The Faerie Queene

The faerie queene Disposed into twelue bookes, fashioning XII. morall vertues.
Spenser, Edmund, 1552?-1599.
1596
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A12778
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The faerie queene Disposed into twelue bookes, fashioning XII. morall vertues.
Spenser, Edmund, 1552?-1599.
[2], 590; 518 p. : ill. (woodcut)
Printed [by Richard Field] for VVilliam Ponsonbie,
London :
1596.
In verse.
Printer's name from STC.
"The second part of The faerie queene" has separate dated title page, pagination, and register.
This edition omits the sonnets at the end of the 1590 edition.
Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.
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THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Diſpoſed into twelue bookes, Fashioning XII. Morall vertues.
ANCHORA SPEI
printer's or publisher's device
LONDON Printed for VVilliam Ponſonbie. 1596.
TO THE MOST HIGH, MIGHTIE And MAGNIFICENT EMPRESSE RENOVVMED FOR PIETIE, VERTVE, AND ALL GRATIOVS GOVERNMENT ELIZABETH BY THE GRACE OF GOD QVEENE OF ENGLAND FRAVNCE AND IRELAND AND OF VIRGINIA, DEFENDOVR OF THE FAITH, &c. HER MOST HVMBLE SERVAVNT EDMVND SPENSER DOTH IN ALL HVMILITIE DEDICATE, PRESENT AND CONSECRATE THESE HIS LABOVRS TO LIVE VVITH THE ETERNITIE OF HER FAME.
THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Contayning THE LEGENDE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
OR OF HOLINESSE.
LOI the man, whoſe Muſe whilome did maske,
As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforſt a far vnfitter taske,
For trumpets ſterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And ſing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whoſe prayſes hauing ſlept in ſilence long,
Me, all too meane, the ſacred Muſe areeds
To blazon broad emongſt her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithfull loues ſhall moralize my ſong.
Helpe then, ô holy Virgin chiefe of nine,
Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,
Lay forth out of thine euerlaſting ſcryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden ſtill,
Of Faerie knights and faireſt Tanaquill,
Whom that moſt noble Briton Prince ſo long
Sought through the world, and ſuffered ſo much ill,
That I muſt rue his vndeſerued wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and ſharpen my dull tong.
And thou moſt dreaded impe of higheſt Ioue,
Faire Venus ſonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight ſo cunningly didſt roue,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,
In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,
After his murdrous ſpoiles and bloudy rage allayd.
And with them eke, ô Goddeſſe heauenly bright,
Mirrour of grace and Maieſtie diuine,
Great Lady 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 thoughts too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted ſtile:
The which to heare, vouchſafe, ô deareſt dred a-while.
Canto I.
The Patron of true Holineſſe,
Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocriſie him to entrape,
Doth to his home entreate.
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Y cladd in mightie armes and ſiluer ſhielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruell markes of many' a bloudy fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:
His angry ſteede did chide his foming bitt,
As much diſdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full iolly knight he ſeemd, and faire did ſitt,
As one for knightly giuſts and fierce encounters fitt.
But on his breſt a bloudie Croſſe he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whoſe ſweete ſake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as liuing euer him ador'd:
Vpon his ſhield the like was alſo ſcor'd,
For ſoueraine hope, which in his helpe he had:
Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,
But of his cheere did ſeeme too ſolemne ſad,
Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad.
Vpon a great aduenture he was bond,
That greateſt Gloriana to him gaue,
That greateſt Glorious Queene of Faerie lond,
To winne him worſhip, and her grace to haue,
Which of all earthly things he moſt did craue;
And euer as he rode, his hart did earne
To proue his puiſſance in battell braue
Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and ſtearne.
A louely Ladie rode him faire beſide,
Vpon a lowly Aſſe more white then ſnow,
Yet ſhe much whiter, but the ſame did hide
Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And ouer all a blacke ſtole ſhe did throw,
As one that inly mournd: ſo was ſhe ſad,
And heauie fat vpon her palfrey ſlow;
Seemed in heart ſome hidden care ſhe had,
And by her in a line a milke white lambe ſhe lad.
So pure an innocent, as that ſame lambe,
She was in life and euery vertuous lore,
And by deſcent from Royall lynage came
Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
Their ſcepters ſtretcht from Eaſt to Weſterne ſhore,
And all the world in their ſubiection held;
Till that infernall feend with foule vprore
Forwaſted all their land, and them expeld:
Whom to auenge, ſhe had this Knight from far cōpeld.
Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,
That laſie ſeemd in being euer laſt,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they paſt,
The day with cloudes was ſuddeine ouercaſt,
And angry Ioue an hideous ſtorme of raine
Did poure into his Lemans lap ſo faſt,
That euery wight to ſhrowd it did conſtrain,
And this faire couple eke to ſhroud thēſelues were fain.
Enforſt to ſeeke ſome couert nigh at hand,
A ſhadie groue not far away they ſpide,
That promiſt ayde the tempeſt to withſtand:
Whoſe loftie trees yclad with ſommers pride,
Did ſpred ſo broad, that heauens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any ſtarre:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farre:
Faire harbour that them ſeemes; ſo in they entred arre.
And foorth they paſſe, with pleaſure forward led,
Ioying to heare the birdes ſweete harmony,
Which therein ſhrouded from the tempeſt dred,
Seemd in their ſong to ſcorne the cruell sky.
Much can they prayſe the trees ſo ſtraight and hy,
The ſayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,
The builder Oake, ſole king of forreſts all,
The Aſpine good for ſtaues, the Cypreſſe funerall.
The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours
And Poets ſage, the Firre that weepeth ſtill,
The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,
The Eugh obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for ſhaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
The Mirrhe ſweete bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech, the Aſh for nothing ill,
The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,
The caruer Holme, the Maple ſeeldom inward ſound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Vntill the bluſtring ſtorme is ouerblowne;
When weening to returne, whence they did ſtray,
The cannot finde that path, which firſt was ſhowne,
But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,
Furtheſt from end then, when they neereſt weene,
That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, ſo many turnings ſeene,
That which of them to take, in diuerſe doubt they been.
At laſt reſoluing forward ſtill to fare,
Till that ſome end they finde or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten ſeemd moſt bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;
Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollow caue,
Amid the thickeſt woods. The Champion ſtout
Eftſoones diſmounted from his courſer braue,
And to the Dwarfe a while his needleſſe ſpere he gaue.
Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,
Leaſt ſuddaine miſchiefe ye too raſh prouoke:
The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without ſmoke,
And perill without ſhow: therefore your hardy ſtroke
Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.
Ah Ladie (ſaid he) ſhame were to reuoke
The forward footing for an hidden ſhade:
Vertue giues her ſelfe light, through darkeneſſe for to wade.
Yea but (quoth ſhe) the perill of this place
I better wot then you, though now 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.
This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,
A monſter vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then
The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for liuing men.
But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
The youthfull knight could not for ought be ſtaide,
But forth vnto the darkſome hole he went,
And looked in: his gliſtring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a ſhade,
By which he ſaw the vgly monſter plaine,
Halfe like a ſerpent horribly diſplaide,
But th'other halfe did womans ſhape retaine,
Moſt lothſom, filthie, foule, and full of vile diſdaine.
And as ſhe lay vpon the durtie ground,
Her huge long taile her den all ouerſpred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,
Pointed with mortall ſting. Of her there bred
A thouſand yong ones, which ſhe dayly fed,
Sucking vpon her poiſonous dugs, eachone
Of ſundry ſhapes, yet all ill fauored:
Soone as that vncouth light vpon them ſhone,
Into her mouth they crept, and ſuddain all were gone.
Their dam vpſtart, out of her den effraide,
And ruſhed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her curſed head, whoſe folds diſplaid
Were ſtretcht now forth at length without entraile.
She lookt about, and ſeeing one in mayle
Armed to point, ſought backe to turne againe;
For light ſhe hated as the deadly bale,
Ay wont in deſert darkneſſe to remaine,
Where plaine none might her ſee, nor ſhe ſee any plaine.
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu'ed, he lept
As Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,
And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, and forced her to ſtay:
Therewith enrag'd ſhe loudly gan to bray,
And turning fierce, her ſpeckled taile aduaunſt,
Threatning her angry ſting, him to diſmay:
Who nought aghaſt, his mightie hand enhaunſt:
The ſtroke down frō her head vnto her ſhoulder glaunſt.
Much daunted with that dint, her ſence was dazd,
Yet kindling rage, her ſelfe ſhe gathered round,
And all attonce her beaſtly body raizd
With doubled forces high aboue the ground:
Tho wrapping vp her wrethed ſterne arownd,
Lept fierce vpon his ſhield, and her huge traine
All ſuddenly about his body wound,
That hand or foot to ſtirre he ſtroue in vaine:
God helpe the man ſo wrapt in Errours endleſſe traine.
His Lady ſad to ſee his ſore conſtraint,
Cride out, Now now Sir knight, ſhew what ye bee,
Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:
Strangle her, elſe ſhe ſure will ſtrangle thee.
That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
His gall did grate for griefe and high diſdaine,
And knitting all his force got one hand free,
Wherewith he grypt her gorge with ſo great paine,
That ſoone to looſe her wicked bands did her conſtraine.
Therewith ſhe ſpewd out of her filthy maw
A floud of poyſon horrible and blacke,
Full of great lumpes of fleſh and gobbets raw,
Which ſtunck ſo vildly, that it forſt him ſlacke
His graſping hold, and from her turne him backe:
Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,
With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,
And creeping ſought way in the weedy gras:
Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.
As when old father Nilus gins to ſwell
With timely pride aboue the Aegyptian vale,
His fattie waues do fertile ſlime outwell,
And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:
But when his later ebbe gins to auale,
Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed
Ten thouſand kindes of creatures, partly male
And partly female of his fruitfull feed;
Such vgly monſtrous ſhapes elſwhere may no man reed.
The ſame ſo ſore annoyed has the knight,
That welnigh choked with the deadly ſtinke,
His forces faile, ne can no longer fight.
Whoſe corage when the feend perceiu'd to ſhrinke,
She poured forth out of her helliſh ſinke
Her fruitfull curſed ſpawne of ſerpents ſmall,
Deformed monſters, fowle, and blacke as inke,
Which ſwarming all about his legs did crall,
And him encombred ſore, but could not hurt at all.
As gentle Shepheard in ſweete euen-tide,
When ruddy Phoebus gins to welke in weſt,
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which do byte their haſty ſupper beſt;
A cloud of combrous gnattes do him moleſt,
All ſtriuing to infixe their feeble ſtings,
That from their noyance he no where can reſt,
But with his clowniſh hands their tender wings
He bruſheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
Thus ill beſtedd, and fearefull more of ſhame,
Then of the certaine perill he ſtood in,
Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,
Reſolv'd in minde all ſuddenly to win,
Or ſoone to loſe, before he once would lin;
And ſtrooke at her with more then manly force,
That from her body full of filthie ſin
He rafther hatefull head without remorſe;
A ſtreame of cole black bloud forth guſhed frō her corſe.
Her ſcattred brood, ſoone as their Parent deare
They ſaw ſo rudely falling to the ground,
Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,
Gathred themſelues about her body round,
Weening their wonted entrance to haue found
At her wide mouth: but being there withſtood
They flocked all about her bleeding wound.
And ſucked vp their dying mothers blood,
Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.
That deteſtable ſight him much amazde,
To ſee th'vnkindly Impes of heauen accurſt,
Deuoure their dam; on whom while ſo he gazd,
Hauing all ſatisfide their bloudy thurſt,
Their bellies ſwolne he ſaw with fulneſſe burſt,
And bowels guſhing forth: well worthy end
Of ſuch as drunke her life, the which them nurſt;
Now needeth him no lenger labour ſpend,
His foes haue ſlaine themſelues, with whom he ſhould contend.
His Ladie ſeeing all, that chaunſt, from farre
Approcht in haſt to greet his victorie,
And ſaid, Faire knight, borne vnder happy ſtarre,
Who ſee your vanquiſht foes before you lye:
Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,
And proou'd your ſtrength on a ſtrong enimie,
Your firſt aduenture: many ſuch I pray,
And henceforth euer wiſh, that like ſucceed it may.
Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe,
And with the Lady backward ſought to wend;
That path he kept, which beaten was moſt plaine,
Ne euer would to any by-way bend,
But ſtill did follow one vnto the end,
The which at laſt out of the wood them brought.
So forward on his way (with God to frend)
He paſſeth forth, and new aduenture ſought;
Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.
At length they chaunſt to meet vpon the way
An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,
His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,
And by his belt his booke he hanging had;
Sober he ſeemde, and very ſagely ſad,
And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
Simple in ſhew, and voyde of malice bad,
And all the way he prayed, as he went,
And often knock his breſt, as one that did repent.
He faire the knight ſaluted, louting low,
Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:
And after asked him, if he did know
Of ſtraunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.
Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how ſhould, alas,
Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,
Bidding his beades all day for his treſpas,
Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?
With holy father ſits not with ſuch things to mell.
But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell,
And homebred euill euill ye deſire to heare,
Of a ſtraunge man I can you tidings tell,
That waſteth all this countrey farre and neare,
Of ſuch (ſaid he) I chiefly do inquere,
And ſhall you well reward to ſhew the place,
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
For to all knighthood it is foule diſgrace,
That ſuch a curſed creature liues ſo long a ſpace.
Far hence (quoth he) in waſtfull wilderneſſe
His dwelling is, by which no lining wight
May euer paſſe, but thorough great diſtreſſe.
Now (ſayd the Lady) draweth toward night,
And well I wote, that of your later fight
Ye all for wearied be: for what ſo ſtrong,
But wanting reſt will alſo want of might?
The Sunne that meaſures heauen all day long,
At night doth baite his ſteedes the Ocean waues emong.
Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely reſt,
And with new day new worke at once begin:
Vntroubled night they ſay giues counſell beſt.
Right well Sir knight ye haue aduiſed bin,
(Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win
Is wiſely to aduiſe: now day is ſpent;
Therefore with me ye may take vp your In
For this ſame night. The knight was well content:
So with that godly father to his home they went.
A little lowly Hermitage it was,
Downe in a dale, hard by a foreſts ſide,
Far from reſort of people, that did pas
In trauell to and froe: a little wyde
There was an holy Chappell edifyde,
Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to ſay
His holy things each morne and euentyde:
Thereby a Chriſtall ſtreame did genlty play,
Which from a ſacred fountaine welled forth alway.
Arriued there, the little houſe they fill,
Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:
Reſt is their feaſt, and all things at their will;
The nobleſt mind the beſt contentment has.
With faire diſcourſe the euening ſo they pas:
For that old man of pleaſing wordes had ſtore,
And well could file his tongue as ſmooth as glas;
He told of Saintes and Popes, and euemore
He ſtrowd an Aue-Mary after and before.
The drouping Night thus creepeth on them faſt,
And the ſad humour loading their eye liddes,
As meſſenger of Morpheus on them caſt
Sweet ſlōbring deaw, the which to ſleepe them biddes.
Vnto their lodgings then his gueſtes he riddes:
Where when all drownd in deadly ſleepe he findes,
He to his ſtudy goes, and there amiddes
His Magick bookes and artes of ſundry kindes,
He ſeekes out mighty charmes, to trouble ſleepy mindes.
Then chooſing out few wordes moſt horrible,
(Let none them read) thereof did verſes frame,
With which and other ſpelles like terrible,
He bad awake blacke Plutoes grieſly Dame,
And curſed heauen, and ſpake reprochfull ſhame
Of higheſt God, the Lord of life and light;
A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name
Great Gorgon, Prince of darkneſſe and dead night,
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.
And forth he cald out of deepe darkneſſe dred
Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes
Fluttring about his euer damned hed,
A-waite whereto their ſeruice he applyes,
To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:
Of thoſe he choſe out two, the falſeſt twoo,
And fitteſt for to forge true-ſeeming lyes;
The one of them he gaue a meſſage too,
The other by him ſelfe ſtaide other worke to doo.
He making ſpeedy way through ſperſed ayre,
And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To Morpheus houſe doth haſtily repaire.
Amid the bowels of the earth full ſteepe,
And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,
His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed
Doth euer waſh, and Cynthia ſtill doth ſteepe
In ſiluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,
Whiles ſad Night ouer him her mātle black doth ſpred.
Whoſe double gates he findeth locked faſt,
The one faire fram'd of burniſht Yuory,
The other all with ſiluer ouercaſt;
And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,
Watching to baniſh Care their enimy,
Who oft is wont to trouble gentle ſleepe.
By them the Sprite doth paſſe in quietly,
And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe
In drowſie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.
And more, to lulle him in his ſlumber ſoft,
A trickling ſtreame from high rocke tumbling downe
And euer-drizling raine vpon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the ſowne
Of ſwarming Bees, did caſt him in a ſwowne:
No other noyſe, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As ſtill are wont t'annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard: but careleſſe Quiet lyes,
Wrapt in eternall ſilence farre from enemyes.
The meſſenger approching to him ſpake,
But his waſt wordes returnd to him in vaine:
So ſound he ſlept, that nought mought him awake.
Then rudely he him truſt, and puſht with paine,
Whereat he gan to ſtretch: but he againe
Shooke him ſo hard, that forced him to ſpeake.
As one then in a dreame, whoſe dryer braine
Is toſt with troubled ſights and fancies weake,
He mumbled ſoft, but would not all his ſilence breake.
The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,
And threatned vnto him the dreaded name
Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,
And lifting vp his lumpiſh head, with blame
Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.
Hither (quoth he) me Archimago ſent,
He that the ſtubborne Sprites can wiſely tame,
He bids thee to him ſend for his intent
A fit falſe dreame, that can delude the ſleepers ſent.
The God obayde, and calling forth ſtraight way
A diuerſe dreame out of his priſon darke,
Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay
His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,
Whoſe ſences all were ſtraight benumbd and ſtarke.
He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,
Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
In haſt vnto his Lord, where he him left afore.
Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,
Had made a Lady of that other Spright,
And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes
So liuely, and ſo like in all mens ſight,
That weaker ſence it could haue rauiſht quight:
The maker ſelfe for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with ſo goodly ſight:
Her all in white he clad, and ouer it
Caſt a blacke ſtole, moſt like to ſeeme for Vna fit.
Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,
Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
Where he ſlept ſoundly void of euill thought,
And with falſe ſhewes abuſe his fantaſy,
In ſort as he him ſchooled priuily:
And that new creature borne without her dew,
Full of the makers guile, with vſage fly
He taught to imitate that Lady trew,
Whoſe ſemblance ſhe did carrie vnder feigned hew.
Thus well inſtructed, to their worke they haſt,
And comming where the knight in ſlomber lay,
The one vpon his hardy head him plaſt,
And made him dreame of loues and luſtfull play,
That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:
Then ſeemed him his Lady by him lay,
And to him playnd, how that falſe winged boy,
Her chaſt hart had ſubdewd, to learne Dame pleaſures toy.
And ſhe her ſelfe of beautie ſoueraigne Queene,
Faire Venus ſeemde vnto his bed to bring
Her, whom he waking euermore did weene,
To be the chaſteſt flowre, that ay did ſpring
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
Now a looſe Leman to vile ſeruice bound:
And eke the Graces ſeemed all to ſing,
Hymen ιο̃
Hymen, dauncing all around,
Whilſt freſheſt Flora her Yuie girlond crownd.
In this great paſſion of vnwonted luſt,
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
He ſtarted vp, as ſeeming to miſtruſt,
Some ſecret ill, or hidden foe of his:
Lo there before his face his Lady is,
Vnder blake ſtole hyding her bayted hooke,
And as halfe bluſhing offred him to kis,
With gentle blandiſhment and louely looke,
Moſt like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.
All cleane diſmayd to ſee ſo vncouth ſight,
And halfe enraged at her ſhameleſſe guiſe,
He thought haue ſlaine her in his fierce deſpight:
But haſty heat tempring with ſufferance wiſe,
He ſtayde his hand, and gan himſelfe aduiſe
To proue his ſenſe, and tempt her faigned truth.
Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wiſe,
Tho can ſhe weepe, to ſtirre vp gentle ruth,
Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.
And ſaid, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue,
Shall I accuſe the hidden cruell fate,
And mightie cauſes wrought in heauen aboue,
Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,
For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?
Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched ſtate
You, whom my hard auenging deſtinie
Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.
Your owne deare ſake forſt me at firſt to leaue
My Fathers kingdome, There ſhe ſtopt with teares;
Her ſwollen hart her ſpeach ſeemd to bereaue,
And then againe begun, My weaker yeares
Captiu'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
Fly to your faith for ſuccour and ſure ayde:
Let me not dye in languor and long teares.
Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus diſmayd?
What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?
Loue of your ſelfe, ſhe ſaid, and deare conſtraint
Lets me not ſleepe, but waſt the wearie night
In ſecret anguiſh and vnpittied plaint,
Whiles you in careleſſe ſleepe are drowned quight.
Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
Suſpect her truth: yet ſince no' vntruth he knew,
Her fawning loue with foule diſdainefull ſpight
He would not ſhend, but ſaid, Deare dame I rew,
That for my ſake vnknowne ſuch griefe vnto you grew.
Aſſure your ſelfe, it fell not all to ground;
For all ſo deare as life is to my hart,
I deeme your loue, and hold me to you bound;
Ne let vaine feares procure your needleſſe ſmart,
Where cauſe is none, but to your reſt depart.
Not all content, yet ſeemd ſhe to appeaſe
Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,
And fed with words, that could not chuſe but pleaſe,
So ſlyding ſoftly forth, ſhe turnd as to her eaſe.
Long after lay he muſing at her mood,
Much grieu'd to thinke that gentle Dame ſo light,
For whoſe defence he was to ſhed his blood.
At laſt dull wearineſſe of former fight
Hauing yrockt a ſleepe his irkeſome ſpright,
That troublous dreame gan freſhly toſſe his braine,
With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:
But when he ſaw his labour all was vaine,
With that misformed ſpright he backe returnd againe.
Cant. II.
The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
The Redcroſſe Knight from Truth:
Into whoſe ſtead faire falſhood ſteps,
And workes him wofull ruth.
BY this the Northerne wagoner had ſet
His ſeuenfold teme behind the ſtedfaſt ſtarre,
That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,
But firme is fixt, and ſendeth light from farre
To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:
And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note ſhrill
Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre
In haſt was climbing vp the Eaſterne hill,
Full enuious that night ſo long his roome did fill.
When thoſe accurſed meſſengers of hell,
That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright
Came to their wicked maiſter, and gan tell
Their booteleſſe paines, and ill ſucceeding night:
Who all in rage to ſee his skilfull might
Deluded ſo, gan threaten helliſh paine
And ſad Proſerpines wrath, them to affright.
But when he ſaw his threatning was but vaine,
He caſt about, and ſearcht his balefull bookes againe.
Eftſoones he tooke that miſcreated faire,
And that falſe other Spright, on whom he ſpred
A ſeeming body of the ſubtile aire,
Like a young Squire, in loues and luſty-hed
His wanton dayes that euer looſely led,
Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:
Thoſe two he tooke, and in a ſecret bed,
Couered with darkneſſe and miſdeeming night,
Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.
Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull haſt
Vnto his gueſt, who after troublous ſights
And dreames, gan now to take more ſound repaſt,
Whom ſuddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,
As one aghaſt with feends or damned ſprights,
And to him cals, Riſe riſe vnhappy Swaine,
That here wex old in ſleepe, whiles wicked wights
Haue knit themſelues in Venus ſhamefull chaine;
Come ſee, where your falſe Lady doth her honour ſtaine.
All in amaze he ſuddenly vp ſtart
With ſword in hand, and with the old man went;
Who ſoone him brought into a ſecret part,
Where that falſe couple were full cloſely ment
In wanton luſt and lewd embracement:
Which when he ſaw, he burnt with gealous fire,
The eye of reaſon was with rage yblent,
And would haue ſlaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was reſtreined of that aged ſire.
Returning to his bed in torment great,
And bitter anguiſh of his guiltie ſight,
He could not reſt, but did his ſtout heart eat,
And waſt his inward gall with deepe deſpight,
Yrkeſome of life, and too long lingring night.
At laſt faire Heſperus in higheſt skie
Had ſpent his lampe, & brought forth dawning light,
Then vp he roſe, and clad him haſtily;
The Dwarfe him brought his ſteed ſo both away do fly.
Now when the roſy-fingred Morning faire,
Weary of aged Tithones ſaffron bed,
Had ſpred her purple robe through deawy aire,
And the high hils Titan diſcouered,
The royall virgin ſhooke off drowſy-hed,
And riſing forth out of her baſer bowre,
Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre;
Then gan ſhe waile & weepe, to ſee that woefull ſtowre.
And after him ſhe rode with ſo much ſpeede
As her ſlow beaſt could make; but all in vaine:
For him ſo far had borne his light-foot ſteede,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce diſdaine,
That him to follow was but fruitleſſe paine;
Yet ſhe her weary limbes would neuer reſt
But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine
Did ſearch, ſore grieued in her gentle breſt,
He ſo vngently left her, whom ſhe loueſt beſt.
But ſubtill Archimago, when his gueſts
He ſaw diuided into double parts,
And Vna wandring in woods and forreſts,
Th'end of his drift, he praiſd his diueliſh arts,
That had ſuch might ouer true meaning harts;
Yet reſts not ſo, but other meanes doth make,
How he may worke vnto her further ſmarts:
For her he hated as the hiſſing ſnake,
And in her many troubles did moſt pleaſure take.
He then deuiſde himſelfe how to diſguiſe;
For by his mightie ſcience he could take
As many formes and ſhapes in ſeeming wiſe,
As euer Proteus to himſelfe could make:
Sometime a fowle, ſometime a fiſh in lake,
Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,
That of himſelfe he oft for feare would quake,
And oft would flie away. O who can tell
The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke ſpell?
But now ſeemde beſt, the perſon to put on
Of that good knight, his late beguiled gueſt:
In mighty armes he was yclad anon:
And ſiluer ſhield, vpon his coward breſt
A bloudy croſſe, and on his crauen creſt
A bounch of haires diſcolourd diuerſly:
Full iolly knight he ſeemde, and well addreſt,
And when he ſate vpon his courſer free,
Saint George himſelf ye would haue deemed him to be.
But he the knight, whoſe ſemblaunt he did beare,
The true Saint George was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;
Will was his guide, and griefe led him aſtray.
At laſt him chaunſt to meete vpon the way
A faithleſſe Sarazin all arm'd to point,
In whoſe great ſhield was writ with letters gay
Sans foy: full large of limbe and euery ioint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.
He had a faire companion of his way,
A goodly Lady clad in ſcarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich aſſay,
And like a Perſian mitre on her hed
She wore, with crownes and owches garniſhed,
The which her lauiſh louers to her gaue;
Her wanton palfrey all was ouerſpred
With tinſell trappings, wouen like a waue,
Whoſe bridle rung with golden bels and boſſes braue.
With faire diſport and courting dalliaunce
She intertainde her louer all the way:
But when ſhe ſaw the knight his ſpeare aduaunce,
She ſoone left off her mirth and wanton play,
And bad her knight addreſſe him to the fray:
His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride
And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,
Forth ſpurred faſt: adowne his courſers ſide
The red bloud trickling ſtaind the way, as he did ride.
The knight of the Redcroſſe when him he ſpide,
Spurring ſo hote with rage diſpiteous,
Gan fairely couch his ſpeare, and towards ride:
Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,
That daunted with their forces hideous,
Their ſteeds do ſtagger, and amazed ſtand,
And eke themſelues too rudely rigorous,
Aſtonied with the ſtroke of their owne hand,
Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.
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
Do meete, that with the terrour of the ſhocke
Aſtonied both, ſtand ſenceleſſe as ablocke,
Forgetfull of the hanging victory:
So ſtood theſe twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,
Both ſtaring fierce, and holding idely,
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
The Sarazin ſore daunted with the buffe
Snatcheth his ſword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equall puiſſaunce enuies,
And through their iron ſides with cruelties
Does ſeeke to perce: repining courage yields
No foote to foe. The flaſhing fier flies
As from a forge out of their burning ſhields,
And ſtreames of purple bloud new dies the verdāt fields.
Curſe on that Croſſe (quoth then the Sarazin)
That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;
Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddeſt bin,
Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:
But yet I warne thee now aſſured ſitt,
And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his creſt
With rigour ſo outrageous he ſmitt,
That a large ſhare it hewd out of the reſt,
And glauncing downe his ſhield, from blame him fairely bleſt.
Who thereat wondrous wroth, the ſleeping ſpark
Of natiue vertue gan eftſoones reuiue,
And at his haughtie helmet making mark,
So hugely ſtroke, that it the ſteele did riue,
And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue.
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
Greeting his graue: his grudging ghoſt did ſtriue
With the fraile fleſh; at laſt it flitted is,
Whither the ſoules do fly of men, that liue amis.
The Lady when ſhe ſaw her champion fall,
Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,
But from him fled away with all her powre;
Who after her as haſtily gan ſcowre,
Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away
The Sarazins ſhield, ſigne of the conqueroure.
Her ſoone he ouertooke, and bad to ſtay,
For preſent cauſe was none of dread her to diſmay.
She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,
Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchſafe to ſhow
On ſilly Dame, ſubiect to hard miſchaunce,
And to your mighty will. Her humbleſſe low
In ſo ritch weedes and ſeeming glorious ſhow,
Did much emmoue his ſtout heroïcke heart,
And ſaid, Deare dame, your ſuddein ouerthrow
Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.
Melting in teares, then gan ſhe thus lament;
The wretched woman, whom vnhappy howre
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heauens lift to lowre,
And fortune falſe betraide me to your powre,
Was, (O what now auaileth that I was!)
Borne the ſole daughter of an Emperour,
He that the wide Weſt vnder his rule has,
And high hath ſet his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.
He in the firſt flowre of my freſheſt age,
Betrothed me vnto the onely haire
Of a moſt mighty king, moſt rich and ſage;
Was neuer Prince ſo faithfull and ſo faire,
Was neuer Prince ſo meeke and debonaire;
But ere my hoped day of ſpouſall ſhone,
My deareſt Lord fell from high honours ſtaire,
Into the hands of his accurſed fone,
And cruelly was ſlaine, that ſhall I euer mone.
His bleſſed body ſpoild of liuely breath,
Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid
And fro me hid: of whoſe moſt innocent death
When tidings came to me vnhappy maid,
O how great ſorrow my ſad ſoule aſſaid.
Then forth I went his woefull corſe to find,
And many yeares throughout the world I ſtraid,
A virgin widow, whoſe deepe wounded mind
With loue, long time did languiſh as the ſtriken hind.
At laſt it chaunced this proud Sarazin,
To meete me wandring, who perforce me led
With him away, but yet could neuer win
The Fort, that Ladies hold in ſoueraigne dread.
There lies he now with foule diſhonour dead,
Who whiles he liu'de, was called proud Sans foy,
The eldeſt of three brethren, all three bred
Of one bad ſire, whoſe youngeſt is Sans ioy,
And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold Sans loy.
In this ſad plight, friendleſſe, vnfortunate,
Now miſerable I Fideſſa dwell,
Crauing of you in pitty of my ſtate,
To do none ill, if pleaſe ye not do well.
He in great paſſion all this while did dwell,
More buſying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what ſhe did tell;
And ſaid, faire Lady hart of flint would rew
The vndeſerued woes and ſorrowes, which ye ſhew.
Henceforth in ſafe aſſuraunce may ye reſt,
Hauing both found a new friend you to aid,
And loſt an old foe, that did you moleſt:
Better new friend then an old foe is ſaid.
With chaunge of cheare the ſeeming ſimple maid
Let fall her eyen, as ſhamefaſt to the earth,
And yeelding ſoft, in that ſhe nought gain-ſaid,
So forth they rode, he feining ſeemely merth,
And ſhe coy lookes: ſo dainty they ſay maketh derth.
Longtime they thus together traueiled,
Till weary of their way, they came at laſt,
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did ſpred
Their armes abroad, with gray moſſe ouercaſt,
And their greene leaues trembling with euery blaſt,
Made a calme ſhadow far in compaſſe round:
The fearefull Shepheard often there aghaſt
Vnder them neuer ſat, ne wont there ſound
His mery oaten pipe, but ſhund th'vnlucky ground.
But this good knight ſoone as he them can ſpie,
For the coole ſhade thither haſtly got:
For golden Phoebus now that mounted hie,
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame ſo ſcorching cruell hot,
That liuing creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themſelues to hide
From the fierce heat, and reſt their weary limbs a tide.
Faire ſeemely pleaſaunce each to other makes,
With goodly purpoſes there as they ſit:
And in his falſed fancy he her takes
To be the faireſt wight, that liued yit;
Which to expreſſe, he bends his gentle wit,
And thinking of thoſe braunches greene to frame
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough; out of whoſe rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the ſame.
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,
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 loue,
O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.
Aſtond he ſtood, and vp his haire did houe,
And with that ſuddein horror could no member moue.
At laſt whenas the dreadfull paſſion
Was ouerpaſt, and manhood well awake,
Yet muſing at the ſtraunge occaſion,
And doubting much his ſence, he thus beſpake;
What voyce of damned Ghoſt from Limbo lake,
Or guilefull ſpright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men do oftentimes miſtake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares theſe ſpeaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guitleſſe bloud to ſpare?
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghoſt, (quoth he,)
Nor guilefull ſprite to thee theſe wordes doth ſpeake,
But once a man Fradubio, now a tree,
Wretched man, wretched tree; whoſe nature weake,
A cruell witch her curſed will to wreake,
Hath thus transformd, and plaſt in open plaines,
Where Bore as doth blow full bitter bleake,
And ſcorching Sunne does dry my ſecret vaines:
For though a tree I ſeeme, yet cold and heat me paines.
Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,
Quoth then the knight, by whoſe miſchieuous arts
Art thou misſhaped thus, as now I ſee?
He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;
But double griefs afflict concealing harts,
As raging flames who ſtriueth to ſuppreſſe.
The author then (ſaid he) of all my ſmarts,
Is one Dueſſa a falſe ſorcereſſe,
That many errāt knights hath brought to wretchedneſſe.
In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot
The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree
Firſt kindled in my breſt, it was my lot
To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye ſee,
Now not a Lady, but a ſeeming tree;
With whom as once I rode accompanyde,
Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,
That had a like faire Lady by his ſyde,
Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Dueſſa hyde.
Whoſe forged beauty he did take in hand,
All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;
I in defence of mine did likewiſe ſtand,
Mine, that did then ſhine as the Morning ſtarre:
So both to battell fierce arraunged arre,
In which his harder fortune was to fall
Vnder my ſpeare: ſuch is the dye of warre:
His Lady left as a priſe martiall,
Did yield her comely perſon, to be at my call.
So doubly lou'd of Ladies vnlike faire,
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.
Fraeliſſa was as faire, as faire mote bee,
And euer falſe Dueſſa ſeemde as faire as ſhee.
The wicked witch now ſeeing all this while
The doubtfull ballaunce equally to ſway,
What not by right, ſhe caſt to win by guile,
And by her helliſh ſcience raiſd ſtreight way
A foggy miſt, that ouercaſt the day,
And a dull blaſt, that breathing on her face,
Dimmed her former beauties ſhining ray,
And with foule vgly forme did her diſgrace:
Then was ſhe faire alone, when none was faire in place.
Then cride ſhe out, fye, fye, deformed wight,
Whoſe borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
To haue before bewitched all mens ſight;
O leaue her ſoone, or let her ſoone be ſlaine.
Her loathly viſage viewing with diſdaine,
Eftſoones I thought her ſuch, as ſhe me told,
And would haue kild her; but with faigned paine,
The falſe witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;
So left her, where ſhe now is turnd to treen mould.
Then forth I tooke Dueſſa for my Dame,
And in the witch vnweening ioyd long time,
Ne euer wiſt, but that ſhe was the ſame,
Till on a day (that day is euery Prime,
When Witches wont do penance for their crime)
I chaunſt to ſee her in her proper hew,
Bathing her ſelfe in origane and thyme:
A filthy foule old woman I did vew,
That euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.
Her neather partes misſhapen, monſtruous,
Were hidd in water, that I could not ſee,
But they did ſeeme more foule and hideous,
Then womans ſhape man would beleeue to bee.
Then forth from her moſt beaſtly companie
I gan refraine, in minde to ſlip away,
Soone as appeard ſafe oportunitie:
For danger great, if not aſſur'd decay
I ſaw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to ſtray.
The diueliſh hag by chaunges of my cheare
Perceiu'd my thought, and drownd in ſleepie night,
With wicked herbes and ointments did beſmeare
My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,
That all my ſenſes were bereaued quight:
Then brought ſhe me into this deſert waſte,
And by my wretched louers ſide me pight,
Where now encloſd in wooden wals full faſte,
Baniſht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waſte.
But how long time, ſaid then the Elfin knight,
Are you in this misformed houſe to dwell?
We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,
Till we be bathed in a lining well;
That is the terme preſcribed by the ſpell.
O how, ſaid he, mote I that well out find,
That may reſtore you to your wonted well?
Time and ſuffiſed fates to former kynd
Shall vs reſtore, none elſe from hence may vs vnbynd.
The falſe Dueſſa, now Fideſſa hight,
Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,
And knew well all was true. But the good knight
Full of ſad feare and ghaſtly dreriment,
When all this ſpeech the liuing tree had ſpent,
The bleeding bough did thruſt into the ground,
That from the bloud he might be innocent,
And with freſh clay did cloſe the wooden wound:
Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.
Her ſeeming dead he found with feigned feare,
As all vnweeting of that well ſhe knew,
And paynd himſelfe with buſie care to reare
Her out of careleſſe ſwowne. Her eylids blew
And dimmed ſight with pale and deadly hew
At laſt ſhe vp gan lift: with trembling cheare
Her vp he tooke, too ſimple and too trew,
And oft her kiſt. At length all paſſed feare,
He ſet her on her ſteede, and forward forth did beare.
Cant. III.
Forſaken Truth long ſeekes her loue,
And makes the Lyon mylde,
Marres blind Deuotions mart, and fals
In hand of leachour vylde.
NOught is there vnder heau'ns wide hollowneſſe,
That moues more deare compaſſion of mind,
Then beautie brought t'vnworthy wretchedneſſe
Through enuies ſnares or fortunes freakes vnkind:
I, whether lately through her brightneſſe blind,
Or through alleageance and faſt fealtie,
Which I do owe vnto all woman kind,
Feele my heart perſt with ſo great agonie,
When ſuch I ſee, that all for pittie I could die.
And now it is empaſſioned ſo deepe,
For faireſt: Vnaes ſake, of whom I ſing,
That my fraile eyes theſe lines with teares do ſteepe,
To thinke how ſhe through guilefull handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,
Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,
Is from her knight diuorced in deſpaire
And her due loues deriu'd to that vile witches ſhare.
Yet ſhe moſt faithfull Ladie all this while
Forſaken, wofull, ſolitarie mayd
Farre from all peoples preaſe, as in exile,
In wilderneſſe and waſtfull deſerts ſtrayd,
To ſeeke her knight; who ſubtilly betrayd
Through that late viſion, which th'Enchaunter wrought,
Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,
Through woods and waſtneſſe wide him daily ſought;
Yet wiſhed tydings none of him vnto her brought.
One day nigh wearie of the yrkeſome way,
From her vnhaſtie beaſt ſhe did alight,
And on the graſſe her daintie limbes did lay
In ſecret ſhadow, farre from all mens ſight:
From her faire head her fillet ſhe vndight,
And laid her ſtole aſide. Her angels face
As the great eye of heauen ſhyned bright,
And made a ſunſhine in the ſhadie place;
Did neuer mortall eye behold ſuch heauenly grace.
It fortuned out of the thickeſt wood
A ramping Lyon ruſhed ſuddainly,
Hunting full greedie after ſaluage blood;
Soone as the royall virgin he did ſpy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To haue attonce deuour'd her tender corſe:
But to the pray when as he drew more ny,
His bloudie rage aſſwaged with remorſe,
And with the ſight amazd, forgat his furious forſe.
In ſtead thereof he kiſt her wearie feet,
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,
As he her wronged innocence did weet.
O how can beautie maiſter the moſt ſtrong,
And ſimple truth ſubdue auenging wrong?
Whoſe yeelded pride and proud ſubmiſſion,
Still dreading death, when ſhe had marked long,
Her hart gan melt in great compaſſion,
And drizling teares did ſhed for pure affection.
The Lyon Lord of euery beaſt in field
Quoth ſhe, his princely puiſſance doth abate,
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my ſad eſtate:
But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord
How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her that him lou'd, and euer moſt adord,
As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?
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 vpon her gazing ſtood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At laſt in cloſe hart ſhutting vp her paine,
Aroſe the virgin borne of heauenly brood,
And to her ſnowy Palfrey got againe,
To ſeeke her ſtrayed Champion, if ſhe might attaine.
The Lyon would not leaue her deſolate,
But with her went along, as a ſtrong gard
Of her chaſt perſon, and a faithfull mate
Of her ſad troubles and misfortunes hard:
Still when ſhe ſlept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when ſhe wakt, he waited diligent,
With humble ſeruice to her will prepard:
From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,
And euer by her lookes conceiued her intent.
Long ſhe thus traueiled through deſerts wyde,
By which ſhe thought her wandring knight ſhold pas,
Yet neuer ſhew of liuing wight eſpyde;
Till that at length ſhe found the troden gras,
In which the tract of peoples footing was,
Vnder the ſteepe foot of a mountaine hore;
The ſame ſhe followes, till at laſt ſhe has
A damzell ſpyde ſlow footing her before,
That on her ſhoulders ſad a pot of water bore.
To Whom approching ſhe to her gan call,
To weet, if dwelling place were nigh at hand;
But the rude wench her anſwer'd nought at all,
She could not heare, nor ſpeake, nor vnderſtand;
Till ſeeing by her ſide the Lyon ſtand,
With ſuddaine feare her pitcher downe ſhe threw,
And fled away: for neuer in that land
Face of faire Ladie ſhe before did vew,
And that dread Lyons looke her caſt in deadly hew.
Full faſt ſhe fled, ne euer lookt behynd,
As if her life vpon the wager lay,
And home ſhe came, whereas her mother blynd
Sate in eternall night: nought could ſhe ſay,
But ſuddaine catching hold, did her diſmay
With quaking hands, and other ſignes of feare:
Who full of ghaſtly fright and cold affray,
Gan ſhut the dore. By this arriued there
Dame Vna, wearie Dame, and entrance did requere.
Which when none yeelded, her vnruly Page
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,
And let her in; where of his cruell rage
Nigh dead with feare, and faint aſtoniſhment,
She found them both in darkeſome corner pent;
Where that old woman day and night did pray
Vpon her beades deuoutly penitent;
Nine hundred Pater noſters euery day,
And thriſe nine hundred Aues ſhe was wont to ſay.
And to augment her painefull pennance more,
Thriſe euery weeke in aſhes ſhe did ſit,
And next her wrinkled skin rough ſackcloth wore,
And thriſe three times did faſt from any bit:
But now for feare her beads ſhe did forget.
Whoſe needleſſe dread for to remoue away,
Faire Vna framed words and count'nance fit:
Which hardly doen, at length ſhe gan them pray,
That in their cotage ſmall, that night ſhe reſt her may.
The day is ſpent, and commeth drowſie night,
When euery creature ſhrowded is in ſleepe;
Sad Vna downe her laies in wearie plight,
And at her feet the Lyon watch doth keepe:
In ſtead of reſt, ſhe does lament, and weepe
For the late loſſe of her deare loued knight,
And ſighes, and grones, and euermore does ſteepe
Her tender breſt in bitter teares all night,
All night ſhe thinks too long, and often lookes for light.
Now when Aldeboran was mounted hie
Aboue the ſhynie Caſsiopeias chaire,
And all in deadly ſleepe did drowned lie,
One knocked at the dore, and in would fare;
He knocked faſt, and often curſt, and ſware,
That readie entrance was not at his call:
For on his backe a heauy load he bare
Of nightly ſtelths and pillage ſeuerall,
Which he had got abroad by purchaſe criminall.
He was to weete a ſtout and ſturdie thiefe,
Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments,
And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,
Which giuen was to them for good intents;
The holy Saints of their rich veſtiments
He did diſrobe, when all men careleſſe ſlept,
And ſpoild the Prieſts of their habiliments,
Whiles none the holy things in ſafety kept;
Then he by cunning ſleights in at the window crept.
And all that he by right or wrong could find,
Vnto this houſe he brought, and did beſtow
Vpon the daughter of this woman blind,
Abeſſa daughter of Corceca ſlow,
With whom he whoredome vſd, that few did know,
And fed her fat with feaſt of offerings,
And plentie, which in all the land did grow;
Ne ſpared he to giue her gold and rings:
And now he to her brought part of his ſtolen things.
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet,
Yet of thoſe fearefull women none durſt rize,
The Lyon frayed them, him in to let:
He would no longer ſtay him to aduize,
But open breakes the dore in furious wize,
And entring is; when that diſdainfull beaſt
Encountring fierce, him ſuddaine doth ſurprize,
And ſeizing cruell clawes on trembling breſt,
Vnder his Lordly foot him proudly hath ſuppreſt.
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 thirſtie land
Drunke vp his life; his corſe left on the ſtrand.
His fearefull friends weare out the wofull night,
Ne dare to weepe, nor ſeeme to vnderſtand
The heauie hap, which on them is alight,
Affraid, leaſt to themſelues the like miſhappen might.
Now when broad day the world diſcouered has,
Vp Vna roſe, vp roſe the Lyon eke,
And on their former iourney forward pas,
In wayes vnknowne, her wandring knight to ſeeke,
With paines farre paſſing that long wandring Greeke,
That for his loue refuſed deitie;
Such were the labours of this Lady meeke,
Still ſeeking him, that from her ſtill did flie,
Then furtheſt from her hope, when moſt ſhe weenednie.
Soone as ſhe parted thence, the fearefull twaine,
That blind old woman and her daughter deare
Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there ſlaine,
For anguiſh great they gan to rend their heare,
And beat their breſts, and naked fleſh to teare.
And when they both had wept and wayld their fill,
Then forth they ranne like two amazed deare,
Halfe mad through malice, and reuenging will,
To follow her, that was the cauſer of their ill.
Whom ouertaking, they gan loudly bray,
With hollow howling, and lamenting cry,
Shamefully at her rayling all the way,
And her accuſing of diſhoneſty,
That was the flowre of faith and chaſtity;
And ſtill amidſt her rayling, ſhe did pray,
That plagues, and miſchiefs, and long miſery
Might fall on her, and follow all the way,
And that in endleſſe error ſhe might euer ſtray.
But when ſhe ſaw her prayers nought preuaile,
She backe returned with ſome labour loſt;
And in the way as ſhe did weepe and waile,
A knight her met in mighty armes emboſt,
Yet knight was not for all his bragging boſt,
But ſubtill Archimag, that Vna, ſought
By traynes into new troubles to haue toſt:
Of that old woman tydings he beſought,
If that of ſuch a Ladie ſhe could tellen ought.
Therewith ſhe gan her paſſion to renew,
And cry, and curſe, and raile, and rend her heare,
Saying, that harlot ſhe too lately knew,
That cauſd her ſhed ſo many a bitter teare,
And ſo forth told the ſtory of her feare:
Much ſeemed he to mone her hapleſſe chaunce,
And after for that Ladie did inquire;
Which being taught, he forward gan aduaunce▪
His faire enchaunted ſteed, and eke his charmed launce.
Ere long he came, where Vna traueild ſlow,
And that wilde Champion wayting her beſyde:
Whom ſeeing ſuch, for dread he durſt not ſhow
Himſelfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde
Vnto an hill; from whence when ſhe him ſpyde,
By his like ſeeming ſhield, her knight by name
She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:
Approching nigh, ſhe wiſt it was the ſame,
And with faire fearefull humbleſſe towards him ſhee came.
And weeping ſaid, Ah my long lacked Lord,
Where haue ye bene thus long out of my ſight?
Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,
Or ought haue done, that ye diſpleaſen might,
That ſhould as death vnto my deare hart light:
For ſince mine eye your ioyous ſight did mis,
My chearefull day is turnd to cheareleſſe night,
And eke my night of death the ſhadow is;
But welcome now my light, and ſhining lampe of blis.
He thereto meeting ſaid, My deareſt Dame,
Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will,
To thinke that knighthood I ſo much ſhould ſhame,
As you to leaue, that haue me loued ſtill,
And choſe in Faery court of meere goodwill,
Where nobleſt knights were to be found on earth:
The earth ſhall ſooner leaue her kindly skill
To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,
Then I leaue you, my liefe, yborne of heauenly berth.
And ſooth to ſay, why I left you ſo long,
Was for to ſeeke aduenture in ſtrange place,
Where Archimago ſaid a felon ſtrong
To many knights did daily worke diſgrace;
But knight he now ſhall neuer more deface:
Good cauſe of mine excuſe; that mote ye pleaſe
Well to accept, and euermore embrace
My faithfull ſeruice, that by land and ſeas
Haue vowd you to defend, now then your plaint appeaſe.
His louely words her ſeemd due recompence
Of all her paſſed paines: one louing howre
For many yeares of ſorrow can diſpence:
A dram of ſweet is worth a pound of ſowre:
She has forgot, how many a wofull ſtowre
For him ſhe late endur'd; ſhe ſpeakes no more
Of paſt: true is, that true loue hath no powre
To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before.
Before her ſtands her knight, for whom ſhe toyld ſo ſore.
Much like, as when the beaten marinere,
That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide,
Oft ſouſt in ſwelling Tethys ſaltiſh teare,
And long time hauing tand his tawney hide
With bluſtring breath of heauen, that none can bide,
And ſcorching flames of fierce Orions hound,
Soone as the port from farre he has eſpide,
His chearefull whiſtle merrily doth ſound,
And Nereus crownes with cups; his mates him pledg around.
Such ioy made Vna, when her knight ſhe found;
And eke th'enchaunter ioyous ſeemd no leſſe,
Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground
His ſhip farre come from watrie wilderneſſe,
He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth bleſſe:
So forth they paſt, and all the way they ſpent
Diſcourſing of her dreadfull late diſtreſſe,
In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment:
Who told her all that fell in iourney as ſhe went.
They had not ridden farre, when they might ſee
One pricking towards them with haſtie heat,
Full ſtrongly armd, and on a courſer free,
That through his fierceneſſe fomed all with ſwear,
And the ſharpe yron did for anger eat,
When his hot ryder ſpurd his chauffed ſide;
His looke was ſterne, and ſeemed ſtill to threat
Cruell reuenge, which he in hart did hyde,
And on his ſhield Sans loy in bloudie lines was dyde.
When nigh he drew vnto this gentle payre
And ſaw the Red-croſſe, which the knight did beare,
He burnt in fire, and gan eftſoones prepare
Himſelfe to battell with his couched ſpeare.
Lo thwas that other, and did faint through fea,
To taſte th'vntryed dint of deadly ſteele;
But yet his Lady did ſo well him cheare,
That hope of new goodhap he gan to feele;
So bent his ſpeare, and ſpurnd his horſe with yron heele.
But that proud Paynim forward came ſo fierce,
And full of wrath, that with his ſharp-head ſpeare
Through vainely croſſed ſhield he quite did pierce,
And had his ſtaggering ſteede not ſhrunke for feare,
Through ſhield and bodie eke he ſhould him beare:
Yet ſo great was the puiſſance of his puſh,
That from his ſaddle quite he did him beare:
He tombling rudely downe to ground did ruſh,
And from his gored wound a well of bloud did guſh.
Diſmounting lightly from his loftie ſteed,
He to him lept, in mind to reaue his life,
And proudly ſaid, Lo there the worthie meed
Of him, that ſlew Sansfoy with bloudie knife;
Henceforth his ghoſt freed from repining ſtrife,
In peace may paſſen ouer Lethe lake,
When morning altars purgd with enemies life,
The blacke infernall Furies doen aſlake:
Life from Sansfoy thou tookſt, Sanſloy ſhall frō thee take.
Therewith in haſte his helmet gan vnlace,
Till Vna cride, O hold that heauie hand,
Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place:
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquiſht ſtand
Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withſtand:
For he is one the trueſt knight aliue,
Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,
And whileſt him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue
In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue.
Her piteous words might not abate his rage,
But rudely rending vp his helmet, would
Haue ſlaine him ſtraight: but when he ſees his age,
And hoarie head of Archimago old,
His haſtie hand he doth amazed hold,
And halfe aſhamed, wondred at the ſight:
For the old man well knew he, though vntold,
In charmes and magicke to haue wondrous might,
Ne euer wont in field, ne in round liſts to fight.
And ſaid, Why Archimago, luckleſſe ſyre,
What doe I ſee? what hard miſhap is this,
That hath thee hither brought to taſte mineyre?
Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,
In ſtead of foe to wound my friend amis?
He anſwered nought, but in a traunce ſtill lay,
And on thoſe guilefull dazed eyes of his
The cloud of death did ſit. Which doen away,
He left him lying ſo, ne would no lenger ſtay.
But to the virgin comes, who all this while
Amaſed ſtands, her ſelfe ſo mockt to ſee
By him, who has the guerdon of his guile,
For ſo misfeigning her true knight to bee:
Yet is ſhe now in more perplexitie,
Left in the hand of that ſame Paynim bold,
From whom her booteth not at all to flie,
Who by her cleanly garment catching hold,
Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her viſage to behold.
But her fierce ſeruant full of kingly awe
And high diſdaine, whenas his ſoueraine Dame
So rudely handled by her foe he ſawe,
With gaping iawes full greedy at him came,
And ramping on his ſhield, did weene the ſame
Haue reft away with his ſharpe rending clawes:
But he was ſtout, and luſt did now inflame
His corage more, that frō his griping pawes
He hath his ſhield redeem'd, and foorth his ſwerd he drawes.
O then too weake and feeble was the forſe
Of ſaluage beaſt, his puiſſance to withſtand:
For he was ſtrong, and of ſo mightie corſe,
As euer wielded ſpeare in warlike hand,
And feates of armes did wiſely vnderſtand.
Eftſoones he perced through his chaufed cheſt
With thrilling point of deadly yron brand,
And launcht his Lordly hart: with death oppreſt
He roar'd aloud, whiles life forſooke his ſtubborne breſt.
Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid
From raging ſpoile of lawleſſe victors will?
Her faithfull gard remou'd, her hope diſmaid,
Her ſelfe a yeelded pray to ſaue or ſpill.
He now Lord of the fied, his pride to fill,
With foule reproches, and diſdainfull ſpight
Her vildly entertaines, and will or nill,
Beares her away vpon his courſer light:
Her prayers nought preuaile, his rage is more of might.
And all the way, with great lamenting paine,
And piteous plaints ſhe filleth his dull eares,
That ſtony hart could riuen haue in twaine,
And all the way ſhe wets with flowing teares:
But he enrag'd with rancor, nothing heares.
Her ſeruile beaſt yet would not leaue her ſo,
But followes her farre off, ne ought he feares,
To be partaker of her wandring woe,
More mild in beaſtly kind, then that her beaſtly foe.
Cant. IIII
To ſinfull houſe of Pride, Dueſſa
guides the faithfull knight,
Where brothers death to wreak Sanſioy
doth chalenge him to fight.
YOung knight, what euer that doſt armes profeſſe,
And through long labours hunteſt after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of fickleneſſe,
In choice, and change of thy deare loued Dame,
Leaſt thou of her beleeue too lightly blame,
And raſh miſweening doe thy hart remoue:
For vnto knight there is no greater ſhame,
Then lightneſſe and inconſtancie in loue;
That doth this Redcroſſe knights enſample plainly proue.
Who after that he had faire Vna lorne,
Through light miſdeeming of her loialtie,
And falſe Dueſſa in her ſted had borne,
Called Fideſs', and ſo ſuppoſd to bee;
Long with her traueild, till at laſt they ſee
A goodly building, brauely garniſhed,
The houſe of mightie Prince it ſeemd to bee:
And towards it a broad high way that led,
All bare through peoples feet, which thither traueiled.
Great troupes of people traueild thitherward
Both day and night, of each degree and place,
But few returned, hauing ſcaped hard,
With balefull beggerie, or foule diſgrace,
Which euer after in moſt wretched caſe,
Like loathſome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thither Dueſſa bad him bend his pace:
For ſhe is wearie of the toileſome way,
And alſo nigh conſumed is the lingring day.
A ſtately Pallace built of ſquared bricke,
Which cunningly was without morter laid,
Whoſe wals were high, but nothing ſtrong, nor thick,
And golden foile all ouer them diſplaid,
That pureſt skye with brightneſſe they diſmaid:
High lifted vp were many loftie towres,
And goodly galleries farre ouer laid,
Full of faire windowes, and delightfull bowres;
And on the top a Diall told the timely howres.
It was a goodly heape for to behould,
And ſpake the praiſes of the workmans wit;
But full great pittie, that ſo faire a mould
Did on ſo weake foundation euer ſit:
For on a ſandie hill, that ſtill did flit,
And fall away, it mounted was full hie,
That euery breath of heauen ſhaked it:
And all the hinder parts, that few could ſpie,
Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly.
Arriued there they paſſed in forth right;
For ſtill to all the gates ſtood open wide,
Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight
Cald Maluenù, who entrance none denide:
Thence to the hall, which was on euery ſide
With rich array and coſtly arras dight:
Infinite ſorts of people did abide
There waiting long, to win the wiſhed ſight
Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright.
By them they paſſe, all gazing on them round,
And to the Preſence mount; whoſe glorious vew
Their frayle amazed ſenſes did confound:
In liuing Princes court none euer knew
Such endleſſe richeſſe, and ſo ſumptuous ſhew;
Ne Perſia ſelfe, the nourſe of pompous pride
Like euer ſaw. And there a noble crew
Of Lordes and Ladies ſtood on euery ſide,
Which with their preſence faire, the place much beautifide.
High aboue all a cloth of State was ſpred,
And a rich throne, as bright as ſunny day,
On which there ſate moſt braue embelliſhed
With royall robes and gorgeous array,
A mayden Queene, that ſhone as Titans ray,
In gliſtring gold, and peereleſſe pretious ſtone:
Yet her bright blazing beautie did aſſay
To dim the brightneſſe of her glorious throne,
As enuying her ſelfe, that too exceeding ſhone.
Exceeding ſhone, like Phoebus faireſt childe,
That did preſume his fathers firie wayne,
And flaming mouthes of ſteedes vnwonted wilde
Through higheſt heauen with weaker hand to rayne;
Proud of ſuch glory and aduancement vaine,
While flaſhing beames do daze his feeble eyen,
He leaues the welkin way moſt beaten plaine,
And rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen,
With fire not made to burne, but fairely for to ſhyne.
So proud ſhe ſhyned in her Princely ſtate,
Looking to heauen; for earth ſhe did diſdayne,
And ſitting high; for lowly ſhe did hate:
Lo vnderneath her ſcornefull feete, was layne
A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne,
And in her hand ſhe held a mirrhour bright,
Wherein her face ſhe often vewed fayne,
And in her ſelfe-lou'd ſemblance tooke delight;
For ſhe was wondrous faire, as any liuing wight.
Of grieſly Pluto ſhe the daughter was,
And ſad Proſerpina the Queene of hell;
Yet did ſhe thinke her peareleſſe wroth to pas
That parentage, with pride ſo did ſhe ſwell,
And thundring Ioue, that high in heauen doth dwell,
And wield the world, ſhe claymed for her ſyre,
Or if that any elſe did Ioue excell:
For to the higheſt ſhe did ſtill aſpyre,
Or if ought higher were then that, did it deſyre.
And proud Lucifera men did her call,
That made her ſelfe Queene, and crownd to be,
Yet rightfull kingdome ſhe had none at all,
Ne heritage of natiue ſoueraintie,
But did vſurpe with wrong and tyrannie
Vpon the ſcepter, which ſhe now did hold:
Ne ruld her Realmes with lawes, but pollicie,
And ſtrong aduizement of ſix wiſards old,
That with their counſels bad her kingdome did vphold.
