, and oft him neare he mist ,

So doubtfully, that hardly one could know

Whether more wary were to give or ward the blow

But yet the prince so well enured was

W ith such huge strokes, approved oft in fight.

That way to tliem he gave lurtli right to pas;

Ne would endure the daunger of their might.

But wayt advantage when they downe did light.

At last the caytive after long discourse,

When all his strokes he saw avoyded quite.

Resolved in one t' assemble all his force.

And make one end of him without ruth or remorse.

His dreadfull band he heaved up aloft.

And with his dreadfull instrument of vre

Thought sure have pownded him to powder soft.

Or defipe emboweld in the earth entyre ;

]5ut fortune did not with his will coiispire :

For, ere his stroke attayned his intent.

The noble childe, preventing his desire.

Under his club with wary boldnesse went.

And smoJe him on the knee that never yet was bent.

It never yet was bent, ne bent it now,

Albe the stroke so strong and puissant were.

That seem'd a marble pillour it could bow ;

But all that leg, which did his bodv beare.

It crackt throughout, (yet did no bloud appeare,)

So as it was unable to support

So huge a burden on such broken geare,

But fell to ground like to a lumpe of durt ;

Whence he assayed to rise, but could not for his huru

Eftsoones the prince to him full nimbly stept
And, least he should recover foote againe.
His head meant from his shoulders to have swept:
Which when the lady saw, she cryde amaine ;
" Stay, stay, sir knight, for love of God abstaine
From that un wares ye weetlesse doe intend;
Slay not that carle, though wcrthy to be slaine ;
For more on him doth then himselfe depend;
My life will by his death have lamentable end."

He sfaide his hand according her desire,
Yet natheinore him suftred to arize ;
But, still suppressing, gan of her inquire,
What meanuig mote those uncouth words comprizp.
That in that villaines health her safety lies ;
That v.-ere no might in man, nor heart in knights.
Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize :
\ et heavens themselves, that favour feeble rights,
Would for itselfe redresse, and punish such de-
spights.

322

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book

Then bursting forth in teares, whicli gushed fast

Like many water-streams, awliile she stayd ;

'J'ill the sliarpe passion being overpast,

Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd ;

" Nor heavens, nor men, can me most wretched mayd

Deliv'er from the doome of my desart,

'J'he -wliifh the god of love hath on me layd,

And damned to endure tliis direfull smart.

For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.

" In ])rime of youthly yeares, wlien first the flowre
Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosnie delight;
And nature me endu'd witli plenteous dowre
Of all her gifts, that pleasde each living sight ;
I was belov'd of many a gentle knight,
And sude and sought with all the service dew :
Full many a one for me deepe groand and sigh't,
And to the dore of dea'h for sorrow drew,
Complayning out on me that would not on them rew.

" But let them love that list, or live or die ;
]Me list not die for any lovers doole :
Xe list me leave my loved libertie
To pitty him that list to play the foole :
To love myself I learned had in scLoole.
Thus I triimiphed long in lovers paine,
And, sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,
Did laugh at those that did lament and plains :
But all is now repayd with interest againe.

" For loe ! the winged god, that woundeth harts,
Causde me be called to accompt therefore ;
And for revengement of those wrongfuU smarts,
Wljich I to others did inflict afore,
Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce sore ;
Tliat in this wize, and this unmeete array.
With these two lewd companions, and no more,
Disdaiiie and Scorne, 1 through the world should

stray.
Till I have sav'd so many as I earst did slay."

XXIII.

" Certes," sayd then the prince, " the god is iust,
That laketh vengeaunce of his peojiles spoile :
For were no law in love, but all that lust
Might them 0})presse, and ])airiefully turrnoile,
His kingdome would continue but a while.
But tell me, lady, wherefore doe vou beare
This bottle thus before you ■w'nh such toile,
And ecke this wallet at your backe arreare,
Ihat for these carles to carry much more comely
were 1"

" Hero in this bottle," sayd the sory mayd,
" 1 put the tears of my contrition.
Till to the brim I have it full defniyd:
Ai;d in this bag, whicli I belnnde me don,
I put rep.entaunce for things jiast and gon.
Vft is the bottle leake, and bag so lorne,
That all which I put in fals out anon,
And is lieliindo me trodden downe of Scorne,
Who mockelh all my paine, and laughs the more I
mourn."

The infant hearkned wiselv to her tale.

And wondred much at Cupids iudg'ment wise,

That could so meekly make proud hearts avale,

And wreake himselfe on them that him desjjise.

Then suftVed he Disdaine up to arise,

Who was not able up himselfe to reare,

By meanes his leg, through his late lucklesse prise.

Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare

Was holpen up, who him supported standing neare.

But being up he lookt againe aloft,

As if he never had received fall ;

And with Sterne eye-brows stared at him oft.

As if he would have daunted him withall :

And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,

Downe on his golden feete he oi'ten gazed,

As if such jiride the other could npall ;

^Vho was so far from being ought amazed.

That he his lookes despised, and his boast dispraized.

Then turning backe unto that captive thrall.

Who all this while stood there beside them bound.

Unwilling to be knowne or seene at all.

He from those bands weend him to iiave unwound ;

But when approaching neare he plainelv found

It was his owne true groome, the gentle squire,

He thereat wext exceedingly astound.

And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,

Ne could with seeing satisfie his arreat desire.

XX VIII.

]\reane while the salvage man, when he beheld
'J'liat huge great foole oj)pressing th' other knight.
Whom with his weight unweldv downe he held,
He flew upon him like a greedy kight
Unto some carrion offered to his sight ;
And. downe him plui king, with his navies and teeth
Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite ;
And, from him taking his owne whip, therewith
So sore him scourgeth that the bloud downe
iblloweth.

And sure I weene, had not tlie ladies cry
Procur'd the ]!rince his cruell hand to stay,
He would with whipping him have done to dye :
But, being checkt, he did abstaine streightway
And let him rise. Then thus the prince gan say ;
" Now, lady, sith your fortunes thus dispose,
That, if ye list have liberty, ye may;
Unto yourselfe 1 freely leave to chose.
Whether I shall you leave, or from these villaines
lose."

XXX.

" Ah ! nay, sir knight," said she, '" it may not be,

Piut that I needes must by all m(>ane3 fulfill

'J'his penaunce, which enioyned is to me.

Least unto me betide a greater ill :

Yet no lesse thankes to you for your good will."

So humbly taking leave she turnd aside :

But Arthure with the rest went onward still

On his first ()uest, in which did him betide

A great adventure, which did him from them devide.

Canto VIIL]

Till-; lAKHIi; gl'KKNK

3?3

But first it falleth me by course to tell

Ot' faire St^rena ; who, as earst vou heard,

\Vheii first the gentle squire at variaunce fell

With those two carles, fled fost away, afeard

Of villany to be to her inferd :

So fresh the image of her former dread.

Vet dwelling- in her eye, to her appeard,

'J'hat every foote did tremble which did tread,

And every body two, and two she foure did read.

XXXII.

Tiirough hils and dales, through bushes and through

breres.
Long- thus she fled, till that at last she thought
Herselfe now past the perill of her feares :
Then looking round about, and seeing- nought
Which doubt of daunger to her offer mouglit,
She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine ;
And, sitting- downe, herselfe awhile hethought
Of her long travell and turmoyling paiue ;
And often did of love, and oft of lucke, complaine.

XXXIII.

And evermore she blamed Calepiue,

7"he good Sir Calepine, her owne true knight.

As til' onely author of her wofuU tine ;

For being of his love to her so light.

As her to leave in such a piteous plight •

Yet never turtle truer to his make.

Then he was tride unto his lady bright :

Who all this while endured for her sake

Great perill of his life, and lestlesse paines did take.

Tho whenas all her plaints she had displayd,
And well disburdened her engrieved brest
Upon the grasse herselfe adowne she layd ;
Where, being tyrde with travell, and opprest
With sorrow, she betooke herselfe to rest:
There whitest in Blorpheus bosome safe she lay
Fearelesse of ought that mote her peace molest,
False fortune did her safety betray
L'uto a strange mischaunce, that menac'd her decay.

In these wylde deserts, where she now abode,

There (iwelt a salvage nation, which did live

Of stealth- and spoile, and making nightly rode

Into their neighbours borders ; ne did give

Themselves to any trade, (as for to drive

The painefull plough, or cattell lor to breed.

Or by adventrous merchandize to thrive,)

But on the labours of poor men to feed,

And serve their owne necessities with otners need.

XXXVI.

Thereto they usde one most accursed order.

To eate the flesh of men, whom they mote f'ynde,

And straungers to devoure, which on their border

Were brought bv errour or by wreckfull wynde :

A monstrous cruelty gainst course of kynde

They, towards evening wandering every way

Vo seeke for booty, came by fortune blynde

U'hereas this lady, like a sheepe astray,

.>io\T drowned in the depth of sleepe all fearlesse lay.

Soone as ihey spide her, lord ! what gladfull glee

I'hev made amongst themselves ! but when her face

Like the faire yvory shining they did see

Each gan his fellow solace and embrace

For ioy of such good hap by heavenly grace

Tlieu gan they to devize what course to take;

Whether to slay her there upon the place,

Or suffer her out of her sleepe to wake.

And then her eate attonce, or many meales to make

xxxyiii.

The best advizement was, of bad, to let her

Sleepe out her fill without encomberment ;

For sleepe, they sayd, would make herbattill better*

Then, when she wakt, they all gave one consent

That, since by grace of God she there was sent,

Unto their god they would her sacrifize,

^\'hose .'•hare, her guiltlesse bloud they would present

But of her dainty flesh they did devize

To man.e a common feast, and feed with gurmandize.

So round about her they themselves did place
Upon the grasse, and diversely dispose.
As each thought best to spend the lingring space :
Some with their eyes the daintest morsels chose ;
Some praise her paps ; some praise her lips and nose;
Some wliet their knives, and strip their elboes bare .
The priest himselfe a garland doth compose
Of finest flowers, and with full busie care
His bloudy vessels wash and holy fire prepare.

The damzell wakes; then all attonce upstart.
And round about her fiocke, like many flies,
Whooping and hallowing on every part.
As if they would have rent the brasen skies.
Which when she sees with ghastly griefful eies,
Her heart does quake, and deadly pallid hew
Benumbes her cheeks : then out aloud she cries,
\\ here none is nigh to heare, that will her rew.
And rends her golden locks, and snowy brests
embrew.

But all bootes not ; they hands upon her lay :
And first they spoile her of her iewels deare.
And afterwards of all her rich array ;
The which amongst them they in peeces teare
And of the pray each one a part doth beare.
Now being naked, to their sordid eyes
'i'he goodly threasures of nature ajipeare :
Which as they view with lustfull fanfasyes,
Eeach wisheth to himselfe, and to the rest envyes.

Her yvorie neck , Iier alablaster brest ;
Her paps, which like white silken pillowes were
For Love in soft delight thereon to rest ;
►Her tender sides ; her bellie white and clere
W hicb like an altar did itselfe uprere
I'o oft'er sacrifice divine thereon ;
Her goodly thighes, whose glorie did appeare
Like a triumi)hall arch, and thereupon
1 he spoiles of princes liang'd which were in battel
won. V a

52-i

THE FAERIE QUEIli^'E.

[Book VI.

Those claintie parts, the dearlings of delight,
Which mote not be prophan'd of common eyes,
Those villeins vew'd with loose lascivious sight.
And closely tempted with their craftie spyes ;
And some of them gan mongst themselves devize
Thereof by force to take their beastly pleasure :
But them the priest rebuking did advize
To dare not to pollute so sacred threasure
Vow'd to the gods : religion held even theeves in
measure.

So, being stayd, they her from thence directed
Unto a litle grove not farre asyde,
In which an altar shortly they erected
To slay her on. And now the eventyde
His brode black wings had through the heavens wyde
By this dispred, that was the tyme ordayned,
For such a dismall deed, their guilt to hyde :
Of few greene turfes an altar soone they fayned,
And deckt it all with flowres which they nigh hand
obtayned.

XLV.

Tho, whenas all things readie were aright.

The damzell was before the altar set,

Being alreadie dead with fearefuU fright :

To whom the priest with naked armes full net

Approching nigh, and murdrous knife well whet,

Gan mutter close a certaine secret charme,

With other divelish ceremonies met :

Which doen, he gan aloft t' advance his arme,

Whereat they shouted all, and made a loud alarme.

Then gan the bagpypes and the homes to shrill

And shrieke aloud, that, with the peoples voyce

Confused, did the ayre with terror fill,

And made the wood to tremble at the noyce :

Tlie whyles she wayld, the more they did reioyce.

Now mots ye understand that to this grove

Sir Calepine, by chaunce more then by choyce,

The selfe same evening fortune hether drove.

As he to seeke Serena, through the woods did rove.

Long had he sought her, and through many a soyle
Had traveld still on foot in heavie armes,
Ne ought was tyred with his endlesse toyle,
Ne ought was feared of his certaine harmes :
And now, all weetlesse of the wretched stormes
In which his love was lost, he slept full fast;
Till, being waked with these loud alarmes.
He lightly started up like one aghast.
And catching up his armes streight to the noise forth
past.

XLVIII.

There by th' uncertaine glims of starry night.
And by the twinkling of tleir sacred fire.
He mote perceive a little dawning sight
Of all which there was doing in that quire:
Mongst whom a woman s]ioyled of all attire
He spyde lamenting her uiiluckie strife,
And groning sore from grieved hart entire:
Eftsoones he saw one with a naked knife
Readie to launch her brest , and let out loved life.

With that he thrusts into the thickest throng ;
And, even as his right hand adowne descends.
He liim preventing lays on earth along,
And sacrifizeth to th' infemall feends :
Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he bends ;
Of whom he makes such havocke and such hew.
That swarmes of damned soules to hell he sends :
The rest, that scape his sword and death eschew,
fly like a flocke of doves before a faulcons vew

From them returning to that ladie backe,
Whom by the altar he doth sitting find
Yet fearing death, and next to death the laclce
Of clothes to cover what she ought by kind ;
He first her hands beginneth to unbind.
And then to question of her present woe ;
And afterwards to cheare with speaches kind :
But slie, for nought tliat he could say or doe.
One word durst speake, or answere him a whit
thereto.

So inward shame of her uncomely case

She did conceive, through care of womanhood,

That though the night did cover her disgrace.

Yet slie in so unwomanly a mood

Would not bewray the state in which she stood:

So all that night to him unknown she past :

But day, that doth discover bad and good,

Ensewing, made her knowcm to him at last :

'''he end whereof He keepe untill another cast.

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

326

CANTO IX.

Calidore hostes with Melibee,
And loves fayre Pastorell :

Coridon envies him, yet he.
For ill, rewards him well.

Now turne againe my teme, thou iolly swayne,
Backe to the furrow which I lately left ;
I lately left a furrow one or twayne
Unplough'd, the which ray coulter had not cleft ;
Yet seem'd the soyle both fayre and frutefuU eft,
As I it past ; that were too o:reat a shame,
That so rich frute should be from us bereft ;
Besides the great dishonour and defame,
Which should befall to Calidores immortall name.

Great travell hath the sfentle Calidore

And toyle endured, sith I left liim last

Sewing the blatant beast ; which I forbore

To finish then, for other present bast.

Full manv pathes and perils he hath past.

Through hils, through dales, through forests, and

through plaines.
In that same quest which fortune on him cast,
Which he atehieved to his owne great guines.
Reaping eteruall glorie of his restlesse paines.

So sharply he the monster did pursew.
That day nor night he suffred him to rest,
Ne rested he himselfe (but natures dew)
For dread of daunger not to be redrest.
If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest.
Him first from court he to the citties coursed,
And from the citties to the tovvnes him prest.
And from the tovvnes in'o tlie countrie tbrsed.
And from the country back to private farraes he
scorsed.

From thence into the open fields he fled.

Whereas the heardes were keeping of their neat.

And shepheards singing, to tlieir flockes that fed,

Layes of sweet love and youihes dflightfull heat:

Him thether eke for a 1 his fearefull tljreat

He followed fast, and chaced him so nie.

That to the folds, where shee])e at niglit doe seat,

And to the litle cots, where shepherds lie

In winters wrathful time, he forced him to fiie.

There on a day, as he pursew'd the chace.
He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes
Playing on pypes and caroling apace.
The wliyles their beasts there in the budded hroomes
Beside them fed, and nip tlie t«-ndfr bloomes ;
For other worldly wealth tliev cared nought:
To whom Sir Calidore yet .s\\e;i ing conies.
And them to tell him courteouslv besought.
If such a beast they saw, which he had thether
brought.

They answer'd him that no such beast tbey savr.
Nor any wicked feend that mote offend
Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw ;
But if that such there vv-ere (as none they kend)
They pravd High God them farre from them to send :
Then one of them him seeing so to sweat,
After his rusiicke wise, that well he weend,
Offred him drinke to quenche his thirstie heat.
And, if he hungry were, him oftred eke to eat.

The knight was nothing nice, where was no need,
And tooke their gentle offer : so adowne
They prayd him sit, and gave him for to feed
'^< Such hnmely what as serves the simple clowne,
That doth despise the dainties of the towne :
Tho, having fed his fill, he there besyde
Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne
Of sundry flowres with silken ribband^ tyde,
Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands
had dyde.

viir.

Upon a litle hillocke she wa? placed

Higher then all the rest, and round about

Environ 'd with a girland, goodly graced.

Of lovely lasses ; and them all without

The lustie shepheard swayues sate in a rout.

The which did pype and sing her prayses dew.

And oft reioyce, and oft for wonder shout,

As if some miracle of heavenly hew

Were downe to them descended in thatearthlv vew.

And soothly sure she was full fayre of face,
And perfectl}' well shapt in every lim.
Which she did more augment with modest grace
And correly cariiage of l.er count'nance trim,
That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim :
Who, her admiring as som" heavenly wight.
Did for their soveraine goddesse her esteeme,
And, caroling her name both dav and night.
The fayrest Pastorella ier by name did bight.

Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne
But her did honour; and eke many a one
Burnt in lier love, and with sweet pleasing payne
Full many a night for her did sigh and grone :
But most of all the sbei)heard Coridon
For her did languisl), and his deare life spend ;
Yet neither slie for him nor oiher none
Did care a whit, ne any liking lend :
Though meaiie her lot, yet higher did her mind
ascend.

THE I'AilRIE QUKENE.

[Book VL

Her wlivles Sir Calidore there vewed well,
And miirkt her rare demeanure, wliich him seemed
So farre the meaiie of sliepheards to exeell,
As that he in his mind her worthy deemed
'Jo be a princes paragone esteemed.
He was unwares surprisd in subtile bands
Of the blynd boy ; ne thence could be redeemed
]>v any skill out of his cruell hands ;
Ciiuglit like the bird which gazhig still on others
stands.

So stood he still long gazing thereupon,

No any will had tjjence to move away,

Althdugh his (juest were farre afore him gon •

But after he had fed, yet did he stay

And sate there still, untill the flying day

Was farre forth spent, discoursing diversly

Of sundry things, as fell, to worke delay ;

And evermore his speach he did apply

To th' beards, but meant them to the damzels fantazy.

By this the moystie night approching fast
Her deawy humour gan on th' earth to shed.
That warn'd the sbepheards to their homes to hast
Their tender flocks, now being fully fed,
For feare of wetting them before ikvr bed :
Then came to them a good old aged syre,
AVhose silver lockes bedeckt his beard and hed.
With shepheards hooke in hand, and flt attyre,
That wil'd the damzell rise ; the day did now expyre.

He was to weet, by common voice, esteemed

The father of the fayrest Pastorell,

And of herselfe in very deede so deemed ;

Yet was not so ; but, as old stories tell.

Found her by fortune, which to him befell,

In th' open fields an infant left alone ;

And, taking up, brought home and noursed well

As his owne chyld ; for other he had none ;

That she in tract of time accompted was his own

She at his bidding meekelv did arise,

And streight unto her litle flocke did fare :

Then all the rest about her rose likewise,

And each lus sundrie sheepe with severall care

Gathered together, and them homeward bare :

Whylest everie one with helping hands did strive

Amongst tiieinselves, and did their labours share,

To heipe faire I'astorella iioiiie to drive

Her fleecie flocke; but Coridon most helpe did give.

But Melibee (so bight that good old man)

Now seeing Calidore left all alone.

And night arrived hard at hand, began

Him to invite unto his simple home ;

Wli c'li tliDUgh it were a cottage clad with lome,

And all things therein meane, yet better so

To lodge then in the salvage fields to rome.

The knight full gladly soone agreed thereto, [go.

Being his harts owne v.-ish ; and hume with him did

There he was welcom'd of that honest syre
And of his aged beldame homely well ;
Who him besought himselfe to disattyre.
And rest himselie, till .v.pper tiine befell ;
By which home came the fayrest Pastorell,
After her flocke she in their fold had tyde ;
And, supper readie dight, they to it fell
With small adoe, and nature satisfyde,
The which doth litle crave contented to abydo.

Tho when they had their hunger slaked well,

And the favre mayd the table ta'ne away ;

The gentle knight, as he that did excel!

In courtesie and well couUl doe and say.

For so great kindnesse as he found that day

Gan greatly thanke his host and his good wife ;

And, drawing thence his speach another way,

Gail highly lo commend tlie happie life [strife.

Which shepheards lead, without debate or biltei

" How much," sayd he, "more happie is the state

In which ye, father, here doe dwell at ease.

Leading a life so free and fortunate

From all the tempests of these worldly seas.

Which tosse the rest in daungerous disease ;

Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked eninitie

Doe them afflict, which no man can appease !

That certes 1 your hajjpiiiesse envie,

And wish my lot were plast in such felicitie !"

" Surely, my sonne," then ansvrer'd he againe,

" If happie ; then it is in this intent,

That having small yet doe I not coniplaine

Of want, ne v\ish for more it to augment,

But doe myselfe, with that I have, content ;

So taught of nature, wdiich doth litle need

Of forreine heljies to lifes due nourishment :

The fields my food, my flocke a\y rayment breed ,

No better doe 1 weare, no better doe I feed.

" Therefore I doe not any one envy, •

Nor am envyde of any one therefore :

'i'hey, that have much, feare much to loose thereby.

And store of carei doth follow riches store.

The litle that I have grovves dayly more

Without my care, but onely to attend it ;

My lainbes doe every yeare increase their score.

And my flockes fatlier daily doth amend it. fsend it!

What have J, but to jiraise th' Almighty that doth

" To them, that list, the worlds gay showes I leav :.

And to great one. such follies doe forgive;

Which oft through jjride do tlieir owne jierill weave,

And through ambition downe themselves doe drive

'I'o sad decay, that might contented live.

Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts ofleiid,

Ne once my minds unmoved quiet grieve ;

But all the night in silvti slec pe 1 spend.

And all the day, to what 1 list, 1 doe attecd.

Canto IX.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

327

" Sometimes I hunt the fox, the vowed foe
Unto my him])es, and him dislodge away ;
Sometime the ftnvne I practise from the doe,
Or from the goat lier kidde, how to convay ;
Another while I baytes and nets display
The birds to catch or fishes to beguyle ;
And wlien I wearie am, I downe doe lay
My limbes in every shade to rest from toyle ;
And drinke of every brooke, when thirst my throte
doth boyle.

" The time was once, in my first prime of yeares,
When pride of youth forth pricked my desire,
That I disdain'd among mine equall peares
'Jo follow sheepe and shepheards base attire;
For further fortune then I would inquire :
And, leaving home, to roiall court 1 sought,
Where I did sell myselfe for yearely hire,
And in the princes gardin daily wrought :
There I beheld such vainesse as I never thought.

" With sight whereof soone cloyd, and long deluded

^Vith idle hopes which them doe entertaine.

After I had ten yeares myselfe excluded

From native home, and spent my youth in vaine,

I gan my follies to myselfe to plaine,

And this sweet peace, whose lacke did then appeare :

The, backe returning to my sheepe againe,

I from thenceforth have learn'd to love more deare

This lowly quiet life which I inherite here."

Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy ears
Hong still upon his melting mouth atlent ;
AVhose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare,
That he was wrapt with double ravishment,
Both of his s])each that wrought him great content,
And also of the obiect of his vew,
On which his hungry eye was alwayes bent ;
That twixt his pleasing tongue, and her faire hew,
rie lost himselfe, and like one halfe-entra\inced grew.

Yet to occasion meanes to worke his mind,
And to insinuate his harts desire,
He thus replyde ; " Now surelv, svre, I find,
That all this worlds gay showes, which we admire,
Be but vaine shadows to this safe retyre
Of life, which here in lowlinesse ye lead,
Fearelesse of foes, or fortunes wrackfull yre.
Which tossetb states, and under foot doth tread
The mighfie ones affrayd of every chaunges dred.

" That even I, which daily doe behold

The glorie of the great mongst whom I won.

And now have prov'd what hapjiinesse ye hold

In this small plot of your dominion.

Now loath great lordship and ambition ;

And wish the heavens so much had graced mee,

As graunt me live in like condi'ion ;

Or that my fortunes might transposed bee

From pitch of liigher place unto tiiis low degree."

" In vaine," said then old iMelibee, ''doe men
The lieavens of their fortunes fault accuse ;
Sith they know best what is the best for them :
For they to each such fortune doe diffuse,
As they doe know each can most aptly use-
For not that, which men covet most, is best ;
Nor that thing worst, which men do most refuse ;
But fittest is, that all contented rest [brest >

With that they hold ; each hath his fortune in his

" It is the mynd, tliat maketh good or ill.
That maketh wretch or happie, ricii or j)oore :
For some, that hath abundance at his will.
Hath not enough, but waftts in greatest store ;
And other, that hatli litle, asks no more,
i'>ut in that htle is both rich and ■wise ;
For wisedome is most riches : fooles therefore
They are, which fortunes doe by vowes devize ;
Sith each unto himselfe his life may fortunize."

" Since then in each mans self," said Calidore,

" It is to fashion his owne lyfes estate.

Give leave awhyle, good father, in this shore

To rest my barcke, which hath bene beaten late

With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate,

In seas of troubles and of toylesome paine ;

That, whether quite from them for to retrate

I shall resolve or backe to turne againe,

I may here with yourselfe some small repose obaine.

XXXII.

" Not that the burden of so bold a guest

Sha.l cnargefuU be, or chaunge to you at all ;

For your meane food shall be my daily feast.

And this your cabin both my bowre and hall;

Besides, fur recompence hereof, I shall

You well reward, and golden guerdon give,

That may perhaps you better much withall.

And in this quiet make you safer live."

So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it drive.

But the good man, nought tempted with the offer

Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away, [proffer

And thus bespake ; "Sir knight, your bounteous

Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display

That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay.

That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread :

But, if ye algates covet to assay

This simple sort of life that shepheards lead.

Be it your owne : our rudenesse to yourselfe aread."

XXXIV.

So tliere that night Sir Calidoie did dwell.

And long while after, wildest him list remaine,

Daylv beholding the faire P-istorell,

And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane :

During which time he did her entertaine

With all kind courtesies he could invent ;

And every day, her comjianie to gaine.

When to the field she went, he with her went :

So for to quench his fire he did it more augment.

328

THE KAERIB QUEKNE,

[Book VI

But she that, never had acquainted beene
With such quient usage, fit for queens and kings,
Ne ever had such kniglitlv service seene ;
LSut, being- bred under base she])heards wings,
Had ever learn'd to love the lowly things ;
Did litle whit regard his courteous guize,
But cared more for Colins carolings
Then all that ]:e could doe, or e'er devize ;
His laves, his loves, his lookes, she did them all
despize.

XXXVI.

Which Calidore perceiving, thought it best

To chaunge the manner of his loftie looke ;

And doffing his bright armes himselfe addrest

In shepheards weed ; and in his hand he tooke,

Instead of steele-head speare, a shepheards hooke ;

That who had seene him then, wonld have bethought

On Phrvgian Paris by Plexippus brooke,

AVhen he the love of fayre Jjeiione sought,

What time the golden apple was unto him brought.

XXXVII.

So being clad unto the fields he went
With the faire Pastorella every day.
And kept her shee[)e with diligent attent.
Watching to drive the ravenous wolfe away.
The wliylest at pleasure she mote sport and play ;
And every evening helping them to fold :
And otherwhiles, for neetl, he did assay
In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold.
And out of them to presse the milke : Love s® much
could.

XXXVIII.

Which seeing Coridon, who her likewise
Long time had lov'd, and hop'd her love to gaine,
He much was troubled at that straungers guize.
And many gealous thoughts conceiv'd in vaine,
That this of all his labour and long paine
Should reap the harvest ere it ripened were ;
That made him scoule, and pout, and oft complaine
Of Pastorell to all the she]iheards there,
That she did love a "Stranger swayne then him more
dere.

xxxix.

And ever, when he came in comjianie
Where Calidore was ])resent, he would loure
And byte his lip, and even for gealousie
^^'as readie oft his owne hart to devoure,
Impatient of any paramoure :
Who on the other side did seeme so farre
From malicing, or grud^^ing his good houre,
That, all he could, he graced him with her,
Is'e ever shewed signe of rancour or of iarre.

And oft, when Coridon unto her brought

C)r litle sparrowes stolen from their nest.

Or wanton S(|uirrels in the woods fane sought.

Or otiier daintie thing for lier addrest.

He would commend his guift, and make the best:

Vet she no whit his presents did regard,

Ne hiiii could find to fancie in her brest ;

This new-come sb'^pheard had his market mard.

Old love is litle worth when new is more prefard.

One dav, whenas the shepheard swaynes together
Were met to make their sports and nierrie glee.
As they are wont in faire sunshynie weather,
The wliiles their flockes in shadowes shrouded bee;
They fell to daunce : then did thev all agree
That Colm Clout should ])ipe, as one most fit;
And Calidore should lead the ring, as bee
Tliat most in Pastorellaes grace did sit :
Thereat frown'd Coridon, and his lip closely bit.

But Calidore, of courteous inclination,

Tooke Coridon and set him in his place.

That he should lead the daunce, as was his fashion ;

For Coridon could daunce, and trimly trace ;

And whenas Pastorella, him to grace,

Her tiovviy garlond tooke from her owne head,

And ])last on his, lie did it soone displace,

And did it put on ('oridons instead :

Then Coridon woxe froUicke, that earst seemed dea

Another time, whenas they did dispose
To practise games and maistenes to try,
They for their iudge did Pastorella chose ;
A garland was the meed of victory :
There Coridon, forth stepping, openly
Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling game;
For he, through long and perfect industry,
Therein well [iractisd was, and in the same
'i'hought sure t'avenge his grudge, and worke his fo«
great shame.

But Calidore he greatly did mistake ;

For he w;is strong and mightily stiffe pight,

That with one fall his necke he almost brake ;

And, had he not upon him fallen light.

His dearest ioynt he sure had broken quight.

Then was the oaken crowne by Pastorell

Given to Calidore as his due right ;

]jut he, that d:d in courtesie excel].

Gave it to Coridon, and said he wonne it well.

'I'hus did the gentle knight himselfe abeare
Amongst that rusticke rout in all his deeds,
That even they, the which his rivals were.
Could not maligne him, but commend him needs:
For courtesie amongst the rudest breeds
Good will and favour . so it surely wrought
With this faire mayd, and in her inynde the seeds
Of jjeil'ect love did sow, that last forth brought
The fruite of ioy and blisse, though long time dearelj
bought.

Thus Calidore continu'd there long time
To winne the love of the faire Pastorell;
Wliich having got, he used without crime
Or bhnnefuU blot ; hut menaged so well,
That he, of all the rest which there did dwell.
Was favoured and to her grace commended :
But what straunge fortunes unto him befell,
Ere he attain'd tlie point by him intended,
Shall more conveniently in otlier nlane be ended.

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

329

CANTO X.

Calidore sees the graces daunce

To Colins melody :
Tbe whiles his Pastorell is led

Into captivity.

Who now does follow the foule blatant beast,
Whitest Calidore does follow that faire mayd,
Unmyndfull of his vow, and high beheast
Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd,
That he should never leave, nor be delayd
From chacing him, till he had it atlchieved ?
But now, entrapt of Love which him betruyd.
He mindeth more how he may be relieved
With grace from her, whose love his heart hath sore
entrrieved.

That from henceforth he meanes no more to sew

His former quest, so full of toile and paine ;

Another quest, another game in vew

He hath, the guerdon of his love to gaine ;

With whom he niyiides forever to remaine,

And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort.

Rather then hunt still after shadovves vaine

Of courtly favour fed with light report

Oi" every blaste, and sayling ahvaies in the port.

Ne certes mote be greatly blamed be
From so high step to stoupe unto so low ;
For who had tasted once, as oft did he,
The happy peace which there doth overflow.
And prov'd the perfect pleasures which doe grow
Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales ;
Would never more delight in painted show
Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales
T' entrap unwary fooles in their eternall bales.

For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze
Like to one sight which Calidore did vew ?
The giaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze,
That never more they should endure the shew
Of that sliuntie-shine, that m.ikes them looke askew.
Ne ought, in all that world of beauties rare,
(Save onely Glorianaes heavenly hew.
To which what can comparer') can it compare ;
The which, as commeth now by course, I will de-
clare.

One day, as he did raunge the fields abroad,
W'hilest his faire Pa.-torella was elsewhere.
He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad,
Unto a place, whose j)leasaunce did appere
To passe all others on tiie partli which were:
For all that ever was by Nature's skill
Deviz'd to worke delight was gathered there ,
And there by her were poured forth at fill,
As if, this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.

It was an hill plaste in an open plaine,

That round about was bordered with a wood

Of matchlesse hight,that seem'd th' earth to disdaine;

In which all trees of honour stately stood.

And did all winter as in sommer bud,

Spreduing pavilions for the birds to bowre,

Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;

And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,

Sitting like king of fowles in maiesty and powre-

And at the fiote thereof a gentle flud,
liis silver waves ditl sofdy tumble downe,
Unmard with laggedmosse or filthy mud ;
Ne mote wylde beastes, nemote the ruder clowne
Thereto approch ; ne filth mote therein drnu ne :
Kut nym])hes and faeries by the bancks did sit
In the woods shade which did the waters crowne.
Keeping all noysome things away from u,
And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.

And on the top thereof a sjiacious plaine

Did spred itselfe, to serve to all delight,

Either to daunce, when they to daunce Avould faine

Or else to course-about their bases light;

Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might

Desired be, or thence to banish bale :

So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight

Did si'Pme to overlooke the lowly vale ;

Therefore it rightly cleeped was Mount Acidale.

They say that Venus, when she did dispose

Herselfe to pleasaunce, used to resort

Unto this place, and therein to repose

And rest herselfe as in a gladsome port.

Or with the graces there to play and sport ;

That even her owne Cytheron, though in it

She used most to keepe her royall court

And in her soveraine majesty to sit.

She in regard hereof refusde and thought unfit.

Unto this place whenas the elfin knight
Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound
Of a shrill pipe he jilaving heard on hi;;ht,
And many feete fast thumping th' hnllow ground,
That through the woods their eccho did rebound.
He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be:
There he a trou]ie of ladies dauncing found
Full merrily, and making gladfull glee.
And in the'midst a shepheard pi}iiiig he did see.

330

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

[Boox VI.

He durst not enter into th' open greens,

For dreiul of them unwares to be descrytle,

For breaking of their daunce, if lie were seene ;

But in tliR corert of the wood did byde,

Beboliling all, yet of them unespyde :

There he did see, that pleased much his sight,

That even he himselfe his eyes envyde,

An hundred naked maidens lilly white

All raunged in a ring, and (iauncing in delight.

All thev without were raunged in a ring,
And daunced round ; but in tlie midst of them
Three o'her ladies did both daunce and sing,
The wliilest the rest them round about did hemme.
And like a girlond did in compasse stemme ;
And in the middest of those same three was placed
Another damzell, as a precious gemme.
Amidst a ring most richl)-^ well enchaced,
That with her goodly presence all the rest much
o^ raced.

Looke ! how the crowne, which Ariadne wore

Upon her vvory forehead that same day

That Theseus her unto his bridale bore,

When the bold Centaures made that bloudy fray

With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay ;

Being now placed in the firmament.

Through the bright heaven doth her beams display,

And is unto the starres an ornament,

Which round about her move in order excellent.

Such was the beauty of this goodly band.

Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:

But she, that in the midst of them did stand,

Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excell,

Crownd with a rosie girlond that right well

Did her beseeme : and ever, as the crew

About her daunst, sweet flowres that far did smell

And fragrant odours they uppon lier threw ;

But, most of all, those three did her with gifts endew,

Those were the Graces, daughters of delight,
Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to haunt
Uppon this hill, and daunce there day and night:
Those three to men all gifts of grace do graunt ;
And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt.
Is borrowed of them : but that faire one.
That in the midst was placed paravaunt.
Was she to whom that shepheard pypt alone ;
That made him i)ipe so merrily, as never none.

She was, to weete, that iolly shepbeards lasse,
\\ hich piped there unto that merry rout;
That inlly shepheard, which there piped, was
J^oore Colin Clout, (who knows not Colin Clout?)
lie l)yi)t- apace, wliilest they him daunst about.
Pyjje, iolly bliej]lieard, pyjie thou now apace
Unto thy love that made thee low to lout ;
'lliy love is present tin re with thee in place ;
Thy love is there advaunst to be another grace.

Much wondred Calidore at this strauiige sight,

Whose like before his eye had never seene ;

And standing long astonished in spriglit.

And rapt with ])leasaunce, wist not what to weene ;

Whether it were the traine of beauties ipieene,

Or nymphes, or faeries, or enchaunted show,

With which his eyes mote have deluded beene.

Therefore, resolving wliat it was to know.

Out of the wood be rose, and toward them did go

But, soone as he appeared to their vew.
They vanisht all away out of his sight,
And cleane were gone, which way he never knew
All save the shepheard, who, for fell des])ight
Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight,
And made great mone for that unhap[)y turne :
But Calidore, though no lesse sorv wight
For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne.
Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mute
learne :

And, first him greeting, thus unto him spake ;
" Haile, iolly shepheard, which thy iovous dayes
Here leadest in this goodly merrv-make,
Frequented of these gentle nymphes ahvaves,
Which to thee flocke to heare thy lovely hiyes !
Tell me what mote these dainty damzels be,
Which here with thee doe make their pleasant [ilayes
Right happy thou, that mayest them freelv sei' !
But why, when 1 them saw, fled they away from me ?

" Not I so happy," answerd then that swaine,
" As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chacp.
Whom by no meanes thou canst recall agaiiie ;
For, being gone, none can them bring in place,
But whom they of themselves list so to grace."
" Right sorry I," saide then Sir Calidore,
" I'hat my ill-fortune did them hence displace :
But since things passed none may now restore.
Tell me what were they all, whose lacke thie grieves
so sore."

XXI.

Tho gan that shepheard thus for to dilate ;

" Then wote, thou shepheard, whatsoe'er thou bee,

That all those ladies which thou sawest late.

Are Venus damzels, all within her fee.

But differing in honour and degree ;

They all are graces which on her depend ;

Besides a thousand more which ready bee

Her to adoriie, wheiiso she forth doth wend ,

But those three in the midst, doe chiefe on her attend,

" They are the daughters of sky-ruling love.
By him begot of faire Eurynome,
The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant grove.
As he, this way camming from feastful glee
Of Thetis wedding with Aecidee,
In sommers shade himselfe here rested weary.
The first of them bight mylde Euphrosyne,
Next faire Aglaia, last 'I'halia merry ;
Svveete goddesses all tlire«, which me in mir<i"A
cherry!

Canto X.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

931

" These tlirce on men all gracious shifts bestow,
W'liicli (lecke tlie body or adoine the mynde.
'I'o make them lovely or well-favoured show ;
As coraelv carriage, entertainment kinde,
Sweete semblaunt, i'riendlv offices tlia^ bynde,
And all (he complements of cuitesie:
Thev teach us, how to each degree and kynde
We should ourselves demeane, to low, to liie,
To friends, to foes ; which skill men call civility.

" Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile,
That we likewise should nulde and gentle be ;
And also naked are, that witliout guile
Or false dissemblaunce all them ]>laine may see,
Simple and true from covert malice free ;
And eeke themselves so in their daunce they bore,
That two of them still froward seem'd to bee,
But one still towanls shew'd herselfe afore ;
That good should from us goe^ then come in greater
store.

" Such were those goddesses which ye did see :

But that fourth mayd, which there amidst them

Who can aread what creature mote she bee, [traced,

\\ hether a creature, or a goddesse graced

With heavenly gifts from heven first enraced !

But whatso sure she was, she worthy was

To be the fourth with those three otlier placed :

Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse ;

Vet she all other coantrey lasses farre did passe :

'' So farre, as doth the daughter of the day

All other lesser lights in light excell ;

So farre doth she in beautvtuU arrav

Above all other lasses beare the bell ;

Ne lesse in vertue that be.seemes her well

Doth she exceede the rest of all her race ;

J'or which the graces, that here wont to dwell,

Have for more honor brought her to this place,

And graced her so much to be another grace.

" Another grace she well deserves to be.
In whom so many graces gathered are,
Excelling much the meane of her degree
Divine resemblaunce, beauty soveraine rare,
Firme chastity, that spight ne blemish dart- !
All which she with such courtesie dotl; grace,
Tiiat all her peres cannot with her compare.
But quite are dimmed when she is in place:
6he made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.

" Sunne of the world, great glorv of the sky,

That all the earth doest lighten with thy raves.

Great Gloriana, greatest majesty!

Pardon thy Shepheard, niongsl so many layes

As he hath sung of thne in ad his dryes,

To make one minime of thy poore handmayd.

And underneath thy fe-te to place her prayse ;

That, when thy glory shall be farre displavd

lo future age, of her this mention may be made !'

When thus that shepheard ended had his speach,
Sayd Calidore ; " Now sure it yrketh mee.
That to thy blisse 1 made this luckelesse breach.
As now the author of thy bale to be.
Thus to bereave thv loves deare sight fiom thee :
But, gentle shepheard, pardon thou my shame,
\\ ho rashly sought that which 1 mote not see."
Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame.
And to recomfort him all comely meanes did iraine.

In such discourses they together spent
Long time, as fit oc( asion forth tlieai led ;
With which the knight him.-elfe did much content,
And with delight his greedy fancy fed
Both of his words, which he with reason red.
And also of the place, who>e pleasures rare
\\ ith such regard his sences ravislied,
That thence he had no will away to far,e.
But wisht that with that shepheard he mote dwelling
share.

But that envenimd sting, the which of yore
His povsnous point deepe fixed in his iiart
Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore.
And to renue tl'e rigour of his smart;
Which to recure, no skill of leaches art
iMote him availe, but to returne againe
To his wounds worker, that with lovely dart
Dinting his brest had bred his restlesse paine ;
Like as the wounded whale to shore flies from the
maine.

So, taking leave of that same gentle swaine.
He backe returned to his rusticke wonne.
Where his faire Pastorella did remaine :
To wliome in sort, as he at first begonne,
He daily did apply himselfe to doune
All dewfull service, voide of thoughts impure,
Ne any paines ne perill did be shonne,
By which he might her to his love allure.
And liking in her yet untamed heart procure

And evermore the shepheard Coridon,
Whatever thmg he did her to aggrate.
Did strive to match with strong contention.
And all his paines did closely emulate ;
Whether it were to caroll, as they sate
Keeping their sheejje, or games to exercize,
Or to present her with their labours late :
Through which if any grace chaunst to arize
Toiiim, tiie shepheard straight with iealousie did
frize.

One day, as they all three together went

To the greene wood to gather strawberies.

There chaunst to them a dangerous accident ;

A tigre forth out of the wood did rise.

That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize.

And greedy mouth wide-gaping like hell-gate.

Did runne at I'astorell her to surprize ;

Whom she beholding, now all desolate,

Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all too late.

335i

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book VL

Which Coridon first hearing, rnn in hast

To reskue her ; but, when lie saw the feend,

Through cowlierd feare he fled away as fast,

Ne durst abide tlie daunger of the end ;

His life he steenied dearer then his frend :

Hut Calidore soone comming to her ayde,

When he the beast saw ready now to rend

His loves deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde,

He ran at him enraged, instead of being frayde.

He had no weapon but liis shepheards hooke
To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will;
With which so steniely he the monster strooke.
That to the ground astonished he fell ;
Whence ere he could recou'r, he did him quell;
And hewing off his head, it presented
Before the feete of the faire Pastorell ;
Who, scarcely yet from former feare exempted,
A thousand times him thanktthat bad her death pre-
vented.

From that day forth she gan him to affect.

And dailv more her fovour to augment ;

But Coridon for cowherdize reiect,

Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for loves content :

The gende heart scornes base disparagement.

Yet Calidore did not despise him quight.

But usde him friendly 'or further intent,

That by his fellowship he colour might

Both his estate and love from skill of any wight.

So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her,

With humble service, and with daily sute.

That at the last unto his will he brought her;

Wliich lie so wisely well did prosecute,

'I'hat of his love he reapt the timely frute.

And ioyed long in close felicity :

Till Fortune, fraught with malice, blinde and brute,

That envies lovers long prosperity.

Blew up a bitter storme of foule adversity.

It fortuned one day, when Calidore
Was hunting in the woods, as was his trade,
A lawlesse people, brigants higlit cf yore,
That never usde to live by jilough nor spade.
But fed on spoile and booty which they made
Upon their neighbours, which did nigh them border,
The dwelling of the>e shepheards did invade;
And sj)oyld their houses, and themselves did murder.
And drove away their flocks : with other much dis-
order.

Amongst the rest, the which they then did pray.

They spoyld old Melibee of all he had,

And all his people captive led away ;

Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad,

Faire Pastorella, sorrowful! and sad.

Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sigh't,

Now made the spoile or theeves and brigants bad,

Which was the conquest of the gentlest knight

That ever liv'd, and th' onely glory of his might.

With them also was taken Coridon,

And carried captive by those theeves away ;

WJio in the covert of the night, that none

Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,

Unto their dwelling did them close coavay :

Their dwelling in a little island was.

Covered with shrubby woods, in which no way

Appeared for people in nor out to pas

Nor any footing fynde for overgrowen gras :

For underneath the ground their way was made
Through hollow caves, that no man mote discover
For the thicke shrubs, which did themalwaies shade
From view of living vi-ight and covered over ;
But Darkenesse dred and daily Night did hover
Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt ;
Ne lightned was with window, nor with lover.
But with conlinuall candle light, which delt
A doubtfuU sense of things, not so well seene as felt.

Hither those brigants brought their present pray.
And kept them witli continuall watch and ward;
Meaning, so soone as they convenient may,
For slaves to sell them for no small reward
To merchants, which them ke|>t in bondage hard.
Or sold againe. Now when faire Pastorell
Into this pl.ice was brought, and kept with gard
Of griesly theeves, she tliougbt herself in hell,
Where with such damned fiends she should in dark'
nesse dwell.

r.ut for to tell the dolefull dreriment
And pittifull complaints which there she made,
( Where dav and night she nought did but lament
Iler wretched life siiut up in deadly shade,
And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade
Like to a flowre that feeles no heate of sunne
Which niav her feeble leaves with comfort glade ;)
And what befell her in that theevish wonne
Will in another Canto better be begoiine.

Canto XL]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

333

CANTO XL

The theeves fall out for Pastorell,
Whilest IMelibee is slain :

Her Calidore from them redeemes,
And brins;eth backe ao-aine.

The ioys of love, if they should ever last

Without affliction or disquietnesse

That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,

Would be on earth too great a blessednesse,

Liker to heaven then mortall wretchednesse :

Therefore the winged god, to let men weet

That here on earth is no sure happinesse,

A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet,

'J'o make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet

Like as is now befalne to this faire mayd,
Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song :
Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd
Amongst those theeves, which her in bondage strong
Detayud ; Yet Fortune, not with all this wrong
Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw.
And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng ;
That whoso heares her heavinesse, would rew
And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from pleasaunt
hew.

Whylest thus she in these hellish dens remayned.
Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts unrest.
It so befell, as Fortune had ordayned,
That he which was their capitaine profest.
And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest.
One day, as he did all his prisoners vew,
W^th lustfull eyes beheld that lovely guest,
Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefuU hew
Like the faire morning clad in misty fog- did shew.

At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired.

And inly burnt with flamts most raging whot,

'1 hat her alone he for his part desired

Of all the other pray v\hich they had got,

And her in mynde did to himselfe allot.

From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed.

And sought her love by all the meaneshe mote ;

With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed,

And mixed threats among, and much unto her vowed.

But all that ever he could doe or sav

Her constant mynd could not a whit remove.

Nor draw unto the lure of his lewd lay,

'I'o graunt liim favour or afford him love :

Yet ceast he not to sew, and all waies prove,

By which he mote accomplish his request,

Saying and doing all that mote behove;

IS"^ day nor night he sulFred her to rest,

But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.

At last, when him she so importune saw,
Fearing least he at length the raines would lend
Unto his lust, and make his will his law,
Sith in his powre slie was to foe or friend ;
She thought it best, for sliadow, to pretend
Some shew of favour, by him gracing small.
That she thereby mote either freely wend.
Or at more ease continue tliere his thrall :
A little well is lent that o-aineth more withall.

So from thenceforth, when love he to her made,

With better tearmes she did him entertaine,

Which gave him hope, and did him halfe perswade,

That he in time her ioyance should obtaine :

But wlien she saw, through that small favours gaine.

That further then she willing was he prest ;

Rlie found no meanes to barre him, but to faine

A sodaine sickenesse which her sore opprest,

And made unfit to serve his lawlesse mindes behest.

By meanes whereof she would not him permit

Once to approach to her in privity.

But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,

JMourning the rigour of her malady.

And seeking all things meete for remedy :

But she resolv'd no remedy to fynde.

Nor better cheare to shew in misery,

Till Fortune would her captive bonds unbynde .

Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde.

During which space that she thus sicke did lie,
It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount
To skim those coastes for bondmen there to buy.
And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt
Arrived in this isle, though bare and blunt,
T' inquire for slaves ; wliere being readie met
By some of these same theeves at th' instant brunt,
W ere brought unto their captaine, who was set
By his faire patients side with sorrowfuU regret.

To whom they shewed, how those marchants were

Arriv'd in place their bondslaves for to buy ;

And therelbre pray'd that those same captives there

Mote to them for their most commodity

Be sold, and mongst them shared equally.

This their request the captaine much apjialled ;

Yet could he not their iust demaund deny,

And willed streight the slaves should I'orth be called,

And sold for most advantaj-e not to be forstalled.

334

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book VI.

Then forth the c:ood old iMelibee was brought,
And Coridon with many other moe,
\\ horn they before in diverse spoyles had caug-ht;
All which lie to the mnrchants sale did showe:
Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe,
Gan to inquire for that faire shejjherdesse,
Whicli with the rest they tooke not long agoe ;
And gan her forme and feature to expresse,
The m;)re t' augment her price through praise of
couilinesse.

To whom the ca])taine in full angry wize
]\Irtde answere, tiiat " the mayd of whom the)' spake
Was his owne purchase and his onelv prize ;
\\ itii which none had to doe, ne ought partake,
l$ut he himselfe which did that conquest make ;
Lille for him to have one silly lasse ;
Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake,
That nothing meet in merchandise to ])asse :"
So shew'd them her, to prove how pale and weake
she was.

The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard,

And eke hut hardly scene by candle-light,

Yet, like a diamond of rich regard.

In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night

With starrie beames about lier shining bright,

These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze.

That what through wonder, and what through delight,

A while on her they greedily did gaze,

And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.

At last when all the rest them offred were.
And jirises to them placed at their pleasure.
They all refused in regard of her;
Ne ought would buy, however prisd with measure,
Vi ithouten her, whose worth above all threasure
They did esteeme, and oft'red store of gold :
But then the captaine, fraught with more displeasure.
Bad tliem be still ; " his love should not be sold ;
The rest take if they would ; he her to him would
hold."

Therewith some otner of the chiefest theeves

Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare ;

For that same mayd, however it him greeves,

Should with the rest be sold before him theare.

To make the prises of the rest more deare.

That with great rage he stoutly doth denay ;

And, fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare

That whoso bardie hand on her doth lay.

It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay.

Thus, ns they words amongst them multiply,
They fall to strokes the frute of too much talke,
And the mad Steele about doth fiercely ily,
Not sjiaring wight, ne leaving any baike.
But making way for Death at large to walke ;
Who, the horror of the griesly night.
In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke,
And nialies huge havocke ; whiles the candle-light
Out-quenched leaves no skill nor dift'ercnce of wight.

Like as a sort of hungry dogs, ymet

About some carcase by the common way,

Doe fall together, stryving each to get

The greatest portion of the greedie pray ;

All on confused heapes themselves assa}',

And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare;

That who them sees would wonder at their fray,

And who sees not would be afFrayd to heare :

Such was the conflict of those cruell brifcants there.

But, first of all, their captives they doe kill,

Least they should ioyne against the weaker side,

Or rise against the remnant at their %vill •

Old IMelibee is slaine ; and him beside

His aged wife ; with many others wide :

liut Coridon, escaping craftily,

Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide,

And flyes away as fast as he can hye,

Ne stayeth leave to take before his friends doe dye.

But Pastorella, wofull wretched elfe,
W^as by the captaine all this while defended,
Who, minding more her safety then himselfe,
His target alwayes over her pretended ;
By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended.
He at the length was slaine and layd on ground,
Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended
Fayre Pastorell, who with the selfe s ime wound
Launcht through the arme fell down with him in
drearie swound.

There lay she covered with confused preasse
Of carcases, which dying on her fell :
Tho, whenas he was dead, the fray gan ceasse ;
And each to other calling did compell
To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell,
Sith they that were the cause of all were gone :
Thereto they all attonce agreiid well ;
And, lighting candles new, gan search anone,
How many of their friends were slaine, how inajiy
fone.

] Their captaine there thev cruelly found kild.
And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,
Like a sweet angell twixt two clouds uphild ;
Her lovely light was dinniied and decayd
^Vith cloud of death ujion her eyes disjdayd ;
Yet did the cloud make even that dimmed light
Seenie much more lovely in that darknesse layd,
And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright
To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie
nitiht.

But, when they mov'd the carcases aside,

They found that life did yet in her remaine ;

Then all their helpes thev busily applyde

To call the soule backe to her iioine againe :

And wrought so well, with labour and long paine.

That they to life recovered her at last :

Who, sighing sore, as if her hart in tv,-aine

Had riven bene and all her hart-strings brast,

With drearie drouping eynelookt uplike one aghast.

CAMO XI.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

336

'I'lieve she helielJ, tliat sore her griev'd to see,
Her iatlier and lier friends about her lying,
Herselfe sole left a second spoyle to bee
Of tliose, that having- saved her from dying
Renew'd her death by timely death denying.
What non- is left her but to wavie and weeps,
Wrinkling her hands, and ruefully loud crying !
Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe,
Albe with all their might those brigants her did
keepe.

But when they saw her now reliv'd againe,

i hev left her so, in charge of one, the best

Of many worst, who witli unkind disdains

And cruell rigour her did much molest ;

Scarse yeelding- her due food or timely rest.

And scarsely suftring her infestred wound,

That sore her pavn'd, by any to be drest.

So leave we her in wretched thraldome bound,

And turns we back to Calidors, where we him found.

Who when be backe returned from the wood.
And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight,
And his love reft away ; he wexed wood
And halfe enraged at that ruefuU sight ;
That even his hart, for very fell despight,
And his owne flesh he readie was to teare :
He chauft, he griev'd, he fretted, and he sigh't,
And fared like a furious wyld beare,
\Vhose whelpes are stolne away, she being other-
where.

Ne wight he found to whom hs might complaine,
Ne wight he found of whom he might inijuire ;
That more increast the anguish of his paine :
He sought the woods, but no man could see there ;
He sought the plaines, but could no tydings heare :
The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound ;
The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare;
Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound.
And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he
found.

At last, as there he romed up and downe,
He chaunst one coming towards him to sp)',
That seem'd to be some ^ro!e simple clowne,
With ragged weedes, and lockes upslaring hye,
As if he did from some late daunger fly.
And yet his feare did follow him behynd :
Who as he unto him approached nye,
He mote perceive, by signes which he did fynd.
That Coridon it was, the silly shepheards hynd.

Tho, to him running fast, he did not stay
To greet him first, but askt where were the rest,
^Vhere Pastoiell? — who full of fresh dismay,
And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest,
'J hat he no word could speake, but smit his brest.
And up to heaven his eyes fast-streming threw :
Whereat the knight amaz'd, yet did not rest,
But askt againe. What ment that rufull hew ;
Where was his Pastorell ? Where all the other
crew ?

" Ah ! well away," sayd he, .then sighing sore,
" That ever I did live this day to see,
This dismall day, and was not dead befcre.
Before I saw faire Pastorella dye ! "
" Die ! out alas !" then Calidors did cry,
" How could the death dare ever her to quell !
But read thou, Shepheard, read what destiny
Or otlier dyrefull hap from heaven or hell
Hath wrought this wicked deed : doe feare av. ay,
and tell."

Tho, when the sliepheard breathed had awlivle,
He thus beg;an ; " Where shall 1 then commence
This wofuU tale ? or how those brigants vyle
With cruell rage and dreadful! violence
Spoyld all our cots, and cariod us from hence ;
Or how faire Pastorell should have bene sold
To marchants, but was sav'd with strong defence ;
Or hovv those theeves,whilest one sought her to hold
Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce anci
bold.

" In that same conflict (woe is me !) befell
'i'his fatall chaunce, this doleful! accident.
Whose heavy tydings now 1 have to tell.
First all the captives, wliich ihey here had hent,
Were by them slaiiie by genprall consent ;
Old Melibee and his good wife withall
'J'hese eyes saw die, and dearely did lament
But, when the lot to Pastorell did fall,
Their Captaine long withstood, and did her death
forstall,

XXSII.

" But what could he gainst all them doe alone ?
It could not boot; needs mole slie die at last !
I onely scapt through great confusione
Of tryes and claraois, which amongst them past.
In dreadlull darknesse, dreadfully aghast;
That better were with them to have bene dead,
Then here to see all desolate and wast,
Despoyled of those ioyes and ioUyliead,
Whicli with those gentle shepheards here I wont to
lead."

XXXIU.

When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught.
His hart quite deiided was with anguish great.
And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,
That he is face, his head, his brest did beat.
And death itselfe unto himselfe did threat ;
Oft cursing th' heavens, that so cruell were
To her, whose name he often did repeat ;
And wishing oft, that he were present there
When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour,
nere.

But after griefe awhile had had Iiis course,
And spent itselfe in mourning, he at last
Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,
And in his mind with better reason cast
How he might save her life, if li^e did last ;
Or, if that dead, how he her death might wreaks ;
Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past,
Or, if it to revenge he were too weake.
Then for to die with her, and his lives threed to
breake.

336

THE FAERIE QUtLNE.

[DooK VI

XX xv.

Tho Condon he prayd, sitli he well knew
The revidie way unto that theev^ish wonne,
To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
Unto the place, to see what should be donne :
But he, whose hart through ieare was late fordonne,
Would not for ought be drawne to former drt-de ;
But bv all meanes the daun<;er knowne did shonne :
Yet (alidore so well him wrouglit with meed.
And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.

So forth thev g;oe together (God before)
Both cUnd i.i shepheards weeds agreeably,
And both with shepheards hookes ; but Calidore |

Had, underneath, him armed privily :
Tho, to the place when they ajiproached nye,
Thev chaunst, upon an hill not farre away.
Some flockes of sheepe and she])heards to espy ;
To whom they both agreed to take tlieir way,
In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best
assay.

XXXVII.

There did they find, that which they did not feare.
The self-same flocks the which those theeves had reft
From Melibee and from themselves whyleare ;
And certaine of the tlieeves there by them left.
The which, for want of heards, themselves then kept :
Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe.
And, seeing them, for tender pittie wept :
But, when "he saw tne theeves which did them keepe,
His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

But Calidore recomforting his griefe, [wade ;

Though not his feare; for nought may feare diss-
Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe
Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade.
Whom Coridon him counseld to invade
Now all unwares, and take the spoyle away ;
But he, that in his mind hud closely made
A further purpose, would not so them slay,
But gently waking them gave them the time of day.

Tho, sitting downe by them upon the greene,
Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine,
That he by them might certaine tydings weene
Of Pastorell, were she alive or slaine :
Mongst which the theeves them questioned againe,
What mister men, and eke from whence they were.
To whom they answer'd, as did ajjpertaine, [lere
That they were poore heardgroomes, the which why-
Had from their maisters fled, and now sought hyre
elsewhere.

Whereof right glad they se(^m'd, and offer made
To lure them well if they their flockes would keepe :
For they themselves were evill groomcs, tliey sayd,
Unwont with heards to watch or jiasture sheepe.
But to fonay the land, or secure the deepe.
Ihereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke
To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe ;
For thev for better hvre did shortly looke :
So there all day they b ;de, till light' the sky forsooke.

Tho, whenas towards darksome night it drew.
Unto their hellish dens those theeves them brought _
Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew.
And all the secrets of their entrayles sought :
There did thev find, contrarie to their thought,
That I'astorell yet lived ; but all the rest
Were dead, right so as Coridon had taught ;
Whereof thev both full glad and blyth did rest.
But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had most possest

At leng'^'li, when they occasion fittest found,

In dead of night, when all the theeves did rest

After a late forray, and slept full sound,

Sir Calidore him arm'd, as he thought best;

Having of late by diligent intjuest

Provided him a sword of meanest sort ;

With which he streight went to the captaines nest :

But Coridon durst not with him consort,

Ne durst abide behind for dread of worse effort

When to the cave they came, they found it fast
But Calidore with huge resistlesse might
The dores assayled, and the locks up brast :
With novse whereof the theefe awaking light
Unto tlie entrance ran ; where the bold Knight
Encountering him with small resistence slew :
The whdes faire Pastorell through great affright
Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new
Some uprore were like that which lately she did vew

But whenas Calidore was comen in.

And gan aloud for Pastorell to call.

Knowing his V( ice, although not heard long sin,

She sudden was revived therewithal!.

And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall :

Like him that beuig long in teinjiest tost.

Looking each houre into Ueathes mouth to fall,

At length espyes at hand tlie happie cost.

On which he safety hopes that earst feared to be lost

Her gentle hart, that now long season past

Had never ioyance felt nor chearefull tliought,

Began some ^macke of comfort new to tast,

Like lyfeful heat to nummed senses brought.

And life to feele that long for death had sought .

Ne lesse in hart reioyced Calidore,

When he her found ; but, like to one distraught

And robd of reason, towards her liim bore;

A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand mote

But now by this, with noyse of late uprore,
The hue and cry was raysed all about ;
And all the brigants flockiuij in great store
Unto the cave gan preasse, nouglit having dou
Of that was doen, and entered in a rout.
But Calidore in th' entry close did stand.
And, entertayning them with courage stout.
Still slew the formost that came first to hand ;
So long, till all the entry was with bodies mand.

Casio XII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

337

1 1)0, when no more could nij;h to him approch,
He breath'ii his sword, and rested hipa till das' ;
\\ liicl) wJien he spyde upon the earth t' encroch,
'I hrouj;h the dead carcases he made his way,
iVlong:st which he found a sword of better say,
With whicli he forth went into th' open light.
Where all the rest for him did readie stay,
And. fierce assayling him, with all their mis^ht
Gan all upon him lay : there gan a dreadful! fight.

How many flyes in whottest summers day
Do seize upon some beast, whose fles-h is bare,
'J'hat all the place with swarmes do overlay.
And with their litle stings right felly fare ;
So many theeves about him swarming are.
All which do him assayle on every side.
And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare ;
But he doth with his raging brond divide
Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth
wide.

Like as a lion mongst an heard of dere,
Disperseth them to catch Ids choysest pray ;
So did he fly amongst th.em here and there.
And all that nere him came did hew and slay
1'ill he had strowd wilh bodies all the way ;
i'hat none his daunger daring to abide
Fled from his wrath, and did themselves convay
Into their caves, their heads from death to hide,
Ne any left that victorie to him envide.

Then, backe returning to his dearest dearo,

He her gan to recomfort, all he might.

With gladfull speaches and with lovely cheare ;

And forth her bringing to the ioyous light.

Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,

Deviz'd all goodly rneanes from her to drive

Tl'e sad remembrance of her wretched plight :

So her uneath at last he did revive

That long had lyen dead, and made againe alive.

This doen, into those theevish dens he went,

And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,

\Vhich ihev from many long had robd and rent :

But fortune now the victors meed did make ;

Of which the best he did his love betake ;

And also all those flockes, which they before

Had reft from Melibee and from his make,

He did them all to Coridon restore :

So drove them all away, and his love with him bore.

CANTO XII.

Fayre Pastorella by great hap
Her parents understands.

Calidore doth the blatant bea^t
Subdew, and byndin bands.

Like as a ship, that through the ocean wyde
Directs her course unto one certaine cost.
It met of many a counter winde and tyde.
With which her winged speed is let and crost.
And she herselfe in stormie surges tost ;
Yet, making many a horde and many a bay.
Still winneth way, ne hath her corapasse lost;
Right so it fares with me in this long way,
\\ hobe course is often stayd, yet never is astray.

For all that hetherto hath long delayd
This gentle knight from sewing his first quest.
Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd.
To sliew the courtesie by Inm profest
Even unto the lowest and the least.
But now I come into my course againe,
'Jo his atchievement of the blatant beast ;
W'ht) all this while at will did range and raine,
Whilst none was him to stop, ncr none him to ro-
stra ine.

Sir Calidore, when thus he now had raught
Faire Pastorella from those brigants powre.
Unto the Castle of Belgard her brought.
Whereof was lord the good Sir Bellamoure ;
Who whylome was, in his vouthes freshest flowre,
A lustie knight as ever wielded speare,
And had endured many a dreadful! stoure
In bloiidy battell for a ladie deare,
The fayrest ladie then of all that living were .

Her name was Clarihell ; whose father hight
The lord of many ilaods, farre renound
For his great riches aal his greater might:
He, through the wealth wheiein he did abound.
This daughter thought in wediocke to have bound
Unto the Prince of Piciehtiid, bordering nere ;
But she, whose sides before with secret wound
Of love to Bellamoure ein])ieiced were,
By all meanes shund to match with any forreign
fere • z

'■39

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Book VI.

And Bellamour ngaine so well hev pleased

With diuly service and attendaiiL-e dew,

I'hat of lier luve he was eiitvrely seized,

And closely did her wed, but knuwne to few :

Which when her fat;]ier understood, he grew

In so •;reat rage that them in dungeon deepe

VVithout compassion cruellv he threw ;

\et did so streightly them asundei- keepe,

'J'hat neither could to conqrany of th' other creepe.

Nathlesse Sir Bellnmour, whether through grace
Ur secret guifts, so with his keepers wrought,
I'hat to his love sometimes lie came in place ;
Whereof her wombe unwist to wight was fraught,
And HI dew time a mayden child forth brought :
Which she streightway (for dread least if her syre
Should know thereof to slay he wouhi have sought)
Delivered to her handmayd, that for hyre
She should it cause be fostred under straunge attyre.

The trustie damzell bearing it abrode

Into the emptie fields, where living wight

Mote not bewray the secret of her lode.

She forth gan lay unto the open light

The litle babe, to take thereof a sight :

AVhom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,

Upon the litle brest, like christall bright,

She mote perceive a little purple mold,

That like a rose her silken leaves did faire unfold.

Well she it markt, and pittied the more,
Yet could not remedie her wretched case ;
But, closing it againe like as before,
LJedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place;
Yet left not quite, but drew a little space
Behind the hushes, where she her did liyde,
To weet what mortall hand, or heavens grace,
W'ould for the wretched iniaiits helpe provyde ;
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

At length a shepheard, wliich thereby did keepe

His iieecie flocke upon the phiynes around,

Led with the infants cry that loud did weepe,

Came to the place; where when he wrapped found

Th' abandond spoyle, he softly it unbound;

And, seeing there that did him jiiltie sore.

He tooke it up and in his mantle wound ;

So home unto his honest wife it bore,

Who as her owne it nurst and named evermore.

I'lius long continu'd Claribell a thrall,
.ind Bellamour in bands ; till tliat her syre
I)e])aited life, and left unto them all:
Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre
Were tiirnd, vuid they to freedome did retyre.
Jhencefurth they ioy'd in li,ii)innesxe together.
And lived long in peace and love entyre,
Without disquiet or dislike of ether,
Till time that Culidore brought I'astorella thother.

Both whom they goodly well did entertaine ;

For 15ellamour knew Calidore risihr, well.

And loved tor Ins prowesse, siih tliev twame

Long since had fought in field : als Claribell

Ne lesse did tender the faire Pastorell,

Seeing her weake and wan through durance long

There they awhile together thus did dwell

In much delight, and many ioyes among,

Untill the damzell oan to wex more sound and strong

The gan Sir Calidore him to advize
Of his first quest, which he had long forlore,
Asham'd to thnike how he that enterprize.
The whicii the Faery Queene had long afore
Bequeath'd to him, forslacked had so sore;
That much he feared least reproachfull blame
With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore;
Besides the losse of so much loos and fame,
As through the world thereby should glorifie his
name.

Tlierefore, resolving to returne in hast

Unto so great atchievement, he bethought

To leave his love, now perill being past,

\Vith Claribell ; whylest he that monster sought

Throughout the world, and to destruction brought.

So taking leave of his faire Pastorell,

W hom to reconifort all the meanes he wrought,

With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell,

He went forth on his quest, and did that him befell.

But first, ere I doe his adventures tell
In this ex|iloite, me needeth to declare
What did betide to the faire Pastorell,
During his absence left in heavy care.
Through daily mourning and nightly mislare :
Yet did that auncient matrone all she might,
To cherish her with all tilings choice and rare ;
And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight,
Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.

Who in a morning, when this maiden faire

Was dighting her, having lier snowy hrest

As yet not laced, nor her golden haire

Into tlieir comely tresses dewly drest,

Chaunst to espy upon her yvory chest

The rosie marke, wliich she remembred well

That litle infant had, which forth she kest.

The daughter of her Lady Claribell,

The which she bore the whiles in jirison she did dwell.

Which well avising, streight she gan to cast
In her conceijitfull mynd that this faire mayd
Was that same infant, which so long sith past
She in the ojien fields had loosely layd
To fortunes sjioile, unable it to ayd :
So, full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast
U'lto her mi.-tresse, being halfo dismayd,
T'J tell her, how the heavens had her graste,
T > save her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was
plaste.

Canto XIL]

THE FAEERIE Ql EENE.

,-?.Ti

Tlie sober mother seeing; sucli her mood,

Yet knowing- not wliat meant tliat sodaine thro

Askt her, how mote lier words be understood,

And what the matter was that mov'd her so.

" My liefe," sayd she, " ye know that long ygo,

Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ve to me gave

A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho ;

The same againe if now ve list to have,

The same is yonder lady, whom High God did save.'

Much was the lady trAibled at that speach.
And gan to question streiglit how she it knew.
" Most certaine markes," sayd she, " do me it teach ;
For on her bretist 1 with these eyes did vew
The little purp]«j rose which thereon grew.
Whereof her name ye then to her did give.
Besides, her countenaunce and her likely hew,
Matched with equall years, do surely prieve
That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet
doth live."

The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire,
But forth in hast ran to the straunger mavd ;
M'hom catching greedily, for great desire
Rent up her brest, and bosome open layd,
In which that rose she ])lainely saw displayd:
Then, her embracing twixt her armes tviaine,
She long so held, and softly weeping sayd ;
■' And livest thou, my daughter, now againe ?
And art thou yet alive, whom dead Ilong did faine?'

Tho further asking her of sundry things,

And times comparing with tlieir accidents,

She found at last, by very certaine signes

And speaking markes of passed monuments.

That tliis young mayd, wliom chance to her presents,

Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.

Tho, wondring long at tliose so straunge events,

A thousand times she her embraced nere,

^Vlth many a ioyfull kisse and many a melting teare.

Whoever is the mother of one chylde.

Which having thought long dead she fyndes alive,

Let her by proofe of that which slie hath fylde

In lier owne breast, this mothers ioy descrive :

For other none sucli passion can contrive

In perfect forme, as this good lady felt,

\\ hen she so faire a daughter saw survive,

As Pastorella was ; that nigh she swelt

For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt.

Thence running forth unto her loved lord,
She unto him recounted all that fell :
Who, ioyning ioy with her in one accord,
Acknowledg'd, for his owne, faire Pastorell.
There leave we them in ioy, and let us tell
Of C^alidore ; who, seeking all this while
That monstrous beast by final! force to quell.
Through every place wi^.h restlesse paine and toile
Uim foUow'd by the Lraot of his outragious spoile.

Through all estates he found that he had past.
In wliich he many massacres had left,
And to the clergy now was come at last ;
In which such spoile, such havocke, and such tlipft
He wrought, that tlience all goodnesse he bereft
That endlesse were to tell. 'The elfin kniglit,
\\ ho now no place besides unsought had left,
At length into a monasters did light,
Where he him found despoyling all with maine and
might.

Into their cloysters now he broken had.
Through which the monckes he chaced here and there.
And them pursu'd into their dortours sad,
And searched all their eels and secrets neare ;
In which what filth and ordure did appears,
Were yrkesome to report ; yet that foule beast,
Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare,
And ransacke all their dennes from most to least,
Reearding nought religion nor their holy heast.

From thence into the sacred church he broke,

And robd the chancell, and the deskes downe threw,

And altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke.

And the images, for all their goodly hew,

Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew ;

So all confounded and disordered there :

Bu , seeing Calidore, away he flew,

Knowing his fatall hand by former feare ;

But he him fast pursuing soone approached neare.

Him in a nari'ow place he overtooke,
And fierce assailing forst him turne againe :
Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke
With his sharpe Steele, and ran at him amaine
^Vith open mouth, that seemed to containe
A full good peeks within the utmost brim,
Ail set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,
"J'hat terrifide his foes, and armed him.
Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim ;

And therein were a thousand tongs empight
Of sundrv kindes and sundry quality ;
Some were of dogs, that barked day and night ;
And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry;
And some of beares, tliat gr(pynd continually ;
And some of tygres, that did seeme to gren
And snar at all that ever passed by :
But most of them were tongues of mortall men,
Which spake reproacfully, not caring where nor
when.

And them amongst were mingled hers and there
The tongues of .-erpents, with three-forked stinu s.
That spat out poyson, and gore-bloudy gere,
At all that came within his ravenings ;
And spake licentious words and hateful! things
Of good and bad alike, of low and hie,
Ne kesars spared he a whit nor kings ,
But either blotted them with infamie,
Or bit them with liis banefuU teeth of iniiiry,

340

THE FARRIE QUEEN E.

[Book VI.

But Calidore, thereof no whit afrayd,

Rencountred him with so impetuous might,

That ih' outrage of his violence lie stayd,

And bet a'jacke tbreatning in vaine to bite,

Ai;d spitting forth the poyson of his spight

That t'omed all about his bloody iawes :

Til';, rearing up his former feete on bight,

lie rarapt u])on him witii his ravenous pawes,

As it he would have rent him with bis cruell clawes ;

l?ut he right well aware, his rage to ward,

Llul cast bis shield atweene ; and, therewithal!

l*iitting his puissaunce fortli, pursu'd so hard,

riiat backeivard he enforced him to fall ;

And, being downe, ere he new belpe could call,

His sljield be on him threw, and fast downe held ;

Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall

Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld,

Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld.

Full cruelly the beast did rage and rore

To be downe held, and maystred so with might,

That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore,

Striving in vaine to rere himself upright :

For still, the more he strove, the more the knight

Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew ;

Tliat made him almost mad for fell despight :

He grind, he bit, he scracbt, be venim threw.

And fared like a feend ri"ht horrible in hew :

Or like the hell-borne hydra, which they faine
That great Alcides whilome overthrew,
After that he had labourd long in vaine
To crop his thousand heads, the which still new
Forth budded, and in greater number grew.
Such was the fury of this hellish beast,
Wildest Calidore him under him downe threw ;
Who nathemore his heavy load releast,
But aye, the more he rag'd, the more his powre
iucreast.

Tho, when the beast saw be mote nought availe
By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply,
And sbarpely at him to revile and raile
With bitter termes of shamefuU infamy;
Oft interlacing many a forged lie,
Whose like he never once did speake, nor heare,
Nor ever thought thing so unwortliily :
Yet did he nought, for all that, him forbeare,
But strained him so streightly that he chokt him
neare.

XXXIV.

At last, whenas he found his force to shrincke

And rage to qnaile, he tooke a muzzle strong

Of surest yron made with many a lincke;

'J'herevvilh be mured up his mouth along.

And therein shut uj) his blasjdieinous tong,

For never more defainir.g gentle knight,

Or unto lovely lady doing wrong:

And thereunto a great long cliaine he tight, [spight.

With which he drew him forth, even in his own de-

Like as whyl6me that strong Tir3'nthian swaine
Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell
Against his will fast bound in yron chaine.
And roring horribly did him compell
To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell
To griesly Pluto, what on earth was donne.
And to the other damned ghosts which dwell
For aye in darkenesse which day-light doth shonne :
So led this knight his captyve with like con(|uest
wonne.

Yet greatly did the beast repine at those
Straunge bands, whose like till then he never bore,
Ne ever any durst till then impose ;
And chauft'ed inly, seeing now no more
Him liberty was left aloud to rore:
Yet durst he not draw backe, nor once withstand
The proved powre of noble Calidore ;
But trembled underneath bis might hand.
And like a fearefull dog him followed through the
land.

Him through all Faery land he follow 'd so,
As if he learned had obedience long.
That all the people, whereso he did go,
Out of their townes did round about him throng.
To see him leade that beast in bondage strong ;
And seeing it, much wonder'd at the sight :
And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,
Reioyeed much to see his captive plight.
And much admyr'd the beast, but more admyr'd the
knight.

xxxvni.

Thus was this monster, by the maystring might
Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed,
That never more he mote endammadge wight
With his vile tongue, which many had defamed.
And many causelt-sse caused to be blamed :
So did he eeke long after this remaine,
UntiU that, (whether wicked fate so framed
Or fault of men,) he broke his vron chaine,
And got into the world at liberty againe,

XXXIX.

Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath he

To mortall men than he had done before; [wrought

Ne ever could, by any, more he brought

Lito like bands, ne maystred any more :

Albe that, long time after Calidore,

The good Sir Pelleas liim l«oke in hand ;

And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore ;

And all his brethren borne in liritaine land;

Yet none of them could ever brinp^ him into band.

So now be raungeth through the world againe.
And rageth sore in each degree and state ;
Ne any is that may him now restraine.
He growen is so great and strong of late,
Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime ;
Ne s])aretli he most learned wits to rnte.
Ne S]iaretli lie the gentle poets rime ;
But rends, without regard of person or of time

Canto XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE,

541

Ne may this homelj verse, of rnnny meanest,

Hofie to escape his venemous despite,

ftlore than u y former writs, all were they cleanest

From blamefull blot, and free from all that nite

'"Vitb which some wicted tongues did it backebite,

And brino^ into a mighty peres displeasure.

That never so deserved to endite

Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure,

And seeke to please ; that now is counted wise men tbreasure.

*A1

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

fCANTO VI.

TWO CANTOS

OP MUTABILITIE:

WHICH, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTER,

APPEARE TO BE PARCELL OF SOME FOLLOWING BOOKE OP

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

UNDER THE

LEGEND OF CONSTANCIE.

CANTO VI.

Proud Change (not pleasd in mortall things

Beneath the moons to raigne)
Pretends, as well of gods as men,

To be the soveraine.

What man that sees the ever-whirling wheele
Of Change, the whicli all mortall things doth sway,
But that thereby doth find, and plainly feele,
How Mutability in them doth play
Her cruell sports to many mens decay ?
Which that to all may better yet appeare,
I will rehearse, that whylome I heard say,
How she at first herselfe began to reare
Gainst all the gods, and th' empire sought from
them to beare.

But first, here falleth fittest to unfold

Her antique race and linage ancient,

As I have found it registred of old

In Faery land mongst records ]'ermanent.

She was, to weet, a daughter by descent

Of those old Titans that did whylome strive

With Saturnes sonne for lieavens regiment ;

Whom tiiough high love of kingdome did deprive,

Yet many of their stemme long after did survive ;

And many of them afterwards obtain'd
Great j)0wer of love, and high autiiority :
As Hecate, in whose almighty hand
He plac't all rule and principality.
To he hy her disposed diversly
To siods and men, as she them list divide ;
And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie
Warres and allarums unto nations wide,
That makes both heaven and earth to tremble at her
pride.

So likewise did this Titanesse aspire
Rule and dominion to herselfe to gaine ;
Tliat as a goddesse men might her admire,
And lieavenly honours yield, as to them twaine
And first, on earth she sought it to obtaine ;
Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed
Of her great power, to many ones great paine,
That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed)
But eke all other creatures her bad dooings rewed.

For she the face of earthly tilings so changed,

That all which Nature had establisht first,

In good estate, and in meet order ranged,

She did j)ervert, and all their statutes burst:

And all the woilds faire frame (^ which none yet durst

Of gods or men to alter or misguide)

She alter'd quite ; and made them all accurst

That Gild had blest, and did at first provide

In that still hapjty state for ever to abide.

Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake.
But eke of iustice. and of policie ;
And wrong of right, and bad of good did make,
And death for life exchanged foolishlie :
Since wliich, all living wights have learned to die,
And all iliis world is woxen daily worse.
O jiittious worke of Mutabilitie,
Ry which we all are subiect to that curst
And death, instead of life, have sucked from our
nurse !

Canto VI.]

thp: faj'.rie queene.

34£

And now, when all the earth she thus had brought

To her behest and tliralled to her might,

Slie gan to Ciist in her ambitious thought

I' aitempt the empire of the heavens liiglit.

And love himselt'e to shoulder from his right.

And first, she past the region of tlie ayre

And of the fire, whose substance tliin and slight

]\l;ule no resistance, ne could lier contraire.

Hut ready to her pleasure did prepaire.

Thence to the circle of the moone she clambe,

W hi re Cynthia raignes in everlasting glory,

1 u whose bright shining palace straight she came,

All fau-elv deckt with heavens goodly story ;

\\ hose silver gates (bv which there sate an hory

(fid aged dire, with hower-glasse in hand,

llit;ht Ivnie.) she entered, were be liefe or sory;

Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand,

V\ ere C) ntliia did sit, that never still did stand.

Her sitting on an ivory throne shee found,
Drawne of two steeds, th' one black, the other white,
Kiiviron'd with teiine thousand starres around,
That dulv her attended day and night
And by her side there ran a page, that hight
\ esper, whom we the evening-starre intend ;
That with his torche, still twinkling like twylight
Her lightened all the way where she would wend
And ioy to weary wandering travellers did lend :

That when the hardy Titanesse beheld
The goodlv Imildinj of her palace bright,
Made of the heavens substance, and up-held,
W ith thousand crvstall pillors of huge hight ;
Shee gan to bunie in her ambitious spriglit
And t' envie her that in such gloria raigned.
f-ftsoones she cast by lorce and tortious might
Her to displace, and to berselfe t' have gained
'1 he kiiigdome of the night, and waters by her
waintd.

Boldlv she bid the goddesse downe descend,

And let htrselfe into that ivory throne ;

Fi<r she lierselfe more worthy thereof wend,

And better able it to guide alone ;

W hether to men whose fall she did bemone.

Or unto gods whose state she did maligne,

Or to th' iiiteniall powers her need give lone

Of her faiie light and bounty most benigne,

Herselfe of all that rule shee deemed most condigne.

But shee that had to her that soveraigne seat

By highest love assign"d, therein to beare

iNights burning lam]), regarded not her threat,

Ne yielded ought for favour or fi r feare ;

but, with Sterne countenance and disdainful! cheare

Bending her horned browes, did put iier back;

And, boldly blaming her for loniing there,

Bade'^her attonce irom heavens cost to pack.

Or at her perill bide the wrathfull thunders wrack.

Yet natliemore the giaiitesse forbare ;

But boldly preacing on, raught forth her hand

To pluck her downe perforce from off her chaire ;

And, there-with lilting up her golden wand.

Threatened to strike her if she did with-stand :

Whereat the starres, which round about her blazed.

And eke the moones bright wagon still did stand,

All becing wiih so bold attempt amazed.

And on her uncouth habit and stenie looke still gazed

Meanwhile the lower world, which nothing knew
Of all that chaunced here, was darkened quite,
And eke the heavens, and all the heavenly crew
Of happy wights, now unpiirvaide of light,
Were much afraid and w{.nd •£ 1 at that sight ;
Fearing lest Chaos broken haa his cbaine.
And brought agauie on them eternall night ;
But chiefly Wercuiy, that next doth raigne.
Ran forth in baste unto the king of gods to plaine.

All ran together with a great out-cry

To loves faire palace lixt in heaven's hight ;

And, beating at his gates full earnestly,

Gan call to liim aloud with all their might,

'I'o know what meant that suddaine lack of light.

The father of the gods, when this he heard,

Was troubled much at their so strange affright,

Doubting least Typhon were agaiiie uprear'd.

Or other his old foes that once him sorely fear'd.

Eftsoones the sonne of Maie forth he sent

Downe to the circle of the moone, to knowe

"1 he cause of this so strange astonishment,

And why shee did her wonted course forslowe ;

And, if that any were on earth belowe

That did with charmes or magick her molest.

Him to attache, and down to Jiell to throwe ;

But if from heaven it were, then to arrest

The author, and him bring before his presence prest

The wingd-foot god so fast his plumes did beat,
I'hat soon he came whereas the J itanesse
Was striving with faire Cynthia for her seat ;
At whose strange sight and haughty hardinesse
He wondred much, and feared her no lesse;
Yet, laying feare aside to doe his charge.
At last he bade her, with bold stedfastnesse,
Ceasse to molest tlie moone to walke at large,
Or come belore high love her dooings to discharge.

XVIII.

And therewithall he on her shoulder la d
His snaky-wreathed mace, whose aw full power
Doth make both gods and Ijellish tiends affraid .
W bereat the Titanesse did sternely lower,
And stoutly answer'd ; That in evill bower
He from his love such message to her brought.
To bid her leave faire Cynthias silver bower j
Sith shee his love and him esteemed nought,
Ao more then Cynthias selfe ; but all their king-
doms souoht

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

[Hanto VL

The heavens lierald staid not to reply,

I'.ut past auay, his doings to relate

Unto his lord ; who now, in th' highest slcy,

Was placed in his principall estate,

With al! the gods about him congregate:

iV) whom wlien Hermes had his message told.

It (lid them all exceedingly amate, [bold,

Save love ; who changing nought his count'nance

Did unto them at length these speeches wise unfold.

" Harken to mee awhile, ye heavenly powers :
Ye may remember since th' earths cursed seed
bought to assaile the heavens eternall towers,
And to us all exceeding feare did breed ;
But, how we then defeated all their deed,
Yee all doe knowe, and them destroied quite ;
Yet not so quite, but that there did succeed
An oft'-spring of their bloud. which did alite
Upon the fruitful! earth, which doth us yet despite.

" Of that bad seed is this bold woman bred,
That now with bold presumption doth aspire
To thrust faire Phorbe from her silver bed,
And eke ourselves from heavens high empire.
If that lier might were match to her desire :
Wherefore it now behoves us to advise
What way is best to drive her to retire ;
\Vhether by open force, or counsell wise :
Areed, ye sonnes of God, as best ye can devise."

So having said, he ceast ; and with his brow

(His black eye-brow, whose doornefuU dreaded beck

Is wont to wield the world unto his vow,

And even the highest powers of heaven to check,)

IMade signe to them in their degrees to speake :

Who straight gan cast their counsell grave and wise.

Meanewhde th' earths daughter, though she nought

(lid reck
Of liermes message, yet gan now advise
What course were best to take in ihis hot bold em-
prize.

XXIII.

Eftsoones she thus resolv'd ; that whil'st the gods

(After returne of Hermes embas»ie)

Were troubled, and amongst themselves at ods ;

Before they could new couiisells re-allie.

To set iijion them in that extasie,

And take wi:at fortune, lime, and jilace would lend:

So forth she rose, and through the ])urest sky

To loves high palace straight cast to ascend,

To jirosecute her plot : good onset beads good end.

XXIV.

Sliee there arriving boldly in did pass ;

\\ here all the gods she found in counsell close.

Ail (juite unarm'd, as then licr manner was.

At sight of her they suddaine all arose

In great amaze, ne wist what way to chose:

But love, all fearlesse, forc't them to aby ;

And in his soveraine tlirone gan straij;ht dispose

Jliiuselfe, more lull of grace and niaiestie.

That mote encheare his friends, and foes mote ternfie.

That wlien the haughty Titanesse belield,

All were she fraught with pride and impudence.

Yet with the sight thereof was almost (jueld ;

And, inly cpiaking. seem'd as reft of sense

And voyd of speech in that drad audience;

Untill that love himselfe herselfe bespake :

" Speake, thou fraile wonidU, speaka with confidenc e ;

Whence art thou, and what doc st thou here now

make ?
What idle errand hast thou eartLs mansion to for-
sake V

Shee, halfe confused with his grait commaund,
Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride,
Him boldly answer'd thus to his demnuiid ;
" I am a daugliter, by the mothers side,
Of her that is grand-mother magnifide •
Of all the gods, great Earth, great Chaos child :
But bv the fathers, be it not envide,
I greater am in bloud, whereon I build,
Then all the gods, though wrongfully from heaven
exil'd.

" For Titan, as ye all acknowittlge must,
Was Saturnes elder brother L> birtli-right;
Both sonnes of Uranus ; but bv uniust
And guilefull meanes, throu'^h Curvbantes slight.
The younger tlirust the eldei; from his riglit :
Since wliich thou, love, iniuriously hast held
The heavens rule from Titans sonnes by might ;
And them to hellisli dungeons downe hast fel(l :
Witnesse, ye heavens, the truth of all that 1 have
teld!"

Whil'st she thus spake, the gods that gave good e«.re
To her bold words, and marked well her grace,
(Beeing of stature tall as any there
Of all the gods, and beautifull of face
As any of the goddesses in ])lace,)
Stood all astonied ; like a sort of steeres,
Mongst whom some beast of strange and forraine rac«
Unwares is chaunc't, far straying from his jieere^ :
So did their ghastly gaze bewray their hidden feare*

XXIX.

Till, liaving pauz'd awhile, love tlius bespake,
" \\ ill never mortall thouglits cease to aspire
In this bold sort to Iieaven claime to make.
And touch celestiall seates with earthly mire?
1 would have thought that bold Procrustes hire.
Or I'vphons fall, or jiroud Ixions paiiie
Or great Prometheus tasteing of our ire,
\Vould have sufKz'd the rest for to restraiiie.
And waru'd all men, by their example, to refraine

" But now this ofT-scum of that cursed fry
Uare to renew the like bold enterprize,
And clialenge th' heritage of this our skie :
Whom what should hinder, but that we likewise
Should liandle as the rest of her allies.
And thunder-drive to hell ?" With that he shooke
His neciar-deawed locks, with which the fckyes
And all the world beneath for terror quooke,
And eft bis burning levin-brond in hand he tooke.

Canto VI.J

THE FAERIE QUEENTE.

345

I5ut when he looked on her lovely face,

111 which faire beanies of beauty did appeare

That could the greatest wrath soone turne to grace,

(Such sway doth beauty even in heaven beare,)

He staide his hand; and, having chang'd his cheare,

He thus againe in milder wise began ;

" But ah ! if gods should strive with flesh yfere,

Then shortly should the progeny of man

Be rooted out, if love should doe still what he can !

" But thee, faire Titans child, I rather weene,
Til rough some vaine errour, or inducement light,
To see that mortall eyes have never seene ;
Or through ensample of thy sisters might,
Bellona, whose great glory thou doost spight,
Since thou uast seene her dreadful! power belowe :
JMongst wretched men, dismaide with her affright.
To bandie crownes, and kingdoms to bestovve :
And sure thy worth no lesse then hers doth seem to
showe.

" But wote thou this, thou hardy Titanesse,
That not the wortli of any living wight
Mav challenge ought in heavens interesse ;
Much lesse the title of old Titans right :
For we by conquest, of our soveraine might.
And by eternall doome of Fates decree.
Have wonne the empire of the heavens bright;
Which to ourselves we hold, and to wiioni wee
Shall worthy deeme partakers of our blisse to bee.

'' Then ceasse thy idle claime, thou foolish gerle ;

And seeke by grace and goodnesse to obtaine

That place, from which by folly Titan fell ;

1 iierto thou maist perhaps, if so thou faine.

Have ove thy gracious lord and soveraigne."

So having said, she thus to him replyde ,

" Ceasse, Saturnes sonne, to seeke by proffers vaine

t)f idle hopes t' allure raee to thy side,

For to betray my right before I have it tride.

" But thee, love, no equal iudge I deeme

Of my desert, or of my de a full right ;

That in thine owne behalfe maist parliall seeme:

But to the highest him, that is behight

Father of gods and men by equall might.

To weet, the god of Nature, I appeale."

Thereat love wexed wroth, and in his spright

Did inly grudge, yet did it well conceale ;

And bade Dan Phoebus scribe her appellation seale.

Eftsoones the time and place appointed were,
Where all, both heavenly powers and earthly wights.
Before great Natures presence should appeaire,
For triall of their titles and best rights :
That was, to weet, upon the highest bights
Of Arlo-hill (who knowes not Arlo-hill ?)
That is the highest head, in all mens s-ights,
(if my old father Moi.e, whom Shejiheards quill
Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill.

And, were it not ill fitting for this file [knights.

To sing of hilles and woods mongst warres and
I would abate the sternenesse of my stile,
Mongst these Sterne stounds to mingle soft delights ;
And tell how Arlo, through Dianaes spights,
(Beeing of old the best and fairest hill
That was in all this Holy-Islands bights,)
Was made the most unpleasant and most ill :
Meane while, O Clio, lend Calliope thy quill.

Whylome when Ireland florished in fame
Of weiilth and goodnesse, far above the rest
Of all that beare the British Islands name.
The gods then used, for jdeasure and for rest.
Oft to resort thereto, when seem'd them best:
But none of all therein more pleasure found
Then Cynthia, that is soveraine queene profest
Of woods and forrests, which therein abound,
Sprinkled with wholsora waters more then most oa
ground :

XXXIX

But mongst them all, as fittest for her game,
(Either for chace of beasts with hound or bowe.
Or for to shroude in shade from Phoebus flame.
Or bathe in fountaines that doe freshly flowe
Or from high hilles, or from the dales belowe,)
She chose this Arlo ; where shee di<l resort
With all her nymphes enranged on a rowe,
With whom the woody s;ods did oft consort ;
For with the nymphes the satyres love to play and
sport :

XL.

Amongst the which there was a n\Tnph that hight
Molanna: daughter of old Father .Mole,
And sister unto Mulla faire and bright:
Unto whose bed false Bregog whylome stole
That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole.
And made her lucklesse loves well knowne to be:
But this Molanna, were she not so shole,
Were no lesse faire and beautifull then shee:
Yet, as she is, a fairer flood may no man see.

For first she springs out of two marble rocks.
On which a grove of oakes high-mounted growes
That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks [showes
Of some faire bride, brought forth with pompoua
Out of her bowre, that many flowers s'rowes ;
So through the flowry dales she tumbling dowiie
Through many woods and shady coverts flowes
That on each side her silver channell crowne,
Till to the plaine she come, whose valleyes shee
drowne.

In her sweet streames Diana used oft.
After her sweatie chace and toilesonie pla^',
'i"p bathe hersell'e ; and, after, on the soft
And downy grasse her daintv limbes to lay
In covert shade, where none beliold her may.
For much she hated sight of living eye :
Foolish god Fnunus, though full many a day
He saw her clad, vet longed foolishly
To see her naked mongst her nymphes in privity.

THE FAEIUK. QUEENE.

[Canto VI

No way he found to compasse liis desire,

But to corrupt i\Iolanna, this her maid,

Her to discover for some secret hire:

So her witli flattering words lie first assaid ;

And, after, ])leasinLC gifts for lier j)urvaid,

Queene-apples, and red cherries from the tree,

\Vith wliich he her allured and betraid

To tell what time he might her lady see

When she herselfe did bathe, that he might secret bee.

Thereto hee promist, if she would him pleasure
AVith this small boone, to quit her witli a better;
To weet, that whereas shee had out of measure
Long- lov'd the Fanchin, who by nought did set her,
That he would undertake lor this to get her
To be his love, and of him liked well:
Besides all which, he vow'd to be her debter
For many moe good turnes then lie would tell ;
The least of which this little pleasure should excell.

The sim[)le maid did yield to him anone ;

And eft him jihiced where he close might view

Tliat never any saSv, save onely one,

Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew.

Was of his hounds devour'd in hunters hew.

Tho, as her manner was on sunny day,

Diana, with her nymphes about her, drew

To this sweet spring ; wliere, dotRng her array,

She bath'd her lovely limbes, for love a likely pray,

There Faunus saw that jileased much his eye.
And made his hart to tickle in his brest,
'J'hat, for great ioy of somewhat he did spy,
He could him not containe in silent rest ;
But, breaking forth in laughter, loud profest
His foolish liiought : a toolish faune indeed.
That couklst not hold tlivselfe so hidden blest,
Hut wouldest needs thine owiie conceit areed !
Babblers unworthy been of so divine a meed.

The goddesse, all abashed with that noise.
In haste forth started from the guilty brooke ;
And, running straight whereas she lieiird his voice,
Enclos'd the bush about, and there him tooke
J. ike darred hirke, not daring up to looke
On hi r whose sight before so much he sought.
'I'liH'ice forth they drew him by tiie homes, and shooke
Ni'jh all to peeces, that they left him nought;
And then into the open light they forth him brought.

Like as an huswife, that with busie care
I liinks of her dairie to make wondrous gaine,
Finding whereas some wicked beast unware
'I'liai breakes into her dayr' house, there doth draine
Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine ;
It. lib, in some snare or gin set close behind,
I- iilrapjied him, and caught into her traiiie,
Then thinkes w bat puiusluneiit were be>t as>ign'd.
And thousand dealhes deviseth in her vengefuU
mind :

XTIX.

So did Diana and her mavdens all
Use silly Faunus, now within their baile :
They mocke and scorne him, and him ibule miscall ;
Some by the nose him pluckt, sonie by the taile,
And by his goatish beard some did him haile :
Yet he (poore soule!) with patience all did beare ;
For nought against their wils might countervails :
Ne ought ne said, whatever he did heare ;
But, hanging downe his head, did like a mome
appeare.

At length, when they had flouted him their fill.
They gan to cast what penaunce him to give, [spill
Some would have gelt Jiim ; but that same would
Tlie wood-gods breed, which must for ever live:
Others would through the river him have drive
And ducked deepe ; but that seem'd penaunce light :
J5ut most agreed, and did this sentence give,
Him in deares skin to clad ; and in that plight
To hunt liim with their hounds, himsell'e save how
hee might.

But Cynthia's selfe, more angry then the rest.
Thought not enough to punish him in sport.
And of her shame to make a gamesome iest :
]5ut gan examine him in straighter sort.
Which of her nymphes, or other close consort.
Him thither brought, and her to him betraid.
He, much afleard, to her confessed short
That 'twas Molanna which her so bewraid.
Then all attonce their hands upon Molanna laid

But him (according as they had decreed)
Witii a deeres-skin they covered, and then chast
\\'ith all their hounds that after him did speed ;
But he, more speedy, from them fled more fast '
Then any deere ; so sore him dread aghast.
They afier follow'd all with shrill out-cry,
Shouting as they the heavens would have brast ;
That all the woods and dales, where he did flie.
Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie.

So they him follow'd till they weary were;
When, back returning to Molann' againe,
They, by commaund'ment of Diana, there [paine.
Her whelm'd with stones: \'et Faunus, for her
Of her beloved Fanchin did obtaine,
'i'hat iier he would receive unto his bed.
So now her waves passe through a pleasant plaine.
Till witli the Fanchin she herselfe doe wed.
And, both combiii'd, themselves in one faire river
spred.

nv.

Nath'lesse Diana, full of indignation,
Tlienceforth abandoiid her delicious brooke :
In whose sweete streame, before that bad occasion,
So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke:
Is'e onely her, but also (juite forsooke
All those faire forrests about Arlo hid ;
And all that mouiitaine, \\ Inch doth overlooke
The richest champian that may else be rid ;
And the faire Shure, in wiiich are thousand salmonji
bred.

Canto Y^Q

THE FAi:UlK- QUEEN'E.

347

Tlieni all, and all that she so deare did way,
Thenceforth she left ; and, parting- from the place,
Thereon an heavy huplesse curse did lay ;
To weet, that vvolv^es, where she was wont to apace
Shou'd harbour'd be and all those woods deface,
And thieves should rob and spoile that coast around.
Since which, those woods, and all that goodly chase
Doth to this day with wolves and thieves abound :
Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since have found

CANTO VII.

Pealing from love to Natures bar.

Bold Alteration pleades
Large evidence : but Nature scone

Her righteous dooine areads.

Ah ! whither dost thou now, thou greater muse,

lS\e from these woods and pleasing forrests bring ?

And my fraile spirit, that dooth oft refuse

This too liigh flight unfit for her weake wing,

Lift up aloft, to tell of heavens king

(Thy soveraine sire) his fortunate successe ;

And victory in bij;ger iioates to sing,

W hich he obtaia'd against that litanesse,

That him of heavens empire sought to dispossesse?

Yet, sith I needs must follow thy behest,

Doe thou my weaker wit witli skill inspire,

tit for this turne ; and in niv sable brest

Kindle fresh sparks of that inimortail fire

W hich learned minds indanieth with desire

Of heavenly things : for who, but ihou alone

'i hat art yborne of heaven and heavenly sire.

Can tell things doen in heaven so long ygone.

So farre past memory of man that may be knowne 1

Now, at the time that was before agreed,
The gods assembled all on Arlo Hill ;
As well those that are sprung of heavenly seed.
As those that all die other world doe fill.
And rule both sea and land unto tlieir will :
Onely tli' infernal! powers might not appeare ;
As well for horror of their count'naunce ill,
As forth' unruly fiends which thev did (eare;
Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there.

And thitb?r also came all other creatures,
Whatever life or motion doe letame,
According to their sundry kinds of features ;
That Arlo scarsly could ihein sdl containe ;
So full they filled every hill and jilaine:
And had not Natures Sergeant (that is Order)
Them well disposed by las buisie paine,
And rauiiged furre abroad in eveiy border,
T-iiey would have caused much confusion and dis-
order

Then forth issew'd (great goddesse) great Dame
With goodly port and gracious maiesty, [Nature,
Being far greater and more tall of stature
Then any of the gods or powers on hie ;
Yet certes by her face and physnomy.
Whether she man or woman inly were.
That could not any creature well descry ;
For, with a veile that wimpled every where.
Her head and face was hid that mote to none ap-
peare.

vr.

That, some doe sav, was so by skill devized.

To hide the terror of her uncouth hew

From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized :

For that her face did like a lion shew,

That eye of wight could not iiidure to view :

But other5 tell that it so beautious was.

And round about such beames of splendor threw

'i'hat it the sunne a thousand times did pass,

Ne could be seene but like an image in a glass.

That well mav seemen true ; for well I weene
'I'hat this same day, when she on Arlo sat,
Her garment was so briglit and wondrous sheene,
1 hat my fraile wit cannot devize to what
It to compare, nor finde like s'utle to that:
As those three sacred saints, though else most wise,
Yet on J.Iount Thabor (juite their wits for>>at
When thev their glorious lord in strange disguise
Transfigur'd sawe ; his garments so did aaze their
eves.

In a fayre plaine upon an equall hill

She [ilaced was in a pavilion :

Not such as craf'tesmeii bv their idle skill

Are wont for princes slates to fashion ;

But th' earth herself, of lier owiie motion,

Out of her fruitfuU bosoiiie made to growe

Most daiiiiy liees, that shuotino- up anon.

Did seeme to bow their liloosming beads full lOT^a

For homage unto her, and I'.Ke a throne aid snevr

348

TflK FAKRIF, QUKKXE.

[Canto V' II

So Irani it is for any living wight
All liei- array and vestimeiits to tell,
'"J'liat okl Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright,
J'lie ])ure well-head of poesie did dwell)
In his Foutes Partetj durst not with it mell,
Hut it traiisterd to Alane, wlio he thought
Had in his I'luint nj' Kiiides desc.nh'd h well :
W hich who will read set forth so as it ought,
Liu seek lie out that Alane where he may be sought.

And all tlie earth far underneath her feete
Was dight with flowers, that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forih odours sweet;
Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and hew,
That might delight the smell, or please the view,
The which the nymphes from all the i)rooks thereby
Had gathered, they at her foot-stoole threw ;
That richer seem'd then any tapestiy.
That princes bowres adorne with painted imagerv.

And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more,
L)id deck himself in freshest faire attire ;
And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore
With hardned frosts of former winters ire.
He with an oaken girlond now did tire.
As if the love of some new nymph late seene
Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire.
And made him change his gray attire to greene :
Ah ! gentle Mole, such icyance haih thee well
beseene.

AVns never so great icyance since the day

'i hat all the gods whylome assembled were

On Hicmus hill in their divine array,

'l"o celebrate the solemne bridall cheare

'I w ixt Peleus and Dame Thetis pointed there ;

^Vhere Phoebus self, that god of poets Iiiglit,

They say, did sing the spousall hyrane full cleere.

That all the gods were ravisht with delight

Of his celestiall song and musicks wondrous might.

This great grandmotlier of all creatures bred.

Great Nature, ever young, yet full of eld ;

Stdl mooving, yet unmoved from her sted ;

Unseene of any, yet of all beheld ;

Thus sitting ia her throne, as 1 have teld.

Before her came Dame iMutabilitie;

And, being lowe before lier jiresence feld

With meek obavsance and huir.ilitie.

Thus gan her plainiif plea with words to amplifie :

To thee, O greatest goddesse, onely great,
An humble sujipliant lot;! 1 lowely jly,
Seeking for right, which 1 of thee entreat;
Who right to all dost deale indilferently.
Damning all wrong and torlunis iniurie,
Which any of thy creatures doe to other
Oppressing them with power uneipially,
Sith of them all thou art the e()ua.l mother,
Ana knittes;: each to each, as bro'h'ir u'l > brother.

" To thee therefore of this same love J plaine,

And of his fellow gods that faine to be.

That challenge to themselves the whole worlds raign,

Of which the greatest part is due to me,

And heaven itselfe by heritage in fee:

For heaven and earth I both alike do deeme,

Sith heaven and earth are both alike to tiiee;

And gods no more then men thou doest esteenie :

For even the gods to thee, as men to gods, do seeme.

"Then weigh, O soveraigne goddesse, by what right

'J'liese gods do claime the worlds whole soverainty ,

And that is onely dew unto mv might

Arrogate to themselves ambitiously :

As for the gods owne principality,

Which love usurpes uniustly, that to be

My heritage, love's selfe cannot deny,

From my great grandsire Titan unto mee

Deriv'd by dew descent ; as is well known to thee.

" Yet mauger love, and all his gods beside,

I doe possesse the worlds most regiment;

As if ye jdease it into parts divide,

And every parts inholders to convent.

Shall to your eyes apjieare incontint.nt.

And first, the earth (great mother of us all)

That only seems unmov'd and permanent.

And unto Mutability not thrall.

Yet is she chang'd in part, and eeke in generall :

" For all that from her springs, and is ybredde.

However favre it flourish for a time.

Yet see we soone decay ; and, being dead.

To turne again unto their earthly slinie

Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime.

We daily see new creatures to arize,

And of their Winter spring another Prime,

Unlike in forme, and chang'd by strange disguise •

So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.

"As for her tenants ; that is, man and beasts ;

The beasts we daily see massacred dy

And thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts ;

And men themselves doe change continually,

From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty,

F'rora good to bad, from bad to worst of all :

Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly ;

But eeke their minds (which they imroortall call)

Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall

" Ne is the water in more constant case ;
Whether those same on high, or these belowe :
For th' oce;in moveth siil! from pi. ice to place;
And every river still doth ebbe and flowe ;
Ne any lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne ])0(de so small, that can his smoothiiesse holde
When any wiiirie do'h under heaven blowe ;
Will) which the cl.md-. are also tost and rcdl'd.
Now like great hills; ami streighl, like sluces, thein
unfold.

Canto VII.]

THE FAERIE QUEENE.

5-19

" So likewise are all watry living' wight3
till test and turned with continuall cliange,
ever abyding in their stedi'ast plights:
The lish, still floting, doe at random range,
And never rest, but evermore exchange
rheir dwelling places, as the streames them carrie :
Ne have the watry foules a certaine grange
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry ;
but flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.

" Next is the ayre : which who feeles not by sense

(For of all sense it is the middle meane^

i'o flit still, and with subtill influence

Of his thin spirit all creatures to maintaine

In state of life? O weake life ! that does leane

On thing so tickle as th' unsteady ayre.

Which every howre is chang'd, and altred cleans

With every blast that bloweth fowle or faire :

The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it irapaire.

" Therein the changes infinite beholde,
Which to her creatures every minute chaunce ;
Now boyling hot ; streight friezing deadly cold ;
N ovv faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce ;
Streight bitter storms, and balefull countenance
That makes them all to shiver and to shake :
Ravne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance.
And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake)
W ith flames and flashing lights that thousand changes
make.

' Last is the fire; which, though it live for ever,

Ne can be quenched quite ; yet, every day.

We see his parts, so soone as they do sever,

lo lose their heat and shortly to decay;

So makes himself his owne consuming pray;

Ne any living creatures doth he breed;

But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay;

And with their death his cruell life dootli feed ;

Nought leavinor but their barren ashes without seede.

XXV.

" Thus all these fower (the which the groundwork
Of all the world and of all living wights) [bee

To thousand sorts of change we subject see :
Vet are they chang'd by other wondrous slights
Into themselves, and lose their native mights ;
I he fire to aire, and th' ayre to water sheere.
And water into earth ; yet water fights
With fire, and aire with earth, approaching neere ;
Vet all are in one body, and as one appeare.

XXVI.

" So in them all raignes Mutabilitie;

However these, that gods themselves do call.

Of them doe claime the rule and soverainty ;

As Vesta, of the fire sethereall ;

Vulcar, of this witii us so usuall ;

Ops, of the earth ; and luno, of the ayra;

Neptune, of seas ; und nymphes, of rivera all :

For all those rivers to me subiect are;

And all the rest, which they usurp, be all my share.

" W'hich to apprnven true, as I have told.
Vouchsafe, O goddesse, to thy presence call
The rest which doe the world in being hold ;
As times and seasons of the yeare that fall :
Of all the which demand in generall.
Or iudge thyselfe, by verdit of thine eve.
Whether to me they are not subiect all."
Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by
Bade Order call them all before her maiestv.

XXVIII.

So forth issew'd the seasons of the yeare :
First, lusty Spring all dight in leaves of flowres
That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare.
In vi'liich a thousand birds had built their bowres
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours ;
And in his hand a iavelin he did beare.
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engraven morion he did weare ;
That as some did him love, so others did him feare

Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene.
That was uiilyned all, to be more light :
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, I'rom which as he had chaufted been
'i'he sweat did drop ; and in his hand he bore
A bovve and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunte<l late the libbard or the bore,
And now would bathe his limbes with labor heated
sore.

Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad
As though he ioyed in his plentious store.
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
'J'hat he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore :
Upon his head a wreath, that was eiirold
With cars of corne of every sort, he bore
And in his hand a sickle he did holde.
To reape the ripened I'ruits the which the earth had
yold.

Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in irize,
Chattering; his teeth for cold that did him chill;
Wjiil'st on his hoary beard his breath did frease.
And ihe dull drops, that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distill:
In his right hand a tipjied stafte he held.
With which his feeble steps he stayed still ;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

These, marching softly, thus in order went.

And after them the monthes all riding car.io ;

First, sturdy March, with brows full sternly bent

And armed strongly, rode upon a ram.

The same which over Hellespontus swam;

Yet in Lis hand a spade he also bent,

And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,

Which on the earth he strowed as he went, [ment.

And fild her womb with fruiifull hope of nourish-

350

THE FAERIE QUKKXE.

Canto VJI.

Next came fresh Aprill, full of histvlied,
And wanton as a kid whose home new buds :
Upon a bu" he rode, the same which led
Europa floting- throng-h th' Arp;olick fluids :
His homes were gilden all with golden studs,
And srarnished with garlonds goodly dight
Of all the fairest flowres and fresliest buds [s'gl't
Which th' earth brings forth ; and wet he seem'd in
With waves, through which he waded for his loves
delight.

Then came faire May, the fayrest mavd on ground,
Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,
And throwing flowres out of her lap around :
Upon two brethrens shoulders she did ride,
The twinnes of Leda ; which on evther side
Supported her like to their soveraine queene :
Lord ! how all creatures laught when her they spide,
And leapt and daunc't as they had ravisht beenel
And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

And after her came iolly lune, arraj^d
All in greene leaves, as he a player were:
Yet in his time he wrought as well as playd,
That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare :
Upon a crab he rode, that him did beare
With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase,
And backward yode, as bargemen wont to fare
] lending their force contrary to their fiice ; [grace
Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest

Then came hot luly boyling like to fire.
That all his garments he had cast away :
L'pon a lyon raging yet with ire
He boldly rode, and made li,im to obay :
(It was the beast that whylome did forray
The Nemaean forrest, till th' Amphytrionide
Him slew, and with his hide did him array :)
IJehinde his backe a sithe, and by his side
Under his belt he bore a sickle circling wide

The sixt was August, being rich arrayd
1 II garment all of gold downe to the ground :
\'et rode he not, but led a lovely mavd
Forth by tne lilly hand, the which was cro^.id
With eares of come, and full her hand was found :
'J'hat was the righteous virgin, which of old
Liv'd here on earth, and plenty made abound;
15ut, after Wrong was lov'd and Justice solde,
She left th' unrig-hteous world, and was to heaven
extol**

Next him September marched eeke on foote;
Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle
Of harvests riches, which he made his boot,
And him enricht with bounty of the soyle :
In his one hand, as fit for harvests toyle.,
He held a knife-hook ; and in th' other hand
A paire of waigjits, with which he did assoyle
Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,
And equall gave to each as lustice duly scann'd.

Then came October full of merry glee ;

For yet his noule was totty of the must.

Which he was treading in the wine-fats see,

And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust

Made him so frollick and so full of lust :

Upon a dreadfuU scorpion he did ride.

The same which by Dianaes doom uniust

Slew great Orion ; and eeke by his side

He had his ploughing-shaie and coulter ready tyde.

Next was November ; he full grosse and fat

As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme ;

For he had been a fatting hogs of late.

That yet liis browes with sweat did reek and steem.

And yet the season was full sharp and breem ;

In planting eeke he took no small delight :

Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme ;

For it a dreadfull centaure was in sight.

The seed of Saturne and faire Nais, Chiron bight.

And after him came next the chill December :
Yet he, through merry feasting which he made
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember ;
His Saviours birth his mind so much did glad :
Upon a shasgy-bearded goat he rode,
The same wherewith Dan love in tender yeares,
'I hey say, was nourisht by th' Inean mayd ;
And in his hand a broad dee])e bowle he beares,
Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.

Then came old lanuary, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away ;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blowe his navies to warme them if he may ;
For they were numbd with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray :
Upon an huge great earth-pot sleane he stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Ro-
mane flood.

And lastly came cold February, .sitting
In an old wagon, for he could not ride,
Drawne of two fishes for the season fitting,
Which through the flood before did softly slyde
And swim away; yet had he by his side
His ])lough and liarnesse fit to till the ground,
And tooles to (iruno the trees, before tlie pride
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round.
So past the twelve months forth, and their dew
jiliices found.

xi.iy.

And after these there came the Day and Night,
lading together both with equall pase;
'J"h' one on a palfrey blacke, the other white :
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a blacke veile, and held in liand a mace.
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight,
And Sleep and Darknesse round about did trace.
But Day did beare upon his scepters hight
The goodly sun encompast all with beamiis bright.

Canto VIL]

THE FAERIE QUEEXE.

351

Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high love
And timelv Night ; the which wpre all endewed
With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love ;
But tliey were virgins all, and love esche>ved
That might forslack the charge to them foreshewed
By mighty love ; who did them porters make
Of heavens gate (whence all the gods issued)
Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake
By even turnes, ne ever did their charge forsake.

And after all came Life ; and lastly Death :
Death with most grim and griesly visage seene,
^ et is he nought but parting of the breath ;
Ne ought to see, hut like a shade to weene,
Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene:
But Life was like a faire young lusty boy,
Such as thev faine Dan Cupid to have bet-ne,
Full of delightfuU health and lively ioy,
Deckt all with flowres and wings of gold fit to em-
ploy.

XLVII.

W^hen these were past, thus gan the Titanesse ;
" 7^0 ! mighty mother, now be iudge, and say
Whether in all tliy creatures more or lesse
CiiAXCE doth not raign and beare the greatest sway ;
For who sees not that time on all doth pray?
But times do change and move continually :
So nothing here long standeth in one stay :
Wherefore this lower world who can deny
But to be subiect still to Mutabditie'!"

Then thus gan love ; " right true it is, that these
And all things else that under heaven dwell
Are chaung'd of time, who doth them all disseise
Of being : but who is it (to me tell)
That Time himselfe doth move and still compell
To keepe his course? Is not that namel\' wee,
\Vliich ])onre that vertue from our heavenly cell
That moves them all, and makes them changed be?
So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee."
I

To whom thus Mutability ; " The things.
Which we see not how they are mov'd and swayd,
\'e may attribute to yourselves as kings.
And say, they b}' jour secret power are made:
But what we see not, who shall thus perswade?
But were they so, as ye them faine to be,
Mov'd by your might, and ordered by your ayde.
Yet what if I can prove, that even yee
\ ourselves are likewise chang'd, and subiect unto
mee?

" And first, concerning her that is the fiist,
Even you, faire Cyntiiia ; whom so much ye make
loves dearest darling, she was bred and nurst
On Cvnlhus hill, whence she her name did take ;
Then is shee mortall borne, howso ye crake :
l^esides, lier face and countenance every day
W e changed see and sundry forms partake, [gray :
Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and
So that IIS cliiiiigefiiU an thp, moone men use to say.

" Next Mercury ; who though he lesse appeare

To change his hew, and ahvayes seeme as one ;

^'et he his course dolh alter every yeare,

And is of late far out of order gone :

So Venus eeke, that goodlv para>;one,

TJiough faire all night, yet is she darke all day :

And Phoebus self, who lightsome is alone.

Yet is he oft eclipsed by tiie way.

And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.

" Now Mars, that valiant man, is changed most;
For he sometimes so far runs out of square.
That he his way doth seem (piite to have lost.
And cl^ane without his usuall s|)liere to fare ;
That even these star-gazers stonisht are
At sight thereof, and damne their lying hookes :
So likewise grim Sir Saturne oft doth spare
His Sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes :
So many turning cranks these have, so many crookes.

" But you, Dan love, that only constant are.

And king of all the rest, as ye do clame,

Are you not subject eeke to this misfare?

Then let me aske you this witliouten blame ;

Where were ye borne? Some say in Crete by name,

Others in Thebes, and others otherwhere ;

Bat, wheresoever they comment the same,

They all consent that ye begotten were

And borne here in this world ; ne other can appeare

" Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me ;
Unlesse the kingdome of the sky ye make
Immortall and unchangeable to be :
Besides, that power and vertue, which ye spake.
That ye here worke, doth many changes take.
And your owne natures change: for each of you,
That vertue have or this or that to make,
Is chekt and changed from his nature trew,
By others opposition or obliquid view.

" Besides, the sundry motions of your spheares,
So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine.
Some in short space, and some in longer yeares;
What is the came but alteration plaine ?
Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine :
Yet do the starres and signes therein still move,
And even itself is mov'd, as vi-izards saine :
But all that moveth doth mutation love:
Therefore both you and them to me I subiect prove

" Then since within this wide great universe
Nothing doth firme and permanent apjieare,
But all things tost iuid turned by transverse;
What then should let, but I aloft should reare
J\Iy trophee, and from all the triumph beare?
Now iudge then, O thou greatest goddesse tr ;w,
According as thyselfe doest see and heare,
And unto me addoom that is my dew:
That is. the rule of aii ; all being rul'd by you."

352

THE FAER'E QUEENE.

Canto VIII

So liaving ended, silence long ensewed ;
Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space,
But with firrae eyes atfixt the ground still viewed.
Meane while all creatures, looking in her face,
Expecting tli" end of this so douhtfull case.
Did hang in long suspence what would ensew,
I'o wliether side should fall the soveraigne place :
A t length she, looking up with chearefull view,
The silence brake, and gave her doome in speeches
few:

" I well consider all that ye have savd ;
And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate
And changed be ; yet, being rightly vvayd.
They are not changed from tlieir first estate ;
But by their change their being doe dilate ;
And, turning to themselves at length againe.
Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate :
Then over them Change doth not rule and raigne ;
But they raigne over Change, and doe their stales
maintaine.

" Cease therefore, daughter, further to aspire.

And thee content thus to be rul'd by me :

For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire :

But time shall come that all shall changed bee.

And from thenceforth none no more change shall see !"

So was the Titaness put downe and whist.

And love confirm'd in his imperiall see.

Then was that whole assembly quite dismist,

And Natures selfe did vanish, whither no man wist.

THE VIIIth CANTO, UNPERFITE.

When I bethinke me on that speech whyleare
Of Mutability, and well it way ;
]\Ie seemes, that though she all unworthy were
Of the heav'ns rule ; yet, very sooth to say.
In all things else she bears the greatest sway :
H'hich makes me loath this state of life so tickle.
And love of things so vaine to cast away ;
Whose flowring pride, so fading and so fickle,
iihort Time shall soon cut down with bis consuming
sickle !

I'hen gin I thinke on that which Nature say4.
Of that same time when no more change shall be.
But stedfasi rest of all things, firmely stayd
Upon the pillours of Eternity,
That is contrayr to INIutabilitie :
For all that moveth doth in change delight :
But thenceforth all shall rest eternally
With him that is the God of Sabaoth bight :
O ! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that Sabbaths
sight !

MISCELLA ES.

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

BY ED. SP.
1595.

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND NOBLE KNIGHT
SIR WALTER RALEIGH,

CAPTAINE OF HER MAIESTIES GUARD, LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERIES,
AND LIEUTENANT OF THE COUNTIE OF CORNWALL.

Sir,

That you may see that I am not alwaies ydle as yee thinke, though not greatly well occupied, nor alto-
gither undutifull, though not precisely officious, I make you present of this simple Pastoral!, unvr.-rthie of
vour higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile, hut agreeing with the truth in circumstance and matter.
The which I humhly beseech you to accept in part of paiment of the infinite debt, in which I acknowledge
ray selfe bounden unto you for your singular favours, and sundrie good turnes, sliewed to me at my late
being in England ; and with your good countenance protect against the malice of evill mouthes, which are
alwaies wide open to carpe at and misconstrue my simple meaning. I pray continually for your happinesse.
From my house of Kilcolman, the S7. of December.

1591. [rather perhaps 15P3.]

Yours ever humbly,

Ed. Sp. .

The shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)

That after TitjTus first sung his lay,

Laies of sweet love, without rebuke or blame.

Sate (as his custome was) upon a day.

Charming his oaten pipe unto his peres, 5

The >hepbeard swaines that did about him play :

Who all the while, with greedie listfuU eares.

Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,

Like Ir.irtlesse deare, dismayd with thunders sound.

At last, when as he piped had his fill, 10

'ie rested him : and, sitting then around,

One of ihose groomes (aiolly groome was he,

As ever piped on an oaten reed,

And lovVi iliis shepheard dearest in degree,

ili^lii ilobbiiif)! ;) i;an thus to him areed, 13

"Colin, my liefe.my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke !
And I, poore swaine, of many, greatest crosse !
That, sith thy muse first since thy turning hacke
AV'as heard to sound as she was wont on hye, 20
Hast made us all so blessed and so biythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lie :
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine :
The fields witli faded flowers did seem to mourne, iS
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine :
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with languour did lament :
But now both woods and fields and floods revive,
Sith thou art come, their cause of merriment, 30

354

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

That us, late dead, hast made asjaine alive ;

But were it not too painefuU to repeat

The passed fortunes, which to tliee befell

III thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,

Now at thv leisure them to us to te'l." 35

To whom the sheplieard gently answered thus ;
" Hobbin.thou temptest me totliat I covet:
For of good ])assed newly to discus,
By dubble usurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that angels blessed eie, 40

Her worlds bright sun, her heavens fairest light,
My mind, full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling have in any earthly pleasure, 45

Jjut in remembrance of that glory bright,
]\ly lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then, my pipe ; my sleepie muse, awake ;
Till I have told her praises lasting long:
Hobbln desires, thou maist it not forsake ; — 50
Harke then, ye iolly shepheards, to my song."

With that they all gan throng about him neare,
With hungrie eares to lieare liis liarmonie :
The whiles their flocks, devoyd of dangers feare,
Did round about them feed at libertie. 55

" One day (quotli he) I sat (as was my trade)
Under the foote of Mole, that mountaine here.
Keeping my sheepe among-st the cooly shade
Of the greene alders bv the MuUaes shore ;
There a straunge sheplieard chaunst to find me out, 60
Whether allured with my pipes delight,
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about,
Or thitlier led Ijy cliaunce, I know not right :
AVhora when I asked from what place he came,
And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe 65

The Sheplieard of the Ocean by name.
And s;nd he came far from the main-sea deepe.
He, sitting me beside in tliat same shade.
Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit ;
And, when he heard the musicke which I made, 70
He found himselfe full greatly pleased at it :
Yet, ivmuling my pipe,hetooke in bond
My pipe, before that a^muled of many.
And plaid theron ; (for well that skill he cond ;)
Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any. 75

He pip'd, I sung ; and, wiien he sung, I piped ;
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery;
A' either envying other, nor envied.
So ])iped we, untill we both were weary."

1 here interrupting him, a bonie swaine, Ht

Tliat Cuddy liight, him thus atweene bespake :
'■ And, should it not thy readie course restraine,
I would nnjuest thee, Colin, for my sake,
'J"o tell what thou didst sing, when he did plaie ;
For well I weene it worth recounting was, 85

W hether it were some bymne, or morall laie.
Or carol made to praise thy loved lasse."

" Nor of my love, nor of my lasse (quoth he,)
I then did sing, as then occasion fell :
for love had me forlorne, forlorne of me, 90

That made me in that desart choose to dwell.
But of my river Bregogs love I soong,
U Inch to the shiny Mulla he did beare,
And yet doth beare, and ever will, so long
As water doth within his bancks appeare." 95

" Of fellowship (said then that bony boy)
Record to us that lovely lay againe :
'J he staie whereof shall nought these eares annoy,
W ho all that ('olin makes do covet faine."

" IJenre then (quoth he) the tenor of my tale, 100

In sort as I it to that shepheard told :
No leasing new, nor gr.nidams fable stale.
But auncient truth confirm'd with credence old.

" Old father Mole, ( Mole higlit that mountain grav
That walls th > northside of Armulla dale ;) 105

He had a daughter fresh as floure of INlay,
Which gave thjt name unto that pleasant vale ;
iMulla, the daughter of old Mole, so liight
The nimph, which of that water course has

charge.
That, springing out of Mole, doth run downe right 1 10
To Buttevant, where, spreading forth at large,
It giveth name unto that auncient clttii,
U liich Kilnemullah cleped is of old;
Whose ragged mines breed great ruth and pittie
To travailers, which it from far behold. 115

Full faine she lov'd, and was belov'd full faine
Of her owne brother river, Bregog hight.
So hight because of this deceitfull traine,
Which he witli Mulla wrought to win delight.
But her old sire more carefuU of her good, 120

And meaning her much better to preferre,
Did tliinke to match her with the neighbour flood.
Which Alio hight, Broad-water called farre ;
And wrouglit so well with his continuall paine.
That he that river for his daughter wonne : 1'25

The dowre agreed, the day assigned plaine.
The place appointed where it should be doone.
Nath'lesse the nymph her former liking held ;
For love will not be drawne, but must be ledde ;
And Bregog did so well her fancie weld, 130

Tiiat her good will he got her first to wedde.
But for her father, sitting still on hie,
Did warily still watch which way she went.
And eke from far observ'd, with iealous eie,
Wliich w»y his course the wanton Bregog bent ; 135
Him to deceive, for all his watchful! ward,
The wily lover did devise this slight:
First into many parts his streame he sliar'd.
That, whilest the one was watcht, the other might
Passe unespide to meete her by the way ; 140

And then, besides, those little streames so broken
He under ground so closely did convay,
I'hat of tlieir passage doth apjieare no token.
Till they into the Mullaes water slide.
So secretly did he his love enioy : 145

Yet not so secret, but it was descride.
And told her father by a shepheards boy,
Who, wondrous wroth, for that so foule despight.
In great revenge did roll downe from his hill
Huge mightie stones, the which eiicomber might 150
His passage, and his water-courses spill.
So of a river, which he was of old.
He none was made, but scattred all to nought ;
And, lost emong those rocks into him rold.
Did lose his name : so deare his love he bought." 155

Which having said, him Tliestylis bespake;
" Now by my life this was a niery lay,
AV'ortliie of Colin selfe, that did it make.
But read now eke, of triendshi]) 1 thee pray,
Wliat dittie did that other shepheard sing: 160

For 1 do covet most the same to heare.
As men use most to covet forreine thing."

"'Jli.it shall I eke ((juoth he) to you declare :
His song wasal! a lamentable lay
Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard, 165

Of ('viiihia the Ladie oftlie Sea,
Which from her presence faultlesse him debard.
And rver and anon, with siiigulfs rife.
He cryed out, to make his undersong;

COLIN CLOUTS CO:\IE HOME AGAINE.

Ah . mv loves queene, and goddesse of iny life, 170
Wlio shall nie pittie, when thou doest me wrong V

Then gaii a gentle bonvlasse to speake,
That Marin higlit ; " Right well he sure did plaine,
'J'iiat could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure breake,
And move to take him to her grace againe. 175

I'ut tell on further, Colin, as befell
Twixt ]iim and thee, that thee did hence dissuade."

" When thus our pipes we both had wearied well,
(Quoth he) and each an end of singing made.
He gan to cast great lyking to my lore, 180

And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot.
That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore,
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot.
'Ihe which to leave, thenceforth he counseld mee.
Unmeet for man, in whom was ought regardfull, 185
And wend with him, his Cvntliia to see ;
Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.
Besides her peerlesse skdl in making well,
And all the ornaments of wondrous wit.
Such as all womankind did far excel! ; 190

Such as the world admyr'd, and praised it:
So what with hope of good, and hate of ill,
He me perswaded fortli witli him to fare.
Nought tooke I with me, but mine oaten quill :
Small needments else need shepheard to prepare. 195
So to the sea we came ; the sea, that is
A world of waters heaped up on hie,
Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse.
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie."

" And is the sea(quoth Coridon)so fearfull ?" 200

" Fearful much more ^quoth he) then hart can fear :
Thousand wyld beasts with deep mouthes gaping
Tlierin stil wait poore passengers to teare. [direful!
Who life doth loath, and longs death to behold,
Before lie die, alreadie dead with feare, 205

And yet would live witli heart halfe stonie cold.
Let him to sea, and he shall see it there.
And yet as ghastlv dreadfull, as it seemes.
Bold men, presuming life for gaine to sell,
Dare tempt that gulf, and in those wandring stremes
Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to hell.
For, as we stood there waiting on the strond, 212
Behold, an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond,
As if It scornd the daungerof the same ; 215

^'et was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togitlier with some subtile matter.
\ et had it amies and wings, and liead and taile.
And life to move it selfe upon the water. [219

Strange tljing ! liuw bold and swift the monster was.
That neither car'd for wynd, nor haiie, nor raine.
Nor swelling waves, bur thorough them did passe
So proudly, that she made tliem roare againe.
1 he same aboord us gently did receave,
And without hurme us farre away did beare, 225

So farre that land, our mother, us did leave.
And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare.
Then hai telesse quite, and full of inward feare,
That shepheard I besought to me to tell,
Under what skie, or in what world we were, 230
In which I saw no living people dwell.
Who, me reconiforting all that he might.
Told me tiiat that same was tlie regiment
Of a great shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight,
His liege, his ladie, and his lifes regent. — 235

" If then (quoth I) a shepheardesse she bee, [keep ?
Where be tlie fiockes ind beards, which she dotii
And where may 1 the hiiis and ]iastures see,
On which she useth for to feed her sheepe I" i

" These be tlie hills (quoth he) the surges hie, 240
On whicli faire Cvnthia lier beards doth feed :
Her beards be thousand fishes with their frie,
Wliich in the bosome of the billowes breed.
Of tliem the shepheard which hatli charge in chief.
Is Triton, blowing loud his wreathed liorne : 245
At sound whereof, thev all for their relief
Wend too and fro at evening and atmorne.
And Proteus eke with him does drive his heard
Of stinking scales and porcpisces together.
With hoary head and deawy dropping beard, 25(
Compslliiig them wliich way he list, and whether.
And, 1 among the rest, of many least.
Have in tlie Ocean charge to me assignd ;
Where I will live or die at her beheast,
And serve and honour her with faithful! mind. 25.5
Besides an hundred nymphs all heavenly borne.
And of imraortall race, doo still attend
To wash faire Cynthiaes sheep, when theybeshorne,
And fold them up, when thev have made an end.
Those be the shepheards which my Cynthia serve 260
At sea, beside a thousand moe at land :
For land and sea my Cyntliia doth deserve
To have in her commandl'ment at hand."

1 hereat I wondred much, till, wondring more
And more, at length we land far off descrvde ; 265
\\ liicli sight much gladed me ; for much afore
I feaid, least land we never should have eyde :
Thereto oui ship her course directly bent.
As if the way she perfectly had knowne.
We Lunday passe ; by that same name is ment 270
An island, which the first to west was showne.
From thence another world of land we kend,
Floting amid the sea in ieopardie,
And round about with mightie while rocks hemd.
Against the seas encroching crueltie. 275

Those same, the shejilieard told me, were the fields
In wliicli dame Cynthia her landheards fed ;
Faire goodly fields, tlien wliich Armulla vields
None fairer, nor more fruitful! to be red.
The first, to wliich we nigh approched, was 280

An higli headland thrust far into the sea.
Like to an home, whereof the name it has.
Yet seenid to be a goodly jdeasant lea :
There did a loftie mount at first us greet,
Which did a stately heape of stones upreare, 285
That seenid amid the surges for to fleet,
flluch greater tlien that frame, wliich us did beare ;
'J'here did our shij) her fruitful! wombe unlade,
And ]nit us all ashore on Cvnthias land.
" \\ hat land is tliat thou nieanst, (then Cuddy sayd)
And is there other then whereon we stand V 291

" All ! Cuddy (then quotli Colin) thous a fon,
lliat hast not seene least part of natures worke :
IMuch nu re tliere is unkend then thou doest kon,
xVnd niucli more that does from mens knowledge lurke.
For that same land much larger is than this, 296

And other men and beasts and birds doth feed :
There fruitful! coriie, faire trees, fresh herbage is.
And all tilings else that living creatures need.
Besides n:ost goodly rivers there appeare, 300

No whit iiiferiourto thy Fanchins praise.
Or unto Alio, or to Mulla cleare :
Nought hast thou, foolish boy, seene in thy dales."