Soone as the Elfing knight in preſence came,
And falſe Dueſſa ſeeming Lady faire,
A gentle Huſher, Vanitie by name
Made rowme, and paſſage for them did prepaire:
So goodly brought them to the loweſt ſtaire
Of her high throne, where they on humble knee
Making obeyſſance, did the cauſe declare,
Why they were come, her royall ſtate to ſee,
To proue the wide report of her great Maieſtee.
With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke ſo low,
She thanked them in her diſdainefull wiſe,
Ne other grace vouchſafed them to ſhow
Of Princeſſe worthy, ſcarſe them bad ariſe.
Her Lordes and Ladies all this while deuiſe
Themſelues to ſetten forth to ſtraungers ſight:
Some frounce their curled haire in courtly guiſe,
Some prancke their ruffes, and others trimly dight
Their gay attire: each others greater pride does ſpight.
Goodly they all that knight do entertaine,
Right glad with him to haue increaſt their crew:
But to Dueſs' each one himſelfe did paine
All kindneſſe and faire courteſie to ſhew;
For in that court whylome her well they knew:
Yet the ſtout Faerie mongſt the middeſt crowd
Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew,
And that great Princeſſe too exceeding prowd,
That to ſtrange knight no better countenance allowd.
Suddein vpriſeth from her ſtately place
The royall Dame, and for her coche doth call:
All hurtlen forth, and ſhe with Princely pace,
As faire Aurora in her purple pall,
Out of the Eaſt the dawning day doth call:
So forth ſhe comes: her brightneſſe brode doth blaze;
The heapes of people thronging in the hall,
Do ride each other, vpon her to gaze:
Her glorious glitter and light doth all mens eyes amaze.
So forth ſhe comes, and to her coche does clyme,
Adorned all with gold, and girlonds gay,
That ſeemd as freſh as Flora in her prime,
And ſtroue to match, in royall rich array,
Great Iunoes golden chaire, the which they ſay
The Gods ſtand gazing on, when ſhe does ride
To Ioues high houſe through heauens bras-paued way
Drawne of faire Pecocks, that excell in pride,
And full of Argus eyes their tailes diſpredden wide.
But this was drawne of ſix vnequall beaſts,
On which her ſix ſage Counſellours did ryde,
Taught to obay their beſtiall beheaſts,
With like conditions to their kinds applyde:
Of which the firſt, that all the reſt did guyde,
Was ſluggiſh Idleneſſe the nourſe of ſin;
Vpon a ſlouthfull Aſſe he choſe to ryde,
Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,
Like to an holy Monck, the ſeruice to begin.
And in his hand his Porteſſe ſtill he bare,
That much was worne, but therein little red,
For of deuotion he had little care,
Still drownd in ſleepe, and moſt of his dayes ded;
Scarſe could he once vphold his heauie hed,
To looken, whether it were night or day:
May ſeeme the wayne was very euill led,
When ſuch an one had guiding of the way,
That knew not, whether right he went, or elſe aſtray.
From worldly cares himſelfe he did eſloyne,
And greatly ſhunned manly exerciſe,
For euery worke he chalenged eſſoyne,
For contemplation ſake: yet otherwiſe,
His life he led in lawleſſe riotiſe;
By which he grew to grieuous malady;
For in his luſtleſſe limbs through euill guiſe
A ſhaking feuer raignd continually:
Such one was Idleneſſe, firſt of this company.
And by his ſide rode loathſome Gluttony,
Deformed creature, on a filthie ſwyne,
His belly was vp-blowne with luxury,
And eke with fatneſſe ſwollen were his eyne,
And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne,
With which he ſwallowd vp exceſſiue feaſt,
For want whereof poore people oft did pyne;
And all the way, moſt like a brutiſh beaſt,
He ſpued vp his gorge, that all did him deteaſt.
In greene vine leaues he was right fitly clad;
For other clothes he could not weare for heat,
And on his head an yuie girland had,
From vnder which faſt trickled downe the ſweat:
Still as he rode, he ſomewhat ſtill did eat,
And in his hand did beare a bouzing can,
Of which he ſupt ſo oft, that on his ſeat
His dronken corſe he ſcarſe vpholden can,
In ſhape and life more like a monſter, then a man.
Vnfit he was for any worldly thing,
And eke vnhable once to ſtirre or go,
Not meet to be of counſell to a king,
Whoſe mind in meat and drinke was drowned ſo,
That from his friend he ſeldome knew his ſo:
Full of diſeaſes was his carcas blew,
And a dry dropſie through his fleſh did flow:
Which by miſdiet daily greater grew:
Such one was Gluttony, the ſecond of that crew.
And next to him rode luſtfull Lechery,
Vpon a bearded Goat, whoſe rugged haire,
And whally eyes (the ſigne of geloſy,)
Was like the perſon ſelfe, whom he did beare:
Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare,
Vnſeemely man to pleaſe faire Ladies eye;
Yet he of Ladies oft was loued deare,
When fairer faces were bid ſtanden by:
O who does know the bent of womens fantaſy?
In a greene gowne he clothed was full faire,
Which vnderneath did hide his filthineſſe,
And in his hand a burning hart he bare,
Full of vaine follies, and new fangleneſſe:
For he was falſe, and fraught with ſickleneſſe,
And learned had to loue with ſecret lookes,
And well could daunce, and ſing with ruefulneſſe,
And fortunes tell, and read in louing bookes,
And thouſand other wayes, to bait his fleſhly hookes.
Inconſtant man, that loued all he ſaw,
And luſted after all, that he did loue,
Ne would his looſer life be tide to law,
But ioyd weake wemens hearts to tempt and proue
If from their loyall loues he might them moue;
Which lewdneſſe fild him with reprochfull paine
Of that fowle euill, which all men reproue,
That rots the marrow, and conſumes the braine:
Such one was Lecherie, the third of all this traine.
And greedy Auarice by him did ride,
Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold;
Two iron coffers hong on either ſide,
With precious mettall full, as they might hold,
And in his lap an heape of coine he told;
For of his wicked pelfe his God he made,
And vnto hell him ſelfe for money ſold;
Accurſed vſurie was all his trade,
And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.
His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplaſt,
And thred-bare cote, and cobled ſhoes he ware,
Ne ſcarſe good morſell all his life did taſt,
But both from backe and belly ſtill did ſpare,
To fill his bags, and richeſſe to compare;
Yet chylde ne kinſman liuing had he none
To leaue them to; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to loſe his owne,
He led a wretched life vnto him ſelfe vnknowne.
Moſt wretched wight, whom nothing might ſuffiſe,
Whoſe greedy luſt did lacke in greateſt ſtore,
Whoſe need had end, but no end couetiſe,
Whoſe wealth was want, whoſe plēty made him pore,
Who had enough, yet wiſhed euer more;
A vile diſeaſe, and eke in foote and hand
A grieuous gout tormented him full ſore,
That well he could not touch, nor go, nor ſtand:
Such one was Auarice, the fourth of this faire band.
And next to him malicious Enuie rode,
Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and ſtill did chaw
Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode,
That all the poiſon ran about his chaw;
But inwardly he chawed his owne maw
At neighbours wealth, that made him euer ſad;
For death it was, when any good he ſaw,
And wept, that cauſe of weeping none he had,
But when he heard of harme, he wexed wondrous glad.
All in a kirtle of diſcolourd ſay
He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes;
And in his boſome ſecretly there lay
An hatefull Snake, the which his taile vptyes
In many folds, and mortall ſting implyes.
Still as he rode, he gnaſht his teeth, to ſee
Thoſe heapes of gold with griple Couetyſe,
And grudged at the great felicitie
Of proud Lucifera, and his owne companie.
He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds,
And him no leſſe, that any like did vſe,
And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds,
His almes for want of faith he doth accuſe;
So euery good to bad he doth abuſe:
And eke the verſe of famous Poets witt
He does backebite, and ſpightfull poiſon ſpues
From leprous mouth on all, that euer writt:
Such one vile Enuie was, that firſt in row did ſitt.
And him beſide rides fierce reuenging VVrath,
Vpon a Lion, loth for to be led;
And in his hand a burning brond he hath,
The which he brandiſheth about his hed;
His eyes did hurle forth ſparkles fiery red,
And ſtared ſterne on all, that him beheld,
As aſhes pale of hew and ſeeming ded;
And on his dagger ſtill his hand he held,
Trembling through haſty rage, whē choler in him ſweld.
His ruffin raiment all was ſtaind with blood,
Which he had ſpilt, and all to rags yrent,
Through vnaduized raſhneſſe woxen wood;
For of his hands he had no gouernement,
Ne car'd for bloud in his auengement:
But when the furious fit was ouerpaſt,
His cruell facts he often would repent;
Yet wilfull man he neuer would forecaſt,
How many miſchieues ſhould enſue his heedleſſe haſt.
Full many miſchiefes follow cruell VVrath;
Abhorred bloudſhed, and tumultuous ſtrife,
Vnmanly murder, and vnthrifty ſcath,
Bitter deſpight, with rancours ruſty knife,
And fretting griefe the enemy of life;
All theſe, and many euils moe haunt ire,
The ſwelling Splene, and Frenzy raging rife,
The ſhaking Palſey, and Saint Fraunces fire:
Such one was VVrath, the laſt of this vngodly tire.
And after all, vpon the wagon beame
Rode Sathan, with a ſmarting whip in hand,
With which he forward laſht the laeſie teme,
So oft as Slowth ſtill in the mire did ſtand.
Huge routs of people did about them band,
Showting for ioy, and ſtill before their way
A foggy miſt had couered all the land;
And vnderneath their feet, all ſcattered lay
Dead ſculs & 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 themſelues to ſport;
Emongſt the reſt rode that falſe Lady faire,
The fowle Dueſſa, next vnto the chaire
Of proud Lucifera, as one of the traine:
But that good knight would not ſo nigh repaire,
Him ſelfe eſtraunging from their ioyaunce vaine,
Whoſe fellowſhip ſeemd far vnfit for warlike ſwaine.
So hauing ſolaced themſelues a ſpace
With pleaſaunce of the breathing fields yfed,
They backe returned to the Princely Place;
Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,
And heathniſh ſhield, wherein with letters red
Was writ Sans ioy, they new arriued find:
Enflam'd with fury and fiers hardy-hed,
He ſeemd in hart to harbour thoughts vnkind,
And nouriſh bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.
Who when the ſhamed ſhield of ſlaine Sans foy
He ſpide with that ſame Faery champions page,
Bewraying him, that did of late deſtroy
His eldeſt brother, burning all with rage
He to him leapt, and that ſame enuious gage
Of victors glory from him ſnatcht away:
But th' Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,
Diſdaind to looſe the meed he wonne in fray,
And him rencountring fierce, reskewd the noble pray.
Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily,
Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne,
And claſh their ſhields, and ſhake their ſwords on hy,
That with their ſturre they troubled all the traine;
Till that great Queene vpon eternall paine
Of high diſpleaſure, that enſewen might,
Commaunded them their fury to refraine,
And if that either to that ſhield had right,
In equall liſts they ſhould the morrow next it fight.
Ah deareſt Dame, (quoth then the Paynim bold,)
Pardon the errour of enraged wight,
Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold
Of reaſons rule, to ſee this recreant knight,
No knight, but treachour full of falſe deſpight
And ſhamefull treaſon, who through guile hath ſlayn
The proweſt knight, that euer field did fight,
Euen ſtout Sans foy (O who can then refrayn?)
Whoſe ſhield he beares renuerſt, the more to heape diſdayn.
And to augment the glorie of his guile,
His deareſt loue the faire Fideſſa loe
Is there poſſeſſed of the traytour vile,
Who reapes the harueſt ſowen by his foe,
Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe:
That brothers hand ſhall dearely well requight
So be, ô Queene, you equall fauour ſhowe.
Him litle anſwerd th'angry Elfin knight;
He neuer meant with words, but ſwords to plead his right.
But threw his gauntlet as a ſacred pledge,
His cauſe in combat the next day to try:
So been they parted both, with harts on edge,
To be aueng'd each on his enimy.
That night they pas in ioy and iollity,
Feaſting and courting both in bowre and hall;
For Steward was exceſſiue Gluttonie,
That of his plenty poured forth to all;
Which doen, the Chamberlain Slowth did to reſt them call.
Now whenas darkeſome night had all diſplayd
Her coleblacke curtein ouer brighteſt skye,
The warlike youthes on dayntie couches layd,
Did chace away ſweet ſleepe from ſluggiſh eye,
To muſe on meanes of hoped victory.
But whenas Morpheus had with leaden mace
Arreſted all that courtly company,
Vp-roſe Dueſſa from her reſting place,
And to the Paynims lodging comes with ſilent pace.
Whom broad awake ſhe finds, in troublous fit,
Forecaſting, how his foe he might annoy,
And him amoues with ſpeaches ſeeming fit:
Ah deare Sans ioy, next deareſt to Sans foy,
Cauſe of my new griefe, cauſe of new ioy,
Ioyous, to ſee his ymage in mine eye,
And greeu'd, to thinke how foe did him deſtroy,
That was the flowre of grace and cheualrye;
Lo his Fideſſa to thy ſecret faith I flye.
With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet,
And bad ſay on the ſecret of her hart.
Then ſighing ſoft, I learne that litle ſweet
Oft tempred is (quoth ſhe) with muchell ſmart:
For ſince my breſt was launcht with louely dart
Of deare Sansfoy, I neuer ioyed howre,
But in eternall woes my weaker hart
Haue waſted, louing him with all my powre,
And for his ſake haue felt full many an heauie ſtowre.
At laſt when perils all I weened paſt,
And hop'd to reape the crop of all my care,
Into new woes vnweeting I was caſt,
By this falſe faytor, who vnworthy ware
His worthy ſhield, whom he with guilefull ſnare
Entrapped ſlew, and brought to ſhamefull graue.
Me ſilly maid away with him he bare,
And euer ſince hath kept in darkſome caue,
For that I would not yeeld, that to Sans-foy I gaue.
But ſince faire Sunne hath ſperſt that lowring clowd,
And to my loathed life now ſhewes ſome light,
Vnder your beames I will me ſafely ſhrowd,
From dreaded ſtorme of his diſdainfull ſpight:
To you th'inheritance belongs by right
Of brothers prayſe, to you eke longs his loue.
Let not his loue, let not his reſtleſſe ſpright
Be vnreueng'd, that calles to you aboue
From wandring Stygian ſhores, where it doth endleſſe moue.
Thereto ſaid he, faire Dame be nought diſmaid
For ſorrowes paſt; their griefe is with them gone:
Ne yet of preſent perill be affraid,
For needleſſe feare did neuer vantage none,
And helpleſſe hap it booteth not to mone.
Dead is Sans foy, his vitall paines are paſt,
Though greeued ghoſt for vengeance deepe do grone:
He liues, that ſhall him pay his dewties laſt,
And guiltie Elſin bloud ſhall ſacrifice in haſt.
O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth ſhee)
Of fortune falſe, and oddes of armes in field.
Why dame (quoth he) what oddes can euer bee,
Where both do fight alike, to win or yield?
Yea but (quoth ſhe) he beares a charmed ſhield,
And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce,
Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.
Charmd or enchaunted (anſwerd he then ferce)
I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce.
But faire Fideſſa, ſithens fortunes guile,
Or enimies powre hath now captiued you,
Returne from whence ye came, and reſt a while
Till morrow next, that I the Elfe ſubdew,
And with Sans-foyes dead dowry you endew.
Ay me, that is a double death (ſhe ſaid)
With proud foes ſight my ſorrow to renew:
Where euer yet I be, my ſecret aid
Shall follow you. So paſſing forth ſhe him obaid.
Cant. V.
The faithfull knight in equall field
ſubdewes his faithleſſe foe.
Whom falſe Dueſſa ſaues, and for
his cure to hell does goe.
THe noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought,
And is with child of glorious great intent,
Can neuer reſt, vntill it forth haue brought
Th'eternall brood of glorie excellent:
Such reſtleſſe paſſion did all night torment
The flaming corage of that Faery knight,
Deuizing, how that doughtie turnament
With greateſt honour he atchieuen might;
Still did wake, and ſtill did watch for dawning light.
At laſt the golden Orientall gate,
Of greateſt heauen gan to open faire,
And Phoebus freſh, as bridegrome to his mate,
Came dauncing forth, ſhaking his deawie haire:
And hurls his gliſtring beames through gloomy aire
Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiu'd, ſtreight way
He ſtarted vp, and did him ſelfe prepaire,
In ſun-bright armes, and battailous array:
For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.
And forth he comes into the commune hall,
Where earely waite him many a gazing eye,
To weet what end to ſtraunger knights may fall.
There many Minſtrales maken melody,
To driue away the dull melancholy,
And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord
Can tune their timely voyces cunningly,
And many Chroniclers, that can record
Old loues, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.
Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin,
In wouen maile all armed warily,
And ſternly lookes at him, who not a pin
Does care for looke of liuing creatures eye.
They bring them wines of Greece and Araby,
And daintie ſpices fetcht from furtheſt Ynd,
To kindle heat of corage priuily:
And in the wine a ſolemne oth they bynd
T'obſerue the ſacred lawes of armes, that are aſſynd.
At laſt forth comes that far renowmed Queene,
With royall pomp and Princely maieſtie;
She is ybrought vnto a paled greene,
And placed vnder ſtately canapee,
The warlike feates of both thoſe knights to ſee.
On th'other ſide in all mens open vew
Dueſſa placed is, and on a tree
Sans-foy his ſhield is hangd with bloudy hew:
Both thoſe the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.
A ſhrilling trompet ſownded from on hye,
And vnto battaill bad them ſelues addreſſe:
Their ſhining ſhieldes about their wreſtes they tye,
And burning blades about their heads do bleſſe,
The inſtruments of wrath and heauineſſe:
With greedy force each other doth aſſayle,
And ſtrike ſo fiercely, that they do impreſſe
Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle;
The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake & fraile.
The Sarazin was ſtout, and wondrous ſtrong,
And heaped blowes like yron hammers great:
For after bloud and vengeance he did long.
The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat:
And doubled ſtrokes, like dreaded thunders threat:
For all for prayſe and honour he did fight.
Both ſtricken ſtrike, and beaten both do beat,
That from their ſhields forth flyeth firie light,
And helmets hewen deepe, ſhew marks of eithers might▪
So th'one for wrong, the other ſtriues for right:
As when a Gryfon ſeized of his pray,
A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight,
Through wideſt ayre making his ydle way,
That would his rightfull rauine rend away:
With hideous horrour both together ſmight,
And ſouce ſo ſore, that they the heauens affray:
The wiſe Southſayer ſeeing ſo ſad ſight,
Th'amazed vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.
So th'one for wrong, the other ſtriues for right,
And each to deadly ſhame would driue his foe:
The cruell ſteele ſo greedily doth bight
In tender fleſh, that ſtreames of bloud down flow,
With which the armes, that earſt ſo bright did ſhow
Into a pure vermillion now are dyde:
Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow,
Seeing the gored woundes to gape ſo wyde,
That victory they dare not wiſh to either ſide.
At laſt the Paynim chaunſt to caſt his eye,
His ſuddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre,
Vpon his brothers ſhield, which hong thereby:
Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,
And ſaid, Ah wretched ſonne of wofull ſyre,
Doeſt thou ſit wayling by black Stygian lake,
Whileſt here thy ſhield is hangd for victors hyre,
And ſluggiſh german doeſt thy forces ſlake,
To after-ſend his foe, that him may ouertake?
Goe caytiue Elfe, him quickly ouertake,
And ſoone redeeme from his long wandring woe;
Goe guiltie ghoſt, to him my meſſage make,
That I his ſhield haue quit from dying foe.
Therewith vpon his creſt he ſtroke him ſo,
That twiſe he reeled, readie twiſe to fall;
End of the doubtfull battell deemed tho
The lookers on, and lowd to him gan call
The falſe Dueſſa, Thine the ſhield, and I, and all.
Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie ſpeake,
Out of his ſwowning dreame he gan awake,
And quickning faith, that earſt was woxen weake,
The creeping deadly cold away did ſhake:
Tho mou'd with wrath, and ſhame, and Ladies ſake,
Of all attonce he caſt auengd to bee,
And with ſo'exceeding furie at him ſtrake,
That forced him to ſtoupe vpon his knee;
Had he not ſtouped ſo, he ſhould haue clouen bee.
And to him ſaid, Goe now proud Miſcreant,
Thy ſelfe thy meſſage doe to german deare,
Alone he wandring thee too long doth want:
Goe ſay, his foe thy ſhield with his doth beare.
Therewith his heauie hand he high gan reare,
Him to haue ſlaine; when loe a darkeſome clowd
Vpon him fell: he no where doth appeare,
But vaniſht is. The Elfe him cals alowd,
But anſwer none receiues: the darknes him does ſhrowd.
In haſte Dueſſa from her place aroſe,
And to him running ſaid, O proweſt knight,
That euer Ladie to her loue did choſe,
Let now abate the terror of your might,
And quench the flame of furious deſpight,
And bloudie vengeance; lo th'infernall powres
Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
Haue borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.
The conqueſt yours, I yours, the ſhield, and glory yours.
Not all ſo ſatisfide, with greedie eye
He ſought all round about, his thirſtie blade
To bath in bloud of faithleſſe enemy;
Who all that while lay hid in ſecret ſhade:
He ſtandes amazed, how he thence ſhould fade.
At laſt the trumpets, Triumph ſound on hie,
And running Heralds humble homage made,
Greeting him goodly with new victorie,
And to him brought the ſhield, the cauſe of enmitie.
Wherewith he goeth to that ſoueraine Queene,
And falling her before on lowly knee,
To her makes preſent of his ſeruice ſeene:
Which ſhe accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,
Greatly aduauncing his gay cheualree.
So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,
Whom all the people follow with great glee,
Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,
That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heauen bright.
Home is he brought, and laid in ſumptuous bed:
Where many skilfull leaches him abide,
To ſalue his hurts, that yet ſtill freſhly bled.
In wine and oyle they waſh his woundes wide,
And ſoftly can embalme on euery ſide.
And all the while, moſt heauenly melody
About the bed ſweet muſicke did diuide,
Him to beguile of griefe and agony:
And all the while Dueſſa wept full bitterly.
As when a wearie traueller that ſtrayes
By muddy ſhore of broad ſeuen-mouthed Nile,
Vnweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,
Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,
Which in falſe griefe hyding his harmefull guile,
Doth weepe full ſore, and ſheddeth tender teares:
The fooliſh man, that pitties all this while
His mournefull plight, is ſwallowd vp vnwares,
Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.
So wept Dueſſa vntill euentide,
That ſhyning lampes in Ioues high houſe were light:
Then forth ſhe roſe, ne lenger would abide,
But comes vnto the place, where th'Hethen knight
In ſlombring ſwownd nigh voyd of vitall ſpright,
Lay couer'd with inchaunted cloud all day:
Whom when ſhe found, as ſhe him left in plight,
To wayle his woefull caſe ſhe would not ſtay,
But to the eaſterne coaſt of heauen makes ſpeedy way.
Where grieſly Night, with viſage deadly ſad,
That Phoebus chearefull face durſt neuer vew,
And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad,
She findes forth comming from her darkeſome mew,
Where ſhe all day did hide her hated hew.
Before the dore her yron charet ſtood,
Alreadie harneſſed for iourney new;
And coleblacke ſteedes yborne of helliſh brood,
That on their ruſtie bits did champ, as they were wood.
Who when ſhe ſaw Dueſſa ſunny bright,
Adornd with gold and iewels ſhining cleare,
She greatly grew amazed at the ſight,
And th'vnacquainted light began to feare:
For neuer did ſuch brightneſſe there appeare,
And would haue backe retyred to her caue,
Vntill the witches ſpeech ſhe gan to heare,
Saying, yet ô thou dreaded Dame, I craue
Abide, till I haue told the meſſage, which I haue.
She ſtayd, and foorth Dueſſa gan proceede,
O thou moſt auncient Grandmother of all,
More old then Ioue, whom thou at firſt didſt breede,
Or that great houſe of Gods caeleſtiall,
Which waſt begot in Daemogorgons hall,
And ſawſt the ſecrets of the world vnmade,
Why ſuffredſt thou thy Nephewes deare to fall
With Elfin ſword, moſt ſhamefully betrade?
Lo where the ſtout Sanſioy doth ſleepe in deadly ſhade.
And him before, I ſaw with bitter eyes
The bold Sansfoy ſhrinke vnderneath his ſpeare;
And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,
Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,
That whylome was to me too dearely deare.
O what of Gods then boots it to be borne,
If old Aveugles ſonnes ſo euill heare?
Or who ſhall not great Nightes children ſcorne,
When two of three her Nephews are ſo fowle forlorne?
Vp then, vp dreary Dame, of darkneſſe Queene,
Go gather vp the reliques of thy race,
Or elſe goe them auenge, and let be ſeene,
That dreaded Night in brighteſt day hath place,
And can the children of faire light deface.
Her feeling ſpeeches ſome compaſſion moued
In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:
Yet pittie in her hart was neuer proued
Till then: and euermore ſhe hated, neuer loued.
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 Ioues eternall ſeat?
The ſonnes of Day he fauoureth, I ſee,
And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:
To make one great by others loſſe, is bad excheat.
Yet ſhall they not eſcape ſo freely all;
For ſome ſhall pay the price of others guilt:
And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall,
Shall with his owne bloud price that he hath ſpilt.
But what art thou, that telſt of Nephews kilt?
I that do ſeeme not I, Dueſſa am,
(Quoth ſhe) how euer now in garments gilt,
And gorgeous gold arayd 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 faire face
The falſe reſemblance of Deceipt, I wiſt
Did cloſely lurke; yet ſo true-ſeeming grace
It carried, that I ſcarſe in darkeſome place
Could it diſcerne, though I the mother bee
Of falſhood, and root of Dueſſaes race.
O welcome child, whom I haue longd to ſee,
And now haue ſeene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.
Then to her yron wagon ſhe betakes,
And with her beares the fowle welfauourd witch:
Through mirkeſome aire her readie way ſhe makes.
Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,
And two were browne, yet each to each vnlich,
Did ſoftly ſwim away, ne euer ſtampe,
Vnleſſe ſhe chaūſt their ſtubborne mouths to twitch;
Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,
And trampling the fine element, would fiercely rampe.
So well they ſped, that they become at length
Vnto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,
Deuoid of outward ſenſe, and natiue ſtrength,
Couerd with charmed cloud from vew of day,
And ſight of men, ſince his late luckeleſſe fray.
His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congealed,
They binden vp ſo wiſely, as they may,
And handle ſoftly, till they can be healed:
So lay him in her charet, cloſe in night concealed.
And all the while ſhe ſtood vpon the ground,
The wakefull dogs did neuer ceaſe to bay,
As giuing warning of th'vnwonted ſound,
With which her yron wheeles did them affray,
And her darke grieſly looke them much diſmay;
The meſſenger of death, the ghaſtly Owle
With drearie ſhriekes did alſo her bewray;
And hungry Wolues continually did howle,
At her abhorred face, ſo filtey and ſo fowle.
Thence turning backe in ſilence ſoft they ſtole,
And brought the heauie corſe with eaſie pace
To yawning gulfe of deepe Auernus hole.
By that ſame hole an entrance darke and bace
With ſmoake and ſulphure hiding all the place,
Deſcends to hell: there creature neuer paſt,
That backe returned without heauenly grace;
But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines haue braſt,
And damned ſprights ſent forth to make ill men aghaſt.
By that ſame way the direfull dames doe driue
Their mournefull charet, fild with ruſty blood,
And downe to Plutoes houſe are come biliue:
Which paſſing through, on euery ſide them ſtood
The trembling ghoſts with ſad amazed mood,
Chattring their yron teeth, and ſtaring wide
With ſtonie eyes; and all the helliſh brood
Of feends infernall flockt on euery ſide,
To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durſt ride.
They pas the bitter waues of Acheron,
Where many ſoules ſit wailing woefully,
And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,
Whereas the damned ghoſts in torments fry,
And with ſharpe ſhrilling ſhriekes doe bootleſſe cry,
Curſing high Ioue, the which them thither ſent.
The houſe of endleſſe paine is built thereby,
In which ten thouſand ſorts of puniſhment
The curſed creatures doe eternally torment.
Before the threſhold dreadfull Cerberus
His three deformed heads did lay along,
Curled with thouſand adders venemous,
And lilled forth his bloudie flaming tong:
At them he gan to reare his briſtles ſtrong,
And felly gnarre, vntill dayes enemy
Did him appeaſe; then downe his taile he hong
And ſuffered them to paſſen quietly:
For ſhe in hell and heauen had power equally.
There was Ixion turned on a wheele,
For daring tempt the Queene of heauen to ſin;
And Siſyphus an huge round ſtone did reele
Againſt an hill, ne might from labour lin;
There thirſtie Tantalus hong by the chin;
And Tityus fed a vulture on his maw;
Typhoeus ioynts were ſtretched on a gin,
Theſeus condemned to endleſſe ſlouth by law,
And fifty ſiſters water in leake veſſels draw.
They all beholding worldly wights in place,
Leaue off their worke, vnmindfull of their ſmart,
To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace,
Till they be come vnto the furtheſt part:
Where was a Caue ywrought by wondrous art,
Deepe, darke, vneaſie, dolefull, comfortleſſe,
In which ſad Aeſculapius farre a part
Empriſond was in chaines remedileſſe,
For that Hippolytus rent corſe he did redreſſe.
Hippolytus a iolly huntſman was,
That wont in charet chace the foming Bore;
He all his Peeres in beautie did ſurpas,
But Ladies loue as loſſe of time forbore:
His wanton ſtepdame loued him the more,
But when ſhe ſaw her offred ſweets refuſed
Her loue ſhe turnd to hate, and him before
His father fierce of treaſon falſe accuſed,
And with her gealous termes his open eares abuſed.
Who all in rage his Sea-god fyre beſought,
Some curſed vengeance on his ſonne to caſt:
Frō ſurging gulf two monſters ſtraight were brought,
With dread whereof his chaſing ſteedes aghaſt,
Both charet ſwift and huntſman ouercaſt.
His goodly corps on ragged clifts yrent,
Was quite diſmembred, and his members chaſt
Scattered on euery mountaine, as he went,
That of Hippolytus was left no moniment.
His cruell ſtepdame ſeeing what was donne,
Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end,
In death auowing th'innocence of her ſonne.
Which hearing his raſh Syre, began to rend
His haire, and haſtie tongue, that did offend:
Tho gathering vp the relicks of his ſmart
By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend,
Them brought to Aeſculape, that by his art
Did heale them all againe, and ioyned euery part.
Such wondrous ſcience in mans wit to raine
When Ioue auizd, that could the dead reuiue,
And fates expired could renew againe,
Of endleſſe life he might him not depriue,
But vnto hell did thruſt him downe aliue,
With flaſhing thunderbolt ywounded ſore:
Where long remaining, he did alwaies ſtriue
Himſelfe with ſalues to health for to reſtore,
And ſlake the heauenly fire, that raged euermore.
There auncient Night arriuing, did alight
From her high wearie waine, and in her armes
To Aeſculapius brought the wounded knight:
Whom hauing ſoftly diſarayd of armes,
Tho gan to him diſcouer all his harmes,
Beſeeching him with prayer, and with praiſe,
If either ſalues, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes
A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raiſe,
He would at her requeſt prolong her nephews daies.
Ah Dame (quoth he) thou tempteſt me in vaine,
To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew,
And the old cauſe of my continued paine
With like attempt to like end to renew.
Is not enough, that thruſt from heauen dew
Here endleſſe penance for one fault I pay,
But that redoubled crime with vengeance new
Thou biddeſt me to eeke? Can Night defray
The wrath of thundring Ioue, that rules both night and day?
Not ſo (quoth ſhe) but ſith that heauens king
From hope of heauen hath thee excluded quight,
Why feareſt thou, that canſt not hope for thing,
And feareſt not, that more thee hurten might,
Now in the powre of euerlaſting Night?
Goe to then, ô thou farre renowmed ſonne
Of great Apollo, ſhew thy famous might
In medicine, that elſe hath to thee wonne
Great paines, & greater praiſe, both neuer to be donne.
Her words preuaild: And then the learned leach
His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay,
And all things elſe, the which his art did teach:
Which hauing ſeene, from thence aroſe away
The mother of dread darkneſſe, and let ſtay
Aueugles ſonne there in the leaches cure,
And backe returning tooke her wonted way,
To runne her timely race, whilſt Phoebus pure
In weſterne waues his wearie wagon did recure.
The falſe Dueſſa leauing noyous Night,
Returnd to ſtately pallace of dame Pride;
Where when ſhe came, ſhe found the Faery knight
Departed thence, albe his woundes wide
Not throughly heald, vnreadie were to ride.
Good cauſe he had to haſten thence away;
For on a day his wary Dwarfe had ſpide,
Where in a dongeon deepe huge numbers lay
Of caytiue wretched thrals, 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 captiuitie,
How mortgaging their liues to Couetiſe,
Through waſtfull Pride, and wanton Riotiſe,
They were by law of that proud Tyranneſſe
Prouokt with VVrath, and Enuies falſe ſurmiſe,
Condemned to that Dongeon mercileſſe,
Where they ſhould liue in woe, & die in wretchedneſſe.
There was that great proud king of Babylon,
That would compell all nations to adore,
And him as onely God to call vpon,
Till through celeſtiall doome throwne out of dore,
Into an Oxe he was transform'd of yore:
There alſo was king Craeſus, that enhaunſt
His heart too high through his great riches ſtore;
And proud Antiochus, the which aduaunſt
His curſed hand gainſt God, and on his altars daunſt.
And them long time before, great Nimrod was,
That firſt the world with ſword and fire warrayd;
And after him old Ninus farre did pas
In princely pompe, of all the world obayd;
There alſo was that mightie Monarch layd
Low vnder all, yet aboue all in pride,
That name of natiue ſyre did fowle vpbrayd,
And would as Ammons ſonne be magnifide,
Till ſcornd of God and man a ſhamefull death he dide.
All theſe together in one heape were throwne,
Like carkaſes of beaſts in butchers ſtall.
And in another corner wide were ſtrowne
The antique ruines of the Romaines fall:
Great Romulus the Grandſyre of them all,
Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus,
Stout Scipio, and ſtubborne Hanniball,
Ambitious Sylla, and ſterne Marius,
High Caeſar, great Pompey, and fierce Antonius.
Amongſt theſe mighty men were wemen mixt,
Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:
The bold Semiramis, whoſe ſides transfixt
With ſonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches ſpoke;
Faire Sthenoboea, that her ſelfe did choke
With wilfull cord, for wanting of her will;
High minded Cleopatra, that with ſtroke
Of Aſpes ſting her ſelfe did ſtoutly kill:
And thouſands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.
Beſides the endleſſe routs of wretched thralles,
Which thither were aſſembled day by day,
From all the world after their wofull falles,
Through wicked pride, and waſted wealthes decay.
But moſt of all, which in the Dongeon lay
Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,
Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play,
Conſumed had their goods, and thriftleſſe howres,
And laſtly throwne themſelues into theſe heauy ſtowres.
Whoſe caſe when as the carefull Dwarfe had tould,
And made enſample of their mournefull ſight
Vnto his maiſter, he no lenger would
There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,
But early roſe, and ere that dawning light
Diſcouered had the world to heauen wyde,
He by a priuie Poſterne tooke his flight,
That of no enuious eyes he mote be ſpyde:
For doubtleſſe death enſewd, if any him deſcryde.
Scarſe could he footing find in that fowle way,
For many corſes, like a great Lay-ſtall
Of murdred men which therein ſtrowed lay,
Without remorſe, or decent funerall:
Which all through that great Princeſſe pride did fall
And came to ſhamefull end. And them beſide
Forth ryding vnderneath the caſtell wall,
A donghill of dead carkaſes he ſpide,
The dreadfull ſpectacle of that ſad houſe of Pride.
Cant. VI.
From lawleſſe luſt by wondrous grace
fayre Ʋna is releaſt:
Whom ſaluage nation does adore,
and learnes her wiſe beheaſt.
AS when a ſhip, that flyes faire vnder ſaile,
An hidden rocke eſcaped hath vnwares,
That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,
The Marriner yet halfe amazed ſtares
At perill paſt, and yet it doubt ne dares
To ioy at his foole-happie ouerſight:
So doubly is diſtreſt twixt ioy and cares
The dreadleſſe courage of this Elfin knight,
Hauing eſcapt ſo ſad enſamples in his ſight.
Yet ſad he was that his too haſtie ſpeed
The faire Dueſs' had forſt him leaue behind;
And yet more ſad, that Vna his deare dreed
Her truth had ſtaind with treaſon ſo vnkind;
Yet crime in her could neuer creature find,
But for his loue, and for her owne ſelfe ſake,
She wandred had from one to other Ynd,
Him for to ſeeke, ne euer would forſake,
Till her vnwares the fierce Sanſloy did ouertake.
Who after Archimagoes fowle defeat,
Led her away into a forreſt wilde,
And turning wrathfull fire to luſtfull heat,
With beaſtly ſin thought her to haue defilde,
And made the vaſſall of his pleaſures vilde.
Yet firſt he caſt by treatie, and by traynes,
Her to perſwade, that ſtubborne fort to yilde:
For greater conqueſt of hard loue he gaynes,
That workes it to his will, then he that it conſtraines.
With fawning wordes he courted her a while,
And looking louely, and oft ſighing ſore,
Her conſtant hart did tempt with diuerſe guile:
But wordes and lookes, and ſighes ſhe did abhore,
As rocke of Diamond ſtedfaſt euermore.
Yet for to feed his fyrie luſtfull eye,
He ſnatcht the vele, that hong her face before;
Then gan her beautie ſhine, as brighteſt skye,
And burnt his beaſtly hart t'efforce her chaſtitye.
So when he ſaw his flatt'ring arts to fayle,
And ſubtile engines bet from batteree,
With greedy force he gan the fort aſſayle,
Whereof he weend poſſeſſed ſoone to bee,
And with rich ſpoile of ranſackt chaſtetee.
Ah heauens, that do this hideous act behold,
And heauenly virgin thus outraged ſee,
How can ye vengeance iuſt ſo long withhold,
And hurle not flaſhing flames vpon that Paynim bold?
The pitteous maiden carefull comfortleſſe,
Does throw out thrilling ſhriekes, & ſhrieking cryes,
The laſt vaine helpe of womens great diſtreſſe,
And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes,
That molten ſtarres do drop like weeping eyes;
And Phoebus flying ſo moſt ſhamefull ſight,
His bluſhing face in foggy cloud implyes,
And hides for ſhame. What wit of mortall wight
Can now deuiſe to quit a thrall from ſuch a plight?
Eternall prouidence exceeding thought,
Where none appeares can make her ſelfe a way:
A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought,
From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray.
Her ſhrill outcryes and ſhriekes ſo loud did bray,
That all the woodes and foreſtes did reſownd;
A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,
Whiles old Syluanus ſlept in ſhady arber ſownd.
Who when they heard that pitteous ſtrained voice,
In haſt forſooke their rurall meriment,
And ran towards the far rebownded noyce,
To weet, what wight ſo loudly did lament.
Vnto the place they come incontinent:
Whom when the raging Sarazin eſpide,
A rude, miſhapen, monſtrous rablement,
Whoſe like he neuer ſaw, he durſt not bide,
But got his ready ſteed, and faſt away gan ride.
The wyld woodgods arriued in the place,
There find the virgin dolefull deſolate,
With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face,
As her outrageous foe had left her late,
And trembling yet through feare of former hate;
All ſtand amazed at ſo vncouth ſight,
And gin to pittie her vnhappie ſtate,
All ſtand aſtonied at her beautie bright,
In their rude eyes vnworthie of ſo wofull plight.
She more amaz'd, in double dread doth dwell;
And euery tender part for feare does ſhake:
As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger fell
A ſeely Lambe farre from the flocke does take,
Of whom he meanes his bloudie feaſt to make,
A Lyon ſpyes faſt running towards him,
The innocent pray in haſt he does forſake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in euery lim
With chaunge of feare, to ſee the Lyon looke ſo grim.
Such fearefull fit aſſaid her trembling hart,
Ne word to ſpeake, ne ioynt to moue ſhe had:
The ſaluage nation feele her ſecret ſmart,
And read her ſorrow in her count'nance ſad;
Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad,
And ruſticke horror all a ſide doe lay,
And gently grenning, ſhew a ſemblance glad
To comfort her, and feare to put away,
Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay.
The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit
Her ſingle perſon to their barbarous truth,
But ſtill twixt feare and hope amazd does ſit,
Late learnd what harme to haſtie truſt enſu'th,
They in compaſſion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beautie ſoueraine,
Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,
And all proſtrate vpon the lowly plaine,
Do kiſſe her feete, and fawne on her with count'nance faine.
Their harts ſhe gheſſeth by their humble guiſe,
And yieldes her to extremitie of time;
So from the ground ſhe feareleſſe doth ariſe,
And walketh forth without ſuſpect of crime:
They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and ſinging all a ſhepheards ryme,
And with greene braunches ſtrowing all the ground,
Do worſhip her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround.
And all the way their merry pipes they ſound,
That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet do weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleaſant Spring.
So towards old Syluanus they her bring;
Who with the noyſe awaked, commeth out,
To weet the cauſe, his weake ſteps gouerning,
And aged limbs on Cypreſſe ſtadle ſtout,
And with an yuie twyne his waſt is girt about.
Far off he wonders, what them makes ſo glad,
Of Bacchus merry fruit they did inuent,
Or Cybeles franticke rites haue made them mad;
They drawing nigh, vnto their God preſent
That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.
The God himſelfe vewing that mirrhour rare,
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;
His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire,
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.
The woodborne people fall before her flat,
And worſhip her as Goddeſſe of the wood;
And old Syluanus ſelfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wight ſo faire, but gazing ſtood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;
Sometimes Dame Venus ſelfe he ſeemes to ſee,
But Venus neuer had ſo ſober mood;
Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,
But miſſeth bow, and ſhaftes, and buskins to her knee.
By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue
His ancient loue, and deareſt Cypariſſe,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,
And how he ſlew with glauncing dart amiſſe
A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy
Did loue as life, aboue all worldly bliſſe;
For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after joy,
But pynd away in anguiſh and ſelfe-wild annoy.
The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades
Her to behold do thither runne apace,
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,
Flocke all about to ſee her louely face:
But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,
They enuie her in their malitious mind,
And fly away for feare of fowle diſgrace:
But all the Satyres ſcorne their woody kind,
And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.
Glad of ſuch lucke, the luckeleſſe lucky maid,
Did her content to pleaſe their feeble eyes,
And long time with that ſaluage people ſtaid,
To gather breath in many miſeries.
During which time her gentle wit ſhe plyes,
To teach them truth, which worſhipt her in vaine,
And made her th'Image of Idoiatryes;
But when their bootleſſe zeale ſhe did reſtraine
Frō her own worſhip, they her Aſſe would worſhip fayn.
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 well deſerued name:
He had in armes abroad wonne muchell ſame,
And fild far landes with glorie of his might,
Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of ſhame,
And euer lou'd to fight for Ladies right,
But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight.
A Satyres ſonne yborne in forreſt wyld,
By ſtraunge aduenture as it did betyde,
And there begotten of a Lady myld,
Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,
That was in ſacred bands of wedlocke tyde
To Therion, a looſe vnruly ſwayne;
Who had more ioy to raunge the forreſt wyde,
And chaſe the ſaluage beaſt with buſie payne,
Then ſerue his Ladies loue, and waſt in pleaſures vayne.
The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne,
And could not lacke her louers company,
But to the wood ſhe goes, to ſerue her turne,
And ſeeke her ſpouſe, that from her ſtill does fly,
And followes other game and venery:
A Satyre chaunſt her wandring for to find,
And kindling coles of luſtin brutiſh eye,
The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,
And made her perſon thrall vnto his beaſtly kind.
So long in ſecret cabin there he held
Her captiue to his ſenſuall deſire,
Till that with timely fruit her belly ſweld,
And bore a boy vnto that ſaluage fire:
Then home he ſuffred her for to retire,
For ranſome leauing him the late borne childe;
Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aſpire,
He nourſled vp in life and manners wilde,
Emongſt wild beaſts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.
For all he taught the tender ymp, was but
To baniſh cowardize and baſtard feare;
His trembling hand he would him force to put
Vpon the Lyon and the rugged Beare,
And from the ſhe Beares teats her whelps to teare;
And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make
To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;
And the Robuckes in flight to ouertake,
That euery beaſt for feare of him did fly and quake.
Thereby ſo feareleſſe, and ſo fell he grew,
That his owne ſire and maiſter of his guiſe
Did often tremble at his horrid vew,
And oft for dread of hurt would him aduiſe,
The angry beaſts not raſhly to deſpiſe,
Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne
The Lyon ſtoup to him in lowly wiſe,
(A leſſon hard) and make the Libbard ſterne
Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.
And for to make his powre approued more,
Wyld beaſts in yron yokes he would compell;
The ſpotted Panther, and the tusked Bore,
The Pardale ſwift, and the Tigre cruell;
The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell;
And them conſtraine in equall teme to draw.
Such ioy he had, their ſtubborne harts to quell,
And ſturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,
That his beheaſt they feared, as tyrans law.
His louing mother came vpon a day
Vnto the woods, to ſee her little ſonne;
And chaunſt vnwares to meet him in the way,
After his ſportes, and cruell paſtime donne,
When after him a Lyoneſſe did runne,
That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere
Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:
The Lyon whelpes ſhe ſaw how he did beare,
And lull in rugged armes, withouten childiſh feare.
The fearefull Dame all quaked at the ſight,
And turning backe, gan faſt to fly away,
Vntill with loue reuokt from vaine affright,
She hardly yet perſwaded was to ſtay,
And then to him theſe womaniſh words gan ſay;
Ah Satyrane, my dearling, and my ioy,
For loue of me leaue off this dreadfull play;
To dally thus with death, is no fit toy,
Go find ſome other play-fellowes, mine own ſweet boy.
In theſe and like delights of bloudy game
He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,
And there abode, whilſt any beaſt of name
Walkt in that foreſt, whom he had not taught
To feare his force: and then his courage haught
Deſird of forreine foemen to be knowne,
And far abroad for ſtraunge aduentures ſought:
In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,
But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.
Yet euermore it was his manner faire,
After long labours and aduentures ſpent,
Vnto thoſe natiue woods for to repaire,
To ſee his fire and ofſpring auncient.
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he vnwares the faireſt Vna found,
Straunge Lady, in ſo ſtraunge habiliment,
Teaching the Satyres, which her ſat around,
Trew ſacred lore, which from her ſweet lips did redound
He wondred at her wiſedome heauenly rare,
Whoſe like in womens wit he neuer knew;
And when her curteous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her ſad ſorrowes rew,
Blaming of Fortune, which ſuch troubles threw,
And ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie
On gentle Dame, ſo hurtleſſe, and ſo trew:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learnd her diſcipline of faith and veritie.
But ſhe all vowd vnto the Redcroſſe knight,
His wandring perill cloſely did lament,
Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,
But her deare heart with anguiſh did torment,
And all her wit in ſecret counſels ſpent,
How to eſcape. At laſt in priuie wiſe
To Satyrane ſhe ſhewed her intent;
Who glad to gain ſuch fauour, gan deuiſe,
How with that penſiue Maid he beſt might thence ariſe.
So on a day when Satyres all were gone,
To do their ſeruice to Syluanus old,
The gentle virgin left behind alone
He led away with courage ſtout and bold.
Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,
Or euer hope recouer her againe:
In vaine he ſeekes that hauing cannot hold.
So faſt he carried her with carefull paine,
That they the woods are paſt, & come now to the plaine.
The better part now of the lingring day,
They traueild had, when as they farre eſpide
A wearie wight forwandring by the way,
And towards him they gan in haſt to ride,
To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,
Or tydings of her knight of the Redcroſſe.
But he them ſpying, gan to turne aſide,
For feare as ſeemd, or for ſome feigned loſſe;
More greedy they of newes, faſt towards him do croſſe.
A ſilly man, in ſimple weedes forworne,
And ſoild with duſt of the long dried way;
His ſandales were with toileſome trauell torne,
And face all tand with ſcorching ſunny ray,
As he had traueild many a ſommers day,
Through boyling ſands of Arabie and Ynde;
And in his hand a Iacobs ſtaffe, to ſtay
His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,
His ſcrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.
The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd
Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;
But warres, nor new aduentures none he herd.
Then Vna gan to aske, if ought he knew,
Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,
That in his armour bare a croſlet red.
Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew
To tell the ſad ſight, which mine eies haue red:
Theſe eyes did ſee that knight both liuing and eke ded.
That cruell word her tender hart ſo thrild,
That ſuddein cold did runne through euery vaine,
And ſtony horrour all her ſences fild
With dying fit, that downe ſhe fell for paine.
The knight her lightly reared vp againe,
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:
Then wonne from death, ſhe bad him tellen plaine
The further proceſſe of her hidden griefe;
The leſſer pangs can beare, who hath endur'd the chiefe.
Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunſt this day,
This fatall day, that ſhall I euer rew,
To ſee two knights in trauell on my way
(A ſory fight) arraung'd in battell new,
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:
My fearefull fleſh did tremble at their ſtrife,
To ſee their blades ſo greedily imbrew,
That drunke with bloud, yet thriſted after life:
What more? the Redcroſſe knight was ſlaine with Paynim knife.
Ah deareſt Lord (quoth ſhe) how might that bee,
And he the ſtouteſt knight, that euer wonne?
Ah deareſt dame (quoth he) how might I ſee
The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?
Where is (ſaid Satyrane) that Paynims ſonne,
That him of life, and vs of ioy hath reſt?
Not far away (quoth he) he hence doth wonne
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Waſhing his bloudy wounds, that through the ſteele were cleft.
Therewith the knight thence marched forth in haſt,
Whiles Vna with huge heauineſſe oppreſt,
Could not for ſorrow follow him ſo faſt;
And ſoone he came, as he the place had gheſt,
Whereas that Pagan proud him ſelfe did reſt,
In ſecret ſhadow by a fountaine ſide:
Euen he it was, that earſt would haue ſuppreſt
Faire Vna: whom when Satyrane eſpide,
With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.
And ſaid, Ariſe thou curſed Miſcreaunt,
That haſt with knightleſſe guile and trecherous train
Faire knighthood fowly ſhamed, and doeſt vaunt
That good knight of the Redcroſſe to haue ſlain:
Ariſe, and with like treaſon now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or elſe thee guilty yield.
The Sarazin this hearing, roſe amain,
And catching vp in haſt his three ſquare ſhield,
And ſhining helmet, ſoone him buckled to the field.
And drawing nigh him ſaid, Ah misborne Elfe,
In euill houre thy foes thee hither ſent,
Anothers wrongs to wreake vpon thy ſelfe:
Yet ill thou blameſt me, for hauing blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent;
That Redcroſſe knight, perdie, I neuer ſlew,
But had he beene, where earſt his armes were lent,
Th'enchaunter vaine his errour ſhould not rew:
But thou his errour ſhalt, I hope now prouen trew.
Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,
To thunder blowes, and fierſly to aſſaile
Each other bent his enimy to quell,
That with their force they perſt both plate and maile,
And made wide furrowes in their fleſhes fraile,
That it would pitty any liuing eie.
Large floods of bloud adowne their ſides did raile;
But floods of bloud could not them ſatisfie:
Both hungred after death: both choſe to win, or die.
So long they fight, and fell reuenge purſue,
That fainting each, themſelues to breathen let,
And oft refreſhed, battell oft renue:
As when two Bores with rancling malice met,
Their gory ſides freſh bleeding fiercely fret,
Till breathleſſe both them ſelues aſide retire,
Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,
And trample th'earth, the whiles they may reſpire;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.
So fierſly, when theſe knights had breathed once,
They gan to fight returne, increaſing more
Their puiſſant force, and cruell rage attonce,
With heaped ſtrokes more hugely, then before,
That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore
They both deformed, ſcarſely could be known.
By this ſad Vna fraught with anguiſh ſore,
Led with their noiſe, which through the aire was thrown:
Arriu'd, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had ſown.
Whom all ſo ſoone as that proud Sarazin
Eſpide, he gan reuiue the memory
Of his lewd luſts, and late attempted ſin,
And left the doubtfull battell haſtily,
To catch her, newly offred to his eie:
But Satyrane with ſtrokes him turning, ſtaid,
And ſternely bad him other buſineſſe plie,
Then hunt the ſteps of pure vnſpotted Maid:
Wherewith he all enrag'd, theſe bitter ſpeaches ſaid.
O fooliſh faeries ſonne, what furie mad
Hath thee incenſt, to haſt thy dolefull fete?
Were it not better, I that Lady had,
Then that thou hadſt repented it too late?
Moſt ſenceleſſe man he, that himſelfe doth hate,
To loue another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy louers token on thy pate.
So they two fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim ſore afrayd.
But that falſe Pilgrim, which that leaſing told,
Being in deed old Archimage, did ſtay
In ſecret ſhadow, all this to behold,
And much reioyced in their bloudy fray:
But when he ſaw the Damſell paſſe away
He left his ſtond, and her purſewd apace,
In hope to bring her to her laſt decay.
But for to tell her lamentable cace,
And eke this battels end, will need another place.
Cant. VII.
The Redcroſſe knight is capture made
By Gyaunt proud oppreſt,
Prince Arthur meets with Vna greatly with thoſe newes diſtreſt.
WHat man ſo wiſe, what earthly wit ſo ware,
As to deſcry the crafty cunning traine,
By which deceipt doth maske in viſour faire,
And caſt her colours dyed deepe in graine,
To ſeeme like Truth, whoſe ſhape ſhe well can faine,
And fitting geſtures to her purpoſe frame;
The guiltleſſe man with guile to entertaine?
Great maiſtreſſe of her art was that falſe Dame,
The falſe Dueſſa, cloked with Fideſſaes name.
Who when returning from the drery Night,
She fownd not in that perilous houſe of Pryde,
Where ſhe had left, the noble Redcroſſe knight,
Her hoped pray; ſhe would no lenger bide,
But forth ſhe went, to ſeeke him far and wide.
Ere long ſhe fownd, whereas he wearie ſate,
To reſt him ſelfe, foreby a fountaine ſide,
Diſarmed all of yron-coted Plate,
And by his ſide his ſteed the graſſy forage ate.
He ſeedes vpon the cooling ſhade, and bayes
His ſweatie forehead in the breathing wind,
Which through the trēbling leaues full gently playe
Wherein the cherefull birds of ſundry kind
Do chaunt ſweet muſick, to delight his mind:
The Witch approching gan him fairely greet,
And with reproch of careleſneſſe vnkind
Vpbrayd, for leauing her in place vnmeet,
With fowle words tempring faire, ſoure gall with hony ſweet.
Vnkindneſſe paſt, they gan of ſolace treat,
And bathe in pleaſaunce of the ioyous ſhade,
Which ſhielded them againſt the boyling heat,
And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade,
About the fountaine like a girlond made;
Whoſe bubbling waue did euer freſhly well,
Ne euer would through feruent ſommer fade:
The ſacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dianes fauour, as it then befell.
The cauſe was this: one day when Phoebe fayre
With all her band was following the chace,
This Nymph, quite tyr'd with heat of ſcorching ayre
Sat downe to reſt in middeſt of the race:
The goddeſſe wroth gan fowly he diſgrace,
And bad the waters, which from her did flow,
Be ſuch as ſhe her ſelfe was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters waxed dull and ſlow,
And all that drunke thereof, did faint and feeble grow.
Hereof this gentle knight vnweeting was,
And lying downe vpon the ſandie graile,
Drunke of the ſtreame, as cleare as criſtall glas,
Eftſoones his manly forces gan to faile,
And mightie ſtrong was turnd to feeble fraile.
His chaunged powres at firſt them ſelues not felt,
Till crudled cold his corage gan aſſaile,
And chearefull bloud in faintneſſe chill did melt,
Which like a feuer fit through all his body ſwelt.
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,
Which through the wood loud bellowing, did rebownd,
That all the earth for terrour ſeemd to ſhake,
And trees did tremble. Th'Elfe therewith aſtownd,
Vpſtarted lightly from his looſer make,
And his vnready weapons gan in hand to take.
But ere he could his armour on him dight,
Or get his ſhield, his monſtrous enimy
With ſturdie ſteps came ſtalking in his ſight,
An hideous Geant horrible and hye,
That with his talneſſe ſeemd to threat the skye,
The ground eke groned vnder him for dreed;
His liuing like ſaw neuer liuing eye,
Ne durſt behold: his ſtature did exceed
The hight of three the talleſt ſonnes of mortall ſeed.
The greateſt Earth his vncouth mother was,
And bluſtring AEolus his boaſted ſire,
Who with his breath, which through the world dot
•
pas
Her hollow womb did ſecretly inſpire,
And fild her hidden caues with ſtormie yre,
That ſhe conceiu'd; and trebling the dew time,
In which the wombes of women do expire,
Brought forth this monſtrous maſſe of earthly ſlime
Puft vp with emptie wind, and fild with ſinfull crime.
So growen great through arrogant delight
Of th'high deſcent, whereof he was yborne,
And through preſumption of his matchleſſe might,
All other powres and knighthood he did ſcorne.
Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne,
And left to loſſe: his ſtalking ſteps are ſtayde
Vpon a ſnaggy Oke, which he had torne
Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made
His mortall mace, wherewith his foemen he diſmayde.
That when the knight he ſpide, he gan aduance
With huge force and inſupportable mayne,
And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;
Who hapleſſe, and eke hopeleſſe, all in vaine
Did to him pace, ſad battaile to darrayne,
Diſarmd, diſgraſt, and inwardly diſmayde,
And eke ſo faint in euery ioynt and vaine,
Through that fraile foūtaine, which him feeble made
That ſcarſely could he weeld his bootleſſe ſingle blade.
The Geaunt ſtrooke ſo maynly mercileſſe,
That could haue ouerthrowne a ſtony towre,
And were not heauenly grace, that him did bleſſe,
He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre:
But he was wary of that deadly ſtowre,
And lightly lept from vnderneath the blow:
Yet ſo exceeding was the villeins powre,
That with the wind it did him ouerthrow,
And all his ſences ſtound, that ſtill he lay full low.
As when that diueliſh yron Engin wrought
In deepeſt Hell, and framd by Furies skill,
With windy Nitre and quick Sulphur fraught,
And ramd with bullet round, ordaind to kill,
Conceiueth fire, the heauens it doth fill
With thundring noyſe, and all the ayre doth choke,
That none can breath, nor ſee, nor heare at will,
Through ſmouldry cloud of duskiſh ſtincking ſmoke,
That th'onely breath him daunts, who hath eſcapt the ſtroke.
So daunted when the Geaunt ſaw the knight
His heauie hand he heaued vp on hye,
And him to duſt thought to haue battred quight,
Vntill Dueſſa loud to him gan crye;
O great Orgoglio, greateſt vnder skye,
O hold thy mortall hand for Ladies ſake,
Hold for my ſake, and do him not to dye,
But vanquiſht thine eternall bondſlaue make,
And me thy worthy meed vnto thy Leman take.
He hearkned, and did ſtay from further harmes,
To gayne ſo goodly guerdon, as ſhe ſpake:
So willingly ſhe came into his armes,
Who her as willingly to grace did take,
And was poſſeſſed of his new found make.
Then vp he tooke the ſlombred ſenceleſſe corſe,
And ere he could out of his ſwowne awake,
Him to his caſtle brought with haſtie forſe,
And in a Dongeon deepe him threw without remorſe.
From that day forth Dueſſa was his deare,
And highly honourd in his haughtie eye,
He gaue her gold and purple pall to weare,
And triple crowne ſet on her head full hye,
And her endowd with royall maieſtye:
Then for to make her dreaded more of men,
And peoples harts with awfull terrour tye,
A monſtrous beaſt ybred in filthy fen
He choſe, which he had kept long time in darkſome den
Such one it was, as that renowmed Snake
Which great Alcides in Stremona ſlew,
Long foſtred in the filth of Lerna lake,
Whoſe many heads out budding euer new,
Did breed him endleſſe labour to ſubdew:
But this ſame Monſter much more vgly was;
For ſeuen great heads out of his body grew,
An yron breſt, and backe of ſcaly bras,
And all embrewd in bloud, his eyes did ſhine as glas.
His tayle was ſtretched out in wondrous length,
That to the houſe of heauenly gods it raught,
And with extorted powre, and borrow'd ſtrength,
The euer-burning lamps from thence it brought,
And prowdly threw to ground, as things of nought
And vnderneath his filthy feet did tread
The ſacred things, and holy heaſts foretaught.
Vpon this dreadfull Beaſt with ſeuenfoldhead
He ſet 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 caytiue thrall,
When all was paſt, tooke vp his forlorne weed,
His mightie armour, miſſing moſt at need;
His ſiluer ſhield, now idle maiſterleſſe;
His poynant ſpeare, that many made to bleed,
The ruefull moniments of heauineſſe,
And with them all departes, to tell his great diſtreſſe.
He had not trauaild long, when on the way
He wofull Ladie, wofull Vna met,
Faſt flying from the Paynims greedy pray,
Whileſt Satyrane him from purſuit did let:
Who when her eyes ſhe on the Dwarfe had ſet,
And ſaw the ſignes, that deadly tydings ſpake,
She fell to ground for ſorrowfull regret,
And liuely breath her ſad breſt did forſake,
Yet might her pitteous hart be ſeene to pant and quake.
The meſſenger of ſo vnhappie newes,
Would faine haue dyde: dead was his hart within,
Yet outwardly ſome little comfort ſhewes:
At laſt recouering hart, he does begin
To rub her temples, and to chauſe her chin,
And euery tender part does toſſe and turne:
So hardly he the flitted life does win,
Vnto her natiue priſon to retourne:
Then gins her grieued ghoſt thus to lament and mourne.
Ye dreary inſtruments of dolefull ſight,
That doe this deadly ſpectacle behold,
Why do ye lenger feed on loathed light,
Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould,
Sith cruell fates the carefull threeds vnfould,
The which my life and loue together tyde?
Now let the ſtony dart of ſenſeleſſe cold
Perce to my hart, and pas through euery ſide,
And let eternall night ſo ſad ſight fro me hide.
O lightſome day, the lampe of higheſt Ioue,
Firſt made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde,
When darkeneſſe he in deepeſt dongeon droue,
Henceforth thy hated face for euer hyde,
And ſhut vp heauens windowes ſhyning wyde:
For earthly ſight can nought but ſorrow breed,
And late repentance, which ſhall long abyde.
Mine eyes no more on vanitie ſhall feed,
But ſeeled vp with death, ſhall haue their deadly meed.
Then downe againe ſhe fell vnto the ground;
But he her quickly reared vp againe:
Thriſe did ſhe ſinke adowne in deadly ſwownd,
And thriſe he her reviu'd with buſie paine:
At laſt when life recouer'd had the raine,
And ouer-wreſtled his ſtrong enemie,
With foltring tong, and trembling euery vaine,
Tell on (quoth ſhe) the wofull Tragedie,
The which theſe reliques ſad preſent vnto mine eie.
Tempeſtuous fortune hath ſpent all her ſpight,
And thrilling ſorrow throwne his vtmoſt dart;
Thy ſad tongue cannot tell more heauy plight,
Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart:
Who hath endur'd the whole, can beare each part.
If death it be, it is not the firſt wound,
That launched hath my breſt with bleeding ſmart.
Begin, and end the bitter balefull ſtound;
If leſſe, then that I feare more fauour I haue found.
Then gan the Dwarfe the whole diſcourſe declare,
The ſubtill traines of Archimago old;
The wanton loues of falſe Fideſſa faire,
Bought with the bloud of vanquiſht Paynim bold:
The wretched payre transform'd to treen mould;
The houſe of Pride, and perils round about;
The combat, which he with Sanſioy did hould;
The luckleſſe conflict with the Gyant ſtout,
Wherein captiu'd, of life or death he ſtood in doubt.
She heard with patience all vnto the end,
And ſtroue to maiſter ſorrowfull aſſay,
Which greater grew, the more ſhe did contend,
And almoſt rent her tender hart in tway;
And loue freſh coles vnto her fire did lay:
For greater loue, the greater is the loſſe.
Was neuer Ladie loued dearer day,
Then ſhe did loue the knight of the Redcroſſe;
For whoſe deare ſake ſo many troubles her did toſſe.
At laſt when feruent ſorrow ſlaked was,
She vp aroſe, reſoluing him to find
A liue or dead: and forward forth doth pas,
All as the Dwarfe the way to her aſſynd:
And euermore in conſtant care full mind
She fed her wound with freſh renewed bale;
Long toſt with ſtormes, and bet with bitter wind,
High ouer hils, and low adowne the dale,
She wandred many a wood, and meaſurd many a vale.
At laſt ſhe chaunced by good hap to meet
A goodly knight, faire marching by the way
Together with his Squire, arayed meet:
His glitterand armour ſhined farre away,
Like glauncing light of Phoebus brighteſt ray;
From top to toe no place appeared bare,
That deadly dint of ſteele endanger may:
Athwart his breſt a bauldrick braue he ware,
That ſhynd, like twinkling ſtars, with ſtons moſt pretious rare.
And in the midſt thereof one pretious ſtone
Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,
Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding ſhone,
Like Heſperus emongſt the leſſer lights,
And ſtroue for to amaze the weaker ſights;
Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong
In yuory ſheath, ycaru'd with curious ſlights;
Whoſe hilts were burniſht gold, and handle ſtrong
Of mother pearle, and buckled with a golden tong.
His haughtie helmet, horrid all with gold,
Both glorious brightneſſe, and great terrour bred;
For all the creſt a Dragon did enfold
With greedie pawes, and ouer all did ſpred
His golden wings: his dreadfull hideous hed
Cloſe couched on the beuer, ſeem'd to throw
From flaming mouth bright ſparkles fierie red,
That ſuddeine horror to faint harts did ſhow;
And ſcaly tayle was ſtretcht adowne his backe full low.
Vpon the top of all his loftie creſt,
A bunch of haires diſcolourd diuerſly,
With ſprincled pearle, and gold full richly dreſt,
Did ſhake, and ſeem'd to daunce for iollity,
Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye
On top of greene Selinis all alone,
With bloſſomes braue bedecked daintily;
Whoſe tender locks do tremble euery one
At euery little breath, that vnder heauen is blowne.
His warlike ſhield all cloſely couer'd was,
Ne might of mortall eye be euer ſeene;
Not made of ſteele, nor of enduring bras,
Such earthlymettals ſoone conſumed bene:
But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene
It framed was, one maſſie entire mould,
Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene,
That point of ſpeare it neuer percen could,
Ne dint of direfull ſword diuide the ſubſtance would.
The ſame to wight he neuer wont diſcloſe,
But when as monſters huge he would diſmay,
Or daunt vnequall armies of his foes,
Or when the flying heauens he would affray;
For ſo exceeding ſhone his gliſtring ray,
That Phoebus golden face it did attaint,
As when a cloud his beames doth ouer-lay;
And ſiluer Cynthia wexed pale and faint,
As when her face is ſtaynd with magicke arts conſtraint.
No magicke arts hereof had any might,
Nor bloudie wordes of bold Enchaunters call,
But all that was not ſuch, as ſeemd in ſight,
Before that ſhield did fade, and ſuddeine fall:
And when him liſt the raskall routes appall,
Men into ſtones therewith he could tranſmew,
And ſtones to duſt, and duſt to nought at all;
And when him liſt the prouder lookes ſubdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.
Ne let it ſeeme, that credence this exceedes,
For he that made the ſame, was knowne right well
To haue done much more admirable deedes.
It Merlin was, which whylome did excell
All liuing wightes in might of magicke ſpell:
Both ſhield, and ſword, and armour all he wrought
For this young Prince, when firſt to armes he fell;
But when he dyde, the Faerie Queene it brought
To Faerie lond, where yet it may be ſeene, if ſought.
A gentle youth, his dearely loued Squire
His ſpeare of heben wood behind him bare,
Whoſe harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire,
Had riuen many a breſt with pikehead ſquare;
A goodly perſon, and could menage faire,
His ſtubborne ſteed with curbed canon bit,
Who vnder him did trample as the aire,
And chauft, that any on his backe ſhould ſit;
The yron rowels into frothy ſome he bit.
When as this knight nigh to the Ladie drew,
With louely court he gan her entertaine;
But when he heard her anſweres loth, he knew
Some ſecret ſorrow did her heart diſtraine:
Which to allay, and calme her ſtorming paine,
Faire feeling words he wiſely gan diſplay,
And for her humour fitting purpoſe faine,
To tempt the cauſe it ſelfe for to bewray;
Wherewith emmou'd, theſe bleeding words ſhe gan to ſay.
What worlds delight, or ioy of lining ſpeach
Can heart, ſo plung'd in ſea of ſorrowes deepe,
And heaped with ſo huge misfortunes, reach?
The carefull cold beginneth for to creepe,
And in my heart his yron arrow ſteepe,
Soone as I thinke vpon my bitter bale:
Such helpleſſe harmes yts better hidden keepe,
Then rip vp griefe, where it may not auaile,
My laſt left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.
Ah Ladie deare, quoth then the gentle knight,
Well may I weene, your griefe is wondrous great;
For wondrous great griefe groneth in my ſpright,
Whiles thus I heare you of your ſorrowes treat.
But wofull Ladie let me you intrete,
For to vnfold the anguiſh of your hart:
Miſhaps are maiſtred by aduice diſcrete,
And counſell mittigates the greateſt ſmart;
Found neuer helpe, who neuer would his hurts impart.
O but (quoth ſhe) great griefe will not be tould,
And can more eaſily be thought, then ſaid.
Right ſo; (quoth he) but he, that neuer would,
Could neuer: will to might giues greateſt aid.
But griefe (quoth ſhe) does greater grow diſplaid,
If then it find not helpe, and breedes deſpaire.
Deſpaire breedes not (quoth he) where faith is ſtaid.
No faith ſo faſt (quoth ſhe) but fleſh does paire.
Fleſh may empaire (quoth he) but reaſon can repaire.
His goodly reaſon, and well guided ſpeach
So deepe did ſettle in her gratious thought,
That her perſwaded to diſcloſe the breach,
Which loue and fortune in her heart had wrought,
And ſaid; faire Sir, I hope good hap hath brought
You to inquire the ſecrets of my griefe,
Or that your wiſedome will direct my thought,
Or that your proweſſe can me yield reliefe:
Then heare the ſtorie ſad, which I ſhall tell you briefe.
The forlorne Maiden, whom your eyes haue ſeene
The laughing ſtocke of fortunes mockeries,
Am th'only daughter of a King and Queene,
Whoſe parents deare, whileſt equall deſtinies
Did runne about, and their felicities
The fauourable heauens did not enuy,
Did ſpread their rule through all the territories,
Which Phiſon and Euphrates floweth by,
And Gebons golden waues doe waſh continually.
At laſt by ſubtill ſleights ſhe him betraid
Vnto his foe, a Gyant huge and tall,
Who him diſarmed, diſſolute, diſmaid,
Vnwares ſurpriſed, and with mightie mall
The monſter mercileſſe him made to fall,
Whoſe fall did neuer foe before behold;
And now in darkeſome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Remedileſſe, for aie he doth him hold;
This is my cauſe of griefe, more great, then may be told.
Ere ſhe had ended all, ſhe gan to faint:
But he her comforted and faire beſpake,
Certes, Madame, ye haue great cauſe of plaint,
That ſtouteſt heart, I weene, could cauſe to quake.
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:
For till I haue acquit your captiue knight,
Aſſure your ſelfe, I will you not forſake.
His chearefull words reuiu'd her cheareleſſe ſpright
So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding euer right
Cant. VIII.
Faire virgin to redeeme her deare
brings Arthur to the fight:
Who ſlayes that Gyant, wounds the beaſt,
and ſtrips Dueſſa quight.
AY me, how many perils doe enfold
The righteous man, to make him daily fall?
Were not, that heauenly grace doth him vphold,
And ſtedfaſt truth acquite him out of all.
Her loue is firme, her care continuall,
So oft as he through his owne fooliſh pride,
Or weakneſſe is to ſinfull bands made thrall:
Elſe ſhould this Redcroſſe knight in bands haue dyde,
For whoſe deliuerāce ſhe this Prince doth thither guide.
They ſadly traueild thus, vntill they came
Nigh to a caſtle builded ſtrong and hie:
Then cryde the Dwarfe, lo yonder is the ſame,
In which my Lord my liege doth luckleſſe lie,
Thrall to that Gyants hatefull tyrannie:
Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres aſſay.
The noble knight alighted by and by
From loftie ſteede, and bad the Ladie ſtay,
To ſee what end of fight ſhould him befall that day.
So with the Squire, th'admirer of his might,
He marched forth towards that caſtle wall;
Whoſe gates he found faſt ſhut, ne lining wight
To ward the ſame, nor anſwere commers call.
Then tooke that Squire an home of bugle ſmall,
Which hong adowne his ſide in twiſted gold,
And taſſels gay. Wyde wonders ouer all
Of that ſame hornes great vertues weren told,
Which had approued bene in vſes manifold.
Was neuer wight, that heard that ſhrilling ſound,
But trembling feare did feele in euery vaine;
Three miles it might be eaſie heard around,
And Ecchoes three anſwerd it ſelfe againe:
No falſe enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine
Might once abide the terror of that blaſt,
But preſently was voide and wholly vaine:
No gate ſo ſtrong, no locke ſo firme and faſt,
But with that percing noiſe flew open quite, or braſt.
The ſame before the Geants gate he blew,
That all the caſtle quaked from the ground,
And euery dore of freewill open flew.
The Gyant ſelfe diſmaied with that ſownd,
Where he with his Dueſſa dalliance fownd,
In haſt came ruſhing forth from inner bowre,
With ſtaring countenance ſterne, as one aſtownd,
And ſtaggering ſteps, to weet, what ſuddein ſtowre,
Had wrought that horror ſtrange, and dar'd his dreaded powre
And after him the proud Dueſſa came,
High mounted on her many headed beaſt,
And euery head with fyrie tongue did flame,
And euery head was crowned on his creaſt,
And bloudie mouthed with late cruell feaſt.
That when the knight beheld, his mightie ſhild
Vpon his manly arme he ſoone addreſt,
And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild,
And eger greedineſſe through euery member thrild.
Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight,
Inflam'd with ſcornefull wrath and high diſdaine,
And lifting vp his dreadfull club on hight,
All arm'd with ragged ſnubbes and knottie graine,
Him thought at firſt encounter to haue ſlaine.
But wiſe and warie was that noble Pere,
And lightly leaping from ſo monſtrous maine,
Did faire auoide the violence him nere;
It booted nought, to thinke, ſuch thunderbolts to beare
Ne ſhame he thought to ſhunne ſo hideous might:
The idle ſtroke, enforcing furious way,
Miſſing the marke of his miſaymed ſight
Did fall to ground, and with his heauie ſway
So deepely dinted in the driuen clay,
That three yardes deepe a furrow vp did throw:
The ſad earth wounded with ſo ſore aſſay,
Did grone full grieuous vnderneath the blow,
And trembling with ſtrange feare, did like an earthquake ſhow.
As when almightie loue in wrathfull mood,
To wreake the guilt of mortall ſins is bent,
Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,
Enrold in flames, and ſmouldring dreriment,
Through riuen cloudes and molten firmament;
The fierce threeforked engin making way,
Both loftie towres and higheſt trees hath rent,
And all that might his angrie paſſage ſtay,
And ſhooting in the earth, caſts vp a mount of clay.
His boyſtrous club, ſo buried in the ground,
He could not rearen vp againe ſo light,
But that the knight him at auantage found,
And whiles he ſtroue his combred clubbe to quight
Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright
He ſmote off his left arme, which like a blocke
Did fall to ground, depriu'd of natiue might;
Large ſtreames of bloud out of the truncked ſtocke
Forth guſhed, like freſh water ſtreame from riuen rocke.
Diſmaied with ſo deſperate deadly wound,
And eke impatient of vnwonted paine,
He loudly brayd with beaſtly yelling ſound,
That all the fields rebellowed againe;
As great a noyſe, as when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage doth ſting,
Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,
And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,
The neighbour woods around with hollow murmuring.
That when his deare Dueſſa heard, and ſaw
The euill ſtownd, that daungerd her eſtate,
Vnto his aide ſhe haſtily did draw
Her dreadfull beaſt, who ſwolne with bloud of late
Came ramping forth with proud preſumpteous gate
And threatned all his heads like flaming brands.
But him the Squire made quickly to retrate,
Encountring fierce with ſingle ſword in hand,
And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke ſtand.
The proud Dueſſa full of wrathfull ſpight,
And fierce diſdaine, to be affronted ſo,
Enforſt her purple beaſt with all her might
That ſtop out of the way to ouerthroe,
Scorning the let of ſo vnequall foe:
But nathemore would that courageous ſwayne
To her yeeld paſſage, gainſt his Lord to goe,
But with outrageous ſtrokes did him reſtraine,
And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.
Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup,
Which ſtill ſhe bore, replete with magick artes;
Death and deſpeyre did many thereof ſup,
And ſecret poyſon through their inner parts,
Th'eternall bale of heauie wounded harts;
Which after charmes and ſome enchauntments ſaid
She lightly ſprinkled on his weaker parts;
Therewith his ſturdie courage ſoone was quayd,
And all his ſenſes were with ſuddeine dread diſmayd.
So downe he fell before the cruell beaſt,
Who on his necke his bloudie clawes did ſeize,
That life night cruſht out of his panting breſt:
No powre he had to ſtirre, nor will to rize.
That when the carefull knight gan well auiſe,
He lightly left the foe, with whom he fought,
And to the beaſt gan turne his enterpriſe;
For wondrous anguiſh in his hart it wrought,
To ſee his loued Squire into ſuch thraldome brought.
And high aduauncing his bloud-thirſtie blade,
Stroke one of thoſe deformed heads ſo ſore,
That of his puiſſance proud enſample made;
His monſtrous ſcalpe downe to his teeth it tore,
And that misformed ſhape miſ-ſhaped more:
A ſea of bloud guſht from the gaping wound,
That her gay garments ſtaynd with filthy gore,
And ouerflowed all the field around;
That ouer ſhoes in bloud he waded on the ground.
Thereat he roared for exceeding paine,
That to haue heard, great horror would haue bred,
And ſcourging th'emptie ayre with his long traine,
Through great impatience of his grieued hed
His gorgeous ryder from her loftie ſted
Would haue caſt downe, and trod in durtie myre,
Had not the Gyant ſoone her ſuccoured;
Who all enrag'd with ſmart and franticke yre,
Came hurtling in full fierce, and forſt the knight retyre.
The force, which wont in two to be diſperſt,
In one alone left hand he now vnites,
Which is through rage more ſtrong then both were erſt;
With which his hideous club aloft he dites,
And at his foe with furious rigour ſmites,
That ſtrongeſt Oake might ſeeme to ouerthrow:
The ſtroke vpon his ſhield ſo heauie lites,
That to the ground it doubleth him full low
What mortall wight could euer beare ſo monſtrous blow?
And in his fall his ſhield, that couered was,
Did looſe his vele by chaunce, and open flew:
The light whereof, that heauens light did pas,
Such blazing brightneſſe through the aier threw,
That eye mote not the ſame endure to vew.
Which when the Gyaunt ſpyde with ſtaring eye,
He downe let fall his arme, and ſoft withdrew
His weapon huge, that heaued was on hye
For to haue ſlaine the man, that on the ground did lye.
And eke the fruitfull-headed beaſt, amaz'd
At flaſhing beames of that ſunſhiny ſhield,
Became ſtarke blind, and all his ſenſes daz'd,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,
And ſeem'd himſelfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maiſtreſſe proud perceiu'd to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintneſſe reeld,
Vnto the Gyant loudly ſhe gan call,
O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or elſe we periſh all.
At her ſo pitteous cry was much amoou'd,
Her champion ſtout, and for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proou'd:
But all in vaine: for he has read his end
In that bright ſhield, and all their forces ſpend
Themſelues in vaine: for ſince that glauncing ſight,
He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend;
As where th'Almighties lightning brond does light
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the ſenſes quight.
Whom when the Prince, to battell new addreſt,
And threatning high his dreadfull ſtroke did ſee,
His ſparkling blade about his head he bleſt,
And ſmote off quite his right leg by the knee,
That downe he tombled; as an aged tree,
High growing on the top of rocky clift,
Whoſe hartſtrings with keene ſteele nigh hewen be,
The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.
Or as a Caſtle reared high and round,
By ſubtile engins and malitious ſlight
Is vndermined from the loweſt ground,
And her foundation forſt, and feebled quight,
At laſt downe falles, and with her heaped hight
Her haſtie ruine does more heauie make,
And yields it ſelfe vnto the victours might;
Such was this Gyaunts fall, that ſeemd to ſhake
The ſtedfaſt globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.
The knight then lightly leaping to the pray,
With mortall ſteele him ſmot againe ſo ſore,
That headleſſe his vnweldy bodie lay,
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous ſtore,
But ſoone as breath out of his breaſt did pas,
That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore,
Was vaniſht quite, and of that monſtrous mas
Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.
Whoſe grieuous fall, when falſe Dueſſa ſpide,
Her golden cup ſhe caſt vnto the ground,
And crowned mitre rudely threw aſide;
Such percing griefe her ſtubborne hart did wound,
That ſhe could not endure that dolefull ſtound,
But leauing all behind her, fled away:
The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,
And by hard meanes enforcing her to ſtay,
•…
o brought vnto his Lord, as his deſerued pray.
The royall Virgin, which beheld from farre,
In penſiue plight, and ſad perplexitie,
The whole atchieuement of this doubtfull warre,
Came running faſt to greet his victorie,
With ſober gladneſſe, and myld modeſtie,
And with ſweet ioyous cheare him thus beſpake;
Faire braunch of nobleſſe, flowre of cheualrie,
That with your worth the world amazed make,
How ſhall I quite the paines, ye ſuffer for my ſake?
And you freſh bud of vertue ſpringing faſt,
Whom theſe ſad eyes ſaw nigh vnto deaths dore,
What hath poore Virgin for ſuch perill paſt,
Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore
My ſimple ſelfe, and ſeruice euermore;
And he that high does ſit, and all things ſee
With equall eyes, their merites to reſtore,
Behold what ye this day haue done for mee,
And what I cannot quite, requite with vſuree.
But ſith the heauens, and your faire handeling
Haue made you maiſter of the field this day,
Your fortune maiſter eke with gouerning,
And well begun end all ſo well, I pray,
Ne let that wicked woman ſcape away;
For ſhe it is, that did my Lord bethrall,
My deareſt Lord, and deepe in dongeon lay,
Where he his better dayes hath waſted all.
O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.
Forthwith he gaue in charge vnto his Squire,
That ſcarlot whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himſelfe with greedie great deſire
Into the Caſtle entred forcibly.
Where liuing creature none he did eſpye;
Then gan he lowdly through the houſe to call:
But no man car'd to anſwere to his crye.
There raignd a ſolemne ſilence ouer all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was ſeene in bowre or hall.
At laſt with creeping crooked pace forth came
And old old man, with beard as white as ſnow,
That on a ſtaffe his feeble ſteps did frame,
And guide his wearie gate both too and fro:
For his eye ſight him failed long ygo,
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,
The which vnuſed ruſt did ouergrow:
Thoſe were the keyes of euery inner dore,
But he could not them vſe, but kept them ſtill in ſtore.
But very vncouth ſight was to behold,
How he did faſhion his vntoward pace,
For as he forward moou'd his footing old,
So backward ſtill was turnd his wrincled face,
Vnlike to men, who euer as they trace,
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the auncient keeper of that place,
And foſter father of the Gyant dead;
His name Ignaro did his nature right aread.
His reuerend haires and holy grauitie
The knight much honord, as beſeemed well,
And gently askt, where all the people bee,
Which in that ſtately building wont to dwell.
Who anſwerd him full ſoft, he could not tell.
Againe he askt, where that ſame knight was layd,
Whom great Orgoglio with his puiſſaunce fell
Had made his caytiue thrall, againe he ſayde,
•
e could not tell: ne euer other anſwere made.
Then asked he, which way he in might pas:
He could not tell, againe he anſwered.
Thereat the curteous knight diſpleaſed was,
And ſaid, Old ſire, it ſeemes thou haſt not red
How ill it fits with that ſame ſiluer hed
In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed
With natures pen, in ages graue degree,
Aread in grauer wiſe, what I demaund of thee.
His anſwere likewiſe was, he could not tell.
Whoſe ſenceleſſe ſpeach, and doted ignorance
When as the noble Prince had marked well,
He gheſt his nature by his countenance,
And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance.
Then to him ſtepping, from his arme did reach
Thoſe keyes, and made himſelfe free enterance.
Each dore he opened without any breach;
There was no barre to ſtop, nor foe him to empeach.
There all within full rich arayd he found,
With royall arras and reſplendent gold.
And did with ſtore of euery thing abound,
That greateſt Princes preſence might behold.
But all the floore (too filthy to be told)
With bloud of guiltleſſe babes, and innocents trew,
Which there were ſlaine, as ſheepe out of the fold,
Defiled was, that dreadfull was to vew,
And ſacred aſhes ouer it was ſtrowed new.
And there beſide of marble ſtone was built
An Altare, caru'd with cunning imagery,
On which true Chriſtians bloud was often ſpilt,
And holy Martyrs often doen to dye,
With cruell malice and ſtrong tyranny:
Whoſe bleſſed ſprites from vnderneath the ſtone
To God for vengeance cryde continually,
And with great griefe were often heard to grone,
That hardeſt heart would bleede, to heare their piteous mone.
Through euery rowme he ſought, and euery bowr,
But no where could he find that wofull thrall:
At laſt he came vnto an yron doore,
That faſt was lockt, but key found not at all
Emongſt that bounch, to open it withall;
But in the ſame a little grate was pight,
Through which he ſent his voyce, and lowd did call
With all his powre, to weet, if liuing wight
Were houſed there within, whom he enlargen might.
•
herewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce
Theſe piteous plaints and dolours did reſound;
O who is that, which brings me happy choyce
Of death, that here lye dying euery ſtound,
Yet liue perforce in balefull darkeneſſe bound?
For now three Moones haue chāged thrice their hew,
And haue beene thrice hid vnderneath the ground,
Since I the heauens chearefull face did vew,
O welcome thou, that doeſt of death bring tydings trew.
Which when that Champion heard, with percing point
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled ſore,
And trembling horrour ran through euery ioynt,
For ruth of gentle knight ſo fowle forlore:
Which ſhaking off, he rent that yron dore,
With furious force, and indignation fell;
Where entred in, his foot could find no flore,
But all a deepe deſcent, as darke as hell,
••
at breathed euer forth a filthie banefull ſmell.
But neither darkeneſſe fowle, nor filthy bands,
Nor noyous ſmell his purpoſe could withhold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands)
But that with conſtant zeale, and courage bold,
After long paines and labours manifold,
He found the meanes that Priſoner vp to reare;
Whoſe feeble thighes, vnhable to vphold
His pined corſe, him ſcarſe to light could beare.
A ruefull ſpectacle of death and ghaſtly drere.
His ſad dull eyes deepe ſunck in hollow pits,
Could not endure th'vnwonted ſunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty ſides deceiued of their dew,
Could make a ſtony hart his hap to rew;
His rawbone armes, whoſe mighty brawned bowres
Were wont to riue ſteele plates, helmets hew,
Were cleane conſum'd, and all his vitall powres
Decayd, and all his fleſh ſhronk vp like withered flowres
Whom when his Lady ſaw, to him ſhe ran
With haſty ioy: to ſee him made her glad,
And ſad to view his viſage pale and wan,
Who earſt in flowres of freſheſt youth was clad.
Tho when her well of teares ſhe waſted had,
She ſaid, Ah deareſt Lord, what euill ſtarre
On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad,
That of your ſelfe ye thus berobbed arre,
And this miſſeeming hew your manly looks doth marre
But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe,
Whoſe preſence I kaue lackt too long a day;
And fie on Fortune mine auowed foe,
Whoſe wrathfull wreakes them ſelues do now alay.
And for theſe wrongs ſhall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of euils priefe.
The cheareleſſe man, whom ſorrow did diſmay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
•
is long endured famine needed more reliefe.
••
ire Lady, then ſaid that victorious knight,
The things, that grieuous were to do, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Beſt muſicke breeds delight in loathing eare:
But th'onely good, that growes of paſſed feare,
Is to be wiſe, and ware of like agein.
This dayes enſample hath this leſſon deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
•
hat bliſſe may not abide in ſtate of mortall men.
•
enceforth ſir knight, take to you wonted ſtrength,
And maiſter theſe miſhaps with patient might;
Loe where your foe lyes ſtretcht in monſtrous length,
And loe that wicked woman in your ſight,
The roote of all your care, and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her liue, or dye.
To do her dye (quoth Vna) were deſpight,
And ſhame t'auenge ſo weake an enimy;
•
ut ſpoile her of her ſcarlot robe, and let her fly.
•
o as ſhe bad, that witch they diſaraid,
And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,
And ornaments that richly were diſplaid;
Ne ſpared they to ſtrip her naked all.
Then when they had deſpoild her tire and call,
Such as ſhe was, their eyes might her behold,
That her miſhaped parts did them appall,
A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill fauoured, old,
•
hoſe ſecret filth good manners biddeth not be told.
Her craftie head was altogether bald,
And as in hate of honorable eld,
Was ouergrowne with ſcurfe and filthy ſcald;
Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,
And her ſowre breath abhominably ſmeld;
Her dried dugs, like bladders lacking wind,
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;
Her wrizled skin as rough, as maple rind,
So ſcabby was, that would haue loathd all womankind.
Her neather parts, the ſhame of all her kind,
My chaſter Muſe for ſhame doth bluſh to write
But at her rompe ſhe growing had behind
A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight;
And eke her feete moſt monſtrous were in ſight;
For one of them was like an Eagles claw,
With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight,
The other like a Beares vneuen paw:
More vgly ſhape yet neuer liuing creature ſaw.
Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,
And wondred at ſo fowle deformed wight.
Such then (ſaid Vna) as ſhe ſeemeth here,
Such is the face of falſhood, ſuch the ſight
Of fowle Dueſſa, when her borrowed light
Is laid away, and counterfeſaunce knowne.
Thus when they had the witch diſrobed quight,
And all her filthy feature open ſhowne,
They let her goe at will, and wander wayes vnknowne.
She flying faſt from heauens hated face,
And from the world that her diſcouered wide,
Fled to the waſtfull wilderneſſe apace,
From liuing eyes her open ſhame to hide,
And lurket in rocks and caues long vneſpide.
But that faire crew of knights, and Vna faire
Did in that caſtle afterwards abide,
To reſt them ſelues, and weary powres repaire,
Where ſtore they found of all, that dainty was and rare.
Cant. IX.
His loues and lignage Arthur tells
The knights knit friendly bands:
Sir Treuiſan flies from Deſpayre,
Whom Redcroſſe knight withſtands.
O Goodly golden chaine, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in louely wize:
And noble minds of yore allyed were,
In braue pourſuit of cheualrous emprize,
That none did others ſafety deſpize,
Nor aid enuy to him, in need that ſtands,
But friendly each did others prayſe deuize,
How to aduaunce with fauourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the Redcroſſe knight from bands.
Who when their powres empaird through labour long,
With dew repaſt they had recured well,
And that weake captiue wight now wexed ſtrong,
Them liſt no lenger there at leaſure dwell,
But forward fare, as their aduentures fell,
But ere they parted, Vna faire beſought
That ſtraunger knight his name and nation tell;
Leaſt ſo great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die vnknown, & buried be in thankleſſe thought.
Faire virgin (ſaid the Prince) ye me require
A thing without the compas of my wit:
For both the lignage and the certain Sire,
From which I ſprong, from me are hidden yit.
For all ſo ſoone as life did me admit
Into this world, and ſhewed heauens light,
From mothers pap I taken was vnfit:
And ſtreight deliuered to a Faery knight,
To be vpbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.
Vnto old Timon he me brought by liue,
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene
In warlike feates th'experteſt man aliue,
And is the wiſeſt now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
Vnder the foot of Rauran moſſy hore,
From whence the riuer Dee as ſiluer cleene
His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore:
There all my dayes he traind me vp in vertuous lore.
Thither the great Magicien Merlin came,
As was his vſe, ofttimes to viſit me:
For he had charge my diſcipline to frame,
And Tutours nouriture to ouerſee.
Him oft and oft I askt in priuitie,
Of what loines and what lignage I did ſpring:
Whoſe aunſwere bad me ſtill aſſured bee,
That I was ſonne and heire vnto a king,
As time in her iuſt terme the truth to light ſhould bring.
Well worthy impe, ſaid then the Lady gent,
And Pupili fit for ſuch a Tutours hand.
But what aduenture, or what high intent
Hath brought you hither into Faery land,
Aread Prince Arthur, crowne of Martiall band?
Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright
The courſe of heauenly cauſe, or vnderſtand
The ſecret meaning or th'eternall might,
That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of liuing wight.
For whither he through fatall deepe foreſight
Me hither ſent, for cauſe to me vngheſt,
Or that freſh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riuen breſt,
With forced fury following his beheſt,
Me hither brought by wayes yet neuer found,
You to haue helpt I hold my ſelfe yet bleſt.
Ah curteous knight (quoth ſhe) what ſecret wound
Could euer find, to grieue the gentleſt hart on ground?
Deare Dame (quoth he) you ſleeping ſparkes awake,
Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,
Ne euer will their feruent fury ſlake,
Till liuing moyſture into ſmoke do flow,
And waſted life do lye in aſhes low.
Yet ſithens ſilence leſſeneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow,
I will reuele, what ye ſo much deſire:
Ah Loue, lay downe thy bow, the whiles I may reſpire.
It was in freſheſt flowre of youthly yeares,
When courage firſt does creepe in manly cheſt,
Then firſt the coale of kindly heat appeares
To kindle loue in euery liuing breſt;
But me had warnd old Timons wiſe beheſt,
Thoſe creeping flames by reaſon to ſubdew,
Before their rage grew to ſo great vnreſt,
As miſerable louers vſe to rew,
Which ſtill wex old in woe, whiles woe ſtill wexeth new.
That idle name of loue, and louers life,
As loſſe of time, and vertues enimy
I euer ſcornd, and ioyd to ſtirre vp ſtrife,
In middeſt of their mournfull Tragedy,
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to aſhes brent:
Their God himſelfe, grieu'd at my libertie,
Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent,
But I them warded all with wary gouernment.
But all in vaine: no fort can be ſo ſtrong,
Ne fleſhly breſt can armed be ſo ſound,
But will at laſt be wonne with battrie long,
Orvnwares at diſauantage found;
Nothing is ſure, that growes on earthly ground:
And who moſt truſtes in arme of fleſhly might,
And boaſts, in beauties chaine not to be bound,
Doth ſooneſt fall in diſauentrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytiue neck to victours moſt deſpight.
Enſample make of him your hapleſſe ioy,
And of my ſelfe now mated, as ye ſee;
Whoſe prouder vaunt that proud auenging boy
Did ſoone pluck downe, and curbd my libertie.
For on a day prickt forth with iollitie
Of looſer life, and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the foreſt wide on courſerfree,
The fields, the floods, the heauens with one conſent
Did ſeeme to laugh at me, and fauour mine intent.
For-wearied with my ſports, I did alight
From loftie ſteed, and downe to ſleepe me layd;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmet faire diſplayd:
Whiles euery ſence the humour ſweet embayd,
And ſlombring ſoft my hart did ſteale away,
Me ſeemed, by my ſide a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full ſoftly down did lay:
So faire a creature yet ſaw neuer ſunny day.
Moſt goodly glee and louely blandiſhment
She to me made, and bad me loue her deare,
For dearely ſure her loue was to me bent,
As when iuſt time expired ſhould appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was neuer hart ſo rauiſht with delight,
Ne liuing man like words did euer heare,
As ſhe to me deliuered all that night;
And at her parting ſaid, She Queene of Faeries hight.
When I awoke, and found her place deuoyd,
And nought but preſſed gras, where ſhe had lyen,
I ſorrowed all ſo much, as earſt I ioyd,
And waſhed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lou'd that face diuine;
From that day forth I caſt in carefull mind,
To ſeeke her out with labour, and long tyne,
And neuer vow to reſt, till her I find,
Nine monethes I ſeeke in vaine yet ni'll that vow vnbind.
Thus as he ſpake, his viſage wexed pale,
And chaunge of hew great paſſion did bewray;
Yet ſtill he ſtroue to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the ſmoke, that did his fire diſplay,
Till gentle Vna thus to him gan ſay;
O happy Queene of Faeries, that haſt found
Mongſt many, one that with his proweſſe may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:
True Loues are oftē ſown, but ſeldom grow on ground.
Thine, O then, ſaid the gentle Redcroſſe knight,
Next to that Ladies loue, ſhalbe the place,
O faireſt virgin, full of heauenly light,
Whoſe wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,
Was firmeſt fixt in mine extremeſt caſe.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace:
For onely worthy you through prowes priefe
Yf liuing man mote worthy be, to be her liefe.
So diuerſly diſcourſing of their loues,
The golden Sunne his gliſtring head gan ſhew,
And ſad remembraunce now the Prince amoues,
With freſh deſire his voyage to purſew:
Als Vna earnd her traueill to renew.
Then thoſe two knights, faſt friendſhip for to bynd,
And loue eſtabliſh each to other trew,
Gaue goodly gifts, the ſignes of gratefull mynd,
And eke the pledges firme, right hands together ioynd.
Prince Arthur gaue 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 wound could heale incontinent:
Which to requite, the Redcroſſe knight him gaue
A booke, wherein his Saueours teſtament
Was writ with golden letters rich and braue;
A worke of wondrous grace, and able ſoules to ſaue.
Thus beene they parted, Arthur on his way
To ſeeke his loue, and th'other for to fight
With Vnaes foe, that all her realme did pray.
But ſhe now weighing the decayed plight,
And ſhrunken ſynewes of her choſen knight,
Would not a while her forward courſe purſew,
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight,
Till he recouered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well ſhe knew.
So as they traueild, lo they gan eſpy
An armed knight towards them gallop faſt,
That ſeemed from ſome feared foe to fly,
Or other grieſly thing, that him agaſt.
Still as he fled, his eye was backward caſt,
As if his feare ſtill followed him behind;
Als flew his ſteed, as he his bands had braſt,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wind,
As he had beene a fole of Pegaſus his kind.
Nigh as he drew, they might perceiue his head
To be vnarmd, and curld vncombed heares
Vpſtaring ſtiffe, diſmayd with vncouth dread;
Nor drop of bloud in all his face appeares
Nor life in limbe: and to increaſe his feares,
In fowle reproch of knighthoods faire degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his gliſtring armes does ill agree;
But he of rope or armes has now no memoree.
The Redcroſſe knight toward him croſſed faſt,
To weet, what miſter wight was ſo diſmayd:
There him he finds all ſenceleſſe and aghaſt,
That of him ſelfe he ſeemd to be afrayd;
Whom hardly he from flying forward ſtayd,
Till he theſe wordes to him deliuer might;
Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this haſty flight:
For neuer knight I ſaw in ſuch miſſeeming plight.
He anſwerd nought at all, but adding new
Feare to his firſt amazment, ſtaring wide
With ſtony eyes, and hartleſſe hollow hew,
Aſtoniſht ſtood, as one that had aſpide
Infernall furies, with their chaines vntide.
Him yet againe, and yet againe beſpake
The gentle knight; who nought to him replide,
But trembling euery ioynt did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at laſt theſe words ſeemd forth to ſhake
For Gods deare loue, Sir knight, do me not ſtay;
For loe he comes, he comes faſt after mee.
Eft looking backe would faine haue runne away;
But he him forſt to ſtay, and tellen free
The ſecret cauſe of his perplexitie:
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie ſpeach,
Could his bloud-froſen hart emboldned bee,
But through his boldneſſe rather feare did reach,
Yet forſt, at laſt he made through ſilence ſuddein breach.
And am I now in ſafetie ſure (quoth he)
From him, that would haue forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this hapleſſe hiſtory?
Feare nought: (quoth he) no daunger now is nye?
Then ſhall I you recount a ruefull cace,
(Said he) the which with this vnlucky eye
I late beheld, and had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.
I lately chaunſt (Would I had neuer chaunſt)
With a faire knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well himſelfe aduaunſt
In all affaires, and was both bold and free,
But not ſo happie as mote happie bee:
He lou'd, as was his lot, a Ladie gent,
That him againe lou'd in the leaſt degree:
For ſhe was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioyd to ſee her louer languiſh and lament.
From whom returning ſad and comfortleſſe,
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen (God from him me bleſſe)
That curſed wight, from whom I ſcapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that cals himſelfe Deſpaire:
Who firſt vs greets, and after faire areedes
Of tydings ſtrange, and of aduentures rare:
So creeping cloſe, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our ſtates, and of our knightly deedes.
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts
Emboſt with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which loue had launched with his deadly darts,
With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe,
He pluckt from vs all hope of due reliefe,
That earſt vs held in loue of lingring life;
Then hopeleſſe hartleſſe, gan the cunning thiefe
Perſwade vs die, to ſtint all further ſtrife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a ruſtie knife.
With which ſad inſtrument of haſtie death,
That wofull louer, loathing lenger light,
A wide way made to let forth liuing breath.
But I more fearefull, or more luckie wight,
Diſmayd with that deformed diſmall ſight,
Fled faſt away, halfe dead with dying feare:
Ne yet aſſur'd of life by you, Sir knight,
Whoſe like infirmitie like chaunce may beare:
But God you neuer let his charmed ſpeeches heare.
How may a man (ſaid he) with idle ſpeach
Be wonne, to ſpoyle the Caſtle of his health?
I wote (quoth he) whom triall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth:
His ſubtill tongue, like dropping honny, mealt'h
Into the hart, and ſearcheth euery vaine,
That ere one be aware, by ſecret ſtealth
His powre is reſt, and weakneſſe doth remaine.
O neuer Sir deſire to try his guilefull traine.
Certes (ſaid he) hence ſhall I neuer reſt,
Till I that treachours art haue heard and tride;
And you Sir knight, whoſe name mote I requeſt,
Of grace do me vnto his cabin guide.
I that hight: Treuiſan (quoth he) will ride
Againſt my liking backe, to doe you grace:
But nor for gold nor glee will I abide
By you, when ye arriue in that ſame place;
For leuer had I die, then ſee his deadly face.
Ere long they come, where that ſame wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow caue,
Farre vnderneath a craggie clift ypight,
Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedie graue,
That ſtill for carrion carcaſes doth craue:
On top whereof aye dwelt the ghaſtly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which euer draue
Farre from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghoſtes did waile and howle.
And all about old ſtockes and ſtubs of trees,
Whereon nor fruit, nor leafe was euer ſeene,
Did hang vpon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whoſe carcaſes were ſcattered on the greene,
And throwne about the clifts. Arriued there,
That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine haue fled, ne durſt approchen neare,
But th'other forſt him ſtay, and comforted in feare.
That darkeſome caue they enter, where they find
That curſed man, low ſitting on the ground,
Muſing full ſadly in his ſulle in mind;
His grieſie lockes, long growen, and vnbound,
Diſordred hong about his ſhoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Look deadly dull, and ſtared as aſtound;
His raw-bone cheekes through penurie and pine,
Where ſhronke into his iawes, as he did neuer dine.
His garment nought but many ragged clouts,
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked ſides he wrapt abouts;
And him beſide there lay vpon the gras
A drearie corſe, whoſe life away did pas,
All wallowd in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled freſh alas;
In which a ruſtie knife faſt fixed ſtood,
And made an open paſſage for the guſhing flood.
Which piteous ſpectacle, approuing trew
The wofull tale that Treuiſan had told,
When as the gentle Redcroſſe knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to auenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein ſaid, Thou damned wight,
The author of this fact, we here behold,
What iuſtice can but iudge againſt thee right,
With thine owne bloud to price his bloud, here ſhed in ſight.
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus diſtraught
Thee, fooliſh man, ſo raſh a doome to giue?
What iuſtice euer other iudgement taught,
But he ſhould die, who merites not to liue?
None elſe to death this man deſpayring driue,
But his owne guiltie mind deſeruing death.
Is then vniuſt to each his due to giue?
Or let him die, that loatheth liniug breath?
Or let him die at eaſe, that liueth here vneath?
Who trauels by the wearie wandring way,
To come vnto his wiſhed home in haſte,
And meetes a flood, that doth his paſſage ſtay,
Is not great grace to helpe him ouer paſt,
Or free his feet, that in the myre ſticke faſt?
Moſt enuious man, that grieues at neighbours good
And fond, that ioyeſt in the woe thou haſt,
Why wilt not let him paſſe, that long hath ſtood
Vpon the banke, yet wilt thy ſelfe not paſſe the flood?
He there does now enioy eternall reſt
And happie eaſe, which thou doeſt want and craue,
And further from it daily wandereſt:
What if ſome litle paine the paſſage haue,
That makes fraile fleſh to feare the bitter waue?
Is not ſhort paine well borne, that brings long eaſe,
And layes the ſoule to ſleepe in quiet graue?
Sleepe after toyle, port after ſtormie ſeas,
Eaſe after warre, death after life does greatly pleaſe.
The knight much wondred at his ſuddeine wit,
And ſaid, The terme of life is limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor ſhorten it;
The ſouldier may not moue from watchfull ſted,
Nor leaue his ſtand, vntill his Captaine bed.
Who life did limit by almightie doome,
(Quoth he) knowes beſt the termes eſtabliſhed;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth licenſe him depart at ſound of morning droome.
Is not his deed, what euer thing is donne,
In heauen and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written ſure, and haue their certaine date.
Who then can ſtriue with ſtrong neceſſitie,
That holds the world in his ſtill chaunging ſtate,
Or ſhunne the death ordaynd by deſtinie?
Whē houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
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 bloud-ſhed, and auengement,
Now prayſd, hereafter deare thou ſhalt repent:
For life muſt life, and bloud muſt bloud repay.
Is not enough thy euill life foreſpent?
For he, that once hath miſſed the right way,
The further he doth goe, the further he doth ſtray.
Then do no further goe, no further ſtray,
But here lie downe, and to thy reſt betake,
Th'ill to preuent, that life enſewen may.
For what hath life, that may it loued make,
And giues not rather cauſe it to forſake?
Feare, ſickneſſe, age, loſſe, labour, ſorrow, ſtrife,
Paine, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;
And euer fickle fortune rageth rife,
All which, and thouſands mo do make a loathſome life.
Thou wretched man, of death haſt greateſt need,
If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy ſtate:
For neuer knight, that dared warlike deede,
More luckleſſe diſauentures did amate:
Witneſſe the dongeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life ſhut vp, for death ſo oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date,
Yet death then, would the like miſhaps foreſtall,
Into the which hereafter thou maieſt happen fall.
Why then doeſt thou, ô man of ſin, deſire
To draw thy dayes forth to their laſt degree?
Is not the meaſure of thy ſinfull hire
High heaped vp with huge iniquitie,
Againſt the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this Ladie milde
Thou falſed haſt thy faith with periurie,
And ſold thy ſelfe to ſerue Dueſſa vilde,
With whom in all abuſe thou haſt thy ſelfe defilde?
Is not he iuſt, that all this doth behold
From higheſt heauen, and beares an equall eye?
Shall he thy ſins vp in his knowledge fold,
And guiltie be of thine impietie?
Is not his law, Let euery ſinner die:
Die ſhall all fleſh? what then muſt needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,
Then linger, till the glaſſe be all out ronne?
Death is the end of woes: die ſoone, O faeries ſonne.
The knight was much enmoued with his ſpeach,
That as a ſwords point through his hart did perſe,
And in his conſcience made a ſecret breach,
Well knowing true all, that he did reherſe,
And to his freſh remembrance did reuerſe
The vgly vew of his deformed crimes,
That all his manly powres it did diſperſe,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes,
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes.
In which amazement, when the Miſcreant
Perceiued him to wauer weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conſcience dant,
And helliſh anguiſh did his ſoule aſſaile,
To driue him to deſpaire, and quite to quaile,
He ſhew'd him painted in a table plaine,
The damned ghoſts, that doe in torments waile,
And thouſand feends that doe them endleſſe paine
With fire and brimſtone, which for euer ſhall remaine.
The ſight whereof ſo throughly him diſmaid,
That nought but death before his eyes he ſaw,
And euer burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous ſentence of th'Almighties law:
Then gan the villein him to ouercraw,
And brought vnto him ſwords, ropes, poiſon, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him chooſe, what death he would deſire:
For death was due to him, that had prouokt Gods ire.
But when as none of them he ſaw him take,
He to him raught a dagger ſharpe and keene,
And gaue it him in hand: his hand did quake,
And tremble like a leafe of Aſpin greene,
And troubled bloud through his pale face was ſeene
To come, and goe with tydings from the hart,
As it a running meſſenger had beene.
At laſt reſolu'd to worke his finall ſmart,
He liſted vp his hand, that backe againe did ſtart.
Which when as Vna ſaw, through euery vaine
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a ſwowne: but ſoone reliu'd againe,
Out of his hand ſhe ſnatcht the curſed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him ſaid, Fie, fie, faint harted knight,
What meaneſt thou by this reprochfull ſtrife?
Is this the battell, which thou vauntſt to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright?
Come, come away, fraile, ſeely, fleſhly wight,
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,
Ne diueliſh thoughts diſmay thy conſtant ſpright.
In heauenly mercies haſt thou not a part?
Why ſhouldſt thou then deſpeire, that choſen art?
Where iuſtice growes, there grows eke greater grace▪
The which doth quench the brond of helliſh ſmart,
And that accurſt hand-writing doth deface,
Ariſe, Sir knight ariſe, and leaue this curſed place.
So vp he roſe, and thence amounted ſtreight.
Which when the carle beheld, and ſaw his gueſt
Would ſafe depart, for all his ſubtill ſleight,
He choſe an halter from among the reſt,
And with it hung himſelfe, vnbid vnbleſt.
But death he could not worke himſelfe thereby;
For thouſand times he ſo himſelfe had dreſt,
Yet natheleſſe it could not doe him die,
Till he ſhould die his laſt, that is eternally.
Cant. X.
Her faithfull knight faire Ʋna brings
to houſe of Holineſſe,
Where he is taught repentance, and
the way to heauenly bleſſe.
WHat man is he, that boaſts of fleſhly might,
And vaine aſſurance of mortality,
Which all ſo ſoone, as it doth come to fight,
Againſt ſpirituall foes, yeelds by and by,
Or from the field moſt cowardly doth fly?
Ne let the man aſcribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory.
If any ſtrength we haue, it is to ill,
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.
By that, which lately hapned, Vna ſaw,
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his ſinews woxen weake and raw,
Through long enpriſonment, and hard conſtraint,
Which he endured in his late reſtraint,
That yet he was vnfit for bloudie fight:
Therefore to cheriſh him with diets daint,
She caſt to bring him, where he chearen might,
Till he recouered had his late decayed plight.
There was an auntient houſe not farre away,
Renowmd throughout the world for ſacred lore,
And pure vnſpotted life: ſo well they ſay
It gouernd was, and guided euermore,
Through wiſedome of a matrone graue and hore;
Whoſe onely ioy was to relieue the needes
Of wretched ſoules, and helpe the helpeleſſe pore:
All night ſhe ſpent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.
Dame Caelia men did her call, as thought
From heauen to come, or thither to ariſe,
The mother of three daughters, well vpbrought
In goodly thewes, and godly exerciſe:
The eldeſt two moſt ſober, chaſt, and wiſe,
Fidelia and Speranza virgins were,
Though ſpouſd, yet wanting wedlocks ſolemnize;
But faire Chariſſa to a louely fere
Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere.
Arriued there, the dore they find faſt lockt;
For it was warely watched night and day,
For feare of many foes: but when they knockt,
The Porter opened vnto them ſtreight way:
He was an aged ſyre, all hory gray,
With lookes full lowly caſt, and gate full ſlow,
Wont on a ſtaffe his feeble ſteps to ſtay,
Hight Humilta. They paſſe in ſtouping low;
For ſtreight & narrow was the way, which he did ſhow.
Each goodly thing is hardeſt to begin,
But entred in a ſpacious court they ſee,
Both plaine, and pleaſant to be walked in,
Where them does meete a francklin faire and free,
And entertaines with comely courteous glee,
His name was Zele, that him right well became,
For in his ſpeeches and behauiour hee
Did labour liuely to expreſſe the ſame,
And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.
There fairely them receiues a gentle Squire,
Of milde demeanure, and rare courteſie,
Right cleanly clad in comely ſad attire;
In word and deede that ſhew'd great modeſtie,
And knew his good to all of each degree,
Hight Reuerence. He them with ſpeeches meet
Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie,
But ſimple true, and eke vnfained ſweet,
As might become a Squire ſo great perſons to greet.
And afterwards them to his Dame he leades,
That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place:
Who all this while was buſie at her beades:
Which doen, ſhe vp aroſe with ſeemely grace,
And toward them full matronely did pace.
Where when that faireſt Vna ſhe beheld,
Whom well ſhe knew to ſpring from heauenly race,
Her hart with ioy vnwonted inly ſweld,
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.
And her embracing ſaid, ô happic earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe euer tread,
Moſt vertuous virgin borne of heauenly berth,
That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,
From tyrans rage, and euer-dying dread,
Haſt wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceaſeſt not thy wearie ſoles to lead,
What grace hath thee now hither, brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet vnweeting hither ſtray?
Strange thing it is an errant knight to ſee
Here in this place, or any other wight,
That hither turnes his ſteps. So few there bee,
That choſe the narrow path, or ſeeke the right:
All keepe the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go aſtray,
And be partakers of their euill plight,
Then with a few to walke the righteſt way;
O fooliſh men, why haſte ye to your owne decay?
Thy ſelfe to ſee, and tyred limbs to reſt,
O matrone ſage (quoth ſhe) I hither came,
And this good knight his way with me addreſt,
Led with thy prayſes and broad-blazed fame,
That vp to heauen is blowne. The auncient Dame,
Him goodly greeted in her modeſt guiſe,
And entertaynd them both, as beſt became,
With all the court'ſies, that ſhe could deuiſe,
Ne wanted ought, to ſhew her bounteous or wiſe.
Thus as they gan of ſundry things deuiſe,
Loe two moſt goodly virgins came in place,
Ylinked arme in arme in louely wiſe,
With countenance demure, and modeſt grace,
They numbred euen ſteps and equall pace:
Of which the eldeſt, that Fidelia hight,
Like ſunny beames threw from her Chriſtall face,
That could haue dazd the raſh beholders ſight,
And round about her head did ſhine like heauens light
She was araied all in lilly white,
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fild vp to the hight,
In which a Serpent did himſelfe enfold,
That horrour made to all, that did behold;
But ſhe no whit did chaunge her conſtant mood:
And in her other hand ſhe faſt did hold
A booke, that was both ſignd and ſeald with blood,
Wherein darke things were writ, hard to be vnderſtood.
Her younger ſiſter, that Speranza hight,
Was clad in blew, that her beſeemed well;
Not all ſo chearefull ſeemed ſhe of ſight,
As was her ſiſter; whether dread did dwell,
Or anguiſh in her hart, is hard to tell:
Vpon her arme a ſiluer anchor lay,
Whereon ſhe leaned euer, as befell:
And euer vp to heauen, as ſhe did pray,
Her ſtedfaſt eyes were bent, ne ſwarued other way.
They ſeeing Vna, towards her gan wend,
Who them encounters with like courteſie;
Many kind ſpeeches they betwene them ſpend,
And greatly ioy each other well to ſee:
Then to the knight with ſhamefaſt modeſtie
They turne themſelues, at Vnaes meeke requeſt,
And him ſalute with well beſeeming glee;
Who faire them quites, as him beſeemed beſt,
And goodly gan diſcourſe of many a noble geſt.
Then Vna thus; But ſhe your ſiſter deare,
The deare Chariſſa where is ſhe become?
Or wants ſhe health, or buſie is elſewhere?
Ah no, ſaid they, but forth ſhe may not come:
For ſhe of late is lightned of her wombe,
And hath encreaſt the world with one ſonne more,
That her to ſee ſhould be but troubleſome.
Indeede (quoth ſhe) that ſhould be trouble ſore,
But thankt be God, and her encreaſe ſo euermore.
Then ſaid the aged Coelia, Deare dame,
And you good Sir, I wote that of your toyle,
And labours long, through which ye hither came,
Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle
I read you reſt, and to your bowres recoyle.
Then called ſhe a Groome, that forth him led
Into a goodly lodge, and gan deſpoile
Of puiſſant armes, and laid in eaſie bed;
His name was meeke Obedience rightfully ared.
Now when their wearie limbes with kindly reſt,
And bodies were refreſht with due repaſt,
Faire Vna gan Fidelia faire requeſt,
To haue her knight into her ſchoolehouſe plaſte,
That of her heauenly learning he might taſte,
And heare the wiſedome of her words diuine.
She graunted, and that knight ſo much agraſte,
That ſhe him taught celeſtiall diſcipline,
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them ſhine
And that her ſacred Booke, with bloudy writ,
That none could read, except ſhe did them teach,
She vnto him diſcloſed euery whit,
And heauenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker wit of man could neuer reach,
Of God, of grace, of iuſtice, of free will,
That wonder was to heare her goodly ſpeach:
For ſhe was able, with her words to kill,
And raiſe againe to life the hart, that ſhe did thrill.
And when ſhe liſt poure out her larger ſpright,
She would commaund the haſtie Sunne to ſtay,
Or backward turne his courſe from heauens hight;
Sometimes great hoſtes of men ſhe could diſmay,
And eke huge mountaines from their natiue ſeat
She would commaund, themſelues to beare away,
And throw in raging ſea with roaring threat.
Almightie God her gaue ſuch powre, and puiſſance great.
The faithfull knight now grew in litle ſpace,
By hearing her, and by her ſiſters lore,
To ſuch perfection of all heauenly grace,
That wretched world he gan for to abhore,
And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore,
Greeu'd with remembrance of his wicked wayes,
And prickt with anguiſh of his ſinnes ſo ſore,
That he deſirde, to end his wretched dayes:
So much the dart of ſinfull guilt the ſoule diſmayes.
But wiſe Speranza gaue him comfort ſweet,
And taught him how to take aſſured hold
Vpon her ſiluer anchor, as was meet;
Elſe had his ſinnes ſo great, and manifold
Made him forget all that Fidelia told.
In this diſtreſſed doubtfull agonie,
When him his deareſt Vna did behold,
Diſdeining life, deſiring leaue to die,
She found her ſelfe aſſayld with great perplexitie.
And came to Coelia to declare her ſmart,
Who well acquainted with that commune plight,
Which ſinfull horror workes in wounded hart,
Her wiſely comforted all that ſhe might,
With goodly counſell and aduiſement right;
And ſtreightway ſent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach, the which had great inſight
In that diſeaſe of grieued conſcience,
And well could cure the ſame; His name was Patience.
Who comming to that ſoule-diſeaſed knight,
Could hardly him intreat, to tell his griefe:
Which knowne, and all that noyd his heauie ſpright,
Well ſearcht, eftſoones he gan apply reliefe.