" iitit if tliat hind be there (quoth he) as here.
And is tlieyr heaven likewise there all one 1 30.H

And, if )ikc^ heaven, be heavenly graces there.
Like as in this same world where we do woiie?"

" Botli ht-aveii and heavenly graces do mucli more
(Quoth Le^ abound in tliat same land then this.

356

COLIN CLOUTS COMK HOME AGAINE.

For tnere all happie peace and plenteous store 310
Conspire in one to make contented blisse :
No wayling there nor wretchednesse is beard,
No bloodie issues nor no leprosies,
No griesly famine, nor no raging sweard,
No nightly bodrags, nor no hue and cries j 315

'J lie siiepheards there abroad may safely lie,
On hills and downes, withouten dread or daunger :
No ravenous wolves the good mans hojie destroy.
Nor outhivves fell atlray the forest raunger.
'J'here learned arts do tiorish in great honor, 320
And poets wits are had in peerlesse price:
Religion hath lay powre to rest upon her,
Advancing vertue and suppressing vice.
For end, all good, all grace there freely growes.
Had people grace it gratefully to use : 325

For GotI his gifts there plenteously bestowes,
Uut gracelesse men them greatly do abuse."
" liut sav on further (then said Corylas)
The rest of thine adventures, that betyded."

" Foorth on our voyage we by land did passe, 330
.(Quotli he) as that same shepheard still us guyded,
Untill that we to Cynthiaes presence came :
Whose glorie greater then my simple tliought,
I found much greater then the former fame ;
Such grealnesi cannot compare to ought: 335

But if 1 her like ought on earth might read,
I would her lyken to a crowne of lidies.
Upon a virgin brydes adorned head,
With roses dight and goolds and daft'adillies ;
Or like the circlet of a turtle true, 340

In winch all colours of the rainbow bee ;
Or like faire Pliebes garlond shining new,
In which all pure perfection one may see.
But vaine it is to thinke, by paragone
Of earthly things, to iudge of tilings divine : 345
Her power, her mercy, and her wisdome, none
Can deeme, but who the Godhead can define
Why then do I, base shepheard, bold and blind,
Piesume the things so sacred to ]iropliane?
INlore fit it is t' adore, with humble mind, 350

The image of the heavens in shape humane."

With that Alexis broke his tale asunder.
Saying ; " By wondringat tliy Cynthiaes praise,
CoHn, thy selfe thou mak'st us more to wonder.
And her upraising doest thy selfe upraise. 355

But let us heare what grace she sliewed thee.
And how that shejiheard strange thy cause advanced."

"The Shejiheard of the Ocean (tiuoth he)
Unto that goddesse grace me first enhanced,
And to mine oaten jiipe enclin'd lier eare, 300

'J'liat she thenceforth therein gan take delight;
And it desir'd at timely houres to heare.
All were my notes but rude and roughly dight ;
For not by measure of her owne great mytid.
And wondrous worth, she mott my simple song, 365
But ioyd that country shepheard ought could fynd
Worth barkening to, emongst the learned throng."

" Why? (said Alexis then) what needeth shee
That is so great a shepheardesse her selfe,
And hath so many siiepheards in her fee, 370

To heare thee sing, a simple silly elfe?
(^r l)ethe sheplieards which do serve her laesie,
That they list net their mery pipes apjilie?
Or be their pijies untunable and craesie,
That they cannot her honour worthylie?" 375

All ! nay (said Colin) neither so, nor so :
For better siiepheards be not under skie.
Nor better liable, wiieuthcy list to blow
Their pipes aloud, her name to glorifie

380

There is good Harpalus, now wosen aged

Tn faithful service of faire Cynthia :

And there is Corydon though meanly waged.

Yet hablest wit of most 1 know this day.

And there is sad Alcyon bent to mourne,

Though fit to frame an everlasting dittie, 385

Whose gentle spriglit for Daphnes death doth tourn

Sweet layes of love to endlesse plaints ofpittie.

Ah ! pensive boy, pursue that brave conceipt

In thy sweet Eglantine of INleriflure;

Lift up thy notes unto their wonted lieight, 390

That may thy muse and mates to mirth allure.

There eke is Palin worthie of great praise,

Albe he envie at my rustick quill :

And there is pleasing Alcon, could he raise

His tunes from laies to matter of more skill. 395

And there is old Palemon free from spight,

Whose carefuU pipe may make the hearer rew :

Yet he him selfe may rewed be more right.

That sung so long untill ([uite hoarse lie grew.

And there is Alabaster throughly taught 400

In all this skill, thougliknowen yet to few ;

Y'et, were he knowne to Cynthia as lie ought,

His Elisess would be redde anew.

Who lives that can match that heroick song.

Which he hath of that mightie princesse made? 405

O dreaded Dread, do not thy selfe that wrong,

To let thy fame lie so in hidden shade :

But call it forth, O call him forth to thee.

To end thy glorie which he hath begun :

That, when he finisht hath as it should be, 410

j\o braver poeme can be under sun.

Nor Po nor Tyburs swans so much renowned.

Nor all the brood of Greece so highly praised.

Can match that muse when it with bayes is crowned,

And to the pitch of her perfection raised. 415

And there is a new shepheard late up sprong.

The which doth all afore him far surpasse ;

Apjiearing well in that well tuned song.

Which late he sung unto a scornfull lasse.

Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly flie, 420

As daring not too rashly mount on bight.

And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie

In loves soft laies and looser thoughts delight.

'j'hen rouze thy feathers quickly, Daniell,

And to what course thou please thy selfe advance -.425

But most, me seemes, thy accent will excell

In tragick jdaints and passionate mischance.

And tliere that Shepheard of the Ocean is.

That spends his wit in loves consuming smart :

Full sweetly tempred is that muse of his, 430

That can empierce a ])ritices mightie hart.

There also is (ah no, he is not now !)

I?ut since I said he is, he quite is gone,

Ainyntas ipiite is gone, and lies full low,

Having liis Amaryllis left to mone. 335

lielpe, O ye siiepheards, lielpe ye all in this,

lleipe Amaryllis this her losse to mourne-

Her losse is yours, your losse Amyntas is,

Amyntas, floure of shejilieards pride forlorne;

He whilest he lived was the noblest swaine, 440

That ever jiiped in an oaten quill :

Both did he other, which could pipe, maintaine.

And eke could pipe himselfe with passing skill.

And there, though last not least, is Aetion,

A gentler shepheard may no where be found : 445

Whose muse, full of high thoughts invention,

Doth like himselfe heroically sound.

All these, and many others mo remaine,

Now, after Astrofell is dead and gone :

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOMK ACiAIXE.

337

But while as Astrofell did live and r;iine, 450

AnioniiSt all these was none his y)ar;ig-one.

AH these do florish in their sundry kvnd,

And do their Cynthia immortall make:

Yet found I lyking- in lier rovall mynd,

Not for my skill, but for that shepheards sake." 455

Then spake a lovely las^e, higlit l^ucida !
" Shepheard, enough of she|iheards thou hast told,
\Vhic!i favour thee, and honour Cynthia:
But of so many nymphs, which slie doth hold
In her retinew, thou hast nothing sayd ; 460

1'hat seems, with none of them thou t'ayour foundest,
Or art ing-ratefull to each gentle mayd,
'i iiat none of all their due deserts resoundest."

" Ah far be it((|uoth Colin Clout) (ro me,
That I of gentle mayds should ill deserve : 465

For that my selfe 1 do jirofesse to be
Vas.sall to one, whom all my dayes I serve ;
The beame of beautie sparkled troni above,
The floure of vertue and pure chastitie.
The blossome of sweet iov and perfect love, 470
The pearle of peerlesse grace nnd modestie :
To her my thoughts I daily dedicate.
To her my heart I nightly martyrize :
To her my love 1 lowly do prostrate,
To her my life 1 wholly sacrifice : 475

My thought, my heart, my love, my life is sbee.
And 1 hers ever oneiy, ever one :
One ever I all vowed hers to bee,
One ever I, and others never none."

Then thus Melissa said ; " Thrise happie mavd, 480
Whom thou doest so enforce to deilie .
That woods, and hills, and valleyes thou has made
Her name to echo unto heaven hie.
But say, who else vouchsafed thee of grace V

" They all (quoth he) me graced goodly well, 485
That all I praise ; but in the highest place,
Urania, sister unto Astrofell,
In whose brave mynd, as in a golden cofer.
All heavenly gifts and riches locked are ;
More rich then pearles of V'nde, or gold of Opher, 490
And in her sex more wonderfull and rare.
!Ne lesse piaise-worthie I Theana read.
Whose goodly beames though they be over dight
With mourning stole of carefull wydowliead.
Yet through that darksome vale do glister bright ; 495
She is the well of bountie and brave mynd.
Excelling most in glorie and great light :
She is the ornament of womankind.
And courts chief garlond with all vertues dight
Therefore great Cynthia her in cliiefest grace 500
Doth hold, and next unto her selfe advance,
Well worth. e of so honourable place.
For her great worth and noble governance ;
Ke lesse praise-worthie is lier sister deare,
Faire Marian, the Muses onely darling : 505

\\ hose beautie shyneth as the morning cleare,
W ith silver deaw upon the roses pearling.
Ne lesse praise-worthie is Mansilia,
Best knowne by bearing up great Cynthiaes traine :
That same is she to whom Daphnaida 510

Upon her neeces death 1 did conii)laine :
She is the paterne of true womanhead.
And onely mirrhor of feminitie :
\\ orthie next alter Cynthia to tread.
As she is next her in nobilitie. 515

Ne lesse yjraiseworthie Galathea seemes,
Then best of all ihat honourable crew,
Faire Galathea with bright shining bearaes,
Inflaming feeble eyes that her do view.

She there then waited upon Cynthia, o'iO

Yet there is not Iier won ; but here with us

About the borders of our rich Co.>hma,

Now made of AJaa, the n>mph delitious.

Ne lesse ];raiseworthie faire Nea-ra is,

Neaera ours, not theirs, though there she be ; 525

For of the famous Shure, the nymjili she is.

For high desert, advaunst to that degree.

She is the blosome of grace and curtesie.

Adorned with all honourable part.-. :

She is the braunch of true nobilitie, 530

Belov'd of high and low with faithful! harts.

Ne lesse praisworthie Stella do I read.

Though nought my praises of her needed arre,

Whom verse of noblest shepheard lately dead

Hathprais'd and rais'd above each other starre. 535

Ne lesse praisworthie are the sisters three.

The honor of the noble iamilie:

Of which I meanest boast my selfe to be,

And most that unto them 1 am so nie ;

Phyllis, Charillis, and sweet Amaryllis. 540

Phyllis, the faire, is eldest of the three:

The next to her is bountifuU Charillis :

But th' youngest is the highest in degree.

Phyllis, the fluure of rare perfection,

Faire sj)reading forth her leaves with fresh delight,

That, with their beauties amorous reflexion, 546

Bereave of sence each rash beholders sight.

iiut sweet Charillis is the paragone

Of peerlesse price, and ornament of praise,

Admyr'd of all, yet envied of none, 550

'J h rough the myld temperance of her goodly raies.

Thrise happie do I hold thee, noble svvaine,

I he which art of so rich a sj)oile possest.

And, it embracing deare without disdaiiie.

Hast sole possession in so chaste a breast : 555

Of all the shepheards daughters which there bee.

And yet there be the fairest under skie,

Or that elsewhere 1 ever yet did see,

A fairer nymph yet never saw mine eie :

She is the pride and primrose of the rest, 560

Made by the Maker selfe to be admired;

And like a goodly beacon high addrest,

'ihat is with sparks of hevenlie beautie fired.

But Amaryllis, whether fortunate

Or else unfortunate may 1 aread, 565

'J'hat freed is from Cupias yoke by fate.

Since which she doth new bands adventure dread ; —

Shepheard, whatever thou hast heard to be

in this or that j)raysd diversly aj)art,

Jn her tliou maist them all assembled see, 570

And seald up in the threasure ot her hart.

Ne thee lesse worthie, gentle Flavia,

For thy chaste life and vertue 1 esteeme :

Ne thee lesse worthie, curteous Candida,

I'or thy true love and loyaltie 1 deeme. 575

Besides yet man^ mo that Cynthia serve,

liight noble nymphs, and high to be commended :

But, if I all should praise as they deserve,

'Jhis sun would faile me ere 1 halfe had ended.

Therefore, in closure of a thankfull mynd, 580

1 deeme it best to hold eternally

'J'heir bounteous deeds and noble favours shrynd,

'J'hen by discourse tliein to mdigiufie."

So having said, Aglaura him bespake :
" Colin, well worthie were those goodly favours 585
Bestowd on thee, that so of them doest make,
And them requitest with thy thankfull labours.
Jjut of great Cynthiaes goodnesse, and high grace.
Finish the stone which thou hast begunne."

358

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

590

59a

615

' IVlore eath (quoth lie) it is in such a case
how to begin, then know how to liave doiine.
For everie g'it'l, and everie goodly meed,
Which she on me bestowd, demaund.s a day ;
And ev^iie day, in which she did a deed,
Deiiiaunds a veaiv it duly to di>|dav.
Her words were hke a siveanie of honnv fleeting,
'('lie which doth softly trickle from tlie hive:
Hahleto melt the In arers heart unweetiny,
And eke to make the dead a^aine alive.
Ilei deeds weie like great clusters of rijie giajies, 600
^Vhicli load the bunches of the fruitfuU vine ;
Offring to fall into each moutli that gajies.
And fill the same with store nf timely wine.
Her lookes were like heames of the morning sun.
Forth looking through the windowes ol' the east, 605
When first the (leecie cattell have begun
Upon the perled giasse to make their fe.ist.
Her thoughts are like the fume of f ranckincence,
\Vhich from a golden censer forth doth rise,
And throwing forth sweet odours mounts fro

thence 610

In rolling globes up to the vaulted skies.
There she beholds, with high aspiring thouglit,
J he cradle of her owne creation,
Emongst the seats of angels heavenly wrought,
JMucli like an angell in all forme and fashion."
" Colin, (said Cuddy then) thou hast forgot
Tliy selfe, me seeiiies, too much, to mount so hie:
^ucli loftie flight base shepheard seenieth not.
From flocks an i fields, to angels and to skie."

" True (answered he) but her great excellence, 620
Lifts me above the measure of my might
'J'hat being fild with furious insolence,
I feele my selfe like one yiapt in upright
P'or when 1 thinke of her, as oft. 1 ought,
'J'hen want 1 words to sj.eake it fitly lorth 625

And, when 1 speake of her what 1 have thought,
J cannot thinke according to her worth.
Yet will 1 thinke of her, yet will 1 sjieake,
So long as life my limbs doth hold together ,
And, when as death these vitall h inds shall breake.
Her name recorded 1 will leave lor ever. 6ol

Her name in eveiy tree 1 will endosse,
riiat, as the trees do grow, her name may grow :
And in the ground each where will it engrosse,
And fill with stones, that all men may it Know. 635
The speaking woods, and murmuring waters fall.
Her nan^e lie teach in knowen termes to frame:
And eke my lambs, when for their dams they call,
lie leach to call for Cynthia by naiije.
And, long while after 1 am dead and rotten, 640

Amongst the shepheiu'ds daughters dancing rownd,
INIy layes made of her shall not be forgotten,
}5ut sung by them with fl'iwry >;\rloiids ciownd.
And ye, who so ye he, tliat shall survive,
When as je her moniory renewed, 6io

Be witnesse of her hountie here alive,
Which she to Colm her jioore shepheard shewed."

AJuch was the whole assembly of those beards
IVloov'd at his sjieech, so feelingly he spake :
And stood awhile aslonisht at his words, 650

Till Thestvlisat la>t their silence hriike.
Saving : " W hy Colin, since thou louiulstsuch grace
With Cynthia and all her noble crew ;
Why didst thou ever leave that hajipie place,
In which such wealth might unto thee accrew ; 655
And back reiuriiedst :o this bariein so\ le,
\\ here cold and c ire and jieiiurv do dwell.
Here to keep nlieepr, vvuh hunger and with toyle ?
Most wretched he, that is and cannot tell."

660

665

670

" llapjrie indeed (said Colin) I him hold,
'I'hat may that blessed presence still enioy,
(if fortrjne and of envy uricomptrold,
^Vhich still are wont most happie states t'annoy :
liut I, by that which little while I prooved.
Some part of those enormities did see.
The which in court continually liooveil.
And followd those which happie seemd to bee.
Therefore 1, silly man, whose former dayes
Had in rude fields bene altogether spent,
Di.iVst not adventure such unknowen wayes.
Nor trust the guile of fortunes blandishment ;
IJut rather chose back to my sheep to tonrne.
Whose utmost hardnesse I before had tryde,
I'lien, having leanid repentance late, to mourne
Emong>t those wretches which 1 there descryde."
" Shephe.ird, (said Thestylis) it seems of spight
'I hou speakesi thus gainst their felicitie, 677

Which thou enviest, rather then of right
That ought in them blaineworthie thou doest spie."
" Cause have I none (quoth he) of canci-ed will
To (juite theui ill, that me denieand so well : 681
But selfe-regard of private good or ill
iMoves me of each, so as 1 found, to tell
And eke to warne yong shepheards wandring wit.
Which, through report of that lives painted blisse,685
Abandon ipiiet home to seeke for it,
And leave their lambes to losse misled amisse.
For, sooth to say, it is no sort of lite.
For shepheard fit to lead in that same place.
Where eich one seeks with malice, and with strife.
To thrust dovvne other into foule disgrace,
Himselfe to raise : and he doth soonesi rise
That best can handle his deceitfull wit
In subtil shifts, and finest slei'^hts devise.
Either by slaundring his well-deemed name,
Through leasini;s lewd, and fained forgerie ;
Or else by breeding him some blot of blame.
By creeping close into his secrecie ;
To which him needs a guilefull hollow hart.
Masked with faiie dissembling curtesie,
A filed touug, furnisht with tearnies of art.
No art of scboole, but courtiers schoolery.
For arts of schoole have there small counienance.
Counted but toyes to busie ydle braines ;
And there professours find small maintenance, 705
l)Ut to be instiumenls of others gaines.
Ne is there place for any gentle wit,
Urdesse, to please, it selfe it can applie ;
But shouldred is, or out of doore quite shit.
As base, or blunt, unmeet for melodie. 710

For each mans worth is measured bv his weed.
As harts by homes, or asses by their eares :
^'et asses been not all whose eares exceed.
Nor yet all harts that homes the highest beaies.
For highest lookts have not the highest mynd, 715
Nor haughtie wnrds most full of highest thoughts
lint are like bladders blowen uj) with wynd.
That being ])rickt do vanish into noughts.
Even such is all their vaunted vanitie.
Nought else but smoke, that fuincth soone away ; 720
Such IS iliidr glorie that in simple eie
Seeine greatest, when their garments are most gay.
So tl.ey themselves for praise of fooles do sell.
And all their wealth forpaumng on a wail ;
\\ ith jirice whereof they buy a golden bell. 725

Anil ])urchace highest roumes in howreand hall:
Whiles single Truth and simple llonestie
Do wandei' up ami doune desjivs'd of all ;
'Iheir jilaine aitire such glorious galhiniry
Disdaiues so much, that none them in dovh call." 730

691

695

700

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

359

"Ah' Colin, (then said Hobbinol) the blame
Which thou imputest, is too generall,
As if not aiiv t^entle wit of name
Nor lionest mynd might there be found at all.
For well I wot, sith 1 mv seU'e was there, 735

To wait on Lobbin, (Lobbin well thou knewest,)
Full many worthie ones then waiting- were.
As ever else in princes court thou vewest.
Of which, among you many yet remaine.
Whose names I cannot readily nowghesse: 740

Those that poore sutors papers do retaine,
And those that skill of medicine professe,
And those that do to Cynthia expound
I'he ledden of straunge languages in cliarge :
For Cynthia doth m sciences abound, 745

And gives to their professors stipends large.
Therefore uniustly thou doest wyte them all,
For that which thou mislikedst in a few."

" Blame is ((juoth he) more blanielesse generall,
Then that which private errours doth pursew ; 750
For well I wot, that there amongst them bee
Full many persons of right worthie parts.
Both for report of spollesse honestie.
And for profession of all learned arts.
Whose praise hereby no whit imjiaired is, 755

Though blame do light on those that faultie bee ;
P'or ail the rest do most- what far amis,
And yet their owne misfaring will not see :
For either they be pufled up with pride.
Or fraught with en vie that their galls do swell, 760
Or they their dayes to ydlenesse divide,
Or drovvnded lie in pleasures wastefuU well.
In which like moldwarps nousling still they lurke,
Unmindful! of chiefe parts of manlinesse ;
And do themselves, for want of other worke, 765
Vaine votaries of laesie Love professe.
Whose service high so basely they ensew.
That Cupid selfe of them ashamed is.
And, mustring all his men in Venus vew.
Denies them quite for servitors of his." 770

"And is Love then (said Cor\las) once knowne
In court, and his sweet lore professed there ?
I weened sure he was our god alone.
And only woond in fields and forests here :'"

" Not so, (quoth he) Love most aboundeth there.
For all the walls and windows there are writ, 776
All full of love, and love, and love my deare.
And all their talke andstudie is of it.
Ne any there doth brave or valiant seeme,
Unlesse that some gay mistresse badge he beares :
Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme, 781

Unlesse he swim in love up to the eares.
]3ut thev of Love, and of his sacred lere,
(As it should be) all otherwise devise,
Then we poore shepheards are accustomd here, 785
And him do sue and serve all otherwise.
For with lewd speeches, and licentious deeds.
His mightie mysteries they do prophane.
And use his ydle name to other needs.
But as a complement for courting vaine. 790

So him iheydo not serve as thev professe,
But make him serve to them for sordid u?es :
Ah ! my dread lord, that doest liege hearts possesse,
Avenge thy selfe on them for their abuses.
But we poore shepheards whether rightly so, 795
Or through our rudenesse into errour led.
Do make religion how we rashlv go
To serve that god, that is so greatly dred ;
For him the greatest of the gods we deeme,
Borne without syre or couples of one kynd j 800

For Venus selfe doth soly couples seeme.

Both male and female througli commixture ioyned :

So pure and spotlesse Cupid forth she brought.

And in the gardens of Adonis nurst :

Where growing he his owne perfection wroun-lit, 805

And shortly was of all the gods the first.

Then got he bow and shafts of gold and lead.

In which so fell and puissant he grew,

That love himselfe his powre began to dread.

And, taking up to heaven, him godded new. 810

From thence he shootes his arrowes every where

Into the world, at randon as he will.

On usfraile men, his wretched vassals here

Like as himselfe us pleaseth save or spill.

So we him worship, so we him adore 815

With humble hearts to heaven uplifted he

That to true loves he may us evermore

Preferre, and of their grace us dignifie :

Neis there shepheard,ne yet shepheards swaine,

What ever feeds in forest or in field, 820

That dare with evil deed or Lasing vaine

Blaspheme his powre, or termes unworthie yield."

" Shepheard.it seemes that some celestial! rage
Of Love (([uoth Cuddy) is breath'd into thy brest.
That powreth forth these oracles so sage 825

Of that high powre, wherewitli thou art possest.
But never wist I till this present day,
Albeof Love I alwayes humbly deemed.
That he wiis such an one, as thou doest say.
And so religiously to be esteemed. 830

Well may it seeme, by this thy deep nsight.
That of that god the priest thou shouldest bee •
So well thou wot'st tlie mvterie of his might,
As if his godhead thou didst present see."

" Of Loves perfection perfectly to speake, 835
Or of his nature rightly to define.
Indeed (said Colin) passeth reasons reach.
And needs his priest t'espresse his pov.-re divine.
For long before the world he was ybore.
And bred above in Venus bosome deare : 840

For by his powre tlie world was made of yore.
And all that therein wondrous doth appeare.
For how should else things so far from attone.
And so great enemies as of them bee.
Be ever dravi-ne together into one 845

And taught in such accordance to agree 1
Through him the cold began to covet heat.
And water fire; the light to mount on hie.
And th' heavie downe to peize ; the hungry t' eat
And voydnesse to seeke full satietie. 850

So, being former foes, they wexed friends.
And gan by litle learne to love each other :
So, being knit, tliey brought forth other kynds
Out of the fruitful! wombe of their great motlier.
Then first gan heaven out of darknesse dread 855
For to appeare, and brought forth chearfull day :
Next gan the earth to shew her naked head.
Out of deep waters which her drownd alway :
And, shortly after, everie living wight
Crept forth like wormes out of her slimie nature. 860
Soone as on them the sun's life-giving light
Had powred kindly heat and formal! featuie,
'J'henceforth they gan each one his like to love,
And like himselfe desire for to beget :
The Ivon chose his mate, the turtle dove 865

Her deare, the dolphin las owne dolpliinet ;
But man, tliat had tlie sparke of reasons might
More then t' e rest to rule iiis passion,
Chose for liis love the fairest in his sight,
Like as himselfe was fairest by creation : 870

360

COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAINE.

For beautie is the bayt wliicb with delight

Dotli man allure for to enlarge his kynd ;

Beautie, the burning lamp of heavens light,

Darting her beames into each feeble mynd ;

Against whose powre, nor God nor man canfynd 875

Defence, ne ward the daunger of the wound ;

But, being hurt, seeke to be medicynd

Of her that first did stir that mortall stownd.

'Ihen do thev cry and call to love apace.

With praiers lowd importuning the skie, 880

AVhencehethemheares ; and, whenhe list shew grace,

Does graunt them grace that otherwise would die.

So Love is lord of all the world by right,

And rules their creatures by his powrfuU saw :

All being made the vassalls of his might, 885

'J'hrougli secret sence which therto doth them draw.

Thus ought all lovers of their lord to deeme ;

And with chaste heart to honor him alway :

But who so else doth otherwise esteeme,

Are outlawes, and his lore do disobay. 890

For their desire is base, and doth not merit

The name of love, but of disloyall lust :

Ne mongst true lovers they shall ])lace inherit,

But as exuls out of his court be thrust."

So having said, Melissa spake at will ; 895

" Colin, thou now full deepely hast divynd
Of Love and beautie ; and, with wondrous skill.
Hast Cupid selfe depainted in his kynd.
To thee are all true lovers greatly bound.
That doest their cause so mightily defend : 900

But most, all women aie thy debtors found,
That doest their bountie still so much commend.

" That ill (said Hobbinol) they him requite.
For ha ing loved ever one most deare :
He is repayd with scorne and foule despite, 905

'ihat yrkts each gentle heart which it doth heare."

" Indeed (said Lucid) 1 have often heard
Faire Bosalind of divers fowly blamed
For being to that swaine too cruell hard ;
That her bright gloria else hath much defamed. 910
But who can tell what cause had tliat faire mayd
To use him so that used her so well ;
Or who with blame can iustly her upbrayd.

For loving not ? for who can love compell ?

And, sooth to say, it is foolhardie thing, 935

Rashly to wyten creatures so divine ;

For demigods thev be and first did spring

From heaven, though graft in frailnesse feminine.

And well I wote, that oft I heard it spoken,

How one, that fairest Helene did revile, 920

Through iudgeraent of the gods to been y wroken,

Lost both his eyes and so remaynd long while.

Till he recanted had his wicked rimes.

And made p.mends to her with treble praise.

Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes, 925

How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise."

" Ah ! shepheards, (then said Colin) ye ne weet
How great a guilt upon your heads ye draw,
To make so bold a doome, with words unmeet.
Of things celestiall which ye never saw.
For she is not like as the other crew
Of shepheards daughters which emongst you

bee.
But of divine regard and heavenly hew,
Excelling all that ever ye did see.
Not then to her that scorned thing so base.
But to my selfe the blame that lookt so hie :
So hie her thoughts as she her selfe have place,
And loath each lowly thing with loftie eie.
Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant
To simple swaine, sith her I may not love : 930
Yet that I may her honour paravant,
And praise her worth, though far my wit above.
Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe.
And long affliction which 1 have endured :
Such grace sometimes shall give me some reliefe, 945
And ease of paine which cannot be recured.
And ye, my fellow shepheards, which do see
And hear the languors of my too long dying.
Unto the world for ever witnesse bee,
That hers I die, nought to the world denying, 950
'Ibis simple trophe of her great conquest." —

So, having ended, he from ground did rise ;
And after hiiu uprose eke all the rest:
All loth to part, but that the glooming skies
Warnd them to draw their bleating flocks to rest. 955

930

935

VI11GIL8 GNAT.

LONG SINCE PEDICATED TO THE MOST NOBLE AND EXCELLENT LORD,

THE EARLE OF LEICESTER,

LATE DECEASED. 1591

Wrong'd, yet not darins^ to expresse my paine^
To you (great lord) the causer of my care.
In clowdie teares my case I tlius complaine
Unto your selfe, that onelv privie are.

But if that any CEdipus unware
Shall cliaunce, through power of some divining spright,
To reade the secrete of tliis riddle rare,
And know the purporte of my evill plight ;
Let him rest pleased with his owne insight,
Ne furtlier seeke to glose upon tlie text :
For griefe enough it is to grieved wight
To feele his fault, and not be further vext.

But what so by my selfe may not be showen,
May by this Guatt's complaint be easily knowen.

We now have playde, Augustus wantonly,

Tuning our song unto u lender muse.

And, like a cobweb weaving slenderl)',

Have onely playde : let thus much then excuse

This Gnats small poeme, that th' whole historie

Is but a iest, though envie it abuse :

But who such sports and swiet delights doth blame.

Shall lighter seeme thea this Gnats idle name.

Hereafter, when as season more secure

Shall bring forth fruit, tins muse shall speak to thee

In higgler notes, that mav thy sense allure.

An 1 tor thy worth frame ^ome fit poesie :

The golden ofsprnjL- of t.atona pure.

And ornament of gr^'CiL x^ves progenia,

Phoebus, shall be the auii^or of my i>ong,

Playine '^ri iv^iie harp with silver strong.

He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood
Of poet's prince, wliether he woon beside
Faire Xanthus sprincled with Chimeras bloodj
Or in the woods of Astery abide ;
Or whereas mount Parnasse, the muses brood.
Doth his broad forliead like two homes divide.
And the sweete waves of sounding Castaly
With liquid foote doth slide downe easily.

Wherefore ve sisters, -which the glorie bee

Of the Pierian slreames, faire naiades.

Go too ; and dauncing all in companie,

A dome that god : and thou liolie Pales.

To whome the honest care of husbandrie

Returneth by continiiall successe.

Have care for to pursue his footing light [digh„

Through the wide woi.ds, and groves, with creen leave*

3G2

VIRCILS GNAT.

Professinrr thee I lifted am aloft

Hetwixt the Ibrrest wide and starrie sky ;

Ami thou, most dread Octavius, which oft

To learned wits giv'st courage worthily,

O come, thou sacred eliilde, come sliding soft,

And favour my beginnings graciously :

For not these leaves do sing that dreadfull stound,

',\ hen giants bloud did staine Phlegra'an ground.

Now how th' halfe liorsy people, Centaures hight,
Fought with the bloudie Lapithaes at bord ;
Nor how the Fast with tyranous despight
Burnt th' Attick towres, and people slew with sword
Nor how mount Athos through exceeding might
Was digged downe ; nor yroii bands abord
The Pontick sea hy their huge navy cast ;
My volume shall renowne, so long since past.

VII.

Nor Hellespont trampled with horses feete.
When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray :
But my soft muse, as for her power more meete,
Delights (with Phoebus friendly leave) to play
An easie running verse with tender feete.
And thou, dread sacred child, to thee alway
I,et everlasting lightsome glory strive.
Through the worlds endles ages to survive.

And let an bappie roome remaine for thee
Wongst l)eavenly ranks, where blessed soules do rest ;
And let long lasting life with ioyous glee.
As thy due meede that thou deservest best,
Hereafter many yeares remembred be
Amongst good men, of whom thou oft art blest;
Live thou for ever in all happinesse !
But let us turne to our first businesse.

The fiery sun was mounted now on hight
Uji to the heavenly towers, and shot each where
Out of his golden charet glistering light ;
And fayre Aurora, with her rosie heare,
The hatefull darkaes now had put to flight ;
When as the shepheard, seeing day appeare.
His little goats gan drive out of their stalls,
To feede abroad, where pasture best befalls.

To an high mountaines top he with them went,
Where thickest grasse did cloath the open hills :
They now amongst the woods and thickets ment,
Now in the valleies wandring at their wills,
Spread themselves farre abroad through each descent;
Some on the soft greene grasse feeding their fills ;
Some, clambring through the hollow cliftes on hy.
Nibble tiie bushie shrubs which grovve thereby.

Others the utmost boughs of trees doe crop,

A'ld l)r()uze the woodbine twigi;es that freshly bud

'J'his with full bit doth catch the utmost top

Ot some soft willow, or new growen stud ;

'1 his with sharpe teeth the bramble leaves doth lop,

And chaw the tender prickles in her cud ;

J ne whiles another high doth ovcrlooke

Jier owne like iinagfe in a christallbrooke.

O the great happines, which shepheard? Iiave,
Who so loathes not too m-Uch the jioore estate,
With minde that ill use doth before deprave,
Ne measures all things ov tne costly rate
Of riotise, and semblants outward ])rave !
No s.uch sad cares, as wont to macerate
And rend the greedie mindes of covetous men,
Do ever creepe into the shepheards den.

Ne cares he if the fleece, which him arayes,

Be not twice steejied in Assyrian dye ;

Ne glistering of goldes, which underlayes

The summer beames, doe blinde his gazing eye,

Ne pictures beautie, nor the glauncing rayes

Of precious stones, whence no good comineth bv ;

Ne yet his cup embost with imagery

Of Boetus or of Alcons vanity.

Ne ought the wlielky pearles esteemeth hee,
Wliich are from Indian seas brought far away
But with pure brest from carefull sorrow free,
On the soft grasse his limbs doth oft display,
In sv^-eete spring time, when flowres varietie
With sundrie colours paints the sprinckled lay
There, lying all at ease from guile or sjiight.
With pype of fennie reedes doth him delight.

There he, lord of himselfe, with palme bedight.
His looser locks doth wrap in Wreath of vine :
There his milk-dropi>ing goats be his delight,
And fruitefull pales, and the forrest greene,
And darkesome caves in pleasaunt vallies pight,
Wheras continuall shade is to be seene.
And where fresh springing wells, as christall neate.
Do alwayes flow, to quench his thirstie heate.

O . who can lead then a more hapjiie life

Than he, that with cleane minde, and heart sincere,

No greedy riches knovves nor bloudie strife,

No deadly fight of warlick fleete doth feare ;

Ne runs in perill of foes cruell knife.

That in the sacred temples he may reare

A trophee of his glittering spoyles and treasure.

Or may abound in riches above measure.

Of him his God is worshipt vyith his sythe.
And not with skill of craftsman polished :
He ioyes in groves, and makes himselfe full blythe
With sundrie flowers in wiide fieldes gathered;
Ne frankincens he from I'ancha'a buyth :
Sweete (^uiet harbours in his harmeles head.
And perfect Pleasure buihles her ioyous bowre,
Free from sad cares, that rich mens hearts devowre.

This all his care, this all his whole indevour.
To this his minde and senses he doth bend.
How he may flow in quiets matchles treasour.
Content with any food that God doth send ;
And how his limbs, resolv'd through idle leisour
Unto sweete sleejje he may securely lend.
In some coole shadow from the scorching heat.
The whiles his flock their tdiawed cuds do eale.

VIRGILS GNAT.

3ft3

O flocks, faunes, and ye pleasaunt sprin°fs
Of 'iVmpe, where the couiitrey nvmyjhs are rife,
Througli whose not costlv care each shepheard sings.
As merrie notes upon his rusticke fife,
As that Ascraean bard, whose fame now rings
Through tlie wide world, and leads as iovfull life ;
Free from all troubles and from worldly toyle,
In which fond men doe all their dayes turmoyle.

XX.

In such delights whilst thus his carelesse time
This shepheard drives, upleaning on his batt,
And on shrill reedes chaunting his rustick rime ;
Hyperion, throwing foorth his beames full liott,
]nt(i the highest top of heaven gan clime.
And, the world parting by an equall lott,
J)id shed his whirling flames on either side,
As the great Ocean doth himselfe divide.

Then gan the sliepheard gather into one

His stragling goates, and drave them to a foord,

Whose carule streame, romhling in pible stone,

Crept under mosse as greene as any goord.

r^ow had the sun h;dfe heaven overgone,

W lieu lie his heard back from that water foord

Drave, from the force of Phcebus boyling ray,

Into thick shadowes, there themselves to lay.

Scone as he them plac'd in thy sacred wood
(O Dalian goddesse) saw, to which of yore
Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus brood,
Cruell Agave, flying vengeance sore
Of king Nictileus for the guiltie blood.
Which she with cursed hands had shed before ;
There she halfe frantick, having slaine her sonne,
Did shrowd her selfe like punishment to shonne.

Here also playing on the grassy greene,

Woodgods, and satyres, and swift dryades.

With niany fairies oft were dauncing seene.

Not so much did Dau Orpheus represse

The streames of llebrus with his songs, 1 weene,

As that faire troupe of woodie goddesses

Staied thee, O Peneus, jjowring foorth to thee.

From cheereful lookes, great mirth and gladsome glee.

The verie nature of the place, resounding

With gentle murraure of the breathing ayre,

A pleasant bovvre with all delight abounding

In the fresh shadowe did for them prepayre.

To rest their limbs with wearines redounding.

For first the high palme-trees with braunches faire.

Out of the lowly vallies did arise.

And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.

And them amongst the wicked Lotos grew.
Wicked ior holding guilefully away
Ulysses men, whom rapt with sweelenes new.
Taking to hoste, it tjuiie from him did stay ;
\nd eke those trees, in wliose transformed hew
The Sunnes sad daughters waylde the rash decay
Of Phaeton, whose limbs with lightening rent
They gathering up, with sweete teares did lament.

And that same tree, in which Demcphocn,
}?y his disloyalty lamented sore
Eternall hurte left unto many one :
Whom als accompanied the oke, of yore
Through fatall channes transformd to such n.i one:
The oke, whose acornes wee our foode, befo
Tliat Ceres seede of morfall men were known
\Vhich first Triptoleme taught how to be sowne.

XXVII.

Here also grew the rougher-rinded pine.

The great Argoan shi|)s brave ornament.

Whom golden fleece did in:iktt a.i heavenly >igne;

Which coveting, with his high tops extent.

To make the mountaines touch ihe starres divine.

Decks all the forrest with embellishment ;

And tlie blacke holme that loves the watrie vale ;

And the sweete cypresse, sigiie of deadly bale.

XXVlII.

Emongst the rest the clambring yvie grew,
Knitting his wanton armes with grasping hold,
Least that the pojilar Ir.ippely should rew
Her brothers strokes, whose boughes she doth enfold
With her lytlie twigs, till they the top survew,
And paint with pallid greene her buds of gold.
Kext did the myrtle tree to her approach,
Not yet uninindfuU of her olde reproach.

But the small birds, in their wide boughs embowring
Chaunted their sundrie tunes with sweete consent :
And under them a silver spring, forth powring
His trickling streames, a gentle murmure sent ;
Thereto the frogs, bred in the slimie scovs-ring
Of the moist inoores, their iarring voyces bent ;
And shrill grasshoppers chirped them around :
All which the avrie echo did resound.

In this so yjleasant place the shepheards flocke
Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest,
On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke.
Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best;
The whiles the shepheard self, teniling bis stocke,
Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest.
Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed liim
Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim.

XXXI.

Of trecherie or traines nought tooke he keep.

But looslie on the grassie greene dispredd.

His dearest life did trust to careles sleep ;

Which, weighing down his drouping drowsie hedJ,

lu quiet rest his molten heart did steep.

Devoid of care, and feare of all falshedd :

Had not inconstant fortune, bent to ill,

Bid strange mischance his quietnes to spill.

For at his wonted time in that same place
An huge great serpent, all with speckles pide,
To drench himselfe in moorish slime did trace;
There from the boyling heate himselfe to hide :
He, passing by with rolling wreathed pace.
With brandisht tongue the emptie aire did gride.
And wrapt his scalie bougbts with fell despiglit,
That all things seem'd appalled at his sight.

S64

VIRGILS GNAT

XXXIII.

Now, more and more having liimselfe enrolde,
His glittering breast he lilteth up on hie,
And with proud vaunt ins head aloft doth holde ;
Ilis creste above, sjiotted with purple die,
On overie side did shine like scalie guide
And his bright eyes, gUiuncing full dreadfullie,
Did seeme to flame out flukes of flashing fyre,
iud with Sterne lookes to threaten kindled yre.

Thus wise long time he did himselfe dispace

There round about, when as at last he spide,

Lving along before him in that place,

That flocks grand captains and most trustie guide

Eftsoones more fierce in visage, and in pace,

Throwing his firie eyes on everie side,

He commeth on, and all things in his vi-ay

Full stearnly rends, that might his passage stav.

XXXV.

INIuch he disdaines, that anie one should dare
To enme unto his haunt ; for which intent
He inly burns, and gins straight to prepare
The weapons which nature to him hath lent;
Fellie he hisseth, and doth fiercely stare,
And hath his iawes with angrie spirits rent,
That all his tract with bloudie drops is stained,
And all his foldes are now in length outstrained.

Whom, thus at point prepared, to prevent,

A litle noursling of the humid ayre,

A gnat, unto the sleepie shepheard went ;

And, marking where his ey-lids twinckling rare

Shew'd the two ])earles, which sight unto him lent,

Through their thin coverings appearing fayre.

His little needle there infixing deep,

Warnd him awake, from death himselfe to keep.

XXXVII.

Wherewith enrag'd, he fiercely gan upstart,
And with his hand him rashly bruzing slewe
As in avengement of his heedles smart,
That streight the sprite out of his senses flew,
And life out of his members did depart :
When suddenly casting aside Ids vew,
He spide his foe with felonous intent,
And fervent eyes to his destruction bent.

xxxvm.
All suddenly dismaid, and hartles quight.
He fled ab;icke, and, catching hastie holde
Of a yong alder hard beside iiim pight.
It rent, and streight about him gan beholde
What god or fortune would assist his iingiit.
But wlit'ther god or fortune made liim hold
Its hard to read : yet jjardie will he had
To overcome, that made him lesse adrad.

XXXIX.

The scalie backe of that most hideous snake
Enwrapped round oft faining to retire,
And olt him to assaile, he fiercely str.ike
Whereas his tein|)les did ids creast-front t)re ;
And, for he was but slowe, diil slowtii ofl' sljake
And gazing ghastly on ; (for feare and yre
Ha<l blent so much his sense, that lesse he feaid ;)
Vet. wher Vie saw him slaiue, himselle he cheard.

Hy this the Night forth from the darksome bowre
Of Herebus her teemed steedes gan call,
And laesie X'esper in his timely bowre
From golden Oeta gan proceed e withall ;
Whenas the shepheard alter this sharpe stowre
Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall,
Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare,
And unto rest his wearie ioyuts prepare.

Into his sense so soone as lighter sleepe
Was entered, and, now loosing everie lim,
Svi'eete slumbring deaw in carelessnesse didsteepe ;
The image of that gnat appeard to him,
And in sad tearnies gan sorrowfully weepe.
With griesly countenaunce and visage grim,
\V^ading the wrong which he had done of late,
In steed of good hastning his cruell fate.

Said he, " What have I wretch deserv'd, that thus

Into this bitter bale I am outcast,

Wildest that thy life more deare and precious

Was than mine owne, so long as it did last !

I now, in lieu of { aines so gracious,

Am tost in th' ayre with everie windie blast :

Thou, safe delivered from sad decay,

Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display.

" So livest thou ; but my poore wretched ghost
Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river.
And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost.
Seest thou not how all jilaces quake and quiver,
Lightlied with deadly lamps on everie j)Ost?
Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver
Her flaming fiiir-brond, encountring me,
Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be.

" And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay
And barke out flames, us if on tire he fed ;
Adowne whose iiecke, in terrible array,
'i'en thousaml snakes cridlmg about hi.> bed
Doo hang in heajies, that honibly aftray,
And bloodie eyes doo glister iirie red ;
He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten
With j)ainf'ull torments to be sorely beaten.

XLV.

■' Ay-tne ! that thankes so much should faile of meed ;

For that I thee restor'd to life againe.

Even fiom the doore of death and deadlie dreed

Where then is nov/ the guertlou of my paine 1

\\ here the reward of my so piteous deed !

'1 he praise of pitie vanisht is in vaine.

And th' niiii(|uc faith uf lustice long agone

Out of the land is fled away and gone.

XLVI.

" I saw anothers fate approaching fast.

Anil li ft mine owne his safi;tie to tender*

Into the same mishap I now am cast,

And shun'd iiestruction doth destruction render:

Not unto him that never hath trespiist,

IStit juinishmeiit is due to the ofl'ender.

Yet let destruction be the punishment

So long as thankt'uil will may it relent.

VIRGILS GNAT.

S6S»

XLvn.
'' I carried him into Avaste wildernesse,
Waste wildernes, amongst Cymerian shades,
Where endles paines and hideous heavinesse
Is round about me heapt in diuksome ijlades.
For there huge Othos sits in sad distresse,
Fast bound with serpents that him oft invades ;
Far off beholding Epliialtes tide,
Which oDce assui'd to burne this world so wide.

" And there is mournfull Tityus, mindefull yet
Of thy displeasure, O Latona faire ;
Displeasure too implacable was it,
That made him meat for wihi foules of the ayre
Much do I feare among such fiends to sit ;
Much do I feare back to them to repayre.
To the black shadowes of the Stygian shore,
VVhere wretched o-hosts sit wailing evermore.

" There next the utmost brinck doth he abide.
That did the bankets of the gods bewray, [dride,
\Vhose threat through thirst to nought nigh being
His sense to seeke for ease turnes every way :
And he, that in avengement of his pride
For scorning to the sacred gods to pray,
Against a mountaine rolls a mightie stone,
Calling in vaine for rest, and can have none.

" Go ye with tbem, go, cursed damosells,
\Vhose bridale torches foule P>ynnis tynde ;
And Hymen, at your spousalls sad, foretells
Tvdings of death and massacre unkinde :
U ith them that cruell Cokhid mother dwells,
The which conceiv'd in her revengefull minde
With bitter woundes her owne deere babes to slay,
And murdred troupes upon great heapes to lay.

"I'here also those two Pandionian maides,
Calling on Itis, Itis evermore,

Whom, wretched boy, the*' slew with guiltie blades ;
For whome the Thracian king' lamenting sore,
Turn'd to a lapwing, fowlie tliem upbraydes,
And fluttering round about them still does sore ;
There now they all eternally complaine
Of others wrong, and suffer endles paine.

" But the two brethren borne of Cadmus blood,
Whil^t each does for the soveraiguty contend,
Biinde through ambition, and with vengeance w ood.
Each doth against the others bodie bend
His cursed Steele, of neither well withstood,
And witli widfc wounds their carcases doth rend;
That yet thev both doe mortall foes remaine,
Sith each with biothers bloudie hand was slaine.

" Ah fwaladay !) there is no end of paine,
Nor chaunge of labour may intreated bee :
Yet I beyond all these am carred faine.
Where other powers farre different I see.
And must passe over to th' Klisian plaine :
TIjere grim Persephone, encountring mee.
Doth urge her fellow furies earnestlie
With their bright firebronds me to terrifie.

" There chast Alceste lives inviolate,

Free from all care, for that her husbands dales

She did prolong by changing fate for fate :

Lo ! there lives also the immortall praise

Of womankinde, most faitlifull to her mate,

Penelo])e ; and from her farre awayes

A rulesse route of yongmen, which her wood.

All slaine with darts, lie wallowed in their blood.

" And sad Eurvdice thence now no more
]\Iust turne to life, but there detained bee
For looking back, being forbid before :
Yet was the guilt thereof, Orpheus, in thee !
Bold sure he was, and worthie spirite bore,
That durst those lowest shadowes goe to see.
And could beleeve that anie thing could pleasfc
J'ell Cerberus, or Stygian powres appease

" Ne feard the burning waves of Phlegeton,
Nor those same mournefull kingdomes, compassed
With rustie horrour and fowle fashion ;
And deep digd vawtes ; and Tartar covered
With bloodie night, and darke confusion ;
And iudgement seates, whose ludge is deadlie dred,
A ludge, that after death doth punish sore
The faults, which life hath tres| assed before.

" But valiant fortune made Dan Orpheus bolde :
For the swift running rivers still did stand.
And tlie wilde beasts their furie did withhold,
To follow Orpheus musicke through the land :
And th' okes deep grounded in the earthly molde.
Did move, as if they could him understand ;
And the shrill woods, which were of sense bereav'd.
Through their hard barke his silver sound receav'd

" And eke the Moone her hastie steedes did stay.

Drawing in teemes along the starrie skie ;

And didst, O monthly virgin, thou delay

Thy nightly course, to heare his melodic?

The same was aljle with like lovely lay

J'he queene of hell to move as easily,

To yeeld Eurydice unto lier fere

Backe to be borne, though it unlawfull were.

" She (ladie) having well before approoved
The feends to be too cruell and severe,
Observ'd th' appointed way, as her behooved,
Ne ever did her eysight turne arere,
Ne ever spake, ne cause of speaking mooved ;
But, cruell t)rplieus, thou much crueller.
Seeking to kisse her, brok'st the gods decree.
And thereby mad'st her ever damn'd to be.

" Ah ! but sweete love of pardon worthie is,
And doth deserve to have small faults remitted ;
If hell at least things lightly done amis
Knew how lo jjardon, when ought is omitted ;
Yet are ye both received into blis,
And to the seates of happie soules admitted :
And you, beside the honourable band
Of great herotis, doo in order stand.

356

VIRGILS GNAT.

' There be the two stout sonnes of ^acus.
Fierce Peleus, and the hardie Telamon,
Both seeming- now full glad and ioyeous
'J"hroui;li their syres dreadfull iurisdiction,
Beino- the iudge of all that horrid hous :
And both of tliein, by strange occasion,
Renowu'd in choyce of hajipie marriage
ThrouoJi Venus grace, and vertues cariage.

" For th' one was ravisht of his owne bondmaide
The faire Ixione captiv'd from Troy :
But th' other was with Thetis love assaid,
Great Nereus his daughter and his ioy.
On this side them there is a yongman layd,
Their match in glorie, mightie, fierce, and coy ;
That from th' /Vrgolick siiii)s, witii furious yre,
Bett back the furie of the Troian fyre.

LXIII.

" O ! who would not recount the strong divorces
Of that great warre, which Troianes oft behelde,
And oft beheld the warlike Greekisli forces.
When Teucrian soyle with bloodie rivers swelde,
And wide Sigasan shores were spread with corses,
And Simois and Xanthus blood outwelde ;
Whilst Hector raged, with outragiousminde, [tynde.
Flames, weapons, wounds, in Greeks fleete to have

LXIV.

" For Ida selfe, in ayde of that fierce fight.

Out of her mountaines ministred supplies ;

And, like a kindly nourse, did yeeld (for spight)

Store of firebronds out of her nourseries

Unto her foster children, that they might

Inflame the navie of -their enemies.

And all the Rhet;can shore to ashes turne.

Where lay the ships, which they did seeke to burne.

" Gainst which the noble soniie of Telamon
Oppos'd himselfe, and, thwarting his huge shield,
Them battel! bad, gainst whom appeard anon
Hector, the glorie of the Troian field :
Both fierce and furious in contention
Encountred, tliat their mightie strokes so shrild.
As the great clap of thunder, which doth ry ve
The ratling heavens, and cloudes asunder dryve.

"So th' one with fire and wea])ons did contend
To cut the ships from turning home againe
To Argos ; th' other strove for to defend
The force of Vulcane with his might and maine.
Thus th' one il'-acide did his fame extend :
But th' other ioy'd, tliat, on the Pin-yj;ian playne
Having the blood of vim(|uisht Hector shedd.
He coin]>ast Troy thrice witii his bodie dedd.

LXVII.

" Againe great dole on either partie grewe,
That him to death unfaifhfiiil Paris sent;
And also him that false Ulysses slewe,
Dravvne into danger through close ambushment ;
Therefore from lum Lairtes sonne his vewe
Doth tiirne aside, and boasts iiis good event
In working of Strymonian Hlncsus fall.
And eite in Uolons subtile s(iri)rysall.

LXVIII.

" Againe the dreadfull Cycones him dismay.
And blacke Lrestrigones, a people stout :
Then greedie Scilla, under whom there bay
Manie great bandogs, which her gird about :
Then doo the ^^itnean Cyclops him aftVay,
And deep Charybdis gul])hing in and out :
Lastly the sijualid lakes of Tartarie,
And griesly feends of hell him terrifie.

" There also goodly Agamemnon hosts,

The glorie of the stock of Tantalus,

And famous light of all the Greekish hosts ;

Under whose conduct most victorious.

The Dorick flames consum'd the Iliack posts.

All ! but the Greekes themselves, more dolorous,

To thee, O Troy, paid penaunce for thy fall ;

In th' Hellespont being nigh drowned all.

" Well may appeare by proofe of their mischaur.ce,
The chaungfuU turning of mens slipperie state.
That none, whom fortune freely doth advaunce,
Himselfe therefore to heaven should elevate :
For loftie type of honour, through the glaiince
Of envies dart, is downe in dust prostrate;
And all, that vaunts in worldly vanitie.
Shall fall throuiih fortunes mutabilitie.

" Th' Argolicke power returning home againe,
Enricht with spoyles of th' F,ricthonian towre.
Did hapjiie winde and weather entertaine.
And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre :
No signe of storme, no feare of future paine,
Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre.
Nereis to the seas a token gave.
The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave.

" Suddenly, whether througli the gods decree.
Or haplesse rising of some froward starre.
The heavens on everie side enclowded bee :
Black stormes and fogs are hlowen up from farre,
'J'hat now the pylote can no loadstarre see,
But skies and seas doo make most dreadfull warre ;
The billowes striving to the heavens to reach.
And th' heavens striving them for to impeach.

" And, in avengement of their bold attempt.
Both sun and starres and all the heavenly powres
Consjiire in one to wreake their rash contem])t.
And downe on them to fall from highest towres :
The skie, in pieces seeming to be rent, [showres,
'J'hrowes ligiitning forth, and haile, and harmful
That <li'ath on everie side to them appeaies,
In thousand formes, to worke more ghastlv feares.

I.XXIV.

" Some in the greedie flouds are sunke and drent ;
Some on the rocks of Caphareus are throwne ;
Some on th' Euboick cliffs in pieces rent;
Some scatlred on the Hercffian shores unknowne ;
And manie lost, of whom no moniment
R<>in:dnes, nor memorie is to be showne :
Whilst all the purchase of the Phrigian pray,
Tost on salt billowes, round about doth stray

367

VIRGILS GNAT

LXXV.

" Here manie ether like heroes bee,

Efjuall in liono'ir \o the former crue,

Whom ve in goodiy seates mav phicecl see,

Descended all from Rome by linage due ;

From Rome, that holds the world in sovereigntie.

And doth all natmns unto her subdue:

Here Fabii and Decii doo dwell,

Jloratii that in vertue did excel).

LXXVI.

" And here the antique fame of stout Camill
Doth ever live ; and constant Curtius,
Who, stifly bent his vowed life to spill
For countreyes health, a g-ulph most hideous
Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill,
1' appease the powers ; and prudent Mutius,
Who in his flesh endur'd the scorching flame,
To daunt liis foe by' ensample of the same

LXXVII.

" And liere wise Curius, companion

Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest ;

And stout Flaminius, whose devotion

Taught him the fires scorn'd furie to detest ;

And here the praise of either Seipion

Abides in highest place above the best,

J'o whom the ruin'd walls of Carthage vow'd ;

Trembling, their forces sound their praises lowd.

LXXVIII.

" Live thev for ever through their lasting praise !
But 1, poore wretch, am forced to retourne
To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes
Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne ;
And by the wayling shores to waste my daves,
Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne ;
By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever
From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.

LXXIX.

" Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell
Girt with long snakes, and thousand yron chaynes,
'J'lirough doome of that their cruell iudge, compell
\Vitli bitter torture, and impatient paines,
{'ause of my death and iust complaint to tell.
For thou art he, whom ray poore ghost complaines
To be the author of her ill unvvares,
That careles bear'st my' intollerable cares.

" Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde,

1 now depart, returning to thee never.

And leave this lamentable plaint behinde.

But doo thou liaunt the soft downe-rolling river,

AuJ wilde greene woods and fruitful pastures

minde ;
And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever." —
Thus havii.g said, he heavily departed
With piteous crie, that anie would have smarted.

LXXXI.

Now, when the sloathfuU fit of lifes sweete lest
Had left the heavie shepheard, wondrous cari-,s
His inly grieved minde full sore opprest ;
That bulefull sorrow he no longer beares
For that gnats death, which deeply was imprfjt ;
But bends what ever power his aged yeares
Him lent, yet being such, as through their migiii
He lately slue his dreadfull foe in tight.

Lxxxir.
By that same river lurking under greene,
I^ftsoones he gins to fashion forth a jilace ;
And, squaring it in compasse well beseene.
There plotteth out a tombe by measured space :
His yron-headed spade tho making cleene.
To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse.
His worke he shortly to good jjurpose brought.
Like as he had conceived it in his thought.

Lxxxm.
An Iieape of earth he hoorded up on hie.
Enclosing it with banks on everie side,
And thereupon did raise full busily
A little mount of greejie turfts editide;
And on the top of all, that jjassers by
Might It behold, the toomb he did provide
Of smoothest marble stone in order set.
That never might his luckiu scape forget.

1.XXXIV.

And round about he taught sweete flowres to growe ;

The Rose engrained in pure scailet die!

The Lilly fresh; and Violet belowe ;

The Marigolde ; and cherefull Rosemarie ;

The Spartan Mirtle, wlience sweet gumb does flowe ;

The purple Hyacyntlie ; and fresh Costmarie ;

And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle ;

And Lawrell, th' ornament of Phccbus toyle.

LXXXV.

Fresh Rhododaphn ' ; and the Sabine fiowie,
Marching the wealth of th' auncient Frankincence ;
And jiallid Yvie, building his owne bowre;
And J5ox, yet mindefuU of his olde offence;
Red Aramanthus, lucklesse paramour;
Oxej'e still greene ; and bitter Patience ;
Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well
Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell.

Lxxxvr.

And whatsoever other flowre of worth.

And whatso other bearb of lovely hew.

The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth.

To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new ,

He planted there, and reard amount of earth,

In whose high front was writ as doth ensue :

To thee, small Gnat in lieu nf his life saved.
The Sliepheurd Itaili thu deaths record engrated.

THE

SHEPIIEAEDS CALENDEEj

CONTEYNING

TWELVE AEGLOaUES

PROPORTIONABLE TO THE TWELVE MONETHES,
Entitled to the noble and vertuous Gentleman, most worthie of all titles both of learning and fchivaliy,

MAISTER PHILIP SIDNEY.

GoE, little Booke ! thy selfe present,
As childe whose parent is unkent,
To him that is the president
Of noblenesse and chevalree :
And if that Envie barke at thee.
As sure it will, for succour flee
Under the shadow of his wing,
And, asked who thee forth did bring,
A shepheards swaine, say, did thee sing

TO HIS BOOKE.

All as his straying flocke he feii'-'.e :
And, when his honour has thet? redde
Crave pardon for thy hardy-hedde.
But, if that anv aske thy name,
Sav, thou wert base-hegot with blame
Forthy tlipreof thou takest shame.
And, when thou art past ieopardee,
Come tell me what was said of mee,
And I will send more after thee.

hiMERITO.

TO TUE MOST EXCELLENT AND LEARNED

BOTH ORATOR AND POET,

MAISTEE GABEIEL HAKVEY,

His verie speciall and singular good friend E. K. commendeth the good lyking of this his
labour, and the patronage of the new Poet.

Uncouth, unkist, said the old famous poet
Chaucer : whom for his excellfncie and wonderful!
skill in making, liis scholler Lidgate, a worthie
scholler of so excellent a master, calleth the load-
starre of our language : and whom our Colin Clout
in his Eglogue calleth Tityrus the god of shep-
heards, comjiaring him to the worthinesse of the
Roman Tityrus, Virgil. Which proverb, mine
owne good friend W. Harvey, as in that good old
{loet it served well Pandares purpose for the bol-
siering of his bawdie brocage, so very well taketh
jiliice in this our new poet, who for that hee is un-
couth as (sayde Chaucer) is unkist, and unknowne
to most men, is regarded but of a fewc. But I
doubt not, so soone as his name shall come into
the knowledge of men, and his woortliincsse bee
sounded in the trumpe of f;ime, but that hee shall be
not only kist, but also beloved of all, imbiaced of
the most, and wondred at of the best, ISo iesse, I

thinke, deserveth his wittinesse in devising, his
pithinesse in uttering, his comjilainls of love so
lovely, liis discourses of pleasure so pleasantly, his
pastoral rudenes, liis morall wisenesse, his due ob-
serving of decorum everie where, in personages, in
seasons, in matter, in speech ; and generallie,"in all
seemely simplicifie of handling his matters, and
framing his wordes : the which of manv tilings
which in him be straunge, I know will seeine the
strangest, and wordes themselves being so auncient,
the knitiing of them so short and intricate, and the
whole period and compasse of speech so delightsom
for the roundiiesse, and so grave for the strangeness?
And lirst of the wordes to speake, I graunt the\
bee something hard, and of most men unused, yet
boll) Jlnglisli, ai.d also used of most excellent au-
tliouis, and most famous jioets. In whom, when as
this our poet hath bin much travailed and throughly
read, how could it be, (as that worthie oratour

Sayde) but that walking in tlie sunne, altboutli for
other cause he walked, yet needes he nought be
sunburnt; and, Laving the sound of those auncieut
poets still ringing? in his eares, he niought needes,
in singing, hit out some of their tunes. lUit whether
he useth them by i.uch casualtie and custome or of
set piirjiose and choice, as thinking them fittest for
such rustical rudenesse of shepheards, either for
tbat their rough sound would make his rimes more
ragged and rusticall ; or else because such old and
obsolete wordes are most used of country folke,
sure I thinke, and thinke I think not amisse, that
they bring j;reat grace, and, as one would say, au-
thoritie to the verse, ^'or albe, amongst many other
faults, it specially be obiected of \'alla against Livie,
and of other against Salust, that with over much
studie they afiect antiquitie, as covering thereby
credence and honour of elder yeares ; yet I am of
opinon, and eke the best learned are of the like,
that those auncient solemne words, are a great orna-
ment, both in the one, and in the other : the one
labouring to set forth in his worke an eternall image
of antiquitie, and the other carefully discoursing
matters of gravity and importance, lor, if my me-
morie faile not, Tully in that booke, wherein he
endeavoureth to set forth the patterne of a perfect
ocator, saith that ofttimes an ancient worde maketh
the stile seeme grave, and as it were reverend, no
otherwise than we honor and reverence gray haires
for a certaine religious regard, which we have of
old age. Yet neither every where must old wordes
be stuffed in, nor the common dialect and manner
of speaking so corrupted thereby, that, as in olde
buildings, it seeme disorderly and ruynous. But
all as in most exquisite pictures they use to blaze and
portraict not only the daintie lineaments of beautie,
but also round about it to shadowe the rude thickets
and craggy clifts, that, by the baseness of such
parts, more excellencie may acrew to the principall :
for oftentimes we find our selves, I know not how,
singularly delighted with the shew of such naturall
rudenesse, and take great pleasure in that disorderly
order. Even so doo those rou^h and harsh tearmes
enlumine, and make more clearly to appeare, the
brighfnesse of brave and glorious wordes. So
oftentimes a discorde in musike maketh a comely
concordance : so great delight tooke the worthie
poet Alceus to behold a bleniisli in the ioynt of a
well shaped bodie. But, if any will rashly blame
such his purpose in choise of olde and unwonted
wordes, him nay I moreiustly blameand condemne,
or of witlesse headinesse in iudging, or of heed-
less hardinesse in condemning : for, not marking
the compasseof his bent, he will iudge of the length
of his cast : for in my opinion it is one of especiall
praise of many, which are due to this poet, that he
hath labored to restore, as to their rightful heritage,
such good and naturall English wordes, as h^ve
beene long time out of use, and almost cleane dis-
herited. Which is the only cause, that our mother
tongue, which truly of itself is both full inough for
prose, and stately inough for verse, hath long time
been counted most bare and barren of both. Which
default wlien as some endevoured to salve and
recure, they patched up the holes with peeces and
rags of ofjier languages, borrowing here of the
r'rench, there of the Italian, every where of the
Latin ; not weighing how ill those tongues accord
with tliemseh-e.s, but much worse with jurs : so
now they have made our English tong a gall maufrey,

THE EFI8TLE. o^jg

or hodgepodge of all other speeches. Other some
not t ~ well seene in the Eiiglisgh tongue, as per-
haps in other languages, if tliey hapijen to heare an
olde word albeit very naturall and significant, crv
out straightway, that we speake no English, but
giblierish, or rather such as in olde time Evanders
mothers spake : whose first shame is, that tliey are
not ashamed, in iheir own mother tongue, to bee
counted strangers and aliens. The second sliane
no lesse then the first, that what so they under-
stand not, they streightway deeme to be senselesse,
and not at all to be understoode. Much like to
the mole in Aesojis fable that, being blind herself,
would in no wise be perswaded, that anv becst
couhi see. 'I'he last, more shaniefull then both, that
of their owne country and natural sp^ach, which
togitiier with their nurses milke tliey sucked, they
have so base regard & bastard iudgement, tliat they
wil not only themselves not labor to garnish iind Ijeau-
tifie it, but also repine, that of other it should be
embellished. Like to the dogge in the maunr<er,
that himselfecan eate no hay, and yet barketh at the
hungrie bullock, that so faine would feed : whose
currish kinde, thougli it cannot be kept from bark-
ing, yet I conne them thanke that theyrefraine from
bvting.

Now, for the knitting of sentences, which they call
the ioynts and members thereof, & for all the'com-
passe of the speech, it is round without roughnesse^
and learned wiihout hardnesse, such in deede as
may be perceyved of the least, understood of the
most, but iudged onely of the learned. For what in
most English writers useth to be loose, and as it
were unright, in this aulhour is well grounded,
finely framed, and strongly trussed up togither. In
regarde whereof, Iscorne and spew out therikehellv
rout of our ragged rymers (lor so themselves use to
hunt the letter) which without learning boast, with-
out iudgement iangle, without reason rage and fome,
as if some instinct of poetical spirit had newly ra-
vished them above the meannesse of common capaciiie.
And being, in the midst of all their braverie, sud-
denly, either for want of matter, or rime ; or liavino-
forgotten their former conceit ; they seem to be so
pained and travailed in theirreinenibrance, as it were
a woman in childbirth, or as that same Pythia,when
the traunce came upon her. " Os rubidumfera corda
domans, &c."

A'ethlesse, let them a God's name feed on their
owne folly, so they seeke not to darken the beams
of others glorie. As for Colin, under whose person
the authors selfe is shadowed, how farre he is from
such vaunted titles and glorious shewes, both him-
selfe sheweth, were he sayth :

"Of muses Hobbin, I conne no skill."
And,

" Enough is me to paint out my unrest, &c."
And also appeareth by the basenesse of the name,
wherein it seemeth he chose rather to unfold great
matter of argument covertly then, professing it, not
suflice thereto accordingly. Which moved him ra-
ther in .i^glogues then otherwise to write, doubting
]ierhai)s his ability, which he little needed, or minil-
iiig to furnish our tongue with this kinde, wherein it
faulteth; or following the example of the best and
most ancient poets, which devised this kinde of
wrhing, being both so base for ths matter, and
homely for the maner, at the first to trie their habili-
ties ; and as young birdes, that be newly crept out of

B B

THE GENERALL ARGUMENT.

the nest, hv little first prove their tender winges, be-
fore they make a greater flight. So flew Theocritus,
as you may perceyve hee was alroadie full fledged.
So flew \'irgil, as not vet well feeling his wings.
So flewe iMantuane, as not being ful somd. So Pe-
trarque. So Boccace. So iMarot, Sanazarius and
also direrse other excellent both Italian and French
poets, whose footing thisautlior everie where folow-
etb ; vet so as few, but they be well sented, can
trace him out. So finally flicth this our new poet
as a hirde whose principals be scarce growne out,
but vet as one that in time shall be able to keepe
wing with the best. Now, as touching the general
drift and purpose of his j3Dglogues, I mind not
to sav much, himself laboring to conceal it. Only
this apjieareth, that his unstayed youth had long
wandred in tlie common Labirinth of Love, in
which time to mitigate andalhiy the heateof his pas-
sion, or else to warne (as he saith) the yong shep-
heards, his equals and companions of his unfortu-
nate folly, hee compiled these twelve Aeglogues,
which, for that they be proportioned to the state of
the twelve moneths, he tearmeth it the Shepheards
Calender, applying an olde name to a new work.
Hereunto have I added a certaine glosse, or scho-
lion, for the exposition of olde wordes and harder
phrases ; which maner of glossing and commenting,
well I wote, will seeme strange and rare in our
tongue: yet, for so much as I k uewe many excel-
lent and proper devises, both in wordes and matter,
would passe iu the speedie course of reading either
as unknowne, or as not marked ; and that in this
kinde, as in other we might be equal to the learned
of other nations ; I thought good to take the paines
upon me, the rather for that by meanes of some fa-
miliar acquaintance I was made privie to his coun-
saile and secret meaning in tliem, as also in sundrie
other works of his. ^\ hich albeit I know he no-
thing so much hateth, as to promulgate, yet thus
much have I adventured upon his friendship, him-
selfe being for long time farre estraunged ; hoping that
this will the rather occasion him to put foorth di-
verse other excellent works of his, which sleep in
silence ; as his Dreams, his Legends, his Court of
Cupid, and sundrie others, whose commendation to
set out were verie vaine, the things though worthie

of many, yet beeing knowne to fewe. These mv
])reseiit paines. if to any they be pleasurable or pro-
fitable, be you iudge. mine owne nuiister Harvey, to
whom ] have both in respect of your worthines
generally, and otherwise upon some particular and
speciall considerations, vowed this my lab lur, and
themaidenheadeof this our common friends poetrie ;
himselfe liaving alreadie in the beginning dedicated
it to the noble and worthie gentleman, the right
worshipful! maister Philip Sidney, a speiiall fa-
vourer and maintainer of all kiude of le:irning.
Whose cause, I pray you, sir, if envie shrill stirre up
any wrongfull accusation, defend with your mightie
rhetoricke and other your rath gifts of learning, as
you can, and shield with your good will, as you
ought, against the malice and outrage of l^o many
enemies, as I know will bee set on fire with the
sparkes of his kindled glorie. And thus recommend-
ing the authour unto you, as unto his most sjieciall
good friend, and my selfe unto you both, as one mak-
ing singular account of two so very good & so choise
friends, I bid you both most heartily fa^^e well, and
commit you and your commendable studies to the
tuition of the Greatest.

Your owne assuredly to be commaund«i?.

E. K-

Post scr.
Now I trust, M. Harvey, that upon sight of ycur
speciall friends and fellow poets doings, or else for
envie of sn many unworthy quidams, which catch
at the garland which to you alone is due, you wil be
perswaded to ])lucke out of the hatefuU darknes those
so many excellent English poems of yours wliich lie
hid, and bring them forth to eternal light. Trust
me, you do both them great wrong, in depriving
them of the desired sun ; and also your selfe, in
smothering ycur deserved praises ; and all men ge-
nerally, in withholding from them so divine plea-
sures, which they might conceive of your gallai:
English verses, as they have alreadie done of your
Latin poems, which, in my opinion, botii for inven-
tion and elocution, are verie delicate and super-
excellent. And tbii^ againe I tak-a my leave of my
good M. Harvey. From my lodging at London this
tenth of Aprill, 1579.

GENERALL ARGUMENT

OF THE

WHOLE BOOKE.

Little, I hope, needetli me at lorge to discourse
the first originall of aegloyues, having alreadie
touched the same. But, for the worde aeglogues I
know is unknowen to most, and also mistaken of
some of the best learned (as theythinke), I will say
somewhat thereof, beeing not at all impertinent to
my present purpose.

riiey were first of the Greekes, the inventours of
them? called aeglogai, as it were uegon, or aeginoviort

lot^i, that is, goteheardes tales. For although in Vir-
gil and others the speakers be more shepheards than
goatheards, yet Theocritus, in whom is more ground
of authoritie than in \'irgil,this specially from that
deriving, as from the first heade and wellsjiring, the
whole invention of these Aeglogues, maketh goate-
heards the persons and authors of his tales. This
being, who seeth not tlie grossnes.se of such as bv
colour of learning would make us beleeve, tliat thcv

THE GENKRALL ARGUMENT.

are more rightly termed eclogai, as they would say,
extraordinarie discourses of unnecessarie matter :
which definition albe in substance and meaning it agree
with the nature of the thing, yet no whit answereth
with the analysis and interpretation of the worde.
For thev be not tearmed (clogues, but aeglngnet ;
which sentence this author verie well observing,
upon good iudgement, though indeede fewe goate-
heards have to doe herein, neverthelesse doubteth
not to call them by the used and best knowen name.
Other curious discourses hereof I reserve to greater
occasion.

These twelve aeglogues, every where aunswering
to the seasons of the twelve moneths, may be well
divided into three formes or rankes. For either they
be plaintive, as the first, the sixt, the eleventh, and
the twelfth ; or recreative, such as all those bee,
which containe matter of love, or commendation of
speciall personages ; or morall, which for the most
part be mixed with some satyricall bitteriiesse ;
namely, the second, of reverence due to olde age ;
the fift, of coloured deceyte ; ;he seventh and ninth,
of dissolute shepheards and pastors; the tenth, of con-
tempt of poetrie and pleasant wittes. And to this
division maj' everie thing herein bee reasonably ap-
plyed ; a few onelie except, whose speciall purpose
and meaning I am not privie to. And thus much
generally of these twelve aeglogues. Now will we
speake particularlieof all, and first of the first, which
hee calleth by the first monethes name, lanuarie :
wherein to some he may seems fouly to have faulted,
in that he erroniously beginneth with that moneth,
which beginneth not the yeare. For it is well
knowne, and stoutlie maintained with strong reasons
of the learned, that the yeare beginneth in IMarch ;
for then the sunne renueth his finished course, and the
seasonable spring refresheth the earth, and the plea-
saunce thereof, being buried in the sadnesse of the
dead winter now worne away, niliveth.

This opinion maintains the olde astrologers and
philosophers, namely, the Reverend Andalo, and
Macrobius in his Holy Dayen of Saturne ; which
account also was generally observed both of Gre-
cians and Romans. But, saving the leave of such
learned heades, wee maintaine a custome of counting
the seasons from the moneth lanuarie, uppon a more
speciall cause then the heathen pliylosophers ever
could conceyve, that is, for the incarnation of our
raightie Saviour, and eternall Redeemer, the Lorde
Christ, who as then renewing the state of the de-
cayed worlde, and returning the compasse of expyred
yeires to theyr former date and first commencement,
left to us his heyres a memoriall of his byrth in the
end of the last yeare and beginning of the next.
Which reckoning, beside that eternal monument of

our salvation, leaneth also upon good proofe of spe-
ciall iudgement.

For albeit ihat in elder tymes, when as yet the
count of the yeare was not perfected, as afterward
it was by lulius Cfesar, they began to tell the Mo
nethes from iNIarches beginning, and according
to (he same God (as is sayde in Scrijrfure) com-
maunded the peojile of the lewes, to count the mo-
neth Abih, that which wee call March, for the first
moneth, in remembraunce that in that moneth iee
brought them out of the laiide of Aegypt: yet,
according to tradition of latter times it hath been
otherwise observed, both in government of the
churcli and rule of mightiest realmes. For from
lulius Cwsar who first observed the leape yeare,
which he called Bissextilein Annum, and broughtinto
a more certaine course the odde wandrmg dayes
which of the Greekes were called Huperbainaiites, of
the Romans LUeicalares, (for in such matter of
leaiiiing 1 am forced to use the tearmes of the learned,)
the moneths have beene numbred twelve, which
in the first ordinance of l^omulus were but ten,
counting but 304 dayes in everie yeare, and be-
ginning with IMarch. But Numa Pompilius, who
was the father of al the Romane ceremonies and
religion, seeing that reckoning to agree neither
with the course of the sunne nor the moone, there-
unto added two moneths, lanuarie and Februarie;
wherin it seemeth, that wise king minded upon good
reason to begin the yeare at lanuarie, of him there-
fore so called tanqnam lanua anni, the gate and en-
teraunce of the yeare ; or of the name of the god
lanus, to which god for that the olde paynims attri-
buted the birth and beginning of all creatures new
comming into the world, it seemeth that he tliere-
fore to liim assigned the beginning and first entrance
of the yeare. Which account for the most part hath
hitherto continued : notwithstanding that the Egyp-
tians beginne their yeare at September ; for that,
according to the opinion of the best rahbines and
verie purpose of the Scripture itselfe, God made the
worlde iu that moneth, that is called of tliera Tisri.
And therefore he commanded them to keepe the
feast of pavilions in the ende of the yeare. in the
XV. (lay of the seventh moneth, which before that
time was the first.

But our author respecting neither the subtiltie of
the one part, nor the antiquitie of the other, thinketh
it fittest, according to the simplicitie of common
understanding, to begin with lanuarie ; weer.ing it
perhaps no decorum that shepheards should be seene
in matter of so deep insight, or canvase a case of
so doubtful iudgement. So therefore beginneth he,
and so continueth he throughout.

THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.

JANUARIE.
AEGLOGA PRIMA.

ARGUMENT.

In this first Aeglogue Colin Clout, a shepheards
boy, comijlainetb himselfe of bis unfortunate love,
being but newly (as seemetb) enamoured of a coun-
try lasse called Rosaiinde : ■vvitb which strong affec-
tion being verie sore travelled, be compareth bis
careful case to the sad season of the yeare, to the
frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to bis owne
winterbeaten flocke. And lastly, finding himselfe
robbed of all former pleasance and delight, be break-
eth bis pipe in peaces, and castetb himself to the
ground.

COLIN CLOUT.

A SHEPiiFARDS boy (no better doe him call,)
When winters wastful spight was almost spent,
All in a sunneshine day, as did befall.
Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent :

So faint they woxe, and feeble in the folde, 3

That now unnetbes their feete could them uphold.

All as the sbeepe, such was the shepheards looke.
For pale and wanne be was, (alas the while !)
May seeme be lovd, or else some care bee tooke ;
Well couth bee tune his pipe and frame his stile : 10
'J'ho to a bill bis fainting flocke hee ledde,
And thus him playnde, the while his sbeepe there
fedde :

" Yee gods of love ! that pitie lovers paine,

Clf any gods the paine of lovers pitie,)

Looke from above, where you in ioyes remaine, 13

And bow your eares unto my dolefull dittie. [love.
And, Pan! thou shepheards god, that once didst
Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst prove.

" 'Ibou barraine ground, whom winters wrath hath

wasted,
Art made a mirror to behold my plight : 20

Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after basted
Thy sommer prowde, with diffadillies digbt ;
And now is come thy winters stormie state,
Thy mantle mard wherein thou niaskedst late.

" Such rage as winters raigneth in my hart.
My life-bloud frcesing with unkindly cold ;
Such stormie stoures do breede my balefuU smart,
As if my yeare were wast and woxen old ;
And yet, alas ! but no\v my spring begonne,
And yet, alas ! it is already donne. 30

' 'S'ou naked trees, whose shadie leaves are lost,
Wlurein the birds were wont to build their bowre.
And now are clothd with mosse and boarie frost,
hi steede of blosomes, wherewith your buds did
flowre ;

I see your teares that from your bougbes do raine,
Whose drops in drerie ysicles remaine. 36

" All so my lustfull leafe is drie and sere,
My timely buds with wayling all are wasted ;
The blossome which my brauncb of youth did beare,
With breathed sigbes is blowne away and blasted ;
And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend.
As on your bougbes the ysicles depend. 42

"Thou feeble flocke! whose fleece is rough and rent,
Whose knees are weake through fast and evill fare,
Maist witnesse well, by thy ill government, 45

Thy maisters mind is overcome with care : [lorne :
I'bou weake, I wanne ; thou leane, I quite for-
With mourning pyne I ; you with pyning mourne

" A thousand sithes I curse that carefull houre
Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see, 50
And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure
^\'herein I sawe so faire a sight as shee:

Yet all for naught : such sight bath bred my bane.

Ah, God ! that love should breed both ioy and
paine !

" It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine,
Albee my love bee seeke with dayly suit;
His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine,
liis kiddes, bis cracknelles, and his early fruit.

Ah, foolish Ilobbinol '. thy giftes bene vaine ;

Colin them gives to Rosalind a^aine.

" I love ihilke lasse, (alas ! why doe I love ?)
And am forlorne, (alas ! why am I lorne?)
She deignes not my good will, but doth reprove.
And of my rurall musick boldeth scorne.

Shepheards devise she liateth as the snake, 65
And laugbes the songs that Colin Clout dotb
make.

" Wherefore, my pype, albee rude Pan thou please.
Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would ;
And' thou, unluckie muse, that wontst to ease
Rly musing minde, yet canst not when thou should,
Both ))ype and muse shall sore the while abye." —
So broke bis oaten pype, and down did lye. 72

By that, the welked Pbccbus gan availe
His wearie waine ; and now the frostie night
Her mantle black through heaven gan overhaile : 75
Which seene, the pensive boy, balfe in despight,
Arose, and homeward drove bis sunned sbeepe.
Whose banging beades did seeme his carefull case
to weepe. 78

COLINS EMBLEME.

Anchor a speme.

KKBiaiARIJ

FEBRUARIl-:.
AEGLOGA SECUNDA.

ARGUMENT.

Tins Aeglogue is rather morall and oenerall then
bent to ante secret or particular purpose. It spe-
ciallie containeth a discourse of olde age, in the per-
son of Thenot, an old shepbeard, who, for his
crookednesseand unlustinesse, is scorned otCuddie,
an unliapj)ie heardmans bov. The matter verie well
accordetii with the season of the moneth, tlie yeare
now drooping-, and as it were drawing to his last
age. For as in this time of veare, so then in our
bodies, there is a drie and withering cola, wnich
congealeth the crudled blood, and frieseth the wea-
theroeaten fiesh, with stormes of fortune and lioare
frosts «f care. To which purpose the olde man
telleth a tale of the Oake aud the tirier, so livelie,
and so feeliiiglie, a-, if the th.ng were set forth in
some picture betbre our eies, moreplainlie could not
appeare.

CUDDIE, THENOT.

CUDDIE.

An for pittie ! will rancke winters nige

These bitter blastes never gin t' a^swage ?

The keue cold blowes throrij;]i my healen liiile,

All as 1 were through the body gride :

My ragged rontes all shiver and shrike, 5

As doea high towers in an eartlKjuake :

They woontin thewinde wagge their wriggle tayles

Perke as a peacocke ; but now it availes.

The. Lewdlv coin]jlainfSt, th.u laesie htdde,
Of winters wracke for making thee sadde. 10

Must not the worlde wend lu his common course.
From good to had, and from bad lo worse.
From worse unto that is worst of all.
And then returne to his ioniier lail ?
\\ ho will not sufler the stiiniue liuie, 15

Where will he live till the lu.-,tie prime?
Selfehave 1 worne out tlnise ihirtie veies,
Some in much loy, maiiv in n any teares,
Yet never complaiiieO of cold nor heate,
Of sommers flame, nor of winters threate, 20

Ne ever was to fortune foeman
But gently tooke that uiigeuily came;
And ever my flocke was my cluefe care;
Winter or somiaer they moug t well fare.

Cud. No marveile, Thenot, i( thou can beare '2b
Cherefully the winter's wrath lull cheaie ;
For age and winter accord lull nie.
This chill, that cold ; this crooked, that wrye ;
And as the lowring wether lonkes downe,
So seemest thou like Good Friday to frovvne : SO
But my flouring youth is foe lo frost.
My shippe unwont in stormes to b« tost.

'i"nE. The soveraigne of seas he blames m vaii.e.
That, once sea-beate, will to sea agaiiie :
So loytring live you little heardgroomes, 33

Keeping your beastes in the bunded broomes ;
And, when the shining suiuie lauglieth once ;
You deemen, the spring is come attonce;
Tho ginne you, fond files ' the cold to »corne,
And, Glowing in pvpes made of L,reene conie, 40
You thinken to be lords of l he yeare ;
But eft, w hen ye count you Ireed from feare,
Comes the breme winter wiiij cliamtred bmues
Full of wrinckles and fros'v turrowes,
Drerily shooting Lis >tonnie oane, 45

Which cruddles the blou.. ai.u pricks the ha-ie:

Then is your carelesse courage accoyed.
Your careful! beards with cold bene annoyed :
Then pay you the price of your surcjuedne,
With weeping, and wailing, and mi.serie. 50

Cud. Ah! foolish old man! I scorne thy skill,
That wouldst me my springing youth to spill :
I deenie thy braine emperished bee
Through rustle elde that hath rotted thee ;
Or sicker thy head vene tottie is, 55

So on thy corbe shoulder it leaiies amisse.
Now thy selfe hath lost both lopp and topp,
Als my budding braunch thou w ouldest cropp ;
But were thy yeres greene, as now bene mine,
'lo other delightes they would encline : 60

Tho wouldet^t thou learne to caroll of love,
And hery with hymnes thy lasses glove ;
Tho wouldest thou pype of PhUlis praise ;
But PhiUis is mine for many dayes ;
1 woune her with a girdle of gelt, 65

Embost with buegle about the helt :
Such an one shepheards would make full faine ;
Such an one would m.ike thee young againe.

The. Thou art a ton, of thy love to boste ;
All that is lent to love will be loste. 70

Cud. Seest how brag yond bullocke beares,
So smirke, so smoothe, his pricked eares ?
His homes bene as hroade as rainebow bent,
His dewelap as lythe as lasse of ixeiit:
See how he venteth into the winde; 75

VVeenest of love is not his minde 1
Seemeth thv flocke thy counsell can,
So lustlessebme they, so weake, so wan ,
Ciothea with cold, and hoane with frost,
I liy flockes father his courage hath lost. 80

lliy ewes, that woont to have blowen bags.
Like wailefull widdowes hangen their crags ;
'1 he rattier lambes bene starved with cold,
All for their niaister is lustlesse and old.

The. Cuddle, I vvote thou kenst little good, 85
So vainely to iidvaunce thy headlesse hood;
For youiigih is a bubble blowiie up with breath,
V\ hose witte is weakenesse, whose wage is death,
Whose way is w ildernesse, whose ynne penaunce.
And sioope gallaunt age, the hoast of greevaunce 90
hut shall J tell thee a tale of truth,
\\ liich 1 coiid of 1 ityrus in my jouth,
Keeping his »heepe on the hilles of Kent ?

Cud. To nought more, 'Iheiiot, my minde is bent
Then to heare iiovells of his devise ; 95

1 hey bene so well thewed, and so wise.
What ever that good old man bespake.

liiE. ]\lany meete tales of youli did hee make,
And some of love, and some of chevalrie ;
But none htter then this to applie. 100

Now listen a while and hearken the end.

" There grewe an aged tree on the greene,
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With amies full strong and largely displayd.
But of their leaves they were disarayde : 10.5

'I'he bodie bigge, and mightily pight.
Throughly rooted, and of vvondtrous bight;
\\ hiloiiie had bene the king of the fielde.
And mochell mast to the hu.-baiide did yielde.
And with his nuts larded many swine : 110

liut now the gray mosse marred his rine;
His bared boughes were beaten with stormes.
His toppe was bald, and wasted with w ormes.
His honour decayed, his braunciies sere

Hard bv his side grewe a bragging Brere, 115
Which prowdly thrust into tt idement.

^r*

THE SlIEPIIEARDS CALENDER,

Aiii! sepiiipil to threat ihe firmament:

It w.is f-inl)ellisl)t uit!) blossomes iayre,

Ami iliereti) iiye wonted to repayre

'J'lie shrpheari'ls daughters to gather flowres, 120

To ^jviiiite their girlonds with his colowres ;

And in his -small bushes used to shrowde

'lliH sweete riightingale singing so lowde :

Which made this foolish I5rere wexe so bold,

That or; a time liee cast him to scold 125

And snebbe the good Oake, tor bee was old.

' Why standst there (quoth he) thou brutish
blocke ?
Nor for fruit nor for shadowe serves thy stocke ;
Seest how tresh my flowers bine spredde,
Dved in lilly wliite and cremsin redde, 130

With leaves engrained in lustie green ,
Colours meete to clothe a mayden queene?
Thy waste bignes but combers the ground,
And dirks the beautie of my blossomes round
1 he mouldie mosse, which thee aecloyeth, 135

My sinanion smell too much annoy etli :
Wlierefore soone 1 rede thee hence remove,
Least thou the jirice of mv displeasure prove.'
iSo spake this bold Brere with great di>daine :
Little liim aunswered the Oakeagaine, 140

But yeelded, with shame and grief adawed.
That of a weede bee was overcrawed.

It chaunced after upon a day.
The husbandman selfe to come that way.
Of custome for to survewe his grounde, 1-15

And his trees of slate in coinpasse rounde :
Him when the ^pightefull Brere had espyed,
Causelesse complayned, and lowdly cryed
Unto his lord, stirring u{) sterne strife:

' O my liege lord ! the god of my life, 150

Pleasetli vou ponder your sup])liaunts plaint,
Cau4<^d of wrong and cruell constraint,
\Vhich I yourpoore vassall daylie endure ;
And, but your goodnes the same recure,
Am like for desperate doole to die, 155

Through felonous force of mineenemie.'
Greatly agast with this i)iteous plea,
Him rested the goodman on the lea.
And bad the i5rere in bis plaint proceede.
A\ ith p;iinted wordes tho gan tiiisproude weede 160
(As most usen ambitious folke)
His coloured crime with crait to cloke.

' Ah, my soveraigne ! lord of creatures all.
Thou placer of plants both humble and tall,
AVas not I planted of tliine owne bande, 1C5

To bee the primrose of all tbv Ivuide ;
\\ ith flowring blossomes to furnish the jirime.
And scarlet berries in sommer time?
Howe falles it then tiiat this faded Oake,
Whose bndie is sere, whose braunches broke, 170
Whose naked arms stretch unto the fire.
Unto such tyraiinie doth aspire ;
Hindering with his shade my lovely light.
And robbing mee of the sweete sunnes sight?
So beate his old boughes my lender side, 175

That oft tlie bloude springeth from woundes wide j
Untimely my flowres forced to fall,
lb, it bene the honour of your coronal] ;
And olt bee lets his cancker-wornies light
Upon my braunches, to worke me more spight ; 180
And oft his hoarie locks down doth cast,
W herewith my fresh Howrets bi ne dtfast :
For this, and many more such outrage,
Craving your goodlyhead to asswage
The tancknrnus rieour of his might ; 185

Nought aske 1, but onely to holde my right,
Submittin;^' mee to voiir good suti'eraunce.
And praying to be garded from greevaunce.'

'I'o this this Oake cast him to replie
Well as hee couth ; but his enemie 190

Had kindled such coles of displeasure,
Tiiat the goodman noulde stay his leasure,
But home him hasted with furious heate,
Encreasing his wra'h with manv a tlireaie ;
His liarmefuU hatchet he bent in hand, 195

(Alas ! that it so readie should stand !)
And to the fielde alone hee speedeth,
(Ay little helpe to harme there needeth!)
Anger nould let him speake to the tree,
Enaunter his rage mought cooled bee ; "200

But to the roote bent his sturdie stroake
And made many woundes in the waste Oake.
The axes edge did oft turne againe.
As halfe unwilling to cutte the graine ;
Seemed, the senselesse yron did feare, 205

Or to wrong holy eld did fbrbeare ;
For it had been an auncient tree.
Sacred with many a mysteree.
And often crost with the priestes crewe.
And often hallowed with holy-water dewe : 230

But sike fancies weren foolerie.
And broughten this Oake to tins miserie ;
For nought mought they quitten him from decay,
For fiercel_v the goodman at him did laye,
U'he blocke oft groned under the blow, 215

And sighed to see his neere overthrow.
In fine, the Steele had pierced his pith,
1'ho downe to the earth hee fell forthwith.
His wonderous weight made the ground to quake,
'J'h' earth shronke under him, and seemed to shake-
There lyeth the Oake, pitied of none ! 221

Now stands the Brere like a lord alone.
Puffed up with prvdeand vaine pleasaunce ;
]}ut all this glee had no continuaunce :
For effsoones winter gan to approche ; 225

I'he blustring Boreas did encroche.
And beate upon the solitarie Biere ;
For nowe no succour was seene him neere.
Now gan hee repent his pride too late ;
For, naked left and disconsolate, 230

The bytiny frost nipt his stalke dead.
The watrie wet weighed downe his head,
And heaped snowe burdned him so sore,
I hat nowe upright he can stand no more ;
And, being downe, is trod in the durt 235

Ot cattell, and bronzed, ai>d sorely hurt.
Such was th' end of this ambitious Brere,
For scorning eld — "

Ci'D. Now I pray thee, shepheard, tell it no
Here is a h)ng tale, and little worth, [forth :

So long have I listened to thy sptche, 241

That grail'ed to the ground is my breche ;
My heartblood is well nigh frorne 1 feele.
And my galage growne fast to my heele ;
But little ease of ihv lewde tale I tasted : 245

Hie thee home, shepheard, the day is nigh wasted.

THENOTS tMBLEME.

Jddio, perche c vecchio,
Fa suoi al siio esiempic.

CUDDIES r..1IBI.l;ME.

A'iuHd lecclitn,
Uparentii liiii'w. '

MARCH.
AEGLOGA TERTIA.

ARGUMENT.

In this Aeglogue two Slie])lieards Boyes, taking
occasion of the season, beginne to make purpose of
love, and other pleasance wliich to spring-time is
most agreeable. The speciall meaning hereof, is,
to give certaine marks and tokens, to know Cupid
the poets god of love. But more particularly, I
thinke, in the person of Thomalin, is meant some
secret friend, who scorned Love and his knights so
long, till at length hiraselfe was entangled, and un-
wares wounded with the dart of some beautiful
regard, which is Cupids arrow.

WILLYE. THOMALIN.

WILLYE.

Thomalin, why sitten wee soe.
As weren overwent with woe,

Upon so fay re a morow 1
The loyous time now nigheth fast,
That shall alegge this bitter blast, 5

And slake the winter soiow.
Trio. Sicker, Willye, thou warnest well ;
For winters wrath beginnes U> quell,

And pleasaunt spring appeareth :
The grasse nowe gnines to be refresht, 10

The swallowe pee])es out of her nest.

And clowdie welkin cleareth.
VViL. Seest not thilke same hawthorne stucjde,
How bragly it begins to budde,

And utter his tender head ? 15

Flora nowe calleth forth eche flower,
And bids make readie IVlfwas bower.

That newe is upryst from bedd :
Tho shall wee sporten in delight,
And learne with Lettite to wese light, 20

That scorneluUy lookes askaunce ;
Tho will wee little Love awake,
That nowe sleepeth m Lethe lake,

And pray him leaden our daunce.
Tho. \\ lUye, I ween thou be assot; 25

For lusiy Love still sleepeth not,

But is abroade at his game.
WiL. Howe kenst thou, that bee is awoke ?
Or hast thy selfe his slomber broke ?

Or made privie to the same ] 30

Tho. No ; but happily I him spide.
Where in a bush he did him hide.

With winges of purple and blewe;
And, were not that my sheepe would stray.
The privie markes 1 would bewray, 35

Whereby by cbaunce I hnn knew.
WiL. 'i hoinalin, have no care for-thy ;
My selfe will have a double eye,

Vlike to my flocke and thine :
For, alas ! at home 1 have a syre, 40

A stepdame eke, as bote as fyre,

That dewly adayes counts mine.
Tito. Nay, but th^ seemg will not serve.
My sheep for that may chaunce to swerve.

And fall into some niischiefe : 45

For sithens is but the third morow
That I haunst to fall ajleepe with sorow.

And waked againe with griefe ;
The while thilke some unhappie ewe.
Whose clouted legge her hurt doth shewe, 50

Fell headlong into a dell.

MARCH. S7h

And there unioynted both her bones :
Mougbt her neck bene ioynted attones.

She shoulde have neede no more spell ;
Th' elfe was so wanton and so wood, 55

(But now I trowe can better good).

She mought ne gang on the greene.
WiL. Let be, as may he, that is past;
That is to come, let be forecast :

Now tell us what thou hast seene. 60

Tho. It was upon a holidav,
When shepheards groomes had leave to play,

I cast to go a shooting ;
Long vi-andring up and downe the land,
With bow and bolts in either hand, 6b

For birdes in buslies tooting.
At lengih within the yvie todde,
(There shrowded was the little god,)

I heard a busie bustling ;
I bent my bolt against the bu.-h, 70

Listning if anie thing did rush,

But then heard no more rustling.
Tho, peeping close into the thicke,
Alight see the moving of some quicke.

Whose shape appeared not ; 75

But were it faerie, feend, or snake
My courage earned it to awake,

And manfully thereat shotte :
With that sprung forth a naked swavne,
With spotted winges like peacocks trayne, 80

And laughing lope to a tree;
Ilis gylden quiver at his backe.
And silver bo we, which was but slacke,

Which lightlv he bent at me :
That seeing, I leveld againe, 85

And shotte at him with might and maine,

As thicke as it had hayled.
So long 1 shott, that all was spent ;
Tho pumie stones 1 hastly hent.

And threw ; but nought avayled : 90

He was so wimble and so wight.
From bough to bough he lepped light,

And oft the pumies latched :
Therewith affray d I lanne away ;
But he, that earst seemd but ti) play, 95

A shaft in earnest snatched,
And hit me running in the heele :
For then I little smart did feele.

But soone it sore increased :
And now it ranckleth more and more, 100

And inwardly it festreth sore,

Ne wote 1 how to cease it.
WiL. Thomalin, I pitie thy plight,
Perdie with Love thou diddestfight ;

I know him by a token : ' 105

For once I heard my father say.
How he him caught upon a day,

(Whereof he will be wroken,)
Entangled in a fowling net.
Which he for carrion crowes had set 110

That in our peare-tree haunted :
Tho said, he was a winged lad,
But bowe and shaftes as then none had,

Els had he sore been daunted.
But see, the welkin thicks apace, I'O

And stouping Phoebus steepes his face;

Yts time to haste us homeward. 117

WILLYES EMBLEME.

To be Hue and cAb (» inie.

Is graunteii scarce lo f^cds al'^ve.

376

THE SHEPIIEAIIDS CALENDER.

TIIOMALINS EMBLEME,

Of lioinj (Did (^f gaiile in love there is store ;
The honij is imicli, hut ihc fiiiule is wore.

APRIL.
AEGLOGA QUARTA.

ARGUMENT.

This App;Iop;iie is purposely intended to the
honour and jmiyse of our most pjratious soveraigne,
Queene Eliza'ietli. The speakers liereof bee Hoh-
binoll and 'I'henot, two sliejiheards : tlie wliich
Hobbinoll, beinjj before mentioned greatly to have
loved Colin, is here set forth more largely, com-
plaining him of that boyes great misadventure in
love ; whereby his mind was alienated and with-
drawn not onelv from him, who most loved him,
but also from all former delights and studies, as
well in pleasant pvping, as cunning rhyming and
singing, and other his laudable exercises. Whereby
he taketh occasion, for ])roofe of his more excel-
lencie and skill in poetrie, to record a song, which
the said Colin sometime made in honour of her
Maiestie, whom abruptly he termeth Elisa.

THENOT. HOBBINOLL.

Tetl me, good Hobbinoll wliat garres thee greete?

What! hatii some wolfe thy tendi-r lamhes ytorne?
Or is thy bagpvpe broke that soundes so sweete ?

Or art ihou of thv loved lasse forlorne?
Or bene ihirie eyes atteinjired to the yeare, 5

Quencliinn' the gasjiing furrowes thirst with rayne?
Like A prill showre so stream the trickling teares

Adowne thy cheeke, to quench thy thirstie ]>aine.
Hob. Nor this, nor that, so much doth make me
mourne,

But for the ladde, whom long 1 lovd so deare, 10
Now loves a lasse that all his love dnth scorne :

He, plunged in pairie,liis tressed locks doth teare ;
Shepheards delights he doth them all forsweare ;

His pleasaunt pipe, which made us merriment.
He wilfully hath biok, and doth forbeare 15

His wonted songs vvlierein he all outwent.
The. Wliat is he for a laiido you so lament)

Ys I'lve such pinching paine to them that prove?
And hath he skill to make so excellent,

Ye'i hath so little skill to bridle love? 20

Hob. Colin thou kenst, the southerne sbepbearils
bove ;

Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte :
Whilome on him was all my care and ioye,
Forcing with giltes to winne his wanton heart.
But r.ow fiom me his madding minde is start, 25

And wooes the widdowes daughter of theglenne ;
So now favre Rosalind hath bredde his smart;

So now liis friend is chainiged for a frenne.
The. But if his ditties bene so trimly (light,

1 pray thee, Ilobhinoll, recorde some one, 30

T!ie whiles our flockes do graze about in sight,

And we close shrowtled in this shade alone.
Hob. Cor.tented 1 : then will I sing Ids laye

Of fnir Elisa, queene of shepheards all,
Which (.nee he made as by a spring lie laye, 35

And tuned it unto the waters fall.

" Ye daintie n\ mphs, that in this blessed brooke

Doe bathe your brest
F^orsake your watrie bowres, and bether looke.

At my recjuest. 40

And eke you virgins that on Parnasse dwell,
\\ hence floweth Helicon, the learned well,

Help me to 1 laze

Her worthy jirayse
Which in her sexe doth all excell. 45

" Of fair Elisa be your silver song,

Tiiat blessed wight,
The flowre of virgins ; may she florisli long

Li j)rincely plight I
For she is Syrinx daughter without spotte, 50

Which Pan, the shepheardes god, of her begotte :

So sprong her grace

Of heavenly race.
No morlall blemishe may her blotte.

" See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, 65

(O seemely sight !)
Ydad in scarlot, like a roayden queene,

And ermines white :
Upon her head a cremosin coronet.
With dam^ske roses and daftadillies set ; 60

Bayleaves betweene.

And primroses greene,
Embtdlish the sweete violet,

" Tell me, have ye seene her angelike face,

Like Phitbe fayre ? 65

Her heavenly haveuur, her princely grace,

Can you well compare?
The redde rose medled with the white yfere.
In either cheeke depeincten lively chere :

Her modest eye, 70

Her majestie,
W'here have you seene the like but there?

" I sawe Phnclnis thrust out his golden hede

Upon her to gaze ;
But, when he saw howe broade her beames did
sprede, 75

It did him amaze.
Hee blusht to see another sunne 1 elowe,
Ne durst againe his firie face out showe.

Let him, if hee dare.

His hrighlnesse compare 80

With hers, to have the overthrowe.

" She we thyself, Cynthia, with thy silver rays,

And be not abasht :
When shee the beames of her beautie displayes,

O how art thou dasht! 85

But I will not match her with Latonaes seede ;
Such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede.

Now shee is a stone,

And makes daylie mone,
Waiiiing all other to take heede. 90

" Pan may bee prowde that ever hee begot

Such a bellibone ;
And Syrinx reioyce, that ever was her lot

To beare such an one.
Soone as my younglinges cryen for the dam 95

To her will I offer a milkwhite lamb :

She is my goddesse plaine,

And I her slupheardes swain,
Albee forswonck and forswatt I am.

APRIL.

377

" I see Calliope speede Ixt to tbe place, 100

Where my goddesse shines ;
And after lier the other muses trace,

Willi their violines.
Bene they not b?y-braunches which they doe beare,
All for Ellisa in her hand to weare ? 103

So swcetelie they play,

And sing- all the way,
That it a lieaven is to heare.

Lo, how finely the graces can it foots

To the instrument: 110

They dauncen deffly, and singen soote.

In their meriinent.
Wants not a fourth grace, to make the daunce even?
Let that rowme to my lady bee yeven.

She shalbe a grace, 115

To fill the fourth place,
And reigne with the rest in heaven.

" And vi-hither rennes this bcvie of ladies bright,

Eaunged in a rowe ?
They bene all ladyes of the lake behight, 1<J0

i'hat unto her <;oe.
Chloris, that is the chiefest nymjih of all,
Of olive braunches beaies a coronall :

Olives bene for peace,

When warres do surcease : 125

Such for a princesse bene pincipall.

" Ye shepheards daughters, that dwell on the greene,

Hye you there apace :
Let none come there but that virgins bene.

To adorne her grace : 'ISO

And, when }'ou come whereas shee is in place,
See that your rudenesse doe not you disgrace:

Binde your fillets faste,

And gird in your waste.
For more fineness, with a tawdrie lace. 135

Bring hether the pincke and purple cullambine.

With gelliflowres ;
Bring coronations, and sops in wine,

Worne of paramoures :
Strowe mee the grounde with daffadowndiHies, 140
And cowslips, and kingcujis, and loved lillies :

The pretie pawnee.

And the clievisaunce.
Shall match with tbe fayre fiowre delice.

" Now rise up, Elisa, decked as tliou art 145

In royall arav ;
And now yee duintie damsells may depart

Ethe one her way.
I feare, I have troubled your troupes too long ;
Let dame Elisa thanke vou for her so.-g : 150

And, if you come hether

When damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among."

The. And was thilk same song of Colins owne ma-
king?

Ah ! foolis!) boy ! that is with love yblent ; 155
Great pittie is, bee bee in such taking.

For naught caren that bene so lewdly bent.
Hob. Sicker I holde him for a greater ton,

Tliat loves the tlimg liee cannot purcliase.
But let us homeward, for night drawetli on, 160

And twinckiirig staires the daylight hence chase.

THENOTS EMBLEME.

quum te memorem Virgo!

HOBBINOLLS EMBLEME.

ilea certe !

MAY.
AEGLOCiA QUINTA.

.\KGUMENT.

In this fift Aeglogue. under the person of two
shepheards, Piers and Palinode, be represented two
formes of pastours or ministers, or the jir^testant
and the catholicke; whose chiefe talke sfandeth in
reasoning, whether the life of the one must be like
the other; with wlioin having shewed, that it is
daungerous to maintaine any felowship, nr give too
much credite to their colourable an. I fained good wil,
he telleth liim a tale of the foxe, that, by such a
counterpoint of craftinesse, deceyved and devoured
the credulous kidde.

PALING IJE. PIERS.

PALINODE.

Is not tliilke tbe mery moneth of May,
When love-lads masken in t'resh aray?
How falles it. then, wee no merrier beene,
Ylike as others, girt in gaw dy greene ?
Our bloncket liveries bene all to sadde .?

F<'r thilke same season, when all is ycladde
With jileasaunce ; the ground with grasse, the woods
With greene leaves, the bu>heswith bloosming buds
Youngthes folke now fiocken in every wijerc.
To gather May buskeis and smelling briie ; 10

And home iht-y hasten the jiostes to (light.
And all the kirk-jiillours eiie day-light,
With hawihorne buds, and sweete eglantine.
And girlonds of roses, and sopjies in wine.
Such merimake holy saints doth i|ueme, 15

But wee here sitten as drow nde in drenie.

PiEiis. For younkers. Palinode, such follies fitte.
But wee tway bene men of elder witte.

Pal. Sicker this morowe, no lenger agoe,
I sawe a shole of shephcardes outgoe 20

With singing and shouting, and iolly chere :
Before them yode a lustie tabrere,
That to the many a horii-iiype |.layd,
^\'hereto they dauncen eche one with his mayd.
To see those folks m.ake such iovysaunce, 25

INIade my heart after the p>pe to daunce :
Tho to the greene wood tiiey speeden hem all.
To fetchen home Mav with their musicall ;
And home they bringen in a niyull throne.
Crowned as king; and his queene atlone 30

Was Lady Flora, on whom did attend
A fayre fiocke of faeries, and a fresh bend
Of lovely nymjibes. ( O that I were tin re,
'Fo helpen the ladies their inavbush beare ! )
Ah ! Piers, bene not thy teeth on edge, to ihinke o
How great sjiort they gaynen with little suinck ?

Pirns. Perdie, so la^re am 1 from envie.
That their f..ndnesse iiilv 1 ]iitie :
Those faytours little regarden tlieir charge,
While they, letting their sb^eI) riinne at large, 40
Passen their time, that should he sparely spent,
lu lustihede and wanton meryment.

378

THE SHEPH EARDS CALENDER.

Thilke same bene sliepheardes for the devils stedde,

That playen while their flockes be unt'edde:

Well It is seene tiieir sheepe bene not their owne, 45

That letten them runne at randoii alone ;

But thev bene hyred for little pav

Of other, that caren as little as the}-,

Wliat falW the fiocke, so they ban the fleece,

And o-et all tiie gayne paying but a peece. 50

I muse, what account both these will make ;

'l"he one for the hire, which he doth take,

And th' other for leaving- his lordes taske,

\\ hen yreat Pan account of shepheards shall aske.

Pal. Sicker, now I see thou speakest of spight, 55
All for thou lackest somdele their delight.
1 (as I am) had rather be envied,
All were it of my foe, then fonly pitifed ;
And yet, if neede were, pitied would be.
Rather then otlier should scorne at me ; 60

For pittied is mishap that nas remedie,
But scorned bene deedes of fond foolerie.
What shou'.den shepheards other things tend.
Then, sifh their God his good does them send,
Reapen the fruite thereof, that is pleasure, 65

T)ie while they here liven at ease and leasure 1
For, when tliey bene dead, their good is ygoe.
They sleepen in rest w-ell as other moe :
Tho with them wends what they spent in cost,
But what they left behinde them is lost. 70

Good is no good, but if it be spend ;
God giveth good for none other end.

Puns. Ah ! Palinode, thou art a worldes child :
^Vho touches pitch, mought needs be defilde ;
But shepheards (as Algrind used to say) 75

jMought not live ylike as men of the laye.
With them it sits to care for their heire,
Enaunter their heritage doe impaire :
They must ])rovide for meanes of maintenaunce.
And to continue their w-ont countenaunce : 80

But slieplieard must walke another way,
Sike worldly sovenance he must fbr-say.
'I'he Sonne of his loines why should he regard
To leave enriched with that he hath spard .'
Should not thilke God, that gave him that good, 85
Eke cherish iiis chdd, if in his waies he stood ?
For if he mislive in leudness and lust,
Little hootes all the wealth and the trust,
Thut his father left by inheritaunce ;
All will be soon wasted with misgovernaunce . 90
But through this, and other their miscreaunce,
'I'liey maken many a wrong chevisaunce.
Heaping up waves of Vv-ealth and woe,
'I'he flouds whereof shall them overflow.
Sike mens follie I cannot compare 95

Better then to the apes foolish care,
That is so enamoured of her young one,
(And yet, God wote, such cause had shee none,)
That with her hard liold, and straight embracing,
She stoppeili the bi-eath of her youngling. 100

So oftentimes, when as good is meant.
Evil ensueth of wrong entent.

'] he time was once, and may again retorne,
(For ouglit may hapjien, that hath been beforne,)
When shepheards had none inheritaunce, 105

Ne of land nor fee in sufl'eraunce.
But what miglit arise of the hare sheepe,
(Were it more or Jesse) which they did keeps.
Well ywis was it with shepheards ihoe :
Nought having, nought feared they to forgoe ; 110
For Pan himselfe was their inheritaunce.
And little them served lor their Tnaintenaunce.

The shepheards Gml so well them guided,

That of nought they were unprovided ;

Butter enough, bonny, milke, and whay, 115

And their flockes fleeces them to araye :

But tract of time and long prosperitie,

(That nource of vice, this of insolencie).

Lulled the sheplieards in such securitie.

That, not content with loyall obeysaunce, 120

Some gan to gape for greedie govemaunce.

And match them selfe with mightie potentates.

Lovers of lordship, and troublers of states :

Tho gan sheplieards swaines to looke aloft.

And leave to live hard, and learne to ligge soft : 1"5

Tho, under colour of shepheards, somewliile

There crept in wolves, full of fraud and guile.

That often devoured their owne sheejie.

And often the shepheards that did hem keej) :

This was the first sourse of shepheards sorow, 130

That now nill be (juitt with baile nor borow.

Pal. I'hree lliinges to heare bene veiy burdenous,
But the fourth to tbrbeare is outragious :
Wemen, that of loves longing once lust,
Hardly forbearen, but have it they must : 135

So when choler is inflamed with rage.
Wanting revenge, is hard to asswage :
And who can counsell a thirstie soule.
With patience to forbeare the ofired bowle?
But of all burdens, that a man can beare, 140

JMost is, a fooles talke to beare and to heare.
I vi-eene the geaunt has not such a weight.
That beares on his shouldejs the heavens height.
Thou flndest fault where nys to be found.
And buildest strong warke upon a w-eake ground :
Thou raylest on right withouten reason, 14(i

And blamest hem much for small encheason.
How shoulden shepheardes live, if not so?
What? should they pynen in ])ayne and woe ?
Nay, sav I thereto, by mv deare borrowe, 150

If 1 may rest, 1 nill live in sorrowe,

Sorrowe ne neede be hastened on,
For be will come, without calling, anone.
While times enduren of trancjuillitie,
Usen we freely our felicitie ; 155

For, V. '"^n approchen the stormie stowres,
We mought with our shoulders bear oS the sharp

sliowres ;
And, sooth to sayne, nought seemeth sike strife,
That shepheards so witen eche others life.
And layen her faults the worlds beforne, 160

The while their foes done cache of hem scorne.
Let none mislike of that may not be mended ;
So conteck soone by concord mought be ended.

PiEits. Shepheard, 1 list no accordaunce make
With shepheard, that does the right way forsake j 165
And of the twaine, if choise were to me.
Had lever my foe then my friend he be ;
For what concord ban li-ght and darke sam?
Or what peace has the lion with the laiiibe ;
Such faitors, when thcyr false hearts bene hidde, 170
Will doe as did the foxe by the kidde.

Pal. Now, Piers, of fellowship, tell us that saying ;
For the lad can keep both our flockes from straying.

Pans. Thilke same kidde (as 1 can well devise)
Was too very foolish and unwise ; 175

For on a time, in sommer season,
'I'he giit(! her dame, that had good reason,
Yode forth abroad, unto the greene wood,
To brouze, or play, or what she thought good .
But, for slie had a motlierly care 180

Of h""- -'Qniig Sonne, and wit to beware,

MAY,

379

She set litT youngling before lier knee,
'I'liat was both fresh and lovely to see,
Anil full of favour as kidde nioughf me.
His vellet head began to shoote out, 185

And his wreathed horns pin newly sprout;
The blossomes of lust to bud did beginne,
And spring forth ranckly under his chinne.
" My Sonne," quoth she, and wi h that gan weepe ;
For carefull thoughtes in her heart did creepe ;) 190
" God blesse thee, poore orphane ! as he nioughl me.
And send thee ioy of thy ioUitie.
Thy father," (that worde she spake with payne.
For a sigh had nigh rent her heart in twaine,)
"Tby father, had he lived this day, 195

To see the braunche of his body displaye,
How would he have ioyed at this sweete sight ?
But ah ! false fortune s\ich ioy did him spight,
And cut oft' his dases with untimely woe,
Betravmg him into the traynes of his foe. 200

Now I, a wailefuU widowe behight.
Of my olde age have this one delight.
To see thee succeede in tiiv fatliers steade,
And flourish in fiowres of lustiliead ;
For even so thy father his head upheld, 205

And so his hautv homes did lie weld."
Tho marking him with melting eyes,
A thrilling throbbe from her heart did arise,
And interrupted all her other speeche

With some olde sorowe that made a newbreache ; 210

Seemed she saw in her younglings face

Tho old lineaments of his fathers grace.

At last her solein silence siie broke,

And gan his new -budded beard to stroke.

'• Kiddie, (quoth she) thou kenstthe great care 215

1 have of thy health and thy welfare,

Which many wilde beastes lis^gen in waite

For to entrap in thy tender st;ite:

But most the foxe, maister of collusion ;

For he has vowed thy last confusion. 220

Forthy, my kiddie, be rulde by me.

And never give trust to his trecheree ;

And, it lie cliaunce come when I am abroade,

Sperre the vate fast, for fear of fraude ;

r^e for all his worst, nor for his best, 225

Open the dore at his re(|uest."

So Schooled the gote lier wanton sonne.

That aunsvier'd his mother, all should be done.

Tho went the pensive damme out of dore,

And cliauiist to stomble at the threshold fiore ; 230

Her stombling steppe somewhat her amazed,

(For such, as signes of ill lucke, bene dispraised ;)

Yet fortli she yode, thereat lialt agast ;

And kiddie the dore sperred after her fast.

It was not long, after she was gone, 235

But ihe false foxe came to the dore anone ;

IS'ot as a foxe, for then he had be kend.

But all as a poore pedler he did wend.

Bearing a trusse of trifles ai his backe,

As bells, and babes, and ;. lasses, in his packs : 240

A biggen he had got about his braine ;

For in his headpeace he felt a sore paine :

HisLii.der heele was wrapt in u dout,

For with great cold he had got the gout ;

There at the dore ne cast me downe his pack, 245

And hud him downe, and groned, " Alack ! alack !

Ah ! dear Lord ! and sweet Saint (. haritee !

That some 'jood body would once pitie mee !"
Well I eard kiddie all this sore constraint.

And lengd to know the cau>e ot his complaint ; 250

'Ibo creeping close behinde the wickets chuck,

Privil^' he peeped out through a chinck.

\ ettiot so privily but the foxe him spyed ;
For deceittuU meaning is double-eyed.

" Ah ! ii'ood young maister " (then gan he crye").
" Jesus blesse that sweete face 1 espye, 'J5fi

And keep your cor])se from the carefull stounds
That in ray carrion carcas abounds."

The kidd, pittying hisheavinesse.
Asked the causeof his gieat distresse, 260

And also who, and whence that he were.

Tho he, that had wellycomi his lere,
Thus medled his talke with many a teare :
" Sicke, sicke. alas! and little iacke of dead.
But I be relieved by your beastlyhead. 265

I am a poore sheepe, albe my colour donne.
For with long travaile 1 am brent in the sonne ;
And if that, my grandsire me sayd, be true,
Sicker, 1 am very s\bbe to you ;
So be your goodlihead do not disdaine 270

'J'he base kinredof so sim|ile swaine.
Of mercv and favour then I you pray,
With your ayde to forestall my nere decay.''

Tho out of his packe a glasse he looke.
Wherein while kiddie iin wares did looke, 275

He was so enamored with ihe newell.
That nought be deemed deare for the iewell :
Tho opened he the dore, and in came
The false foxe, as he were starke lame :
His tayle he clapt betwixt his legs twayne, 280

Lest he should be descried by his trayne.

Being within, the kidde made him good glee.
All for the love of the glasse he did see.
After his chere, the pedler can chat.
And tell many leasinoes of this and that.

285

And how he could shew many a tine knack ;

Tho shewed his ware and opened his packe.

All save a bell, which he left behmde

In the basket for the kidde to finde ;

Which when the kidde stou])ed downe to catch, 290

He pipt him in, and his basket did latch ;

Ne stayed he once the dore to make fast.

But ranne away with him in all hast.

Home when the doubtful! damme had her hide.
She mought see the dore stand open wide ; Si95

All agast, lowdly she gan to call
Her kidde ; but he nould aunswere at all :
Tho on the flore she saw the merchaundise
Of which her sonne had sette too deere a prise.
What help ! her kidde ?he knew well was gone : 300
She weeped, and wayled, and made great mone.
Such end had the kidde, for he nould warned be
Of craft, coloured with siiiiplicitie ;
And such end, perdie, does all hem remayne,
That of such falsers friendship bene fayne. 305

Pal. Truely, Piers, thou art beside thy wit,
Furthest fro the marke, weening it to hit.
Now, 1 pray thee, let me thy tale borowe
For our Sir John, to say to-morowe
At the kerke when it is holiday ; 310

For well he meanes, but little can say.
But, and if foxes bene so craftie as so,
IMuch needeth all shepheards hem to know.

Piers. Of their falshcde more could I recount,
But now the bright sunne gynneth to dismount ;
And, for the deawie night now doth nye,
I hold it best for us home to bye. 317

PALINODES EMBLEME.

Pas vien apistos apistei.

PIERS HIS EMBLEME.

Tis d'ara pistis apiito ?

SBO

THE SHEFHEARDS CALENDER.

lUNE.
AEG LOG A SEXTA.

ARGUJIENT.

This Aeelog'ue is wbolly vowed to the com-
playning of Colins ill successe in his love. For
beiii^i (as is aforesaid) enamored of a country lasse
Rosalind, and havinj;' (as seenietli) found place in
l)pr heart, bee lamenteth to his deare friend Hobbi-
n 11, that be is now forsaken unfaiilifully, and in his
sreaile .Alenalcas another she]ilieard received disloy-
ally. And this is the whole Argument of this
Aeglog;ue.

HOBBINOLL. COLIN CLOUT.

HOBBINOLL.

Lo ! Colin, here the place wliose plesaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring minde.
Tell me, what wants me here to worke delvte ?
The simple ayre, the gentle warbling winde,
So caltne, so coole, as no wliere else I finde ; 5

T!ie grassie grounde with daintie daysies dight,
The bramble bush, where byrdes of every kinde
To tiie waters fall their tunes attemper right.

Coi.. O happie Hobbinoll, I blesse thy state,
That Paradise bath founde which Adam lost: 10
Here wander may thy fiocke early or late,
Witbouten dread of wolves to bene ytost ;
Thy lovely layes here maist thou freely boste :
But L unhappie man ! whom cruell fate
And angvie gods pursue from coste to coste, 15

Can uo where finde to shroude my lucklesse pate.

Hob. Then, if by me thou list advised bee.
Forsake the soyle that so doth thee bewitch ,
Leave mee those hilles where barbrough nis to see,
Nor holy-bush, nor brere, nor winding ditch ;" 20
And to the dales resort, where sbepheards ritch.
And fruitful) flocks, bene every where to see :
Here no night-ravens lodge, more black then pitch.
Nor elvish ghosts, nor gastly owles doe flee ;

But friendly faeries, met with many graces, [night
And lightfoote nympbes, can chase the lingring
With heydeguyes, and trimly trodden traces, 27

Whilst systers nyne, which dwell on Parnasse bight.
Doe make them musick for their more delight ;
And Pan himselfe to kisse ibeir christall faces 30
Will pype and daunce, when Pboshe shineth bright:
Such pierlesse pleasures have wee in these ])laces.

[yeeres,
CoL. And I, whylst youth, and course of carelesse
Did let me walke witbouten lincks of love.
In such delights did ioy amongst my peeres ; 35
}5ut ryper age such pleasures doth reproove :
My fansie eke from former follies moove
To stayed steps ; for time in passing weares,
(As garments doen, which wexen ohie above,)
And dravveth newe delights with hoarie haires. 40

The couth I sing of love, and tune my pype
Unto my plaintive pleas in verses made ;
Tho would I seeke for (|ueene-apples unrype ;
To give mv Rosalind, and in sonmier shade
Dight gaudie i;irlonds was my common trade, 45
To crowne her golden lockes , but yeeres more rype.
And losse of her, whose love as Ivfe I wayde,
Those weary wanton toyes away did wype.

Hon. Colin, to heare thy rmies and roundelayes
Which thou wert wont on wastefull hilles to sing, 50
I more delight then larke in sommer dayes,
^Vhose eccho made the neighbour groves to ring,
And taught the byrdes, which in the lower spring
Did shroude in shady leaves from sunny rayes,
Frame to thy songe their cheeretul clieriping, 55
Or holde their peace, for shame of thy sweete layes,,

I sawe Calliope with muses moe,

Soone as thy oaten pv|ie began to sounde.

Their yvory lutes anil tamburins forgoe.

And from the fountaine, where they sat around, 60

Renne after hastely thy silver sound ;

But, when they came where thou thy skill didst

showe.
They drewe abacke, as halfe with shame confound
Shepheard to see, them in their arte outgoe.

Col. Of muses, Hobbinoll, I conne no skill, 65
For 'bey bene daughters of the highest love.
And holden scorne of homely shejiheards quill ;
For sith 1 heard that Pan with Phoebus strove.
Which him to much rebuke and daunger drove,
T never list presume to Harnasse hill, 70

But, pyping low in shade of lowly grove,
1 olay to please myselfe, all be it ill.

Nought weigh I, who my song doth praise or blame,
Ne strive to wiiine renowne, or passe the rest :
With shepheard sittes not foUowe flying fame, 75
But feede bis flocke in fieldes where falls hem best.
I wote ray r^'mes bene rough, and rudely drest;
The fitter they my carefull case to frame :
Enough is mee to paint out my unrest,
And poure my Dueous plaintes out in the same. 80

The god of snepnearas, lnyrus, is dead,
\\ ho taught mee homely, as I can, to make :
Hee, whilst bee lived, was the soveraigne bead
Of shepbeards all that bene with love ytake :
Well couth hee wailebis woes, and lightly slake 85
'J'be flames which love within his heart had bredde,
And tell us merry tales to keepe us wake,
'1 he while our sheepe about us safely fedde.

Nowe dead hee is, and lyeth wrapt in lead,

(O why should death on him sucli outrase showe !)

And all his passing skill with him is fledde, 91

The fame wliereof doth dayiie greater growe.

But, if on mee some little drops would flowe

Of that the spring was in bis learned hedde,

I soone would learne these woods to waile my woe,95

And teache the trees their trickling teares toshedde.

Then should my plaintes, causde of discurtesee,
As messengers of this my jdairifull plight.
Five lo my love wherever that shee bee.
And pierce her heart with [)oynt of worthy wight, 100
As sbee deserves, that wrought so deadly spight.
And thou, iMenalcas ! that by trecberee
Didst uiulerfoiige my lasse to wexe so light,
Shouldst well be knowne for such thy villanee.

But since I am not as 1 wisbe I were, lOJ

Yeei^entle sheiibearils ! wliich your flocks doefeedej
Whether on hylles, or dales, or other where,
Bears witnesse all of this so wicked deede j

JUNE.

381

And tell the lasse, whose flowre is woxe a weede.
And faultlesse faith is turnM to faitlilesse fere, 110
That shoe the truest shepheards heart made bleede
That lyves on earth, and loved her most dere.

Hob. O ! carefull Colin, I lament thy case ;
Thy teares would make the hardest flint to flowe !
Ah ! faithless Rosalind, and vovde of grace, 115
That art the roote of all this ruthfull woe !
But now is time, I gesse, homeward to goe :
Theu rise, ye blessed flocks ! and home apace,
Lest night c^ith stealing steppes do you foresloe.
And wett your tender lambs that by you trace. 120

COLINS EMBLEMS.

Gia speme spenta.

lULY.
AEGLOGA SEPTIMA.

ARGUMENT.

This Aeglogue is made in the honour and com-
mendation of good shepheards, and to the shame and
dispraise of proud and ambitious pastours : such as
Morrell is here imagined to be.

thomalin. morrell.

THOMAHN.

Is not thilke same a goteheard prowde,

That sittes on j'onder bancke,
Whose straying heard them selfe doth shrowde

Emung the bushes rancke?
iVIoR. What, ho, thou iolly shepheardes swaine, 5

Come up the hill to me ;
Better is then the lowlv plaine,

Als for thy flocke and thee.
Thom. Ah ! God shield, man, that I should clime,

And learne to looke alofte ; 10

This rede is rife, that oftentime

Great clymbers fall unsoft.
In liumble dales is footing fast,

The trode is not so tickle.
And though one fall through heedless hast, 15

Yet is his misse not mickle.
.And now the sunnehath reared upp

His fierie-footed teme,
iMaking his way between the cupp

And golden diademe ; 20

The rampant lyon hunts he fast.

With dogges of noysome breath,
^^'hose balefuU barking bringes in hast

Pyne, plagues, and dreerie death.
Against his cruell scortching heate, 25

Where thou hast coverture,
'I'he wastefull hilles unto his threate

Is a plaine overture ;
But, if thee lust to holden chat

With seely shepheardes swayne, 30

Come dov,ne, and learne the little what.

That Thomalin can sa3ne.
INloR. Syker, thous but a leasie loord.

And rekes much of thy swinck.
That with fond termes, and witlesse wordes, 35

To blere mine eyes doest thinke.
la evill houre thou hentst in bond

Thus holy hilles to blame.
For sacred unto saints they stond,

And of them han their name. 40

St. IMichels Mount who does not know,

That wardes the westerne coast ?
And of St. Brigets bowre I trow

All Kent can ri^htlv boast :
And they that con of muses skill

Sayne most-what, that they dwell
(As gote-heardes wont) upon a hill,

Beside a learned well.
And wonned not the great good Pan

Upon mount Olivet,
Feeding the' blessed flocke of Dan,

Which did himselfe beget?
TnoM. O blessed sheepe ! O shepheard great !

That bought his flocke so deare.
And them did save with bloudy sweat

From wolves that would them teare.
Men. Beside, as holy fathers sayne,

There is a holy place
Where Tytan riseth from the mayne

To renne his davly race.
Upon whose toppe the starres bene stayed,

And all the skie doth leane ;
There is the cave wliere Phoebe layed

The s'jepheard long to dreame.
W'hilomo there used shepheardes all

To fiedo theyr flockes at will.
Till by his folly one did fall,

That all the rest did spill.
And, sithens shepheards bene foresayd

From places of delight,
For-thy I weene thou be afrayd

To clime this hilles height.
Of Synah can I tell thee more,

And of our Ladyes bowre ;
But little needesto strow my store,

Suffice this hill of our.
Here han the holy faunes recourse.

And Syl vanes haunten rathe ;
Here has the salt Medway his sourse.

Wherein the nymphes doe bathe ;
The salt Medway, that trickling stremes

Adowne the dales of Kent,
Till with his elder brother Themes

His brackish waves be meynt.
Here growes melampode every where.

And teribinth , good for gotes ;
The one my madding kids to smere.

The next to heale their throates.
Hereto the hilles bene nigher heaven,

And thence the passage ethe ;
As well can proove the piercing levin.

That stldome falles beneath.
Thdm. Syker, thou speakes like a lewd Icrrell,

Of heaven to demen so ;
How be I am but rude and borrell,

Yet nearer waies I know.
To kerke the narre, from God more farre.

Has bene an olde-said sawe ;
And he, that strives to touche a starre.

Oft stombles at a stravve.
Alsoone may shepheard climbe to skie

That leades in lowly dales.
As goteheard prowd, that, sitting hie.

Upon the mountavne sayles.
My seely sheepe like well belowe.

They neede not melampode,
For they bene hale enough, I trowe.

And lyken their abode ;
But, if they with thev gotes should yede,

Thev soone might be corrupted,

10'.

i05

11!)

382

THE SHEPIIEARDS CALENDER,

Or like not of the frowie fede,

Or with the weedes be glutted.
The hilles, where dwelled holy saints,

I reverence and adore,
Not for themselfe, but for the saincts

\'\hich han bene dead of yore.
And now thev bene to heaven forewent,

T'heir good is with them goe ;
Their sample onely to us lent,

'I'hat als we mouglitdoe soe.
Shepheards they weren of the best,

And lived in lowly leas ;
And, sith they soules be now at rest,

\\ hv done we them disease ?
Such one he was (as I have beard

Old Algrind often sayne)
That whilorae was the first shepbeard,

And lived wiJi little gayne :
And meeke he was, as meeke mought be,

Simjile as simple sheepe ;
Humble, and like in eche degree

The flocke which he did keepe.
Often he used of his keepe

A sacrifice to bring,
Now with a kidd, now with a sheepe,

The altars hallowing.
So lowted he unto his lord,

Such favour couth he linde,
That never sithenswas abhord

The simple shepheards kinde.
And such, I weene, the brethren were

That came from Canaiin,
The brethren twelve, that kept yfere

The flockes of mightie Pan.
But nothing such thilke shepbeard was

Whom Ida hill did beare,
That left his flocke to fetche a lasse,

Whose love he bought too deare.
For he was proud, that ill was payd,

(No such mought shepheards be !)
And with levv'd lust was overlaid ;

Tway things doen ill agree.
But shepbeard mought be meek and mild,

AVell-eyed, as Argus was.
With fleshly follies undefiled,

And stoute as steede of brasse.
Sikeone (sayd Algrind) Moses was.

That sawe his makers face,
His face, more cleare then cristall glasse.

And spake to him in i))ace.
This had a brother (his name 1 knewe)

The first of all his cote,
A shepbeard true, yet not so true

■"As he that earst I bote.
Whilome all these were low and liefe,

And loved their fiockes to f'eede;
They never stroven to be chiefe,

And simple was theyr weede :
But now (thanked be God therefore !)

The world is well amend,
Theyr weedes bene not so nigbly wore ;

Such simplessp mought them shend !
They bene yclad in purjjle and ]iall.

So hath theyr God them blist ;
They reigne and rulen over all,

And lord it as ibey list;
Ygyrt with beltes of glitterand <^old,

(Mought they good slipptieards bene!)
Their Pan their sheepe to them has sold,

I aay as some have seene.

115

120

125

ISO

135

140

145

150

155

160

165

iro

173

180

For Palinode (if thou him ken)

Yode late on pilgrimage
To Rome (if such be Rome), and thea

He sawe thilke misusage ;
For shepheardes (sayd he) there doen lead, 185

As lordes done other where ;
Their sheep lian crusts, and they the bread :

The chippes, and they the cheere :
They han the fleece, and eke the flesh,

(O seely sheepe the while !) 190

The corne is theyrs,let others thresh.

Their handes they may not file.
They han great store and thriftie stockes.

Great friendes and feeble foes ;
What neede hem caren for their flockes, 195

Theyr boyes can looke to those.
These wisards welter in wealths waves,

Pampred in pleasures deepe ;
They han fat kernes, and leaiiy knaves.

Their fasting fiockes to keepe. 200

Sike mister men bene all misgone,

They heapen hilles of wrath ;
Sike syrlie shepheards ban we none.