Of ſalues and med'cines, which had paſſing priefe,
And thereto added words of wondrous might:
By which to eaſe he him recured briefe,
And much aſſwag'd the paſſion of his plight,
That he his paine endur'd, as ſeeming now more light
But yet the cauſe and root of all his ill,
Inward corruption, and infected ſin,
Not purg'd nor heald, behind remained ſtill,
And feſtring ſore did rankle yet within,
Cloſe creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.
Which to extirpe, he laid him priuily
Downe in a darkeſome lowly place farre in,
Whereas he meant his corroſiues to apply,
And with ſtreight diet tame his ſtubborne malady.
In aſhes and ſackcloth he did array
His daintie corſe, proud humors to abate,
And dieted with faſting euery day,
The ſwelling of his wounds to mitigate,
And made him pray both earely and eke late:
And euer as ſuperfluous fleſh did rot
Amendment readie ſtill at hand did wayt,
To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,
That ſoone in him was left no one corrupted iot.
And bitter Penance with an yron whip,
Was wont him once to diſple euery day:
And ſharpe Remorſe his hart did pricke and nip,
That drops of bloud thence like a well did play;
And ſad Repentance vſed to embay,
His bodie in ſalt water ſmarting ſore,
The filthy blots of ſinne to waſh away.
So in ſhort ſpace they did to health reſtore
The man that would not liue, but earſt lay at deathes dore
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 Vna hearing euermore
His ruefull ſhriekes and gronings, often tore
Her guiltleſſe garments, and her golden heare,
For pitty of his paine and anguiſh ſore;
Yet all with patience wiſely ſhe did beare;
or well ſhe wiſt, his crime could elſe be neuer cleare,
Whom thus recouer'd by wiſe Patience,
And trew Repentance they to Vna brought:
Who ioyous of his cured conſcience,
Him dearely kiſt, and fairely eke beſought
Himſelfe to cheariſh, and conſuming thought
To put away out of his carefull breſt.
By this Chariſſa, late in child-bed brought,
Was woxen ſtrong, and left her fruitfull neſt;
To her faire Vna brought this vnacquainted gueſt.
He was a woman in her freſheſt age,
Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,
With goodly grace and comely perſonage,
That was on earth not eaſie to compare;
Full of great loue, but Cupids wanton ſnare
As hell ſhe hated, chaſt in worke and will;
Her necke and breaſts were euer open bare,
That ay thereof her babes might ſucke their fill;
The reſt was all in yellow robes arayed ſtill.
A multitude of babes about her hong,
Playing their ſports, that ioyd her to behold,
Whom ſtill ſhe fed, whiles they were weake & young,
But thruſt them forth ſtill, as they wexed old:
And on her head ſhe wore a tyre of gold,
Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire.
Whoſe paſſing price vneath was to be told;
And by her ſide there ſate a gentle paire
Of turtle doues, ſhe ſitting in an yuorie chaire.
The knight and Vna entring, faire her greet,
And bid her ioy of that her happie brood;
Who them requites with court'ſies ſeeming meet,
And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.
Then Vna her beſought, to be ſo good,
As in her vertuous rules to ſchoole her knight,
Now after all his torment well withſtood,
In that ſad houſe of Penaunce, where his ſpright
Had paſt the paines of hell, and long enduring night.
She was right ioyous of her iuſt requeſt,
And taking by the hand that Faeries ſonne,
Gan him inſtruct in euery good beheſt,
Of loue, and righteouſneſſe, and well to donne,
And wrath, and hatred warely to ſhonne,
That drew on men Gods hatred, and his wrath,
And many ſoules in dolours had fordonne:
In which when him ſhe well inſtructed hath,
From thence to heauen ſhe teacheth him the ready path
Wherein his weaker wandring ſteps to guide,
An auncient matrone ſhe to her does call,
Whoſe ſober lookes her wiſedome well deſcride:
Her name was Mercie, well knowne ouer all,
To be both gratious, and eke liberall:
To whom the carefull charge of him ſhe gaue,
To lead aright, that he ſhould neuer fall
In all his wayes through this wide worldes waue,
That Mercy in the end his righteous ſoule might ſaue.
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 remou'd away,
That nothing might his ready paſſage ſtay:
And euer when his feet encombred were,
Organ to ſhrinke, or from the right to ſtray,
She held him faſt, and firmely did vpbeare,
As carefull Nourſe her child from falling oft does reare.
Eftſoones vnto an holy Hoſpitall,
That was fore by the way, ſhe did him bring,
In which ſeuen Bead-men that had vowed all
Their life to ſeruice of high heauens king
Did ſpend their dayes in doing godly thing:
There gates to all were open euermore,
That by the wearie way were traueiling,
And one ſate wayting euer them before,
To call in-commers by, that needy were and pore.
The firſt of them that eldeſt was, and beſt,
Of all the houſe had charge and gouernement,
As Guardian and Steward of the reſt:
His office was to giue entertainement
And lodging, vnto all that came, and went:
Not vnto ſuch, as could him feaſt againe,
And double quite, for that he on them ſpent,
But ſuch, as want of harbour did conſtraine:
Thoſe for Gods ſake his dewty was to entertaine.
The ſecond was as Almner of the place,
His office was, the hungry for to feed,
And thriſty giue to drinke, a worke of grace:
He feard not once him ſelfe to be in need,
Ne car'd to hoord for thoſe, whom he did breede:
The grace of God he layd vp ſtill in ſtore,
Which as a ſtocke he left vnto his ſeede;
He had enough, what need him care for more?
And had he leſſe, yet ſome he would giue to the pore.
The third had of their wardrobe cuſtodie,
In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,
The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,
But clothes meet to keepe keene could away,
And naked nature ſeemely to aray;
With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,
The images of God in earthly clay;
And if that no ſpare cloths to giue he had,
His owne coate he would cut, and it diſtribute glad.
The fourth appointed by his office was,
Poore priſoners to relieue with gratious ayd,
And captiues to redeeme with price of bras,
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had ſtayd;
And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,
That God to vs forgiueth euery howre
Much more then that, why they in bands were layd,
And he that harrowd hell with heauie ſtowre,
The faultie ſoules from thence brought to his heauenly bowre
The fift had charge ſicke perſons to attend,
And comfort thoſe, in point of death which lay;
For them moſt needeth comfort in the end,
When ſin, and hell, and death do moſt diſmay
The feeble ſoule departing hence away.
All is but loſt, that liuing we beſtow,
If not well ended at our dying day.
O man haue mind of that laſt bitter throw;
For as the tree does fall, ſo lyes it euer low.
The ſixt had charge of them now being dead,
In ſeemely ſort their corſes to engraue,
And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,
That to their heauenly ſpouſe both ſweet and braue
They might appeare, when he their ſoules ſhall ſaue.
The wondrous workemanſhip of Gods owne mould,
Whoſe face he made, all beaſts to feare, and gaue
All in his hand, euen dead we honour ſhould.
Ah deareſt God me graunt, I dead be not defould.
The ſeuenth now after death and buriall done,
Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead
And widowes ayd, leaſt they ſhould be vndone:
In face of iudgement he their right would plead,
Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread
In their defence, nor would for gold or fee
Be wonne their rightfull cauſes downe to tread:
And when they ſtood in moſt neceſſitee,
He did ſupply their want, and gaue them euer free.
There when the Elfin knight arriued was,
The firſt and chiefeſt of the ſeuen, whoſe care
Was gueſts to welcome, towardes him did pas:
Where ſeeing Mercie, that his ſteps vp bare,
And alwayes led, to her with reuerence rare
He humbly louted in meeke lowlineſſe,
And ſeemely welcome for her did prepare:
For of their order ſhe was Patroneſſe,
Albe Chariſſa were their chiefeſt foundereſſe.
There ſhe awhile him ſtayes, him ſelfe to reſt,
That to the reſt more able he might bee:
During which time, in euery good beheſt
And godly worke of Almes and charitee
She him inſtructed with great induſtree;
Shortly therein ſo perfect he became,
That from the firſt vnto the laſt degree,
His mortall life he learned had to frame
In holy righteouſneſſe, without rebuke or blame.
Thence forward by that painfull way they pas,
Forth to an hill, that was both ſteepe and hy;
On top whereof a ſacred chappell was,
And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,
Wherein an aged holy man did lye,
That day and night ſaid his deuotion,
Ne other worldly buſines did apply;
His name was heauenly Contemplation;
Of God and goodneſſe was his meditation.
Great grace that old man to him giuen had;
For God he often ſaw from heauens hight,
All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,
And through great age had loſt their kindly ſight,
Yet wondrous quick and perſant was his ſpright,
As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:
That hill they ſcale with all their powre and might,
That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne
Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at laſt he wonne.
There they do finde that godly aged Sire,
With ſnowy lockes adowne his ſhoulders ſhed,
As hoarie froſt with ſpangles doth attire
The moſſy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.
Each bone might through his body well be red,
And euery ſinew ſeene through his long faſt:
For nought he car'd his carcas long vnfed;
His mind was full of ſpirituall repaſt,
And pyn'd his fleſh, to keepe his body low and chaſt.
Who when theſe two approching he aſpide,
At their firſt preſence grew agrieued ſore,
That forſt him lay his heauenly thoughts aſide;
And had he not that Dame reſpected more,
Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,
He would not once haue moued for the knight.
They him ſaluted ſtanding far afore;
Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,
And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height.
What end (quoth he) ſhould cauſe vs take ſuch paine,
But that ſame end, which euery liuing wight
Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right
To that moſt glorious houſe, that gliſtreth bright
With burning ſtarres, and euerliuing fire,
Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight
By wiſe Fidelia? ſhe doth thee require,
To ſhew it to this knight, according his deſire.
Thriſe happy man, ſaid then the father graue,
Whoſe ſtaggering ſteps thy ſteady hand doth lead,
And ſhewes the way, his ſinfull ſoule to ſaue.
Who better can the way to heauen aread,
Then thou thy ſelfe, that was both borne and bred
In heauenly throne, where thouſand Angels ſhine?
Thou doeſt the prayers of the righteous ſead
Preſent before the maieſtie diuine,
And his auenging wrath to clemencie incline.
Yet ſince thou bidſt, thy pleaſure ſhalbe donne.
Then come thou man of earth, and ſee the way,
That neuer yet was ſeene of Faeries ſonne,
That neuer leads the traueiler aſtray,
But after labours long, and ſad delay,
Bring them to ioyous reſt and endleſſe blis.
But firſt thou muſt a ſeaſon faſt and pray,
Till from her bands the ſpright aſſoiled is,
And haue her ſtrength recur'd from fraile infirmitis.
That done, he leads him to the higheſt Mount;
Such one, as that ſame mighty man of God,
That bloud-red billowes like a walled front
On either ſide diſparted with his rod,
Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,
Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in ſtone
With bloudy letters by the hand of God,
The bitter doome of death and balefull mone
He did receiue, whiles flaſhing fire about him ſhone.
Or like that ſacred hill, whoſe head full hie,
Adornd with fruitfull Oliues all arownd,
Is, as it were for endleſſe memory
Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,
For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:
Or like that pleaſaunt Mount, that is for ay
Through famous Poets verſe each where renownd,
On which the thriſe three learned Ladies play
Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.
From thence, far off he vnto him did ſhew
A litle path, that was both ſteepe and long,
Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;
Whoſe wals and towres were builded high and ſtrong
Of perle and precious ſtone, that earthly tong
Cannot deſcribe, nor wit of man can tell;
Too high a ditty for my ſimple ſong;
The Citie of the great king hight it well,
Wherein eternall peace and happineſſe doth dwell.
As he thereon ſtood gazing, he might ſee
The bleſſed Angels to and fro deſcend
From higheſt heauen, in gladſome companee,
And with great ioy into that Citie wend,
As commonly as friend does with his frend.
Whereathe wondred much, and gan enquere,
What ſtately building durſt ſo high extend
Her loftie towres vnto the ſtarry ſphere,
And what vnknowen nation there empeopled were.
Faire knight (quoth he) Hieruſalem that is,
The new Hieruſalem, that God has built
For thoſe to dwell in, that are choſen his,
His choſen people purg'd from ſinfull guilt,
With piteous bloud, which cruelly was ſpilt
On curſed tree, of that vnſpotted lam,
That for the ſinnes of all the world was kilt:
Now are they Saints all in that Citie ſam,
More deare vnto their God, then yoūglings to their dam.
Till now, ſaid then the knight, I weened well,
That great Cleopolis, where I haue beene,
In which that faireſt Faerie Queene doth dwell
The faireſt Citie was, that might be ſeene;
And that bright towre all built of chriſtall cleene,
Panthea, ſeemd the brighteſt thing, that was:
But now by proofe all otherwiſe I weene;
For this great Citie that does far ſurpas,
And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.
Moſt trew, then ſaid the holy aged man;
Yet is Cleopolis for earthly fame,
The faireſt peece, that eye beholden can:
And well beſeemes all knights of noble name,
That couet in th'immortall booke of fame
To be eternized, that ſame to haunt,
And doen their ſeruice to that ſoueraigne Dame,
That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:
For ſhe is heauenly borne, and heauen may iuſtly vaunt.
And thou faire ymp, ſprong out from Engliſh race,
How euer now accompted Elſins ſonne,
Well worthy doeſt thy ſeruice for her grace,
To aide a virgin deſolate foredonne.
But when thou famous victorie haſt wonne,
And high emongſt all knights haſt hong thy ſhield,
Thenceforth the ſuit of earthly conqueſt ſhonne,
And waſh thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:
For bloud can nought but ſin, & wars but ſorrowes yield
Then ſeeke this path, that I to thee preſage,
Which after all to heauen ſhall thee ſend;
Then peaceably to thy painefull pilgrimage
To yonder ſame Hieruſalem do bend,
Where is for thee ordaind a bleſſed end:
For thou emongſt thoſe Saints, whom thou doeſt ſee,
Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend
And Patrone: thou Saint George ſhalt called bee,
Saint George of mery England, the ſigne of victoree.
Vnworthy wretch(quoth he) ofſo great grace,
How dare I thinke ſuch glory to attaine?
Theſe that haue it attaind, were in like cace
(Quoth he) as wretched, and liu'd in like paine.
But deeds of armes muſt I at laſt be faine,
And Ladies loue to leaue ſo dearely bought?
What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,
(Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?
As for looſe loues are vaine, and vaniſh into nought.
O let me not (quoth he) then turne againe
Backe to the world, whoſe ioyes ſo fruitleſſe are;
But let me here for aye in peace remaine,
Or ſtreight way on that laſt long voyage fare,
That nothing may my preſent hope empare.
That may not be (ſaid he) ne maiſt thou yit
Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,
Who did her cauſe into thy hand commit,
Till from her curſed foe thou haue her freely quit.
Then ſhall I ſoone, (quoth he) ſo God me grace,
Abet that virgins cauſe diſconſolate,
And ſhortly backe returne vnto this place,
To walke this way in Pilgrims poore eſtate.
But now aread, old father, why of late
Didſt thou behight me borne of Engliſh blood,
Whom all a Faeries ſonne doen then nominate?
That word ſhall I (ſaid he) auouchen good,
Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.
For well I wote, thou ſpringſt from ancient race
Of Saxon kings, that haue with mightie hand
And many bloudie battailes fought in place
High reard their royall throne in Britane land,
And vanquiſht them, vnable to withſtand:
From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reſt,
There as thou ſlepſt in tender ſwadling band,
And her baſe Elfin brood there for thee left.
Such men do Chaungelings call, ſo chaungd by Faeries theft.
Thence ſhe thee brought into this Faerie lond,
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,
Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,
As he his toyleſome teme that way did guyde,
And brought thee vp in ploughmans ſtate to byde,
Whereof Georgos he thee gaue to name;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,
To Faery court thou cam'ſt to ſeeke for fame,
And proue thy puiſſaunt armes, as ſeemes thee beſt became
O holy Sire (quoth he) how ſhall I quight
The many fauours I with thee haue found,
That haſt my name and nation red aright,
And taught the way that does to heauen bound?
This ſaid, adowne he looked to the ground,
To haue returnd, but dazed were his eyne,
Through paſſing brightneſſe, which did quite cōfoun
His feeble ſence, and too exceeding ſhyne.
So darke are earthly things compard to things diuine.
At laſt whenas himſelfe he gan to find,
To Vna back he caſt him to retire;
Who him awaited ſtill with penſiue mind.
Great thankes and goodly meed to that good ſyre,
He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.
So came to Vna, who him ioyd to ſee,
And after litle reſt, gan him deſire,
Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.
So leaue they take of Coelia, and her daughters three.
Cant. XI.
The knight with that old Dragon fights
two dayes inceſſantly:
The third him ouerthrowes, and gayns
moſt glorious victory.
HIgh time now gan it wex for Vna faire,
To thinke of thoſe her captiue Parents deare,
And their forwaſted kingdome to repaire:
Whereto whenas they now approched neare,
With hartie words her knight ſhe gan to cheare,
And in her modeſt manner thus beſpake;
Deare knight, as deare, as euer knight was deare,
That all theſe ſorrowes ſuffer for my ſake,
High heauen behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take,
Now are we come vnto my natiue ſoyle,
And to the place, where all our perils dwell;
Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly ſpoyle,
Therefore henceforth be at your keeping well,
And euer ready for your foeman fell.
The ſparke of noble courage now awake,
And ſtriue your excellent ſelfe to excell;
That ſhall ye euermore renowmed make,
Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vndertake.
And pointing forth, lo yonder is (ſaid ſhe)
The braſen towre in which my parents deare
For dread of that huge feend empriſond be
Whom I from far, ſee on the walles appeare
Whoſe ſight my feeble ſoule doth greatly cheare:
And on the top of all I do eſpye
The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare,
That ô my parents might I happily
Vnto you bring, to eaſe you of your miſery.
With that they heard a roaring hideous ſound,
That all the ayre with terrour filled wide,
And ſeemd vneath to ſhake the ſtedfaſt ground.
Eftſoones that dreadfull Dragon they eſpide,
Where ſtretch he lay vpon the ſunny ſide,
Of a great hill, himſelfe like a great hill.
But all ſo ſoone, as he from far deſcride
Thoſe gliſtring armes, that heauen with light did fill,
He rouſd himſelfe full blith, and haſtned them vntill.
Then bad the knight this Lady yede aloofe,
And to an hill her ſelfe with draw aſide,
From whence ſhe might behold that battailles proof
And eke be ſafe from daunger far deſcryde:
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.
Now O thou ſacred Muſe, moſt learned Dame,
Faire ympe of Phoebus, and his aged bride,
The Nourſe of time, and euerlaſting fame,
That warlike hands ennobleſt with immortall name;
O gently come into my feeble breſt,
Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doeſt infeſt,
And harts of great Heroes doeſt enrage,
That nought their kindled courage may aſwage,
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to ſownd;
The God of warre with his fiers equipage
Thou doeſt awake, ſleepe neuer he ſo ſownd,
And feared nations doeſt with horrour ſterne aſtownd.
Faire Goddeſſe lay that furious fit aſide,
Till I of warres and bloudy Mars do ſing,
And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,
Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim king,
That with their horrour heauen and earth did ring,
A worke of labour long, and endleſſe prayſe:
But now a while let downe that haughtie ſtring,
And to my tunes thy ſecond tenor rayſe,
That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.
By this the dreadfull Beaſt drew nigh to hand,
Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his haſt,
That with his largeneſſe meaſured much land,
And made wide ſhadow vnder his huge waſt;
As mountaine doth the valley ouercaſt.
Approching nigh, he reared high afore
His body monſtrous, horrible, and waſt,
Which to increaſe his wondrous greatneſſe more,
Was ſwolne with wrath, & poyſon, & with bloudy gore.
And ouer, all with braſen ſcales was armd,
Like plated coate of ſteele, ſo couched neare,
That nought mote perce, ne might his corſe be harmd
With dint of ſword, nor puſh of pointed ſpeare;
Which as an Eagle, ſeeing pray appeare,
His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely dight,
So ſhaked he, that horrour was to heare,
For as the claſhing of an Armour bright,
Such noyſe his rouzed ſcales did ſend vnto the knight.
His flaggy wings when forth he did diſplay,
Were like two ſayles, in which the hollow wynd
Is gathered full, and worketh ſpeedy way:
And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd
Were like mayne-yards, with flying canuas lynd,
With which whenas him liſt the ayre to beat,
And there by force vnwonted paſſage find,
The cloudes before him fled for terrour great,
And all the heauens ſtood ſtill amazed with his threat.
His huge long tayle wound vp in hundred foldes,
Does ouerſpred his long bras-ſcaly backe,
Whoſe wreathed boughts when euer he vnfoldes,
And thicke entangled knots adown does ſlacke.
Beſpotted all with ſhields of red and blacke,
It ſweepeth all the land behind him farre,
And of three furlongs does but litle lacke;
And at the point two ſtings in-fixed arre,
Both deadly ſharpe, that ſharpeſt ſteele exceeden farre.
But ſtings and ſharpeſt ſteele did far exceed
The ſharpneſſe of his cruell rending clawes;
Dead was it ſure, as ſure as death in deed,
What euer thing does touch his rauenous pawes,
Or what within his reach he euer drawes.
But his moſt hideous head my toung to tell,
Does tremble: for his deepe deuouring iawes
Wide gaped, like the grieſly mouth of hell,
Through which into his darke abiſſe all rauin fell.
And that more wondrous was, in either iaw
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were,
In which yet trickling bloud and gobbets raw
Of late deuoured bodies did appeare,
That ſight thereof bred cold congealed feare:
Which to increaſe, and all atonce to kill,
A cloud of ſmoothering ſmoke and ſulphur ſeare
Out of his ſtinking gorge forth ſteemed ſtill,
That all the ayre about with ſmoke and ſtench did fill.
His blazing eyes, like two bright ſhining ſhields,
Did burne with wrath, and ſparkled liuing fyre;
As two broad Beacons, ſet in open fields,
Send forth their flames farre off to euery ſhyre,
And warning giue, that enemies conſpyre,
With fire and ſword the region to inuade;
So flam'd his eyne with rage and rancorous yre:
But farre within, as in a hollow glade,
Thoſe glaring lampes were ſet, that made a dreadfull ſhade.
So dreadfully he towards him did pas,
Forelifting vp aloft his ſpeckled breſt,
And often bounding on the bruſed gras,
As for great ioyance of his newcome gueſt.
Eftſoones he gan aduance his haughtie creſt,
As chauffed Bore his briſtles doth vpreare,
And ſhoke his ſcales to battell readie dreſt;
That made the Redcroſſe knight nigh quake for feare,
As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare.
The knight gan fairely couch his ſteadie ſpeare,
And fiercely ran at him with rigorous might:
The pointed ſteele arriuing rudely theare,
His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight,
But glauncing by forth paſſed forward right;
Yet ſore amoued with ſo puiſſant puſh,
The wrathfull beaſt about him turned light,
And him ſo rudely paſſing by, did bruſh
With his long tayle, that horſe and man to ground did ruſh.
Both horſe and man vp lightly roſe againe,
And freſh encounter towards him addreſt:
But th'idle ſtroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,
And found no place his deadly point to reſt.
Exceeding; rage enflam'd the furious beaſt,
To be auenged of ſo great deſpight;
For neuer felt his imperceable breſt
So wondrous force, from hand of liuing wight;
Yet had he prou'd the powre of many a puiſſant knight.
Then with his wauing wings diſplayed wyde,
Himſelfe vp high he lifted from the ground,
And with ſtrong flight did forcibly diuide
The yielding aire, which nigh too feeble found
Her flitting partes, and element vnfound,
To beare ſo great a weight: he cutting way
With his broad ſayles, about him ſoared round:
At laſt low ſtouping with vnweldie ſway,
Snatcht vp both horſe & man, to beare them quite away.
Long he them bore aboue the ſubiect plaine,
So farre as Ewghen bow a ſhaft may ſend,
Till ſtruggling ſtrong did him at laſt conſtraine,
To let them downe before his flightes end:
As hagard hauke preſuming to contend
With hardie fowle, aboue his hable might,
His wearie pounces all in vaine doth ſpend,
To truſſe the pray too heauie for his flight;
Which comming downe to ground, does free it ſelfe by fight.
He ſo diſſeized of his gryping groſſe,
The knight his thrillant ſpeare againe aſſayd
In his bras-plated body to emboſſe,
And three mens ſtrength vnto the ſtroke he layd;
Wherewith the ſtiffe beame quaked, as affrayd,
And glauncing from his ſcaly necke, did glyde
Cloſe vnder his left wing, then broad diſplayd.
The percing ſteele there wrought a woundfull wyde,
That with the vncouth ſmart the Monſter lowdly cryde.
He cryde, as raging ſeas are wont to rore,
When wintry ſtorme his wrathfull wreck does threat,
The rolling billowes beat the ragged ſhore,
As they the earth would ſhoulder from her ſeat,
And greedie gulfe does gape, as he would eat
His neighbour element in his reuenge:
Then gin the bluſtring brethren boldly threat,
To moue the world from off his ſtedfaſt henge,
And boyſtrous battell make, each other to auenge.
The ſteely head ſtucke faſt ſtill in his fleſh,
Till with his cruell clawes he ſnatcht the wood,
And quite a ſunder broke. Forth flowed freſh
A guſhing riuer of blacke goarie blood,
That drowned all the land, whereon he ſtood;
The ſtreame thereof would driue a water-mill.
Trebly augmented was his furious mood
With bitter ſenſe of his deepe rooted ill,
That flames of fire he threw forth frō his large noſethrill.
His hideous tayle then hurled he about,
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes
Of his froth-fomy ſteed, whoſe courage ſtout
Striuing to looſe the knot, that faſt him tyes,
Himſelfe in ſtreighter bandes too raſh implyes,
That to the ground he is perforce conſtraynd
To throw his rider: who can quickly ryſe
From off the earth, with durty bloud diſtaynd,
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he diſdaynd.
And fiercely tooke his trench and blade in hand,
With which he ſtroke ſo furious and ſo fell,
That nothing ſeemd the puiſſance could withſtand:
Vpon his creſt the hardned yron fell,
But his more hardned creſt was armd ſo well,
That deeper dint therein it would not make;
Yet ſo extremely did the buffe him quell,
That from thenceforth he ſhund the like to take,
But when he ſaw them come, he did them ſtill forſake.
The knight was wrath to ſee his ſtroke beguyld,
And ſmote againe with more outrageous might;
But backe againe the ſparckling ſteele recoyld,
And left not any marke, where it did light;
As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.
The beaſt impatient of his ſmarting wound,
And of ſo fierce and forcible deſpight,
Thought with his wings to ſtye aboue the ground;
But his late wounded wing vnſeruiceable found.
Then full of griefe and anguiſh vehement,
He lowdly brayd, that like was neuer heard,
And from his wide deuouring ouen ſent
A flake of fire, that flaſhing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almoſt made affeard:
The ſcorching flame ſore ſwinged all his face,
And through his armour all his bodie ſeard,
That he could not endure ſo cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leaue, and helmet to vnlace.
Not that great Champion of the antique world,
Whom famous Poetes verſe ſo much doth daunt,
And hath for twelue huge labours high extold,
So many furies and ſharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poyſoned garment did enchaunt
With Centaures bloud, and bloudie verſes charm'd,
As did this knight twelue thouſand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie ſteele now burnt, that earſt him arm'd,
That erſt him goodly arm'd, now moſt of all him harm'd.
Faint, wearie, ſore, emboyled, grieued, brent
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, ſmart, & inward fire
That neuer man ſuch miſchiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft deſire,
But death will neuer come, when needes require.
Whom ſo diſmayd when that his foe beheld,
He caſt to ſuffer him no more reſpire,
But gan his ſturdie ſterne about to weld,
And him ſo ſtrongly ſtroke, that to the ground him feld.
It fortuned (as faire it then befell)
Behind his backe vnweeting, where he ſtood,
Of auncient time there was a ſpringing well,
From which faſt trickled forth a ſiluer flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med'cine good.
Whylome, before that curſed Dragon got
That happie land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld thoſe ſacred waues, it rightly hot
The well of life, ne yet his vertues had forgot.
For vnto life the dead it could reſtore,
And guilt of ſinfull crimes cleane waſh away,
Thoſe that with ſickneſſe were infected ſore,
It could recure, and aged long decay
Renew, as it were borne that very day.
Both Silo this, and Iordan did excell,
And th'Engliſh Bath, and eke the german Spau,
Ne can Cephiſe, nor Hebrus match this well:
Into the ſame the knight backe ouerthrowen, fell.
Now gan the golden Phoebus for to ſteepe
His fierie face in billowes of the weſt,
And his faint ſteedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their iournall labours they did reſt,
When that infernall Monſter, hauing keſt
His wearie foe into that liuing well,
Can high aduance his broad diſcoloured breſt,
Aboue his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.
Which when his penfiue Ladie ſaw from farre,
Great woe and ſorrow did her ſoule aſſay,
As weening that the ſad end of the warre,
And gan to higheſt God entirely pray,
That feared chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent
All night ſhe watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her ſad dreriment,
But praying ſtill did wake, and waking did lament.
The morrow next gan early to appeare,
That Titan roſe to runne his daily race;
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the ſea faire Titans deawy face,
Vp roſe the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if ſhe might ſpy
Her loued knight to moue his manly pace:
For ſhe had great doubt of his ſafety,
Since late ſhe ſaw him fall before his enemy.
At laſt ſhe ſaw, where he vpſtarted braue
Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay;
As Eagle freſh out of the Ocean waue,
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himſelfe with feathers youthly gay,
Like Eyas hauke vp mounts vnto the skies,
His newly budded pineons to aſſay,
And marueiles at himſelfe, ſtill as he flies:
So new this new-borne knight to battell new did riſe.
Whom when the damned feend ſo freſh did ſpy.
No wonder if he wondred at the ſight,
And doubted, whether his late enemy
It were, or other new ſupplied knight.
He now to proue his late renewed might,
High brandiſhing his bright deaw-burning blade,
Vpon his creſted ſcalpe ſo ſore did ſmite,
That to the ſcull a yawning wound it made:
The deadly dint his dulled ſenſes all diſmaid.
I wote not, whether the reuenging ſteele
Were hardned with that holy water dew,
Wherein he fell, or ſharper edge did feele,
Or his baptized hands now greater grew;
Or other ſecret vertue did enſew;
Elſe neuer could the force of fleſhly arme,
Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:
For till that ſtownd could neuer wight him harme,
By ſubtilty, nor ſlight, nor might, nor mighty charme.
The cruell wound enraged him ſo ſore,
That loud he yelded for exceeding paine;
As hundred ramping Lyons ſeem'd to rore,
Whom rauenous hunger did thereto conſtraine:
Then gan he toſſe aloft his ſtretched traine,
And therewith ſcourge the buxome aire ſo ſore,
That to his force to yeelden it was faine;
Ne ought his ſturdie ſtrokes might ſtand afore,
That high trees ouerthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.
The ſame aduauncing high aboue his head,
With ſharpe intended ſting ſo rude him ſmot,
That to the earth him droue, as ſtricken dead,
Ne liuing wight would haue him life behot:
The mortall ſting his angry needle ſhot
Quite through his ſhield, and in his ſhoulder ſeaſd,
Where faſt it ſtucke, ne would there out be got:
The griefe thereof him wondrous ſore diſeaſd,
Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeaſd.
But yet more mindfull of his honour deare,
Then of the grieuous ſmart, which him did wring,
From loathed ſoile he can him lightly reare,
And ſtroue to looſe the farre infixed ſtring:
Which when in vaine he tryde with ſtruggeling,
Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he heft,
And ſtrooke ſo ſtrongly, that the knotty ſting
Of his huge taile he quite a ſunder cleft,
Fiue ioynts thereof he hewd, and but the ſtump him left.
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes,
With foule enfouldred ſmoake and flaſhing fire,
The hell-bred beaſt threw forth vnto the skyes,
That all was couered with darkneſſe dire:
Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,
He caſt at once him to auenge for all,
And gathering vp himſelfe out of the mire,
With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall,
Vpon his ſunne-bright ſhield, and gript it faſt withall.
Much was the man encombred with his hold,
In feare to loſe his weapon in his paw,
Ne wiſt yet, how his talants to vnfold;
For harder was from Cerberus greedie iaw
To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw
To reaue by ſtrength, the griped gage away:
Thriſe he aſſayd it from his foot to draw,
And thriſe in vaine to draw it did aſſay,
It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.
Tho when he ſaw no power might preuaile,
His truſtie ſword he cald to his laſt aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe aſſaile,
And double blowes about him ſtoutly laid,
That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;
As ſparckles from the Anduile vſe to fly,
When heauie hammers on the wedge are ſwaid;
Therewith at laſt he forſt him to vnty
One of his graſping feete, him to defend thereby.
The other foot, faſt fixed on his ſhield
Whenas no ſtrength, nor ſtroks mote him conſtraine
To looſe, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,
He ſmot thereat with all his might and maine,
That nought ſo wondrous puiſſance might ſuſtaine;
Vpon the ioynt the lucky ſteele did light,
And made ſuch way, that hewd it quite in twaine;
The paw yet miſſed not his miniſht might,
But hong ſtill on the ſhield, as it at firſt was pight.
For griefe thereof, and diueliſh deſpight,
From his infernall fournace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimmed all the heauens light,
Enrold in duskiſh ſmoke and brimſtone blew;
As burning Aetna from his boyling ſtew
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,
Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy ſmoke,
That all the land with ſtench, and heauen with horror choke.
The heate whereof, and harmefull peſtilence
So ſore him noyd, that forſt him to retire
A little backward for his beſt defence,
To ſaue his bodie from the ſcorching fire,
Which he from helliſh entrailes did expire.
It chaunſt (eternall God that chaunce did guide)
As he recoyled backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did ſlide,
And downe he fell, with dread of ſhame ſore terrifide.
There grew a goodly tree him faire beſide,
Loaden with fruit and apples roſie red,
As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,
Whereof great vertues ouer all were red:
For happie life to all, which thereon fed,
And life eke euerlaſting did befall:
Great God it planted in that bleſſed ſted
With his almightie hand, and did it call
The tree of life, the crime of our firſt fathers fall.
In all the world like was not to be found,
Saue in that ſoile, where all good things did grow,
And freely ſprong out of the fruitfull ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them ſow,
Till that dread Dragon all did ouerthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,
Whereof who ſo did eat, eftſoones did know
Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:
That tree through one mans fault hath doen vs all to dy.
From that firſt tree forth flowd, as from a well,
A trickling ſtreame of Balme, moſt ſoueraine
And daintie deare, which on the ground ſtill fell,
And ouerflowed all the fertill plaine,
As it had deawed bene with timely raine:
Life and long health that gratious ointment gaue,
And deadly woundes could heale and reare againe
The ſenſeleſſe corſe appointed for the graue.
Into that ſame he fell: which did from death him ſaue.
For nigh thereto the euer damned beaſt
Durſt not approch, for he was deadly made,
And all that life preſerued, did deteſt:
Yet he it oft aduentur'd to inuade.
By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,
And yeeld his roome to ſad ſucceeding night,
Who with her ſable mantle gan to ſhade
The face of earth, and wayes of liuing wight,
And high her burning torch ſet vp in heauen bright.
When gentle Vna, ſaw the ſecond fall
Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,
And faint through loſſe of blond, mou'd not at all,
But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight,
Beſmeard with pretious Balme, whoſe vertuous might
Did heale his wounds, and ſcorching heat alay,
Againe ſhe ſtricken was with ſore affright,
And for his ſafetie gan deuoutly pray;
And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioyous day.
The ioyous day gan early to appeare,
And faire Aurora from her deawy bed
Of aged Tithone gan her ſelfe to reare,
With roſie cheekes, for ſhame as bluſhing red;
Her golden lockes for haſte were looſely ſhed
About her eares, when Vna her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers ſpred;
From heauen high to chaſe the cheareleſſe darke,
With merry note her loud ſalutes the mounting larke.
Then freſhly vp aroſe the doughtie knight,
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,
And did himſelfe to battell readie dight;
Whoſe early foe awaiting him beſide
To haue deuourd, ſo ſoone as day he ſpyde,
When now he ſaw himſelfe ſo freſhly reare,
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe diſmayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathleſſe with wonted rage he him aduaunced neare.
And in his firſt encounter, gaping wide,
He thought attonce him to haue ſwallowd quight,
And ruſht vpon him with outragious pride;
Who him r'encountring fierce, as hauke in flight,
Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright
Taking aduantage of his open iaw,
Ran through his mouth with ſo importune might,
That deepe emperſt his darkſome hollow maw,
And back retyrd, his life bloud forth with all did draw.
So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath,
That vaniſht into ſmoke and cloudes ſwift;
So downe he fell, that th'earth him vnderneath
Did grone, as feeble ſo great load to lift;
So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,
Whoſe falſe foundation waues haue waſht away,
With dreadfull poyſe is from the mayneland rift,
And rolling downe, great Neptune doth diſmay;
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.
The knight himſelfe euen trembled at his fall,
So huge and horrible a maſſe it ſeem'd;
And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,
Durſt not approch for dread, which ſhe miſdeem'd,
But yet at laſt, when as the direfull feend
She ſaw not ſtirre, off-ſhaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and ſaw that ioyous end:
Then God ſhe prayſd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had atchieu'd ſo great a conqueſt by his might.
Cant. XII.
Faire Ʋna to the Redcroſſe knight
betrouthed is with ioy:
Though falſe Dueſſa it to barre
her falſe ſleights doe imploy.
BEhold I ſee the hauen nigh at hand,
To which I meane my wearie courſe to bend;
Vere the maine ſhete, and beare vp with the land,
The which afore is fairely to be kend,
And ſeemeth ſafe from ſtormes, that may offend;
There this faire virgin wearie of her way
Muſt landed be, now at her iourneyes end:
There eke my feeble barke a while may ſtay,
Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.
Scarſely had Phoebus in the glooming Eaſt
Yet harneſſed his firie-footed teeme,
Ne reard aboue the earth his flaming creaſt,
When the laſt deadly ſmoke aloft did ſteeme,
That ſigne of laſt outbreathed life did ſeeme,
Vnto the watchman on the caſtle wall;
Who thereby dead that balefull Beaſt did deeme,
And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,
To tell, how he had ſeene the Dragons fatall fall,
Vproſe with haſtie ioy, and feeble ſpeed
That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land,
And looked forth, to weet, if true indeede
Thoſe tydings were, as he did vnderſtand,
Which whenas true by tryall he out found,
He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,
Which long time had bene ſhut, and out of hond
Proclaymed ioy and peace through all his ſtate;
For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late.
Then gan triumphant Trompets ſound on hie,
That ſent to heauen the ecchoed report
Of their new ioy, and happie victorie
Gainſt him, that had them long oppreſt with tort,
And faſt impriſoned in ſieged fort.
Then all the people, as in ſolemne feaſt,
To him aſſembled with one full conſort,
Reioycing at the fall of that great beaſt,
From whoſe eternall bondage now they were releaſt.
Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene,
Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,
And ſad habiliments right well beſeene;
A noble crew about them waited round
Of ſage and ſober Peres, all grauely gownd;
Whom farre before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men, all hable armes to ſownd,
But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;
Glad ſigne of victorie and peace in all their land.
Vnto that doughtie Conquerour they came,
And him before themſelues proſtrating low,
Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.
Soone after them all dauncing on a row
The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,
As freſh as flowres in medow greene do grow,
When morning deaw vpon their leaues doth light:
And in their hands ſweet Timbrels all vpheld on hight.
And them before, the fry of children young
Their wanton ſports and childiſh mirth did play,
And to the Maydens ſounding tymbrels ſung
In well attuned notes, a ioyous lay,
And made delightfull muſicke all the way,
Vntill they came, where that faire virgin ſtood;
As faire Diana in freſh ſommers day,
Beholds her Nymphes, enraung'd in ſhadie wood,
Some wreſtle, ſome do run, ſome bathe in chriſtall flood.
So ſhe beheld thoſe maydens meriment
With, chearefull vew; who when to her they came,
Themſelues to ground with gratious humbleſſe bent,
And her ador'd by honorable name,
Lifting to heauen her euerlaſting fame:
Then on her head they ſet a girland greene,
And crowned her twixt earneſt and twixt game;
Who in her ſelfe-reſemblance well beſeene,
Did ſeeme ſuch, as ſhe was, a goodly maiden Queene.
And after, all the raskall many ran,
Heaped together in rude rablement,
To ſee the face of that victorious man:
Whom all admired, as from heauen ſent,
And gazd vpon with gaping wonderment.
But when they came, where that dead Dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in monſtrons large extent,
The ſight with idle feare did them diſmay,
Ne durſt approch him nigh, to touch, or once aſſay.
Some feard, and fled; ſome feard and well it faynd;
One that would wiſer ſeeme, then all the reſt,
Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd
Some lingring life within his hollow breſt,
Or in his wombe might lurke ſome hidden neſt
Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull ſeed;
Another ſaid, that in his eyes did reſt
Yet ſparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;
Another ſaid, he ſaw him moue his eyes indeed.
One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld
Did come too neare, and with his talants play,
Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe reuyld,
And to her goſſips gan in counſell ſay;
How can I tell, but that his talents may
Yet ſcratch my ſonne, or rend his tender hand?
So diuerſly themſelues in vaine they fray;
Whiles ſome more bold, to meaſure him nigh ſtand,
To proue how many acres he did ſpread of land.
Thus flocked all the folke him round about,
The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,
Being arriued, where that champion ſtout
After his foes defeaſance did remaine,
Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine,
With princely gifts of yuorie and gold,
And thouſand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.
Then when his daughter deare he does behold,
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kiſſeth manifold.
And after to his Pallace he them brings,
With ſhaumes, & trompets, & with Clarions ſweet;
And all the way the ioyous people ſings,
And with their garments ſtrowes the paued ſtreet:
Whence mounting vp, they find purueyance meet
Of all, that royall Princes court became,
And all the floore was vnderneath their feet
Beſpred with coſtly ſcarlot of great name,
On which they lowly ſit, and fitting purpoſe frame.
What needs me tell their feaſt and goodly guize,
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?
What needs of daintie diſhes to deuize,
Of comely ſeruices, or courtly trayne?
My narrow leaues cannot in them containe
The large diſcourſe of royall Princes ſtate.
Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:
For th'antique world exceſſe and pride did hate;
Such proud luxurious pompe is ſwollen vp but late.
Then when with meates and drinkes of euery kinde
Their feruent appetites they quenched had,
That auncient Lord gan fit occaſion finde,
Of ſtraunge aduentures, and of perils ſad,
Which in his trauell him befallen had,
For to demaund of his renowmed gueſt:
Who then with vtt'rance graue, and count'nance ſad,
From point to point, as is before expreſt,
Diſcourſt his voyage long, according his requeſt.
Great pleaſures mixt with pittifull regard,
That godly King and Queene did paſſionate,
Whiles they his pittifull aduentures heard,
That oft they did lament his luckleſſe ſtate,
And often blame the too importune fate,
That heapd on him ſo many wrathfull wreakes:
For neuer gentle knight, as he of late,
So toſſed was in fortunes cruell freakes;
And all the while ſalt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.
Then ſaid the royall Pere in ſober wiſe;
Deare Sonne, great beene the euils, which ye bore
From firſt to laſt in your late enterpriſe,
That I note, whether prayſe, or pitty more:
For neuer liuing man, I weene, ſo ſore
In ſea of deadly daungers was diſtreſt;
But ſince now ſafe ye ſeiſed haue the ſhore,
And well arriued are, (high God be bleſt)
Let vs deuize of eaſe and euerlaſting reſt.
Ah deareſt Lord, ſaid then that doughty knight,
Of eaſe or reſt I may not yet deuize;
For by the faith, which I to armes haue plight,
I bounden am ſtreight after this emprize,
As that your daughter can ye well aduize,
Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene,
And her to ſerue ſix yeares in warlike wize,
Gainſt that proud Pynim king, that workes her teene:
Therefore I ought craue pardon, till I there haue beene.
Vnhappie falles that hard neceſsitie,
(Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace,
And vowed foe of my felicitie;
Ne I againſt the ſame can iuſtly preace:
But ſince that band ye cannot now releaſe,
Nor doen vndo; (for vowes may not be vaine)
Soone as the terme of thoſe ſix yeares ſhall ceaſe,
Ye then ſhall hither backe returne againe,
The marriage to accompliſh vowd betwixt you twain.
Which for my part I couet to performe,
In ſort as through the world I did proclame,
That who ſo kild that monſter moſt deforme,
And him in hardy battaile ouercame,
Should haue mine onely daughter to his Dame,
And of my kingdome heire apparaunt bee:
Therefore ſince now to thee perteines the ſame,
By dew deſert of noble cheualree,
Both daughter and eke kingdome. lo I yield to thee.
Then forth he called that his daughter faire,
The faireſt Vn' his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter, and his onely heyre;
Who forth proceeding with ſad ſober cheare,
As bright as doth the morning ſtarre appeare
Out of the Eaſt, with flaming lockes bedight,
To tell the dawning day is dawning neare,
And to the world does bring long wiſhed light;
So faire and freſh that Lady ſhewd her ſelfe in ſight.
So faire and freſh, as freſheſt flowre in May;
For ſhe had layd her mournefull ſtole aſide,
And widow-like ſad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heaunnly beautie ſhe did hide,
Whiles on her wearie iourney ſhe did ride;
And on her now a garment ſhe did weare,
All lilly white, withoutten ſpot, or pride,
That ſeemd like ſilke and ſiluer wouen neare,
But neither ſilke nor ſiluer therein did appeare.
The blazing brightneſſe of her beauties beame,
And glorious light of her ſunſhyny face
To tell, were as to ſtriue againſt the ſtreame.
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
Her heauenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her owne deare loued knight,
All were ſhe dayly with himſelfe in place,
Did wonder much at her celeſtiall ſight:
Oft had he ſeene her faire, but neuer ſo faire dight.
So fairely dight, when ſhe in preſence came,
She to her Sire made humble reuerence,
And bowed low, that her right well became,
And added grace vnto her excellence:
Who with great wiſedome, and graue eloquence
Thus gan to ſay. But eare he thus had ſaid,
With flying ſpeede, and ſeeming great pretence,
Came running in, much like a man diſmaid,
A Meſſenger with letters, which his meſſage ſaid.
All in the open hall amazed ſtood,
At ſuddeinneſſe of that vnwarie ſight,
And wondred at his breathleſſe haſtie mood.
But he for nought would ſtay his paſſage right,
Till faſt before the king he did alight;
Where falling flat, great humbleſſe he did make,
And kiſt the ground, whereon his foot was pight;
Then to his hands that writ he did betake,
Which he diſcloſing, red thus, as the paper ſpake.
To thee, moſt mighty king of Eden faire,
Her greeting ſends in theſe ſad lines addreſt,
The wofull daughter, and forſaken heire
Of that great Emperour of all the Weſt;
And bids thee be aduized for the beſt,
Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
Of wedlocke to that new vnknowen gueſt:
For he already plighted his right hand
Vnto another loue, and to another land.
To me ſad mayd, or rather widow ſad,
He was affiaunced long time before,
And ſacred pledges he both gaue, and had,
Falſe erraunt knight, infamous, and forſwore:
Witneſſe the burning Altars, which he ſwore,
And guiltie heauens of his bold periury,
Which though he hath polluted oft and yore,
Yet I to them for iudgement iuſt do fly,
And them coniure t'auenge this ſhamefull iniury.
Therefore ſince mine he is, or free or bond,
Or falſe or trew, or liuing or elſe dead,
Withhold, O ſoueraine Prince, your haſty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with ſtrength adowne to tread,
Through weakeneſſe of my widowhed, or woe:
For truth is ſtrong, his rightfull cauſe to plead,
And ſhall find friends, if need requireth ſoe,
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, Fideſſa.
When he theſe bitter byting words had red,
The tydings ſtraunge did him abaſhed make,
That ſtill he ſate long time aſtoniſhed
As in great muſe, ne word to creature ſpake.
At laſt his ſolemne ſilence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes faſt fixed on his gueſt;
Redoubted knight, that for mine onely ſake
Thy life and honour late aduentureſt,
Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be expreſt.
What meane theſe bloudy vowes, and idle threats,
Throwne out from womaniſh impatient mind?
What heauens? what altars? what enraged heates
Here heaped vp with termes of loue vnkind,
My conſcience cleare with guilty bands would bind?
High God be witneſſe, that I guiltleſſe ame.
But if your ſelfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,
Or wrapped be in loues of former Dame,
With crime do not it couer, but diſcloſe the ſame.
To whom the Redcroſſe knight this anſwere ſent,
My Lord, my King, be nought hereat diſmayd,
Till well ye wote by graue intendiment,
What woman, and wherefore doth me vpbrayd
With breach of loue, and loyalty betrayd.
It was in my miſhaps, as hitherward
I lately traueild, that vnwares I ſtrayd
Out of my way, through perils ſtraunge and hard;
That day ſhould faile me, ere I had them all declard.
There did I find, or rather I was found
Of this falſe woman, that Fideſſa hight,
Fideſſa hight the falſeſt Dame on ground,
Moſt falſe Dueſſa, royall richly dight.
That eaſie was to inuegle weaker ſight:
Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill,
Too falſe and ſtrong for earthly skill or might,
Vmwares me wrought'vnto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when leaſt I feared ill.
Then ſtepped forth the goodly royall Mayd,
And on the ground her ſelfe proſtrating low,
With ſober countenaunce thus to him ſayd;
O pardon me, my ſoueraigne Lord, to ſhow
The ſecret treaſons, which of late I know
To haue bene wroght by that falſe ſorcereſſe,
She onely ſhe it is, that earſt did throw
This gentle knight into ſo great diſtreſſe,
That death him did awaite in dayly wretchedneſſe.
And now it ſeemes, that ſhe ſuborned hath
This craftie meſſenger with letters vaine,
To worke new woe and improuided ſcath,
By breaking of the band betwixt vs twaine;
Wherein ſhe vſed hath the practicke paine
Of this falſe footman, clokt with ſimpleneſſe,
Whom if ye pleaſe for to diſcouer plaine,
Ye ſhall him Archimago find, I gheſſe,
The falſeſt man aliue; wo tries ſhall find no leſſe.
The king was greatly moued at her ſpeach,
And all with ſuddein indignation fraight,
Bad on that Meſſenger rude hands to reach.
Eftſoones the Card, which on his ſtate did wait,
Attacht that faitor falſe, and bound him ſtrait:
Who ſeeming ſorely chauffed at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,
With idle force did faine them to withſtand,
And often ſemblaunce made to ſcape out of their hand.
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe,
And bound him hand and foote with yron chains,
And with continuall watch did warely keepe;
Who then would thinke, that by his ſubtile trains
He could eſcape fowle death or deadly paines?
Thus when that Princes wrath was pacifide
He gan renew the late forbidden banes,
And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde,
With ſacred rites and vowes for euer to abyde.
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit,
That none but death for euer can deuide;
His owne two hands, for ſuch a turne moſt fit,
The houſling fire did kindle and prouide,
And holy water thereon ſprinckled wide;
At which the buſhy Teade a groome did light,
And ſacred lampe in ſecret chamber hide,
Where it ſhould not be quenched day nor night,
For feare of euill fates, but burnen euer bright.
Then gan they ſprinckle all the poſts with wine,
And made great feaſt to ſolemnize that day;
They all perfumde with frankencenſe diuine,
And precious odours fetcht from far away,
That all the houſe did ſweat with great aray:
And all the while ſweete Muſicke did apply
Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play,
To driue away the dull Melancholy;
The whiles one ſung a ſong of loue and iollity.
During the which there was an heauenly noiſe
Heard ſound through all the Pallace pleaſantly,
Like as it had bene many an Angels voice,
Singing before th'eternall maieſty,
In their trinall triplicities on hye;
Yet wiſt no creature, whence that heauenly ſweet
Proceeded, yet eachone felt ſecretly
Himſelfe thereby reft of his ſences meet,
And rauiſhed with rare impreſſion in his ſprite.
Great ioy was made that day of young and old,
And ſolemne feaſt proclaimd throughout the land,
That their exceeding merth may not be told:
Suffice it heare by ſignes to vnderſtand
The vſuall ioyes at knitting of loues band.
Thriſe happy man the knight himſelfe did hold,
Poſſeſſed of his Ladies hart and hand,
And euer, when his eye did her behold,
Her heart did ſeeme to melt in pleaſures manifold.
Her ioyous preſence and ſweet company
In full content he there did long enioy,
Ne wicked enuie, ne vile gealoſy
His deare delights were able to annoy:
Yet ſwimming in that ſea of blisfull ioy,
He nought forgot, how he whilome had ſworne,
In caſe he could that monſtrous beaſt deſtroy,
Vnto his Farie Queene backe to returne:
The which he ſhortly did, and Vna left to mourne.
Now ſtrike your ſailes ye iolly Mariners,
For we be come vnto a quiet rode,
Where we muſt land ſome of our paſſengers,
And light this wearie veſſell of her lode.
Here ſhe a while may make her ſafe abode,
Till ſhe repaired haue her tackles ſpent,
And wants ſupplide. And then againe abroad
On the long voyage whereto ſhe is bent:
Well may ſhe ſpeede and fairely finiſh her intent.
FINIS LIB. I.
THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE. Contayning, THE LEGEND OF SIR GVYON, OR
Of Temperaunce.
RIght well I wote moſt mighty Soueraine,
That all this famous antique hiſtory,
Of ſome th'aboundance of an idle braine
Will iudged be, and painted forgery,
Rather then matter of iuſt memory,
Sith none, that breatheth liuing aire, does know,
Where is that happy land of Faery,
Which I ſo much do vàunt, yet no where ſhow,
But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.
But let that man with better ſence aduize,
That of the world leaſt part to vs is red:
And dayly how through hardy enterprize,
Many great Regions are diſcouered,
Which to late age were neuer mentioned.
Who euer heard of th'Indian Peru?
Or who in venturous veſſell meaſured
The Amazons huge riuer now found trew?
Or fruitfulleſt Virginia who did euer vew?
Yet all theſe were, when no man did them know;
Yet haue from wiſeſt ages hidden beene:
And later times things more vnknowne ſhall ſhow.
Why then ſhould witleſſe man ſo much miſweene
That nothing is, but that which he hath ſeene?
What if within the Moones faire ſhining ſpheare?
What if in euery other ſtarre vnſeene
Of other worldes he happily ſhould heare?
He wōder would much more: yet ſuch to ſome appeare.
Of Faerie lond yet if he more inquire,
By certaine ſignes here ſet in ſundry place
He may it find; ne let him then admire,
But yield his ſence to be too blunt and bace,
That note without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou, O faireſt Princeſſe vnder sky,
In this faire mirrhour maiſt behold thy face,
And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery,
And in this antique Image thy great aunceſtry.
The which O pardon me thus to enfold
In couert vele, and wrap in ſhadowes light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which elſe could not endure thoſe beames bright,
But would be dazled with exceeding light.
O pardon, and vonchſafe with patient eare
The braue aduentures of this Faery knight
The good Sir Guyon gratiouſly to heare,
In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly doth appeare.
Cant. I.
Guyon by Archimage abuſd,
The Redcroſſe knight awaytes,
Findes Mordant and Amauia ſlaine
With pleaſures poiſoned baytes.
THat cunning Architect of cancred guile,
Whom Princes late diſpleaſure left in bands,
For falſed letters and ſuborned wile,
Soone as the Redcroſſe knight he vnderſtands,
To beene departed out of Eden lands,
To ſerue againe his ſoueraine Elfin Queene,
His artes he moues, and out of caytiues hands
Himſelfe he frees by ſecret meanes vnſeene;
His ſhackles emptie left, him ſelfe eſcaped cleene.
And forth he fares full of malicious mind,
To worken miſchiefe and auenging woe,
Where euer he that godly knight may find,
His onely hart ſore, and his onely foe,
Sith Vna now he algates muſt forgoe,
Whom his victorious hands did earſt reſtore
To natiues crowne and kingdome late ygoe:
Where ſhe enioyes ſure peace for euermore,
As weather-beaten ſhip arriu'd on happie ſhore.
Him therefore now the obiect of his ſpight
And deadly food he makes: him to offend
By forged treaſon, or by open fight
He ſeekes, of all his drift the aymed end:
Thereto his ſubtile engins he does bend
His practick wit, and his faire filed tong,
With thouſand other ſleights: for well he kend,
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong;
For hardly could be hurt, who was already ſtong.
Still as he went, he craftie ſtales did lay.
With cunning traines him to entrap vnwares,
And priuie ſpials plaſt in all his way,
To weete what courſe he takes, and how he fares;
To ketch him at a vantage in his ſnares.
By triall of his former harmes and cares,
But now ſo wiſe and warie was the knight
That he deſcride, and ſhonned ſtill his ſlight:
The fiſh that once was caught, new bait will hardly bite.
Nath'leſſe th'Enchaunter would not ſpare his paine,
In hope to win occaſion to his will;
Which when he long awaited had in vaine,
He chaungd his minde from one to other ill:
For to all good he enimy was ſtill.
Vpon the way him fortuned to meet,
Faire marching vnderneath a ſhady hill,
A goodly knight, all armd in harneſſe meete,
That from his head no place appeared to his feete.
His carriage was full comely and vpright,
His countenaunce demure and temperate,
But yet ſo ſterne and terrible in ſight,
That cheard his friends, and did his foes amate:
He was an Elſin borne of noble ſtate,
And mickle worſhip in his natiue land;
Well could he tourney and in liſts debate,
And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huons hand,
When with king Oberon he came to Faerie land.
Him als accompanyd vpon the way
A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,
Of ripeſt yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,
That with a ſtaffe his feeble ſteps did ſtire,
Leaſt his long way his aged limbes ſhould tire:
And if by lookes one may the mind aread,
He ſeemd to be a ſage and ſober ſire,
And euer with ſlow pace the knight did lead,
Who taught his trampling ſteed with equall ſteps to tread.
Such whenas Archimago them did view,
He weened well to worke ſome vncouth wile,
Eſtſoones vntwiſting his deceiptfull clew,
He gan to weaue a web of wicked guile,
And with a faire countenance and flattring ſtile,
To them approching, thus the knight beſpake:
Faire ſonne of Mars, that ſeeke with warlike ſpoile.
And great atchieu'ments great your ſelfe to make,
Vouchſafe to ſtay your ſteed for humble miſers ſake.
He ſtayd his ſteed for humble miſers ſake,
And bad tell on the tenor of his plaint;
Who feigning then in euery limbe to quake,
Through inward feare, and ſeeming pale and faint
With piteous mone his percing ſpeach gan paint;
Deare Lady how ſhall I declare thy cace,
Whom late I left in langourous conſtraint?
Would God thy ſelfe now preſent were in place,
To tell this ruefull tale; thy ſight could win thee grace.
Or rather would, O would it ſo had chaunſt,
That you, moſt noble Sir, had preſent beene,
When that lewd ribauld with vile luſt aduaunſt
Layd firſt his filthy hands on virgin cleene,
To ſpoile her daintie corſe ſo faire and ſheene,
As on the earth, great mother of vs all,
With liuing eye more faire was neuer ſeene,
Of chaſtitie and honour virginall:
Witneſſe ye heauēs, whom ſhe in vaine to helpe did call.
How may it be, (ſaid then the knight halfe wroth,)
That knight ſhould knighthood euer ſo haue ſhent?
None but that ſaw (quoth he) would weene for troth,
How ſhamefully that Maid he did torment.
Her looſer golden lockes he rudely rent,
And drew her on the ground, and his ſharpe ſword,
Againſt her ſnowy breſt be fiercely bent,
And threatned death with many a bloudie word;
Toung hates to tell the reſt, that eye to ſee abhord.
Therewith amoued from his ſober mood,
And liues he yet (ſaid he) that wrought this act,
And doen the heauens afford him vitall food?
He liues, (quoth he) and boaſteth of the fact,
Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.
Where may that treachour then (ſaid he) be found,
Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?
That ſhall I ſhew (ſaid he) as ſure, as hound
The ſtrickē Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.