They keepen all the path.
Mou. Here is a great deale of good matter 205

Lost for lacke of telling !
Now sicker I see thou dost but clatter,

Harme may come of melling.
Thou meddlest more, then shall have thank,

To witen shepheards wealth ; 210

When folke bene fat, and riches ranck.

It is a signe of health.
But say mee, what is Algrind, bee

That is so oft bynem|ic?
TiiOM. Hee is a shepbeard great in gree, 215'

But hath bene long ypent :
One day hee sat upon a hill.

As now thou wouldest mee ;
But I am taught, by Algrinds ill.

To love the lowe de-gree ; 220

For sitting so with bared scalp.

An eagle sored bye.
That, weening bis white head was chalke,

A shell-fish downe let flye ;
Shee vveer.d the shell-fish to have broke, 225

But therewith bruzed his brayne ;
So now, astonied with the stroke,

Hee lyes in lingring payne.
MoR. Ah ! good Algrind! his hap was ill,

But shall be better in time. 230

Now farewell, shepbeard, sith this hill

Thou hast such doubt to clime. 232

PALINODES EMBLE.ME.

In medio virtus.

WORRELLS EMELEME.

In summoj'xlicitas,

AUGUST.
AEG LOG A OCTAVA.

ARGUMENT.

In this Aeglogue is set forth a delectable contro-
versie, made in imitation of that in Theocritus:
whereto also \'irgil fashioned his third and seventh
Aeglogue. 'I"hey chose for umpere of their strife,
Cuddy, a neat-beards boye ; who, having ended
their cause, reciteth also himselfe a proper song
whereof Colin he saith was author.

AUGUST.

383

WILLTTs. PF.RIGOT. CUDDIE.

Tell raee, Perigot, wliat slialbe the game,

Wherefore w\*h mine thou dare thy musick matche?
Or bene thv bagpvpes renne farre out of fi-;ime f

Or liath the crainpe thy ioynts bennmd with ache ?
Per. Ah ! Willie, when the hart is ill assayde, 5
How can ba^pve or ioynts be well apayde ?
WiL. What the foule evill hath thee so bestad ?

Whilom thou was peregall to the best,
And, wont to make the iolly sheplieards sjlad,

With pvping and dauncing didst passe tlie rest.lO
Per. Ah ! Willie, now I have learnd a new daunce ;
My old musick maid by a new mischaunce.
Will. Mischiefe mought to that mischaunce befall,

That so hath raft us of our meriment j
But rede me what paine doth thee so apall; 15

Or lovest tliou, or bene thy younglinges miswent?
Per. Love hath misled both my younglinges and me;
I pine for payne, and they my paine to see.
WiL. Perdie.and wellawaye ! ill may thevtbrive ;

Nev;n- knew I lovers sheepe in good plight: 20
But and if in rvmes with me thou dare strive,

Such fond fantasies sliall soone be put to flight.
Per. That shall I doe, though mochell worse I fared :

Never shall be sayde that Perigot was dared.
Wil. Then loe, Perigot, the pledge which 1 p!ight,25

A mazer ywrought of the majjle warre,
Wherein is enchased many a fay re sight

Of bears and tygers, that maken fiers warre;
And over them spred a goodly wilde vine,
Entrailed with a wanton yvy twine. 30

Thereby is a lambe in the wolves iawes ;

But see, how fast renneth the shepheard swain
To save the innocent from the beastes pawes.

And here with his sheepehooke hath him slain.
Tell me, such a cup hast thou ever seene? 33

Well mought it beseeme any harvest queene.

Per. Thereto will I pawne yonder spotted lambe ;

Of all my flocke there nis sike another,
For I brought him up without the dambe ;

But Colin Clout rafte me of his brother, 40

That he purchast of me in the plaine field ;
Sore against my will was I forst to yeeld.
Wil. Sicker, make like account of his brother;

But who shall iudge the wager wonne or lost?
Per. That shall yonder heardgrome and none other.

Which over the pousse hetherward doth post. 46
Wil. But, for the sunnbeame so sore doth us beate,
Weie not better to shunne the scortching heate ?
PirH. Well agreed, Willie; then set thee downe,
swayne ;

Sike a song never heardestthou but Colin sing. 50
Cud. Liynne, when ye list, ye iolly shepheardes
twayne ;

Sike a iudge, as Cuddie, were for a king.
Per. " It fell upon a holy eve, '
Wil. Hey, ho, holiday !

Per. Wken holy fathers wont to shrieve ; 55

Wil. Now giimelh this roundelay.

Per. Sitting upon a hill so bie,
Wil. Hey, ho, the high hill !

Per. The while my liocke did feede therehy ;
WiL. ^ The while the shepheard selfe did spill ; 60
Fep. I saw the bouncing Bellibone,
WiL. Hey, ho, Bonnibell !

Pbr, Tripping over the dale alone ;
Wil. she can trip it very well.

Per. Well decked in a frocke of gray, 65

Wil. Hey, ho, gray is greet !

Per. And in a kutle of greene .saye,

Wil. The greene is for maydens meet.

Per. A chapelet on her head she wore,

Wil. Hey, ho, chapelet '. 70

Per. Of sweete violets therein was store,

W.L. She sweeter then the violet.

Per. My sheepe did leave their wonted food,

Wil. Hey, ho, seely sheepe !

Pfr. And gazd on her as they were wood, 7b

Wil. Wood as he that did tbein keepe.

Per. As the bonilasse passed bye,

WiL. Hey, ho, bonilasse !

Per. She rovde at me with glauncing eye,

Wil. As cleare as the cristall glasse : 80

Per. All as the sunny beame so bright,

Wil. Hey, ho, the sunny beame !

Per. Glaunceth from Phwhus face fo-thright,

Wil. So love into thy heart did streame :

Per. Or as the thonder cleaves the cloudes, 8.5

WjL. Hey, ho, the thonder !

Per. Wherein the lightsome levin shroudes,

WiL. So cleaves thy soule asonder :

Per. Or as Dame Cvnthias silver ray,

WiL. Hey, ho, the moonelight ! 90

Her. Upon the glittering wave doth play,

Wil. Such play is a pitteous ]ilight.

Per. The glaunce into my heart did glide

Wil. Hey, ho, the glyder !

Per. Therewith my soule was sharply gryde, 95

Wil. Such woundes soon wexen wider.

Per. Hasting to raunch the arrowe out,

Wil. Hey, ho, Perigot!

Per. I left the head in my heart-root,

Wil. It was a desperate shot. 100

Per. There it ranckleth aye more and more,

WiL. Hey, ho, the arrow !

Per, Ne can I find salve for my sore,

Wil. Love is a careless sorrow.

Per. And though my bale with death 1 bought, 105

\V iL. Hey, ho, heavie cheere !

Per. Yet should thilk lasse not from my thought,

WiL. So you may buye golde too deere.

Per. But whether in paynefull love I pyne,

\\'iL. Hey, ho, pinching payne I IIC

Per. Or thrive in wealth, she shalbe mine,

Wil. But if thou can her obtaine.

Per. And if for graceles,se griefe I dye,

\ViL. Hey, lio, gracelesse griefe !

Per. Witnesse she slue me with lier eve, 115

\ViL. Let thy folly be the priefe.

Per. And you that sawe it, simple sheepe,

Wil. Hey, ho, the fayre flocke !

Per. For priefe thereof, my death shall vs-eepe,

Wil. And mone with many a mocke, 120

Per, So learnd 1 love on a holy eve,

Wil. Hey, bo, holy-day !

Per. That ever since my heart did greve,

Wil. Now endeth our roundelay."

Cud. Sicker, sike a roundle never heard 1 none ; 12

Little lacketh Perigot of the best,
And Willie is not "greatly overgone.

So weren his under-songes well addrest,
Wil. Heardgrome, 1 fear me thou have a sciuint eve ,
Areede uprightly^ who has the victorie. 130

Cud. Fayth of my soule, J deeme eche have gained ;

Forthy let the lambe be Willie his owne ;
And for Perigot, so well hath him payn^.d,

To him be the wroughten mazer alonu.

38-1.

THE SHEPIIKARUS CALENDER.

Pfk. Peridot is well pleased with the dooine, 135
Ne can W illie wi-te the wifeless liemdo-i-oome.
WiL. Never dempt more right ofbeautie. 1 weene,
Tile shepheard of Ida that iudged lieauties (pieene.
Cud. I'ut tell me, shephcards, should ii not yshend

Your roundels fresh, to jjeare a doleful! verse 140
Of Rosalind (who knowes not Rosalind?)

That Colin made ? ylke can I you rehearse.
Peu. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a ladde;
With mery thing its good to medle sadde.
VViL. Favth of mvsoule, thou shall ycrouned be 145

In Colins .steede, if thou this song areede ;
^or never thing on earth so pleaseth me

As him to heare^ or matter of his deede.
Cud. Then listen ech unto my heavie lay,
An<l tune your pypes as ruth full as yee may. 150

" Ye wastefull woodes ! bear witnesse of my woe,
Wherein mv jdaints did oftentimes resounde ;
Ye carelesse byrds are privy to my cryes,
Which in your songs were woont to make a part :
Thou.pleasaunt spring, hast luld mee oft asleepe, 155
Whose steames my trickling teares did oft augment !

" Resort of people doth my griefes augment,
The walled townes doe worke my greater woe ;
The forest wide is fitter to rewound
The hollow eccho of my carefull cries : 160

I hate the house, since thence my love did part.
Whose waileful want debars my eyes of sleej)e.

" Let stremes of teares supply the place of sleepe ;
Let all, that sweete is, voyd ; and all, that may aug-

mesit
Mv dide, drew neere ! more meete to waile my woe
Bene the wilde woods, my sorows to resound, 166
Then bed, nor bowre, both which I fill with cries.
When I them see so waste, and finde no part

" Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell apart
In gastfuU grove therefore, till my last sleep 170
Doo close mine eyes ; so shall I not augment
With sight of such as chaunge mj' rcstlesse woe.
Help me, yee baneful bvrds ! whose shrieking sound
In signe of dreery death, my deadly cries

■' Most ruthfully to tune: and as my cryes 175

(Which of my woe cannot bewray least jiart)
You heare all night, when nature cravetli sleep.
Increase, so let your yrksome yelles augment.
Thus all the nightes in plaintes, the dave in woe,
I vowed have to waste, till safe and sound 180

" She home returne, whose voyces silver sound
To cheerefuU songs can chaunge my cheerelesse cries.
Hence with the nijjhtingah; will I take part.
That blessed byrd, that spendes her time of sleepe
In songes and plaintive pleas, the more t' augment
Th« memorie of his niisdeude that hred-iier woe. 186

" And you that feel no woe, wlion as the sound

Of these my nightlie cries ye bean; •,ij);irt.

Let hreake your sounder sleepe, and pitie augment."

Pkr. O Colin, Colin! the shepheardes ioye, 190
How I admire ech turning of thy verse;

.'V.id Cuddie, freslie Cuddie, tlie liefest boye,
How dolefully his dole thou didst rehearse!

Cud. Tlien blow your pypes, shepheards, till you he
at home ;

The night higueth fast, yts time to be gone. 195

PERIOOT HIS EMELEME,

Vuicenti gloria vicii,

WILI-VES EMIit.KME.

Vinto noil vilto.

CUDDIES EMBLEME.

Felice chi puo,

SEPTElMBER.
AEGLOGA NONA.

ARGUMENT.

Hfrein Diggon Davie is devised to be a shep-
heard that, in hope of more gaine, drove his sheepe
into a farre countrev. The abuses whereof, and
loose living of popish prelates, by occasion of Hob-
binols demaund, he discourseth at large.

HOBBINOLL. DIGGON DAVIE.

nOBBINOLL.

DionoN Davie ! I bid her god day ;

Or Diggon her is, or I missay.

, Dig. Her was her, while it was day -light,

]5ut nowe iier is a most wretched wight :

For day, that was, is wightly past, 5

And now at earst the dirke night doth hast.

Hob- Diggon, areede who has thee so dight ;
Never I wist thee in so poore a plight.
Where is the fnyre flocke thou wast woont to lead?
Or bene they chaftVed, or at mischiefe dead'; 10

Dig. Ah ! for love of that is to thee most leefe,
Hobbinoll, I pray tliee gall not my olde greefe ;
Sike question ripjieth up cause of new woe.
For one, opened, mote unfold many moe.

Hob. Nay, but sorrow close shrouded in heart, 15
I know, to keepe is a burdenous smart :
Ech thing imparted is more cath to beare :
When the rayne is fallen, the clouds waxen cleare.
And now, sitlience 1 saw thy head last,
Thrise three moones bene fullv spent and past; 20
Since when thou hast measured much ground,
And wandred weele about the world round.
So as thou can many thinges relate :
But tell me first of thv flockes estate. [fore !

Dig. i\Iy sheepe bene wasted ; (wae is me there-
The iolly sliejiheard that was of yore, 2G

Is now nor iolly, nor shepheard more.
In forreine coastes men sayd was plentie :
And so there is, but all of miserie :
I dempt there much to liave eeked my store, 30
But such eeking hath made my heart sore.
In tho countries, wliereas I have bene,
No beeing for those that truly mene ;
But for such, as of guile inaken gaine.
No such country as there to reniaine ; 35

They setten to sale tlieyr shops of shame,
And maken a mart of theyr good name :
'I'he she])heurds there robben one another
And layen haytes to beguile her brother ;
Or they will buyc his sheepe out of the cote, 4U
Or they will carven the sliej)heardes throte.
The shephe"irdes swayne you cannot well ken
But it be by his pritle, from other men ;

SEPTEMBER.

385

Thev looken bigge as bulles that bene bate
And bearen the cragge so stiffe and so state,
As cocke on his dunghill crowing- cranck.

Hoe. Diggon, I am so stitfe and so stanck,
That uneth may I stand any more ;
And now the westerne winde bloweth sore,
That now is in his chiefe soveraigntee, 60

Beating the withered leafe from tlie tree ;
Sitte w-e downe here under tlie hill ;
Tho may we talke and telleu our fill,
And make a mocke at the blustering blast:
Now say on, Diggon, whatever thou hast. 55

Dig. Hobbin, ah Ilobbin ! I curse the stound
That ever I cast to have lorne this ground :
Wel-avvav the while I was so fond
To leave the' good, that I had in bond.
In hoj)e of better that was uncouth ; 60

So lost the dogge the flesh in his mouth ;
3iy seely sheepe (ah ! seely sheepe !)
That here bv tiiere I wilome usde to keepe.
All were they lustie as thou didest see,
Bene all starved with pyne and penurie ; 65

Harldly my selfe escaped thilke paine.
Driven for neede to come home againe.

Hob. Ah ! fon, now by thy losse art taught
That seldom chaunge the better brought :
Content who lives with tryed state, 70

Neede feare no chaunge of frowning fate ;
But who will seeke for unknow-ne gayne.
Oft lives b)' losse, and leaves with payne.

Dig. I wote ne, Hobbin, how I was bewitcht
With vavne desire and hope to be enricht : 75

But sicker, so it is, as the bright starre
Seemeth aye greater when it is farre :
I thought the soyle would have made me rich.
But now I wote it is nothing sich ;
For eylher the shepheards bene ydle and still, 80
And leddeof theyr sheepe what way they will.
Or they bene false, and full of covetise.
And casten to compasse man}' wronge emprise .
But the more bene fraight with fraud and spight,
Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight, 85

But kindle coales of conteck and yre,
\\ herewith they set all the world on fire ;
\Miich when they thinken againe to quench,
\Vith holy water I hey doen hem all drench.
They saye they con to heaven the high-way, 90

But by m}- scule I dare undersaye
They never sette foote in that same troad.
But balke the right way, and strayen abroad.
They boast they han the devill at commaund.
But aske hem therefore what they han paund : 95
Marrie ! that great Pan bought with de.ire borrow.
To quite it from the blacke bowre of sorrow.
But they lian sold thilke same long egoe,
For tliey woulden draw with hem many moe.
But let hem gange alone a Gods name; 100

As they han brewed, so let hem beare blame.

Hob. Diggon, I pray thee speake not so dirke ;
Such myster sav-ing me seemeth to-mirke. [what.

Dig. Then, plainly to speake of shepheards nioste
Badde is the best ; (this English is fiat.) 105

llieir ill haviour garres men missay
Both of theyr doctrine, and theyr fay.
They sayne the world is much war then it wont.
All for her shepheardes bene beastly and blont.
Other sayne, but howe truely I n'ote, 110

Ai! for they holden shame of their cote :
oonie sticke not to say, (bote cole on her tongue !)
I'Lat sike mischiefe graseth beta emong.

All for they casten too much of worldes care.

To deck her dame, and enrich her heire;

For such encheason, if you goe nie,

Fewe chimnies reeking vou shall espie.

The fat oxe, that wont ligge in the stall,

Ls nowe fast stalled in her crunienall.

Thtis chattel! the people in their steads, 120

Ylike as a monster of many heads :

But they, that shooten nearest the jjricke,

Sayne, other the fat from their beards doen lick :

For bigge bulles of Basan brace hem about,

That with their homes butten the more stoute; 125

But tlie leaue soules treaden under foot,

And to seeke redresse mought little boote ;

For liker bene they to pluck away more.

Then ought of ihe gotten good to restore :

For they bene like I'owle wagmoires overgrast, 130

That, if thy galage once sticketh fast.

The more to winde it out thou dost swinck.

Thou mought aye- deeper and deeper sinck.

Yet better leave oft" with a little losse.

Then by much wrestling to leese the grosse. 135

Hob. Nowe, Diggon, I see thou speakest top
Better it were a little to feine, [plains;

And cleanely cover that cannot be cured ;
Such ill, as is forced, mought needes bee endured.
But of sike pastoures howe done the flocks creepe? 140

Dig. Sike as the shepheards, sike bene hersheepe.
For they nill listen to the shepheards voice ;
But if he call hem, at their good choice
They wander at will and stay at pleasure.
And to their folds yeade at their owne leasure. 14.
But they had be better come at their call ;
For many han unto mischiefe fall,
And bene of ravenous wolves yrent.
All for they nould be buxome and bent. [leasing ;

Hob. Fie on thee, Diggon, and all thy foule
Well is knowne that, sith the Saxon king, 151

Never was wolf seene, many nor some,
Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendome ;
But the fewer wolves (the sooth to saine)
The more bene the foxes that here reniaine. 155

Dig. Yes, but they gang in more secret wise.
And with sheejis clothing doen hem disguise.
They walke not widely as they were wont.
For feare of raungers and the great bunt,
But prively prolling to and froe, ICO

Enaunter they mouglit be inly knowe.

Hou. Or privie, or pert of any bin.
We han great bandogs will teare their skin.

Dig. In deede thy Ball is a bold bigge cur.
And could make a iolly hole in their fur : 165

But not good dogs hem needethto chace
But heedy shepheards to discerne their face ;
For all their craft is in their countenaunce.
They bene so grave and full of inaintenaunce.
But shall 1 tell thee what mv self knoe 170

Chaunced to lloflin not long ygoe 1

Hob. Say it out, Diggon, whatever it hight.
For not but well mought him betight .
He is so meeke, wise, and merciable.
And with his word his work is convenable. 175

Colin Clout, I weeue, be his selfe boye,
(Ah, for Colin ! he whilome my ioye :)
Shepheards sich, God mought us many send.
That doen so careftilly theyr flocks tend.

Dig. Thilke same shepheaid mought I well marke,
He has a dogge to bite or to barke ; 181

Never had shepheard so keene a cur,
'J'hat waketh and if but a leafe stur.

386

THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.

"VVbilome there vronned a wicked wolfe,

"mat witli many a lambe had gutted Ins gulfe, 185

And ever at night wont to rejjayre

Unto the flocke, when the welkin shone fayre,

YcUid in clothing of seely sheepe,

When the £;ood olde man used to sleepe ;

Tlio at midnig-ht he would barke and ball, 190

(For he had eft learned a curies call,)

As if a woolfe were among the sheepe :

With that the shepheard would breake his sleepe,

And send out Lowder (for so his dog bote)

To raunge the fields with wide open throte, 195

1'ho, when as Lowder was far away.

This wolvish sheepe woulde catclien his pray,

A lambe, or a kid, or a weanell wast ;

^Vith that to the wood would hee speede him fast.

Long time he used this slippery pranck, 200

Ere Rotfy could for his labour him thanck.

At end, the shepheard his practise spyed,

(For RofFy is wise, and as Argus eyed,)

And, when at even lie came to the flocke,

Fast in their foldes he did them locke, 205

And tooke out the woolfe in his counterfeit cote.

And let out the sheepes b'oud at Lis throte.

Hob. JNIarry, Diggon, what should him affraye
To take hi^ owne where ever it laye 1
For, had his wesand been a little widder, 210

He woulde have devoured both bidder and shidder.

Dig. Miscbiefe light on him, and Gods great curse.
Too good for him bad bene a great deale worse ;
For it was a perilous beast above all,
And eke had he cond the shepheards call, 215

And oft in the night came to the sheep-cote,
And called Lowder, with a hollow throte,
As if the olde man selfe had beene :
T'le dogge his maisters voice did it weene,
Yet halfe in doubt he opened the dore, 220

And ranne out as he was wont of yore.
No sooner was out, but, swifter than thought.
Fast by the hyde the vpolfe Lowder caught;
And had not RofFy renne to the steven,
Lowder had bene slaine thilke same even. 225

Hob. God shield, man, hee should so ill have thrive,
All for he did his devoyre belive.
If sike bene wolves, as thou bast told,
How mought we, Diggon, hem behold?

Dig. How, but, with heede and watchfuUnesse,
Forstallen hem of their willinesse : 231

For-iliy with shepheard sittes not play.
Or sleepe, as some doen, all the hmg day;
But ever liggen in watch and ward,
From sodaine force tlieir flocks for to gard. 235

Hob. Ah ! Diggon, thilke same rule were too
All the cold season to watch and waite : [straight,
^Ve bene of flesh, men as other bee.
Why should we be bound to such miseree 1
What-ever thing lackoth chaungeable rest, 210

.Mought needes decay, when it is at best.

Dig. Ah ! but, Hobbinoll, all this long tail
Nought easeth the care that doth mee forliaile ;
What shall I doe 1 what way shall I wend,
Mv piteous plight and losse to amend'.' 245

Ah ! good Hobbinoll, luougbt 1 thee pray
Of ayde or counsell in my clecaye.

Hob. Now by my soule, Diggon, I lament
The haplesse mischiefe that has the lent;
Netlielesse thou seest my lowl) jbde, 2/0

That froward Fortune doth ever availe :
But, were Hfjbbinoll as God mought please,
Diggon should soone finde favour and ease •

But if to my cotage thou wilt resort,

So as I can I will thee comfort ; 255

There mayst thou ligge in a vetchy bed,

Till fairer Fortune shew forth his head.

Dig. Ah ! Hobbinoll, God mought it thee requite :
Diggon on fevve such friend es did ever lite. 259

DIGGONS EMBLEME.

Inopem me copia fecit.

OCTOBER.
AEGLOGA DECIMA.

ARGUMENT.

In Cuddie is set out the perfect patern of a poet,
which, finding no maintenance of his state and
studies, complaineth of the contempt of poetrie, and
the causes thereof : specially having bene in all ages,
and even amongst the most barbarous, alvvaies ot
singular account and honour, and being indeed so
worthie and commendable an art ; or rather no art
but a divine gift and heavenly instinct not to be
gotten by labour and learning, but adorned widi
both ; and poured into the witte by a certaine en-
thousiasmos and celestiall inspiration, as the author
hereof else where at large discourseth in his booke
called The English Poet, which booke being lately-
come to my bandes, I minde also by Gods grace,
upon further advisement, to publish.

PIERS. CUDDIE.

CuDDiE, for shame, holde up thy heavie bead,
And let us c^st with wh.at delight to chace
And weary this long lingering Phwbus race.
Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leadf?
In rimes, in ridles, and in bydding base ; 5

Nowe they in thee, and thou in sleepe, arte deade. •

Cud. Piers, T have pvped erst so long with payne.
That all mine oten reedes ben rent and wore,
And mv poore muse hath spent her spared store.
Yet little good hath got, and much lesse gayne. 10
Such plensaunce makes the grashopper so poore,
And ligge so layd, when winter doth her straine.

The dapper ditties, that I wont devise.

To feeiie youthes fancie, and the flocking fry,

Delighten much ; what I the bett forthy ? 15

They ban the pleasure, I a sclender prise :

I beate the bush, the bvrdes to them do flie :

What good thereof to Cuddie can arise ?

Pirns. Cuddie, the praise is better than the price,
The glory eke much greater then the gayne : 20

O what an honour is it, to rostraine
The lust of lawlesse youth with good advice,
Or pricke them foorth with ])leasaunce of thy vaine,
Whereto thou list their trained willes entice !

Soone as thou gynst to sette tbv notes in frame, 25
O how the rural routes to thee do cleave !
Seeineth thou doest theyr soule of sense bereave,'
All as the shepheard that did fetch bis dame
From Plutoes balefuU bowre withouten leave ;
His inusickes might the hellish hound did tame. ."50

[trayne.
Cud. So praysen babes the peacocks stjotted
And wondren at briglit Argus blazing eyej

NOVEMBER.

3R7

But who rewaides him ere tiie more fortby,

Or feedes him once the fuller by a graine ?

Sike praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the skie ; 35

Sike words bene winde, and wasten soone in vuine.

Piers. Abandon then the base and viler clowne ;
Lift up thy selfe out of the lowly dust,
And sins; of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts ;
Turne thee to thoie that weld the awful! crowne, 40
To doubted knights, whose woundlesse armour rusts,
And helmes unbruzed wexen daylie browne.

There may thy muse display her fluttering wing.
And stretch herselfe at large from east to west ;
Whither thou list in fayre Elisa rest, 45

Or, if thee please in bigger notes to sing,
Advaunce the worthy whom she loveth best,
The first the white beare to the stake did bring.

And, when the stubborne stroke of stronger stounds

Has somewhat slackt the tenor of thy string, 50

Of love and lustihead tho maist thou sing,

And Carroll lowde, and leade the millers rounde,

All were Elisa one of thilk same ring ;

So mought our Cuddies name to heaven sounde.

Cud. In deeds the Romish Tityrus, I heare, 55
Tlirough his Mecaenas left his oaten reede,
W hereon bee earst had taught his flocks to feede,
And laboured lands to yeeld the timely eare.
And eft did sing of warres and deadly dreede,
So as the heavens did quake his verse to heare. 60

But ah ! Mecaenas is yclad in claye.

And great Augustus long ygoe is dead,

And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead,

Tliat matter made for poets on to playe :

For ever, who in derring-doe were dread, 65

The loftie verse of hem was loeved aye.

But after vertue gan for age to stoupe
And mightie manhood brought a bedde of ease.
The vaunting poets found nought worth a pease
To put in preace among the learned troupe : 70

Tho gan the streames of flowing wittes to cease,
And sunnebnight honour pend in shameful! coupe.

And if that any buddes of poesie.

Vet of the old stocke, gan to shoote againe,

Or it mens follies mote to-force to fain, 75

And rolie with rest in rymes of ribaudrie ;

Or, as it sprung, it wither must againe ;

Tom Piper makes us better melodie.

[place 1
Piers. O pierlesse po'esie ! where is then thy
If ncr in prince pallace thou doest sit, 80

(And yet is princes pallace the most fit,)
he brest of baser birth doth thee emtirace.
Then make thee wings of thine aspiring wit,
And, whence thou camst, file backe to heaven apace.

Cud. Ah ! Percy, it is all-to weake and wanne, 85
So high to sore and make so large a flight ;
Her peeced pyneons bene not so in plight :
For Colin tits such famous flight to scanne ;
He, were he not with love so ill bedight,
\\'oul(l mount as high and sing as soote as swanne. 90

[so hie,

PiFRS. Ah ! fon ; for love does teach him climbe
And lyftes him up out of the loathsome myre ;

Such immortal niir or, as he doth admire.
Would raves ones niinde above the stame skie,.
And cause a caytive corage to aspire ; 05

Tor loftie love doth loatii a lowly eye.

Cud. All otherwise the state of poet stands ;
For lordly Love is such a tyranne fell.
Tliat, where he rules, all power he doth expell ;
The vaunted verse a vacant head demaundes, 100
Ne wont with crabbed care the muses dwell :
Unwisely weaves, that takes two webbes in hand.

Who ever castes to compasse wightie prise,
And tliinkes to throwe out thundring words of threat,
Let jiowre in lavish cups and thriftie bittes of meate.
For Bacchus fruite is friend to Phoebus wise ; 106
And, when with wine the braine begins to sweat.
The numbers flow as fast as spring doth rise.

Thou kenst not, Percie, how the rime should rage ;
O if my temples were? distain'd with wine, 110

And girt in girlonds of wilde yvie twine.
How 1 could reai-e the muse on stately stage,
And teach her tread aloft in buskin tine.
With queint Bellona in her equipage !

But ah ! my courage cooles ere it be warme : 115
Forthy content us in this humble shade.
Where no such troublous tydes ban us assayde :
Here we our slender pipes may safely charnie [layd
PiERS. And, when my gates shall ban theyr bellyes
Cuddie shall have a kidde to store his farme. i20

CUDDIES EMBLEME.

Agitante calescimus illo, &;c.

NOVEMBER.
AEGLOGA UNDECIMA.

ARGUMENT.

In this xi. Aeglogue hee bewaileth the death of
some maiden of great blood, whom be calleth
Dido. 'J'he personage is secret, and to me altogi-
ther unknowne, albeit of bimselfe I often required
the same. This aeglogue is made in imitation of
Marot his song, which he made upon the death of
Loyes the French queen ; but fane passing his
reaclj, and in mine opinion all other the aegiogues of
this book.

THENOT. COLIN.

Colin, my deare, when shall it please thee sing,
As thou wert wont, sonj;es of some iouissaunce ?
Thy muse too lon»j slombreth in sorrowing.
Lulled asleepe through Loves misgovernaunce.
Now somewhat sing, whose endlesse sovenaunce 5
P>mong the shepheards swaines may aye remaine,
Whetlier thee list tliy loved lass advaunce.
Or honor Pan wiih hymiies of higher vaine.

Col. Thenot, now nis the time of merriraake.
Nor Pan to herie, nor with Love to play ; 10

Sike mirth in JMay is meetest for to make,
Or somnier shade, under the cocked ha\'.
But nowe sadde winter welked hath the day.
And Phdbus, veaiie of his vearly taske,
\'stablfd Lath his sttedes in lowly lay, 15

And ta>en up his ynne in fishes haske :

c c 2

388

THE SHEIMIEARDS CALENDER.

Tbilk sollp.in season sadder plioht doth aske
And loatheth sike delights as thou doest prayse :
The mornefull muse in myrth now list ne niaske,
As she was wont in younth and sommer-dayes ; 20
But if thou algate lust light virelayes,
And looser songs of love to underfong-,
Who hut thyself deserves sike poets praise?
Relieve thy oaten pypes that sleepen long.

The. The nightingale is sovereigne of song, 25
Before liim sits the titmouse silent bee ;
And I, unfit to thrust in skilful! throng.
Should Colin make iudge of my fooleree :
Nav, better learne of hem that learned bee,
And ban bene watered at the muses well ; 30

The kindely dewe drops from the higher tree,
And wets the litle plants that lowly dwell :
But if sadde winters wrath, and season chill.
Accord not with thy muses merriment,
To sadder times thou mayst attune thy quill. 35

And sing of sorrowe and deathes dreriment ;
For deade is Uido, deade, alas ! and drent ;
Dido ! the great shepheard his daughter sheene :
The fayrest iMay shee was that ever went,
Her like shee has not left behinde I weene : 40

And if thou wilt bewayle my wofuU teene,
I shall thee give yond cosset for thy payne :
And, if thy rymes as rounde and rueful! beene
As those tiiat did thy Rosalind complayne,
Much greater gifts for guerdon tiiou shaltgayne, 45
Then kid or cosset which I thee bynempt :
Then up, I say, thou iolly shepheard swayne,
Let not my small demaunde be so contempt.

Col. Tiienot.tothatl chose thou doest mee tempt;
But, ah ! too well I wote my humble vayne, 50

And how my rimes bene rugged and unkempt !
Yet, as I conne, my conning I will strayne.

" Up, then, Melpomene ! the jnournefulst muse of
Such cause of mourning never hadst afore ; [nine,
Up; grislie ghostes ! and up my rufull rime ! 53
Matter of myrth now shalt thou have no more ;
For dead shee is, that myrth thee made of yore.

Dido, my deare, alas ! is dead.

Dead, and lyeth wrapt in lead.

O heavie herse ! 60

Let streaming teares be powred out in store ;

O careful! verse !

" Shepheards, that by your flocks of Kentish downes

abyde,
Waile ye this woeful! waste of Natures warke ;
'Waile we the vvight, whose jiresence wasour pryde ;
Waile we the wight v>diose absence is our carke ; 66
The sunne of all the world is dimme and darke ;

The earth now lacks her wonted light.

And all we dwell in deadly night,

O heavie herse ! 70

Breake we our pipes, that shrild as loude as larke ;

O careful! verse !

" Why doe we longer live, (ah ! why live we so long ?)
Whose better days death liath shut up in woe 1
The fayrest flowre our girlond all emong 75

Is faded quite, and into dust ygoe.
Sing now, ye shepheards daughters, sing no moe

The songs that Colin made you in her praise,

]3ut into weeping turn your wanton layes.

O heavie herse ! 80

Nowe is time to die : nay, time was long ygoe :

careful! verse !

" Whence is it, that the flowret of the field doth fade.

And lyeth buried long in Winters bale ;

Yet, soone as Spring bis mantle hath displayde, 85

It flowreth fresh, as it should never fayle 1

But thing on earth that is of most availe,

As vertues branch, and beauties bud,

lielieven not for any good, 89

O heavie herse ! [quaile ;

The branch once dead, the bud eke needes must

O careful! verse !

saine !)
" She, while she was, (that was, a wofull word to
For beauties praise and pleasaunce had no peere ;
So well she couth the shepheards entertaine 95

With cakes and cracknells, and such countrey cheere :
Ne would she scornethe simple shepheards svi-aine ;

For she would call him often heme.

And give him curds and clouted creame.

O heavie herse ! 100

Als Colin Clout she would not once disdaine ;

O careful! verse !

[chaunce,
" Bot now sike happy cheere is turnde to heavy
Such pleasaunce now displastby dolors dint ;
All musick sleepes, where Death doth lead the dauiice.
And shepheards wonted solace is extinct. 106

The blew in black, the greene in grey, is tinct !

The gaudy girlonds deck her grave.

The faded flowres her corse embrave. 109

O heavie herse ! [sprint ;

Morne, now, my muse, now morne with teares be-

O careful! verse !

[griefs !
" thou great shepheard, Lobbin, how great is thy
Where bene the nosegayes that she dight for thee ?
The coloured chaplets wrought with a chiefe, 115
The knotted rush-ringes, and gilt rosemaree ?
For shee deemed nothing too deare for thee.

All ! they bene all yclad in clay ;

One bitter blast blewe all away.

O heavie herse ! 120

Thereof nought remaynes but the memoree ;

O careful! verse !

[stroke,
" A-y me ! that drearie Death should strike so mortall
That can undoe dame Natures kindely course ;
I'he faded lockes foil from the loftie oke, 125

Tlie fiouds do gaspe, for dryed is their sourse.
And flouds of teares flow in theyr stead perforce :

The mantled medowes mourne,

Theyr sundrie colours tourne.

O heavie herse ! 130

The lieavens doe melt in teares without remorse ;

O careful! verse !

" The feeble flocks in field refuse their former foode,
And hang their heades as they would learne to

weepe ;
The beastes in forrest wayle as they were woode, 135
Excejjt tlie wolves, that chase the wandring sheepe.
Now shee is gone that safely did hem keepe :

The turtle on tlie bared braunch

Laments the wounds that Death did launcli.

heavie herse ! 140

And I'hilomele her song with teares doth steepe !

O careful! verse!

[daunce,
" The water nymphs, that wont with lier to sing and
And for her gii-lond olive braunches beare,
Nowe baleful! boughesofcypresdoenadvaunce; 145

DECEMBER.

3S9

The muses, that were wont greene bayes to weare,
Xow bringen bitter eUlre braunches seare;
The fatall sisters eke repeut
Her vitall threde so soone was spent.
heavie herse ! 150

Morne now, my muse, now morns with heavy cheare ;
O carefull ^■erse !

" trustlesse state of earthly things, and slipper hope
Of mortall men, tliat swincke and sweate for nought,
And, shooting wide, dotli misse the marked scope ;
Nowe have I leanide (a lesson dearly bought) io6
That nis on earth assurtmnce to be sought ;

For what might be in earthly mould.

That did her buried body hould ?

O heavie herse ! 160

Yet saw I on the beere when it was brought ;

O carefull verse !

' Butmaugre Death, and dreaded sisters dedlyspight,
And gates of hell, and fyrie furies force.
She liHth the bonds broke of eternall night, i65

Her soule unbodied of the burdenous corse.
Why then weepes Lobbin so without remorse?

O Lobb ! thy losse no longer lament ;

Dido is dead, but into heaven hent.

O hap{)ie herse ! 170

Cease now, my muse, now cease thy sorrowes sourse,

ioyfuU verse !

" Why waile we then ? why wearie we the t;ods with
As if someevill were to her betiglit ? [plaintes.

She raigiies a goddessenow emong the sainies, 175
'J'hat whilome was the saynt of shephe ards li.nht,
And is enstalled now m heavens hight.

1 see thee, blessed >oule ! I see
Walk in Elisian fieldes so free.

O liappie herse! 180

Might I once come to thee, (O that I might !)
O ioyfuU verse !

" Unwise and wretched men, to weete vi-hat's good or
Wee deeme of death as doome of ill desert ; [ill,

But knewe wee, fooles, what it us bringes uutill, 183
Dye would we daylie, once it to expert !
A'o daunger there the shepheard can assert ;

Favre fieldes and pleasaunt layes there bene ;

The fieldes aye fresh, the grasse ay greene.

happie herse ! 190

Make haste, yee shepheards, thetberto revert.

O ioyfuU verse !

[next ?
" Dido is gone afore ; (whose turne shall be the
There lives shee with the blessed gods, in blisse,
There drincks she nectar with ambrosia mixt, 195
And ioyes enioyes that mortall men doe misse.
The honor now of highest gods she is.

That whilome was poore shepheards pride.

While here on earth she did abide.

O happie herse ! 200

Cease now, my song, my woe now wasted is;

O ioyfuU verse !"

liiE. Ay, franck shepheard, how bene thy verses
With dolefull pleasaunce, so as I ne wotte [meint
Whether reioyce or weepe for great constraiL !
'J'hine be the cossette, well hast thou it gotte.
Up, Colin up, ynough thou morned hast;
^ow ginnes to mizzle, bye we homeward fast. 20 8

COI.INS EMBLEME.

Lt* mart ny moid.

DECEMBER.

AEGLOGA DUODECIMA.

ARGUMENT.

This Aeglogue (even as the first began) is ended
with a complaint of Colin to god Pan ; wherein, as
wearie of his former waies, bee proportioneth his life to
the foure seasons of the yeare ; comparing his youth
to the spring time, when bee was fresh and free
from loves follie. His manhood to the sommer,
which, he saith, was consumed with great heate
and excessive drouth, caused through a comet or
blazing starre, bv which bee meaneth love ; which
jiassion is commonly compared to such flames and
immoderate heate. ' His ripest yeares he resembleth
to an unsf^asonable harvest, wherein the fruits fall
ere they be ripe. His latter age to winters chill
and frostie season, now drawing neere to his last
ende-

The gentle shepheard sat beside a springe,

All in the shadowe of a bushye brere.

That Colin bight, which well coulde pype and singe.

For bee of Tityrus his songes did lere :

There, as he satte in secret shade alone, 5

Thus gan hee make of love his piteous mone.

" soveraigne Pan ! thou god of shepheardes all.
Which of our tender lambkins takest keepe.
And, when our flockes.into mischauncemought fall,
Doest save from mischiefe the unwarie sheepe, 10

Als of their maisters hast no les=e regard [ward ;

Then of the flocks, which thou doest watch and

" I thee beseeche (so be thou deigne to hear
Rude ditties, tunde to shepheardes oaten reede.
Or if I ever sonet song so cleare, 15

As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede,)

Hearken a while, from thy greene cabinet.

The rurall song of carefull Colinet.

" Whilome in youth, when flowrd my ioyfull sprin
Like swallow- swift I wandred here and there ; 2
For heate of heedlesse lust me so dicl stir.g,
That I oft doubted daunger had no feare :

I went the wastel'uU woodes and forrest wide
Withouteu dread of wolves to bene espide.

" I wont to raunge amid the mazie thicket,
And gather nuttes to make my Christmas-game,
And ioyed oft to chace the trembling pricket.
Or hunt the hartlesse hare till she were tame.
What wreaked 1 of wiiitrie ages waste? —
Tho deemed 1 my spring would ever last.

" How often have I scaled the craggie oke.
All to dislodge the raven of her nest?
How have 1 wearied, with many a stroke,
The statelv walnut-tree, the while the rest

Under the tree fell all for nuttes at strife? 35

For like to me was libertie and life.

" And for I was in thilke same looser yeeres,
(Whether the muse so wrought me from my byrth,
Or 1 too much beleev'd my shepheard peeres,)
Somcdele ybeut to song and musickes mirth, 40

A good 'old shepheird, Wreiiock was his naroe,
ftlade me by arte more cunumg in the same.

S90

THE SIIEPHKARDS C A LENDER.

" Fro thence I durst in derring to compare ■
AVitli shepheard^s swavno wlritever fed in field;
And, if that HobbinoU right iudgenient bare, 4.)

To Pan his own selfe pype I need not yieUl :

For, if the flocking- nyinphes did follow Pan,

'Jiie wiser muses after Colin ran.

" r.ut, ah ! such pride at length was ill repayde ;
'Ihe shejiheards god (perdie god was he none) oO
!\lv hurtlesse pleasaunce did me ill upbraide,
iVIv ireedome lorne, my life he left to n]onf.

Love they him called that gave me check-mate,
But better mought they have behote l)im hate.

" Tho gan my lovely spring bid me farewell, 5.?

And soramer season sjied him to dis])Iay

( For love then in the lyons house did dwell,)

The raging fire that kindled at his lay.
A comet siird up that unkindly heate.
That reigned (as men said) iu Venus seate. ()0

" Forth was I ledde, not as 1 wont afore,
\V!jen choise 1 had to choose my wandring way,
But whether luck and Loves unbridled lore
Would lead me forth on fancies bitte to jilay :

The bush my bed, the bramble was my bowre, 65
Tlie woodes can witnesse many a wofull stowre,

" "Where I was wont to seeke the honie bee.
Working her formal! rowmes in wexen frame,
The grieslie todestoole growne there mought I see.
And loathed paddockes lording on the same : 70

And, where the chaunting birds luld me asleepe.
The ghastly owle her grievous ynne doth keepe.

" Then as the spring gives place to elder time.
And bringth forth the fruite of somniers pride;
All so my age, now passed youthly prime, 75

To things of riper season selfe applied,

And iearnd of lighter timber cotes to frame,
Such as mi^ht save my sheepe and me fro shame.

" 'J"o make fine cages for the nightingale,
And baskets of bulrushes, was my wont: 80

\\ 1)0 to entrap the fish in winding sale
Was better seene, or hurlfull beastes to hont?
1 learned als the signs of heaven to ken,
liow Plia-bo fades, where A'enus sits, and when.

" And tryed time yet taught me greater thinges; 8.5
'i'he sodain rising of the raging seas,
'1 lie soothe of byrdes by heiuing of their winges,
'i'he ]iowre of herbes, both which can hurt and ease.
And wljicj) be wont t' enrage the restlesse sheepe.
And wiiich be wont to worke eiernall sleepe. 90

" l)ut, ah I unwise and wiilesse Colin Cloute,
'I'hai kydst the liidden kindes of many a weede,
"^et kydst not ene to cure thy sore hcart-roote,
\\ hose ranckling wound as yet does rifely bleede.

\\ hylivest ihou still, and yet hast thy deaths wound?

\\ iiy dvest th u still, and yet alive ait found'! 96

" I lius is niv sonimcr worne away and wasted,
'i bus is niv bar e.-t hastened all-to rathe ;
'J'lie eare that budded (ayre is burnt and blasted,
And all inv lioi)ed gaine is turn'd to scathe. 100

Of ail the seede, that in mv youth was sowne,
V\as none but brakes and l)rauibhs to he mowne.

" My boughs with bloo'.mes that crowned were at
And promised of timely fruite such store, [first,

Ave left both bare and barrein now at erst ; 103

The flattering fruite is fallen to ground before,

And rotted ere they were halfe mellow ripe ;

Wy harvest, wast, my hope away did wipe.

" The fragrant flowres, that in my garden grewe,
J5ene withered, as they bad bene gathered imig; 110
Tlieyr routes bene dryed uj) for lack of dewe,
^'et dewed with teares they ban be ever among.
Ah ! wlio has wrought my Rosalind this spi|zht,
'Jo s])ill the flowres that should her girlond dight?

" And I, that vvhilome wont to frame my pype 11.)
Unto the shif'.ing of the shejiheards foote,
Sike follies now have gathered as too ripe.
And cast hem out as rotten and unsoote.

I he loser lasse I cast to please no more ;

One if I please, enough is me therefore. 120

" And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedie crop of care ; [sheave,
Which, when I thought have thresht in swelling-
Cockle for corn, and chaffe for barley, bare :

Soon as the chaffe should in the fan be fynd, I'io
All was blown away of the wavering wynd.

" So now my yeere drawes to his latter terme,
jNly spring is spent, my sommer burnt up quite ;
My harvest hastes to stirre up winter Sterne,
And bids him clayme with rigorous rage his right : ISO

So now he stormes with manv a .sturdy stoure ;

So now his blustring blast eche coast doth scoure,

" The carefull cold hath nipt my rugged rynd,
And in my face deepe furrowes eld hath pigbt :
My head besprent with hoarie frost I finde, 13.T

And by myne eye the crowe his clawe doth wriglit:

Delight is layd abedd ; and pleasure, past ;

No sunne now shines ; clouds ban all overcast.

" Now leave, ye shepheards boyes, your merry glee ;
IMy muse is hoarse and wearie of this stound : 140
Here will I hang my pype upon this tree,
Was never pype d' reed.- did better sound :
Winter is come that blowes the bitter blast,
And after winter dreerie death does hast.

" Gather together ye my little flocke, 145

My little flocke, that was to me so liefe;
Let me, ah ! let me in your foldes ye lock.
Ere the hieme winter breede you greater griefe.
Winter is come, that blows the balefull breath.
And after winter commeth timely death. 160

" Adieu, delightes, that lulled me asleepe;

Adieu, my deare. whose love I bought so deare ;

Adieu, my little lainbes and loved sheepe ;

Adieu, ye woodes, that oft mv witnesse were:
Adieu, good Hohbnioll, (hat was so true.
Tell Rosalind, her Colin bids her adieu." 156

COLINS EMBLF.ME.

Vivitur ins'enio : catera vwrtis erivit.

AN HYMNE IN HONOUR OF LOVE.

391

EPILOGUE.

LoE ! I have made a Calender for every yeare,
That Steele in strength, and time in durance, shall

oulweare ;
And, if I marked well the starres revolution,
It shall continue till the worldes dissolution,
'J"o teach the ruler shepheard how to feede his sheepe,
And from the falsers fraude his folded flocke to keepe.

Goe, little Calender ! thou hast a free pas3seporte ;
Goe but a lowly gate amongst the meaner sorte:
Dare not to match thy pype with Tityrus his stile.
Nor with the pilgrim that the plough-man playd

a while ;
But follow themfarre off, and their high steps adore ,
The better please, the worse despise ; I askenomore

MERGE NGN MERCEDE.

FOWRE HYMNE S,

EDM. SPENSER.

TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE AND MOST VERTUOUS LADIES,

THE LADIE MARGARET,

COUNTESSE OF CUMBERLAND ; AND

THE LADIE MARIE,

COUNTESSE OF WARWICK.

Having, in the greener times of my youth, com-
posed these former two Hymnes in the Praise of Love
and Beautie.and finding that the same too much pleased
those of like age and disposition, which being too
vehemently carried with that kind of affection, do
rather sucke out poyson to their strong passion, then
honev to their honest delight, I was moved, bj' the
one of you two most excellent Ladies, to call in the
same ; but, being unable so to do, by reason that
many copies thereof were formerly scattered abroad,
I resolved at least to amend, and, by way of retract-
tion, to reforme them, making (instead of those two
Hymnes of earthly or naturall love and beautic) two
others of heavenly and celestial! ; the which 1 doe

dedicate joyntly unto you two honourable sisters, as
to the most excellent and rare ornaments of all true
love and beautie, both in the one and the other kind ;
humbly beseeching you to vouchsafe the patronage
of them, and to accept this my humble service, in
lieu of the great graces and honourable favours which
ye dayly shew unto me, until such time as I may,
by better meanes, yeeld you some more notable tes-
tiraonie of my thankfull mind and dutifull devotion.
And even so I pray for your happinesse. Green-
wich this first of September, 1596. Your Honors
most bounden ever,

In all humble service,

Ed. Sp.

AN HYMNE IN HONOUR OF LOVE,

Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre
Perforce subdude my poor captived hart,
And, raging now therein with resllesse stowre,
Doest tyrannize in everie weaker part,
Faine would I seeke to ease mv bitter smart
Bv any service I might do to thee.
Or ought that else might to thee pleasing bee.

And now t' asswage the force of this new flame,

And make thee more propitious in my need,

I meane to sing the praises of thy name, 10

And thy victorious conquests to areed.

By which thou madest many harts to bleed

Of mighty victors, with wide wounds embrewed,

And by thy cruell darts to thee subdewed.

392

AN HYMNE IN HOXOl'll OK LOVE.

Onely I fear my wits enfeebled late, 15

Throup.-h the sharp sorrowes wlacli tliou hast me iM-ed,
Thould faint, and words should faile me to relate
The wondrous triumphs of thy p:reat ejod-hed :
But, if thou wouldst vouchsafe to overspred
j\Ie with the shadow of thy i;entle wing, 20

I should enabled be thy actes to sing.

■ Come, then, O come, thou mightie God of Love !
Out of thy silver bowres and secret blisse,
Wliere thou dost sit in Venus lap above.
Bathing' thy wings in her ambrosial kisse, 25

That sweeter farre than any nectar is ;
Come softly, and my feeble breast inspire
With gentle furie, kindled of thy iire.

And ye, sweet rnuses ! which have often proved,
The piercing points of his avengefull darts ; 30

And ye, fair nimphs ! which oftentimes have

loved
The cruel worker of vour kindlv smarts,
Prepare yourselves, and open wide your harts
For to receive the triumph of your glorie.
That made you merie oft wlien ye were sorrie. 35

And ye, faire blossoms of youths wanton breed ;
Which in the con(]uests of vour beautie host.
Wherewith your lovers feeljle eyes you feed.
But sterve their harts that needeth nourture most,
Prepare your selves to march amongst his host, 40
And all the way this sacred hymne do sing,
Made in the honor of your soveraigne king.

Great God ofINIigiit, that reignest in the mynd,
And all the bodie to thv best doest frame,
Victor of gods, subduer of mankynd, 45

Tiiat doest the lions and fell tigers tame.
Making their cruell rage thy scornful! game.
And in their roarinj; taking great delight ;
Who can expresse the glorie of thy might?

Or who alive can perfectly declare 50

The wondrous cradle of thine infancie.

When thy great mother \''euus first thee bare,

Begot of Plenty and of Penurie,

Though elder then thine own nativitie.

And yet a chyld, renewing still thy yeares, 55

And yet the eldest of tlie heavenly peares ?

For ere this worlds still moving mightie masse

Out of great Chaos ugly jirison crept.

In which his goodlv face long hidden was

From heavens view, and in deep darknesse kept, 60

Love, that had now long tune securely slept

In Venus lap, unarmed then and naked,

Gau reare his head, by Cloiho being waked :

.\nd taking to him wings of his own heat.

Kindled at first from heavens life-giving f'yre, 65

He gan to move out of his idle seat ;

Weakly at first, but after with desyre

Lifted aloft, he gan to mount up livre.

And, like fresh eiigle, made Iiis hardy flight

'1 Ino all that great wide wast, yet wanting light. 70

Yet wanting light to guide his wandring way,
His own faire mother, for all creatures sake,
l^id lend him light from her owne goodly ray;
Then tiirough the world his wav he gan to take,
The world, that was not till he did it make, 75

Whose sundrie parts he from themselves did sever
The which before had lyen confused ever.

The earth, the ayre, the water, and the fyre,
'i'hen gan to raunge themselves in huge array,
And with contrary forces to conspyre 80

Each against other by all meanes they may,
Threatning their owne confusion and decay :
Ayre hated earth, and water hated fyre.
Till Love relented tlieir rebellious yre.

He then them tooke, and, tempering goodly well 85

Their contrary dislikes with loved meanes,

Did place them all in order, and coinpell

To keepe themselves witliin their sundrie raines,

Together linkt with adamantine chaines ;

Yet so, as that in every living wight 90

They mix themselves, and shew their kindly might.

So ever since they firmely have remained.
And duly well observed his beheast ; [tained

Tiirough which now all these things that are con-
Within this goodly cope, both most and least, 9L
Their being have, and daily are increast
Through secret sparks of his infused fyre.
Which in the barraine cold he doth inspyre.

Thereby they all do live, and moved are

To multi])ly the likenesse of their kynd, 100

U'hilest they seeke onely, without further care,

To quench the flame which they in burning tVnd ;

But man tliat breathes a more immortall niyuu,

Not for lusts sake, but for eternitie,

Seekes to enlarge his lasting progenie ; 105

For, having yet in his deducted spright

Some sparks remaining of that heavenly fyre.

He is enlumind witli that goodly light.

Unto like goodly semblant to aspvre ;

Therefore in choice of love he doth desyre 110

That seenies on earth most heavenly to embrace.

That same is Beautie, borne of heavenly race.

For sure of all that in this mortal! frame
Contained is, nought more divine doth seeme,
Or that resembleth more th' immortall flame 115
Of heavenly light, than Beauties glorious beam.
Wiiat wondor then, if with such rage extreme
Frail men, whose eyes seek heavenly things to see,
At sight thereof so much enravisht bee?

Which well perceiving, that imperious boy 120

Doth therewith tip his sharp emj)oisned darts,
Which glancing thro th.e eyes with countenance coy
Rest not till they have jiierst the trembling harts.
And kindled fl;ime in all their inner ])arts,
W hith suckes the blood, and driiiketh up the lyfe,
Of carefull wretches with consuming griefe. 126

Thenceforth they playne, and make full piteous mone
(Into tlie author of their balei'ull bane :
'I'he daies they waste, the nights they grieve and grone
Their lives they loath, and heavens light disdaine ;
No light but that, whose lampe doth yet remaine
Fresh burning in the image of their eye, 132

They dtigne to see, and seeing it still dye.

That whilst thou tyrant Love doest laugh and scorne
At their complaints, making tlieir paine thy jday, 133
Whylest they lye languishing like thrals i'orlorne.

AN in >!NK IN MOjNOUR OF LOVE.

593

The whyles thou cloest triumjih in tlieir decay ;
And otlierwhyles, their dying to delay,
Thou doest emmarble the proud hart of her
"Whose love before their life they doe prefer. 140

So bast thou often done (ay nie, the more !)

To me thy vassall, whose yet bleeding hart

With thousand vrounds thou mangled hast so sore,

Tliat whole remaines scarse any little p;irt ;

Yet, to augment the anguish of my smart, 145

Thou hast enfrozen her disdainefull hrest,

That no one drop of pitie there doth rest.

Why then do I this honor unto thee,

Thus to ennoble thy victorious name,

Sith thou doest shew no favour unto niee, 150

Ne once move ruth in that rebellious d;une,

Somewhat to slacke the rigour of my flame?

Certes small glorv doest thou winne hereby,

To let her live thus free, and me to dy.

But if thou be indeede, as men thee call, 155

The worlds great parent, the most kind preserver

Of living wights, the soveraine lord of all,

How fidies it then that with thy furious fervour

Thou doest afflict as well the not-deserver,

As him that doeth thy lovely beasts desjiize, 160

And on thy subiects most doth tyrannize t

Yet herein eke thy glory seemeth more,

By so hard handling those which best thee serve,

That, ere thou doest them unto grace restore.

Thou mayest well trie if thou wilt ever swerve, 165

And mayest them make it better to deserve,

And, havmg got it, may it more esteeme ;

For things hard gotten men more dearely deeme.

So hard those heavenly beauties he enfyred

As things divine, least passions doe impresse, 170

The more of stedfast mvnds to be admvred,

The more they stayed be on sfedfastnesse ;

But baseborne minds such lamps regard the lesse.

Which at first blowing take not hastie fyre ;

Such fancies feele no love, but loose dt-syre. 175

For love is lord of truth and loialtie.

Lifting himself out of the lowly dust

On golden plumes up to the purest skie.

Above the reach of loathly sinfull lust.

Whose base affect through cowardly distrust 180

Of his weake wings dare not to heaven fly.

But like a moldwarpe in the earth doth ly.

His dunghill thoughts, which do themselves enure

To dirtie drosse, no higher dare aspyre,

Ne can his feeble earthlv eyes endure 185

The flaming light of that celestiall fyre

Which kindleth loye in generous desyre.

And makes him mount above the iiative might

Of heavie earth, up to the heavens bight.

Such is the powre of that sweet passion, 190

That it all sordid basenesse doth expell,
And the refyned mynd doth newly fashion
Unto a fairer forme, which now doth dwell
In his high thought, that would it selfe excell,
Which he be-h ilding still with constant sight, 195
Admires the mirrour of so heavenly light.

Whose image printing in bis deepest wit.

He thereon feeds his hungrie fantasy,

Still full, yet never satisfyde with it;

Like Tantale, tliat in store doth sterved ly, 200

So doih he pine in most satiety ;

For nought may quench liis infinite desyre.

Once kindled through that first conceived fyre.

Thereon his mynd affixed wholly is,
Ne thinks on ought but how it to attaine ; 20

His care, his ioy, his hope, is all on this,
■That seemes in it all blisses to containe.
In sight whereof all other blisse seemes vaine :
Thrice happie man ! might he the same possesse.
He faines liimselte, and doth his fortune blesse. 210

And though he do not win liis wish to end.

Yet thus farre happie he hiinselfe doth weene.

That heavens such huppie grace did to him lend.

As thing on earth so heavenly to have scene

His harts enshrined saint, his heavens queene, 2l5

Fairer then fairest, in his fayning eye.

Whose sole aspect he counts felicity e.

Then forth he casts in his unquiet thought.

What he may do, her favour to obtaine ;

Wliat brave exploit, whatperill hardly wrought, 220

What puissant conquest, what adventurous paine,

JMay please her best, and grace unto him game ;

He dreads no danger, nor misfortune feares.

His faitli, his fortune, in his breast he beares.

Thou art his god, thou art his mightie guyde, 225
Thou, being blind, letst him not see his feares.
But earnest him to that which he had eyde.
Through seas, through flames, through thousaiv

swords and speares ;
Ne ought so strong that may his force witlislund,
With which thou arniest his resistlesse hand. 230

Witnesse Leander in the Kuxine waves,

And stout ylineas in the Troiane fyre,

Achilles preassing through the Phrygian glaives,

And Orpheus, daring to provoke the yre

Of damned fiends, to get his love retyre ; 235

For both through heaven and hell thou makest way,

To win them worship which to thee obay.

And if by all these jjcriis, and these paynes,

He may but purchase lykiiig in her eye,

Wh;it lieavens of ioy then to himselfe he faynes ! 240

Eftsoones he wypes quite out of memory

W hatever ill before he did aby :

Had it beene death, yet would he die againe.

To live thus happie as her grace to gaiiie.

Yet, when he hath found favour to his will, 245

He nathemore can so contented rest,

But Ibrceth further on, and slriveth still

T' approach more neare, till in her inmost brest

He may embosomd bee and loved best ;

And yet not best, but to be lov'd alone ; i-A*

For love cannot endure a ])ar,igoue.

The fear whereof, how doth it torment
His troubleil mynd with mure then hellish pame !
And to bis tayning fansie represent
Sights never scene, and tiiuusand shadowes vaine, 255
. 1 o breake his sleepe, and waste his ydle brauie :

59-1

AN HYMNE IN 'lONOUH OF BEAUTIE.

Thou that hast never lov'J canst not bi'lesve
Least part of th' evils wliich poore lovers greeve.

The gnawing envie, the hart-fretting feare.

The vaine surmizes, the dislrustfull sliowes, SCO

The false reports that flynig tales doe bcare,

"J"he doubts, the daungers, the delayes, the woes,

'1 lie favned friends, the unassured foes.

With thousands more then any tongue can tell,

Doe make a lovers life a wretches hell. 265

Yet is tliere one more cursed then they all.

That cancker-worme, that monster, Gelosie,

Wliich eates the heart and feedes upon the gall,

'I'urning all loves delight to miserie.

Through feare of losing his felicitie. 270

Ah, Gods ! that ever ye that monster placed

In gentle love, that all his ioyes defaced !

By these, O Love ! thou doest thy entrance make
Unto thy heaven, and doest the more endeere
Thy pleasures unto those which them partake, 275
As alter stormes, when clouds begin to cleare,
The sunne more bright and glorious doth a])peare ;
So thou thy folke, through paines of purgatorie
Dost beare unto thy blisse, and heavens glorie.

There thou them places in a paradize
Of all delight and ioyous happy rest.

280

Wheie they doe feede on nectar heavenly-wize,
With Hercules and Ilebe, and tlie rest
Of Venus dearlings, through her bountie blest;
And lie like gods in yvory beds arayd, 285

With rose and lillies over them displayd.

There with thy daughter Pleasure they doe play

Their hurtlesse sports, without rebuke or blame.

And in her snowy bosome boldly lay

Their quiet heads, devoyd of guilty shame, 290

After full ioyance of their gentle game ;

Then her they crowne their goddesse andtheirqueene,

And decke with fioures thy altars well beseene.

Ay me ! deare Lord ! that ever I might hope,

For all the paines and woes that I endure, 295

To come at lengtli unlo the wished scope

Of my desire, or might myselfe assure

That happie port for ever to recure !

Then would 1 thinke these paines no paines at all.

And all my woes to be but penance small. oOO

Then would I sing of thine immortal praise
An heavenly hymne, such as the angels sing,
And thy triumj)hant name then would 1 raise
Bove all the gods, thee only honoring ; 305

My guide, my god, my victor, and my king :
Till then, drad Lord ! vouchsafe to take of me
This simple song, thus fram'd in praise of thee. 308

AN HYMNE IN HONOUE OF BEAUTIE.

An ! whither. Love! wilt thou now carry mee?

What wontlesse fury dost thou now inspire

Into ray feeble breast, too full of thee ?

Wjiylest seeking to aslake thy raging fyre,

Thou in me kindlest much more great desyre, 5

And up aloft above my strength doth rayse

The wondrous matter of my fire to praise.

That as I earst, in praise of thine owne name,

So now in honour of thy mother deare.

An honourable hymne I eke should frame, 10

And, with the brightnesse of her beautie cleare,

The ravisht hearts of gazefull men might reare

To admiration of that heavenly light,

From whence proceeds such soule-enchanting might.

Therto do thou, great goddesse! Queone of Beauty,
Motlier of love, and of all vvorlds delight, 16

Without whose soveraj'ne grace and kindly dewty
Nothing on earth seems fayre to fleshly sight,
Doe thou vouchsafe with thy love-kindling light
'J' illuminate my dim and dulled cyne, 20

And beaulifie this sacred hymne of thyne :

That both to thee, to whom I meane it most,
And eke to her, whose faire immortall beame
Math darted fyre into my feeble ghost,
'I'hat now it wasted is with woes extreame, 25

It may so jdease, that she at length will streame
Some deaw of grace into my withered hart.
After long sorrow and consuming smait.

What time this worlds great Workjiaister did
To make al things such as we now behold, [cast

It seems that he before his eye has plast
A goodly paterne, to whose perfect mould
He tashiond them as comely as he could,
That now so faire and seemely they appeare.
As nought may be amended any wheare.

That wondrous paterne, wheresoere it bee.
Whether in earth layd up in secret store,
Or else in heaven, that no man may it see
With sinfull eyes, for feare it to deflore,
Is perfect beautie, whii h all men adore ;
Whose face and feature doth so much e.xcell
All mortal sence, that none the same may tell.

Thereof as every earthly thing partakes
Or more or lesse, by influence divine.
So it more faire accordingly it mnkes,
And the grosse matter of this earibly myne
Which closeth it thereafter doth re'yne.
Doing away the drosse which dims the light
Of that faire beamo which therein is empight.

For, through infusion of celestiall powre.
The duller earth it (juickneth with delight,
And life-full sjurits privily doth ])owre
Through all the j)arts, that to the looker's sight
They secnie to please; that is thy soveraine might,
O ('yprian (|ueene I which flowing from the beame .55
Of thy bright starre, thou into them doest streame.

AN IIVMXE ]X HONOUR OF IJKAUTIE.

395

Tliat is the thing which giveth pleasant grace
To all things faire, that kindleih lively fyre.
Light of thy lampe; which, shyuing in the face,
'I'hence to the soule darts amorous desyre, 60

And robs the harts of those which it admyre ;
Tliert-with thou pointest thy sons poysned arrow,
That wounds the life, and wastes the inmost marrow.

How vainelv then do ydle wits invent,

I'hat beautie is nought e\>e but mixture made 65

Of colours faire, and goodly tempVament

Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade

And passe away, like to a sommers shade ;

Or that it is but comely composition

Of parts well measurd, with meet disposition! 70

Hath white and red in it such wondrous powre,
That it can pierce through th' eyes unto tlie hart,
And tlierein stirre such rage and restlesse stowre,
As nought but death can stint his dolours smart?
Or can proportion of tlie outward part 75

Move such affection in the inward mynd,
That it can rob both sense, and reason blynd ?

Why doe not then the blossomes of tlie field,

Wliich are arayd with much more orient hew.

And to the sense most daintie odours yield, 80

Worke like impression in the lookers vew ?

Or why doe not faire pictures like ])Owre shew,

In which oft-times we nature see of art

Kxceld, in perfect limming every part?

But ah ! beleeve me there is more than so, 85

That workes such wonders in the minds of men ;

I, that have often prov'd, too well it know.

And who so list the like assa\es to ken.

Shall find by trial, and confesse it then.

That beautie is not, as fond men misdeeme, 90

An outwarde shew of things that onely seeme.

For that same goodly hew of white and red.

With which the cheekes are sprinckled, shall decay.

And those sweete rosy leaves, so fairly spred

Upon the lips, shall fade and fall away 95

To that they were, even to corrupted clay :

That golden wyre, those sparckling stars so bright,

Shall turne to dust, and lose their goodly light.

But that faire lampe, from whose celestiall ray

That light proceedes, which kindleth lovers fire, 100

Shall never be extinguisht nor decay ;

But, when the vitall spirits doe expyre,

Unto her native planet shall retyre ;

For it is heavenly borne and cannot die,

Being a parcell of the purest skie. 105

For when the soule, the which derived was,

At first, out of that great immorlall spright,

By whom all live to love, whilome did pas

Down from the top of purest heavens hight

To be embodied here, it then tooke light 110

And lively spirits from that fayrest starre

Which lights the world forth from his firie carre.

Which powre retayning still or more or lesse,

When she in fleshly seede is eft enraced,

Throuoh every part she doth the same impresse. 115

Acconliiig as the heavens have her graced,

And frames her house, in which she will be placed,

Fit for h.'T self--, r.d-riiing it with spoyle

Of th' heavenly riches which she robd erewhyls.

Thereof it comes that these faire soules, which have
The most resemblance of that heavenly light. 121
P>ame to themselves most beautiful! and brave
Their fleshly bowre, most fit for their delight,
And the grosse matter by a soveraine might
Temper so trim, that it n)ay well be seeue 125

A pallace fit for such a virgin queene.

So every spirit, as it is most pure.

And hath in it the more of heavenly light.

So it the fairer bodie doth jirocure

To habit in, and it more fairely'dight 13(

With chearfuU grace and amiable sight ;

For of the soule the boilie forme doth take ;

For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.

Therefore where-ever that thou doest behold

A comely corpse, with beautie fiaire endewed, 135

Know tliis for certaine, that the same doth hold

A beauteous soule, with fair conditions thewed,

Fit to receive the seede of vertue strewed ;

For all that faire is, is by nature good ;

That is a sign to know the gentle blood. 140

Yet oft it falles that many a gentle mynd
Dwels in deformed tabernacle drownd.
Either by chaunce, against the course of kynd.
Or through uiiaptnesse in the substance fownd.
Which it assumed of some stubborne grownd, 145
That will not yield unto her formes direction.
But is perform'd with some foule imperfection

And oft it ftilles, (aye me, the more to rew !)
That goodly beautie, albe heavenly borne.
Is foule abiisd, and that celestiall hew, 150

Which doth the world with her delight adorne.
Made but the bait of sinne, and sinners scorne.
Whitest every one doth seeke and sew to have it,
But every one doth seeke but to deprave it.

Yet nathtimore is that faire beauties blame, 155

But theirs that do abuse it unto ill :

Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame

May be corrupt, and wrested unto will :

Nathelesse the soule is faire and beauteous still.

However fleshes fault it filthy make ;

For things immortall no corruption take.

But ve, faire dames ! the worlds deare ornaments
And lively images of heavens light.
Let not your beames with such disparagements
Be dimd, and your bright glorie darkned quight ; 165
But, mindfull still of your first countries sight.
Doe still preserve your first informed grace,
Whose shadow yet shynes in your beauteous face.

Loath that foule blot, that hellish fierbrand,

Disloiall lust fair beauties foulest blame, 170

That base affection, which your eares would bland

Commend to you by loves abused name.

But is indeede the bondslave of defame ;

Which will the garland of your glorie marre.

And quench the'light of your bright shyning starre.

But gentle love, that loiall is and trew.
Will more illumine your resplendent ray.
And add more brightnesse to your goodly hew,

176

396

AN IIYMSL IN HONOUR OF BEAQTIE.

From liglit of his pure fire ; wbicli, by like way
Kindled of vours, your likenesse dotii dis})!ay ; 180 )
Like as two miirours, by opposd reflection,
Doe both expresse the f;^.ces first impression.

Therefore, to make your beautie more appeare,

It you behoves to love, and forth to lay

'J'hat lieavenly riches which in you ye beare, 105

Tliat men the more ad my re their founfaine may ;

For else what bootetb that celestiall ray,

If it in darknesse be enshrined ever.

That it of loving eyes be vewed never?

But, in your choice of loves, this well advize, 190

Tliat likest to your selves ye them select,

The which your formes first sourse may sympathize,

And with like beauties parts be inly deckt ;

Forif \ou loosely love witliout respect,

It is not love, but a discordant warre, 195

Whose unlike parts amongst themseves do iarre.

For love is a celestiall harmonie

Of likely halts composd of starres concent,

Which ioyne tof^'ether in sweete sympathie.

To \»-ork each others ioy and true content, 200

Which they have harbourd since their first descent

Out of their heavenly bowres, where they did see

And know ech other here belov'd to bee.

Then wrong it were that any other twaine

Soould in loves gentle band combyned bee 205

But those whom heaven did at first ordaine,

And made out of one mould the more t' agree ;

For all, that like the beautie which they see.

Straight do not love ; for Love is not so light

As streight to burne at first beholders sight. 210

But they, which love indeede, looke otherwise,

VVith pure regard and spotlesse true intent,

Drawing out of the obiect of their eyes

A more refyned form, which tliey present

Unto their mind, voide of nil blemishraent; 215

Which it reducing to her first perfection,

Beholdeth free from fleshes frayle infection.

And then conforming it unto the light.

Which in it selfe it hath remaining still,

Of that first sunne, yet sparckling in his sight, 220

Thereof he fashions in his higher skill

An lieavenlv beautie to his fancies will ;

And, it embracing in his mind entvre.

The mirrour of his owne thought doth admyre.

W'hich seeing now so inly faire to be, 225

As outward it appeareth to the trye.

And witli his s])irils projiortion to agree,

He thereon fixeth all his fantasie,

.\nd fully setteth his felicititi;

Counting it fairer then it is indeede, 230

And yet indeede her fairnesse doth exceede.

For lovers eves more sharply sighted bee
Then other mens, and in deare loves delight

See more then any other eves can see.

Through muiuall receipt of beames bright, 235

^Vhich cairie privie message to the spright,

And to their eves thatiniriost faire displav,

As plaine as light discovers dawning day.

Therein they see, through amorous eye-glaunces,
Armies of Loves still flying too and fro, 240

Which dart at them theii' little fierie launees ;
Whom having wounded, back againe they go.
Carrying compassion to their lovely foe ;
Who, seeing her faire eyes so sharp eflfect.
Cures all their sorrowes with one sweete aspect. 245

In which how many wonders doe they reede

To their conceipt, that otiiers never see !

.\ ow of her smiles, with which their soules they feede,

Like gods with nectar in their bankets free ;

Now of her lookes, which like to cordials bee ; 250

But when her words embassade forth she sends.

Lord, how sweete musicke tliat unto them lends !

Sometimes upon her forhead they behold
A thousand graces masking in delight ;
Sometimes within her eye-lids they unfold 255

Ten ttiousand sweet belgards, which to their sight
Doe seeme like twinck'ing starres in frostie night ;
But on her lijis, like I'osy buds in IMay,
So many millions of chaste pleasures play.

All those, O Cytherea ! and thousands more 260
Thy handmaides be, which do on thee attend,
To decke thy beautie with their dainties store,
That may it more to mortall eves commend.
And make it more admyr'd of foe and frend ;
That in mens harts thou mavst thy throne enstall.
And spred thy lovely kingdorae over all. 266

Then lo, tryumph ! O great Beauties Queene,

Advance the banner of thy conquest hie,

That all this world, the which thy vassels beene,

IMay draw to thee, and with dew fealtie 2^0

Adore the powre of thv great majestie,

Singing this Hymne in honour of thy name,

Compyld by me, which thy ])Oor liegeman am !

In lieu whereof graunt, O great Soveraine !
That she. whose concjuering beauty doth captive
My trembling hart in her eternall chaine, 276

One drop of grace at length will to me give,
That I her bounden thrall by lier may live,
And this same life, which first fro me she reaved,
May owe to her, of whom I it receaved. 280

And you, faire Venus dearling, my dear dread '
Fresh flowre of grace, great goddesse of my life,
W'hen y(mr faire eyes these fearfuU lines shall read,
Deigne to let fall one drop of dew reliefe.
That mav recure my harts long pyning griefe, 285
And shew what wondrous powre your beauty hath
'iliat can restore a damned wight from death. 28'?

AN HYMNE OF HEAVENLY LOVE.

397

A]sr HYMNE OF heave:^ly love.

Love, lift me up upon thy golden wings,

From this base world unto tby Leavens hight,

Where I may see those admirable thing's

Which there thou workest by thy soveraine might,

Farre above feeble reach of earthly sight, 5

That I thereof an heavenly liymne may sing

Unto the God of Love, high heavens king.

Many levrd layes (ah ! woe is me the more !)

In praise of that mad fit which fooles call love,

I have in th' heat of youth made lieretofore, 10

That in light wits did loose affection move ;

But all those follies now I do reprove,

A.ud turned have the tenor of my string,

The heavenly prayses of true love to sing.

And ye that wont with greedy vaine desire 15

To reade my fault, and, wondring at my flame,
1"o warnie vour selves at my wide sparckling fire,
Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame,
And in her ashes i^hrowd my dying shame ;
For who ray passed follies now jjuisewes, SlO

Beginnes his owne, and my old fault reuewes.

Before this worlds great frame, in which al
Are now containd, found any being-place, [things
Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings
About that mightie bound whieli doth embrace 25
The rolling spheres, and parts their houresby space,
That High Eternall Powre, which now doth move
In all these things, mov'd in it selfe by love.

It lovd it selfe, because it selfe was faire ;

( For fair is lov'd ;) and of it self begot, SO

Like to it selfe his eldest sonne and heire,

Eternall, pure, and voide of sinfull blot.

The firstling of his ioy, in whom no iot

Of loves dislike or pride was to be found,

W bom he therefore with equall honour crownd. 35

With him he raignd, before all time prescribed,
In endlesse glorie and immortal! might,
Together with that third from them derived.
Most wise, most holy, most almightie spright !
Whose kingdomes tlirone no thoughts of earthly wight
Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse 41
With equall words can hope it to reherse.

Yet, O most blessed spirit ! pure lampe of light,

Eternall spring of grace and wisedoin trew.

Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright 45

Some little drop of thy celestiall dew,

'J liat may my rymes with sweet infuse embrew,

And give me words equall unto my thought.

To tell the marveiles by thy mercie wrought.

Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace, 50
And full of fruitfull Love, that loves to get
Things like himselfe, and to enlarge his race.
His second brood, though not of powre so great,
Vet full of beautie, next he did beget
An infinite increase of angels bright, 55

11 glistring glorious in their JMakers light.

To them the heavens illimitable hight [hold,

(Not this round heaven, which we from hence be-
Adornd with thousand lam])S of burning light,
And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold,) 60
He gave as their inheritance to hold.
That they might serve him in eternall blis.
And be partakers of those ioys of his.

There they in tlieir trinall triplicities

About hini wait, and on liis will depend, 65

Either with nhnble wings to cut the skies,

When he tliem on his messages doth send,

Or on his owne dread presence to attend.

Where they behold the glorie of his light.

And caroU hymues of love both day and night. 70

Both day, and night, is unto them all one ;
For he his beames doth unto them extend.
That darknesse there appeareth never none ;
Ne hath their day, ne hath their blisse, an end.
But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend ;
Ne ever should their happinesse decay, 76

Had not they dar'd their Lord to disobay.

But pride, impatient of long resting peace,
Did putfe them up with greedy bold ambition,
Tliat they gan cast their state how to increase 80
Above the "fortune of their first condition.
And fit in Gods own seat witliout commission :
The brightest angel, even tlie child of Light,
Drew millions more against their God to fight.

Th' Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, 85

Kindled the flame of His consuming yre.
And with His onely breath them blew away
From heavens hight, to which they did aspyre.
To deepest hell, "and lake of damned fyre,
Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell, 90
Hating the'happie light from which they fell.

So that next off-spring of the Makers love.

Next to Himselfe in glorious degree,

Degendering to hate, fell from above

Through pride ; (for pride and love may ill agree ;)

And now of sinne to all ensample bee : 96

How then can sinfull flesh itselfe assures

Sith purest angels fell to be impure ?

But that Eternall Fount of love and grace,

Still flowing forth His goodnesse unto all, 100

Now seeing left a waste and em.ptie place

In His wyde pnllace, through those angels fall,

Cast to supply the same, and to enstall

A new unknowen colony therein, [p"-

Wliose root from earths base groundworke should be-

Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought, Idfi
Yet form'd by wondrous skill, and by His might.
According to an lieavenly patterne wrought,
Which He had fashiond in his wise foresight.
He man did make, and breathd a living spright 110
Into his face most heautifull and fayre,
Endewd with wisedomes riches, heavenly, rare.

398

AxM IIVMNE OF HEAVENLY LOVE.

Sucli He liim made, tliut lie resemble might
Himselfe, as mortal! tliino- immortal! could;
Him to be lord of every living wiglit 115

He made by love out of His owne like mould,
In wlioiii He might His mightie selfe behould ;
For Love doth love the thing belov'd to see.
That like itselfe in lovely shape may bee.

13ut man, forgetfull of his ]Makers grace 120

No lesse than anyels whom he did ensew,
Fell from the hope of promist heavenly place.
Into the mouth of death, to sinners dew,
And all his ofF-spring into thraldome threw,
W'liere they for ever should in bonds remains 125
Of never-dead yet ever-dying paine ;

Till that great Lord of Lc've, which him at first

Made of meere love, and after liked well.

Seeing him lie like creature long accurst

In that deep horror of despeyred hell, 130

Him, wretch, in doole would let no lenger dwell,

But cast out of that bondage to redeeme.

And pay the price, all were his debt extreme.

Out of the bosome of eternall blisse.

In which he reigned with his gloiious Syre, 135

He downe descended, like a most demisse

And abiect thrall, in fleshes fraile attvre.

That lie for him might pay sinnes deadl}' hyre,

And him restore unto that happie state

In which be stood before bis haplesse fate. 140

In flesh at first the guilt committed was,

'J'herefore in flesh it must be satisfyde ;

^'or spirit, nor angel, though they man surpas,

Could make amends to God for mans misguyde,

But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slyde : 145

So, taking flesh of sacred virgins wombe.

For mans dears sake he did a man become.

And that most blessed bodie, which was borne

AVithout all blemish or reprochfull blame.

He freely gave to be both rent and torne 150

Of cruftli bands, who with despightfull shame

Revyiing him, that them most vile became.

At length him nayled on a gallow-tree.

And slew the lust by most uniust decree.

O huge and most unspeakable impression 155

Of loves deep wound, that pierst the piteous hart

Of tl.at deare Lord with so entyre affection,

And, sharjjly launcing every inner jrart.

Dolours of death into his soule did dart.

Doing him die that never it deserved, 160

To free his foes, that from his beast had swerved !

What hart can feel least touch of so sore launch,
.Or thought can think the depth of so deare wound 1
Whose bleeding sourse their streames yet never
But slil do flow, and freshly still redovvnd, [staunch
To hcnle the sores of sinfull soules unsound, 1G6
And dense the guilt of that infected cryme
Which was enrooted in all fleshly slyme.

O blessed Well of Love ! O Floure of Grace !
O glorious Morning-Starre ! O Lanqie of Light !
Most lively image of thy Fathers face, 171

Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of ftlight,
Meeko Lambe of God, before all worlds behight.

How can we thee retpiite for all this good?

Or what can prize that thy most precious blood ? 175

Yet nought thou ask'st in lieu of all this love,

But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine :

Ay me ! what can us lesse than that behove?

Had he required life for us againe.

Had it bseiie wrong to ask his owne with gains ?

He gave us life, be it restored lost ; 181

Then life were least, that us so little cost.

But he our life hath left unto us free.

Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band ;

Ne ought demaunds but that we loving bee, 185

As he himselfe hath lov'd us afore-hand.

And bound therto with an eternall band.

Him first to love that was so dearely bought.

And next our brethren, to his image wrought.

Him first to love great right and reason is, 190

Who first to us our life and being gave.

And after, when we fared had amisse,

Us wretches from the second death did save ;

And last, the food of life, wliich now we have,

Even he himselfe, in his dear sacrament, 195

To feede our hungry soules, unto us lent.

Then next, to love our brethren, that were made
Of that selfe mould, and that self maker's baud.
That we, and to the same againe shall fade,
Where they shall have like heritage of land, 200
However here on higher steps we stand.
Which also were with selfe-same price redeemed
That we, however of us light esteemed.

And were they not, yet sines that loving Lord

Commaunded us to love them for his sake, 205

Even for bis sake, and for his sacred word.

Which in his last bequest he to us spake.

We should them love, and with their needs partake ;

Knowing that, whatsoere to them we give.

We give to him by whom we all doe live. 210

Such mercy be by his most holy reede

Unto us taught, and to approve it trew,

Ensampled it by His most righteous deede,

Shewing us mercie (miserable crew !)

That we the like should to the wretches shew, 215

And love our brethren ; thereby to approve

How much, himselfe that loved us, we love.

Then rouze thy selfe, Karth ! out of thy soyle,

In which thou wallowest like to filthy swyne.

And doest, thy niynd in durty pleasures moyle j 220

Unmindfull of that dearest Lord of thyne ;

Lift up to him thy heavie clouded eyne,

That thou this soveraine bountie mayst behold,

And read, through love, his mercies manifold.

Beginne from first, where he encradled was 225

In simple cratch, wrapt in a wad of bay,

Betweene the toy 1 full oxe and humble asse,

And in what rags, and in how base aray.

The glory of our heavenly riches lay,

Wiien him tlie silly siiejiheards cam'o to see, ^SC

Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee.

From thence reade on the storie of his life.

His humble carriage, his unfaulty waves,

liis cancred foes, his fights, his'toyle, his strif*-.

AN HYMNE OF HiAVExVLY BEAUTIK.

399

His paines, his povertie, his sharpe assayes, 235
Through vrLich he past liis miserable dayes,
Offending none, and doing good to all,
Yet being malist both by great and small.

And look at la-t, hov.- of most wretched wights
He taken was, betrayd, and false accused ; 240

Hon- with most scorufull taunts, and fell despights,
He was revyld, disgrast, and foiile abused ;
How scourgd, how crownd, how buffeted, how

brused ;
And lastly, how twi^t robbers crucifyde,
With hitter wounds through hands, through feet, and

syde ! 245

Then let thy flinty hart, that feeles no paine,

Empierced be with pittifull remorse,

And let tliy bowels bleede in every vaine.

At sight of his most sacred heavenly corse.

So tome and mangled with malicious forse ; 250

And let thy soule, whose sins his sorrows wrought,

Melt into teares, and grone in grieved thought.

U'ith sence whereof, whilest so thy softened spirit
Is inly toucht, and humbled with meeke zeale
'I'hrough meditation of his endlesse merit, 255

Lift up thy mind to th' author of thy weale.
And to his soveraine mercie doe appeale ;
Learne him to love that loved thee so deare,
\nciSin tliy brest his blessed image beare.

With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind, 2f
Thou must him love, and his beheasts enibrace;
All other loves, with which the world doth blind
Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base.
Thou must renounce and utterly displace,
And give thy selfe unto him full and frt'O, 265

That full and freely gave himselfe to thee.

Then shalt thou feele thy spirit so possest.

And ravisht with devouring great desire

Of his dear selfe, that shall thy feeble brest

Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire 270

With burning zeale, through every part entire,

That in no earthly thing thou shaft delight.

But in his sweet and amiable sight.

Thenceforth all worlds desire *-ill in thee dye,

And all eartlies glorie, on which men do gaze, 275

Seeme durt and drosse in thy pure-sighted eye,

Compar'd to that celestiall beauties blaze.

Whose glorious beames all fleshly sense doth daze

With admiration of their passing light.

Blinding the eyes, and iu mining the spright. 280

Then shall thy ravisht soul inspired bee

Witli heavenly thoughts farre above humane skil,

And thy bright radiant eves shall plainelv see

Tir idee of his pure glorie [)re>ent still

IJefore thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill 28

With sweete enragement of celestiall love,

Kinuied through sight of those faire things above.

AN HYMI^^E OF HEAVENLY BEAUTIE.

Rapt with the rage of mine own ravisht thought.

Through contemplation of those goodly sights,

And glorious images in heaven wrought,

Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights

Do kindle love in high conceipted sprights ; 5

I faine to tell the things that I behold,

but feele my wits to iaile, and tongue to fold.

Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almightie Spright!
From whom all guifts of wit and knowledge flow.
To shed mto my breast some sparkling light 10

Of thine nlernall truth, that I may show
Some little beames to mortall eyes below
Of that immortallbeautie, there with thee,
Vv'hich in my weake distraughted mynd I see;

That with the glorie of so goodly sight 15

The hearts of men, which fondly here admyre
Faire seeming shewes, and feed on vaine delight.
Transported with celestiall desyre
Of those faire formes, may lift themselves up hyer,
And learne to love, with zealous humble dewty, 20
Th' eternal fountaine of that heavenly beauty.

Beginning then below, with th' easie vew

Of this base world, subiect to fleshly eye,

From thence to mount aloft, by order dew.

To contemplatiou of th' immortall sky ; 25

Of the soare faulcon so I learne to flye.

That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath,

Till she her selfe for stronger flight can breath.

Then looke, who list thy gazefull eyes to feed
Witii sight of that is faire, looke on the frame 30
Of thiswyde universe, and therein reed
The endlesse kinds of creatures which by name
Thou canst not count, much less their natures airae ;
All which are made with wondrous wise respect.
And all with admirable beautie deckt. 35

First, th' earth, on adamantine pillers founded
Amid the sea, engirt with brasen bands ;
Then th' aire still flitting, but yet firmely bounded
On everie side, with pyles of flaming brands.
Never consum'd, nor quencht with mortall hands ;
And, last, thutmightie shining cristall wall, 41

Wherewith he hath encompassed this all.

By view whereof it plainly may appeare,

That still as every thing doth upward tend.

And further is from earth, so still more cleare 45

And faire it growes, till to his perfect end

Of purest Beautie it at last ascend ;

Ayre more then water, fire much more then avre.

And heaven then fire, appeares more pure and favre.

Looke thou no further, but affixe thine eye 50

On that bright sh^'nie round still moving masse.
The house of blessed Gud, which men call skye,
All sowd with glistring stars more thicke then grasse.
Whereof each other doth in brightnesse passe.
But those two most, which, ruling night and day, 53
As king and queene, the heavens empire sway •

400

AN HYMXF. OF nnAVEXLY BEAUTIE.

And tell me then, what hast thou ever sees

TLc.t to their beaiitie may comjiared bee,

Or I'an the sight that is most sbarpe and keene

Kndure their captains flamiiio- head to see 1 60

Hgw much lesse tliose, nmcli higher in degree.

And so much fairer, and mucli more than these,

As these are fairer then the land and seas?

For farre above these heavens, which here we see,
Be others farre exceeding these in light, 65

Not bounded, not corrupt, as these same bee.
But iuiinite in largenesse and in hight,
Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotlesse bright,
That need no sunne t' illuminate their spheres,
But their owne native light farre passing theirs. 70

And as tliese lieavens still by degrees arize,

Until they come to their first Movers bound.

That in his mightie comjiasse doth comprize,

And carrie all the rest with him around ;

So those likewise doe by degrees redound, 75

And rise more faire, till they at last arive

To the most faire, whereto they all do strive.

Faire is the heaven where happy soules have place,

In full enioyraent of felicitie,

Whence they doe still behold the glorious face 80

Of the Divine Eternall JMaiestie ;

More faire is that, where those idees on hie

Enraunged be, which Plato so admyred,

And pure intelligences from God inspyred.

Yet fairer is that heaven, in which do raine 85

The soveraine powers and mightie potentates,

Which in their high protection doe containe

All mortall princes and imjieriall states ;

And i'ayrer yet, whereas the royall seates

And heavenly dominations are set, 90

From whom all earthly governaunce is fet.

Yet farre more faire be those bright cherubins.

Which all with golden wings^re overdight.

And those eternall burning seraphins,

Which from their faces dart out fierie light ; 95

Yet fairer then they both, and much more bright,

Be th' angels and archangi-ls, which attend

On Gods owne person, without rest or end.

These thus in faire each other farre excelling,
As to the highest they approach more near, 100

Yei is that highest farre beyond all telling.
Fairer then all the rest which tliere appenre,
Though all their beauties ioyn'd together were ;
How then can mortall tongue hope to expresse
The image of such endlesse perfectnesse ? 105

Cease then, my tongue! and lend unto my mynd

Leave to betbinke how great that beauty is,

TA'hose utmost parts so beautiful! I fynd ;

J low much more those essentiall jiarts of his,

His truth, his love, his wiscdome, and his blis, 110

His grace, his doome, his mercy, and his might.

By which he lends us of himselfe a sight!

I'hose unto all he daily doth display,

And slievv himselfe in th' image of his grace,

As in a looking-glast-e, through which he may 115

Be seene of all ins creatures vile and base,

TdhI are unable else to see his face,

Mis glono'.is face! which glistereth else so bright.
That th' angels selves can not endure his sight.

But we, frail wights! whose sight cannot sustaine

The s\ins bright heames when he on us doth shyno.

But that their points rebutted backe againe 1'22

Are duld, how can we see with feeble eyne

The glorie of that Maiestie Divine,

In sight of whom both sua anil moone are darke,

Comj)ared to his least resjdeiide'.it sparke ? 126

The meanes, therefore, which unto us is lent

Him to behold, is on his workes to looke,

^Vhich lie hath made in beauty excellent,

And in the same, as in a brasen booke, 130

To read eiiregistred in every nooke

His goodnesse, which his beautie doth declare ;

For all thats good is beautifull and faire.

Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation.
To imjje the wi!)gs of thy high flying mvnd, 135
Mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation.
From this darke world, whose dam])s the soule do
And, like the native brood of eagles kynd, [blynd,
On that bright Sunne of Glorie fixe thine eves,
Clear'd from grosse mists of fraile infirmities. 140

Humbled with feare and awfull reverence.

Before the footestoole of His Rlaiestie

Throw thy selfe downe, witn trembling innocence,

Ne dare looke up with corruptible eye

On the dred face of that Great Deity, 145

For feare, lest if he chaunce to look on thee,

Tiiou turne to nought, and fjuite confounded be.

But lowly fall before his mercie seate,

Close covered with the Lambes integrity

From the iust wrath of his avengeful! threate 150

That sits upon the lighteous throne on by ;

His throne is built upon eternity.

More firme and durable tlieii Steele or brasse,

Or the hard diamond, which them both doth passe.

His scepter is tlie rod of righteoiisnesse, 155

Witli which he biuseth all his foes to dust,

And the great dragon strongly doth represse,

Under the rigour of his iudgment iust ;

His seate is truth, to which the faithfuU trust.

From whence proceed her beanies so pure and bright

That all about Him sheddeth glorious light : 16

Light, farre exceeding that bright blazing sparke

Which darted is from Titans flaming head,

That with his beames enlumineth the darke

And dampish air, whereby al things are red ; 165

Whose nature yet so much is marvelled

Of mortall wits, (hat it dot!) much amaze

The greatest wisards which thereon do gaze.

]3ut that immortal! light, whicli tliere doth shine,
Is many t!)ousand times more bright, more cleure,170
More excellent, more glorious, more divine,
Tlirougli wliich to God al! mortal! actions liere,
And even tlie thoughts of men, do plaine appeare ;
For from tli' Eternall Trutli it dotli proceed,
Tlirough heavenly vertue which her beames do
breed

Witli the great glorie of that wondrous light

His tlirone is all encomjiassed around.

And hid in his owne brightnesso from the siglit

176

AN HYMNE OF HEAVENLY BEAUIIE.

401

Of all that looke thereon with eyes unsound ;
And underneath his feet are to be found 180

Thunder, and lightning, and tempestuous fyre,
The instruments of his avenging yre.

There in his bosome Sapience doth sit,

The soveraine dearling 3^ liia dr^ity.

Clad like a queene in royall robes, most fit 185

For so great powre ana peerelesse majesty,

And all with gemmes and iewels gorgeously

Adornd, that brighter then the starres appeare,

And make her native brightnes seem more clears.

And on her head a crown of purest gold 190

Is set, in signe of higliest soverainty ;

And in her hand a scepter she doth hold,

With which she rules the house of God on hy,

And menageth the ever-moving sky,

And in the same these lower creatures all 195

Subiected to her puvre imperiall.

Both heaven and earth obev unto her will,

And all the creatures which they both contains ;

For of her fulnesse which the world doth fill

They all partake, and do in state remains 200

As their great Maker did at first ordains,

Througli observation of her high beheast.

By which thsv first were made, and still increast.

The fairness of her face no tongue can tell ;

For sne tne daughters of all wemens race, 205

And angels eke, in beautie doth excell,

JSparlc:eQ on her from Gods owne glorious face,

And more mcreasi by her owne goodly grace,

That it doth farre exceed all humane thought,

Ne can on earth compared be to ought. 210

Ne could that painter (had he lived yet)

AViiich pictured Venus with so curious quill,

That all posteritis admyred it,

iiave pnrtray'd this, fur all his maistring skill ;

Ne she her selfe, had she remained still, 215

Anii tvere as faire as fabling wits do fayne,

Could once come neare this beauty soverayne.

But had those wits, the wonders of the dayes,
Or that sweete Teian poet, which did spend
His plenteous vaine in setting forth her praise, 220
Seen but a glims of this which I pretend,
How wondrously would he her face commend,
Above that idole of his fayning thought,
That all the world should with his rimes bs
fraught !

How then dare I, the novice of his art, 225

Presume to picture so divine a wight.
Or hope t' expresse her least perfections part.
Whose beautie filles the heavens with her light.
And darkes the earth with shadows of her sight 1
Ah, gentle muse ! thou art too weake and faint 230
'i'he pourtraict of so heavenly hew to paint.

Let angels, which her goodly face behold

And see at will, her soveraigne praises sing,

And those most sacred mysteries unfold

Of that faire love of mightie heavens King ; 235

Enough is me t' admyre so heavenly thing,

And, being thus with her huge love possest.

In the only wonder of her selfe to rest.

But whoso may, thrise happie man him hold,

Of all en earth whom God so much doth grace, 240

And lets his owne beloved to behold ;

For in the view ot her celestial! lace

All icy, all blisse, all hiipjiinesse, have pkce ;

Ne ought on ^i.J-tl) cm want unto tlie wight

Who of her seJe ta-i win the wishful sight. 215

For she, out of her secret threasury

Plentie of riches forth on him will ])Owre,

Even heavenly riches, which there hidden ly

Within the closet of lier chastest bowre,

Tir eternall portion of her precious dowre. 250

Which mighty God hath given to her free,

And to all those which thereof worthy bee.

None thereof worthy be, but those whom shee
Vouchsafeth to her presence to receave.
And letteth them her lovely face to see, 255

Whereof such wordrnns pleasures they conceave.
And sweete contentment, tliat it doth bereave
Their soul of sense, through infinite delight,
And them transport from flesh into the spright.

In which thay see such admirable things, 260

As carries them into an extasy,

And heare such heavenly notes and carolings,

Of Gods high praise, that filles the brazen sky ;

And feele sucli ioy and pleasure inwardly.

That rnaketh them all worldly cares forget, 26.5

And onely thinke on that before them set.

Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense,

Or idle thought of earthly things, remaine ;

But all that earst seemd sweet seemes now oflense.

And all that pleased eaist now seemes to paine; 270

Their ioy, their comfort, their desire, their gaine,

Is fixed all on that which now they see ;

All other sights but fayned shadowes bee.

And that faire lampe, which useth to inflame
'J'he hearts of men with selfe-consuming fyre 275
Thenceforth seemes fowle. and full of sint'ull blame ;
And all that pompe to which proud minds aspyre
By name of Honor., and so much desyre,
Seemes to them basenesse, and all riches drosse,
And all mirth sadnesse, and all lucre losse. 280

So full their eyes are of that glorious sight.

And senses fraught with such satietie.

That in nought else on earth they can delight.

But in the aspec of that felicitie.

Which they have written in their inward ey ; 285

On which they feed, and in iheyr fastened mynd

All happie ioy and full contentment fynd.

Ah, then, my hungry soule ! wh'ch long hast fed
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought.
And, with false Beauties flattring bait misled, 290
Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought.
Which all are fled, and now have left thee nought
But late repentance through thy follies prief ;
Ah ' ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief :

And looke at last up to that Soveraine Light, 295
From whose pure beams al perfect beauty springs.
That kindleth love in every godly spright
Even the love of God ; which loathing brings
Of this vile world and these gay-seeming things;
With whose sweet pleasures being so jiossest.
Thy straying thoughts henceforth for ever rest.

3 D

TiiKEB Visions.

J591.

VISIONS OF PETRARCH,

FORMERLY TRANSLATED.

Being one day at my window all alone,
So manie strange things happened mo to see.
As much it grieveth me to thinke thereon.
At my right hand a Hynde appear'd to mee,
So faire as mote the greatest god delite ;
Two eager dogs did her pursue in chace,
Of which the one was blacke, the other white :
With deadly force so in their cruell race
Tliey pincht the haunches of that gentle beast,
Jhat at the last, and in short time, I spide,
Under a rocke, where she, alas, opprest,
Fell to the ground, and there untimely dide.
Cruell death vanquishing so noble beautie,
Oft makes me wayle so hard a destenie.

After, at sea a tall ship did nppeare.
Made all of heben and vdiite yvorie;
The sailes of golde, of silke the tackle were .
Milde was the winde, calme seem'd the sea to bee,
The skie eachwhere did show full bright and faire:
^Vith rich treasures this gay ship fraighted was ;
But siiddcn storme did so turmoyle the aire.
And tumbled u]) the sea, that she (alas)
Strake on a rock, that under water lay,
And perished past all recoverie.
O ! how great ruth, and sorrowfull assay.
Doth vex my spirite with perplexitie,
Tlius in a moment to see lost and drown'd.
So great riches as like cannot be found.

The heavenly branches did T see arise
Out of the fresh and lustie lavvrell tree.
Amidst the young greene wood of Paradise ;
Some nol)le plant 1 thought myselfe to see:
Such store of birds therein ysluowded were,
Cliauntiug in shade their sundrie melodie,
I'Lat with tlieir sweetnes I was ravish't nere.
vVhilw on this laurell fixed was mine eie,

The skie gan everie where to overcast,
And darkned was the welkin all about.
When sudden flash of heavens fire out brast.
And rent this royall tree quite by the roote

Which makes me much and ever to coraplaine;

For no such shadow shalbe had agraine.

Within this wood, out of a rocke did rise

A spring of water, mildly rumbling downe,

Whereto approched not in anie wise

The homely shepheard, nor the ruder clowne ;

But manie muses, and the nymphes withal),

That sweetly in accord did tune their voyce

To the soft sounding of the waters fall •

That my glad hart thereat did much reioyce.

But, while herein I tooke my chiefe delight,

I saw (alas) the gaping earth devoure

The spring, the place, and all cleano out of

si^ht;
Which yet aggreeves my hart even to this houre.
And wounds my soule with rufull memorie,
To see such pleasures gon so suddenly.

I saw a Phoenix in the wood alone,
With purple wings, and crest of golden hewe ;
Strange bird he was, wherc^bv I thought anone.
That of some heavenly wight 1 had the vewe ;
Untill he came unto the broken tree,
And to the spring, that late devoured was.
What say 1 more? each thing at last we see
Doth passe away : the Phanix there alas,
Spying the tree destroid, the water dride,
Ilnnsc'lfe smote with his heake, as in disdaiiie,
Ami so foorthwith in great desjjight he dide ;
That yet my heart burnes, in exceeding j)aine,
For lulh and pitie of so haples plight:
O ! let mine eyes no more see such a sight.

THE VISIONS OF BELLAY.

4^3

At last so faire a ladie did I spie,
'Hint tliinkiiig yet on her I burne and quake ;
Oil liearbs and Howres she walked pensively,
]\IiKle, but yet Love she proudly did forsake :
White seem'd her robes, yet woven so they were,
As snow and golde together had been wrought :
.\bove the wast a darke cloude shrouded her,
A stinging- serpent by the heele her caught ;
A\'herewith she languisht as the gathered floure ;
And, well as>ur'd, she mounted up to ioy.
Alas, on earth so nothing doth endure,
!5ut bitter griefe and sorrowfuU annoy:

Which make this life wretched and miserable,
Tossed with stormes of fortune variable.

When I beheld this tickle trusties state
Of vaine worlds glorie, flitting too and fro.
And mortall men tossed by troublous fate
In restles seas of wretchednes and wcie ;
I wish I might this wearie life forgoe.
And shortly turne unto my happie rest.
Where my free spirite might not anie moe
Be vext with sights, that doo her peace molest.
And ve, faire ladie, in whose bounteous brest
All heavenly grace and vertue shrined is,
When ye, these rvfhmes doo read, and vew the rest.
Loath this base world, and thinke of heavens blis :
And though ye be the fairest of Gods creatures,
Yet thinke, that death shall spoyle your goodly
features.

THE VISIOiNS OF BELLAY.

It was the time, wlien rest, soft sliding downe
From heavens bight into mens heavy eyes.
In the forgetfulnes of sleepe doth drowne
'I'he carefull thoughts of mortall miseries ;
'I'hen did a ghost before mine eyes appeare.
On that great rivers banck, that runnes by Rome ;
W hich, calling me by name, bad me to reare
Mv lookes to heaven whence all good gifts do come,
And crying lowd, Lo ! now beholde (quoth hee)
What under this great temple placed is :
L j, all is nought but flying vanitee !
So I, t::at know this worlds inconstancies,
Sith oiiely God surmounts all times decay,
In God alone my confidence do stay.

()n high hills top I saw a stately frame,
An hundred cubits high by iust assize,
vv ith hundreth pillours fronting faire the same,
All wrouglit with diamond after Dorick wize :
Nor brick nor marble was the wall in view,
l!ut shining christall, which from top to base
Out of her womb a thousand rayons threw.
One ijundred steps of Afrike golds enchase :
Ciulde was the parget ; and the seeling bright
Did shine all scaly with great plates of golde ;
T he floore of iasp and emeraude was dight.
O worlds vainesse ! Whiles fhus I did behold,
An earthquake shooke the hill from lowest seat,
And overthrew this frame with ruine great.

Then did a sharped spyre of diamond bright.
Ten feete each way in square appeare to mee,
lustly proportion'd up unto his bight.
So far as archer might his level see :
Tiie top thereof a pot did seeme to beare,
Made of ihe mettall, which we most do honour ;
And in this golden vessel couched weare
Tlie ashes of a mighty emperour :
Upon foure corners of the base were pight,
'Jo beare the frame, foure great lyons of gold ;
A worthy tombe for such a worthy wiglit.
Alas, this world doth nought but grievance hold !
I saw a tempest from the heaven descend.
Which this brave monument with flash did rend.

I saw raysde up on yvorie pillowes tall,
Whose bases were of richest mettalls warte,
'J'he chapters alablaster, the fryses cliristall,
The double front of a triumph'all arke :
On each side purtraid was a Victorie,
Clad like a nimph, that winges of silver weares.
And in triumphmt chayre was set on hie.
The auncient glory of the Roman jjeares.
No worke it seem'd of earthly craftsmans wit,
But rather wrought by his owne industry.
That thunder-dartes for love his syre doth fit.
Let me no more see faire thing under sky,

Siih that mine eyes have seene so faire a sight
^Vith sodain fall to dust consumed quight.

Then was the faire Dodonian tree far seene.
Upon seaven hills to spread his gladsome gleame.
And conquerours bedecked with his o-reene.
Along tlie bancks of the Ausonian streame :
'J'liere many an auncient trophee was addrest,
And many a spoyle, and many a goodly show.
Which that brave races greatnes did attest,
1'hat whilome from the Troyan blood did flow.
Ravi.-ht I was so rare a thing to vew ;
When lo ! a barbarous troupe of clownish fone
Tlie honour of these noble boughs down threw :
Under the wedge 1 heard the tronck to grone ;
And. since, I saw the roote in great disdaine
A twinne of forked trees send forth againe.

I saw a wolfe under a rockie cave
Noursing two whelpes ; I saw her litle ones
In wanton dalliance the teate to crave, [noii.es :

While she her neck wreath'd from them for the
I saw lier raunge abroad to seeke her food.
And roming through the field with greedie rage
T'embrew her teeth and clawes witli lukewarm blood
Of the small herds, her thirst fur to asswage.
I saw a thousand huntsmen, which descended
Downe from the mountaines bordring Lombardie,
'I'liat with an hundred speares her flank wide rended
1 saw her on the plane outstretched lie,

'1 hrowing out thousand throbs in her owne so\ le :
Soone on a tree uphang'd I savi' her spoyle.
2 D 2

404

THE VISIONS nV Iii:f.LAY.

I saw the bird that can tlie sun endure,
With feeble wings assay to mount on bight ;
By more and more she gan her wings t'assure,
Following the ensam])le of her mothers sight
I saw her rise, and with a larger flight
To pierce the cloudes, and with wide pinneons
To measure the most haughtie raountaines bight,
Untill she raught the gods owne mansions :
There was she lost ; when suddaine 1 behelde,
Where tumbling through the ayre in fierie fold,
All flaming downe she on the plaine was felde,
And soone her bodie turn'd to ashes colde.
I saw the foule, that doth the light despise,
Out of her dust like to a worrae arise.

I saw a river swift, whose fomy bllowes

Did wash the ground-work of an old great wall ;

I saw it cover'd all with griesly shadowes.

That with black horror did the ayre appall :

Thereout a strange beast with seven heads arose,

That townes and castles under her brest did coure,

And seem'd both milder beasts and fiercer foes

Alike with equall ravine to devoure.

J\luch was I mazde, to see this monsters kinds

In hundred formes to change his fearefull hew ;

When as at length I saw the wrathful winile,

\\ hich blows cold storms, burst out of Scithian mew.

That sperst these cloudes ; and, in so short as
thought,

This dreadful] shape wns vanished to nought.

IX.

Then all astonied with this mighty ghoast,
An hideous bodie big and strong I sawe.
With side-long beard, and locks down banging loast,
Sterne face, and front full of Saturnlike awe
Who, leaning on the belly of a pot,
Pourd forth a water, whose out gushing flood
Ran bathing all the creakie shore aflot.
Whereon the Troyan prince spilt Turnus blood ;
And at his feete a bitch wolfe suck did yeeld
To two young babes : His left the palme tree stout.
His right hand did the peacefull olive wield ;
And head with lawrell garnislit was about.
Sudden both palme and olive fell away.
And faire greene lawrell branch did quite decay.

Ud'.d by a river side a virgin faire,

Folding her armes to heaven with thousand throbs,

And outraging her cheekes and golden haire.

To falling rivers sound thus tun\l her sobs.

" Where is (quoth she) this whilom honoured face ?

\\ here the great glorie and the auncient praise.

In which all worlds felicitie had place.

When gods and men my honour up did raise ?

Sufiis'd it not that civill warres me made

Tlie whole worlds spoile, but that this hydra new,

(^f hundred Hercules to be assalde,

With seven heads, budding monstrous crimes anew,

So many Neroes and Caligulaes

Out of these crooked shores must dayly rayse Y'

XI.

Upon an hill a bright flame I did see
Waving aloft with triple point to skie.
Which, like incense of precious cedar tree.
With balmie odours fil'd th' ayre farre and nie.

A bird all white, well feathered on each wing.
Hereout up to the throne of gods did flie.
And all the way most pleasant notes did sing.
Whilst in the smoake she unto heaven did stie.
Of this faire fire the scattered rayes forth threw
On everie side a thousand shining beames :
When sudden dropping of a silver dew [flames ;
(O grievous chance !) gan quench those precious
That it, %vbich earst so pleasant sent did yeld.
Of nothing now but noyous sulphure smeld.

Xll.

I saw a spring out of a rocke forth rayle.

As cleare as christall gainst the sunnie beames.

The bottome yellow, like the golden gravle

That bright Pactolus washeth with his streames ;

It seem'd that art and nature had assembled

All pleasure there, for which mans hart could long ;

And there a noyse alluring sleepe soft trembled.

Of maiiie accords more svveete than mermaids song .

The seates and benches shone as y vorie.

And hundred nymphes sate side by side about ;

When from nigh hills, with hideous oulcrie,

A troupe of Salyres in the place did rout,

Which with their villenie feete the streame did ray
Threw down the seats, and drove the nymphes away.

XIII.

Much richer then that vessell seem'd to bee,
Which did to that sad Florentine appeare.
Casting mine eyes farre oflf, I chaunst to see
Upon the Latine coast herselfe to reare:
But suddenly arose a tempest great,
Bearing close envie to these riches rare.
Which gan assade this ship with dreadfull threat.
This ship to which none other might compare:
And finally the stornie impetuous
Sunke up these riches, second unto none.
Within the gulfe of greedie Nereus.
I saw both ship and mariners each one.

And all that treasure, drowned in the maine-
But 1 the ship saw after raisd againe.

XIV.

Long having deeply gron'd these Visions sad,
I saw a citie like unto that same,
Which saw the messenger of tidings glad ;
But that on sand was built the goodly frame :
It seem'd her top the firmament did rayse.
And, no lesse rich than faire, right worlhie sure
(If ought here worthie) of immortall dayes.
Or if aught under heaven might firme endure.
Much wondred I to see so faire a wall :
When from the northerne coast a storme arose,
\\'hicli, bri'alhing fiirie from bis inward gall
On all which did against his course oppose.
Into a clowdeof dust sjierst in the aire
Tlie weake fountUuioiis of the citie faire.

XV.

At length, even at the time, when Morpheus

Mosttrulie doth unto our eyes appeare,

Wearie to see the heavens still wavering tbu^

I saw Typhccus sister comming neare;

Whuse head, full bravely with a morion hidd.

Did soeine to match the gods in maiestie.

She, by a rivers banke that swift downe slidd.

Over all the world did raise a tropliee hie ;

An hundred vanquisht kings under her lay,

^^ ith armes bound at tlicir backs in sluiniefuU wize

Whilst i thus mazed was with, great affray,

I saw the heavens in warre against her rize :

'I'hen downe she stricken fell with clap of thonder.
That with great noyse I wakte in sudden wonder

VISIONS OF THE WOKlDS \ AMTIE,

405

VISIOl^S OF THE WORLDS VANITIE.

One day, whiles that my daylie cares did sleepe.
My spirit shaking off her earthly prison,
Began to enter into meditation deepe
Of tilings exceeding reach of common reason ;
Such as this age, in which all good is geason,
And all that humble is, and meane debaced.
Hath brought forth in her last declining season,
Griefe of good mindes,to see goodnesse disgraced !
On which when as rav thought was throghly

placed,
Unto my eyes strange showes presented were,
Picturing that which I in minde embraced.
That yet those sights empassion me full nere
Such as they were (faire ladie !) take in worth.
That when time serves may bring things better
forth.

[I.

In summers day, when Pliabus fairly shone,

I saw a bull as white as driven snowe.

With gilden horaesembowed like the moone.

In a fresh fio wring meadow Iving lowe:

Up to his eares the verdant grasse did growe.

And the gay floures did offer to be eaten ;

But lie with fatnes so did overflovve,

That he all wallowed in the weedes downe beaten,

Ne car'd with them his daintie lips to sweeten :

Till that a brize, a scorned little creature.

Through his faire hide his angrie sting did threaten,

And vext so sore, that all his goodly feature

And all his plenteous pasture nought him pleased:
So by the small the great is oft diseased.

Beside the fruitful! shore of muddie Nile.

Upon a sunnie banke outstretchei hj

In monstrous length, a mightie crocodile.

That cram'd with guilties blood and greedie pray

Of wretched people travailing that way,

Thought all things lesse than his disdainfull

pride.
I saw a little bird cal'd Tedula,
The least of thousands which on earth abide.
That forst this hideous beast to open wide
The griesly gates of bis devouring hell.
And let him feede, as Nature did provide,
Upon his iawes, that with blacke venim swell.

Why then should greatest things the least dis-
daine,

Sith that so small so mightie can constraine 1

Tbe kingly bird, that beares loves thunder-clap.
One dav did scorne the simple scarabee.
Proud of his highest service, and good hiip,
That made all other fuules his thralls to bee •

The silly flie, that no redresse did see,
Spide where the eagle built his towring nest,
And, kindling fire within the hollow tree.
Burnt up his 3'ong ones, and hiinselfe distrest ;
Ne suffred him in anie place to rest.
But drove in loves owne lap his egs to lay ;
\\ here gathering also filth him to infest,
Forst with the filth his egs to fling away:

For which when as the foule waswroth, said love,
" Lo ! how the least the j^reatest may reprove."

Toward the sea turning my troubled eye,
I saw the fish (if fish I may it cleepe)
That makes the sea before his face to flye.
And with his flaggie finnes doth seeme to sweepe
The foniie waves out of the dreadfull deep,
The huge leviathan, dame Natures wonder.
Making his sport, that manie makes to weep:
A sword-fish small him from the rest did sunder,
'I'hat, in his throat him pricking softly under.
His wide abysse him forced ionh to spewe,
'I'hat all the sea did roare like heavens thunder,
And all the waves were stain'd with filthio hewe.
Hereby I learned have net to despise
Whatever thing seemes small in common eves.

An hideous dragon, dreadfull to behold,
W'hose backe wiis arm'd against the dint of speare
With shields ofbrasse that shone like burnisht golde,
And forkhed sting that death in it did beare.
Strove with a spider his unequall peare ;
And bad defiance to his enemie.
The subtill vermin, creeping closely neare,
Did in his drinke shed poyson privilie ;
VVhich, through his er.trailes spredding diversly,
RIade him to sweil, tnat nigh his bowells brust.
And him enforst to yeeld the victorie,
'I'hat did so much in his owne greatnesse trust.
O, how great vainnesse is it then to scorne
The weake, that hath the strong so oft forlorne !

High on a hill a goodly cedar grewe.
Of wondrous length, and stieight proportion,
That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe ;
Mongst all the daughters of proud Libanon,
Her match in beautie was not anie one.
Shortly within her inmost jjith there bred
A little wicked worme, jierceiv'd of none,
That on her sap and vitall moysture fed :
Thpnceforth hgi garland so much honoured
iie^an to die, (O great ruth for the same !)
And her faire lockes fell Irom her loftie head
That sho'tly halde and baied she became.

1, which this sight beheld, was much dismayed,
To see so goodly thing so soone decayed.

406

VISIONS OF THE WORLDS VAMTIE.

Soone after this I saw an elephant,
Adorn'd with bells and bosses gorgeouslie,
That on his backe did beare (as batteilant)
A gilden towre, which shone exceeding-lie;
That he himselfe through foolish vanitie,
Both for his rich attire, and g-oodly forme,
Was puffed up wit!) passing surquedrie,
And shortly gan all other beasts to scorne.
Till that a little ant, a silly worme,
Into his nostrils cres^^ing, so him pained.
That casting downe his towres, he did deforme
Both borrowed pride, and native beautie stained.
Let therefore nought, that great is, therein gloria,
Sith so small thing his happines may varie.

Looting far foorth into the ocean wide,
A goodly ship with banners bravely dight,
And flag in her top-gallant, I espide
Through the maine sea making her merry flight
Faire blew the wimle into her bosome right ;
And th' heavens looked lovely all the while ;
That she did seeme to daunce, as in delight.
And at her owne felicitie did smile.
Ail sodaniely there clove unto her keele
A little fish, that men call Remora,
Which stopt her course, and held her by the heele,
That winde nor tide could move her thence away.
Strauno-e thing, me seemetli, that so small a thin'
Should^able be so great an one to wring.

A mighty lyon, lord of all the wood.

Having his hunger throughly satisfide

With pray of beasts and spovle of living blood,

Sate in his dreadles den him thought V> hide :

His sterne-se was his prayse, his strength his pride

And all his glory in his cruell clawes,

1 saw a wasp, that fiercely him defide.

And bad him battaile even to his iawes :

Sore he liim stong, that it tlie blood forth diawoe,

And his proude lieart is fild with fretting ire •

In vaine he threats his teeth, his tuvle, his pawiM

And from his bloodie eyes doth sparkle fire:

That dead liimself he wi>-heth for desjiiglit.

So weakest may anoy the most of n^iglit !

What time the Romaine empire bore the raine
Of all the world, and florisht most in might,
The nations gan their soveraigntie disdaiue,
And cast to quitt them from their bondage quig
So, when all shrouded were in silent night.
The Galles were, by corrupting ol a m;ivck-,
Possest nigh of the Caj)itol through sligli!.
Had not a goose the treachery bevvra\(le ;
If then a goose great Rome from ruine stavde
And love himselfe, the patron of tiie j)l icc,
Preserved from being to his foes betrayde;
Why do vaine men mean things so much (lef;-i-i
And in their might rejiose their most assunm
Sith nousrht on earth can clmlenge Ion <;■(!:. iur.i

When these sad sights were overpast and gone.
My spright was greatly moved in her rest,
With inward rutli and deare affection.
To see so great things by so small distrest :
Thenceforih I gan in my engrieved brest
I'o scorne all difference of efreat and small,
Sith that the greatest often are oppresl.
And unawares doe into daun^er fall.
And ye, that read these mines tragicall,
Learne, by tlieir losse, to love the low degree.
And, if that fortune chauui^e you n[> to call
'lo honours seat, forget not what you be:
for he, tliat of himselfe is most seca.L-,
-■iiail fintie his state most fickle and unMiie.

PKOSOPOPOIA :

OR,

MOTHER HIIBBERDS TALE,

BY ED. SP.

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE

THE LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.
1591.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE

LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.

Most faire and vertuous ladie ; having often
Bought opportunitie by some good meanes to make
knowen to your ladiship the humble affection and
faithful! dutie, which I have alwaies professed, and
am bound to beare to that house, from whence yes
spring, I have at lenglh found occasion to remember
the same, by making a simple present to you of
these my idle labours ; which having long ^ithens
composed in the raw conceipt of my youth, I lately
amongst other papers lighted upon, and was by

others, which liked the same, moored to set them
foorth. Simple is the device, and the composition
meane, yet carrieth some delight, even tlie rather
because of the simplicitie and meannesse thus per-
sonated. The same I beseech your ladiship take in
good part, as a pledge of that profession which I
have made to you ; and keepe with you untill, with
some other more worthie labour, 1 do redeems it out
of your hands, and discharge my utmost dutie. Till
tiien wishing your ladiship all increase of honour
and happinesse, I humblie take leave.

Your La : ever humbly ;

Ed. Sp.

It was the month, in wliich the righteous maide,

Ihat for disdaine of sinfuU worlds upbraide

Fled back to heaven, whence she was first conceived.

Into her silver bowre the sunne received ;

And tlie hot Svrian dog on him awayting, 5

After the chafed lyons cruell bavting.

Corrupted had th' avre with his noysome breath.

And powr'd on th' earth plague, pestilence, and

Emongst the rest a wicked maladie. [death.

RaignM emongst men, that manie did to die, 10

Depriv'd of sense and ordinarie reason ;

That it to leaches seemed strange and greason.

jNIv fortune was, mongst manie others moe.

To be partaker of their common woe ;

And my weake bodie, set on fire with griefe,

Was rob'd of rest and naturall reliefe,

In this ill plight, there came to visite mee

Some friends, who, sorie my sad case to see,

Fegan to comfort me in chearfull wist^,

And meanes of gladsome solace to devise.

But set-ing kindly sleep refuse to doe

His office, and my feeble eyes forgoe.

They sought my troubled sense how to deceave
With talke, that might unquiet fancies reave ;
And, sitting all in seates about me round, 25

With pleasant tales (fit for that idle stound)
They cast in course to waste the weaiie howres :
Some tolde of ladies, and their paramoures ;
Some of brave knights, and their renowned squires ;
Some of the faeries and their strange attires ; 30
And some of giaunts, hard to be beleeved ;
That the deligiit thereof me much releeved.
Amongst the rest a good old woman was,
Hight Mother Hubberd, who did farre snrpas
The rest in honest mirth, that seem'd her well ; 53
She, when her turne was come her tale to tell,
Tolde of a strange adventure, that betided
Betwixt the foxe and th' ape by him misguided
The wliich for that my sense is oreatly jileased.
All were my spirite lieavie and diseased, 40

lie write in termes, as she the same did say,
So well as 1 her words remember may.
No muses aide me needes liereto to coll ;
Base is the style, and matter meane withall.

INIOTIIErv HUBBERDS TALK,

•[ Whilomefsiiiil .she ) fietore the world was civill,
Tlie foxe '.md tli' niip, dislikiiip,- of their evill 46

And liard estnte, deterniiiifd to seete
Their fortunes farre abroad, lyeke wiili his lyeke :
For both were craftie and uidiapjiie wilted ;
Two fellowes might no where be better fitted. 50
The foxe, that first tliis canse of griefe did finde,
Gan first tlius plaine bis case with words unkinde.
" Neighbour fjie, and my goship eke beside,
(Both two sure bands in friendship to be tide,)
To whom may I more trustely complaine 55

The evill plight, that doth me sore constraiue,
And hope thereof to finde due remedie?
Heare then my paine and inward agonie.
Thus manie jeares I now have spent and worne,
In meane regard, and basest fortunes scorne, 60

Dooing my countrey service as I might.
No lesse 1 dare sale than the prowdest wight ;
And still I hoped to be up advaunced,
For mv good parts ; but still it hath mischaunced.
Now therefore that no lenger liope I see, 65

But froward fortune still to follow mee,
And losels lifted high, where I did looke,
I meane to turne the next leafe of the booke.
Yet, ere that anie way I doo betake,
I meane my gossip, privie first to make." 70

" Ah! my deare gossip, (answer'd then the ape,)
Deeply doo your sad words my wits awhape.
Both for because your griefe doth great appears.
And eke because my selfe am touched neare :
For 1 likewise have wasted much good time, 75

Still wayting to preferment up to clime,
^V Idlest others alwayes have before me stept,
And from my beard the fat away have swept ;
'J'hat now unto despaire I gin to growe
And meane for better winde about to throwe. 80
Therefore to me, my trustie friend, aread
'J'hv couucell : two is better than one head."
" Certes (said he) I meane me to disguize
In some straunge habit, after uncouth wize,
Or like a pilgrim, or a lymiter, 85

Or like a gipsen, or a iuggeler.
And so to wander to the worldl^sende.
To seeke my fortune, where I may it mende :
For worse than that I have I cannot meete.
Wide is the world 1 wote, and everie streets 90

Is full of fortunes, and adventures straunge,
Continualliesubiect unto chaunge.
Say, my faire brother now, if this device
Doth like you, or may you to like entice."
" Surely (said th' ape) it likes me wondrous well ;
And, would ye not j)oore fellowship expell, 96

Rly selfe would offer you t' accomjianie
In this adventures chauncefuU ieopardie:
For to wexe olde at home in idlejiesse.
Is disadventurous, and quite fortunelesse ; 100

Abroad where change is, good may gotten bee."
The foxe was glad, and (juickly did agree :
So both resolv'd, the morrow next ensuing,
!So soone as day api)eard to peoples vewing,
On their intended iourney to proceeds ; 105

And over night, whatso theretoo did neede.
Each did prepare, in readines to bee.
Tlie morrow next, so soone as one might see
Light out of heavens windowes forth to looks,
Botii their habiliments unto them tooke, 110

And put themselves (a gods name) on their way ;
Whenas the ape, beginning well to wey
I'his hard adventure, thus began t' advise:
' .Now read. Sir Keynold, as ye be right wise.

What course ye weene is best for us to take, 115

That for our selves we may a living make.

Whether shall we ]irofesse some trade or skill?

Or shall we varie our device at v.ill.

Even as new occasion appeares?

Or shall we tie our selves for ceriaine yeares 120

'i'o anie service, or to anie place 1

For it behoves, ere that into the race

VVs enter, to resolve first hereupon."

" Now surelv brother (said the foxe anon^

Ye have this matter motioned in season : 125

For everie thing that is begun with reason

Will come by readie meanes unto his end ;

But things miscounselled must needs misweiid.

Thus therefore I advize upon the case,

Tiiat not to anie certaine trade or place, 1I:>0

Nor anie man, we should our selves applie ;

For why should he that is at libertie

Make himsslfe bond 1 siih then we are free borne,

Let us all servile base suhieciion scorne;

And, as we bee sonnes of the world so wide, 135

Let us our fiithers heritage divide.

And chalenge to our selves our portions du«

Of all the patrimonie, whicl) a few

Now hold in hugger mugger in their hand,

And all the rest doo rob of good and land. 140

For now a few have all, and all have nought,

^'et all be brethren ylike dearly bought :

Tiiere is no right in this partition,

Ne was it so by institution

Ordained first, ne by the law of nature, 14i

But that she gave like blessing to each creture

As well of worldly livelode as of life,

'I'hat there miglit be no difference nor strife,

Nor ought cald mine or thine: thrice happie then

Was the condition of mortall men. 150

That was the golden age of Saturne old,

But tliis might better be the world of gold :

For without golds novi- nothing wilbe got,

Therefore (if please you) this shalbe our plot ;

Ws will not be of anis occupation, 155

Let such vile vassalls borne to base vocation

Drudge in the world, and for their living droyle,

Which have no wit to live witljouten toyle-

But we will vvalke about the world at pleasure

Like two free men, and make our ease a treasure.

Free men some beggers call, but they be free ; 161

And they which call them so more beggers bee:

For they doo swinke and sweate to feed the other.

Who live like lords of that which they doo gather.

And yet doo never thanke them for the sams, 36.')

But as their due by nature doo it clame.

Such will we fashion both out selves to bee.

Lords of the world ; and so will wander free,

Where so us listeth, uncontnd'd of anis :

Hard is our hap, if we (emongst so mauie) 170

Ligiit not on some that may our state amend ;

Sildome but some good commeth ere the end."

Well seenul tiie ajie to like tliis ordinaunce :

Yet, well considering of the circunistauncc.

As pausing in great doubt awhile he staid, 175

And afterwards with grave advizement said;

" I cannot, my lief brotlier, like but well

'J'he purpose of the complot which ys tell :

For well 1 wot (conipar'd to all the rsst

Of each degree) that beggers life is best: 180

And tiiey, that thinke themselves the best of all,

Oft-times to begging are content to fall.

liut this 1 wot withall, that we shall ronnq

Into great daunger like to bee undonne.

MOTHER FfUBBERDS TALE.

409

Wildlv to wander thus in tlie worlds eye, 185

U'ithouten passport or ijood warrantie,

For feare least we like roi^ues should be reputed,

And for eare-marked beasts abroad be bruted ;

Therefore 1 read, that we our councells call.

How to prevent this mischiefe ere it fall, 190

And how we may, with most securitie,

Beo; amongst those that beg-sjers doo defie.''

" Right well, deere gossip, ye advized have,

(Said then the foxe,) but I this doubt will save :

For, ere we farther passe, I will devise 195

A passport for us both in fitte'st wize.

And by the names of souldiers us protect ;

Thai, now is thought a civilly begging sect.

Be you the souldier ; for vou likest are

For manly semblance, and small skill in warre : 200

I will but wayte on you, and, as occasion

Falls out, mv selfe fit for the same will fashion."

The passport ended, both they forward went;

The ape clad souldierlike, fit for th* intent.

In a blew iacket with a crosse of redd 205

And manie slits, as if that he had shedd

Much blood through many wounds therein receaved.

Which had the use of his right arm bereaved ;

Upon his head an old Scotch cap he wore,

With a plume fe;ither all to peeces tore : 210

His breeclies were made after the new cut,

Al Portuguese, loose like an emp'ie gut ;

And his hose broken high above the heeling.

And his shooes beaten out with traveling.

But neither sword nor dagger he did beare ; 215

Seemes that no foes revengement he did feare ;

In stead of them a handsome bat he held,

On which he leaned, as one farre in elde.

Shame light on him, that through so false illusion,

Doth turne the name of souldiers to abusion, 220

And that, which is the noblest mysterie.

Brings to reproach and common infamie !

Long they thus travailed, yet never met

Adventure, whicli might them a working set :

Yet manie waies they sought, and manie tryed ; 225

Yet for their purposes none fit espyed,

At last they chaunst to meet upon the way

A simple husbandman in garments gray ;

\et, th^jugh his vesture were but meane and baee,

A good yeoman he was of honest place, 230

.\nd more for thrift did care than for gay clothing :

Gay withdut good, is good hearts greatest loathing.

J'lie foxe, him spying, bad the ape liim dight

To play his part, for loe ! be was in sight,

Tlint (if he er'd not) should them entertaine, 235

And yeeld ihem timely profile for their ])aine.

Eftsoones the ape himselfe gan up to reare,

And on his shoulders high his bat to beare,

As if good service he were fit to do ;

But little thrift for him he (id it to : 240

And stoutly forward he his steps did straine.

That like a handsome swaine it him became :

When as they nigh approached, that good man,

Seeing them wander loosely, first began

T' enquire of custome, what and whence they were ?

To whom the ape ; " I am a souldiere, 246

That late in warres have spent my deerest blood.

And in long service lost both limbs and good ;

And now, constrain'd that trade to overgive,

I driven am to seeke some meanes to live : 250

Which might it you in pitie please t' aftbrd,

I would be readie, buth in deed and word

To doo you faithfull service all mv daves,

TLisyron v/orld (that same he w-eping sayes)

Brings downe the stowtest hearts to lowest state : 25.5

For miserie doth bravest niindes abate.

And make them seeke for that they wont to scorne,

Of fortune and of hope at once forlorne."

The honest man, that heard him thus complaine,

Was griev'd, as he had felt part of his paine ; 260

And, well dispos'd him some reliefe to showe,

Askt if in husbandrie he ought did knowe,

i'o plough, to i^laiit, to reap, to rake, to sowe,

To hedge, to ditch, to thrash, to thetch, to mowe ;

Or to what labour els he was prepared 265

For husbands life is labourous and hard.

\Vhenas the ape him hard so much to taike

Of labour, that did from his liking balke,

He would have slipt the coller handsomely.

And to him said ; "Good sir, full glad am I, 270

To take what paines may anie living wiiiht:

Hut my laie mavmed limbs lack wonted might

To doo their kindly services, as needeth :

Scarce this right hand the mouth with diet feedeth.

So that it may no painfull worke endure, 275

Ne to strong labour can it selfe enure.

But if that anie other place you have,

Which askes small paines, but thriftines to save.

Or care to overlooke, or trust to gather.

Ye may me trust as your owne ghostlv father." 280

With that the husbandman gan him avize,

That it for him were fittest exercise

Catiell to keep, or grounds to oversee ;

And asked him, if he could willing bee

Jo keep his sheep, or to attend his swyne, 285

Or watch his mares, or take his charge of kyne?

" Gladly (said he) what ever such like paine

Ye put on me, I will the same sustaine :

lint gladliest 1 of your flercie slieepe

(.Might it vou please) would take on me the keep.

For, ere that unto amies I me betooke, 291

Unto my fathers sheepe I usdeto looke.

That yet the skill thereof 1 have not loste :

Thereto right well this curdog, by m}' coste,

(Weaning the foxe) will serve my sheepe lo gather,

And drive to follow after their bel wether." 296

'i he husbandman was meanly well content

Triall to make of his endevourment :

And, home him leadin^i, lent to him the charge

Of all his flocke, with libertie full large, 300

Giving accom])t of th' annuall increace

Both of their lambi-s, and of their woolley fleece.

Thus is this a])e become a siieapheard swaine.

And the false foxe his dog : (God give them paine '. )

For ere the veare have halfe his course out-run, 305

.\nd doo returne from whence he first begun,

They shall him make an ill accompt of thrift.

Now wlienas time, flying with wiiiges swift,

!• xpired had the terme. that these two iavels

Should render up a reckiiing of their travels 310

Unto their master, which it of them sought,

l-.xeeedingly they troubled were in thought,

Ne wist what aiiswere unto him to frame,

Ne how to scape great punishment, or shame,

For their false treason and vile tlieeverie : 315

For not a lambe of all their fiockes supjiiy

Had they to shew ; but, ever as they bred,

Ihey slue them, and upon their fleshes fed ;

For that disguised dog lov'd blood to spill.

And drew tlie wicked shepheard to his will. 320

So twixt them both they not a lambkin left ; [reft ;

And, when lambes fail'd, the old sheepes lives they

'i'hat how t' ac(|Uite thnmsel ves unto their lord

They were, in doubt, and flatly set abord.