He ſtaid not lenger talke, but with fierce ire
And zealous haſt away is quickly gone
To ſeeke that knight, where him that craftie Squire
Suppoſd to be. They do arriue anone,
Where ſate a gentle Lady all alone,
With garments rent, and haire diſcheueled,
Wringing her hands, and making piteous mone;
Her ſwollen eyes were much disfigured,
And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.
The knight approching nigh, thus to her ſaid,
Faire Ladie, through foule ſorrow ill bedight,
Great pittie is to ſee you thus diſmaid,
And marre the bloſſome of your beautie bright:
For thy appeaſe your griefe and heauie plight,
And tell the cauſe of your conceiued paine.
For if he liue, that hath you doen deſpight;
He ſhall you doe due recompence againe,
Or elſe 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 lockes moſt cruelly ſhe rent,
And ſcratcht her face with ghaſtly dreriment,
Ne would ſhe ſpeake, ne ſee, ne yet be ſeene,
But hid her viſage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grieuous ſhame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with ſorrow had transfixed beene.
Till her that Squire beſpake, Madame my liefe,
For Gods deare loue be not ſo wilfull bent,
But doe vouchſafe now to receiue reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you preſent.
For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment,
When ill is chaunſt, but doth the ill increaſe,
And the weake mind with double woe torment?
When ſhe her Squire heard ſpeake, ſhe gan appeaſe
Her voluntarie paine, and feele ſome ſecret eaſe.
Eftſoone ſhe ſaid, Ah gentle truſtie Squire,
What comfort can I wofull wretch conceaue,
Or why ſhould euer I henceforth deſire,
To ſee faire heauens face, and life not leaue,
Sith that falſe Traytour did my honour reaue?
Falſe traytour certes (ſaid the Faerie knight)
I read the man, that euer would deceaue
A gentle Ladie, or her wrong through might:
Death were too little paine for ſuch a foule deſpight.
But now, faire Ladie, comfort to you make,
And read, who hath ye wrought this ſhamefull plight.
That ſhort reuenge the man may ouertake,
Where ſo he be, and ſoone vpon him light.
Certes (ſaid ſhe) I wote not how he hight,
But vnder him a gray ſteede did he wield,
Whoſe ſides with dapled circles weren dight;
Vpright he rode, and in his ſiluer ſhield
He bore a bloudie Croſſe, that quartred all the field.
Now by my head (ſaid Guyon) much I muſe,
How that ſame knight ſhould do ſo foule amis,
Or euer gentle Damzell ſo abuſe:
For may I boldly ſay, he ſurely is
A right good knight, and true of word ywis:
I preſent was, and can it witneſſe well,
When armes he ſwore, and ſtreight did enterpris
Th'aduenture of the Errant damozell,
In which he hath great glorie wonne, as I heare tell.
Nathleſſe he ſhortly ſhall againe be tryde,
And fairely quite him of th'imputed blame,
Elſe be ye ſure he dearely ſhall abyde,
Or make you good amendment for the ſame:
All wrongs haue mends, but no amends of ſhame.
Now therefore Ladie, riſe out of your paine,
And ſee the ſaluing of your blotted 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,
But vnder ſimple ſhew and ſemblant plaine
Lurckt falſe Dueſſa ſecretly vnſeene,
As a chaſt Virgin, that had wronged beene:
So had falſe Archimago her diſguiſd,
To cloke her guile with ſorrow and ſad teene;
And eke himſelfe had craftily deuiſd
To be her Squire, and do her ſeruice well aguiſd.
Her late forlorne and naked he had found,
Where ſhe did wander in waſte wilderneſſe,
Lurking in rockes and caues farre vnder ground,
And with greene mode cou'ring her nakedneſſe,
To hide her ſhame and loathly filthineſſe;
Sith her Prince Arthur of proud ornaments
And borrow'd beautie ſpoyld. Her natheleſſe
Th'enchaunter finding fit for his intents,
Did thus reueſt, and deckt with due habiliments.
For all he did, was to deceiue good knights,
And draw them from purſuit of praiſe and fame,
To ſlug in ſlouth and ſenſuall delights,
And end their daies with irrenowmed ſhame.
And now exceeding griefe him ouercame,
To ſee the Redcroſſe thus aduaunced hye;
Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,
Againſt his praiſe to ſtirre vp enmitye
Ofſuch, as vertues like mote vnto him allye.
So now he Guyon guides an vncouth way
Through woods & mountaines, till they came at laſt
Into a pleaſant dale, that lowly lay
Betwixt two hils, whoſe high heads ouerplaſt,
The valley did with coole ſhade ouercaſt;
Through midſt thereof a little riuer rold,
By which there ſate a knight with helme vnlaſt,
Himſelfe refreſhing with the liquid cold,
After his trauell long, and labours manifold.
Loe yonder he, cryde Archimage alowd,
That wrought the ſhamefull faſt, which I did ſhew;
And now he doth himſelfe in ſecret ſhrowd,
To flie the vengeance for his outrage dew;
But vaine: for ye ſhall dearely do him rew,
So God ye ſpeed, and ſend you good ſucceſſe;
Which we farre off will here abide to vew.
So they him left, inflam'd with wrathfulneſſe,
That ſtreight againſt that knight his ſpeare he did addreſſe.
Who ſeeing him from farre ſo fierce to pricke,
His warlike armes about him gan embrace,
And in the reſt his readie ſpeare did ſticke;
Tho when as ſtill he ſaw him towards pace,
He gan rencounter him in equall race.
They bene ymet, both readie to affrap,
When ſuddenly that warrriour gan abace
His threatned ſpeare, as if ſome new miſhap
Had him betidde, or hidden daunger did entrap.
And cryde, Mercie Sir knight, and mercie Lord,
For mine offence and heedleſſe hardiment,
That had almoſt committed crime abhord,
And with reprochfull ſhame mine honour ſhent,
Whiles curſed ſteele againſt that badge I bent,
The ſacred badge of my Redeemers death,
Which on your ſhield is ſet for ornament:
But his fierce foe his ſteede could ſtay vneath,
Who prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.
But when he heard him ſpeake, ſtreight way he knew
His error, and himſelfe inclyning ſayd;
Ah deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth you,
But me behoueth rather to vpbrayd,
Whoſe haſtie hand ſo farre from reaſon ſtrayd,
That almoſt it did haynous violence
On that faire image of that heauenly Mayd,
That decks and armes your ſhield with faire defence:
Your court'ſie takes on you anothers due offence.
So bene they both attone, and doen vpreare
Their beuers bright, each other for to greete;
Goodly comportance each to other beare,
And entertaine themſelues with court'ſies meet.
Then ſaid the Redcroſſe knight, Now mote I weet,
Sir Guyon, why with ſo fierce ſaliaunce,
And fell intent ye did at earſt me meet;
For ſith I know your goodly gouernaunce,
Great cauſe, I weene, you guided, or ſome vncouth chaunce.
Certes (ſaid he) well mote I ſhame to tell
The fond encheaſon, that me hither led.
A falſe infamous faitour late befell
Me for to meet, that ſeemed ill beſted,
And playnd of grieuous outrage, which he red
A knight had wrought againſt a Ladie gent;
Which to auenge, he to this place me led,
Where you he made the marke of his intent,
And now is fled; foule ſhame him follow, where he went.
So can he turne his earneſt vnto game,
Through goodly handing and wiſe temperance.
By this his aged guide in preſence came;
Who ſoone as on that knight his eye did glance,
Eft ſoones of him had perfect cognizance,
Sith him in Faerie court he late auizd;
And ſaid, faire ſonne, God giue you happie chance,
And that deare Croſſe vpon your ſhield deuizd,
Wherewith aboue all knights ye goodly ſeeme aguizd.
Ioy may you haue, and euerlaſting fame,
Of late moſt hard atchieu'ment by you donne,
For which enrolled is your glorious name
In heauenly Regiſters aboue the Sunne,
Where you a Saint with Saints your ſeat haue wonne:
But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke,
Muſt now anew begin, like race to runne;
God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,
And to the wiſhed hauen bring thy weary barke.
Palmer, (him anſwered the Redcroſſe knight)
His be the praiſe, that this atchieu'ment wrought,
Who made my hand the organ of his might;
More then goodwill to me attribute nought:
For all I did, I did but as I ought.
But you, faire Sir, whoſe pageant next enſewes,
Well mote yee thee, as well can wiſh your thought,
That home ye may report theſe happie newes;
For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes.
So courteous conge both did giue and take,
With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.
Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make,
With his blacke Palmer, that him guided ſtill.
Still he him guided ouer dale and hill,
And with his ſteedie ſtaffe did point his way:
His race with reaſon, and with words his will,
From foule intemperance he oft did ſtay,
And ſuffred not in wrath his haſtie ſteps to ſtray.
In this faire wize they traueild long yfere,
Through many hard aſſayes, which did betide;
Of which he honour ſtill away did beare,
And ſpred his glorie through all countries wide.
At laſt as chaunſt them by a foreſt ſide
To paſſe, for ſuccour from the ſcorching ray,
They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride
With percing ſhriekes, and many a dolefull lay;
Which to attend, a while their forward ſteps they ſtay.
But if that careleſſe heauens (quoth ſhe) deſpiſe
The doome of iuſt reuenge, and take delight
To ſee ſad pageants of mens miſeries,
As bound by them to liue in liues deſpight,
Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.
Come then, come ſoone, come ſweeteſt death to mee,
And take away this long lent loathed light:
Sharpe be thy wounds, but ſweet the medicines bee,
That long captiued ſoules from wearie thraldome free.
But thou, ſweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate
Hath made ſad witneſſe of thy fathers fall,
Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing ſtate,
Long maiſt thou liue, and better thriue withall,
Then to thy luckleſſe parents did befall:
Liue thou, and to thy mother dead atteſt,
That cleare ſhe dide from blemiſh criminall;
Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding breſt
Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to reſt.
With that a deadly ſhrieke ſhe forth did throw,
That through the wood reecchoed againe,
And after gaue a grone ſo deepe and low,
That ſeemd her tender heart was rent in twaine,
Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;
As gentle Hynd, whoſe ſides with cruell ſteele
Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine,
Whiles the ſad pang approching ſhe does feele,
Brayes out her lateſt breath, and vp her eyes doth ſeele.
Which when that warriour heard, diſmounting ſtraict
From his tall ſteed, he ruſht into the thicke,
And ſoone arriued, where that ſad pourtraict
Of death and labour lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,
In whoſe white alabaſter breſt did ſticke
A cruell knife, that made a grieſly wound,
From which forth guſht a ſtreme of gorebloud thick,
That all her goodly garments ſtaind around,
And into a deepe ſanguine dide the graſſie ground.
Pittifull ſpectacle of deadly ſmart,
Beſide a bubbling fountaine low ſhe lay,
Which ſhe increaſed with her bleeding hart,
And the cleane waues with purple gold did ray;
Als in her lap a louely babe did play
His cruell ſport, in ſtead of ſorrow dew;
For in her ſtreaming blood he did embay
His litle hands, and tender ioynts embrew;
Pitifull ſpectacle, as euer eye did view.
Beſides them both, vpon the ſoiled gras
The dead corſe of an armed knight was ſpred,
Whoſe armour all with bloud beſprinckled was;
His ruddie lips did ſmile, and roſy red
Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yet being ded,
Seemd to haue beene a goodly perſonage,
Now in his freſheſt flowre of luſtie hed,
Fit to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,
But that fiers fate did crop the bloſſome of his age.
Whom when the good Sir Guyon did behold,
His hart gan wexe as ſtarke, as marble ſtone,
And his freſh bloud did frieze with fearefull cold,
That all his ſenſes ſeemd bereft attone,
At laſt his mightie ghoſt gan deepe to grone,
As Lyon grudging in his great diſdaine,
Mournes inwardly, and makes to himſelfe mone;
Till ruth and fraile affection did conſtraine,
His ſtout courage to ſtoupe, and ſhew his inward paine.
Out of her gored wound the cruell ſteele
He lightly ſnatcht, and did the floudgate ſtop
With his faire garment: then gan ſoftly feele
Her feeble pulſe, to proue if any drop
Of liuing bloud yet in her veynes did hop;
Which when he felt to moue, he hoped faire
To call backe life to her forſaken ſhop;
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,
That at the laſt ſhe gan to breath out liuing aire.
Which he perceiuing greatly gan reioice,
And goodly counſell, that for wounded hart
Is meeteſt med'cine, tempred with ſweet voice;
Ay me, deare Lady, which the image art
Of ruefull pitie, and impatient ſmart,
What direfull chance, armd with reuenging fate,
Or curſed hand hath plaid this cruell part,
Thus fowle to haſten your vntimely date;
Speake, O deare Lady ſpeake: help neuer comes too late.
Therewith her dim eie-lids ſhe vp gan reare,
On which the drery death did ſit, as ſad
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare;
But when as him all in bright armour clad
Before her ſtanding ſhe eſpied had,
As one out of a deadly dreame affright,
She weakely ſtarted, yet ſhe nothing drad:
Streight downe againe her ſelfe in great deſpight,
She groueling threw to ground, as hating life and light.
The gentle knight her ſoone with carefull paine
Vplifted light, and ſoftly did vphold:
Thriſe he her reard, and thriſe ſhe ſunke againe,
Till he his armes about her ſides gan fold,
And to her ſaid; Yet if the ſtony cold
Haue not all ſeized on your frozen hart,
Let one word fall that may your griefe vnfold,
And tell the ſecret of your mortall ſmart;
He oft finds preſent helpe, who does his griefe impart.
Then caſting vp a deadly looke, full low,
Shee ſight from bottome of her wounded breſt,
And after, many bitter throbs did throw
With lips full pale and foltring tongue oppreſt,
Theſe words ſhe breathed forth from riuen cheſt;
Leaue, ah leaue off, what euer wight thou bee,
To let a wearie wretch from her dew reſt,
And trouble dying ſoules tranquilitee.
Take not away now got, which none would giue to me.
Ah farre be it (ſaid he) Deare dame fro mee,
To hinder ſoule from her deſired reſt,
Or hold ſad life in long captiuitee:
For all I ſeeke, is but to haue redreſt
The bitter pangs, that doth your heart infeſt.
Tell then, ô Lady tell, what fatall priefe
Hath with ſo huge misfortune you oppreſt?
That I may caſt to compaſſe your reliefe,
Or die with you in ſorrow, and partake your griefe.
With feeble hands then ſtretched forth on hye,
As heauen accuſing guiltie of her death,
And with dry drops congealed in her eye,
In theſe ſad words ſhe ſpent her vtmoſt breath:
Heare then, ô man, the ſorrowes that vneath
My tongue can tell, ſo farre all ſenſe they pas:
Loe this dead corpſe, that lies here vnderneath,
The gentleſt knight, that euer on greene gras
Gay ſteed with ſpurs did pricke, the good Sir Mortdant was.
Was, (ay the while, that he is not ſo now)
My Lord my loue; my deare Lord, my deare loue,
So long as heauens iuſt with equall brow,
Vouchſafed to behold vs from aboue,
One day when him high courage did emmoue,
As wont ye knights to ſeeke aduentures wilde,
He pricked forth, his puiſſant force to proue,
Me then he left enwombed of this child,
This luckleſſe child, whom thus ye ſee with bloud defild.
Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may gheſſe)
To come, where vile Acraſia does wonne,
Acraſia a falſe enchauntereſſe,
That many errant knights hath foule fordonne:
Within a wandring Iſland, that doth ronne
And ſtray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is,
Faire Sir, if euer there ye trauell, ſhonne
The curſed land where many wend amis,
And know it by the name; it hight the Bowre of blis.
Her bliſſe is all in pleaſure and delight,
Wherewith ſhe makes her louers drunken mad,
And then with words & weedes of wondrous might,
On them ſhe workes her will to vſes bad:
My lifeſt Lord ſhe thus beguiled had;
For he was fleſh: (all fleſh doth frailtie breed.)
Whom when I heard to beene ſo ill beſtad,
Weake wretch I wrapt my ſelfe in Palmers weed,
And caſt to ſeeke him forth through daunger and great dreed.
Now had faire Cynthia by euen tournes
Full meaſured three quarters of her yeare,
And thriſe three times had fild her crooked hornes,
When as my wombe her burdein would forbeare,
And bad me call Lucina to me neare.
Lucina came: a manchild forth I brought:
The woods, the Nymphes, my bowres, my midwiues weare,
Hard helpe at need. So deare thee babe I bought,
Yet nought too deare I deemd, while ſo my dear I ſought.
Him ſo I ſought, and ſo at laſt I found,
Where him that witch had thralled to her will,
In chaines of luſt and lewd deſires ybound,
And ſo transformed from his former skill,
That me he knew not, neither his owne ill;
Till through wiſe handling and faire gouernance,
I him recured to a better will,
Purged from drugs of foule intemperance:
Then meanes I gan deuiſe for his deliuerance.
Which when the vile Enchauntereſſe perceiu'd,
How that my Lord from her I would repriue,
With cup thus charmd, him parting ſhe deceiu'd;
Sad verſe, giue death to him that death does giue,
And loſſe of loue, to her that loues to liue,
So ſoone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke,
So parted we and on our iourney driue,
Till comming to this well, he ſtoupt to drincke:
The charme fulfild, dead ſuddenly he downe did ſincke.
Which when I wretch, Not one word more ſhe ſayd
But breaking off, the end for want of breath,
And ſlyding ſoft, as downe to ſleepe her layd,
And ended all her woe in quiet death.
That ſeeing good Sir Guyon, could vneath
From teares abſtaine, for griefe his hart did grate,
And from ſo heauie ſight his head did wreath,
Accuſing fortune, and too cruell fate,
Which plunged had faire Ladie in ſo wretched ſtate.
Then turning to his Palmer ſaid, Old ſyre
Behold the image of mortalitie,
And feeble nature cloth'd with fleſhly tyre,
When raging paſſion with fierce tyrannie
Robs reaſon of her due regalitie,
And makes it ſeruant to her baſeſt part:
The ſtrong it weakens with infirmitie,
And with bold furie armes the weakeſt hart;
The ſtrong through pleaſure ſooneſt falles, the weake through ſmart.
But temperance (ſaid he) with golden ſquire
Betwixt them both can meaſure out a meane,
Neither to melt in pleaſures whot deſire,
Nor fry in hartleſſe griefe and dolefull teene.
Thriſe happie man, who fares them both atweene:
But ſith this wretched woman ouercome
Of anguiſh, rather then of crime hath beene,
Reſerue her cauſe to her eternall doome,
And in the meane vouchſafe her honorable toombe.
Palmer (quoth he) death is an euill doome
To good and bad, the common Inne of reſt;
But after death the tryall is to come,
When beſt ſhall be to them, that liued beſt:
But both alike, when death hath both ſuppreſt,
Religious reuerence doth buriall teene,
Which who ſo wants, wants ſo much of his reſt:
For all ſo great ſhame after death I weene,
As ſelfe to dyen bad, vnburied bad to beene.
So both agree their bodies to engraue;
The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,
And with ſad Cypreſſe ſeemely it embraue,
Then couering with a clod their cloſed eye,
They lay therein thoſe corſes tenderly,
And bid them ſleepe in euerlaſting peace.
But ere they did their vtmoſt obſequy,
Sir Guyon more affection to increace,
Bynempt a ſacred vow, which none ſhould aye releace.
The dead knights ſword out of his ſheath he drew,
With which he cut a locke of all their heare,
Which medling with their bloud and earth, he threw
Into the graue, and gan deuoutly ſweare;
Such and ſuch euill Godon Guyon reare,
And worſe and worſe young Orphane be thy paine,
If I or thou dew vengeance doe forbeare,
Till guiltie bloud her guerdon doe obtaine:
So ſhedding many teares, they cloſd the earth againe.
Cant. II.
Babes bloudie hands may not be clenſd,
the face of golden Meane.
Her ſiſters two Extremities:
ſtriue her to baniſh cleane.
THus when Sir Guyon with his faithfull guide
Had with due rites and dolorous lament
The end of their ſad Tragedie vptyde,
The litle babe vp in his armes he hent;
Who with ſweet pleaſance and bold blandiſhment
Gan ſmyle on them, that rather ought to weepe,
As careleſſe of his woe, or innocent
Of that was doen, that ruth emperced deepe
In that knights heart, and wordes with bitter teares did ſteepe.
Ah luckleſſe babe, borne vnder cruell ſtarre,
And in dead parents balefull aſhes bred,
Full litle weeneſt thou, what ſorrowes are
Left thee for portion of thy liuelihed,
Poore Orphane in the wide world ſcattered,
As budding braunch rent from the natiue tree,
And throwen forth, till it be withered:
Such is the ſtate of men: thus enter wee
Into this life with woe, and end with miſeree.
Then ſoft himſelfe inclyning on his knee
Downe to that well, did in the water weene
(So loue does loath diſdainfull nicitee)
His guiltie hands from bloudie gore to cleene.
He waſht them oft and oft, yet nought they beene
For all his waſhing cleaner. Still he ſtroue,
Yet ſtill the litle hands were bloudie ſeene;
The which him into great amaz'ment droue,
And into diuerſe doubt his wauering wonder cloue.
He wiſt not whether blot of foule offence
Might not be purgd with water nor with bath;
Or that high God, in lieu of innocence,
Imprinted had that token of his wrath,
To ſhew how ſore bloudguiltineſſe he hat'th;
Or that the charme and venim, which they druncke,
Their bloud with ſecret filth infected hath,
Being diffuſed through the ſenſeleſſe truncke,
That through the great contagion direfull deadly ſtunck.
Whom thus at gaze, the Palmer gan to bord
With goodly reaſon, and thus faire beſpake;
Ye bene right hard amated, gratious Lord,
And of your ignorance great maruell make,
Whiles cauſe not well conceiued ye miſtake.
But know, that ſecret vertues are infuſd
In euery fountaine, and in euery lake,
Which who hath skill them rightly to haue chuſd,
To proofe of paſſing wonders hath full often vſd.
Of thoſe ſome were ſo from their ſourſe indewd
By great Dame Nature, from whoſe fruitfull pap
Their welheads ſpring, and are with moiſture deawd;
Which feedes each liuing plant with liquid ſap,
And filles with flowres faire Floraes painted lap:
But other ſome by gift of later grace,
Or by good prayers, or by other hap,
Had vertue pourd into their waters bace,
And thenceforth were renowmd, & ſought from place to place.
Such is this well, wrought by occaſion ſtraunge,
Which to her Nymph befell. Vpon a day,
As ſhe the woods with bow and ſhafts did raunge,
The hartleſſe Hind and Robucke to diſmay,
Dan Faunus chaunſt to meet her by the way,
And kindling fire at her faire burning eye,
Inflamed was to follow beauties chace,
And chaced her, that faſt from him did fly;
As Hind from her, ſo ſhe fled from her enimy.
At laſt when fayling breath began to faint,
And ſaw no meanes to ſcape, of ſhame affrayd,
She ſet her downe to weepe for ſore conſtraint,
And to Diana calling lowd for ayde,
Her deare beſought, to let her dye a mayd.
The goddeſſe heard, and ſuddeine where ſhe ſate,
Welling out ſtreames of teares, and quite diſmayd
With ſtony feare of that rude ruſtick mate,
Transformd her to a ſtone from ſtedfaſt virgins ſtate.
Lo now ſhe is that ſtone, from thoſe two heads,
As from two weeping eyes, freſh ſtreames do flow,
Yet cold through feare, and old conceiued dreads;
And yet the ſtone her ſemblance ſe
•
mes to ſhow,
Shapt like a maid, that ſuch ye may her know;
And yet her vertues in her water byde:
For it is chaſt and pure, as pureſt ſnow,
Ne lets her waues with any filth he dyde,
But euer like her ſelfe vnſtained hath beene tryde.
From thence it comes, that this babes bloudy hand
May not be clenſd with water of this well:
Ne certes Sir ſtriue you it to withſtand,
But let them ſtill be bloudy, as befell,
That they his mothers innocence may tell,
As ſhe bequeathd in her laſt teſtament;
That as a ſacred Symbole it may dwell
In her ſonnes fleſh, to minde reuengement,
And be for all chaſt Dames an endleſſe moniment.
He hearkned to his reaſon, and the childe
Vptaking, to the Palmer gaue to beare;
But his ſad fathers armes with blond defilde,
An heauie load himſelfe did lightly reare,
And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie ſteed with golden ſell,
And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare.
By other accident that earſt befell,
He is conuaide, but how or where, here fits not tell.
Which when Sir Guyon ſaw, all were he wroth,
Yet algates mote he ſoft himſelfe appeaſe,
And fairely fare on foot, how euer loth;
His double burden did him ſore diſeaſe.
So long they traueiled with litle eaſe,
Till that at laſt they to a Caſtle came,
Built on a rocke adioyning to the ſeas,
It was an auncient worke of antique fame,
And wondrous ſtrong by nature, and by skilfull frame.
Therein three ſiſters dwelt of ſundry ſort,
The children of one ſire by mothers three;
Who dying whylome did diuide this fort
To them by equall ſhares in equall fee:
But ſtrifull minde, and diuerſe qualitee
Drew them in parts, and each made others foe:
Still did they ſtriue, and dayly diſagree;
The eldeſt did againſt the youngeſt goe,
And both againſt the middeſt meant to worken woe.
Where when the knight arriu'd, he was right well
Receiu'd, as knight of ſo much worth became,
Of ſecond ſiſter, who did far excell
The other two; Medina was her name,
A ſober ſad, and comely curteous Dame;
Who rich arayd, and yet in modeſt guize,
In goodly garments, that her well became,
Faire marching forth in honorable wize,
Him at the threſhold met, and well did enterprize.
She led him vp into a goodly bowre,
And comely courted with meet modeſtie,
Ne in her ſpeach, ne in her hauiour,
Was lightneſſe ſeene, or looſer vanitie,
But gratious womanhood, and grauitie,
Aboue the reaſon of her youthly yeares:
Her golden lockes ſhe roundly did vptye
In breaded tramels, that no looſer heares
Did out of order ſtray about her daintie eares.
Whileſt ſhe her ſelfe thus buſily did frame,
Seemely to entertaine her new-come gueſt,
Newes hereof to her other ſiſters came,
Who all this while were at their wanton reſt,
Accourting each her friend with lauiſh feſt:
They were two knights of pereleſſe puiſſance,
And famous far abroad for warlike geſt,
Which to theſe Ladies loue did countenaunce,
And to his miſtreſſe each himſelfe ſtroue to aduaunce.
He that made loue vnto the eldeſt Dame,
Was hight Sir Huddibras, an hardy man;
Yet not ſo good of deedes, as great of name,
Which he by many raſh aduentures wan,
Since errant armes to ſew he firſt began;
More huge in ſtrength, then wiſe in workes he was,
And reaſon with foole-hardize ouer ran;
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas,
And was for terrour more, all armd in ſhyning bras.
But he that lou'd the youngeſt, was Sans-loy,
He that faire Vna late fowle outraged,
The moſt vnruly, and the boldeſt boy,
That euer warlike weapons menaged,
And to all lawleſſe luſt encouraged,
Through ſtrong opinion of his matchleſſe might:
Ne ought he car'd, whom he endamaged
By tortious wrong, or whom bereau'd of right.
He now this Ladies champion choſe for loue to fight.
Theſe two gay knights, vowd to ſo diuerſe loues,
Each other does enuie with deadly hate,
And dayly warre againſt his foeman moues,
In hope to win more fauour with his mate,
And th'others pleaſing ſeruice to abate,
To magnifie his owne. But when they heard,
How in that place ſtraunge knight arriued late,
Both knights and Ladies forth right angry far'd,
And fiercely vnto battell ſterne themſelues prepar'd.
But ere they could proceede vnto the place,
Where he abode, themſelues at diſcord fell,
And cruell combat ioynd in middle ſpace:
With horrible aſſault, and furie fell,
They heapt huge ſtrokes, the ſcorned life to quell,
That all on vprore from her ſettled ſeat,
The houſe was rayſd, and all that in did dwell;
Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great
Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat.
The noyſe thereof calth forth that ſtraunger knight,
To weet, what dreadfull thing was there in hand;
Where when as two braue knights in bloudy fight
With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,
His ſunbroad ſhield about his wreſt he bond,
And ſhyning blade vnſheathd, with which he ran
Vnto that ſtead, their ſtrife to vnderſtond;
And at his firſt arriuall, them began
With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.
But they him ſpying, both with greedy forſe
Attonce vpon him ran, and him beſet
With ſtrokes of mortall ſteele without remorſe,
And on his ſhield like yron ſledges bet:
As when a Beare and Tygre being met
In cruell fight on lybicke Ocean wide,
Eſpye a traueiler with feet ſurbet,
Whom they in equall pray hope to deuide,
They ſtint their ſtrife, and him aſſaile on euery ſide.
But he, not like a wearie traueilere,
Their ſharpe aſſault right bloudy did rebut,
And ſuffred not their blowes to byte him nere,
But with redoubled buffes them backe did put:
Whoſe grieued mindes, which choler did englut,
Againſt themſelues turning their wrathfull ſpight,
Gan with new rage their ſhields to hew and cut;
But ſtill when Guyon came to part their fight,
With heauie load on him they freſhly gan to ſmight.
As a tallſhip toſſed in troublous ſeas,
Whom raging windes threatning to make the pray
Of the rough rockes, do diuerſly diſeaſe,
Meetes two contrary billowes by the way,
That her on either ſide do ſore aſſay,
And boaſt to ſwallow her in greedy graue;
She ſcorning both their ſpights, does make wide way,
And with her breſt breaking the fomy waue,
Does ride on both their backs, & faire her ſelfe doth ſaue.
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 mighty warriours he diſmade:
Attonce he wards and ſtrikes, he takes and payes,
Now forſt to yield, now forcing to inuade,
Before, behind, and round about him layes:
So double was his paines, ſo double be his prayſe.
Straunge ſort of fight, three valiaunt knights to ſee
Three combats ioyne in one, and to darraine
A triple warre with triple enmitee,
All for their Ladies froward loue to gaine,
Which gotten was but hate. So loue does raine
In ſtouteſt minds, and maketh monſtrous warre;
He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe,
And yet his peace is but continuall iarre:
O miſerable men, that to him ſubiect arre.
Whilſt thus they mingled were in furious armes,
The faire Medina with her treſſes torne,
And naked breſt, in pitty of their harmes,
Emongſt them ran, and falling them beforne,
Beſought them by the womb, which them had borne,
And by the loues, which were to them moſt deare,
And by the knighthood, which they ſure had ſworne,
Their deadly cruell diſcord to forbeare,
And to her iuſt conditions of faire peace to heare.
But her two other ſiſters ſtanding by,
Her lowd gainſaid, and both their champion bad
Purſew the end of their ſtrong enmity,
As euer of their loues they would be glad.
Yet ſhe with pitthy words and counſell ſad,
Still ſtroue their ſtubborne rages to reuoke,
That at the laſt ſuppreſſing fury mad,
They gan abſtaine from dint of direfull ſtroke,
And hearken to the ſober ſpeaches, which ſhe ſpoke.
Ah puiſſaunt Lords, what curſed euill Spright,
Or fell Erinnys in your noble harts,
Her helliſh brond hath kindled with deſpight,
And ſtird you vp to worke your wilfull ſmarts?
Is this the ioy of armes? be theſe the parts
Of glorious knighthood, after bloud to thruſt,
And not regard dew right and iuſt deſarts?
Vaine is the vaunt, and victory vniuſt,
That more to mighty hāds, thē rightfull cauſe doth truſt.
And were their rightfull cauſe of difference,
Yet were not better, faire it to accord,
Then with bloud guiltneſſe to heape offence,
And mortall vengeaunce ioyne to crime abhord?
O fly from wrath, fly, O my liefeſt Lord:
Sad be the ſights, and bitter fruits of warre,
And thouſand furies wait on wrathfull ſword;
Ne ought the prayſe of proweſſe more doth marre,
Then fowle reuenging rage, and baſe contentious iarre.
But louely concord, and moſt ſacred peace
Doth nouriſh vertue, and faſt friendſhip breeds;
Weake ſhe makes ſtrōg, & ſtrōg thing does increace,
Till it the pitch of higheſt prayſe exceeds:
Braue be her warres, and honorable deeds,
By which ſhe triumphes ouer ire and pride,
And winnes an Oliue girlond for her meeds:
Be therefore, O my deare Lords, pacifide,
And this miſſeeming diſcord meekely lay aſide.
Her gracious wordes their rancour did appall,
And ſuncke ſo deepe into their boyling breſts,
That downe they let their cruell weapons fall,
And lowly did abaſe their loftie creſts
To her faire preſence, and diſcrete beheſts.
Then ſhe began a treatie to procure,
And ſtabliſh termes betwixt both their requeſts,
That as a law for euer ſhould endure;
Which to obſerue in word of knights they did aſſure.
Which to confirme, and faſt to bind their league,
After their wearie ſweat and bloudy toile,
She them beſought, during their quiet treague,
Into her lodging to repaire a while,
To reſt themſelues, and grace to reconcile.
They ſoone conſent: ſo forth with her they fare,
Where they are well receiu'd, and made to ſpoile
Themſelues of ſoiled armes, and to prepare
Their minds to pleaſure, & their mouthes to dainty fare.
And thoſe two froward ſiſters, their faire loues
Came with them eke, all were they wondrous loth,
And fained cheare, as for the time behoues,
But could not colour yet ſo well the troth,
But that their natures bad appeard in both:
For both did at their ſecond ſiſter grutch,
And inly grieue, as doth an hidden moth
The inner garment fret, not th'vtter touch;
One thought their cheare too litle, th'other thought too mutch.
Eliſsa (ſo the eldeſt hight) did deeme
Such entertainment baſe, ne ought would eat,
Ne ought would ſpeake, but euermore did ſeeme
As diſcontent for want of merth or meat;
No ſolace could her Paramour intreat
Her once to ſhow, ne court, nor dalliance,
But with bent lowring browes, as ſhe would threat,
She ſcould, and frownd with froward countenaunce,
Vnworthy of faire Ladies comely gouernaunce.
But young Periſſa was of other mind,
Full of diſport, ſtill laughing, looſely light,
And quite contrary to her ſiſters kind;
No meaſure in her mood, no rule of right,
But poured out in pleaſure and delight;
In wine and meats ſhe flowd aboue the bancke,
And in exceſſe exceeded her owne might;
In ſumptuous tire ſhe ioyd her ſelfe to prancke,
But of her loue too lauiſh (litle haue ſhe thancke.)
Firſt by her ſide did ſit the bold Sans-loy,
Fit mate for ſuch a mincing mineon,
Who in her looſeneſſe tooke exceeding ioy;
Might not be found a franker franion,
Of her lewd parts to make companion;
But Huddibras, more like a Malecontent,
Did ſee and grieue at his bold faſhion;
Hardly could he endure his hardiment,
Yet ſtill he ſat, and inly did him ſelfe torment.
Betwixt them both the faire Medina ſate
With ſober grace, and goodly carriage:
With equall meaſure ſhe did moderate
The ſtrong extremities of their outrage;
That forward paire ſhe euer would aſſwage,
When they would ſtriue dew reaſon to exceed;
But that ſame froward twaine would accourage,
And of her plenty adde vnto their need:
So kept ſhe them in order, and her ſelfe in heed.
Thus fairely ſhe attempered her feaſt,
And pleaſd them all with meete ſatietie,
At laſt when luſt of meat and drinke was ceaſt,
She Guyon deare beſought of curteſie.
To tell from whence he came through ieopardie,
And whither now on new aduenture bound.
Who with bold grace, and comely grauitie,
Drawing to him the eyes of all around,
From lofty ſiege began theſe words aloud to ſound.
This thy demaund, ô Lady, doth reuiue
Freſh memory in me of that great Queene,
Great and moſt glorious virgin Queene aliue,
That with her ſoueraigne powre, and ſcepter ſhene
All Faery lond does peaceable ſuſtene.
In wideſt Ocean ſhe her throne does reare,
That ouer all the earth it may be ſeene;
As morning Sunne her beames diſpredden cleare,
And in her face faire peace, and mercy doth appeare.
In her the richeſſe of all heauenly grace,
In chiefe degree are heaped vp on hye:
And all that elſe this worlds encloſure bace,
Hath great or glorious in mortall eye.
Adornes the perſon of her Maieſtie;
That men beholding ſo great excellence,
And rare perfection in mortalitie,
Do her adore with ſacred reuerence,
As th'Idole of her makers great magnificence.
To her I homage and my ſeruice owe,
In number of the nobleſt knights on ground,
Mongſt whom on me ſhe deigned to beſtowe
Order of Maydenhead, the moſt renownd,
That may this day in all the world be found,
An yearely ſolemne feaſt ſhe wontes to make
The day that firſt doth lead the yeare around;
To which all knights of worth and courage bold
Reſort, to heare of ſtraunge aduentures to be told.
There this old Palmer ſhewed himſelfe that day,
And to that mighty Princeſſe did complaine
Of grieuous miſchiefes, which a wicked Fay
Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,
Whereof he crau'd redreſſe. My Soueraine,
Whoſe glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes
Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,
Eftſoones deuiſd redreſſe for ſuch annoyes;
Me all vnfit for ſo great purpoſe ſhe employes.
Now hath faire Phoebe with her ſiluer face
Thriſe ſeene the ſhadowes of the neather world,
Sith laſt I left that honorable place,
In which her royall preſence is introld;
Ne euer ſhall I reſt in houſe nor hold,
Till I that falſe Acraſia haue wonne;
Of whoſe fowle deedes, too hideous to be told
I witneſſe am, and this their wretched ſonne,
Whoſe wofull parents ſhe hath wickedly fordonne.
Tell on, faire Sir, ſaid ſhe, that dolefull tale,
From which ſad ruth does ſeeme you to reſtraine,
That we may pitty ſuch vnhappy bale,
And learne from pleaſures poyſon to abſtaine:
Ill by enſample good doth often gayne.
Then forward he his purpoſe gan purſew,
And told the ſtorie of the mortall payne,
Which Mordant and Amauia did rew;
As with lamenting eyes him ſelfe did lately vew.
Night was far ſpent, and now in Ocean deepe
Orion, flying faſt from hiſſing ſnake,
His flaming head did haſten for to ſteepe,
When of his pitteous tale he end did make;
Whileſt with delight of that he wiſely ſpake,
Thoſe gueſtes beguiled, did beguile their eyes
Of kindly ſleepe, that did them ouertake.
At laſt when they had markt the chaunged skyes,
They wiſt their houre was ſpēt; thē each to reſt him hyes.
Cant. III.
Vaine Braggadocchio getting Guyons
horſe is made the ſcorne
Of knighthood trew, and is of fayre
Belphoebe fowle forlorne.
SOone as the morrow faire with purple beames
Diſperſt the ſhadowes of the miſtie night,
And Titan playing on the eaſtern ſtreames,
Gan cleare the deawy ayre with ſpringing light,
Sir Guyon mindfull of his vow yplight,
Vproſe from drowſie couch, and him addreſt
Vnto the iourney which he had behight:
His puiſſaunt armes about his noble breſt,
And many-folded ſhield he bound about his wreſt.
Then taking Congé of that virgin pure,
The bloudy-handed babe vnto her truth
Did earneſtly commit, and her coniure,
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,
And all that gentle noriture enſu'th:
And that ſo ſoone as ryper yeares he raught,
He might for memorie of that dayes ruth,
Be called Ruddymane, and thereby taught,
T'auenge his Parēts death on them, that had it wrought.
So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,
Sith his good ſteed is lately from him gone;
Patience perforce; helpeleſſe what may it boot
To fret for anger, or for griefe to mone?
His Palmer now ſhall foot no more alone:
So fortune wrought, as vnder greene woods ſyde
He lately heard that dying Lady grone,
He left his ſteed without, and ſpeare beſyde,
And ruſhed in on foot to ayd her, ere ſhe dyde.
The whiles a loſell wandring by the way,
One that to bountie neuer caſt his mind,
Ne thought of honour euer did aſſay
His baſer breſt, but in his keſtrell kind
A pleaſing vaine of glory vaine did find,
To which his flowing toung, and troublous ſpright
Gaue him great ayd, and made him more inclind:
He that braue ſteed there finding ready dight,
Purloynd both ſteed and ſpeare, and ran away full light.
Now gan his hart all ſwell in iollitie,
And of him ſelfe great hope and helpe conceiu'd,
That puffed vp with ſmoke of vanitie,
And with ſelfe-loued perſonage deceiu'd,
He gan to hope, of men to be receiu'd
For ſuch, as he him thought, or faine would bee:
But for in court gay portaunce he perceiu'd,
And gallant ſhew to be in greateſt gree,
Eftſoones to court he caſt t'auaunce his firſt degree.
And by the way he chaunced to eſpy
One ſitting idle on a ſunny bancke,
To whom auaunting in great brauery,
As Peacocke, that his painted plumes doth prancke,
He ſmote his courſer in the trembling flancke,
And to him threatned his hart-thrilling ſpeare:
The ſeely man ſeeing him ryde ſo rancke,
And ayme at him, fell flat to ground for feare,
And crying Mercy lowd, his pitious hands gan reare.
Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous prowd,
Through fortune of his firſt aduenture faire,
And with big thundring voyce reuyld him lowd;
Vile Caytiue, vaſſall of dread and deſpaire,
Vnworthie of the commune breathed aire,
Why liueſt thou, dead dog, a lenger day,
And doeſt not vnto death thy ſelfe prepaire.
Dye, or thy ſelfe my captiue yield for ay;
Great fauour I thee graunt, for aunſwere thus to ſtay.
Hold, ô deare Lord, hold your dead-doing hand,
Then loud he cryde, I am your humble thrall.
Ah wretch (quoth he) thy deſtinies withſtand
My wrathfull will, and do for mercy call.
I giue thee life: therefore proſtrated fall,
And kiſſe my ſtirrup; that thy homage bee.
The Miſer threw him ſelfe, as an Offall,
Streight at his foot in baſe humilitee,
And cleeped him his liege, to hold of him in fee.
So happy peace they made and faire accord:
Eftſoones this liege-man gan to wexe more bold,
And when he felt the folly of his Lord,
In his owne kind he gan him ſelfe vnfold:
For he was wylie witted, and growne old
In cunning ſleights and practick knauery.
For that day forth he caſt for to vphold
His idle humour with fine flattery,
And blow the bellowes to his ſwelling vanity.
Trompart fit man for Braggadochio,
To ſerue at court in view of vaunting eye;
Vaine-glorious man, when fluttring wind does blow
In his light wings, is lifted vp to skye:
The ſcorne of knighthood and trew cheualrye,
To thinke without deſert of gentle deed,
And noble worth to be aduaunced hye:
Such prayſe is ſhame; but honour vertues meed
Doth beare the faireſt flowre in honorable ſeed.
So forth they pas, a well conſorted paire,
Till that at length with Archimage they meet:
Who ſeeing one that ſhone in armour faire,
On goodly courſer thundring with his feet,
Eftſoones ſuppoſed him a perſon meet,
Of his reuenge to make the inſtrument:
For ſince the Redcroſſe knight he earſt did weet,
To beene with Guyon knit in one conſent,
The ill, which earſt to him, he now to Guyon ment.
And comming cloſe to Trompart gan inquere
Of him, what mighty warriour that mote bee,
That rode in golden ſell with ſingle ſpere,
But wanted ſword to wreake his enmitee.
He is a great aduenturer, (ſaid he)
That hath his ſword through hard aſſay forgone,
And now hath vowd, till he auenged bee,
Of that deſpight, neuer to wearen none;
That ſpeare is him enough to doen a thouſand grone.
Th'enchaunter greatly ioyed in the vaunt,
And weened well ere long his will to win,
And both his foen with equall foyle to daunt.
Tho to him louting lowly, did begin
To plaine of wrongs, which had committed bin
By Guyon, and by that falſe Redcroſſe knight,
Which two through treaſon and deceiptfull gin,
Had ſlaine Sir Mordant, and his Lady bright:
That mote him honour win, to wreake ſo foule deſpight.
Therewith all ſuddeinly he ſeemd enraged,
And threatned death with dreadfull countenaunce,
As if their liues had in his hand beene gaged;
And with ſtiffe force ſhaking his mortall launce,
To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce,
Thus ſaid; Old man, great ſure ſhalbe thy meed,
If where thoſe knights for feare of dew vengeaunce
Do lurke, thou certainly to me areed,
That I may wreake on them their hainous hatefull deed.
Certes, my Lord, (ſaid he) that ſhall I ſoone,
And giue you eke good helpe to their decay,
But mote I wiſely you aduiſe to doon;
Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay
Your ſelfe of ſword before that bloudy day:
For they be two the proweſt knights on ground,
And oft approu'd in many hard aſſay,
And eke of ſureſt ſteele, that may be found,
Do arme your ſelfe againſt that day, them to confound.
Dotard (ſaid he) let be thy deepe aduiſe;
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,
And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wiſe,
Elſe neuer ſhould thy iudgement be ſo fraile,
To meaſure manhood by the ſword or maile.
Is not enough foure quarters of a man,
Withouten ſword or ſhield, an hoſt to quaile?
Thou little woteſt, what this right hand can:
Speake they, which haue beheld the battailes, which it wan.
The man was much abaſhed at his boaſt;
Yet well he wiſt, that who ſo would contend
With either of thoſe knights on euen coaſt,
Should need of all his armes, him to defend;
Yet feared leaſt his boldneſſe ſhould offend,
When Braggadocchio ſaid, Once I did ſweare,
When with one ſword ſeuen knights I brought to end,
Thence forth in battell neuer ſword to beare,
But it were that, which nobleſt knight on earth doth weare.
Perdie Sir knight, ſaid then th'enchaunter bliue,
That ſhall I ſhortly purchaſe to your hond:
For now the beſt and nobleſt knight aliue
Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond;
He hath a ſword, that flames like burning brond.
The ſame by my aduiſe I vndertake
Shall by to morrow by thy ſide be fond.
At which bold word that boaſter gan to quake,
And wondred in his mind, what mote that monſter make.
He ſtayd not for more bidding, but away
Was ſuddein vaniſhed out of his ſight:
The Northerne wind his wings did broad diſplay
At his commaund, and reared him vp light
From off the earth to take his aerie flight.
They look about, but no where could eſpie
Tract of his foot: then dead through great affright
They both nigh were, and each bad other flie:
Both fled attonce, ne euer backe returned eie.
Till that they come vnto a forreſt greene,
In which they ſhrowd thēſelues from cauſeleſſe feare;
Yet feare them followes ſtill, where ſo they beene,
Each trembling leafe, and whiſtling wind they heare,
As ghaſtly bug their haire on end does reare:
Yet both doe ſtriue their fearfulneſſe to faine.
At laſt they heard a horne, that ſhrilled cleare
Throughout the wood, that ecchoed againe,
And made the forreſt ring, as it would riue in twaine.
Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely ruſh;
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 forth
A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed,
That ſeemd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her ſtately portance, borne of heauenly birth.
Her face ſo faire as fleſh it ſeemed not,
But heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew,
Cleare as the skie, withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexions dew;
And in her cheekes the vermeill red did ſhew
Like roſes in a bed of lillies ſhed,
The which ambroſiall odours from them threw,
And gazers ſenſe with double pleaſure fed,
Hable to heale the ſicke, and to reuiue the ded.
In her faire eyes two liuing lamps did flame,
Kindled aboue at th'heauenly makers light,
And darted fyrie beames out of the ſame,
So paſſing perſant, and ſo wondrous bright,
That quite bereau'd the raſh beholders ſight:
In them the blinded god his luſtfull fire
To kindle oft aſſayd, but had no might;
For with dredd Maieſtie, and awfull ire,
She broke his wanton darts, and quenched baſe deſire.
Her iuorie forhead, full of bountie braue,
Like a broad table did it ſelfe diſpred,
For Loue his loftie triumphes to engraue,
And write the battels of his great godhed:
All good and honour might therein be red:
For there their dwelling was. And when ſhe ſpake,
Sweet words, like dropping honny ſhe did ſhed,
And twixt the perles and rubins ſoftly brake
A ſiluer ſound, that heauenly muſicke ſeemd to make.
Vpon her eyelids many Graces ſate,
Vnder the ſhadow of her euen browes,
Working belgards, and amorous retrate,
And euery one her with a grace endowes:
And euery one with meekeneſſe to her bowes.
So glorious mirrhour of celeſtiall grace,
And ſoueraine moniment of mortall vowes,
How ſhall fraile pen deſcriue her heauenly face,
For feare through want of skill her beautie to diſgrace?
So faire, and thouſand thouſand times more faire
She ſeemd, when ſhe preſented was to ſight,
And was yclad, for heat of ſcorching aire,
All in a ſilken Camus lylly whight,
Purfled vpon with many a folded plight,
Which all aboue beſprinckled was throughout,
With golden aygulets, that gliſtred bright,
Like twinckling ſtarres, and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fringe
Below her ham her weed did ſomewhat traine,
And her ſtreight legs moſt brauely were embayld
In gilden buskins of coſtly Cordwaine,
All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld
With curious antickes, and full faire aumayld:
Before they faſtned were vnder her knee
In a rich Iewell, and therein entrayld
The ends of all their 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 feſtiuall reſort;
Thoſe ſame with ſtately grace, and princely port
She taught to tread, when ſhe her ſelfe would grace,
But with the wooddie Nymphes when ſhe did play,
Or when the flying Libbard ſhe did chace,
She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.
And in her hand a ſharpe bore-ſpeare ſhe held,
And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,
Stuft with ſteele-headed darts, wherewith ſhe queld
The ſaluage beaſtes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay
Athwart her ſnowy breſt, and did diuide
Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May
Now little gan to ſwell, and being tide,
Through her thin weed their places only ſignifide.
Her yellow lockes criſped, like golden wyre,
About her ſhoulders weren looſely ſhed,
And when the winde emongſt them did inſpyre,
They waued like a penon wide diſpred,
And low behinde her backe were ſcattered:
And whether art it were, or heedleſſe hap,
As through the flouring forreſt raſh ſhe fled,
In her rude haires ſweet flowres themſelues did lap,
And flouriſhing freſh leaues and bloſſomes did enwrap.
Such as Diana by the ſandie ſhore
Of ſwift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,
Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,
To ſeeke her game: Or as that famous Queene
Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did deſtroy,
The day that firſt of Priame ſhe was ſeene,
Did ſhew her ſelfe in great triumphant ioy,
To ſuccour the weake ſtate of ſad afflicted Troy.
Such when as hartleſſe Trompart her did vew,
He was diſmayed in his coward mind,
And doubted, whether he himſelfe ſhould ſhew,
Or fly away, or bide alone behind:
Both feare and hope he in her face did find,
When ſhe at laſt him ſpying thus beſpake;
Hayle Groome; didſt not thou ſee a bleeding Hind,
Whoſe right haunch earſt my ſtedfaſt arrow ſtrake?
If thou didſt, tell me, that I may her ouertake.
Wherewith reviu'd, this anſwere forth he threw;
O Goddeſſe, (for ſuch I thee take to bee)
For neither doth thy face terreſtriall ſhew,
Nor voyce ſound mortall; I auow to thee,
Such wounded beaſt, as that, I did not ſee,
Sith earſt into this forreſt wild I came.
But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,
To weet, which of the Gods I ſhall thee name,
That vnto thee due worſhip I may rightly frame.
To whom ſhe thus; but ere her words enſewed,
Vnto the buſh her eye did ſuddein glaunce,
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewed,
And ſaw it ſtirre: ſhe left her percing launce,
And towards gan a deadly ſhaft aduaunce,
In mind to marke the beaſt. At which ſad ſtowre,
Trompart forth ſtept, to ſtay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying, ô what euer heauenly powre,
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.
O ſtay thy hand for yonder is no game
For thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,
But loe my Lord, my liege, whoſe warlike name,
Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;
And now in ſhade he ſhrowded yonder lies.
She ſtaid: with that he crauld out of his neſt,
Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,
And ſtanding ſtoutly vp, his loftie creſt
Did fiercely ſhake, and rowze, as comming late from reſt.
As fearefull fowle, that long in ſecret caue
For dread of ſoaring hauke her ſelfe hath hid,
Not caring how, her ſilly life to ſaue,
She her gay painted plumes diſorderid,
Seeing at laſt her ſelfe from daunger rid,
Peepes foorth, and ſoone renewes her natiue pride;
She gins her feathers foule disfigured
Proudly to prune, and ſet on euery ſide,
So ſhakes off ſhame, ne thinks how erſt ſhe did her hide.
So when her goodly viſage he beheld,
He gan himſelfe to vaunt: but when he vewed
Thoſe deadly tooles, which in her hand ſhe held,
Soone into other fits he was tranſmewed,
Till ſhe to him her gratious ſpeach renewed;
All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,
As all the like, which honour haue purſewed
Through deedes of armes and proweſſe martiall;
All vertue merits praiſe, but ſuch the moſt of all.
To whom he thus; ô faireſt vnder skie,
True be thy words, and worthy of thy praiſe,
That warlike feats doeſt higheſt glorifie.
Therein haue I ſpent all my youthly daies,
And many battailes fought, and many fraies
Throughout the world, wher ſo they might be found,
Endeuouring my dreadded name to raiſe
Aboue the Moone, that fame may it reſound
In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.
But what art thou, ô Ladie, which doeſt raunge
In this wilde forreſt, where no pleaſure is,
And doeſt not it for ioyous court exchaunge,
Emongſt thine equall peres, where happie blis
And all delight does raigne, much more then this?
There thou maiſt loue, and dearely loued bee,
And ſwim in pleaſure, which thou here doeſt mis;
There maiſt thou beſt be ſeene, and beſt maiſt ſee:
The wood is fit for beaſts, the court is fit for thee.
Who ſo in pompe of proud eſtate (quoth ſhe)
Does ſwim, and bathes himſelfe in courtly blis,
Does waſte his dayes in darke obſcuritee,
And in obliuion euer buried is:
Where eaſe abounds, yt's eath to doe amis;
But who his limbs with labours, and his mind
Behaues with cares, cannot ſo eaſie mis.
Abroad in armes, at home in ſtudious kind
Who ſeekes with painfull toile, ſhall honor ſooneſt find.
In woods, in waues, in warres ſhe wonts to dwell,
And will be found with perill and with paine;
Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,
Vnto her happie manſion attaine:
Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,
And wakefull watches euer to abide:
But eaſie is the way, and paſſage plaine
To pleaſures pallace; it may ſoone be ſpide,
And day and night her dores to all ſtand open wide.
In Princes court, The reſt ſhe would haue ſaid,
But that the fooliſh man, fild with delight
Of her ſweet words, that all his ſence diſmaid,
And with her wondrous beautie rauiſht quight,
Gan burne in filthy luſt, and leaping light,
Thought in his baſtard armes her to embrace.
With that ſhe ſwaruing backe, her Iauelin bright
Againſt him bent, and fiercely did menace:
So turned her about, and fled away apace.
Which when the Peaſant ſaw, amazd he ſtood,
And greiued at her flight; yet durſt he not
Purſew her ſteps, through wild vnknowen wood;
Beſides he feard her wrath, and threatned ſhot
Whiles in the buſh he lay, not yet forgot:
Ne car'd he greatly for her preſence vaine,
But turning ſaid to Trompart, What foule blot
Is this to knight, that Ladie ſhould againe
Depart to woods vntoucht, & leaue ſo proud diſdaine?
Perdie (ſaid Trompart) let her paſſe at will,
Leaſt by her preſence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and ſure I feare it ill)
But that ſhe is ſome powre celeſtiall?
For whiles ſhe ſpake, her great words did a pall
My feeble courage, and my hart oppreſſe,
That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.
And I (ſaid Braggadocchio) thought no leſſe,
Whē firſt I heard her horne ſound with ſuch ghaſtlineſſe.
For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue
Me giuen by eternall deſtinie,
That earthly thing may not my courage braue
Diſmay with feare, or cauſe on foot to flie,
But either helliſh feends, or powres on hie:
Which was the cauſe, when earſt that home I heard,
Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,
I hid my ſelfe from it, as one affeard;
But when I other knew, my ſelfe I boldly reard.
But now for feare of worſe, that may betide,
Let vs ſoone hence depart. They ſoone agree;
So to his ſteed he got, and gan to ride,
As one vnfit therefore, that all might ſee
He had not trayned bene in cheualree.
Which well that valiant courſer did diſcerne;
For he deſpyſd to tread in dew degree,
But chaufd and fom'd, with courage fierce and ſterne,
And to be eaſd of that baſe burden ſtill did erne.
Cant. IIII.
Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,
and ſtops Occaſion:
Deliuers Phedon, and therefore
by ſtrife is rayld vpon.
IN braue purſuit of honorable deed,
There is I know not what great difference
Betweene the vulgar and the noble ſeed,
Which vnto things of valorous pretence
Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;
As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,
But chiefly skill to ride, ſeemes a ſcience
Proper to gentle bloud; ſome others faine
To menage ſteeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.
But he the rightfull owner of that ſteed,
Who well could menage and ſubdew his pride,
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,
With that blacke Palmer, his moſt truſty guide;
Who ſuffred not his wandring feet to ſlide.
But when ſtrong paſſion, or weake fleſhlineſſe
Would from the right way ſeeke to draw him wide,
He would through temperance and ſtedfaſtneſſe,
Teach him the weake to ſtrēgthen, & the ſtrōg ſuppreſſe.
It fortuned forth faring on his way,
He ſaw from farre, or ſeemed for to ſee
Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,
Whereto he drew in haſte it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,
A handſome ſtripling with great crueltee,
Whom ſore he bett, and gor'd with many a wound,
That cheekes with teares, and ſides with bloud did all abound.
And him behind, a wicked Hag did ſtalke,
In ragged robes, and filthy diſaray,
Her other leg was lame, that ſhe no'te walke.
But on a ſtaffe her feeble ſteps did ſtay;
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,
Grew all afore, and looſely hong vnrold,
But all behind was bald, and worne away,
That none thereof could euer taken hold,
And eke her face ill fauourd, full of wrinckles old.
And euer as ſhe went, her tongue did walke
In foule reproch, and termes of vile deſpight,
Prouoking him by her outrageous talke,
To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight;
Sometimes ſhe raught him ſtones, wherwith to ſmite,
Sometimes her ſtaffe, though it her one leg were,
Withouten which ſhe could not go vpright;
Ne any euill meanes ſhe did forbeare,
That might him moue to wrath, and indignation reare.
The noble Guyon mou'd with great remorſe,
Approching, firſt the Hag did thruſt away,
And after adding more impetuous forſe,
His mightie hands did on the madman lay,
And pluckt him backe; who all on fire ſtreight way,
Againſt him turning all his fell intent,
With beaſtly brutiſh rage gan him aſſay,
And ſmot, and bit, and kickt, and ſcratcht, and rent,
And did he wiſt not what in his auengement.
And ſure he was a man of mickle might,
Had he had gouernance, it well to guide:
But when the franticke fit inflamd his ſpright,
His force was vaine, and ſtrooke more often wide,
Then at the aymed marke, which he had eide:
And oft himſelfe he chaunſt to hurt vnwares,
Whilſt reaſon blent through paſſion, nought deſcride,
But as a blindfold Bull at randon fares,
And where he hits, nought knowes, & whom he hurts, nought cares.
His rude aſſault and rugged handeling
Straunge ſeemed to the knight, that aye with foe
In faire defence and goodly menaging
Of armes was wont to fight, yet nathemoe
Was he abaſhed now not fighting ſo,
But more enfierced through his curriſh play,
Him ſternely grypt, and haling to and fro,
To ouerthrow him ſtrongly did aſſay,
But ouerthrew himſelfe vnwares, and lower lay.
And being downe the villein ſore did beat,
And bruze with clowniſh fiſtes his manly face:
And eke the Hag with many a bitter threat,
Still cald vpon to kill him in the place.