410

MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.

The foxe then counsel'd th' ape for to require 325
Respiie till niorrow t'answere his desire :
For times delay new liope of helpe still breeds,
The good man granted, doubting- nought their deeds,
And bad next day that all should readie be.
But they more subtill meaning' had than he : 330
For the next morrovres meed they closely ment,
For feare of afterclaps, for to prevent :
And that same evening, when all shrowded were
In careles sleep, they without oare or feare
Cruellv fell upon their flock in folde, 335

And of them slew at pleasure what thf'y wolde :
Of which whenas they feasted had theii fill,
For a full complement of all their ill,
They stole awav, and tooke their hastie flight,
Carried in clowdes of all-concealing night. 340

So was the husbandman left to his losse,
And thev unto their fortunes change to tosse.
After which sort thev wandered long while.
Abusing manie through their cloaked guile ;
That at the last they gan to be descryed
Of everie one, and all their sleights espyed.
So as their begging now them failed quyte,
For none would give, but all men would them wyte;
Yet would ^hey take no paines to get their living,
But seeke some other wav to gaine by giving, 350
Much like to begging, but much better named ;
For manie beg, which are thereof ashamed.
And now the foxe had gotten him a gowne,
And th' ape a cassocke sidelong hanging downe ;
For they their occupation meant to change, 355

And now in other state abroad to range :
For, since their souldiers pas no better spedd,
They forg'd another, as for clerkes booke redd.
^Vho passing foorth, as their adventures fell, 359
Through manie haps, which needs not here to tell ;
At length chaunst with a formall priest to meete,
Whom they in civill manner first did greete,
And after askt an almes for Gods deare love.
The man straight way his choler up did move,
And with reproachfull tearmes gan them revile, 365
For following that trade so base and vile ;
And askt what license, or what pas they had ?
" Ah ! (said the ape as sighing wondrous sad)
Its an hard case, when men of good deserving
Must either driven be perforce to sterving, 370

Or asked for their pas by everie squib.
That li.-t at will them to revile or snib :
And yet (God wote) small oddes I often see
Twixt them that aske, and them that asked bee.
Natheles because you shall not us misdeeme, 375
But that we are as honest as we seeme,
Yee shall our j)asport at your pleasure see,
And then ye will (I hojie) well moved bee."
iVhich when the priest beheld, he view'd it nere.
As if therein some text he studying were, 380

But little els (God wote) could thereof skill :
For read he could not evidence, nor will,
!Ne tell a written word, no write a letter,
Ne make one title worse, ne make one better :
Of such deep learning little had he neede, 385

Me yet of Latine, ne of Greeke, that breede
Doubts mongst divines, and difference of texts,
from wlience aris'- diversitie of sects.
And hateful! heresies, of God abhor'd :
Hut this good sir did follow the plaine word, 390
Ne medled with their co:.troversies vaine ;
All his care was, his service well to saine.
And to .read homelies upon holidayes :
When that was done, he might attend his playes ;

An easie life, and fit High God to please. 395

He, having overlookt their pas at ease,

Gan at the length them to rebuke againe,

That no good trude of life did entertaine,

But lost their time in wandring loose abroad :

Seeing the world, in which they booties boad, 400

Had waves enough for all therein to live ;

Such grace did God unto his creatures give.

Said then the foxe ; " Who hath the world not tride,

From the right way full eath may waiit'i?r wide.

We are but novices, new come abroad, 40."i

We have not yet the tract of anie troad,

jVor on us taken anie state of life,

But readie are of anie to make preife. [proved.

Therefore might please you, which the world have

Us to advise, which forth but lately moved, 410

Of some good course, that we might undertake ;

Ye shall for ever us your bondmen make."

The priest gan wexe halfe proud to be so praide,

And thereby willing to affoord them aide ;

" It seemes (said lie) rin-ht well that ye be clerks.

Both by your wittie words, and by your werks. 416

Is not that name enough to make a living

To him that hath a whit of Natures giving ?

How manie honest men see ye arize

Uaylie thereby, and grow to goodly prize ; 420

To deanes, to archdeacons, to commissaries,

To lords, to principalis, to prebendaries '!

AH ioUy prelates, worthie rule to beare,

Who ever them envie : yet spite bites neare.

Why should ye doubt then, but that ye likewise

IMiglit unto some of those in time arise ? 426

In the meane time to live in good estate.

Loving that love, and hating those that hate ',

Being some honest curate, or some vicker.

Content with little in condition sicker. ["great,

" Ah ! but (said th' ape) the charge is wondrous

To feed mens soules, and hath an heavie threat,' 432

'• To feed mens soules, (quoth he) is not in man :

For they must feed themselves, doo what we can.

We are but charg'd to lay the meate before : 43.3

Eate they that list, we need to doo no more.

Rut God it is that feedes them with liis grace,

Tlie bread of life powr'd downe from heavenly place.

Therefore said he, that with the budding rod

Did rule the lewes, All shalhe taught of God. 440

'Jhat same hath lesus Christ now to him raught.

By whom the flock is rightly fed, and taught:

He is the shepheard, and the priest is liee ;

We but his shepheard swaines ordain'd to bee.

Therefore herewith doo not your selfe dismay ; 445

Ne is the paines so great, but beare ye may ;

For not so great, as it was wont of yore,

It's now a dayes, ne halfe so streight and sore :

They whiloine used duly everie day

Their service and their holie things to say, 450

At morne and even, besides their anthenies sweete.

Their penie masses, and their comjilynes meete,

Their dirigi'S, their trentals, and their shrifts.

Their memories, their singings, and their gifts.

Now all those needlesse works are laid av^ay ; 455

Now once a weeke, upon the Sabbath day.

It is enough to doo our small devotion,

And then to follow any nierrie motion.

Ne are we tyde to fast, but when we list ;

Ne to weare garments base of wollen twist, 460

But with the finest silkes us to aray,

That before God we may a])peare more gay.

Resembling Aarons glorie in his jjhice :

For farre unfit it is, that person bace

MOTHER IlUBBEllDS TALE.

411

Should with vi'.e cloatlis approach Gods Maiestie,

Whom no uncleannes may upproacben nie ; 466

Or that all men, which anie master serve,

Good garments for their service should deserve :

But he that serves the Lord of Hoasts iMost High,

And that in highest place t' approach him nigh, 470

And all the peoples jn-ayt-rs to present

Before his throne, as on ambassage sent

Both to and fro, should not deserve to weare

A garment better, than of wooll or heire.

Besides, we may have lying by our sides 475

Our lovely lasses, or bright shining brides ;

We be not tyde to wilfull chastitie,

Rut have the gospell of free iibertie."

By that he ended had liis ghostly sermon.

The foxe was well induc'd to be a parson ; 480

And of the priest eftsoones gan to enquire.

How to a benefice he might aspire.

" Marie, there (said the priest) is arte indeed :

Much good deep learning one thereout may reed ;

For that the ground-worke is, and end of all, 48.5

How to obtaiue a beneficiall.

First therefore, when ve have in handsome wise

Your selfe attyred, as you can de\'ise,

Then to some nobleman your selfe applye.

Or other great one in the worldes eye, 490

That h.atha zealous disposition

"lo God, and so to his religi m :

There must thou fashion eke a godly zeale,

Such as no carpers may contrayre reveale :

for each thing fained ought more warie bee. 495

There thou must walke in sober gravitee.

And seeme as saintlike as Saint Radegund :

Fast much, pray oft, looke lowly on the ground.

Ami unto everie one doo curtesie meeke :

These lookes (nought saving) doo a benefice seeke.

And be thou sure one not to lacke ere long. 501

But if thee list unto the court to throng,

And there to hunt after the hoped pray.

Then must thou thee dispose another way :

For there thou needs must learne to laugh, to lie,

To face, to forge, to scoffe, to companie, 506

To crouche, to please, to be a beetle stock

Of thy great masters will, to scorne, or mock :

So maist ihou chaunce mock out a benefice,

Unlesse thou canst one coniure by device, 510

Or cast a figure for a bishoprick ;

And if one could, it were but a schoole trick.

'Ihese be the wayes, by which without reward

Livings in court be gotten, though full hard ;

For nothing there is done without a fee : 515

The courtier needes must recompenced bee

With a benevolence, or have in gage

1 be primities of your parsonage :

Scarse can a bishoprick forpas them by.

But that it must be gelt in privitie. ' 520

Doo not thou therefore seeke a living there.

But of more private persons seeke elsewhere,

Whereas thou maist compound a better penie,

Ne let thy learning question 'd be of anie.

For some good gentleman, that hath the right 525

Unto his church for to present a wight,

Will cope with thee in reasonable wise ;

Tliai if the living yerely do arise

To fortie pound, that then his youngest sonne

Shall twentie have, and tweutie thou hast wonne :

i hou hast it wonne, for it is of franke gift, 531

And he will care for all the rest to shilt ;

Both that the bishop may admit of thee.

And that therein thou maist maintained bee.

This is the way for one that is uiilera'd 535

Living to get, and not to be discern'd.

But they, that are great clerkes, have nearer waves,

For learning sake to living them to raise :

Yet manie eke of them (God wote) are driven

T' accept a benefice in peeces riven. "SIO

How saist thou (friend) have 1 not well discour>t

Upon this common-place, though ])laine,not woui-.st'?

Better a short tale than a bad long shriving:

Needes anie more to learne to get a living !"

" Now sure, and by my hallidome, (quoth he^ 545

Ye a great master are in your degree :

Great thankes I yeeld you for your discipline,

And doo not doubt but duly to encline

]\Iy wits theretoo, as ye shall shortly heare."

The jiriest him wisht good speed, and well to iare :

So parted they, as eithers way them led. 551

But th' ape and foxe ere long so well them sped.

Through the priests holesome counsell lately taught,

And throgh their owae faire handling wisely wroght.

That they a benefice twixt them obtained ; 555

And craftie Reynold was a priest ordained ;

And th' ape liis parish clarke procur'd to bee:

Then made they revell route and goodly glee.

But, ere long time had passed, they so ill

Did order their afiaires, that th' evill will 560

Of all their parishners they had constraind ;

Who to the ordinarie of them complain'd.

How fowlie they their olfices abus'd,

And them of crimes and heresies accus'd ;

That pursivants he often for them sent : 565

But they neglecting his commaundement,

So long persisted obstinate and bolde,

Till at the length he published to holde

A visitation, and them cyted thether :

Then was high time their wits about to geather ; 570

What did they then, but made a composition

With their next neighbor priest for light condition,

To whom their living they resigned (juight

For a few pence, and ran aw;iy by night.

So passing through the countrey in disguize, 575

They fled farre oil', where none might them surprize,

And after that long straied here and there,

Through everie field and forrest farre and nere ;

Yet never found occasion for '.heir tourne.

But, almost sterv'd, did much lament and mourne,

At last they chaunst to meete upon the way 581

The mule all deckt in goodly rich amy.

With bells and bosses that full lowdly rung,

And costly trappings that to ground downe hung.

Lowly they him saluted in meeke wise ; 585

But he through pride and fatnes gan despise

Their meanesse ; scarce vouchsafte them to requite.

U hereat the foxe deep groning in his sprite,

Said ; " Ah ! sir mule, now blessed be the day,

That I see you so goodly and so gay 590

In your attyres, and eke your silken hyde

Fil'd with round flesh that everie bone doth hide.

Seeme; that in I'ruitfull pastures ye doo live.

Or fortune doth your secret favour give."

' Foolish foxe ! (said the mule) thy wretched need

Praiseth the thing that doth thy sorrow breed. 59C

For well I weene, thou canst not but envie

My wealth, compar'd to thine owne miserie.

That art so leane and meagre waxen late.

That scarse thy legs uphold thy feeble gate." 600

" Ay me ! (said then the foxe) whom evil Lap

Unworthy in such wretchednes doth wrap.

And makes the scorne of other beasts to bee :

But read, faire sir, of grace, from whence come yea j

412

MoriiKU iiL i'>ni:i?ns ialk.

Or wh;it of ti(lins;s jou abroad doo lieare ; 605

Newes may perhaps some good unvveeting beare."

" From royall court I lately came (said he,)

Where all the braverie that eye may see,

And all the hapjiinesse that heart desire.

Is to be found ; he nothing can admire, 610

That hath not scene that heavens portracture :

Mat tidings there is none I you assure,

Save that which common is, and knowne to all,

That courtiers as the tide doo rise and fall."

" But tell us (said the a]ie) we doo you pray 615

\\ ho now in court doth beare the greatest sway :

'Ihat, if such fortune doo to us befall.

We mav seeke favour of the best of all."

" ;\Iarie (said he) the highest now in grace,

Be the wilde beasts, that swiftest are in chase ; 620

For in their speedie course and nimble flight

The lyon now doth take the most delight ;

But cliieflie ioyes on foote them to beholde,

Encliaste with chaine and circulet of golde :

So wilde a beast so tame y taught to bee, 625

And buxome to his bands, is ioy to see ;

So well his golden circulet him beseemeth ;

But his late chayne his liej;e unmeete esteemeth ;

For so brave beasts she loveth best to see

In the wilde forrest raunging fresh and free. 630

Therefore if fortune thee in court to live

In case thou ever there wilt hope to thrive,

To some of these thou must thy selfe apply ;

Els as a thistle-downe in th' ayre doth flie,

So vainly shah thou to and fro be lost, 635

And lose thy labour and thy fruitless cost.

And yet full few, which follow them I see,

For vertues bare regard advaunced bee,

But either for some gainfull benefit.

Or that they may for their owne turnes be fit. 640

Nath'les perhaps ye things may handle soe,

That ye may better thrive than thousands moe."

" But (said the ape) how shall we first come in.

That after we may favour seeke to win ?"

" How els (said he) but v^-ith a good bold face, 645

And with big words, and with a s ately pace,

'I'hat men may thinke of you in general].

That to be in you, which is not at all :

For not by that which is, the world now deemeth,

(As it was wont) but by that same that seemetii. 650

Ne do I doubt but that ye well can fashion

Your selves theretoo, according to occasion :

So fare ve well, good courtiers may )'e bee !"

So, proudlie neighing, from them parted bee.

Then gan this craftie couple to devize, 655

How for the court themselves they might aguize :

For thither they themselves meant to addresse.

In hope to (inde there hapi)ier successe.

So well they shifted, that the a{)e anon

Himselfe had cloathed like a gentleman, 660

And the slie foxe, as like to be liis groome,

That to the court in seemly sort they come ;

Where the fond ape, himselfe uprearing by,

Ujjod his ti[)toes, stalketh stately by,

As if he were some great niagnilico, 665

And boldlie doth amongst the boldest go ;

And his man Revnald, with fine counterfesaunce.

Supports his credite and his countenaunce.

Then gan the courtiers t;aze on everie side.

And stare on him, with big lookes basen-wide, 670

Wondering what mister wight he was, and whence .

I"or he was cUid in strange accoustrements,

Fashion'd with queint devises never seene

In court before, yet there all fashions beeue;

675

\ et he them in newfanglednesse did pas :

iiut his behaviour altogether was

Alia Turchesca. much the more admyr'd ;

And his lookes loftie, as if he aspyr'd

To dignitie, and sdeign'd the low degree ;

That all which did such strangenesse in him see, 680

By secrete meanes gan of his state enquire.

And privily his servant thereto hire :

Who, througly arm'd against such coverture.

Reported unto all, that he was sure

A noble gentleman of high regard, 683

Which through the world had with long travel far'd.

And seene the manners of all beasts on ground ;

Now here arriv'd, to see if like he found.

Thus did the ape at first him credit gaine,

Which afterwards he wisely did maintaine 690

With gallant showe, and daylie more argument

Through his fine feates and courtly complement ;

For he could play, and daunce, and vaute, and spring.

And all that els pertaines to reveling,

Onely through kindly aptnes of his ioynta. 695

Besides he could doo mauie other poynts,

The which in court him served to good stead :

For he mongst ladies could their fortunes read

Out of their hands, and merie leasings tell.

And iuggle finely, that became him well : 700

But he so light was at legierdemaine.

That what he loucht, came not to light againe ;

Yet would he laugh it out, and proudly looke.

And tell them, that they greatly him mistooke.

So would he scott'e them out with mockerie, 705

For he therein had great felicitie ;

And witJi sharp quips ioy'd others to deface.

Thinking that their disgracing did him grace :

So whilst that other like vaine wits he pleased,

And made to laugh, his heart was greatly eased. 710

But the right gentle minde woulde bite his lip,

']'o heare the lavell so good men to nip :

For, though the vulgar yeeld an open eare.

And common courtiers love to gybe and fleare

At everie thing, which they heare spoken ill, 715

And the best speaches with ill meaning spill ;

Yet the brave courtier, in whose beauteous thought

Regard of honour harbours more than ought,

L)oth loath such base condition, to backbite

Anies good name for envie or despite: 720

He stands on tearmes of honourable minde,

Ne will be carried with tiie common winde

Of courts inconstant mutab.litie,

Ne after everie tattling fable flie ;

but heares, and sees, the follies of the rest, 725

And thereof gathers for iiimselfe the best :

He will not crecj)e, nor crouche with fained face,

But walkes upright with comely stedlast pace.

And unto all doth yeeld due curtesie;

But not with kissed hand belowe the knee 730

As that same apish crue is wont to doo :

For he disdaines himselfe t' embase theretoo

He hates fowle leasings, and vile flatterie,

'J'wo filthie blots in noble gentrie ;

And lothefull idlenes he doth detest, 735

'J'he canker worme of everie gentle brest ;

The which to banish with faire exercise

Of knightly feates, he davlie doth devise:

Now nienaging the mouthes of stubborne steedes.

Now practisinj; the proofe of warlike deedes, 740

Now his bright arnies assaying, now his speare,

Now the nigh aymed ring away to beare ;

At other times he casts to sew the chace

Of swift wilde beasts, or runne on foote a race

MOTHER HUBRERDS TALE.

413

750

755

reo

770

775

T' enlarge his breath, (large breath in armes most

needfull,)
Or (As by wrestling to wex strong and heedfull, 746
Or hisstiffe armes to stretch with eughen bowe,
And manly legs still passing too and froe,
Without a gowned beast him fust beside,
A vaine ensamide of the Persian pride;
Who, after he had wonne tli' Assyrian foe,
Did ever after scorne on foote to goe.
Thus when this courtly gentleman with toyle
Himselfe hath wearied, he doth recoyle
Unto his rest, and tliere with sweete delight
Of musicks skill n-vives his toyled spright ;
Or els with loves, and ladies gentle sports,
The ioy of youth, himselfe he recomforts :
Or lastly, when the bodie list to pause.
His minde unto the muses he withdrawes ;
Sweete ladie muses, ladies of delight.
Delights of life, and ornaments of light !
With whom he close confers with wise discourse,
Of natures woikes, of heavens continuall course,
Of forreine lands, of people different, 765

Of kingdomes change, of divers gouvernment,
Of dreadfull battailes of renowmed knights ;
\Vitli which he kindleth his ambitious sprights
To like desire and praise of noble fame,
The onely upshot whereto he doth ayme :
For all his minde on lionour fixed is,
To which he levels all his purposis,
And in his princes service spends his dayes,
Not so much for to gaine, or for to raise
Himselfe to high degree, as for his grace.
And in liis liking to winne worthie place ;
Through due deserts and comely carriage,
In whatso please employ bis personage.
That may be matter meete to gaine him praise ;
For he is fit to use in all assayes, 780

^V'hether for armes and warlike amenaunce.
Or else for wise and civill governauncej
For he is practiz'd well in jjolicie.
Add thereto doth his courting most applie :
To learne the enterdeale of princes strange, 785
To maike th' intent of counsells, and the change
Of states, and eke of private men somewhile,
Supplanted by fine falshood and faire guile ;
Of all the which he gaihereth what is tit
T' enrich the storehouse of his powerfull wit, 790
Which through wise speaches and grave confer-
ence.
He daylie eekes, and brings to excellence.
Such is the righifull courtier in his kinde :
Kut unto such the ape lent not his minde;
Such were for him no fit companions,
Such would descrie his lewd conditions :
But the yong Uistie gallants he did chose
'i'o follow, meete to whom he might disclose
His witlesse pleasance, and ill pleasing vaine.
A thousand wayes he them could eiitertaiue,
\Vitli all the thriftles games that may be found ;
With mumming and with masking all around,
With dice, with cards, with halliards farre unfit,
With shuttelcocks, misseeming manlie wit,
With courtizans, and costly riotize, 805

Whereof still somewhat to his share did rize :
Ne, them to pleasure, would he sometimes scorne
A j)andares coate (so basely was he borne) ;
'I hereto he could fine loving verses frame.
And play the poet oft. But ah, for shame, 810

J.et not sweete poets praise, whose onely pride
Is virtue to advance, and vice deride.

795

800

815

8'20

Be with the works of losels wit defamed,

Ne let such verses poetrie be named ;

Yet he the name on him would rashly tak3,

]Maugre the sacred muses, and it make

A servant to the vile affection

Of such, as he dejiended most upon :

And with the sugrie sweete thereof allure

Chast ladies eares to fantasies impure.

To such delights the noble wits he led

Which him reliev'd, and their vaine humours fed

Witli fruitles follies and unsound delights.

But if perhaps into their noble sprights

Desire of honor or brave thought of armes 825

Did ever creepe, then with his wicked charmes

And strong conceipts he would it drive away,

Ne suffer it to house there halfe a day.

And whenso love of letters did inspire

Their gentle wits, and kindle wise desire, 830

That chiefiie doth each noble minde adorne.

Then he would scofte at learning, and eke scorne

The sectaries thereof, as people base

And simple men, which never came in place

Of worlds affaires, but, in darke corners mewd, 835

]\Iuttied of matters as their bookes them shewd,

Ne other knowledge ever did attaine.

But with their gownes their gravitie maintaine.

From tliem he would his impudent lewde speach

Against (Jods holie ministers oft reach, 840

And mocke divines and their profession :

Wliat else then did he by progression.

But mocke high God himselfe, whom they professe?

But what car'd he for God, or godlinesse ?

AH his care was himselfe how to advaunce,

And to uphold his courtly countenaunce

By all the cunning meanes he could devise ;

Were it by honest wayes, or otherwise,

He made small choyce : yet sure his honestie

Got him small gaines, but shameles flatterie,

And filthie brocage, and unseemly shifts.

And borowe base, and some good ladies gifts :

But the best helpe, which chiefly him sustain'd,

Was his man Raynolds purchase wliich he ain'd.

For he was school'd by kinde in all the skill 855

Of close conveyance, and each practise ill

Of coosinage and cleanly knaverie,

Wiiich oft maintain'd his masters braverie.

Besides he usde another slipprie slij;ht.

In taking on himselfe, in common sight.

False personages fit for everie sted,

With which he thousands cleanly coosined :

Now like a merchant, merchants to deceave.

With whom his crcdite he did often leave

In gage for his gay masters hopelesse dett :

Now like a lawyer, when he land would lett,

Or fell see-simples in his masters name,

\\ hich lie had never, nor ought like the same •

Then would he be a broker, and draw in

Both wares and money, by exchange to win :

Then would he seeme a farmer, that would sell

Bargaines of woods, wliich lie did lately fell,

Or corne, or cattle, or such other ware,

'Thereby to coosin men not well aware .

Of all the which there came a secret fee 87.'

To th' ape, that he his countenaunce might bee.

Besides all this, he us'd oft to beguile

Poore suters, that in court did haunt some while :

For he would learne their busines secretly.

And then informe his master liastely, 880

'Jliat he by meanes might cast them to prevent,

And beg the sute, the >Uiich the other meant.

845

830

860

865

870

«14!

MOIHER HUI5BP:KDS TALE.

Or otherwise false Reynold would abuse

Tlie simple suter, and wish him to chuse

His master, being one of great reunrd 885

In court, to compas anie sute not hard,

In case his paines were recompenst with reason :

So would he worke the silly man by treason

To buy his masters frivolous good will,

That had not power to doo him good or ill. 890

So pitiful! a thing is suter state !

Most miserable man, whom wicked fate

Hath brouglit to court, to sue for had ywist,

That few have found, and manie one hath mist!

Full little knowest thou, that hast not tride, 895

^^'l!at hell ir is, in suing long to bide :

To loose good dayes, that might be better spent ;

To wast long niglits in pensive discontent ;

'J'o speed to day, to be jiut back to morrow ;

To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow , 900

To have thy princes grace, yet want her peeres ;

To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres ;

To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares ;

To eate thv heart through comfortles>e dispaires ;

To fawne, to crowche, to wnite, to ride, to ronne, 905

To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.

Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end,

That doth his life in so long tendance spend !

Who ever leaves sweete home, where meane estate

In safe assurance, without strife or hate, 910

Findes all things needful! for contentment meeke ;

And will to court for shadowes vaine to seeke,

Or hope to gaine, hiniselfe will a daw tiie :

That curse God send unto mine enemie !

For none but such, as this bold ape unblest, 915

Can ever thrive in that unluckie quest ;

Or such as hath a Reynold to his man.

That by his shifts his master furnisii can.

But yet this foxe could not so closely hide

His craftie feates, but that they were descride 920

At length by such as sate in iustice seate,

Who for the same him fowlie did entreate ;

And, having worthily luiu jmnished.

Out of the court for ever banished.

And now the ape wanting his huxter man, 925

That wont provide his necessaries, gan

To growe into great lacke, ne could upholde

His countenaunce in those his garments olde ;

Ne new ones could he easily provide.

Though all men him uncased gan deride 930

Like as a puppit placed in a play.

Whose part once past all men bid take away :

So that he driven was to great distresse,

And shortly brought to hopelesse wretchednesse.

Then closely as he might he cast to leave 935

The court not asking any passe or leave ;

But ran away in his rent rags by night,

Neever stayd in place, ne spake to wight,

Till I hat the foxe his copesinate he had found.

To whom coraplayning his uidiappy stound, 940

At last ngaine with him in travell iovnd,

And with him far'd some better chauiice to fynde.

So in the world long time they wandered,

And mickle want and hardnesse suffered ;

That ihem repented much so foolishly 945

To come so /arre to seeke for misery.

And leave the sweetnes of contented home,

Though eating hipps, and drinkin^j watry fome.

Thus as tliey them complayned too and fro.

Whilst through the forest rechlesse tliey did goe, 950

Lo ! where they spide, how in a gloomy glade,

The lyon sleeping lay in secret shade.

His crowne and scepter lying him beside,

And having doft for heate his dreadfuU hide :

Which when they sawe, the ape was sore afrayde,

And would have fled with terror all dismayde. 956

But him the foxe with hardy words did stay.

And bad him put all cowardize away ;

For now was time ('if ever they should hope)

To avme their counsels to the fairest scope, 960

And them for ever highly to advaunce.

In case the good, which their owne happie chaunce

Them freely offred, they would wisely take.

Scarse could the ape yet speake, so did he quake ;

Yet, as he could, he askt how good might growe 965

Where nought but dread and death do seeme in

show.
" Now, (said he) whiles the lyon sleepeth sound,
]\Iav we his crowne and mace take from the ground.
And eke his skinne, the terror of the wood,
Where we may our selves (if we thinke good) 970
INIake kings of beasts, and lords of forests all,
Subiect unto that powre imperiall."
" Ah ! but (savd th' ape) who is so bold a wretch.
That dare his hardy hand to those outstretch ;
When as he knowes his meede, if he be s|iide, 975
To be a thousand deathes, and shame beside ?"
" Fond ape ! (sayd then the foxe) into whose brest
Never crept thought of honor, nor brave gest,
^Vll0 will not venture life a king to be.
And rather rule and raigne in soveraign see, 980
Than dwell in dust inglorious and hace,
Where none shall name the number of his place ?
One ioyous houre in blisfull happines,
I chuse before a life of wretchednes.
Be therefore counselled herein by me, 985

And shake off this vile-hearted cowardree.
If he awake, yet is not death the next.
For we may colour it with some pretext
Of this, or that, that may excuse the cryme ■
Else we may flye ; thou to a tree mayst clyme, 990
And I creejie under ground ; but from his reach :
Therefore be rul'd to doo as I doo teach."
The ape, that earst did nought but chill and quake.
Now gan some courage unto him to take,
And was content to attempt that enterprise, 995

Tickled with glorie and rash covetise.
But first gan question, whether should assay
Those royall ornaments to steale away'!
" Marie, that shall your selfe, (quoth he theretoo)
For ye be fine and nimble it to doo ; 1000

Of all the beasts, which in the forrests bee.
Is not a fitter for this turne than yee :
Therefore, mine owne deaie brother, take good hart.
And ever thinke a kingdome is your part."
Loath vi'as the ape, though praised, to adventer, 1005
\'et faintly gan into his worke to enter.
Afraid of everie leafe that stir'd him by,
And everie stick that underneath did ly :
Upon his tiptoes nicely he up went,
For making noyse, and still his eare he lent 1010
To everie sound that under heaven blew ;
Now went, now stopt, now crept, now backward

drew.
That it good sport had been him to have eyde :
Yet at the last, (so well he him applvde,)
Through his fine handling, and cleanly play, 101.5
He all those royall signes had stolne away.
And with the foxes hel])e them borne aside
Into a secret corner unesj.ide.
Whither whenas they came they fell at words.
Whether of them should be the lord of lords : 1020

MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.

435

For til' ape was stryfull, and ambicious :

And the i'oxe juilefull, and most covetous ;

That neither pleased was, to have the rayne

Twixt them divided into even twaine,

But either (algates) would be lord alone : 1025

Tor Love and Loi dship bide no jiaragone,

" I am most worthie, (said the ape) sith I

For it did put my life in ieopardie :

Thereto I am in person and in stature

Most like a man, the Lord of everie creature, 1030

So that it seemeth I was made to raigne,

And borne to be a kingly soveraigne."

" Nay (said the foxs) Sir Ape, you are astray :

For though to steale the diademe away

Were the worke of your nimble hand, yet I 1035

Did first devise the plot by pollicie ;

So that it wholly springeth from my wit :

For which also I claime ray selfe more fit,

Than you, to rule: for government of state

Will without wisedome scone be ruinate. 1040

And wliereye claime your selfe for outward shape

Most like a man, man is not like an ape

la his chiefe parts, that is, in wit and spirite ;

]3ut I therein most like to liimdoo merite,

For my slie wyles and subtill craftiness, 1045

'J'he title of the kingdome to [)ossesse.

Nath'les (ray brother) since we passed are

Unto t'nis point, we will appease our iarre ;

And I with reason meete will rest content.

That ye shall have both crowne and government.

Upon condition, that ye ruled bee 1051

In all affaires, and counselled by mee ;

And that ye let none other ever drawe

"i'our minde from me, but keepe this as a lawe :

And hereupon an oatti unto me plight." 1055

The ape was glad to end the strife so light.

And thereto swore: for who would not oft sweare,

And oft unsweare, a diademe to beare?

Then freely up those royall spoyles he tooke.

Yet at the lyons skin he inly quooke ; 1060

But it dissembled, and upon his head

I'he crowne, and on his backe the ^kin, he did,

And the false foxe him helped to array.

'J'hen when he was all dight he tooke his way

[nto the forest, that he might be seene 1065

Of the wilde beasts in his new glory sheene.

There the two first, whom he encountred, were

The sht-epeand th' asse, who, striken both with feare

At sight of him. gan fast away to flye ;

But unto them tlie foxe alowd did crv, 1070

And in the kings name bad them both to stay,

Upon the payne that thereof follow may.

Hardly naythles were they restrayned so.

Till that the foxe forth toward them did goe.

And there disswaded them from needlesse feare,

For that the king did favour to them beare ; 1076

And therefore dreadles bad them come to corte :

For no wild beasts should do them any torte

There are abroad, ne would his maiestye

Use them but well, with gracious clemencye, 1080

As wh'jrae he knew^ to him both fast and true:

So he perswaded them, with homage due

Themselves to humble to the a])e prostrate.

Who, gently to them bowing in his gate,

Receyved them with chearefull entertayne. 1085

Thenceforth proceeding v.-ith his princely trayne.

He shortly met the tygre, and the bore,

AVhich vvitb the simple camell raged sore

In bitter words, seeking to take occasion

Upon his fleshly corpse to make invasion : 1090

But, soone as they this mock-king did espy.

Their troublous strife they stinted by and by.

Thinking indeed that it the lyon was :

He then, to prove whether his powre would pas

As current, sent the foxe to them streight way, 1095

Commaunding them their cause of strife bewray ;

And, if that wrong on eyther side there were,

Tliat he should warn^the wronger to appeare

The morrow next at court, it to defend ;

In the meane time upon the king t' attend. 1 100

The subtile foxe so well his message sayd.

That the proud beasts him readily obayd :

Whereby the ape in wondrous stomach woxe.

Strongly encoraged by the crafty foxe ;

That king indeed liimselfe he shortly thought, 1105

And all the beasts him feared as they ought,

And followed unto his palace bye ;

Where taking conge, each one by and by

Departed to his home in dreadful! awe,

Full of the feared sight, which late they sawe. 1110

The ape thus seized of the regall throne,

Eftsoones, by counsell of the foxe alone,

Gan to provide for all things in assurance.

I'hat so his rule might lenger have endurance.

First to his gate he pointed a strong gard, 1115

That none might enter but with issue hard :

Then, for the safegard of his personage.

He did appoint a warlike equipage

Of forreine beasts, not in the forest bred.

But part b}' land and part by water fed ; 1120

For tyrannie is witli strange ayde supported.

Then unto him all monstrous beasts resorted

Bred of two kindes, as griffons, minotaures.

Crocodiles, dragons, beavers, and centaures :

With those himselfe he strengthened mightelie, 1125

That feare he neede no force of enemie.

Then gan he rule and tyrannize at will.

Like as the foxe did guide his graceless skill ;

And all wylde beasts made vassals of his pleasures,

And with their spoyles enlarg'd his private treasures.

No care of iustice, nor no rule of reason, 1131

No tem})erance, nor no regard of season,

Did thenceforth ever enter in his minde ;

J3ut crueltie, the signe of currish kinde ;

And sdeignfuU pride, and wilfull arrogaunce ; 11.'35

Such followes tliose whom fortune doth advaunce.

But the false foxe most kindly plaid his part :

For, whatsoever mother-wit or arte

Could worke, he put in proofe : no practise slie,

No counterpoint of cunning policie. 1140

No reach, no breach, that might him profit bring.

But he the same did to his purpose wring.

Nought suffered he the ape to give or graunt.

But through his liand alone must passe the flaunt.

All offices, all leases by him lept, 1145

And of them all, whatso he likt, he kept.

Iustice he solde iniustice lor to buy.

And for to purchase for his progeny.

Ill might It prosper, that ill gotten was ;

But, so he got it, little did he pas. 11 50

He fed his cubs with fat of all the soyle.

And with the sweete of others sweating toyle ;

He crammed them with crumbs of benefices.

And fild their mouthes with meedes of malefices ;

He cloathed them with all colours save white, 1155

And loded them with lordships and with might,

So much as they were able well to beare,

Tliat with the weight their backs nigh broken were ;

He chaflVed chayres in which churchmen were set.

And breach of lawes to privie ferine did let : 1160

416

No statute so establislied niisht bee,

Nor ordinaunce so iieedfull, but tbat }iee

Would violate, tliouoh not witli violence,

Yet under colour of tlie confidence

TI)H which the ape repnsM in him alone, 1165

And reikned him the Kinj^domes corner stone.

And ever, when he o>i£;ht would bring to pas,

flis long experience the platf'orme was :

And, when he ought not pleasing- would put by,

'I he cloke was care of thrift, and hu.-.baiidry, 1170

For to encrease the common treasures store;

But his owne treasure be encreased more,

And lifted up his loftie towres thereby,

That tliev began to threat the nei^j-hbour sky ;

The whiles the princes pallaces fell fast 1175

To mine: (for what thing can ever last?)

And whilest the other peeres, for povertie,

Were forst llieir auncient houses to let lie,

And their olde castles to the ground to fall.

Which their forefathers famous over all 1180

Had founded for the kingdomes ornament;

And for their memories long moniraent.

But he no count made of nobilitie,

Nor the wilde beasts whom amies did glorifie, 1184

Therealmeschiefe strength and girlondofthecrowne,

All these through fained crimes he thrust adowne,

Or made them dwell in darknes of disgrace :

For none, but whom he list, might come in place.

Of men of armes he had but small regard,

r>ut kept them lowe, and streigned verie hard. 1190

For men of learning little he esteemed ;

His wisedome he above their learning deemed.

As for the rascall Commons least he cared ;

For not so common was his bountie shared ;

Let God, (said he) if please, care for the mauie,

1 for my selfe must care before els anie : 1196

So did lie good to none, to manie ill,

So did all the kingdome rob and pill,

Yet none durst speake, ne none durst of him plaine ;

So great he was in grace, and rich through gaine.

Ne would he anie let to have accesse I'JOl

Unto the prince, but by his owne addresse :

For all that els did come, were sure to faile ;

Yet would he further none but for availe.

For on a time the sheepe, to whom of yore 1205

The foxe had promised of friendship store,

'Vhat time the ape the kingdome first did gaine,

Came to the court, her case there to coraplaine ;

How that the wolfe, her mortall enemie.

Had sithence slaine her lambe most cruellie ; 1210

And therefore crav'd to come unto the king,

To let him knowe the order of the thing.

" Soft, gooddie sheepe ! (then said the foxe) not soe :

Unto the king so rash ye may not goe ;

He is with greater matter busied 1215

Than a lambe, or the lanibes owne mothers bed.

Ne certes may I take it well in j)art,

That ye mv cousin wolfe so fowly thwart.

And seeke with slaunder his good name to blot :

For there was cause, els doo it he would not : 1220

Therefor surcease, good dame, and hence depart,"

So went the sheepe away with heavie hart:

So manie moe, so everie one was used,

Tljat to give largely to the boxe refused.

Now when high love, in whose almightie hand 1225

The care of kings and power of empires stand.

Silting one day within his turret bye,

From whence he vewes, with bis hlack-lidded eye,

Whaiso ti.e heaven in his wide vawte containes.

And all that in the deepest earth remaines ; 1230

IMOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.

And troubled kingdome of wild beasts behelde.
Whom not their kindly sovereigne did welde.
But an usurping ape, with guile suborn'd.
Had all subverst ; he sdeignfully it scorn'd
In his great heart, and hardlv did refriiine, 1235

But that with thunder bolts he had him slaine.
And driven downe to hell, his dewest meed :
But, him avizing, he tbat dreadfull deed
Forbore, and rather chose with scornfull shame
Him t ) avenge, and blot his brutish name 1240

Unto the world, tliat never after anie
Sliould of his race be vovd of infamie ;
And his false counsellor, the cause of all,
To damne to death, or dole perpetuall.
From whence he never should be quiet nor stal'd.
Forthwith he Mercurie unto him cal'd 1216

And bade him flie with never-resting speed
Unto the forrest, where wilde beasts doo breed,
And there enquiring privilv, to learne
What did of late chaunce to the Ivon stearne. 1250
That he rul'd not the empire, as he ought ;
And whence were all those plaints unto him brought
Of wrongs, and spoyles, by salvage breasts com-
mitted
Which done, he bad the lyon be remitted
Into bis seate, and those same treachours vile 1255
Be punished for their presumptuous guile.
The Sonne of l\Iaia, soone as he receiv'd
That word, streightwith his azure wings he cleav'd
'J'he liquiil clowdes, and lucid firmament ;
Ne staid, till tbat he came with steep descent 1260
Unto the place, where his prescript did showe.
There stouping, like an arrowe from a bowe,
He soft arrived on the grassie plaine,
And fairly paced forth with easie paine.
Till that iinto the puUac-e nigh he came. 1265

Then gan he to himselfe new shape to frame ;
And tlrat faire face, and that ambrosiall hew,
^Vhich wonts to decke the gods immortall crew.
And beautefie the sliinie firmament.
He doft, unfit for that rude rabblement. 1270

So, standing by the gates in strange disguize,
He gan enquire of some in secret wize,
Botii of the king and of his government,
And of the foxe, and his false blandishment :
And evermore he beard each one complaine 1275
Of foule abuses both in realme and raine :
Which yet to prove more true, he meant to see,
And an ey-witness of each thing to bee.
Tho on his head his dreadfull hat he dight,
Which niaketh him invisible in sight, 1280

And mocketh t.h' eyes of all the lookers on.
Making them thinke it but a vision.
Through power of that, he runnes through eneniiea

swerds ;
Through power of that, be passeth tlirough tbebeids
Of ravenous wilde beasts, and doth beguile 1285
Their greedie mouthes of the expected spoyle ;
Through power of that, his cunning iheeveries
He wonts to worke, that none the same espies;
And, through the power of that, he putteth on
What sha])e he list in ajiparition. 1290

' That on his head he wore, and in his hand
He tooke Caduceus his snakie wand,
With which the damned ghosts he governeth,
And furies rules, and Tartare tempereth.
With that he causeth sleej) to seize the eyes, 129.''
And feare the harts, of all his enemyes ;
And, when him list, an universall night
Fhrousbout the world he makes on everie wight ;

MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.

417

As when his syre with Alcumena lay.

Thus dight, into the court lie tooke iiis way, 1300

Both through the gnrd, which never him descride,

And through the watchmen, who him never spide :

Thenceforth he past into each secrete part,

Whereas he saw, that sorely griev'd his hart,

ii,ach place abounding with t'owle iniuries, 1305

And fild with treasure rackt with robberies ;

Each place defilde with blood of guiltles beasts.

Which had been slaine to serve the apes beheasts ,

Gluttonie, malice, pride, and covetize.

And lawlessnes raigning- with riotize ; 1310

Besides the intinite extortions.

Done through the foxes great oppressions.

That the complaints thereof could not be tolde.

Which when he did with lothfull eyes beholde.

He would no more endure, but came his way, 1315

And cast to seeke the lion, where he may,

That he might worke the avengement for this

shame
On those two caytives, which had bred him blame :
And, seeking all the forrest busilv,
At last he found, where sleeping he did ly. 1320
The wicked weed, which there the foxe did lay,
From underneath his head he tooke away.
And then him waking, forced up to rize.
The lion looking up gan him avize,
As one late in a traunce, what had of long 1325
Become of him : for fantasie is strong.
" Arise, (said ]\IercurieJ thou sluggish beast,
That here liest senseles, like the corpse deceast.
The whilste thy kingdome from thy head is rent,
And thy throne royall with dishonour blent : 1330
Arise, and doo thy selfe redeeme from shame.
And be aveng'd on those that breed thy blame."
Thereat enraged, soone he gan upstart.
Grinding his teeth, and grating his great hart ■
And, rouzing up himselfe, for his rough hide 1335
He gan to reach ; but no where it espide :
Therewith he gan full terribly to rore,
And chafte at that indignitie right sore.
But when his crowne and scepter both he wanted,
Lord ! how he fum'd, and sweld, and rag'd, and

panted ; 1340

And threatend death, and thousand deadly dolours j
Tojthem|that had purlovn'd his princely honours.

With that in hast, disroabed as he was,

lie toward his owne pallace forth did pas ;

And all the way he roared as he went, 1345

That all the forrest witli astonishment

Thereof did tremble, and the beasts therein

Fled fust av^'ay from that so dreadfull din.

At last he came unto his mansion.

Where all the gates he found fast lockt anon, 1350

And manie warders round about them stood :

With that he roar'd alowd, as he were wood.

That all the pallace quaked at the stound,

As if it quite were riven from the ground,

And all within were dead and hartles leli ; lS'35

And the ape himselfe, as one whose wits were reft.

Fled here and there, and everie corner sought

To hide himselfe from his owne feared thought.

But the false fose, when he tiie lion heard.

Fled closely forth, streightway of death afeard, 1360

And to the lion came, fiill lowly creejiing,

Witli fained face, and watrie eyne halfe weeping',

T' excuse his former treason and abusion.

And turning all unto the apes confusion :

Nath'les the royall beast forbore beleeving, 1365

But bad him stay at ease till further preeving.

Tlien when he saw no entrance to him graunted.

Roaring yet lowder that all harts it daunted.

Upon those gates with f(;rce he fiercely flewe.

And, rending them in pieces, felly slewe 1370

Those warders strange, and all that else he met.

But th' ape still flying he no where might get :

From rowme to rowme, from beame tobeamehe fled

All breathles, and for feare now almost ded :

Yet him at last the lyon spide, and caught, 1375

And forth with shame unto his iudgement brought.

Then all the beasts he caus'd assembled bee,

To hears their doon:e, and sad ensample see :

The foxe, first author of that treacherie.

He did uncase, and then away let flie. 1380

But th' apes long taile(which then he had) he qtiio-ht

Cut off, and both eares pared of their hight ;

Since which, all apes but halfe their eares have left,

And of their tailes are utterlie bereft.

So Mother Hubberd her discourse did end . 1385
Which ])ardon me, if I amisse have pend ;
For weake was my remembrance it to hold,
And bad her tongue that it so bluntly tolde. 138

PEOTHALAMION:

o».

A SPOU S A LL VERSE.

EDM. SPENSER,

In honour of the double marriage of the two honorable and vertuous ladies, the Ladie Elizabeth, and toa
Ladie Katherine Somerset, daughters to the right honorable the Earle of Worcester, and espoused to the
two worthie gentlemen, M. Henry Gilford and M. William Peter, Esquyers.

Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre

Sweete-brenthing Zepbyrus did softly play

A. gentln spirit, that lightly did delay

Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster feyre ;

When I, (whom [whose] sullein care, 5

Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay

In )irinces court, and expectation vayne

Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,

Like empty shadows, did afflict my brajne,)

Wallet forth to ease my payne 10

Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes ;

Whose rutty bank, the which his river hemmes,

Was pavnted all witli variable flowers,

And all the meades adornd with dainty gemmes

Fit to decke maydens boivres, . 15

And crowne their paramours

Against the brydale day, which is not long :

Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my song.

There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,
Aflocke of nymphes 1 chaiinced to espy, 20

All lovely daughters of the flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose uatyde,
As each had bene a bryde ;
And each one had a little wicker basket,
iMade of fine twigs, entrayled curiously, 26

[n wliich tliey gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
And witb fine fingers crept full feateously
The tender stalkes on bye.
Of every sort, which in that meadow grew,
They gathered some ; the violet, ])allid blew, 30
The little dazie, that at evening closes.
The virgin lillie, and the jirimrose trew,
\Vith store of vermeil roses.
To deck their bridegroomes posies
Against tlie brvdale day, which was not long : 35
Sweet 'Jhemmes ! runne softly, till I end my song

With that I saw two swannes of goodly hewe
Come softly swimming downe along the lee ;
Two fairer birds I yet did never see ;
The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, 10
Did never whiter shew.

Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be
For love of Leda, whiter did appeare ;
Yet Leda was (the say) as white as he,
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near ; -15
So purely v/hite they were,

That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
Seem'd foule to them, atid bad his billowes spare
To wet their silken feathers, least they might
Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre, 50
And marre their beauties bright,
'i'hat shone as heavens light.
Against their brydale day, which was not long:
Sweet Theumies ! runne softly, till I end my song.

Eftsoones the nymphes, wliich now had flowers their
Kan all in haste to see that silver brood, [fill,

As they came floating on the cristal flood ; 57

Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed still.
Their wondering eyes to fill ;

Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre, 60
Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme
Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
Which througii the skie draw A'enus silver teemej
For sure they did not seeme

To be begot of any earthly seede, 65

But rather angels, or of angels breede ;
^'et were they bred of soiners-heat, they say.
In sweetest season, when each flower and weede
The earth did fresh aray ;

So fresh they seem'd as day, 70

Even as their brydale day, which was not long :
Sweet Themmes I runiie softly, till 1 end my song

PROTHALAMION.

419

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew

Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,

That to the sense did fragrant odours yield, 75

All which upon those goodly birds they threw

And all the waves did strew,

That like old Peneus waters they did seeme.

When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,

Scattred with flowres, through Thessalythey streeme,

That they appeare, through lilies plenteous store, 81

Like a brydes chamber flore.

Two of those nymphes, meane while, two garlands

bound
Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,
The which presenting all in trim array, 85

Their snowie foreheads therewi-thall they crownd.
Whilst one did sing this lay,
Prepar'd against that day,

Against their brydale day, which was not long :
Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my song.

" Ye gentle birdes ! the worlds faire ornament, 91

And heavens glorie, whom this happie bower

Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull hower,

loy may you have, and gentle liearts content

Of your loves comjdoment ; 95

Ami let faire Venus, that is queene of love.

With her heart-quelling sonne upon vou smile.

Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove

All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile

For ever to assoile. 100

Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord.

And blessed plentie wait upon 3-our bord ;

And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,

Tliat fruitfuU issue may to 3'ou afford.

Which may your foes confound, 105

And make your ioys redound

Upon your brydale day, which is not long!

Sweet Themmes! runne softlie, till lend my song."

So ended she ; and all the rest around
To her redoubled that her undersong, 110

Which said their brydale daye should not be long:
And gentle eccho fiom the neighbour ground
riieir accents did resound.
Sa forth those ioyous birds did passe along
Adowne the lee, that to them nnirmuide iow, li5
As he would speake, but that he lackt s tccg,
Vet did by signes his glad affection show,
Making his streame run slow.
And all the foule which in his flood did dwell
Gail flock about these twaine, that did excell 120
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend
The lesser stars. So they, euranged well.
Did on those two atte 7 d.

And their best service lend 124

Against their wedding day, which was not lono- :
Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till lend my song.

At length thev all to mery London came.
To ir.ery Loudon, my most kyndly nurse.
That to me gave thislifes first native sourse.
Though from another place I take my name, 130
An house of auncient fame :

There when they came, whereas those bricky towres
The which on I'hemmes brode aged backe doe rvde.
Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,
There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde.
Till they decayd through pride : 136

Next whereunto there standes a stately place,
Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell.
Whose want too well now feels my freendles case ;
But ah ! here fits not well 141

01d3 Woes, but ioyes, to tell

Against the briilale daye, which is not long:
Sweet Themmes! runne softly, tdl I end my song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer, 145

Great Englands glory,- and the worlds wide wonder,
Whose dreadf'ull name late through all Spaine did

thunder.
And Hercules two pillors standing neere
Did make to quake and feare :

Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie ! 150

That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,
loy have thou of thy noble victorie,
And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
That promiseth the same ;

That through thy provi'esse, and victorious amies,
Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes; 156
And great Elisaes glorious name may ring-
Through al the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,
Which some brave muse may sing
To ages following, 160

Upon the brydale day, which is not long :

Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my song^

166

170

From those high towers this noble lord issuing.
Like radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre
In tir ocean billowes he hath bathed fay re.
Descended to the rivers open vewing,
Witii a areat tiaine ensuiiig.
Above tne rest were goodly to bee scene
Two genile iiuigiits of lovely face and feature.
Beseeming well the bower of any queene.
With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature.
Fit for so goodly stature.

That like the twins of love they seem'd in sight,
Which decke the baulcjricke of the heavens bright;
They two, forth pacing to the rivers side, 175

lieceiv'd those two faire brides, their loves delight;
Which, at th' appointed tyde.
Each one did make his bryde

Against their brydale day, which is not long: 179
Sweet Themmes ! runne aoftly, till I end my song.

KPITHALAMIOM.

Ye learned sisters, which have oftentimes

15eene to me ayding, others to adorne,

Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,

1 hat even tlie greatest did not greatly scorne

To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, 5

But ioyed in theyr praise ;

And when ye list your own mishaps to mourne.

Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,

Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,

And teach the woods and waters to lament 10

Your doleful! dreriment :

Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;

And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,

Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound ;

Ne let the same of any be envide : 15

So Orpheus did for his owne bride !

So I unto mv selfe alone will sing;

The woods shall to me answer, and my eccho ring.

Early, before the worlds light-giving lampe

His golden beame upon the hils doth spred, CO

Having disperst the nights unchearfull dampe,

Doe ye awake ; and, with fresh lustyhed.

Go to the bowre of my beloved love,

My truest turtle dove ;

Bid her awake ; for Hymen is awake, 2t

And long since ready forth his maske to move,

With his bright tead that flames with many a flake,

And many a bachelor to waite on him.

In theyr fresii garments trim.

Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight, 30

For 16e ! the wished day is come at last,

i hat shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,

Pav to her usury of long delight:

And, whylest she doth iier dight.

Doe ye to her of ioy and solace sing, 35

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Bring with you all the nymphes that you can heare

Both of the rivers and the forrests greene, '

And of the sea that neighbours to her neare :

All with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. 40

And let them also with them bring in hand

Another gay girland,

i'"or m)'- fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,

B'uind truelove wize, wiili a blew silke riband.

And let them make great store of bridale poses, 45

And let them eke bring store of other flowers,

To deck the bridale bowers.

And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread.

For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,

Be strewd with fragrant flowers all along, 50

And diapred lyke the discolored mead.

AV'jich done, doe at her cliamber dore awayt,

Kor she will waken strayt;

The whiles do ye this song unto her sing,

The woods shall to you answer, and your echo ring.

Ye nj-mphes of Mulla, which with careful! lieed 56
The silver scaly trouts do tend full well,
And greedy pikes which use therein to feed ;
(Those trouts and pikes all others doe excel! ;)
And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake, 61
^Vhere none doo fishes take;
Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,
And in Isis waters, which your mirror make.
Behold your faces as the christall bright.
That when you come whereas my love doth lie, 65
No blemish she may spie.

And eke, ye lightfuot mayds, which keepe the dore,
That on the hoary mountayne use to towre ;
And the wylde wolves, which seeke them todevoure,
With your Steele darts doe chace from coming neer :
Be also present here, 71

To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing.
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho
ring.

V/ake now, my love, awake ; for it is time ;
The ros}' morne long since left Tithoiis bed, 75

All ready to her silver coche to clyme ;
And Phttbus gins to siiew his glorious bed.
Hark ! how the ch'3erfull birds do chaunt theyr laies
And Carroll of Loves praise.

The merry Jarke hir mattins sings aloft; 80

'ihe thrush rejilyes ; the mavis descant playes:
The ouzell shiills ; the ruddock warbles soft;
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,
'I'o this dayes merriment.

All ! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long, 85
When meeter were that ye should now awake,
T'auavt the comming of your ioyous make.
And hearken to the birds love-learned song,
I'he deawy leaves among!

For they of ioy and pleasance to you sing, 90

That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho
ring.

INIy love is now awake out of her dreame.

And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmed were

Witli darksome cloudes, now shew theyr goodly

beams
More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere. 95
Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,
Helpe (juickly her to dight:

But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot.
In loves sweet paradice of day and night ;
WJiich doe the seasons of the year allot, 100

And all, that ever in this world is fayre,
Do make and still repayre :

EPITHALAMIOV.

421

And ye three liandmavds of the Cyprian queene,
The which doe still adorn her beauties pride,
Helpe to adorne my beautifullest bride : 105

And, as ve lier array, still throw betweene
Some graces to be seene ;
And, as ve use to Venus, to her sing-,
The wliiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho
ring.

Now is my love all ready forth to come : llO

Let all the virgins therefore well awayt:
And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome,
Prepare your selves ; for he iscomming strayt.
Set all your things in seemely good aray.
Fit for so ioyfull day : 115

The ioyfulst day that ever sunne did see.
Fair sun ! shew forth thy favourable ray,
And let thy lifuU heat not fervent be.
For feare of burning her sunshyny face.
Her beauty to disgrace. 120

O fayrest Phcebus ! father of the muse !
If ever I did honour ihee aright, |

Or sing the thing that mote thv mind delight,
Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse ;
But let this day, let this one day, be mine, 125

Let all the rest be thine.

Then I thv soveravne pravses loud vvil sing.
That all the woods shal answer, acd theyr eccho
ring.

Harke! how the minstrils gin to shrill aloud
Their merrv musick ihat resounds from far, 130

The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling croud,
That well agree withoufen breach or iar.
But, most of all, the damzels doe delight,
^^ hen they their tymbrels smyte.
And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet, 135
That all the sences they doe ravish quite ;
The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,
Crying aloud witli strong confused noyce.
As if it were one voyce.

Hymen, 1'6 Hymen, Hvnien, thev do shout; 140
That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill
Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;
To which the people standing all about.
As in approvance, doe thereto ajiplaud.
And loud advaunce her laud ; 145

And evermore they Hymen, Hymen sing.
That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho
ring.

Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,

L}-ke Phcebe, from her chamber of the east,

Arysing forth to run her mighty race, 150

Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.

So well it her beseems, that ye would weene

Some angell she had beene.

Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyie,

Sprinckled with ])erle, and psrling flowres atweene,

Doe lyke a golden mantle her attvre ; 156

And, being crowned with a <;irland greene.

Seem lyke some maydeu (|ueene.

Her modest eyes, ahai-hed tt behold

So many gazers as on her dc stare, 16()

Upon the lowly ground aifi>ecl are;

Ne dare lift up her couDtenance too bold.

But blush to heare her pray ies sung so loud.

So farre from being proud.

Nathle.--se doe ve still loud "ler prayses sing, 165

That all the woods may ans-'/er, and your eccho ring.

Tell me, ye merrhants daughters, did ye see

So fayre a creature in vour towne before ;

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,

Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store ? A70

Her goodly eyes lyke saphyres shining bright,

Her foiehead yvory white.

Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded.

Her lips lyke cherries charming men to byte.

Her brest like to a bowl of creame uncrudded, 175

Her paps lyke lyllies budded,

Her snowie neck lyke to a marble towre ;

And all her body like a pallace favre.

Ascending up, with manv a stately stayre,

To honors seat and chastities sweet bo.vre. 180

Why stand ye still ve virgins in amaze.

Upon her so to gaze,

\\ biles ye for^^et your former lay to sins:.

To which the woods d id answer, and your eccho ring ?

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, 185

The inward beauty of her lively spright,
Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree.
Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,
And stand astoni>hf. lyke to those which red
Wedusaes mazefnl iied. 190

There dwells sweet love, and constant chastity,
Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood.
Regard of honour, and mild modesty ;
There vertue raynes as queene in royal throne,
And giveth lawes alone. 195

The which the base afteciions doe obay,
And yeeld theyr services unto her will ;
Ne thought of things uncomely ever may
I hereto approch to tempi her mind to ill.
Had ye once .--eene these her celestial threasures,
And unrevealed pleasures, 201

'J hen would ye wonder, and her ])rayses sing.
That all the woods should ansiver, and your eccho ring.

0]ien the temple gates unto my love.

Open th' m wide that she may enter in, 205

And all the postes adorne as doth behove.

And all the pillonrs deck with giilands trim,

For to receyve this saynt with honour dew.

That commeth in to y u.

With trembling steps, and humble reverence, 210

She commeth in, before th' Almighties view ;

Of her ye virgins learne obedience.

When so ye come into those holy places.

To humble your proud faces:

Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may 215

TliB sacred ceremonies there partake.

The which do endlesse matrimony make ;

And let the roring organs loudly play

The praises of the Lord in lively notes ;

The whiles, with hollow throates, 220

The choristers the loyous antheme sing.

That all the woods may answer, and their eccho ring.

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands.

Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,

And blesseth her with his two happy hands, 225

How the red roses flush up in her clieekes.

And the pure snow, with goodly vennill stayne

Like crimsin dyde in graviie:

That even the angels, which continually

About the sacred altar doe ■eniaiue, 230

Fi'rget the:r service and about her tly.

Ofte peeping in her i'ace, that seems more fayre

The more they on it stare.

4 'J 2

F.1'1 rilALAhlON.

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Are governed with goodly raodes'.y, 235

That suffers not one look to ghmnce awry,
AVhich may let in a little thought unsownd.
Why hlush ye, love, to give to me your hand,
The pledge of all our band !

Sing, ye sweet angels, Alleluya sing, 210

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Now al is done : bring home the bride ajjaine ;
Bring home the triumph of our victory :
Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
Mith ioyance bring her and with iollity. 24,5

IVever had man more iovfuU day than this.
Whom heaven would heape with blis,
IVIake feast therefore now all this live-long day;
This day for ever to me holy is.
Poure out the wine without restraint or stay, 230
Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
Poure out to all that wull,

And sprinkle all the posts and wals with wine.
That they may sweat, and drunken be withail.
Crowne ye god BacchMs with a coronall, 255

And Hymen also crowne with wreaths of vine ;
And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,
For they can doo it best :

The whiles tbe maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
To whicli the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho
ring. 260

King ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne.

And leave your wonted labors for this day :

'i his day is holv ; doe ye write it downe,

1'hat ye for ever it remember may.

This day the sunne is in his chiefest bight, 265

AVith Barnaby the bright.

From whence declining daily by degrees,

He somewhat loseth of his heat and light.

When once the Ciab behind his back he sees.

But for this time it ill ordained was, 270

To choose the longest day in all the yeare.

And shortest night, when longest fitter were :

Yet never day so long, but late would passe.

Rin'_' ye the bels, to make it weare away,

Anil bonefiers make all day; 275

A.nd daunce about them, and about tliem sing,

'J'liat all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

All ! when will this long weary day have end.

And lende me leave to come unto my love?

How slovvlv do the houres theyr numbers spend?

How slowly does sad 'lime his feathers move? 281

Hast thee, O fayrest planet, to thy home.

Within the westnine fome:

Thy tyred steedes long since have need of rest.

Long though it be, at la.-t I see it gloome, 285

And the bright evening-star with golden creast

Appeare out of the east.

Fayre chdde of beautie ! glorious lampe of love !

That all the host of heavin in rankes doost lead.

And guidest lovers throu.L:h the nights sad dread,

How chearefully thou lookest from above, 291

And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,

As ioying in the sight

Of these glad many, which for ioy do sins, 'i94

That all the woods them answer, and their eccho ring !

Now cease, ye damsels, your delights fore-past ;
nougl) it is that all the day was youres :
Now uay is doen, and night is nigliing fast,
Now bring the bryde into the brydall bowres.

The night is Cf:me, now soon her disaray, 300

And in her bed her lay ;

Lay her in lillies and in violets.

And silken curteins over her display.

And odoured sheets, and arras coverlets.

J5ehold how goodly my faire love does ly, 305

In proud humility !

Like unto !\Iaia, when as love her took

In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,

Twixt sleepe and vi-ake, after she weary was.

With bathing in the Acidalian brooke. .SIO

Now it is night, ye damsels may be gone,

And leave my love alone,

And leave likewise your former lay to sing

The woods no more shall answer, nor your eccho ring.

Now welcome, night ! thou night so long expected,

'J'hat long dales labour doest at last defray, 316

And all my cares, whicli cruell Love collected,

Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for ave :

Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,

That no man may us see ; 320

And in thy sable mantle us enwrap.

From feare of perrill and foule horror free.

Let no false treason seeke us to entrap.

Nor any dread disquiet once annoy

The safety of our io)- ; " 325

But let the night be calme, and qnietsome,

\\'ithout tempestuous storms or sad afray :

Lvke as when love with faj^re Alcmena lay,

When he begot the great Tirynthian groonie :

Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie 330

And begot Majestie.

And let the mayds and yongmen cease to sing ;

Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares.

Be lieard all night within, nor yet without : 3j5

Ne let false whispers, breeding h;dden feares,

Breake gentle sleepe with misconceived dout.

Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadful sights.

Make sudden sad aifrights ;

Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpless harmes,

Ne let the ponke, nor other evill sprig lits, 341

Ne let mischievous v.-itches with theyr charmes,

Ne let hob-goblins, names whose seuce we see

not.
Fray us with things that be not :
Let not the skriech-owle nor the storke be heard, 3 15
Nor the night raven, that still deadly yels ;
Nor damned ghosts, cald uj) with mighty spels.
Nor griesly vultures, make us once alTeard :
Ne let th' unpleasant (\uyre of frogs still croking
Make us to wish theyr choking. ,350

Let none of these theyr drery accents sing ;
Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.

l)Ut let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe,

i'hat sacred I'eace may in assurance rayne,

And t>niely Sleep, when it is tvme to sleepe, 355

I\Iay j)()ure his limbs lorth on your jiieasant playne ;

The whiles an hundred little winged loves,

JJke divers-fethered d^jves.

Shall fly and flutter round about the bed.

And in the secret darke, that none reproves, 360

Then- j)rety siealthes shall worke, and snares shall

spread
To iilch away sweet snatches of delight.
Conceal d through covert ni<rht.

EPITHALAMION.

423

Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will '

For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes, 365

Thinks more upon lier paradise of ioyes.

Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.

All night therefore atfend your merry play,

For it will soone be day :

Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing ; 370

Ne will the woods now answer, nor youreccho ring-.

Who is the same, which at my window peepes ?

Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright ?

Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,

But walkes about high heaven al the night? 375

O ! fiivrest goddesse, do thou not envy

My love with me to spy :

For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,

And for a fleece of wooll, which privily

The Latraian shepherd once unto thee brought, 380

His pleasures with thee wrought.

Therefore to us be favorable now ;

And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge.

And generation goodly dost enlarge,

Encline thy will t' effect our wishfuU vow, 385

And the chast womb informe with timely seed,

That may our comfort breed :

Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing ;

Ne let the woods us answer, nor our eccho ring.

And thou, great luno ! which with awful might 390

The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize ;

And the religion of the faith first plight

With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize ;

And eke for comfort often called art

Of women in their smart ; 395

Eternally bind then this lovely band,

And all thy blessings unto us impart.

And thou, glad Genius ! in whose gentle hand

The bridale bovvre and geniall bed remame.

Without blemish or staine ; 400

And the svseet pleasures of theyr loves delisiht

With secret ayde doost succour and supply.

Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny ;

Send us the timelv fruit of this same night.

And thou, fiiyre Hebe ! and thou. Hymen free! 405

Grant that it may so be.

Till which we cease your further prayse to sing ;

Ne any woods shall answer, nor your eccho ring.

And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods.

In which a thousand torches flaming bright 41C

Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods

In dreadful darknesse lend desired light ;

And all ye powers which in the same remayne,

SI ore than we men caa faynel

Pour out your blessing on us plentiously, 415

And happy influence upon us raiiie,'

That we may raise a large posterity.

Which from the earth, ■svhich they may long possesse

With lasting happinesse,

Up to your haughty pallaces may mount ; 420

And, for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit,

May heavenly tabernacles there inherit.

Of blessed saints for to increase the count.

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this,

And cease till then our tymely ioyes to sing : 425

The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring:

Song! made in lieu of many ornaments,

With ichich my lore should duty have been dect,

Which cutting off through hasty accidents,

Ye would not stall your dew time to expect, 430

But promist both to recompens ;

Be unto her a goodly ornament,

And for short time an endlesse monimenl ! 433

POEMS.

In youth, before I waxed old.
The blynd boy, Venus baby.
For want of cunning made me bold,
In bitter hyve to grope for honny :
But, when he saw me stung and cry.
He tooke his wings and away did fly.

As Diane hunted on a uay,

She chaunst to come where Cupid lay,

His quiver by his head :

One of his shafts she stole away,

And one of hers did close convay

Into the others stead :

V\ ith that Love wounded my loves hart.

But Diane beasts with Cupids dart.

I SAW, in secret to my dame
How little Cupid humbly cam j.

And said to her; " All hayle, my mother!"
But, when he saw me laugh, for shame
His face with bashfull blood did flame.
Not knowing Venus from the other.
" Then, never blush, Cupid, quoth I,
For many have err'd in this beauty."

Upon a day, as Love lay sweetly slumbring
All in in his mothers lap ;

A gentle bee, with his loud trumpet murm'ring,
j About him flew by hap.
Whereof when he was wakened with the I'.oyse, 5
And saw the beast so small ;

" Whats this (quoth he) that giv^s so great a voyce
That wakens men withallt "
In angry wize he flies about,

And threatens all with corage stout. 10

To whom his mother closely smiling sayd,
'Twixt earnest and 'twixt game :
" See ! thou thyselfe likewise art lyttle made.
If thou regard the same.

434

POEMS.

And yet thou sufFrest neyther goda in sky, 15

Nor men in earth, to rest:

But, when tbou art disposed cruelly,

Theyr slgepe tbou doost molest.

Then eyther change thy cruelty,

Or give like leave unto the fly."

Nathelesse, the cruell boy, not so content,

Would needs the fly pursue ;

And in his liand, with heedlesse hardiment.

Him caught for to subdue.

But, when on it he hasty hand did lay.

The bee him stung therefore :

" Now out alas, he cryde, and well away,

I wounded am full sore :

The tly, that I so much did scorne,

Hath hurt me with his little borne."

Unto bis mother straight he weeping came.

And of his griefe complayned :

Who could not chuse but laugh at his fond game.

Though sad to see him pained. [smart 35

"Think now ((luoch she) my son, bow great tho

Of those whom thou dost wound :

Full many thou hast pricked to the hart^

That pitty never found :

'i lierefore, henceforth some pitty take,

\Vlien thou doest spoyle of lovers make." 40

She tooke him streight full pitiously lamenting,

And wrapt him in her smock :

She wrapt him softly, all the while repenting

'J'hat he the fly did mock.

She drest bis wound, and it embaulmed well

With salve of soveraigne might :

And then she bath'd him in a dainty well.

The well of deare delight.

Who would not oft be stung as this.

To be so bath'd in Venus blis ?

'i'he wanton boy was shortly wel recured

Of that his malady :

]3ut he, soone after, fresh again enured

His former cruelty.

And since that time he wounded hath my selfe 53

With his sharpe dart of love :

And now forgets the cruell carelesse elfe

His mothers heast to prove.

So now I languish, till be please

My pining anguish to appease. 60

AMORETTI:

0(t,

SONNETS.

BY EDM. SPENSER.

TO THE AUTHOR.

Darke is the day, when Phffibus face is shiouded,
And weaker sights Tnay wander soone astray :
But, when they see liis glorious rays unclouded.
With steddy steps they keej) the perfect way .
■So, while this muso in forraine land doth stay,
Invention weej)s, and pens are cast aside ;
The time, like night, depriv'd of chearfull dav ;
And few do write, bat (ah !) too soon may slide.
Then, hie thee home, that art our perfect guide.
And with thy wit illustrate England's fame.
Daunting thereby our neighbours ancient pride.
That do, for poesie, challenge chiefest name :
So we that live, and ages that succeetl.
With great applause thy learned works shall read.
G. \V. Senior.

Air ! Colin, whether on the lowly plaine.
Piping to sliejiherds thy sweet roundelays:
Or wlietlier singing, in some lofty vaine,
Heroicke deeds of })ast or present days ,
Or whether in lliy lovely mistresse praise.
Thou list to exercise thy learned quill ;
Thy muse Iiath got such ijrace and power to please,
With rare invention, beautified by skill,
As wlio therein can ever ioy their fill !
! tliorefore let that ha]>py muse proceed
To clime tho hei ht of Vertues sacred hill.
Where endlesse honourshall be made thy meed ;
Because no malice of succeeding dales
Can rase those records of thy lasting praise.

G. W. JUNIOB,

SONNETS.

42f

Happy, ye leaves ! wlien as those lilly hands.
Which liold my life in tlieir dead-doing might,
Shall handle you, and hold in loves soft bands,
Lyke captives tremblins;- at the victors sigJit.
And happy lines! on which, with starry lii;ht.
Those lamping" ej'es will deigne sometimes to look,
And leade the sorrowes of my d\ing spriglit,
Written with teares in harts close-bleeding book.
And happy rvmes ! bath'd in the sacred brooke
Of Helicon, whence she derived is ;
When ve behold that angels blessed looke,
My soules long-lacked food, mv heavens blis ;
Leaves, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone,
Whom if ve please, I care for other none !

Unquiet thought I whom at the first I bred
Of th' inward bale of my love-jiined hart ;
And sithens have with sighes and sorrowes fed.
Till greater then my woinbe thou woxen art:
Breake forth at length out of the inner part,
In which thou lurkest lyke to vipers brood ;
And seeke some succour botli to ease my smart.
And also to sustayne thy sell'e with food.
But, if in presence of that favrest proud
Thou chance to come, fall lowly at her feet ;
And, with meek humblesse and afflicted mood.
Pardon for thee, and ^race for me, intreat :

Which if she graunt, then live, and my love cherish:
If not, die soone ; and I with thee will perish.

The soverayne beauty which I doo admyre,
Witnesse the world how wortliv to be prayzed !
The light whereof hath kindled hfavenlv fyre
In my fraile spirit, by her from basenesse raysed ;
That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed.
Base tlnng I can no more endure to view :
But, looking still on her, I siand amazed
At wondrous sight of so celestiall hew.
So when my toung would speak her praises dew.
It stopped is with thoughts astonishment ;
And, when my pen would write her titles true.
It ravisht is wiih fancies wonderment :

Yet in my hart I then both speak and write
The wonder that my wit cannot endite.

New yeare, forth looking out of lanus gate.

Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight :

And, bidding th'old adieu, his passed date

Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright :

And, calling- forth out of sad Winters night

Fresh Love, that long hath slt-pt in cheerlesse bower,

Wils him awake, and soone about him dight

His wanton wingsand darts of deadly power.

For lusty Spring now in his timely hovvre

Is ready to come forth, him to receive ;

And warns the earth with diverscolord flowre

To decke hir ^c Ife, and her f dre mantle weave

Then \ou, faire flowre ! in whom fresh youth doth
Prepare your selfe new love to entertaine. [raine,

Rudely thou wrongest my deare harts desire.
In finding fault witli her too portly jiride :
The thing wiiicli I doo most in iier admire.
Is of the world unworthy most envide :

For in those Ipftie lookes is close implide.
Scorn of base things, and sdeigneof foul dishonour:
'i hretning rash eies which gaze on her so wide,
That loosely they ne dare to looke u])on her.
Such pride is praise ; such portlinesse is honor ;
That boldned innocence beares in hir eies ;
And her faire countenance, like a j^oodly bannej,
Spreds in defiaunce of all enemies.

Was never in this world aught worthy tride.
Without some spark of such self-pleasing jiride.

Be nought dismayd that her unmoved mind
Doth still persist in her rebellious pride:
Such love, not lyke to lusts of baser kynd,
The harder wonne, the firmer will abide.
The durefull oake, whose sap is not yet dride.
Is long ere it conceive the kindling f'vre ;
But, when it once doth burne, it doth divide
Great heat, and makes his flames to heaven aspire.
So hard it is to kindle new desire
In gentle brest, that shall endure for ever :
Deepe is the wound, that dints the parts entire
With chaste affects that nought but death can sever ;
Then thinke not long in taking little paine
To knit the knot, that ever shall remaine.

Fayre eyes ! the myrrour of my mazed hart.

What wondrous vertiie is contayn'd in you.

The which both lyfe and death forth from you dart,

Into the obiect of your mighty view ?

For, when ye mildly looke with lovely hew,

Then is my soule with life and love inspired

But when ye lowre, or looke on me askew.

Then do I die, as one with lightning fvred.

But, since that lyfe is more than death desyred,

Looke ever lovely, as becomes you best ;

That your bright beams, of my weak eies admyred,

May kindle living hre within my brest.

Such life should be the honor of your light,
Such death the sad ensample of 3^our might.

More then most faire, full of the living fire,
Kindled above unto the Maker nere ;
No eies but ioyes, in whicii al powers conspire.
That to the world naught else be counted deare;
I'hrugh your bright beams doth not the blinded guest
Shoot out his darts to base affections wound ;
Bu' anL;els come to lead fraile mindes to rest
In chast desires, on heavenly beauty bound.
You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within ;
You stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake;
You calme the storme that passion did begin,
Strong thruuh your cause, but by your vertue weak.
Dark is the world, where your lii^ht shined never j
Well is he borne, that may beliold you ever.

LoxG-wniLE I sought to what I might conijiare
1 hose powrefull eies, which lighten my dark spright ^
Yet find I nought on eartli, to which 1 dare
Resemble th' ymage of their goodly light.
Not to the sun ; for they doo shine by r.ighi,
Nor to the moone ; for they are change;i never;
Nor to tlie starres ; for they have purer siglit ■
Nor to the tire; for they consume not ever

426

so^'l\f:l^.

Nor to tbe lightning- ; for they still persever ;

Nor to the diamond ; for they are more tender;

Nor unto cristall; for nought may them sever;

Nor unto glasse ; such basenesse mought offend her.
Then to the Rlaker selfe they likest be,
Whose li"ht doth lighten all that here we see.

UNrticinEous Lord of Love, what law is this,

I'hat me thou makest tluis tormented be,

The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse

Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me?

See I how the tyrannesse doth ioy to see

Tiie huge massacres which her eyes do make ;

And humbled harts brings captive unto thee,

'I'hat thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take,

But her proud hart doe thou a little shake,

And that high look, with which she doth comptroU

All this worlds pride, bow to a baser make.

And al her faults in thy black booke enroll :

That I mav laugh at her in equall sort, [sport.

\s she doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her

Dayi.y when I do seeke and sew for peace.

And hostages doe offer for my truth ;

She, cruell warriour, doth herselfe addresse

To battell, and the weary war renew'th ;

Ne wilbe moov'd with reason, or with rewth.

To graunt small respit to my restlesse toile ;

But greedily her fell intent poursewth,

Of my poore life to make unpittied spoile.

Yet mv poore life, all sorrowes to assoyle,

I would her yield, her wrath to pacify :

But then she seeks, with torment and tunnoyle,

To force me live, and will not let me dy.

All j)aine hath end, and every war hath peace ;

But mine, no price nor prayer may surcease.

One day I sought with her hart-thrilling eies
To make a truce, and termes to entertaine :
All fearlesse then of so false enimies.
Which sought me to entrap- in treasons traine.
So, as I then disarmed did remaine,
A wicked ambush which lay hidden long,
In the close covert of her guilful eyen.
Thence breaking forth, did thick about me throng
Too feeble 1 t' abide the brunt so strong.
Was forst to yield my selfe into their hands ;
Who, me captiving streight with rigorous wrong
Have ever since kept m.e in cruell bands.
So, ladie, now to you I doo compl-aine.
Against your eies, that iustice I may gaine.

In that proud port, which her so goodly graceth,
'Whiles her faire face she reaves up to the skie.
And to the ground her eie-lids low embaseth,
Most goodly temperature ye mav descry ;
Myld humblesse, mixt nith awfull maiestie.
For, looking on the eaitli whence she was borne,
Her minde remembreth her mortalitie,
VVhatso is fayrest shall to earth returne.
But that same lofty countenance seenies to scorne
Base thing, and thinke how she to heaven may clime;
Treading- downe earth as lothsonie and forlorne,
That iiinders heavenly thoughts with drossy slime.

Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me ;

Such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be.

Rfiourne agayne, my forces late disraayd.

Unto the siege by you abandon'd quite.

Great shame it is to leave, like one -.ifravd.

So faire a peece, for one repulse so light.

'Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater might

Then those small forts which ye were wont belay :

Such haughty mynds, enur'd to hardy fii;ht,

Disdayne to yield unto the first assay.

Bring therefore all the forces that ye may.

And lay incessant battery to her heart ;

Playnts, prayers, vowes, ruth, sorrow, and dismay ;

Those engins can the proudest love convert :

And, if those faj'le, fall down and dy before her ;

So dying live, and living do adore her.

Ye tradefull merchants, that, with weary toyle.

Do seeke most pretious things to make your gain ;

And both the Indias of their treasure spoile ;

What needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine?

For loe, my love doth in her selfe containe

All this worlds riclies that may farre be found :

If sajihyres, loe, her eies be saphyres plaine ;

If rubies, loe, hir lips be rubies sound ;

If pearles, hir teeth be ])earles, both pure and round ;

If yvorie, her forehead yvory weene ;

If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground ;

If silver, her faire hands are silver sheene :
]'>ut that which fairest is, but few behold.
Her mind adornd with verlues manifold.

One day as I unwarily did gaze
On those fayre eyes, my loves immortall light;
The whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze,
Thro-.igh sweet i'lusion of her lookes delight;
I mote perceive how, in her ghtuncing sight,
Legions of loves with little wings did fly ;
Darting their deadly arrows, fyry blight.
At every rash beholder passing by.
One of those archers closely I did spy,
Avming his arrow at ray very hart :
When suddenly, with tw-incle of her eye.
The dainzell broke his misintended dart.

Had she not .--o doon, sure I had bene slayne;

Yet as it was, I hardly scap't with paine.

The glorious pourtraict of that angels face,
JNIade to amaze weako mens confused skil,
And this worlds w-ortblesse glory to embase.
What ]ien, what pencill, can espresse her fill?
For though he colours could devize at will.
And eke his learned hand -at pleasure guide.
Least, tremblin^i, it his workmanship should spill;
Yet many wondrous things there -are beside ;
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide ;
The charming smiles, that rob sence from the hart;
The lovely pleasaunce ; and the lofty ])ride ;
Cannot expressed be by any art.

A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede.
That can expresse the life of things indeed.

The rolling wheels that runneth often round,
Tbe hardest Steele, in tract of time doth teare*
And drizling dro[is, that often doe redound.
The firmest flint doth in continuance wcare :

SONNF.IS.

427

let cannot 1, with many a drooping teare
And long; intreaty, soflen her hard hart ;
That she will once vouchsafe mv plaint to hears.
Or iooke with pitty on my payneful smart ;
But, when I pleade, she liids me play my part ;
And, when I weep, she sayes, Teares are but water,
And, when I sigh, she sayes, I know the art;
And, when I waile, she turnes hir selfe to laughter.
So do I weepe, and wavle, and pleade in vaine,
Whiles she as Steele and flint doth still remayne.

The merrv cuckow, messenger of sjiring,
His troinpet shrill hath thrise already sounded,
That warnes al lovers wayte upon their king.
Who now is coming forth with girland crouned.
With noyse whereof the quyre of byrds resounded,
Their anthemes sweet, devized of loves prayse.
That all the woods thevr ecclioes back rebounded.
As if tliev knew the meaning of their laves.
'But mongst them all, which did Loves honor rayse.
No word was heard of her that most it ought ;
But she his precept proudly disobayes.
And doth his ydle message set at nought.

Therefore, O Love, unlesse she turne to thee

Ere cuckow end, let her a rebell be!

In vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
And doe myne humbled hart before her poure ;
The whiles her foot she in mv necke doth place.
And tread my life downe in the lowly floure.
And yet the lyon that is lord of power.
And reigneih over every beast in field.
In his most pride disdeigneth to devoure
The silly lambe that to his might doth yield.
But she, more cruell, and more salvage wylde,
Tlian either lyon or the lyonesse ;
Shames not to be wi'h gniltlesse bloud defylde ,
But takf th glory in her cruelnesse.

Fayrer then fayrest ! let none ever sa)'^.
That ye were blooded in a yeelded pray.

W^As it the worke of nature or of art,

"Which tenipred so the feature of her face.

That pride and meeknesse, mixt by equall part.

Doe both appeare t' adorne her beauties o-yace ?

For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace.

She to her love doth lookers eyes alluri- ;

And, with stern countenance, back again doth chace

Their looser lookes that stir u[) lustes impure ;

With such strange fermes her eyes she doth inure.

That, with one Iooke, she d<)th my life dismay ;

And with another doth it streight recure ;

Hei- smile nie drawes ; her frowne me drives away.

Thus doth she traine and leach me with her lookes ;

Such art of eyes I never read in bookes !

Tins holy season, fit to fast and pray,

Men to devotion ought to be inclynd :

Therefore, I lykevvi.se, on so holy day.

For my sweet saynt some service fit will find.

Her temple^fayre is built within mv mind.

In which her glori us ymage jdaced is;

On which my thoughts doo day and night attend,

Lyke isacred pnests that lu ver thinke amisse '

There I to her, as th' author of my blisse,
\\'ill builde an altar to appease her yre ;
And on the same my hart will sacrifise.
Burning in flames of pure and Chaste desyre :
The which vouchsafe, O goddesse, to accept.
Amongst thy deerest relicks to be kept.

XXIII.

Penelope, for her Ulisses sake,
Deviz'd a web her wooers to deceave ;
In which the woike that she all day did make.
The same at night she did againe unreave :
Such subtile craft my damzell dothconceave,
Th' imjiortune suit of my desire to shonne :
For all that I in many dayes do weave,
In one short houre I find by her undonne.
So, when I thinke to end that I begoniie,
I must begin and never bring to end :
For witli one Iooke she sjjils that long I sponne ;
And with one word, my whole years work doth rend
Such labour like the spyders web I fynd,
Whose fruitlesse worke is broken with least wynd

XXIV.

When I behold that beauties wonderment.
And rare perfection of each goodly part ;
Of natures skill the onely complement ;
I honor and admire the Makers art.
But when I feele tlie bitter balefull smart,
Which her fay re eyes un wares doe worke in mee,
That death out of iheyr shiny beames doe dart j
I thinke that I a new Pandora see.
Whom all the gods in councell did agree
Into this sinfull world from heaven to send ;
That she to witked men a scourge should bee.
For all their faults with which they did ofi^end.
But, since ye are my scourge, 1 will intreat.
That for my faults ye will me gently beat.

How long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure,
And know no end of her owne mysery.
But wast and weare away in termes unsure,
'Twixt feare and hope dejiending doubtfully!
Yet better were attonce to let me die.
And show the last ensample of your pride ;
Then to torment me thus with cruelty,
To prove your powre, which I too wel have tride.
But yet if in j'our hardned brest ye hide
A close intent at last to shew me grace ;
I'hen all the woes and wrecks which I abide.
As meanes of blisse I gladly wil embrace ;

And wish that more and- greater they miyht be.
That greater meede at last may turne to mee.

Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere ;

Sweet is the iunipeer, but sharpe his bough ;

Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere ;

Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough ;

Sweet is the cypresse, but his rynd is rough ;

Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill ;

Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough j

And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.

So every sweet with soure is tempred still.

That maketh it be coveted the more :

For easie things, that may be got at will.

Most sorts of men doe set but little store.
Why then should I accompt of little paine.
That eudlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine \

i28

SONNETS.

FAiRE]irouclI now tell me, wliy sliouklfairebe proud,
Sitli all worlds fjlorie is but drosse uncleane,
And in the shade of death it selfe shall shroud,
flowever now thereof ye little weene !
That goodlv idoll, now so gay beseene,
Shalldofte her iieshes borrowd fayre attyre ,
And be forgot as it had never beene ;
That many now much worship and admire !
\e any then shall after it infjuire,
Ne any mention shall thereof remaine.
But what this verse, that never shall expyre,
Shall to your purchas with her thankles pain !

Faire ! be no lenger proud of that shall perish ;
But that, which shall vou make immortall, cherish.

'1'he laurel-leafe, which you this day doe wears.

Gives me great hope of your relenting mynd :

For since it is the badge which I doe beare.

Ye, bearing it, doe seeme to me inclind :

The powre thereof, which ofte in me 1 find,

Let it lykewise your gentle brest inspire

With sweet infusion, and put you in mind

Of that proud mayd, whom now those leaves attyre :

Proud Daphne, scorning Phoebus lovely fyre.

On the Thessalian shore from him did flie :

For which the gods, in theyr revengefull yre.

Did her transforme into a laurell-tree.

Then fly no more, fayre Love, from Phebuschace,
But in vour brest his leafe and love embrace.

See ! how the stubborne damzell doth deprave
My simple meaning with disdaynfull scorne ;
And by the bay, which I unto her gave,
Accoumpts my self her ca])five (|uite forlorne.
'I"he bay, quoth she, is of the victours born.
Yielded them by the vanqnisht as tlieyr meeds,
And they therewith doe Poetes heads adorne,
To sing the glory of their famous deeds.
But sith she will the conquest challeng needs,
Let her accept me as her failhfull thrall ;
That her great triumj)h, which my skill exceeds,
I may in trump of fame blaze over all.

Then would I decke her head with glorious bayes,
And fill the world with her victorious prayse.

My love is lyke to yse, and 1 to fyre ;
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolv'd through my so hot desyre.
But harder growes the more 1 her intreat !
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not delavd by her hart-frozen cold ;
But that I burne n)uch more in boyling sweat,
And feele my flames augmented manifold !
What more miraculous thing may be told,
I'Jiat fire, which all things melts, should harden yse;
And yse, which is congcald with sencelesse cold.
Should kiiulle fyre by wonderful devyse !
Such is the ])(jwre of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the course of kynd.

xxxr.

Ah ! why hath n'ature to so hard a hart
(jiven so goodly giftes of beauties grace!
Whose pryde dejiraves each other better part,
And all those pretious ornaments deface.

Sith to all other beastes, of bloodj'- race,
A dreadCull countenance she given hath ;
That with theyr terrour all the rest may chace.
And warne to shun the daunger of theyr wrath.
J5ut my proud one doth worke the greater scath,
Through sweei allurement of her lovely hew;
That she the better may, in bloody bath
Of such poore thralls, hercruell hands embrew.
But, did she knov/ how ill these two accord,
Such cruelty she would have soone abhord.

The paynefuU smith, with force of fervent heat.
The hardest yron soone doth mollify ;
That with his heavy sledge he can it beat.
And fashion to what he it list apply.
Yet cannot all these flames, in which I fry,
Her hart more hard then yron soft a whit;
Ne all the playnts and prayers, with which I
Doe beat un th' a>flvile of her stuhberne wit :
But still, the more she fervent sees my fit.
The more slie frieseth in her wilfull pryde ;
And harder growes, the harder she is smit
With all the playnts which to her be applyde.
What then remaines but I to ashes burne.
And she to stones at length all frosen turne !

Great wrong I doe, I can it not deny,
To that most sacred empresse, my dear dred.
Not finishing her Queene of Faery,
That mote enlarge her living prayses, dead .
But Lodwicli', this of grace to me aread ;
Do ye not thinck th' accomplishment of it.
Sufficient worke for one mans simple head.
All were it, as the rest, but rudely writ?
How then should I, without another wit,
Thinck ever to endure so tedious toyle !
Sith that this one is tost with troublous fit
Of a proud love, that doth my spirite spoyle.
Cease then, till she vouchsafe to grawnt me rest
Or lend you me another living brest.

XXXIV.

Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde,
By conduct of some star, doili make her way ;
Whenas a storm hath dimd her trusty guyde.
Out of her course doth wander far astray !
So I, whose star, that wont with her bright ray
Me to direct, with cloudes is over-cast.
Doe wander now, in darknesse and dismay,
Through hidden perils round about me plast ;
^'et liojie I well that, when this storme is past,
I\lv flclice, the lodestar of my lyfe,
W ill shine again, and looke on me at last.
With lovely light to cleare my cloudy grief.
Till then I wander carefull, comfortlesse,
In secret sorrow, and sad pensivenesse.

My hungry eyes, through greedy covetize
Still to behold the obiect of their paine.
With no contentment can themselves suffize ;
l')Ut, liaving, pine ; and, having not, complains.
For, lacking it, they cannot lyfe sustayne ;
And, having it, they gaze on it the more ;
In iheir amazement lyke Narcissus vaine,
Whose eyes him starv'd : so plenty makes me
poore.

SONNETS.

429

Yet are mine eyes so filled wiih the store
Ot" tliat {"aire sight, that nothing- else thi^v brooks,
But lothe the things which they did like before,
And can no more endure on them to looke.
All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me.
And all their showes but shadowes, saving she.

Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end.
Or shall their ruthlesse torment never cease ;
But al my days in pining lengour spend,
Without hope of asswayement or release?
Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace,
Or make agreement with lier thrilling eyes;
But that their cruelty doth still increace,
And dayly more augment my miseryes ?
But, when ye have shew'd all extremityes,
Then think how little glory ye have gayned
By slaying him, whose lyfe, though ye despyse,
IMote have your life in honour long maintayned.
But by his death, which some perhaps will mone,
Ye shall condemned be of many a one.

What guyle is this, that those her golden tresses
She doth attyre under a net of gold ;
And with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,
That which is gold, or haire, may scarse be told?
Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
She muv entangle in that golden snare ;
And, being caught, may craftily enfold
1 heir weaker harts, which are Lot weW aware?
Take heed, therefore, myne eyes, how ye doe stare
Henceforth too rashl)' on that guilefull net.
In which, if ever ye entrapped are,
Out of her bands ye by no meanes shall get.
Fondnesse it were for any. being free.
To covet fetters, though they golden bee !

Auiox, when, through tempests cruel wrake,
He forth was thrown into the greedy seas ;
Through the sweet musick, which his harp dfidmake,
'Vllur'd a dolphin him from death to ease.
But my rude musick, which was wont to please
Some dainty eares, cannot, with any skill.
The dreadfull tempest of her wrath appease,
Nor move the dolphin from her stubborn will.
But in her pride she dooth persever still.
All carelesse how my life for her decayes:
Vet with one word she can it save or spill.
To spill were pitty, but to save were prayse !
Chuse rather to be praysd for doing good,
Then to be blamed for spilling guiltlesse blood.

XXXIX.

Sweet Smile ! the daugher of the Queene of Love,
Expressing all thy mothers powrefuU art,
With which she wants to temper angry love;
When all the gods he threats with thundring dart :
Sweet is thy vertue, as thy selfe sweet art.
For, when on me thou shinedst late in sadnesse,
A melting pleasaunce ran through every part.
And me revived with hart-robbing gladnesse.
Wliylest rapt with ioy resembling heavenly madness.
My soule was ravisht quite as in a traunce ;
And feeling thence, no more her sorrowes sadnesse,
l'"'l on the fulnesse of that chearfull glaunce,
t\lore sweet than nectar, or ambrosiall meat,
beem'd every bit which thenceforth I did eat.

INIark wlien she smiles with amiable cheare,
And tell me whereto can ye lyken it ;
\\'hen on each eyelid sweetly doe appears
An hundred graces as in shade to sit.
Lykest it seemeth, in my simple wit,
Unto the fayre sunshine in somers day ;
That, when a dreadfull storme away is flit,
Thrugh the broad world doth spred his goodly ray.
At sight whereof, each bird that sits on spray.
And everv beast that to his den was fled,
Comes forth afresh out of their late dismay.
And to the light lift up their drouping bed.
So my storme-beaten hart likewise is cheared
With that sunshine, when cloudy looks are cleared.

Is it lier nature, or is it her will.
To be so cruell to an humbled foe?
If nature ; then she may it mend with skill :
If will ; then she at will may will forgoe.
But if her nature and her will be so.
That she will plague the man that lores her most,
And take delight t' encrease a wretches woe ;
Then all her natures goodly guifts are lost:
And that same glorious beauties ydle boast
Is but a bayt such wretches to beguile,
As, being long in her loves tempest tost.
She meanes at last to make her pitious spoyle.
O fayrest fayre! let never it be named,
I'hat so fayre beauty was so fowly shamed.

The love which me so cruelly tormenteth
So pleasing is in my extreamest paine,
That, all the more my sorrow it augmentetli.
The more I love and doe embrace my bane.
Ne do I wish (for wishing were but value)
To be acquit fro my continual smart ;
But ioy, her thrall for ever to remayne.
And yield for pledge my poor and captyved hart ;
The which, that it from her may never start.
Let her, yf please her, bynd with adamant chayne
And from all wandring loves, which mote pervart
His safe assurance, strongly it restrayne.
Onelylet her abstaine from cruelty.
And doe me not before my time to dy.

Shall I then silent be, or shall I speake ?

And, if I speake, her wrath renew I shall;

And, if I silent be. my hart will breake.

Or choked be with overflowing gall.

What tyranny is this, both ray hart to thrall,

And eke my toung with proud restraint to tie ;

I'hat neither I may speake nor thinke at all,

But like a stupid stock in silence die !

Yet I my hart with silence secretly

Will teach to speak, and my iust cause to plead ;

And eke mine eies, with meek humility,

Love-learned letters to her eyes to read : [spel

Which her deep wit, that true harts thought can
Wil soon conceive, and learne to construe well.

When those renoumed noble peres of Greece,
Through stubborn pride, among themselves did iar
Forgetfull of the famous golden fleece ;
Then Orpheus with his harp theyr strife did bar.

430

SONNETS.

But this contimiall, cruell, civill warre,
The which my selfe against my seli'e doe make ;
Whilpst my weak powres of passions warreid arre ;
No skill can stint, nor reason can aslake.
But, when in hand my tunelesse harp I take,
Then doe I more augment my foes despight ;
And griefe renew, and passions doe awake
To battaile, fresh against my selfe to fight.

Mongsl whome the more I seeke to settle peace,
The more I fynd their malice to increase.

Leavk, lady ! in your glasse of cristall clene,
Your goodly selt'e for evermore to vew :
And in my selfe, my inward selfe, I meane,
Most lively Ivke behold your semblant trew.
Within my hart, though hardly it can shew
Thing so divine to vew of earthly eye,
The fayre idea of your celestiall hew
And every part remaines immortally :
And were it not that, tlirough your cruelty,
^Vith sorrow dimmed and deform'd it were.
The goodly ymage of your visnomy,
Clearer than cristall, would therein appere.
But, if your selfe in me ye playne will see.
Remove the cause by wliich your fayre beanies
darkned be.

When my abodes prefixed time is spent,
My cruell fbj,re streight bids me wend my way :
But then from heaven most hideous stormes are sent,
\s willing me against her will to stay.
Whom then shall I, or heaven or her, obay?
The heavens know best what is the best for me :
But as she will, whose will my life doth sway,
My lower heaven, so it perforce must be.
But ye high heavens, that all this sorrowe see,
Sith all your tempests cannot liold me backe,
A.swage your storms ; or else both you, and she.
Will both together me too sorely wracke.
Enough it is for one man to sustaine
The stormes, which she alone on me doth raine.

Trust not the treason of tliose smyling lookes,
Untill ye have their guylefull traynes well tryde :
For they are lyke but unto golden hookes.
That from the foolish fish tlieyr bayts do hyde :
So she with flattring smyles weake harts doth guyde
Unto her love, and teinjUe to theyr decay ;
Whome, being caught, she kills with cruell prjde.
And feeds at pleasure on the wretched pray :
Yet, even whylst lier bloody hands them slay,
Her eyes looke lovely, and upon tliem smyle ;
That they take pleasure in their cruell play.
And, dying, doe themselves of payne beguyle.
O mighty ciiarm ! whicli makes men love th.eyr bane.
And tliinck they dy with pleasure, live with payne.

XI.VllI.

Innocent paper ; whom too cruel] hand
Did make the matter to avenge her yre :
od, ere slie could thy cause well understand,
id sacrifice unto the greedy fyre.
ell worthy thou to have found better hyre,
en so bad end for hereticks ordavncd ;
heresy nor treason didst consjiiie,

ustly payned.

Whom she, all carelesse of his grief constrayned
To utter fortli the anguish of his hart :
And would not heare, when he to her complayned
The piteous passion of his dying smart.
Vet live for ever, though against her will.
And speake her good, though she requite it ill

FAvnE cruell ! why are ye so fierce and cruell?
Is it because your eyes have powre to kill ?
Then know that mercy is the Mighties iewell
And greater glory think to save then spill.
But if it be your pleasure, and proud will.
To shew the powre of your imperious eyes ;
Then not on him that never thought you ill.
But bend your force against your enemyes :
Let them feel the utmost of your crueltyes ;
And kill «ith looks as cockatrices do:
But him, that at your footstoole humbled lies
With mercifull regard give mercy to.

Such mercy shall you make admyr'd to be ;

So shall you live, by giving life to me.

Long languishing in double malady
Of my harts wound, and of my bodies griefe ;
There came to me a leach, that would apply
Fit medicines for my bodies best reliefs.
Vayne man, quoth 1, that hast but little priefe
In deep discovery of the mynds disease ;
Is not the hart of all the body chiefe.
And rules the members as it selfe doth please ?
Then, with some cordialls, seeke for to appease
l"he inward languor of my wounded hart ;
And then my body shall have shortlji- ease :
But such sweel cordialls passe physicians art.

Then, my lyfes leach ! doe your skill revea le ;

And, with one salve, both hart and body healeil-

Doe I not see that fayrest ymages

Of hardest marble are of purpose made.

For that they slioiild endure through many ages,

Ne let theyr fiimous moniments to fade?

Why then doe I, untrainde in lovers trade,

Her hardnes blame, which I shouldmore coiiini'end?

Sith never ought was excellent assade

Which was not hard t' atchieve and bring to end.

Ne ought so hard, but ho, tliat would attend,

JNIote soften it and to his will allure :

So do I hope her stubborne hart to bend.

And that it then more stedfast will endure :

Only my paines wil be the more to get her ;

But, having her, my ioy wil be the greater.

LII.

So oft as homeawrd I from her depart,
I go lyke one that, having lost the field.
Is prisoner led away with heavy hart,
J3espoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield.
So doe I now my self a prisoner yield
To sorrow and to solitary paine ;
From presence of my dearest deare exylde,
Ijong-while alone in langour to remaine.
There let no thought of ioy, or pleasure vaine.
Dare to approach, that may my solace breed ;
Hut siuhh'n dumps, and drery sad disdayne
Of all worlds ghulnesse, more my torment feod.
So I her absens vvdl my penaunce make.
That of her preselis I my meed may take.

SONNETS.

The pantlier, knowing that his spotted liyde
Doth please all beasts, but that his looks them fray :
AVithin a bush his dreadl'ul head doth hide.
To let them gaze, whylst he on them may pray :
Right so my eruell fayre with me doth play;
For, with the goodly semblance of her hew.
She doth allure me to mine owne decay,
And then no mercy will unto me shew.
Great shame it is, thing so divine in view,
Made for to be the worlds most ornament,
To make the bayte her gazers to embrew :
Good shames to be to ill an instrument !
But mercy doth with beautie best agree,
As in theyr Maker ye theni best may see.

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay.
My love, like the spectator, ydly sits ;
Beholding me, that all the pageants play,
Dis;juvsing diversly my troubled wits.
Sometimes I ioy when glad occasion fits,
And mask in myrth lyke to a comedy :
Soone after, when my iov to sorrow flits,
I waile, and make my woes a tragedy.
Yet she, beliolding me with constant eye,
Delights not in my merth, nor rues my smart :
But, when I laugh, she mocks ; and, when I cry.
She laughs, and hardens evermore ber hart.

What then can move her ? if not merth nor mone,
She is no woman, but a senceless stone.

So oft as I her beauty doe behold.

And therewith doe Ler cruelly compare,

I marvaile of what substance was the mould,

The which her made attonce so eruell faire.

Not earth ; for her high thoughts more heavenl)' are ;

Not water ; for her love doth burne like fyre :

Not ayre ; for she is not so light or rare :

Not fyre : for she doth friese with faint desire.

Then needs another element inquire

Whereof she mote be made ; that is, the skye.

For to the heaven her haughty looks aspire :

And eke her love is pure immortall bye.

Then, siih so heaven ye lykened are the best.

Be lyke in mercy as in all the rest.

Fayre ye be sure, but eruell and unkind.
As is a tygre, that with greedinesse
Hunts after blond ; when he by chance doth find
A feeble beast, doth telly him oppresse.
fayre be ye sure, but proud and pitilesse,
As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate ;
finding a tree alone all comfortlesse.
Beats on it strongly, it to ruinate,
fayre be ye sure, but hard and obstinate.
As is a rocke amidst the raging floods ;
Gaynst which, a ship, of succour desolate.
Doth suffer wreck both of her selfe and goods.
That ship, that tree, and that same beast, am I,
Whom ye doe wreck, doe mine, and destroy.

Sweet svarriour ! when shall I have peace with you ?
High time it is this warre now ended were j
Which I no lenger can endure to sue,
Ne your incessant battry more to beare •

So weake my powres, so sore my wounds, appear.

That wonder is how I should live a iot,

Seeing my hart through-launced every where

With thousand arrowes, which your eies have shot.

Yet shoot ye sharpely still, and spare me not.

But glory thinke to make these cruel stoures.

Ye cruel! one ! what glory can be got,

In slaying him that would live gladly yours !

Make peace therefore, and graunt me timely grace.
That al my wounds w'ill heale in little space.

By her that is most assured to her selfe.
Weake is th' assurance that weake flesh reposeth
In her own powre, and scorneth others ayde ;
That soonest fals, when as she most supposeth
Her selfe assur'd, and is of nought affrayd.
All flesh is frayle, and all her strength unstavd.
Like a vaine bubble blowen up with avre ;
Devouring tyme and changeful chance have pravd.
Her glorious pride that none may it repayre.
Ne none so rich or wise, so strong or fayre,
But fayleth, trusting on his owne assurance;
And he, that standeth on the hyghest stayre,
Fals lowest: for on earth nought hath endurance.
Why then doe ye, proud fayre, misdeeme so farre
That to your selfe ye most assured arre !

TiiEiSE happie she ! that is so well assured
Unto her selfe, and setled so in hart,
That neither will for better be allured,
Ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start ;
But, like a steddy ship, doth strongly part
The raging waves, and keepes her course aright ;
Ne ought for tempest doth from it depart,
Ne ought for fayrer weathers false delight.
Such selfe-assurance need not feare the spight
Of grudging foes, ne favour seek of friends :
But, in the stay of her owne stedfast might,
Neither to one herselfe nor other bends.

IMost happy she, that most assur'd doth rest ;

But he most happy, who such one loves best.

They, that iii course of heavenly spheares are skild,
To every planet point his sundry yeare :
In which her circles voyage is fulfild.
As Mars in three-score years doth run his spheare.
So, since the winged god his planet cleare
Began in me to move, one yeare is spent :
The which doth longer unto rne appeare.
Then al those fourty which my life out-went.
Then by that count, wliich lovers books invent.
The spiieares of Cupid fourty yeares contuiues:
Which I have wasjed in long languishment.
That seem'd the longer for my greater paines.
But let my loves fayre planet short her wayes.
This year ensuing, or else short my dayes.

The glorious image of the Makers beautie.
My soverayne saynt, the idoll of ray thougiit.
Dare not henceforth, above the bounds ol dewtie^
T' accuse of pride, or rashly blame for ought.
For being, as she is, divinely wrought,
And of the brood of angels hearenly born ;
And with the crew of blessed saynts upbrought.
Each of which did her with theyr guifta adorne-,

432

SONNETS.

Tiie bud of iov, the blossome of the inorne,
The beame of lijiht, whom Tiiortal eyes adinyre ;
What Tea>.on is it then but she. should sconie
Hase things, that to her love too bold aspire !
Such heavenlv formes ou^hl rather worshlpt be,
Then dare belov'J bv men of mi-ane degree.

The weary yeare his race now liavinj;- run,
The new be'gins his compast coarse anew :
With shew of raorning- mylde he hath begun,
Betokening peace and plenty to ensew.
So let us, which this cliaunge of weather vew,
Chaiinge eke our mynds, a)id former lives amend;
The old yeares sinnes forepast let us eschew,
And fly the faults with which we did offend.
Then shall the new yeares ioy forth freshly send.
Into the glooming world, his gladsome ray :
And all these stormes, which now his beauty blend,
Shall tiirne to calmes, and tymely cleare away. ^
So, likewise. Love! cheare you your heavy spright,
And chaunge old yeares annoy to new delight.

After long stormes and tempests sad assay,

Which hardly I endured heretofore,

In diead of death, and daungerous dismay.

With which my silly bark was tossed so

I doe at length descry the happy shore,

[n which I hope ere long for to arryve :

Fay re soyle itseemes from far, and fraught with store

Of all that deare and daynty is alyve.

Most happy he 1 that can at last atchyve

The ioyous safety of so sweet a rest ;

Whose least delight sufficeth to deprive

Remembrance of all paines which him opprest.

Ail paines ate nothing in respect of this ;

All sorrowes short that uaine eternall blisse.

CoMMiNG to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found, (
Me seemd, I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres.
That dainty odours from them threw around,
For damzeis iit to decke their lovers ])owres.
Her lips did smell lyke unto gillyflowers ;
Her ruddy cheekes, lyke unto roses red ;
Her snowy browes, like budded bellamoures ;
Her lovely eyes, lyke jiincks but newly spred ;
Her goodly bosome, lyke a strasvherry bod ;
Her neck, lyke to a bounch of cuUambynes ;
Her breast, lyke lillyes, ere their leaves be shed ;
Her nipples, lyke young blossomed jessemynes :

Such fragrant flowers doe give most odorous smell ;

But her sweet odour did them all excell.

Ihe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre love, is vaine.
That fondly feare to lose your liberty ;
When, losing one two liberties ye gayne.
And make him bond that bondage earst did fly.
Sweete be the bands, the which true love doth tye
Without costraynt, or dread of any ill :
The gentle hirde feeles no ca])tivify
Wiihin her cage; but sings, and feeds her fill.
There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill
The league twixt them, that loyal love hath bound :
But simple truth, and mutual good-will,
Seeks with sweet peace, to salve each otliers wound:
There Fayth doth fearless dwell in brasentowre,
And sjiotlesse Pleasure builds her sacred bowre.

To all those happy blessings, which ye have
With plenteous hand by heaven upon you thrown;
This one disparagement they to you gave,
Tiiat ye your love lent to so meane a one.
Ye, whose high worths surpassing paragon
Could not on earth have found one fit for mate,
Ne but in heaven matchable to none,
Why did ye stoup unto so lowly slate ?
But ye thereby much greater glory gate.
Then had ye sorted with a ])rinces pere •
For, now your light doth more itselfe dilate.
And, in my darknesse, greater doth appeare,
Yet, since your light hatli once enlumind me,
With my reflex yours shall encreased be.

Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace,
Seeing the game from him escapt away.
Sits downe to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their pray :
So, after long pursuit and vaine assay.
When 1 all weary had the chace forsooke.
The gentle deer returnd the selfe-same way.
Thinking to quench her thirst at the nextbrooke;
There she, beholding me with mvlder looke.
Sought nut to fly, hut fearlesse still did bide ;
'i'ill I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke.
And with her owne goodwill her fyrmely tyde.
Strangi' thing, me seemd, to see a beast so wyld,
So goodly wonne, with her owne will beguyld.

Most glorious Lord of lyfe ! that, on this day,
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin ;
And, having h;irrov/d hell, didst bring away
Ca])tivity thence captive, us to win :
This ioyous da}', dear Lord, with ioy begin ;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dy,
lieing with thy deare blood clene washt from sin.
May live for ever in felicity !
And that thy love we weighing worthily,
]\lay likewise love thee for the same againe ;
And fur thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy.
With love may one another entertayne !

So let us love, deare love, lyke as we ought
Love is the lesson which the Lord us tauirht.

The famous warriors of the anticke world
Us'd irophees to erect in stately wize ;
In which they would the records have enrold
Of theyr great deeds and valorous emprize.
^Vhat trophee then shall I most fit devize,
In which I may record the memory
Of my loves conquest, peerlesse beauties prise,
Adorn'd with honour, love, and chastity!
I'^ven this verse, vowd to eternity.
Shall he thereof immortall moniment;
And tell her praise to all posterity,
'J'hat may admire such worlds rare wonderment,
The hapj)y j)urchase of my glorious spoile,
Ciotten at last with labour and long toyle.

Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are displayd
All sorts of flowres, the which on earth do spring
In goodly colours gloriously arrayd ;

SONNETS

4SS

GoE to my love, where she is carelesse layd,
Yet in her winters bowre not well awake ;
Tell her the ioyous time wil not be staid,
Unlesse she doe liim bv the forelock take ;
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
To wayt on Love amongst his lovely crew ;
Where every one, that misseth then her make,
Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.

Make liast, therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime ;

For none can call againe the passed time.

I lOY to see how, in your drawen work.
Your selfe unto the bee ye doe compare ;
And me unto the spyder, that doth lurke
In close awayt, to catch her unaware :
Rig'ht so your selfe were caught in cunning snare
Of a deare foe, amd thralled to his love ;
In whose streight bands ye now captived are
So firmely, that ye never may remove.
But as your worke is woven all about
With woodbynd flowers and fragrant eglantine ;
So sweet your prison you in time shall prove.
With many deare delights bedecked fyne.
And all thensforth eternall peace shall see
Betweene the spyder and the gentle bee.

Oft, when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges,
la mind to mount up to the purest sky ;
It down is weighd with thought of earthly things,
And clogd with burden of mortality ;
Where, when that soverayne beauty it doth spy.
Resembling heavens glory in her light,
Drawn with sweet pleasures bayt, it back doth fly,
And unto heaven forgets her former flight.
There my fraile fancy, fed with full delight.
Doth batiie in blisse, and mantleth most at ease ;
Ne thinks of other heaven, but how it might
Her harts desire with, most contentment please.
Hart need not wish none other happinesse,
But here on earth to have such hevens blisse.

Bf.ing my self captyved here in care,
My hart, (whom none with servile bands can tye,
But the fayre tresses of your golden hayre,)
Breaking his prison, forth to you doth fly.
Like as a byrd, that in ones hand doth spy
Desired food, to it doth make his flight :
Even so my hart, that wont on your fayre eye
To feed his fill, flyes backe unto your sight.
Doe you him take, and in your bosome bright
Gently encage, that he may be your thrall :
Perhaps he there may learne, with rare delight,
To sing your name and prayses over all :
That ii hereafter may you not repent.
Him lodging in your bosome to have lent.

JMosT happy letters ! fram'd by skilfuU trade.
With whicli that happy name was first desynd.
The which three times thrise happy hath me made.
With guifts of body, fortune, and of mind.
Tlie first ms' being to me gave by kind,
From mother's womb deriv'd by dew descent :
1 he second is my sovereigne queene most kind,
'I h-it honour and large richesse to me lent:

The third, my love, my lifes last ornament,
Bv wiiom mv spirit out of dust was ravsed ;
To speake her pravse and glory excellent,
Of all alive most worthy to be praysed.
Ye three Elizabeths ! for ever live,
That three such graces did unto me (live.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand ;
But came the waves, and washed it away:
Agayne, I wrote it with a second hand ;
But came the tyde, and made my pavnes his pray.
Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay
A mortall thing so to immortalize ;
For I my selve shall lyke to this decav.
And eke my name bee wyped out lykewize.
Not so, quod I ; let baser things devize
To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame :
]\Iy verse your vertues rare shall eternize.
And in the hevens wryte your glorious name.

Where, when as death shall all the world
subdew.

Our love shall live, and later life renew

Favre bosome ! fraught with vertues richest tresure.
The neast of love, the lodging of delight,
The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure.
The sacred harbour of that hevenly spright ;
Hovv was I ravislit with your lovely sight,
And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray !
Whiles diving deepe through amorous insight.
On the sweet spoyle of beautie they did pray ,
And twixt her paps, (like early fruit in Alay,
Whose harvest seemd to hasten now apace,)
They loosely did theyr wanton winges display,
And there to rest themselves did boldly place.
Sweet thoughts ! I envy your so happy rest.
Which oft I wisht, yet never was so blest.

Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne;
A goodly table of pure yvory.
All spred with juncats, fit to entertayne
The greatest prince with pompous roialty :
IMongst which, there in a silver dish did ly
Tvi'o golden apples of unvalewd price;
Far passing those which Hercules came by,
Or those which Atalauta did entice ;
Exceeding sweet, yet voyd of sinfull vice ;
That many sought, yet none could ever taste ;
Sweet fruit of pleasure, brought from Paradice
By Love himselfe, and in his garden plaste.

Her brest that table was, so richly spredd ;

My thoughts the guests, which would thereon
have fedd.

Lackyng my love, I go from place to place,
Lyke a young fawne, that late hath lost the hynd ;
And seeke each where, where last I sawe her

face.
Whose ymage yet I carry fresh in mynd.
I seeke the fields with her late footing s}^ld;
I seeke her bowre with her late presence deokt ;
Yet nor in field nor bowre I can her fynd ;
Yet field and bowre are full of her aspect :

4J4

SONA'Ki;*.

But, when nivite eyes I thereunto direct,
They vdly back return to rae agaj-ne :
And, when I hope to see theyr trew obiect,
I fvnd niv self but fed with fancies vayne.

Cease then, myne eyes, to seeke her selfe to see ;

And let my thoughts behold her selfe in mee.

LXXIX.

i\lEN call you fayre, and you doe credit it,

For that your selfe ye daily such doe see :

But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,

And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me :

For all the rest, how ever fayre it be.

Shall tuine to nought and lose that glorious hew ;

But onelv that is permanent and free

From frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.

That is trew beautie : that doth argue you

To be divine, and bom of heavenly seed ;

Deriv'd from that fayre spirit, from whom all true

And perfect beauty did at first proceed :

He only fayre, and wl;at he fayre hath made ;

All other fayre, lyke flowres, untymely fade.

LXXX.

After so long a race as I have run
Tlirough faery land, which those six books compile,
Give leave to rest me being half fordonne.
And gather to myselfe new breath awhile.
Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
Out of my prison I will break anew;
And stoutly will that second workassoyle,
Whh strong endevour and attention dew.
Till then give leave to me, in pleasant mew
To sport my muse, and sing my loves sweet praise ;
The contemplation of whose heavenly hew.
My spirit to an higher pitch will rayse,
But let her pravses yet he low and mtane.
Fit for the handmayd of the Faery Queene.

LXXXI.

Fayri; is my love, when her fayre golden iiaires
^\ ith the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke ;
Favre, when the rose in her red cheekes appeares ;
Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparke.
F'ayre, when her brest, lyke a rich laden baike,
With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay;
Fayre, when that cloud of pryde, which oft doth dark
Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away.
But fayiest she, when so she doth display
'J he gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight ;
Throgh wliich her words so wise do make their way
To beare the message of her gentle spright.
Tlie rest be works of natures wonderment:
But this the worke of harts astonishment.

LXXXII.

Toy of my life ! full oft for loving you
1 blesse my lot, that was so lucky plac'd :
But then the more your owne mishap I rew,
'J'hat are so much by so meane love embased.
For, had the equall hevens so much you graced
In 'his as in the rest, ye mote invent
borne hevenly wit, whose verse could have enchased
V'our glorious name in golden moniment.
But since ye deignd so goodly to relent
To me your thrall, in whom is little worth ;
That little, that I am, shall all be spent
In setting your immortal [jravses forth :
Whose lofty argument, ui)lifting me,
Shall lift you up unto an high degree.

Let not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre

Breake out, that may her sacred peace molest ;

Ne one light glance of sensuall desyre

Attempt to work her gentle mindes unrest :

But pure affections bred in spotlesse brest.

And modest thoughts breathd from well-tempred

spirits,
Goe visit her, in her chaste bowre of rest,
Accompanyde with angelick delightes.
There fill your selfe with those most ioj'ous sights,
The which my selfe could never yet attayne :
But speake no word to her of these sad plights,
Which her too constant stiflTuesse doth constrayn
Onely behold her rare perfection,
Aud blesse your fortunes fayre election.

The world that cannot deeme of worthy things,
When I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter:
So does the cuckow, when the mavis sings.
Begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.
But they that skill not of so heavenly matter,
All that they know not, envy or admyre ;
Bather then envy, let them wonder at lier,
But not to deeme of her desert aspyre.
Deepe, in the closet of my parts entyre.
Her worth is written with a golden quill,
That me with heavenly fury doth inspire,
And my glad mouth with her sweet prayses fill.

^Vhich when as Fame in her shril trump shail
thunder,

Let the world chuse to envy or to wonder.

Venfmous tongue, tipt with vile adders sting.
Of that self kynd with which the furies fell
Ther snaky heads doe combe, from which a spring
Of poysoned words and spightfull speeches well ;
Let all the plagues, and horrid paines, of hell
Upon thee fall for thine accursed byre ;
That with false forged lyes, which thou didst tell,
In my true Love did stirre up coles ofyre;
J'he sparkes whereof let kindle thine own fyre,
And, catching hold on thine own wicked hed,
Consume thee quite, that didst with guile conspire
In my sweet peace such breaches to have bred !
Shame be thy meed, and mischiefe thy reward,
Due to thy selfe, that it for me prepard !

Since I did leave the presence of my love.
Many long-weary dayes I have outworne ;
And many nights, that slowly seemd to move
Theyr sad protract from evening untill morn.
For, when as day the heaven dotii adorne,
I wish that night the noyous day would end:
And, when as night hath us of light forlorne,
I wish that day would shortly reascend.
Thus I the time with expectation spend,
And faine my griefe with chaunges to beguile,
'J'hat further seemes his terme still to extend.
And maketh every minute seem a mvle.

So sorrowe still doth seem too loii^ to last ;

But ioyous houres do fly away too fast.

SONNK-'S.

435

Since T have lackt the comfort of tliat liglit,
'lite which was wont to lead my th'.ughts astray ;
I wander as in darkncsse of the night,
AffVayd of every dangers least dismay.
Ne ought I see, though in the clearest dav,
When others gaze upon theyr shadowes vayne.
But th" only image of that heavenly ray,
Whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne.
Of which beholding the id»a playne,
llirough contemplation of my purest part,
With light thereof I doe my self sustayne,
And thereon feed my love-afiamisht hart.

But, with such brightnesse whvlest 1 fill my mind,
1 starve my body, and mine eyes doe blynd.

LXZXVIII.

LvKE as rlie c-ulvc-r, on the bared bough,

Sits mourning for the absence of her mate ;

And, in her songs, sends many a wishful votv

For his returne that seenies to linger late:

So I alone, now left disconsolate,

Mourne to my selfe the absence of my love ;

And, wandring here and there all desolate,

Seek with my playnts to match that mournful dove •

A"e icy of oHglit, that under heaven doth hove,

Can comfort me, but her owne ioyous sight :

Whose sweet aspect both GoU and man can move,

In her unspotted pleasauns to delight.

Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I mis,
And dead my life that wants sucii lively blis.

SONIS^ETS

WRITTEN BY SPENSER,

COLLECTED FROM THE ORIGINAL PUBLICATIONS IN WHICH THEY APPEARED.

To the right worshipfull my singular good frend.
M. Gabriell Harvey, Doctor of the Lauen

H.AnvEV, the happy above happiest men
1 read ; that, sitting like a looker-on
Of this worldes stage, doest note with critique pen
I he sharpe dislikes of each condition :
And, as one carelesse of suspition,
Ne fawnest for the favour of the great;
Ne fenrest foolish reprehension
Of faulty men, which daunger to thee threat:
Hut freely doest, of what thee list, entreat,
l^ike a great lord of peerelesse liberty ;
Lifiing the good up to high honours seat,
And the evill damning evermore to dy :
For life, and death, is in thy doomeful writing!
So thy renowme lives ever by endighting.
Dublin, this xviij. of Jul}', 1586.

Your devoted friend, during life,

Edmund Spencer.
II.
Prefixed to " Ne^'inw, or A Treatise of Nobility," &;c.

Wiioso wil seeke, by right deserts, t' attaine,
Unto the type of true nobility ;
And not by painted shewes, and titles vaine.
Derived farre from famous auncestrie :
Behold them both in their right visnomy
Here truly pourtray'd, as they ought to be.
And striving both for termes of dignitie,
'J'o be advanced highest in degree.
And, when thou doost with equall insight see
The ods twixt both, of both the deem aright.
And chuse the better of them both to thee :
But thanks to him, that it deserves, behight ;
To Nenna first, that first this worke created,
And next to Jones, that truely it translated.

Ei>. Spenser.

Upoh the Historie of George Castriot, alias Scanderbeg,
king of the Epirots, tramlated into Englis'i.

Wherefore doth vaine antiquitie so vaunt
Her ancient monuments of niiglitie jieeres.
And old heross, which their world did daunt
With their great deedes, and fild their childrenseares?
Who, rapt \yith wonder of their famous praise.
Admire their statues, their colossoes great •
Their rich triumphall arckes which they did raise.
Their huge pyramids, which do heaven threat.
Lo ! one, whom later age hath brought to light,
Matchable to the greatest of those great ;
Great both by name, and great in power and might,
And meriting ameere triumphant seate.

The scourge of Tuikes, and plague of infidels.
Thy acts, O Scanderbeg, this volume tels.

Ed. Spenser.

Prefixed to " The Commnnueahh and Goiernmeui if
Venice," &;c.
The antique Babel, empresse of the East,
Upreard her buildinges to the threatned skie :
And second Babell, lyrant of the West,
Her ayry towers upraised much more hiah.
Hut, with the weight of their own surquedry.
•Tliey both are fallen, that all the earth did i'eare.
And buried now in their own ashes ly ;
Yet shewing, by their heapes, how great the}' were.
But in their place doth now a tliird appeare,
Fayre Venice, flower of tlie last worlds delight ;
And next to them in beauty dravveth iieare.
But iarre exceedes in policie of right.

Yet not so fayre her buildinges to behold
As Lewkenors style that hath her beautie told.

Edm. SpENCEfl,

i36

DAPHNAIDA.

To Peacham's Minerva Britanmi are prefixed the fol-
lowing, thus addressed:

To Master Henry Peacham, a Vision upon this bis
JMinerva.

IMETHOUGHT I saw ill dead of silent night
A goodly citie all to cinders turned,
Upon whose mines sate a nympbe in white,
Rending her haire of wiery gold, who mourned
Or for the fall of that faire citie burned,

Or some deare love, whose death so made her sad:

'I'hat since no joye in worldly thing she Isad.

J'liis was that genius of that auntient Troy,

In her owne ashes buried long agoe :

So griev'd to see that liritaine should eniov

Her Pallas, whom she held and honour'd so

And now no litle memorie could show

To eternize her, since she did infuse,

H er Enthean soule, into this English muse.

E. S

DAPHFAIDA

AN ELEGIE
UPON THE DEATH OF THE NOBLE AND VERTUOUS

DOUGLAS HOWARD,

DAUGHTER AND HEIRE OF HENRY LORD HOWARD, VISCOUNT BYNDDN, AND WIFE C7
ARTHUR GORGES, ESQUIER

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE LADIE

HELENA MARQUESSE OF NORTHAMPTON.
BY ED. SP.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE AND VERTUOUS LADY

HELENA,
MARQUESSE OF NORTH HAMPTON.

I HAVE the rather presumed humbly to offer unto
vour honour the dedication of this little poeme, for
that the noble and vertuous gen.iewoman of whom
it is VTritten, was by match neere alied.and in affec-
tion greatly devoted, unto your ladiship. The occa-
sion why I wrote the same, was as well the great
good fame which I heard of her deceassed, as the
particular goodwill which I bear unto her husband
Master Arthur Gorges, a lover of learning and ver-
tue, whose house, as your ladiship by marriage hath
honoured, so doe I find the name of them, by many
notable records, to be of great anliquitie in this

realme, and such as have ever borne themselves with
honourable reputation to the world, and unspotted
loyaltie to their prince and countrey : besides, so
lineally are tliey descended from the Howards, as
that the Lady Aime Howard, eldest daughter to John
Duke of Norfolke, was wife to Sir Edmund, mother
to Sir J^dward, and grandmother to Sir William and
Sir Thomas Gorges, kniglites : and therefore I doe
assure my selfe that no due honour done to the Wliite
Lyon, but will be most gratefull to your ladiship.
whose husband and children do so neerely partici-
pate with the bloud of that noble family. So in all
dutie 1 recommend this pamphlet, and the good
acceptance thereof, to vour honourable favour and
protection. London, this first of lanuarie, 1591.
Your honours humbly ever. Ed. Sp.

What-ever man be he whose heavie mynd,

With griefe of mournefull great mishap opj)rest.

Fit matter for his cares increase would fynd,

Let reade the rufull plaint herein exprest,

Of one, I weene, the wofulst man alive, 5

Even sad Alcyon, whose empierced brest

Sharpe sorrovve did in thousand peeces rive.

But whoso elae in pleasure findeth sense.
Or in this wretched life doeth take delight,
Let him be banisht farre away from hence ;
No let the sacred sisters here be hight.
Though they of sorrowe heavilie can sing ;
For even their heavie song would breede delight;
But here no tunes, save sobs and grones, shall riii

DAPHiV.'iiD.L

4.?r

In stead of them, and tlieir sweet liarmonie.
Let those three fatall sisters, whose sad har.iis
Doe weave the direfull tliretds of'destinie.
And in their wrath brt-ak oft' the vitall bands,
Approach hereto ; and let the dreadfull Queeiie
Of Darknes deepe come from the StyL;ian strands,
And grisly ghosts, to heare this doleful! teene. '20

In gloomy evening-, when the wearie sun.
After his dayes long labour drew to rest.
And sweatie steedes, now having overrun
Tiie compast skie, gan water in the west, 25

I walkt abroad to breath ihe freshing avre
In open fields, whose flowriiig pride, opprest
\Vith early frosts, had lost their beautie faire.

There came unto mv mind a troublous ihouglit,
Which dayly doth my weaker wit posses>e, 30

Ne lets it rest untill it forth iiave brought
Her long borne infant, fruit of heavinesse,
Wiiich she conceived hatli through raediiation
Of this worlds vainnesse and life's wretchednesse.
That yet my soule it deepely doth empassion. 3h

So as I muzed on the miserie

In which men live, and 1 of ni;iny most.

Most miserable man ; I did esjiie

Where towards me a sory wiglit did cost,

Clad all in black, that mourning did bewray, 40

And Jacob stafte in liand devoutlv crost.

Like to some pilgrim come from farre away.

His carelesse locks uncombed and unshorne.
Hong long adowne, and beard all overgrov.-ne,
Tiiat well he seemd to be some wight forlorne : 45
Downe to the earth his heavie eves were throwne.
As loathing light ; and ever as he went
He siglied soft, and inly deepe did grone,
As if his heart in pieces would have rent.

Approaching nigh, his face 1 vewed nere, 30

And by the semblant of his countenaunce

Me seemd I had his person seeiie elsewhere.

Most like Alcyon seeming at a glaunce;

Alcyon he, the lallie shepheard swaine

That wont full raerrilie U> pipe and dannce, 53

And till with pleasance every wood and plaine.

Yet balfe in doubt, because of his disguize,

I softlie sayd, Alcyon ! TherL-vvithall

He lookt aside as in di dainefull wise.

Yet stayed not, till I againe diO call : 60

Then, turning back, lie saide, with hollow sound,

" Who is it that dooth name me, wofuil thrall.

The wretchedst man that treads this day on ground!"

" One, whom like wofulnesse. impressed deepe.
Hath made tit mate thy wretched case to heare, 65
And given like cause with thee to waile and weepe ,
Griefe finds some ease by him that like does beare.
Then stay, Alcyon, gentle shepheard ! stay,
(Quoth 1) till thou have to my trustie eare
Committed what thee dooth so iil apay." 70

"Cease, foolish man !" (saide he, balfe wrothfully)
" 'J'o seeke to heare that which cannot be told,
For the huge anguish, which doeth multiplv
My dying paines, no tongue can well unfold ;
^e doo 1 care that any shi.uld beinone 75

My hard mishap, or any weepe that would.
But ??eke alone *'^ weepe, ami dye alone. "

" Then he it so," quoih I " ihut thou are bent
To die alone, uiipiti.-d, unphiined;
\et. eip thou die, ir were convenient 80

To tell the cause which thee thereto constrained.
Least that the world thee dead accuse of guilt.
And say, when thou of none slialt be maintained,
That thou for seciet crime thy blood hast spilt."

" Who life does loath, and longs to be unbound 85

From the strong shackles of fraile flesh," quoth he,

" Nought cares at all what they, that live on ground

Deem the occasion of his death to bee ;

Rather desires to be forgotten quight.

Than question made ot his calainitie ; 90

Fot harts deep sorrow hates both life and light.

" Yet since so much thou seenist to rue my griefe,
And car'st for one that lor himselfe cares nought,
(Sign of thy love, though nought for my reliefe.
For my relieff exceedeth living thought;) ' 95

1 will to thee this heavie case relate :
Iheii barken well till it to end be brought,
For never didst thou heare more haplesse fate.

" Whilome 1 usde (a^^ thou right well doest know)
My little flocke on wester.ie downes to keep, 100
Aot far from whence Sabrinaes sMeame doth flow.
And flowrie baucks wiih silver liquor steepe ;
Nought carde 1 then for worldly change or chaunce,
^■or all my ioy was on my gentle sheepe.
And to my pype to caroll and to daunce. lOS

'■ It there befell, as 1 the fields did range

Fearlesse and free, a faire young lionesse,

\\ hite as the native rose betore the chaunge

\\ hich Venus blood did in her leaves impresse,

1 -]iied playing on the grassie plaine 110

Her youthfull sjiorts and kindlie wantonnesse,

1 hat did all other beasts in beawtie staine.

" Much was I moved at so goodlv sioht,

VV hose like before mine eye had seldome seene,

Ami gan to cast how 1 her compasse might, 115

And bring to hand that yet had never beene :

So well 1 wrought with'inildnes and with paine,

I hat I her caught disporting on the "reene.

And brought away fast bound with sdver chaine.

" And aftervvardes I handled her so fayre, V'O

That though by kind sliee stout and salvage were.

For being borne an auncient lions hayre,

And of the race that all wild beastes'do feare,

\ et 1 her fram'd, and wan so to my bent,

ihat shee became someeke and mi:de of cheare.

As the least lamb in all my flock that went: V26

" For shee in field, where-ever I did wend.

Would wend with ine, and waite by me all dav ;

A*iid all the night that 1 in watch did spend.

If cause requir'd, or els in sleejie, if nay, 130

Shee would all night by me or watch or sleepe j

And evermore when I did sleepe or play.

She of my flock would take lull wane k'eepe.

" Safe then, and safest were my sillie sheepe,

i\e fear'd the wolfe, ne fear'd ihe wildest beast

All were 1 drown'd in carelesse quiet deepe ; li6

J\ly lovely lionesse without beheast

."Mj c;iretiil was tor them, and fur niv good,

I liiit when 1 waKed, neither most nor least

i touiiu miscarried or in jdaine or wood. 140

4^^8

DA.PHNAIDA.

" Oft did the slic-pheavds, whr-ii my liin did Iieure,

And oft tlieir lasses, wliicli my lui-k cnvyile,

Uaylie resort to nie from farre and iieare,

To see my l^^onnesse, wliose praises vvyde

Were spred abroad ; and when her worth inpsse 145

ZMuch greater than the rude report they tryde,

Tbey her did praise, and my good fortune blesse.

" Long thus I ioyed in my happinesse,

And well did hope my ioy would have no end ;

But oh ! fond man ! that in worlds ticklene&se 150

Reposedst hope, or weenedst her thy frcnd

That glories most in mortall miseries.

And daylie doth her changelull c iunnels bend

To make new matter fit for tragedies ;

" For whilest I was thus without dn-'ad or dout, 153

A cruel satyre with his murdrous dart,

Greedieof mischiefe, ranging all ahout,

Gave her the fatall wound of deadly smart,

And reft from me my sweete compani m,

And reft from me my love, my life, my hart : 160

My lyonesse (ah, woe is me !) is gon !

" Out of the world thus was she reft away.

Out of the world, unworthy such a spoyle.

And borne to heaven, for heaven a fitter pray ;

JNluch titter then the lyon, which with toyle 165

Alcides slew, and fixt in firmament ;

Her now I seeke throughout this earthly soyle.

And seeking misse, and missing doe lament."

Therewith he gan afresh to waile and weepe.