With whoſe reproch and odious menace
The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart,
Knit all his forces, and gan ſoone vnbrace
His graſping hold: ſo lightly did vpſtart,
And drew his deadly weapon, to maintaine his part.
Which when the Palmer ſaw, he loudly cryde,
Not ſo, ô Guyon, neuer thinke that ſo
That Monſter can be maiſtred or deſtroyd:
He is no, ah, he is not ſuch a foe,
As ſteele can wound, or ſtrength can ouerthroe.
That ſame is Furor, curſed cruell wight,
That vnto knighthood workes much ſhame and woe;
And that ſame Hag, his aged mother, hight
Occaſion, the root of all wrath and deſpight.
With her, who ſo will raging Furor tame,
Muſt firſt begin, and well her amenage:
Firſt her reſtraine from her reprochfull blame,
And euill meanes, with which ſhe doth enrage
Her franticke ſonne, and kindles his courage,
Then when ſhe is withdrawen, or ſtrong withſtood,
It's eath his idle furie to aſſwage,
And calme the tempeſt of his paſſion wood;
The bankes are ouerflowen, when ſtopped is the flood.
Therewith Sir Guyon left his firſt empriſe,
And turning to that woman, faſt her hent
By the hoare lockes, that hong before her eyes,
And to the ground her threw: yet n'ould ſhe ſtent
Her bitter rayling and foule reuilement,
But ſtill prouokt her ſonne to wreake her wrong;
But natheleſſe he did her ſtill torment,
And catching hold of her vngratious tong,
Thereon an yron lock, did faſten firme and ſtrong.
Then when as vſe of ſpeach was from her reft,
With her two crooked handes ſhe ſignes did make,
And beckned him, the laſt helpe ſhe had left:
But he that laſt left helpe away did take,
And both her hands faſt bound vnto a ſtake,
That ſhe note ſtirre. Then gan her ſonne to flie
Full faſt away, and did her quite forſake;
But Guyon after him in haſte did hie,
And ſoone him ouertooke in ſad perplexitie.
In his ſtrong armes he ſtiffely him embraſte,
Who him gainſtriuing, nought at all preuaild:
For all his power was vtterly defaſte,
And furious fits at earſt quite weren quaild:
Oft he re'nforſt, and oft his forces fayld,
Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour ſlacke.
Then him to ground he caſt, and rudely hayld,
And both his hands faſt bound behind his backe,
And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke.
With hundred yron chaines he did him bind,
And hundred knots that did him ſore conſtraine:
Yet his great yron teeth he ſtill did grind,
And grimly gnaſh, threatning reuenge in vaine:
His burning eyen, whom bloudie ſtrakes did ſtaine,
Stared full wide, and threw forth ſparkes of fire,
And more for ranck deſpight, then for great paine,
Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire,
And bit his tawny beard to ſhew his raging ire.
Thus when as Guyon Furor had captiu'd,
Turning about he ſaw that wretched Squire,
Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu'd,
Lying on ground, all ſoild with bloud and mire:
Whom when as he perceiued to reſpire,
He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dreſſe.
Being at laſt recured, he gan inquire,
What hard miſhap him brought to ſuch diſtreſſe,
And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchedneſſe.
With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes,
Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can ſhun the hap,
That hidden lyes vnwares him to ſurpryſe
Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap
The man moſt warie in her whelming lap.
So me weake wretch, of many weakeſt one,
Vnweeting, and vnware of ſuch miſhap,
She brought to miſchiefe through occaſion,
Where this ſame wicked villein did me light vpon.
It was a faithleſſe Squire, that was the ſourſe
Of all my ſorrow, and of theſe ſad teares,
With whom from tender dug of commune nourſe,
Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares
More rype vs reaſon lent to choſe our Peares,
Our ſelues in league of vowed loue we knit:
In which we long time without gealous feares,
Or faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit;
And for my part I vow, diſſembled not a whit.
Is was my fortune commune to that age,
To loue a Ladie faire of great degree,
The which was borne of noble parentage,
And ſet in higheſt ſeat of dignitee,
Yet ſeemd no leſſe to loue, then loued to bee:
Long I her ſeru'd, and found her faithfull ſtill,
Ne euer thing could cauſe vs diſagree:
Loue that two harts makes one; makes eke one will:
Each ſtroue to pleaſe, and others pleaſure to fulfill.
My friend, hight Philemon, I did partake,
Of all my loue and all my priuitie;
Who greatly ioyous ſeemed for my ſake,
And gratious to that Ladie, as to mee,
Ne euer wight, that mote ſo welcome bee,
As he to her, withouten blot or blame,
Ne euer thing, that ſhe could thinke or ſee,
But vnto him ſhe would impart the ſame:
O wretched man, that would abuſe ſo gentle Dame.
At laſt ſuch grace I found, and meanes I wrought,
That I that Ladie to my ſpouſe had wonne;
Accord of friends, conſent of parents ſought,
Affiance made, my happineſſe begonne,
There wanted nought but few rites to be donne,
Which mariage make; that day too farre did ſeeme:
Moſt ioyous man, on whom the ſhining Sunne,
Did ſhew his face, my ſelfe I did eſteeme,
And that my falſer friend did no leſſe ioyous deeme.
But ere that wiſhed day his beame diſcloſd,
He either enuying my toward good,
Or of himſelfe to treaſon ill diſpoſd
One day vnto me came in friendly mood,
And told for ſecret how he vnderſtood
That Ladie whom I had to me aſſynd,
Had both diſtaind her honorable blood,
And eke the faith, which ſhe to me did bynd;
And therfore wiſht me ſtay, till I more truth ſhould fynd.
The gnawing anguiſh and ſharpe geloſy,
Which his ſad ſpeech infixed in my breſt,
Ranckled ſo ſore, and feſtred inwardly,
That my engreeued mind could find no reſt,
Till that the truth thereof I did outwreſt,
And him beſought by that ſame ſacred band
Betwixt vs both, to counſell me the beſt.
He then with ſolemne oath and plighted hand
Aſſur'd, ere long the truth to let me vnderſtand.
Ere long with like againe he boorded mee,
Saying, he now had boulted all the floure,
And that it was a groome of baſe degree,
Which of my loue was partner Paramoure:
Who vſed in a darkeſome inner bowre
Her oft to meet: which better to approue,
He promiſed to bring me at that howre,
When I ſhould ſee, that would me nearer moue,
And driue me to withdraw my blind abuſed loue.
This graceleſſe man for furtherance of his guile,
Did court the handmayd of my Lady deare,
Who glad t'emboſome his affection vile,
Did all ſhe might, more pleaſing to appeare.
One day to worke her to his will more neare,
He woo'd her thus: Pryene (ſo ſhe hight)
What great deſpight doth fortune to thee beare,
Thus lowly to abaſe thy beautie bright,
That it ſhould not deface all others leſſer light?
But if ſhe had her leaſt helpe to thee lent,
T'adorne thy forme according thy deſart,
Their blazing pride thou wouldeſt ſoone haue blent,
And ſtaynd their prayſes with thy leaſt good part;
Ne ſhould faire Claribell with all her art,
Though ſhe thy Lady be, approch thee neare:
For proofe thereof, this euening, as thou art,
Aray thy ſelfe in her moſt gorgeous geare,
That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.
The Maidē proud through prayſe, and mad through loue
Him hearkned to, and ſoone her ſelfe arayd,
The whiles to me the treachour did remoue
His craftie engin, and as he had ſayd,
Me leading, in a ſecret corner layd,
The ſad ſpectatour of my Tragedie;
Where left, he went, and his owne falſe part playd,
Diſguiſed like that groome of baſe degree,
Whom he had feignd th'abuſer of my loue to bee.
Eftſoones he came vnto th'appointed place,
And with him brought Priene, rich arayd,
In Claribellaes clothes. Her proper face
I not deſcerned in that darkeſome ſhade,
But weend it was my loue, with whom he playd.
Ah God, what horrour and tormenting griefe
My hart, my hands, mine eyes, and all aſſayd?
Me liefer were ten thouſand deathes priefe,
Then wound of gealous worme, and ſhame of ſuch repriefe.
I home returning, fraught with fowle deſpight,
And chawing vengeance all the way I went,
Soone as my loathed loue appeard in ſight,
With wrathfull hand I ſlew her innocent;
That after ſoone I dearely did lament:
For when the cauſe of that outrageous deede
Demaunded, I made plaine and euident,
Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale did breede,
Confeſt, how Philemon her wrought to chaunge her weede.
Which when I heard, with horrible affright
And helliſh fury all enragd, I ſought
Vpon my ſelfe that vengeable deſpight
To puniſh: yet it better firſt I thought,
To wreake my wrath on him, that firſt it wrought.
To Philemon, falſe faytour Philemon
I caſt to pay, that I ſo dearely bought;
Of deadly drugs I gaue him drinke anon,
And waſht away his guilt with guiltie potion.
Thus heaping crime on crime, and griefe on griefe,
To loſſe of loue adioyning loſſe of frend,
I meant to purge both with a third miſchiefe,
And in my woes beginner it to end:
That was Pryene; ſhe did firſt offend,
She laſt ſhould ſmart: with which cruell intent,
When I at her my murdrous blade did bend,
She fled away with ghaſtly dreriment,
And I purſewing my fell purpoſe, after went.
Feare gaue her wings, and rage enforſt my flight;
Through woods and plaines ſo long I did her chace,
Till this mad man, whom your victorious might
Hath now faſt bound, me met in middle ſpace,
As I her, ſo he me purſewd apace,
And ſhortly ouertooke: I breathing yre,
Sore chauffed at my ſtay in ſuch a cace,
And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre;
Which kindled once, his mother did more rage inſpyre.
Betwixt them both, they haue me doen to dye,
Through wounds, & ſtrokes, & ſtubborne handeling,
That death were better, then ſuch agony,
As griefe and furie vnto me did bring;
Of which in me yet ſtickes the mortall ſting,
That during life will neuer be appeaſd.
When he thus ended had his ſorrowing,
Said Guyon, Squire, ſore haue ye beene diſeaſd;
But all your hurts may ſoone through tēperance be eaſd.
Then gan the Palmer thus, moſt wretched man,
That to affections does the bridle lend;
In their beginning they are weake and wan,
But ſoone through ſuff'rance grow to fearefull end;
Whiles they are weake betimes with them contend:
For when they once to perfect ſtrength do grow,
Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend
Gainſt fort of Reaſon, it to ouerthrow:
Wrath, geloſie, griefe, loue this Squire haue layd thus low.
Wrath, gealoſie, griefe, loue do thus expell:
Wrath is a fire, and gealoſie a weede,
Griefe is a flood, and loue a monſter fell;
The fire of ſparkes, the weede of little ſeede,
The flood of drops, the Monſter filth did breede:
But ſparks, ſeed, drops, and filth do thus delay;
The ſparks ſoone quench, the ſpringing ſeed outweed
The drops dry vp, and filth wipe cleane away:
So ſhall wrath, gealoſie, griefe, loue dye and decay.
Vnlucky Squire (ſaid Guyon) ſith thou haſt
Falne vnto miſchiefe through intemperaunce,
Henceforth take heede of that thou now haſt paſt,
And guide thy wayes with warie gouernaunce,
Leaſt worſe betide thee by ſome later chaunce.
But read how art thou nam'd and of what kin.
Phedon I hight (quoth he) and do aduaunce
Mine aunceſtry from famous Coradin,
Who firſt to rayſe our houſe to honour did begin.
Thus as he ſpake, lo far away they ſpyde
A varlet running towards haſtily,
Whoſe flying feet ſo faſt their way applyde,
That round about a cloud of duſt did fly,
Which mingled all with ſweate, did dim his eye.
He ſoone approched, panting, breathleſſe, whot,
And all ſo ſoyld, that none could him deſcry;
His countenaunce was bold, and baſhed not
For Guyons lookes, but ſcornefull eyglaunce at him ſhot.
Behind his backe he bore a braſen ſhield,
On which was drawen faire, in colours fit,
A flaming fire in midſt of bloudy field,
And round about the wreath this word was writ,
Burnt I do burne. Right well beſeemed it,
To be the ſhield of ſome redoubted knight;
And in his hand two darts exceeding flit,
And deadly ſharpe he held, whoſe heads were dight
In poyſon and in bloud, of malice and deſpight.
When he in preſence came, to Guyon firſt
He boldly ſpake, Sir knight, if knight thou bee,
Abandon this fore ſtalled place at erſt,
For feare of further harme, I counſell thee,
Or bide the chaunce at thine owne ieoperdie.
The knight at his great boldneſſe wondered,
And though he ſcornd his idle vanitie,
Yet mildly him to purpoſe anſwered;
For not to grow of nought he it coniectured.
Varlet, this place moſt dew to me I deeme,
Yielded by him, that held it forcibly.
But whēce ſhould come that harme, which thou doeſt ſeeme
To threat to him, that minds his chaunce t'abye?
Perdy (ſaid he) here comes, and is hard by
A knight of wondrous powre, and great aſſay,
That neuer yet encountred enemy,
But did him deadly daunt, or fowle diſmay;
Ne thou for better hope, if thou his preſence ſtay.
How hight he then (ſaid Guyon) and from whence?
Pyrrhochles is his name, renowmed farre
For his bold feats and hardy confidence,
Full oft approu'd in many a cruell warre,
The brother of Cymochles, both which arre
The ſonnes of old Acrates and Deſpight,
Acrates ſonne of Phlegeton and Iarre;
But Phlegeton is ſonne of Herebus and Night;
But Herebus ſonne of Aeternitie is hight.
So from immortall race he does proceede,
That mortall hands may not withſtand his might,
Drad for his derring do, and bloudy deed;
For all in bloud and ſpoile is his delight.
His am I Atin, his in wrong and right,
That matter make for him to worke vpon,
And ſtirre him vp to ſtrife and cruell fight.
Fly therefore, fly this fearefull ſtead anon,
Leaſt thy foolhardize worke thy ſad confuſion.
His be that care, whom moſt it doth concerne,
(Said he) but whither with ſuch haſty flight
Art thou now bound? for well mote I diſcerne
Great cauſe, that carries thee ſo ſwift and light.
My Lord (quoth he) me ſent, and ſtreight behight
To ſeeke Occaſion; where ſo ſhe bee:
For he is all diſpoſd to bloudy fight,
And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltie;
Hard is his hap, that firſt fals in his ieopardie.
Madman (ſaid then the Palmer) that does ſeeke
Occaſion to wrath, and cauſe of ſtrife;
She comes vnſought, and ſhonned followes eke.
Happy, who can abſtaine, when Rancour rife
Kindles Reuenge, and threats his ruſty knife;
Woe neuer wants, where euery cauſe is caught,
And raſh Occaſion makes vnquiet life.
Then loe, where bound ſhe fits, whō thou haſt ſought,
(Said Guyon,) let that meſſage to thy Lord be brought.
That when the varlet heard and ſaw, ſtreight way
He wexed wondrous wroth, and ſaid, Vile knight,
That knights & knighthood doeſt with ſhame vpbray,
And ſhewſt th'enfāple of thy childiſh migbt,
With ſilly weake old woman thus to fight.
Great glory and gay ſpoile ſure haſt thou got,
And ſtoutly prou'd thy puiſſaunce here in ſight;
That ſhall Pyrrhochles well requite, I wot,
And with thy bloud aboliſh ſo reprochfull blot.
With that one of his thrillant darts he threw,
Headed with ire and vengeable deſpight;
The quiuering ſteele his aymed end well knew,
And to his breſt it ſelfe intended right:
But he was warie, and ere it empight
In the meant marke, aduaunſt his ſhield atweene,
On which it ſeizing, no way enter might,
But backe rebounding, left the forckhead keene;
Eftſoones he fled away, and might no where be ſeene.
Cant. V.
Pyrrhochles does with Guyon fight,
And Furors chayne vnbinds
Of whom ſore hurt, for his reuenge
Attin Gymochles finds.
WHo euer doth to temperaunce apply
His ſtedfaſt life, and all his actions frame,
Truſt me, ſhall find no greater enimy,
Then ſtubborne perturbation, to the ſame;
To which right well the wiſe do giue that name,
For it the goodly peace of ſtayed mindes
Does ouerthrow, and troublous warre proclame:
His owne woes authour, who ſo bound it findes,
As did Pyrrhochles, and it wilfully vnbindes.
After that varlets flight, it was not long,
Ere on the plaine faſt pricking Guyon ſpide
One in bright armes embatteiled full ſtrong,
That as the Sunny beames do glaunce and glide
Vpon the trembling waue, ſo ſhined bright,
And round about him threw forth ſparkling fire,
That ſeemd him to enflame on euery ſide:
His ſteed was bloudy red, and fomedire,
When with the maiſtring ſpur he did him roughly ſtire.
Approching nigh, he neuer ſtayd to greete,
Ne chaffar words, prowd courage to prouoke,
But prickt ſo flers, that vnderneath his feete
The ſmouldring duſt did round about him ſmoke,
Both horſe and man nigh able for to choke;
And fairly couching his ſteele-headed ſpeare,
Him firſt ſaluted with a ſturdy ſtroke;
It booted nought Sir Guyon comming neare
To thinke, ſuch hideous puiſſaunce on foot to beare.
But lightly ſhunned it, and paſſing by,
With his bright blade did ſmite at him ſo fell,
That the ſharpe ſteele arriuing forcibly
On his braod ſhield, bit not, but glauncing fell
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 vproſe,
And all enraged, thus him loudly ſhent;
Diſleall knight, whoſe coward courage choſe
To wreake it ſelfe on beaſt all innocent,
And ſhund the marke, at which it ſhould be ment,
Thereby thine armes ſeeme ſtrōg, but māhood fraile;
So haſt thou oft with guile thine honour blent;
But litle may ſuch guile thee now auaile,
If wonted force and fortune do not much me faile.
With that he drew his flaming ſword, and ſtrooke
At him ſo fiercely, that the vpper marge
Of his ſeuenfolded ſhield away it tooke,
And glauncing on his helmet, made a large
And open gaſh therein: were not his targe,
That broke the violence of his intent,
The weary ſoule from thence it would diſcharge;
Natheleſſe ſo ſore a buff to him it lent,
That made him reele, and to his breſt his beuer bent.
Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow,
And much aſhamd, that ſtroke of liuing arme
Should him diſmay, and make him ſtoup ſo low,
Though otherwiſe it did him litle harme:
Tho hurling high his yron braced arme,
He ſmote ſo manly on his ſhoulder plate,
That all his left ſide it did quite diſarme;
Yet there the ſteele ſtayd not, but inly bate
Deepe in his fleſh, and opened wide a red floodgate.
Deadly diſmayd, with horrour of that dint
Pyrrhochles was, and grieued eke entyre;
Yet nathemore did it his fury ſtint,
But added flame vnto his former fire,
That welnigh molt his hart in raging yre,
Ne thenceforth his approued skill, to ward,
Or ſtrike, or hurle, round in warelike gyre,
Remembred he, ne car'd for his ſaufgard,
But rudely rag'd, and like a cruell Tygre far'd,
He hewd, and laſht, and foynd, and thundred blowes,
And euery way did ſeeke into his life,
Ne plate, ne male could ward ſo mighty throwes,
But yielded paſſage to his cruell knife.
But Guyon, in the heat of all his ſtrife,
Was warie wiſe, and cloſely did awayt
Auauntage, whileſt his foe did rage moſt rife;
Sometimes a thwart, ſometimes he ſtrooke him ſtrayt,
And falſed oft his blowes, t'illude him with ſuch bayt.
Like as a Lyon, whoſe imperiall powre
A prowd rebellious Vnicorne defies,
T'auoide the raſh aſſault and wrathfull ſtowre
Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applies,
And when him running in full courſe he ſpies,
He ſlips aſide; the whiles that furious beaſt
His precious horne, ſought of his enimies
Strikes in the ſtocke, ne thence can be relaſt,
But to the mighty victour yields a bounteous feaſt.
With ſuch faire ſlight him Guyon often faild,
Till at the laſt all breathleſſe, wearie, faint
Him ſpying, with freſh onſet he aſſaild,
And kindling new his courage ſeeming queint,
Strooke him ſo hugely, that through great conſtraint
He made him ſtoup perforce vnto his knee,
And do vnwilling worſhip to the Saint,
That on his ſhield depainted he did ſee;
Such homage till that inſtant neuer learned hee.
Whom Guyon ſeeing ſtoup, purſewed 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 ground made him full low to lye;
Then on his breſt his victour foote he thruſt,
With that he cryde, Mercy, do me not dye,
Ne deeme thy force by fortunes doome vniuſt,
That hath (maugre her ſpight) thus low me laid in duſt.
Eftſoones his cruell hand Sir Guyon ſtayd,
Tempring the paſſion with aduizement ſlow,
And maiſtring might on enimy diſmayd:
For th'equall dye of warre he well did know;
Then to him ſaid, Liue and allegaunce owe,
To him that giues thee life and libertie,
And henceforth by this dayes enſample trow,
That haſty wroth, and heedleſſe hazardrie
Do breede repentaunce late, and laſting infamie.
So vp he let him riſe, who with grim looke
And count'naunce ſterne vpſtanding, gan to grind
His grated teeth for great diſdeigne, and ſhooke
His ſandy lockes, long hanging downe behind,
Knotted in bloud and duſt, for griefe of mind,
That he in ods of armes was conquered;
Yet in himſelfe ſome comfort he did find,
That him ſo noble knight had maiſtered,
Whoſe bounty more then might, yet both he wondered.
Which Guyon marking ſaid, Be nought agrieu'd,
Sir knight, that thus ye now ſubdewed arre:
Was neuer man, who moſt conqueſtes atchieu'd
But ſometimes had the worſe, and loſt by warre,
Yet ſhortly gaynd, that loſſe exceeded farre:
Loſſe is no ſhame, nor to be leſſe then foe,
But to be leſſer, then himſelfe, doth marre
Both looſers lot, and victours prayſe alſoe.
Vaine others ouerthrowes, who ſelfe doth ouerthrowe.
Fly, O Pyrrhochles, fly the dreadfull warre,
That in thy ſelfe thy leſſer parts do moue,
Outrageous anger, and woe-working iarre,
Direfull impatience, and hart murdring loue;
Thoſe, thoſe thy foes, thoſe warriours far remoue,
Which thee to endleſſe bale captiued lead.
But ſith in might thou didſt my mercy proue,
Of curteſie to me the cauſe a read,
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
Vnto an aged woman, poore and bare,
And thralled her in chaines with ſtrong effort,
Voide of all ſuccour and needfull comfort:
That ill beſeemes thee, ſuch as I thee ſee,
To worke ſuch ſhame. Therefore I thee exhort,
To chaunge thy will, and ſet Occaſion free,
And to her captiue ſonne yield his firſt libertee.
Thereat Sir Guyon ſmilde, And is that all
(Said he) that thee ſo ſore diſpleaſed hath?
Great mercy ſure, for to enlarge a thrall,
Whoſe freedome ſhall thee turne to greateſt ſcath.
Nath'leſſe now quench thy whot emboyling wrath:
Loe there they be; to thee I yield them free.
Thereat he wondrous glad, out of the path
Did lightly leape, where he them bound did ſee,
And gan to breake the bands of their captiuitee.
Soone as Occaſion felt her ſelfe vntyde,
Before her ſonne could well aſſoyled bee,
She to her vſe returnd, and ſtreight defyde
Both Guyon and Pyrrhochles: th'one (ſaid hee)
Bycauſe he wonne; the other becauſe hee
Was wonne: So matter did ſhe make of nought,
To ſtirre vp ſtrife, and do them diſagree:
But ſoone as Furor was enlargd, ſhe ſought
To kindle his quencht fire, and thouſand cauſes wrought.
It was not long, ere ſhe inflam'd him ſo,
That he would algates with Pyrrhochles fight,
And his redeemer chalengd for his foe,
Becauſe he had not well mainteind his right,
But yielded had to that ſame ſtraunger knight:
Now gan Pyrrhochles wex as wood, as hee,
And him affronted with impatient might:
So both together fiers engraſped bee,
Whiles Guyon ſtanding by, their vncouth ſtrife does ſee.
Him all that while Occaſion did prouoke
Againſt Pyrrhochles, and new matter framed
Vpon the old, him ſtirring to be wroke
Of his late wrongs, in which ſhe oft him blamed
For ſuffering ſuch abuſe, as knighthood ſhamed,
And him diſhabled quite. But he was wiſe
Ne would with vaine occaſions be inflamed;
Yet others ſhe more vrgent did deuiſe:
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 bloud and durt deformed quight.
His mother eke, more to augment his ſpight,
Now brought to him a flaming fire brond,
Which ſhe in Stygian lake, ay burning bright
Had kindled: that ſhe gaue into his hond,
That armd with fire, more hardly he mote him withſtōd.
Tho 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,
Helpe, ô Sir Guyon, helpe moſt noble knight,
To rid a wretched man from hands of helliſh wight.
The knight was greatly moued at his plaint,
And gan him dight to ſuccour his diſtreſſe,
Till that the Palmer, by his graue reſtraint,
Him ſtayd from yielding pitifull redreſſe;
And ſaid, Deare ſonne, thy cauſeleſſe ruth repreſſe,
Ne let thy ſtout hart melt in pitty vayne:
He that his ſorrow ſought through wilfulneſſe,
And his foe fettred would releaſe agayne.
Deſerues to taſt his follies fruit, repented payne.
Guyon obayd; So him away he drew
From needleſſe trouble of renewing fight
Already fought, his voyage to purſew.
But raſh Pyrrhochles varlet, Atin hight,
When late he ſaw his Lord in heauy plight,
Vnder Sir Guyons puiſſaunt ſtroke to fall,
Him deeming dead, as then he ſeemd in ſight,
Fled faſt away, to tell his funerall
Vnto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call.
He was a man of rare redoubted might,
Famous throughout the world for warlike prayſe,
And glorious ſpoiles, purchaſt in perilous fight:
Full many doughtie knights he in his dayes
Had doen to death, ſubdewde in equall frayes,
Whoſe carkaſes, for terrour of his name,
Of fowles and beaſtes he made the piteous prayes,
And hong their conquered armes for more defame
On gallow trees, in honour of his deareſt Dame.
His deareſt Dame is that Enchauntereſſe,
The vile Acraſia, that with vaine delightes,
And idle pleaſures in his Bowre of Bliſſe,
Does charme her louers, and the feeble ſprightes
Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes:
Whom then ſhe does transforme to mōſtrous hewes,
And horribly miſſhapes with vgly ſightes,
Captiu'd eternally in yron mewes,
And darkſom dens, where Titan his face neuer ſhewes.
There Atin found Cymochles ſoiourning,
To ſerue his Lemans loue: for he by kind,
Was giuen all to luſt and looſe liuing,
When euer his fiers hands he free mote find:
And now he has pourd out his idle mind
In daintie delices, and lauiſh ioyes,
Hauing his warlike weapons caſt behind,
And flowes in pleaſures, and vaine pleaſing toyes,
Mingled emongſt looſe Ladies and laſciuious boyes.
And ouer him, art ſtriuing to compaire
With nature, did an Arber greene diſpred,
Framed of wanton Yuie, flouring faire,
Through which the fragrant Eglantine did ſpred
His pricking armes, entrayld with roſes red,
Which daintie odours round about them threw,
And all within with flowres was garniſhed,
That when myld Zephyrus emongſt them blew,
Did breath out bounteous ſmels, & painted colors ſhew.
And faſt beſide, there trickled ſoftly downe
A gentle ſtreame, whoſe murmuring waue did play
Emongſt the pumy ſtones, and made a ſowne,
To lull him ſoft a ſleepe, that by it lay;
The wearie Traueiler, wandring that way,
Therein did often quench his thriſty heat,
And then by it his wearie limbes diſplay,
Whiles creeping ſlomber made him to forget
His former paine, and wypt away his toylſom ſweat.
And on the other ſide a pleaſaunt groue
Was ſhot vp high, full of the ſtately tree,
That dedicated is t'Olympicke Ioue,
And to his ſonne Alcides, whenas hee
Gaynd in Nemea goodly victoree;
Therein the mery birds of euery ſort
Chaunted alowd their chearefull harmonie:
And made emongſt them ſelues a ſweet conſort,
That quickned the dull ſpright with muſicall comfort.
There he him found all careleſly diſplayd,
In ſecret ſhadow from the ſunny ray,
On a ſweet bed of lillies ſoftly layd,
Amidſt a flocke of Damzels freſh and gay,
That round about him diſſolute did play
Their wanton follies, and light meriment;
Euery of which did looſely diſaray
Her vpper parts of meet habiliments,
And ſhewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments.
And euery of them ſtroue, with moſt delights,
Him to aggrate, and greateſt pleaſures ſhew;
Some framd faire lookes, glancing like euening lights
Others ſweet words, dropping like honny dew;
Some bathed kiſſes, and did ſoft embrew
The ſugred licour through his melting lips:
One boaſtes her beautie, and does yeeld to vew
Her daintie limbes aboue her tender hips;
Another her out boaſtes, and all for tryall ſtrips.
He, like an Adder, lurking in the weeds,
His wandring thought in deepe deſire does ſteepe,
And his fraile eye with ſpoyle of beautie feedes;
Sometimes he falſely faines himſelfe to ſleepe,
Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe,
To ſteale a ſnatch of amorous conceipt,
Whereby cloſe fire into his heart does creepe:
So, he them deceiues, deceiu'd in his deceipt,
Made drunke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt.
Atin arriuing there, when him he ſpide,
Thus in ſtill waues of deepe delight to wade,
Fiercely approching, to him lowdly cride,
Cymochles; oh no, but Cymochles ſhade,
In which that manly perſon late did fade,
What is become of great Acrates ſonne?
Or where hath he hong vp his mortall blade,
That hath ſo many haughtie conqueſts wonne?
Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne?
Then pricking him with his ſharpe-pointed dart,
He ſaid; vp, vp, thou womaniſh weake knight,
That here in Ladies lap entombed art,
Vnmindfull of thy praiſe and proweſt might,
And weetleſſe eke of lately wrought deſpight,
Whiles ſad Pyrrhochles lies on ſenſeleſſe ground,
And groneth out his vtmoſt grudging ſpright,
Through many a ſtroke, & many a ſtreaming wound,
Calling thy helpe in vaine, that here in ioyes art dround.
Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame
The man awoke, and would haue queſtiond more;
But he would not endure that wofull theame
For to dilate at large, but vrged ſore
With percing words, and pittifull implore,
Him haſtie to ariſe. As one affright
With helliſh feends, or Furies mad vprore,
He then vproſe, inflam'd with fell deſpight,
And called for his armes; for he would algates fight.
They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight,
And lightly mounted, paſſeth on his way,
Ne Ladies loues, ne ſweete entreaties might
Appeaſe his heat, or haſtie paſſage ſtay;
For he has vowd, to beene aueng'd that day,
(That day it ſelfe him ſeemed all too long:)
On him, that did Pyrrhochles deare diſmay:
So proudly pricketh on his courſer ſtrong,
And Atin aie him pricks with ſpurs of ſhame & wrong.
Cant. VI.
Guyon is of immodeſt Merth,
led into looſe deſire,
Fights with Cymochles, whiles his brother burnes infurious fire.
A Harder leſſon, to learne Continence
In ioyous pleaſure, then in grieuous paine:
For ſweetneſſe doth allure the weaker ſence
So ſtrongly, that vneathes it can refraine
From that, which feeble nature couets faine;
But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies,
And foes of life, ſhe better can reſtraine;
Yet vertue vauntes in both their victories,
And Guyon in them all ſhewes goodly maiſteries.
Whom bold Cymochles trauelling to find,
With cruell purpoſe bent to wreake on him
The wrath, which Atin kindled in his mind,
Came to a riuer, by whoſe vtmoſt brim
Wayting to paſſe, he ſaw whereas did ſwim
A long the ſhore, as ſwift as glaunce of eye,
A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim
With boughes and arbours wouen cunningly,
That like a litle forreſt ſeemed outwardly.
And therein ſate a Ladie freſh and faire,
Making ſweet ſolace to her ſelfe alone;
Sometimes ſhe ſung, as loud as larke in aire,
Sometimes ſhe laught, that nigh her breth was gone,
Yet was there not with her elſe any one,
That might to her moue cauſe of meriment:
Matter of merth enough, though there were none
She could deuiſe, and thouſand waies inuent,
To feede her fooliſh humour, and vaine iolliment.
Which when farre off Cymochles heard, and ſaw,
He loudly cald to ſuch, as were a bord,
The little barke vnto the ſhore to draw,
And him to ferrie ouer that deepe ford:
The merry marriner vnto his word
Soone hearkned, and her painted bote ſtreightway
Turnd to the ſhore, where that ſame warlike Lord
She in receiu'd; but Atin by no way
She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.
Eftſoones her ſhallow ſhip away did ſlide,
More ſwift, then ſwallow ſheres the liquid skie,
Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide,
Or winged canuas with the wind to flie,
Only ſhe turn'd a pin, and by and by
It cut away vpon the yielding waue,
Ne cared ſhe her courſe for to apply:
For it was taught the way, which ſhe would haue,
And both from rocks and flats it ſelfe could wiſely ſaue.
And all the way, the wanton Damzell found
New merth, her paſſenger to entertaine:
For ſhe in pleaſant purpoſe did abound,
And greatly ioyed merry tales to faine,
Of which a ſtore-houſe did with her remaine,
Yet ſeemed, nothing well they her became;
For all her words ſhe drownd with laughter vaine,
And wanted grace in vtt'ring of the ſame,
That turned all her pleaſance to a ſcoffing game.
And other whiles vaine toyes ſhe would deuize,
As her fantaſticke wit did moſt delight,
Sometimes her head ſhe fondly would aguize
With gaudie girlonds, or freſh flowrets dight
About her necke, or rings of ruſhes plight;
Sometimes to doe him laugh, ſhe would aſſay
To laugh at ſhaking of the leaues light,
Or to behold the water worke, and play
About her litle frigot, therein making way.
Her light behauiour, and looſe dalliaunce
Gaue wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no ſouenaunce,
Nor care of vow'd reuenge, and cruell fight,
But to weake wench did yeeld his martiall might.
So eaſie was to quench his flamed mind
With one ſweet drop of ſenſuall delight,
So eaſie is, t'appeaſe the ſtormie wind
Of malice in the calme of pleaſant womankind.
Diuerſe diſcourſes in their way they ſpent,
Mongſt which Cymochles of her queſtioned,
Both what ſhe was, and what that vſage ment,
Which in her cot ſhe daily practiſed.
Vaine man (ſaid ſhe) that wouldeſt be reckoned
A ſtraunger in thy home, and ignoraunt
Of Phaedria (for ſo my name is red)
Of Phaedria, thine owne fellow ſeruaunt;
For thou to ſerue Acraſia thy ſelfe doeſt vaunt.
In this wide Inland ſea, that hight by name
The Idle lake, my wandring ſhip I row,
That knowes her port, and thither ſailes by ayme,
Ne care, ne feare I, how the wind do blow,
Or whether ſwift I wend, or whether ſlow:
Both ſlow and ſwift a like do ſerue my tourne,
Ne ſwelling Neptune, ne loud thundring Ioue
Can chaunge my cheare, or make me euer mourne;
My litle boat can ſafely paſſe this perilous bourne.
Whiles thus ſhe talked, and whiles thus ſhe toyd,
They were farre paſt the paſſage, which he ſpake,
And come vnto an Iſland, waſte and voyd,
That floted in the midſt of that great lake,
There her ſmall Gondelay her port did make,
And that gay paire iſſuing on the ſhore
Disburdued her. Their way they forward take
Into the land, that lay them faire before,
Whoſe pleaſaunce ſhe him ſhew'd, and plentifull great ſtore.
It was a choſen plot of fertile land,
Emongſt wide waues ſet, like a litle neſt,
As if it had by Natures cunning hand,
Bene choiſely picked out from all the reſt,
And laid forth for enſample of the beſt:
No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground,
No arboret with painted bloſſomes dreſt,
And ſmelling ſweet, but there it might be found
To bud out faire, and her ſweet ſmels throw all around.
No tree, whoſe braunches did not brauely ſpring;
No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not ſit:
No bird, but did her ſhrill notes ſweetly ſing;
No ſong but did containe a louely dit:
Trees, braunches, birds, and ſongs were framed fit,
For to allure fraile mind to careleſſe eaſe.
Careleſſe the man ſoone woxe, and his weake wit
Was ouercome of thing, that did him pleaſe;
So pleaſed, did his wrathfull purpoſe faire appeaſe.
Thus when ſhe had his eyes and ſenſes fed
With falſe delights, and fild with pleaſures vaine,
Into a ſhadie dale ſhe ſoft him led,
And laid him downe vpon a graſſie plaine;
And her ſweet ſelfe without dread, or diſdaine,
She ſet beſide, laying his head diſarm'd
In her looſe lap, it ſoftly to ſuſtaine,
Where ſoone he ſlumbred, fearing not be harm'd,
The whiles with a loud lay ſhe thus him ſweetly charm'd.
Behold, ô man, that toileſome paines doeſt take
The flowres, the fields, and all that pleaſant growes,
How they themſelues doe thine enſample make,
Whiles nothing enuious nature them forth throwes
Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man knowes,
They ſpring, they bud, they bloſſome freſh and faire,
And deck the world with their rich pompous ſhowes;
Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,
Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.
The lilly, Ladie of the flowring field,
The Flowre-deluce, her louely Paramoure,
Bid thee to them thy fruitleſſe labours yield,
And ſoone leaue off this toyleſome wearie ſtoure;
Loe loe how braue ſhe decks her bounteous boure,
With ſilken curtens and gold couerlets,
Therein to ſhrowd her ſumptuous Belamoure,
Yet neither ſpinnes nor cardes, ne cares nor frets,
But to her mother Nature all her care ſhe lets.
Why then doſt thou, ô man, that of them all
Art Lord, and eke of nature Soueraine,
Wilfully make thy ſelfe a wretched thrall,
And waſt thy ioyous houres in needleſſe paine,
Seeking for daunger and aduentures vaine?
What bootes it all to haue, and nothing vſe?
Who ſhall him rew, that ſwimming in the maine,
Will die for thirſt, and water doth refuſe?
Refuſe ſuch fruitleſſe toile, and preſent pleaſures chuſe.
By this ſhe had him lulled faſt a ſleepe,
That of no worldly thing he care did take;
Then ſhe with liquors ſtrong his eyes did ſteepe,
That nothing ſhould him haſtily awake:
So ſhe him left, and did her ſelfe betake
Vnto her boat againe, with which ſhe cleft
The ſlouthfull waue of that great grieſly lake;
Soone ſhe that Iſland farre behind her left,
And now is come to that ſame place, where firſt ſhe weft.
By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Vnto the other ſide of that wide ſtrond,
Where ſhe was rowing, and for paſſage ſought:
Him needed not long call, ſhe ſoone to hond
Her ferry brought, where him ſhe byding fond,
With his ſad guide; himſelfe ſhe tooke a boord,
But the Blacke Palmer ſuffred ſtill to ſtond,
Ne would for price, or prayers once affoord,
To ferry that old man ouer the perlous foord.
Guyon was loath to leaue his guide behind,
Yet being entred, might not backe retyre;
For the flit barke, obaying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly, as ſhe did deſire,
Ne gaue him leaue to bid that aged fire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted courſe
Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire,
Whom neither wind out of their ſeat could forſe,
Nor timely tides did driue out of their ſluggiſh ſourſe.
And by the way, as was her wonted guize,
Her merry fit ſhe freſhly gan to reare,
And did of ioy and iollitie deuize,
Her ſelfe to cheriſh, and her gueſt to cheare:
The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare
Her honeſt merth and pleaſaunce to partake;
But when he ſaw her toy, and gibe, and geare,
And paſſe the bonds of modeſt merimake,
Her dalliance he deſpiſd, and follies did forſake.
Yet ſhe ſtill followed her former ſtile,
And ſaid, and did all that mote him delight,
Till they arriued in that pleaſant Ile,
Where ſleeping late ſhe left her other knight.
But when as Guyon that land had ſight,
He wiſt himſelfe amiſſe, and angry ſaid;
Ah Dame, perdie ye haue not doen me right,
Thus to miſlead me, whiles I you obaid:
Me litle needed from my right way to haue ſtraid.
Faire Sir (quoth ſhe) be not diſpleaſd at all;
Who fares on ſea, may not commaund his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleaſure call:
The ſea is wide, and eaſie for to ſtray;
The wind vnſtable, and doth neuer ſtay.
But here a while ye may in ſafety reſt,
Till ſeaſon ſerue new paſſage to aſſay;
Better ſafe port, then be in ſeas diſtreſt.
Therewith ſhe laught, and did her earneſt end in ieſt.
But he halfe diſcontent, mote natheleſſe
Himſelfe appeaſe, and iſſewd forth on ſhore:
The ioyes whereof, and happie fruitfulneſſe,
Such as he ſaw ſhe gan him lay before,
And all though pleaſant, yet ſhe made much more:
The fields did laugh, the flowres did freſhly ſpring,
The trees did bud, and earely bloſſomes bore,
And all the quire of birds did ſweetly ſing,
And told that gardins pleaſures in their caroling.
And ſhe more ſweet, then any bird on bough,
Would oftentimes emongſt them beare a part,
And ſtriue to paſſe (as ſhe could well enough)
Their natiue muſicke by her skilfull art:
So did ſhe all, that might his conſtant hart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,
And drowne in diſſolute delights apart,
Where noyſe of armes, or vew of martiall guize
Might not reuiue deſire of knightly exercize.
But he was wife, and warie of her will,
And euer held his hand vpon his hart:
Yet would not ſeeme ſo rude, and thewed ill,
As to deſpiſe ſo courteous ſeeming part,
That gentle Ladie did to him impart,
But fairely tempring fond deſire ſubdewd,
And euer her deſired to depart.
She liſt not heare, but her diſports pourſewd,
And euer bad him ſtay, till time the tide renewd.
And now by this, Cymochles howre was ſpent,
That he awoke out of his idle dreme,
And ſhaking off his drowzie dreriment,
Gan him auize, how ill did him beſeeme,
In ſlouthfull ſleepe his molten hart to ſteme,
And quench the brond of his conceiued ire.
Tho vp he ſtarted, ſtird with ſhame extreme,
Ne ſtaied for his Damzell to inquire,
But marched to the ſtrond, their paſſage to require.
And in the way he with Sir Guyon met,
Accompanyde with Phaedria the faire,
Eftſoones he gan to rage, and inly fret,
Crying, Let be that Ladie debonaire,
Thou recreant knight, and ſoone thy ſelfe prepaire
To battell, if thou meane her loue to gaine:
Loe, loe alreadie, how the fowles in aire
Doe flocke, awaiting ſhortly to obtaine
Thy carcaſſe for their pray, the guerdon of thy paine.
And therewithall he fiercely at him flew,
And with importance outrage him aſſayld;
Who ſoone prepard to field, his ſword forth drew,
And him with equall value counteruayld:
Their mightie ſtrokes their haberieons diſmayld,
And naked made each others manly ſpalles;
The mortall ſteele deſpiteouſly entayld
Deepe in their fleſh, quite through the yron walles,
That a large purple ſtreme a down their giambeux falles.
Cymochles, that had neuer met before,
So puiſſant foe, with enuious deſpight
His proud preſumed force increaſed more,
Diſdeigning to be held ſo long in fight;
Sir Guyon grudging not ſo much his might,
As thoſe vnknightly raylings, which he ſpoke,
With wrathfull fire his courage kindled bright,
Thereof deuiſing ſhortly to be wroke,
And doubling all his powres, redoubled euery ſtroke.
Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunſt,
And both attonce their huge, blowes downe did ſway;
Cymochles ſword on Guyons ſhield yglaunſt,
And thereof nigh one quarter ſheard away;
But Guyons angry blade ſo fierce did play
On th'others helmet, which as Titan ſhone,
That quite it cloue his plumed creſt in tway,
And bared all his head vnto the bone;
Wherewith aſtoniſht, ſtill he ſtood, as ſenſeleſſe ſtone.
Still as he ſtood, faire Phaedria, that beheld
That deadly daunger, ſoone atweene them ran;
And at their feet her ſelfe moſt humbly feld,
Crying with pitteous voice, and count'nance wan;
Ah well away, moſt noble Lords, how can
Your cruell eyes endure ſo pitteous ſight,
To ſhed your liues on ground? wo worth the man,
That firſt did teach the ourſed ſteele to bight
In his owne fleſh, and make way to the liuing ſpright.
If euer loue of Ladie did empierce
Your yron breſtes, or pittie could find place,
Withhold your bloudie hands from battell fierce,
And ſith for me ye fight, to me this grace
Both yeeld, to ſtay your deadly ſtrife a ſpace.
They ſtayd a while: and forth ſhe gan proceed:
Moſt wretched woman, and of wicked race,
That am the author of this hainous deed,
And cauſe of death betweene two doughtie knights doe breed.
But if for me ye fight, or me will ſerue,
Not this rude kind of battell, nor theſe armes
Are meet, the which doe men in bale to ſterue,
And dolefull ſorrow heape with deadly harmes:
Such cruell game my ſcarmoges diſarmes:
Another warre, and other weapons I
Doe loue, where loue does giue his ſweet alarmes,
Without bloudſhed, and where the enemy
Does yeeld vnto his foe a pleaſant victory.
Debatefull ſtrife, and cruell enmitie
The famous name of knighthood fowly ſhent;
But louely peace, and gentle amitie,
And in Amours the paſſing houres to ſpend,
The mightie martiall hands doe moſt commend;
Of loue they euer greater glory bore,
Then of their armes: Mars is Cupidoes frend,
And is for Venus loues renowmed more,
Then all his wars and ſpoiles, the which he did of yore.
Therewith ſhe ſweetly ſmyld. They though full bent,
To proue extremities of bloudie fight,
Yet at her ſpeach their rages gan relent,
And calme the ſea of their tempeſtuous ſpight,
Such powre haue pleaſing words: ſuch is the might
Of courteous clemencie in gentle hart.
Now after all was ceaſt, the Faery knight
Beſought that Damzell ſuffer him depart,
And yield him readie paſſage to that other part.
She no leſſe glad, then he deſirous was
Of his departure thence; for of her ioy
And vaine delight ſhe ſaw he light did pas,
A foe of folly and immodeſt toy,
Still ſolemne ſad, or ſtill diſdainfull coy,
Delighting all in armes and cruell warre,
That her ſweet peace and pleaſures did annoy,
Troubled with terrour and vnquiet iarre,
That ſhe well pleaſed was thence to amoue him farre.
Tho him ſhe brought abord, and her ſwift bote
Forthwith directed to that further ſtrand;
The which on the dull waues did lightly flote
And ſoone arriued on the ſhallow ſand,
Where gladſome Guyon ſalied forth to land,
And to that Damzell thankes gaue for reward.
Vpon that ſhore he ſpied Atin ſtand,
Thereby his maiſter left, when late he far'd
In Phadrias flit barke ouer that perlous ſhard.
Well could he him remember, ſith of late
He with Pyrrhochles ſharp debatement made;
Streight gan he him reuile, and bitter rate,
As ſhepheards curre, that in darke euenings ſhade
Hath tracted forth ſome ſaluage beaſtes trade;
Vile Miſcreant (ſaid he) whither doeſt thou flie
The ſhame and death, which will thee ſoone inuade?
What coward hand ſhall doe thee next to die,
That art thus foully fled from famous enemie?
With that he ſtiffely ſhooke his ſteelehead dart:
But ſober Guyon, hearing him ſo raile,
Though ſomewhat moued in his mightie hart,
Yet with ſtrong reaſon maiſtred paſſion fraile,
And paſſed fairely forth. He turning taile,
Backe to the ſtrond retyrd, and there ſtill ſtayd,
Awaiting paſſage, which him late did faile;
The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd
The haſtie heat of his auowd reuenge delayd.
Whyleſt there the varlet ſtood, he ſaw from farre
An armed knight, that towards him faſt ran,
He ran on foot, as if in luckleſſe warre
His forlorne ſteed from him the victourwan;
He ſeemed breathleſſe, hartleſſe, faint, and wan,
And all his armour ſprinckled was with bloud,
And ſoyld with durtie gore, that no man can
Diſcerne the hew thereof. He neuer ſtood,
But bent his haſtie courſe towards the idle flood.
The varlet ſaw, when to the flood he came,
How without ſtop or ſtay he fiercely lept,
And deepe him ſelfe beduked in the ſame,
That in the lake his loftie creſt was ſteept,
Ne of his ſafetie ſeemed care he kept,
But with his raging armes he rudely flaſht,
The waues about, and all his armour ſwept,
That all the bloud and filth away was waſht,
Yet ſtill he bet the water, and the billowes daſht.
Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote bee;
For much he wondred at that vncouth ſight;
Whom ſhould he, but his owne deare Lord, there ſee,
His owne deare Lord Pyrrhochles, in ſad plight,
Readie to drowne himſelfe for fell deſpight.
Harrow now out, and well away, he cryde,
What diſmall day hath lent this curſed light,
To ſee my Lord ſo deadly damnifyde
Pyrrhochles, ô Pyrrhochles, what is thee betyde?
I burne, I burne, I burne, then loud he cryde,
O how I burne with implacable fire,
Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming ſyde,
Nor ſea of licour cold, nor lake of mire,
Nothing but death can doe me to reſpire.
Ah be it (ſaid he) from Pyrrhochles farre
After purſewing death once to require,
Or think, that ought thoſe puiſſant hands may marre:
Death is for wretches borne vnder vnhappie ſtarre.
Perdie, then is it fit for me (ſaid he)
That am, I weene, moſt wretched man aliue,
But in flames, yet no flames can I ſee,
And dying daily, daily yet reuiue:
O Atin, helpe to me laſt death to giue.
The varlet at his plaint was grieued ſo ſore,
That his deepe wounded hart in two did riue,
And his owne health remembring now no more,
Did follow that enſample, which he blam'd afore.
Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd,
(So Loue the dread of daunger doth deſpiſe)
And of him catching hold him ſtrongly ſtayd
From drowning. But more happie he, then wiſe
Of that ſeas nature did him not auiſe.
The waues thereof ſo ſlow and ſluggiſh were,
Engroſt with mud, which did them foule agriſe,
That euery weightie thing they did vpbeare,
Ne ought mote euer ſinke downe to the bottome there.
Whiles thus they ſtrugled in that idle waue,
And ſtroue in vaine, the one himſelfe to drowne,
The other both from drowning for to ſaue,
Lo, to that ſhore one in an auncient gowne,
Whoſe hoarie locks great grauitie did crowne,
Holding in hand a goodly arming ſword,
By fortune came, led with the troublous ſowne:
Where drenched deepe he found in that dull ford
The carefull ſeruant, ſtriuing with his raging Lord.
Him Atin ſpying, knew right well of yore,
And loudly cald, Helpe helpe, ô Archimage;
To ſaue my Lord, in wretched plight forlore;
Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counſell ſage:
Weake hands, but counſell is moſt ſtrong in age.
Him when the old man ſaw, he wondred ſore,
To ſee Pyrrhochles there ſo rudely rage:
Yet ſithens helpe, he ſaw, he needed more
Then pittie, he in haſt approched to the ſhore.
And cald, Pyrrhochles, what is this, I ſee?
What helliſh furie hath at earſt thee hent?
Furious euer I thee knew to bee,
Yet neuer in this ſtraunge aſtoniſhment.
Theſe flames, theſe flames (he cryde) do metorment.
What flames (quoth he) when I thee preſent ſee,
In daunger rather to be drent, then brent?
Harrow, the flames, which me conſume (ſaid hee)
Ne can be quencht, within my ſecret bowels bee.
That curſed man, that cruell feend of hell,
Furor, oh Furor hath me thus bedight:
His deadly wounds within my liuers ſwell,
And his whot fire burnes in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through his infernall brond of ſpight,
Sith late with him I batteil vaine would boſte;
That now I weene Ioues dreaded thunder light
Does ſcorch not halfe ſo ſore, nor damned ghoſte
In flaming Phlegeton does not ſo felly roſte.
Which when as Archimago heard, his griefe
He knew right well, and him attonce diſarmd:
Then ſearcht his ſecret wounds, and made a priefe
Of euery place, that was with bruſing harmd,
Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd.
Which done, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,
And euemore with mighty ſpels them charmd,
That in ſhort ſpace he has them qualifyde,
And him reſtor'd to health, that would haue algates dyde.
Cant. VII.
Guyon findes Mamon in a delue,
Sunning his threaſure hore:
Is by him tempted, & led downe,
To ſee his ſecret ſtore.
AS Pilot well expert in perilous waue,
That to a ſtedfaſt ſtarre his courſe hath bent,
When foggy miſtes, or cloudy tempeſts haue
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,
And couer'd heauen with hideous dreriment,
Vpon his card and compas firmes his eye,
The maiſters of his long experiment,
And to them does the ſteddy helme apply,
Bidding his winged veſſell fairely forward fly.
So Guyon hauing loſt his truſty guide,
Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
Yet on his way, of none accompanide;
And euermore himſelfe with comfort feedes,
Of his owne vertues, and prayſe-worthy deedes.
So long he yode, yet no aduenture found,
Which fame of her ſhrill trompet worthy reedes:
For ſtill he traueild through wide waſtfull ground,
That nought but deſert wilderneſſe ſhew'd all around.
At laſt he came vnto a gloomy glade,
Couer'd with boughes & ſhrubs from heauens light,
Whereas he ſitting found in ſecret ſhade
An vncouth, ſaluage, and vnciulle wight,
Of grieſly hew, and fowle ill fauour'd ſight;
His face with ſmoke was tand, and eyes were bleard,
His head and beard with ſout were ill bedight,
His cole-blacke hands did ſeeme to haue beene ſeard
In ſmithes fire-ſpitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.
His yron coate all ouergrowne with ruſt,
Was vnderneath enueloped with gold,
Whoſe gliſtring gloſſe darkned with filthy duſt,
Well it appeared, to haue beene of old
A worke of rich entayle, and curious mould,
Wouen with antickes and wild Imagery:
And in his lap a maſſe of coyne he told,
And turned vpſidowne, to feede his eye
A couetous deſire with his huge threaſury.
And round about him lay on euery ſide
Great heapes of gold, that neuer could be ſpent:
Of which ſome were rude owre, not purifide
Of Mulcibers deuouring element;
Some others were new driuen, and diſtent
Into great Ingoes, and to wedges ſquare;
Some in round plates withouten moniment;
But moſt were ſtampt, and in their metall bare
The antique ſhapes of kings and keſars ſtraunge & rare.
Soone as he Guyon ſaw, in great affright
And haſt he roſe, for to remoue aſide
Thoſe pretious hils from ſtraungers enuious ſight,
And downe them poured through an hole full wide,
Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.
But Guyon lightly to him leaping, ſtayd
His hand, that trembled, as one terrifyde;
And though him ſelfe were at the ſight diſmayd,
Yet him perforce reſtraynd, and to him doubtfull ſayd.
What art thou man, (if man at all thou art)
That here in deſert haſt thine habitaunce,
And theſe rich heapes of wealth doeſt hide apart
From the worldes eye, and from her right vſaunce?
Thereat with ſtaring eyes fixed askaunce,
In great diſdaine, he anſwerd; Hardy Elfe,
That dareſt vew my direfull, countenaunce,
I read thee raſh, and heedleſſe of thy ſelfe,
To trouble my ſtill ſeate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.
God of the world and worldlings I me call,
Great Mammon, greateſt god below the skye,
That of my plenty poure out vnto all,
And vnto none my graces do enuye:
Riches, renowme, and principality,
Honour, eſtate, and all this worldes good,
For which men ſwinck and ſweat inceſſantly,
Fro me do flow into an ample flood,
And in the hollow earth haue their eternall brood.
Wherefore if me thou deigne to ſerue and ſew,
At thy commaund lo all theſe mountaines bee;
Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew
All theſe may not ſuffiſe, there ſhall to thee
Ten times ſo much be numbred francke and free.
Mammon (ſaid he) thy godheades vaunt is vaine,
And idle offers of thy golden fee;
To them, that couet ſuch eye-glutting gaine,
Proffer thy giftes, and fitter ſeruaunts entertaine.
Me ill beſits, that in der-doing armes,
And honours ſuit my vowed dayes do ſpend,
Vnto thy bounteous baytes, and pleaſing charmes,
With which weake men thou witcheſt, to attend:
Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend,
And low abaſe the high heroicke ſpright,
That ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend;
Faire ſhields, gay ſteedes, bright armes be my delight:
Thoſe be the riches fit for an aduent'rous knight.
Vaine glorious Elfe (ſaid he) doeſt not thou weet,
That money can thy wantes at will ſupply?
Sheilds, ſteeds, and armes, & all things for thee meet
It can puruay in twinckling of an eye;
And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
Do not I kings create, throw the crowne
Sometimes to him, that low in duſt doth ly?
And him that raignd, into his rowme thruſt downe,
And whom I luſt, do heape with glory and renowne?
All otherwiſe (ſaid he) I riches read,
And deeme them roote of all diſquietneſſe;
Firſt got with guile, and then preſeru'd with dread,
And after ſpent with pride and lauiſhneſſe,
Leauing behind them griefe and heauineſſe.
Infinite miſchiefes of them do arize,
Strife; and debate, bloudſhed, and bitterneſſe,
Outrageous wrong, and helliſh couetize,
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 bloud pourd oft on ground,
The crowned often ſlaine, the ſlayer cround,
The ſacred Diademe in peeces rent,
And purple robe gored with many a wound;
Caſtles ſurprizd, great cities ſackt and brent:
So mak'ſt thou kings, & gayneſt wrongfull gouernement.
Long were to tell the troublous ſtormes, that toſſe
The priuate ſtate, and make the life vnſweet:
Who ſwelling ſayles in Caſpian ſea doth croſſe,
And in frayle wood on Adrian gulfe doth fleet,
Doth not, I weene, ſo many euils meet.
Then Mammon wexing wroth, And why then, ſaid,
Are mortall men ſo fond and vndiſcreet,
So euill thing to ſeeke vnto their ayd,
And hauing not complaine, and hauing it vpbraid?
Indeede (quoth he) through fowle intemperaunce,
Frayle men are oft captiu'd to couetiſe:
But would they thinke, with how ſmall allowaunce
Vntroubled Nature doth her ſelfe ſuffiſe,
Such ſuperfluities they would deſpiſe,
Which with ſad cares empeach our natiue ioyes:
At the well head the pureſt ſtreames ariſe:
But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,
And with vncomely weedes the gentle waue accloyes.
The antique world, in his firſt flowring youth,
Found no defect in his Creatours grace,
But with gladthankes, and vnreproued truth,
Tne gifts of ſoueraigne bountie did embrace:
Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;
But later ages pride, like corn-fed ſteed,
Abuſd her plenty, and fat ſwolne encreace
To all licentious luſt, and gan exceed
The meaſure of her meane, and naturall firſt need.
Then gan a curſed hand the quiet wombe
Of his great Gandmother with ſteele to wound,
And the hid treaſures in her ſacred tombe,
With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he found
Fountaines of gold and ſiluer to abound,
Of which the matter of his huge deſire
And pompous pride eftſoones he did compound;
Then auarice gan through his veines inſpire
His greedy flames, and kindled life-deuouring fire.
Sonne (ſaid he then) let be thy bitter ſcorne,
And leaue the rudeneſſe of antique age
To them, that liu'd therein in ſtate forlorne;
Thou that doeſt liue in later times, muſt wage
Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
If then thee liſt my offred grace to vſe,
Take what thou pleaſe of all this ſurpluſage;
If thee liſt not, leaue haue thou to refuſe:
But thing refuſed, do not afterward accuſe.
Me liſt not (ſaid the Elfin knight) receaue
Thing offred, till I know it well be got,
Ne wote I, but thou didſt theſe goods bereaue
From rightfull owner by vnrighteous lot,
Or that bloud guiltneſſe or guile them blot.