That I for pittie of his heavie j)light 170

Could not abstain mine eyes vvitli teares to steepe ;

J<ut, when I saw the anguish of Ins spright

Some deale alaid. I him bespake againe ;

" Certes, Ak-yoii, painfull is thy pligiit,

'J'hat it in me breeds almost ecpiall j)aine. 175

'• Vet doth not my dull wit well understand

The riddle of thy loved lionesse ;

For rare it seemes in reason to be skand,

Tha'; man, who ilotli the whole worlds rule possesse,

Should to a beast his noble hart embase, 180

And be the vassall of his vassalesse ;

U'herefore more jilaiii areade liiis doubtfull case."

Then sighing sore, " Daphne thou knew'st," quoth he,

" Siie ni»w is dead ;" ue more endur'd lo say,

Bat fell to ground for great extremitie ; 1B5

That I, beholding it, with deepe dismay

Was much apald, and, liglitlv him uprearing.

Revoked lif<s, that would have lied away.

All were my selfe, through grief, in deadly dreaiing.

Then gan 1 him to comfort all my best, 190

And with milde counsaile strove to mitigate

'J'he stormie [lassion of his troubled biest.

But he thereby was more em])a>sionate ;

As stubboriie steed, that is willi curb restrained.

Becomes more fii rce uud lervent in his gate ; 195

And, breaking foonh at la>t, thus deariiely plained :

I.
" What man henceforth that breatheth vital! aire
Will honour heaven, or heavenly powers adore,
Which so uniusily doth their ludgeineMts share
I iNloiigst earthly wighls, as to afflict so s(jri- WO

The innocent, as those which ^\o Ha gress ,
And doe not spare the best oi' f..irest, mote
Thin worst oi foulest, but doe both oppress^ '

" If this be right, why did they then create

The world so faire, sith fairnesse is neglected? i^Oo

Or why be they themselves immaculate,

If purest things be not by them respected?

She faire, she ])ure, most faire, most ))ure she was.

Yet was by them as thing im]>iire reiected ;

Yet she in purenesse heaven it self did pas. 210

" In purenesse and in all celestiall grace,

That men admire in goodly womankind.

She did excell, and seeni'd of angels race.

Living on earth like angell new divinde,

Adordu'd with wisdoine and with i hastitie, 215

And all the dowries of a noble mind.

Which did her beautie much more beautifie.

■' No age hath bred (since faire Astraa left

The siiifuU world) more vertue in a wight ;

And, when she parted hence, with her she reft U20

Great hope, and robd her lace of bounty (|uight.

Well may the sheplieard lasses now lament;

For doubble losse by her hath on them light.

To loose both her and bounties ornament.

" Ne let Elisa, royall shepheardesse, 225

The ])raises of my ])arted love envy.

For she hath praises in all plenleousuesse

Powr'd upon her, like showers of Castaly,

By her owne sheplieard, Colin, her own shepheard,

That her with heavenly hymnes <loth deitie, 230

Of rusticke muse full liardly to be betterd.

" She is the rose, the glory of the day.
And mine the primiose in the lowly shade :
Mine, ah ! not mine; amisse I mine did say :
Not mine, but his, which mine awhile her made ; 235
Mine to be his, wiih him to live for ay.

that so faire a ttowre so soon should fade,
And through untimely tempest fall away !

" She fell away in her first ages spring, 2o9

Whilst yetherleafe was greene, and fresh herrinde.
And whilst her biaunch faire blossomes foorlh did
She fell auay against all course of kinde. [bring,
Kor age to dye is right, but youth is wrong ;
She tell away like fiuit blowne down with winde.
Weepe, shepheard ! weei)e, to make my undersong.

11.
" What hart so stonie hard but that would weepe.
And poure forth fountaines of incessant teares!
What Timon but would let compassion creepe
into his breast, and ]iierce liis Irosen eares?
In stead of teares, whose lirackisli bitter well 250

1 wasted have, my heart- bloud dropipiii^ weares,
I o think to ground how that faire blossome fell.

" Yet fell she not as one enforst to dye,

Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent,

But as one toyld with travdl downe doth lye, 255

So lay slie downe, as if to slee|ie she went.

And cl()>de hrr c\es witli carelesse (luietnesse ;

iiie whiles solt Death away her spirit hent,

And soule assoyid from sinfull flcshlinesse.

•■ ^'et ere that life her lodging did forsake, 2t>0

She, all resolv'il, and readie to remove.

Calling to m (ay inc!) this w-ise bes[)ake ,

• AlcNon! ah, in, liisi and lalest love!

Ah ! why docs mv Alcyn weepe and mourne,

And grieve my - n osi. nar ill mote hiin hehove, 26?

As i n ■ c i.uu-.t some hviU tourne'

DAPKNAIDA.

■139

' I, since the messenger is come for mee,
1 !iut oummons soules unto the bridale feast
Of his great lord, must needs depart from thee,
And straiglit obay his soveraine belieast ; 270

Wliy sli'iuld Alcyon then so sore lament
That 1 from miserie shall be releast,
And freed from wretched long imprisonment!

' Our daies are full of dolour and disease,
Our life afflicted with incessant paine, 275

That nought on earth may lessen or appease ;
Why then should I desire here to remaine !
Or why should he, that loves me, sorrie bee
For my deliveriince, or at all complaine
My good to heare, and toward ioyes to see ! 280

' I goe, and long desired have to goe ;
I goe with gladnesse to my wished rest,
\V'hereas no worlds sad care nor wasting woe
May come, their happie quiet to molest ;
But saints ami angels in celestiall thrones 285

Eternally him praise that hath them h\eM ;
There shall I be amongst those blessed ones.

' Yet, ere I goe, a ])ledge I leave with thee
Of the late love the which betwixt us past,
Mv young Ambrosia ; in lieu of mee, 290

Love her ; so shall our love for ever last.
Thus, deare ! adieu, whom I expect ere long.' — j

" So having said, away she softly past: I

Weepe, shepheard ! weepe, to make mine undersong

" So oft as I record those piercing words, 295

Which yet are doepe engraven in my brest.
And those last deadly accents, which like swords
Did wound my heart, and rend my bleedmg chest.
With tho^e sweet su^red speeches doe compare.
The which my soul first contjuerd and possest, 300
The first beginners of my endlesse care :

" And when those pallid cheekes and ashe hew,

In which sad Deatii his pourtraiture had v/rit.

And when those hollow eves and deadly view, 305

On which the cloud of ghastly night did sit,

I match with that sweete smile and cbearful brow,

Which all the world subdued unto it,

How happie was I then, and wretched now !

" How happie was I when I saw her leade
The shepheards daughters dauncing inarownd! olO
How trimly vi-ouhi she trace and softly tread
The tender grasse, with rosye garland crownd !
And when she list advaunce her heavenly voyce.
Both nymphes and muses nigh she made astownd.
And iocks and shepheards caused to reioyce. 315

" But now, ye shepheard lasses ! who shall lead
Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes ?
Or who shall dight your bowres, sith she is' dead
That was the lady of your holy-dayes]
Let now your blisse be turned into bale, 320

And into plaints convert your ioyous playes,
And with the same fill every hill and dale.

" Let bagpipe never more be heard to shrill,

That may allure the senses to delight,

Ne ever shepheard sound his oaten quill 325

Unto the many that provoke tlipm might

To idle pleasance ; but let ghastlinesse

And drearie horror dim the cheerfuU lioht.

To make the image of true heavinesse ;

" Let birds be silent on the naked spray, 330

And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells ;
Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay.
And parching drouth drie up the cristall wells;
Let th' earth be barren, and bring foorth no flowres.
And th' ayre be Hid with noyse of doleful! knells.
And wandnng spirits walke untimely howres. 336

" And Nature, nurse of every living thing.

Let rest her selfe from her long wearinesse.

And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring,

But hideous monsters full of uglinesse ; 340

For she it is that hath me done this wrong,

No nurse, but stepdame, cruell, mercilesse.

Weepe, shepheard ! weepe, to make my undersong.

" J\Iy litle flock, whom earst I lov'd so well,

And wont to feed with finest grasse that grew, 345

Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter astrofell,

And stinking sniallage, and unsaverie rew ; [rupted.

And, when your mawe.s are with those weeds cor-

Be ye the pray of wolves; ne will I rew 349

That with your carkasses wild beasts be glutted.

" Ne worse to vou, my sillie sheepe! I pray,

Ne sorer vengeance wish on you to fall

Than to my selfe, for whose confusde decay

To carelesse heavens I doo daylie call;

But heavens refuse to heare a wretches cry ; 355

And cruell Death doth scorn to come at call,

Or o-raunt his boone that most desires to dye.

" The good and righteous he away doth take.

To plague th' unrighteous which alive reraaine ;

But the ungodly ones he doth f'ors;!ke, 360

By living long to multiplie their jiaine ;

Else surely death should be no ]iuiiisl)nient,

As the Great ludge at first did it ordaine.

But rather riddance from long languishment.

" Therefore, my Daphne they have tane away ; 365

For worthie of a better place was she :

But me unworthie willed here to stay.

That with her lacke I mi^ht tormented be.

Sith then they so have ordred, I will pay

Penance to her, according their decree, 370

And to her ghost doe service day by day.

" For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage,
Throughout the world from one to other end.
And in affliction waste my better age :
My bread shall be the anguish of my mynd, 375
My drink the teares which fro mine eyes do raine,
My bed the ground that hardest I may fynd ;
So will I wilfully increase ray paine.

" And she, my love that was, my saint that is

When she beholds from her celestiall throne 380

(In which shee ioyeth in eternall blis)

Rly bitter penance, will my case bemone,

And pittie me that living thus doo die;

For heavenly spirits have compassion

On mortall men, and rue their miserie. 385

" So when I have with sorrow satisfyde

Th' importune fates, which vengeance un meseeke.

And th' heavens with long languor jiacifvde.

She, for pure pitie of my sutl'erance nieeke.

Will send for me; for which 1 daily long; 390

And will till then my jjainful jienance eeke.

Weepe, shepheard ! vveei)e, to make my undersong.

vuo

UAFii.xAIL'.

' Hcncefoorth I hate what ever Nntuve mnde,
And in her workmanship no pleasure finde,
For they he all but vaine, and quicklv fade ; 395
So soone as on them blowes the no-tliern winde,
They tarrio not, but flit and fall away,
Leaving behind them nou>i]it but griefe of minde,
And mocking such as thinke they long will stay.

'' I hate the heaven, because it doth withhould 400

Me from my love, and eke my love from me;

I hate the eartli, because it is the mould

Of fleshly slime and fraile mortalitie ;

I bate the fire, because to nought it flyes ;

I hate the ayre, because sighes of it he ; 405

I hate the sea, because it teares supplyes.

' I hate the day, because it lendetli light

To see all things, and not my love to see ;

I hate the darknesse and the drearv night,

Because they breed sad balefulnesse in mee ; 410

1 hate all times, because, all times doo fly

So fast away, and may not stayed bee,

But as a speedie post that passeth by.

' I hate to speake, my vovce is spent with crving ;

I hate to heare, lowd plaints have duld mine eares ;

I hate to tast, for food witliholds my dying ; 416

I hate to see, mine eves are dinid with teares ;

I hate to smell, no sweet on earth is left ;

I hate to feele, mv flesh is nnmbd with feares :

So all my senses from me are bereft. 420

'' I hate all men, and shun all womankinde ;

The one, because as I thev wretched are ;

The other, for because I doo not finde

My love with them, that wont to be their starre ;

And life 1 hate, because it will not last; 425

And death 1 hate, because it life doth raarre ;

And all 1 hate that is to come or past.

' So all the world, and all in it I hate,

Because it changeth ever to and fro,

And never standeth in one certaine state, 430

But, still unstedfast, round about doth goe

Like a mill-vi'heele in midst of miserie,

Driven with streames of wretchednesse and woe.

That dying lives, and living still does dye.

" So doo I live, so doo I daylie die, 435

And pine away in selfe-consuming paine!

Sith she that did mv vitiill powres supplie,

And feeble spirits in their force maintaine.

Is fetcht fro me, why seeke 1 to prolong

My vvearie dales in dolour and disdaine ! 440

Weepe, shephoard ! weepe, to make my undersong.

VI.

" Why doo I Inngei' live in lifes despight.

And doo not dye then in despigbt of death ;

VVhv doo 1 lonsjer see this krathsume light

And doo in darknesse not abridge my breath, 445

Sith all my sorrow should have end thereby,

And cares finde quiet ! Is it so uneath

To leave this life, or dolorous to dye?

" Yet, whilest I in this wretched vale doo Stay

Mv wearie feete shall ever wandring be.

That still I may be readie on mv wav

When as her messenger doth come for me ;

Ne will 1 rest nn* feete for f'eeblenesse, 460

Ne will I rest my limmes for fra'illie,

Ne will I rest mine eves for heavinesse.

" But, as the motlier of the gods, that sought

For faire Ihiridvce, her daughter dere,

Throughout the world, with wofuU heavie thought;

So will I travell whilest 1 tarrie heere, 466

Ne will I lodge, ne will I ever lin,

Ne, when as drouping Titan draweth nere

To loose his teeme, will I take up ray inne;

" Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights) 470

Shall ever lodge upon mine eye-lids more ;

Ne shall with rest refresh mv fainting sprights,

Nor failing force to former strength restore :

But I will wake and soirow all the night

With Philumene, my fortune to deplore ; 475

With Philumene, the partner of my plight.

" And ever as I see the starre to fall,

And under ground to goe to give them light

Wiiich dwell in daiknesse, I to mind will call

How mv fair starre (that shind on me so bright) 480

Fell sodainlv and f.ided under ground ;

Since whose de])arture, (hiv is turnd to night,

And night without a Venus starre is found.

" But soon as dav doth shew his deawie face,

And cals foorth men unto their tovlsome trade, 485

I will withdraw me to some darkesome place.

Or some drere cave, or solitarie shade ;

There will I sigh, and sorrow all dav long,

And the huge burden of my cares unlade.

Weepe, shejiheard! weepe, to make my undersong.

VII.

" Henceforth mine eyes shall never more behold

Faire thing on earth, ne feed on false delight 492

Of ought that framed is of mortall mould,

Sith that my fairest flov*'er is faded quight;

For all I see is vaine ami transitorie, 495

Ne will be held in any stedfast plight.

But in a Tnoinent loose tlieir grace and gloria.

" And ye, fond men ! on fortunes wheele that ride.

Or in ought under heaven repose assurance.

Be it riciies, beautie, or honours jn-ide, 300

Be sure that they shall Iiave no long endurance.

But ere ve be aware will flit awav ;

For nought of tiiem is yours, hut th' only usance

Of a small lime, which none asc6rtaine may.

" And ye, true lovers ! whom desastrous chaunce

Hath farre exiled from vour ladies grace, 506

To inourne in sorrow and sad suft'eraunce,

When ye doe h(>are me in that desert i>lace

Lamenting loud my Daphnes elegie,

Ilelpe me to wailc my miserable case, 510

And when life parts vouchsafe to close mine eye.

" To live I finde it deadly dolorous,
For life drawes care, and care continuall woe
Therefore to dye must neenes be ioyeous.
And wislifull tiling this sad life to forgoe :
But I must stay ; I may it not amend,
My Daphne hence departing bad ine so ;
She bad me stay, till she for me did send.

' And ye, more happie lovers ! which enioy
450 The presence of your dearest loves delight.
When ye doe heare my sorrowfull annov,
Yet ])ittie me in your empassion<l sjiright, .515

And thinke tiiat such mishap, as chaunst to me,
May hajipen unto the most happiest wight;
455 ' For all mens states alike unstedfast be.

ASTdOPHEL.

441

" And ye, my fellow slieplieards ! which do feed
your c&relesse flocks on hils and open jilaines, 520
With better fortune than did me succeed,
Remember yet my undeserved paines ;
And when ye heare that I am dead or slaine,
Lament my lot, and tell your fellow-swaines
That sad Alcyon dyde in lifes disdaine. 525

" And ye, faire damsels ! shepbeards deare delights,

That with your loves do their rude hearts possesse,

When as my hearse shall happen to your sightes,

Vouchsafe to deck the same with cvparesse ;

And ever sprinckle brackish teares among-, 530

In pitie of my undeserv'd distiesse.

The which, I, wretch, endured have thus long.

Thus when iie ended had his heairie [>l&Jnt,
The heaviest plaint ih-.it ever I heard soujiH,
His cheekes wext pale, and sjirights began i-; faint,
As if againe he wotdd have fallen to ground,
Which when I saw, I, stepping to him light,
Amooved him out of his stonie swouiid, 54a

And gan him to recomfort as I might.

But he no waie recomforted would be.

Nor suffer solace to approach him nie,

But casting up a sdeinfull eie at me.

That in his traunce I would not let him lie, 550

Did rend his haire, and beat his blubbred face

As one disposed wilfullie to die,

That I sore "riev'd to see his wretched case.

Tho when the pang was somewhat overpast.

And the outrag-ious passion nigh appeased, 555

1 him desvrde sith daie was overcast.

And darke night fast approached, to be pleased

To turne aside unt'i inv cabinet,

And staie with me, till he were better eased

Of that stronu- stownd which him so sore beset. oGO

" And }'e, poore pilgrims ! that with restlesse toyle
Wearie your selves in wandring desart wayes,
Till that you come where ve your vowes assoyle.
When passing by ye reade these wofull laves, 536
On my grave written, rue niv Daphnes wrong,
And mouine for me that languish out mv daves.
Cease, shepheard! cease, and end thy undersong.' —

But by no meanes I could him win thereto,

Ne longer him intreate with me to staie.

But without taking leave he foorth did goe

With staggring pace and dismall looks dismay,

As if that death he in the face had seene.

Or hellish hags had met upon the way ;

But what of him became I cannot weene. .5G7

ASTROPHEL.

A PASTORALL ELEGIE,
UPON THE DEATH OF THE MOST NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT.

SIK PHILIP SIDI^EY.

DEDICATED TO THE MOST BEAUTIFULL AND VERTUOUS LADIE,
THE COUNTESS OF ESSEX.

.^HEPHEARDS, that wont, on pipes of oaten reed.
Oft times to plaine your loves concealed smart ;
And with your piteous layes have learnd to breed
Compassion in a countrey lasses hart :
Hearken, ye gentle shepheards, to my song,
And place my dolefull plaint your plaints emong.

To you alone I sing this mournfull verse.
The mournfulst verse that ever man heard tell :
I'o you whose softened hearts it may empierse
With dolours dart for death of Astrophel.

To you I sing and to none other wight.
For well I wot my rymes bene rudely dight

Yet as they been, if any nycer wit

Shall hap to heare, or covet them to read :

Tliinke he, that such are for such ones most fit.

Made not to please the living but the dead.

And if in him found pity ever place.

Let him be moov'd to pity such a case.

A GENTLE shepheard burne in .-^rcadv,

Of geTitlest race that ever shepheard bore,

About the grassie bancks of Hamony

Did keepe his sheep, his litle stock and store.

Full carefully he kept llieni day and nisiht,

In fiuiest fields ; and Astrophel he hight.

Young Astrophel, the pride of shepheards prais*»

Young Astrophel, the rusticke lasses love :

E'ar passing all the pastors of his daies.

In all that seemly sheplieard might behove. l(J

In one thing onely fa\ ling of the best,

That he was not so happie as the rest.

442

ASTROPHEL.

For from iLe rime ihat first the nynif)!! liis mother
Ilim fonh did bring, and taught her lambs to feed ;
A sclender swaine, excelling; far each otlier, 15

In comely shape, like her that did him breed,
!Ie grew up fast in goodnesse and in grace,
And doubly faire woxe both in mynd and face.

Which daily more and more he did augment,

With gentle usuage and demeanure myld : 20

That all mens hearts with secret ravishment

He stole away, and weetingly beguyld.

Ne sjiight it selfe, that all good things doth spill,

Found ought in him, that she could say was ill.

His sports were faire, liis ioyance innocent.
Sweet without sowre, and honny without gall ;
And be himselfe seemed made for meriment,
jN'i'rily masking both in bowre and hall.
There was no pleasure nor delightfull play,
Wiien Astrophel so ever was away.

For he could pipe, and daunce, and caroll sweet,
Eraongst the shepheards in their shearing feast ;
As somevs larke that with her song doth greet
'Ihe dawning day forth commiiig from the east.
And laves of love he also could compose : 35

Tbrise happie she, whom he to praise did chose.

Full many maydens often did him woo,

Them to vouchsafe emongst his rimes to name.

Or make for them as he was wont to doo

For her that did his heart with love inflame. 40

For which they promised to dii;ht for him

Gay cha])lets of flowers and gyrlonds trim.

And many a nymph both of the wood and brooke,

Soone as his oaten pipe began to shrill.

Both christall wells and shadie groves forsooke, 45

'J'o heare the charmes of his enchanting skill ;

And brought him presents, flowers if it were prime,

Or mellow fruit if it were harvest time.

But he for none of them did care a whit,
Yet woodgods for ihem often sighed sore :
Ne for their gifts unworthie of his wit.
Yet not unworthie of the countries store.
For one alone he cared, for one he sigh't.
His lifes desire, and his deare loves delight.

Stella the faire, the fairest star in skie.

As faire as Venus or the fairest faire,

(A fairer star saw never living eie,)

.Shot her sharp pointed beames through purest aire.

Her he did love, her he alone did honor.

His thoughts, his rimes, his songs were all upon her.

'I'o her he vowd the service of his daies.
On her he spent the riches of his wit:
For her he made hymnes of iininortall praise.
Of oiielv her be sung, he thought, he writ.
Her, and hut her, of love be worthie deemed ;
For all the rest but litle be esteemed.

Ne her with ydle words alone be wowed,
And verses vaine, (yet verses are not vaine,)
liut with brave deeds to her sole service vowed,
And bold atchievements her did entertaine. 70

lor both in deeds and words he nourtred was.
Both wise and hardie, (too bardie, alas !)

In wrestling nimble, and in renning swift,

In shooting steddie, and in swimming strong :

Well made to strike, to throw, to leape, to lift, 75

And all the sports that shepheards are emong.

In every one he vanquisht every ona.

He vanquisht all, and vanquisht wa sof none.

Besides, in hunting such felicitie

Or rather infelicitie he found, 80

'J'bat every field and forest far awny

He sought, where salvage beasts dc most abound.

No beast so salvage but he could it kill ;

No chace so hard, but he therein had skill.

Such skill, matcht with such courage as he had, 8;i

Did prick him foorth with jiroud desire of praise

To seek abroad, of daunger nought ydrad.

His mistresse name, and his owne fame to raise.

What needeth perill to be sought abroad.

Since, round about us, it doth make aboad ! DO

It fortuned as he that perilous game

In forreine soyle pursued far away ;

Into a forest wide and waste he came,

Where store he heard to be of salvage pray.

So wide a forest and so waste as this, 95

Nor famous Ardeyn, nor fowle Arlo, is.

There his welwoven toyles, and subtil traines.
He laid the brutish nation to enwrap :
So well he wrought with practise and with paines,
That he of them great troups did soone entrap. 100
Full happie man (misweeniHg much) was bee,
So rich a spoile within his power to see.

Eftsoones, all heedlesse of bis dearest hale,

F'ull greedily into the heard be thrust,

To slaughter them, and worke their finall bale, 10.'>

Least that his toyle should of their troups be brust.

Wide wounds emongst them many one he made,

Now with his sharp horesjiear, now with bis blade.

His care was all bow he them all might kill,

Ihat none might scape, (so partiall unto none :)

111 mynd so much to mynd anothers ill. 111

As to become unmyndtull of his owne.

But pardon that unto the cruell skies,

'I'hat from himselfe to them withdrew bis eies.

So as he rag'd emongst that beastly rout, 115

A cruell beast of most accursed brood
Upon him turnd, (despeyre makes cowards stout,)
And, with fell tooth accustomed to blood,
Launched his thigh with so mischievous might,
That it both bone and muscles ryved (juight. 120

So deadly was the dint and deep the wound,
And so huge streames of blood thereout did flow,
That he endured not the direfull stound,
But on the cold deare earth himselfe did throw j
'I'be whiles the cajjtive heard bis nets did rend, 12.''
And, having none to let, to wood did wend.

Ah ! where were ye- this while his shejdieard peares
To whom alive was nought so deare as bee :
And ye fayre mayds, the matches of his yeares.
Which in bis grace diil boast you most to bee ! ISf
Ah ! where wt re ye, when be of you had need.
To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed I

THE DOLEFiJLL l.AV OF CLORhXDA.

41S

All ! wretched boy, the shape <jf dreryhead,

And sad ensainple of mans suddein end :

Full litle failetii but thou sbalt be dead, 135

Unpitied, unplaynd, of foe or triend !

W'hilest none is nigh, thine eylids up to close,

And kisse thy lij)s like faded leaves of rose.

A sort of shepheards sewing- of the chace,

As tliey the forest raunged on a day, 140

J5v fate or f rtune came unto the place,

iVhere as the lucklesse boy yet bleeding lay ;

^'et bleeding lay, and yet would still have blel.

Had not good hap those shepheards ihether led.

'I'Lev stopt Lis wound, (too late to stop it was !)

And in their armes then softly did him reare : 146

Tho (as he wild) unto his loved lasse,

His dearest love, him dolefully did beare.

'I'lie dolefulst biere that ever man did see,

Was Astrophel, but dearest unto niee ! 150

She, when she saw her love in such a plight,
With crudled blood and filthie gore deformed.
That wont to be with flowers and gyrlonds dight,
And her deare favours dearly well adorned ;
Her face, the fairest face that eve mote see, 155

She likewise did deforme like him to bee.

Her yellow locks that shone so bright and long.
As sunny bearaes in fairest somers day.
She tiersly tore, and with outragious wrong
From her red cheeks the roses rent away ;
And her faire brest, the threasurv of ioy,
She spoyld thereof, and filled with annoy.

His palled face, impictured with death,

She bathed oft with teares, and dried oft :

And with sweet kisses suckt the wasting breath 165

Out of his lips like lillies pale and soft.

And oft she cald to him, who answerd nought.

But onely by his lookes did tell his thought.

The rest of her impatient regret,

And piteous raone the which she for him made, 170

No tcong can tell, nor any forth can set,

But he whose heart like sorrow did invade.

At last, when paine bis vitall powres had spent.

His wasted life her wearie lodge forwent.

160

Which wlien she saw, .she staiod not a whit, 1T5
Hut iifter him did make untimely haste:
Forth-with her gho*t out of lier corps did fiit_,
And followed her make like turtle chaste ;
To prove that deatli their hearts cannot divide.
Wliich living were in love so firmly tide. 180

The gods, which all thin^js see, this same beheld,

And, pittying- this jiaire of lovers trew,

'i'ransformed them there King on the HM

Into one flowre that is both red and blew ;

It first growes red, and then to blew doth fade, IHj

Like Astrophel, which thereinto was made.

And in the midst thereof a star appeares,

As fairly formd as any star in skyes ;

Resembling Stella in her freshest yeares.

Forth darting beames of beautie from her eyes : 190

And all the day it standeth full of deow.

Which is the teares, that from her eyes did flow.

That liearbe of some starlight is cald by name,

Of others Penthia, though not so well:

But thou, where ever thou doest finde the same, 195

From this day forth do call it Astrophel :

And, when so ever thou it up doest take,

l)o pluck it softly for that sliepheards sake.

Hereof when tydings far abroad did passe.

The shepheards all which loved him full deare, 200

And sure full deare of all he loved was.

Did theiher Hock to see what they did beare.

And wliea that pitteous spectacle they vewed.

The same with bitter teares they all bedewed.

And every one did make exceeding mone, 205

With inward anguisli and great griefe opprest :
And every one did weep and waile, and mone,
And meanes deviz'd to shew his sorrow best.
That from that houre, since first on grassie greene
Shepheards kept sheep, was not like mourning seen.

But first his sister that Clorinda bight, 211

1 he gentlest shepheardesse that lives this day,
And most resembling both in shape and spright
Her biother deare, began this doleful! lay.
Which, least I marre the sweetnesse of the verse,
In sort as she it sung I will rehearse. 216

THE DOLEFULL LAY OF CLOEINDA,

These verses are supposed to hare been uritten by Mary Countess of Pembroke, sister to Sir Philip Sidney.

Ay me, to whom shall I my case complaine,
That may compassion my impatient griefe !
Or where shall I unfold my inward paine.
That my enriven heart may find reliete !

Shall I unto the heavenly powres it show ? 5

Or unto eaithly men that dwell below?

To heavens? ah ! they alas ! the authors were,

And workers of my unremedied wo :

For thev foresee "hat to u^ happens here,

And tliey foresaw, yet suffn d this be so. 10

From tlieni comes good, from them comes also il ;

1 uat which 'hey made, who can them warneto spill?

To men ? ah ! they alas ! like wretched bee.

And subiect to the heavens ordinance :

Bound to abide whatever they decree, 15

Their best redresse is their best suflPerance.

How then can they, like wretched, comfortmee,
The which no lesse need comforted to bee ?

Then to my selfe will I my sorrow mourne,
Sith none alive like sorrowfull remaines:
And to my selfe my plaints shall back retourne,
To pay their usury with doubled paines.

The woods, the hills, the rivers, shall resound
Thu mournfull accent of my sorrowes ground.

THE MOURNING MUSE OF THESiyLlS.

Woods, bills, and ri7ers, now are desolate,
Sitii lie is gone ilie whicli them all did grace :
And ai; llii; fields do waile their widow state,
Sith dea^h Uieir fairest flowre did late deface.
Th-j fatrest flowre in field that ever grew.
Was Astrophel ; that was, we all may rew.

What cruell hand of cursed foe unknowne,
Hiith cropl the stallce which bore so f\iire a flowre?
Untimely crept, before it well were growne,
Am! cleane defaced in untimely howre.

Great losse to all that ever him did see, 35

Great losse to all, but greatest losse to mee!

Breakr now vour gyrlonds, ye sliepheards lasses,
Sith the faire flowre, which them adornd, is gon :
The flowre, wliich them adornd, is gone to ashes.
Never againe let lasse put gyrlond on. 40

In stead of gyrloiia, weare sad cypres nowe,
And bitter elder, broken from the bowe.

TVe ever sing the love-layes whicii he made;

Who ever made such layes of love as bee?

Ne ever read the riddles, which he !>ayd 45

Unto your selves, to make you mery glee.
A'our mery glee is now laid all abed,
Your mery maker now alasse! is dead.

Death, the devourer of all worlds delight,
Hath robbed you, and reft me fro my ioy : 50

Both you and me. and all the world he ijuight
Hath robd of iovance, and left sad annoy.

lov of the world, and shepbeards pride was bee !

Shej)heards, hope nerpr like againe to see !

Oh Death! that hast us of such riches reft,
Tell us at least, what hast thou with it done]
Wliat i.> become of him whose flowre here left
Is but the shadow of his likenesse gone?

Scarse like the shadow of that whicli he was.
Nought like, but that he like a shade did pas.

But that immortall spirit, which was deckt

With all the dowries of celestiall grace.

By soveraine choyce from th' hevenly quires select,

And lineall)' deriv'd from angels race,

O ! what is now of it become aread. 65

Ay me, can so divine a thing be dead 1

Ah ! no : it is not dead, ne can it die,
l>ut lives for aie, in blisfull Paradise :
Where like a new-borne babe it soft doth lie.
In bed of lillies wrajit in tender wise ; "0

And compast all about wiib roses sweet,
And daintie violets from head to feet.

There thousand birds, all of celestiall brood,
To him do sweetly caroll day and night ;
And with straunge notes, of him well understood,
Lull him asleep in angelick delight ; 76

Whilest in sweet dreame to him presented bee
Immortall beauties, which no eye may see.

But he them sees, and takes exceeding pleasure
Of their divine aspects, appearmg phiine, 8C

And kindling love in him above all measure;
Sweet love, still ioyous, never feeling paine.
For what so goodly forme he there doth see.
He may enioy from iealous rancor free

There livetli he in everlasting blis, 85

Sweet spirit never fearing more to die :
Ne dreading harme from any foes of bis,
Ne fearing salvage beasts more crueltie.

Whilest we here, wretches, waile bis private lack.
And with vaine vowes do often call him back. 90

But live thou there, still bappie, bappie spirit,
And give us leave thee here thus to lament!
Not thee that doest thy heavens iov inherit.
But our owne selves that here in dole are drent.
Thus do we weep and waile, and wear our eies,
jMourning, in others, our own miseries 5

Wiiicn when she ended had, another swaine
Of gentle wit and daintie sweet device.
Whom Astrophel ful deare did entertaine,
Whilest here he liv'd, and held in passing price,
Hight Thestylis, began his mournfuU tourne : 6

And made the muses in his song to mourne.

And after him full many other moe,

As everie one in order lov'd him best,

Gan dight themselves t' expresse their inward woe,

With dolefull layes unto the time addrest. 10

'i he which I here in order will rehearse,

As fittest flowres to deck his mournful! hearse. 12

THE MOURNING MUSE OF THESTYLIS.

This and the succeeding Poem are svpposed to have been written by Lodowick Bryskett.

Come forth, ye nymphes, come forth, forsake your

watry bowres,
Forsake your mossy caves, and help me to lament:
Ilel|) me to tune my dolefull notes to gurgling

sound [of ours

Of Liffies tumbling strearaes : Come, let salt feares
Mix \Mth his waters fre^li. O come, let one consent
loyne us to mourne with wailfull |ihunt' iln' dtadly

wound '"

Which fatall clap hath made, decreed by higl er

powres ;
The dreerv day in whith they have from usyrent
The noblest [ilant that mi^ht from east to west be

found.
Mourne, mourn, great Phillips fall, mourn we Ins

wofull end, " 10

Whom si-itelull Death hath pluct untimely from the

tree.

THE IMOURNING MUSE OF THES'IYLTS.

445

Whiles yec his yeares in flowie did promise wortliie
frute.
Ah dreadful Mars, why didst thou not thy knight
defend ?
What wrathful! mood, what fault of ours, hath

moved thee
Of such a shinincT light to leave us destitute? 15
Thou with benigne aspect sometime didst us behold.
Thou hast in Britons valour tane delight of old,
And with thy presence oft vouchsaft to attribute
Fame and renowme to us for glorious martiall deeds.
But now their [thy] ireful hemes have chill'd our
harts with cold ; 20

Thou hast estrang'd thy self, and deignest not our

land :
Farre off to others now thy favour honour breeds,
And high disdaine doth cause thee shun our clime,

(I feare;)
For hadst thou not bene wroth, or that time neare at

band,
Thou wouldst have heard the cry that wofull Eng-
land made ; '■2b
Eke Zealands piteous plaints, and Hollands toren

heare.
Would haply have appeas'd thy divine angry mynd :
Thou shouldst have seen the trees refuse to yeeld

their shade,
And wailing to let fall the honor of their head ;
And birds in mournfull tunes lamenting in their
kinde. 30

Up from his tombe the mightie Corineus rose,
\Mio cursing oft tlie fates that this mishap had bred,
His hoary locks he tare, calling the heavens un-

kinde.
The Thames was heard to roare, the Reyne and eke

the IMose,
The Schald, the Danow selfe, this great mischance
did rue, 33

With torment and with grief: their fountains pure

and cleere
Were troubled, and with swelling flouds declar'd

their woes.
The muses comfortles, thenympbes with paled hue,
The silvan gods likewise, came running farre and

neere.
And all with teares bedeawd, and eyes cast up on
hie ; 40

help, O help, ye gods, they ghastly gan to crie.
O chaunge the cruell fate of this so rare a wight.
And graunt that natures course may measure out his

ago.
The beasts their foode forsooke, and, trembling

fearfully.
Each sought his cave or den, this cry did them so
fright. ^5

Out from amid the waves, by storme then stirr'd to

rage,
'i'liis crie did cause to rise th' old father Ocean hoare,
\Vho grave with held, and full of maiestie in sight,
Spake in this wise. " Refrain (quoth he) your teares

and plaints.
Cease these, your idle words, make vaine requests
no more. 50

No bumble speech, nor mone, may move the fixed

stint
Of destinie or death : Such is His will that paints
'i he earth with colours fresh ; the darkest skies with

store
Of starry lights • And though your teares a hart of
flint

, iNlight tender make, yer nought herein they willpro-
vnile.' ' £5

^\'lliles thus he said the nnble knight, wtjo gan to
feelp
His vitall foice to f\iint, and death with cruell diut
Of direfull dart his niortnll bodie to as^aile.
With eyes lift up to heav'n, and courage franke as

Steele,

With cheerful! face, where valour lively was; expiest.

But humble mynd, he said: " O Lord, if ought this

fraile " til

And eartlily carcasse have thy service sought t' ad-

vaunce;
If my desire have bene still to relieve th' opprest ;
If iustice to maintaine that valour I have s| ent
Which thou me gav'st ; or if henceforth I might ad-
vaunce 65

Thy name, thy truth, then spare me (Lord) if thou

think best;
Forheare tliese unripe yeares. But if thy will be bent.
If that ])refixed time he come which thou liast set ;_
Through pure and fervent faith, I hope now to be

plast
In th' everlasting b!is, which with thy precious blood
Thou purchase didst for us." With tl'iat a sigh he set,
A nd straight a cloudie mist his sences overcast ; 72
His lips waxt pale and wan, like damaske roses bud
Cast from the stalke, or like in field to purple flowre
Wliich languisheth being shred by culter as it past. 75
A trembling chilly cold ran throgh their veines,

which were
With eies brimful! of teares to see his fatal! liowre.
Whose blustring sighes at; first tlieir sorrow did de-
clare.
Next, murmuring ensude ; at last they not forbeare
Plaine outcries, all against the heav'ns that enviously
Depriv'd us of a spright so perfect and so rare. 8l
The sun his lightsom beames did shrovvd, and hide

liis face
For griefe, whereby the earth feard night eternallv :
The mountaines eachwhere shooke, the rivers turn'd

their streames.
And th' aire gan winterlike to rage and fret apace : 85
And grisly ghosts by night were seene, and fierie

gleames.
Amid the clouds with claps of thunder, that did

seeme
To rent the skies, and made both man and beast

afeard :
The birds of ill presage this luclclesse chance foretold.
By dernful! noise; and dogs with howling made
man deeme » 90

Some mischief was at hand : for such they do esteeme
As tokens of mishap, and so have done of old.
Ah! that thou hadst but heard his lovely Stella
jjlaine
Her greevous losse, or seene her heavie mourning

cheere.

While she, with woe opprest, her sorrowes did unfold.

Her haire hung lose, neglect, about her shoulders

twaine ; 96

And from those two bright starres to him sometime

so deere.
Her heart sent drops of pearle, which fell in foyson

downe
Twixt lilly and the rose. She wroong her hands

with paine.
And piteously gan say : " My true and faithful!
pheere, 100

Alas, and woe is me, why should my fortune frowne

4An

THE MOURNING MUSE OF THRSTYLIS.

On m?* thus frowavdly to rob me of nij' icy !
Wb;it. C'liell envious liand hath taken thee away,
And with thee my content, my comfort, and my stay ?
Thou onelie wast ihe ease of trouble and annov, 105
When ihev did me assaile ; in thee my hopes did rest.
Al.is, wliat now is left but grief, that'night and day
Afflicts this wofull life, and with continuall rage
Torments ten thousand waies my miserable brest !
() s^it'edie envious heav'n, what needed thee to have
Eiiricht with such a iewell this unhappie age ; 111
To take it back againe so soone ! Alas, when shall
Mine eies see ought that may coutent them, since

thv grave.
My onelv treasure, Iiides the ioyes of my poore hart!
As >.i're with thee on earth I liv'd, even so etjuall 115
Me thinkes it were with thee in heav'n I did abide :
And as our troubles all we here on earth did part,
So reason would that there of thy most happie state
I had my share. Alas, if thou my trustie guide
Were wont to be, how canst thou leave me thus

alone I'^O

[n darknesse and astray ; weake, wearie, desolate,
Plung'd in a world of woe, refusing for to take
Me with thee to the place of rest where thou art

gone !"
This said, she held her peace, for sorrow tide her

toong ;
And insteed of more words, seerad that her eies a

lake 125

Of teares had bene, they flow'd so plenteously there-

fro:
And, with her sobs and sighs, th' aire round about

her roong.
If Venus, when she waild herdcare Adonis slaine,
Ought moov'd in thy tiers hart compassion of her

woe,
His noble sisters plaints, her sighes and teares

emong, 130

Would sure have made thee milde, and inly rue her

paine :
Aurora halfe so faire her selfe did never show.
When, from old Tithons bed, shee weeping did arise.
The blinded Archer-boy, like larke in showre of

raine.
Sat bathing of his wings, and glad the time did

s]iend 135

Under those cristall drops, which fell from her faire

eies ;
And at their brightest beames him proynd in lovely

wise.
Yet, sorio for her grief, which he could not amend,
The gentle boy gan wipe her eies, and clear those

lights,
Those lights through which his glory and his con-
quests shine. 140
The graces tuckt her hair, wTiich hung like threds of

gold,
Along her yvorie brest, the treasure of delights.
All things with her to weep, it seemed, did encline,
The trees, the hills, the dales, the caves, the stones

so cold.
The aire did help them mourne, with dark clouds,

raine, and mist, 145

Forbearing many a day to cicare it selfe againe;
Which made them eftsoones feare the dales of Pirrha

shoid
Of creatures spoie the earth, their fatall threds

untwist.
For Phcubus gladsome raies were wished for m vaine,

And with her quivering light Lutonas daughter faire,
And Charles-vvaine eke refus'd to be the shipmans

guide. 151

On Nejitune warre was made by Aeolus and his

traine,
Who, letting loose the winds, tost and tormented th'

aire.
So that on ev'ry coast men shipwrack did abide,
Or else were swallowed up in open sea with waves,
And such as came to shoare were beaten with

despaire. 156

The Med waies silver streames, that wont so still to

slide,
Were troubled now and wrolhe ; whose hidden

hollow caves
Along his banks with fog then shrowdeorfrom man'a

eye.
Ay Phillip did resownd, aie Phillip they did crie. 160
His nim])hs were seen no more (ihogh custom stil

it craves)
With haire spred to the wynd themselves to bath or

sport,
Or with the hooke or net, barefooted wantonly.
The pleasant daintie iish to entangle or deceive.
The shepheards left their wonted places of resort, lf>5
Their bagpipes now were still j their loving merry

layes
Were quite forgot ; and now their flocks men

might perceive
To wander and to straie, all carelesly neglect.
And in the stead of mirth and pleasure, nights and

dayes
Nought els was to be heard, but woes, complaints,

and mone. 170

But thou (0 blessed soule !) doest haply not re-
spect
These teares we shead, though full of loving pure

affect,
Having affixt thine eyes on that most glorious throne.
Where full of maiestie the High Creator reignes ;
In whose bright shining face thy ioyes are all co;n-

plete, 175

Whose love kindles thy spright ; where hapjue

alwaies one,
Thou liv'st in blis that earthly passion never staincs ;
Where from the purest spring the sacred ntci:ir

sweete
Is thy continuall drinke ; where thou doest gather

now
Of Well emploied life th' inestimable gaines. UiO
There Venus on thee smiles, Apollo gives thee place.
And Mars in reverent wise doth to thy vertue bow.
And decks his fiery sphere, to do thee honour most.
In highest jiart whereof, thy valour for to grace,
A chaire of gold he sets to thee, and there doth tell
Thy noble acts anew, whereby even they that boast
Themselves of auncient fame, as J'irrhus, Hanniball,
Scipio, and Cajsar, with the rest that did excell IBS
In martiall prowesse, high thy glorie do admire.
All haile, therefore, O vvorthie Phillip iinmortall.
The flowreot Sydneves race, the honour of thy name'
Whose worthie praise to sing, my muses not as-
pire, 192
But sorrowfuU and sad these teares to thee let fall ;
Yet wish their verses might so farre and wide thy

faiiK!
Extend, til at envies rage, nor time, might end the

same. 19i

PASTOEALL AEGLOGUE

UPON THE

DEATH OF SIE PHILLIP SID:J»[EY, KNIGHT, &c.

LYCOX. COLIN.

Colin, well fits thy sad clieare this sad stownd,
This ■wofuU stownd, wherein all things complains
This great mishap, this greevous losse of owres.
Hear'st thou the Orown ? How with liollow sownd
He slides away, and murmuring doth plaine, 5

And seemes to say unto the fading flowres.
Along his bankes. unto the bared trees ;
Phillisides is dead.' Up iolly swaine,
Thou that with skill canst tune a dolefull lay.
Help him to mourn. Rly hart with grief doth freese,
Hoarse is my voice with crying, else a part 1 1

Sure would I beare, though rude : but, as I may,
With sobs and sighes I second will tliy song,
And so expresse the sorrowes of my hart.

CoLix. Ah Lycon, Lycon, what need skill, to teach
A grieved mynd powre forth his plaints ! how long 16
Hath the pore turtle gon to school (weenest thou)
To learne to raourne her lost make ! No, no, each
Creature by nature can tell how to waile.
Seest not tiiese flocks, how sad they wander now ? 20
Seemeth their leaders bell their bleating tunes
In dolefull sound. Like him, not one doth faile
With hanging head to shew a heavie clieare.
What bird (1 pray thee) hast thou seen, that prunes
Himselfe of late I did any cheerfull note 2 J

Come to thine eares, (ir gladsome sight appeare
Unto tlijne eies, since that same fatal! howre ?
Ilath not the aire put on his mourning coat.
And testified his grief with flowing teares ?
Sith ihen, it seemeth each thing to his powre 30
Doth us invite to make a sad consort ;
Come, Ift us ioyne our mournfull song with theirs.
Griefe will endue, and sorrow will enforce,
1 hy %x'ice ; and eccho will our words report, [frame,

l^vcoN. Though my rude rymes ill with thy verses
That others farre excell ; yet will 1 force 36

i\Iy selfe to answere thee the best I can.
And honor my base words with his high name.
Jlut if my plaints annoy thee where thou sit
hi secret shade or cave ; vouchsafe (O Pan) 40
'i'o pardon me, and hear this hard constraint
Witli patience while I sing, and pittie it.
And eke ye rurall muses, that do dwell
in these wilde woods : if ever piteous plaint
VW did endite, or taught a wofull minde 45

With words of pure affect his griefe to tell,
Instuct me now. Now, Colin, then goe on.
And 1 will follow thee, liiougti farre behinde.

ConN. Phillisides is dead. O harmfull death,
deadly harme ! Unhappie Albion, 50

When shalt thou see, emong thy shepheards all,
Any so sage, so perfect ? VVhom unneath
Envie could touch for vertuous life and skill ;
Courteous, valiant, and liberall.

Behold the sacred Pales, where with haire 35

entrust slie sitts, in shade of yonder hill.
And her faire face, bent sadly downe, doth send
A floud of te;ires to batlie the earth ; and there
Doth call the heav'ns des])ightfull, entlous,
Cruell his fate, that made so short an end 60

Of that same life, well worthie to have bene
Prolonged with many yeares, happie and famous.
The nymphs and Oreades her round nboiit
Do sit lamenting on the grassie grene ;
And with shrill cries, beating their whitest brests.
Accuse the direfuU dart that death sent out (36

To give the fatall stroke. The starre.s they blame.
That deafe or carelesse seeme at their request.
The pleasant shade of stately groves they shuu ;
They leave their cristall springs, where they wont
frame ''0

Sweet bowres of myrtel twigs and lawrel faire,
To sport themselves free from the scorching sun.
And now the hollow caves where horror darke
Doth dwell, whence banisht is the gladsone aire,
Tliey seeke ; and there in mourning spend their
tune 73

With wailfull tunes, whiles wolves do howle and

barke.
And seem to beare a bourdon to their plaint.

L\(ON. Phillisides is dead. O dolefull ryme !
Why should my toong expresse thee ? who is left
Now to uphold thy hopes, wjien they do faint, 80
Lycon, unfortunate ! \Vhat spitefull fate,
V\'liat lucklesse destinie, hath thee bereft
Of thy chief comfort! of thy onely stav !
Where is become thy wonted happie state,
(Ala; '"> wherein through many a hill and dale, 85
Througd pleasant woods, and many an unknowne way
Along the bankes of many silver streames.
Thou with him yodest ; and with him didst scale
The craggie rocks of th' Aljies and Appenine !
Still with the muses spoiling, while those beames
Of veitue kindled in his noble brest, ^'1

Which after did so gloriously forth shine !
But (woe is me I) they now yciuenclied are
All sudd-'ulv, and death hath them oppj-est.
Loe, father Neptune, with sad couiiienance.
How he sits mourning on the stroiul now bare.

448

AN KLKUiK.

Yonder, where th' Ocean with his rolling- waves
The white feete waslieth (wailinj^ tliis mischance)
Of Dover cliffes. His sacred skirt ahout
I'he sea-ijods all are set ; from their moist caves
All for his comfo;! gathered there they he. 101

The Thamis ricb, d e Humber rough and stout,
'J'he fruitfull Sevt riie, with the rest are come
To helpe their lord to mourne, and eke to see
The dolefull sight, and sad pomp funerall, 105

Of the de-.id corps passing through his kingdome.
And all thai.- lieads, with cypies gyrlonds crou-n'd.
With wofull shrikes salute him great and small.
Eke wailfull Eccho, forgetting her dears
Narcissus, their last accents doth resownd, 110

Colin. Phillisides is dead. O lucklesse age ;
O widow world ; O hrookes and fountains cleere ;
O hills, O dales,0 woods, tliat oft have rong
With his sweet caroling, which could asswage
The fiercest wrath of tygre or of beare :
Ye silvans, fawnes, and satyres, that emong
These thickets oft have daunst after his pipe ,
Ye nymphs and nayades with golden heare
That ofi have left your purest cristall springs
To hearken to his layes, that coalden wipe
Away all griefe and sorrow from your harts :
Alas ! who now is left that like him sings ?
When shall you heare againelike harmonie?
So sweet a sownd who to you now imparts?
Loe where engraved by his hand yet lives
The name of Stella in yonder bay tree,
Happie name ! happie tree ! faire may you grow,
And spred your sacred branch, which honor gives
To famous emperors and poets crowne,
Unhappie flock that wander scattred now, 130

115

120

125

What marvell if through grief ye woxen leane,
Forsake your food, and hang your heads adowne !
For such a shephaerd never shall you guide,
V\ hose parting hath of weale bereft you cleane.

LvcoN. Phillisides is dead. O Lappie sprite, 135
That now in heav'n with blessed soules doest bde .
Looke down a while from wliere ; hou sitst above,
And see how busie shepheards be to endite
Sad songs of grief, their sorrowes to declare.
And gratefull memory of their kynd love. 140

Behold my selie with Colin, gentle swaine,
(Whose lerned muse thou cherisht most whyleare,)
Where we, thy name recording, seeke to ease
The inw-.ird torment and tormenting paine.
That thy departure to us both hath bred ; 145

Ne can each others sorrow yet appease.
Behold the fountains now left desolate.
And witlired grasse with cypres boughes be spred;
Behold these floures which on thy grave we strew ;
■Which t;ided,shew the givers faded state, 150

(Though eke they shew their fervent zeale aad purey
Whose onely comfort on thy welfare grew.
Whose praiers importune shall the heav'ns for ay,
That, to thv ashes, rest they may assure :
That learnedst sh--pheards honor may thy name 155
With yeerly praises, and the nymjjhs alway
Thy tomb may deck with fresh and sweetest flowres,
And that for ever may endure thy fame.

Colin. The sun (lo!) hastned hath his face to
steep
In western waves ; and th' aire with stormy showies
Warnes us to drive homewards our silly sheep
Lycon, lett's rise, and take of them good keep. 162
Virtute summa : ciztera fortuna.

AN ELEGIE,

FRIENDS PASSION, FOR HIS ASTROPHEL.

WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY, KNIGHT,

LORD COVERNOUR OF FLUSHING.

As then, no winde at all there blew.

No swelling cloude accloid the aire ;

The skie, like grasse [glasse] of watchet hew,

Reflected Pbcebus golden haire ;
The garnisht tree no pendant stird,
No voice was heard of anie bird.

There might you see the burly beare.

The lion king, the elephant;

The maiden unicorne was there,

So was Acteons horned plant.

And what of wilde or tame are found.
Were coucht in order on the ground.

Akides speckled poplar tree,
1 he palme that monarchs do obtaine,
Witi) love-iuice staind the mulberie.
The fruit that dewes the poets Itraine ;
And Phillis philbert there away,
Comparde with iniille and the bay.

The tree that coffins doth adorne.

With stately height threatening the skie; ?0

And, for the bed of love forlorne.

The blac-ke and dolefull ebonie ;

All in a circle compast were.

Like to an ainpitheater.

Upon the branches of those trees, 25

The airie-winged people sat.

Distinguished in od degrees ;

One sort is this, another that :

Here Philoniell, that knowes full well,

What force and wit in love doth dwell. 30

The skiebred eagle, roiall bird,
Percht there upon an oke above}
The turtle by him never stird,
Exam])le of immortall love.

The swan that sings about to dy, 8*

Leaving JVIeander stood thereby.

And, that which was of woonder most,

The phoenix left sweet Arable ;

And, on a csedar in this coast.

Built up her tombe of spiceiie,
As I cnni^cture, by the same
Preparde to take her dying flame.

In midst and center of this plot,
1 saw one groveling on the grasse ;
A man or stone, I knew not that:
No stone; of man the figure was.
And yet 1 could not count liim one,
More thiin the image made of stone.

At length I might perceive him reare
His bodie on his elbow end :
Earthly and pale with ghastly cheare.
Upon his knees he upward tend,

Seeming like one in uncouth stound.
To be ascending out the ground.

A grievous sigh fortlnvith he throwes.
As miglit have tome the vitall strings ;
Then down his cheeks the teares so flows,
As doth the streame of many springs.
So thunder rends the cloud in twaine,
And makes a passage for the raine.

Incontinent, with trembling sound ;
Pie wofully gan to complaine ;
Sucli were the accents as might wound,
And teare a diamond rocke in twaine :

After his throbs did somewhat stay.

Thus heavily he gan to say :

O sunne! (said he) seeing the sunne.

On wretched me whj' dost thou shine?

M}' star is falne, my comfort done.

Out IS the apple of my eine :

Shine upon those possesse delight,
And let me live in endlesse night.

griefe that liest upon my soule,
As heavie as a mount of lead.
The remnant of my life controll.
Consort me quickly with the dead ;

Halfe of this hart, this sprite, and will,
Di'de in the brest of Astrophill.

And you, compassionate of my wo.
Gentle birds, beasts, and shadie trees,

1 am assurde ye long to kno
What be the sorrowes me agreev's ;

Listen ye then to that insu'lh,
And heare a tale of teares and ruthe.

You knew, who knew not Astrophill?
(That I should live to say I knew.
And have not in possession still !)
Things knowne permit me to renew ;
Of him you know his merit such
I cannot say, you heare, too mucn.

within these woods of Arcadie
He chiefs delight and pleasure tooke.
And on the mountaine Parthenie,
Upon the chrystall liquid lirooke,
The muses met him ev'ry day
That taugiit him sing to write, and say.

AN I.LlsCiiK. 449

When he descended downe to the mount,

His ])ersonage seemed most divine,

A tliousand graces one might count

Upon his lovely cheerfull eine ; IOC

To heare him speake and sweetly smile,

You were in Paradise the while.

A sweet attractive kinde of grace,

A full assurance given bv lookes,

Continuall comfort in a face, Ifft

The lineaments of Gospel! bookes ;
1 trowe that countenance cimnot lie.
Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.

Was never eie did see that face.

Was never eare did heare that tong, 110

Was never minde did minde liis grace.

That eter thought the travell long:
But eies, and eares, and ev'ry thought,
Mere with his sweete perfections caughj

God, that such a worthy man, 115
In whom so rare desarts did raigne,

Desired thus, must leave us than.
And we to wish for him in vaine !

O could the stars tliat bred that wit.

In force no longer fixed sit! 120

Then being fild with learned dew,

1 he muses willed liim to love ;
Tliat instrument can aptly ahew.
How finely our conceits will move:

As Bacclius opes dissembled harts, 12

So Love sets out our better parts.

Stella, a nymph within this wood,

]\Iost rare and rich of heavenly blis.

The highest in his fancie stood,

And she could well demerit this : JS

Tis likely they acquainted soone j

He was a sun, and she a moone.

Our Astrophill did Stella love;

O Stella, vaunt of Astrophill,

Albeit thy graces gods may move, 135

Where wilt thou finde an Astrophill!

The rose and lillie have their prime.

And so hath beaulie but a time.

Although thy beautie do exceed.

In common sight of ev'ry eie, J4

Yet in his poesies when we reede.

It is apparent more thereby,

He that hath love and iudgement too,

Sees more than any other doo

Then Astrophill hath honord thee; 145

For when thy bodie is extinct,
Thy graces shall eternall be
And live by virtue of his inke ;

For by his verses he doth give

The short-livde beautie aye to live. 150

Above all others this is hee,
^Vhich erst approoved in his song,
I hat love and honor might agree,
And that pure love will do no wrong.

Sweet saints ! it is no sinnne or blame, 155

To love a man of vertuous name.

a a

450

AN EPITAPH.

Did never love so sweetly breath

In any mortall brest before,

Did never muse inspire beneath

A poets braine with finer store : 160

He wrote of love with high conceit,

And beautie reard above her height.

Then PaHas afterward attyrde

Our Astrophill with her device,

\\ bom in his armor heaven admyrde, »65

As of the nation of the skies ;

He S[)arkled in liis amies afarrs,

As he were dight with lierie Starrs.

'J"he blaze whereof when Mars beheld,

(An envious eie doth see afar,) 170

Such maiestie Cquoth he) is seeld,

Such maiestie my mart may mar ;

Perhaps this may a suter be,

To set JMars by his deitie.

In this surmize he made with speede 175

An iron cane, wherein be put
The thunder that in cloudes do breede ;
The flame and bolt togither shut
Willi privie force burst out againe.
And so our Astrophill was slaiiie. 180

His word (was slaine !) straightwa}'^ did move,
And natures inward life strings twitch ;
The skie immediately above
Was dimd with hideous clouds of pitch.

The wrasiling winds from out the ground 185

Fild all the aire with ratling sound.

The bending trees exprest a grone,

And sigh d the sorrow of his fall;

Theforrest beasts made ruthfuU mone,

The birds did tune tlieir mourning call, 190

And Philomell for Astrophill

Unto her notes annext a phill.

The turtle dove with tunes of ruthe

Shewd feeling passion of his death ;

Me thought she said, 1 tell thee truthe, 195

Was never he that drew in breath
Unto his love more trustie found,
Than he for whom our griefs abound.

The swan, that was in presence heere.

Began his funerall dirge to sing : £'K)

Good things (quoth he) may scarce appeere,

But passe away with speedie wing.
This mortall life as death is tride.
And death gives life, and so he di'de.

The generall sorrow that was made, 205

Among the creatures of [each] kinde.
Fired the phenix where she laide.
Her ashes flying with the winde.

So as 1 might with reason see.

That such a phenix nere should bee 210

Haply the cinders, driven about,
May breede an offspring neare that kinde
But hardly a peere to that I doubt;
It cannot sinke into my minde.

That under branches ere can bee 215

Of worth and vallue as the tree.

The egle markt with pearcing sight

The mournfull habite of the place,

And parted thence with mounting flight

To signifie to love the case, 22C

What sorrow nature doth sustaine

For Astrophill by envie slaine.

And while I followed with mine eie

The flight the egle upward tooke.

All things did vanish by and by, 225

And disappeared from my looke :

The trees, beasts, birds, and grove was gone;.

So was the friend that made this mone.

This spectacle had firmly wrought
A deepe compassion in my spright;
My molting hart issude, me tliouglit.
In streames foorth at mine eits aright :
And here my pen is forst to shrinke,
My teares discollor so mine inke.

229

234

A¥ EPITAPH

UPON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

SIE PHILLIP SIDNEY, KNIGHT

LORD GOVERNOR OF FLUSHING.

To praise thy life, or waile thy worthie death.
And want thy wit, thy wit high, pure, divine
Is far beyond the powre of mortall line,
Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath.

Yet rich in zeale, (hough poore in learnings lore, fi

And friendly care obscurde in secret brest,

And love tliat ( nvie in thy l.fe supprest,

'I'hv dcpre life done, and diath, hath doubled more.

AN KiTlAVU

451

And I, that in thy time, and living state,
Did onely praise thy vertues in my thought^ 10

As one that seeld the rising sun hath sought,
W'jih words and teares now waile thy timelesse fate.

Drawne was thy race aright from princely line ;
Nor lesse than such, (hy gifts that nature gave.
The common mother that all creatures have, ) 15
Doth vertue show, and princely linage shine.

A king gave thee thy name ; a kingly minde,
That tiod thee gave, who found it now too deere
For this base world, and hath resumde it neere.
To sit in skies, and sort with povvres divine. 20

Kent thy birth daies, and Oxford held thy youth ;
The heavens made hast, and staid nor yeers, nor time ;
The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime,
Thy will, thy words ; thy words the scales of truth.

Croat gifts and wisedom rareimployd thee thence, 25
To treat from kings with those more great than kings;
Such hope men had to lay the highest things
On thy wise youth, to be transported hence !

Whence to shape wars sweet honor did thee call,
Thy countries love, religion, and thy friends : 30
Of worthy men the marks, the lives, and ends.
And her defence, for whom we labor all.

There diilst thou vanquish shame and tedious age,
Griefe, sorrow, sicknes, and base fortunes might:
Thv rismg day saw never wofull night, 35

But past with praise fiom off this worldly stage.

Back to the campe, by thee that day was brought,
First thine owne death, and after thy long fame ;
Tears to the soldiers, the proud Casfilians shame,
Vertue exprest, and honor truly taught. 40

What hath he lost, that such great grace hath woon ?
Yoong yeeres for endles yeeres, and ho])e unsure
Of fortunes gifts for wealth that still shall dure ;
Oh ! happie race with so great praises run.

Englnnd doth hold thy lims that bred the same, 45"
Flaunders thy valure where it last was tried,
The campe thv sorrow where thy bodie died ;
Thy friends, thy want ; the world, thy vertues fame.

Nations thy wit, our niindes lay up thy love ;
Letters thy learning, thy losse, yeeres long to come ;
In worthy harts sorrow hath made thy tombe ; 51
Thy soule and spright enrich the heavens above.

Thy liberall hart imbalmed in gratefuU teares,
Yoong sighes, sweet sighes, sage sighes, bewaile thy

fall :
Envie her sting, and spite hath left her gall ; 55

Alalice her selfe a mourning garment weares

That day their Hanniball died, our Scipio fell ;
Scipio, Cicero, and Petrarch of our time I
Whose vertues, wounded by my worthelesse rime.
Let angels speake, and heaven thy praises telh 60

ANOTHER OF THE SAME.

Silence augmenteth grief, writing encreaseth rage,
Staid are my thoughts, which lov'd. and lost, the

wonder of our age ;
Yet quickned now with fire, though dead with frost

ere now,
Enrag'de I write, I know not what : dead, quick, I

know not how.

Hard Uarted mindes relent, and Rigoi's teares abound,
And envie strangely rues Lis#nd, in whom no fault

she found ; 6

Knowledge her light hath lost. Valor hath slaine her

knight ;
Sidnev is dead, dead is my friend, dead is the worlds

delight.

Place pensive wailes his fall, whose presence was

her pride;
Time crieth out, Rly ebbe is come ; his life was my

spring tide : 10

Fame mournes in that she lost the ground of her

reports ;
Lch hving wight laments his lacke, and ill in sundry

Aorts.

He was (wo worth that word !) to ech well thinking

minde
A spotlesse friend, a matchless man, whose vertue

ever shinde.
Declaring in his thoughts, his life, and that he writ.
Highest conceits longest foresights, and deepest

works of wit. 16

He, onely like himselfe, was second unto none.
Whose deth (though life) we rue, and wrong, and

al in vaine do mone :
Their losse, not him, waile they, that fill the world

with cries ;
Death slue not him, but he made death his ladder to

the skies.

Now sinke of sorrow I, who live; the more the

wrong ;
Who wishing death, whom deth denies, whose thred

is al-to long,
Who tied to wrexhed life, who lookes for no reliefe,
Rlust spend my ever dying daies in never ending

griefe.

-iSS

THE TEARF.S OF THE MUSES.

Harts ease and onely I, like parables run on, 'i!3
Whose equall length keep equall bredth, and never

meet in one ; [cell,

Vet for not wronging him, my thoughts, my sor-ovves
Shall not run out, though leake they will, for liking

him so well.

Farewell to you, my hopes, my wonted waking
dreames ; [beames !

Farewell, sometimes enioyed ioy ; eclipsed are thy

Farewell selfe pleasing thoughts, which quietnes
brings foorth ;

And farewell friendships sacred league, uniting
minds of woorth.

And farewell mery hart, the gift of guiltlesse
mindes, [signes ;

And all sports, which, for lives restore, varietie as-
Let all, that sweete is, voyd ; in me no mirth may
dwell : 35

Phillip, the cause of all this woe, my lives content,,
farewell '

Now rime, the sonne ofrage, which art no kin to skill.
And endlese griefe, which deads my life, yet knowes

not how to kill.
Go, seeke that haples tombe ; which if ye hap to finde
Salute the stones, that keep the lims that held so

good a minde. 40

THE

TEARES OF THE MUSES.

BY ED. SP.

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE

THE LADIE STEAl^GE.

1591.

TO THE niGHT HONORABLE

THE LADIE STRANGE.

Most brave and noble ladie ; the things, that make
ye so much honored of the world as ye bee, are such , as
(without my simple lines testimonie) are tliroughlie
knowen to all men ; namely, your excellent beautie,
your vertuous behavior, and your noble match with
that most honourable lord, the very paterne of right
nobilitie : But the causes, for which ye have thus
deserved of me to be honoured, (if honour it be at
all,) are, both your particular bounties, and also some
private bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased your
ladiship to acknowledge. Of which whenas, I

Rehearse tome, ye sacred sisters nine.
The golden brood of great ApoUoes wit.
Those piteous plaints, and sorowfull sad tine.
Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
Beside the silver springs of Helicone,
Making your musick of hart-breaking mone !

For since the time that Phoebus foolish sonne,
Ythuiidered, through loves avengefull wrath.
For traversing the charret of the sunne
Beyond the coinpasse of his pointed j)ath.
Of you his mournfuU sisters was lamented,
Such mournfuU tunes were never since invented,

Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loved twinnes, the dearlinys of her ioy,
Htr J'alici, whom her unkindly foes.
The faiall sisters, did for spight destroy.
Whom all the muses did bewaile long space,
Was ever heard such wayling in this place.

found my selfe in no part woorthie, I devised this
last slender meanes, both to intimate my humble
affection to your ladiship, and also to make the same
universallie knowen to the world ; that by honouring
you they might know me, and by knowing me they
migiit honor you. Vouchsafe, noble lady, to accept
this simple remembrance, though not worthy of your
self, yet such, as perhaps by good acceptance thereof,
ye may hereafter cull out a more meet and memor-
able evidence of your owne excellent deserts. So
recommending the same to your ladiships good
liking, I humbly take leave.

Your La : humblv ever.

' Ed. Sp,

For all their groves, which with the heavenly noyses
Of their sweete instruments were worn to sound, 20
And th' hollow hills from which their silver voyces
Were wont redoubled echoes to rebound.
Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries.
And yelling shrieks thjowne up into the skies.
I [cleare

. The trembling stream es which wont in channels
'J"o romble gently downe with murmur soft, 26

And were by iheni right tunefull taught to beare
10 I A bases j)art amongst their consorts oft ;

Now, forst to overllowe with brackish teares,
With troublous noyse did dull their daintie eeres. 30

The ioyous nymphes and lightfoote faiJries

\\ hich thether came to heare their musick sweet.

And to the measure of their melodies

Did learne to move their nimble-shifting feete ;

Now, hearing them so heavily lament, 35

Like heavily lamenting from them went.

THE TEARES OF TflK ML'SES.

453

And all that els was wont to worke delight

Throii£;h the divine infusion of their skill.

And all that els seenid (aire ar.d fresh in sight.

So made by nature for to serve their will, 40

Was turned now to disniall heavinesse,

Was turned now to dreadfall u^linesse.

Ay nie ! what thing- on earth that all thing breeds,

Might be the cause of so impatient i)light ?

What furie.or what leend, with felon deeds -15

Hath stirred up somisclnevous despight?

Can griefe then enter into heavenly harts,

And pierce immortall breasts with mortall smarts ?

Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,

To me those secret causes to display ; 30

For none but you, or who of you it learnes.

Can lightfuUy aread so doiefull lay.

Begin, thou eldest sister of the crew,

And let the rest in order thee ensew.

Heare thou great father of the gods on hie, 55

That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts;

And thou our sire, that raignst in Custalie

And JMount Parnasse, tiie god of goodly arts:

Ueare, and behold lie miserable state

Of us thy daughters, doleful desolate. 60

Behold the fowle rejjroach and ojien shame.
The which is day by day unto us wrought
By such as hate the honour of our name,
The foes of learning and teach gentle thought;
They, not contented us themselves to scorne, 65
Doo seeke to make us of the world forloriie.

Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust.

The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce ;

But thev, whom thou, great love, by iloome uniust

Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce ; 70

They now, puft up with sdeignfuU insolence.

Despise the brood of blessed sapience.

The sectaries of my celestial! skill,

That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament.

And learned impes that wont lo shoote up still, 75

And grow to height ol' kingdomes government,

They underkeep, and with their spreading amies

Do beat their buds, that perish through their harmes.

It most behoves the honorable race

Of mightie peeres true wisedome to sustaine, 80

And with their noble countenaunce to grace

The learned forheads, without gifts or gaine :

Or rather learnd themselves behoves to bee;

'I hat is the girlond of nobditie.

But (ah !) all otherwise they doo esteeme 85

Of th' heavenly gitt of wisdomes influence.
And to be learned it a base thing deeme ;
Base minded they that want intelligence :
For God himselfe for wisedome most is praised,
And men to (jod thereby are nighest raised. 90

But they doo onely strive themselves to raise

Through pompous jiride, and foolish vaiiiue ;

In th'eves of people ihey put all their praise.

And onely boast of armes and ^luiicestne :

Bat vertuous deeds, which did those armes first ive

To their grandsyres, thev care not to alehiv . yfi

So I, that doo all noble feates professe
To register, and sound in trump of gold ;
Through ilieir bml dooings, or base slothfulnesse,
Finde nothing wortliie to be writ, or told: 100

For better farre it were to hide their names.
Then telling them to blazon out their blames.

So shall succeeding ages have no light

Of things forejiast, nor moniments of time ;

And all that in tiiis world is worthie hight 105

Shall die in darknesse, and lie hid in slime !

Therefore 1 mourne with deep harts sorrowing.

Because I nothing noble have to sing. —

With that she raynd such store of streaming teares.
That could have made a stonie heart to weep ; 110
And all her sisters rent their golden heares,
And their faire faces with salt humour steep.
So ended shoe : and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.

MELPOMENE.

O ! WHO shall powre into my swollen eyes 115

A sea of teares that never may be dryde,

A brazen voice that may with shrilling cryes

Pierce the dull heavens and fill the ayer wide.

And yroti sides that sighing may endure,

To waile the wretchednes of world impure? 120

Ah ! wretched w^orld, the den of wickednesse,

Deformd with fikh, and fowle iniquitie ;

Ah I wretched world, the house of heavinesse,

Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie ;

Ah! wretched world, and all that is therein, 12.'

I'he vassals of Gods wrath, and slaves to sin.

JMost miserable creature under sky

JMan witliout understanding doth appeare ;

For al! this worlds affliction he thereby,

And fortunes freakes, is wisely taught to beare :

Of wretched life tlie only ioy sliee is, 131

And th' only comfort in calamities.

Slie armes tlie brest with constant patience
Against the bitter throwes of dolours darts :
She solaceth with rules of sapience 135

The gentle minds, in midst of worldly smarts :
W hen he is sad, sliee seeks to make him merie,
And doth refresh jjis spriglits when they be werie.

But he that is of reasons skill bereft,

Alid wants the stafte of wisedome him to stay, 140

Is like a ship in midst of tempest left

Withouten helme or pilot her to sway:

Full sad and dreadfuil is that ships event ;

So is the man that wants intendiment.

Why tlien doo foolish men so much despize 145

The precious store of this celestial! riches ?

\\ hy doo they banisli us, tliat patronize

Tile name of learning ? Most iinhappie wretches !

I'he wliich lie drowned in deep wretchednes.

Yet doo not see their owne unliappiness. 150

IMv part it is and my professed skill

The stage witli tragick buskin to adorne,

And 111! the scene with plaint and outcries shrill

Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne :

But none more tragick matter I can finde 155

Then this, of men depriv'd of sense and minde.

4.54

THE TCAKKH OF Tlir. MUSES.

For all mans life me seemes a tragedy,

Full of sad sights and sore catastrojjhes ;

First comming; to the world with weeping eye,

Where all hisdaves, liise dolorous trophees, 160

Are heapt with spoyles of fortune and of feare,

And he at last laid forth on balefull beare.

So all with rufull spectacles is fild.

Fit for Megera or Persephone ;

]5ut I that in true tragedies am skild. 165

Tlie flowre of wit, finde nought to busie me;

Therefore I mourne, and pitifully mone.

Because that mourning matter 1 have none.—

Then gan she wofully to waile, nnd wring

Her wretched hands in lamentable wise; 170

And all her sisters, thereto answering,

Threw forth lowd shrieks and drerie dolefull cries.

So rested she ; and then tl>e next in rew

Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.

THALIA.

Where be the sweete delights of Learnings treasure

That wont with comick sock to beautefie 176

The painted theaters, and fill with pleasure

The listners eyes and eares with melodie ;

In wliich I lato was wont to raine as queeiie.

And maske in mirth with graces well beseene ? 180

O ! ;ill is gone ; and all that goodly glee,

Which v.'ont to be the glorie of gay wits.

Is layd abed, and no where now to see ;

And in her roonie xmseemly Sorrow sits,

With liollow browes and giiesly countenaunce, 183

Marrnig my ioyous gentle dalliaunce.

And him beside sits ugly Rarbarisme,

And brutish ignorance, yclept of late

Out of dredd darknes of the deepe abysme.

Where being bredd, he light and heaven does hite .

Tliey in tiie miiides of men now tyrannize, 191

And the faire scene with rudenes foule disguize.

All places they with Follie have possest,

And with vaine toyes the vulgar entertaine ;

But me have banished, with all the rest 19.)

That whilome wont to wait upon my traine,

Fine CounterfesauDce, and nnlinrttull >j)()rt,

Delight and Laughter, deckt in seemly sort.

All tliese, and all that els the comick stage

With seasoned wit and goodly pleasance graced,20()

By which mans life in his likest image

Was limned forth, are wholly now defaced ;

And those sweete wits, which wont the like to frame.

Are now despizd, and made a lau^^iiing game.

And he, the man vvliom nature sidfe had made 20.5

J'o mock her seife, and truth to imitate,

With kindly countei under mimic shade.

Our pleasant Willy, ah ! is dead of late:

W ith whom all lov and lolly mcriinent

Is also (leaded, and m dolour drent. 210

In stead thereof scoffing Scuirililie,

And scornfull Kollie with Contempt is crept,

Boiling in rymes of shamelesse rib .udne

Without reganl, or due decorum kept ;

I'mIcIi idle wit at "ill p,resuinrs to make, 21.5

And duth the leurueds taske upon liim take.

But that -same gentle spirit, from whose pen
Large streames of hoiitiie and sweete nectar flowe,
Scorning the boldnes of such base-hm-ne men,
Wliich dare their follies forth so rashlie tbrowe ; 920
Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell.
Than so himselfe to iMockerie to sell.

So am I made the servant of the manie,

And laughing stocke of all that list to scoriie.

Not honored nor eared for of anie ; 22 j

Hut loath'd of losels as a thing forlorne :

Therefore I mourne and sorrow with the resv,

Untill my cause of sorrow be redrest. —

Therewith slie lowdly did lament and shrike,
Pouring forth streames of teares abundantly ; 230
And all her sisters, with compassion like.
The breaches of liei singulfs did supply
So rested shee : and thrn the next In rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew.

EUTERPE.

Like as the dearling of the summers pryde, 235

Faire Philomele, when winters stonnie wrath

The goodly fields, that erst so gay were dyde

In colours divers, quite despoyled hath,

All comfortlesse doth hide her cheerlesse head

During the time of that her widowhead : 2-40

So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord

All places with our pleasant notes to fill,

Wildest favourable times did us afford

Free libertie to chaunt our charmes at will ;

All comfortlesse upon the bared bow, VIS

Like wofull culvers, doo sit wayling now.

For far more bitter storme than winters stowre
The beautie of the world hath lately wa-ted.
And those fresh buds, which wont so faire to flowre.
Hath marred quite, and all their blossoms blasted ;
And those yong plants, which wont with fruit
t'abound, 251

Now without fruite or leaves are to be found.

A stonie coldnesse hath benumbd the sence

And livelie spirits of each living wight,

And dimd with darknesse their intelligence, 255

Darknesse more than C)merians daylie night:

And monstrous error, flying in the ay re.

Hath mard the face of all that semed fayre.

Image of hellish horrour. Ignorance,

Borne in the bosome of the hlack abysse, 260

And fed with furies milke for i-usteiiaunce

Of his weake infancie, begot amisse

Bv yawning Slowtli on his owiie mother Night;

So bee bis sonnes both syre and brother bight.

He, armd with blindnesse and with boldnes stout,265
( For blind is bold,) hath our fayre light defaced ;
And, gatiiering unto him a ragged rout
Of fauiies and satyres, bath our dwellings raced ;
And our chasl bowers, in which idl vertue rained,
With brutisbnesseand beasllie lilth hath stained. 270

I'lie sacred s[)rings of horsefoot Helicon,

So olt bedeawed with our Itarneil laves,

And speaking strt-ames of pure Castalion,

I be famous vvitnes e of our v\onled praise,

I'hey trampled have with ibeir fowle toolings trade.

And like to troublid puddles have them made. 276

THE TEARES OF TFIE MUSES.

455

Our pleasant groves;, which planted were with paines,
T'.iat with our musick wont so oft to ring,
And arhors sweet, in which the shepheards swaines
Were wont so oft their pastoralls to sing, 280

They liave cut downe, and all their pleasaunce mard,
That now no pastorall is to bee hard.

In stead of them, fowle goblins and shriek-owles

With fearfuU howling do all places fill ;

And feeble Eccho now laments, and howles, 285

The dreudfuU accents of their outcries shrill.

So all is turned into wildernesse,

\\'hilest Ignorance the muses doth oppresse.

And I, whose ioy was earst with spirit full

To teach the warbling pipe to sound aloft, 290

(My spirits now dismavd with sorrow dull,')

Doo mone my miserie with silence soft.

Therefore I mourne and waile incessantly,

Till please the heavens afFoord me remedy. —

Therewith shee wayled with exceeding woe, 295

And pitious lamentation did make ;

And all her sisters, seeing her doo soe,

With equall plaints lier sorrowe did partake.

So rested shee : and then the next in raw

Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 300

TERPSICHORE.

Whoso bath in the lap of soft delight

Been long time luld, and fed with pleasures sweet,

Feareles through his own fault or fortunes spight

To tumble into sorrow and regreet,

Yf chaunce him fall into calamitie, 305

Finds greater burthen of his miserie.

So wee that earst in ioyance did abound,

And in the bosome of all blis did sit,

Like virgin queenes, with laurell garlands Ground,

For vertues meed and ornament of wit ! 310

Sith Ignorance our kingdome did confound.

Be now become most wretched wightes on ground.

And in our roj'all thrones, which lately stood

In th' hearts of men to rule them carefully,

He now hath placed his accursed brood, 315

Bv him begotten of fowle Infamy ;

Blind Error, scornefull Follie, and base Spight,

Who bold by wrong that wee should have bv right.

They to the vulgar sort now pipe and sing.

And make them merie with their fooleries : 320

They cherelie chaunt, and rjmes at randon fling.

The fruitful! spavvne of their rar.ke fantasies ;

They feede the eares of fooles with flattery.

And good men blame, and losels magnify.

All places they doo with their toyes possesse, 325
And raigne in liking of the multitude ;
The schooles they fit with fond new-fanL;lenesse,
Aud sway in court with pride and rashnes rude ;
Mongst simple sheplieards they do boast their skill,
And say their musicke raat<i«eth Phoebus quill. 330

The noble hearts to pleasures they allure,
And tell their prince that learning is but vaine ;
Faire ladies loves they spot with thoughts impure.
And gentle mindes with lewd delights distaine ;
Clerks they to loathly idlenes emice, 335

And fill their bookes witli discipline of vice.

So every where they rule, and tyrannize.

For their usurped kingdomes inaintenaunce,

The whiles we sillv nr.iides, whom they dispize,

And with reprochfull scorne discountenaunce, 340

From our owne native heritage exilde,

VValk through the world of every one revilde.

Xor anie one dotli care to call us in,

Or once vouchsafeth us to entertaine,

Unlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin, 345

For pitties sake, compassion our paine.

And yeeld us some reliefe in this distresse;

Yet to be so reliev'd is wretchednesse.

So wander we all carefull comfortlesse.

Yet none doth care to comfort us at all : 350

So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse,

Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call ;

Therefore we luourne and pittilesse complaine.

Because none living pittielh our paine. —

With that she wept and wofullie waymented, 355
That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie ;
And all tlie rest her dolefull din augmented
With shrikes, and groanes, and grievous agonie.
So ended shee : and then the next in rew.
Began her piteous plaint, as doth ensew. 360

ERATO.

Ye gentle siprits ! breathing from above.
Where ye in Venus silver bowre were bred,
Thoughts halfe devine, full of the fire of love.
With beautie kindled, and with pleasure fed.
Which ye now in securitie possesse, 365

Forgetfull of your former heavinesse ;

Now change the tenor of your ioyous layes,
With which ye use your loves to deifie,
And blazon foortli an earthlv beauties praise
Above the compasse of the arched skie: 370

Now change your praises into piteous cries.
And eulogies turns into elegies.

Such as ye wont, whenas those bitter stounds
Of raging love first gan you to torment.
And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds
Of secret sorrow and sad languishment, 376

Before your loves did take you unto grace ;
Those now renew as fitter for this place.

For I that rule, in measure moderate,

I he tempest of that stormie passion.

And use to paiatin rimes the troublous state

Of lovers life in likest fashion,

Am put from practise of my kindlie skill,

Banisht by those that love with leawdnes fill.

380

Love wont to be schoolmaster of my skill.

And the devisefull matter of my song ;

Sweete Love devoyd of villanie or ill.

Hut pure and spotles, as at first he sprong

Out of th' Almighties bosome, where he nests;

From thence infused into mortall brests. 390

Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire,

T he l)ase-horne brood of liliiulnes cannot gesse,

Ne ever dare their dunghill thoughts aspire

Unto so loftie ]jitch of [lerfectnesse.

Hut rime at riot, and duo mge in love ; 395

Yet little wote whiit doth tlieieto behove.

456

TtiK IT.AHES OF THF-: MUSES.

Faire Cytlieree, the motlier of Delisj'il.

And queene of Beautie, now thou irmist go pack ;

For lo! thy kingdome is defaced quight,

TLv sceptre rent, and power put to wrack ; 400

And thy gay sonne, the winged god of Love,

May now go prune his plumes like ruffed dove.

And ye three twins, to light by Venus brought,

Tiie sweete companions of the Muses late,

From whom whatever thing is goodly thought, 405

Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate ;

Go beg with us, and be companions still.

As heretofore of good, so now of ill.

For neither you nor we shall anie more

Find entertainment or in court or schoole : 410

For that, which was accounted lieretofore

The learneds meede, is now lent to the foole ;

He sings of love, and maketh loving layes,

And they him heare, and they hitn highly prayse. —

With that she powred foorth a brackish flood 415

Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mon& ;

And all her sisters, seeing her sad mood,

With lowd laments her answered all at one.

So ended she : and then the next in rew

Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 420

CALLIOPE.

To wliom shall I mv evill case complaine,

Or tell the anguish of my inward smart,

Sith none is left to remedie my paine,

Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart ;

But rather seekes my sorrow to augment 425

With fowle report and cruell banishment?

For tliev, to whom I used to applie

The faithfull service of my learned skill.

The goodly offspring of loves progenie.

That wont the world with famous acts to fill ; 430

Whose living praises in heroick style.

It is my chiefe profession to compyle ;

They, all corrupted through the rust of time

That doth all fairest thinj^s on earth deface,

Or through nnnoble sloth, or sinful! crime, 435

That doth degenerate the noble race ;

Have both desire of worthie deeds forlorne.

And name of learning utterly doo scorne.

Ne doo they care to have the auncestrie

Of tir old heroes memorizde anew ; 440

Ne doo they care that late post^ritie

.Should know their names, or speak their praises dew.

But die forgot from whence at first they sj)rong,

As they iheniselvos slialbe forgot ere long.

What bootes it then to come from glorious 445

Forefathers, or to liave been nohlv bredd ?

What oddes twixt Iius and old Inaclius,

Twixt best and worst, when both alike are dedd ;

If none of neitlier mention >liould make,

Nor out of dust their memories awake ? 450

Or who would ever care to doo brave deed.

Or strive in vertue others to excell ;

If none should yeehl him his deserved meed,

Due praise, that is the spur of dooing well .'

For if good were not [)raised more than ill, 455

None would choose goodnesof his owne freewill.

'J'herefore the nurse of Vertue I am hight,

And golden troinjjet of Hternitie,

That lowlv tiioiiglits lift up to heavens hight.

And mortal! men have jiowre to deifie : 460

Bacchus and Hercules I raisd to heaven,

And Charlemaine amongst the starris seaven.

But now I will my golden clarion rend,

And will henceforth immortalize no more ;

Sith I no more find worthie to commend 465

For prize of value, or for learned lore :

For noble peeres, whom I was wont to raise.

Now onely seeke for pleasure, nought for praise.

Their great revenues all in sumptuous pride
I'hey spend, that nought to learning they may spare ;
And the rich fee, which poets wont divide, 471

Now parasites and sycojihants doo share :
Therefore I niourne and endlesse sorrow make.
Both for my selfe and for my sisters sake. —

With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike, 475

And from her eyes a sea of teares did powre ;

And all her sisters, with compassion like,

Did more increase the shaipnes of her showre.

So ended she : and then the next in rew

Began her plaint, as doth herein ensew. 480

URANIA.

What wrath of aods, or wicked influence

Of starres conspiring wretched men t' afilict.

Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence,

That mortall mindes dotli inwardly infect

With love of blindnesse and of ignorance, 485

To dwell in darknesse without sovenance ?

W'hat difference twixt man and beast is left,

When tir heavenlie light of knowledge is put out.

And th' ornaments of wisdome are bereft "i

Then vvandreth he in error and in doubt, 49C

Unweeling of the danger hee is in.

Through fleshes frailtie, and deceipt of sin.

In this wide world in which they wretches stray.

It is the onelie comfort wh.ich they have.

It is tlieir light, their loadstarre, and their day ; 495

But hell, and darknesse, and the grislie grave.

Is Ignorance, the enemy of Grace,

That mindes of men borne heavenlie doth debace.

'I'hrough knowledge we behould the worlds creation,

How in his cradle first he fostred was ; 500

And iudge of Natures cunning operation,

How things she formed of a formlesse mas:

By knowledge wee do learne our selves to knowe,

And what to man, and what to God, wee owe.

From hence wee mount aloft unto the skie, 505

And hioke into the ihrislall firmament ;

There we behf)ld the heavens great hierarchie.

The starres pure light, the spheres swift movement,

The spirites and intelligences fayre.

And angels waighting on th' Almighties chayre.510

And there, with htimhle minde and high insight,

Tir IJernall lAlakers rnaii stie wee viewe.

His love, his truth, his ^lorie, and his might.

And mercie more then mortall men can vew.

O soveraigne Lord, O sove'raigne hap])inesse, 515

To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse !

THK TEAUKS or TIIK Ml'SKS.

Such Iiappines have they, that do embrace

The precepts of my heavenlie discipline ;

But shame and sorrow and accursed case

Have they, that seorne the sch^'OK- of arts divine,

And banish me, which do piofesse the slcill 5'il

To make men heavenly wise through humbled will.

However yet they mee despise and spight,
1 feede on sweet contentment of mv thought,
And please my selfe with mine owne selt'e delight,
In contemplation of things heavenlie wrought- D'26
So, loathina; earth, I looke up to the sky
And, being- driven hence, 1 thether fly.

Thence I behold the miserie of men, [breed,

Which want the bliss that wisedom would tliem
And lilce brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den 5ol
Of ghostly darkues, and of ghastlie dreed :
For whom I mourne, and for ray ffelfe complaine.
And for my sisters eake whom they disdaine. —

With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie, 535

As if her eyes had beene two springing wells;

And all ihe rest, her soirow to .supplie.

Did throw forth shriekes and cries and dreery yells.

So ended shee: and then the next in rew

Began her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew. 540

rOLVHYMNtA.

A DOLEFULL case desires a dolefull song,

Without vaine art oi curious complements;

And squallid Fortune, into basenes flong.

Doth seorne the pride of wonted ornaments.

Then fittest are tliese ragged rimes for mee, 545

To tell my sorrowes that exceeding bee.

For the sweet numbers and melodious measures,
Witli which 1 wont the winged words to tie,
And make a tuneful! diapase of pleasures.
Now being let to runne ut libenie 550

By those which have no skill to rule tht^m right.
Have now quite lost their naturall delight.

Heapes of huge words uphoorded hideously'.
With horrid sound though iiaving little sence.
They thinke to be chiete praise of poetry ; 555

And, thereby wanting due intelligence,
Have mard tlie lace of goodiy poesie,
And made a monster oi tlieir lautasie.

457

560

W liilom Ml ages past none might professe
But princes and liigh priests that secret skill ;
The sacred lavves therein they wont expresse,
Ai>'j with dee])e oracles their verses fill :
I hen was shee hela in soveraigne digniiie,
And made the noursling of nobilitie.

But now nor prince nor priest doth her maintavne.

But suffer her proplianed for to bee 566

Of the base vulgar, that with liands uncleane

Dares to pollute her hidden mysterie ;

And treadeth underfoote hir holie things.

Which vi-as the care of Kesars and of kings. 570

One onelie lives, her ages ornament.

And myrrour of her Makers maiestie,

That with rich bountie, and deare cherishment.

Supports the praise of noble poesie ;

Ne onelie favours them which it professe, 375

But is her selfe a peereles poetesse.

Most peereles prince, most peereles poetesse.

The true Pandora of all heavenly graces.

Divine Elisa, sacred emperesse!

Live she for ever, and her royall p'laces 38C

I'e fild with praises of divinest wits.

That her eternize with their heavenlie writs !

Some few beside this sacred skill esteme.

Admirers of her glorious excellence;

Which, being lightned with her beawties heme, 585

Are thereby fild with hapjiie influence,

And lifted up above the worldL's gaze,

To sing with angels her immortall praize.

But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood,

And having beene wi;h acorns alwaies fed, 590

Can no whit savour this celestiall food,

But with base thoughts are into blindiiesse led.

And kept from looking on the lightsome nay :

For whome I waile and weepe all that I may. —

Eftsoones such store of teares shee forth did powre.
As if shee all to water would have gone ; 596

And all her sisters, seeing her sad stowre,
Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone,
And all their learned instruments did breake :
1 'i lie rest untold no livii)g tfugue can speake. (500

RUINES OF EOME.

BY BELLAY. 1591.

Ye beavenly spirites, whose ashie cinders lie
Under deep ruines, with Luge walls opprest.
But not your praise, the which shall never die
Through your faire verses, ne in ashes rest;
If so be shrilling voyce of wight alive
]May reach from hence to depth of darkest bell,
Then let those deep abysses open rive,
That ye may understand my shrieking yell !
Thrice having seene under the heavens veale
Your toombs devoted compasse over all,
Thrice unto you with lowd voyce I appeale,
And for your antique furie here doo call.
The whiles that I witli sacred horror sing
Your glorie, fairest of all earthly thing !

Great Babjlon her haughtie walls will praise,
And sharped steeples high shot up in ayre ;
Greece will the olde Ephesian buildings blaze ;
And Nylus nurslings their pyitj^uides faire;
Tlie same \-et vaunting Greece will tell the storie
Of loves great image in Olympus placed ;
Wansolus worke will be the Carians glorie ;
And Crete will boast the labyrinth, now raced ;
The antique Rhodian will likewise set forth
The great Colosse, erect to memorie ;
And what els in tlie world is of like worth,
Some greater learned wit will magnifie.

But I will sing above all moniments

Seven Roman hills, the worlds seven wonderments.

Thou stranger, which for Rome in Rome here seekest,
And nought of Rome in Rome perceivst at all.
These sanieolde walls, olde arches, which thou seest,
Olde palaces, ;s tiiat which tlome men call,
Beholde what wreaks, what mine, and what wast.
And how that she, which with her mighiie powre
Tain'd all the world, hath tam'd herselfe at last;
The ])ray of Time, which all things doth devowre !
Itdine now of I{oine is tli' oiiely funerall.
And oiiely Rome of Rome liiitli victorie ;
Ne ought save Tyber hastning to bis fall
Heinaines of all : O worlds inconstancie !
That whidi is firme doth flit and fall away.
And that is flitting doth abide and stay.

She, whose high top above the starres did sore,
One foote on Thetis, th' other on the morning,
One hand oa Scythia, th' other on the More,
l)0th heaven and earu. in roundnesse compassing;

love fearing, leest if she should greater growe.
The giants old siiouia once againe uprise, [nowe
Her whelm'd with hills, these seven hils wliich be
Tombes of her greatnes which did threate the skies:
Upon her head be heapt Mount Saturnai,
Upon her bellie th' antique Palatine,
Upon her storaacke laid INIount Quirinal,
On her left hand the noysome Esquiline,

And Ca.'lian on the right; but both her feete
Mount Viminal and Aventine doo meete.

Who list5 to see, what ever nature, arte.
And heaven, could doo ; O Rome, thee let him see.
In case thy greatnes he can gesse in harte.
By that which but the picture is of thee !
Rome is no more : but, if the sliade of Rome
May of the bodie yeeld a seeming sight.
It's like a corse dravvne forth out of the tombe
By magicke skill out of eternall night :
The corpes of Rome in ashes is entombed.
And her great sjjirite, reioyned to the spirite
Of this great masse, is in the same enwombed ;
But her brave writings, which her famous merite
In spight of time out of the dust doth reare,
Doo make her idole through the world appears.

VI.

Such as the Berecyntbian goddesse bright.
In her swifte charret with higli turrets crownde.
Proud that so manie gods she brought to light;
Such was this citie in her good daies fownd :
'I'his citie, more than that great Phrygian mother
Renowm'd for fruite of famous progenie.
Whose greatnes by the greatnes of none otlier.
But by her selfe, her ecjuall match coulil see :
Rome onely might to Rome compared bee,
And onely Rome could make great Rome to tremble
So did the gods by lieavenly doome decree,
That other eartbiie power should not resemble
Her that did match the whole earths puissaunce,
And did her courage to the iieavens advaunce

VII.

Ye sacred ruines, and ye tiagick sights,

Which onely doo the name of Rome retaine,

Olde moniments, which of so famous sprights

The honour yet in ashes doo maintaine;

Triumphant arcks, S[)vres, neighbours to the skie,

That you to see doth th' heaven it selfe appall ;

Alas, by little ye to nothing flie.

The peoi)les fable, and the spoyle of all!

And though your frames do for a time make warre

Gainst Time, yet Time in time shall luinate

Your w f)rkes and names, and your last relKpies marre

My sad desires, rest therefore moderate !

For if that time make ende of things so sure.
It ala will end the paine which 1 endure.

lU'INKS OF no. ME.

459

Tbroufi;h armes and vassals Rome the w oil J subdu'd,
That one would weene that one sole cities strength,
Both land and sea in ronndnes liad survew'd,
To bo the measure of her bredth and length :
Tliis peoples vertue yet so fruitf'ull was
Of vertuous nephewes, that jjosteritie,
Striving in power their grandfathers to passe,
The lowest earth ioined to the heaven hie;
To th' end that, having all parts in their power.
Nought from the Romane Empire might be quight ;
And that though time doth common wealths devowre.
Yet no time should so low embase their higlit,
'J'hat her head earth'd in lier foundations deep
Should not her name and endles honour keep.

Ye cruell siarres, and eke ye gods unkinde,

Heaven envious, and bitter stepdame Nature !

&b it by fortune, or by course of kinde,

That ye doo wield th' affaires of earthlie creature ,

Why have your hands long sithence travelled

To frame this world, that doth endure so long ?

Or why were not these Romane palaces

I^fadH '..fsome matter no lesse firme and strong 1

1 s;iv i;.)t, as the common vovce doth say.

That all things which beneath the nioone have beinc

Are temporall, and subiect to decay :

But I say rather, though not all agreeing

With some tliat weene the contrarie in thought.
That all this whole sliall one day come to nought.

As that brave sonne of Aeson, which by charmes
Atchiev'd the golden fleece in Colchid land.
Out of t!ie earth engendred men of armes
Of dragons teeth, sowne in the sacred sand ;
So this brave towne that in youthlie daies
An hydra was of warriours glorious.
Did fill with her renowmed nurselings praise
'J'he firie sunnes both one and other huus :
But they at last, their being then not living
An Hercules so ranke seed to represse,
Emongst themselves with cruell furie striving,
Mow'd downetliemselves with slaughtermercilesse ;
Renewing in themselves that rage unkinde.
Which whilom did those earthborn brethren blinde.

JMars, shaming to have given so great head

'I'o his off-spring, that mortall puissaunce,

Puft up with pride of Romane hardie-head.

Seemed above Heavens powre it selfe to advaunce ;

Cooling againe his former kindled heate.

With which he had those Romane spirits fild,

Did blowe new fire, and with enflamed breath,

Into the Gothicke colde, hot rage instil'd :

Then gan that nation, th' earths new giant brood,

'i'o d.irt abroad the thunderbolts of warre,

And, beating downe these walls with furious mood

Ato her mothers bosome, all did marre ;

I'o tir end that none, all were it love his siro,
Sliould boast himselfe of the Romane Empire

Like as whilome the children of the earth
Heapt hills on hills to scale the starrie skie.
And fight against the gods of heavenly berths
Whiles love at them his thunderbolts let flie ,

All suddenly with lightning overthrowne.
The furious squadrons down(! to ground did fall.
That th' earth under her childrens weight did grone,
And th' lieavens in glorie triumpht over all :
So did that haughtie front, which heaped was
On these seven Romane hits it selfe upreare
Over the world, and lift her loftie face
Against the heaven, that gan her force to feare.
Hut now these scorned fields bemone her fall.
And o'ods secure feare not her force at all.

Nor the swift furie of the flames aspiring,
Nor the deep wounds of victours raging blade,
Nor ruthlesse spoyle of souldiers blood desiring.
The which so oft thee, Rome, their concjuest made ;
Ne stroke on stroke of fortune variable,
Ne rust of age liating coiitinuaunce.
Nor wrath of gods, nor spight of men unstable.
Nor thou oppos'd against thine owne puissance ;
Nor th' horrible uprore of windes high blowing.
Nor swelling streames of tliat god snakie-paced.
Which hath so often with his overflowing
I'hee drenched, have thy pride so much abaced ;
But that this nothing, winch they have thee left.
Makes the world wonder what they from thee reft.

As men in summer fearles passe the foord.

Which is in winter lord of all the plaine,

And with his tumbling streames doth beare aboord

The ])loughmans hope and she[)heards labour vaine :

And as the coward beasts use to despise

The noble lion alter his lives end,

\\ betting their teeth, and with vaine foolhardise

Daring the foe that cannot him defend :

And as at 1 roy most dastards of the Greekes

Did brave about the corpes of Hector colde :

So those, which whilome wont with palid cheekes

i'he Romane triumphs glorie to beliold,

Now on these ashie toinbesshew boldnesse vaine^
And, conquer'd, dare the conquerour disdaine.

Ye pallid spirits, and ye ashie ghoasts,
Which, ioying in the brightnes of your day.
Brought foorth these signes of your presumptuous
Which now their dusty reliques do bewray ; [boasts
Tell me, ye spirits ! (sith the darksome river
Of Styx, not passable to soules returning.
Enclosing you in thrice three wards for ever,
Doo not restrains your images still mourning,)
Tell me then, (for perhaps some one of you
Yet here above him secretly doth hide,)
Doo ye not feele your torments to accrewe,
When ye sometimes behold the ruin'd pride

Of tliese old Romane works, built with your hands,
Now to become nought els but heaped sands '

Like as ye see the wrathfull sea from farre
In a great mountaine heajj't with hedeous noyse,
Eftsoones of thousand billowes shouldred narre,
Against a rocke to breake with dreadfuU poyse :
Like as ye see fell Boreas with sharpe blast
'J'ossing huge tempests through the troubled skie
Eftsoones having his wide wings spent iii wast.
To stop his wearie c^riere suddenly :

460

I UK Itl l.\i:.S OK ROME.

And us ye see huge flames s;]iie(l diverslie,
Gathered in one up to tlie heavens to Sjivre,
F.ftsoones consum'd to tall downe feebily :
So whilom did tliis monarcliie aspyre

As waves, as winde, iis fire, sjjred over all,
Till it bv t'alall doome adowne did fall.

So long as loves great bird did make his flight,
liearing the fire with which heaven doth us fray,
Heaven had not feare of that presumptuous might,
With which the giaunts did the gods assay :
But all so soone, as scortching sunne had brent
His wings which wont the earth to overspiedd,
'I'he earth out of her massie vv'ombe forth sent
'Ihat antique horror, which made heaven adredd.
Then was the Germane raven in disguise
'J'hat Romane eagle seene to cleave asunder,
And towards heaven freshly to arise
Out of these mountaines, now consum'd to ponder ;
lu which the foule, that serves to beare the light-
Is now no more seen flying, nor alighting, [ning.

These heapes of stones, these old wals, which ye see,
Were first enclosures but of salvage soyle ;
And these brave palluces, which maystred bee
Of time, were shepheards cottages somewhile.
Then tooke the shepheards kingly ornaments.
And the stout hynde arm'd his right hand with Steele :
Eftsoones their rule of yearely presidents
Grew great, and sixe montlis greater a great deele ;
^Vhich, made perpetuall, rose to so great might,
I'hat thence th' imperlall eagle rooting tooke,
Till th' heaven it selfe, opposing gainst her might,
Her power to I'etors successor brtooke ;

Who, shepheardlike,( as fates the same foreseeing,)
Doth show that all tilings turne to their first being.

All that is perfect, which th' heaven beaufefies ;
All that's imperfect, borne belowe the moone ;
All tliat doth feede our spirits and our eies ;
And all that doth consume our pleasures soone;
All the mishap, the which our dales outweares,
All the good hap of th' oldest times afore ;
Rome, in the time of her great ancesters,
Like a Pandora, locked long in store.
But Destinie this huge chaos turmoyling.
In which all good and evill was enclosed,
Their heavenly vertues from these woes assoyling,
Caried to heaven, from sinfull bondage losed :
But their great sinnes, the causers of their paine.
Under these antitjue ruines yet remaine.

No otherwise than Ravnie (,'loud, first fed
With earthly va])ours gathered m the ayre,
Kftsoones in Com])as arch't to steepe his bed.
Doth plonge himselfe in Tethys bosome faire ;
And, mounting u[) againc from wlience lie came,
\Vith his great bellie spreds tliedininied world,
'Jill at the last, dissolving his moist frame.
In raine, or siiowe, or haile, he forth is liorld ;
This citie, which was first but shepheards shade,
U|irising by degrees, grewe to suih llel^ht,
'J'hat ([ueene of land and sea her selfe she made.
At last, not able to beare so great weight, [vade ;
Her power, disperst, through all the world did
'I'o shew that all in th' end to nought shall fade.

The same, which Pyrrbus and the puissaunce
Of Afrike could not tame, that same brave citie,
Which, with stout courage arm'd against mischaunce,
Sustein'd the shocke of common enmitie ,
Long as her ship, tost with so mania freakes.
Had all the world in armes against ner Dent,
Was never seene, that anie fortunes wreakes
Could breake her course begun with brave intent.
But, when the obiect of her vertue failed.
Her power it selfe against it selfe did arms ;
As he that having long in tenijiest sailed,
Faine would arive, but cannot for the storme,
If too great winde against the ])ort him dnve.
Doth in the port it selfe his vessell rive.

When that brave honour of the Latine name,
Which mear'd her rule with Africa, and Byze,
With Thames inhabitants of noble fame,
And they wliich see the dawning day arize ;
Her nourslings did with mutinous uprore
Harten against her selfe, her conquer'd spoile.
Which she had wonne from all the world afore,
Of all the world was s|)oyrd within a while :
So, when the compast course of the universe
In sixe and thirtie thousand yeares is ronne,
The bands of th' elements shall backe reverse
To their first discord, and be quite undonne :

The seedes, of which all things at first were bred.
Shall in ";reat Chaos womhe againe be hid.

O wnrie wisedome of the man, that would
That Carthage towres from spoile should be forborne,
To lb' end that his victorious people should
With cancring laisure not be overworne !
He well foresawe, how that the Romane courage,
Impatient of pleasures faint desires,
Through idlenes would turne to civill rage.
And he her selfe the matter of her fires.
For, in a people given all to ease.
Ambition is engendred easilv ;
As in a vicious bodie grose disease
Soone growes through humours superfluitie. fp'^id
That came to passe, when, swolne with plenties
Nor prince, nor peere, nor kin, they would abide.

XXIV.

If tlie blinde furie, wliich warres breedeth oft.
Wonts not t' enrage the hearts of equal beasts,
Whether they fare on foote, or flie aloft.
Or armed be with clawes, or scalie creasts ;
What fell Krviinis, with hot burning tODgS,
L>id grype your hearts with noysome rage imbew'd.
That, each to other working cruell wrongs,
\'ourhhides in your owne bowels you embrew'd ?
Was this (ye Romanes) your hard destinie?
Or some old sinne, whose una])peased guilt
Powr'd vengeance forth on you eternallie?
Or brothers blood, tiie which at first was spilt
lljion your walls, that God might not endure
Ui)on the same to set foundation sure 1

O that I had the Thracian poets harpe,
For to awake out of th' infernall shade
Those antiijue Cffsars, sleeping long in darke
The which this auncient citie whilome made'

THE RUINES OF ROME.

461

Or that I had Amphions instrument.
To quicken, with his vitall notes accord,
The stonie iovnts of these old walls now rent,
Bv which th' Ausoni-.m light mV'it he restor'd !
Or that at least I could, with poi cill fine,
Fashion the pourtraicts of these palaeis,
By paterne of great Virgils spirit divine !
I would assay with that which in me is.
To builde, with level! of my loftie style.
That which no hands can ever more oompyle.

Who list the Romane greatnes forth to figure,
Him needeth not to seeke for usage right
Of line, or lead, or rule, or squaire, to measure
Her length, her breadth, lier deepnes, or her hight ;
But him behoves to vew in compasse round
All that the Ocean graspes in his long armes ;
Beit where theyerely starre doth scortch the ground,
Or where colde Boreas blowes his bitter stormes.
Rome was th' whole world , and al the world was Rome ;
And if things nam'd their names doo equalize,
When land and sea ye name, then name ye Rome ;
And, naming Rome, ye land and sea comprize :
For th' auncient plot of Rome, displayed plaine,
The map of all the wide world doth containe.

Thou that at Rome astonisht dost behold
The antique pride which menaced the skie,
These haughtie heapes, these palaces of olde.
These wals, these arcks, these baths, these temples hie ;
ludge, by these ample mines vew, the rest
The which iniurious time hath quite outworne,
Since of all workmen helde in reckning best;
Yet these olde fragments are for paternes borne :
Then also marke, how Rome, from day to day,
Repayring her decayed fashion,
Renevves herselfe with buildings rich and gay ;
That one would iudge, that the Romaine dremon
Doth yet himselfe with fatall h;ind enforce,
Againe on foote to reare her pouldre.l corse.

XXVIII.

He that hath seene a great oke drie and dead,
Yet clad with reliques of some fr(ji)hees olde.
Lifting to heaven her aged horie head,
Whose foote in ground hath left but feeble holde,
But halfe disbowel'd lies above the ground.
Shewing her wreathed rootes and nuked armes,
And on her trunke all rotten and unsound
Onely supjioits herselfe for meate of wormes ;
And, though she owe her fall to the first winde.
Yet of the devout people is adord.
And manie yong plants s])ring out of her rinde;
Who such an oke hath .seene let him record
That such this cities honour was of yore.
And mongst all cities florished much more.

All that which Aegypt whilome did devise ;

All that which Greece their temples to embrave.

After th' lonike, Atticke, Doricke gnkn ;

Or Corinth skil'd in curious workes to grave ;

All that Lysippus practike arte could forme ; '

A;)elles wit; or Phidias his skill ;

V\ as wont this auncient citie to adorne,

.\nd the heaven it selfe with her wide wonders fill.

All that which Athens ever brought forth wise ;
All that which Afrike ever brought forth strange;
All that which Asia ever had of prise ;
Was here to see. O mervelous great change !

Rome, living, was tlie worlds sole ornament;

And, dead, is now the worlds sole moniment.

Like as the seeded field greene grasse first showes.
Then from greene grasse into a stalke doth spring,
And from a stalke into an eare forth-growi's.
Which eare the fruitfull graine doth shortly bring ;
And as in season due the husband mowes
The waving lockes of those faire ycallow heares.
Which bound in sheaves, and layd in comely rowe3
Upon the naked fields in stalkes he reares*
So grew the Romane empire by degree.
Till that barbarian hands it quite did spill.
And left of it but these olde markes to see,
Of which all pa-ssers by doo somewhat pill :

As they, which gleane the reliques use to gather.
Which' th' husbandman behind him chanst tc
scatter.

XXXI.

That same is now nought but a champian wide.
Where all this worlds pride once was situate.
No blame to thee, whosoever dost abide
By Nvle, or Gange, or Tygre, or Euphrate ;
Ne Afrike thereof guiltie is, nor Spaine,
Nor the bolde people by the Thamis brincks,
N'or the brave warlicke brood of Alemaine,
Nor the borne soldier which Rhine running drinks
Thou onely cause, Civill Furie, art!
Which, sowing in th' Aemathian fields thy spight.
Didst arme thy hand against thy proper hart ;
To th' end that when thou wast in greatest hight
To greatnes growne, through long prosperitie.
Thou then adowne might'st fall more horriblie.

xxxn.

Hope ye, my verses, that posteritie
Of age ensuing shall you ever read ?
Hope ye, that ever immortalitie
So meane harpes worke may chalenge for her meed ?
If under heaven anie endurance were.
These moniments, which not in paper writ,
Btit in ])orphyre and marble doo appeare.
Might well have hop'd to have obtained it.
Nath'les my lute, whom Phoebus deignd to give.
Cease not to sound these olde antiquities :
For if that time doo let thy glorie live,
Well maist thou boast, how ever base thou bee.
That thou art first, which of thy nation song
Th' olde honour of the people gowned long.

L'E'U'oi/.
Bellay, first garland of free poesie [wits

That France brought forth, though fruitfull of brave
Well worthie thou of immortalitie,
That long hast traveld, by the learned writs,
Olde Rome out of her ashes to revive,
And give a second life to dead decayes !
Needes must he all eternitie survive.
That can to other give eternall dayes:
Thy daves therefore are endles, and thy prayse
Excelling all, that ever went before.
And, after thee, gins Bartas hie to rayse
His heavenly muse, th' Almightie to adore.
Live, happie spirits, th' honour of your nanit.
And fill the world with never dying fame !

I HE

RUINES OF TIME.

BY ED. SP.

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND BEAUTIFULL LAWSr

THE LA : MARIE,

COUNTESSE OF PEMBROOKE.

1591.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND BEAUTIFULL LADIE,

THE LA: MARIE,

COUNTESSE OF PEMBROOKE.

Most honourable and bountifull Ladie, there bee
long sithens deepe sowed in my brest tlie seedes of
most entire love and humble aftection unto that most
brave knight, your noble brother deceased ; which,
taking roote, began in his life time somewhat to bud
forth, and to shew themselves to him, as then in the
weaknes of their first spring ; and would in iheir
riper strength (had it pleased High God till then to
drawe out his daies) spired forth fruit of more per-
fection. But since God hath disdeigned the world
of that most noble sjiirit, which was the hope of all
learned men, and the patron of my young muses ;
together with him both their hope of anie further
fruit was cut off, and also the tender delight of those
their first blossoms nipped and quite dead. Yet,
sithens my late cumming into England, some frends
of mine, (which might much prevaile with me, and

indeede coraraaund me,) knowing withhowe straight
bandesof duetie I was tied to him, as also bound
unto that noble house, (of which the cbiefe hope
then rested in him,) have sought to revive them by
upbraiding me, for that I have not shewed anie
thankefull remembrance towards him or anv of them ;
but suffer their names to sleep in silence ami forget-
fulnesse. Whom,e chieflie tosatisfie, or els to avoide
that fowle blot of unthankefulnesse, I have conceived
this small poeme, intituled by a generall name of The
Worlds liuines ; yet speciallie intended to the re-
nowraing of that nohle race, from which both 30U and
he sprong, and to the eternizing of some of th«
chiefe of them late deceased. 'I'he which I deilicatt
unto your La. as whome it most specially concenietli;
and to whome I acknowledge mv selfe boundcn by
many singular favours and great graces. I ]>riiy for
your honourable happiuesse : and so humbly kissi>
your hands.

Your ladiships ever humblie at commaund.

K. S.

It chaunced me on day beside the shore

Of silver-streaming Tliamesis to bee,

Nigh where tlie gnodly Verlame stood of yore.

Of which t'lec- ;iow remaines no memorie.

Nor anie little nioniment to see, 5

By which the travailer, that fares that way.

This onca was she, may warned be to say.

There, on the (^thor side, I did behold

A woman sitiin:- sorrowltillie wailing,

Rending her \(llijw locks, like wyrie gold 10

About her slioulders careleslie downe trailing,

And streames of toares from hor faire eyes forth

In lier right hand a broken rod s1ie held, [railing:

Which towards heaven slice seemd on high to weld.

Whether she were one of that rivers nymplies, 15

Which did the losse of some dere love lament,

I doubt ; or one of those three fatall inipes,

\\ ti'ch draw the dayes of men forth in extent;

Or ill' auncient genius of that citie brent :

But, seeing her so piteouslie perplexed, 20

I /to her calling) askt what her so vexed.

" Ah! what delight (quoth she) in earthlie thing.

Or comfort can I, wretched creature, have 1

AVhose happines the heavens envying.

From highest staire to lowest step me drave, '25

And have in mine owne bowels made mv grave,

That of all nations now I am forlorne.

The worlds sad spectacle, and fortunes scorne."

Much was I mooved at her piteous plaint,

And felt my heart nigh riven in ray brest SO

With tender ruth to see her sore constraint ;

1'hat, shedding teares a while, I still did rest.

And, alter, did her name of her ret]uest.

" Name have I none ((juoih she) nor any being.

Bereft of both by fates uniust decreeing. 35

" I was that citie, which the garland wore

Of IJritaines pride, delivered unto me

By liomane victors, which it wonne of yore;

Though nimght at all but ruincs now I bee,

And lye in mine owne ashes, as you see : 40

Verlame 1 was ; what bootes it tiiat I was,

8ith novr 1 am but weedes and wastefull grass 1

THE tJUlNLS Of Tiaib.

463

O vaine worlds glorie, and unstedfjist state
Of all that lives on face of sinfull earth I
W'hicl), from their first untill their utmost date. 45
Taste no one lioure of happines or merth ;
I'.ut like as at the ingate of their berth
'I'hey crying creep out of their mothers woomb,
So wailing back, go to their wofull toomb.

" AVliy then dooth flesli, a bubble-glas of breath, 50

Hunt after honour and advauncement vaine.

And reare a trophee for devouring death,

With so great labour and long-lasting paine,

As if his daies for ever should remaine 1

Sith all, that in this world is great or gaie, 55

Doth as a vapour vanish and decaie.

" Looke backe, who list, unto the former ages.
And call to count, what is of them become:
Where be tliose learned wits and antique sages,
Which of all wisdome knew the perfect somme ? 60
Where those great warriors, which did overcome
The world with con(|uest of their might and niaine.
And made one meare of th' earth and of their raine?

" What nowe is of th' Assyrian Lyonesse,

Of whom no footing now on earth appeares? 65

What of the Persian beares outragiousnesse,

Whose memorie is quite worne out witli yeares?

Wlio of the Grecian Libbard now ought heares,

That over-ran the East with greedie powre,

And left his whelps their kingdomes to devoure? 70 j

" And where is that same great seven-headed beast.

That made all nations vassals of her pride,

To full before her feete at her beheast.

And in the necke of all the world did ride?

Where doth she all that wondrous welthe now hide ~i

VVith her owne weight downe pressed now shee lies.

And by her heapes her hugenesse testifies. 77

" O Rome, thy ruine I lament and rue,

And in thy fall my fatall overthrowe,

That whilom was, whilst heavens with equall vewe,

Deignd to behold me and their gifts bestowe, 81

The picture of thy pride in pompous shew :

And of list' wbnie world as thou wast the empresse.

So I qI' I -. in '1 northerne world was princesse.

" To 1 - vtie of my buildings fayre, 85

Adorr . : -irest golde and precious stone ;

To tell :i.es, and endowments rare,

That by my foes are now all spent and gone ;

To tell my forces, matchable to none ;

Were but lost labour, that few would beleeve, 90

And, %vitb rehearsing, would me moie agree ve.

'■High towers, ::e temples, goodly theaters.
Strong w diis, r ' L; porcnes, princelie pallaces.
Large streetei^, brave houses, sacred sepulchres.
Sure gates, sweete gardens, stately galleries, 95
Wrought with faire pill ours and fine imageries ;
All those (O i)itie !) now are turnd to dust.
And overjjrowne with black oblivions rust.

" Thereto for warlike power, and peoples store.

In Brirannie was none to match with mee, 100

That manie often did abie full sore :

Ne Troynovant, though elder sister shee,

With my gieat forces might co.«pared bee;

T!.at stout Pendragon to hisperlll felt,

^^'ho m a siege seaven yeres about me dwelt. 105

" But long ere this, Bunduca, Britonnesse,

Her mightie boast against my bulwarkes brought ;

Bunduca ! that victorious conqueresse,

That, lifting up her brave heroick thought

Bove womens Vi-eaknes, with the Romanes fought.

Fought, and in field against them thrice prevailed :

Yet was she foyld, when as she me assailed. 112

" And though at last by force I conquered were

Of bardie Saxons, and became their thrall ;

Yet was 1 with much bloodshed bought full deere.

And priz'd with slaughter of their general! : 116

The moniment of whose sad funerall,

For wonder of the world, long in me lasted ;

But now to nought, through sjioyle of time, is wasted.

" Wasted it is, as if it never were ; 120

And ail the rest, that me so honord made.

And of the world admired ev'rie where.

Is turned to smoake, that doth to nothing fade ;

And of that brightnes now appeares no shade.

But greislie shades, such as doo haunt in hell 1^25

With fearfull fiends, that in deep darknes dwell.

" Where mv high steeples whilom iisde to stand.
On which the lordly faulcon wont to towre,
There now is but an heap of lyme and sand
For the shriche-owle to build her baleful! bowre :
And where the niglitingale wont forth to powre 131
Her restles plaints, to comfort wakefull lovers.
There now haunt yelling me wes and whining plovers.

" And where the christall Thamis we ir -jdo

In sdver channel!, downe along the li- 135

About whose flowrie bankes on either .-

A thousand nymphes, witli mirthful! ioll "(\^

W^ere wont to play, from all annoyance free ;

There now no rivers course is to be seene.

But moorish fennes, and marshes ever greene. 140

" Seemes, that that gentle river for great griefe
Of my misliaps. which oft I to him plained ;
Or for to shunne tlie horrible mischiefe.
With whicli he saw my cruel! foes mo pained.
And his pure stre;imes with guiltles bloud oft stained:
From my unhajipie neighborhood farre fled, 146

And Ids sweete waters away with him led.

" There also, where tlie winged ships were seene

In liquid waves to cut their fomie waie,

And thousand fishers numbred to have been, 150

In that wide lake looking for plenteous p.aie

Of fish, which they witli bats usde to betraie,

Is now no lake, nor anie fishers store,

JNor ever ship shall saile there anie more.

" They all are gone, and all with them is gone! 155

Ne ought to me remaines,but to lament

My long decay, wliich no man els doth mone.

And mourne my fall with doleful! dreriment.

Yet it is comfort in gre;it languishnierit,

To be bemoned witli compassion kinde, 160

And mitigates the anguish of the minde.

" But me no man bevvaileth, but in game,
Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable eie :
Nor anie lives tliat mentioiietli my name
To be remembered of postentie,
Save One, that maugre Fortunes iniurie,
And Times decav, and Envies cruel! tort
Hath writ my record in true-seeming ?j;u

4C4

THE RLiMS OK 'IIME.

'' (';iTnbilen ! the noiirice of •.niii(]iiitie,

And luiiterne unto lute succediiig age, 1?()

I'o see the light of simple viritie

buried in luines, through the great outrage

Of her owne ))eo[)le led ivilh w arlike rage :

Canibden ! though iinie all moniments obscure,

Y'et thy iust labours ever shall endure. 175

" But whie (unliappie wight !) doo I thus crie,

And grieve that my remembrance quite is raced

Outof t];e knowledge of posteritie,

And all my antique moniments defaced?

Sith I doo dailie see things highest placed, 100

So Sonne as Fates their vitall thred have shorne.

Forgotten (juite as they weie never borne.

" It is not long, since these t«o eyes beheld

A mightie j)iiMce of most renowmed race,

Whom England high in count of honour held, 185

And greatest ones did sue to gaine his grace ;

Of greatest ones he greatest in his place.

Sate in the bosome of his soveraine,

And right ami loyuU did his woid maintaine.

" I saw him die, I saw him die, as one 190

Of the meane peojile, and brought foorlli on beare ;

I saw him die, and no man left to mone

His doleiull fate, that late him loved deare ;

Scarse anie left to close liiseylids neare j

Scarse anie left upon his lips to laie 195

The sacred sod, or requiem to sale.

" O trustlesse state of miserable men,
'J'hat builde your blis on hojie of earthly thing.
And vainly thinte your selves halfe happie then.
When painted faces with smooth flattering 200

Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing ;
And, when the courting masker louteth lowe,
Him true in heart and trustie to you trow !

•' All is but fained, aua with oaker dide,

That everie shower will wash and wipe away ; 205

All things doo change that under heaven abide.

And after death all friendship doth decaie.

Therefore, what ever man bearst worldliesway.

Living, on God, and on thy selfe relie ;

For when thou diest, all shall with thee die. 210

" He now is dead, and all is with him dead.
Save what in heavens storehouse he uplaid ;
His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread.
And evill men (now dead) his deedes upbraid:
Spite bites tlie dead, that living never baid. 215
lie now is gone, the whiles the foxe is crept
Into the hole, the which the badger swept.

" He now is dead, and all his glorie gone.

And all his greatness vapoured to nought,

That as a glasse upon the water shone, 220

\\ hich vanisht quite, so soone as it was sought:

His name is worne alreadie out of thought,

,\ e anie poet seekes him to revive ;

^'et manie poets honourd him alive.

.Ve doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, 225
' 11 enow his idle bagpipe up to raise,
N ■ tell his sorrow to liie listning rout [praise :

O shepheard groomes, which wont his songs to
1' .ise who so list, yet I will him dispraise,
' 'nt.U he pnte him of this guihie blame : 230

U ake. .."- cpheards boy, at length awake for sbame

" And who so els did goodnes bv him gaine.

And who so els his bounteous mind did trie,

W iieiher iie shepheard be, or shej)heaids swaine

(For manie did, which doo it now dente,) 2S5

Awuke, and to his song a part applie .

And 1, the whilest you mourne for his decease.

Will with my mourning plaints your plaint increase,

" He (]\i\e, and after him his brother dyde.

His brother prince, his biother noble peere, 240

'i'hat whilest he lived was of none envyde.

And dead is now, as living, counted deare,

Deare unto all that true affection beure ;

But unto thee most deare, O dearest dame.

His noble spouse, and paragon of fame. 245

" He, whilest he lived, happie was through thee,

And, being dead, is happie now much more ;

Living, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee.

And dead, because him dead thou dost adore

As living, and thy lost deare love deplore. 250

So whilst that thou, fairflowre of ehastitie,

Dost live, by thee thy lord shall never die.

" Thv lord shall never die, the whiles this verse

Shall live, and surely it shall live for ever:

For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse 255

His worthie praise, and vertues dying never.

Though death his soule doo from his bodie sever :

And thou thy selfe herein shalt also live;

Such grace the heavens doo to my verses give.

" No shall his sister, ne thy father, die ; 260

Thy father, that good earle of rare renowne.
And noble patrone of weake povertie !
Whose great good deeds in countrey, and in towns.
Have jiurchast him in heaven an happie crowne-
Where he now liveth in eternall blis, 265

And left his sonne t' ensue those steps of his.

" He, noble Bub, his grandsires livelie hayre.
Under the shadow of thy counteuuunce
Now ginnes to shoote up fast, and flourish fayre
In learned artes, and goodlie gouvtinaunce, 270
That him to highest honour shall advaunce.
Brave impe of Bedford, grow apace in bountie.
And count of wisedome more than of thy countie !

" Ne mny I let thy husbands sister die,

That goodly ladie, sith she eke did sj)ring 275

Out of his stocke and famous familie.

Whose praises I to future age doo sing ;

And foortli out of her happie womb did bring

Ihe sacred brood of learning and all honour;

In whom the heavens povvrde all their gifts upon her

" IMost gentle spirite breathed from above, 281

Out of (fee bosome of the Makers blis,

In whom all bountie and all vertuous love

Appeared in their native propertis.

And did enrich that noble breast of his 285

With treasure passing all this worldes worth,

Worthie of heaven it selfe, which brought it forth.

" His blessed spirite, full of power divine

And influence of all celestiall grace,

Loathing this sinfuU earth and earthlie slime, 290

Fled hacke too soone unto his native ))lace

Too soone for all that did his love embrace

Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he

Robd of all rijrhtand true nobilitie.

THE RUINES UF 1 l.MK.

4€5

'295

■' Yet, ere his happie soule to heaven went

Out of this flesLlie oaole, he did devise

Unto his heavenlie Maker to present

His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise ;

And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies

Should powre forth tb' offring of his guiltles blood :

So life exchanging- for his countries good. 301

" O noble spirite, live there ever blessed,

The worlds late wonder, and the heavens new ioy ;

Live ever tliere, and leve me hei'e distressed

With mortall cares and cumbrous worlds anoy ! 305

But, where thou dost that happines enioy.

Bid me, O bid me quicklie come to thee,

That happie there I maie thee alwaies see !

" Yet, whilest the Fates affoord me vitall breath,

I will it spend in speaking of thy praise, 310

And sing to thee, untill that timelie death

By heavens doome doo eiide mv earthhe daies :

Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise,

And into me that sacred breath inspire,

Which tliou there breathest perfect and entire. 315

" Then will I sing; but who can better sing

Than thine owne sister, peerles lady bright.

Which to thee sings with deep harts sorrowing,

Sorrowing tempered with deare delight,

That her to heare I feele my feeble spright 320

Robbed of sense, and ravished with ioy;

O sad io}', made of mourning and anoy !

" Yet will I sing ; but who can better sing
Than thou thv selfe, thine owne selfes valiance, 324
That, whilst thou livedst, madest the forrests ring.
And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce.
And shepheardes leave their lambs unto mischaunce.
To runue thy shrill Arcadian pipe to heare :
O happie were those dayes, thrice happy were !

" But now more happie thou, and wretched wee, 330

\\ hich want the wonted swetnes of thy voice.

Whiles thou now in Elysian fields so free.

With Orpheus, and with Linus, and the choice

Of all that ever did in rimes reioyce,

Conversest, and doost heare their heavenlie layes, 335

And they heare thine, and thine doo better praise.

" So there thou livest, singing evermore^

And here thou livest, being ever song

Of us, which living loved thee afore,

/Vnd now thee worship mongst that blessed throng 340

Of heavenlie poets and heroes strong.

So thou boih liere and tliere imraortall art.

And everie where through excellent desart.

" But such as neither of themselves can sing.

Nor yet are sung of others for reward, 345

Die in obscure oblivion, as the thing

Which never was ; ne ever with regard

Their names shall of the later age be heard,

But shall in rustie darknes ever lie,

Unles they mentioned be with infamie. 350

" What booteth it to have beene rich alive ?

What to be great 'f what to be gracious ?

When alter death no token doth survive

Of former beeing in this mortall lious.

But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious, 355

Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is.

And bath no hope of happinesse or blis.

" How manie great ones may remembred be.
Which in their daies most famouslie did florish ;
Of whume no word we hearp, uorsigne now see, 360
But as tilings wipt out with a sponge do perishe.
Because they living cared not to cherislie
No gentle wits, through pride or covetize.
Which might their names for ever memorize '

" Provide therefore (ye princes) whilst ye live, 36j

That of the AJuses ye may friended bee,

W' hich unto men eternitie do give ;

For they be daughters of dame iMemorie

And love, the father of Eternitie,

And do tiiose men in golden thrones repose, 370

Whose merits they to glorifie do chose.

" The seven-fold yron gates of grislie hell,

And horrid house of sad Froserpina,

They able are with power of mightie spell

'J'o breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie 375

Out of dread darkenesse to eternall day.

And them immortall make which els would die

In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie.

" So whilome raised they the puissant brood

Of golden-girt Alcmena, for great merite, 380

Out of the dust, to which the Oeta^an wood

Had him consum'd, and spent his vitall spirite.

To highest heaven, where now he doth inherite

All happinesse in Hebes silver bowre,

Chosen to be her dearest paramoure, 385

" So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlike twinnes,

And interchanged life unto them lent,

That, when th' one dies, the other then beginnes

To shew in heaven his brightnes orient ;

And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, 390

Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make,

Her back againe to life sent for his sake.

" So happie are they, and so fortunate.

Whom the Pierian sacred sisters love,

That freed from bands of implacable fate, 395

And power of death, they live for aye above,

^Vhere mortall wreakes their blis may not remove :

But with the gods, for former vertues meede.

On nectar and ambrosia do feede.

" For deeds doe die, how ever noblie donna 400
And thoughts of men do as themselves decay :
But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne.
Recorded by the ft] uses, live for ay ;
Ne may with storming showers be washt away,
Ne bittar-breathing windes with harmful! blast, 405
Nor age, nor envie, shall them ever wast.

" Li vaine doo earthly princes then, in vaine,

Seeke with pyramides, to heaven aspired ;

Or huge colosses, built with costlie paine ;

Or br;isen pillours, never to be fired ; 410

Or shrines, made of the mettall most desired;

To make their memories for ever live :

For how can mortall immortalitie give?

" Such one Mausolus made, the worlds great wonder
But now no remnant doth thereof remaine : 415

Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder:
Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine :
Such one King Edmond, but was rent for gaine.
All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse,
Devour'd of Time, in time to nought doo passe. 420

466

THE RUIXES OF TIME.

" But Fame with <]fok!eii wings aloft doth flie.

Above the reach of ruinous decay,

And with hiave plumes doth beate the azure skie,

Admir'd of base-borne men from f;irie away :

Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay 425

To mount to heaven, on Pegasus must ride.

And with sweete poets verse be glorifide.

" For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake.

Could save thesonne of Thetis from to die;

Uut that blinde bard did him immortall make 430

With verses, dipt in deavv of Castalie :

Which made the Easterne conquerour to crie,

O fortunate yong-maa ! whose vertue found

So brave a trorape, thy noble acts to sound.

" Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read 435

Good ]Melibre, that hath a poet got

To sing his living praises being dead,

Deserving never here to be forgot,

[n sj)ite of envie, that his deeds would spot :

Since whose decease, learning lies unregarded, 440

And nitn of armes doo wander unrewarded.

" Those two be those two great calamities,

That long agoe did grieve the noble spright

Of Salonjon with great indiginites ;

Who whilome was alive the wisest wight. 445

But now his wisedome is disprooved quite ;

For he, that now welds all things at his will,

Scorns th' one and th' other in his deeper skill.

" O griefe of griefes ! O gall of all good heartes !
To see that vertue should dispised bee 450

Of him, that first was raisde for vertuous parts.
And now, broad spreading like an aged tree,
Lets none shoot up that nigh him planted bee :
O let the man, of whom the Muse is scorned,
Nor alive nor dead be of the iMuse adorned ! 455

" O vile worlds trust ! that with such vaine illusion
Hath so wise men bewitcht, and overkest,
That they see not the way of their confusion :

vaincsse ! tobe added to the rest,

That do my soule with inward griefe infest : 60

Let them behold the piteous fall ot mee,
And in my case the r ovvne eubample see.

" And who so els that sits in highest seate

Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,

Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threate,

Let him brhold the horror of my fall, 466

And his ovvnc end unto remembrance call ;

'I'bat of like ruine he may warned bee.

And in himselfe be moov'd to pittie mee." —

Thus having ended all her piteous plaint, 470

With dolofull shrikes shee vanished away,

'J hut 1 through inward sorrowe wexen faint,

And all astonished with deepe dismay

For her departure, had no word to say ;

But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, 475

Looking still, if I might of her have sight.

Which when I missed, having looked long.
My thought returned greeved home againe,
Keiiewing her complaint with ])<is.iion strong.
For ruth of that same womans piteous ])aine ; 400
Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine,

1 felt such anguish wound my feeble heart.
That frozen horror ran through everie part.

So inlie greeving in my groning brest,

And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull spftach, 485

Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wrestfi.

Being above my slender reasons reach ;

At length, by demonstration me to teach,

Before mine eies strange sights presented were,

Like tragicke pageants seeming to appears 490

I SAW an image, all of massie gold..

Placed on high upon an altare faire,

That all, which did the same from farre beholde,

Might worship it, and fall on lowest staire.

Not that great idoU might with this compaire, 495

To which th' Assyrian tyrant would have made

The holie brethren falselie to have praid.

But th' altare, on the which this image staid.

Was (O great pitie!) built of brickie clay.

That shortly the foundation decaid, 500

With showres of heaven and tempests worne away ;

Then downe it fell, and low in asiies lay,

Scorned of everie one, which by it went ;

That 1, it seeing, dearelie did lament.

Next unto this a statelie towre appeared, 505

Built all of richest stone that might bee found.

And nigh unto the heavens in height upreared.

But placed on a plot of sandie ground :

Not that great towre, which is so much renowiul

For tongues confusion in holie writ, 510

King Ninus worke, might be com])ar'd to it.