Perdy (quoth he) yet neuer eye did vew,
Ne toung did tell, ne hand theſe handled not,
But ſafe I haue them kept in ſecret mew,
From heauens ſight, and powre of all which thē purſew.
What ſecret place (quoth he) can ſafely hold
So huge a maſſe, and hide from heauens eye?
Or where haſt thou thy wonne, that ſo much gold
Thou canſt preſerue from wrong and robbery?
Come thou (quoth he) and ſee. So by and by
Through that thicke couert he him led, and found
A darkeſome way, which no man could deſcry,
That deepe deſcended through the hollow ground,
And was with dread and horrour compaſſed around.
At length they came into a larger ſpace,
That ſtretcht it ſelfe into an ample plaine,
Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
That ſtreight did lead to Plutoes griefly raine:
By that wayes ſide, there fate infernall Payne,
And faſt beſide him ſat tumultuous Strife:
The one in hand an yron whip did ſtraine,
The other brandiſhed a bloudy knife,
And both did gnaſh their teeth, & both did threaten life.
On thother ſide in one conſort there ſate,
Cruell Reuenge, and rancorous Deſpight,
Diſloyall Treaſon, and hart-burning Hate,
But gnawing Gealoſie out of their ſight
Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight,
And trembling Feare ſtill to and fro did fly,
And found no place, where ſafe he ſhroud him might,
Lamenting Sorrow did in darkneſſe lye.
And Shame his vgly face did hide from liuing eye.
And ouer them ſad horrour with grim hew,
Did alwayes ſore, beating his yron wings;
And after him Owles and Night-rauens flew,
The hatefull meſſengers of heauy things,
Of death and dolour telling ſad tidings;
Whiles ſad Celeno, ſitting on a clift,
A ſong of bale and bitter ſorrow ſings,
That hart of flint a ſunder could haue rift:
Which hauing ended, after him ſhe flyeth ſwift.
All theſe before the gates of Pluto lay,
By whom they paſſing, ſpake vnto them nought.
But th'Elfin knight with wonder all the way
Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.
At laſt him to a litle dore he brought,
That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,
Was next adioyning, ne them parted ought:
Betwixt them both was but a litle ſtride,
That did the houſe of Richeſſe from hell-mouth diuide.
Before the dore ſat ſelfe-conſuming Care,
Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
For feare leaſt Force or Fraud ſhould vnaware
Breake in, and ſpoile the treaſure there in gard:
Ne would he ſuffer Sleepe once thither-ward
Approch, albe his drowſie den were next;
For next to death is Sleepe to be compard:
Therefore his houſe is vnto his annext;
Here Sleep, there Richeſſe, & Hel-gate thē both betwext.
So ſoone as Mammon there arriu'd, the dore
To him did open, and affoorded way;
Him followed eke Sir Guyon euermore,
Ne darkeneſſe him, ne daunger might diſmay.
Soone as he entred was, the dore ſtreight way
Did ſhut, and from behind it forth there lept
An vgly feend, more fowle then diſmall day,
The which with monſtrous ſtalke behind him ſtept,
And euer as he went, dew watch vpon him kept.
Well hoped he, ere long that hardy gueſt,
If euer couetous hand, or luſtfull eye,
Or lips he layd on thing, that likt him beſt,
Or euer ſleepe his eye-ſtrings did vntye,
Should be his pray. And therefore ſtill on hye
He ouer him did hold his cruell clawes,
Threatning with greedy gripe to do him dye
And rend in peeces with his rauenous pawes,
If euer he tranſgreſt the fatall Stygian lawes.
That houſes forme within was rude and ſtrong,
Like an huge caue, hewne out of rocky clift,
From whoſe rough vaut the ragged breaches hong,
Emboſt with maſſy gold of glorious gift,
And with rich metall loaded euery rift,
That heauy ruine they did ſeeme to threat;
And ouer them Arachne high did lift
Her cunning web, and ſpred her ſubtile net,
Enwrapped in fowle ſmoke and clouds more blacke then Iet.
Both roofe, and floore, and wals were all of gold,
But ouergrowne with duſt and old decay,
And hid in darkeneſſe, that none could behold
The hew thereof: for vew of chearefull day
Did neuer in that houſe it ſelfe diſplay,
But a faint ſhadow of vncertain light;
Such as a lamp, whoſe life does fade away:
Or as the Moone cloathed with clowdy night,
Does ſhew to him, that walkes in feare and ſad affright.
In all that rowme was nothing to be ſeene,
But huge great yron cheſts and coffers ſtrong,
All bard with double bends, that none could weene
Them to efforce by violence or wrong;
On euery ſide they placed were along.
But all the ground with ſculs was ſcattered,
And dead mens bones, which round about were flong,
Whoſe liues, it ſeemed, whilome there were ſhed,
And their vile carcaſes now left vnburied.
They forward paſſe, ne Guyon yet ſpoke word,
Till that they came vnto an yron dore,
Which to them opened of his owne accord,
And ſhewd of richeſſe ſuch exceeding ſtore,
As eye of man did neuer ſee before;
Ne euer could within one place be found,
Though all the wealth, which is, or was of yore,
Could gathered be through all the world around,
And that aboue were added to that vnder ground.
The charge thereof vnto a couetous Spright
Commaunded was, who thereby did attend,
And warily awaited day and night,
From other couetous feends it to defend,
Who it to rob and ranſacke did intend.
Then Mammon turning to that warriour, ſaid;
Loe here the worldes blis, loe here the end,
To which all men do ayme, rich to be made:
Such grace now to be happy, is before thee laid.
Certes (ſaid he) I n'ill thine offred grace,
Ne to be made ſo happy do intend:
Another blis before mine eyes I place,
Another happineſſe, another end.
To them, that liſt, theſe baſe regardes I lend:
But I in armes, and in atchieuements braue,
Do rather chooſe my flitting houres to ſpend,
And to be Lord of thoſe, that riches haue,
Then them to haue my ſelfe, and be their ſeruile ſclaue.
Thereat the feend his gnaſhing teeth did grate,
And grieu'd, ſo long to lacke his greedy pray;
For well he weened, that ſo glorious bayte
Would tempt his gueſt, to take thereof aſſay:
Had he ſo doen, he had him ſnatcht away,
More light then Culuer in the Faulcons fiſt.
Eternall God thee ſaue from ſuch decay.
But whenas Mammon ſaw his purpoſe miſt,
Him to entrap vnwares another way he wiſt.
Thence forward he him led, and ſhortly brought
Vnto another rowme, whoſe dore forthright,
To him did open, as it had beene taught:
Therein an hundred raunges weren pight,
And hundred fornaces all burning bright;
By euery fornace many feends did bide,
Deformed creatures, horrible in ſight,
And euery feend his buſie paines applide,
To melt the golden metall, ready to be tride.
One with great bellowes gathered filling aire,
And with forſt wind the fewell did inflame;
Another did the dying bronds repaire
With yron toungs, and ſprinckled oft the ſame
With liquid waues, fiers Vulcans rage to tame,
Who maiſtring them, renewd his former heat;
Some ſcumd the droſſe, that from the metall came;
Some ſtird the molten owre with ladles great;
And euery one did ſwincke, and euery one did ſweat.
But when as earthly wight they preſent ſaw,
Gliſtring in armes and battailous aray,
From their whot worke they did themſelues withdraw
To wonder at the ſight: for till that day,
They neuer creature ſaw, that came that way.
Their ſtaring eyes ſparckling with feruent fire,
And vgly ſhapes did nigh the man diſmay,
That were it not for ſhame, he would retire,
Till that him thus beſpake their ſoueraigne Lord & ſire.
Behold, thou Faeries ſonne, with mortall eye,
That liuing eye before did neuer ſee:
The thing, that thou didſt craue ſo earneſtly,
To weet, whence all the wealth late ſhewd by mee,
Proceeded, lo now is reueald to thee.
Here is the fountaine of the worldes good:
Now therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee,
Auiſe thee well, and chaunge thy wilfull mood,
Leaſt thou perhaps hereafter wiſh, and be withſtood.
Suffiſe it then, thou Money God (quoth hee)
That all thine idle offers I refuſe.
All that I need I haue; what needeth mee
To couet more, then I haue cauſe to vſe?
With ſuch vaine ſhewes thy worldlings vile abuſe:
But giue me leaue to follow mine empriſe.
Mammon was much diſpleaſd, yet no'te he chuſe,
But beare the rigour of his bold meſpiſe,
And thence him forward led, him further to entiſe.
He brought him through a darkſome narrow ſtrait,
To a broad gate, all built of beaten gold:
The gate was open, but therein did wait
A ſturdy villein, ſtriding ſtiffe and bold,
As the higheſt God defie 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 cruell foes he queld.
Diſdayne he called was, and did diſdaine
To be ſo cald, and who ſo did him call:
Sterne was to looke, and full of ſtomacke vaine,
His portaunce terrible, and ſtature tall,
Far paſſing th'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 fit amongſt blacke fiendes, then men to haue his place.
Soone as thoſe glitterand armes he did eſpye,
That with their brightneſſe made that darkneſſe light,
His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye,
And threaten batteill to the Faery knight;
Who likewiſe gan himſelfe to batteill dight,
Till Mammon did his haſty hand withhold,
And counſeld him abſtaine from perilous fight:
For nothing might abaſh the villein bold,
Ne mortall ſteele emperce his miſcreated mould.
So hauing him with reaſon pacifide,
And the fiers Carle commaunding to forbeare,
He brought him in. The rowme was large and wide,
As it ſome Gyeld or ſolemne Temple weare:
Many great golden pillours did vpbeare
The maſſy roofe, and riches huge ſuſtayne,
And euery pillour decked was full deare
With crownes and Diademes, & titles vaine,
Which mortall Princes wore, whiles they on earth did rayne.
A route of people there aſſembled were,
Of euery ſort and nation vnder skye,
Which with great vprore preaced to draw nere
To th'vpper part, where was aduaunced hye
A ſtately ſiege of ſoueraigne maieſtye;
And thereon ſat a woman gorgeous gay,
And richly clad in robes of royaltye,
That neuer earthly Prince in ſuch a ray
His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pride diſplay.
Her face right wondrous faire did ſeeme to bee,
That her broad beauties beam great brightnes threw
Through the dim ſhade, that all men might it ſee:
Yet was not that ſame her owne natiue hew,
But wrought by art and counterfetted ſhew,
Thereby more louers vnto her to call;
Nath'leſſe moſt heauenly faire in deed and vew
She by creation was, till ſhe did fall;
Thēceforth ſhe ſought for helps, to cloke her crime withall.
There, as in gliſtring glory ſhe did ſit,
She held a great gold chaine ylincked well,
Whoſe vpper end to higheſt heauen was knit,
And lower part did reach to loweſt Hell;
And all that preace did round about her ſwell,
To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby
To clime aloft, and others to excell:
That was Ambition, raſh deſire to ſty,
And euery lincke thereof a ſtep of dignity.
Some thought to raiſe themſelues to high degree,
By riches and vnrighteous reward,
Some by cloſe ſhouldrihg, ſome by flatteree;
Others through friends, others for baſe regard;
And all by wrong wayes for themſelues prepard.
Thoſe that were vp themſelues, kept others low,
Thoſe that were low themſelues, held others hard,
Ne ſuffred them to riſe or greater grow,
But euery one did ſtriue his fellow downe to throw.
Which when as Guyon ſaw, he gan inquire,
What meant that preace about that Ladies throne,
And what ſhe was that did ſo high aſpire.
Him Mammon anſwered; That goodly one,
Whom all that folke with ſuch contention,
Do flocke about, my deare my, daughter is;
Honour and dignitie from her alone,
Deriued are, and all this worldes blis
For which ye men do ſtriue: few get, but many mis.
And faire Philotime ſhe rightly hight,
The faireſt wight that wonneth vnder skye,
But that this darkſome neather world her light
Doth dim with horrour and deformitie,
Worthy of heauen and hye felicitie,
From whence the gods haue her for enuy thruſt:
But ſith thou haſt found fauour in mine eye,
Thy ſpouſe I will her make, if that thou luſt,
That ſhe may thee aduance for workes and merites iuſt.
Gramercy Mammon (ſaid the gentle knight)
For ſo great grace and offred high eſtate;
But I, that am fraile fleſh and earthly wight,
Vnworthy match for ſuch immortall mate
My ſelfe well wote, and mine vnequall fate;
And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight,
And loue auowd to other Lady late,
That to remoue the ſame I haue no might:
To chaunge loue cauſeleſſe is reproch to warlike knight.
Mammon emmoued was with inward wrath;
Yet forcing it to faine, him forth thence led
Through grieſly ſhadowes by a beaten path,
Into a gardin goodly garniſhed
With hearbs and fruits, whoſe kinds mote not be red:
Not ſuch, as earth out of her fruitfull woomb
Throwes forth to men, ſweet and well ſauoured,
But direfull deadly blacke both leafe and bloom,
Fit to adorne the dead, and decke the drery toombe.
There mournfull Cypreſse grew in greateſt ſtore,
And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben ſad,
Dead ſleeping Poppy, and blacke Hellebore,
Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad,
Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad,
Which with th'vniuſt Atheniens made to dy
Wiſe Socrates, who thereof quaffing glad
Pourd out his life, and laſt Philoſophy
To the faire Critias his deareſt Belamy.
The Gordin of Proſerpina this hight;
And in the midſt thereof a ſiluer ſeat,
With a thicke Arber goodly ouer dight,
In which ſhe often vſd from open heat
Her ſelfe to ſhroud, and pleaſures to entreat.
Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree,
With braunches broad diſpred and body great,
Clothed with leaues, that none the wood mote ſee
And loaden all with fruit as thicke as it might bee.
Their fruit were golden apples gliſtring bright,
That goodly was their glory to behold,
On earth like neuer grew, ne liuing wight
Like euer ſaw, but they from hence were ſold;
For thoſe, which Hercules with conqueſt bold
Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began,
And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold:
And thoſe with which th'Eubaean young man wan
Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran.
Here alſo ſprong that goodly golden fruit,
With which Acontius got his louer 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 th' Idaean Ladies diſagreed,
Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew,
And had of her, faire Helen for his meed,
That many noble Greekes and Troians made to bleed.
The warlike Elfe, much wondred at this tree,
So faire and great, that ſhadowed all the ground,
And his broad braunches, laden with rich fee,
Did ſtretch themſelues without the vtmoſt bound
Of this great gardin, compaſt with a mound,
Which ouer-hanging, they themſelues did ſteepe,
In a blacke flood which flow'd about it round;
That is the riuer of Cocytus deepe,
In which full many ſoules do endleſſe waile and weepe.
Which to behold, he clomb vp to the banke,
And looking downe, ſaw many damned wights,
In thoſe ſad waues, which direfull deadly ſtanke,
Plonged continually of cruell Sprights,
That with their pitteous cryes, and yelling ſhrights,
They made the further ſhore reſounden wide:
Emongſt the reſt of thoſe ſame ruefull ſights,
One curſed creature, he by chaunce eſpide,
That drenched lay full deepe, vnder the Garden ſide.
Deepe was he drenched to the vpmoſt chin,
Yet gaped ſtill, as coueting to drinke
Of the cold liquor, which he waded in,
And ſtretching forth his hand, did often thinke
To reach the fruit, which grew vpon the brincke:
But both the fruit from hand, and floud from mouth
Did flie abacke, and made him vainely ſwinke:
The whiles he ſteru'd with hunger and with drouth
He daily dyde, yet neuer throughly dyen couth.
The knight him ſeeing labour ſo in vaine,
Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby:
Who groning deepe, thus anſwerd him againe;
Moſt curſed of all creatures vnder skye,
Lo Tantalus, I here tormented lye:
Of whom high Ioue wont whylome feaſted bee,
Lo here I now for want of food doe dye:
But if that thou be ſuch, as I thee ſee,
Of grace I pray thee, giue to eat and drinke to mee.
Nay, nay, thou greedie Tantalus (quoth he)
Abide the fortune of thy preſent fate,
And vnto all that liue in high degree,
Enſample be of mind intemperate,
To teach them how to vſe their preſent ſtate.
Then gan the curſed wretch aloud to cry,
Accuſing higheſt Ioue and gods ingrate,
And eke blaſpheming heauen bitterly,
As authour of vniuſtice, there to let him dye.
He lookt a little further, and eſpyde
Another wretch, whoſe carkaſſe deepe was drent
Within the riuer, which the ſame did hyde:
But both his hands moſt filthy feculent,
Aboue the water were on high extent,
And faynd to waſh themſelues inceſſantly;
Yet nothing cleaner were for ſuch intent,
But rather fowler ſeemed to the eye;
So loſt his labour vaine and idle induſtry.
The knight him calling, asked who he was,
Who lifting vp his head, him anſwerd thus:
I Pilate am the falſeſt Iudge, alas,
And moſt vniuſt, that by vnrighteous
And wicked doome, to Iewes deſpiteous
Deliuered vp the Lord of life to die,
And did acquite a murdrer felonous;
The whiles my hands I waſht in puritie,
The whiles my ſoule was ſoyld with foule iniquitie.
Infinite moe, tormented in like paine
He there beheld, too long here to be told:
Ne Mammon would there let him long remaine,
For terrour of the tortures manifold,
In which the damned ſoules he did behold,
But roughly him beſpake. Thou fearefull foole,
Why takeſt not of that ſame fruit of gold,
Ne ſitteſt downe on that ſame ſiluer ſtoole,
To reſt thy wearie perſon, in the ſhadow coole.
All which he did, to doe him deadly fall
In frayle intemperance through ſinfull bayt;
To which if he inclined had at all,
That dreadfull feend, which did behind him wayt,
Would him haue rent in thouſand peeces ſtrayt:
But he was warie wiſe in all his way,
And well perceiued his deceiptfull ſleight,
Ne ſuffred luſt his ſafetie to betray;
So goodly did beguile the Guyler of the pray.
And now he has ſo long remained there,
That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan,
For want of food, and ſleepe, which two vpbeare,
Like mightie pillours, this fraile life of man,
That none without the ſame enduren can.
For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,
Since he this hardie enterprize began:
For thy great Mammon fairely he beſought,
Into the world to guide him backe, as he him brought.
The God, though loth, yet was conſtraind t'obay,
For lenger time, then that, no liuing wight
Below the earth, might ſuffred be to ſtay:
So backe againe, him brought to liuing light.
But all ſo ſoone as his enfeebled ſpright
Gan ſucke this vitall aire into his breſt,
As ouercome with too exceeding might,
The life did flit away out of her neſt,
And all his ſenſes were with deadly fit oppreſt.
Cant. VIII.
Sir Guyon laid in ſwowne is by
Acrates ſonnes deſpoyld,
Whom Arthur ſoone hath reskewed
And Paynim brethren foyld.
ANd is there care in heauen? and is there loue
In heauenly ſpirits to theſe creatures bace,
That may compaſſion of their euils moue?
There is: elſe much more wretched were the cace
Of men, then beaſts. But ô th'exceeding grace
Of higheſt God, that loues his creatures ſo,
And all his workes with mercy doth embrace,
That bleſſed Angels, he ſends to and fro,
To ſerue to wicked man, to ſerue his wicked foe.
How oft do they, their ſiluer bowers leaue,
To come to ſuccour vs, that ſuccour want?
How oft do they with golden pineons, cleaue
The flitting skyes, like flying Purſuiuant,
Againſt foule feends to aide vs millitant?
They for vs fight, they watch and dewly ward,
And their bright Squadrons round about vs plant,
And all for loue, and nothing for reward:
O why ſhould heauenly God to men haue ſuch regard?
During the while, that Guyon did abide
In Mamons houſe, the Palmer, whom whyleare
That wanton Mayd of paſſage had denide,
By further ſearch had paſſage found elſewhere,
And being on his way, approched neare,
Where Guyon lay in traunce, when ſuddenly
He heard a voice, that called loud and cleare,
Come hither, come hither, ô come haſtily;
That all the fields reſounded with the ruefull cry.
The Palmer lent his eare vnto the noyce,
To weet, who called ſo importunely:
Againe he heard a more efforced voyce,
That bad him come in haſte. He by and by
His feeble feet directed to the cry;
Which to that ſhadie delue him brought at laſt,
Where Mammon earſt did ſunne his threaſury:
There the good Guyon he found ſlumbring faſt
In ſenſeleſſe dreame; which ſight at firſt him ſore aghaſt.
Beſide his head there ſate a faire young man,
Of wondrous beautie, and of freſheſt yeares,
Whoſe tender bud to bloſſome new began,
And flouriſh faire aboue his equall peares;
His ſnowy front curled with golden heares,
Like Phoebus face adornd with ſunny rayes,
Diuinely ſhone, and two ſharpe winged ſheares,
Decked with diuerſe plumes, like painted Iayes,
Were fixed at his backe, to cut his ayerie wayes.
Like as Cupido on Idaean hill,
When hauing laid his cruell bow away,
And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fill
The world with murdrous ſpoiles and bloudie pray,
With his faire mother he him dights to play,
And with his goodly ſiſters, Graces three;
The Goddeſſe pleaſed with his wanton play,
Suffers her ſelfe through ſleepe beguild to bee,
The whiles the other Ladies mind their merry glee.
Whom when the Palmer ſaw, abaſht he was
Through feare and wonder, that he nought could ſay,
Till him the child beſpoke, Long lackt, alas,
Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard aſſay,
Whiles deadly fit thy pupill doth diſmay;
Behold this heauie ſight, thou reuerend Sire,
But dread of death and dolour doe away;
For life ere long ſhall to her home retire,
And he that breathleſſe ſeemes, ſhal corage bold reſpire.
The charge, which God doth vnto me arret,
Of his deare ſafetie, I to thee commend;
Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forget
The care thereof my ſelfe vnto the end,
But euermore him ſuccour, and defend
Againſt his foe and mine: watch thou I pray;
For euill is at hand him to offend.
So hauing ſaid, eftſoones he gan diſplay
His painted nimble wings, and vaniſht quite away.
The Palmer ſeeing his left empty place,
And his ſlow eyes beguiled of their ſight,
Woxe fore affraid, and ſtanding ſtill a ſpace,
Gaz'd after him, as fowle eſcapt by flight;
At laſt him turning to his charge behight,
With trembling hand his troubled pulſe gan try;
Where finding life not yet diſlodged quight,
He much reioyſt, and courd it tenderly,
As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded deſtiny.
At laſt he ſpide, where towards him did pace
Two Paynim knights, all armd as bright as skie,
And them beſide an aged Sire did trace,
And farre before a light-foot Page did flie,
That breathed ſtrife and troublous enmitie;
Thoſe were the two ſonnes of Acrates old,
Who meeting earſt with Archimago ſlie,
Foreby that idle ſtrond, of him were told,
That he, which earſt them combatted, was Guyon bold.
Which to auenge on him they dearely vowd,
Where euer that on ground they mote him fynd;
Falſe Archimage prouokt their courage prowd,
And ſtryfull Atin in their ſtubborne mynd
Coles of contention and whot vengeance tynd.
Now bene they come, whereas the Palmer ſate,
Keeping that ſlombred corſe to him aſſynd;
Well knew they both his perſon, ſith of late
With him in bloudie armes they raſhly did debate.
Whom when Pyrrhochles ſaw, inflam'd with rage,
That ſire he ſoule beſpake, Thou dotard vile,
That with thy bruteneſſe ſhendſt thy comely age,
Abandone ſoone, I read, the caitiue ſpoile
Of that ſame outcaſt carkaſſe, that erewhile
Made it ſelfe famous through falſe trechery,
And crownd his coward creſt with knightly ſtile;
Loe where he now inglorious doth lye,
To proue he liued ill, that did thus foully dye.
To whom the Palmer feareleſſe anſwered;
Certes, Sir knight, ye bene too much to blame,
Thus for to blot the honour of the dead,
And with foule cowardize his carkaſſe ſhame,
Whoſe liuing hands immortalizd his name.
Vile is the vengeance on the aſhes cold,
And enuie baſe, to barke at ſleeping fame:
Was neuer wight, that treaſon of him told;
Your ſelfe his proweſſe prou'd & found him fiers & bold.
Then ſaid Cymochles; Palmer, thou doeſt dote,
Ne canſt of proweſſe, ne of knighthood deeme,
Saue as thou ſeeſt or hearſt. But well I wote,
That of his puiſſance tryall made extreeme;
Yet gold all is not, that doth golden ſeeme,
Ne all good knights, that ſhake well ſpeare and ſhield:
The worth of all men by their end eſteeme,
And then due praiſe, or due reproch them yield;
Bad therefore I him deeme, that thus lies dead on field.
Good or bad (gan his brother fierce reply)
What doe I recke, ſith that he dyde entire?
Or what doth his bad death now ſatisfy
The greedy hunger of reuenging ire,
Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne deſire?
Yet ſince no way is left to wreake my ſpight,
I will him reaue 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?
Faire Sir, ſaid then the Palmer ſuppliaunt,
For knighthoods loue, do not ſo foule a deed,
Ne blame your honour with ſo ſhamefull vaunt
Of vile reuenge. To ſpoile the dead of weed
Is ſacrilege, and doth all ſinnes exceed;
But leaue theſe relicks of his liuing might,
To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke ſteed.
What herce or ſteede (ſaid he) ſhould he haue dight,
But be entombed in the rauen or the kight?
With that, rude hand vpon his ſhield he laid,
And th'other brother gan his helme vnlace,
Both fiercely bent to haue him diſaraid;
Till that they ſpide, where towards them did pace
An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace,
Whoſe ſquire bore after him an heben launce,
And couerd ſhield, Well kend him ſo farre ſpace
Th'enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce,
When vnder him he ſaw his Lybian ſteed to praunce.
And to thoſe brethren ſaid, Riſe riſe by liue,
And vnto battell doe your ſelues addreſſe;
For yonder comes the proweſt knight aliue,
Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobileſſe,
That hath to Paynim knights wrought great diſtreſſe,
And thouſand Sar'zins foully donne to dye.
That word ſo deepe did in their harts impreſſe,
That both eftſoones vpſtarted furiouſly,
And gan themſelues prepare to battell greedily.
But fierce Pyrrhochles, lacking his owne ſword,
The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine,
And Archimage beſought, him that afford,
Which he had brought for Braggadocchio vaine.
So would I (ſaid th'enchaunter) glad and faine
Beteeme to you this ſword, you to defend,
Or ought that elſe your honour might maintaine,
But that this weapons powre I well haue kend,
To be contrarie to the worke, which ye intend.
For that ſame knights owne ſword this is of yore,
Which Merlin 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 Medaewart,
That no enchauntment from his dint might ſaue;
Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart,
And ſeuen times dipped in the bitter waue
Of helliſh Styx, which hidden vertue to it gaue.
The vertue is, that neither ſteele, nor ſtone
The ſtroke thereof from entrance may defend;
Ne euer may be vſed by his fone,
Ne forſt his rightfull owner to offend,
Ne euer will it breake, ne euer bend.
Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight.
In vaine therefore, Pyrrhochles, ſhould I lend
The ſame to thee, againſt his lord to fight,
For ſure it would deceiue thy labour, and thy might.
Fooliſh old man, ſaid then the Pagan wroth,
That weeneſt words or charmes may force withſtond:
Soone ſhalt thou ſee, and then beleeue for troth,
That I can carue with this inchaunted brond
His Lords owne fleſh. Therewith out of his hond
That vertuous ſteele he rudely ſnatcht away,
And Guyons ſhield about his wreſt he bond;
So readie dight, fierce battaile to aſſay,
And match his brother proud in battailous array.
By this that ſtraunger knight in preſence came,
And goodly ſalued them; who nought againe
Him anſwered, as courteſie became,
But with ſterne lookes, and ſtomachous diſdaine,
Gaue ſignes of grudge and diſcontentment vaine:
Then turning to the Palmer, he gan ſpy
Where at his feete, with ſorrowfull demaine
And deadly hew, an armed corſe did lye,
In whoſe dead face he red great magnanimity.
Said he then to the Palmer, Reuerend 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?
How euer, ſure I rew his pitteous plight.
Not one, nor other, (ſaid the Palmer graue)
Hath him befalne, but cloudes of deadly night
A while his heauie eylids couer'd haue,
And all his ſenſes drowned in deepe ſenſeleſſe waue.
Which, thoſe ſame foes, that ſtand hereby,
Making aduantage, to reuenge their ſpight,
Would him diſarme, and treaten ſhamefully,
Vnworthy vſage of redoubted knight.
But you, faire Sir, whoſe honorable 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 praiſe of knighthood is, foule outrage to deface.
Palmer, (ſaid he) no knight ſo rude, I weene,
As to doen outrage to a ſleeping ghoſt:
Ne was there euer noble courage ſeene,
That in aduauntage would his puiſſance boſt:
Honour is leaſt, where oddes appeareth moſt.
May be, that better reaſon will aſſwage,
The raſh reuengers heat. Words well diſpoſt
Haue ſecret powre, t'appeaſe inflamed rage:
If not, leaue vnto me thy knights laſt patonage.
Tho turning to thoſe brethren, thus beſpoke,
Ye warlike payre, whoſe valorous great might
It ſeemes, iuſt wrongs to vengeance doe prouoke,
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 this carkaſſe pardon I entreat,
Whom fortune hath alreadie laid in loweſt ſeat.
To whom Cymochles ſaid; For what art thou,
That mak'ſt thy ſelfe his dayes-man, to prolong
The vengeance preſt? Or who ſhall let me now,
On this vile bodie from to wreake my wrong,
And make his carkaſſe as the outcaſt dong?
Why ſhould not that dead carrion ſatisfie
The guilt, which if he liued had thus long,
His life for due reuenge ſhould deare abie?
The treſpaſſe ſtill doth liue, albe the perſon die.
Indeed (then ſaid the Prince) the euill donne
Dyes not, when breath the bodie firſt doth leaue,
But from the grandſyre to the Nephewes ſonne,
And all his ſeed the curſe doth often cleaue,
Till vengeance vtterly the guilt bereaue:
So ſtreightly God doth iudge. But gentle knight,
That doth againſt the dead his hand vpreare,
His honour ſtaines with rancour and deſpight,
And great diſparagment makes to his former might.
Pyrrhochles gan reply the ſecond time,
And to him ſaid, Now felon ſure I read,
How that thou art partaker of his crime:
Therefore by Termagaunt thou ſhalt be dead.
With that his hand, more ſad then lomp of lead,
Vplifting high, he weened with Morddure,
His owne good ſword Morddure, to cleaue his head.
The faithfull ſteele ſuch treaſon no'uld endure,
But ſwaruing from the marke, his Lords life did aſſure.
Yet was the force ſo furious and ſo fell,
That horſe and man it made to reele aſide;
Nath'leſſe the Prince would not forſake his ſell:
For well of yore he learned had to ride,
But full of anger fiercely to him cride;
Falſe traitour miſcreant, thou broken haſt
The law of armes, to ſtrike foe vndefide.
But thou thy treaſons fruit, I hope, ſhalt taſte
Right ſowre, & feele the law, the which thou haſt defaſt.
With that his balefull ſpeare, he fiercely bent
Againſt the Pagans breſt, and therewith thought
His curſed life out of her lodge haue rent:
But ere the point arriued, where it ought,
That ſeuen-fold ſhield, which he from Guyon brought
He caſt betwene to ward the bitter ſtound:
Through all thoſe foldes the ſteelehead paſſage wrought
And through his ſhoulder pierſt; wherwith to groūd
He groueling fell, all gored in his guſhing wound.
Which when his brother ſaw, fraught with great griefe
And wrath, he to him leaped furiouſly,
And fowly ſaid, By Mahoune, curſed thiefe,
That direfull ſtroke thou dearely ſhalt aby.
Then hurling vp his harmefull blade on hye,
Smote him ſo hugely on his haughtie creſt,
That from his ſaddle forced him to fly:
Elſe mote it needes downe to his manly breſt
Haue cleft his head in twaine, and life thence diſpoſſeſt.
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 cruell fight,
Three times more furious, and more puiſſaunt,
Vnmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignoraunt.
So both attonce him charge on either ſide,
With hideous ſtrokes, and importable powre,
That forced him his ground to trauerſe wide,
And wiſely watch to ward that deadly ſtowre:
For in his ſhield, as thicke as ſtormie ſhowre,
Their ſtrokes did raine, yet did he neuer 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 auaile.
So ſtoutly he withſtood their ſtrong aſſay,
Till that at laſt, when he aduantage ſpyde,
His poinant ſpeare he thruſt with puiſſant ſway
At proud Cymochles, whiles his ſhield was wyde,
That through his thigh the mortall ſteele did gryde:
He ſwaruing with the force, within his fleſh
Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde:
Out of the wound the red bloud flowed freſh,
That vnderneath his feet ſoone made a purple pleſh.
Horribly then he gan to rage, and rayle,
Curſing his Gods, and himſelfe damning deepe:
Als when his brother ſaw the red bloud rayle
Adowne ſo faſt, and all his armour ſteepe,
For very felneſſe lowd he gan to weepe,
And ſaid, Caytiue, curffe on thy cruell hond,
That twiſe hath ſped; yet ſhall it not thee keepe
From the third brunt of this my fatall brond:
Loe where the dreadfull Death behind thy backe doth ſtond.
With that he ſtrooke, and th'other ſtrooke withall,
That nothing ſeem'd mote beare ſo monſtrous might:
The one vpon his couered ſhield did fall,
And glauncing downe would not his owner byte:
But th'other did vpon his troncheon ſmyte,
Which hewing quite a ſunder, further way
It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte,
The which diuiding with importune ſway,
It ſeizd in his right ſide, and there the dint did ſtay.
Wyde was the wound, and a large lukewarme flood,
Red as the Roſe, thence guſhed grieuouſly;
That when the Paynim ſpyde the ſtreaming blood,
Gaue him great hart, and hope of victory.
On th'other ſide, in huge perplexity,
The Prince now ſtood, hauing his weapon broke;
Nought could he hurt, but ſtill at ward did ly:
Yet with his troncheon he ſo rudely ſtroke
Cymochles twiſe, that twiſe him forſt his foot reuoke.
Whom when the Palmer ſaw in ſuch diſtreſſe,
Sir Guyons ſword he lightly to him raught,
And ſaid; faire Son, great God thy right hand bleſſe,
To vſe that ſword ſo wiſely as it ought.
Glad was the knight, & with freſh courage fraught,
When as againe he armed felt his hond;
Then like a Lion, which hath long time ſaught
His robbed whelpes, and at the laſt them fond
Emongſt the ſhepheard ſwaynes, then wexeth wood & 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 Pyrrhochles many ſtrokes he told;
Eft to Cymochles twiſe ſo many fold:
Then backe againe turning his buſie hond,
Them both attonce compeld with courage bold,
To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling brond;
And though they both ſtood ſtiffe, yet could not both withſtond.
As ſaluage Bull, whom two fierce maſtiues bayt,
When rancour doth with rage him once engore,
Forgets with warie ward them to awayt,
But with his dreadfull hornes them driues afore,
Or flings aloft, or treads downe in the flore,
Breathing out wrath, and bellowing diſdaine,
That all the forreſt quakes to heare him rore:
So rag'd Prince Arthur twixt his foemen twaine,
That neither could his mightie puiſſance ſuſtaine.
But euer at Pyrrhochles when he ſmit,
Who Guyons ſhield caſt euer him before,
Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was writ,
His hand relented, and the ſtroke forbore,
And his deare hart the picture gan adore,
Which oſt the Paynim ſau'd from deadly ſtowre.
But him henceforth the ſame can ſaue no more;
For now arriued is his fatall howre,
That no'te auoyded be by earthly skill or powre.
For when Cymochles ſaw the fowle reproch,
Which them appeached, prickt with gulty ſhame,
And inward griefe, he fiercely gan approch,
Reſolu'd to put away that loathly blame,
Or dye with honour and deſert of fame;
And on the hauberk 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 neuer moou'd afore.
Whereat renfierſt with wrath and ſharpe regret,
He ſtroke ſo hugely with his borrowd blade,
That it empierſt the Pagans burganet,
And cleauing the hard ſteele, did deepe inuade
Into his head, and cruell paſſage made
Quite through his braine. He tombling downe on ground,
Breathd out has 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 hart, and all his ſence diſmayd,
Ne thenceforth life ne courage did appeare,
But as a man, whom helliſh feends haue frayd,
Long trembling ſtill he ſtood: at laſt thus ſayd;
Traytour what haſt thou doen? how euer may
Thy curſed hand ſo cruelly haue ſwayd
Againſt that knight: Horrow and well away,
After ſo wicked deed why liu'ſt thou lenger day?
With that all deſperate as loathing light,
And with reuenge deſiring ſoone to dye,
Aſſembling all his force and vtmoſt might,
With his owne ſword he fierce at him did flye,
And ſtrooke, and foynd, and laſht outrageouſly,
Withouten reaſon or regard. Well knew
The Prince, with patience and ſufferaunce ſly
So haſty heat ſoone cooled to ſubdew:
Tho when this breathleſſe woxe, that batteil gan renew.
As when a windy tempeſt bloweth hye,
That nothing may withſtand his ſtormy ſtowre,
The cloudes, as things affrayd, before him flye;
But all ſo ſoone as his outrageous powre
Is layd, they fiercely then begin to ſhoure,
And as in ſcorne of his ſpent ſtormy ſpight,
Now all attonce their malice forth do poure;
So did Sir Guyon beare himſelfe in fight,
And ſuffred raſh Pyrrhochles waſt his idle might.
At laſt when as the Sarazin perceiu'd,
How that ſtraunge ſword refuſd, to ſerue his need,
But when he ſtroke moſt ſtrong, the dint deceiu'd,
He flong it from him, and deuoyd of dreed,
Vpon him lightly leaping without heed,
Twixt his two mighty armes engraſped faſt,
Thinking to ouerthrow and downe him tred:
But him in ſtrength and skill the Prince ſurpaſt,
And through his nimble ſleight did vnder him down caſt.
Nought booted it the Paynim then to ſtriue;
For as a Bittur in the Eagles claw,
That may not hope by flight to ſcape aliue,
Still waites for death with dread and trembling aw;
So he now ſubiect to the victours law,
Did not once moue, nor vpward caſt his eye,
Forvile diſdaine and rancour, which did gnaw
His hart in twaine with ſad melancholy,
As one that loathed life, and yet deſpiſd to dye.
But full of Princely bounty and great mind,
The Conquerour nought cared him to ſlay,
But, caſting wrongs and all reuenge behind,
More glory thought to giue life, then decay,
And ſaid, Paynim, this is thy diſmall day;
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miſcreaunce,
And my trew liegeman yield thy ſelfe for ay,
Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce,
And all thy wrongs will wipe out of my ſouenaunce.
Foole (ſaid the Pagan) I thy gift defye,
But vſe thy fortune, as it doth befall,
And ſay, that I not ouercome do dye,
But in deſpight of life, for death do 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 vnlace,
And left his headleſſe body bleeding all the place.
By this Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt,
Life hauing maiſtered her ſenceleſſe foe;
And looking vp, when as his ſhield he lakt,
And ſword ſaw not, he wexed wondrous woe:
But when the Palmer, whom he long ygoe
Haſt loſt, he by him ſpide, right glad he grew,
And ſaid, Deare ſir, whom wandring to and fro
I long haue lackt, I ioy thy face to vew;
Firme is thy faith, whom daunger neuer fro me drew.
But rend what wicked hand hath robbed mee
Of my good ſword and ſhield? The Palmer glad,
With ſo freſh hew vpriſing him to ſee,
Him anſwered; faire ſonne, be no whit ſad
For want of weapons, they ſhall ſoone be had.
So gan he to diſcourſe the whole debate,
Which that ſtraunge knight for him 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 embayd,
And to the Prince with bowing reuerence dew,
As to the Patrone of his life, thus ſayd;
My Lord, my liege, by whoſe moſt gratious ayd
I liue this day, and ſee my foes ſubdewd,
What may ſuffiſe, to be for meede repayd
Of ſo great graces, as ye haue me ſhewd,
But to be euer bound
To whom the Inſant thus, Faire Sir, what need
Good turnes be counted, as a ſeruile bond,
To bind their doers, to receiue their meede?
Are not all knights by oath bound, to withſtond
Oppreſſours powre by armes and puiſſant hond?
Suffiſe, that I haue done my dew in place.
So goodly purpoſe they together fond,
Of kindneſſe and of curteous aggrace;
The whiles falſe Archimage and Atin fled apace.
Cant. IX.
The houſe of Temperance, in which
doth ſober Almadwell,
Beſiegd of many foes, whom ſtraunger
knightes to fight compell.
O Fall Gods workes, which do this world adorne,
There is no one more faire and excellent,
Then is mans body both for powre and forme,
Whiles it is kept in ſober gouernment;
But none then it, more fowle and indecent,
Diſtempred through miſrule and paſſions bace:
It growes a Monſter, and incontinent
Doth looſe his dignitie and natiue grace.
Behold, who liſt, both one and other in this place.
After the Paynim brethren conquer'd were,
The Briton Prince recou'ring his ſtolne ſword,
And Guyon his loſt ſhield, they both yfere
Forth paſſed on their way in faire accord,
Till him the Prince with gentle court did bord;
Sir knight, mote I of you this curt'ſie read,
To weet why on your ſhield ſo goodly ſcord
Beare ye the picture of that Ladies head?
Full liuely is the ſemblaunt, though the ſubſtance dead.
Faire Sir (ſaid he) if in that picture dead
Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine ſhew,
What mote ye weene, if the trew liuely-head
Of that moſt glorious viſage ye did vew?
But if the beautie of her mind ye knew,
That is her bountie, and imperiall powre,
Thouſand times fairer then her mortall hew,
O how great wonder would your thoughts deuoure,
And infinite deſire into your ſpirite poure!
She is the mighty Queene of Faerie,
Whoſe faire retrait I in my ſhield do beare;
She is the flowre of grace and chaſtitie,
Throughout the world renowmed far and neare,
My liefe, my liege, my Soueraigne, my deare,
Whoſe glory ſhineth as the morning ſtarre,
And with her light the earth enlumines cleare;
Far reach her mercies, and her prayſes farre,
As well in ſtate of peace, as puiſſaunce in warre.
Thriſe happy man, (ſaid then the Briton knight)
Whom gracious lot, and thy great valiaunce
Haue made thee ſouldier of that Princeſſe bright,
Which with her bounty and glad countenance
Doth bleſſe her ſeruaunts, and them high aduaunce.
How may ſtraunge knight hope euer to aſpire,
By faithfull ſeruice, and meet amenance,
Vnto ſuch bliſſe? ſufficient were that hire
For loſſe of thouſand liues, to dye at her deſire.
Said Guyon, Noble Lord, what meed ſo great,
Or grace of earthly Prince ſo ſoueraine,
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, ſhould you remaine,
And in her fauour high be reckoned,
As Arthegall, and Sophy now beene honored.
Certes (then ſaid the Prince) I God auow,
That ſith I armes and knighthood firſt did plight,
My whole deſire hath beene, and yet is now,
To ſerue that Queene with all my powre and might.
Now hath the Sunne with his lamp-burning light,
Walkt round about the world, and I no leſſe,
Sith of that Goddeſſe I haue ſought the ſight,
Yet no where can her find: ſuch happineſſe
Heauen doth to me enuy, and fortune fauourleſſe.
Fortune, the foe of famous cheuiſaunce
Seldome (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 elſe delaid
With hard aduenture, which I haue in hand,
I labour would to guide you through all Faery land.
Gramercy Sir (ſaid he) but mote I wote,
What ſtraunge aduenture do ye now purſew?
Perhaps my ſuccour, or aduizement 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 auenge, the Palmer him forth drew
From Faery court. So talked they, the whiles
They waſted had much way, and meaſurd many miles.
And now faire Phoebus gan decline in haſt
His weary wagon to the Weſterne vale,
Whenas they ſpide a goodly caſtle, plaſt
Foreby a riuer in a pleaſaunt dale,
Which chooſing for that euenings hoſpitale,
They thither marcht: but when they came in ſight,
And from their ſweaty Courſers did auale,
They found the gates faſt barred long ere night,
And euery loup faſt lockt, as fearing foes deſpight.
Which when they ſaw, they weened fowle reproch
Was to them doen, their entrance to forſtall,
Till that the Squire gan nigher to approch;
And wind his horne vnder the caſtle wall,
That with the noiſe it ſhooke, as it would fall:
Eftſoones forth looked from the higheſt ſpire
The watch, and lowd vnto the knights did call,
To weete, what they ſo rudely did require.
Who gently anſwered, They entrance did deſire.
Fly fly, good knights, (ſaid he) fly faſt away
If that your liues ye loue, as meete ye ſhould;
Fly faſt, and ſaue your ſelues from neare decay,
Here may ye not haue entraunce, though we would:
We would and would againe, if that we could;
But thouſand enemies about vs raue,
And with long ſiege vs in this caſtle hould:
Seuen yeares this wize they vs beſieged haue,
And many good knights ſlaine, that haue vs ſought to ſaue.
Thus as he ſpoke, loe with outragious cry
A thouſand villeins round about them ſwarmd
Out of the rockes and caues adioyning nye,
Vile caytiue wretches, ragged, rude, deformd,
All threatning death, all in ſtraunge manner armd,
Some with vnweldy clubs, ſome with long ſpeares,
Some ruſty kniues, ſome ſtaues in fire warmd.
Sterne was their looke, like wild amazed ſteares,
Staring with hollow eyes, and ſtiffe vpſtanding heares.
Fierſly at firſt thoſe knights they did aſſaile,
And droue them to recoile: but when againe
They gaue freſh charge, their forces gan to faile,
Vnhable their encounter to ſuſtaine;
For with ſuch puiſſaunce and impetuous maine
Thoſe Champions broke on them, that forſt them fly,
Like ſcattered Speepe, whenas the Shepheards ſwaine
A Lyon and a Tigre doth eſpye,
With greedy pace forth ruſhing from the foreſt nye.
A while they fled, but ſoone returnd againe
With greater fury, then before was found;
And euermore their cruell Captaine
Sought with his raskall routs t'encloſe them round,
And ouerrun to tread them to the ground.
But ſoone the knights with their bright-burning blades
Broke their rude troupes, and orders did confound,
Hewing and ſlaſhing at their idle ſhades;
For though they bodies ſeeme, yet ſubſtance from them fades.
As when a ſwarme of Gnats at euentide
Out of the fennes of Allan do ariſe,
Their murmuring ſmall trompets ſounden wide,
Whiles in the aire their cluſtring army flies,
That as a cloud doth ſeeme to dim the skies;
Ne man nor beaſt may reſt, or take repaſt,
For their ſharpe wounds, and noyous iniuries,
Till the fierce Northerne wind bluſtring blaſt
Doth blow them quite away, and in the Ocean caſt.
Thus when they had that troublous rout diſperſt,
Vnto the caſtle gate they come againe,
And entraunce crau'd, which was denied erſt.
Now when report of that their perilous paine,
And combrous comflict, which they did ſuſtaine,
Came to the Ladies eare, which there did dwell,
She 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 ſhe woo'd of many a gentle knight,
And many a Lord of noble parentage,
That ſought with her to lincke in marriage:
For ſhe was faire, as faire mote euer bee,
And in the flowre now of her freſheſt age;
Yet full of grace and goodly modeſtee,
That euen heauen reioyced her ſweete face to ſee.
In robe of lilly white ſhe was arayd,
That from her ſhoulder to her heele downe raught,
The traine whereof looſe far behind her ſtrayd,
Braunched with gold & pearle, moſt richly wrought,
And borne of two faire Damſels, which were taught
That ſeruice well. Her yellow golden heare
Was trimly wouen, and in treſſes wrought,
Ne other tyre ſhe on her head did weare,
But crowned with a garland of ſweete Roſiere.
Goodly ſhe entertaind thoſe noble knights,
And brought them vp into her caſtle hall;
Where gentle court and gracious delight
She to them made, with mildneſſe virginall,
Shewing her ſelfe both wiſe and liberall:
There when they reſted had a ſeaſon dew,
They her be ſought of fauour ſpeciall,
Of that faire Caſtle to affoord them vew;
She graunted, & them leading forth, the ſame did ſhew.
Firſt ſhe them led vp to the Caſtle wall,
That was ſo high, as foe might not it clime,
And all ſo faire, and ſenſible withall,
Not built of bricke, ne yet of ſtone and lime,
But of thing like to that AEgyptian ſlime,
Whereof king Nine whilome built Babell towre;
But ô great pitty, that no lenger time
So goodly workemanſhip ſhould not endure:
Soone it muſt turne to earth; no earthly thing is ſure.
The frame thereof ſeemd partly circulare,
And part triangulare, ô worke diuine;
Thoſe two the firſt and laſt proportions are,
The one imperfect, mortall, foeminine;
Th'other immortall, perfect, maſculine,
And twixt them both a quadrate was the baſe,
Proportioned equally by ſeuen and nine;
Nine was the circle ſet in heauens place,
All which compacted made a goodly Dyapaſe.
Therein two gates were placed ſeemly well:
The one before, by which all in did pas,
Did th'other far in workmanſhip excell;
For not of wood, nor of enduring bras,
But of more worthy ſubſtance fram'd it was;
Doubly diſparted, it did locke and cloſe,
That when it locked, none might thorough pas,
And when it opened, no man might it cloſe,
Still open to their friends, and cloſed to their foes.
Of hewen ſtone the porch was fairely wrought,
Stone more of valew, and more ſmooth and fine,
Then let or Marble far from Ireland brought;
Ouer the which was caſt a wandring vine,
Enchaced with a wanton yuie twine.
And ouer it a faire Portcullis hong,
Which to the gate directly did incline,
With comely compaſſe, and compacture ſtrong,
Neither vnſeemely ſhort, 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;
Vtterers of ſecrets he from thence debard,
Bablers of folly, and blazers of crime.
His larumbell might lowd and wide be hard,
When cauſe requird, but neuer out of time;
Early and late it rong, at euening and at prime.
And round about the porch on euery ſide
Twiſe ſixteen warders ſat, all armed bright
In gliſtring ſteele, and ſtrongly fortifide:
Tall yeomen ſeemed they, and of great might,
And were enraunged ready, ſtill for ſight.
By them as Alma paſſed with her gueſtes,
They did obeyſaunce, as beſeemed right,
And then againe returned 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 faire diſpred,
And ready dight with drapets feſtiuall,
Againſt the viaundes ſhould be miniſtred.
At th'upper end there ſate, yclad in red
Downe to the ground, a comely perſonage,
That in his hand a white rod menaged,
He Steward was hight Diet; rype of age,
And in demeanure ſober, and in counſell ſage.
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, when euer in they came,
And knew them how to order without blame,
As him the Steward bad. They both attone
Did dewty to their Lady, as became;
Who paſſing by, forth led her gueſtes anone
Into the kitchin rowme, ne ſpard for niceneſſe none.
It was a vaut ybuilt for great diſpence,
With many raunges reard along the wall;
And one great chimney, whoſe long tonnell thence,
The ſmoke forth threw. And in the midſt of all
There placed was a caudron wide and tall,
Vpon a mighty furnace, burning whot,
More whot, then Aetn, or flaming Mongiball:
For day and night it brent, ne ceaſed not,
So long as any thing it in the caudron got.
But to delay the heat, leaſt by miſchaunce
It might breake out, and ſet the whole on fire,
There added was by goodly ordinaunce,
An huge great paire of bellowes, which did ſtyre
Continually, and cooling breath inſpyre.
About the Caudron many Cookes accoyld,
With hookes and ladles, as need did require;
The whiles the viandes in the veſſell boyld
They did about their buſineſſe ſweat, and ſorely toyld.
The maiſter Cooke was cald Concoction,
A carefull man, and full of comely guiſe:
The kitchin Clerke, that hight Digeſtion,
Did order all th'Achates in ſeemely wiſe,
And ſet them forth, as well he could deuiſe.
The reſt had ſeuerall offices aſſind,
Some to remoue the ſcum, as it did riſe;
Others to beare the ſame away did mind;
And others it to vſe according to his kind.
But all the liquour, which was fowle and waſt,
Not good nor ſeruiceable elſe for ought,
They in another great round veſſell plaſt,
Till by a conduit pipe it thence were brought:
And all the reſt, that noyous was, and nought,
By ſecret wayes, that none might it eſpy,
Was cloſe conuaid, and to the back-gate brought,
That cleped was Port Eſquiline, whereby
It was auoided quite, and throwne out priuily.
Which goodly order, and great workmans skill
When as thoſe knights beheld, with rare delight,
And gazing wonder they their minds did fill;
For neuer had they ſeene ſo ſtraunge a ſight.
Thence backe againe faire Alma led them right,
And ſoone into a goodly Parlour brought,
That was with royall arras richly dight,
In which was nothing pourtrahed, nor wrought,
Not wrought, nor pourtrahed, but eaſie to be thought.
And in the midſt thereof vpon the floure,
A louely beuy of faire Ladies ſate,
Courted of many a iolly Paramoure,
The which them did in modeſt wiſe amate,
And each one ſought his Lady to aggrate;
And eke emongſt them litle Cupid playd
His wanton ſports, being returned late
From his fierce warres, and hauing from him layd
His cruell bow, wherewith he thouſands hath diſmayd.
Diuerſe delights they found them ſelues to pleaſe;
Some ſong in ſweet conſort, ſome laught for ioy,
Some plaid with ſtrawes, ſome idly ſat at eaſe;
But other ſome could not abide to toy,
All pleaſaunce was to them griefe and annoy:
This fround, that faund, the third for ſhame did bluſh,
Another ſeemed enuious, or coy,
Another in her teeth did gnaw a ruſh:
But at theſe ſtraungers preſence euery one did huſh.
Soone as the gracious Alma came in place,
They all attonce out of their ſeates aroſe,
And to her homage made, with humble grace:
Whom when the knights beheld, they gan diſpoſe
Themſelues to court, and each a Damſell choſe:
The Prince by chaunce did on a Lady light,
That was right faire and freſh as morning roſe,
But ſomwhat ſad, and ſolemne eke in ſight,
As if ſome penſiue thought cōſtraind her gentle ſpright.
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 the Prince in curteous manner ſaid;
Gentle Madame, why beene ye thus diſmaid,
And your faire beautie do with ſadneſſe ſpill?
Liues any, that you hath thus ill apaid?
Or doen your loue, or doen you lacke your will?
What euer be the cauſe, it ſure beſeemes you ill.
Faire Sir, (ſaid ſhe halfe in diſdainefull wiſe,)
How is it, that this word in me ye blame,
And in your ſelfe do not the ſame aduiſe?
Him ill beſeemes, anothers fault to name,
That may vnwares be blotted with the ſame:
Penſiue I yeeld I am, and ſad in mind,
Through great deſire of glory and of fame;
Ne ought I weene are ye therein behind,
That haue twelue moneths ſought one, yet no where can her find.
The Prince was inly moued at her ſpeach,
Well weeting trew, what ſhe had raſhly told;
Yet with faire ſamblaunt ſought to hide the breach,
Which chaunge of colour did perforce vnfold,
Now ſeeming flaming whot, now ſtony cold.
Tho turning ſoft aſide, he did inquire,
What wight ſhe was, that Poplar braunch did hold:
It anſwered was, her name was Prayſ-deſire.
That by well doing ſought to honour to aſpire.
The whiles, the Faerie knight did entertaine
Another Damſell of that gentle crew,
That was right faire, and modeſt of demaine,
But that too oft ſhe chaung'd her natiue hew:
Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew,
Cloſe round about her tuckt with many a plight:
Vpon her fiſt the bird, which ſhonneth vew,
And keepes in couerts cloſe from liuing wight,
Did ſit, as yet aſhamd, how rude Pan did her dight.
So long as Guyon with her commoned,
Vnto the ground ſhe caſt her modeſt eye,
And euer and anone with roſie red
The baſhfull bloud her ſnowy cheekes did dye,
That her became, as poliſht yuory,
Which cunning Crafteſman hand hath ouerlayd
With faire vermilion or pure laſtery.
Great wonder had the knight, to ſee the mayd
So ſtraungely paſſioned, and to her gently ſayd,
Faire Damzell, ſeemeth, by your troubled cheare,
That either me too bold ye weene, this wiſe
You to moleſt, or other ill to feare
That in the ſecret of your hart cloſe lyes,
From whence it doth, as cloud from ſea ariſe.
If it be I, of pardon I you pray;
But if ought elſe that I mote not deuiſe,
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 louely face
The flaſhing bloud with bluſhing did inflame,
And the ſtrong paſſion mard her modeſt grace,
That Guyon meruayld at her vncouth cace:
Till Alma him beſpake, why wonder yee
Faire Sir at that, which ye ſo much embrace?
She is the fountaine of your modeſtee;
You ſhamefaſt are, but Shamefaſtneſſe it ſelfe is ſhee.
Thereat the Elfe did bluſh in priuitee,
And turnd his face away; but ſhe the ſame
Diſſembled faire, and faynd to ouerſee.
Thus they awhile with court and goodly game,
Themſelues did ſolace each one with his Dame,
Till that great Ladie thence away them ſought,
To vew her caſtles other wondrous frame.
Vp to a ſtately Turret ſhe them brought,
Aſcending by ten ſteps of Alablaſter wrought.
That Turrets frame moſt admirable was,
Like higheſt heauen compaſſed around,
And lifted high aboue this earthly maſſe,
Which it ſuruew'd, as hils doen lower ground;
But not on Ground mote like to this be found,
Not that, which antique Cadmus whylome built
In Thebes, which Alexander did confound;
Nor that proud towre of Troy, though richly guilt,
From which young Hectors bloud by cruell Greekes was ſpilt.
The roofe hereof was arched ouer head,
And deckt with flowers and herbars daintily;
Two goodly Beacons, ſet in watches ſtead,
Therein gaue light, and flam'd continually:
For they of liuing fire moſt ſubtilly
Were made, and ſet in ſiluer ſockets bright,
Couer'd with lids deuiz'd of ſubſtance ſly,
That readily they ſhut and open might.
O who can tell the prayſes of that makers might!
Ne can I tell, ne can I ſtay to tell
This parts great workmanſhip, & wondrous powre,
That all this other worlds worke doth excell,
And likeſt is vnto that heauenly towre,
That God hath built for his owne bleſſed bowre.
Therein were diuerſe roomes, and diuerſe ſtages,
But three the chiefeſt, and of greateſt powre,
In which there dwelt three honorable ſages,
The wiſeſt men, I weene, that liued in their ages.
Not he, whom Greece, the Nourſe of all good arts,
By Phoebus doome, the wiſeſt thought aliue,
Might be compar'd to theſe by many parts:
Nor that ſage Pylian ſyre, which did ſuruiue
Three ages, ſuch as mortall men contriue,
By whoſe aduiſe old Priams cittie fell,
With theſe in praiſe of pollicies mote ſtriue.
Theſe three in theſe three roomes did ſundry dwell,
And counſelled faire Alma, how to gouerne well.
The firſt of them could things to come foreſee:
The next could of things preſent beſt aduize;
The third things paſt could keepe in memoree,
So that no time, nor reaſon could arize,
But that the ſame could one of theſe comprize.
For thy the firſt did in the forepart ſit,
That nought mote hinder his quicke preiudize:
He had a ſharpe foreſight, and working wit,
That neuer idle was, ne once could reſt a whit.
His chamber was diſpainted all within,
With ſundry colours, in the which were writ
Infinite ſhapes of things diſperſed thin;
Some ſuch as in the world were neuer yit,
Ne can deuized be of mortall wit;
Some daily ſeene, and knowen by their names,
Such as in idle fantaſies doe flit:
Infernall Hags, Centaurs, feendes, Hippodames,
Apes, Lions, Aegles, Owles, fooles, louers, children, Dames.
And all the chamber filled was with flyes,
Which buzzed all about, and made ſuch ſound,
That they encombred all mens eares and eyes,
Like many ſwarmes of Bees aſſembled round,
After their hiues with honny do abound:
All thoſe were idle thoughts and fantaſies,
Deuices, dreames, opinions vnſound,
Shewes, viſions, ſooth-ſayes, and propheſies;
And all that fained is, as leaſings, tales, and lies.