But O vaine labours of terrestriall wit,

]3hat buildes so stronglie on so frayle a soyle.

As with each storme does fall away, and flit.

And gives the fruit of all your travailes loyle, 515

I'o be the pray of Tynie, and Fortunes spoyie !

I saw this towre fall sodainelie to dust.

That nigh with griefe thereof my heart was brust.

III.
Then did I see a pleasant paradize,
Full of swocte flowres and daintiest delights, 5'20
Sucli as on earth man could not more devize.
With pleasures choy ce to feed his cheerfuU sprights :
Not that, which iVierlin by his magicke slights
Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine
His fayre Belpha'be, could this gardiiie staine. 5'25
But O short pleasure bought with lasting jiaino I
Who will hereafter anie flesh delight
In earthlie blis, and ioy in pleasures vaine,
Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite,
That where it was scarce seemed anie sight.' 5,'30
'J'hat I, which once that beautie did beholde.
Could not from teares my melting eyes with-holde.

IV.

Soone after this a giaunt came in jilace,

Of woiulrous powre, and of exceeding stature,

'J'hat none durst vewe the horror of his face, 535

Yet was he milde of speach, and meeke of nature:

Not he, which in despite of his Creatour

Witli railing tearmes defide the levvisii boast,

Blight with this mightie one in hugenes boast;

For from the one he could to th' other coast 540

Stretch his strong. thiijhes, and th' ocean overstride

And reatch his hand into his enemies boast.

But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride !

One of his feete unwares from him did slide,

'i'hat downe hee fell into the deepe abisse, 045

Where drowned wuth him is all his earthlie blisse.

im: RuixKs OF i'imk.

467

Then did I see a bridge, made all of golde,

Over the sea from one to other side,

Withouten prop or pilloiir it t'upholde,

But like the coloured rainbowe arched wide: 5oO

Not that great arche, which Traian edifide.

To be a wonder to all age ensuing-,

Was matchable to this in equall vewing.

But (ah !) what bootes it to see earthlie tLing

In glorie or in greatnes to excell, 555

Sith time dotli greatest things to mine bring?

This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,

Can fade, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,

Ne of so brave a building ought remained,

That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained. 560

VI.

I saw two beares, as white as anie milks,

Lying together in a mightie cave,

Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke.

That salvage nature seemed not to have.

Nor after greedie spoyle of bloud to crave • 565

'iwo fairer beasts might not elsewhere be found,

Although the compast world were sought around.

But what can long abide above this ground

in state of blis, or stedfast happinesse ?

The cave, in which these beares lav sleeping sound,

Was but of earth, and with her weightinesse 57]

Upon them fell, and did unwares oppresse ;

That, for great sorrovv of their sudden fate,

Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

^ Much was I troubled in my lieavie sprigbt, 575
At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,
liiat all my senses were bereaved quight,
And I ill minde remained sore agast.
Distraught twixt feare and pitie ;. -when at last
I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called, 580

That wth the suddein shrill I was appalled.

Behold (said it) and by ensample see,

That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,

Ne other comfort in this world can be,

15ut hope of heaven, and heart to God inclinde ; 585

Tor all the rest must needs be left behinde :

With that it bad me to the other side

To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.

Vroy that famous rivers further shore,

'I here stood a snowie swan of heavenlv hiew, 590

And gentle kinde, as ever fowle alore ;

A fairer one in all the goodlie criew

Ot white Strimonian brood might no man view :

■J'here he most sweetly sung the prophecie

Of his owne death in doleful! elegie. 595

At last, when all his mourning melodie

He ended had, that both the shores resounded,

Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die.

With loftie flight above the earth he bounded,

And out of sight to highest heaven mounted, 600

\\'h^re now he is become an heavenly signe;

There now the icy is his, here sorrow mine.

ir.

Whilest thus I looked, loe ! adowne the lee
[ saw an harpe stroong all with silver twyne.
And made of golde and costlie vvorie, 605

Swimming, that whilome seemed to have been
The Larpe on which Dan Orpheus was seene

Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead.
Bur was th' hai]ie of Philisites now dead.
At length out of the river it was reard, 610

And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd.
Whilst all the way most heavenly novse was heard
Of the strings, stirred with the warWing wind,
That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind :
So now in heaven a signe it doth appeare, 615

The harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.

Soone after this I saw on th' other side

A curious cotfer made of heben wood.

That in it did most precious treasure hide,

Kxceeding all this baser workliis good : 620

Yet through the overflowing of the flood

It almost drowned was, and done to nought,

That sight thereof much griev'd my pensiVe thouo-ht.

At length, when most in peril it was brought.

Two angels, downe descending witli swift flight, 625

Out of the swelling streame it liglitly caught.

And twixt their blessed arraes carried quight

Above tlie reach of anie living sight :

So now it is transform 'd into that starre.

In which all heavenly treasures locked are. 630

Looking aside I saw a stately bed.

Adorned all with costly cloth of gold.

That might for anie princes couch be red,

And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold

Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold : 635

Therein a goodly virgine sleeping lay;

A fiiirer wight saw never summers day.

I heard a voyce that called fiirre away,

And her awaking bad her quickly dight.

For lo ! herbridegroome was in readie ray 64C

To come to her, and seeke her loves delig'ht:

With that she started up with cherefull sight,

W'hen suddeinly both bed and all was gone.

And I in langour left there all alone.

Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood 645

A knight all arm'd, njion a winged steed.

The same that was bred of flledusaes blood.

On which Dan Perseus, borne of heavenly seed

The faire Andromeda from perill freed :

Full mortally this knight ywounded was, 050

i'hat streames of blood foorth flowed on the gras :

Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him alas !)

With manie garlands for his victories.

And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas

Through brave atchievements from his enemies : 655

Fainting at last through long infirmities.

He smote his steed, that straight to heaven him bore,

And left me here his losse for to deplore.

Lastly I saw an arke of purest golde
Upon a brazen pillour standing hie 66C

Which th' ashes seem'd of some great prince to hold
Eiiclosde thereni for eiidles memorie
Of him, whom all the world did glorifie :
Seemed the heavens with the earth did disagree,
Wliefher should of those ashes keeper bee. 66i

At last me seem'd wing-footed Mercurie,

I! H 2

468

THL RUINES OF TIME.

From heaven descending to appease their strife.

The arke did beare witli him above the skie.

And to those aslies cjave a second life,

To live ill heaven, where happines is rife : 670

At which the earth did grieve exceedingly,

And 1 for dole was almost like to die,

U Envoy.

Inamortall spirite of Philisides,

Which now art made the heavens ornament,

'^hat whilorae wast the worldes chiefst riches ; 675

Give leave to him that lov'de thee to lament

His losse, by lacke of thee to heaven hent.

And with last duties of this broken verse,

Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable herse !

And ye, faire ladie ! th' honour of your daies, 680

And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne ;

Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise

With some few silver-dropping teares t' adorne ;

And as ye be of heavenlie off-spring borne.

So unto heaven let your high minde aspire,

And loath this drosse of sinfuU vv-orlds desire ! 686

MUIOPOTMOS:

FATE OF THE BCJTTEKFLIE,

BY ED. SP.

DEDICATED TO THE MOST FAIRE AND VERTU0U3 LADIE,

THE LADIE CAREY.
1590.

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND VERTUOUS LADIE,

THE LA : CAREY :

Most brave and bountiful! La : for so excellent
favours as I have received at your sweet handes, to
offer these fewe leaves as in recompence, should be
as to offer flowers to the gods for their divine bene-
fites. Therefore 1 have determined to give my
selfe wholy to you, as quite abandoned from my
■€\fe, and absolutely vowed to your services ;
which in all right is ever held for full recompence
of debt or damage, to have the person yeelded.
IMv person I wot wel how little worth it is. But
the laithfuU minde and humble zeale which I bear
unto your La : may perhaps be more of price, as
may please you to account and use the poore
service therof ; which taketh glory to advance your

excellent partes and noble vertues, and to spend
it selfe in honouring you ; not so much for your
great bounty to my self, which yet may not be un-
minded ; nor for name or kindreds sake by you
vouchsafed ; being also regardable ; as for that
honorable name, which yee have by your brave
deserts purchast to your selfe, and spred in the
mouths of all men : with which I have also pre-
sumed to grace my verses ; and, under your name,
to commend to the world this small Poeme. The
which beseeching your La : to take in worth, and
of all things therin according to your wonted gra-
ciousnes to make a milde construction, I humbly
pray for your happines.

Your La : ever humbly ;

E. S.

I siMG of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd up through wrathfull Nemesis despight,
Betwixt two mightie ones of great estate,
Drawne into armes, and proofe of mortall fight,
'Ihrough prowd ambition and hart-swelling hate, 5
WiJilest neither could the others greater might
And sdeignfull scorne endure ; that from small iarre
Their wraths at length broke inio open warre.

The roote whereof and tragicall effect,
Vouchsafe, O thou the mournfulst INIuse of nyne, 10
I'hat wont'st the tragick stage for to direct,
In funerall complaints and wailefuU tj'ne,
Ileveale to me, and all the meanes detect,
Through which s-ad Clarion did at last decline
To lowest wretchednes : And is tliere then l5

Such rancour in the harts of mishtie men!

Mi'inroTMOs

469

Of all the race of silver- winged flies f

Which doo possesse the empire of the aire,

Betwixt the centred earth, and azure skies,

Was none more favourable, nor more taire, 20

Whilst heaven did f;u-our liis felicities,

Then Clarion, the eldest sonne and heire

Of MuscaroU, and in his fathers si<;ht

Of all alive did seeme the fairest wight.

With fruitfuU hope his aged breast he fed 25

Of future good, which his young toward yeares,
Full of brave courage and bold hardjhed
Above th' ensample of his eijuall peares.
Did largely promise, and to him fore-red,
(Whilst oft liis heart did melt in tender teares,) 30
Ihat he in time would sure prove such an one,
As should be worthie of his fathers throne.

The fresh young flie, in whom the kindly fire
Of lustful! yongth began to kindle fast.
Did much disdaine to subiect his desire 3ij

To loathsome sloth, or li ures in ease to wast ;
But ioy'd to range abroad in fresh attire.
Through the wide compas of the avrie coast ;
And, with unwearied wings, each part t' inquire
Of the wide rule of his renowmed sire. 40

For he so swift and nimble was of flight.

That from this lower tract he dar'd to stie

Up to the clowdes, and thence with pineons light

To mount aloft unto the cnstall skie,

To view the wo' kmanship of heavens bight : 45

Whence down descending, he along would flie

Upon the streaming rivers, sport to finde ;

And oft would dare to tempt the troublous winde.

So on a summers day, when season milde

With gentle calme the world had quieted, 50

And high in heaven Hvjierion's fierie cliilde

Ascending did his beanes abroad dispreii.

Whiles all the heavens on lower creatures smilde ;

Young Clarion, w ith vauntfull lustiehed,

After his guize did cast abroad to fare ; 55

And thereto gan his furnitures prejjare.

His breast-plate first, that was of substance [lure.

Before his noble heart he firmelv bound.

That mought his life from yron death assure.

And ward his gentle corps from cruell wound : 60

For it by arte was framed, to endure

The bit of balefull Steele and bitter stownd.

No lesse then that which Vulcane made to shield

Achilles life from fate of Troyan field.

And then about his shoulders broad he threw 65

An hairie hide of some wild beast, whom hee

In selvage forrest by adventure slew.

And reft the spoyle his oinament to bee ;

Which, spredding all his backe with dreadfull view,

Blade all, that him so horrible did see, 70

Thinke him Alcides with the lyons skin,

When the Nsemean conquest he did win.

Upon bis head his glistering burganet.
The which was wrought by -wonderous device,
And curiously engraven, he did set : 7.5

I'he metall was of rare and passing price ;
Not Bilbo Steele, nor brasse from Corinth fet.
Nor costly oricalche from strniige Phoenice ;
But such as could both Phoebus arrowes ward.
And th' hayling darts of henvea beating- Imrd. 80

Therein two deadly weapons fixt he bore.

Strongly outlanced towards either side.

Like two sharpe speares, his enemies to gore :

Like as a warlike brigandine, applyde

To fight, layes forth her ihreatuU pikes afore, 85

The engines which i i them sad death doo hyde :

So did this flie outstretch his fearel'ull homes

Yet so as him their terrour more adornes.

Lastly his shinie wings as silver bright.

Painted with thousand colours passing farre 90

All painters skill, he did about him dight :

Not halfe so manie sundrie colours arre

In Iris bowe ; ne heaven doth shine so bright.

Distinguished with manie a twinckling starre ;

Nor lunoes bird, in her ev-spotted traine, 95

So many goodly colours doth containe.

Ne (may it be withouten perill spoken)

The archer god, the sonne of Cytheree,

That ioyes on wretched lovers to be wroken.

And heaped spoyies of bleeding harts to see, 100

Beares in his wings so manie a changefull token.

Ah ! my liege lord, forgive it unto mee.

If ought agninst thine honour I have tolde ;

Yet sure those wings were fairer manifolde.

Full many a ladie faire, in court full oft 105

Beholding them, him secreilv envide.
And wisht that two such fannes, so silken soft, ■
And golden faire, her love would her provide ;
Or that, when them the gorgeous flie had doft.
Some one, that would with grace be gratifide, 110
From him would steale them privily away,
And bring to her so precious a pray.

Report is that dame Venus on a day, [ground,

In sjiriiig when flowres doo clothe the fruitt'ull
Walking abroad with all her nyniphes to play, 115
Bad her faire damzels flocking her arownd
To gather flowres. lier forhead to array :
Emongst the rest a gentle nymph was found,
Hight Asteiy, excelling all the crewe
In curteous usage and unstained hewe. 120

Who beeing nimbler ioynted then the rest,

And more industrious, gathered more store

Of the fields honour, than the otiiers best;

Which thev in sectet harts envying sore,

Tolde Venus, when her as the worthiest 125

She praisd, that Cupide (as they heard before)

Oid lend her secret aide, in gathering

Into her lap the children of the Sprang,

\'. hereof the goddesse gathering iealous feare.
Not yet unmindful), how not long agoe 130

Her sonne to Psyche secrete love did beare,
And long it close conceal'd, till mickle woe
Thereof arose, and manie a nifull teare ;
Reason with sudden rage did overgoe ;
And, giving hastie cre;lit to ih'accuser, 135

Was led away of them tiiat did abuse lier.

Eftsoones that damzell, bv her heavenly mio-ht.

She turn'd into a wini;ed butteiflie.

In the wide aire to make her wandring flight,

And ail those flowres, with which so plenteouslie 140

Her lap she filled had, that bred her spight,

She })laced in her winL;s lor tneniorie

Of her iiretfnded crime, thduoh crime none were :

Since which tliat flie them in her wings doth beare.

470

Mnoi'O'i \if)s.

Thus tlie fresh Clarion, being- readip digiit, 1-lJ

Unto his iourney did liimsell'e addresse,

And with good speed began to take his flight ;

Over the fields, in his frank lustinesse.

And all the cliainpaigne o're be soared light ;

And all tlie countrey wide be did possesse, 150

Feeding >ipon their pleasures bounieouslie.

That none gainsaid, nor none did him envie.

The woods, the rivers, and the medowes greene.
With bis aire-cutting wings be measured wide,
Ne did lie leave the raountainesbare unseene, 155
Nor the ranke grassie fennes delights untride.
But none of these, bow ever sweet they beene.
Mote please his fancio, nor him cause t' a])ide :
His choicefuU sense with every change doili flit ;
No common things may please a wavering wit. 160

To the gay gardins his unstaid desire
Him wholly caried, to refresh his spriglits :
There lavish Nature, in her best attire,
Powres forth sweete odors and alluritig sights ;
And Arte, with her contending, doth aspire, 165
'J ' excell the naturall with made delights :
And all, that faire or pleasant may be found.
In riotous excesse doth there abound.

There be arriving, round about dotli flie.

From bed to bed, from one to other border; 170

And takes survey, with curious busie eye.

Of .every fiowre and herbe tjjere set in order ;

Now this, now tliat, he tasteth tenderlv.

Yet none of them he rudely doth disorder,

Ne with his feete their silken leaves deface ; 175

But pastures on the pleasures of each place.

And evermore with most varietie.

And cliange of sweeinesse, (for all change is sweete),

He casts bis glution sense to satistie.

Now sucking of the sap of herbe most meet, 180

Or of the deaw, which yet on them does lie,

Now ill the same bathing his tender leete :

And then be jiearcht-th on some braunch thereby,

'Jo weather him, and his moyst wings to dry.

And then againe he turneth to bis play, 185

To spoyle the ])leasures of that Paradise ;

'Ihe wholesome saulge, and lavender still gray,

Ranke-sinelling rue, and cummin good for "eyes,

The roses raigning m the pride of AJay,

Sharpe isope good for greene wounds remedies, 190

Faire mangoldes, and bees-allurin"- thime,

Sweet marioram, and daysies decking prune :

Code violets, and orpine growing siill,

l.mbathed bahne, and cheerfuU galingale.

Fresh co.^tmane, and breathlull camoniill, 195

Dull poppy, and dnnk-ciuickning setuule,

Veyne healing verven, and hed-j)urgino' dill,

Sound savone, and bazil heartie-tiale.

Fat colworts, and cuinlortiiig perseline,

Cold lettuce, aiKl reiresbin^ rosmaiine. 200

And whatso else of vertuc good or ill

Grewe in this gariiin, tetclit Irom fane away.

Of every one he takes and lastes at will.

And on their pleasures gi'eeuily do li pray.

Then when he hath boih plai i, and ted his fill, i.'05

In the warme sunne iie dulh liuusehe embay.

And tliero him rests in notous suffisaunce

Of all bis gladlulues, ai'.d kuigly loyaunce.

\\ hat more feiu-itie can fall to creature

Than to enjoy delight with libertie, 210

And to be lord of all the workes of Nature,

To raigne in th' aire from th' earth to highest skie,

To leed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.

To take what ever thing dntb please the eie ?

Who rests not j)!eased with such liappines, 215

Well ^vortlly he to taste of wretcbednes.

Rut what on earib can long abide in state 1

Or who can him assure ot hap])y day ?

Sith morning faiie may bring fowle evening late,

And lea.-t mi?lia]> the most blisse alter may ' 220

Fur thousand perills lie in close awaite

About us daylie, to worke our decay ;

That none except a god, or God him guide,

jMay them avoyde, or remedie provide.

And whatso heavens in their secret doome 225

Ordained have, bow can fraile fleshly wight
Forecast, but it must needs to issue come ?
The sea, the aire, the tire, the dav, the night.
And th' armies of their creatures all and some
Do serve to them, and with importune might 230
Warre against us the vassals of their will.
Who then can save what tiiey dispose to spill !

Not thou, O Clarion, though fairest thou

Of all thy kinde, unhappie happie flie,

\\ hose cruell fate is woven even now 235

Of loves owne hand, to worke thy miserie !

Ne may thee help the manie liartie vow,

Which tliy old sire with sacred pietie

Hath jiowred forth for thee, and th* altars sprent :

]\ ought may thee save from heavens avengeraent !

It fortuned (as heavens had beliigbt) 241

That in this gardin, where young Clarion

U'as wont to solace him, a wicked wight,

The foe of faire things, th' author of confusion.

The shame of nature, the bondslave of £{>ight, 2-15

Had lately built bis batefuU mansion ;

And, lurking closely, in awaite now lay,

How he might any in his trap betray.

But when he spide the ioyous butterflie

In this faire plot displacing to and fro, 250

Feareles of foes and hidden ieopardie.

Lord ! bow be gan for to bestirre him tbo.

And to his wicked worke each part applie !

His heart did eariie against his hated foe.

And bowels so with rankling poyson swelde, 255

i'liat scarce the skin the strong contagion helde.

The cause, why he this flie so maliced.

Was (as in stories it is written found)

For tliat his niotlier, which him bore and bred,

Tlie most line-iiiigred workwoman on ground, 260

.•\rachne, by his nieHiies was vmiquisht-d

Of Pallas, and in her owne skill confound,

\\ hen she with her for excellence coiitemled,

Ihat wrought her bhame, and sorrow never ended.

For the Tritonian goadesse having hard 265

Her bhized fame, whicii all the v^orld had fild.

Came downe to prove the tiuth, and due reward

Fur her pr<iise-wortluf wvorkmanslii[) to yield:

But thi' presumptuous diiinzeli rasblv dar'd

The godde-^se selie to chalenge to the held, 270

And to comjjare wuh her in cuiious skill

Of woikes with loouie, with needle, and with quill.

3MUIOPOTM0S.

4rx

Minerva did tbe clialenge not refuse,

But deign'd with her the parao^on to mate :

So to their worke they sit, and each doth chuse 275

What storie she will for her tapet take.

Arachne figur'd how love did abuse

Europa like a bull, and on his backe

Her through the sea did beare ; so lively scene,

That it true sea, and true bull, ye would weene. 280

Shee seem'd still backe unto tlie land to looke,
And her play-fellowes ayde to call, and feare
'J"he dashing of the waves, that up she tooke
Her daintie feet, and garments gathered neare :
But (Lord !) how she in everie member sliooke, 285
When as the land she saw no more appeare,
But a wilde wildernes of waters deepe :
Then gan she greatly to lament and weepe.

Before the bull she pictur'd winged Love,

With his yong brother Sport, light fluttering 290

Upon the waves, as each had been a dove ;

The one his bowe and shafts, the other spring

A burning teade about his head did move,

As in their syres new love both triumphing :

And manie nvmplies about them flocking round, 295

And many tritons which their homes did sound.

And, round about, her worke she did empale

With a faire border wrought of sundrie liowres,

Enwoven with an yvie-winaing trayle :

A goodly worke, full fit for kingly bowres ; 300

Sucli as dame Pallas, such as Envie pale,

Ihat all good things with venemous tooth devowres,

Could not accuse. Then gan the goddesse bright

Her selfe likewise unto her worke to dight.

She made the storie of the olde debate, 305

Which she with Neptune did for Athens trie :
Twelve gods doo sit around in royall state,
And love in mid,-t with awfull maiestie.
To iudge the strife betweene them stirred late :
Each of the "ods, by his like visnomie 310

Eathe to be knowne ; but love above them all.
By his great lookes and power iiuperiall.

Before them stands tlie god of seas in place,

Clayming tliat sea-coast citie as his right.

And strikes the rockes with his three-forked mace ;

Whenceforth issues a warlike steed in sight, 316

The signe by which he chalengeth the place ;

That all the gods, which saw his wondrous might,

Did surely deeme the victorie his due :

But seldome seene, foreiudgenient proveih true.

Then to herselfe she gives her Aegide shield, 321
And steel-hed speare, and morion on her hedd.
Such as she oft is seene in warlike field :
Then sets she forth, how with her weapon dredd
She smote the ground, the which streight foorth did
A fruitful! olyve tree, with berries spredd, [yield 326
That all the gods admir'd ; then all the storie
She compast with a wreathe of oly ves hourie.

Emongst these leaves she made a butterflie.
With excellent device and wondrous slight, 330
Fluttnng among the olives wantonly,
That seem'd to live, so like it w,is in sight :
The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,
The silken downe with which his biicke is dight.
His broad outstretched homes, his hayriethies, 335
His glorious colours, and his glistering eies.

\V'hich when Arachne saw, as overlaid.

And mastered with workmanship so rare.

She stood astonied long, ne ought gaiuesaid ;

And with fast fixed eyes on her did stare, 340

And by her silence, signe of one dismaid,

The victorie did yeeld her as her share ;

Yet did she inly fret and felly burne.

And all her blood to poysonous rancor turns ;

That shortly from the shape of womanhed, 3 to

Such as she was when Fallas she attempted,
She grew to hideous shape of dryrihed.
Pined with griefe of folly late repented :
Eftsoones her wliite streight legs were altered
i'o crooked crawling shankes, of inarrowe em pled ;
And her faire face to foul and loathsome hewe, 351
And her fine corpes t' a bag of veniin grewe.

This cursed creature, mindfull of that olde
Enfested grudge, the which his mother felt,
So soone as Clarion he did beholde, 355

His heart with vengeful! malice inly swelt ;
And weaving straight a net with manie a fold
About the cave, in which he lurking dwelt,
With fine small cords about it stretched wide,
So finely spunne, that scarce they could be spide.360

Not anie dam::ell, which her vaunteth most

In skilfull knitting of soft silken twyne ;

^;or anie weaver, which his worke doth boast

In diaper, in damaske, or in lyne ;

Nor anie skil'd in workmanship erabost ; 365

Nor anie skil'd in loupes of fingring fine ;

Might in their divers cunning ever dare

Wilh this so curious networke to compare.

Ne doo I thinke, that that same subtil gin,

The which the Lemnian god framde craftily, 370

Mars sleeping witn his wife to compasse in.

That all the gods with common mockerie

Might laugh at them, and scoriie their shameful! sin.

Was like to this. This same he did applie

For to entrap the careles Clarion, 375

That rang'deachwhere without suspition.

Suspition of friend, nor feare of foe,

That hazarded his health, had he at all,

But walkt at will, and wandred to and fro,

lu the pride of his fretdome principal! • 380

Litle wist lie his fatall future woe,

But was secure ; the liker he to fall.

He likest is to fall into mischaunce.

That is regardles of his governaunce.

Yet still Aragnoll (so his foe was hight) 385

Lay lurking covertly him to surprise ;

And all his gins, that him entangle might,

Drest in good order as he could devise.

At length, the foolish flie without foresight.

As he that did all daunger quite despise, 390

Toward those parts came flying carelesselie,

Where hidden was his hateful! enemie.

Who, seeing him, with secret ioy therefore

Did tickle inwardly in everie vaine ;

And his false hart, fraught with all treasons store.

Was fill'd witli hope his purjiose to obtaine : 396

Himselfe he close upgatliered more and more

Into his den, that his deceitful! traiiie

By his there being might not be bewraid,

Ne anie noyse, ne anie motion made. 100

472

-lOPOTM

Lite as a wily foxe, that, having spide

AVhdre on a sunnie b;inke the lambes doo play.

Full closely cret^ping by the hinder side,

Lyes in anibusbmeut oi' his hoped ])ray,

Ne stirreth linibe; till, seeing readie tide, 405

He rusheth forth, and snatcbeth quite away

One of the litle yonglings unawares :

So to bis works Aragnoll him prepares.

*Vho now shall give unto my heavie eyes

A well of teares, that all may overflow? 410

Or where sbnU I find lamentable cryes.

And mournfuU tunes, enough my griefe to show?

lielpe, O thou Tragick Muse, me to devise

Notes sad enough, t'expresse this bitter throw :

For loe, the drerie stownd is now arrived, 415

That of all happines hath us deprived.

The luckles clarion, whether crucll Fate
Or wicked Fortune fauhles him misled,
Or some ungracious blast out of the gate
Of Aeoles raine perforce him drove on bed.
Was (O sad hap and howre unfortunate !)
With violent swift fliglit forth caried
Into the cursed cobweb, which his foe
Had framed for his finall overthroe.

420

42d

There the fond flie, entangled, strugled lou^
Hiraselfe to free thereout; but all in vaine.
For, striving more, the more in laces strong
Himselfe he tide, and wrapt bis winges twaine
In lymie snares the subtill loupes among*
That in the ende he breathlesse did remaine 430
And, all his yongthly forces idly spent.
Him to the mercie of th' avenger lent.

WHiich when the greisly tyrant did espie,

Like a grimme lyon rushing with fierce might

Out of bis den, he seized greedelie 435

On the resistles pray; and, with fell spight,

Under the left wing strooke his weapon slie

Into his heart, that his deepe-groning spright

In bloodie streames forth fled into the aire,

ills bodie left the spectacle of care. 440

"B B I TT A 1 N'S IDA.

WRITTEN BVTHAT RENOWNED POET,

EDMOND SPENCER.

XOWDON: — PRINTED FOR THOMAS WALKLEY, AND ARE TO BE SOLD AT HIS SHOP AT THE EAGLE iNO CHILD IH

BRITTAINES BURSSE. 1628." 12mo.

THE EPISTLE.

TO THE niHGT NOBLE LADY,

MAEY,

DAVOHTER TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, GEORGE, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

Most noble Lady ! I have presumed to present this Poem to your honourable hand, encourag-ed onely
by the worth of the famous autlior, (for 1 am certainly assured, by the ablest and most knowing men,
that must be a worke of Spencers, of whom it were pitty that any thing should bee lost,) and doubting
not but your Lady-ship will graciously accept, though from a meane hand, this humble present, since
that the man that offers it is a true honourer and observer of your selfe and your princely family, and shall
ever remaine

The humblest of your devoted servants,

Thomas Walkley

MARTIAL.

Accipefacundi CuHcem studiose Maroni$,
Ne nugis, ■positis, armu , virumque canas.

See here that stately muse, that erst could raise

In lasting numbers great Elizaes praise.

And dresse fair vertue in so rich attiie.

That even her foes were forced to admire

And court her heavenly beauty ! Shee that taught

The Graces grace, and made the Vertues thought

INIore vertuous than before, is pleased here

To slacke her serious flight, and feed your eare

With love's delightsome toys : doe not refuse

These harmelesse sports ; 'tis learned Spencer's muse}

But think his loosest poems worthier then

The serious follies of unskillfull men.

CANTO I.

THE ARGUMENT.

The youthly shepheards wonning here.
And beauties rare displayed, appeare ;
What exercise heo chiefe affects.
His name and scornefull love neglects.

I- II.

In Ida vale ( who knowes not Ida vale?) ' Among the rest, that all the rest excel'a.

When hiuiiilesse Troy yet felt not Grecian spite, A dainty boy there wonn'd, wliose hannlesse yearea

An hundred shepheards wonn'd, and in the dale, Now in their freshest budding gently sweld ;"

Whiletlieir fV.ire flockes the three-le;iv'd pastures bite, His nimph-like tace nere felt the nimble sheeres.

The shepljeards boyes with hundred sportings, light Youth's downy blossome through his cbeeke ap-
Gave winges unto the times too speedy hast : peares ;

Ah. foolish lads ! that strove with lavish wasr His lovely limbes (but love he quite discarded)

So fast to -pend the time that spends your time Were made for phiy (but be no play regarded)

'** fast. And fit love to reward, and with love be rewarded

474

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

High was his fore-head, arcli't with silver mould,
(AV'here never anger churHsh rinkle dighted),
His auburne lockes hung like darke threds of gold,
That wanton aires (with their faire length incited)
To plav among their wanton curies delighted ;
f lis smiling eves with simjde truth were stor'd :
Ah ! how should truth in those thiefe eyes be
stor'd, [restor'd?

Which thousand loves had stol'n, and never one

IV.

Hij lillv-cheeke might seeme an ivory plaine,
IMore [ii'.relv white than frozen Apenine,
W liere lovely Bashfuliiess did sweetly raine,
In blushing scarlet cloth'd and ])urple fine.
A hundred hearts had tliis delightfull shrine,
(Still cold it selfe) inflam'd with hot desire,
That well the face might seem, in divers tire,
To be a burning snow, or else a freezing fire.

His cheerful! lookes and merry face would proove

(If eyes the index be where thoughts are read)

A dainty play-fellow for naked Love ;

Of all the other parts enough is sed.

That they were fit twins fur so fayre a bead :

Thousand hoyes for him, thousand maidens dy'de,
IJye they that list, for such his rigorous pride,
He thousand boyes (ah, foole !) and thousand
maids deni'd.

VI.

His ioy was not in musiques sweete delis;ht,

( Though well his hand had learnt that cunning arte,)

Or dainty songs to daintier eares indite,

But through the plaines to chase the nimble hart

With well-tun'd hounds ; or with his certaiut> dart

The tusked boare or savage beare to wound ;

INIeane time his heart with monsters doth abound ;

Ah, foole! to seeks so farre what neerer might
be found !

His name (well knowne unto those woodv shades.
Where unrewarded lovers oft complaine them,)
Anchises was ; Anchises oft the glades
And mountains heard, Anchises had disdain'd them ;
Not all their love one gentle looke had gain'd ihem,
Thatrockey hills, with ecchoing noyse consenting,
Anchises plain'd ; but he no whit relenting.
Harder then rocky hils, laugbt at their vaine
lamenting.

CANTO II.

THE ARGUMENT.

Diones Garden of Delight

With wonder holds Anchises sight ;

While from the bower such musique sounds.

As all his senses neere confounds.

One day it chanc't as bee the deere persude,
Tyred with sport, and faint with weary play,
Faire Venus grove not farre away he view'd.
Whose trembling leaves invite him there to stay.
And in their shades his sweating limbes display ;
There in the cooling glade he softly paces.
And much delighted with their even spaces,
What in himselfe he scorn'd, bee prais'd their
kind imbraces.

II.

The woode with Paphian myrtles peopled,
(AVhose springing youth felt never winters spiting,)
To laurels sweete were sweetely married.
Doubling their pleasing smels in their uniting ;
When single much, much more when mixt,
delighting :
No foot of beaste durst touch this hollowed place.
And many a boy that long'd the woods to trace,
Entred with feare, but aoone turn'd back bis
frighted face.

in.

The thicke-lockt boughs shut out the tell-tale sunne,
^For Venus hated his all-blabbing light.
Since her knowne fault, which ott she wisht undon,)
And scattered raves did make a doubtfull sight.
Like to the first of day or last of night :
Tiie fittest lisjht for lovers gentle ])tay :
Such light best sliewes the wandring lovers way,
And guides his erring hand : night is Love's holly-
day.

IV.

So farre in this sweet labyrinth he stray'd
That now he views the garden of Delight,
Whose breast, with thousand painted flowers array'd,
With divers ioy captiv'd his wandring sight ;
But soon the eyes rendred the eares their right;
For such strange harmony he seem'd to heare.
That all his senses flockt into his eare.
And every faculty wisht to be seated there.

From a close bower this dainty musique flow'd
A bower appareld round with divers roses.
Both red and white, which by their liveries show'd
Their mistris faire, that there her selfe re])oses ;
Seem'd that would strive with these rare musique
clozes.
By spreading their faire bosomes to the light,
Which the distracted sense should most delight;
That, raps the melted eare ; this, both the smel
and sight.

VI.

The boy 'twixt fearefull hoi)e, and wishing feare,
Crept all along (for much he long'd to see
The bower, much more the guest so lodged there j)
And, as he goes, he marks how well agree
Naturn and Arte in discord unity,

F'/.ich striving who should best performe his part.
Yet Arte now helping Nature, Nature Arte ;
While from his eares a vovce thus stole his heart.

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

475

' Fond men ! whose wretched care the life soone en-
By striving- to increase vour ioy, do spend it ; [ding-,
And, sjiending- ioy, yet find no joy in spending;
You hurt your life bv striving- to amend it ;
And, seeking to prolong it, soonest end it :

Then, n-hile fit time affords thee time and leasure,
Enioy while yet thou mayst thy lifes sweet plea-
sure :
Too foolish is the man that starves to feed his
treasure.

VIII.

" Love is lifes end ; (an end, but never ending ;)
All ioyes, all sweetes, all happinesse, awarding ;
Love is lifes wealth (nere spent, but ever spending,)
More rich by giving, taking by discarding ;
Love's lifes reward, rewarded in rewarding :

'J'hen from tliy wretched heart fond care remoove;
Ah I sliouldst thou live but once loves sweetes to

proove.
Thou wilt not love to live, unlesse thou live to
love."

To this sweet voyce a daint}'^ musique fitted
Its well-tun'd strings, and to her notes consorted.
And while with skilfull voyce the song she dittied,
The blabbing Echo had her words retorted ;
That now the boy, beyond his soule transported,
Through all his liinbes feeles run a pleasant

shaking.
And 'twixt a hope and feare, suspects mistaking,
And doubts he sleeping- dreames, and broad
awake feares waking.

CANTO in.

THE ARGUMENT.

Faire Cythereas limbes beheld.
The straying lads heart so inthral'd,
That in a trance his melted spright
Leaves th' sences slumbring in delisrht.

Now to the bower liee sent his theevish eyes
To steale a happy sight ; there doe they finde
Faire Venus, that within halfe naked lyes ;
And straight amaz'd (so glorious beauty shin'd)
Would not returne the message to the minde ;
But, full of feare and superstitious awe,
Coidd not retire, orbacke their beams withdraw,
So fixt on too much seeing made they nothing saw.

Her goodly length stretcht on a lilly-bed,
(A bright foyle of a beauty farre more bright,^
Fevi- roses round about were scattered.
As if the lillies learnt to blush, for spight
To see a skinne much more then lilly-white :
The bed sanke with delight so to be pressed,
And knew not which to thinke a chance more

blessed,
Both blessed so to kisse, and so agayne be kissed.

Her spacious fore-head, like the clearest moone.
Whose fuUgrowne orbe begins now to be spent,
Largely display'd in native silver shone,
Giving wide room to Beauty's regiment.
Which on the plaine with Love tryumphing went ;
Her golden haire a rope of pearle imbraced,
Which, with their dainty thr^ds oft-times enlaced.
Made the eie think the pearle was there in gold
inchased.

IV.

Her full large eye, in ietty-blacke array'd,
Prov'd beauty not confin'd to red and ^«liite.
But oft her selfe in blacke more rich display'd ,
Both contraries did yet themselves unite,
To make one beauty in dift'ereiit delight ;

A thousand Loves sate playing in each eye J
And smiling Mirth, kissing fair Courtesie,
By swete perswasion wan a bloodlesse victory.

The whitest white, set by her silver cheeke,
Grew pale and wan, like unto heavy lead ;
The freshest purple fresher dyes must seeke,
That dares compare with them his fainting red :
On these Cupido winged armies led

Of little Loves that, witli bold wanton traine
Under those colours, marching on the plaine.
Force every heart, and to low vasselage con-
straine.

Her lips, most happy each in other's kisses,
From their so wisht imbracements seldome parted,
Yet seem'd to blush at such their wanton blisses ;
But, when sweet words their ioyning sweet dia

parted,
To th' eare a dainty musique they imparted :
Upon them fitly sate, delightfull smiling,
A thousand soules with pleasing stealth beguil-
ing :
Ah ! that such shews of ioyes should be all ioyes
exilino-.

The breath came slowly thence, unwilling leaving
So sweet a lodge ; but when she once intended
To feast the aire with words, the heart deceiving.
More fast it thronged so to be expended ;
And at each word a hundred Loves attended,

Playing i' th' breath, more sweete than is that firing
Where that Arabian onely bird, expiring.
Lives by her de;ith,by losse of breath more fresh re
spiring.

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

Hercliin, like to a stone in gokl incliased,
Seeni'd a fair iewt'll wroiiglit with cunning hand.
And, being double, doubly the face graced :
Tliis goodly frame on her round neoke did stand ;
Such jnllar well such curious work sustain'd ;
And. on liis top the heavenly spheare up-rearing,
iMight veil present, with daintier appearing,
A lesse but better Atlas, that faire heaven bearing.

IX.

Lower two breasts stand, all their beauties bearing,
Two breasts as smooth and soft ; but, ah, alas !
Their smoothest softnes farre exceedes comparing ;
More smooth and soft, but naught that ever was,
Where they aie tirst, deserves the second jjlace ;
Yet each as soft and each as smooth as other ;
And when thou first tri'st one, and then the other.
Each softer seemes then each, and each then each
seemes smoother.

Lowlv betweene their dainty hemispbaeres,
(Tlieir heniisphsres the heav'nly globes excelling,)
A path more white than is the name it beiires.
The Lacteal Path, conducts to tlie sweet dwelling
Where best delight all ioyes sits freely dealing ;
Where hundred sweetes, and still fresh ioyes at-
tending,
Receive in giving ; and, still love dispending,
Grow richer by their losse, and wealthy by ex-
pending.

But stay, bold shepheard ! here thy footing stay,
Nor trust too much unto thy new-borne quill.
As farther to those dainty limbs to stray.
Or hope to paint that vale or beautious hill
Which past the finest hand or choycest skill :
But were thy verse and song as finely fram'd
As are those parts, yet should it soonebe blam'd,
for nmv the shameles wot Id of best things is
asham'd.

XII.

That cunning artist, that old Greece admir'd,

Thus farre his Venus fitlv portraved,

But there he left, nor farther ere aspir'd ;

His Da?dale hand, that Nature perfected

By arte, felt arte by nature limitted.

Ah! well he knew, though his fit hand could give
Breath to dead colours, leaching marble live,
Yet would these lively parts his hand of skill
deprive.

XIII.

Such wlien this gentle boy her closely view'd,
C)nely with thinnest t^ilken vale o'er-layd.
Whose snowy colour much more snowv shew'd.
By being next that skin, and all betray'd.
Which best in naked beauties are array 'd,
His spirits, melted with so glorious sight,
Ran from their worke to see so splendid light,
And left be fainting limbes sweet slumbring in
delight.

CANTO IV.

THE ARGUMENT.

The swonding swaine recovered is
By th' goddesse ; his soule-rajiting blisso ;
'I'heir mutual conference, and how
Her service she doth him allow.

SoFT-SLEEPiNO Venus, waked with the fall.
Looking behind, the sinking boy espies ;
With all she starts, and wondereth withall ;
She thinks that there her faire Adonis dyes,
And more she thinkes the more the boy she eyes :
So stepping rieerer, up begins to reare him ;
And now w ith Love himselfe she will confer him.
And now before her Love himselfe she will prefer
him.

II.
The lad, soone with that dainty touch reviv'd,
Feehng himselfe so well, so sweetly seated,
Begins to doubt whether he yet here liv'd,
Or°else his flitting soul, to heav'n translated.
Was there in starry throne and blisse instated ;
Oft would he dye, so to be often saved ;
And now with happy wish he closely craved
For ever to be dead, to be so sweet ingraved.
III.
The Piiphian princesse (in whose lovelv breast
Spiteful disdame could never find a place)
When now she saw him from his til releast,
(To Juno leaving wrath and scolding base,)
Comforts the trembling bov with smiling g^ice :

But oh ! those smiles ("too full of sweete delight)
Surfeit his heart, full of the former sight ; [sprite.
So, seeking to revive, more wounds his feeble

" Tell me, fair boy ! (sayd she) what erring chance

Hither directed thy unwary pace ?

For sure contempt or pride durst not advance

Their foule aspect in thy so pleasant face :

Tell me, what brought thee to this hidden place?

Or lacke of love, or mutuall answering fire?

Or hindred bv ill chance in thy desire ?

Tell me, what ist thy faire and wishing eyes
require?"

The bov (whose sence was never yet acquainted
With sucl) a musitpie) stood with eares arected,
And, sweetly witli that pleasant spell enchanted,
!\Iore of those sugred straines long time expected ;
I ill seeing she his speeches not reiected,

First siglies arising from his hearts low center,
1 iius gan reply, when each word bold would

venter,
And ttnve the first that dainty labyrinth to enter

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

477

' Faire Cyprian queene, (for well that lieavenly face
Prooves thee the mother of all concjueringLove,)
Pardon, I pray thee, my iinweetin"- pace ;
For no presumptuous thoughts did hither moove
Aly darino^ feete to this thy holy grove ;

But lucklesse chance (which, if you not gaine-say,
1 still must rue,) hath caus'd me here to stray.
And lose my selfe (alas !) in losing of my way.

" Nor did I come to right my wronged fire ;

Never till now I saw what ought be loved ;

And no\v I see, but never dare aspire

To moove my hope, where yet my love is mooved ;

Wlience though I would, I would it not remooved ;
Only since I have plac't my love so high.
Which sure thou must, or sure thou wilt, deny,
Grant me yot still to love, though in my love to
dye,"

But shee that in his eyes Loves face had seen,
And flaming heart, did not such suite disdaine,
(For cruelty fits not sweete Beauties queene,)
But gently could his passion entertain,
Though she Loves princesse, he a lowly swain :
First of his bold intrusion she acquites him,
Then to her service (happy boy !) admits him.
And, like another Love, with bow and quiver fits
him.

And now with all tlie loves he grew acquainted.
And Cupids selfe, with his like face delighted.
Taught him a hundred wayes with which he daunted
The prouder hearts, and wronged lovers righted.
Forcing to love that most his love despited :
And now the practique boy did so approve him,
And with such grace and cunning arte did moove him.
That all the pritty loves and all the graces love him.

CANTO V.

THE ARGUMENT.

The lovers sad despairing plaints
Bright Veuus with his love acquaints;
Sweetly importun'd, he doth shew
From whom proceedeth this his woe.

Yet never durst his faint and coward heart
(Ah, foole ! faint heart faire lady ne're could win !)
Assaile faire Venus with his new-learnt arte.
But kept his love and burning flame within.
Which more flam'd out the more he prest it in ,
And thinking oft how iust shee might disdaine

him.
While some cool mirtle shade did entertaine him.
Thus sighing would he sit, and sadly would he
plain him :

II.
" Ah, fond and haplesse boy ! nor know I whether
More fond or haplesse more, that all so high
Hast plac't thy heart where love and fate together
May never hope to end thy misery.
Nor yet thy self dare wish a remedy :

All hindrances (alas !) conspire to let it ;

Ah, fond, and hapless boy 1 if canst not get it !

In thinking to forget, at length learue to forget it.

III.
" Ah, farre too fond, but much more haplesse swaine !
Seeing thy love can be forgotten never,
Serve and observe thy love with willing paine ;
And though in vaine thy love thou doe persever,
Yet all in vaine doe thou adore her ever.

No hope can crowne thy thoughts so farre aspiriug,
Nor dares thy selfe defire thine owne desiring.
Yet live thou in her love, and dye in her admiring."

'i'hus oft the hopelesse boy complayning lyes;
But she, that well could guesse his sad lamenting,
(Who can conceal love from Loves mothers eyes?)
Did not di^daine to give his love contenting ;
Cruel the soule that feeds on soules tormenting ;

Nor did she scorne him, though not nobly borne,
(Love is nobility) nor could she scorne
That which so noble skill her title did adorne.

One day she chans't, thrice happy day and chance !
While loves were with the graces sweetly sporting.
And to fresh musique sounding play and dance.
And Cupids selfe, with shepheards boys consorting^
Laugh'd at their pritty sport and simple courting,
Faire Venus seats the fearfull boy close by her,
Where never PhcEbus jealous lookes might eye ber.
And bids the boy his mistris and her name descry
her.

VI.

Long time the youth bound up in silence stood.
While hope and feare with hundred thougths begun
Fit prologue to his speech ; and fearfull blood
From heart and face with these post-tydings runne,
1 hat eylher now he's made, or now undon ;
At length his trembling words, with feare made

weake.
Began iiis too long silence thus to breake,
While from his humble eies first reverence seem 'd
to speake.

VII.

" Faire Queene of Love ! my life thou maist com-
mand.

Too slender price for all thy former grace.

Which I receive at thy so bounteous hand ;

But never dare I speak her name and face ;

My life is much lesse-priz'd than her disgrace :
And, for I know if I her name ielate
I purchase anger, I must hide her state,
Uiilesse thou sweare by Stix I purchase not n«>'
hate,"

478

BRITTAIX'S IDA.

Faire Venus well perceiv'd his subtile shift,
A/jd, swearing gentle patience, gently smil'd,
Wliile thus the boy persu'd his former drift:
" No tongue was ever yet so sweetly skil'd,
Nci greatest orator so highly stil'd,
. Though helptwith all the choicest artes direction,
But when he durst describe her heaven's per-

ff^ction,
I5y his imperfect praise disprais'd his imperfection.

" Her forme is as her selfe, perfect coeleslriall,
No mortall spot her heavenly frame disgraces :
Beyond compare such nothing is teirestriall !
More sweete than thought or pow'rfull wish em-
braces ;
The map of heaven, the summe of all her graces :
But if you wish more truely limb'd to eye lier,
Than fainting speech or words can well descrv her,
Look in a glasse, and there more perfect you may
spy her."

CANTO VI.

THE ARGUMENT.

The boyes short wish, her larger grant.
That doth his soule witli blisse enchant ;
Whereof impatient uttering all,
InraQ-ed Jove contrives his thrall.

"Thy craftv arte," reply'd the smiling queene,
" Hath well my chiding and not rage prevented,
Yet mio-hi'st thou thinke that yet 'twas never seene
That angry rage and gentle love consented ;
But if to me thy true love is presented,

What wages for thy service must I owe thee?
For by the selfe-same vow I here avow tbee,
Whatever ihou require I frankly will allow thee."

II.
" Pardon," replies the boy, " for so affecting
Beyond movtallity, and not discarding
Thy service, was much more than my expecting
But if thou (more thy bounty-hood regarding)
Wilt needs heap up reward upon rewarding,
'J"hy love I dare not aske, or mutual fixing,
One kisse is all my love and prides aspiring.
And after starve my heart, for my too much de-
siring."

III.
" Fond boy !" (sayd she) " too fond, that ask no
Thy want by taking is no whit decreased, [more j
And giving spends not our increasing store :" —
Thus with a kisse his lips she sweetly pressed;
Most blessed kisse ! but hope more than most blessed.
The boy did thinke heaven fell while thus he
And wliile ioy he so greedily enioy'd, [ioy'd,

He felt not halfe his ioy by being over-ioyd.

IV.

" Why sighst! faire boy !" (sayd sb?) '• dost thou
repent thee
Tbv narrow wish in such straight bonds to stay?"
" VVell may I sigh" (sayd he) " and well lament me.
That never such a debt may hope to pay."
" A kisse," (savd she) " a kisse will back repay."
" Wilt thou" (reply'd the boy, too much delighted,)
Content thee with such jiay to be requited V
She grants ; and he his lips, heart, soule, to pay-
ment cited.

Look as a ward, long from his land* detain'd.
And subiect to his guardians cruel lore,
Now spends the more, the more? he was restrain'd ;
So he ; yet though in laying out his store
He doubly takes^ yet finds himself grow poore ;
With that he markes, and tels her out a score,
And doubles them, and trebles all before.
Fond boy I the more thou paist, thy debt still
grows th? more.

At length, whether these favours so had fir'd Lim
With kindly heute, inflaming his desiring.
Or whether those sweete kisses had inspir'd him.
He thinkes that something wants for his requiring.
And still aspires, yet knows not his aspiring ;
But yet though that bee knoweth so she gave,
That he presents himselfe her bounden slave
Still his more wishing fiice seem'd somewhat else
to crave.

VII.

And, boldned with successe and many graces,
His hand, chain'd up in feare, he now releast,
And asking leave, courag'd with her inibraces,
Againe it prison 'd in her tender breast :
Ah, blessed prison ! prisners too mucli blest !
There with those sisters long time doth he jsby.
And now full boldly enters loves highway,
\\ bile downe the pleasant vale his creeping hand
doth stray.

VIII.

She, not displeas'd with this his wanton play,
Hiding his blushing with a sugred kisse.
With such sweete heat his rudenesse doth allay,
That now he jierfect knowes whatever blisse
Elder Love taught, and he before did misse ;

That moult with ioy, in such untri'd ioyes trying
He gladly dies ; and, death nev.- life apjdyinu'.
Gladly againe he dyes, that oft he may be dying.

IX.

Long thus he liv'd, sluinbring in sweete delight,
Free^^from sad caie and fickle worlds annoy.
Bathing in li(iuid ioyes his melted s})rite ;:
And longer mou^ht^ but he (ah, foolish boy!)
Too proud, and too impatient of his ioy, [parted,
To woods, and heav'n, and earth, his blisse im«
'i'hat Jove upon him downe his thunder darted,
Blasting his splendent face, and all his beautv
svvarted.

Such be his chance that to his love doth wrong ;
Unwortliv he to save so worthy place.
That caniiot hold his peace and blabbing tongue ;
Light ioyes float on his lips, but rightly grace
SiiK-kes deepe, and ih' heart's low center dotb
inibrace.
IMiglit I enioy my love till I unfold it,
I'd lose all favours when 1 blahhing told it:
He is not fit for love that is not fit to hold it.

VIEW

STATE OF IRELAND.

WniTTEN DIALOGUE-WISE BETWEEN

EFDOXUS AND IRENEUS.

EuDOX. — But if that country of Ireland, whence
pou lately came, be of so goodly and commodious a
soil, as you report, I wonder that no course is taken
for t'le turning thereof to good uses, and reducing
lliat nation to better government and civility.

Iren. — Marrv, so there havebeen divers good jdots
devised, and wise counsels cast already about re-
formation of that realm ; but they sav, it is the fatal
destiny of that land, that no purjioses whatsoever
which are meant for her good, will pros]ier or take
good effect : which, whether it ])roceed from the
verv genius of the soil or influence of the stars, or
that Almighty God hath not yet^pjjointed the time
Df her reformation, or that he reserveth her in this
anqniet state still, for some secret scourge, which
shall by her come unto England, it is hard to be
known, but vet much to be feared.

Evnox. — Surely I suppose this but a vain conceit
of siniple men, which judge ihin-gs bv their eifects,
and not by their causes; for 1 would ratiier thuik
the cause of this evil which hangiMh upon that
country, to proceed rather of the unsoundness of
the counsels, and plots which you say have been
oftentimes laid for tlie reforniaricn, or of fainlness
in following and effecting the same, than of any
such latal course appointed of God as you misdeem :
out it is the manner of men, that when they are fallen
into any absurdity, or their actions succeed not as
chey would, they are always ready to impute the blame
thereof unto the heavens, so to excuse their own
follies and imperfections. So have I heard it often
wished also (even of some whose great wisdoms in
opinion should seem to iudge more soundly of so
weighty a consideration) that all that laud were a
sea-pool: which kind of speech, is the manner ra-
ther of desperate men far driven, to wish the utter
ruin of that which they cannot redress, than of
grave counsellors, which ought to think nothing so
iiard, but that through wisdom it may be mastered aad
subdued ; since the poet saith, that " the wise man
siiall rule even over the stars," much more over the
earth : Jiir wcrf it not the part of a desperate physi-
cian, to wish his diseased patient dead, rather than

to apply the best endeavour of his skil' for his reco
very? but since we are so far entered, let us, I pray
you, a little devise of those evils, by which that
country is held in this wretched case, that it cannot
(as you say) be recured. And if it be not p-iinful
to you, tell us what things during your late con-
tinuance there, you observed to be most offensive,
and greatest impeachment to the good rule ana
government thereof.

Ihev. — Surely, Kudoxus,theevi]s which you desire
to be recounted are very many, and almost countable
with those which were hidden in the basket of Pan-
dora. But since vou please, I will out of that
infinite number, reckon but some that a-e most
capital, and commonly occurrent both in the life and
conditions of private men ; as also in the managing
of public affairs and policy, the which vou shall
understand to be of divers natures, as I observed
them : For some of them are of very great antiquity
and continuance; others more late and of less in-
durance ; others daily growing and increasing con-
tinually by their evil occasions, which are every day
offered.

KuDox. — Tell me, then, I prav vou, in the same
order that you have now rehearsed them ; for there
can be no better method than this which the very
matter itself offereth. And when vou liave reckoned
all the evils, let us hear your opinion for the redres-
sing of them : after which, there will perhaps of
itself appear some reasonable way to settle a sound
and perfect rule of government, bv shunning the
former evils, and following the offered good. The
which method we may learn of the wise ph\'si-
cians, which first require that the malady be known
thoroughly and discovered ; afterwards to teach how
to cure and redress it; and, lastly, do prescribe a
diet, with straight rule and orders to be daily ob-
served, for fear of relapse into the former disease, or
falling into some other more dangerous than it.

Iren. — I will then, according to your advisement,
begin to declare the evils which seem to me most
hurtful to the commonweal of that land ; anil, first,
those (I say) which were most ancient and long

480

A VIEW OF THE STAl'E OF IRELAND,

grown -, and tlipv also are of three sorts : the first in tlie
laws, the second in customs, and the last in relig-ion.

EcDOX. — Whv, Ireneus, can there be anv evil in
the laws? Can thinn;s which are ordained for the
good and safety of all, turn to the evil and liurt of
.'.hem? This well I wot, both in tlr.it state and in all
Dther, that were they not contained in duty with
fear of law, which restraineth offences, and inflicteth
sharp punishment to niisdoers,no man should enjoy
anv thino^; every man's hand would be against ano-
ther. I'herefore, in findir-g fault with the law;, I
doubt me, you shall much over-shoot yourself, and
make me the more dislike your other dislikes of that
government.

Ire^j. — The laws, Eudoxus, I do not blame for
themselves, knowing right well that all laws are
ordained for the good t'f the commonweal, and for
repressing of licentioiisness and vice. But it fallelh
out in laws, no otherwise than it doth in physic,
whicli was at first devised, and is vet daily meant,
and ministered for the health of the patient. But
nevertheless, we often see, that either through igno-
rance of the disease, or through unseasonableness
of the time, or other accidents coming between,
instead of good, it worketh hurt, and out of one evil
throweth the patient into many miseries. So the
laws were at first intended for the reformation of
abuses, and jjeaceable continuance of the subject;
but are sithence either disannulled, or quite preva-
ricated through change and alteration of times, yet
are they good still in themselves : but in that com-
monwealth which is ruled by them they work not
that good which they should, and sometimes also that
evil which thev would not.

EtDox. — \Vhether do you mean this by the com-
mon laws (if that realm, or by the statute laws, and
acts of parliaments ?

Ihen. — Surely, by them both ; for even the com-
mon hnv, being that which William of Normandy
brought in with his conquest, and laid upon the
r.eck of England, though perhaps it fitted well with
the state of England then being, and was readily
obeyed thiough the jiower of the commander, which
had before subdued the people unto him, and made
easy way to the settling of his will ; yet with the
state of Ireland, peradventure, it doth not so well
agree, being a people very stubborn and untamed ;
or if it were ever tamed, yet now lately having quite
shooken off their yoke, and broken the bonds of their
bedience. For England (before tbe entrance of the
conqueror) was a peaceable kingdom, and but lately
inured to the mild and goodly government of Ed-
ward, sirnamed the Confessor ; besides now lately
grown into a loathing and detestation of the unjust
and tyrannous rule of Harold, an usurper, which
made them the more willing to acce]it of any reason-
able conditions and order of the new victor, thinking
surely that it could be no worse than the latter, and
hoping well it would be as good as the former: yet
wliat the proof of first bringing in and establishing
of those laws wns, was to many full bitterly made
known. But with Ireland it is far otherwise, for it
is a nation ever acquainted with wars, though but
amongst themselves, and in their own kind of mili-
tary discipline, trained up ever frotn their youths ;
which they tiave never yet been taught to lay aside,
npr made to learn obedience unto laws, scarcely to
know the name of law, but instead thereof have
nlways preserved and kept their own law, which is
the Jjrehon law.

EuDox. — What is that which vou call the Brehon
law? it is a word unto us altogether unknown.

IiiKN.— It is a rule of right unwritten, but deli-
vered by tradition from one to another, in which
oftentimes there apjieareth great shew of equity, in
determining the right between party and party, but
in many things repugning quite both to Goil's law
and man's : as for example, in the case of murder.
Ihe Hrehon, that is their judge, will compound be-
tween the murderer and the friends of the part?
nil riijJid, which prosecute the action, that the ma-
lefac'.or shall give unto them, or to the child or wife
of him that is slain, a recompense, which they call
an Eriach ; by which vile law of theirs, manv mur-
ders amongst them are made up and smothered
And this judi;e being (as he is called) the Lord's
Hrehon, adjudgeth for tbe nios^. oart a better share
unto his lord, that is the Ion. of ^ae soil, or the head
of that se])t,and also unto himself, for his judgment,
a greater portion than unto tbe plaintiffs or jiarties
aggi'ieved.

EuDOX. — This is a most wicked law indeed ; but I
trust It is not now used in Ireland since the kings of
England have had the absolute dominion thereof, and
establish their own laws there.

Irex. — Yes, trulv, for there be manv wide coun-
tries in Ireland which the laws of England were
never established in, nor any acknowledgment cf
subjection made; and also even in those which are
subdued, and seem to acknowledge subjection, yet
the same biehon law is practised among themselves,
by reason, that dwelling as they do, whole nations
and septs of the Irish together, without any l^iglish-
man among them, they m.ay do what they list, and
compound or altogether conceal amongst themselves
their own crimes, of which no notice can be had by
them which would and might amend the same, by
the rule of the laws of England.

EuDox. — What is this which you say? And is
there any part of that realm or any nation therein,
which have not yet been subdued to the crown of
England? Did not the whole realm universally ac-
cept and acknowledge our late prince of famous me-
mory, Henry VIII., for their only king and liege lord?

InEN. — Yes, verily : in a Parliament holden in the
time of Sir Anthony Saint-Leger, then Lord Deputy,
all the Irish lords and principal men came in, and
being by fair means wrought thereunto, wknovv-
ledged King Henry for their sovereign lord, re-
serving yet (as some say) unto themselves all their
own former privileges and seigniories inviolate.

EuDOX. — Then by that acceptance of his sove-
reignty they also accepted of his laws. W hy then
shoidd any other laws be now used amongst them?

Iren. — True it is that thereby they bound them-
selves to his laws and obedience, and in case it had
been followed upon them, as it should have been,
and a government thereupon settled among them
agreeable thereunto, they should have been reduced
to perjietual civility, and contained in continual
tluty. But wliat boots it to break a colt and to let
him straight run loose at random ! So were thet^e
people at first well handled, and wisely brought to
acknowledge allegiance to the kings of England .
but being straight left unto themselves and tlieir
own inordinate life and manners, they eftsoons
forgot what before they were taught, and so soon as
they were out of sight, by themsehes shook off their
bridles, and began to colt anew, more licentiously
than before.

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

481

EuDOX. — It is a great pity, that so good an oppor-
tunity was omitted, and so happy an occasion fore-
slacked, that might have been the eternal good of
the land. But do they not still acknowledge tliat
submission ?

Iren. — No, they do not : for now the heirs and
posterity of them which yielded the same, are (as
they say) either ignorant thereof, or do wilfully
deny, or stedfastly disavow it.

EuDOx. — How can they so do justlv 1 Doth not
the act of the parent, in any lawful grant or convey-
ance, bind their heirs forever thereunto ? Sith then
the ancestors of those, that now live, yielded them-
selves then subjects and liegemen, shall it not tie
their children to the same subjection ?

Iren. — They say no : for their ancestors liad no
estate in any their lands, seigniories, or heredita-
ments, longer than during their own lives, as they
allege ; for all the Irish do hold their land by Taii-
istry ; which is (say they) no more but a personal
estate for his life time, that is, Tuuist, by reason that
lie is admitted thereunto by election of the country.

Ei'DOx. — What is this which you call Tanht and
Taniitry ? They be names and terms never heard of
nor known to us.

Iren. — It is a custom amongst all the Irish, that
presently after the deatli of any of their chief lords
or taptams, they do presently assemble themselves
to a place generally appointed and known unto them,
to choose another in his stead, where they do nomi-
nate and elect, for the most part, not the eldest son.
nor any of the children of the lord deceased, but
the next to him of blood, tliat is, the eldest and
worthiest; as commonly the next brother unto him,
if be have any, or the next cousin, or so forth, as
any is elder in that kindred or sept : and then next
to him do they choose the next of the blood to be
Tanist, who shall next succeed him in the said cap- |
tainry, if he live thereunto.

EuDox. — Do they not use any ceremony in this
election? for all barbarous nations are commonly
great observers of ceremonies and superstitious
rites.

Iren. — They used to place him that shall be their
captain, upon a stone always reserved for that pur-
pose, and placed commonly upon a hill: in some of
which I have seen formed and engraven a foot,
which they say was the measure of their first cap-
tain's foot, whereon he standing, received an oath
to preserve all the ancient former customs of the
country inviolable, and to deliver up the succession
peacaably to his Tauisi ; and then hath a wand deli-
vered unto him by some whose proper office that
is: after which, descending fioni the stone, he
turneth himself round, thrice forward, and thrice
backward.

EuDOX. — But how is the Taiiist chosen?

Iren. — They say he setteth but one foot upon the
stone, and receiveth the like oath that the captain
did.

EuDox. — Have you ever heard what was the
occasion and first beginning of this custom? for it
is good to know the same, and mav perhaps discover
some secret meaning and intent therein, very mate-
rial to the state of that government.

Iren. — I have heard that the beginning and
cause of this ordinance amongst the Irish, was spe-
cially for the defence and maintenance of their lands
in their po'sterity, and for excluding all innovation or
dlienatiou thereof unto strangers, and sjiecially to

the English. For when their captain dieth, if the
seigniorie should descend to his child, and he per-
haps an infant, another, peradventure, would step
in bt-tween, or thrust him out by strong luind,
being then unable to defend his right, or to with-
stand the force of a foreigner ; and therefore they
do appoint the eldest of the kin to have the seignio-
rie, for that he commonly is a man of stionger
years, and better exjierience to maintain iheinheri'-
ance, and to defend the country, either agains-t the
next bordering lords, which use commoid}' to en-
croach one upon another, as one is stronger ; or
against the English, which they think lie still in
vvait to wipe them out of their lands and territories.
And to this end, the Tanist is always ready known,
if it should happen the captain suddenly to die, or
to be slain in battle, or to be out of the country, to
defend and keep it from all such doubts and dangers.
For which cause the Taniit hath also a share of the
country allotted unto him, and certain cuttings and
spendings upon all the inhabitants under the lord.

EuDOx. — When I heard this word Tanist, itbring-
eth to my remembrance what 1 have read of Tania,
that it should signify a province or seigniorie, as
Aquitania, Lusitania, and Britannia, the which some
think to be derived of Dania, that is, trom the
Danes ; but, 1 think, amiss. But sure it seemeth,
that it came anciently from those barbarous nations
that over-ran the world, which possessed those do-
minions, whereof they are now so called. And so
it may well be, that from thence the first original of
this word Tanist and Tauistry came, and the custom
thereof hath sithence, as many others else, been
continued. But to that general subjection of the
land, whereof we formerly spake, meseems that
this custom or tenure can be no bar nor impeach-
ment, seeing that in open parliament by their said
acknowledgment they waved the benefit thereof, and
submitted themselves to the benefit of their new
sovereign.

Iren. — Yea, but they say, as I erst told you, that
they reserved their titles, tenures, and seigniories
whole and sound to themselves ; and for ])roof
allege, that they have ever sithence remained to them
untouched, so as now to alter them, ohould (say
they) be a great wrong.

EuDOx. — What remedy is there, then, or means, to
avoid this inconveniency ? for, without first cutting
oflFthis dangerous custom, it seemeth hard to plant
any sound ordinance, or reduce them to a civil go-
vernment, since all their ill customs are permitted
unto them.

InEN. — Surely nothing liard: for by this act of
parliament whereof we speak, nothing was given to
king Henry which he had not before from his an-
cestors, but only the bare name of a king ; for all
other absolute power of principality he had in him-
self before derived from many former kings, his
famous progenitors and worthy conquerors of that
land. The which sithence they first con(juered and
by force subdued unto them, what needed alter-
wards to enter into any such idle terms with them
to be called their king, when it is in the power of
the conqueror to take upon himself what title he
will, over his dominions conquered? For all is the
conqueror's, as TuUy to Brutus saith. Therefore
(meseems) instead ot so great and meritorious a ser-
vice as they boast they performed to the king, in
bringing all the Irish to acknowledge him for their
liege, they did great hurt unto his title, and have

-iG?

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

left a perpetual gall in the mind of the people ; who
before being absolutely bound to his obedience, are
now tied but with terms : whereas else both their
lives, their lands, and their liberties were in his free
power, to a])point what tenures, what laws, what
conditions he would, over them, which were all bis :
against which there could be no rightful resistance,
or if there were, he might when he would establish
tbem with a stronger hand.

EuDox. — Yea, but perhaps it seemed better unto
that noble king to bring them by their own accord
to his obedience, and to plant a peaceable govern-
ment amongst them, than by such violent means to
pluck them under. Neither yet bath he thereby lost
anything that he formerly had ; for having all before
absolutely in bis power, it remaineth so still unto
Lim, he having thereby neither forgiven nor foregone
anything thereby unto them, but having received
something from them, that is, a more voluntary and
loyal subjection. So as her majesty may yet, when
it shall please her, alter anything of those former
ordinances, or appoint other laws, that may be more
both for her own behoof, and for the good of that
people.

Iren. — Not so : for it is not so easy, now that
things are grown unto an habit, and have their cer-
tain course, to cliange the channel, and turn their
streams another way : for they have now a colourable
pretence to withstand innovations, having accepted
of other laws and rules already.

EuDox. — But you say they do not accept of them,
but delight rather to lean to their old customs and
Bi-ehini laws, though they be more unjust, and also
more inconvenient for the common people, as by
vour late relation of them I have gathered. As for
the laws of England, they are surely most just and
most agreeable, both with the goveinment and with
the nature of the people. How falls it then that
you seem to dislike of them, as not so meet for that
realm of Ireland ; and not only the common law, but
also the stiitutes and acts of parliament, which were
specially provided and intended for the only benefit
thereof?

Iren. — I was about to have tob' you my reason
therein, but that yourself drew me away with
other questions, for I was showing you by what
means and by what sort, the positive laws were first
brought in and established by the Norman con-
queror; which were not by him devised, nor applied
to tLe state of the realm then being, nor as yet
mighi best be (as should by law-givers principally
be regarded), but were indeed the very laws of his
own country of Normandy, — the condition whereof
bow far it differetb from this of England, is ajipa-
rent to every least judgment. But to transfer the
same laws lor the government of the realm of Ire-
land, was luuch more inconvenient and unmeet ;
for he found a better advantage of the time, than
was in the jilanting of them in Ireland, and followed
the execution of them with more severity, and was
also I resent in person to overlook the magistrates,
and to overawe these subjects with the terror of his
sword and countenance ol his majesty. But not so
in Ireland, for they were otheiwise affected, and
yet do .--o remain; so as the same laws (meseems)
can ill fit with their disposition, or work that reform-
ation that is wished. For laws ought to be fashioned
'jnto the manners and conditions of the people to
wnom they are meant, and not to be imposed upon
them according to the simple rule of right ; for then

(as I said) instead of good they may work ill, and per-
vert justice to extreme injustice. For he that transfers
the laws (f the Lacedemonians to the people of Athens,
should find a great absurdity and inconvenience.
For those laws of Lacedemon were devised by Ly-
curgus, as most jiroper and best agreeing with that
people, whom be knew to be inclined altogether to
wars ; and therefore wholly trained tbem up even
from their cradles in arms and military exercises,
clean contrary to the institution of Solon, who, in bis
laws to the Athenians, laboured by all means to temper
their warlike courages with sweet delights of learn-
ing and sciences ; so that as much as the one ex-
celled in arms the other exceeded in knowledge,
i'lie like regard and moderation ought to be had in
tempering and managing this stubborn nation of the
Iri.sh, to bring them from their delight of licentious
barbarism unto the love of goodness and civility.

EuDox. — I cannot see how that may better be, than
by the discipline of the laws of England : for the
English were at first as stout and warlike a people
as ever the Irish, and yet you see are now brought
unto that civility, that no nation in the world excel-
leth them in all goodly conversation and all the studies
of knowledge and humanity.

Ihen. — What they now be, both you and I see
very well ; but by how many thorny and hard ways
they are come thereunto, by how many civil broils,
by how many tumultuous rebellions, that even
hazarded oftentimes the whole safety of the king-
dom, may easily be considered : all which they
nevertheless fairly overcame, by reason of the
continual presence of their king ; whose only
person is ofteniimes instead of an army, to contain
the unruly people from a thousand evil occasions,
which this wretched kingdom for want thereof is
daily carried into. The which, whensoever they
make head, no laws, no penalties can restrain, but
that they do in the violence of that fury tread down
and trample under foot all, both divine and human
things ; and the laws themselves they do specially
rage at, and rend in pieces, as most repugnant to
their liberty and natural freedom, which in their
madness they effect.

Eurox. — It is then a very unseasonable time to
plead law, when swords are in the bands of the
vulgar, or to think to retain them with fear of
punishment, when they look after liberty, and shake
oft" all government.

Iren. — Then so it is with Ireland continually,
Exdoxus ; for the sword was never yet out of their
hand : but when they are weary of wars, and
brought down to extreme wretchedness, then they
creep a little perhaps, and sue for grace, till they
have gotten new breath, and recovered their strength
again ; so as it is in vain to speak of planting laws,
and plotting policy, till they be altogether subdued.

EuDOX. — Were they not so at the first con(juering
of them by Strongbow, in the time of King Henry
the Second ] Was there not a thorough way then
made by the sword, Ibr the imjiosiiig of the laws
upon them? and were they not then executed with
such a mighty hand as you said was used by the
Norman Conqueror? What odds is there then in
this case? why should not the same laws take as
good effect on that people as they did here, being in
like sort jirejiared by the sword, and brought under
by extremity? And why should they not continue
in as good force and vigour for the containing of
the people?

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

483

Iren. — The case yet is not like, but there appear-
eth great odds between them ; for by tlie conquest
of Henry II., true it is that the Irish were utterly
vanquished and subdued, so as no enemy was able
to liold up head against his power : in which their
weakness he brought in his laws, and settled them
as now they there remain, like as William the Con-
queror did ; so as in thus much they agree, but in
the rest, that is the chiefest, they vary. For to
whom did King Henry II. oppose those laws? not
to the Irish, for the most part of them fled from his
power into desarts and mountains, leaving the wide
country to the conqueror; who in their stead
eftsoones placed Englishmen, who possessed all
their lands, and did quite shut out the Irish, or the
most part of them. And to those new inhabitants
and colonies, he gave his laws, to wit, the same law,
under which they were born and bred ; the which it
was no diiBculty to place amongst them, being
formerly well inured thereunto, unto whom after-
wards there repaired divers of the poor distressed
people of the Irish for succour and relief: of whom,
such as they thought fit for labour, and industriously
disposed, as the most part of their baser sort are,
they received unto them as their vassals, but
scarcely vouchsafed to impart unto them the benefit of
those laws under which themselves lived, but every
one made his will and commandment a law unto his
own vassal. Thus was not the law of England ever
properly applied unto the Irish nation, as by a pur-
posed plot of government, but as they could insinuate
and steal themselves under the same, by their
humble carriage and submission.

Ei'Dox. — How comes it then to pass, that having
been once so low brought, and thoroughly subjected,
they afterwards lifted up themselves so strongly
again, and sithence, do stand so stiffly against all
rule and government ?

Iren. — They say that they continued in that low-
liness, until the time that the division between the
two houses of Lancaster and York arose for the
crown of England : At which time all the great
English lords and gentlemen, which had great pos-
sessions in Ireland, repaired over hither into Eng-
land, some to succour their friends here, and to
strengthen their party for to obtain the crown ;
iithers to defend their lands and possessions here
ai;ainst such as hovered after the same, upon hope
of the alteration of the kingdom, and success of that
side which ihev favoured and affected. Then the
Irish, whom before they had banished into the
mountains, where they lived only upon whitt meats,
as it is recorded ; seeing now their lands so dis-
peopled and weakened, came down iuto all the plains
adjoining ; and thence expelling those few English
ihiit remained, repossessed them again : since which
they have remained in them, and growing gieater,
have brought under them many of the English,
which were before their lords. This was one of
the occasions by which all those countries, which
lying near unto any mountains or Irish deserts, had
been plinted with English, were shortly displanted
and lest, — as namely in Alunster, all the lands
adjoining unto Slowlogher, Arlo, and the Bog of
Allon ; in Connaught, all the countries bordering
upon the Curlues, IMointerolis, and O' Rourke's coun-
try ; iii Leinster, all the lands bordering unto the
mountains of Glanmalour, unto Sbillelab, unto the
Brackenah, and Polmonte ; in Ulster, all the
countries near unto Tircounel, Tyrone, and the Scots.

f-uDox. — Surely this was a great violence : But
yet by vour speech it seemeth that only the countries
and valleys near adjoining unto those mountains and
deserts were thus recovered by the Irish. But how
comes it now that we see almost all that realm
repossessed of them ? Were there any more such evil
occasions growing by the troubles of England ! Or
did the Irisii, out of those places so by them gotten,
break further, and stretch themselves out through
the whole land I For now, for ought that I can
understand, there is no part but the bare Englisli
Pale, in which the Irish have not the greatest
footing.

ItiKX. — But out of these small beginnings by
them gotten near to the mountains, did thev spread
themselves into the inland ; and also, to their further
advantage, there did other like unhappy accidents
happen out of England, which gave iieart and '^ocd
opportunity to them to regain their old possessions :
for in the reign of King Edward the Fourth, things
remained yet in the same state that they were alter
the late breaking out of the Irish, which I spake of;
and that noble prince began to cast an eye unto
Ireland, and to mind the reformation of things there
run amiss. For he sent over his brother, the wor-
thy Duke of Clarence ; who having married the heir
of the Earl of Ulster, and by her having all the
earldom of Ulster, and much in Meatli and in INInn-
ster, very carefully went about the redressing of all
those late evils : and though he could not beat out
the Irish again, by reason of his short continuance,
yet he did shut them up within those narrow cor-
ners and glens, under the mountain's foot, in which
they lurked ; and so kept them from breaking any
further, by building strong holds upon every bor-
der, and fortifying all passages, — amongst tiie
which, he repaired the Castle of Clare in Thoniond,
of which country he had the inheritance, and of
JMortimer's Lands adjoining; which is now (by the
Irish) called Killala. But the times of that good
king growing also troublesome, did let the thorough
reformation of all things. And thereunto, soon
after, was added another fatal mischief, which
wrought a greater calamity than all the former. For
the said Duke of Clarence, then Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, was by practice of evil persons about the
king his brother, called thence away ; and soon after
by sinister means, was clean made away ; presently
after whose death, all the i\orth revolting, did set
up O'Neal for their captain, being before that of
small power and regard ; and there arose in that
part of I'liomond, one of the O'Briens, called .Mur-
rogh en Ranagh : that is, iMorrice of the Fern, or
waste wild places ; who, gathering unto him all the
reliques of the discontented Irish, eftsoones sur-
prised the said castle of Clare, burnt and spoiled all
the English there dwelling ; and in short S])ace,
possessed all tliat country, beyond river of Shannon,
and near adjoining. Whence shortly breaking forth
like a sudden tempest, he overran all IMuUiter and
Connaught ; breaking down all the holds and for-
tresses of the Lnglish, defacing and utterly subvert-
ing all corporate towns, that were not strongly
walled : for those, he had no means nor engines to
overthrow ; neither indeed would he stay at all about
them, but speedily ran forward, counting his sudden-
ness his most advantage, that he might overtake the
English before they could fortify or gather them-
selves together. So in short sj»ace he clean wiped
out many great towns, as first Incbequin, then Kil-

•I 2

484

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRKL AND.

lala, before called Clariford, also Thurlet, Mourne,
Buttevant, and many olliers, whose names I cannot
remember, and of some of which there is now no
memory or sign remaining. Upon re])ort whereof,
there tiocked unto him all the scum of the Irish out
of all places, that ere long he had a mighty army,
and thence marched forth into Leii>ster, where he
wrought great outrages, wasting all the country
where he went ; for it was bis policy to leave no
hold behind him, but to make all plain and waste.
In the which he soon after created himself king,
and was called King of all Ireland ; which before
nim I do not read that any did so generally, but only
Edward le Bruce.

Eunox. — What ! was there ever any general king
of all Ireland ? I never beard it before, but that it
was always (whilst it was under the Irish) divided
into four, and sometimes into five kingdoms or do-
minions. But this Edward le Bruce, what was be,
that could make himself king of all Ireland ?

Iren. — I would tell you, in case you would not
challenge me anon for forgetting the matter which I
had in band ; that is, the inconvenience and unfit-
ness which I supposed to be in the law of the land.

EuDox. — No surely, I have no cause, for neither
is this impertinent thereunto ; for sithence you did
set your course (as I remember in your first ])art) to
treat of the evils which hindered the peace and good-
ordering of that land : amongst which, that of the
inconvenience in the laws, was the first which you
had in band ; this discourse of the overrunning and
%vasting of the realm, is very material thereunto, for
that it was the beginning of all the other evils which
sitiience liave afflicted that land, and opened a way
unto the Irish to recover their possession, and to
beat out the English which bad formerly won the
same. And besides, it will give a great light both unto
the second and third part ; wbicb is, the redress-
ing of those evils, and planting of some good form
or policy therein, by renewing tlie remembrance of
these occasions and accidents, by which those ruins
Jiaj)|>ened : and laying before us the ensamples of
those times, to be compared to ours, and to be warned
by those which shall have to do in tJie like. Therefore
I pray you tell them unto us; aiid as for the point
where you left, I will noi forget afterwards to
call you back again thereunto.

Iren. — This Edward le Bruce was brother of
Robert le Bruce, vvho was King of Scotland, at
such time as King Edward the Second reigned here
in England, and bare a most malicious and spiteful
mind against King Edward, doing him all the scathe
that he could, and annoying his territories of Eng-
land, whilst be was troubled with civil vsars of
bis barons at home. He also, to work Inm the more
Ini:^chief, sent over his said brother Edward with a
power of Scots and red-shanks into Ireland ; where
by the means of the Lacies, and of the Irish, with
whom they combined, they got footing : and gather-
ing unto him all the scatterlings and outlaws out of
all the woods and mountains, in which they long
bad lurked, marched forth into the English pale,
which then was chiefly in the nortli from the point
of Donluce, and beyond unto Dublin : having in
the midst of ber Knockfergus, Belfast, Annagh, and
Carlingford ; which are now the most out-bounds
and abandoned places in the English pale, and inileed
not counted of the English pale at all ; fir it
Stretcbeth now no further than Duiidalk towards
•.he north. There the said Edward le Bruce spoiled

I and burnt all the old English pale inhabitants, and
sacked and razed all cities and corporate towns ; no
less than IMurrough en Ranagb, of whom I erst
told you : for he wasted Belfast, Gieen-Castle,
Kelles, Belturbut, Castletown, Newton, and many
other very good towns and strong holds : be rooted
out the noble families of the Audlies, Talbofs,
Tuchets, Chamberlains, Maundevilles, and the
Savages, out of Ardes ; though of the Lord Savage
there remainetb yet an heir, that is now a poor gen-
tleman of very mean condition, yet dwelling in the
Ardes. And coming lastly to Dundalk, be there
made himself king, and reigned the space of one
whole year ; until that Edward King of England,
having some quiet in his affairs at home, sent over
the Lord John Birmingham to be general of the
wars against him ; who encountering him near to
Dundalk, overthrew his army, and slew bim. Also
he presently followed the victory so hotly upon the
Scots, that lie suffered them not to breathe, or ga-
ther themselves together again, until they came to
the sea coast. Notwithstanding, all the wav that
they fled, for very rancour and despite, in their
return, they utterly consumed and wasted whatsoever
they had before left unspoiled ; so as, of all towns,
castles, forts, bridges, and habitations, they left not
any stick standing, nor any people remaining: for
those few which yet survived, fled from their fury
further into the English pale that now is. Thus
was all that goodly country utterly wasted. And
sure it is yet a most beautiful and sweet country as
any is under Heaven, being stored throughout with
many goodly rivers, replenished with all sorts of
fish most abundantly ; sprinkled with many very
sweet islands and goodly lakes, like little inland
seas, that will carry even ships upon their waters ;
adorned with goodly woods, even fit for building of
houses and ships, so commodiously, as that if some
princes in the world bad them, they would soon
hope to be lords of all the seas, and ere long of all
the world : also full of very good ports and havens
opening upon England, as inviting us to come unto
them, to see what excellent commodities that coun-
try can afford ; besides the soil itself most fertile,
fit to yield all kind of fruit that shall be conimitted
tliereunto ; and lastly, the heavens most mild and
temperate, though somewhat more moist than the
parts towards the west.

Eunox. — 'Truly, Iren, what with your praises of
the cr uiitry, and what with your discourse of the
lamentable desolation thereof made by those Scots,
you have filled me with a great compassion of their
calamities, that I do much pity that sweet land, to
be subject to so many evils, as I see more and more
to be hud 11)1011 her, and do half begin to think, thai
it is (as you said at tlu^ beginning) her fatal misfor-
tune, above all other countries that I know, to be
thus miserably tossed and turmoiled with these
variable storms of affliction. But since we are thus
far entered into the consideration of her mishaps,
tell me, have there been any more such tempests as
you term them, wherein she hath thus wretchedly
been w z-ecked ']

IiiEN. — Many more. Got wot, have there been ;
in which principal parts have been rent and torn
asunder, but none (as I can remember) so universal
as this. And yet the lebellion of Thomas Fitz-
Garret did well nigh stretch itself into ail parts of
Ireland, liut that which was in the time of the
government of the Lord Grey, was surely no less

A VIEW OF THE STAIi: OF ]]\VA AM).

485

general than :ill those ; for there was no part free
from the conta<;i<in, but all conspired in (me to cast
off tlleir^llbjection to the i rown of Enoland. Never-
theless, through the most ^ ise iitid valiant handling-
of that right noble lord, it jjot not the head which
the former evils found; for in them the realm was
left like a ship in a storm, amidst all t!ie raging
surges, unruled and undirected of any : for they to
whom she was committed, either fainted in their
labour, or forsook their charge. But he (like a
most wise pilot) kept her course carefully, and
held her most strongly even against those roaring
billows, that he safely brought her out of all ; so as
long after, even by the space of twelve or thirteen
whole years, she rode at peace, through his only
pains and excellent endurance, however envy list to
blatter against him. But of this we shall have more
occasion to speak in another plaie. Now ( if you
please) let us return again unto our first course.

EuDox. — Truly I am very glad to hear your judg-
ment of the government of that honounible man so
soundly ; for 1 have heard it oftentimes maligned,
and his doings depraved of some, who (I perceive)
did rather of malicious mind, or private grievance,
seek to detract from the honour of his deeds and
counsels, than of any just cause : but he was, never-
theless, in the judgments of all gond and wise men,
defended and maintained. And now iliat he is dead.
Lis immortal fame survivetli, and flouiisheth in the
mouths of all people, that even those which did
backbite him. are checked with their own venom,
and bienk their galls to hear his .'•o honourable re-
port. But let him rest in peace, and turn we to our
more troublesome matters of discourse, of which 1
am right sorry that you make so short an end, and
covet to pass over to \our former purposes: for
there he many other parts of Ireland which 1 have
heard have been no less vexed with the like storm.s,
than these which you have tn aied of; as the coun-
tries of the Birnes and Tooles, near Dublin, with the
insolent outrages and spoils of Feagh mac Hugh ;
the countries of Catherlagh, Wexford, and V\ ater-
ford, bv the Cavenaghs. The countries of Leix,
Kilkenny, and Kildare, by the O'Moores. The
countries of Ofaly and Longford, by the Connors.
'J'he Countries of V\'estmeath, Cavan, and Lowtli,
by the O'Relyes, the Kellyes, and many others.
So as the discoursing of them, besides the pleasure
which would redound out of their history, be also
verv profitable for matters of policy.

IiiEN. — All this which vou have named, and many
more besides, oftentimes have I right well known,
and yet often do kindle great fires of tumultuous
broils in the countries bordering upon them. All
which to rehearse, should rather be to chronicle
times, than to search into reformation of abuses
in that realm ; and vet very needful it will be to
consider them, and the evils which ibey have often
stirred up, that some redress thereof, and pretention
of the evils to come, may thereby rather be devised.
But I suppose we shall have a fitter opportuniry lor
the same, when we shall siieak of the particular
abuses and enormities of the government, which
will be next after these gene'al defects and inconve-
niences, which 1 said were in the laws, ( ustoms, !
and religion. \

Eddox. — Go to them, a God's name, and Ibllow
the course which y.u have premised to yourselt ;
for it fiiteth best, J must confers, with the jiurj.o.-se
of our discourse. Declare \our opinion, as yc u be-

gan about the laws of the realm, what incommodity
\ou have conceived to he them, chii-fly in the com-
mon law, which 1 would have thought most free from
all such dislike.

Ihkn. — The cnmmon law is (as I said before) of
itself most riiihtful and very convenient (I suppose)
for the kingdom, for w hich it was first devised : for
this ( I think; as it seems reasonable, that out of
your manners of your people and abuses of your
country, for which they were invented, tliev t;ike
iheir first beginning, or else they should bo must
unjust ; for no laws of man (according to the straight
rule of riuht) are just, but as in rei;ard of the evils
which they prevent, and the safety of the common-
weal, which thev provide for. As for example, in
your true balancing of justice, it is a flat wrong to
punish the thought or purpose of any, before u be
enacted ; for true jus'ice punisheth nothing but the
evil act or wicked word : but bv the laws of all
kingdoms it is a capital crime to devise or purpose
the death of your King; the reason is, for that when
such a pur])ose is effected, it should then be too late
to devise thereof, and should turn the commonwealth
to mure loss b}' the death of their prince, than such
punishment of the malefactors. And therefure the
law in that case jiunisheth the thought; forbeileris
a mischief than an inconvenience. So that, Jus ]wli-
ticiim, though it he not of itself just, yet by applica-
tion, or rather necessity, it is made just: and this
only respect maketh a'l laws just. Now then, if
the>e laws of Ireland be not likewise applied and
fitted for that realm, they are sure verv inconvenient.
EuDOx. \ ou reason strongly: but what unfit-
m ss do you find m them for that realm! Show us
some particulars.

lutN. — Thn common lawappiinteth, that all trials,
as well of crimes, as titles and right, shall be made
by verdict ot a jury, chosen out of the honest and
most ^ub■^tantial Ireeholders. Now, most of the
freeholders of that realm are Irish, which when the
cause shall fall betwixt an Englishman and an Irish,
or between the queen and any freeholder of that
country, they make no more scruple to pass against
an i'.nglishman and the queen. thoui;h it he to strain
their oaths, than to drink milk unstrained. So that
beloie the jury go together, it is all to nothing what
the verdict shall be. The trial have I so often seen,
that I dare confidently avouch the abuse thereof.
Vet is the law c f itself (as I said) good, and the
first mstiiution tl ereof being given to all English-
men verv rightfully ; but now that the Irish have
stepped into the very rooms of our English, we are
now to become heediul and provident of our juries.

Euoox.— In sooth, Ireneus, you have discovered
a point worthy consideration : for hereby not only
the English suliject findeih no indifl'erency in de-
cidiiiL' of his cause, be it never so just; but the
queen, as well in all pleas of the crown, as al.so in
incjuiries for escherits, lands attainted, wardsiiips,
coiii ealments, and all such like, is abused and ex-
ceedingly damaged.

lnEN — Vou say very true ; for I dare undertake,
that at this day there are more attainted lands con-
cealed trom her majesty, than she hath now posses-
sions in all Ireland. And it is no small inconve-
nience : tor, besides that she 1 seth so much land as
shouhl turn to her greai ])rofii, she besides losetii so
many good subjects, which might be assured unto
h^r, a^ hose lan^s would yield inhabitants and
livioi; unto

4Qf>

A VIEW OF TUK STATK OF IRELAND.

EuDOX. — But doth many of that, people (say you)
make no more conscience to perjure themselves in
their verdicts, and damn their souls?

IiiEN. — Not only so in their verdicts, but also in
all other their dealin<!;s, especially with the English,
the}^ are most wilfully bent : for though they will
not seem manifestly to do it, yet will some one or
other subtle-headed fellow amongst them jiut some
quirk, or devise some evasion, wheieof the rest
will likely take hold, and suffer themselves ensily to
be led by him to that themselves desired. For in
tlie most apparent matter that may be, the lea^t
question or doubt that may be moved, will make a
stop unto them, and put them (]uite out of the way.
Kesides that of themselves (for the most part) they
are so cautelous and wily-headed, especially being
men of so small experience and practice in law-
matters, that you would wonder whence they borrow
such subtleties and slv shifts.

EuDOx. — But methinks this inconvenience might
be much helped in the judges and chief magistrates,
which have the choosing and nominating of those
jurors, if they would have dared to appoint either
most Englishmen, or such Irishmen as were of the
soundest judgment and disposition ; for no doubt
but some there be incorruptible.

Irev. — Some there be indeed, as vou say: but
then would the Irish partv cry out of partiality, and
complain he hath no justice, he is not used as a
Subject, he is not suffered to have the free benefit
of the law ; and these outcries the magistrates there
do much shun, as they have cause, since thev are
readilv hearketied unto heie: neithercan it be, indeed,
although the Irish party would be so contented to be
so compassed, that such English freeholders, which
are but few, and such faithful Irishmen, which are
indeed as few, shall always be chosen for trials ;
for being so few, they should be made weary of
their freeiiolds. And, therefore, a good care is to
be had, by all good occasions, to increase their
number, and to plant more bv them. 15ut were it
so, that the jurors could be picked out of such choice
men, as you desire, this would nevertheless be as
bad a corrujition in the trial ; for the evidence being
brought in by the baser Irish ppoj)le, will be as
deceitful as the verdict : for they care much less
than the others what they swear, and sure their
lords may compel them to say anything ; for I my-
self have heard, when one of the baser sort (which
they call churls) beint; challenged and reproved for
his false oath, hath answered confidently, that his
lord commanded him, and it was the least thing that
he could do for his lord, to swear for him : So un-
conscionable are these common people, and so little
feeling have they of God, or their own souls' good.

EuDox. — It is a most miserable case; but what
help can there be in iW\>'] For though the manner
of their trials should be altered, yet ilie proof of
evervihing must needs be by the testimony of such
persons as the ]ianies shall |)ro(iuce ; which if they
shall be conupt, how can there ever any light of
the truth appear ! What remedy is there for this
evil, but to make heavy laws and penalties against
jurors ?

IiiEN. — I think sure that will do small good ; for
when a people be inclined to any vice, or have no
touch of conscience, nor sense of their evil finings,
it is bootless to think to restrain I hem by any [)enal-
ties or fear of punishment; but either the occasion
is to be} taken away, or a more understanding of the

right, and shame of the fault, to be itiipriiitel For
if that I^ycurgus should have madeiluejtii fri the
Lacedemonians to steal, they being a peoijle v\ !'ich
naturally delighted in stealth ; or it sliould lie made
a capital crime for the Flemings to be taken in
drunkenness ; there should have been few I,acede-
monians then left, and few Flemings now. So im-
possible it is to remove any fault so general in a
people, with terror of laws or most sharp restraints.

EuDox. — What means may there be then to avoid
this inconvenience? for the case seems very hard.

Iren. — We are not yet come to the ])oint to devis
remedies for the evils, but only have now to recoun
them ; of the which, this which I have told you is
one defect in the common law.

EuDox. — Tell us then (I pray you) further, liave
you any more of this sort in the common law?

Iren. — By rehearsal of this, I remember also of
another like, which I have often observed in trials,
to have wrouglit great hurt and hindrance ; and that
is, the exceptions which the common law alloweth
a felon in his trial : for he may have (as you know)
fifty-six exceptions peremptory against the jurors,
of which he shall show no cause. By whicli shift
there being (as I have showed you) so small store
of honest jury-men, he will either put oft' his trial, or
drive it to such men as, perhaps, are not of the
soundest sort ; by whose means, if lie can acquit
himself of the crime, as he is likely, then will he
plague such as were brought first to be of his jury,
and all such as made any party against him : and
when he comes forth, he will make their cows and
garrons to walk, if he do no other harm to their
persons.

EuDox. — This is a sly device, but I think might
soon be remedied ; but we must leave it a while to
the rest. In the meanwhile, do you go forwards
with others.

Iren. — There is another no less inconvenience
than this, which is, the trial of accessories to
felony; for by the common law, the accessories
cannot be proceeded against, till the principal have
received his trial. Now to the case, how it often
I'alleth out in Ireland, that a stealth being made by
a rebel, or an ouilaw, the stolen goods are conveyed
to some husbandman or gentleman, which hath well
to take to, and yet liveth most by the receipt of i-uch
stealths, where they are found by theowner,and han-
dled : whereupon the jiarty is perhaps apprehended,
and committed to gaol, or put upon sureties, till the
sessions ; at which time, the owner jireferring a hill
of indictment, proveth sufficiently the stealth to
have been committed ujion him by such an outlaw,
and 10 have been found in the possession of the
prisoner ; against whom, nevertheless, no course of
law can proceed, nor trial can be had, for that the
princij.al thief is not to be gotten ; notwithstanding
that he likewise, standing perhaps indicted at once
with the receiver, being in rebellion, or in tiie woods,
where peradventure he is slain before he can be
gotten, and so the receiver clean ac()uitted and dis-
charged of the crime. By whicli means the tiiieves
are greatly encouraged to steal, and their maintaineis
emholdeiied to receive their stealihs, knowing how
Lardlv they can be brought to any trial of law.

Im'dox. — Truly this is a great inconvenience, and
a great cause (as you say) of the inainteiiauce of
thieves, knowing their receivers always ready ; for
were there no receivers, there would be no ihieves.
But this ^meseems) might easily be jirovuled for

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRFLAND.

487

by some act of parliament, that the receiver being
convicted by p;ood proofs, might receive his trial
without the principal.

Iren. — You say very well, Eiidox, but that is
almost impossible to be compassed : and herein also
you discover another imperfection in tbe course of
the common law, and first ordinance of the realm :
for _vou know that the said parliament nuist consist
of the peers, gentlemen, freeholders, and burgesses
of that realm itself. JSJow these being j)erliaps
themselves, or the mo>t part of them (as may seem
by their stiff withstanding of this act), culjiable of
this crime, or favourers of their friends, which are
such, by wliom tlieir kitchens are sometimes amended,
will n(jt suffer any such statute to pass. Yet hath
it oftentimes been attempted, and in the time of Sir
John Parrott very earnestly (I remember) laboured,
but could bv no means be effected. And not oidy
this, but miiny other like, which are as needful for
the reformation of that realm.

EuDos. — This also is surely a great defect, hut
wemav not talk (you say) of the redressing of this,
until our second part come, which is purposely ap-
pointed thereunto. Therefore proceed to the
recounting of more such evils, if at least you have
any more.

Iren. — Tliere is also a great incorwvenience,
which hath wrought great damage, both to her Ma-
jesty, and to that commonwealth, through close and
colounible conveyances of the lands and goods of
traitors, felons, and fugitives. As when one of
them mindeth to go into rebellion, he will convey away
allhis lands and lordships to feoffees in trust, where-
by he reservethto himself but a state for term of life ;
which being determined eitlierby the sword or bj'the
halter, their land straight cometh to their heir, and
the queen is defrauded of the intent of tlie law,
which laid that grievous punishment upon traitors,
to forfeit all their lands to the prince, to the end
that men might the rather be terrified from commit-
ting treasons : for many which would little esteem
of their own lives, yet for remorse of their wives
and children would be withheld from that heinous
crime. This appeared plainly iu the late Earl of
Desmond. For before his breaking forth into open
rebellion, he had conveyed secretly all his lands to
feoflVes in trust, in hope to have cut off iier majesty
from the e>clieatof his lands.

EuDOx. — Yea, but that was well enough avoided,
for the act of parliament which gave all his lands to
the queen, did (as 1 have heard) cut ofl' and frus-
trate all such conveyances, as had at any time by the
space of twelve years before his rebellion, been
made ; within the compass whereof, the fraudulent
feoffment, and many the like of others his accom-
plices and fellow-traitors, were contained.

Iren. — Very true ; but how hardly that act of
parliament was wrought out of them, 1 car witness ;
and were it to be passed again, I dare undertake it
would never be compassed. But were it also that
such acts might be easily bruught to pass against
traitors and felons, yet were it not an endh-ss trouble
that no traitor nr felon should be attainted, but a
parliament must be called for bringing of liis lands
to the queen, which the common Idvv givelli her 1

EuD0.\ Then this is no fault of the common

law, but of the persons which work this fraud to her
luajestv'J

liiEN. — Yes, marry, for the common law hath left
them this benefit, whereof they make advantage, and

I wrest It to their bad purposes : so as thereby they
are the bolder to enter into evil actions, knowing
that if the worst befal them, they shall losenotUing
but themselves, whereof they seem surely very
careless.

EuDox. — But what meant you of fugitives herein ?
Or how doth this concern them ?

Ihen. — Yes, very greatly ; for vou shall under-
stand, that there be many ill-disposed and undutiful
persons of that realm, like as in this point there are
also in this realm of England too many, which being
men of good inheritance, are, for dislike of religion,
or danger of the law, into which they are run, or
discontent of the present government, fled beyond
the seas, where they live under princes which are
hermajestv's professed enemies ; and converse, and
are confederates with other traitors and fugitives,
which are there abiding. The which, nevertheless,
have the benefits and profits of their lands heie, by
pretence of such colourable convevunces thereof,
formerly made by them unto their jiiivy friends here
in trust, who privily do send over unto them tlie said
revenues, wherewith they are there raainiained and
enabled against her majesty.

EuDOx. — I do not think that there be any such
fugitives which are relieved by the profit of their
lands in England, for there is a straighter order taken.
And if there be any such in Ireland, it were good it
were likewise looked unto, for this evil may easily be
remedied. But proceed.

Iren. — It is also inconvenient in the realm of Ire-
land, that the wards and marriages of gentlemen's
children should be in the disposition of any of those
Irish Lords, as now they are, by reas m that their
lands be held by knights' service of those lords. By
which means it comes to jjass, that those gentlemen,
being thus in the ward of those lords, are not only
thereby brought up lewdly and Irishlike, but also
for ever after so bound to their services, that they
will run with them into any disloyal action.

EuDOX. — This grievance, Ireneus, is also complain-
ed of in England, but how can it be remedied I since
the service must follow the tenure of the lands, and
the lands were given away by the kings of England
to those lords, when they first conquered that realm ;
and to say truth, this also would be some prejudice
to the prince in her wardships.

IiiEN. — I do not mean this by the prince's wards,
but by such as fall into the iiands^f Irish lords : for
I could wisli, and this I could enforce, that all those
wardships were in the prince's disposition ; for then
it might be hoped that she, for the uriiversal reform-
ation of that realm, would take better order for
bringing up those wards in good nurture, and not
suffer them to come into so bad hands. And al-
thougli these things be already passed awav by her
progenitors' former grants unto those said lords, yet
1 could find away to remedy a great part tl>ereof, as
hereafter, when fit time serves, shall appear. And
since we are entered into speech of such grants of
former princes to sundry persons of this realm of
Ireland, I will mention unto vou some other, of like
nature to this, and of like inconvenience, hv which
the former kings of F^ngland passed unto them a
great (lart of their prerogatives; which, though then
it was well intended, and perhaps well deserved of
them which received the same, vet now such a gap
of mischief lies open thereby, that 1 could wish it
were well s'opped. Of this sort are the grants of
counties palatine in Ireland, which, though at firs*

488

A VIEW OF TFiEsrArKop irf-:lvvij

were granted upon good consideration when thev
were first conquered, for tliat those lands lay then as
a very border to the wild Irish, subject to continual
invasion, so as it was needful to give them great
privileges for the defence of the inhabitants thereof ;
yet now that it is no more a border nor frontiered
with enemies, wliy should such privileges be any
more continued ?

EuDOx. — 1 would gladly know what you call a
county palatine, and whence it is so called.

Iren. — It was (I suppose) first named palatine of
a pale, as it were a pale and defence to their inward
lands, so as it is called the English Pale ; and there-
fore is a palsgrave named an earl palatine. Others
think of the Latin palure, that is, to forage or out-
run ; because those marchers and borderers use
commonly so to do ; so as to have a county pala-
tine is, in effect, to have a privilege to sjioil the
enemies' borders adjoining And surely so it is used
at this day, as a privilege plare of spoils and
stealths ; for the county of Tipperarv, which is now
the only county palatine in Ireland, is by abuse of
some bad ones, made a receptacle to rob the rest of
the counties about it, by means of whose privileges
none will follow their stealths : so as it being situate
in the very lap of all the land, is made now a border ;
which how inconvenient if is, let every man judiie.
And though that ri-lit noble man, the lord of the
liberty, do pain himself, all be may, to yield equal
justice unto all, yet can there not be but great abuses
lurk in so inward and absolute a privilege, the con-
sideration whereof is to be respected carefully for
the next succession. And much like unto this
grant, there are other privileges granted unto most of
the corporations there ; that they shall not be bound
to any other government than their own ; that they
shall not be charged with garrisons ; that they shall
not be travailed forth of their own franchises •, that
they may buy and sell with thieves and rebels ; that
all amercements and fines that shall be imposed upon
tliPin, shall come unto themselves. All which,
though at the time of their first grant they were
tolerable, and perhaps reasonable, yet now are most
unreasonable and inconvenient; but all these will
easily be cut off with the superior power of her ma-
jesty's prerogative, against which her own grants
are not to be pleaded or enforced.

EuDox. — Now, truly Ireneus, you have (me-
seems) very well handled this point, touching in-
con veniencies in the common law there, by you ob-
served ; and it seemeth that you have had a inindful
regard unto the things that may concern the good of
that realm. And if you can as well go through
with the statute laws of that land, I will think you
have not lost all your time there. Therefore I pray
you, now take them in hand, and tell us what you
think to be amiss in them.

Irkn. — The statutes of that realm are not many,
and, therefore, we shall the sooner run through
them ; and yet of those lew there are impertinent
and unnecessary : the which, tiiough, perhajis, at the
time of the making of them, were very needful ; yet
now, through change of time, are clean antiquated,
atid altogether idle: as that which forbiddeth any to
wear their beards all on the U[)per lip, ami none
under the chin. And that which putteth away saf-
fron shirts and smocks. And that which restraineth
tie use of gilt bridles and petronels. And that
which is appointed for the recorders and clerks of
Dublin and Tredagh, to take but two- pence for

the copy of a pl.iinr. And that which commands
bows and arrows. AikI that which makes, that all
Irishmen which shall converse among the English,
shall be taken for spies, and so punished. And that
which forbids persons amenable to law, to enter
and distrain in the lands in which they have title;
and nianv other the like I could rehearse.

EiTDox. — These tuily, which ye have repeated,
seem very frivolous and fruitless ; for by the breach
of them, little damage or inconvenience can come to
the commonwealth : neither, indeed, if aiiv traiisyress
them, shall he seem worthy of punishment, scarce of
blame ; savmg but for that they abide by that name
of laws. But laws ought to be such, as that the
keeping of them should be greatly for the behoof of
the commonweal, and the violating of them should
be very heinous, and sharply punisliable. But tell
us of some more weighty dislikes in the statutes
than these, and that may more behooffully import
the reformation of them.

Iren. — There is one or two statutes which make
the wrongful distraining of any man's goods against
the form of common law, to be felony. The which
statutes seem surely to have been at first meant for
the good of that realm, and for restraining of a foul
abuse, which then reigned commonly amongst that
people, and yet is not altogether laid aside : that
when anv one was indebted to another, he would
first demand his de) t ; and if he were not })aid,
he would straight go and take a distress of bis
goods or cattle, where he could find them, to the
value ; which he would keep till he were satisfied.
And this the simple churl (as they call him) doth
commonly use to do : yet through ignorance of his
misdoing, or evil use, that hath long settled amongst
them. But this, though it be sure most unlawful,
yet surely (meseems) too hard to make it death,
since there is no purpose in the party to steal the
other's goods, or lo conceal the distress; but he
doth it ojienly, for the most part, before witnesses.
And again, the same statutes are so slackly penned
(besides the latter of them is so unsensibly con-
trived, that it scarcely carrieth any reason in it) that
they are often and very easily wrested to the fraud
of the subject : as if one going to distrain upon
his own land or tenement, where lawfully he may,
yet if in doing thereof, he transgress the least ]ioint
of the common law, he stiaight committeth felony.
Or if one, by any other occasion, take anything
from another, as boys use sometimes to caj) one
another, the same is straight felony. This is a very
hard law.

EuDOX. — Nevertheless, thatevil use of distraining
of another man's goods, ye will not deny but it is
to be abolished and taken away.

Iren. — It is so, but not by taking away the sub-
ject withal, for that is too violent a medicine ; espe-
cially this use being permitted, and made lawful to
some, and to other some death. As to most of the
cori)orate towns there, it is granted by their charter
that they may, every man by himself, without an
oflScer (for that were more tolerable) for any debt,
to distrain the goods of any Irish being found
within their liberty, or but jiassing through their
towns. And the first permission of this was, for
that in those times when that grant was made, the
Irish were not amenable to law; so as it was not
safety fo» the townsman to go to him forth to de-
mand his debt, nor possible to draw him into law,
so that hK had leave lo be bis own bailiff, to arrest

A VIEW OF THE SIAIE OF IRELAND.

489

his said debtors' goods within his own franchise.
The which the Irisli seeing, thought it as lawful for
them to distrain the townsman's goods in the coun-
try where thev found it. And so by ensample of
that grant to townsmen, they thouglu it lawful, and
made It a use, to distrain one another's goods for
small debts. And to say truth, methinks it is hard
for every trifling debt of two or three shillings, to
be driven to law, which is so far from tliem some-
times to be sought; for which methinketh it too
heavy an ordinance to give death, especially to a rude
man that is ignorant of law, and thinketh, that a
common use or grant to other men is a law for him-
self.

EuDox. — Yea, but the judge, wlien it cometh he-
fore him to trial, may easily decide this doubt, and
lay open the intent of the law by his better dis-
cretion.

Iren. — Yea, but it is dangerous to leave the sense
of the law unto the reason or will of the judges,
who are men, and may be miscarried by affections,
and many other means. But the laws ought to be
like stony tables, plain, stedfast, and unmovable.
There is also such another statute or two, which
made Coigny and Livery to be treason, no less in-
convenient than the former, being as it is penned,
however the first purport thereof were ex])edient ;
for thereby now, no man can go into another nuin's
house for lodging, nor to his own tenant's house to
take victualling by the way, notwithstanding that
there is no other means for him to have lodging, nor
horse meat, nor man's meat, there being no inns,
nor none otherwise to be bought for money, but
that he is endangered by tliat statute for treason,
■whensoever he shall happen to fall out with his
tenant, or that his said host list to complain of grie-
vance ; as oftentimes I have seen them very mali-
ciously to do, through the least provocation.

EuDOX. — I do not well know, but by guess, what
you do mean by these terms of coigny and livery ;
therefore I pray you explain them.

Irev. — I know not whether the words be English
or Iiish, but I suppose them to be rather ancient
English; for the Irishmen can make no derivation
of them. What livery is, we by common use in
England know well enough ; namely, that it is an
allowance of horse-tneat, as they commonly use the
word in stabling, as to keep horses at livery ; the
which word, I gufss, is derived of livering or de-
livering forth their nightly food. So in great houses,
the livery is said to be served up for all night ; that
is, their evening's allowance for drink. And livery
is also called the upper weed which a serving-man
weareth ; so tailed (as I sui)pose)for that it was de-
livered and taken from him at pleasure. So it is
apparent, that by the word Iheiy is there meant
horse-meat ; like as by the word coigny, is under-
stood man's-meat: but whence the word is derived,
is hard to tell. Some say, of coin ; for that they
used commonly in their coignies, not only to take
meat, but coin also ; and that taking of money was
specially meant to be prohibited by that statute.
But, 1 think rather, this word coigui/ is derived of
the Irish. Tiie which is a common use among>t
landlords of the Irish, to have a common spending
upon their tenants : for all their tenants beir]<; com-
monly but teiiants-at-will, they used to take of them
what victuids they list; for of victuals tlipy weie
wont to make small reckoning: neither in this was
the tenant wronged, for it was an ordinary and

known custom, and his lord used commonly so to
covenant with him ; which, if at any time the tenant
disliked, he might freely depart at his ])Ieasure.
But now by this statute, the said Irish lord is
wronged, for that he is cut oif from his customary ser-
vices, of the which this was one, besides inanv other
of the like ; as cuddii, coshery, bnniiughi, sincih,
si>rehi}i, and such oihers ; the which (I think) were
customs at first brought in bv the English u])on the
Irish : for they were never wont, and ve are loth to
yield any certain rent, but only spendings : for their
common saying is. Spend me, and defend me.

EuDDX. — Surely, 1 t;ike it as you sav, that therein
the Irish lord hath wrong, since it was an ancient
custom and nothing contrary to law ; for to the
willing there is no wrong done. And this right
well I wot that even here in England there are m
many jilaces as large customs and privileges, as that
of co;o;nie and livery. But I suppose by \our speech,
that it was the first meaning of the statute, to fbibid
the violent taking of victuals upon other men's tenr
ants against their wills, which surely is a great out-
rage ; and yet not so great (meseems) as that it
should be made treason : for, considering that the
nature of treason is concerning the roval estate or
person of the prince, or practising with his enemies,
to the derogation and d .nger of his crown and dig-
nity, it is hardly wrested to make this treason, liut
(as you said) better a mischief than an inconve-
nience,

Iren. — .Another statute I remember, which having
been an ancient Irish custom, is now, upon advise-
rnenr, made a law ; and that is called the custom
of Kincogish : which is, that every head of every
sept, and every chief of every kindred or family,
should be answerable and bound to bring forth
every one of that sept and kindred under it at all
times to be justified, wlien he should be required,
or charged with any treason, felony, or other heinous
crime.

EuDox. — Why, surely, this seems a very neces-
sary law. For, consitlering that many of them be
such losels and scatterliugs, as that they cannot
easily, by any sheriff", constable, bailiff", or other
ordinary officer, be gotten, when they are challenged
for any such fact; this is a very good means to get
them to be brought in by him that is the head
of that ^ept, or chief of that house : wherefore I
wonder what just exception you can make against
the same.

Iren. — Truly, Eudoxus, in the pretence of the
good of this statute, von liave nothing erred /or it
seemed very expedient and necessary ; but the hurt
which cometh thereb\ is greater man the good.
For whilst every chief of a sept standeth so
bound to the law, lor every man of his blood or
sept that is under him, he is made great by the
commanding of them all : for if be may not com-
mand them, then that law doth wrong, that bimieth
him to brini;- them for b to be justifieil. .\iid if
he may command them, then he may command
them as well to ill as to good. Herel)y the lords
and captains of countries, the principals and heads
of sejits, are made stronger, whom it sh mid he a
most special care in policy to weaken, and to set up
and strt-ngiheii divers of his underling.s against
him , which, whensoever he shall swerve from "uty,
may be able to beard him : for it is tlangerous to
leave the command of so many, as some se|)ts are,
being live or six thousand persons, to the will o/

490

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

one man ; ■who may lead them to what be will, as
he liiins;elf shall be inclined.

Euuox. — In very deed, Ireneus.it is very dangerous,
seeing the disposition of those people is not always
inclinable to the best ; and therefore I hold it no
wisdom to leave unto them too much command over
their kindred, but rather to withdraw their followers
from them as much as may be, and to gather them
under the command of law, by some better means
than this custom of kin-cogish ; the which word I
would be glad to know what it namely signifieth,
for the meaning thereof I seem to understand rea-
sonably well.

Idem. — It is a word mingled of English and Irish
together, so as lam partly led to think, that the cus-
tom tliereof was first English, and afterwards made
Iiis'h ; for such another law they had here in Eng-
land, as I remetaber, made by King Alured, that
every gentleman should bring forth his kmdred and
followers to the law. So kin is Englisii, and con-
ghh, affinity, in Irish.

EuDOX. — Since then we have thus reasonably han-
dled the inconveniences in the law ; let us now pass
unto the second part, which was, 1 remember, of the
abuses of the customs ; in which, meseems, you
have a fair campaign laid open unto you, in which
you may at large stretch out your discourse into
many sweet remembrances of antiquities; from
whence it seemeth that the customs of that nation
proceeded.

iREN. — Indeed, Eudoxus.you say very true; forall
the customs of the Irish, which 1 have often noted
and compared with that 1 have read, would minister
occasion of a most ample discourse of the original
of them, and the antiquity of that people ; which, in
truth, I think to be more ancient than most that I
know in this end of the world : so as if it were in
the handling of some man of sound judgment and
plentiful reading, it would be most pleasant and
profitable. But, it may be, we may, at some other
time of meeting, take occasion to treat thereof more
at large. Here only it shall suffice, to touch such
customs of the Irish as seem offensive and repug-
nant to the good government of the reidm.

EuDOx. — Follow then your own course; for I shall
the better content myself to forbear my desire now,
in hope that you will, as you say, some other time,
more abundantly satisfy it.

I HEN. — Before we enter into the treaty of their cus-
toms, it is first needful to consider from whence
they first sprung; for from the sundry manneis of
the nations, from whence that people, which now is
called Irish, were derived, some of the customs
which now remain amongst them, have been first
fetched, and sithence there continued amongst them :
lor not of one nation was it peopled, as it is, but of
sundry people, of different conditions and manners.
But the chiefest which have first possessed and in-
habited it, I suppose to be Scythians.

EuDOX. — How Cometh it then topass, that the Irish
do derive themselves from Gathelus tiie Spaniard ?

Iren. — They do indeed, but (I conceive) without
any good ground : for if there were any such nota-
ble transmission of any colony hither out of Spain,
or any such famous conquest of this kingdom by
Cjathel-is, a Sjianiard, as they would fain believe;
it is not unlikely but the very Chronicles of Spain
(had Spain then been in so high regard as they now
Lave it) would not have omitted so memorable a thing
as the subduing of so noble a realm to the Spaniard,

no more than they do now neglect to memo-
rize their conquest of the Indians; es])eciallv in
those times in which the same was su|)])0sed, beiiisj
nearer unto the flourishing age of learning and
writers under the Romans. But the Irish do herein
no otherwise, than our vaiu Englishmen do in the
tale of Brutus, whom they devise to have first con-
quered and inhabited this land ; it being as impos-
sible to prove, that there was ever any such Jjruius
of Albion, or England, as it is that there was any
such Gathelus of Spain. But surely the Scvtlji^ms
(of whom 1 erst spolse) at such time as the northern
nations overflowed all Christendom, came down to
the sea-coast; where inquiring for other countries
abroad, and getting intelligence of this cnuntry of
Ireland, finding shipping convenient, passed thither,
and arrived in the north part thereof, which is now-
called Ulster ; which first inhabiting, and afterwards
stretching themselves forth into the land, as tiieir
numbers increased, named it all of themselves Scut-
tenland, which more briefly is called Scutland, or
Scotland.

EuDOx. — I wonder (Ireneus) whither you run so
far astray ; for whilst we talk of Ireland, methinks
you rip up the original of Scotland ; but what is
that to this ?

Iren. — Surely very much, for Scotland and Ire-
land are all one and the same.

EuDOx. — That seemeth more strange; for we all
know right well, they are distinguished by a great
sea running between them ; or else there are two
Scotlands.

Iren. — Never the more are there two Scotlands ;
but two kinds of Scots were indeed (as you may
gather out of Buchanan) the one Iren, or Irish
Scots, the other Albin Scots: for those Scots are
Scythians, arrived (as I said) in the north parts of
Ireland ; where some of them after passed into the
next coast of Albine, now called Scotland, which,
after much trouble, they possessed, and of them-
selves named Scotland : but, in process of time, as
it is commonly seen, the dominion of the part ])re-
vaileth in the whole ; for the Irish Scots putting
away the name of Scots, were called only Irish : and
the Albine Scots, leaving the name of Albine, wera
called only Scots. 'Iherefore it cometh thence, that
of some writers Ireland is called Scotia Major, and
that which now is called Scotland, Scotia iMinor.

EuDOX. — I do now well understand your distin-
guishing of the two sorts of Scots, and two Scot-
lands ; how that this which now is called Ireland,
was anciently called Erin, and afterwards of some
written Scotland : and that which now is called Scot-
land, was formerly called Albin, before tlie coming
of the Scythes thither, liut what other nation in-
habited the other parts of Ireland 1

Iren. — After this people thus planted in the
north, or before, for the ceitainty of things in times
so far from all knowledge, cannot be justly avouch-
ed, another nation coming out of Spain, arrived
in the west part of Ireland ; and finding it waste, or
weakly inhabited, possessed it : who, whether they
were native Spaniards, or Gauls, or Africans, or
Goths, or some other of those northern i^ations
which did overspread all Cliristendom, it is I'lipps-
sible to affirm ; only some naked conjecturei; ru.iv be
gathered : but that out of Spain certainly ibey
came, that do all the Irish chronicles agree.

EuDox. — You do very boldly, Ireneus, adventure
upon the histories of ancient times, and lean too

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

491

confider.tlv on those Irisli chronicles, which are most
fahulous and forged, in that out of them you dare
take ill hand to lay open the original of such a nation,
so antique as tbut no monument remains of her be-
ginning and first inhabiting ; especially having been
in those times without letters ; but only bare tradi-
tions of limes and remembrances of bards, which
use to forge and falsify every thing as they list, to
please or displease any man.

Irkn. — Truly, I must confess I do so, but yet not
so absolutely as you suppose. I do herein rely upon
those bards, or Irish clironiclers, though the Irish
themselves, through their ignorance in matters of
learning and deep judgment, do most constantly be-
lieve and avouch them ; but unto them besides I add
mine own reading ; and out of them botli together,
with comparison of times, likewise of manners and
customs, affinity of words and names, properties
of natures and uses, resemblances of rites and
ceremonies, monuments of churches and tombs, and
many other like circumstances, I do gatlier a likeli-
iiood of truth, not certainly affirming any thing, but
by conferring of times, language, monuments, and
such like, I do hunt out a probability of things, which
I leave to vour judgment to believe or refuse. Ne-
vertheless there be some very ancient authors that
make mention of these things, and some modern ;
which, by comparing them with present times, expe-
rience, and their own reason, do open a window of
great lii^ht unto the rest that is yet unseen : as
namely, of the elder times, Cesar, Strabo, Tacitus,
Ptolomy, Plinv, Pomponius Mela, and Berosus; of
the later, \'incentius, ^neas Sylvius, Luidus, Bu-
tlianan ; for that he himself being an [rish, Scot, or
Pict, by nation, and being very excellently learned,
and industrious to seek out the truth of all things
concerning the original of his own people, hath both
set down the testimony of the ancients truly, and his
own opinion together, withal very reasonably, though
in sume things he doth somewhat flatter. Besides,
the baids and Irish chroniclers themselves, though,
through desire of pleasing too much, and ignorances
of arts and purer learning, they have clouded the
truth of those lines , yet there appear among them
some relics of the true antiquity, though disguised,
which a well-eyed man may happily discover and
find out.

EuDox. — How can there be any truth in them at
all, since tlie ancient nations which first inhabited
Ireland, were altogether destitute of letters, much
more of learning ; by which they might leave the
verity of things written ? And those bards coming
also so many hundred vears after, could not know
what was done in former ages, nor deliver certainty
of any thing, but what they feigned out of their un-
learned heads.

lnEN. — Those bards, indeed, Cesar writeth, de-
livered no certain truth of any thing, neither is there
any certain hold to be taken of any antiquity which is
received by tradition, since all men be liars, and
man> lie when they will; yet for the antiquities of
the written chronicles of Ireland, give me leave to
say something, not to justify them, but to show that
some of them might say truth. For where you say
the Irish have always been without letters, you are
therein much deceived ; i'or it is certain, that Ireland
hath had the use of letters very anciently, and long
before England.

EuDox. — Is it possible? How comes it. then,
that they are so unlearned still, being so old scho-

lars? For learning (as the poet saith) EmcUit mo-
res, nee ihiit esse feros. Whence, then, 1 pray you,
could they have those letters?

I REN. — It is hard to say : for whether they at their
first coming into the laud, or afterwards by trading
with other nations which had letters, learned them
of them, or demised them amongst themselves, is
very doubtful ; but that they had letters anciently,
is nothing doubtful, for the Saxons of England are
said to have their letters, and learning, and leann-d
men, from the Irish ; and that also appearetli by the
likeness of the character, for the Saxons character is
the same with the Irish. Now the Scythians never,
as I can read, of old, had letters amongst tliem,
therefore it seemeth that they had them from tlie
nation which came out of Spain ; for in Spain there
were (as Strabo writeth) letters anciently used,*
whether brought unto them by the Plienicians, or
the Persians, which (as it appearetli by him) had
some footing there, or from IMarsellis, which is said
to have been inhabited by the Greeks, and from
them to have had the f jreek character ; of which
Marsiliiins ii is said that the Gauls learned them first,
and used them only for the furtherance of their
trades and private business. For the Gauls (as is
strongly to be proved by many ancient and authen-
tical writers) did first inhabit all the sea-coast of
Spain, even unto Tales, and the mouth of the straits,
and peopled also a great part of Italy ; which ap-
peareth by sundry havens and cities in Spain called
from them, as Portugallia, Gallecia, Galduuum, and
also by sundry nations therein dwelling, which vet
have received their own names of the Gauls; as the
Rhegni, Presamarci, Tamari, Cineri, and divers
others. All which Pomponius Wela, being himself
a Spaniard, yet saith to have descended from the
Celts of Francf> ; whereby it is to be gathered, that
that nation which came out of Spain into Ireland,
were ancientlv Gauls, and that they brouuht with
them those letters which they had anciently learnt
in Spain, first into Ireland ; which some also say,
do much resemble the old Phenician character, being
likewise distinguished with prick and accent, as
theirs anciently : but the further enquiry hereof
needeth a place of longer discourse than this our
short conference.

EuDox. — Surely you have showed a great proba-
bility of that which I had thought impossible to have
been proved ; but that which you now say, that
Ireland should have been peopled with Gauls,
seemeth much more strange ; for all the Chro-
nicles do say, that the west and south was pos-
sessed and inhabited of Spaniards ; and Cornelius
i'acitus doth also strongly affirm the same ; all
which you must overthrow and falsify, or else re-
nounce your opinion.

IiJEN. — Neither so, nor so; for the Irish Chro-
nicles (as I showed you) bein^ made by unlearned
men, and writing things according to the appear-
ance of the truth, which they conceived, do err in
the circumstances, not in the matter. For all that
came out Spain, they (being no diligent searchers
into the differences of the nations) supposed to be
Spaniards, and so called them ; but the ground-
work thereof is nevertheless true and certain, how-
ever they through ignorance disguise the same, or
throuoh vanity, whilst they would not seem to be
ignorant, do thereupon build and enlarge many
forged histories of their own antiquity, which they
deliver to fouls, and make them believe for true. Aa

492

A VIEW OF tut: statf", of irkland.

for example, that first of one Gatlielus, the son of
Ct'crops or Argos, who having married the King
of Egypt's daui^hter, thence sailed vvitb her into
Spain, and tiiere inhabited : then that of JVemedus
and his sous, who, coining; out of Scythia, peo-
pled Ireland, and inhabited it with bis sons '^50
years, until i;e was overcome of the giants dwelling
then in Ireland, and at the la>t quite banished and
rooted out. Alter whom ifOO vears, the sons of one
Dehi, being Scythians, arrived there again, and pos-
sessed tile whole land ; of which the youngest,
called Slanius, in the end made himself monarch.
Lastly, of the four sons of iNJilesius, king of Spain,
whicii conquered the land from tlie Scythians, and
inhabited it with Spaniards, and called it of the name
of the youngest Hiberus, Hibernia. All which -dve
in truth fables, and very Milesian lies, as the Latin
proverb is ; for never was there such a king of
Spain called Milesius, nor any such colony seated
with his sons, as they feign, that can ever be proved;
but yet under these tales you may in a manner see
the truth lurk. For Scythians iiere inhabiting, they
name and put Spaniards, whereby appeareth that
both these nations here inhabited-, but whether very
Spaniards, as the Irish greatly afiect, is no ways to
be ])roved.

EuDOx. — Whence cometh it then, that the Irish
do so gieatly covet to fetch themselves from the
Spaniards, since the old (jauls are a more ancient
and much more honourable nation ?

luEN. — Even of a very desire of new-fangleness
and vanity ; for they derive themselves from the
Sj)aniaids, as seeing them to be a very honourable
people, and near bordering unto them. But all that
is most vain ; for from the Spaniards that now are,
or tliat people that now inhabit Spain, they no ways
can prove themselves to descend : neither should it
be greatly glorious unto them, for the Spaniard
that now is, is come from as rude and savage nations
as they ; there being, as there may oe gathered by
course of ages, and view of their own history
(though they therein labour much to ennoble them-
selves; scarce any drop of the old Si)aiiish blood
left in them : for all Spain was first con(|uered by
the Romans, and filled with colonies from them,
which were still increased, and the native Spaniards
still cut off. Afterwards the Carthaj^enians m all the
long I'unic Wars (having spoiled all Sjiain, and in
the end subdued it wholly unto themselves) did, as
it IS likely, root out all that were atiected to the
Romans. And lastly, the Romans having again re-
covered that country, and beat out Hannibal, did
doubtless cut off all that favoured the Carthagenians ;
so that betwixt them both, to and fro, there was
scarce a native Spaniard left, but all inhabited of
Romans. All which tempests and troubles being
over-blown, there long aflerarose a new storm, more
dreadful than all the former, which over-ran all
Spain, and made an infinite confusion of all things,
that was, the coming down of the Goths, the
Hunns, and the Vandals ; and lastly, all the nations
of Scythia; which, like a mountain flood, did over-
flow all S])ain,and quite drowned and washed away
whatsoever reliques there was left of the land-bred
people ; yea, and of all the Romans too. 1 he
which noithern nations finding the nature of the
soil, and the vehement heat thereof far differing from
the.r constitutions, took no telicity in that country,
but from thence jiassed over, and did si)read them
•elves into all countries of Christendom ; of all

which there is none but hath some mixture or sprink-
ling, if not thoroughly peopling of them. And yet
after all these, the Moors and the Barbarians breaking
over out of Africa, did finally ])Ossess all Spain, or
the most part thereof, and did tread under their
heathenish feet whatever little they found yet there
standing. The which, though after they were
beaten out by Ferdinand of Arragou and Isabella
his wife, yet they were not so cleansed, but that
through marriages which they had made, and mix-
ture with the people of the land, during their long
continuance there, they had left no pure drop of
Spanish blood, no more than of Roman or Scy-
thian. So that of all nations under heaven (I sup-
pose) the Spaniard is the most mingled and most
uncertain. Wherefore most foolishly do the Irish
think to ennoble themselves, by wresting their an-
cientry from the Spaniard, who is unable to derive
himself from any in certain.

EuDOx — Vou speak very sharply, Ireneus, in dis-
praise of the Spaniard, whom some others boast to
be the only brave nation under the sky.

InEN. — So surely he is a very brave man, neither
is that anything which I speak to his derogation :
for in that I said he is a mingled people, it is no
dispraise ; for I think there is no nation now in
Christendom, nor much further, but is mingled and
compounded with others. For it was a singular
providence of God, and a most admirable purpose
of his wisdom, to draw those northern heathen na-
tions down into those christian parts, where they
might receive Christianity, and to mingle nations so
remote miraculously, to make, as it were, one blood
and kindred of all people, and each to have know-
ledge of him.

EuDox. — Neither have vou sure any more dis-
honoured the Irish, for you have brought them from
ve/y great and ancient nations as any were in the
world, however fondly they afl'ect the Spanish. For
both Scythians and Gauls were two as mighty na-
tions as ever the world brought forth. But is there
any token, denomination, or moment of the Gauls
yet remaining in Ireland, as there is of the Scy-
thians ?

Iken. — Yea surely, very many words of the Gauls
remaining, and yet daily used in common speech.

EuDox. — What was the Gaulish sjieech ? Is
there any part of it still used among any nation ?

liiEX. — The Gaulish speech is the very British,
the which was very generally used here in all Bri-
tain, before the coming of the Saxons; and yet is
retained of the Welshmen, Cornish-men, and the
Bretons of France : though time working the alter-
ation of all things, and the trading and interdeal
with other nations round about, have changed and
greatly altered the dialect thereof; but yet the ori-
ginal words a|i[iear to be the same, as who hath list
to read in Camden and Buchanan, ma\ see at large.
Besides, there be many places, as havens, hills,
to«n:-, and castles, which yet bear the names from
the Gauls; of the which Buchanan rehearseth above
five hundred in Scotland and I can (I think) re-
count near as many in Ireland, which retain the old
denomination of the (iauls ; as the Menapii, Cauci,
Venti, and others. By all which, and many other
reasonable probabilities (which this short course will
not sufler to be laid forih) it ajipeareth, that the
chief inhabitants in Ireland were Gauls; coming
tiiilher first out of Spain, and after from besides
Taiiais, wheie the Goths, the Hunns, and the Gfltaa

A VIEW OF THE STATE OT IRELAND.

491

sat down ; thev also being; (as ii is siiid of some)
ancient Gauls : and lastly, passing out of Gallia
itself, froiu all the sea-coasts of Eelo^ia and Celtica,
into all the southern coasts of Ireland, which they
possessed and inhabited ; whereupon it is at this
day, amongst the Irish, a common use, to call an)'
strang-HT, inhabitant there amongst them, Gald : that
is, descended from the Gauls.

EuDox. — This is very likely, for even so did those
Gauls anciently possess all tlie southern coasts of
our Britain, which yet retain their old names ; as
the Belgae in Somersetshire, Wiltshire, and part of
Hampshire; Attrebatiiin Berkshire ; Ilegni in Sussex
and Surrey, and many others. Now thus far then I
understand your opinion, that the Scythiiins planted
in the north part of Ireland, the Sjianiards (for so
we call them, whatever they were that came from
Spain) in the west, the Gauls in the south ; so that
there now remain the east parts towards England,
which I would be glad to understand from whence
you do think them to be peopled.

Iren. — Marry I think of the Britons themselves,
of which, though there be little footing now remain-
ing, by reason that the Saxons afterwards, and
lastly the English, driving out tiie inhabitants
thereof, did possess and people it themselves : yet
amongst tiie Tooles, the Birns, or ]3rins, the Cave-
naghs, and other nations in Leinster, there is some
memory of tlie Britons remaining. As the Tooles are
called of the old British word Tol, that is, a bdl coun-
try ; the Brins of the British word Brin, that is,
woods ; and the Cavenaghs of tlie word Caune, that
is, strong : so that in these three people, the very
denomination of the old Britons do still remain.
Besides, when any flietb under the succour and
protection of any against an enemy, lie crieth unto
him, Comericke ; that is, in the British, help ; for
tlie Briton is called in their own language Comeroy.
Furthermore, to prove the same, Ireland is, by Dio-
dorus Siculus, and by Strabo, called Britannia, and
a part of Great Britain. Finally it appeareth by
good record yet extant, that King Arthur, and before
liim Gurgunt, had all that island under their alle-
giance and subjection. Hereunto I could add many
probabilities of the names of places, persons, and
speeches, as I did in the former ; but they should
be too long for this, and I reserve them fur another.
And thus you have had my opinion, how all that
realm of Ireland was first peopled, and by what
nations. After all which, the Saxons succeeding,
subdued it wholly to themselves. For first, Egfrid
King of Northumberland did utterly waste and
subdue it, as ap]jeareth out of Beda's complaints
against him ; and after him, King Edgar brought it
under his obedience, as appeareth by an ancient
record, in which it is found written, that he subdued
all the islands of the north even unto Norway, and
brought them into his subjectit)n.

EuDox. — This ripping of ancestors is very plea-
sing unto me, and indeed savoureth of good conceit,
and some reading withal. I see hereby, how profit-
able travel and experience of foreign nations is, to
him that will apply them to good purpose, Neither,
indeed, would 1 have thought, that any such anti-
quities could have been avouched for the Irish ;
that maketh me the more to long to see some other
oi" your observations, which you have gathered out
of that country, and have earst half promised to put
torth. And sure in this mingling of nations ap-
peareth (as you earst well noted) a wonderful pro-

vidence and purpose of Almighty Cod, that stirred
up the people in the further ]iarts of the world, o
seek out the regions so remote from them : and by
that means, botli to restore their decayed habitations,
and to make himself known to the lieathen. But
was theie, I prav you, no more y;eneral emplovino-
of that island, than first bv the Scythians, wliich
you say were the Scots, and afterwards bv the Spa-
niards, besides the Gauls, Britons, and Saxons?

Iren. — Yes, there was another, and that last and
greatest, which was by the English, when the E:irl
Strongbow having conijuired that land, delivered up
the same into the hands of Henry the Second, then
King ; who sent over thither a great store of gen-
tlemen, and other warlike people, amongst whom he
distributed the land, and settled such a strong co-
lony therein, as never since could, with all the sub-
tle practices of the Irish, be rooted out ; but abide
still a mighty people, of so many as remain English
of them.

EuDox. — What is this that you say, of so many
as remain English of them ? Why, are not they
that were once English, English still ?

Iren.— No, for some of them are degenerated, and
grown mere Irish ; yea, and more malicious to the
English, than the Irish themselves.

EuDox.— What heard I ? And is it possible that
an Englisliman, brought up in such sweet civility as
England affords, should find such liking in that bar-
barous rudeness, that he should foget his own nature,
and forego his own nation ? How can this be ? oi
what (I pray you) may be the cause thereof?

Irfn. — Surely nothing but the first evil ordinance
and institution of that commonwealth. But thereof
here is no fit place to speak, lest by the occasija
thereof, offering matter of a long discourse, we
might be drawn from this that we have in hand ;
namely, the handling of abuses in the customs of
Ireland.

EuDOx. — In truth, Ireneus, you do well remem-
ber the plot of your first jiurpose; but yet from that
(meseems) ye have much swerved in all this lono-
discourse of the first inhabiting of Ireland : for whal
is that to your purpose ?

Iren. — Truly very material; for if you marked
the course of all that speech well, it was to show by
what means the customs that now are in Ireland,
being some of them indeed very strange, and almost
heathenish, were first brought in : and that was, as I
said, by those nations from whom that country was
first peopled ; for the difference in manners and cus-
toms doth follow the difference of nations and people.
The which I have declared to you to have been
three especially, which seated themselves here : To
wit, first, the Scythian ; then, the Gauls ; and lastly,
the English. Notwithstanding that I am not igno-
rant that there were sundry nations which oot
footing in that land, of the which there yet remain
divers great ianiiliesand steps, of whom I will also
in their proper places make mention.

EuDOx. — You bring yourself, Ireneus, very well
into the way again, notwithstanding that it seemeth
that you were never out of the way ; but now that
you have passed through those antiquities, which I
could have wished not so soon ended, begin when
you please, to declare what customs and manners
have been derived from those nations to the Irish,
and which of them you find fault withal.

Iren. — I will begin then to count their customs
in the same order that I counted their nations, and

«94

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

first with the Scytliian or Scottish manners. Of
the which, there is one use amongst them, to keep
their cattle, and to live themselves the most part of
the year in bi'olies pasturing upon the mountain
and waste wild places, and removing still to fresh
land, as they have depastured the former, i he
which appearelh plain to he the manner of the Scy-
thians, as you may read in Olaus Magnus and Joh.
Boemus, and yet is used amongst all the I artarians,
and the people about the Caspian Sea, which are natu-
rally Scythians, to live in herds, as they call them ;
heiiig the very same that the Irish boolies are, dri-
ving their cattle continually with them, and feeding
onlv on their milk and white-meats.

Evnox. — What fault can you find with this cus-
tom? for though it be an old Scythian use, yet it is
very behooveful in this country of Ireland, where
there are ^reat mountains, and waste deserts full of
grass, that the same should be eaten down, and
nourish many thousands of cattle, for the good of
the whole realm ; which cannot (methinks) well be
anv other way, than by keeping those boolies there,
as ve have showed.

IiiEN. — But by this custom of booling, there grow
in the mean time many great enormities unto that
commonwealth. For first, if there be anv out-laws,
or loose people (as thev are never without some),
which live upon stealths and spoils, they are ever-
more succoured and find relief only in these boolies,
being upon the waste places ; whereas else they
should be driven shortly to starve, or to come down
to the towns to seek relief, where by one means or
Other they would soon be caught. Besides, such
stealths of cattle as they make, they bring commonly
to those boolies, being upon those waste places, where
they are readily received, and the thief harboured
from d anger of law, or such officers as inight light
upon him. Moreover, the people that thus live in those
boolies, grow thereby Uie more barbarous, and live
more licentiously than they could in towns, using
what manners they list, and practising what mischiefs
and villanies they will, either against the Govern-
ment there by their combinations, er against private
men, whom they malign, by stealing their goods, or
murdering themselves. For there they think them-
selves half exempted from law and obedience, and
having once tasted freedom, do, like a steer tiiut hath
been long out of his yoke, grudge and repine ever
after, to come under rule again.

EuDox. — By your speech, Ireneus, I perceive
more evil comes by this use of boolies, than good
by their grazing ; and therefore it may well be re-
formed : but that must be in its due course. Do
you proceed to the next.

Iken. — They have another custom from the Scy-
thians, that is, the wearing of mantles and long
glilihs, which is a thick curled bush of linir hanf.ing
down over their eyes, and monstrously disguising
them ; whicli are both very bad and hurtful.

EuDox. — Do you think that the mantle cometh
from the Scythians? I would surely think other-
wise; for by that which I have read, it ap|ieareth,
that most nations of the world anciently used the
mantle. For the Jews used it, as you may read of
Elias's mantle, Ike. ; the Chaldees also used it, as ye
may read in Dioilorus; the Egyjitians likewise used
it. as ye may read in Herodotus, and may be ga-
thered by the descrijition of Berenice, in the Greek
commentary upon Callimachus. The Greeks also
used it anciently, as appeareth by Venus's mantle

lined with stars, though afterwards they changed

the form thereof into their cloaks, called pallia,
as some of the Irish also use. And the ancient
Latins and Romans used it, as you may read in
Virgil, who was a very great antiyuary, that Evander,
when ^neas came to him at his feast, did entertain
and feast him, sitting on the ground, and lying on
mantles ; insomuch as he useth the very word man-
tile for a mantle.

'• Ilumi mantilia sternunt."

So that it seemeth, that the mantle was a general
habit to most nations, and not proper to the Scy-
thians only, as you suppose.

Ihen. — I cannot deny but that anciently it was com-
mon to most ; and yet sith thence disused and laid
away. But in this latter age of the world, since the
decay of the Roman empire, it was renewed and
brought in again by those northern nations, when
breaking out of their cold caves and frozen habita-
tions, into the sweet soil of Europe, they brought
with them their usual weeds, fit to shield the cold,
and that continual frost to which they had at Lome
been inured ; the which yet they left not off, by
reason that they vs ere in perpetual wars with the
nations whom they had invaded, but still removing
from place to place, carried always with them that
weed, as their house, their bed, and their garment;
and coming lastly into Ireland, they found there
more special use thereof, by reason of the raw cold
climate, from whom it is now grown into that gene-
ral use in w ich that peojjlo now have it. After
whom, the Gauls succeeding, yet finding the like
necessity of that garment, continued the like use
thereof.

EuDox. — Since then the necessity thereof is so
commodious, a"! you allege, that it is instead of
housing, bedding, and clothing; what reason have
you then to wish so necessary a thing cast off?

Irfn. — Becauselhecommodity doth not countervail
the discommodity; for the inconvetiiences which
thereby do arise, are much more many ; for it is a
fit house for an outlaw, a meet bed for a rebel, iind
an apt cloak for a thief. First, the outlaw, being t'm
his many crimes and villanies banished from ilie
towns and houses of honest men, and wandering lu
waste j)laces, far from danger of law, maketli his
mantle his house, andjjnderit covereth hinisell troiu
the wrath of heaven, from the offence of the eaitli,
and trom the sight of men. When it raineth, it is
his jient-house ; when it bloweth, it is his tent ; u lien
it freezeth, it is his tal)eriiacle. In summer, he can
wear it loose; in winter he can wrap it clo^e ; at all
times he can use it ; never heavy, never cumbersome.
Likewise for a rebel it is as serviceable ; for in this
war that he maketh (if at least it deserve the name
of war), when he still ilieth from his foe, and lurketh
in the thick woods and sirait jrassages, waiting for
advantages ; it is his bed, yea, and almost his house-
hold stuff. For the wood is his house against all
weathers, and his mantle is his couch to sleep in ;
therein he wrajipeth himself round, and couchetli
himself strongly agaiii;)t the gnats, which, in that
country, do more annoy the naked rebels, whilst
they keep the woods, and do more sharj)ly wound
them than all their uieniies' swords or spears, which
can seldom come nigh them. Yea, and ofientiiiies
their mantle serveth them when they are near driven,
being wrapped about their left arm, instead of a tar-
get ; for it is hard to cut through with a sword ;
besides, it is li''ht to bear, light to throw away, and

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

<*95

m all. Lastly, for a thief, it is so handsome, as it
being, as thev commonly are, naked, it is to them all
may seem it was first invented for hin> ; for under it
he may cleanly convey any fit pillaoe that cometh
handsomely in his way; and when he goeth abroad
in the niyht in free-booting, it is his best and surest
friend ; for lying, as they often do, two or three
nights together abroad, to watch for their booty, with
that they can prettily shroud themselves under a bush
or a bankside, till they can convenien ly do their
errand ; and when all is over, he can, in his mantle,
pass through any town or company, being close
hooded over his head, as he useth, from knowledge
of any to whom he is endangered. Besides this, he,
or any man else that is disposed to mischief or vil-
lany, may, under his mantle, go privily armed,
without suspicion of any, carry his head-piece, his
skean, or pistol, if he please, to bo always in readi-
ness. Thus necessary and fitting is a mantle for a
bad man, and surely for a bad housewife it is noless
convenient ■, for some of them that be wandering-
women, called of them Mnna-ShuU, it is half a ward-
robe, for in summer you shall find her arrayed com-
monly but in her smock and mantle, to be more
ready for her light services ; in winter and in her
travel, it is her cloak and safeguard, and also a co-
verlet for her lewd exercise ; and wlien she hath
filled her vessel, under it she can hide boih her bur-
den and her blame; yea, and when her bastard is
bom, it serves instead of swaddling clouts. And as
for all other good women which love to do but little
■work, how handsome it is to lie in and sleep, or to
louse themselves in the sunshine, they that have
been but a while in Ireland can well witness. Sure
I am that you will think it very unfit for a good
housewife to stir in, or to busy herself about her
housewifery in such sort as she should. These be
some of the abuses for which I would think it meet
to forbid all mantles.

EuDox. — evil-minded man, that having reckoned
up so many uses of a mantle, will yet wish it to be
abandoned! Sme, I think Diogenes' dish did never
serve his master for more turns, notwithstanding
that he made it his dish, his cup, his cap, his mea-
sure, his wafer])ot, than a mantle doth an Irishman.
But I see thev be most to bad intents, and therefore
I will join with vou in abolishing it. But what blame
lay you to the glihh 1 Take heed, 1 pray you, that you
be nottoobusy therewith, for fearofyour own blame,
seeing our Englishmen take it up in such a general
fashion, to wear their hair so immeasurably long, that
some of them exceed the longest Irish glibbs.

Iren. — I fear not the blame of any undeserved dis-
likes ; but for the Irish glibbs, they are as fit masks
as a mantle is for a thief; for whensoever he hath
run himself into that peril of law that he will not be
known, he either cutteth off liis glibb quite, by
which he becometh nothing like himself, or pulleth
it so low down over his eyes, that it is very hard to
discern his thievish countenance, and therefore fit to
be trussed up with the mantle.

Ei'Dox. — Truly these three Scythian abuses, I
hold most fit to be taken away with sharp penalties,
and sure I wonder how they have been kept thus
long, notwithstanding so many good provisions and
orders as have .been devised for that people.

Iben. — The cause thereof shall ayipear to you here-
after; but let us now go forward with our Scythian
customs, of which the next that I have to treat of is
the manner of laising the cry in their conflicts, and

at other troublesome times of uproar, ihe which is
very natural Scythian, as you may read in Diodorus
Siculus, and in Herodotus, describing the manner
of the Scythians and Parthians coming to give the
charge at battles, at which it is said that they came
running with a terrible yell, as if heaven and earth
would have gone together, which is the very image
of the Irish hubbub, which their kern use at their
first encounter. Besides, the same Herodotus
writeth, that thev used in their battles to call upon
the names of their captains or generals, and some-
times upon their greatest kings deceased, as in that
battle of Thomyris, against Cvrus, which cu^^tom,
to this day, manifestly appeareth amongst the Irish.
For at their joining of battle, they likewise call upon
their captain's name, or the word of his ancestors.
As they, under Oneal, cry Laiindarg-aho, that is, the
Bloody Hand, which is OiieaVs badge, they under
O'Brien call Launlnider, that is, the Strong Hand.
And to their ensample, the old Englisli also which
there reniaineth, have gotten u]) their cries Scythian-
like, as Crom-abo, and Butler-ahn. And here also
lieth open another manifest proof, that the Irish be
Scythes or Scots, for in all their encounters, they
use one very common word, crying ferragh, fer-
ra^h, which is a Scottish word, to wit — tiie name of
one of the first kings of Scotland, called Ferragus,
or Fergus, which fought against the Picts, as you
may read in Buchanan, De Rebus Scotiris ; but as
others write, it was long before that the name of
ehir chief captain under \^ hom they fought against
tlie Africans, the which was then so fortunate unto
them, that ever sithencf, they have used to call
upon his name in their battles.

EuDox. — Believe me, this observation of yours,
Ireneus, is very good and delightful, far beyond
the blind conceit of some, who, I remember, have
upon the same word, ferrugh, made a very blunt
conjecture, as, namely, iMr. Stanihurst, who, though
he be the same countr\man born, that should search
more nearly into the secret of these things, yet hath
strayed from the truth all the heavens wide, as they
say, for he thereupon groundeth a verv gross ima-
gination, that the Irish should descend from the
Egyptians w hich came into that island; first under
the leading of one Scota, the daughter of Pharaoh;
whereupon they use, saifh he, in all their battles, to
call u)K)n the name of Pharaoh, crying Fenagh,
Ferragh. Surely he shoots wide on the bow-hand,
and very far from the mark. For I would first
know of him what ancient ground of auttiorily he
hath for such a senseless fable, and if he I ave any
of the rude Irish books, as it may be he haiii, yet,
meseems, that a man of his learning should not so
lightly have been carried away with old wives' tales,
from approvanceof his own reason ; for whether it
be a smack of any learned judgment to say that
Si Ota is like an Egyptian word, let the learned
judge. But his Scota rather comes of the Greek
okotQ, that is, darkness, which hath not let him see
the light of the truth.

Ihen. — You know not, Eudoxus, how well I\I.
Stan, could see in the dark ; perhajis he bath ovi-ls
or cats' eyes ; but well I wot he seeth not well tiie
very light in matters of more weight. But as for
Ferragh, i have told my conjecture onlv, and yet
thus much I have more to jirove a likelihood, that
there be yet at this day in Ireland manv Irishmen,
chiefly in the northern parts, called by the name of
Fenagh. But let that now be ; this only for ihia

496

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

plact' srifficeih, tir.it it is a word used in their com-
mon liuhbuhs, the uhicli, with all the rest, is to be
abolished, for that it discnverelh an afl'ectation to
Irish ciiptainry, which in this platform I endeavour
speciallv to iieat down. There be other sorts of
cries also used amons:st the Irish, which savour
greutlv of tlip Scythian b-.!' harism, as their lamenta-
tions at their biirials. with despairful outcries and
immoderate wailings, the which Mr. Stanihurst might
also have used for an argument to prove them
Egvplians. For so in Scripture it is mentioned,
that the F.ijviitians lamented for the death of .loseidi.
Others think this custom to come from the Spa-
niards, for that they do immeasurably likewise be-
wail their dead ; but the same is not proper Spanish,
but idtogether heathenish; brought in thither, first,
either by the Scythians, or the Moors that were
Africans, and long possessed that country. For it is
the manner of all Pagans and Infidels to be intem-
perate in their wailinors of their dead, for that they
had no faith nor hope of salvation. And this ill cus-
tom also is specially noted by Diodorus Siculus, to
have been in the Scythians, and is yet amongst the
northern Scots at this day, as you may read in their
cLronicles.

EuDox. — This is sure an ill custom also, but yet
doth not so much concern civil reformation, as abuses
in religion.

Ipfn. — I did not rehearse it as one of the abuses
which 1 thought most worthy of reformation ; but
having miide mention of Irish cries, I thought this
manner of lewd crying and howling, not imperti-
nent to be noted, as uncivil and Scythian-like: for
bv these old customs, and other like conjectural cir-
cumstances, the descents of nations can only be
proved, where other monuments of writings are not
remaining.

Euuox. — Then (I pray you) whensoever in your
discourse you meet with them by the way, do not
shun, but boldly touch them : for besides their great
pleasure and delight for their antiquity, they bring
also great profit and help unto civility.

luEN. — Then sith you will have it so, I will here
take occasion, since I lately spake of their manner of
cries in joining of battle, to speak also somewhat of
the manner of their arms, and array in battle, with
other customs perhaps worthy the noting. And first
of their arms and weapons, amongst which their
broad-swords are proper Scythian ; for such the
Scyths used commonlv, as you may read in Olaus
Magnus; and the same also the old Scots used, as
you may read in Buchanan, and in Solinus, where
the pictures of them are in the same form expressed.
Also their short bows, and little quivers, with short
bearded arrows, are very Scythian, as you may read
in the same Olaus. And the same sort both of bows,
quivers, and arrows, are at this day to be seen com-
monly amongst the Northern Irish-Scots, whose
Scottish bows are not past three (juarters of a yard
long, with a string of wreathed hemp slackly bent,
and whose arrows are not much above half an ell
loiii;, tipped with steel heads, made like common
broad arrow-heads, but much more sharp and slen-
der ; that they enter into a man or horse most cruelly,
DOtwilhstanding that they are shot forth weakly.
Moreover, their long broad shields, made up with
wicker rods, which are commonly used amongst the
said Northern Irisli, but especially of the Scots, are
brought from the Scvthians, as you may read in Olaus
Magnus, Roliuus, and others : likewise their goinjj

to battle without armour on their bodies oi heads,
but trusting to the thickness of their glibs, the which
ftliey say) wdl sometimes bear oflf a good stroke, is
mere Scythian, as you may see in tlie said images 0/
the old Scythes or Scots, set forth by Herodianus
and others, besides, their confused kind of march,
in heaps, without any order or array, their clashing
of swords together, their fierce running upon their
enemies, and their manner of fight, resembleth alto-
gether that which is read in histories to have beei
used of the Scythians. By which it may almost in-
fallibly be gathered, together with other circum-
stances, that the Irish are very Scots or Scythes
originally, though silhence intermingled with many
other nations rejiairini; and joining unto them. And
to these I may also add anoiher strong conjecture
which Cometh to my mind, that I have often ob-
served there amongst them ; that is, certain religious
ceremonies, which are very superstitiously yet used
amongst them ; the which are also written by sundry
authors, to have been observed amongst the Scythians,
by which it may very vehemently be presumed tliat,
the nations were anciently all one. For Plutarch (as
I remember) in his treatise of Homer, endeavouring
to search out the truth, what countryman Homer
was, jirovelh it most strongly (as he thinketh) that
he was an ^Eolian born, for that in describing n sa-
crifice of the Greeks, he omitted the loin, the which
all the other Grecians (saving the ^"Eolians) use to
burn in their sacrifices : also for that he makes the
entrails to be roasted on five spits, which was the
proper manner of the .iEolians, who only, of all
the nations of Grecia, used to sacrifice in that
sort. By which he inferreth necessarily, that Homer
was an ^olian. And by the same reason may I
as reasonably conclude, that the Irish are descended
from the Scythians ; for that they use (even to this
day) some of the same ceremonies which the Scjthians
anciently used. As, for example, you may read in ■
Lucian, in that sweet dialogue, which is entitled
Toxaris, or of friendship, that the common oath of the
Scythians was by the sword, and by the fire ; for that
they accounted those two special Divine Powers,
which should work vengeance on the perjurers. So
do the Irish at this day, when they go to battle, say
certain prayers or charms to their swords, making a
cross therewith upon the earth, and thrusting the
points of their blades into the ground, thinking
thereby to have the better success in fight. Also
they use commonly to swear by their swords. Also
the Scythians used, when they would bind any so-
lemn vow or combination amongst them, to drink a
bowl of blood together, vowing thereby to spend
their last blood in that (juarrel : and even so do
the wild Scots, as you may read in Buchanan ;
and some of the Northern Irish. Likewise at the
kindling of the fire, and lighting of candles, they
say certain j)rayers, and use some other stipersti-
tious rites, which show that they honour the fire
and the light: for all those northern nations having
been used to ho annoyed with much cold and dark-
ness, are wont therefore to have the fire and tha
sun in great veneration : like as contrary wise the
Moors and Egyptians, which are much offended
and grieved with extreme heat of the sun, do every
morning when the sun ariseth, fall to cursing and
banning of him as their plague. You may also
read in the same book, in the tale of Arsacoraas,
that it was the manner of the Scythians, when anv
one of them was heavily wronged, and would at-

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

49;

eemble unto him any forces of people to join with
him in his revenge, to sit in some public place for
certain days upon an ox-hide, to which there would
resort all such persons as, being disposed to take
arms, would enter into his pay, or join with him in
his quarrel. And the same you may likewise read
to have been the ancient manner of the wild Scots,
which are indeed the very natural Irish. More-
over, the Scythians used to swear by their king's
hand, as Olaus showeth. And so do the Irish use
now to swear by their lord's hand ; and to forswear
it, hold it more criminal than to swear by God.
Also the Scythians said, tliat thev were once a-year
turned into wolves, and so is it written of the Irish,
though Master Camden in a better sense doth sup-
pose it was a disease, called Lj'canthropia, so named
of the wolf. And yet some of the Irish do use to
make the wolf their gossip. The Scythians used
also to seeth the flesh in tlie hide; and so do the
northern Irish. The Scythians used to draw the
blood of the beast living, and to make meat thereof;
and so do the Irish in the north still. Many such
customs I could recount unto you, as of their old
manner of marrying, of burying, of dancing, of
singing, of feasting, of cursing, though Christians
have wiped out the most part of them : by resem-
blance whereof it might plainly appear to you, that
the nations are the same, but that by the reckoning
of these few, which I have told unto you, I find
my speech drawn out to a greater length than I
purposed. Thus much only for this time, I hope,
shall suffice you, to think that the Irish are anciently
deduced from the Scythians.

EuDox. — Surely, Ireneus, I have heard, in these
few words, that from you which I would have
thought had been impossible to have been spoken
of times so remote, and customs so ancient : with
delight whereof I was all that while as it were en-
tranced, and carried so far from myself, as that I am
now right sorry that you ended so soon. But I
marvel much how it cometh to pass, that in so long
continuance of time, and so many ages come be-
tween, yet any jot of those old rites and supersti-
tious customs should remain amongst them.

InEN. — It is no cause of wonder at all, for it is
the manner of many nations to be very supersti-
tious, and diligent observers of old customs and
antiquities, which they receive by continual tradi-
tions from their parents, bv recording of their bards
and chronicles, in their songs, and by daily use and
ensample of their elders.

EuDox. — But have you (I pray you) observed
any such customs amongst them, brought likewise
from the Spaniards or Gauls, as these from the
Scythians ? that may sure be very material to your
first purpose.

Iren. — Some perhaps I have, and who that will
by this occasion more diligently mark and compare
their customs, shall find many more. But there
are fewer remaining of the Gauls or Spaniards,
than of the Scythians, by reason that the parts
which they then possessed, lying upon the coast
of the western and southern sea, were sithence
visited with strangers and foreign people, repairing
thither for traffic, and for fishing, which is very
plentiful upon those coasts : for the trade and in-
tsrdeal of sea-coast nations one with another,
worketh more civility and good fashions Call
seamen being naturally desirous of new fashions),
than amongst the inland folk, which are seldom

seen of foreigners ; yet some of such as I have
noted, I will recount unto you. And first I will
for the better credit of the rest, show you one,
out of their statutes, among which it is enacted
that no man shall wear his beard, only on the upper
lip, shaving all his chin. And this was the ancient
manner of the Spaniards, as yet it is of all the 31a-
hometans, to cut ofi"all their beards close, save only
their mustachios which they wear long. And the
cause of this use was, for that they being bred
in a hot country, found much hair on their faces and
other parts, to be noyous unto them ; for which
cause thev did cut it most away : like as (ontrarily
all other nations brought up in cold countries, do use
to nourish their hair, to keep them the warmer ; which
was the cause that the Scythians and Scots wore
glibbs (as I showed you) to keep their heads warm,
and long beards, to defend their faces from cold.
From them also (I think) came saflfron shirts and
smocks, which were devised by them in those hot
countries, where saffron is very common and rife,
for avoiding that evil which cometh by much sweat-
ing, and long wearing of linen : also the woman
amongst the old Spaniards had the charge of all
household affairs, both at home and abroad (as
Boemus writeth), though now the S])aniards use it
quite otherwise. And so have the Irish women the
trust and care of all things, both at home, and in the
field. Likewise round leather targets is tlie Spanish
fashion, who used it (for the most part ) painted,
which in Ireland they use also in many places, co-
loured after their rude fashion. Moreover, the
manner of their women's riding on the wrong side
of the horse, I mean with their faces towards the right
side, as the Irish use, is (as they say) old Spanish,
and some say African, forso amongst them the women
(they say) use to ride. Also the deep smock sleeve,
which the Irish women use, they say was old Sjmnish,
and is used yet in Barbary : and yet that should
seem rather to be an old English fashion ; for in
armory the fashion of the Manche, which is given
in arms, by many, being indeed nothing else but a
sleeve, is fashioned much like to that sleeve. And
that knights in ancient times used to wear their mis-
tresses or loves' sleeve upon their arms ;asappeareth
by that which is written of Sir Lcuncelot, that he
wore the sleeve of the fair iMaid of Asteloth in a tour-
ney, whereat Queen Guenever was much displeased.

EuDox. — Your conceit is good, and well fitting
for things so far grown from certainty of knowledge
and learning only upon likelihoods and conjectures.
But have you any customs remaining from the Gauls
or Britains?

Iren. — I have observed a few of either ; and who
will belter search into them, may find more : And
first, the profession of their bards was (as Cesar
writeth) usual amongst the Gauls, and the same was
also common amongst the Britains, and is not vet
altogether left off with the Welsh.which are their
posterity. For all the fashions of the Gauls and
Britains, as he testifieth, were much like. The long
darts came also from the Gauls, as you may read in
the same Cffisar, and in Jo. Boemus. Likewise the
said Jo. Boemus writeth, that the Gauls used swords
a handful broad, and so do the Irish now. Also
they used long wicker shields in battle, that should
cover their whole bodies, and so do the northern
Irish. But I have not seen such fashioned targets
used in the southern parts, but only amongst the
northern people, and Irish Scots : I do think that

498

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

they were brought in rather by the Scythians than
by the Gauls. Also the Gauls used to drink their
enemies' blood, and paint themselves therewith. So
also they write, that the old Irish were wont, and
so have I seen some of the Irish do, but not their
enemies', but friends' blood : as namely, at the exe-
cution of a notable traitor at Limerick called Mur-
rough o'Brien, I saw an old woman, which was his
foster-mother, take up his head, whilst he was quar-
tered, and suckedup all the blood that ran thereout,
saying, that the earth was not worthy to drink it ;
and therewith also steeped her face and breast, and
tore her hair, crying out and shrieking most ter-
ribly.

EuDox. — You have very well run through such
customs as the Irish have derived from the lirst old
nations which inhabited the land ; namely, the
Scythians, the Spaniards, the Gauls, and the
Britains. It now remaineth that you take in hand
the customs of the old English which are amongst
the Irish ; of which 1 do not think that you shall
have much cause to find fault with, considering that
by the English most of the old bad Irish customs
!\-ere abolished, and more civil fashions brought in
their stead.

Iren. — You think otherwise, Eudoxus, than I do ;
for the cbiefest abuses which are now in that realm,
atre grown from the English, and some of them are
now much more lawless and licentious than the
very wild Irish ! so that as much care as was by
them had to reform the Irish, so and much more
must now be used to reform them ; so much time
doth alter the manners of men.

EuDox. — That seemeth very strange which you
say, that men should so much degenerate from their
first natures, as to grow wild.

Iren. — So much can liberty and ill examples do.

EuDox. — What liberty had the English there,
more than they had here at home? Were not the
laws planted amongst them at the first, and had they
not governors to curb and keep them still in awe
and obedience?

luEN. — They had, but it was for the most part
such as did more hurt than good ; for theyhad gov-
ernors for the most part of themselves, and commonly
out of the two families of the Geraldines and But-
lers, both adversaries and co-rivals one against the
other ; who though for the most part they were but
deputies under some of the kings of England's sons,
brethren, or other near kinsmen, who were the
king's lieutenants ; yet they swayed so much, as
ihey had all the rule, and the others but the title.
Df which Butlers and Geraldines, albeit (I must
confess) there were very brave and worthy men, as
also of other the peers of that realm, made Lord
Deputies and Lord Justices, at sundry times; yet
tijrough greatness of their late conquests and seig-
niories, they grew insolent, and bent both the regal
aulhorily and also their private ])0vvers one against
another, to the utter subversion of themselves, and
strengthening of the Irish again. This you may
read plainly discovered by a letter written from the
citizens ot Cork, out of Ireland, to the Earl of
Shrewsbury, then in England, and remaining yet
upon record, both in the Tower of i^ondon, and also
among the Chronicles of Ireland ; wherein it is by
them complained, that the English lords and gentle-
men, who then had great possessions in Ireland,
began, tiirough pride and insoleiicy, to make private
wars one agaiust another; and when either part was

weak, they would wage and draw in the Irish to take
their part, by which means thev both greatly en-
couraged and enabled the Irish, which till that time
had been shut up within the mountains of Slew-
longer, and weakened and disabled themselves, in
somuch that their revenues were wonderfully im-
paired, and some of them which are there reckoned
to have been able to have spent twelve or thirteen
hundred pounds per annum of old rent (that I may
say no more) besides their commodities of creeks and
havens, were now scarce able to dispend the third
part, from which disorder, and through other huge-
calamities which have come upon them thereby,
they are almost now grown like the Irish — I mean of
such English aswere plantedabove towards the west ;
for the English pale hath preserved itself through
the nearness of the State, in reasonable civility ;
but the rest which dwelt in Connaught and in Mun-
ster, which is the sweetest soil of Ireland, and some
in Leinster and Ulster, are degenerate ; yea, and some
of them have quite shaken off their English names,
and put on Irish, that they might be altogether
Irish. (

Eitdox. — Is it possible that any should so far grow
out of frame, that they should, in so short space,
quite forget their country and their own name .'
1 hat is a most dangerous lethargy, much worse than
that of ]Messala Corvinus, who being a most learned
man, through sickness forgot his own name. But
can you count us any of this kind ?

Iren. — I cannot, but by report of the Irish them-
selves, who report, that the Mac-mahons in the North
were anciently English ; to wit, descended from the
Fitz-Ursulas, which was a noble lamily in England ;
and that the same appeareth by the signification of
their Irish names. Likewise that the Mac-swyoics,
now in Ulster, were anciently of the Veres in Eng-
land ; but that they themselves for hatred of the
English, so disguised their names.

EuDox. — Could they ever conceive anv such dis-
like of their own natural countries, as that they
would be ashamed of their name, and bite at the dug
from which they sucked life ?

Iren. — I wot well there should be none; but
proud hearts do oftentimes (like wanton colts) kick
at their mothers : as we read Alcibiades and Themis-
totles did, who being banished out of Athens, fled
unto the kings of Asia, and there stirred them up
to war against their country, in which wars they
themselves were chieftains. So they say did these
INlac-swynes and Wac-mahons, or rather Veres and
Fitz-Ursulas, for private despight, turn themselves
against England. For at such time as Robert Vere
Earl of Oxford was, in the barons' wars against
King Richard the Second, through the malice of the
peers, banished the realm, and proscribed, he with
his kinsman Fitz-Ursula fled into Ireland; where
being prosecuted, and afterwards in England put to
deatli, his kinsman there remaining behind in Ireland
rebelled, and conspiring with the lri,~h, did quite cast
oft" both their English name and allegiance : since
which time they have so remained still, and have since
been counted mere Irish. The very like is also re-
ported of the Mac-swynes, Mac-m.ihones, and IMac-
shehies of Munster, how they likewise were an-
ciently English, and old followers to the Earl of
Desmond, until the reign of King Edward the
Fourth : at v^'hich time the Earl of Desmond that
then was, called Ihomas, being through false subor-
nation (as they say) of the queen, for some otfetce

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF [RELAND.

499

by her against bim conceived, brought to his death
at Tredagh most unjustly, notwithstanding that he
was a very good and sound subject to the king;
thereupon all his kinsmen of the Geraldines, which
then was a mighty family in IMunster, in revenge of
that huge wrong, rose into arms against tlie king,
and utterly renounced and forsook all obedience to
the crown of England ; to whom the said Mac-
swynes, ]Mac-shehies,and Mac-mahones, being then
servants and followers, did the like and have ever
sithence so continued. And with them (they say)
all thepeopleofMunster went out, and many other of
them which were mere English, thenceforth joined
with the Irish against the king, and termed them-
selves very Irish, taking on them Irish habits and
customs, which could never since be clean wiped
away ; but the contagion hath remained still amongst
their posterities. Of which sort (they say) be most
of the sirnames which end in an, as Hernan, Shinan,
IMungan, &c., the which now account themselves
natural Irish. Other great houses there be of the
English in Ireland, which through licentious con-
versing with the Irish, or marrying, or fostering
with them, or lack of meet nurture, or other such
unhappy occasions, have degenerated from their
ancient dignities, and are now grown as Irish as
O'Hanlon's Breech, as the proverb there is.

EuDOx. — In truth this which you tell is a most
shameful hearing, and to be reformed with most
sharp censures in so great personages, to the terror
of the meaner; for if the lords and chief men dege-
nerate, what shall be hoped of the peasants and
baser people? And hereby sure you have made a
fair way unto yourself, to lay open the abuses of
their evil customs, which you have now next to de-
clare ; the which, no doubt, but are very bad, being
borrowed from the Irish, as their apparel, their lan-
guage, their ridmg, and many other the like.

Iren. — You cannot but hold them sure to be very
uncivil ; for were they at the best that they were of
old, when they were brought in, they should in so
long an alteration of time seem very uncouth and
strange. For it is to be thought, that the use of all
England was (in the reign of Henry the Second,
when Ireland was planted with English) very rude
and barbarous ; so as if the same should be now
used in England by any, it would seem worthy of
sharp correction, and of new laws for reformation ;
for it is but even the other day since England grew
civil. Therefore in counting the evil customs of the
English there, I will not have regard, whether the
beginning thereof were Englih or Irish, but will
have respect only to the inconvenience thereof.
And first I have to find fault with the abuse of lan-
guage ; that is, for the speaking of Irish among the
English, which, as It is unnatural th;it any people
should love another's language more than their own,
so it is very inconvenient, and the cause of many
Other evils.

EuDox. — It seemeth strange to me, that the Eng-
lish should take more delight to speak that language
than their own ; whereas the) should (methinks)
rather take scorn to inure their tongues thereto. For
it hath ever been the use of the conqueror, to des-
pise the language of tlie conquered, and to force
bim by all means to learn his ; so did the Romans
always use, insomuch that there is almost no nation
in the world, but is sprinkled with their language.
It were good therefore (meseems) to search out the
original cause of this evil ; for the same being dis-

covered, a redress thereof will the more easily be
provided : for I think it very strange, that the
English being so manv, and the Irish so few as they
then were left, the fewer should draw the more unto
their use.

Ihen. — I suppose that the chief cause of bringing
in the Irish language amongst them, vi-as specially
their fostering and marrying with the Irish, the
which are two most dangerous infections : for first,
the child that sucketh the milK of the nurse, must
of necessity learn his first speech of her : the which
being the first inured to his tongue, is ever after
most pleasing unto him : insomuch, as though he
afterwards he taught English, yet the smack of the
first will always abide with him ; and not only of
the speech, but also of the manners and conditions.
For besides that young children be like apes, which
will affect and imitate what they see done before
them, especially by their nurses, whom they love so
well : they moreover draw into themselves, toge-
ther with their suck, even the nature and disposition
of their nurses : for the mind followeth much the
temperature of the body, and also the words are the
image of the mind, so as they proceeding from the
mind, the mind must needs be affected with the
words : so that the speech being Irish, the heart
must needs be Irish ; for out of the abundance of
the heart, the tongue speaketh. The next is, the
marrying with the Irish, which how dangerous a
thing it is in all commonwealths, appeareth to everv
simplest sense ; and though some great ones have
perhaps used such matches with their vassals, and
have of them nevertheless raised worthy issue, as
Telamon did with Tecmessa, Alexander the Great
with Roxana, and Julius Caesar with Cleopatra; yet
the example is so perilous, as it is not to be adven-
tured : for instead of those few good, I could count
unto them infinite many evil. And indeed how can
such matching succeed well, seeing that commonly
the child taketh most of his nature of the mother,
besides speech, manners, and inclination, which are
(for the most part) agreeably to the conditions of
their mothers? for by them they are first framed
and fashioned, so as what they receive once from
them, they will hardly ever after forego. Therefore
are these evil customs of fostering and marrying
with the Irish, most carefully to be restrained : for
of them two, the third evil, that is, the custom of
language (which I spake of), cliiefiy proceedeth.

EuDox. — But are there not laws already provided
for avoiding of this evil?

Ihen. — Yes, I think there be ; but as good never
a whit as never the better: for what do statutes
avail without penalties, or laws without charge of
execution ? For so there is another like law enac-
ted against wearing of the Irish apparel, but ne-
vertliemore is it observed by, or executed by thtm
that have the charge ; for thev in their private dis-
cretions think it not fit to be forced upon the poor
wretches of that country, which are not worth the
price of F.nglish apparrel, nor expedient to be prac-
tised against the abler sort, by reason that the coun-
try (say they) doth yield no better; and were there
better to be had, yet these were fitter to be used : as
namely, the mantle in travelling ; because there be
DO inns where meet bedding may be had, so that his
mantle serves him then for a bed. The leather-
quilted Jack in journeying and in camping, for that
it is fittest to be under his shirt of mail, and for any
occasion of sudden service, as there happen many^

500

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

to cover his trouse on liorseback. The great linen-
roll, which the women wear to keep their heads
warm, after cutting their hair, which they use in any
sickness. Besides their thick-foldi-d linen shirts,
their long-sleeved smocks, their half sleeved coats,
their silken fillets, and all the rest, they will devise
some colour for, either of necessity, or of antiquity,
or of comeliness.

EuDOX. — But what colour soever they allege, me-
tbinks it not expedient that the execution of a law
once ordained, should be left to the discretion of
the judge, or officer; but that without partiality or
regard, it should be fulfilled as well on English as
Irish.

Iren. — But they think thispreciseness in reform-
ation of apparel, not to be so material, or greatly
pertinent.

Etidox. — Yes surely, but it is ; for men's apparel
is commonly made according to their conditions, and
their conditions are oftentimes governed by their
garments ; for the person that is gowned, is by his
gown put in mind of gravity, and also restrained
from lightness, by the very unaptness of his weed.
Therefore it is written by Aristotle, that when Cyrus
had overcome the Lydians, that were a warlike na-
tion, and devised to bring them to a more peaceable
life, he changed their apparel and music, and instead
of their short warlike coat, clothed them in long
garments like women : and instead of their warlike
music, appointed to them certain lascivious lays,
and loose jigs ; by which, in short space, their
minds were so mollified and abated, that they
forgot their former fierceness, and became most
tender and effeminate. Whereby it appearetb,
that there is not a little in the garment to the
fashioning of the mind and conditions. But be
these, which you have described, the fashions of the
Irish weeds?

Iren. — No : all these which I have rehearsed to
you be not Irish garments, but English ; for the
quilted leather-jack is old English ; for it was the
proper weed of the horseman, as you may read in
Chaucer, when he describeth Sir Thoj)as's apparel
and armour, as he went to fight against the giant in
his robe of shecklaton, which is that kind of gilded
leather with which they use to embroider their Irish
jackets. And there likewise by all that description,
you may see the very fashion and manner of the
Irish horseman most truly set forth in his long hose,
bis riding shoes of costly cordwain, his hacqueton,
and his habergeor, with all the rest thereunto be-
longing.

EuDOx. — I surely thought that the manner had
been Irish, for it is far difTering from that we have
now ; as also all the furniture of his horse, his strong
brass bit, his sliding reins, his shank pillion with-
out stirrups, his manner of mounting, his fashion of
riding, his charging of bis spear aloft above-head,
the form of his spear.

Irf.n. — No, sure, they be native English, and
brought in by the Englishmen first into Ire-
land : neither is the same accounted an uncomely
manner of riding; for I have heard some great
warriors say, that in all the services whicli they had
seen abroad in foreign countries, they never saw a
more comely man than the Irishman, nor that
Cometh on more bravely in his charge : neither is his
manner of mounting unseemly, though he lack
stirrups, but more ready than with stirru])s ; for in
his getting up, his horse is still going, whereby he

gaineth way ; and therefore the stirrup was called
so in scorn, as it were a stay to get up, being de-
rived of the old English word sty ; which is, to get
up, or mount.

EuDOx. — It seemeth then that you find no fault
with this manner of riding : why then would you
have the quilted-jack laid away?

IiiEN. — I do not wi.sh it to be laid away, but the
abuse thereof to be put away ; for being used to
the end that it was framed, that is, to be worn in
war under a shirt of mail, it is allowable: as also
the shirt of mail, and all his other furniture : but
to be worn daily at home, and in towns and civil
places, is a rude habit, and most uncomely, seeming
like a player's painted coat.

EuDox. — But it is worn (they say) likewise of Irish
footmen ; how do you allow of that ? for I should
think it very unseemly.

Iren. — No, not as it is used in war ; for it is
worn then likewise of footmen under their shirts of
mail, the which footmen they call gallowglasses;
the which name doth discover them also to be an-
cient English ; for gallogla signifies an English
servitor or yeoman ; and he being so armed in a
long shirt of mail down to the calf of his leg, with a
long broad axe in his hand, was then Pedes gravis
armaiura (and was instead of the footman that
now weareth a corslet) before the corslet was used,
or almost invented.

EuDox. — Then him, belike, you likewise allow in
your strait reformation of old customs.

Iren. — Both him and the kern also (whom only
I take to be the proper Irish soldier) can I allow, so
that they use that habit and custom of theirs in the
wars only, when they are led forth to the service of
their prince, and not usually at home, and in civil
places ; and besides, do lay aside the evil and wild
uses which the galloglasse and kern do use in
their common trade of life.

EuDOx. — What be those?

Iren. — Marry, those be the most barbarous and
loathly conditions of any people, I think, under
heaven ; for, from the time that they enter into that
course, they do use all the beastly behaviour that
may be : they oppress all men — they spoil as well
the subject as the enemy — they steal — they are
cruel and bloody, full of revenge, and delighting in
deadly execution ; licentious, swearers, and blas-
phemers, common ravishers of women, and mur-
derers of children.

EuDox. — These be most villanous conditions. I
marvel, then, that they be ever used or employed,
or almost suffered to live. What good can there
then be in them ?

Iren. — Yet sure thev are very valiant and hardy,
for the most jtart great endurers of cold, labour,
hunger, and all hardiness, very active and strong of
hand, very swift of foot, very vigilant and circum-
spect in their enterprises, very present in perils,
very great scorners of death.

KuDox. — Truly, by this that you say, it seems
that the Irishman is a very brave soldier.

Iren. — Yea, surely, in that rude kind of service,
he bearetb himself very courageously. But when
he cometh to experience of service abroad, or is put
to a piece, or a pike, he maketh as worthy a soldier
as any nation he meeteth with. But let us, 1 pray
you, turn again to our discourse of evil customs
amongst the Irish.

EvDox. — Methinks all this which you speak o*

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

601

concerneth the customs of the Irish very materially ;
for tbeir uses in war are of no small importance to
be considered, as well to reform those which are
evil, as to confirm and continue those which are
good. But follow you your own course, and show
what other their customs you iiave to dislike of.

Iren. — I'here is amongst the Irish a certain kind
of people called bards, which are to them instead
of poets, whose profession is to set forth the praises
or dispraises of men in their poems or rhythms, the
which are had in so higl) regard and estimation
amongst them, that none dare displease them, for
fear to run into reproach through their offence, and
to be made infamous in the mouths of all men. For
their verses are taken up with a general applause,
and usually sung at all feasts and meetings by cer-
tain other persons, whose proper function that is,
who also receive for the same great rewards and re-
putation amongst them.

EuDox. — Do you blame this in them, which I
would otherwise have thought to have been worthy
of good account, and rather to have been maintained
and augmented amongst them, than to have been
disliked ; for I have read, tliat in all ages poets have
been had in special reputation, and that, methiiiks,
not without great cause ; for, besides their sweet
inventions and most witty lays, they have always
used to set forth the praises of the good and virtu-
ous, and to beat down and disgrace the bad and
vicious. So that many brave young minds have
oftentimes, through hearing the praises and famous
eulogies of worthy men sung, and reported unto
them, been stirred up to affect the like commenda-
tions, and so to strive to the like deserts. So they
say, that the Lacedemonians were more excited to
the desire of honour with the excellent verses of the
poet Tirtaeus, thun with all the exliortaiions of their
captains, or authority of their rulers and magis-
trates.

Ihen. — It is most true, that such poets as in their
writings do labour to better the manners of men,
and through the sweet bait of their numbers to
steal into the young spirits a desire of honour and
virtue, are worthy to be h;id in great respect. But
these Irish bards are for the most part of another
mind, and so far from instructing young men in
moral discipline, that they themselves do more de-
serve to be sharply disciplined : for they seldom
use to choose unto themselves the doings of good
meri for the arguments of their poems, but whom-
soever they find to be most licentious of life, most
bold and lawless in his doings, most dangerous and
desperate in all parts of disobedience and rebellious
dispooition ; him they set up and glorify in their
rhymes ; him they praise to tlie people, and to young
men make an example to follow.

EuDox. — I marvel what kind of speeches they
can find, or what faces they can put on, to praise
such bad persons, as live so lawlessly and licen-
tiously upon stealths and spoils, as most of them do ;
or how can they think that any good mind will
applaud or approve the same?

Iren. — There is none so bad, Eudoxus, but shall
find some to favour his doings ; but such licentious
parts as these, tending for the most part to the hurt
of the English, or maintenance of their own lewd
liberty, they themselves being most desirous thereof,
do most allow. Besides this, evil things being
decked and attired with the gay attire of goodly
words, may easily deceive, and carry away the

affection of a voung mind, that is not well stayed,
but desirous, by some bold adventures, to make proof
of him-elf ; for being, as they all be, brought up
idlv, without awe of parents, without precepts of
masters, and without fear of offence : not being di-
rected, nor employed in any course of life which
may carry them to virtue, will easily be drawn to
follow such as any shall set before them ; for a
young mind cannot rest; if he be not still busied in
some goodness, he will find himself such busine.ss
as shall soon busy all about him: in which, if he
shall find any to praise him, and to give him encou-
ragement, as those bards and rhymers do for little
reward, or a share of a stolen cow : then waxeth he
most insolent and half mad with the love of himself
and his own lewd deeds. And as for words to set
forth such lewdness, it is not hard for them to give
a goodly and painted show thereunto, borrowed even
from the praises which are proper to virtue itself.
As of a most notorious thief and wicked outlaw,
which had lived all his life-time of spoils and rob-
beries, one of their bards in his praise will say, that
he was none of the idle milk-sops that was brought
up by the fire-side, but that most of his days he
spent in arms and valiant enterprises ; that he did
never eat his meat before he had won it with his
sword ; that he lay not all night slugging in a cabin
under his mantle, b'atused commonly to keep others
waking to defend their lives, and did light his can-
dle at the flames of their houses, to lead him in the
darkne.ss ; that the day was his night, and the night
his day ; that he loved not to be long wooing of
wenches to yield to him, but where he came, he
took by force the spoil of other men's love, and left
but lamentation to their lovers ; that his music was
not the harp, nor lays of love, but the cries of peo-
ple, and clashing of armour ; and, finally, that he
died, not bewailed of many, but made many wail
when he died, that dearly bought his death. Do
you not think, Eudoxus, that many of these praises
mignt be applied to men of best deserts? yet are
they all yielded to a most notable traitor, and
amongst some of the Irish not smally accounted of.
For the song, when it was first made and sung to a
person of high degree there, was bought, as their
manner is, for forty crowns.

EuDOX. — And well worthy, sure. But tell me, 1
pray you, have they any art in their compositions, or
be they any thing witty or well favoured, as poems
should be ?

Iren. — Yea, truly, I have caused divers of them
to be translated unto me, that I might understand
them, and surely they savoured of sweet wit and
good invention, but skilled not of the goodly orna-
ments of poetry ; yet were they sprmkled with some
pretty flowers of their natural device, which gave
good grace and comeliness unto them, the which it
is great pity to see so abused, to the gracing of
wickedness and vice, which with good usage would
serve to adorn and beautify virtue. This evil cus-
tom therefore needeth reformation. And now next
after the Irish kern, methinks the Irish horse-boys
would come well in order ; the use of wliich, though
necessity (as times now be) do enforce, yet in the
thorougli reformation of that realm, they should be
cut off. For the cause why they are now to be per-
mitted, is want of convenient inns for lodging ol
triivellers on horseback, and of hostlers to tend theil
horses by the way. But when things shall be re-
duced to a better pass, this needeth specially to be

5C2

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

ref.-^rmed. For out of the fry of these rake-hell
borse-bovs, growing up in knavery and villany, are
their ker'a contiuually supplied and maintained. For
havin°- been once brought up an idle horse-bay, he
will never after fall to labour, but is only made fit
for the halter. And these also (the which is one
foul oversight) are, for the most part, bred up
amon<^st the Englishmen ; of whom learning to
shoot in a piece, and being made acquainted with
all the trades of the English, they are afterwards,
when thev become kern, made more fit to cut their
throats. Next to this, there is another much like,
but much more lewd and dishonest, and that is, of
their carraus ; which is a kind of people that wan-
der up and down to gentlemen's houses, living only
upon cards and dice ; the which, though they have
little or nothing of their own, yet will they play for
much monev ; which, if they win, they waste most
lishtlv ; and if they lose, they pay as slenderly, but
make recompence with one stealth or another ;
whose only hurt is, not that they themselves are
idle lossel's, but that through gaming, they draw
others to like lewdness and idleness. And to these
may be added, another sort of like loose fellows,
which do pass up and down amongst gentlemen by
the name of jesters, but are, indeed, notable rogues,
and partakers not only of many stealths, by setting
forth other men's goods to be stolen, but also privy
to many traitorous practices, and common carriers
of news; with desire whereof you would wonder
how much the Irish are fed ; for tliey send commonly
up and down to know news ; and if any meet with
another, his second word is, " W hat news ?" inso-
much that hereof is told a pretty jest of a French-
man, who having been sometimes in Ireland, where
he marked their great inquiry for news ; and meet-
in'^ afterwards in France an Irishman, whom he
knew in Ireland, first saluted bim, and afterwards
said thus merrily, " O, sir, I pray you tell me, of
courtesy, liave you beard anything of the news that
you so much inquired for in your couptry ?"

EuDOx. — This argueth sure in them a gp-eat de-
sire of innovation, and, therefore, these occasions
which nourish the same must be taken away -, as
namely, those jesters, carrows, mona-shutes, and all
such strai^^lers ; for whom, methinks, the short rid-
dance of a marshal were meeter. than an ordinance
or prohibition to restrain them. I herefore, I pray
you, leave all this rabblement of runagates, and
pass to other customs.

Iii£v. — There is a great use amongst the Irish, to
make great assemblies together upon a rath or hill,
there to parley, as they say, about matters and
wrongs between township and township, or one
private person and another. But well I wot, and
true it hath been oftentimes proved, that in their
meetings many mischiefs have been both practised
and wrought ; for to them do commonly resort all
the scum of the people, where they may meet and
confer of what they list, whicli else they could not
do without suspicion or knowledje of others, be-
sides, at these meetings, 1 have known divers times,
that many Englishmen, ai.d good Irish subjects,
have been villanously murdered, by moving one
quarrel or another against them, for tlie Irish
never come to those raths but armed, whether on
horse or on foot ; which the English noihiug sus-
pecting, are then commonly taken at advantage, like
sheep in the pin- fold.

EvDOx. — It may be (Ireneus) that abuse may be

in those meetings. But these round hills and square
bawns which you see so strongly trenched and
thrown up, were (they say) at first ordained for the
same purpose, that people might assemble them-
selves therein; and therefore anciently they were
called folk-motes, that is, a place of people to meet
or talk of anything that concerned any difference
between parties and townships ; which seemeth vet
to me very requisite.

Irf.n. — You sav very true, Eudoxus : the Erst
making of these high hills were at first indeed to
very good purpose for people to meet : but howso-
ever the times, when ihey were first made, might
well serve to good occasions, as perhaps thev did
then in England; yet things being siace altered,
and now Ireland much differing from the state of
England, the good use that then was of them, is now
turned to abuse : for those hills whereof vou speak,
were, as you may gather by reading, appointed for
two special uses, and built by two several nations;
the one is that which you call folk-motes, which were
built by the Saxons, as the word bewraieth, for it
signifieth in Saxon a meeting of folk : and these are,
for the most part, in form four square, well in-
trenched : the others, that were round, were cast up
by the Danes, as the name of them doth betoken ;
for tliey are called Dane-rathes, th it is. hills of the
Danes ; the which were by them devised, not for
treaties and parleys, but appointed as forts for them
to gather unto in troublesome time, wlien any
trouble arose. For the Danes being but a few in
comparison of the Saxons, in England, used this for
their safety ; they made those small round hills so
strongly fenced in every quarter of the hundied, to
the end that if in t:.e night, or any other time, any
troublous cry or uproar should happen, they migh
repair with all speed unto their own fort, which was
appointed for their qjarter, and there remain safe, til
they could assemble themselves in greater strengtli
for they were made so strong, with one small en-
trance, tiiat whosoever came thither first, were he
one or two, or like few. he or they might there rest
safe, and defend themselves gainst many, till more
succour came unto them : and when they were
gathered to a sufficient number, they marched to
the next fort, and so forward till they met with the
peril, or knew the occasions thereof. But besides
these two sorts of hills, there were anciently divers
others ; for some were raised where there had been
a great battle fought, as a memory or tiophy thereof :
others, as monuments of burial of the carcasses of
all those that were slain in any field, upon whom
they did throw such round mounts, as memorials of
them ; and sometimes did cast up great heaps of
stones (as you may read the like in many places of
the scripture), and other whiles, they did throw up
many round heaps of earth in a circle, like a gar-
land, or pitch mary long stones on end in compass,
every of which, they say, betokened some per->on of
note there slain aud buried : for this was their
ancient custom, before Christianity came lu amongst
the.TB, that church-yards were inclosed.

Efuox. — You have very well de. lared the origi-
nal ot their mounts and gi-eii stones encompassed,
whicli some vainly term the Old Giant->' I revetts ;
and tliink that those large stones would not eUe be
brought into order, or reared up, without the
strength of giants. And others vainly thii.k they
w»re never placed there by man's liands or art, but
only remained there so since the h^gmnui;^; aud

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAXD,

503

were afterwards discovered by the deluge, and laid
open as then by the washing of the waters, or other
like casualty. But let them dreajii tlieir own im-
aginations, to please themselves ; you have sa'isfied
me much better, both for that I see some confirma-
tion thereof in the Holy Writ, and also remember
that I have read in many histories and chronicles
the like mounts and stones oftentimes mentioned.

Iren. — There be many great authorities, I assure
you, to prove the same : but as for these meetings
on hills, whereof we were speaking, it is very in-
convenient that anv such should be permitted.

EuDox. — But yet it is very needful, methinks,
for many other purposes ; as for the countries to
gather together, Avhen there is any imposition to be
laid upon them, to the which they then mav all agree
at such meetmgs, to divide upon themselves, ac-
cording to their holdings and abilities : so as if at
these assemblies there be anv oflScers, as constables,
bailiffs, or such like amongst them, there can be no
peril, or doubt of such bad practices.

Ires. — Nevertheless, dangerous are such assem-
blies, whether for cess or aught else ; the constab'es
and officers being also of the Irish ; and if any of
the English happen to be there, even to them they
may prove perilous. Therefore, for avoiding of
all such evil occasions, they were best to be abo-
lished.

EvDOx — But what is that which you call cess ? it
is a word, sure, unused amongst us here ; therefore,
I pray you, expound the same.

Iren. — Cess is none other than that which you
yourself called imposition, but is in a kind unac-
quainted perhaps unto you ; for there are cesses of
stindry sorts: one is, the cessing of soldiers upon
the country; for Ireland being a country of war, as
it is handled, and always full of soldiers, they which
have the government, whether they find it the most
ease to the queen's purse, or the most ready means
at hand for victualling of the soldier, or that neces-
sity enforceth them thereunto, do scatter the army
abroad in the country, and place them in villages to
take their victuals of them , at such vacant times as tbev
lie not in camp, norare otherwise employed in service.
Another kind of cess is, the imposing of provision
for the governors' housekeeping, which, though it
be most necessary, and be also (for avoiding of all
the evils formerly therein used) lately brought to a
composition : yet it is not without great incon-
veniences, no less than here in England, or rather
much more. The like cess is also charged upon the
country sometimes forvictuallingofthe soldiers, when
they lie in garrison, at such times as there is none re-
maining in the queen's store, or that the same can-
not be conveniently conveyed to their place of
garrison. But these two are not easily to be re-
dressed, when necessity thereto compelleth; but as
the former, as it is not necessarv, so it is most hurtful
and offf nsive to the poor country, and nothing con-
venient for the soldiers themselves, who, durino- their
lying at cess, use all kind of outrageous disorder
and villany, both towards the poor men which victual
and lod^e them, as also to all the country round
about them, whom thev abus^ oppress, spoil, and
afflict by all the means they can invent; for they
will not only not content themselves with such
victuals as their hosts, nor yet as the place perhaps
affords, but they will Lave other meat provided for
them, and aqua titx sent for, yea, and money be-
sxaea laid at their trenchers, which, if they want,

then about the house thev walk with the wretched
poor man and his silly wife, who are glad to purchase
their peace with anything. By which vile manner
of abuse, the country people, yea, and the verv Eng-
lish which dwell abroad, and see, and sometimes feel
this outrage, grow into great detestation of the sol
diers, and thereby into hatred of the ver\- govern
ment which draweth upon them such evils ; and
therefore this you may also join unto the former evil
customs, which we have to reprove in Ireland.

EuDox. — Trulv this is one not the least; and
though the persous by whom it is used he of better
note than the former roguish sort, which you reck-
oned, yet the fault, methinks, is no less worthy of a
marshal.

Irfn. — That were a harder course, Eudoxus, to
redress every abuse by a marshal ; it would seem to
you very evil surgery to cut off every unsound or
sick part of the body, wbich being b\' other due
means recovered, might afterwards do very good
service to the body again, and haply help to save
the whole ; therefore I think better that some good
salve fur the redress of the evil be sought forth than
the least part suffered to perish ; but hereof we have
to speak in another place. Now we will proceed to
other like defec's, amongst which there is one gene-
ral inconvenience, which reigneth almost throughout
all Ireland ; that is, the lords of land and freeholders
do not there use to set out their land in farm, or for
term of years, to their tenants, but only from year
to year, and some during pleasure ; neither indeed
will the Irish tenant or husbandman otherwise take
his land, than so long as he list himself 'i he rea-
son hereof in the tenant is, for that the landlords
there use most shamefully to rack their tenants, lay-
ing upon them coignv and livery at pleasure, and
exacting of them, besides his covenants, what he
pleaseth. So that the poor husbandman either dare
not bind himself to him for longer term, or thinketh
by his continual liberty of change, to keep his land-
lord the rather in awe from wionging of him. And
the reason why the landlord will no longer covenant
with him is, for that he daily looketh after change
and alteration, and hovereth in expectation of new-
worlds.

EuDox. — But what evil cometh hereby to the
commonwealth, or what reason is it that any land-
lord should not set, nor any tenant take his land, as
himself list !

Iren. — JMarry, the evils which come herebv are
great ; for bj- this means both the landlord thinketh
that he hath his tenant more at command, to follow
him into what action soever he shall enter, and also
the tenant being left at his liberty, is fit for every
occasion of change that shall be offered by time; and
so much also the more ready and willing is he to
run into the same; for that he hath no such state in
any his holding, no such building upon anv farm, uo
such cost employed in fencing or husbanding the
same, as might withhold him from any such wilful
course as his lord's cause, or his own lewd disposi-
tion may carrj- him unto. All which he liaih forborne,
and spared so much expense; f/r that he had no
firm estate in his tenement, but was onlv a tenant at
will, or little more, and so at will may leave it. And
this inconvenience may be reason enough to ground
any ordinance for the good of the commonwealth,
against the private behoof or will of anv landlord
that shall refuse to grant any .^uch term or estate unto
bis tenant, as may tend to the good of the whole realm.

.•!D4

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAXD.

EuDox. — Indeed, methinks it is a great wilfulness
in any such landlord to refuse to make any Ion g;er
farms unto their tenants, ;is may, besides the gene-
ral good of the realm, be also greatly for their own
profit and avail. For what reasonable man will not
think that the tenement shall be made much better
for the lord's behoof, if the tenant may by suihgood
means be drawn to build himself some handsome
habitation thereon, to ditch and inclose his ground,
to manure and husband it, as good farmers use ? for
when his tenant's term shall be expired, it will yield
him in the renewing his lease, both a good fine and
also a better rent. And also it shall be for the good
of the tenant likewise, who, by such buildings and
enclosures, shall receive many benefits — first, b)' the
handsomeness of his house, he shall take more com-
fort of his life, more safe dwelling, and a delight to
keep his said house neat and cleanly ; which now
being, as they commonly are, rather swine-styes than
houses, is the chiefest cause of his so beastly man-
ner of life, and savage condition, lying and living
together with his beast in one house, in one room,
in one bed ; that is, clean straw, or rather a foul
dunghill. And to all these other commodities, he
shall, in short time, find a greater added ; that is,
his own wealth and riches increased, and wonderfully
enlarged, by keeping his cattle in inclosures, where
they shall always have fresh pasture, that now is all
trampled and overrun ; warm covert, that now lieth
open to all weather ; safe being, that now are con-
tinually filched and stolen.

Iren. — You have, Eudoxus, well accompted the
commodities of this one good ordinance, amongst
which this that you named last is not the least, for
all the other being most beneficial to the landlord
and tenant, this chiefly redoundeth to the good of
the commonwealth, to have the land thus enclosed,
and well fenced. For it is both a principal bar and
impeachment unto thieves from stealing of cattle
in the night, and also a gall, against all rebels and
outlaws that shall rise up in any numbers against
the government ; for the thief thereby shall have
much ado, first to bring forth and afterwards to
drive away his stolen prey, but through the com-
mon highways, where he shall soon be descried and
met withal; and the rebel or open enemy, if any
such shall happen, either at home or from abroad,
shall easily be found when he cometh forth, and also
be well encountered withal by a few, in so straight
passages and stiong inclosures. This, therefore,
when we come to the reforming of all those evil
customs before mentioned, is needful to be remem-
bered ; but now by this time, methinks, 1 have well
run through the evil uses which I have observed in
Ireland. Nevertheless, I well note, that there be
many more, and infinitely many more in the private
abuses of men. But these that are most general,
and tending to the hurt of the commonweal (as they
have come to my remembrance), I have, as briefly
as I could, rehearsed unto you. And therefore now
1 think best that we pass unto our third part, in
which we noted the inconveniences thiit are in leligion.
Ei'Dox. — Surely you have very well handled tliese
two former-, and if ye shall as well go through the
third likewise, you shall merit a very good meed.

litKN. — Little have I to say of religion, both be-
cause the parts thereof be not many (itself being
but one), and myself have not much been conver-
sant in that calling ; but as lightly passing by I have
seen or heard : therefore the fault which 1 find in

religion is but one ; but the same is universal
throughout all that country ; that is, that they be all
Jiapists by their profession, but in the same so
blindly and brutishly informed (for the most ])art),
tliat not one amongst a hundred knoweth any ground
of religion, or any article of his faith ; but can per-
haps say his Paternoster, or his Ave-Maria, without
any knowledge or understanding what one word
thereof meaneth.

EuDox. — Is it not then a little blot to them that
now hold the place of government, that they which
now are in the light themselves, suffer a people
under their charge, to wallow in such deadly darkness?
Iren. — That which you blame, Eudoxus, is not
(I suppose) any fault of will in those godly fathers
which have charge thereof; but the inconvenience
of the time and troublous occasions, wherewith 'hat
wretched realm hath continually been turmoiled.
For instruction in religion needeth quiet times ;
and e'er we seek to settle a sound discipline in the
clergy, we must purchase peace unto the laity : for
it is ill time to preach among swords; and most hard,
or rather impossible, it is to settle a good opinion in
the minds of men, for matters of religion doubtful,
which have doubtless an evil opinion of us. For
e'er a new be brought in, the old must be removed.

EuDox. — Then belike it is meet that some fitter
time be attended, that Gcd send peace and quietness
there in civil matters, before it be atiemplea in ec-
clesiastical. I would rather have thought that (as
it is said) correction must first be^in at the house of
God, and that the care of the soul should have been
preferred before the care of the body.

Iren. — Most true, Eudoxus, the care of the soul
and soul matters, is to be jireferred before the care
of the body, in consideration of the worthiness
thereof; but not till ihe time of Reformation. For
if you should know a wicked person dangerously
sick, having now both soul and body greatly dis-
eased, yet both recoverable; would you n(jt think it
evil advertisement to bring tne preacher before the
physician? For if his body were neglected, it is
like that his languishing soul being disquieted by
his diseaseful body, would utterly refuse and loath
all spiritual comfort ; but if his body were first
secured and brought to good frame, should there
not tben be found best time to recover the soul also?
8o it is in the state of a realm : therefore (as I said)
it is expedient, first to settle such a course of go-
vernment there, as thereby both civil disorders and
ecclesiastical abuses may be reformed and amended ;
whereto needeth not any such great distance of
times, as you suppose : I require but one joint reso-
lution for both, that each might second and confirm
the other.

EuDOX. — That we shall see when we come there-
unto ; in the meantime 1 conceive thus much, as you
have delivered, touching the general fault, which
you suppose in religion, to wit, that it is popish :
but do you find no particular abuses therein, nor in
the ministers thereof?

Iren. — Yes, verily, for whatever disorders yoa
see in the Church of England, ye may find there,
and many more: namely, gross simony, greedy co-
vetousness, fleshly incontinency, careless sloth, and
generally all disordered life in the common clergy-
men. And besides all these, they have their par-
titular enormities : for all Irish priests, which
now enjoy the church-livings, th"y are in a manner
mere laymen, saving that tl'fiy have taken holy

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

505

orders; but otherwise thev do go, and live like
laymen, follow all kind of husbandry, and otlier
worldly atFairs, as other Irislimen do. They neither
read scriptures, nor preach to the people, nor admi-
nister the communion ; but baptism they do : for
they christen yet after the popisii fashion, only they
take the tithes and offerings, and gather what fruit
else they may of their livings, the which they con-
vert as badly ; and some of them (they say) pay as
due tributes and shares of their livings to their
bishops ( I speak of those which are Irish) as they
receive them duly.

EuDox. — But is that suff"ered amongst them? It
is wonder, but that the governors do redress such
shameful abuses.

Iren. — How can they, since they know them not?
for the Irish bishops have tiieir clergy in sucii awe
and subjection under them, that they dare noi com-
plain of them ; so as they may do to them what
they please : for they knowing their own unwor-
thiness and incapacity, and that they are therefore
still removable at their bishop's will, yield what
pleaseth him, and he taketh what helisteth : yea, and
some of them whose dioceses are in remote parts,
somewhat out of the world's eye, do not at all be-
stow the benefices which are in their own donation
upon any, but keep them in their own hands, and
set their own servants and horseboys to take up the
tithes and fruits of them, with the which some of
them purchase great lands, and build fair castles
upon the same. Of which abuse, if any question
be moved, they have a very seemly colour and ex-
cuse, that they have no worthy ministers to bestow
them upon, but keep them so bestowed for any such
sufficient person as any shall bring unto them.

EuDox. — But is there no law nor ordinance to
meet with this mischief? nor hath it never before
been looked into ?

Ire\. — Ves, it seems it hath ; for there is a sta-
tute tiiere enacted in Ireland, which seems to have
been grounded upon a good meaning, that whatso-
ever Eiiglisiiman, of good conversation and suffi-
ciency, shall be brought unto any of the bishops,
and nominated unto any living within their diocese
that is presently void, that he shall (without contra-
diction) be admitted thereunto before any Irish.

EuDox. — This is surely a very good law, and well
provided for this evil, whereof you speak ; but why
is not the same observed ?

Iren. — I think it is well observed, and that none
of the bishojis transgress the same ; but yet it work-
eth no reformation thereof, for many defects. First.
there are no such sufficient English ministers sent
over, as might be presented to any bishop for any
living ; hut the most part of such English as come
over thither of themselves, are either unlearned, or
men of some bad note, for which they have for-
saken England : so as the bishop to whom they
shall be presented may justly rnjf-ct them as inca-
pable and insufficient. Secondly, the bishop him-
self IS perhaps an Irishman, who being made judge
by that law of the sufficiency of the ministers, may,
at his own will, dislike of the Englishmen, as un-
worthy in his opinion, and admit of any Irish, \\\u>m
he shall think more for his turn, And if he shall
at the mstajice of any Englishman of counteuance
there, whom he will not displease, accept of any
such Eni;lish minister as shall be tendered ui:;o
him, yet tie will underhand cany such a hard hand
over him ; or by his officers wring him so sore, that

he will soon make him weary of his poor living.
Lastly, the benefices themselves are so mean, and
of so small profit in those Irish countries, through
the ill husbandry of the Irish people which do inha-
bit them, that they will not yield any competent
maintenance for any hinest minister to live upin,
scarcely to buy him a gown. And were all this re-
dressed (as happily it might be) yet wli.it good
should any English minister do amongst them, by
teaching or preaching to them, which either cannot
understand him, or will not hear Liin ? or what com-
fort of life shall he have, where his parishioners
are so insatiable, so intractable, so ill-aft'ected to
him, as they usually be to all the English ? Or
finally, how dare almost any honest minister, that
are peaceable civil men, commit his safety to the
hands of such neighbours, as the boldest captains
dare scarcely dwell by ?

EuDox. — Little good then (I see) was by that
statute wrouglit, however well intended ; but the
reformation thereof must grow higher, and he
brought from a stronger ordinance than the com-
mandment or penalty of a law, which none dare
inform or complain of, when it is broken. But have
you any more of those aliuses in the clergy ?

Irex. — 1 could perhaps reckon more, but I per-
ceive my speech to grow too long, and these may
suffice to judge of the general disorders which
reign amongst them ; as for the particulars, they
are too many to be reckoned. For the clergy there
(excepting the grave fathers which are in high
place about the state, and some few others which
are lately planted in their new college) are generally
bad, licentious, and most disordered.

EuDox. — You have then (as I suppose) gone
through these three fit. st puts which you proposed
unto yourself; to wit, the inconveniences which
you observed in the laws, in the customs, and in
the religion of that land. The wliich (methinks)
you have so thoroughly touched, as that nothing
more remaineth to be spoken thereof.

IiiEN. — Not so thoroughly as you suppose, that
nothing can remain, but so generally as I purposed ;
that is, to lay open the general evils of that realm,
which do hinder the good reformation thereof. For
to count the particular faults of private men, should
be a work to > infinite ; yet some there be of that
nature, that though they be in private men, yet
their evil rea heth to a general hurt : as the extor-
tion of sheriff's, and their sub-sheriff's, and bailiff's j
the corruption of victuallers, cessors, and purvey-
ors ; the disorders of seneschals, captains, and their
soldiers; and many such like. All which I will
only name here, that their reformation may be
mended in place where it most concerneih. But
there is one very foul abuse, which, by the way, I
may not omit ; and that is in capt.iins, who, not-
withstanding that thev are specially employeil to
make peace, through strong execution of war, vet
they do so dandle their doings, and dally in the ser-
vice to them committed, as if they would not have
the enemy subdued, or utterly beaten down; for
fe If, lest afterwards they should need emiiioyment,
and so he discharged ol pay ; for which cause some
of them that are laid in garrison, do so h.nulle the
m.itter that they will do nogreat hurt to the enemies ;
yet, for colour sake, some men they will kill, even
half with the consent of tiie enemy, being persons
either of base regard, or enemies to the eneiiiy;
whose heads efstoous they send to the governor for

506

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

a commendation of their great endea\-our, telling
how weighty a service they performed, by cutting
off such and such dangerous rebels.

EuDox.- -Truly this is a pretty mockery, and not
to be permitted by the governors.

Iren. — 15ut how can the governor know readily
what persons those were, and what the purpose of
their killing was ; yea, and what will you say, if the
captains do justify this their course by ensample of
some of their governors, which (under benedicite I
do tell it to you) do practise the like sleiglit in their
governments ?

Eunox. — Is it possible? Take heed what you
say, Ireneus.

InEN. — To you only, Eudoxus, I do tell it, and
that even with great heart's grief, and inward trouble
of mind, to see her majesty so much abused by
some who are put in special trust of those great
affairs : of which, some being martial men, will not
do always what they may for quieting of things,
but will rather wink at some faults, and will suffer
them unpunished, lest that (having put all things in
that assurance of peace that they might J they should
seem afterwards not to be needed, nor contmued in
their governments with so great a charge to her
majesty. And therefore they do cunningly carry
their course of government, and from one hand to
another do bandy the service like a tennis-ball,
which they will never strike quite away, for fear
lest afterwards they should want.

EuDox. — Do you speak of under magistrates,
Ireneus, or principal governors ?

Iren. — I do speak of no particulars; but the
truth may be found out by trial and reasonable in-
sight into some of their doings. And if I should
say, there is some blame thereof in the principal
governors, I think I might also show some reason-
able proof of my speech. As for example, some
of them seeing the end of their government to
draw nigh, and some mischiefs and troublous prac-
tice growing up, which afterwards may work trouble
to the next succeeding governor, will not attempt
the redress or cutting off thereof, either for fear
they should leave the realm unquiet at the end of
their government, or that the next that cometh should
receive the same too quiet, and so haply win more
praise thereof than they before. And therefore they
will not (as I said) seek at all to repress that evil,
but will either by granting protection for a time, or
holding some emparlance with the rebel, or by
treaty of commissioners, or by other like devices,
only smother and keep down the flame of the mis-
chief, so as it may not break out in their time of go-
vernment i what comes afterwards, they care not,
or rather wish the worst. This course hath been
noted in some governors.

EuDox. — Surely, Ireneus, this, if it were true,
should be worthy of an heavy judgment ; but it is
hardly to be thought, that any governor should so
much either envy the good of that realm which ia
put into his band, er defraud her majesty, who
trust! h him so much, or malign his successor which
shall possess his place, as to suffer an evil to grow
up, which he might timely have kept under; or
perhaps to nourish it with coloured countenance, or
such sinister means.

Iren. — I do not certainly avouch so much, Eu-
doxus, but the sequel of things doth in a manner
prove, and phunly sjieak so much, that the go-
vernors usually are envious one of another's greater

glory ; which if they would seek to excel by better
governing, it should be a most laudable emulation;
but they do quite otherwise. For this, as you may
mark, is the common order of them, that who
cometh next in place will not follow that course of
government, however good, which his predecessors
held, either for disdain of himself, or doubt to have
his doings drowned in another man's praise ; but
will straight take away quite contrary to the former:
as if the former thought, by keeping under the
Irish, to reform them ; the next, by discounte-
nancing the English, will curry favour with the
Irish, and so make his government seem plausible,
as having all the Irish at his command : but he that
comes after, will perhaps follow neither the one nor
the other, but will dandle the one and the other in
such sort, as he will suck sweet out of them both,
and leave bitterness to the poor country; which
if he that comes after shall seek to redress, he shall
perhaps find such crosses as he shall hardly be able
to bear, or do any good that niiuht work the disgrace
of his predecessors. Examples you may see hereof in
the governors oflate times sufficiently, and in others
of former times more manifestly, when the govern-
ment of that realm was committed sometimes to the
Geraldines, as when the House of '^'ork hxl the
crown of England; sometimes to the Butlers, as
when the House of Lancaster got the same. And
other whiles, when an English governor was ajj-
pointed, he perhaps found enemies of both.

KuDox. — I am sorry to hear so much as you re-
port, and now I begin to conceive somewhat more
of the cause of her continual wretchedness, than
heretofore I found, and wish that this inconvenience
were well looked into ; for sure, methinks, it is
more weighty than all the former, and more hardly
to be redressed in the governor than in the go-
verned ; as a malady in a vital part is more incu-
rable than in an external.

Irf.n. — You say very true : but now that we have
thus ended all the abuses and inconveniences of
that government, which was our first part ; it fol-
loweth now, that we pass unto the second part,
which was, of the means to cure and redress the
same : which we must labour to reduce to the first
beginning thereof.

EuDox. — Right so, Ireneus ; for by that which I
have noted in all this your discourse, you suppose,
that the whole ordinance and institution of that
realm's government, was both at first, when it was
placed, evil plotted ; and also sithence, through
other oversights, came more out of square to that
disorder which it is now come unto : like as two
indirect lines, the further that they are drawn out,
the further they go asunder.

Iren. — I do see, J^udoxus, and, as you say, so
think, that the longer that government thus con-
tinueth, in the worse course will the realm he; for
it is all in vain that they now strive and endeavour
by fair means and peaceable j)lots, to redress the
same, without first removing all those inconveni-
ences, and new-framing (as it were) in the forge,
all that is worn out of fashion. For all other means
will be but as lost labour, by patching up one hole
to make many. For the Irish do strongly hate and
abhor all reformation and subjection to the English,
by reason, that having been once subdued by them,
they were thrust out of all their )iossessiniis. So as
now they fear, that if they were again brought
under, they should likewise be expelled out of all.

A VI KW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

507

which is the cause that they liate the English Go-
vernment, according to the saying, Quern metuunt
oiieiiint. Therefore the reformation must now be
the strength of a greater power.

EuDox. — But (methinks) that might be by mak-
ing of good laws, and establishing of new statutes,
with sharp penalties and punishments, for amending
of all that is presently amiss, and not (as you sup-
pose) to begin all as it were anew, and to alter the
whole form of the Government : which how dan-
gerous a thing it is to attempt, you yourself must
needs confess ; and they which have the managing
of the realm's whole policy, cannot, without great
cause, fear and refrain ; for all innovation is peril-
ous, insomuch, as though it be meant for the better,
yet so many accidents and fearful events may come
between, as that it may hazard the loss of the whole.
Irkn. — Very true, Eudoxus ; all change is to be
shunned, where the affairs stand in such sort, as that
they may continue in quietnees, or be assured at all
to abide as thev are, but that in the re;dm of Ire-
land we see much otherwise ; for every day we fier-
ceive the troubles growing more upon us, and one
evil growing upon another ; insomuch, as there is
no part now found or ascertained, but all have their
ears upright, waiting when the watch-wurd shall
come, that they should all arise generally into rebel-
lion, and cast away the English subjection. 'J'o
which there now little wanteth ; for I think the
word be already given, and there wanteth nothing
but opportunity ; which truly is the death of one
noble person, who being himself most stedfast to
his sovereign queen and his country, coasting upon
the South-Sea, stoppelh tlie in-gate of all that evil
which is looked for, and holdeth in all those which
are at his beck, with the terror of his greatness, and
the assurance of his most immovable loy<ilty. And
therefore where 3'ou think that good and sound laws
might amend and reform things there amiss, \ou
think surtlv amiss, for it is vain to [irescribe laws,
where no man careth for keeji'ng of them, nor fear-
eth the danger for breaking of tln,m. But all the
realm is first to be reformed, and laws are afterwards
to he made, for keeping and continuing it in that re-
formed estate.

EuDox. — How then do you think is there formation
thereof to be begun, if not by laws and ordinances?
Iren. — Even by the sword; for all these evils
must first be cut away by a strong hand, before any
good can be planted : like as the corrupt branches
and unwholesome boughs are first to be pruned, and
the foul moss cleansed and scraped away, before the
tree can bring forth any good fruit.

EvDox.— Did you blame me even now for wish-
ing of kern horse-boys and carrows to be clean cut
ofiF, as too violent a means; and do you yourself
now prescribe the same medicine ? Is not the sword
the most violent redress that may be used for any
evil ?

Irev. — It is so ; but where no other remedy may
be devised, nor hope of recovery had, there must
needs this violent means be used. As for the loose
kind of people which you would have cut off, I
blamed it ; for that they might otherwise perhaps be
brought to good, as namely, by this way which 1 set
before you.

Euuox. — Is not your way all one with the former
m eft'ect, which you found fault with ; save only in
this odds, — that 1 said b\ the halter, and you say by
ibe sword : what difference is there t

IiiLN. — There is surely great, when you shall
understand it ; for by the sword which I named, I
did not mean the cutting off all that uation with the
sword ; which far be it from me that I should ever
think so desperately, or wish so uncharitably ; but
by the sword, J mean, the royal |)Ower of the prince,
which ought to stretch itself forth in the chiefest
strength, to the redressing and cutting off those
evils which I before blamed, and not of the people
which are evil. For evil people, by good ordinances
and government, may be made good ; but the evil
that is of itself evil, will never become good.

EuDox. — I pray you then declare your mind at
large, how you would wish that sword, which you
mean to be used to the reformation of all these
evils.

Iren. — The first thing must be, to send over into
that realm such a strong power of men, as should
perforce bring in all that rebellious rout and loose
people, which either do now stand out in open arms,
or wandering in companies, do keep the woods,
spoiling the good subjects.

EuDox. — You speak now, Ireneus, of an infinite
charge to her Majesty, to send over such an army as
should tread down all that standeth before them on
foot, and lay on the ground all the stiff-necked
people of that land : for there is now but one out-
law of any great reckoning, to wit, the Earl of Ty-
rone, abroad in arms ; against whom, you see, what
huge charges she hath been at this last year, in
sending of men, providing of victuals, and making
head against liim; yet there is little or nothing at
all done, but the queen's treasure spent, her people
wasted, the ])oor country troubled, and the enemy
nevertiieless brought into no more subjection than
he was, or list outwardly to show, which in effect is
none, hut rather a scorn of her power, and embolden-
ing of a prouil rebel, and an encouragement to all
like lewdly-disposed traitors, that shall dare to lift
up their heel against their sovereign lady. There-
fore it were hard counsel tu draw such an exceeding
great charge upon her, whose event should be so
uncertain.

Iren. — True, indeed, if the event should be un-
certain ; but the certainty of the effect hereof shall
be so infallible, as that no reason can gainsavit;
neither shall the ihar^e of all this army (the which
1 demand) be much greater, than so much as in
these last two years' wars hath vainly been ex-
pended. For I dare undertake tliat it hath cost the
queen above ^00,000 pounds already ; and for the
present charge which she is at there, amounteth to
very near 12,000 pounds a month, whereof cast you
the account ; yet nothing is done. The which sum,
had it been employed as it should be, would have
effected all this which now 1 go about.

EuDox. — How mean you to have it employed,
but to be spent in the pay of so'diers and provision
of victuals?

Iren. — Right so ; but it is now not disbursed at
once, as it might be, but drawn out into a long
length, by sending over now 20,000 pounds and
next half year 10,000 pounds ; so as the soldier, in
the mean time, tor want of due jirovision of victual,
and good payment of his due, is starved and con-
sumed ; that of lOOo which came over luity able
men, in half a year there are not left 500. And yet
is the queen's charge never a whit the less ; but what
is not paid in present money is accounted in debt,
which will not be long unpaid ; for the captain.balf

508

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

of wbose soldiers are dead, and the other quarter
never mastered, nor seen, comes shortly to dem-.ind
payment of his whole account; where by good
means of some great ones, and privy sharings with
the officers and servants of other some, he receiveth
his debt, much less perhaps than was due, yet much
more indeed than he justly deserved.

EuDOS. — I tiike this, sure, to be no good hus-
bandry ; for what must needs be spent, as good
spend it at once, where is enough, as to have it drawn
out into long delays, seeing that thereby both the
service is much hindered, and yet nothing saved.
But it may be, Ireneus, that the queen's treasure in
so great occasions of disbursements (as it is well
known she hath been at lately) is not always so
ready, nor so jilentiful, as it can spare s-o great a
sum together ; but being paid as it is, now some,
and then some, it is no great burden unto her, nor
any great impoverishment to her coffers ; seeing by
such delay of time, it daily coraeth in as fast as she
parteth it out.

InEV. — It may be as you say; but for the going
throuj;h of so honourable a course, I doubt not but
if the queen's coffers be not so well stored, which
we are not to look into, but that the whole realm,
which now, as things are used, do feel a continual
burden of that wretched realm hanging upon their
backs, would , for a small riddance of all that trouble,
be once troubled for all, and put to all their shoul-
ders, and helping hands, and hearts also, to the de-
fraying of that charge most gladfully and willingly.
And surely the charge, in effect, is nothing to the
infinite great good which should come thereby, both
to the queen and all this realm generally, as, when
time serveth, shall be showed.

EuDOX. — How many men would you require to
the furnishing of this which ye take in hand ! And
how long space would you have them entertained ?

Iren. — Verily, not above ten thousand footmen and
one thousand horse, and all these not above the
space of a year and a half; for I would still, as the
heat of the service abateth, abate the number in pay,
and make other provision for them, as 1 will show.

EtDox,— Surely it seemeth not much which you
require, nor no long time ; but how would you
Lave them used ] Would you lead forth your army
against the enemy, and seek him where be is to fight ?

Iken. — No, Eudoxus, that would not be; for it
is well known that he is a flying enemy, hiding
bimselt in woods and bogs, from whence he will
not draw forth, but into some strait passage, or peril-
ous ford, where be knows the army must needs
pass ; there wmH he lie in wait, and if he find advan-
tage fit, will dangerously hazard the troubled soldier.
Therefore, to seek him out that still fiittetb, and fol-
low him that can hardly be found, were vain and
bootless. But I would divide my men in garrison
upon his country, in such places as 1 should think
might most annoy him.

EuDOX. — But how can that be, Ireneus, with so
few men ? For the enemy, as you may see, is not all
in one country, but some in Ulster, some in Con-
naught, and others in Leinster. So as to plant
strong garrisons in all those places should need
many more men than you speak of, or to j)lant all in
one and to leave the rest naked, sliould be but to
leave them to the sj)oil.

Iren. — I would wish the chief power of th^ army
to be garrisoned in one country that is strongest,
«nd the other upon the rest that is weakest. As for |

example : the Earl of Tyrone is now acco«inted the
strongest ; upon him would I lay eight thousand
men in garrison ; one thousand upon Pheagh Mach-
Hugh and the Cavanaghes, and one thousand upon
some parts of Connaught, to be at the direction of
the governor.

EuDOx. — I see now all your men bestowed ; but
what places would vou set their garrisons, that they
might rise out most conveniently to service ? And
though, perhaj'S, 1 am ii;norant of the places, yet I
will take the map of Ireland, and lay it before me,
and make mine eyes, in the mean time, my school-
masters, to guide my understanding to judge of your
plot.

Iren. — Those eight thousand in Ulster I would
divide likewise into four parts, so as there should be
two thousand footmen in every gairison, the which
I would thus place: upon the Blackvvater, m some
convenient place, as high upon the river as might
be, I would lay one garrison ; another would I put
at Cas-tle-Liffer, or thereabouts, so as they should
have all the passages upon the river to Logh-foyle ;
the third I would place about Fermanagh, or Bun-
droise, so as they might lie between Connaught and
Ulster, to serve upon both sides, as occasion shall
be offered ; and this, therefore, would I have
stronger than any of the rest, because it should be
most enforced and most employed, and that they
might put wards at Balls-shannon, and Belick, and
all those passages. The last would I set about
IMonaghan or Balturbut, so that it should front both
upon the enemy that way, and also keep the coun-
tries of Cavan and Meath in awe, from passage of
stragglers from those parts, whence they used to
come forth, and oftentimes use to work much mis-
chief. And to every of these garrisons of two thou-
sand footmen, I would have two hundred horsemen
added, for the one without the other can do but
little service. The four garrisons thus being placed,
I would have to be victualled before-hand for half a
year, which you will say to be hard, considering
the corruption and usual waste of victuals. But
why should not they be as well victualled for so
long time, as the ship; are usually for a year, and
sometimes two, seeing it is easier to keep victuals
on land than water ? Their bread I would have in
flour, so that it might be baked still to serve their
necessary want. Their beer there also brewed
within tliem, from time to time, and their beef be-
forehand barrelled, the which may be used but as it
is needed ; for, I make no doubt.'but fresh victuals
they will sometimes purvey for themselves amongst
their enemies. Hereunto, likewise, would 1 have
them have a store of hose and shoes, with such other
necessaries as may be needful for soldiers, so as
they should have no occasion to look for relief from
abroad, or occasion of such trouble for their conti-
nual supply, as I see, and have often proved in Ire-
land, to be more cumbrous to the de])uty, and
dangerous to them that relieve them, than half the
leading of an army ; for the enemy, knowing the
ordinary ways through the which their relief must
be brought them, useih commonly to draw himself
into the straight passages thitherward, and often-
times doth dangerously distress them. Besides,
the pay of such force as should be sent for their
convoy, the charge of the caniages, the exactions ot
the country shall be sjiared. I5ut only every halt
year the supply, brought by the deputy himself and
his power, who shall then visit and OTerlook ail

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

509

tbose garrisons, to see what is needful to change,
wLat is expedient, and to direct what he shall best
advise. And those four <;arrisons issuing forth, at
such convenient times as they sliall have intelligence
or espial upon the enemy, will so drive him from
one side to another, and tennis him amongst them,
that he shall find no where safe to keep his creet in,
nor hide himself, but, flying from the lire, shall fall
into the water, and out of one danger into another,
that, in short space his creet, which is his chief sus-
tenance, shall be wasted with jireying, or killed
with driving, or starved for want of pasture in the
woods, and he himself brought so low, that he shall
have no heart nor abilit3' to endure his wretched-
ness, the which will surely come to pass in very
short time, for one winter well followed upon him
will so pluck him on bis knees, that he will never
be able to stand up again.

EuDOX. — Do you then think the wimertime fittest
for the services of Ireland ? How falls it then that
our most employments be in summer, and the armies
then led commonly forth 1

Iren. — It is surely misconceived ; for it is not
with Ireland as it is with other countries, where the
wars flame most in summer, and the helmets glister
brightest in the fairest sunshine ; but in Ireland, the
winter yieldeth best services ; for then the trees are
bare and naked, which use both to clothe and house
the kern ; the ground is cold and wet, which useth
to be his bedding ; the air is sharp and bitter, to
blow through his naked sides and legs ; the kyne are
barren and without milk, which useth to be his only
food ; neither if he kill them, will they yield him
flesh, nor if he keep them will they give him food :
besides, being all with calf, for the most part, they
will, through much chasing and driving, cast all their
calves, and lose their milk, which should relieve
him the next summer.

EuDox. — I do well understand your reason; but by
your leave, I have heard it otherwise said of some that
were outlaws ; that in summer they kept themselves
quiet, but in winter they would play their parts, and
when the nights were longest, then burn and spoil
most, so that they might safely return before day.

Ihen. — I have likewise heard and also seen proof
thereof true ; but that was of such outlaws as were
either abiding in well inhabited countries, as in
Munster, or bordering on the English pale,asFeagh
Machugh, the Cavanaghes, the Moors, the Demp-
sies, or such like ; for, for them the winter indeed
is the fittest time for spoiling and robbing, because
the nights are then, as you said, longest and darkest,
and also the countries round about are then most full-
est of corn, and good provision to be gotten every-
where by them ; but it is far otherwise with a strong
peopled enemy, that possess a whole country ; for
the other being but a tew, and indeed privily' lodged,
and kept in out-villages, and corners nigh to the
woods and mountains, by some of their privy friends,
to whom they bring their spoils and stealths, and of
whom they continually receive secret relief; but the
open enemy havmg all his country wasted, what by
himself, and what by the soldiers, findeth them suc-
cour in no place. Towns there are none, of which
he may get spoil, they are all burnt ; bread he hath
none, he ploughetb not in summer ; flesh he hath, but
if he kill it in winter, he shall want milk in summer,
and shortly want life ; therefore, if they be well fol-
lowed but one winter, you shall have little work with
Uiem the next summer.

EuDOx. — I do now well perceive the difference,
and do verily think that the winter time is their
fittest for service ; withal 1 conceive the manner of
your handling of the service, by drawing sudden
draughts upon the enemy, when he looKeth not for
y')U, and to watch advantages upon him as he doth
upon you, by which straight keeping of them in, and
not suflering them at any time long to rest, I must
needs think that they will soon be brought low,
and driven to great extremities. All which when
you have performed, and brought them to the very
last cast, suppose that they will offer either to come
to you and submit themselves, or that some of tbein
will seek to withdraw themselves ; what is your
advice to do? Will you have them received ?

Iren. — No ; but at the beginning of those wars,
and when the garrisons are well planted and fortified,
I would wish a proclamation were made generally to
come to their knowledge, that what persons soever
would within twenty days absolutely submit them-
selves (excepting only the very principals and ring-
leaders), should find grace. I doubt not but upon
the settling of these garrisons, such a terror and near
consideration of their perilous state, would be
strucken into most of them, that they will covet to
draw away from their leaders. And again, 1 well
know that the rebels themselves (as I saw by proof
in Desmond's wars) will turn away all their rascal
people, whom they think unserviceable; as old men,
women, children, and hinds (which they call churls),
which would only waste their victuals, and yield
them no aid, but, their cattle they will surely keep
away. These, therefore, though policy would turn
them back again, that they might the rather consume
and afflict the other rebels ; yet in a pitiful commi-
seration I would wish them to be received; the
rather, for that this sort of base people doth not for
the most part rebel of themselves, having no heart
thereunto, but are by force drawn by the grand re-
bels into their action, and carried away with the vio-
lence of the stream, else they should be sure to lose
all thai they have, and perhaps their lives too, the
which they now carry unto them, in hope to enjoy
them there, but they are there by the strong rebels
themselves soon turned out of all, so that the con-
straint hereof may in them deserve pardon. Like,
wise, if any of their able men or gentlemen shall then
offer to come away, and to bring their cattle with
them, as some no doubt may steal them away pri-
vily ; I wish them also to be received, for the dis-
abling of the enemy, but withal, that good assurance
may be taken for their true behaviour and absolute
submission ; and that then they be not suffered to
remain any longer in those parts, no nor about the
garrisons, but sent away into the inner parts of the
realm, and dispersed in such sort as they may not
come together, nor easily return if th y would ; for
if they might be suflered to remain about the garri-
sons, and there inhabit, as they will offer to till the
ground, and yield a great part of the profit thereof,
and of their cattle, to the coronel, wherewith they
have heretofore tempted many ; they would, as I
have by experience known, be ever after such a
gall and inconvenience to them, as that theii profit
shall not recompense their hurt ; for they will pri-
vily relieve their friends that are foith, they will
send the enemy secret advertisements of all their
purposes and journeys, which they mean to make
upon them, they will not also stick to draw the
enemy privily upon them; yea and to betray the

510

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

fort itself, by discovery of all her defects and disad-
vantages, ifanybe,to the, cutting of all their throats.
. For avoiding whereof and many other incon-
veniences, I wish that they should be carried far
from thence into some other parts, so that, as I say,
they come in and submit themselves upon the first
summons; but afterwards I would have none re-
ceived, but left to their fortune and miserable end ;
my reason is, for that those which will afterwards
remain without, are stout and obstinate rebels, such
as will never be made dutiful and obedient, nor
brought to labour or civil conversation ; having once
tast"(l that licentious life, and being acquainted with
spoil and outrages, will ever after be ready for the
like occasions, so as there is no hope of their amend-
ment or recovery, and therefore needful to be cut
oft".

EuDOX. — Surely of such desperate persons as will
follow the course of their own tollv. there is no com-
passion to be had ; and for others you have pro-
posed a merciful means, much more than they have
deserved ; but what then shall be tlie conclusion of
this war, for you have prefixed a short time of its
continuance?

Iren. — The end will, I assure me, be very short
and much sooner than can be in so great a trouble
as it seeraeth hoped for, although there should none
of tliem fall by the sword, nor be slain by the sol-
dier, yet thus being kept from manurance, and their
cattle from running abroad, by this hard restraint,
they would quickly consume themselves, and devour
one another. The proof whereof I saw sufficiently
exampled in these late wars of Munster ; for, not-
withstanding that the same was a most rich and
plentiful country, full of corn and cattle, that you
would have thought they should have been able to
stand long, yet ere one year and a half they were
brought to such wretchedness, as that any stony
heart would have rued the same. Out of every cor-
ner of the woods and glens they came creeping
forth upon their hands, for their legs could not bear
them ; they looked like anatomies of death, they
spake like ghosts crying out of their graves, they did
eat the dead carrions, happy where they could find
them, yea, and one another soon after, insomuch as
the very carcasses they spared not to scrape out of
their graves ; and if they found a plot of water-
cresses or shamrocks, there they flocked as to a feast
for the time, yet not able long to continue there
withal ; that, in short space, there were none almost
left, and a most j)opulous and plentiful country sud-
denly left void of man and beast : yet sure in all
that war, there perished not many by the sword, but
all by the extremity of famine, which they them-
selves had wrought.

EuDox. — It is a wonder that you tell, and more to
be wondered how it should so shortly come to pass.

litEN. — It is most true, and the reason also very
ready, for you must conceive that the strength of all
that nation is the kern, galloglasse, stncah, horse-
man and horseboy ; the which having been never
used to have anything of their own, and now being
upon spoil of others, make no spare of anything,
but havoc and confusion of all they meet with, whe-
ther it be their own friends' goods, or their foes.
Aii'i if they happen to get never so great spoil at
any time, the same they waste and consume in a
trice, as naturally delighting in spoil, though it do
themselves no good. On the other side, whatsoever
iLey leave unspent, the soldier, wheu he cometh

there, spoileth and havocketh likewise ; so that be«
tween both, nothing is very shortly left. And yet
this is very necessary to be done for the soon
finishing of the war ; and not only this in this wise,
but also those subjects which do border upon those
parts, are either to be removed and drawn away, or
likewise to be spoiled, that the enemy may find no
succour thereby : for what the soldier spares, the
rebel will surely spoil.

EuDox. — I do now well understand you. But
now when all things are brought to this pass, and
all filled with these rueful spectacles of so many
wretched carcasses starving, goodly countries wasted,
so huge desolation and confusion, that even I that
do but hear it from you, and do picture it in my
mind, do greatly pity and commiserate it ; if it shall
fiappen, that the state of this misery and lamentable
image of things shall be told, and feelingly presented
to her sacred majestv, being by nature full of mercy
and clemency, who is most inclinable to such ])itiful
complaints, and will not endure to hear such trage-
dies made of her poor people and subjects, as some
about her may insinuate : then she, perhaps, for very
compassion of such calamities, will not only stop
the stream of such violences, and return to her
wonted mildness, but also conn them little thanks
which have been the authors and counsellors of such
bloody platforms. So I remember that in the late
government of that good Lord Grey, when after
long travail, and many perilous assays, he had
brought things almost to this pass that you speak
of, that it was even made ready for reformation, and
might have been brought to what her majesty
would ; like complaint was made against him, that
he was a bloody man, and regarded not the life of
her subjects no more than dogs, but had wasted and
consumed all, so as now she had nothing almost
left but to reign in their ashes. Ear was soon lent
thereunto, and all suddenly turned topsy-turvy, the
noble lord eftsoons was blamed, the wretched people
pitied, and new counsels plotted, in which it was
concluded, that a general pardon should be sent
over to all that would accept of it. Upon which
all former purposes were blanked, the governor at a
bay, and not only all that great and long charge
which she had before been at, quite lost and can-
celled,- but also all that hope of good which was
even at the door, put back, and clean frustrated.
All which whether it be true or no, yourself can
well tell.

Iren — Too true, Eudoxus, the more the pitv,
for I may not forget so memorable a thing ; neither
can I be ignorant of that perilous device, and of the
whole means by which it was compassed, and very
cunningly contrived, by sowing first dissension be-
tween him and another noble personage ; wherein
they both at length found how notably they had
been abused, and how thereby underhand this uni-
versal alteration of things was brought about, but
then too late to stay the same : for in the meantime
all that was formerly done, with long labour and
great toil, was (as you say) in a moment undone,
and that good lord blotted with the name of a bloody
man, whom, who that well knew, knew to be most
gentle, aft'able, loving, and temperate ; but that the
necessity of that present state of things enforced
him to that violence, and almost changed his natural
dis])Osition. ISut otherwise he was so far from ile-
ligliting in blood, that oftentimes he sutVered not
just vengeance to fall where it was deserved : and

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

511

even some of them which were afterwards his ac-
cusers, had tusted too much of l)is mercy, and were
from the gallows brought to be his accusers. But
his course indeed was this, that lie spared not the
heads and j;riucipals of any mischievous practices
or rebellion, but showed sharp judgment on them,
chiefly for ensample sake, that all the meaner sort,
which also were generally then infected with that
evil, might, by terror thereof, be reclaimed, and
saved, if it were possible. For in the last conspi-
racy of some of the English pale, think you not
that there were many more guilty than they that
felt the punishment t yet he touched only a few of
special note ; and in the trial of them also, even to
prevent the blame of cruelty, and partial proceed-
ing, and seeking their blood, which he, as in his
great wisdom (as it seemeth) did foresee would be
objected against him ; he, for the avoiding thereof,
did use a singular discretion and regard : for the
jury that went upon their trial, he made to be chosen
out of their nearest kinsmen, and their judges he
made of some of their own fathers ; of others, their
uncles and dearest friends: who when they could
not but jusily condemn them, yet he uttered their
judgment in abundance of tears : and yet he even
herein was called bloody and cruel.

Ei'Dox. — Indeed so have I heard it here often
spoken, but I perceive (as I always verily thought)
that it was most unjustly ; for he was always
known to be a most just, sincere, godly, and right
noble man, far from such sternness, far from such
unrighteousness. But in that sharp execution of
the Spaniards at the fort of Smerwick, I heard it
specially noted, and if it were true as some reported,
surely it was a great touch to him in honour : for
some say that he promised them life ; others, at
least he did put them in hope thereof.

Iren. — Both the one and the other is most untrue :
for this I can assure you, myself being as near them
as any, that he was so far either from promising, or
putting them in hope, that when first their Secre-
tary (called, as I remember, Signior Jeftrey), an
Italian, being sent to treat with the Lord Deputy
for grace, was flatly refused ; and afterwards their
colonel, named Don Sebastian, came forth to entreat
that they might part with their arms like soldiers,
at least with their lives according to the custom of
war, and law of nations ; it was strongly denied
him, and told him by the lord deputy himself, that
they could not justly plead either custom of war, or
law of nations, for that they were not any lawful
enemies : and if they were, he willed them to show
by what commission they came thither into another
prince's dominions to war, whether from the pope,
or the king of Spain, or any other. The which when
they said they had not, but were only adventurers,
that came to seek fortune abroad, and to serve in
wars amongst the Irish, who desired to entertain
them ; it was then told them, that the Irish them-
selves, as the Earl and John of Desmond, with the
rest, were no lawful enemies, but rebels and trai-
tors ; and therefore they that came to succour them,
no better than rogues and runagates, especially
coming with no licence nor commission from their
own king : so as it should be dishonourable for him,
in the name of his queen, to condition, or make any
terms with such rascals ; but left them to their
choice, to yield and submit themselves, or no.
Wliereupon the said colonel did absolutely yield
himself and the fort, with all therein, and craved only

mercy : which it being not thought good to show
them for danger of them, if, being saved, they should
afterward join with the Irish ; and also for terror
to the Irish, who are much emboldened by those
foreign succours, and also put in hojie of more ere
long ; there was no other way but to make that
short end of them as was made. Therefore most
untruly and maliciously do these evil tongues back-
bite and slander the sacred ashes of that most just
and honourable personage, whose least virtue, of
many most excellent that abounded in his heroic
spirit, they were never able to aspire unto.

EuDox.— Truly, Ireneus,! am right glad to be
thus satisfied by you, in that I have often heard it
questioned, and yet was never able till now to choke
the mouth of sucli detractors, with tljf certain know-
ledge of their slanderous untruths. Neither is the
knowledge hereof impertinent to that which we
formerly had in hand : I mean, for the thorough
prosecuting of that sharp course which you jiave set
down, for the bringing under of those rebels of
Ulster and^Connaught, and preparing a wav for their
perpetual reformation ; lest haply by auv such sinis-
ter suggestions of cruelty and too much bloodshed,
all the plot might be overthrown, and all the cost
and labour therein employed, be uiieily lost and
cast away.

Iren. — You say most true ; fur after that lord's
calling away from thence, the two lords justices
continued but a while: of which, the one was of
min 1 (as it seemed) to have continued in the footing-
of his predecessors, but that he was curbed and
restrained. But the other was more mildly disposed,
as was meet for his profession, and willing to have
all the wounds of that commonwealth healed and
re-cured, but not with that heed as they should be.
After, when Sir John Perrot succeedng (as it were)
into anotlier man's harvest, found an open way to
what course he list, the which he bent not to that
point which the former governors intended, but
rather quite contrary, as it were in scorn of the
former, and in vain vaunt of his own counsels, with
the which he was too wilfully carried : for he did
tread down and disgrace all the English, and set up
and countenance the Irish all that he could ;
whether thinking thereby to make them more tract-
able and buxom to his government (wherein he
thought much amiss), or privily plotting some other
purposes of his own, as it partly afterwards appeared.
But surely his manner of government could not be
sound nor wholesome for that realm, it being so
contrary to the former ; for it was even as two physi-
cians should take one sick body in hand, at two
sundry times; of which, the former would minister
all things meet to purge and keep under the body,
the other to pamper and strengthen it suddenly
again , whereof what is to be looked for but a most
dangerous relapse 1 Ihat which we now see through
his rule, and the next after him, happened thereunto,
being now more dangerously sick than ever before.
Therefore by all means it must be foreseen and
assured, that after once entering into this of reforma-
tion, there be afterwards no remorse nor drawing
back for the sight of any such ruet'ul objects as
must thereupon follow, nor for compassion of their
calamities ; seeing that by no other nu L:ns it is pos-
sible to cure them, and that these are not of will,
but of very urgent necessity.

EuDo.x. — Thus far then j-ou have now proceeded
to plant your garrisons, and to direct services ; of cba

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

which nevertheless I must needs conceive, that there
cannot be any certain direction set dovrn, so that
thev must fllow the occasions which shall he daily
offered, and diligently awaited. Hut bv vour leave,
Ireneus, notwithstandins:; all tliis your careful fore-
sight and provision, methiiiks I see an evil lurk un-
esj)ied ; and that may chance to hazard all the hope
of this great service, if it be not very well looked
into ; and that is, the corruptions of their captain :
for though thev he placed never so carefully, and
their companies filled never so sutficientlv, yet may
they, if tliev list, discard whom they please, and
send away such as will perhaps willingly be rid of
that dangt-rous and hard service; the which, well I
wot, is their common custom to do, when thev are
laid in garrison, for then they may better hide their
defaults, than when they are in camp, where they
are continually eyed and noted of all men. Besides,
when their pay comefh, they will, as they say, de-
tain the greatest portions thereof at their pleasure,
by a hundred shifts that need not here be named,
through which they oftentimes deceive the soldier,
and abuse the queen, and greatly hinder the service.
So that let the queen pay never so fully, let the mus-
ter-master view them never so diligently, let the de-
puty or general look to them never so exactly ; yet
thsy can cozen them all. 'Iherefore, methinks, it
were good, if it be possible, to make provision for
Jiis inconvenience.

IiiEN.— It will surely he very hard; but the
chiefest help, for prevention hereof, must be the
care of the colonel that hath the government of all
bis garrison, to have an eye to their alterations, to
know the numbers and names of the sick soldiers
and the slain, to make and observe their ranks in their
daily rising forth to service, by which he cannot
easily be abused ; so that he himself be a man of
special assurance and integrity. And therefore great
regard is to be had in the choosing and appointing
of them. Besides, I would not by any means, that
the captain should have the paying of their soldiers,
but that there should be a pay-master ajipointed, of
special trust, which should pay every man accord-
ing to his captain's ticket, and the account of the clerk
of his band ; for by this means the captain will never
seek to falsify his alterations, nor to diminish his
company, nor to deceive his soldiers, when nothing
thereof shall be sure to come unto himself, but what
is his own bare pay. And this is the manner of the
Spaniards' captain, who never hath to meddle with
his soldiers' pay, and indeed scorneth the name as
base, to be counted his soldier's pagadore. Whereas
the contraiy amongst us hath brouyht things to so had
a pass, that there is no captain but thinks his band
very sutficiint, if he can muster sixty, and sticks not
to say openly, that he is unworthy to have a cap-
tainship, that cannot make it worth 500/. by the
year, the which they ri^ht well verify by the jiroof.

Eunox. — Truly I think this is a very good means
to avoid that inconvenience of captains' abuses. But
what say you to the colonel ? What authority
think vou meet to be given him ? Whether will
you allow him to protect, or safe conduct, and to
Lave martial laws as they are accustomed?

lnEN. — Yea verily, but all these to be limited with
very strait instructions. As first, for protections;
tliat tliey shall have authority, after the first protec-
uon, for the space of twenty days, to protect all
that shall come in, and them to send to the lord de-
puty, with their safe-conduct or pass, to be at his

disposition ; but so as none of tbem return oack
agani. being once come in, but be ptesfntlj dent
away out of the country, to the next sheriff and ao
conveyed in safety. And likewise for martial idvr,
that to the soldier it be not extended hut liy trial
formally of his crinae, by a jury of his fellow-soldiers
as it ought to be, and not mshly, at the will and
displeasure of the colonel, as I have sometimes seet.
too lightly. And as for other of the rebels that
shall 'light into their hands, that they be well aware
of what condition they be, and what holding they
have. For in the last general wars there, 1 knew
many good freeholders executed by martial law,
whose lands were thereby saved to their heirs,
which should have otherwise escheated to her
majesty. In all which, the great discretion and
uprighteousness of the colonel himself is to be the
chief stay, both for all those doubts, and for manj
their difficulties that may in the service happen.

EuDOx. — Your caution is very good. Ijut now,
touching the arch rebel himself, I mean the Earf
of Tyrone, if he, in all the time of these wars^
should offer to come in, and submit himself to her
Majesty, would you not have him received, giving
good hostages, and sufficient assurance of himself?

I REN. — No, marry ; for there is no doubt but he
will offer to come in, as he hath done divers times
already ; but it is without any intent of true sub-
mission, as the effect hath well showed ; neither,
indeed, can he novr, if he would, come in at all, nor
give that assurance of himself that should be meet;
for being, as he is, very subtle-headed, seeing him-
self now so far engaged in this bad action, can you
think that, by his submission, he can purchase tc
himself any safety, but that hereafter, when things
shall be quieted, these, his villanies, will be ever
remembered ; and whensoever he shall tread awry,
(as needs the most righteous must sometimes) ad-
vantage will be taken thereof, as a breach of his par-
don, and he brought to a reckoning for all former
matters. Besides, how hard it is now for him to
frame himself to subjection, that having once set be-
fore his eyes the hojie of a kingdom, hath thereunto
not only found encouragement from the greatest king
in Christendom, but also found great faintness in
her Majesty's withstanding hiin ; whereby he is ani-
mated to think that his power is able to defend him,
and offend further than he hath done, whensoever
he please ; let every reasonable man judge. But if he
himself should come, and leave all other his accom-
plices without, as O'Donnel, Mac-Mahone, Rlaguire,
and the rest, he must needs think, that then, even
they will, ere long, cut his throat, which having
drawn them all into this occasion, now, in the midst
of their trouble, giveth them the slip ; whe.reby, he
must needs perceive, how impossible it is for hiintc
submit himself. But yet, if he would do so, can he
give any good assurance of his obedience ? For hov\
weak hold is there by hostages, hath too often been
proved, and that which is spoken of taking Slian
O'Neil's sons from him, and setting them up againsl
him, as a very perilous counsel, and not by any
means to he put in proof; for were they let forth.,
and could overthrow him, who should afterwards
overthrow them, or what assurance can be had of
them ? It will be like the tale in .<5isop, of the wild
horse, who, having enmity with the stag, came to a
man to desire his aid against his foe, who yielding
thereunto, mounted upon his back, and so following
the stag, ere long slew him. But thtn, wheu Uie

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

513

horse would have Inm alio;ht, be refused, but ever
after ke^itbim in his subjection and service. Such,
T doubt, would be the proof of Shan O'Neal's sons.
Therefore, it is most dangerous to attempt any such
plot ; for even that very manner of plot was the
means bv wliich this traitorous earl is now made
great. For when the last O'Neal, called Terlagb
Leinagh, began to stand upon some tickle terms,
this fellow then, called Baron of JJunijannon, was
set up, as it were, to beard him, and countenanced
and strengthened bv the queen so far, as that he is
now able to keep herself ])lay, much like unto a
gamester, that having lost all, borrow elh of his next
fellow-gamester somewhat to maintain play, which
he setting unto him again, shortly thereby winneth
all from the winner.

EuDOX. — Was this rebel, then, at first setup by
the queen, as you say, and now become so undu-
tiful?

Ires. — He was, I assure you , the most outcast of
all the O'Neals then, and lifted up by ber majesty
out of the dust, to that he hath now wrought him-
self unto ; and now he playetli like the frozen snake,
who being for compassion relieved by the husband-
man, soon after be was warm, began to hiss, and
threaten danger even to him and his.

EuDox. — He surely then deserveth the punish-
ment of that snake, and should worthily be hewed
to pieces. But if you like not the letting forth of
Shan O'Neal's sons against him, what say you then
of that advice which, I heard, was given bv some,
to draw in Scots to serve against hira ? How like you
that advice?

Ires. — Much worse than the former; for who
that is experienced in those jsarts knoweth not, that
the O'Neals are nearly allied unto the IM'Neils of
Scotland, and to the Earls of Argyle, from whence
they used to have all succours of those Scots and
redshanks ? Besides, all these Scots are, through
long continuance, intermingled and allied to all the
inhabitants of the north ; so as there is no hope that
they will ever be wrought to serve faithfully against
their old friends and kinsmen : and though they
would, how, when they have overthrown him, and
the wars are finished, shall they themselves be put
>^ut? Do we not all know, that the Scots were the
first inhabitants of all the north, and that those
which now are called the North Irish, are, indeed,
verj Scots, which challenge the ancient inheritance
and dominion of that country, to be their own an-
ciently : This then were but to leap out of the pan
into the fire : for the chiefest caveat and provision
in reformation of the north, must be to .keep out
those Scots.

EuDOx. — Indeed I remember, that in j-our dis-
course of the first peopling of Ireland, you showed,
that the Scythians or Scois were the first that sat
down in the north ; whereby it seems, that they ma)-
challenge some right therein. How comes it then,
that the O'Neals claim the dominion thereof, and this
Earl of Tyrone saith, that the right is in him? I
pray you resolve me herein ; for it is very needful
to be known, and maketh unto the right of the war
against him ; whose success useth commonly to be
accoiding to the justness of the cause for which it is
made. For if I'yrone hare any right in that sei-
gniory, methinks it should be wrong to thrust him
out : or, if. as I remember j-ou said in the begin-
ning, that O'Neal, when he acknowledged the King
of England for his liege lord and sovereign, did, as

he alleged, reserve in the same submission his
seigniories and rights unto himself, what should it
be accounted to thrust him out of ihe same ■*

Ihen. — For the right of O'Neal in the seigniory
of the north, it is surelv none at all : for besides
that the Kings of England conquered all the renlm
and thereby assumed and invested all the li^'ht of
that land to themselves and their heirs and succes-
sors for ever, so as iioihing was left in O'Neal bit
what he received back from them; O'Neal himse?
never had diiy ancient seigniory over that country,
but what bv usurpation and encroachment after the
death of the Duke of Clarence, he got upon the
English, whose land< and possessions being for-
merly wasted by the Scots, under the leading of
Edward le Bruce, as I formerly declared unto you,
he eftsoons entered into, and sithence hath wrong-
fully detained, through the other occupations and
great affairs which the King of England, soon after,
fell into here at home ; so as they could not intend
to the recovery of that country of the north, nor
restrain the insolency of O'Neal, who finding none
now to withstand him, reigned in that desolation,
and made himself lord of those few people that re-
mained there, upon whom ever sithence he hath
continued his first usurped power, and now exacteth
and extorteth ujjon all men what he list ; so that
now to subdue or expel an usurper, should be no
unjust enterprise or wrongful war, but a restitution
of ancient right unto the crown of England, from
whence they were most unjustly expelled and long
kept out.

EiTDOx. — I am very glad herein to be thus satisfied
by you, that I may the better satisfy theui whom I
have often heard to object these doubts, and slan-
derously to bark at the courses which are held
against that traitorous earl and his adherents. But
now that you have thus settled your service for
Ulster and Connaught, I would be glad to hear your
opinion for the prosecuting of Feagh M'Hugh ;
who being but a base villain, and of himself of no
power, yet so continually troubleth the state, not-
withstanding that he lieth under their nose, that I
disdain his bold arrogancy, and think it to be the
greatest indignity to the queen that may be, to suffer
such a caitifi to play such rex ; and by his ensam-
ple, not only to give heart and encouragement to all
such bad rebels, but also to yield them succour and
refuge against her majesty, whensoever they fly unto
his comerick. Whereof I would first wish, before
you enter into your plot of service against him, that
you should lay open by what means, he being so
base, first lifted himself up to this dangerous great-
ness, and how he maintaineth his part against the
queen and her power, notwithstanding all that hath
been done and attempted against him : and whether
also he have any pretence of right in the lands
which he holdeth, or in the wars that he maketh for
the same.

IiiEN. — I will so, at your pleasure ; and will
further declare, not only the first beginning of his
private house, but also the original of the sept of
the Birns and Tools, so far as I have learned the
same from some of themselves, and gathered the
rest by reading. The people of the Birns and
Tools (as before I showed unto you my conjecture)
descended from the ancient Britons, which first
inhabited all those eastern parts of Ireland, as their
names do betoken ; for brin in the British lan»
guage signifieth woody, and tool hilly j which

5'4

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

names it seemeth they took of tlie countries which
thev inhabited, which is all very mountainous and
woodv. In the which it seemeth that ever since
the coming in of the English with Dermot ni-Uall,
they have continued. Whether that their country
being so rude and mountainous was of them de-
spised, and thought unworthy the inhabiting, or
that they were received to grace by them, and
suffered to enjoy their lands, as unfit for any other;
ret it seemeth that in some places of the same they
liave put foot, and fortified with sundry castles, of
which the ruins only do there now remain : since
which time they are grown to that strength, that
they are able to lift up hand against all that state ;
and now lately through the boldness and late good
success of this Feagh Mac-Hugh, they are so far
emboldened, that they threaten peril even to Dublin,
over whose neck they continually hang. But
touching your demand of this Feagh 's right unto
that country which he claims, or the seigniory
therein, it is most vain and arrogant. For this you
cannot be ignorant, that it was part of that which
was given in inheritance by Dermot I\Iac-Morrough,
King of Leinster, unto Strongbow with his daughter,
and which Strongbow gave over unto the king and
his heirs ; so as the right is absolutely now in her
majesty, anJ if it were not, yet could it not be in
this Feagh, but in O'Brin, which is the ancient
lord of all that country ; for he and his ancestors
were but followers unto O'Brin, and his grand-
father Shane Mac-Terlagh was a man of meanest
regard amongst them, neither having wealth nor
power. But his so-.i Hugh Mac-Shane, the father
of this Feagh, first began to lift up his head, and
through the streugih and great fastness of Glan-
-Malor, which adjoineth unto his house of Ballinecor,
drew unto him many thieves and outlaws, which
fled unto the succour of that Glynn, as to a sanc-
tuary, and brought unto him part of the spoil of all
the country ; through which lie grew strong, and
in short space got unto Himself a great name,
thereby, amongst the Irish ; in whose footing this
his son continuing, hath through many unhappy
occasions increased his said name, and the opinion
of his greatness, insomuch, that now he is become
a dangerous enemy to deal withal.

EuDOX. — Surely I can commend him, that being
of himself of so mean condition, hath through his
own hardiness lifted himself up to that height, that
he dare now front prince-s, and make terms with
great potentates ; the wliich as it is to him honour-
able, so it is to them most disgraceful, to be bearded
of such a base varlet, that being but of late grown
out of the dunghill, beginneth now to overcrow so
high mountains, and make himself the great pro-
tector of all outlaws and rebels that will repair unto
him. But do you think he is now so dangerous an
enemy as he is counted, or that it is so hard to take
him (iown as some suppose?

Ihix. — No, verily, there is no great reckoning to
he made of him ; "for had he ever been taken in
hand, when the rest of the realm, or at least the
jiarts adjoining, had been quiet, as the honourable
genileman that now governeth there, I mean Sir
Willium Russell, gave a notable attempt thereunto,
and had worthily jterformed it, if his course had not
been crossed unhappily, he cnuld not have stood
three months, nor ever have looked up against a
verv mean power ; but now all the jiurts aliout him
being up in a maddening mood, as the Whores in

Leix, the Cavenaghs in the county of Wexford,
and some of the Butlers in the county of Kilkenny ;
they all flock unto him, and draw into his country,
as to a strong hold where they think to be safe from
all that prosecute them. And from thence they do
at their pleasures break out into all the borders
adjoining, which are well peopled countries, as the
counties of Dublin, of Kildare, of Catherlrgl, of
Kilkenny, of Wexford, with the spoils whereof
they victual and strengthen themselves, v>-hich
otherwise should in short time be starved, and sore
pined ; so that what he is of himself, you may
hereby perceive.

EuDox. — Then by so much as I gather out of
your speech, the next way to end the wars wiili
him, and to rout him quite, should be to keep biin
from invading of those countries adjoining; which
(as I suppose) is to be done, either by drawing all
the inhabitants of those nest borders avi-ay, and
leaving them utterly waste, or by planting garrisons
upon all those frontiers about him, tbat when he
shall break forth, may set upon him and shorten his
return.

IijEx. — You conceive very rightly, Eudoxus: but
for that the dispeopling and driving away all the
inhabitants from the country about him, which you
speak of, should he a great confusion and trouble,
as well for the unwillingness of them to leave their
jiossessions, as also for placing and providing for
them in other countries ; methinks the hetter course
should be by planting of garrisons about him, which
whensoever he shall look forth, or be drawn out
with the desire of the spoil of those borders, or for
necessity of victual, shall be always ready to inter-
cept his going or coming.

Eufiox — Where then do you wish those garrisons
to be planted, that they may serve best againt him,
and how many in every garrison ?

Iren. — I my>elf, by reason that (as I told you) I
am no martial man, will not take upon me to
direct so dangerous affairs ; but only as I under-
stood by the purposes and plots, which the Lord
Grey, who was well experienced in that service,
against him did lay down : to the performance
whereof he only required 1000 men to be laid in
six garrisons ; that is, at Ballinecor, 200 footmen
and oO horsemen, which should shut him out of his
great o-lynn, whereto he so much trusteth ; at Knock-
fouoh^^OO footmen and 50 horsemen, to answer the
county of Caiherlagh ; at Arclo or Wicklow, 200
footmen and 50 horsemen, to defend all that side
towards the sea ; in Shillelagh, 100 footmen, which
should cut him from the Cavenaghs, and the county
of Wexford ; and about the three castles, .50 horse-
men, which should defend all the c unty of Dublin ;
and 100 footmen at Falbot's Town, which should
keep him from breaking out into the county of Kil-
dare, and be always on his neck on tliat side. '1 he
which garrisons so laid, will so busy him, that hf
shall never rest at home, nor stir forth abroad, but
he shall be had. As for his creet, tht-y cannot bo
above ground, but they must needs fall into tlinr
bands or starve, for he hath no fastness nor refuge
for them. And as for his partakers of the Moores.
Butlers, and Carenaghs, they will soon leave him
when they see his fastness and strong places thus
takt'U from him.

EuDOX. — Surely this seemeth a plot of grtat
reason, and small difficulty, which promiseth hope
of a short end : but what special directions will vou

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

fl5

pet down for the services and risings out of tliese
garrisons '

Tren'.— None other than the present occasions
shall minister unto tliem ; and as by good espials,
whereof there they cannot want store, they shall be
drawn continually upon him, so as one of them
shall be still upon him, and sometimes all at one
instant baiting him. And this (I assure myself)
will demand no long time, but will be all finished
in the space of one year, which how small a thing it
is unto the eternal quietness which shall thereby be
purchased to that realm, and the great good which
should grow to her majesty, should methinks
readilv draw on her highness to the undertaking of
the enterprise.

EuDox. — You have very well, methinks, Ireneus,
plotted a course for the achieving of those wars
now in Ireland, which seems to ask no long time,
nor great charge, so as the effecting thereof be com-
mitted to men of sure trust and sound experience,
as well in that country, as in the manner of those
services ; for if it be left in the hands of such raw
captains as are usually sent out of England, being
thereunto only preferred by friendship, and not
chosen by sufficiency, it will soon fall to the
ground.

ItiEN. — Therefore it were meet (methinks) that
such captains onlv were thereunto employed, as
have formerly served in that country, and been at
least lieutenants unto oiher captains there. For
otherwise, being brought and transferred from other
services abroad, as in France, in Spain, and in the
Low-Countries, though they be of good experience
in those, and have never so well deserved ; yet in
these they will be new to seek, and before they have
gathered experience, they shall buy it with great loss
io her majesty, either by hazarding of their compa-
nies, through ignorance of the places, and manner of
the Irish services, or by losing a great part of the
time which is required hereunto, being but short, in
which it might be finished, almost before they have
laken out a new lesson, or can tell what is to be
done.

EuDox. — You are no good friend to new captains :
it seems, Ireneus, that you bar them from the credit
of this service: but, to say truth, methinks it were
meet, that any one before he came to be a captain,
should have heea a soldier ; for, Parere qui iiesclt,
tiescit imperctre. And besides, there is a great
wrong done to the old soldier, from whom all means
of advancement, which is due unto him, is cut off,
by shuffling in these new cutting captains into the
place for which he hath long served, and perhaps
better deserved. But now that you have thus (as 1
suppose) finished all the war, and brought all thmgs
to that low ebb which you speak of, what course
will you take for the bringing in of that reformation
which you intend, and recovering all things from
this desolate estate? in which, methinks, 1 behold
them now left, unto that perfect establishment and
new commonwealth which you have conceived of,
by which so great good may redound unto her ma-
jesty, and an assured peace be confirmed ; for that is
it whereunto we are now to look, and do greatly long
for, being long sithence made weary with the huoe
charge which you have laid upon us, and with tlie
htrong endurance of so many coraplamts, so many
dela\s, so many doubts and dangers, as will hereof,
1 know well, arise: unto the which, before we
come, it were meet methinks^ that you should take

some order for the sohlier, which is now first to be
discharged and disposed of some way ; the which if
vou do not well foresee, may grow to as great in-
convenience, as all this that I suppose you have quit
us from, by the loose leaving off so many thousand
soldiers, which from thenceforth will be unfit for
any labour or other trade, but must either seek ser-
vice and emjilovment abroad, which may be danger-
ous, or else employ themselves here at home, as
may be discoramodious.

JnEN. — You say very true, and it is a thing much
misliked in this our commonwealth, that no better
course is taken for such as have been employed in
service, but that returning, whether maimed, and so
unable to labour, or otherwise whole and sound, yet
afterwards unwilling to work, or rather willing to
set the hangman on work. But that needeth another
consideration ; but to this which we have now in
hand, it is far from my meaning to leave the soldier
so at random, or to leave that waste realm so weak
and destitute of strength ; which may both defend it
against others that might seek then to set upon it,
and also keep it from that relapse which I before
did forecast. For it is one special good of this plot
which I would devise, that 6000 soldiers of these
whom I have now employed in this service, .and
made thoroughly acquainted, both with the state of
the country and manners of the people, should
henceforth be still continued, and for ever main-
tained of the country, without any charge to her
majesty ; and the rest, that are either old, and
unable to serve any longer, or willing to fall to
thrift, as I have seen many soldiers, after the ser-
vice, to prove very good husbands, should be placed
in part of the lands by them won, at such rate, or
rather better than others, to whom the same shall be
set out.

EuDOx.— Is it pos.sible, Ireneus t Can there be
any such means devised, that so many men should
be kept still in her Majesty's service, without any
charge to her at alH Surely this were an exceeding
great good, both to her highness, to have so many
old soldiers always ready at call, to what purpose
soever she list to employ them ; and also to have
that land thereby so strengthened, that it shall neither
fear any foreign invasion, nor practice which the
Irish shall ever attempt, but shall keep them under
in continual awe, and firm obedience.

Iken'.— It is so indeed : And yet this truly I do
not take to be any matter of great difficulty, as I
think it will also soon appear unto you. And first,,
we will speak of the north part, for that the same is
of more weight and importance. So soon as it shall
appear that the enemy is brought down, and the
stout rebel either cut oH', or driven to that wretched-
ness, that he is no longer able to hold up his head,
but will come into any conditions, which I assure
myself will be before the end of the second winter;
1 wish that there be a general proclamation made,
that whatsoever outlaws will freely come in, and
submit themselves to her majesty's mercy, shall
have libertv so to do, where they shall either find
that grace they desire, or have leave to return agiiin
in safety; upon which it is likely, that so many as
survive, will come in to sue for grace ; of which,
whoso are thought meet for subjection, and fit to
be brought to good, may be received, or else all of
them (for 1 think that all wdl be hut a veryf^-wj,
upon condition and assurance, that they will submit
themselves absolutely to her majesty's ordinance lor

516

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

them, by which they shall be assured of life and
liberty, and be only tied to such conditions as shall
be thought bv her meet for containing them ever
after in due obedience. To the which conditions I
jiotl\ino- doubt, but they will all most readily, and
upon their knees, submit themselves, by the proof
of that which 1 have seen in Munster. For upon
tile like proclamation there, they all came in both
tag- and rag ; and whenas afterwards many of them
were denied to be received, thev bade them do with
them what they would, for they would not by any means
return again, nor go forth. For in that case, who
will not accept almost of any conditions, rather
than die of hunger and misery ?

EuDox. — It is very likely so. But what then is
the ordinance, and what be the conditions which you
will propose unto them, which shall reserve unto
them an assurance of life and liberty?

Iren. — So soon then as they have given the best
assurance of themselves which may be required,
which must be ( I suppose) some of their principal
men, to remain in hostage one for another, and some
other for the rest ; for other surety I reckon of none
that may bind them, neither of wife, nor of children,
since then perhaps they would gladly be rid of both
from the famine ; I would have them first unarmed
utterly, and stripped quite of all their warlike wea-
pons, and then these conditions set down and made
known unto them, that they shall be placed in Lein-
ster, and have land given tliem to occupy and to live
upon, in such sort as shall become good subjects, to
labour thenceforth for their living, and to apply them-
selves to honest trades of civility, as they shall every
one be found meet and able for.

EuDOx. — Where then a God's name will you place
them in Leinster? or will you find out any new land
there for them that is yet unknown?

Iren. — No, I will place them all in the country
of the Birnes and Tooles, which Pheagh IMac-Hugh
hath ; and in all the lands of the Cavinaghs, which
are now in rebellion ; and all the lands which will
fall to her 'majesty thereabouts, which 1 know to be
very spacious, and large enough to contain them,
being very near twenty or thirty miles wide.

EuDOX. — But then what will you do with all the
Birnes, the Tooles, and the Cavenaghs, and all
those that now are joined with them?

Iren. — At the same very time, and in the same
very manner that I make that proclamation to them
of Ulster, will 1 also have it made to these ; and
upon their submission thereunto, I will take like
assurance of them as of the other. After which, I
will translate all that remain of them unto the places
of the other in Ulster, with all their creete, and
what else they have left them ; the which I will cause
to he divided amongst them in some meet sort, as each
may thereby have somewhat to sustain himself awhile
wiihal, until by his further travail and labour of the
earth, he shall be able to provide himself better.

EuDOX. — But will yon give the land then freely
unto them, and make them lieirs of the former
rebels ! so may you perhaps make them also heirs
of all their former villanies and disorders ; or bow
else will you dispose of them ?

liiEN. — Not so ; but all the lands will I give unto
Englishmen, whom I will have drawn thither, who
shall have the same, with such estates as shall be
thought meet, and for such rent as shall eftsoons
be rated. Under every of those Englishmen will I
place some of those Irish to be tenants, for a certain

rent, according to the quantity of such land as every
man shall have allotted unto him, and shall be found
able to wield ; wherein this special regard shall be
had, that in no place under any landlord, there shall
be many of them placed together, but dispersed wide
from their acquaintance, and scattered far abroad
through all the country. For that is the evil whicl?
now I find in all Ireland, that the Irish dwell alto-
gether by their septs, and several nations, so as they
may practise or conspire what they will : whereas
if there were English well placed among tbem, tbey
should not be able once to stir or to murmur, but
that it should be known, and they shortened accord-
ing to their demerits.

EuDOX. — You have good reason; but what rating of
rents mean you? to what end do you propose the same?

1 REN. — My purpose is, to rate the rent of all those
lands of her majesty, in such sort unto those Eng-
lishmen which shall take them, as thev shall be well
able to live thereupon, to yield her majesty reason-
able chiefrie, and also give a competent maintenance
unto the garrisons which shall be there left amongst
them. For those soldiers (as I told you) remain-
ing of the former garrisons, I cast to maintain upon
the rent of those lands which shall he escheated,
and to have them divided through all Ireland, in
such places as shall be thought most convenient,
and occasion may require. And this was the course
which the Romans observed in the conquest of Eng-
land ; for they planted some of their legions in all
places convenient, the which they caused the
country to maintain, putting upon every portion of
land a reasonable rent, which they called romescot,
the which might not surcharge the tenant or free-
holder, and might defray the pay of the garrison :
and this hath been always observed by all princes
in all countries to them newly subdued, to set gar-
risons amongst them, to contain them in duty, whose
burden they made them to bear. And the want of
this ordinance in the first conquest of Ireland by
Henry the Second, was the cause of the so short
decay of the government, and the quick recovery
again of the Irish. Therefore by all means it is to
be provided for. And this is that I would blame, if
it should not misbecome me, in the late planting of
Munster, that no care was bad of this ordinance,
nor any strength of garrison provided for, by a cer-
tain allowance out of all the said lands ; but only
the ])resent profit looked into, and the safe continu-
ance thereof for ever hereafter neglected.

I'^iiDox. — But there is a band of soldiers laid in
Munster, to the maintenance of which, what odds is
there whether the queen, receiving the rent of the
country, do give pay at her pleasure, or that there
be a settled allowance appointed unto them out of
her lands there ?

lit FN. — There is great odds : for now that said
rent of the country is not appointed to the pay of the
soldiers, but it is, by every other occasion coming
between, converted to other uses, and the soldiers,
in time of peace, discharged and neglected as unne-
cessary : whereas if the said rent were appointed
and ordained by an establishment to this end only,
it should not be turned to any other ; nor in trou-
blous times, u]ion every occasion, her majesty be so
troubled with sending over new soldiers as she is
now ; nor the country ever should dare to mutiny,
having still the soldier in their neck ; nor any foreign
enemy dare to invade, knowing there so strong and
great a garrison, always ready to receive them.

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

317

EuDOX. — Sith, then, you think, that this romes-
cot of the pay of the soldiers upon the hind to he
both the readiest way to tlie s )ldiers, and least trou-
blesome to her mrtjestv ; tell us, I pray vou, how
would you have the said lauds ra ed. that hoth a rent
may rise tiiereout unto the (jiiHeii, and also the sol-
diers receive pay, which, methiuks, will be hard !

Iren. — First, we are to consider, how much land
there is in all Ulster, that, accordinu; to the quantity
thereof, we may cess the s^iid lentand allowance is
suing thereout. Ulster, as the ancient records of that
realm do testify, doth contain nine thousand plough
lands, every of which plough lands containeth one
hundred and twenty acres, after the ;ate of twenty-
one foot to every perch of the acre, every of which
plough lands 1 will rate at forty shillings by the
year, the which yearly rent amounteih in the whole
to eighteen thousand pounds, besides sik shilMngs
and eiglit-jjence chiefry out of every plough land.
But because the county of Louth, being a part of
Ulster, and containing in it seven hundred and twelve
plough lands, is not wholly to escheat to her ma-
jesty as tiie rest, thev having, in all their wars, con-
tinued for the most part dutiful, though otherwise a
great part thereof is MOW under the rebels : there is in
an abatement to be made thereout of foui- hundred
or five hundred plough lands, as I estimate the
same, the which are not to pay the whole ye.irlv rent
of forty shillings out of f very )ilough land, like as
the escheated lands do, but yet shall pay for their
composition of cess towards the keeping of soldiers,
twenty shillings out of every plough land ; so as
there is to be deducted out of the ibrmer sum two
hundred or three hundred pounds yearly, the which
may, nevertheless, be supplied by the rent of the
fishings, which are exceeding great in Ulster, and
also by an increase of rent in the best lands, and
those that lie in the best |)laces near the sea-coast.
The which eighteen thousand pounds will det'ray the
entertainment of fitteen hundred soldiers, with some
overplus towards the pay of the victuallers, which
are to be employed in the victualling of theje garri-
sons.

EuDox.— So then, belike, you mean to leave fif-
teen hundred soldiers in garrisons tor Lister, to be
paid print ijially out of the rent of those lands which
i'faallbe there escheate.l unto her majesty ; the which,
where, 1 pray you, will you have them garrisoned ?

Iken. — I will have them divided into three parts ;
that is, five hundred in every garrison, the which I
will have to remain in three of the same places where
they were before appointed ; to wit, five hundred at
Strabane and about Loughfoile, so as they may hold
all the passages of that purt of the country, and
some of them be put in wards u[)on all the straits
thereabjuts, which 1 know to be such, as may stop
all passages into the country on that side, and some
of them also upon the Ban, up towards Lough Sid-
ney, as I formerly directed. Also other five hun-
dred at the fort upon Lough Earne, and wards taken
out of them, which shall be laid at Fermanagh, at
Bealick, at Ballyshannon, and all the straits towards
Connaught, the which, 1 know, do so strongly com-
mand all the passages that way as that none can pass
from Ulster into Connaught without their leave.
The last five hundred shall also remain in their fort at
Monaghan, and some of them be drawn into wards
to keep I he Kaies of all that country, both downwards,
and also towards U'Reilley's country, and the pale ;
liad some at Eaniskillen, some at Belturbut, some at

the Black Fort, and so along that river, as I for-
merly showed in the first planting of them. And
moreover, at every of these forts, I would have the
seat of a town laid forth and encompassed, in the
which I would wish that there sliouhi be inhabitants
placed of all sorts, as merchants, artificers, and hus-
bandmen, to whom there should charters and fran-
chises be granted to incorporate them. The which,
as it will he no matter of difficulty to draw out of
England persons, which would very gladly be so
placed, so would it, in short space, turn those parts
to great commodity, and bring, ere long, to her
majesty much profit; for those places are so fit for
trade and traffic, having most convenient out-gates
by divers ways to the sea, and iii-gates to the richest
parts of the land, that they would soon be enriched,
and mightily enlarged ; for the very seating of the
garrisons by them, besides the safety and assurance
which they shall work unto them, will also draw
thither store of people and trade, as I have ensam-
ple at Maryborough and Philipstown, in Leinster,
where, by reason of these two forts, though there be
but small wards left in them, there are two good
towns now grown, which are the greatest stay of
both those two countries.

Eunox. — Indeed, methinks, three such towns
as you say, would do very well in those places with
the garrisons, and in short space would be so aug-
mented, as they would be able with little to inwall
themselves strongly. But for planting of all the
rest of the country, what order would you take ?

Ir£n. — Whiit other than, as I said, to bring
people out of England, which should inhabit the
same ; whereunto, though 1 doubt not but great
troops would be ready to run, vet for that in such
cases, the worst and most decayed men are m'ist
I ready to remove, I would wish them rather to be
I chosen out of all places of this realm, either by
; discretion of wise men thereunto appointed, or by
■ lot, or by the drum, as was the old use in sending
forth of colonies, or such other good means as shall
i in their wisdom be thought meetest. Amongst the
I chief of which, I would have the land set into seign-
I lories, in such sort as it is now in Rlunster, and
I divided into hundreds and parishes, or wards, us it
j is in England, and laid out into shires, as it was
! anciently : viz. the county of Down, the county
I of Antrim, the county of Liuth, the county of
1 Armagh, the county of Ca^an, the county of L'ole-
raine, the county of Monaghan, the county of
Tyrone, the county of Fermanaagh, the county of
Donegal, being in all ten. L/ver all which, I
wish a lord president and a council to be placed,
which may keep them afterwards in awe and obe-
dience, and minister unto them justice and equity.

EuDox. — Thus 1 see the whole purpose of your
plot for Ulster; and now I desire to hear your like
opinion for Connaught.

IntN. — By that which I have already said of
Ulster, you may gather my opii.ionf or Connaught,
being very answerable to the former. But for that
the lands which shall therein escheat unto her
majesty, are not so entirely together, as that they
can be accounted in one sum, it needeth that they
be considered severally. The province ot Connaught
in the whole contai'ietb, as aj)pearelh by the records
of Duhliii, 7,'JOO |)lough lands of the former mea-
sure, and is of late divided into six shires or coun-
ties ; the county of Clare, the county of Leitrim,
the county of Roscoramon, the county of Galway,

618

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND,

the county of Maio, and the county of Sligo. Of
the which, all the county of Sligo, all the county of
Maio, the most part of the county of Roscommon, tlie
most part of the county of Leitrim, a ^reat part of
the county of Galway, and some of the county of
Clare, is like to escheat to her majesty for the
rebellion of their present possessors. The which
two counties of Sligo and ftlaio are supposed to
contain almost three thousand jdouuh lands, the
rent whereof rateablv to the former, I value almost j
at six thousand pounds per annum. Tlie county of j
Roscommon, saving that which pertaineth to the
house of Roscommon, and some few other English
there lately seated, is all one, and therefore it is
wholly likewise to escheat to her majesty, saving
those portions of English inhabitants ; and even
those English do, as 1 understand by them, pay as
much rent to her majesty, as is set upon those in
Ulster ; counting their composition money there-
withal, so as it may all run into one reckoning with
the former two counties. So tliat this county of
Roscommon containing one thousand two hundred
plough lands, as it is accounted, amounteth to' two
thousand four hundred pounds by the year, which
with the formertwocounties' rent, maketh about eiglit
thousand three hundred jiounds ; for the former
wanted somewhat. 15ut what the escheated lands
of the county of Galway and Leitrim will rise unto,
is vet uncertain to define, till survey thereof be
made ; for that those lands are intermingled with
the earl of Clanricard's and others' lands; but it is
thought they be the one half of both those counties,
so as they may be counted to the value of one whole
county, which containeth above one thousand
plough lands ; for so many the least county of them
all comprehendeih, which maketh two thousand
pounds more, that is in all, ten or eleven thousand
pounds. The other two counties must remain till
their escheats appear; the which letting pass yet,
as unknown, yet tiiis much is known to be ac-
counted for certain, that the composition of tiuse
two counties being rated at twenty siiiUings, every
)>liiugh land, will amount to above two thousand
pounds more; all which being laid together to the
former, may be reasonably estimated to rise unto
tiiiiteen thousand pounds; the which sum, to-
gether vi-iih the rent of the escheated lands
in the two last counties, which cannot yet be valued,
being, as 1 doubt not, no less than a thousand
pounds more ; will yield pay largely unto one
thousand men and their victuallers, and one thou-
sand pounds over towards the governor.

EuDox. — You have, methinks, made but an esti-
mate of those lands of Connaught even at a very
venture, so as it should be hard to build any cer-
tainty of charge, to he raised uj)on the same.

Iren. — Not altogether upon uncertainties ; for
this much may easily ajijiearunto you to be certain,
as the composition-money of every plough-land
amounteth unto; for this I would have you princi-
pally to understand, that my jiurjiose is to rate all
the iands in Irelanil at twenty shillings every plough-
land, f(ir their com])osition towards the garrison.
'J lie whiili ] know, in regard of being freed from all
other charges whatsoever, will be readily and most
jlladly yielded unto. So that there being in all
Ireland, as ajjjieareth by their old records, 43,'J'i!()
plough lands, the same shall amount to the sum
likewise of 43,920/. ; and the rest to be reared of the
• scheated lands which (all to her majer*v in the said

provinces of Ulster, Connaught, and that part o'
l^einster under the rebels for Munster we deal not
yet withal.

Eunox. — But tell me this by the way, do you
then lav composition upon the escheated hinds, as
you do upon the rest? for so, methinks, you reckon
altogether. And that sure were too much to jiay
seven nobles out of every plough-land, and compo-
sition-money besides, that is, twenty shillings out
of every plough-land.

IiiEN. — No, you mistake me, [ do put only seven
nobles rent and composition both, upon every plougli-
land escheated ; that is, forty shillings for com|io^.i-
tion, and six shillings and eightpence for chiefry to
her majesty.

EuDox. — I do now conceive you ; proceed then, 1
pray you, to the appointing of your garrisonsin 'Jon-
naught, and show us both how many, and where you
would have them placed.

Iren. — I would have 1000 laid in Connaught, in
two garrisons; namely, 500 in the (ounty of Maio
about Clan Mac-Costilagh, which shall keep all i\Iaio
and the Bourkes of iMac-Wiliiam Lighter. The
other 500 in the county of Galwav, about Garran-
dough, that they may contain the (Connors and the
Bourkes there, the Kelliesand Murries.with all them
thereabouts ; for that garrison which I formerly
placed at Loughearn will serve for ail occasions in
the county of Sligo, being near f>dioining there-
unto ; so as in one night's march, they may be
almost in any place thereof, when need shall recjuire
them. And like as in the former jdaces of garrisons
in Ulster, I wished three corporate towns to be
planted, which under the safe-guard of that strength
should dwell and trade safely with all the coun:ry
about them ; so would 1 also wish to be in this of
Connaught: and that, besides, there were another
established at Athlone, with a convenient ward in
the castle there for their defence.

Iren. — What should that need, seeing the gover-
nor of Connaught useth to lie there always, whose
presence will he a defence to all that township?

In EN. — 1 know he doth so, but that is much to be
disliked, that the governor should lie so far off, in
the remotest ])lace of all the province, whereas it
were meeter that he should be conlinuall.y abiding
in the midst of the charge ; that herai^ht bcjih look
out alike unto all phicfs of his government, and also
be soon at hand in any place where occasion shall
demand him; for the presenee of the governor is
(as you said) a great stay and bridle unto those that
are ill disposed : like as I see it is well observed in
INIunster, where the daily good thereof is continu-
ally ajjpaient. .And for this cause also, do I greatly
mislike the lord tlejiuty's .seating at Dublin, being
the outest corner of the realm, and least needing the
awe of hi-i jiresence: whereas (n.ethink.s) it where
fitter, since his ])roper care is of I.einster, though he
have earn of all besides generally, that he should
seat himself at Athie, or thereabouts, upon the skirt
of that uiuiuiet country ; so ttuit li" might sit ,is it
were, at the very main-mast of his ship ; whence he
might easily over-look, and some iines over-rench the
IMoores, the Dempsits, the (Connors, OCairoll,
O'.Molloy, and all that heaji of Irisli iiaioii> which
there lie huddled together, wi;hou' anv to ovt-i-awe
them, or contain thtm in duty. for the Irishman
(1 assure yon) feurs ilie govi-rniiif ut no longer, than
he IS wiihiii sight or li-vich.

Kunox. — Siireh (ini'thinks) h^-rein ioii observe

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

519

a matter of much importance, more than I have
heard ever noted ; but sure that seems so expedient,
as that I wonder that heretofore it hath been over-
seen or omitted : but I sujipose the instance of the
citizens of Dublin is the greatest lett thereof.

IfifN. — Truly, then, it ought not so to be, for no
cause have they to fear that it will be any hindrance
to them ; for Dublin will be still, as it is, the key of
all passages and transportations out of England
thither, to no less pro6t of those citizens than it now
is ; and besides, other places will hereby receive
some benefit. But let us now (I pray you) come
to Leinster, in the which 1 would wish the same
course to be observed that was in Ulster

EuDOx. — You mean for the leaving of the gar-
risons in their forts, and for planting of English in
all those countries, between the county of Dublin
and the county of Wexford ; but those waste wild
places, I think, when they are won unto her ma-
jesty, that there is none which will be hasty to seek
to inhabit.

IiiEN. — Yes, enough (I warrant you), for though
the whole tract of the country be mountainous and
woody, yet there are many goodly valleys amongst
them, fit for fair habitations; to which those moun-
tains adjoined will be a great increase of pasturage ;
for that country is a great soil of cattle, and very fit
for breed. As for corn, it is nothing natural, save
onlv for barlev and oats, and some places for rye;
and therefore the larger pennyworths may be allowed
to them ; though otherwise the wideness of the
mountain pasturage do recompense the badness of
the soil ; so as I doubt not but it will find inhabitants
and undertakers enough.

EuDox. — How much do you think that all those
lands, which Feagh iMac-Hugh holdeth under him,
may amount unto, and what rent may be reared
thereout, to the mainten-ance of the garrisons tiiat
shall be laid there 1

I REN. — Truly, it is impossible by aim to tell it ;
and for experience and luiowledge thereof, I do not
think that there was ever any of the particulars
thereof; but yet 1 will (if it please you) guess
thereat, upon ground only of their judgment, which
have formerly divided all that country into two shires
or counties ; namely, the county of Wicklow and
the county of Kernes. The which two 1 see no
cause but that they should wholly escheat to hfcr
majesty, all save the barony Arclo, which is the
Earl ot Ormond's ancient inheritance, and hath ever
been in his possession ; for all the whole land is the
queen's, unless there be some grant of any part
thereof, to be showed frorti Ler majesty ; as I thmk
there is onlv of Nf^wcasile to Sir Henry Harrington,
and of the cas'Ie ot Femes to Sir Thomas iNJaister-
enn • the rest, being almost thirty miles over, I do
suppose can contain no less than 2000 plough-lands,
which I will estimate at 4,0001. rent by the year.
The rest of Leinster, being seven counties, to wit,
the county of Dublin, Kildare, Catherlagh, Wex-
ford, Kilkenny, the King's and the Queen's county,
do contain in them 7,400 plough-lands, which
amounteth to so many pounds for composition to
the garrison; that makes in the whole 11,4001.,
which sum will yield pay unto 1000 soldiers, little
wanting, which may be supplied out of oiher lands
of the Cavenaghs, which are to be escheated to
Ler majest)', for the rebellion of their possessors ;
though otherwise indeed they be of her own an-
cient demesne.

EuDox. — It is great reason. But tell us now
where you will wish those garrisons to be laid,
whether altogether, or to be dispersed in sundry
places of the country?

Iren. — Marry, in sundry places, viz. in this sort,
or much the like as may be better advised ; for two
hundred in a place I do think to be enoui;h for the
safeguard of that country, and keeping under all
sudden upstarts that shall seek to trouble the pnace
thereof: therefore I wish two hundred to be laid
at Ballinecor, for the keeping of all bad ])ersons from
Glan-malor, ami all the fastnesses there;ibouts, and
also to contain all that shall be planted in those lands
thenceforth ; another 200 at Knockelough in their
former place of garrison, to keep the Bracknagh, and
all those mountains of the Cavenagiis : -^00 more
to lie at Femes, and upwards, inward upon the
Slane ; 200 to be placed at the fort ot Leix, to re-
strain the .Moores, Upper-Ossory, and O'Carrol ;
other 200 at the fort of Ofaly, to curb the O'Con-
ners, O'Molloyes, llac-Coghlaa, Mageoghegan, and
all those Irish nations bordering therebouts.

EuDox, — Thus I see all your men bestowed in
Leinster. What think you, then, of Meath ?

Iren. — Meath, which containeth both East-
Meath and West-Meath.andof late the Anrialy.now
called the county of Longford, is counted there-
unto ; but Meath itself, according to the old records,
containeth four thousand three hundred and twenty
plough-lands, and the county of Longfonl nine hun-
dred and forty-seven, which in the whole makes
five thousand two hundred and sixty-seven plough-
lands, of which the composition-money will amount
likewise to five thoubund two hundred and sixty-
seven pounds, to the maintenance of the garrison.
But because all Meath, lying in the bosom of th.it
kingdom, is ahvays quiet enough, it is needless to
put any garrison there, so as all that charge may be
spared. But in the county of Longford, I wish two
hundred footmen and fifty horsemen to be placed,
in some convenient seat, between the Annaly and the
Breny, as about Lough Sillon, or some like pla( e of
that river, so as they might keep both the O'tielies,
and also the O'Ferrals, and all that outskirt of
IMeath, in awe, the which use, upon every light oc-
casion, to be stirring, and having continual enmity
amongst themselves, do thereby oftentimes tr.iuble
all those parts, the charge whereof being three thou-
sand four hundred and odd pounds, is to be cut out
of that composition money for Meath and Longford,
the overplus, being almost two thousand ])Ounds by
the year, will come in clearly to her majesty.

EuDOx. — It is worth tiie hearkening unto ; but now
that you have done with Meath, proceed, I jiray
you, to Munster, that we may see liow it will rise
there for the maintenance of the garrison.

Iren. — Munster containeth, by record at Dublin,
sixteen thousand plough-lands, the composition
whereof, as the rest, will make sixteen thousand
pounds by the year, out of the which 1 would have
one thousand soldiers to be maintained for the de-
fence of that province, the charge whereof, with the
victuallers' wages, will amount to twelve thousand
pounds by the year ; the other four thousand pounds
will defray the charge of the presidency and the
council of thiit prov.nce.

EuDOx. — The reckoning is easy ; but in this ac-
count, by your leave, methinks you are deceived ;
for in this sum of the composition-money, you
account the lands of the undertakers of that j)rovince

5 20

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

who are, by their grant from the queen, to be freed
from all such impositions whatsoever, excepting their
only rent, which is surelv enough.

Irex. — You say true, I flicl so; but the same
twenty- shillings for every jilough-land, I mean to
have deducted out of that rent due upon them to
her majestv, which is no hindrance nor charge at all
more to her majesty than it now is ; for all that rent
which she receives of them she putteth forth again
to the maintenance of the presidency there, the
charge whereof it doth scarcely defray, whereas in
this account, both that charge of the presidency, and
also of one thousand soldiers more, shall be main-
tained.

EuDox. — It should be well if it could be brought
to that. But now, where will you have your one
thousand men g;irrisoned !

Iren. — I would have one hundred of them placed
at the Bantrv, where is a most fit place, not only to
defend all that side of the west part from foreign in-
vasion, but also to answer all occasions of troubles,
to which that country, being so remote, is very sub-
ject. And surely there also would be planted a good
town, having both u good haven, and a plentilul
fishing, and the land being already escheated to her
majesty, but being forcibly kejit from her by one
that proclaims himself the bastard son of the earl
of Clancar, being called Doiiell M'Carty, whom it
is meet to foresee to. For whensoever the earl shall
die, all those lands, after him, are to come unto her
majesty; he is like to make a foul stir there, though
of himself no power, yet, through supportance of
some others, who lie in the winu, and look after the
fall of that inheritance. Another hundred I would
have placed at Castle iNIayne, which should keep all
Desmond and Kerry, for it answereth them both
most conveniently. Also about Kilmore, in the
county of Cork, would I have two hundred [)laced,
the which should break that nest of thieves there,
and answer equally both to the county of Limerick,
and also the county of Cork. Another hundred
would 1 have lie at Cork, as well to command the
town, as also to be ready for any foreign occasion.
Likewise at Waterford would 1 place two hundred
for the same reasons, and also for other privy causes,
that are no less important. Moreover, on this side
of Arlo,near to Muskery Quirk, which is tne coun-
try of the Burkes, about Kilpatrick, I would have
two hundred more to be garrisoned, which should
scour both the White Knights country, and Arlo,
and INIuskery Quirk, by which places all the pas-
sages of thieves do lie, which convey their stealth
from all Rlunster downwards, towards 'I'ipperaiy,
and the English Pale, and from the English Pale
also up unto iMunster, whereof ihey use to make a
common trade, iiesides that, ere long, I doubt,
that the county of 'I'ipperary itself will need such a
strength in it, wliich were good to be there ready
before the evil fall, that is dady of some expected.
And thus you see all your garrisons ])laced.

Ei'DOX.— f see it right well. But let me (I pray
you) by the way, ask you the reason, why in those
cities of Munster, namely, Waterford and Cork, you
rather placed garrisons, than in all others in Ireland?
for they may think themselves to have a great wrong-
to be so charged above all the rest.

liiKN. — I will tell you, those two cities, above all
the rest, do offer an in-gate to the Spaniard most
fitly : but yet, because they shall not take exceptions

to this, that they are charged above all the rest, I
will also lav a charge upon the others likewise ; foi
indeed it is no reason that the corporate towns, en-
joying great fi-ancliises and privileges from her ma-
jesty, and living thereby not only safe, but drawing
to them the w-ealth of all the land, should live so
free, as not to be partakers of the burthen of this
garrison, for their own safety, especially in tliis time
of troulile, and seeing all the rest hurthened : and
therefore 1 will charge them all thus rateably, accord-
ing to th ir abilities, towards their maintenance ; the
w-hich iier iMajesty may (if she please) spare out of
the charge of the rest, and reserve towards her other
costs, or else add to the charge of the presidency in
the north.

Waterford, 100; Cork, 50 ; Limerick, ,=)0 ; Gal-
way, riO ; Dinglecusb, 10 ; Kinsale, 10 ; Youghal,
10; Kilmalloc'k, 10; Clonmell, 10; Cashell, 10 ;
Fedard, 10; Kilkenny, 25; Wexford, 25; Tredagh,
25; Ross, 25; Dundalk. 10; Mellingare, 10;
Newrie, 10; Trim, 10; Ardee, 10; Kells, 10;
Dublin. 100. In all, 580.

EuDox. — It is easy, Ireneus, to lay a charge upon
any town ; bat to foresee how the same may be an-
swered and defrayed, is the chief part of good ad-
visement.

littN. — Surely this charge w-hich I put upon them,
I know to be so reasonable, as that it will not much
be felt ; for the port towns that have the benefit of
shipping, may cut it easily off their tr.iding ; and in-
land towns ofl'their corn and cattle: neither do 1 see,
but since to ihem especially the benefit of peace doth
redound, that they especially should bearthe burthen
of their safeguard and defence, as we see all the
towns of the Low-countries do cut upon themselves
an excise of all things towards the maintenance of
the war that is made in their behalf; to which,
though these are not to be compared in ri( hes, yet
are they to be charged according to their poverty.

Ei'Dox. — But now that you have thus set up these
forces of soldiers, and jirovided w-ell (as you sup-
pose) for their pay, yet there remaineth to fore-cast
how they may be victualled, and where purveyance
may tliereof be made ; for in Ireland itself, I cannot
see almost how anything is to be had for them, being
already so pitifully wasted, as it is with this short
time of war.

Iren. — For the first two years, it is needful
indeed, that they be victualled out of England
thoroughly, from half-year to half-year, aforehand.
All which liiue the English pale shall not be bur-
dened at all, but shall have time to recover them-
selves. And Munster also being reasonably well
stored, will by that time, if God send seasonable
we-dther, be thorouglily well-furnished to sui)ply a
great i>art of that charge ; for I know there is great
plenty of corn sent over sea from thence, the which
if they might have sale for at home, they w-ould be
glad to have money so near hand ; especially if they
were straightiy restrained from transjiorting of it.
Thereunto, also, there will be a great lielp and fui-
therance given in the putting forward of husbandry
in all meet places, as hereafter shall in due place ap-
pear. But hereafter when things shall grow unto a
better strengtii, and the country be replenished with
corn, as in short s[)ace it will, if it be well followed,
for the country j)eople theinsel ves are great ploughers,
and small spenders of corn ; then would 1 wish that
there should be good store of houses and magazinflS

A VIEW OF IHE STATE OF IRELAND.

521

erected in all those great places of garrison, and in
all great towns, as well for the I'ittualling of sol-
diers and ships, as for all occasions of sudden ser-
vices ; as also for preventing of all times of dean h
and scarcity. And tliis want is much to be com-
plained of in England, above all other countries,
who trusting too much to the usual blessing of the
earth, do never forecast any such hard seasons, nor
any such sudden occasions as these troublous
times may every day bring forth, when it will be to
late to gather provision from abroad, and to bring it,
perhaps, from far, for the furidshing of ships or
soldiers, which peradventure may need to be pre-
sently employed, and whose want may, which God
forbid, hap to hazard a kint;dom.

EuDox. — Indeed the want of those magazines of
victuals, 1 have oftentimes complained of in England,
and wondered at in other countries; but that is
nothing- now to our purpose but aa for these gar-
risons which you have now so strongly planted
throughout all Ireland, and every place swarming
with soldiers, shall there be no end of them ? For
now thus being, methinks, I do see rather a country
of war, than of peace and quiet, which you earst
pretended to work in Ireland ; for if you bring all
things to that quietness that you said, what then
needeih to maintain so great forces, as you have
charged upon it?

Irev. — 1 will unto you. Eudoxus, in privity discover
the drift of mv purpose ; I mean, as I told ynu, and
do Well hope thereby both to seitle an eternal peace
in that country, and also to make it very profitable
to her majesty ; the which 1 see must be brought i[i
with a strong hand, and so contniued, till it run in
a stedlast course of government, which in this sort
will neither be difficult nor dangerous : for the sol-
dier being once brought in for the service into
Ulster, and having subdued it and Connaught, I will
not have him to lay down his arms any more, till he
have effected that which I pufi^ose; that is, (irst to
have this geneial composition for mainieiiHiice of
these throughout all llie realm, in regard otthe trou-
blous times, and daily danger which is ihreaieiied
to this realm by the King of t>j)ain. And thereupon
to bestow all my soldiers in such sort as I have
done, that no part of all that realm shall be able to
dare to quinch : '1 hen will 1 ef'soons bring in my
refoimation, and thereupon e-iabiish such a hirm of
government, as 1 niav think meetest for the good of
that realm, which being once st-ttled, and all rhings
put into a right wav, 1 doubt not but thi y will run
on fairly. And though they would ever seek to
swerve aside, yet shall they not be able with ut fo-
reign violence, i.nce to remove, as you yourself shall
soon, I hope, in your own reason readily conceive;
which if it shall ever appear, then may her majesty
at pleasure withdraw some ot the garrisons, and turn
their pay into her purse : or if she will never please
so to <lo, wliiclkl would rather wish, then shall stie
have a number of brave old soldiers alwavs ready
for any occasion that she will employ them unto,
supplying their garrisons with fresh ones in their
Stead. I he maintenance of wlioiii, shall be no more
charge to hermaJHstv, than now thai realm is: for
all the revenue ihereoi, and much more she s)iendetli,
even in the most peaceable limes that are there, as
things now stand. And in ini'^ of war, ulncli is
now surels' every seveu'h yeai , she spendeth iiitiinie
treasure besides, to sn.aU jjur) .o>e.

Eluox. — 1 perceive your purpose i but nuw that

you have thus strongly made way unto your reform-
ation, and that I see the people so humbled and
prepared, that they will and must yield to any ordi-
nance that shall be given them, I do much desire to
understand the same : for in the beginning vou pro-
mised to show a means how to redress all those in-
conveniences and abuses, which you showed to be
in that state of government, which now stands
there ; as in the laws, customs, and religion.
Wherein I would gladly know first, whether in-
stead of those laws, you would have m^w laws
made ; for now, for ought that 1 see, you may do
what you please.

Iren. — I see, Eudoxus, that you well remembei
our first purpose, and do rightly continue the course
thereof. First therelore to speak of laws, since we
first began with them : I do not think it now con-
venient, though it be in the power of the prince, to
change all the laws, and make new : for that should
breed a great trouble and confusion, as well m the
English there dwelling, and to be })lanteil. as also
in the Irish. For the English having been always
trained uj) in the English government, will hardly
be inured to any other, and the Irish wdl better be
drawn to the English, than the English to the Irish
government. Therefore sithence we cannot now
a[)])ly laws fit to the people, as in the first institu-
tions of commonwealths it ou^ht to be, we will
apply the people, and fit them unto the laws, as it
most conveniently may be. The laws therefore we
resolve shall abide in the same sort tl.at iLev do,
both common law and statutes ; only such defects in
the common law, and inconveniences in the statutes,
as in the beginning we noted, and as men of deeper
insight shall adiise, may be changed by some other
new acts and ordinances, to be by a parliament
there confirmed : as those for trials cf pleas of the
crown, and private rights between parties, colour-
able conveyances, and accessories.

EiiDox. — But how will those be redressed by par-
liament, when as the Irish which sway most in par-
liament (as you said) shall oppose themselves
against them ?

Irejj. — That may well now be avoided : for now
that so many freeholders of English shall be esta-
blislied, they, together with burgesses of towns, and
such other loyal Irishmen, as may be preferred to
be knights of ihe shire, and such like, will be able
to beard, and to counterpoise the rest; who also
being now more brought in awe, will the more
easily submit to any such ordinances as shall be for
the i;ood of themselves, and that realm generally.

Ei-Dox. — You say well, for by the increase of
freeholders their numbers hereby will be i;ieatly
augmented ; but how shall it pass througli the
liigher house, which still must consist of all Irish?

"luEN. — Marry that also msy be redressed by en-
sample of that which I have heard was done in the
like case by king Edward the Third (as I remember)
who being'greatly bearded and crossed b> the loids
of the clergy, they being there, by reason of the
lords abboLs, and others, too many and loo strong
for him, so as he could not for their frowardness.
Older and reform things as he desired ; was advised
to direct out his writs to cenain gentlemen of the
best ability and trust, entitling them therein boons,
to serve, and sit as barons in the next jiarliauieiit.
liv which means he had so many barons in hispailia-
nii-ut, as were able to weigh down the clergv and
their friends : the which barons, they say, were not

522

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

afterwards lords, but only baronets, as sundry of
them do yet retain the name. And by the like de-
vice her majesty may now likewise curb and cut
short those Irish and unruly lords, that hinder all
good proceedings.

EuDox. — It seems no less than for reforming of
all those inconvenient statutes that you noted in the
bes^iniiins.and redressing of all those evil customs;
and lastly, for settling of sound religion amongst
them, raetliinks you shall not need any more to over-
oo those particulars again, which you mentioned, nor
any other which mii;ht besides be remembered : but
to leave all to the reformation of such a parliament, in
which by the good care of the lord deputy and coun-
sel, they may all be amended. Therefore now you
may come unto that general reformation which you
spalce of, and bringing in of that establishment, by
which you said all men should be contained in duty
ever after without the terror of warlike forces, or
violent wresting of things by sharp punishments.

Irp-v,.. — I will so at your pleasure ; the which
(methinks) can by no means be better plotted, than
Dv ensample of such other realms as have been
annoyed with like evils that Ireland now is, and
usetli still to be. And first in this our realm of
Eneland, it is manifest by report of the chronicles,
andancient writers, that it was greatly infested with
robbers and outlaws ; which lurking in woods and
fust places, used often to bieiik forth into the high-
ways, and sometimes into small villages to rob, and
spoil. For redress whereof it is written, that King
Alured, or Aldred. did divide the realm into shires,
and the shires into hundreds, and the hundreds into
lathes or wapentakes, and the wapentakes into
tythings ; so that ten tythings make an hundred,
and live make a lathe or wapentake: of which ten,
each one vi-as bound for another, and the eldest or
best of them, whom they called the tythingman or
borsolder, that is the eldest pledge, became surety
for all the rest. So that if any one of them did
start into any undutiful action, the borsolder was
bound to bring him forth ; when joining eftsoons
with all his tything, would follow that loose person
through all places, till they brought him in. And
if all that tything failed, then all that lathe was
charged for that tything ; and if that lathe failed,
then all that hundred was demanded for them ; and
if the hundred, then the shire, who joining eftsoons
together, would not rest till they had found out
and delivered in that undutiful fellow, which was
not amenable to law: And herein it seems, that
that good Saxon king followed the counsel of Jethro
to Moses, who advised him to divide the people
into hundreds, and to set captains and wise men of
trust over them, who should take the charge of
them, and ease of that burthen. And so did Romu-
lus(as you may read) divide the Romans into tribes,
and the tribes into centuries or hundreds. IJy this
ordinance, this king brought this realm of England
(which before was most troublesome) unto that
quiet state, that no one bad person could stir, but
he was straight taken hold of by those of his own
tything, and their borsolder, who being his neigh-
bour or next kinsman, were privy to all his ways,
and looked narrowly iiiio his life, 'i'he which insti-
tution (if it were observed in Ireland) would work
that eflect which it did in I'.ngland, and keep all
men within tiie compass of duty aj.d obedience.

Euoox. — Ihis is contrary to that you said be'bre;
for, as 1 remember, you slid, that there was a

great disproportion between England and Ireland,
so as the laws which were fitting for one, would
not fit the other. How comes it now then, that
you would transfer a principal institution from
England to Ireland ?

IiiEN. — This law was not made by the Norman
Conqueror, but by a Saxon king, ac what tune
England was very like to Ireland, as now it stand.-:
for it was (as I told you) annoyed greatly wuh
robbers and outlaws, which troubled the whole
state of the realm, every corner liaving a Robin Hood
in it, that kept the woods, that spoiled all passengers
and inhabitants, as Ireland now hath : so as, me-
thinks, this ordinance would fit very well, and bring
them all into awe.

EuDox. — ! hea when you nave thus tithed the
commonalty, as you say, and set borsolders over
them all, what would you do when you came to the
gentlemen? Would you hold the same course?

Ikex. — Yea many, most especially ; for this
you must know, that all tlie Iri.-h almost boast
themselves to be gentlemen, no less than the
Welsh; for if he can derive liimself from the head
of any sept (as most of them can, they are so ex-
pert by their bards) then he holdeth himself a
gentleman, and thereupon scorneth to work, or use
any hard labour, wliich, he saith, is tlie life of a
peasant or churl : but thenceforth becoineth either
a horse-boy, or a stocah to some kern, inuring
liimself to bis weapon, and to the gentlemanly trade
of stealmg (as they count it.) So that if a gentle-
man, or any wealthy yoeman of them, have any
children, the eldest of them, perhaps, shall be kejit
in some order, but all the rest shall shift for them-
selves, and fall to this occupation. And moreover
it is a common use amongst some of their gentle-
men's sons, that so soon as they are able to use their
weapons, they straight gather to themselves three or
four stragglers, or kern, with vv-hom wandering
awhile up and down idly the country, taking only
meat, he at last falleth unto some bad occasion that
shall be offered ; which being once made known, he
is thenceforth counted a man of worth, in whom
there is courage : whereupon there draw to him
many other like loose young men, which stirring biin
up with encouragement, j)rovoke him shortly to flat
rebellion. And this happens not only sometimes in
the sons of their gentlemen, but also of their noble-
men, especially of them who have base sons. For
they are not only not ashamed to acknosvledge
them, but also boast of them, and use them to such
secret services, as they themselves will not be seen
in ; as to plague their enemies, to spoil their neigh-
bours, to opjiress and crush some of tlieir own too
stubborn freeholders, wliich are not tractable to
their wills.

EuDox. — Then it seeraeth, that tliis ordinance of
tithing them by the pole, is not only fit for the gen-
tlemen, but also for the noblemen, whom I would
have thouglit to be of so honourable a mind, as
that they should not need such a kind of being
bound to tlieir allegiance, who should rather have
held in, and staid all the other from undutifulness,
than need to be forced thereunto themselves.

Ihen. — Vea, so it is, Eudoxus ; but because that
noblemen cannot be tithed, there being not many
tithings of them, and also because a borsolder over
tlifin should be not only a great indignity, but also a
danger to add more ])ower to them than they have,
or to make one the commander of ten ; 1 hold h

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

533

meeter that tbere were only sureties taken of th^m,
aad one bound for anotlicr ; whereby if any shall
swerve, his sureties shall, for safeguard of their
bonds, either brin>;- iiim in, or seek to serve upon
Lim. And besides this, I would wish them all to
be sworn to her majesty, which they never ypt
were, but at the first creation ; and that oath would
sure contain them greatly, or the breach of it bring
them to shorter vengeance, for God useth to punish
perjury sharply. So I read, that there was a corpo-
ral oath taken in the reigns of Edwar-l the Second,
and of Henry the Seventh (when the times were
very broken) of all the lords and best gentlemen,
of fealtv to tiie king ; wliich now is no less needful,
because many of tliem are suspected to have taken
another oath privily to some bad purposes, and
thereupon to liave received the sacrament, and bpen
sworn to a priest, which thev think bindelh them
more than their allegiance to their prince, or love of
their ountrv.

Ki'DOX. — This ti;hiiigto the common people, and
taking sureties of lords and gentlemen, I like very
well, but that it will be very troublesome : should it
not he as well for to have them all booked, and the
lords and gentlemen to take all the meaner sort upon
themselves, for they are best able to bring them m,
whens lever any of them starteth out 1

InEN. — I'his indeed, Kudoxus,hath been hitherto,
and yet is a common order amongst thern, to have
all the people booked by the lords and gentlemen :
but yet the worst order that ever was adv'ised j for
by this booking of men, all the inferior sort are
brought under the command of their lords, and
forced to follow them into any action whatsoever.
Now this you are to understand, that all the rebel-
liims, which you see from time to time happen in
Ireland, are not begun by the common people, but
by the lords and captains of countries, upon pride
or wilful obstinacy against the government; which
whensoever they will enter into, they draw with
them all their peojjle and followers, which think
themselves bound to go with them, because they
have booked them, and undertaken for them. And
this is the reason that in England you have such
few bad occasions, by reason that the noblemen,
however they should happen to be evil disposed,
have no command at all over the commonalty, though
dwelling under them, because that every man staiid-
eth upon himself, and buildeth his fo'rtunes upon
his own faith and firm assurance. I he which this
ra.inner of tithing the poles will work also in Ire-
land ; for by this, the people are broken into many
small parts, like little streams, that they cannot
easily come together into one head, which is the
principal regard that is to be Had in Ireland, to keep
them trom growing unto such a head, and adhering
unto great men.

EuDox. — Hut yet I cannot see bow this can be
well brought, without doing great wrong i^nto the
noblemen there ; for at the first conquest of that
rea!m, those great seigniories and lordshijis were
given them by the king, that they shuuld be the
stronger against the Irish, by the multitudes of fol-
lowers and tenants under them: all which hold their
tenements of them by fealty, and such services,
whereby they are ( by the first grant of the king)
made bounden unto them, and tried to rise out with
them into all occasions of service. And this I have
often heard, tliat when the lord deputy hatli raised
auy general hostings, the noblemen iiave claimed the

leading of them, by grant from the kings of England
under the great seal exhibited ; so as the deputies
could not refuse them to have the leading of them,
or if they did, they would so work, as none of their
followers should rise forth to the hostage.

liiEN. — You say very true ; but will you see the
fruit of those grants'? I have known when those
lords have hail the leading of their own followeis
under them to the gener;il hostings, that they have
for the same cut upon every plough-land within their
country forty shillings or more; whereby ^ome of
them have gathered together above seven or eii^ht
hundred pounds, and others much wore, into ll.eir
purse ; in lieu whereof, they have gathernl unto
themselves a number of loose kern out of dl |iiiis,
which thev have carried forth with them, to wh^im
they never gave any penny of entertainment, allowed
by the country, or forced by them, but let them feed
upon the countries, and extort upon all men where
they come : for that people will never ask better
entertainment, than to have a colour of service or
employment given them, by which they will poll and
spoil so outrageously, as the very enemy cannot do
much worse: and they also sometimes turn to the
enemy.

E'juox. — It seems, the first intent of those grants
was against the Irish, which now some of them use
against the queen herself. But now, what remedy
is there for this ? or how can those grants of the
kings be avoided, without wronging of those lords,
which had those lands and lordships given them 1

luEN. — Surely they may be well enough, for most
of those lords, since their first grants from the kings,
by which those lands were given them, have sithence
bestowed the most part of them amongst their kins-
folk ; as every lord perhaps hath given in his lime
one or another of his principal castles to his younger
son, and other to others, as largely and as amply as
they were given to him ; and others they have sold,
and others they have bought, wdiich were notintlieir
first grant, which now nevertheless tbey bring
within the compass thereof; and take and exact
upon them, as upon their first demesnes, all those
kind of services, yea, and the very wild exactions,
coignie, livery, sorehon, and such like •, by which
they poll and utterly undo the poor tenants and
freeholders under them, which either through igno-
rance know not their tenures, or through greatness
of their new lords dare not challenge them : yea,
and some lords of countries also, as greq^t ones as
themselves, are now by strong hand brought under
them, and made their vassals. As for example,
Arundel of the Stronde, in the county of Cork,
who was anciently a great lord, and was able to
spend 3,5001. by the year, as appeareih by good
records, is now i ecome the lord Barrie's man, and
doth to him all those services which are due unto
her majesty. For reformation of all which, I wish
that there were a commission granted forth, under
the great seal, as 1 have seen one recorded in the
old Council-book of iMunster, that was sent forth
in the time of Sir William Drury, unto persons of
special trust and judgment, to inquire throughout
all Ireland, beginnii;g with one county first, and so
resting awhile tfll the same wer^- settled, by the ver-
dict of a sound and substantial jury, how every man
holdeth his land, of whom, and by what tenure ; so
that every one should be admitted to show and exhi-
bit what right he hath, and by what services he hold-
eth his land, whether in chiel, or in soccage, or by

5?4

A VIKW OF IIIK STATE OF IRELAND.

knijilit's service, or liow else soever. Tl)ereuj)on
would appear,, first, how all those great English lords
do claim those great services, what seigniories they
USUI)), what wardships they take from the queen,
what lands of hers they conceal. And then, how
tlio^e Irish ca|itaiiis of countries have encroached
upon the queen's freeholilers and tenants, how they
have translated the tenures of them from Kng;lish
holding, unto Irish tanistry, and defeated her ma-
jesty of all lit-r rights and duties which are to accrue
to her thereout; as waidships, liveries, marriages,
fines of alienations, and many other commodities
which now are kept and concealed fiom her majesty,
to the value of 40,0001. per annum, I dare undertake
in all Ireland, by that which I know in one county.

EuDOx. — This, Ireneus, would seem a dangerous
commission, and ready to stir up all the Irish in
rehellion, who knowing that they have nothing to
show for all those lands which they hold, but their
swords would rather draw them, than suffer the
lands to be thus drawn away from them.

I REN. — Neither should their lands be taken away
from them, nor the utmost advantages enforced
agamst them. But this, by discretion of the com-
missioners, should be made known unto them, that
it is not her majesty's meaning, to use any such
extremity, hut only to reduce things into order of
English law, and make them hold their lands of her,
and to restore to her her due services, which they
detain out of those lands, which were anciently held
of her. And that they should not only not be
thrust out, but also have estates and grants of their
lands new made to them from her majesty, so as
they should thenceforth hold them rightfully, which
they now usurp wrongfully. And yet withal I
would wish, that in all those Irish countries there
were some land reserved to her majesty's free dis-
position, for the better containing of the rest, and
intermingling them with English inhahitants and
customs, that knowledge might still be had of
them, and of all their doings, so as no manner of
practice or conspiracy should be had in hand
amongst them, but notice should be given thereof by
one means or another, and their practice prevented.

EuDox Truly neither can the Irish nor yet the

English lords think themselves wronged, nor hardly
dealt withal, herein, to have that which is indeed
none of their own at all, but her majesty's absolutely
given to them, with such e(|ual conditions, as that
both they may be assured thereof better than they are,
and also, her majesty not defrauded of her right utterly.
For it is a great grace in a prince, to take that with
conditions, which is absolutely her own. Thus
shall the Irish be well satisfied. And as for the
great men which had such grants made to them at
first by the kings of England, it was in regard that
they should keep forth the Irish, and defend the
king's right, and his subjects ; but now seeing that
instead of defending them, they rob and spoil them ;
and instead of keeping out the Irish, they do not
only make the Irish tlieir tenants in those lands,
and thrust out the English, but also some of them-
selves become mere Irish, with mairying with them,
with fostering with them, and combining with
them against the queen ; what reason is there, but
that those grants and privileges should be either
revoked or at least reduced to tlie first intention for
which they were granted? For sure, in mine opi-
H)r;i, they are more sharjtly to be chastised and
retormed.than the rude Irish, which being very wild

tit the first, are now become more civil ; whenas
these from civility, are grown to be wild and mere
Irish.

Iren. — Indeed, as you say, Eudoxus , these do
need a sharper reformation than the Irish ; for they
are more stubborn and disobedient to law 9nt\ go-
vernment than the Irish be.

KuDox. — In truth, Ireneus, this is more than
ever I heard that any English there should be worse
than the Irish. LoVd, how quickly doth that
country alter men's natures I It is not for nothing,
I perceive, which I have heard, that the council of
England think it no good policy to have that realm
reformed, or planted with English, lest they should
grow so undutiful as the Irish, and become more
dangerous. As appeareth by the examples of the
Lacies in the time of Edward II., which you spake
of, that shook off their allegiance to their natural
prince, and turned to Edward le Bruce, to make
him king of Ireland.

Ihen. — No times have been without bad men:
but as for that purpose of the council of England,
which you spake of. that they should keep that
realm from reformation, I think they are most lewdly
abused ; for their great carefulness, and earnest
endeavours do witness the contrary. Neither is it
the nature of the country to alter men's manners, but
the bad minds of the men, who having been brought
up at liome under a strait rule of duty and obedi-
ence, being always restrained by sharp penalties
from lewd behaviour, so soon as they come thither,
where they see laws more slackly tended, and the
hard restraint which they were used unto, now
slacked, they grow more loose and careless of their
duty: and as it is the nature of all men to love li-
berty, so they become flat libertines, and fall to
all licentiousness, more boldly daring to disobey the
law, through the presumption of favour and friend-
ship, than any Irish dareth.

Ei'Dox. — -Then if that he so, methinks your late
advisement was very evil, whereby you wished the
Irish to be sowed and sprinkled with English, and
in all the Irish countries to have English planted
amongst them, for to bring them to English fashions,
since the English sooner draw to the Irish than the
Irish to the English. For, as you said before, if
they must run with the stream, the greater number
will carry away the less. Therefore, methinks, by
this reason, it should be better to part the Irish and
English, than to mingle them together.

I HEN. — Net so, Eudoxus ; but where there is no

good stay of government, and strong ordinances to

iiold them, there indeed the fewer follow the more ;

but where there is due order of discipline and good

rule, there the better shall go foremost, and the worst

shall follow. And therefore now, since Ireland is

full of her own nation, that ought not to be rooted

out, and somewhat stored with English already, and

more to be ; I think it best, by an union of manners,

and conformity of minds, to bring them to be one

peofile, and to put away the di>likeful conceit both

I of tlie one and the other, winch will be by no means

better, than by this intermingling of them. P'or

neither all the Irish may dwell together nor all the

I FJMglish, but by translating of them, and scattering

I them amongst the English, not only to bring them

I by daily conversation to better liking of each other,

hut also to make both of them less able to hurt. And

therif re when I come to the tything of them, I will

I t}th'« them one with another, and, for the mosti^iart,

A VIEW OF THF-: STATE OF IRELAND.

h75

will make an Irishman tlie tYthingnian, whereby he
shall take the less exce])tion to partiality, and Vet be
the more tied thereby. But when 1 come to the
headborough, which is the head ot" the lathe, him
will 1 make an Eniilishman, or an Irishman of spe-
cial assurance. As also when I come to appoint the
alderman, that is the head of the hundred, him will
I surely choose to he an Englishman, of special
regard, that may be a stay and pillar of all the bo-
rough under him.

Eur)ox. — What do you mean by your hundred,
and what by your borough? By that that I have
read in ancient records of England, an hundred did
contain an hundred villages, or, as some say, an
hundred plough-lands, being the same which the
Saxons called cantrtd ; the which cantred, as I find
it recorded in the black-book of I'JLe Exchequer of]
Ireland, did contain 30 villatas terra:, which some
call quarters of land ; and every viliata can maintain
•JOO cows in pasture, and the 400 cows to be divided
into four herds, so as none of them shall come near
other ; every villata containing 18 plough-lands, as
is there set down. And by that which I have read
of a borough, it signifieth a free-town, which had a
principal officer, called a head-borough, to become
ruler, and undertake for all the dwellers under him,
having for the same, franchises and privileges granted
them by the king, whereof it was called a free-bo-
rough, and of the lawyers, Franci plegium.

InEN. — Both that which you said, Eudoxus, is
true, and yet that which I say not untrue. For that
which you spake of dividing the country into hun-
dreds, was a division of the lands of the realm ; but
this which 1 tell was of the people, which were thus
divided by the pole : so that hundred in this sense
signifieth a hundred pledges, which were under the
command and assurance of their alderman ; the
which (as I suppose) was also called a wapentake,
so named of touching the weapon or sjiear of their
alderman, and swearing to follow him faithfully, and
serve their prince truly. But others think, that a
wapentake was ten hundreds or boroughs. Like-
wise a borough, as I here use it, and as the old laws
still use, is not a borough-town, as they now call it,
that is, a franchised town; but a main pledge of a
hundred free persons, therefore called a free borough,
or (as you say) Fraud plegium. For Borh, in old
Saxon, signifieth a pledge or surety ; and yet it is so
used with us in some speeches (as Chaucer saith)
St. John to Boroh, that is, for assurance and war-
rantry.

EuDox. I conceive ihe difference. But now that
you have thus divided the people into these tythings
and hundreds, how will you have them so preserved
and continued? for people do often change their
dwelling-places, and some must die, whilst othei some
do grow up into strength of years, and become men.

Iren. — These hundreds I would wish to assemble
themselves once every year with their pledges, and
to present themselves before the justices of the
peace, which shall be thereunto appointed, to be
surveyed and numbered, to see what change hath
happened since the year before ; and the defects to
supply, of young ]}lants late grown up, the which
are diligently to be overlooked and viewed of what
condition and demeanor they be, so as pledges may
be taken for them, and they put into order of some
nthing. Of all which alterations, notes are to be
taken, and books made thereof accordingly.

EuDOX. — Now, methinks, Ireneus, you are to be

warned to take heed, lest unawares you fall into tna*
inconvenience which you formerly found fault with
in others ; namely, tliat l)y this booking of tliem,vou
do not gather them into a new head ; ana havinj;
bioken their former strength, do not unite them more
strongly again. For every alderman, having all
these free pledges of his hundred under his com-
mand, may, methinks, if be be evil disjiosed, draw
all his company into an evil action. And likewise
by this assembling of them once a year untu their
alderman by their wapentakes, take heed lest vou
also give them occasion and means to practise toge-
ther in any conspiracies.

Iren. — Neither of both is to be doubted ; for their
aldermen and head-boroughs will not be such ni^n
of power and countenance of themselves, being to
be chosen thereunto, as need to be feared ; neitlier
if he were, is his hundred at his command, further
than his prince's service ; and also every tything-
man may control him in such a case. And as f(>r
the assembling of the hundred, much less is any
danger thereof to be doubted, seeing it is before
some justice of peace, or some high-constable,
to be thereunto appointed. So as of these tythings,
there can no peril ensue, but a certain assurance
of peace and great good ; for they are thereby
withdrawn from their lords, and subjected to the
prince. JNIoreover, for the better breaking of these
heads and septs, which (I told you) was one of the
greatest strengths of the Irish, methinks it should
be very well to renew that old statute which was
made in the reign of Edward the Fourth in Ireland,
by which it was commanded, that whereas all men
then used to be called by the name of their sejits,
according to the several nations, and had no ^irnaInes
at all ; that from thenceforth each one should take
upon himself a several sirname, either of his trtide
and faculty, or of some quality of his body or mind,
or of the place where he dwelt ; so as every one
should be distinguished from the other, or from the
most part, whereby they shall not only not depend
upon the Jiead of their sept, as now they do, hut
also in time learn quite to forget his Irish nation.
And herewithal, would I also wish all the O's and
the Mac's, which the heads of septs have taken to
their names, to be utterly forbidden and extinguished.
For that the same being an ordinance (as some say)
first made by O'Brien for the strengthening of the
Irish, the abrogating thereof will as much enfeeble
them.

EuDox. — I like this ordinance very well. But
now that you have thus divided and distinguished
them, what other order will you take for their man-
ner of life ?

Iren. — The next thing that I will do, shall be, to
appoint to every one that is not able to live of his
freehold, a certain trade of life, to which he shall
find himself fittest, and shall be thought ablest ; the
which trade he shall be bound to follow, and live
only thereupon. All trades therefore are to be un-
derstood to be of three kinds, manual, intellectual,
and mixed. The first containeth all such as need-
eth exercise of bodily labour, to the performance of
their profession. The second, consisting only of
the exercise of wit and reason. The third sort,
part of bodily labour, and part of wit, but depend-
ing most of industry and carefulness. Of the first
sort be all handicrafts and husbandry labour. Of
the second, be all sciences, and those vvhich be
called liberal arts. Of the third, is mercliauuisa

5So

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND

and cbaffery ; tliat is, buying and selling. And
without all these three there is no common wealth
can idmost consist, or at the least be perfect. But
the realm of Ireland wanteth the most principal of
them, that is, the intellectual ; therefore in seeking;
to reform !ier state, it is specially to be looked unto.
But because bv husbandry, which supplieth unto
us all things necessary for food, we chiefly live;
therefore it is first to be provided for. The first
thing therefore that we are to draw the&e new
tithed men into, ought to be husbandry : first, be-
cause it is the most easy to be learned, needing
oiilv the labour of the body. Next, because it is
most general, and most needful. Then, because it
is most natural. And lastly, because it is most
enemy to war, and most hateth unquietness : as the
poe't saiih,

Bella execrata colotiis.

For husbandry being the nurse of thrift, and the
daunliter of industry and labour, detesteth all that
may work her scatiie, and destroy the travail of her
hands, whose hope is all her lives' comfort unto the
plough; therefore are tliose kern, stocabs, and
horse-boys to be driven and made to employ that
ableness of body which they were wont to use to
theft and villany, henceforth to labour and industry.
In the which, by that time they have spent but a
little pain, they will find such sweetness and linppy
contentment, that they will afterwards hardly be
hauled away from it, or drawn to their wonted lewd
life and thievery and roguery. And being once thus
inured thereunto, they are not only to be coun-
tenanced and encouraged by all good means ; but
also provided that their children after them may be
brought up likewise in the same, and succeed in the
rooms of their fathers. To which end there is a
statute in Ireland already well provided, which
commandeth, that all the sons of husbandmen shall
be trained up in their fathers' trades; but it is (God
wot) very slenderly executed.

EuDOx. — But do you not count in this trade of
husbandry, pasturing of cattle, and keeping of
their cows 1 for that is reckoned as a part of hus-
bandry.

Iren. — I know it is, and needfully to be used;
but 1 do not mean to allow any of those able bodies,
which are able to use bodily labour, to follow a few
-;ows grazing. Bui such impotent persons, as being
unable for strong travail, are yet able to drive cattle
to and fro to their pasture; tor this keeping of
cows, is of itself a very idle life, and a fit nursery
for a thief. For which cause (you remember)
I disliked the Irish manner of keeping of boolies
in summer upon the mountains, and living after
that savage sort. But if they will algates feed
many cattle, or keep them on the mountains,
let them make some towns near to the moun-
tains' side, where they may dwell together with
neighbours, and be conversant in the view of
the world. And to say truth, though Ireland
be by nature counted a great soil of pasture, yet had I
rather have fewer cows kept, and men better man-
nered, than to have such huge increase of cattle, and
no increase of ^'ood conditions. I would therefore
wi.sh, that there weie some ordinances made amongst
them, that whosc.ever keepeth tvve:;ty kme, should
keep a plough going, for otherwise all men would
fall to pasturage, and none to husbandry ; which is
a great cause of this dearth now in England, and a
cause of the usual stealths in Ireland; lor, look into

all countries that live in such sort by keeping of
cattle, and you shall find that they are both very bar-
barous and uncivil, and also greatly given to war.
The Tartarians, the Muscovites, the Norwegians,
the Goths, the Armenians, and many other do wit-
ness the same. And. therefore, since now we pur-
pose to draw the Irish from desire of war and tu-
mults, to the love of peace and civility, it is expe-
dient to abridge their great custom of hardening,
and augment their trade of tillage and husban-
dry. As for other occupations and trades, they
need not be enforced to, but every man to be
bound only to follow one that he thinks himself
aptest for. For other trades of artificers will be
occupied for very necessity, and constrained use of
them ; and so likewise will merchandise for the gain
tliereof; but learning and bringing up in liberal
sciences will not come of itself, hut must be drawn
on with straight laws and ordinances. And there-
fore it were meet that such an act were ordained,
that all the sons of lords, gentlemen, and such others
as are able to bring them up in learning, should be
trained up therein from their childhoods ; and for
that end, every parish should be forced to keep a
petty schoolmaster adjoining unto the parish church,
to be the more in view, which should bring up (heir
children in the first elements of letters ; and that in
every country or barony, they should keep another
able schoolmaster, which should instruct them in
grammar, and in the principles of sciences, to whom
they should be compelled to send their youth to be
disciplined ; whereby they will in short space grow
up to that civil conversation, that both the children
will loath their former rudeness in which they were
bred, and also their parents will, even by the en-
sample of their young children, perceive the foulness
of their own behaviour, compared to theirs. For
learning hath that wonderful power in itself, that it
can soften and temper the most stern and savage
nature.

FuDox. — Surely I am of your mind, that nothing
will bring them from their uncivil life sooner than
learning and discipline, next after the knowledge
and fear of God. And therefore I do still expea
that you should come thereunto, and set some oider
for reformation of religion, which is first to he
respected; according to the saying of C'lmis],
" Seek first the Kingdom of Heaven, and the right-
ousness thereof."

IiiEN. — I have in mind so to do ; but let me (I
pray you) first finish that which I had in hand,
whereby all the ordinances whicli shall afterwards
he set for religion, may abide the more firmly, and be
observed more diligently. No\v thai this people is
thus tithed and ordered, and every one bound unto
some honest trade of life, which shall be particularly
entered and set down in the tithing-book ; yet per-
haps there will be some stragglers and runagates,-
which will not of themselves come in, and yield
themselves to this order; and yet after the well
finishing of the present war, and establishing of the
garrisons in all strong places of the country, where
their wonted refuge was most, I suppose there will
few stand out ; or if they do, they will shortly be
brought in by the ears. But yet afterwards, lest
any one of them should swerve, or any that is tied
to a trade, shouhl afterwards not fullow the same,
according to this institution, but should straggle up
and down the country, or mich in corners among:it
their friends idly, as carrowes, bards, jesters, and such

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

5?7

likP" I would wish tliat a provost-marshal sliould be
(ippointed 111 every shire, which should continually
walkabout tiie country, "with half a dozen, or half a
s-core horsemen, to tate up such loose persons as they
should find thus wandering, whom he should punish
by his own authority, wiih such pains as the person
shall seem to deserve : for if he but once so taken
idly roguinp:, he mav punish him more lightly, as with
stocks, or such like ; but if he be found again so loiter-
ing, he may scourge him with whips, or rods ; after
which, if he be again taken, let him have the bitter-
ness of martial law. Likewise if any relics of the
old rebellion he found by any, that either have not
come in and submitted themselves to the law, or that
having once come in, do break forth again, and walk
disorderl)-, let them taste of the same cup in God's
name ; for it was due to them for their first guilt ;
and now being revived by their latter looseness, let
them have their first desert, as now being found un-
fit to live in the commoiiwealth.

EuDox. — J his were a good ordinance : but me-
tbinks it is an unnecessary charge, and also uitfit to
continue the name or form of any martial law, when-
as there is a proper ofl^ter already appointed lor these
turns, to wit, the sheriff of the shire, whosp peculiiir
office it is to walk up and down his liailiwick, as
3'ou would have a marshal, to snatch up all those
runagates and unprofitable members, and to bring
them to his gaol to be ])unished for the same.
Therefore this may well be s]iared.

Ir.EN. — Not so, methinks ; for though the sheriff
have this autlioritv of himself to take u|) all such
stragglers, and imprison them, yet shall he not do so
much g(Jod, nor work that terror in the hearts of
them, that a marshal will, whom they shall know to
have power of life and death in such cases, and es-
pecially to be ri})poinled ibr lliem. Neither doth it
jiinder that, but that though it pertain to the sheriff,
the sheriff" may do therein what he can, and yet
the marshal mav walk Ins course besides ; for both
of them may do the more good, and more terrify the
idle rogue ; knowing, that though he have a watch
upon the one, yet he mav 'light upon the other. But
this proviso is needful to be had in this ca>e, that
the sheriff may not have the like power of life as
the marshal hath, and as heretofore they have been
accustomed ; for it is dangerous to give power of
life into the hands of him which mav have benefit
by the party's death : as, if any loose liver have any
goods of his own, the sheriff is to seize thereujion ;
vi-hereby it hath come to pass, that some who have
not deserved judgment of death, though otherwise
perhaps offending, have bt^en for their goods' sake
caught up, and earned straight to the bough ; a thing
indeed veiy pitiful and horrible. Therefore by no
means I would have the sheriff have such authority,
nor yet to imprison that lozel till the sessions ; for
so all goals might soon be filled : but to send him to
the marshal, who eftsoons finding him faulty, shall
give him meet correction, and send him away forth-
with.

EuDox. — I do now perceive your reason well.
But come we now to that whereof we erst spake ;
I mean, to religion and religious men: what order
will you set amongst them?

Iren. — For religion, little have 1 to say, myself
being (as I said) not professed therein, and itself
being but one, so as there is but one way therein ; for
that which is true only is, and the rest is not at all.
i et in planting of religion, thus much is needful to

be observed, that it be not sought forcibly to Ire on-
pressed into them with terror and sharp penalties,
as now is the manner ; but rather delivered and in-
timated with mildness and gentleness, so as it may
not be hated before it be understood, and their pro-
fessors despised and rejected. And therefore it is
expedient, that some discreel ministers of their own
countrymen be sent over amongst them, which by
their meek persuasions and instructions, as also by
their sober lives and conversations, may draw them
first to understand, and afterwards to embrace, the
doctrine of their salvation. For if that the ancient
godly fathers, which first converted them when they
were infidels, to the faith, were able to pull them
from idolatry and paganism, to the true belief in
Christ, as St. Patrick and St. Columb; how much
more easily shall godly teachers bring them to the
true understanding of that which they already pro-
fessed? wherein it is great wonder to see ihe odds
whicl) is between the zeal of popish jjriests, and the
ministers of the gospel ; for I bey spare not to ccme
out of Spain, from Rome, and from Hemes, by long
toil, and dangerous travelling hither, where they
know peril of death awaiteth them, and no reward
or riches is to be found, only to draw the people
unto the church of Home: whereas some of our
idle ministers, having a wav for credit aad estima-
tion theieby oj)ened unto them, and haviiig the liv-
ings of the country offered unto them, without pains,
and without peril, will neither for the same, nor any
love of God, nor zeal of religion, nor for all the
good they may do, b)' winning souls to God, be
drawn forth from their warm nests, to Icok out into
God's harvest, vi'bich is even ready fir the sickle,
and all the fields yellow long ago. Doubtless those
good old godly fathers will (I fear me) rise up m
the day of judgment to condemn them.

EuDox. — Surely itis great pity, Ireneus, that there
are nonechosen out of the ministers of England, good,
sober, and discreet men, which might be sent over
thither to teach and instruct them ; and that there
is not as mucli care had of their souls as of their
bodies ; for the care of both lieth u))on the prince.

Iren. — Were there never so many sent over, they
should do small good till one enormity be taken from
them ; that is, that both they be restrained from
sending their young men abroad to other universi-
ties beyond the sea, as Hemes, Dowav, J^ovain.and
the like , and others from abroad, be restrained from
coming in to them : for they lurking secretly in their
houses, and in corners of the country, do more hurt
and hindrance to religion with their private ])er-
suasions, than all the others can do good with their
public instructions ; and though for these latter there
be a good statute there ordained, yet the same is not
executed r and as for the former, there is no law nor
order for their restraint at all.

EuDOx. — I marvel it is no better looked unto .
and not only this, but that also which I remember
you mentioned in your abuses concerning the ]iriifiis
and revenues of the lands of fugitives in Irehiiui ;
which by pretence of certain colourable conveyances
are sent continually over unto them, to the com'ort-
ingofthem and others against her majesty, for which
here in England there is good order taken ; and win-
not then as well in Ireland ? For though there he
no statute there vet enacted therefore, yet mitflit
her majesty by her only prerogative, seize the tVuits
and profits of those fugitives' lands into her b.ifids,
till they come over to testify their true allegiance.

52?

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

Iren. — Indeed she miobt. so do, but the combrous
times do perhaps hinder the regard thereof, and of
many oilier good intentions.

Ei'DOX. — But why then did tliey not mend it in
peace able times ?

j„Ev. — Leave we that to (lieir grave considera-
tions ; but ])rof eed we forwaid. Next care in re-
ligion, is to build up and repair all the ruined
churches, whereof the most part lie even with the
ground ; and some tliat have been lately repaired,
are so unhandsomely patched, and thatched, that men
do even shun the places for the uncomeliness thereof.
Therefore 1 would wish that there were order taken
to have them budt in some better form, according to
the churches of England ; for the outward show,
assure yourself, doth greatly draw the rude people
to the reverencing and frequenting thereof, whatever
some of our late too nice fools say, there is nothing
in the seemly form and comely order of the church.
And for the keeping and continuing them, there
should likewise churchwardens of the gravest men
in the parish be appointed, as they be here in Eng-
land, which should take the yearly charge both
hereof, and also of the school-houses, which I wish
to be built near the said churches ; for maintenance
of both which, it were meet that some small portion
of lands were allotted, sith no more mortmains are to
be looked for.

EuDos. — Indeed, methinks, it would be so con-
venient ; but when all is done, how will you have
your churches served, and jour ministers main-
tained ? since the livings, as you say, are not suf-
ficient scarce to make them gowns, much less to
yield meet maintenance, according to the dignity of
their degree.

J REN. — There is no way to help that, but to lay
two or three of them together, until such time as the
country yrow more rich and better inhabited j at
which time thetithes and othei obventions will also
be more augmented and betier valued. But now
that we have thus gone through all the three sorts
of trades, and set a course for their good establish-
ment, let us, if it please you, go next to some other
needful points of public matters, no less concerning
the good of the commonwealth, though but accident-
ally depending on the former. And first, I wish
that order were taken for the cutting and opening of
all places through woods : so that a wide way, of the
space of one hundred yards, might be laid open in
every of them, for the safety of travellers, which use
often in such jjerilous places to be robbed, and some-
times murdered. Next, that bridges were built
upon the rivers, and all the fords marred and spilt,
so as none might pass any other way but by those
bridges, and every bridge to have a gate and a gate-
house set thereon ; wliereof this good will come,
that no night stealths, which are commonly driven
in by-ways, and by blind fords unused of any but
such like, shall not be conveved out of one country
into another, as they use, but they must pass by
those bridges, where they may either be hajjly en-
C'funtered, or easily tracked, or not suffered to pass
at all, by means of those gate-houses thereon. Also
that in all straights and narrow j>assages, as between
two bogs, or through any deep ford, or under any-
mountain side, there should be some little fortilage,
or wooden castle set, which should kee]) and com-
.'uand tli-it stiaight, whereby any rebels that should
come into the country might he stojijied that way, or
. pass with great peril. Moreover, that all highways

should be fenced and shut up on both sides, leavmg
only forty foot breadth for passage, so as none sriouid
be able to pass but through the highways; wiiereby
thieves and night-robbers might be the more easily
pursued and encountered, when there shall be no
other way to diive their stolen cattle, but therein,
as 1 formerly declared. Further, that there should
be in sundry convenient places by the higliways,
towns appointed to be built ; the which should be
free boroughs, and incorjiorale under bailiffs, to be
by their inhabitants well and strongly intrenched,
or otherwise fenced with gates on each side therefore,
to be shut nightly, like as there is in many places in
the English pale ; and all the ways about it to be
strongly shut up, so as none should pass but through
those towns. To some of which it were good that
the privilege of a market vrere given, the rather to
strengthen and enable them to their defence ; for
there is nothing doth sooner cause civility in any
country than many market towns, by reason that
jieople repairing often thither for their needs, will
daily see and learn civil manners of the better sort.
Besides, there is nothing doth more stay and
strengthen the country, than such corporate towns,
as by proof in many rebellions hath appeared; in
which when all the countries have swerveil, the
towns have stood fast, and yielded good relief to the
soldiers in all occasions of services. And lastly,
there is indeed nothing doth more enrich any
country or realm, than many towns ; for to them
will all the ])eople draw and bring the fruits of their
trades, as well to make money of them, as to su]iply
their needful uses ; and the countrymen will also be
more industrious in tillage, and reaiing of all hus-
bandry commodities, knowing that they shall have
ready sale for them at those towns. And in all
those towns, should there be convenient inns
erected for the lodging and harbouring of travellers,
which are now oiientimes spoiled by lodging
abroad in weak thatched houses, for want of such
safe places to shroud them in.

EuDox. — But what profit shall 3'our market towns
reap of their market, whenas each one may sell
their corn and cattle abroad in the country, and
make their secret bargains amongst themselvs, as
now 1 understand they use 1

InEN. — Indeed, Eudoxus, they do so, and there-
by no small inconvenience doth rise to the common-
wealth : for now when any one hath stolen a cow or
a garron, he may secretly sell it in the country
without privity of any; whereas if he bronyht
it to a market town, it would jierhaps be known
and the thief discovered. Therefore, it were good
that a straight ordinance were made, that none should
buy or sell any cattle, but in some open market
(there being now market towns every whereat hand^
upon a great penalty. Neither should they likewise
buy any corn, to sell the same again, unless it were
to make malt thereof; for by such engrossing and
regrating, we see the dearth that now commonly
reigiieth here in England, to have been caused.
Hereunto also is to be added that good ordinance,
which, 1 remember, was once proclaimed through-
out all Ireland ; that all men should mark their cat-
tle with an open several mark upon their Hanks or
buttocks, so as if they hai)j)ened to be stolen, they
might ajipear whose they were, and they which
should buy them, might thereby susjiect the owner,
and be warned to abstain from buying them of a
suspected person^ with such an unknown murk

A VIEW OF THE STATE OF IRELAND.

529

EuDox. — Surely these ordinances seem very expe-
dient, but specially that of free towns, of which I
wonder ihf le is so small store in Ireland, and that in
the first peopling and planting thereof, they were
neglected ai;d omitted.

Iren. — 'I'bey were not omitted, for there were
through all places of the country convenient, many
good towns seated ; wliich through that inundation
of the Irish, which I first told you of, were utterly
wasted and defaced, of which the ruins are yet in
many places to be seen, and of some no sign at all
remaining, save only their bare names, but their seats
are not to be found.

EuDox. — But how then cometh it to pass, that
they have never since been recovered, nor their habi-
tations re-edified, as of the rest, vvhich have been no
less spoiled and wasted ?

Iren. — The cause thereof was, for that after their
desolation they were begged by gentlemen, of the
kings, under colour to repair them, and gather the
poor reliques of the people again together ; of whom
Laving obtained them, they were so far from re-edi-
fying of them, as that by all means they have endea-
voured to keep them waste ; lest that being repaired,
their charters might be renewed, and their burgesses
restored to 'heir lands, which they had now in their
possession ; much like as in those old monuments of
abbeys and religious houses, we see them likewise
use to do. For which cause it is judged that king
Henry Vlll. bestowed them upon them, conceiving
that thereby they should never be able to rise again.
And even so do these lords, in these poor old corpo-
rate towns, of which I could name divers, but for
kindling of displeasure. Therefore, as I wished
many corporate towns to be erected, so would I again
wish them to be free, not depending upon the ser-
vice, nor under the command of any but the governor.
And being so, they will both strengthen all the country
round about them, which by their means will be the
better replenished and enriched ; and also be as con-
tinual holds for her majesty, if the people should
revolt or break out again ; for without such it is easy
to forage and overrun the whole land. Let be for
ensample all those free boroughs in the low countries,
which are now all the strength thereof. These and
other like ordinances might be delivered for the good
establishment of the realm, after it is once subdued
and reformed, in which it might afterwards be very
easily kept and maintained, with small care of the
governors and council there appointed, so as it should
in short space yield a plentiful revenue to the crown
of England, which now doth but suck and con-
sume ihe treasure thereof, through those unsound
plots and changeful orders, which are daily devised
for her good, yet never effectually prosecuted or per-
formed.

EuDox. — But in all this your discourse, I have not
marked any thing by you spoken, touching the ap-
pointment of the principal officer, to whom you wish
the charge and performance of all this to be com-
mitted. Only I observed some foul abuses by you
noted in some of the late governors ; the reformation
whereof you left off, for this present place.

Iren. — 1 delight not to lay open the blames of
great magistrates to the rebuke of the world, and
therefore their reformation I will not meddle with,
but leave unto the wisdom of greater heads to be
considered : only thus much I will speak generally
thereof, to satisfy your desire, that the government,
»nd chief magistracy, I wish to continue as it doth;

to wit, that it be ruled by a lord deputy or justice,
for that it is a very safe kind of rule ; but there-
withal I wish, that over him there were placed also
a lord lieutenant of some of the greatest personages
in England : such a one I could name, upon whom
the eye of all England is fixed, and our last hopes
now rest; who being intituled with that di;^nity,
and being here always resident, may back and de-
fend the good course of that government against all
maligners, which else will through their cunning
working underhand, deprave and pull back whatever
thing shall be begun or intended there, as we com-
monly see by experience at this day, to the utter
ruin and desolation of that poor realm. And this
lieutenancy should be no discountenoncing of the
lord deputy, but rather a strengthening of all his
doings: for now the chief evil in that government
is, that no governor is suffered to go on with any
one course, but u|)on the least information here, of
this or that, he is either stopped and crossed, or
other courses appointed him from hence which he
shall run, which how inconvenient it b. is at this
hour too well felt. And therefore this should be
one principle in the ap])ointing of the lord deputy's
iiuiLiority, that it should be more ample and absolute
than it is, and that he should have uncontrolled
power, to do anything that he, with the advisemeut
of the council, should think meet to be done : for
it is not possible for the council here, to direct a go-
vernment there, who shall be forced oftentimes to
follow the necessity of present actions, and to take
the sudden advantage of time, which beinr ince
lost, will not be recovered ; whilst through expect-
ing direction from hence, the delays wliereof are
oftentimes through other greater affairs most irksome,
the opportunities there in the mean time pass away
and great dhnger often groweth, which by such
timely prevention might easily be stopped. Andthis(I
remember) is worthily observed by iMachiavel in liis
discourses upon Livy, where he comniendeth the
manner of the Romans' government, in giving abso-
lute power to all their counsellors and governors,
which, if they abused, they should afterwards dearly
answer. And the contrary thereof, he reprehendeth
in the States of \^enice, of Florence, and many other
principalities of Italy, who use to limit their chief
officers so strictly, as that thereby they have often-
times lost such happy occasions, as they could never
come unto again ; the like whereof, whoso hath
been conversant in the government of Ireland, hath
too often seen, to their great hindrance and hurt.
Therefore, this 1 could wi^h to be redressed ; and
yet not so, but that in particular things he should be
restrained, though not in the general government,
as, namely, in this, that no offices should be sold by
the lord deputy for money, nor no pardons, nor no
protections bought for reward, nor no behoves taken
for captainries of counties, nor no shares of bisliop-
rics for nominating of bishops, nor no forfeitures
nor dispensations with penal statutes given to their
servants or friends, nor no selling of licenses for
transportation of prohibited wares, and specially of
corn and flesh, with many the like, which need some
manner of restraint, or else very great trust in lb«
lionourable disposition of the lord deputy.

Thus I have, Eudoxus, as briefly as I could, and
as my memory would serve me, run through the
state of that whole country, both to let you see what
it now is, and also what it may be by good care and
amendment. Not that I take upon me to chanoetha

530

A VIEW OP THE STATE OF IRELAND.

policy of so great a kingdom, or prescribe rules to
such wise men as have ihe handling thereof; but
only to show j'ou the evils which, in my small ex-
perience, I have observed to L>i the chief hindrance
of the reformation, and by way of conference, to de-
clare my simple opinion for the redress thereof, and
establijhing a good course for government, which I
do not deliver as a perfect plot of mine own inven-
tion, to be only followed ; but as I have learned and
understood the same, by the consultations and actions
of very wise governors and counsellors, whom I
have, sometimes, heard treat hereof: so have I
thought good to set down a remembrance of them
formy own good, and your satisfaction, that whoso

list to overlook them, although, perhaps, much
wiser than they which have thus advised of that
state yet, at least, by comparison hereof, may, per-
haps, better his own judgement, and by the light of
others foregoing him, may follow after with more
ease, and haply find a tairer way thereunto, than
thoy which have gone before.

EuDox. — i thank you, Ireneus, for this your
gentle pains, withal not forgetting now, in the shut-
ting up, to put you in mind of that which you have
formerly half promised, that hereafter, when we
shall meet again upon the like good occasion, you
will declare unto us those your observations which
ycu have gathered, of the antiquities of Ireland.

GLOSSARY,

ibaee, in the two old quartos ; but I
in the folios Abase to lower, |
to let fall I

Aband, to abandoa
dbaih, to terrify, make ashamed.
Aberr, to bear, carry, demean,

behave
Abet, to vindicate, and, to main- |
tain \

AUtte, Aby, Abyde, to abide, suf-
fer, endure
Ahjected, thrown down
Abode, staying, or delay
Abruid, awake, awoke
Abraq out oj steep, laise, awake.

Abiayd, awaked
Abusion, fraud, abuse
Abue, abide by
Accloy, to cloy, fill up. Accloyes,

chokes U|), fills up
Accoiage, to encourage
According, i;ranting
Accoste, to ajiproach
Accosting, in I'alconry, to crouch or

stoop
Account, tell over
Accoy'd, soothed, appeased
Accoyled, stood around, gathered

together.
Acgreueti, increased, united, col-
lected
Achates, 1st and 'Jd quartos. The

folios L'aies, i, e. provisions.
Acquit, released
Aerates, intemperance
Aduu:, to daunt. Sometimes sig-
nifies to abate
Addeme, adjudge, deem
Ad/lress, to dress, prepare, order,

make ready
Admirance, admiration
Adoe, busuiess
Adoie, fur adorn

Adorue (substantively), adorning,
ornament

Adredd, Adrad, frightened, to be

afraid, to dread
Advance, to hasten, to set forward
Admmiice, to reiommend
Advaunced, incited, inflamed,
Advewed, considered
Advise, to consult, deliberate, con-
sider
Advisement, counsel, advice, cir-
cumspection
Aduard, award, judgment, sen-
tence
Aery, a hawk's-nest
Affeare, to frighten
Ajf'ect, affection, passion
Aj^^-ap, to encounter, to strike

down
Affray, terror, tumult. To Affray,

to terrify
Affreiided, made friends
Affret, rencounter, hasty meet-
ing
Affronting opposing front to

front ; meeting face to face
Affy., betroth. Affide, betrothed,

affianced.
AggracK, favour, kindness
Aggiate, to gratify, to please
Agfiat't, frightened, astonished
Aglets, >ee Aygulets
Agraste, did so mucb aggrace ;

showed so much grace and

favour
Agrise. to dread and fear greatly ;

to astonish, to give abhorrence
Agiiise, to put on an appearance ;

to set off after a new manner
Albe, albeit, although
Atgates, by all means, any way,

x\hi)lly, nevertheless
All, altiigetlii r, wholly ; also used

for al hough
Alia 'I'urchesca, in the Turkish

manner
Allege, alleviate, lighten

Alleggeauncg, alieyiaLion, ease
comfort

Alew, howling, lamentation

Alnoje, at some distance

Alow, low J the a added

Als, also

Amaine, with vehemence

Amate. 1. to subdue, to daunt,
to distress, to terrify. 2. I'o
associate with, to keep com-
pany

Amearsd, fined

Amenage, manage, carriage

Amenaunce, carriage, behaviour

Amis, apparel, garment

Amoves, moves ; the particle a is
added

Annoyes. annoyances, injury, mis-
chief, hurt

Anticks, antique odd figures of
men, beasts, birds, &c.

ApuU, to discourage, daunt, ter-
rify

Apaj/, to pay, content, satisfy
require

Appeach, impeach, accuse, cen-
sure

Appele, it seems to be used for
accuse

Arable or Araby, Arabia

Arborett, a flowering shrub

Aread, Ar ed, show, advise, de-
clare, tell

Areaie, backwards ; a lagging or
backward pace

Areeds, advices discourses

Aiew, in a row together, all to-
gether

Arke, chest or coffer

Arraught, did reach, seize on;
reached, snatched, seizeo

Array, order, apparel, mess

Arere, backward

Arret sometimes signifies de-
cree

GLOSSARY.

Askaunce, to look askance, en-
viously, obliquely, sideways,
awry

Asl.dke, to appease

Aspects, appearances

Asitiy, proof, trial, attempt, attack

Assoile, to free, to quit, Assailed,
absolved, discharged

Asiot, to besot, deceive, make a
tool of

Assotted, stupified

Assynd, marked out

Ai'tart, to startle

Astoiid, Astound, astonished

Alcliievement, enterprise, or per-
formance

At earst, instantly

Ate, did eat

Atone, i. e. friends again ; at one ;
Atoned, reconciled

Attacht, apprehended, laid hold on

Attaint, it did attaint ; it seemed
to absorb it, and to put it out
bv its superior splendour

Atternpier. lenipter

Attente. most heedfully

Attonce, once for all ; at one and
the same time

Attone, bereaved, taken away alto-
gether

Attiapt, Attrapped, adorned

Atween, between

Amle, to lower.abate, bring down,
descend

Aiaunting, vaunting, the a super-
added. According to Hughes
il signifies advancing

Avenge, vengeance. Avengement,
revenge

Aieniiired, it seems to be of the
saine signiticiilion witli coiic .ed

Aiize, Avyse, Avise, to ]ierceive,
to consider. To behold, to ob-
serve, to be sensible of. Hughes

Acoiir, confession, acknowledg-
ment

Aumaiitd, enumelltd

Auarned, warned, jiremonished
uliape, to astonish, to terrify
, ever

/tygulels, tagged points

Bacc, low, the lower parts, the
bottom

Bad, asked, entreated, prayed

Bajfuld, baffled, beat, deleat.d

Bailie, power, a limit, a bound

Buins^ banns

Buisemnins, compliments, res])ects

Bale, evil, mischief, miseiy, sor-
row, burden

Balejid, sorrowful unfortunate,
full of ba m

Balke, to disappoint, baffle, frus-
trjte

BanneraU, a little flag worn by
knights on the tup of their
lances

Bannes, curses. To Ban, to
curse. Bund, did curse

Barbed, embossed, adorned as the
trappin;^s

Baibes, bosses or ornaments in
the trappings of a horse

Barbican, an outer-work, gate, or
watch-to vv-er

Base, unto the base, below, bot-
tom

Buyes. any covprings f. r 'iie legs

Basen, as, Big looks basen wide,
i. e- extended as with wonder

Basenet, a helmet

Bashed, abashed

Basted, wrought slightly, sewed

Bate, did beat, Hughes. Did bite,
Upton

Battill, to grow fat

Banldnck, a belt ; Buuldrick of ike
heavens, the zodiac, in which
are the twelve signs

Bay, to bark, Faerie Queene,
Book i. Canto?, Stanza 3, it
signifies to bathe, cherish, or
foment. To liold or keep at
bay, IS the hunter's phrase of
the stag, when the hounds are
haying, or barking at him

Bayt to rest

Beacon, a raised building of com-
bustible matter, to be fired in
order to give notice to distant
people of invasions. Uplon

Beadmen, prayer-men.

Beadroll, properly a catalogue of
prayers, but used for a cata-
logue in general

Beardhim, aft'ronthim to his face;
brave him

Beare, a bier

Beathed in Jive, hardened in the fire

Beavy, a company

Beanperes, equals, fair comjianions

Bed, for bid, to pray

Bedight, dressed, adorned

Btduite, dyed

Begored, smeared with gore

Behaved, kept within bounds

Behest, command

Behight, or behote, called, named ;
and sometimes bid, j)romised,
gave

BebooJ'e, convenience

Belli may, fair Iriend

Belamoure, a lover

Belayed, laid over

Beldame, good lady, good dame

Bell-accoyla, fair reception, kind
salutation

BcUgards beautiful looks

Bellibone, fair maid

Bends, burs placed cross- ways, a
term in lieialdry

B'-nempt. beciueatlied, named

Beni, the propensity or inclina-
tion ; sonietiines yielding or
comjiK ing

Bents, rnsTics. bent grass ; bul-
rushes

Bere, sometimes signifies weignt,
pressure, or bearing

Bereave, to bereave, to take away

Beseek, beseech

Beseem, to become, to grace, to
look seemly

Beseen, uellbeseen, i. e. courtesy,
bearing a good aspect, hand-
some treatment

Besits, becomes,

Besprint, or Besprent, besprinkled

Bestadde, ill-used, distressed

Bcsiead, beset, oppiessed ; J// he-
stead, bad pligbt, condition

Bet, did beat

iJeta/ce,took into bis hand, bestow
u])on

Beteem, deliver, bestow

Betide, happen to, befall

Betight, betide, befall

Bever, the sight or visor of a head-
piece

Bevie, a company, a troop

Beuray, to discover

Bicherment , contention, strife

Bidding his beaas, saying liis
prayers

Bilive, forthwith, immediately

Bitiur, a bittern

Blame, reproarh

Blatant beu^t, detraclion repre-
sented as a monster

75i(i;e, to divulge, or spread abroad

Bleard, dimmed, darkened

Blemiihment, blemish, stain

Blend, not only to mix, but to
spoil with mixing, to confound.
It also sometimes signifies to
blind

Bless, Spenser has used tliis word
to signify the waving or bran-
uishing of a sword

Blin, to cease, give over

Blist for Blest, blessed, B. iv. C. 7.
St. 46. But in B. vi. C. 8. St.
IS, all about so blest, i. e. in-
jured, wounded

Blive, forthwith, presently

Bloosme, blossom. Pronounce it
bloom, B.iv. C. 8. St. 2.

Bode, i.id abide

Bolt, an arrow

Bond, bcmnd ; kept as bond-slaves

Bonnibel, a fair maid

Boon, favour, request, petition

Bool advantage, help, jirofit

Bootless, unavailing, unprofitable

Bord, to, to accost, to apj)roach
Biird, a jest

Bordrugings, ravagings or incur
sions on the borders

Barrel, rude, clownish

Basse, a protuberance in the middle
of the shield

Bonghls, circular folds or wind-
ings

Boniteil, sifted

Bounty, goodiit ^s, generosity

Bourn, a broidi or rivulet

Bouzing can, u larj^e drinking put

GL0«5«?A'RY

Boure, often used for an inner
chamber or private apartment
Brade, for broad
Brag, proudly

Brui(/e</,knitted, plaited, wreathed
Brakes, bushes, brambles, fern
Brame, vexation ; Breem, fierce
Brand, sometimes a fire-brand,

sometimes a sword
Bi-dKjiVs, brawls, a sort of tune
Brast or Brac'd, burst
Braie, not only valiant and bold,
but fine and spruce ■

Braujied ftoHrs, well sinewed arms

/•!>•« 1/, sound shrill
Breme, chill, bitter

Brenne, to burn

Brent, burnt

Brigundine, a coat of mail

Brigantine, a svt'ift vessel for sea

Brigants, robbers, free-booters

Bruckage, pimping

Broad, Brond-iron, vide Brand

Brooke, bear, endure, digest

Brunt, violent attack, accident

Brush, small wood, brush-wood

Brust, burst

Bruieness, sottisbness, stupidity,
brutishness

To buckle, to buckle on armour;
to prepare for battle

Buffe, a blow, buffet

Bug, a bugbear

Bugle, a small bugle-horn

Burgunet, a helmet

Buigein, to spring forth or bud

Buskets, little bushes

But, unless, except

Buiome, yielding

Btiliie. See Bilive

hyneiript. See Benempt.

Camis, Canms, a thin gown

Clin, is often used, as gan, began

Canon-bit, that part of the bit
which IS let into the horse's
mouib ; the ruling bit

Capias, a special warrant

Capon, a cock cut ; metaphori-
call)'^ a cow-herd

Ciiprefole, woodbine, honey-suckle

Cuptive, to captivate

Cii]diraunce, captivity

Curke, care.

Carle, a clown, a churl

Carol, to sing songs of joy

Carven, to cut

To Cast in one's njnd, to think, to
contrive. Cast is also used for
time, or a throw

A Cast of Jaulcons,'A set Ox falcons

Cui'-iry, beaver's oil

Cnusen, ♦o argue or debate

Cav'd, maafc hollow

Catitive, Caitiit, mean, vile, cap-
tive, slave.

Certes, certainly

teste, cease

Cesure, a cutting off

To Chaffer, to bargain, to traffic,

to exchange
Chamelot, stuff" mixed with camel's

hair, camlet
Chamfred, bent, crooked
Charmes, tempers, orders
Chast, chased

Chaufe, anger, heat, wrath.
Chaunticlere, so named from
<Aaii.nting ot singing v;it\i a clear
and silver voice
Chayre, charily, with great care

and caution
Checklaton, a kind of chequered

or motley stuff
Checkmate, a word borrowed from

the game of chess
Cheere, countenance, air, mien
Cherry, for cherish
Chevalrie, knighthood, knightly

exploits
Chevisaunce, atchievement, enter-
prise, feat, performance
Chiejric, principality
Chiilded, brought forth
Circumvent, to beguile
Clame, call
Cleped, called, named
Clouch, gathered together
Colled, embraced.
Colourable, counterfeited
Cummen, commune, discourse to-
gether. Also to come
Comment, devise, feign
Compare, procure
Compast creast, his crest compassed
around, or well-rounded, pro-
portioned, or framed
Compeld, called upon
Complot, a plot, combination, or
contrivance
I Comportance, behaviour, carriage
Compylde, brought together
Con, to learn, to know
Conceipt, imagination, fancy
Concent, harmony
Concrew, to grow together
Connd, learned
Condigne, worthy
Conge, bow, reverence, leave
Conspiring, agreeing in sentiment
Constraind, tormented, made un-
easy
Containe, hold together
Contecke, contention
Contrire, spend, consume, reckon,

count, invent, imagine
Convenable, agreeable
Convent, to summon to appear
Convince, to convict
Coosen patsions, kindred passions
Coportion, a portion or share with

you
Corb, crooked

Corbes, ornaments in buildings,
brackets, or shouldering pieces
iji wood work
Coiilwavne, Spanish leather, so
t;illed from Corduba in Spain

Cormial, crown, garland

Cosset, a lamb brought up with

out the ewe
Cotes, sheep-folds
Cott, floating cottage, a little boat
Could, as Could his gwd to all ;

i. e. dispensed his bounty
Count, account, reckoning
Countercast, a counter contriva'ife

or cunning
Counlerchange, mutual exchange
CounterJ'easaunce, counterfeiting,

dissimulation
Counterprise, counterpoise, weigh

equally
Counterstoke, an opposite stroke
Countervayle, sweet cou)iteruaijle,

i.e. pleasing requital
Couplement, union, marriage, coup-
ling together
Cour'd, tor covered, hung over

leant over
Court, courteousness, pleasantry
Couth, to know or be skilful in
Cowheard, coward
Cragg, neck
Crakes, boastings
Cranks, same as Cranhks ; i.e.

turnings, windings.
Craples, claws

Craven, coward, or cowardly
Credence, belief
Crooke, gallows

Cruddy-blood, crudled, coagulated
Crumenal, purse
Culver, (Saxon word,) dove, pt

geon
Culverin, a piece of ordnance
Curat, Curiets, Curats, thus dif
ferently spelled ; armour for
the back and breast.

Dadule, skilful, artificial
Damnifyde, injured, impaired
Dan, an old title signifying

master
Darrayne, to hazard, venture, at

tempt, or prepare to fight
Darred larke, alluding to catching

of larks by what they call a

daring glass
Dayes-mau, umpire, arbitrator
Daynt, daint}', delicate
Dayr'house, dairy-house
Veallh, dealeth, gives
Dearnlii, Uernhi, eagerly, earnestlj
Dearneiy, sadly
Debonaire, sprightly, courteous^

good, kind
Vecetto, deceit
Decretals, a volume of the Canon

Lav.', or books containing the

decrees of sundry popes, —

Blount's Diet.
Decrewed, decreased
I Deemen. deem, suppose
. Defeasaunce, defeating
, De/eature, destructiu

GLOSSARY.

Defend, keep off, forbid
Defetto, defamation
Hetjlu, tinely or nimbly
Dejiue, to end, to determine or

decide
Defould, defiled or brought to

shame
Defrayed, furnished
Delay'd, put away, removed
Delices, delight, pleasure
Delve, a pit or hollow place
Demeane, treatment
Demeane, Demayne, demeanour,
'carriage, behaviour; sometimes
it signifies to debate, Demeas-
iinre, Demeanure, as above
Dempt, deemed, adjudged, sup-
posed
Dent or Dint, blow
Depeinten, painted
Derring doe, bold deeds, man-
hood, chivalry
Descr'ae, describe
Despiteous, spiteful, malicious
Defsignment, plot, conspiracy
Desse, a seat
Devhcfid, full of rare devices or

invention
Devoir, duty

Diapase. a term in music includ-
ing all tones
Dight, to order, prepare, dress,

adorn
Dilate, enlarge upon
Dirk, dark, or to darken
Disudmunce, to withdraw, to stop
Disaveiiturous, ill adventurous,

unhapp3% unlucky
Discided, cut in two parts
Disclosed, disengaged, untied
Discure, discover
Di»ciist, shaken oft", to remove, or

put away
Disease, for uneasiness
Disentrayled, drawn along float-

ingly
Diihahled, lessen'd
Disieal knight, perfidious, trai-

terous
Disloignd, Disloined, remote, far
Dismayd, ugly, ill-shaped
Dispence, consumption, expence,

prolusion
Dispte, discipline, correction
Disport, sport, diversion, pastime
i)/A/))T(/(/eK, spread, diffused around
Dispiirveyance, want of provision
Disseized', made to quit or relin-

{|uish, dispossessed of
Dissolute, languid, broken, B. i.

C. 7. St. 51.
Disthrunized, dethroned
Distinct, varied, marked, beset
Distraine, i. e. draw it, or break it

asunder
D/ji.'rt/i/g/it, drawn aside, distracted
Diti's, orders, directions
A Ditt, a ditty, a song
Di'iilf, a dealing out
Doale or Dole, sorrow, portion

Doe, doe him not to dye, put him

not to death
Dofte, do off, put off
Dolor, Dolour, grief, pain, sorrow
Doole, complaint, sorrow, pain,

grief
Don, to do on, to put on
Dortours, dormitories, or lodgings

for monks
Doted, doting, impaired
Doucipere, from the French, les
douze pairs : one of the twelve
peers of France
Doiightie, stout, valiant, courageous
Drad, dread, dreed, dreaded ; to be

feared, honoured, reverenced
Drapets, linen clothes
Draught, a military detachment,
B. ii. C.20. St. 51. resemblance
Dreare, Drere, sorrow, sadness
Drent, drenched or drowned
Dreriinent, heaviness, sorrowful-
ness
Drerihedd,a sorrowful and dreary

state
Drest, ordered, prepared
Drevill, a driveller, a fool
Drift, impulse, force, or driving

on, purpose
Drowsyhedd, drowsiness j

Duresse, confinement, imprison-
ment, hardship. \

Earne, Erne, to yern, to be moved
with compassion

Earst, Erst, first, first of all, at
first, before, formerly

Euseli), gently

Eastertings, the Germans so called
bv the Britons

Euth, easy

Eeke, Eke, also ; it signifies like-
wise to add, to increase, to aug-
ment

Eflierced, made fierce and mad

Efforce, to force open, also to
violate

Effraide, frightened, afraid

Ejt, again, likewise, soon

Eftsoones, again, presently, quick-
ly, forthwith

Eglantine, sweet briar, or wild
rose

EAd, old age

£//', a fairy. £/^'?j, the adjective
of Elf

Elles, else, already

Einhace, to lessen, make base, dis-
honoured

Enhard, shut up

Embattled cart, a warlike chariot

L'mba]/, to batlie ; also to cherish

and delight
£m/)ni//(/, inclosed; also made up

into bales or packs
Emhosowe, entertain
Emboss, lias different significa-
tions — Arms emhost, arms of

emiiossed work, Emhost icith
gold, raised as in relievo. Em-
host tvith pearles, raised or over-
laid. In case embost, hid, con-
cealed. The salvage beast em-
bost in weary chace, meaning
hard run and wearied out. To
emhosse his speare in his bodij, i. e.
to lodge, to inclose. But the
most difficult place seems in

B. iii. C. 1. St. 64. Embosse
themselves in so glorious spoile,
probably from the Italian Im-
boscarsi, i. e. by ambuscade to
avail themselves of so glorious
a spoil, — Upton.

Emhowed, iuibewed, arched; co-
vered archwise
Emhoyled, emboyling wrath, B. ii.

C. 5. St. 18. the same as Boyled,
Boiiling

Embrave, adorn, make brave or

fine ; to dress
Erne, an uncle by the mother's

side
Emparlance, a law term, used in
petitioning the court for respite
Empeach, to hinder
Emperill, quartos ; folios Imperill,

endanger
Emperisht, perished, gone to ruin
Empight, placed, fixed
Emprize, enterprize, undertaking
Enaunter, lest tliat
Enchased, engraven, adorned
Encheuson, occasion, accident,
cause or reason wherefore any
thing is done
Encomberment, molestation
Endosse, to write on the back, to

engrave
Endurd, hardened
Enduren, endure, continue
Enf cloned, hurried on by wicked
and felonious intents; become
fierce
Enfouldred smoke, smoke mixed

with flame
Englut, satiate, glut
Engore, to pierce, to prick ; to

make bloody or gory
Engorged yre, anger rising to the
very gorge or throat ; anger
which cannot be suppressed
Eiigrajf'ed, ingrafted, implanted
Engroste, made thick
Ehhaunst, raised, lifted up
Enrace, Enroot, implant
Euriven, torn asunder
Enseams, i. e, fattens
Ensew, follow. Enswrfe, followed
Ensnarle, insnare, intangle as a

skein of silk
Enluyle, engraving
Entayled with anticks, engraven or

carved with images
Enierdeale, meditation, negocia-

tion
Enterprize, sometimes signifies to
give reception to one

GLOSSARY.

Enteriake, to entertain
Enti~elu, or enti/relii, earnestly
Entrailed, intermingled, inter-
laced, interwoven
inure, accustom to, make use of,

practise
£7iwed. effected, committed
£nvy, to vie with, emulate, refuse

to give
H/rattt Knights, who travel about

the world seeking adventure
Etcheiced, avoided. Eschew, avoid
E<sloiine, withdraw to a distance ;

separate
Espial, sight, spying
Essoiiiie, excuse for not appearing
Evengely, gospel
Ewftes, efts, newts, or evets.

Upton. Lizards. Hughes
Ewghen bow, a bow of yew
Exanimate, lifeless, dead
Excheat, accident, or a property

fallen to any one in any thing
Expire or Eipyre, to bring forth,

to breathe forth
Eiprest, pressed out, squeezed

out
Exterpie, to extirpate, to root out
Eitreat, extraction, drawing out
Eyas Hawhe, a term in falconry,

signifying a young hawk newly

fledged, and fit for flight
Eyne, Ene, eyes

Fade, to vanish, to perish, to go
.•away

Faine, doestfaine, are desirous

Falsed, falsified, deceived

Fiire, to go. Faring, going on

Fatal read, prophetical advice.
Fatal errour, a wandering voy-
age ordered by the Fates

Fay, faith, truth ; sometimes it
signifies a fairy

Faytor, doer. False faytor, a
deceiver

Fealty, fealty or homage

Fearen, to frighten

Feculent, foul, full of dregs

Fell, fierce, cruel ; also gall.
Felly, fiercely, cruelly

Feilonest, most fierce

Feminitee, womanhood, state and
dignity of a woman

Fere, a companion. Ferres, com-
panions

Ferme, as fleshly ferme, fleshly
prison

Fest, feast, for the rhyme

Fet, Felt, fetch

Feutred his spears, to set his spear
in Iiis rest

Field, is often used for fight, com-
bat, battle

Fiaunt, warrant

Fine, end

tirmes his eye, keeps his eye steady
ai;d firm

Flatting, flat

Flight, arrow

Flit, Fleet, swift. Upton. To
fluctuate, to be in motion.
Hnghes

Flourets, blossoms, or little flowers

Foemen, foes

Foile. leaf. Golden foile, leaf
gold

Foind, pushed

Folke-mnt, a meeting or assembly
of folic or people

Foltring-tongue, faltering, falling,
or tripping

Eon, fool. Fond, foolish

Fond, did find, for the rhyme

Fane, foes

Forbii, near to

Fordno, undo, destroy , ruin

Forehrnt, seized, caught hold of

Fnrelent, lent beforehand

Foresail, renounce, Upton. Fore-
said, forbid. Hughes

Forestall, to interrupt

Forethink, to repine or be con-
cerned at any thing

Forewent, forsook, went out of
their way

Forgone, lost, neglected, forsaken

Forlore, Forlorm, lost, forsaken,
wretched

Forpined, much pined, consumed

Forraij, to ravage, spoil

Forsliickt, delayed

Forslow, delay

Forswat, exhausted with sweat

Forswonk, wearied, over-laboured

Forthy, therefore, wherefore, why

Fortilage, sort

Forworn, much worn

Foiter, for forester

Fouldring, thundering, blasting
with lightniug

Foysen, plenty

Franchise, to free or set at liberty

Frannon, one of too free or loose
behaviour

Frankelin, a freeman or a gentle-
man

Fi-ay, to frighten

Freakes, wliimseys, mad actions

Frenne, stranger

Frett, to eat, consume. It is used
in another sense ; to frett, to
adorn ; fretted, adorned

Freze, a warm kind of woollen
clothing

Frory, froze, frozen

Frounce, curl, crisp

Frowy. frowzy, mossy, musty

Fry of children, fry, spawn

Furniment, furnishing, furniture.

Gage, pledge, pawn, security

Galage, a wooden shoe

Game, 'iwiit earnest and game, he-

twixt earnest and jest
Can, for begau

Garres, causes ; as, garres thee
gieet

Gate, a way

Gazement, gazing

Geare, stufl", attire, furniture,
equipage, dress

Geason, uncommon, perplexing

Gelt, a gelding. Upton. Gelt
gold. Hughes

Gentlesse, the behaviour of agen-i
tlenian

German, brother, or near kins-
man

Gerne, yawn

Gests, deeds, actions, exploits,
feats

GiamheauT, boots, greaves, ar-
mour, for the legs

Gibe and geare, joke and jeer

Gin, begin. Gin, engine, con-
trivance

G(ws«s,justs or tournaments ; more
particularly single combat on
horseback with spears and
swords

Glade, a passage ; generally for a
passage cut through a wood

Glave, a sword

Glee, mirth

Glen, a valley

Glib, a curled bush of hair hang-
ing down over the eyes

Gliiterand, glittering

Glode, did glide, glance, or swiftly
pass

Gloziiig speeches, flattering, de-
ceitful

Gnarre, to snarl or bark

Gondelay, properly a Venetian
wherry

Goodlyhead, godliness

Gore, pierce

Gorge, throat

Goro-fJ,armour defending the throat

Grange, a granary, barn, farm

Grayle, some particles or gravel.
Also used in B. ii. C. 10. St.
53, for the sacred dish in the
last supper of our Saviour

Greaie, for grove

Gree, liking, satisfaction, pleasure

Greet, to exclaim, cry out, com-
plain

Gride, Gryde, to strike, wound,
pierce, or cut through

Griefful, full of grief

Griple, one that snatches greedily,
a griping miser

Groom, shepherd, herdsman

Groynd, grunted

Guarish, to garnish, to dress out
gorgeously

Gueld, a guildhall

Guerdon, reward, recompense
prize

G idlers, cheats

Guise, Guize, way, fashion, man-
ner, Upton. Form, habit, con
dition, Hughes

Gyre, circling, turning round

GLOSSARY.

Kaherjeon, armour covering the

neck and breast. Upton. Ar-

incnir covering the head and

shoulders. Hughes
HahilimenXs, apparel, clothing
Hahle, tit, ready, able, apt, nimble
Harqueton, a piece of armour
Hdfendeale, in partition
Halidnm, Holy Dame ; an oath

by the Virgin Mary
Han, f jr have
Harbroiigh, harbour
Hu'du, brave, bold. Hardiment,

courage, boldness
Hurd^hood, Hardyhead, a brave

state of mind
Harrnw, to lay waste, to destroy
Harniw ! an interjection and ex-
clamation, showing distress
Hash, a wicker basket to carry fish
Hiuiberg, Hauherque. Vide Ha-

herjenn
Haught corage, high mind
Haiiht, embraced
Heast, Hest, or Behest, command,

precept
Heben bow, a bow made of ebony
Hedeguies, a sort of country

dances
Hem, them

Heiid, to take hold of
Hent, seized
Herhurs, herbs, plants
Herried, Heried, to praise, to

celebrate
Hersnl, rehearsal
Hidder and shidder, he and she
Hie, to go, to hasten
Hide, hastened
Hight, named, called
Hild, covered

Hilding, a term of reproach
Hold, B. ii. C. 2. St. 44. the hold

of the castle is put for the castle

itself
Hcle, so spelled in the 1st and

2d quartos, in the folios v.hole,

B. iii C. 12. St. 38.
H(Xjd, condition, state. Frequently

used in compounds, as knight-
hood, priesthood, widowhood,

6cc.
hore, hoar, hoary, Upton. ^Vliite ;

sometimes it signifies squalid,

filthy, rough. Hughes
Hustru, an inn
Hot .Hole, ir ova. Hight, was named,

called
Honslingjire, sacramental fire
Hove, for heave
llnviiiic, hovering, floating
Hiimhlesse, humility
HurlcnJ'orlh, rush forth
Hurtle to rush with violence
llnriUng, rushing, thrusting
Utiiwn'iit lUimen, the nuptial song

at weddings, invocating the god

HymenKUS

Javel, seems to signify a slander-
ing fellow

Idlesse, idleness

lesses, straps of leather fastened
on the hawk's legs when held
in the fist

Impacable, so the quartos and
folios ; but Hughes, implacable

Iinpe, child or offspring

Impeach, sometimes used by Spen-
ser in the sense of the French
word empecher, to hinder

Importable, not to be borne

In, Inn, Line, an inn, a chamber,
a house

J«ciH(/»ient,immediately,mstantly,
forthwith

Indigne, unworthy

Infant, the Prince, B. ii. C. 8. St.
56. &c.

Inferd, brought on

Infest, deadly

Ingate, entrance

Itigowes, ingots

Intendement, attention, under-
standing, thought

Interesse, interest

Intreat, speak of, treat of

Intuse, contusion, bruise

loUyiiead, a state of jollity

louisance, loyaunce, rejoicing, di-
version

Ire, Yre, wrath, anger

Keep, care, heed, custody, charge

Keeping, guard

Keight, caught

Ken, Kenn, to know, to spy, to

discover
Kend, Kent, knew, kenned
Kenis, countrymen or boors
KcMtrs, Keasars, Emj)eror3, Ca;-

sars. Czars
Kest, cast
heatrel, a sort of hawk of the

baser breed
Kidst, dost know
Kight, a kite
Kilt, for killed
hirtle, a woman's gown
hond, kend, knew
Kynd, nature. Kyndle, natural
Kyuded, begotten
Kyne, cows or lierds

Lad, led, did lead

/.((/(/, taint

Lare, Loire, lair of a deer

Latched, caught

Laii, a song. Layes, songs,

poems
Imij, the earili or ground
Laystall, a place to lay dung or

rubbish
Lazars, leprous persons

Leach, surgeon or phj'sician
Leare, Leares, Leres, doctrine,

learning, sc'ence
Leasing, lying
Leavd, levied, raised
Ledden, language, dialect
Leef, or Lief, willing. As hef,

more willing
Leese, lost

Legierdemayne, sleight of hand
Leman, sweetheart, concubine,

mistress
Lenger, longer
L'Eni'oy, the epilogue after a

copy of verses
Lest, listen
Lever, rather
Leven, lightning
Levin-brond, thunderbolt
Lewdly, ignorantly
Libbard, leopard
Lich, like
Liefe, dear. Liefer, Lever, dearer.

Liefest, dearest
Liege-lord, sovereign lord. Liege-
man, who owes allegiance to

the liege-lord
7.;^, or Liggen, to lie
Lignage, Imeage, or descent
Killed out his tongue, for lolled out,

&c.
Lime-hound, a blood-hound
Limiter, one that goes about sel-
ling indulgences
Liu, to lean, give war. Sometimes

to cease or give over
Lincolne-greene, a species of cloth

manufactured at Lincoln
Lists, ground inclosed for tilts

or tournaments
Lite, aliglit, get off horse
Lived mortally, i. e. lived among

mortals
LiveUul, livelihood, maintenance
Lnelyhed, liveliness, life, spirit
Livery and seisin, law phrases
Lone, a thing lent, a loan
Lo}ig, belong

Loord, as lazy Loord, idle fellow
Lordings, sirs, masters. A dim.

of lord
Lore, learning, instruction
Lore, for Lorn, left, lost
Lorel, Losel, a liar, cheat, a loose

fellow
Lover, or 7 cover, a chimney or

o]ii-ning in the roof of a cottage
Lout, to bow servilel)', to crouch
Lugs, perches
Lusk, Lushish, Lushishness, a lazy

disposition
7 ustlesse, listlessly
Lustijhed, lustiness, vigour
Lustksse, weak, not lusty
Lvte, light on, settle, fall on
Lifthe, soft

Mage, magician, enchanter
Magnes stone, the load-ston«

GLOSSARY.

Mahoune, Mahomet. By Maliounc,
■d Suraceu oath

Make, a mate, ccnsort. To make
(verb), to compose verses,

Malejices, evil deeds

Miilicing, bearing of malice

Malipne, maliciously, abuse

Malmleitt, ill will, spite

Maud, manned, furnished, filled

Manner, behaviour, carriage

Mautletk, displayeth his wings. A
term in falconry

Many, company, B. iii. C. 9. St.
11. &c.

Marge, margin, brim

Mark white, the white mark

Martelled, hammered, beat

Mas, used for divine service

Mated, conquered, subdued

Maugre, in spite of, against one's
will, notv/idistanding

Mayle, a coat of mail

Mazed, stunned

Mazer boivl, properly a bowl of
maple

Meane, means, conditions, occa-
sion

Meare, a meer, limit, or boundary

Medle, to mingle

Meed, reward, prize

Mell, to intermeddle

Mene, did mean, intended

Meat, mingled

Merciable, merciful

Mtrcifyde, pitied

Meriinake, merriment

Mesprise, neglect, contempt, scorn

Met, meet

Mew, a place to mew hawks ; any
place shut up

Mickle, much

Mieie, for move

Mincing minion, finical aflfected
darling

Minime, a minim in music

Minimenls, toys, trifles

Minished, for diminished

Mirk, dark, obscure

Mirksome air, obscure, foul

Miscreated, created amiss, ill be-
gotten

Miscreant, originally signifies in-
fidel, or one of a wrong belief

Missdone, for misdo, i. e. to do
amiss

Misfare, misfortune

Misleeke, dislike

Mister, manner, sort, art, mysterj'

Misterelh not, needs not

Mistraiined, wrongly trained, in-
structed amiss ; or misled,
drart-a aside

Misween. to misjudge, interpret
wrongly

MisweM, gone astray

Mo, Moe, more

Mochel, much

Moldwarps, moles

Monte, a stupid fellow

Muitastere, a monastery

Mone, sorrow

Morion, head-piece, helmet

Mote, must, might

Mott, did mete or measure

Moulds, grows mouldy

Mountenaunce, the amount of any
thing, quantity, distance

Mowes, making of mouths

Muchel, much

Munificence, subsidies, aid, bene-
volence

Mured, inclosed

Muzd, mused

Nar, near, or nearer

Nas, lias not

Nuthless, Natheless, not the less,
nevertheless

Nnthemore, Nathemoe, never the
more

Ne, neither, not

Needments, necessaries

Kempt, named

Nett, neat, clean

Newell, novelty

Neicjanglenesse, a love of novelty
and changes

A';7/, will not. Cont. for ne will

Nimbtesse, nimbleness

Noblesse, nobility

A^once, Jor the nonce, for the oc-
casion

Not, Note, know not, Cont. for
ne wot

Nould, would not

Noule, the crown of the head

Nouriture, nurture, education

Noursle, to nurse

Noyance, harm

Noyd, annoyed or hurt

Nciiaus, hurtful or baleful

Ohsequy, funeral rites

Offal, refuse, dross

Ordele, a trial by fire, water, or
combat

Overcame, came over it

Orercraiv, to crow over, to insult

Oierhent, overtook

Orergrast, overgrown with grass

(herranght, reaching over

Overred, did read it over

Orerwent, overwhelmed

Ocerweening, self-conceited, opi-
nionated.

Ought, owned^

Ought the more, the more at all.

Out-well, flow out, yield out, dis-
charge.

Out of hand, forthwith.

Out-wiu, get out, win the way out

Owches, bosses, or buttons of gold

Pace, go.

Painim, pagan, infidel

Paire, impair, diminish.

Palfrey, a horse ; most commonly
a lady's pad.

Pall, a robe.

Paled part per part, a phrase in he-
raldry.

Palmer, a pilgrim.

Panachea, an universal medicine.

Pannikell, the skull, the crown of
the head.

Paragon, an example, pattern ;
companion, or fellow

Paramour, a lover

Paramunt, peradventure, by
chance.

Parbieake, vomit.

Parture, departure.

Pas, go. Also surpass, exceed

Pase, B. iii. C. 1. St. 19. signifies
here, country, land, region

Pavone, peacock

Paunce, a pancy, or violet

Payne, pains, endeavour

Peark, brisk

Peece, a fort, a strong place, cita-
del, B. i. C. 10. St. 59. &c.

Peise, poise. Paysd, poised

Perdie, Yr.par Dieu, an old oath

Pere, companion. Peres, com-
jianions, equals

Peregal, equal

Perjorce, by force

Periing, purling, trickling down

Peiious, perilous, dangerous

Persaunt, piercing

Persue, pursuing, pursuit, oi
chace

Plieer, companion

Physonomii, physiognomy

Picturals, paintings

Pight, placed, pitched, fixed

Pill, to rob, to pillage

Pine, to pine, to waste away

Pionings, works of pioneers

Plaine, to complain

Plaint, complaint

Pleasaunce, [)leasure

Plesh, for the rhyme, a plash

Plight, circumstance, condition

Point, armed completely, Hughty.
Car'd not for God or mana point,
not at all, not a tittle, Upton.
Armed at all points, ibid

Poize, weight

Polaxe, or battle-axe

Pols and pils, plunders and pil-
lages

Port, behaviour, carriage

Portaunce, comportment, carriage

Portcullis, a falling gate ; a gate
to let down or draw uji at
pleasure

Porteise, a brevisry, or prayer-
book

Pouldred, reduced to powder

Pousse, pease

Poynant, poignant, sharp, pier-
cing

Practicke paine, the cunning prac
tice, plot, and. endeavour

GLOSSARY.

Prank, Some prank their rujflesy
i. e. exhibit forth, and proudly
show. Prankt in reason's garb,
pompously set forth, arrogantly
tricked out
Preiice, press, throng-, crowd
Prest, prepared, ready at hand.

Sometimes for pressed
Pretended, shown forth, held out
Prick, to prick as with spurs
Prickinn; on the pluine, riding on

the plain
Prifje, proof
Price, prove
Prise, scuffle, fight
Pniciird, solicited, entrep*-'
Propense, weigh, consider, pre-
meditate
Protease, extension, drawing out
Prow, brave ; Prower, braver ;

Prowest, bravest
Ptiissaunce, valour, power, might.

Puissant, powerful, mighty
Purjied, flourished with a needle,
Hughes. Embroidered or de-
corated as with embroidery,
Upton
Purpose, discourse, talk, words
Purvay, provide
Puttockes, bitterns, kites. So

Gloss, to Chaucer
Pyned ghost. Vide Pine
Pyonings. Vide Pionings

Quadrate, a square

Quaid, subdued. Perhaps instead

of qualed or quelled
Quaile, to subdue, to quell, Upton.

Quaile, to hinguish, Hughes
Quaint, nice, curious
Quarle, B. ii. C. 11. St. 33. con-
tracted from Quarrel, shaft,

arrow
Quarrey, prey
Quart, the western division ; the

fourth part
Quayd. Vide Quaid
Queem, or Queam, please
Queint, quenched
Queiut elect, quaintly or oddly

chosen
Quell, sometimes used for to die
Quest, adveniure, exploit
Qtiich, to quicken, to stir
Qniglit, to deliver, to free
Quip, taunt, flout
Quite, to requite
Quited, reciuited, returned
Quook, did quake, did shake, did

tremble.

Puce Vide Past

}'ad, for did read ; or guessed

liujt, ii?/t, bereft, bereaved, Upton.

iieni, tore, Hughes
Raid. Vide Ray

Baile, adowne their sides did raile,

i. e. flow or run along
Paine, region. Payne, rule or

kingdom
Ramp, to paw, or fly out, like a

mad horse
Rank, in order

Runsakt, plundered, trifled, vio-
lated
Rapt, in rapture
Rash, mailes did rash, did break,

did shiver in pieces
Rast, Razed, erased, efiFaced
Rathe, early

Rauglu, reached, did reach
navtn, rapine, spoil, ravening
Ray, to discolour, beray
Ray, for Aray, ornament, fur-
niture. Also for in ray, in
array, in order and rank
Read, Reed, to advise, warn, pro-
nounce, declare, interpret,
guess, divine. Likewise coun-
sel, advice, prophecy
Reave, to bereave, or take away

violently
Re(cdiJ'yde, rebuild
Rebut, rebound, recoil, repel
Reck, care, reckon, account
ReeUiyme, call back
Recoure, recover
Recute. Recuile, to recoil, go back,

or give way
Recreant, out of hope, untrusty,

cowardly
Redoubted, reverenced, honoured,

feared
Redounding tears, abounding and

flowing over
Regiment, rule, government
Relate, bring back
Relent his pace, to slacken, to stay
Reliven, to live again
Remerded, thanked
Rencounter, accidental fight, or

adventure
Penforst, reinforced
Renjierst, reinfierced, again made

fierce and bold
Renns, for runs
Renverst, turned upside down,

overturned
Replei'ie, to redeem, to recover by

a replevy
Reprieje, reproof
Reprize, to make reprisals
Reseized, reinstated, in possession

again
Resiant, lodged, placed, resident
Retrale, Retraitt, picture, por-
trait ; air of the face. Also
retreat, fall back, give ground
Retyrd, drawn out
Reverse, recal, return
Reverse, dress again, to clothe

again
Rew, to rue, pity. Pew, a row.

In a Rew, in a row
Rihauld, a debauched fellow
Rije, frequent ; fully, abundantly

Rift, gap, cleft, chink, or crack

Rive, to cleave asunder. Riven
rent, split, torn asunder

Rode, inroad

Ronis, young bullocks

Roode, a cross

Rosiere, a rose-tree

Rote, harp, or crowd

Rove, didit rove, i. e. didst sboot
thy roving arrows

Roundell, a round bubble

Royne, to bite or gnaw

Rue. Vide Reiv

Ruffs, ornaments for the neck, of
plain or rujled muslin or cam-
bric

Ruinate, brought to ruin, over-
thrown

Ruing, pitying. Z?«/uWi/, pitifully

Ruth, pity

Ryhauld. Vide Ribauld

Ryfe. Vide Rife

Ryved. Vide Rive

Sad, grave

Safe her, her excepted

Saleived, saluted

Saliaunce, sally, or assault

Salve his hurts, to cure, to remedy

Salved, saluted

Sam, same ; sometimes it signifies
together

Samite, satin

Su!j, a thin sort of silk stuff, A
sword of better say, of better
proof, assaj'

Scarmoges, skirmishings

Scath, harm, mischief

Scatterlings, scattered i-overs or
ravagers

Scerne, discern

Sclave, slave

Sclaunders, slanders

Scord, marked, engraved

Scoi'e, reckoning

Scorss, exchange

Serine, Scvyne, chest, coffer

Scruze, squeeze out, press out

Scryde, descried

Sdaine, disdain. Sdeigned, dis-
dained

Scare, dry, consumed, burning,
parching

See, seat, habitation

Seely, silly

Selcouth, uncommon

Sele, a seal-fish

Select shapes, chosen, elegant

Sell, saddle

Semblaunt, show, pretence, ap-
pearance

Seminary, a nursery

Seneschell, a president, governor,
or steward

Sens, used for since

Sent, the scent, the smelling out

Sew, iollow. Sewing, following
Sewed, followed

GLOSSARY.

Shallop, a boat

Shanwies, musical instruments,
Psalm xcviii. 7. Shaum, is
thought to signify a hautboy

Sheene,li.ii. C.'l. St. 10.

Shend, to disgrace, to blame, to
spoil

Shere, pure, clear

Shrieve, to, to act the part of a con-
fessor. Shrijt, or Shriwing, con-
fession

Shright, shrieked. Shrightes,
shriekings

Shrill, to sound shrilly

Shrowd U\ to shelter. Shrouded in
sleep, covered, sheltered

Shyne, shining, brightness

Sib, related, of kin.

Sich, for such

Siege, seat, bench, throne

Sient, a grafF, sprig, or young
shoot

Sight, sighed

Sike, such

Siker, sure, surely

Sikerness, sureness, safety

Simples, simplicity

Sin, used for since

Singulfes, Siiigults, sighs, sob-
bings

Sit, sits not, suits not. Ill it sits, it
ill agrees, ill becomes

Sith, since that

Sithes, times

Sithens, since that time

Slug, to grovf sluggish

Smouldry, hot, sweltering

Snar, to snarl

Snarled haire, i. e. entangled, as a
skein of silk

Sneb, to snub or check

Sniibbes, knobs or knots in wood

Sods, turfs, clods of earth

Sold, salary, hire ; a soldier's pay

Somme, the sum, substance

Soote, sweet, or sweetly

Soothlich, soothly, true

Sort, company. In sort, in such
sort or manner

Soucing, plunging, falling

Souldan, Soudan, Suldan, a king,
tyrant, sovereign

Snuvenaunce, remembrance, recol-
lection

Soundes, inlets of the sea between
headlands

Sciciie, sound. With shrieking
smvne, B. iii. C. 4. St. 30.

S'-yle, the prey, the soiled beast

Space, walk about, range about

Spalles, shoulders

Sperre the gate, bar or shut the
gate

Sjjersed air, for dispersed air

Spill, to spoil, to destroy

Sj<ilt, shed, scattered over

Spire, to breathe

Spreiit, sprinkled

Spri7igal, a youth, a stripliug

Spyali, espials, spies

Spifre, it doth spire forth, or grow

up to the fairest flower
Stadle, staff

Stales, incitements, devices, tricks

Stank, weary or faint

Starke, stiff with cold

Star-read, doctrine of the stars
astronomy

Steane, for stone

Stcd, place, seat, station, situa-
tion

Steeme, smoke, Steemed, had ex-
haled.

Steemed, esteemed

Stent, stint, stay, stop

Stept, steeped, soaked, wetted

Sterne, tail

Sterve, to perish, to die

Steven, sound, noise

Stire, stir or move

Stole, a garment, a matron's robe

Stand, stand, station

Stonied, astonished, or stunned

Stoond. Vide Stonied

Stound, Stoiuytd, space, moment,
season, hour, time

Stoup, in falconry, when the hawk
on wing strikes at the fowl

Stour, Stowre, fight, stir, trouble,
misfortune, fit

Straine, Strene, race, descent, fa-
mily, origin

Strayt. B. I'i. C. 7. St. 40

Sf^esse, distress

Stue, to ascend, to mount up

Subierst, subverted, overthrown

Successe, succession

Suffused eyes, bedewed, suffused
with tears

Suppressing, keeping under

Supprest, ravislied

Surbet, vrearied

Surcease, stop

Surquedry, pride, presumption

Safe, suit, petition, request

Sivart, swarthy, black

Swariing, swerving, giving way,
going from

5a'au, management, direction, rule,
motion

Sweat/i-fiaJitfs, swathe or swaddling-
bands

Swelt, burnt, suffocated with heat,
fainted

Swened, moved, wandered out of
his place

Siriiiek, labour

Siivund, a swoon or fainting fit

Targe, a buckler or shield

Tasiel, Tossel, a twisted or bushy
ornament of silk, gold, or silver.
Tassel gent, a gentle, tame male
hawk.

Teade, a torch

Teene, Tine, Tyne, trouble, mis-
chief, injury

Tenor, the middle part next the base

Thee, thrive, jirosper. Well mots

ye thee, B. ii. C. 1. St. 33.
Thewes, mannes, qualifications,

customs
Thilk, this, that
Tho, then
Thralled, enslaved
Thralls, slaves
Thrill, to pierce through
Throw that last bitter throw, pain,
pangs. .So mighty throices,
strokes, blows. Tosleep a throwe,
a small while or space

Thrust, Thirstie, thirst

Tickle, slippery, unstable, ticklish

Tirfe, awhile, time season, an hour

Tight, tide

Timl, kindled, excited

Tire, rank, row, as a tire of ord-
nance

T(vt, wrong, injury

Tottif, dizzy, tottering

Touzd, tugged and hauled about

Tract by tract, by tracing, by tract
and footing

Trade, tread, trace, or footstep.
Do Trade, do walk

Train, Trayn, the train or tail.
Likewise used for treachery,
deceit

Tramels, nets

Translated, turned them to

Trayismew, to transform, transmute

Transverse, awry, out of order

Trast, followed as by tract or
footing

Traveile, labour

Treachour. Treachetour, traitor

Treague, a truce, cessation of arms ;
agreement

Treen, of a tree, wooden

Trenchand, Trenchant, cutting'
sharp

Troad, path, footing

Trow, believe, imagine, conceive

Truss, to, a term in falconry, when
the hawk raises his prey alott,
and then descends with it to
the ground

Turnament, Tiirneyment, Turney,
a sort of single combat on horse-
back, commonly with lances

Turribant, a turban

Tway, two ; in Tuay, in tvro. His
Twaine, his couple

Tweght, twit, upbraid

Twitin, to blame, to upbraid

Tuyfold, twofold.

V. u

Vaded, gone

Valaw, value, worth, vaio'ir

Vantage, profit

Vauncing, advancing

Vaunt, to boast

Vellenege, rather viUinege, the

meanest and lowest of tenure
Venerq, hunting of wild beasts

C. 1. C. 6. St. 22.

GLOSSA.-^-

Veiiger, revenger

Ventayle, the fore part of the liel-

met, to give vent or air to the

face by lifting up
Venteth into the wind, snuffs the

wind
Vere the maine shete, turn, shift
Vetchu bed, (shep. Cal.) bed of

pease straw
Vilde, vile

Virelui/s, a kind of songs
Visiwmie, physiognomy, visage,

a.s])ect
Umhriere, the visor of the helmet
Uncouth, unusual, strange, harsh ;

odd, deformed
Umlerfong, attempt by unfair and

indirect means
Undertime, the afternoon, towards

the evening, B. iii. C.7. St. 13.
Uudight, not dight, disordered ;

loo.sened, untied
Unneath, difficult, scarcely, with

difficulty. Son^etimes it sig-
nifies almost
Uiihele, to discover, to bewray
Unherst, took tliem from the hearse

or temporary monument where

thev were usually hanged, B. v.

C. 3. St. 37.
Unkempt, unadorned, or void of

grace or elegance
Unkend, not known
Unlich, unlike

Unpenaide, unprovided, not fur-
nished
Unrest, disquiet, uneasiness
Unsoot, unsweet
Unwares, unexpectedly, incau.

tiously, unwarily
Unweeting, unknowing, unawares,

ignorant
Unwist, not thought of, unknown.
Upbrast, burst open
Upbrayes, upbraidings, reproaches
Upweaked, unrevenged.

Wage, a pledge ; likewise reward,

wages
Waif't, a stray
War, worse

War-hable, able or powerful in war
IFare, wary, cautious. Ware, did

wear
Wareless, stupified
War-old, old in war or strife
Warray, to make war uj)on, to

liarrass with war
Warrionrefse, a woman-warrior,

an Amazon
Watchet, ir.ile blue
Wanes, waves, Upton- Wawes,

waves, perhaps for woes,
Hitglies

Way, weigh, value, esteem

Wayment, to bewail, lament

Waijne, Waine, chariot

Weal-awaii, Wele-away, alas!

Ween, Weenen, imagine, judge

Weet, to know. Weeten, to wit

Weetless, unknovvning

Wefte, wafted. Wefte, waved,
avoided, put off

Weft (noun), a stray; whatever
wanders and is lost

Well, did well, spring, flow. To
Weld, to move, to wield, to go-
vern

Welc, weal, welfare

Welke, to set, decrease, wither ;
to grow faint

Welkin, the sky, fiimament

Welter, to wallow

Wend, to go. Wend, for

Weened, imagine

Went, way, journey, Upton. Go-
ing, course, Hughes

West, to, to set in the west

Wex, to increase, to grow

Whally, full of whales

Whatso, whatsoever

Whenso, whensoever

Whilome, Why tome, for merly, some
while ago.

Whist, Imshed, silenced

Whit, a little part

Whot, hot

Whyleare, erewhile, sometime be-
fore

Wicked herbes, noxious, poisonous

Wield, Weld, manage, handle, go-
vern, direct, turn, sway, &c.

Wight, creature, person

Wightlii, quickly

Wimble, shifting to and fro

Wimpled, folded over like a veil

Wise, guise, appearance

To Wis, to know. Wist, thought,
knew

Tr/t<?, blame, reproach

Withhault, withholden, withdrew

Woe begonne, far gone in woe,
overwhelmed

Wonne, is used in two senses ; in
the first, for to overcome, gain
the victory, from to win. In
the second place, for to dwell,
to inhabit, i'rom the German
uomen.

Won, to use, to be wont

Wont, custom, manner

Woo, to court, or win by courting

Wood, mad. Woodness, madness

Wot, to know. JVotest, knowest

Wowed, wooed, for the rhvme

Woicd, waxed

]Vrast, wrest, for the rhyme
Wreake, to revenge. IVroke, re-
venged
Wreakful, revengeful
Wrest, wrist
Wrizled, wrinkled
WrokeH, wreaked, revenged
Whyle, beguile
Whyie. A'ide Wite.

Ybet, beaten

Ybent, bent, inclined, addicted

Yblent, blinded, or confounded

Ybrent, burnt

Yclad, clad, clothed

Ycleped, called, named

Ydlesse, idleness

Ydrad, Ydred, dreaded, feared

Yearne, earn, get, procure

Yede, Yeed, Yeade, to go

Yeoman, some imes signifies ser-
vant

Yei-ks, yerks, jerks, lashes

Yeven, given

Yfere, in company, together

Yj'ostered, fostered, nourished,
brought up

Yfraught, freighted, loaden

Yjretted, the same as fretted

Ygoe, gone

Yit, yet ; for the rhyme

Ylike, alike

Ymagery, images, figures

Ymolt, molten, melten

Ympe, Impe, offspring

Ympt, grafted on, fixed on as a
graff

Yod, Vide Yeed

Yold, yielded

Yond, beyond

Yore, of yore, anciently, formerly

Youngth, youth

Younker, a lusty young man

Ypiiid Vide Apaid

Ypent, pent up, or folded like
sheep

Ypight, placed

Ypt((ste, jjiaced

Yplight, plighted

Yrupt, wrapt in ecstacy

Yre, ire, anger

Yrent, rent

Y rived, rived, riven

Yroke, Ywreaken,Ywrohen, wreak'
ed, revenged

Ysame, collected together

Yshend, to spoil, to disgrace

Yivis, Iwis, truly, indeed ; to my
own knowledge. Sometimes
used expletively, sometimes
ironically.

3i^

^'Jcilif. JL.

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