Emongſt them all ſate he, which wonned there,
That hight Phantaſtes by his nature trew;
A man of yeares yet freſh, as mote appere,
Of ſwarth complexion, and of crabbed hew,
That him full of melancholy did ſhew;
Bent hollow beetle browes, ſharpe ſtaring eyes,
That mad or fooliſh ſeemd: one by his vew
More deeme him borne with ill diſpoſed skyes,
When oblique Saturne ſate in the houſe of agonyes.
Whom Alma hauing ſhewed to her gueſtes,
Thence brought thē to the ſecond roome, whoſe wals
Were painted faire with memorable geſtes,
Of famous Wiſards, and with picturals
Of Magiſtrates, of courts, of tribunals,
Of commen wealthes, of ſtates, of pollicy,
Of lawes, of iudgements, and of decretals;
All artes, all ſcience, all Philoſophy,
And all that in the world was aye thought wittily.
Of thoſe that roome was full, and them among
There ſate a man of ripe and perfect age,
Who did them meditate all his life long,
That through continuall practiſe and vſage,
He now was growne right wiſe, and wondrous ſage.
Great pleaſure had thoſe ſtranger knights, to ſee
His goodly reaſon, and graue perſonage,
That his diſciples both deſir'd to bee;
But Alma thence thē led to th'hindmoſt roome of three.
That chamber ſeemed ruinous and old,
And therefore was remoued farre behind.
Yet were the wals, that did the ſame vphold,
Right firme & ſtrong, though ſomewhat they declind;
And therein ſate an old oldman, halfe blind,
And all decrepit in his feeble corſe,
Yet liuely vigour reſted in his mind,
And recompenſt him with a better ſcorſe:
Weake body well is chang'd for minds redoubled forſe.
This man of infinite remembrance 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 elſe, the which this world doth weld,
But laid them vp in his immortall ſcrine,
Where they for euer incorrupted dweld:
The warres he well remembred of king Nine,
Of old Aſſaracus, and Inachus diuine.
The yeares of Neſtor nothing were to his,
Ne yet Mathuſalem, though longeſt liu'd;
For he remembred both their infancies:
Ne wonder then, if that he were depriu'd
Of natiue ſtrength now, that he them ſuruiu'd.
His chamber all was hangd about with rolles,
And old records from auncient times deriu'd,
Some made in books, ſome in long parchmēt ſcrolles,
That were all worme-eaten, and full of canker holes.
Amidſt them all he in a chaire was ſet,
Toſſing and turning them withouten end;
But for he was vnhable them to ſet,
A litle boy did on him ſtill attend,
To reach, when euer he for ought did ſend;
And oft when things were loſt, or laid amis,
That boy them ſought, and vnto him did lend.
Therefore he Anamneſtes cleped is,
And that old man Eumneſtes, by their propertis.
The knights there entring, did him reuerence dew
And wondred at his endleſſe exerciſe,
Then as they gan his Librarie to vew,
And antique Regiſters for to auiſe,
There chaunced to the Princes hand to rize,
An auncient booke, hight Briton moniments,
That of this lands firſt conqueſt did deuize,
And old diuiſion into Regiments,
Till it reduced was to one mans gouernments.
Sir Guyon chaunſt eke on another booke,
That hight Antiquitie of Faerie lond.
In which when as he greedily did looke;
Th'off-ſpring of Elues and Faries there he fond,
As it deliuered was from hond to hond:
Whereat they burning both with feruent fire,
Their countries aunceſtry to vnderſtond,
Crau'd leaue of Alma, and that aged ſire,
To read thoſe bookes; who gladly graunted their deſire.
Cant. X.
A chronicle of Briton kings,
from Brute to Vthers rayne.
And rolles of Elfin Emperours,
till time of Gloriane.
WHo now ſhall giue vnto me words and ſound,
Equall vnto this haughtie enterpriſe?
Or who ſhal lend me wings, with which from ground
My lowly verſe may loftily ariſe,
And lift it ſelfe vnto the higheſt skies?
More ample ſpirit, then hitherto was, wount,
Here needes me, whiles the famous aunceſtries
Of my moſt dreaded Soueraigne I recount,
By which all earthly Princes ſhe doth farre ſurmount.
Ne vnder Sunne, that ſhines ſo wide and faire,
Whence all that liues, does borrow life and light,
Liues ought, that to her linage may compaire,
Which though from earth it be deriued right,
Yet doth it ſelfe ſtretch forth to heauens hight,
And all the world with wonder ouerſpred;
A labour huge, exceeding farre my might:
How ſhall fraile pen, with feare diſparaged,
Conceiue ſuch ſoueraine glory, and great bountihed?
Argument worthy of Moenian quill,
Or rather worthy of great Phoebus rote,
Whereon the ruines of great, Oſſa hill,
And triumphes of Phelegraean Ioue he wrote,
That all the Gods admird his loftie note.
But if ſome reliſh of that heauenly lay
His learned daughters would to me report,
To decke my ſong withall, I would aſſay,
Thy name, ô ſoueraine Queene, to blazon farre away.
Thy name ô ſoueraine Queene, thy realme and race,
From this renowmed Prince deriued arre,
Whom mightily vpheld that royall mace,
Which now thou bearſt, to thee deſcended farre
From mightie kings and conquerours in warre,
Thy fathers and great Grandfathers of old,
Whoſe noble deedes aboue the Northerne ſtarre
Immortall fame for euer hath enrold;
As in that old mans booke they were in order told.
The land, which warlike Britons now poſſeſſe,
And therein haue their mightie empire rayſd,
In antique times was ſaluage wilderneſſe,
Vnpeopled, vnmanurd, vnprou'd, vnprayſd,
Ne was it Iſland then, ne was it payſd
Amid the Ocean waues, ne was it ſought
Of marchants farre, for profits therein prayſd,
But was all deſolate, and of ſome thought
By ſea to haue bene frō the Celtioke mayn-land brought.
Ne did it then deſerue a name to haue,
Till that the venturous Mariner that way
Learning his ſhip from thoſe white rocks to ſaue,
Which all along the Southerne ſea-coaſt lay,
Threatning vnheedie wrecke and raſh decay,
For ſafeties ſake that ſame his ſea-marke made,
And namd it Albion. But later day
Finding in it fit ports for fiſhers trade,
Gan more the ſame frequent, and further to inuade.
But farre in land a ſaluage nation dwelt,
Of hideous Giants, and halfe beaſtly men,
That neuer taſted grace, nor goodneſſe felt,
But like wild beaſts lurking in loathſome den,
And flying faſt as Roebucke through the fen,
All naked without ſhame, or care of cold,
By hunting and by ſpoiling liued then;
Of ſtature huge, and eke of courage bold,
That ſonnes of men amazd their ſternneſſe to behold.
But whence they ſprong, or how they were begot,
Vneath is to aſſure; vneath to wene
That monſtrous error, which doth ſome aſſot,
That Diocleſians fiftie daughters ſhene
Into this land by chaunce haue driuen bene,
Where companing with feends and filthy Sprights,
Through vaine illuſion of their luſt vnclene,
They brought forth Giants and ſuch dreadfull wights,
As farre exceeded men in their immeaſurd mights.
They held this land, and with their filthineſſe
Polluted this ſame gentle ſoyle long time:
That their owne mother loathd their beaſtlineſſe,
And gan abhorre her broods vnkindly crime,
All were they borne of her owne natiue ſlime;
Vntill that Brutus anciently deriu'd
From royall ſtocke of old Aſſaraos line,
Driuen by fatall error, here arriu'd,
And them of their vniuſt poſſeſſion depriu'd.
But ere he had eſtabliſhed his throne,
And ſpred his empire to the vtmoſt ſhore,
He fought great battels with his ſaluage fone;
In which he them defeated euermore,
And many Giants left on groning flore;
That well can witneſſe yet vnto this day
The weſterne Hogh, beſprincled with the gore
Of mightie Goemot, whom in ſtout fray
Corineus conquered, and cruelly did ſlay.
And eke that ample Pit, yet farre renownd,
For the large leape, which Debon did compell
Coulin to make, being eight lugs of grownd;
Into the which returning backe, he fell,
But thoſe three monſtrous ſtones doe moſt excell
Which that huge ſonne of hideous Albion,
Whoſe father Hercules in Fraunce did quell,
Great Godmer threw, in fierce contention,
At bold Canutus; but of him was ſlaine anon.
In meed of theſe great conqueſts by them got,
Corineus had that Prouince vtmoſt weſt,
To him aſſigned for his worthy lot,
Which of his name and memorable geſt
He called Cornewaile, yet ſo called beſt:
And Debons ſhayre was, that is Deuonshyre:
But Canute had his portion from the reſt,
The which he cald Canutium, for his hyre;
Now Cantium, which Kent we commenly inquire.
Thus Brute this Realme vnto his rule ſubdewd,
And raigned long in great felicitie,
Lou'd of his friends, and of his foes eſchewd,
He left three ſonnes, his famous progeny,
Borne of faire Inogene of Italy;
Mongſt whom he parted his imperiall ſtate,
And Locrine left chiefe Lord of Britany.
At laſt ripe age bad him ſurrender late
His life, and long good fortune vnto finall fate.
Locrine was left the ſoueraine Lord of all;
But Albanact had all the Northrene part,
Which of himſelfe Albania, he did call;
And Camber did poſſeſſe the Weſterne quart,
Which Seuerne now from Logris doth depart:
And each his portion peaceably enioyd,
Ne was there outward breach, nor grudge in hart,
That once their quiet gouernment annoyd,
But each his paines to others profit ſtill employd.
Vntill a nation ſtraung, with viſage ſwart,
And courage fierce, that all men did affray,
Which through the world thē ſwarmd in euery part,
And ouerflow'd all countries farre away,
Like Noyes great flood, with their importune ſway,
This land inuaded with like violence,
And did themſelues through all the North diſplay:
Vntill that Locrine for his Realmes defence,
Did head againſt them make, and ſtrong munifience.
He them encountred, a confuſed rout,
Foreby the Riuer, that whylome was hight
The auncient Abus, where with courage ſtout
He them defeated in victorious fight,
And chaſte ſo fiercely after fearefull flight,
That forſt their Chieftaine, for his ſafeties ſake,
(Their Chieftaine Humber named was aright)
Vnto the mightie ſtreame him to betake,
Where he an end of battell, and of life did make.
The king returned proud of victorie,
And inſolent wox through vnwonted eaſe,
That ſhortly he forgot the ieopardie,
Which in his land he lately did appeaſe,
And fell to vaine voluptuous diſeaſe:
He lou'd faire Ladie Eſtrild, lewdly lou'd,
Whoſe wanton pleaſures him too much did pleaſe,
That quite his hart from Guendolene remou'd,
Frō
Guendolene his wife, though alwaies faithfull prou'd.
The noble daughter of Corineus
Would not endure to be ſo vile diſdaind,
But gathering force, and courage valorous,
Encountred him in battell 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 remaind;
Als his faire Leman, flying through a brooke,
She ouerhent, nought moued with her piteous looke.
But both her ſelfe, and eke her daughter deare,
Begotten by her kingly Paramoure,
The faire Sabrina almoſt dead with feare,
She there attached, farre from all ſuccoure;
The one ſhe ſlew in that impatient ſtoure,
But the ſad virgin innocent of all,
Adowne the rolling riuer ſhe did poure,
Which of her name now Seuerne men do call:
Such was the end, that to diſloyall loue did fall.
Then for her ſonne, which ſhe to Locrin bore,
Madan was young, vnmeet the rule of ſway,
In her owne hand the crowne ſhe kept in ſtore,
Till ryper yeares he raught, and ſtronger ſtay:
During which time her powre ſhe did diſplay
Through all this realme, the glorie of her ſex,
And firſt taught men a woman to obay:
But when her ſonne to mans eſtate did wex,
She it ſurrendred, ne her ſelfe would lenger vex.
Tho Madan raignd, vnworthie of his race:
For with all ſhame that ſacred throne he fild:
Next Mempriſe, as vnworthy of that place,
In which being conſorted with Manild,
For thirſt of ſingle kingdome him he kild.
But Ebranck ſalued both their infamies
With noble deedes, and warreyd on Brunchild
In Henault, where yet of his victories
Braue moniments remaine, which yet that land enuies.
An happie man in his firſt dayes he was,
And happie father of faire progeny:
For all ſo many weekes as the yeare has,
So many children he did multiply;
Of which were twentie ſonnes, which did apply,
Their minds to praiſe, and cheualrous deſire:
Thoſe germans did ſubdew all Germany,
Of whom it hight; but in the end their Sire
With foule repulſe from Fraunce was forced to retire.
Which blot his ſonne ſucceeding in his ſeat,
The ſecond Brute, the ſecond both in name,
And eke in ſemblance of his puiſſance great,
Right well recur'd, and did away that blame
With recompence of euerlaſting fame.
He with his victour ſword firſt opened,
The bowels of wide Fraunce, a forlorne Dame,
And taught her firſt how to be conquered;
Since which, with ſundrie ſpoiles ſhe hath beene ranſacked.
Let Scaldis tell, and let tell Hania,
And let the marſh of Eſtham bruges tell,
What colour were their waters that ſame day,
And all the moore twixt Eluersham and Dell,
With bloud of Henalois, which therein fell.
How oft that day did ſad Brunchildis ſee
The greene ſhield dyde in dolorous vermell?
That not Scuith guiridh it mote ſeeme to bee.
But rather y Scuith gogh, ſigne of ſad crueltee.
His ſonne king Leill by fathers labour long,
Enioyd an heritage of laſting peace,
And built Cairleill, and built Cairleon ſtrong.
Next Huddibras his realme did not encreaſe,
But taught the land from wearie warres to ceaſe.
Whoſe footſteps Bladud following, in arts
Exceld at Athens all the learned preace,
From whence he brought them to theſe ſaluage parts,
And with ſweet ſcience mollifide their ſtubborne harts.
Enſample of his wondrous faculty,
Behold the boyling Bathes at Cairbadon,
Which ſeeth with ſecret fire eternally,
And in their entrails, full of quicke Brimſton,
Nouriſh the flames, which they are warm'd vpon,
That to her people wealth they forth do well,
And health to euery forreine nation:
Yet he at laſt contending to excell
The reach of men, through flight into fond miſchief fell.
Next him king Leyr in happie peace long raind,
But had no iſſue male him to ſucceed,
But three faire daughters, which were well vptraind,
In all that ſeemed ſit for kingly ſeed:
Mongſt whom his realme he equally decreed
To haue diuided. Tho when feeble age
Nigh to his vtmoſt date he ſaw proceed,
He cald his daughters; and with ſpeeches ſage
Inquyrd, which of them moſt did loue her parentage.
The eldeſt Gonorill gan to proteſt,
That ſhe much more then her owne life him lou'd:
And Regan greater loue to him profeſt,
Then all the world, when euer it were proou'd;
But Cordeill ſaid ſhe lou'd him, as behoou'd:
Whoſe ſimple anſwere, wanting colours faire
To paint it forth, him to diſpleaſance moou'd,
That in his crowne he counted her no haire,
But twixt the other twaine his kingdome whole did ſhaire.
So wedded th'one to Maglan king of Scots,
And th'other to the king of Cambria,
And twixt them ſhayrd his realme by equall lots:
But without dowre the wiſe Cordelia,
Was ſent to Aganip of Celtica.
Their aged Syre, thus caſed of his crowne,
A priuate life led in Albania,
With Gonorill, long had in great renowne,
That nought him grieu'd to bene 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 waxe of his continuall ſtay.
Tho to his daughter Rigan he repayrd,
Who him at firſt well vſed euery way;
But when of his departure ſhe deſpayrd,
Her bountie ſhe abated, and his cheare empayrd.
The wretched man gan then auiſe too late,
That loue is not, where moſt it is profeſt,
Too truely tryde in his extreameſt ſtate;
At laſt reſolu'd likewiſe to proue the reſt,
He to Cordelia him ſelfe addreſt,
Who with entire affection him receau'd,
As for her Syre and king her ſeemed beſt;
And after all an army ſtrong ſhe leau'd,
To war on thoſe, which him had of his realme bereau'd.
So to his crowne ſhe him reſtor'd againe,
In which he dyde, made ripe for death by eld,
And after wild, it ſhould to her remaine:
Who peaceably the ſame long time did weld:
And all mens harts in dew obedience held:
Till that her ſiſters children, woxen ſtrong
Through proud ambition, againſt her rebeld,
And ouercommen kept in priſon long,
Till wearie of that wretched life, her ſelfe ſhe hong.
Then gan the bloudie brethren both to raine:
But fierce Cundah gan ſhortly to enuie
His brother Morgan, prickt with proud diſdaine,
To haue a pere in part of ſoueraintie,
And kindling coles of cruell enmitie,
Raiſd warre, and him in battell ouerthrew:
Whence as he to thoſe woodie hils did flie,
Which hight of him Glamorgan, there him ſlew:
Then did he raigne alone, when he none equall knew.
His ſonne Riuallo his dead roome did ſupply,
In whoſe ſad time bloud did from heauen raine:
Next great Gurguſtus, then faire Caecily
In conſtant peace their kingdomes did containe,
After whom Lago, and Kinmarke did raine,
And Gorbogud, till farre in yeares he grew:
Till his ambitious ſonnes vnto them twaine,
Arraught the rule, and from their father drew,
Stout Ferrex and ſterne Porrex him in priſon threw.
But ô, the greedy thirſt of royall crowne,
That knowes no kinred, nor regardes no right,
Stird Porrex vp to put his brother downe;
Who vnto him aſſembling forreine might,
Made warre on him, and fell him ſelfe in fight:
Whoſe death t'auenge, his mother mercileſſe,
Moſt mercileſſe of women, VVyden hight,
Her other ſonne faſt ſleeping did oppreſſe,
And with moſt cruell hand him murdred pittileſſe.
Here ended Brutus ſacred progenie,
Which had ſeuen hundred yeares this ſcepter borne,
With high renowme, and great felicitie?
The noble braunch from th'antique ſtocke was torne
Through diſcord, and the royall throne forlorne:
Thenceforth this Realme was into factions rent,
Whileſt each of Brutus boaſted to be borne,
That in the end was left no moniment
Of Brutus, nor of Britons glory auncient.
Then vp aroſe a man of matchleſſe might,
And wondrous wit to menage high affaires,
Who ſtird vp pitty of the ſtreſſed plight
Of this ſad Realme, cut into ſundry ſhaires
By ſuch, as claymd themſelues Brutes rightfull haires,
Gathered the Princes of the people looſe,
To taken counſell of their common cares;
Who with his wiſedom won, him ſtreight did chooſe,
Their king, and ſwore him fealty to win or looſe.
Then made he head againſt his enimies,
And Ymner ſlew, or Logris miſcreate;
Then Ruddoc and proud Stater, both allyes,
This of Albanie newly nominate,
And that of Cambry king confirmed late,
He ouerthrew through his owne valiaunce;
Whoſe countreis he redus'd to quiet ſtate,
And ſhortly brought to ciuill gouernaunce,
Now one, which earſt were many, made through variaunce.
Then made he ſacred lawes, which ſome men ſay
Were vnto him reueald in viſion,
By which he freed the Traueilers high way,
The Churches part, and Ploughmans portion,
Reſtraining ſtealth, and ſtrong extortion;
The gracious Numa of great Britanie:
For till his dayes, the chiefe dominion
By ſtrength was wielded without pollicie;
Therefore he firſt wore crowne of gold for dignitie.
Donwallo dyde (for what may liue 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 well tryde, whē they were wroth;
Beſides ſubiected Fraunce, and Germany,
Which yet their prayſes ſpeake, all be they loth,
And inly tremble at the memory
Of Brennus and Bellinus, kings of Britany.
Next them did Gurgunt, great Bellinus ſonne
In rule ſucceede, and eke in fathers prayſe;
He Eaſterland ſubdewd, and Danmarke wonne,
And of them both did foy and tribute raiſe,
The which was dew in his dead fathers dayes:
He alſo gaue to fugitiues of Spayne,
Whom he at ſea found wandring from their wayes,
A ſeate in Ireland ſafely to remayne,
Which they ſhould hold of him, as ſubiect to Britayne.
After him raigned Guitheline his hayre,
The iuſteſt man and treweſt in his dayes,
Who had to wife Dame Mertia the fayre,
A woman worthy of immortall prayſe,
Which for this Realme found many goodly layes,
And wholeſome Statutes to her husbahd brought;
Her many deemd to haue beene of the Fayes,
As was Aegerie that Numa tought;
Thoſe yet of her be Mertiā
lawes both nam'd & thought.
Her ſonnes Sifillus after her did rayne,
And then Kimarus, and then Danius;
Next whom Morindus did the crowne ſuſtaine,
Who, had he not with wrath outrageous,
And cruell rancour dim'd his valorous
And mightie deeds, ſhould matched haue the beſt:
As well in that ſame field victorious
Againſt the forreine Morands he expreſt;
Yet liues his memorie, though carcas ſleepe in reſt.
Fiue ſonne he left begotten of one wife,
All which ſucceſſiuely by turnes did raine;
Firſt Gorboman a man of vertuous life;
Next Archigald, who for his proud diſdaine,
Depoſed was from Princedome ſoueraine,
And pitteous Elidure put in his ſted;
Who ſhortly it to him reſtord againe,
Till by his death he it recouered;
But Peridure and Vigent him diſthronized.
In wretched priſon long he did remaine,
Till they outraigned had their vtmoſt 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 fiue brethren raynd
By dew ſucceſſe, and all their Nephewes late,
Euen thriſe eleuen deſcents the crowne retaynd,
Till aged Hely by dew heritage it gaynd.
He had 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 reaedifye
Of Troynouant, gainſt force of enimy,
And built that gate, which of his name is hight,
By which he lyes entombed ſolemnly.
He left two ſonnes, too young to rule aright,
Androgeus and Tenantius, pictures of his might.
Whilſt they were young, Caſsibalane their Eme
Was by the people choſen in their ſted,
Who on him tooke the royall Diademe,
And goodly well long time it gouerned,
Till the prowd Romanes him diſquieted,
And warlike Caeſar, tempted with the name
Of this ſweet Iſland, neuer conquered,
And enuying the Britons blazed fame,
(O hideous hunger of dominion) hither came.
Yet twiſe they were repulſed backe againe,
And twiſe renforſt, backe to their ſhips to fly,
The whiles with bloud they all the ſhore did ſtaine.
And the gray Ocean into purple dy:
Ne had they footing found at laſt perdie,
Had not Androgeus, falſe to natiue ſoyle,
And enuious or Vncles ſoueraintie,
Betrayd his contrey vnto forreine ſpoyle:
Nought elſe, but treaſon, from the firſt this lād did foyle.
So by him Caeſar got the victory,
Through great blouſhed, and many a ſad aſſay,
In which him ſelfe was charged heauily
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 did defray;
Yet oft the Briton kings againſt them ſtrongly ſwayd.
Next him Tenantius raignd, then Kimbeline,
What time th'eternall Lord in fleſhly ſlime
Enwombed was, from wretched Adams line
To purge away the guilt of ſinfull crime:
O ioyous memorie of happytime,
That heauenly grace ſo plenteouſly diſplayd;
(O too high ditty for my ſimple rime.)
Soone after this the Romanes him wrrayd;
For that their tribute he refuſd to let be payd.
Good Claudius, that next was Emperour,
An army brought, and with him battell fought,
In which the king was by a Treachetour
Diſguiſed ſlaine, ere any thereof thought:
Yet ceaſed not the bloudy fight for ought;
For Aruirage his brothers place ſupplide,
Both in armes, and crowne, and by that draught
Did driue the Romanes to the weaker ſide,
That they to peace agreed. So all was pacifide.
Was neuer king more highly magnifide,
Nor dred of Romanes, then was Aruirage,
For which the Emperour to him allide
His daughter Genuiſs' in marriage:
Yet ſhortly he renounſt the vaſſalage
Of Rome againe, who hither haſtly ſent
Veſpaſian, that with great ſpoile and rage
Forwaſted all, till Genuiſſa gent
Perſwaded him to ceaſſe, and her Lord to relent.
He dyde; and him ſucceeded Marius,
Who ioyd his dayes in great tranquillity,
Then Coyll, and after him good Lucius,
That firſt receiued Chriſtianitie,
The ſacred pledge of Chriſtes Euangely:
Yet true it is, that long before that day
Hither came Ioſeph of Arimathy,
Who brought with him the holy grayle, (they ſay)
And preacht the truth, but ſince it greatly did decay.
This good king ſhortly without iſſew dide,
Whereof great trouble in the kingdome grew,
That did her ſelfe in ſundry parts diuide,
And with her powre her owne ſelfe ouerthrew,
Whileſt Romanes dayly did the weake ſubdew:
Which ſeeing ſtout Bunduca, vp aroſe,
And taking armes, the Britons to her drew;
With whom ſhe marched ſtreight againſt her foes,
And them vnwares beſides the Seuerne did encloſe.
There ſhe with them a cruell battell tride,
Not with ſo good ſucceſſe, as ſhe deſeru'd;
By reaſon that the Captaines on her ſide,
Corrupted by Paulinus, from her ſweru'd:
Yet ſuch, as were through former flight perſeru'd,
Gathering againe, her Hoſt ſhe did renew,
And with freſh courage on the victour ſeru'd:
But being all defeated, ſaue a few,
Rather then fly, or be captiu'd her ſelfe ſhe ſlew.
O famous moniment of womens prayſe,
Matchable either to Semiramis,
Whom antique hiſtory ſo high doth raiſe,
Or to Hyſiphil' or to Thomiris:
Her Hoſt two hundred thouſand numbred is;
Who whiles good fortune fauoured her might,
Triumphed oft againſt her enimis;
And yet though ouercome in hapleſſe fight,
She triumphed on death, in enemies deſpight.
Her reliques Fulgent hauing gathered,
Fought with Scuerus, and him ouerthrew;
Yet in the chace was ſlaine of them, that fled:
So made them victours, whom he did ſubdew.
Then gan Carauſius tirannize anew,
And gainſt the Romanes bent their proper powre,
But him Allectus treacherouſly ſlew,
And tooke on him the robe of Emperoure:
Nath'leſſe the ſame enioyed but ſhort happy howre:
For Aſclepiodate him ouercame,
And left inglorious on the vanquiſht playne,
Without or robe, or rag, to hide his ſhame.
Then afterwards he in his ſtead did rayne;
But ſhortly was by Coyll in battell ſlaine:
Who after long debate, ſince Lucies time,
Was of the Britons firſt crownd Soueraine:
Then gan this Realme renewe her paſſed prime:
He of his name Coylcheſter built of ſtone and lime.
Which when the Romanes heard, they hither ſent
Conſtantius, a man of mickle might,
With whom king Coyll made an agreement,
And to him gaue for wife his daughter bright,
Faire Helena, the faireſt liuing wight;
Who in all godly thewes, and goodly prayſe
Did far excell, but was moſt famous hight
For skill in Muſicke of all in her dayes,
Aſwell in curious inſtruments, as cunning layes.
Of whom he did great Conſtantine beget,
Who afterward was Emperour of Rome;
To which whiles abſent he his mind did ſet,
Octauius here lept into his roome,
And it vſurped by vnrighteous doome:
But he his title iuſtifide by might,
Slaying Traherne, and hauing ouercome
The Romane legion in dreadfull fight:
So ſettled he his kingdome, and confirmd his right.
But wanting iſſew male, his daughter deare,
He gaue in wedlocke to Maximian,
And him with her made of his kingdome heyre,
Who ſoone by meanes thereof the Empire wan,
Till murdred by the friends of Gratian;
Then gan the Hunnes and Picts inuade this land,
During the raigne of Maximinian;
Who dying left none heire them to withſtand,
But that they ouerran all parts with eaſie hand.
The weary Britons, whoſe war-hable youth
Was by Maximian lately led away,
With wretched miſeries, and woefull ruth,
Were to thoſe Pagans made an open pray,
And dayly ſpectacle of ſad decay:
Whom Romane warres, which now foure hundred yeares,
And more had waſted, could no whit diſmay;
Till by conſent of Commons and of Peares,
They crownd the ſecond Conſtantine with ioyous teares,
Who hauing oft in battell vanquiſhed
Thoſe ſpoilefull Picts, and ſwarming Eaſterlings,
Long time in peace his Realme eſtabliſhed,
Yet oft annoyd with ſundry bordragings
Of neighbour Scots, and forrein Scatterlings,
With which the world did in thoſe dayes abound:
Which to outbarre, with painefull pyonings
From ſea to ſea he heapt a mightie mound,
Which from Alcluid to Panwelt did that border bound.
Three ſonnes he dying left, all vnder age;
By meanes whereof, their vncle Vortigere
Vſurpt 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 annoyes,
He ſent to Germanie, ſtraunge aid to reare,
From whence eftſoones arriued here three hoyes
Of Saxons, whom he for his ſafetie imployes.
Two brethren were their Captains, which hight
Hengiſt and Horſus, well approu'd in warre,
And both of them men of renowmed might;
Who making vantage of their ciuill iarre,
And of thoſe forreiners, which came from farre,
Grew great, and got large portions of land,
That in the Realme ere long they ſtronger arre,
Then they which ſought at firſt their helping hand,
And Vortiger enforſt the kingdome to aband.
But by the helpe of Vortimere his ſonne,
He is againe vnto his rule reſtord,
And Hengiſt ſeeming ſad, for that was donne,
Receiued is to grace and new accord,
Through his faire daughters face, & flattring word;
Soone after which, three hundred Lordes he ſlew
Of Britiſh bloud, all ſitting at his bord;
Whoſe dolefull moniments who liſt to rew,
Th'eternall markes of treaſon may at Stonheng vew.
By this the ſonnes of Conſtantine, which fled,
Ambriſe and Vther did ripe yeares attaine,
And here arriuing, ſtrongly challenged
The crowne, which Vortiger did long detaine:
Who flying from his guilt, by them was ſlaine.
And Hengiſt eke ſoone brought to ſhamefull death.
Thenceforth Aurelius peaceably did rayne,
Till that through poyſon ſtopped was his breath;
So now entombed lyes at Stoneheng by the heath.
After him Vther, which Pendragon hight,
Succeding There abruptly it did end,
Without full point, or other Ceſure right,
As if the reſt ſome wicked hand did rend,
Or th' Authour ſelfe could not at leaſt attend
To finiſh it: that ſo vntimely breach
The Prince him ſelfe halfe ſeemeth to offend,
Yet ſecret pleaſure did offence empeach,
And wonder of antiquitie long ſtopt his ſpeach.
At laſt quite rauiſht with delight, to heare
The royall Ofſpring of his natiue land,
Cryde out, Deare countrey, ô how dearely deare
Ought thy remembraunce, and perpetuall band
Be to thy foſter Childe, that from thy hand
Did commun breath and nouriture receaue?
How brutiſh is it not to vnderſtand,
How much to her we owe, that all vs gaue,
That gaue vnto vs all, what euer good we haue.
But Guyon all this while his booke did read,
Ne yet has ended: for it was a great
And ample volume, that doth far excead
My leaſure, ſo long leaues here to repeat:
It told, how firſt Prometheus did create
A man, of many partes from beaſts deriued
And then ſtole fire from heauen, to animate
His worke, for which he was by loue depriued
Of life him ſelfe, and hart-ſtrings of an Aegle riued.
That man ſo made, he called Elfe, to weet
Quick, the firſt author of all Elfin kind:
Who wandring through the world with wearie feet,
Did in the gardins of Adonis find
A goodly creature, whom he deemd in mind
To beno earthly wight, but either Spright,
Or Angell, th'authour of all woman kind;
Therefore a Fay he her according hight,
Of whom all Faeryes ſpring, and fetch their lignage right.
Of theſe a mightie people ſhortly grew,
And puiſſaunt kings, which all the world warrayd,
And to them ſelues all Nations did ſubdew:
The firſt and eldeſt, which that ſcepter ſwayd,
Was Elfin; him all India obayd,
And all that now America men call:
Next him was noble Elfinan, who layd
Cleopolis foundation firſt of all:
But Elfiline encloſd it with a golden wall.
His ſonne was Elfinell, who ouercame
The wicked Gobbelines in bloudy field:
But Elfant was of moſt renowmed fame,
Who all of Chriſtall did Panthea build:
Then Elfar, who two brethren gyants kild,
The one of which had two heads, th'other three:
Then Elfinor, who was in Magick skild;
He built by art vpon the glaſſy See
A bridge of bras, whoſe ſound heauēs thunder ſeem'd to bee
He left three ſonnes, the which in order raynd,
And all their Ofſpring, in their dew deſcents,
Euen ſeuen hundred Princes, which maintaynd
With mightie deedes their ſundry gouernments;
That were too long their infinite contents
Here to record, ne much materiall:
Yet ſhould they be moſt famous moniments,
And bratie enſample, both of martiall,
And ciuill rule to kings and ſtates imperiall.
After all theſe Elficleos did rayne,
The wiſe Elficleos in great Maieſtie,
Who mightily that ſcepter did ſuſtayne,
And with rich ſpoiles and famous victorie,
Did high aduaunce the crowne of Faery:
He left two ſonnes, of which faire Elferon
The eldeſt brother did vntimely dy;
Whoſe emptie place the mightie Oberon
Doubly ſupplide, in ſpouſall, and dominion.
Great was his power and glorie ouer all,
Which him before, that ſacred ſeate did fill,
That yet remaines his wide memoriall:
He dying left the faireſt Tanaquill,
Him to ſucceede therein, by his laſt will:
Fairer and nobler liueth none this howre,
Ne like in grace, ne like in learned skill;
Therefore they Glorian call that glorious flowre,
Long mayſt thou Glorian liue, in glory and great powre.
Beguild thus with delight of nouelties,
And naturall deſire of countreys ſtate,
So long they red in thoſe antiquities,
That how the time was fled, they quite forgate,
Till geutle Alma ſeeing it ſo late,
Perforce their ſtudies broke, and them beſought
To thinke, how ſupper did them long awaite.
So halfe vnwilling from their bookes them brought,
And fairely feaſted, as ſo nobles knights ſhe ought.
Cant. XI.
The enimies of Temperaunce
beſiege her dwelling place:
Prince Arthur them repelles, and fowle
Maleger doth deface.
WHat warre ſo cruell, or what ſiege ſo ſore,
As that, which ſtrong affections do apply
Againſt the fort of reaſon euermore
To bring the ſoule into captiuitie:
Their force is fiercer through infirmitie
Of the fraile fleſh, relenting to their rage,
And exerciſe moſt bitter tyranny
Vpon the parts, 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 her that ought the ſcepter weeld,
All happy peace and goodly gouernment
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,
Attempted goodly well for health and delight.
Early before the Morne with cremoſin ray,
The windowes of bright heauen opened had,
Through which into the world the dawning day
Might looke, that maketh euery creature glad,
Vproſe Sir Guyon, in bright armour clad,
And to his purpoſd iourney him prepar'd:
With him the Palmer eke in habit ſad,
Him ſelfe addreſt to that aduenture hard:
So to the riuers ſide they both together far'd.
Where them awaited ready at the ford
The Ferriman, as Alma had behight,
With his well rigged boate: They go abord,
And eftſoones gan launch his barke forthright.
Ere long they rowed were quite out of ſight,
And faſt the land behind them fled away.
But let them pas, whiles wind and weather right
Do ſerue their turnes: 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
Vpon his voyage with his truſtie guide,
That wicked band of villeins freſh begon
That caſtle to aſſaile on euery ſide,
And lay ſtrong ſiege about it far and wide.
So huge and infinite their numbers were,
That all the land they vnder them did hide;
So fowle and vgly, that exceeding feare
Their viſages impreſt, when they approched neare.
Them in twelue troupes their Captain did diſpart
And round about in ſitteſt ſteades did place,
Where each might beſt offend his proper part,
And his contrary obiect moſt deface,
As euery one ſeem'd meeteſt in that cace.
Seuen of the ſame againſt the Caſtle gate,
In ſtrong entrenchments he did cloſely place,
Which with inceſſaunt force and endleſſe hate,
They battred day and night, and entraunce did awate.
The other fiue, fiue ſundry wayes he ſet,
Againſt the fiue great Bulwarkes of that pile.
And vnto each a Bulwarke did arret,
T'aſſayle with open force or hidden guile,
In hope thereof to win victorious ſpoile.
They all that charge did ſeruently apply,
With greedie malice and importune toyle,
And planted there their huge artillery,
With which they dayly made moſt dreadfull battery.
The firſt troupe was a monſtrous rablement
Of fowle miſſhapen wights, of which ſome were
Headed like Owles, with beckes vncomely bent,
Others like Dogs, others like Gryphons dreare,
And ſome had wings, and ſome had clawes to teare,
And euery one of them had Lynces eyes,
And euery one did bow and arrowes beare:
All thoſe were lawleſſe luſtes, corrupt enuies,
And couetous aſpectes, all cruell enimies.
Thoſe ſame againſt the bulwarke of the Sight
Did lay ſtrong ſiege, and battailous aſſault,
Ne once did yield it reſpit day nor night,
But ſoone as Titan gan his head exault.
And ſoone againe as he his light with hault,
Their wicked engins they againſt it bent:
That is each thing, by which the eyes may fault,
But two then all more huge and violent,
Beautie, and money, they that Bulwarke ſorely rent.
The ſecond Bulwarke was the Hearing ſence,
Gainſt which the ſecond troupe deſſignment makes;
Deformed creatures, in ſtraunge difference,
Some hauing heads like Harts, ſome like to Snakes,
Some like wild Bores late rouzd out of the brakes;
Slaunderous reproches, and fowle infamies,
Leaſings, backbytings, and vaine-glorious crakes,
Bad counſels, prayſes, and falſe flatteries.
All thoſe a gainſt that fort did bend their batteries.
Likewiſe that ſame third Fort, that is the Smell
Of that third troupe was cruelly aſſayd:
Whoſe hideous ſhapes were like to feends of hell,
Some like to hounds, ſome like to Apes, diſmayd,
Some like to Puttockes, all in plumes arayd:
All ſhap't according their conditions,
For by thoſe vgly formes weren pourtrayd,
Fooliſh delights and fond abuſions,
Which do that ſence beſiege with light illuſions.
And that fourth band, which cruell battry bent,
Againſt the fourth Bulwarke, that is the Taſt,
Was as the reſt, a gryſie rablement,
Some mouth'd like greedy Oyſtriges, ſome faſt
Like loathly Toades, ſome faſhioned in the waſt
Like ſwine; for ſo deformd is luxury,
Surfeat, miſdiet, and vnthriftie waſt,
Vaine feaſts, and idle ſuperfluity:
All thoſe this ſences Fort aſſayle inceſſantly.
But the fift troupe moſt horrible of hew,
And fierce or force, was dreadfull to report:
For ſome like Snailes, ſome did like ſpyders ſhew,
And ſome like vgly Vrchins thicke and ſhort:
Cruelly they aſſayled that fift Fort,
Armed with darts of ſenſuall delight,
With ſtings of carnall luſt, and ſtrong effort
Of feeling pleaſures, with which day and night
Againſt that ſame fift bulwarke they continued fight.
Thus theſe twelue troupes with dreadfull puiſſance
Againſt that Caſtle reſtleſſe ſiege did lay,
And euermore their hideous Ordinance
Vpon the Bulwarkes cruelly did play,
That now it gan to threaten neare decay:
And euermore their wicked Capitaine
Prouoked them the breaches to aſſay,
Somtimes with threats, ſomtimes with hope of gaine,
Which by the ranſack of that peece they ſhould attaine.
On th'other ſide, th'aſſieged Caſtles ward
Their ſtedfaſt ſtonds did mightily maintaine,
And many bold repulſe, and many hard
Atchieuement wrought with perill and with paine,
That goodly frame from ruine to ſuſtaine:
And thoſe two brethren Giants did defend
The walles ſo ſtoutly with their ſturdie maine,
That neuer entrance any durſt pretend,
But they to direfull death their groning ghoſts did ſend.
The noble virgin, Ladie of the place,
Was much diſmayed with that dreadfull ſight:
For neuer was ſhe in ſo euill cace,
Till that the Prince ſeeing her wofull plight,
Gan her recomfort from ſo ſad affright,
Offring his ſeruice, and his deareſt life
For her defence, againſt that Carle to fight,
Which 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 proued weapons to him hent;
So taking courteous conge he behight,
Thoſe gates to be vnbar'd, and forth he went.
Faire mote he thee, the proweſt and moſt gent,
That euer brandiſhed bright ſteele on hye:
Whom ſoone as that vnruly rablement,
With his gay Squire iſſuing did eſpy,
They reard a moſt outrageous dreadfull yelling cry.
And therewith all attonce at him let fly
Their fluttring arrowes, thicke as flakes of ſnow,
And round about him flocke impetuouſly,
Like a great water flood, that tombling low
From the high mountaines, threats to ouerflow
With ſuddein fury all the fertile plaine,
And the ſad husbandmans long hope doth throw
A downe the ſtreame, and all his vowes make vaine,
Nor bounds nor banks his headlong ruine may ſuſtaine.
Vpon his ſhield their heaped hayle he bore,
And with his ſword diſperſt the raskall flockes,
Which fled a ſunder, and him fell before,
As withered leaues drop from their dried ſtockes,
Whē the wroth Weſtern wind does reaue their locks;
And vnder neath him his courageous ſteed,
The fierce Spumador trode them downe like docks,
The fierce Spumador borne of heauenly ſeed:
Such as Laomedon of Phoebus race did breed
Which ſuddeine horrour and confuſed cry,
When as their Captaine heard, in haſte he yode,
The cauſe to weet, and fault to remedy;
Vpon a Tygre ſwift and fierce he rode,
That as the winde ran vnderneath his lode,
Whiles his long legs nigh raught vnto the ground;
Full large he was of limbe, and ſhoulders brode,
But of ſuch ſubtile ſubſtance and vnſound,
That like a ghoſt he ſeem'd, whoſe graue-clothes were vnbound.
And in his hand a bended bow was ſeene,
And many arrowes vnder his right ſide,
All deadly daungerous, all cruell keene,
Headed with flint, and feathers bloudie dide,
Such as the Indians in their quiuers hide;
Thoſe could he well direct and ſtreight as line,
And bid them ſtrike the marke, which he had eyde,
Ne was their ſalue, ne was their medicine,
That mote recure their wounds: ſo inly they did tine.
As pale and wan as aſhes was his looke,
His bodie leane and meagre as a rake,
And skin all withered like a dryed rooke,
Thereto as cold and drery as a Snake,
That ſeem'd to tremble euermore, and quake:
All in a canuas thin he was bedight,
And girded with a belt of twiſted brake,
Vpon his head he wore an Helmet light,
Made of a dead mans skull, that ſeem'd a ghaſtly ſight.
Maleger was his name, and after him,
There follow'd faſt at hand two wicked Hags,
With hoarie lockes all looſe, and viſage grim;
Their feet vnſhod, their bodies wrapt in rags,
And both as ſwift on foot, as chaſed Stags;
And yet the one her other legge had lame,
Which with a ſtaffe, all full of litle ſnags
She did diſport, and Impotence her name:
But th'other was Impatience, arm'd with raging flame.
Soone as the Carle from farre the Prince eſpyde,
Gliſtring in armes and warlike ornament,
His Beaſt he felly prickt on either ſyde,
And his miſchieuous bow full readie bent,
With which at him a cruell ſhaft he ſent:
But he was warie, and it warded well
Vpon his ſhield, that it no further went,
But to the ground the idle quarrell fell:
Then he another and another did expell.
Which to preuent, the Prince his mortall ſpeare
Soone to him raught, and fierce at him did ride,
To be auenged of that ſhot whyleare:
But he was not ſo hardie to abide
That bitter ſtownd, but turning quicke aſide
His light-foot beaſt, fled faſt away for feare:
Whom to purſue, the Infant after hide,
So faſt as his good Courſer could him beare,
But labour loſt it was, to weene approch him neare.
For as the winged wind his Tigre fled,
That vew of eye could ſcarſe him ouertake,
Ne ſcarſe his feet on ground were ſeene to tred;
Through hils and dales he ſpeedie way did make,
Ne hedge ne ditch his readie paſſage brake,
And in his flight the villein turn'd his face,
(As wonts the Tartar by the Caſpian lake,
When as the Ruſsian him in fight does chace)
Vnto his Tygres taile, and ſhot at him apace.
Apace he ſhot, and yet he fled apace,
Still as the greedy knight nigh to him drew,
And oftentimes he would relent his pace,
That him his foe more fiercely ſhould purſew:
Who when his vncouth manner he did vew,
He gan auize to follow him no more,
But keepe his ſtanding, and his ſhaftes eſchew,
Vntill he quite had ſpent his perlous ſtore,
And then aſſayle him 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 battell to renew:
Which he eſpying, caſt her to reſtraine
From yielding ſuccour to that curſed Swaine,
And her attaching, thought her hands to tye;
But ſoone as him diſmounted on the plaine,
That other Hag did farre away eſpy
Binding her ſiſter, ſhe to him ran haſtily.
And catching hold of him, as downe he lent,
Him backward ouerthrew, and downe him ſtayd
With their rude hands and griefly graplement,
Till that the ville in comming to their aye,
Vpon him fell, and lode vpon 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 helpe of weaker hand;
So feeble is mans ſtate, and life vnſound,
That in aſſurance it may neuer ſtand,
Till it diſſolued be from earthly band.
Proofe be thou Prince, the proweſt man aliue,
And nobleſt borne of all in Briton land;
Yet thee fierce Fortune did ſo nearely driue,
That had not grace thee bleſt, thou ſhouldeſt not reuiue.
The Squire arriuing, fiercely in his armes
Snatcht firſt the one, and then the other Iade,
His chiefeſt lets and authors of his harmes,
And them perforce withheld with threatned blade,
Leaſt that his Lord they ſhould behind inuade;
The whiles the Prince prickt with reprochfull ſhame,
As one awakt out of long ſlombring ſhade,
Reuiuing thought of glorie and of fame,
Vnited all his powres to purge himſelfe from blame.
Like as a fire, the which in hollow caue
Hath long bene vnderkept, and downe ſuppreſt,
With murmurous diſdaine doth inly raue,
And grudge, in ſo ſtreight priſon to be preſt,
At laſt breakes forth with furious vnreſt,
And ſtriues to mount vnto his natiue ſeat;
All that did earſt it hinder and moleſt,
It now deuoures with flames and ſcorching heat,
And carries into ſmoake with rage and horror great.
So mightily the Briton Prince him rouzd
Out of his hold, and broke his caitiue bands,
And as a Beare whom angry curres haue touzd,
Hauing off-ſhakt them, and eſcapt their hands,
Becomes more fell, and all that him withſtands
Treads downe and ouerthrowes. Now had the Carle
Alighted from his Tigre, and his hands
Diſcharged of his bow and deadly quar'le,
To ſeize vpon his foe flat lying on the marle.
Which now him turnd to diſauantage deare;
For neither can he fly, nor other harme,
But truſt vnto his ſtrength and manhood meare,
Sith now he is farre from his monſtrous ſwarme,
And of his weapons did himſelfe diſarme.
The knight yet wrothfull for his late diſgrace,
Fiercely aduaunſt his valorous right arme,
And him ſo ſore ſmote with his yron mace,
That groueling to the ground he fell, and fild his place.
Well weened he, that field was then his owne,
And all his labour brought to happie end,
When ſuddein vp the villein ouerthrowne,
Out of his ſwowne aroſe, freſh to contend,
And gan himſelfe to ſecond battell bend,
As hurt he had not bene. Thereby there lay
An huge great ſtone, which ſtood vpon one end,
And had not bene remoued many a day;
Some land-marke ſeem'd to be, or ſigne of ſundry way.
The ſame he ſnatcht, and with exceeding ſway
Threw at his foe, who was right well aware
To ſhunne the engin of his meant decay;
It booted not to thinke that throw to beare,
But ground he gaue, and lightly leapt areare:
Eft fierce returning, as a Faulcon faire
That once hath failed of her ſouſe full neare,
Remounts againe into the open aire,
And vnto better fortune doth her ſelfe prepaire.
So braue returning, with his brandiſht blade,
He to the Carle himſelfe againe addreſt,
And ſtrooke at him ſo ſternely, that he made
An open paſſage through his riuen breſt,
That halfe the ſteele behind his back did reſt;
Which drawing backe, he looked euermore
When the hart bloud ſhould guſh out of his cheſt,
Or his dead corſe ſhould fall vpon the flore;
But his dead corſe vpon the flore fell nathemore.
Ne drop of bloud appeared ſhed to bee,
All were the wounde ſo wide and wonderous,
That through his carkaſſe one might plainely ſee:
Halfe in a maze with horror hideous,
And halfe in rage, to be deluded thus,
Againe through both the ſides he ſtrooke him quight,
That made 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 affright,
And trembling terror did his hart apall,
Ne wiſt he, what to thinke of that ſame ſight,
Ne what to ſay, ne what to doe at all;
He doubted, leaſt it were ſome magicall
Illuſion, that did beguile his ſenſe,
Or wandring ghoſt, that wanted funerall,
Or aerie ſpirit vnder falſe pretence,
Or helliſh feend rayſd vp through diueliſh ſcience.
His wonder farre exceeded reaſons reach,
That he began to doubt his dazeled ſight,
And oft of error did himſelfe appeach:
Fleſh without bloud, a perſon without ſpright,
Wounds without hurt, a bodie without might,
That could doe harme, yet could not harmed bee,
That could not die, yet ſeem'd a mortall wight,
That was moſt ſtrong in moſt infirmitee;
Like did he neuer heare, like did he neuer ſee.
A while he ſtood in this aſtoniſhment,
Yet would he not for all his great diſmay
Giue ouer to effect his firſt intent,
And th'vtmoſt meanes of victorie aſſay,
Or th'vtmoſt iſſew of his owne decay.
His owne good ſword Mordure, that neuer fayld
At need, till now, he lightly threw away,
And his bright ſhield, that nought him now auayld,
And with his naked hands him forcibly aſſayld.
Twixt his two mightie armes him vp he ſnatcht,
And cruſht his carkaſſe ſo againſt his breſt,
That the diſdainfull ſoule he thence diſpatcht,
And th'idle breath all vtterly expreſt:
Tho when he felt him dead, adowne he keſt
The lumpiſh corſe vnto the ſenſeleſſe grownd;
Adowne he keſt it with ſo puiſſant wreſt,
That backe againe it did aloft rebownd,
And gaue againſt his mother earth a gronefull ſownd.
As when Ioues harneſſe-bearing Bird from hie
Stoupes at a flying heron with proud diſdaine,
The ſtone-dead quarrey fals ſo forciblie,
That it rebounds againſt the lowly plaine,
A ſecond fall redoubling backe againe.
Then thought the Prince all perill ſure was paſt,
And that he victor onely did remaine;
No ſooner thought, then that the Carle as faſt
Gan heap huge ſtrokes on him, as ere he downe was caſt.
Nigh his wits end then woxe th'amazed knight,
And thought his labour loſt and trauell vaine,
Againſt this lifeleſſe ſhadow ſo to fight:
Yet life he ſaw, and felt his mightie maine,
That whiles he marueild ſtill, did ſtill him paine:
For thy he gan ſome other wayes aduize,
How to take life from that dead-liuing ſwaine,
Whom ſtill he marked freſhly to arize
From th'earth, & from her wombe new ſpirits to reprize.
He then remembred well, 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 vſury to him reſtore,
And rayſd him vp much ſtronger then before,
So ſoone as he vnto her wombe did fall;
Therefore to ground he would him caſt no more,
Ne him commit to graue terreſtriall,
But beare him farre from hope of ſuccour vſuall.
Tho vp he caught him twixt his puiſſant hands,
And hauing ſcruzd out of his carrion corſe
The lothfull life, now looſd from ſinfull bands,
Vpon his ſhoulders carried him perforſe
Aboue three furlongs, taking his full courſe,
Vntill he came vnto a ſtanding lake;
Him thereinto he threw without remorſe,
Ne ſtird, till hope of life did him forſake;
So end of that Carles dayes, and his owne paines did make▪
Which when thoſe wicked Hags from farre did ſpy,
Like two mad dogs they ran about the lands,
And th'one of them with dreadfull yelling cry,
Throwing away her broken chaines and bands,
And hauing quencht her burning fier brands,
Hedlong her ſelfe did caſt into that lake;
But Impotence with her owne wilfull hands,
One of Malegers curſed darts did take,
So riu'd her trembling hart, and wicked end did make.
Thus now alone he conquerour remaines;
Tho comming to his Squire, that kept his ſteed,
Thought to haue mounted, but his feeble vaines
Him faild thereto, and ſerued not his need,
Through loſſe of bloud, which from his wounds did bleed,
That he began to faint, and life decay:
But his good Squire him helping vp with ſpeed,
With ſtedfaſt hand vpon his horſe did ſtay,
And led him to the Caſtle by the beaten way.
Where many Groomes and Squiers readie were,
To take him from his ſteed full tenderly,
And eke the faireſt Alma met him there
With balme and wine and coſtly ſpicery,
To comfort him in his infirmity;
Eftſoones ſhe cauſd him vp to be conuayd,
And of his armes deſpoyled eaſily,
In ſumptuous bed ſhe made him to be layd,
And all the while his wounds were dreſſing, by him ſtayd.
Cant. XII.
Guyon by Palmers gouernance,
paſſing through perils great,
Doth ouerthrow the Bowre of bliſſe,
and Acraſie defeat.
NOw gins this goodly frame of Temperance
Fairely to riſe, and her adorned hed
To pricke of higheſt praiſe forth to aduance,
Formerly grounded, and faſt ſetteled
On firme foundation of true bountihed;
And this braue knight, that for this vertue fights,
Now comes to point of that ſame perilous ſted,
Where Pleaſure dwelles in ſenſuall delights,
Mōgſt thouſand dangers, & ten thouſand magick mights.
Two dayes now in that ſea he ſayled has,
Ne euer land beheld, ne liuing wight,
Ne ought ſaue perill, ſtill as he did pas:
Tho when appeared the third Morrow bright,
Vpon the waues to ſpred her trembling light,
An hideous roaring farre away they heard,
That all their ſenſes filled with affright,
And ſtreight they ſaw the raging ſurges reard
Vp to the skyes, that them of drowning made affeard.
Said then the Boteman, Palmer ſtere aright,
And keepe an euen courſe; for yonder way
We needes muſt paſſe (God do vs well acquight,)
That is the Gulfe of Greedineſſe, they ſay,
That deepe engorgeth all this worldes pray:
Which hauing ſwallowd vp exceſſiuely,
He ſoone in vomit vp againe doth lay,
And belcheth forth his ſuperfluity,
That all the ſeas for feare do ſeeme away to fly.
On th'other ſide an hideous Rocke is pight,
Of mightie Magnes ſtone, whoſe craggie clift
Depending from on high, dreadfull to ſight,
Ouer the waues his rugged armes doth lift,
And threatneth downe to throw his ragged rift
On who ſo commeth nigh; yet nigh it drawes
All paſſengers, that none from it can ſhift:
For whiles they fly that Gulfes deuouring iawes,
They on this rock are rent, and ſunck in helpleſſe wawes.
Forward they paſſe, and ſtrongly he them rowes,
Vntill they nigh vnto that Gulfe arriue,
Where ſtreame more violent and greedy growes:
Then he with all his puiſſance doth ſtriue
To ſtrike his oares, and mightily doth driue
The hollow veſſell through the threatfull waue,
Which gaping wide, to ſwallow them aliue,
In th'huge abyſſe of his engulfing graue,
Doth rore at them in vaine, and with great terror raue.
They paſſing by, that grieſly mouth did ſee,
Sucking the ſeas into his entralles deepe,
That ſeem'd more horrible then hell to bee,
Or that darke dreadfull hole of Tartare ſteepe,
Through which the damned ghoſts doen often creepe
Backe to the world, bad liuers to torment:
But nought that falles into this direfull deepe,
Ne that approcheth nigh the wide deſcent,
May backe returne, but is condemned to be drent.
On th'other ſide, they ſaw that perilous Rocke,
Threatning it ſelfe on them to ruinate,
On whoſe ſharpe clifts the ribs of veſſels broke,
And ſhiuered ſhips, which had bene wrecked late,
Yet ſtuck, with carkaſſes exanimate
Of ſuch, as hauing all their ſubtance ſpent
In wanton ioyes, and luſtes intemperate,
Did afterwards make ſhipwracke violent,
Both of their life, and fame for euer fowly blent.
For thy, this hight The Rocke of vile Reproch,
A daungerous and deteſtable place,
To which nor fiſh nor fowle did once approch,
But yelling Meawes, with Seagulles hoarſe and bace,
And Cormoyrants, with birds of rauenous race,
Which ſtill ſate waiting on that waſtfull clift,
For ſpoyle of wretches, whoſe vnhappie cace,
After loſt credite and conſumed thrift,
At laſt them driuen hath to this deſpairefull drift.
The Palmer ſeeing them in ſafetie paſt,
Thus ſaid; behold th'enſamples in our ſights,
Of luſtfull luxurie and thriftleſſe waſt:
What now is left of miſerable wights,
Which ſpent their looſer daies in lewd delights,
But ſhame and ſad reproch, here to be red,
By theſe rent reliques, ſpeaking their ill plights?
Let all that liue, hereby be counſelled,
To ſhunne Rocke of Reproch, and it as death to dred.
So forth they rowed, and that Ferryman
With his ſtiffe oares did bruſh the ſea ſo ſtrong,
That the hoare waters from his frigot ran,
And the light bubbles daunced all along,
Whiles the ſalt brine out of the billowes ſprong.
At laſt farre off they many Iſlands ſpy,
On euery ſide floting the floods emong:
Then ſaid the knight, Loe I the land deſcry,
Therefore old Syre thy courſe do thereunto apply.
That may not be, ſaid then the Ferryman
Leaſt we vnweeting hap to be fordonne:
For thoſe ſame Iſlands, ſeeming now and than,
Are not firme lande, nor any certein wonne,
But ſtraggling plots, which to and fro do ronne
In the wide waters: therefore are they hight
The wandring Iſlands. Therefore doe them ſhonne;
For they haue 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 fruitfull, and the ground diſpred
With graſſie greene of delectable hew,
And the tall trees with leaues apparelled,
Are deckt with bloſſomes dyde in white and red,
That mote the paſſengers thereto allure;
But whoſoeuer once hath faſtened
His foot thereon, may neuer it recure,
But wandreth euer more vncertein and vnſure.
As th'Iſle of Delos whylome men report
Amid th'Aegaean ſea long time did ſtray,
Ne made for ſhipping any certaine port,
Till that Latona traueiling that way,
Flying from Iunoes wrath and hard aſſay,
Of her faire twins was there deliuered,
Which afterwards did rule the night and day;
Thenceforth it firmely was eſtabliſhed,
And for Apolloes honor highly herried.
They to him hearken, as beſeemeth meete,
And paſſe on forward: ſo their way does ly,
That one of thoſe ſame Iſlands, which doe fleet
In the wide ſea, they needes muſt paſſen by,
Which ſeemd ſo ſweet and pleaſant to the eye,
That it would tempt a man to touchen there:
Vpon the banck they ſitting did eſpy
A daintie damzell, dreſſing of her heare,
By whom a litle skippet floting did appeare.
She them eſpying, loud to them can call,
Bidding them nigher draw vnto the ſhore;
For ſhe had cauſe to bufie them withall;
And therewith loudly laught: But nathemore
Would they once turne, but kept on as afore:
Which when ſhe ſaw, ſhe left her lockes vndight,
And running to her boat withouten ore,
From the departing land it launched light,
And after them did driue with all her power and might.
Whom ouertaking, ſhe in merry ſort
Them gan to bord, and purpoſe diuerſly,
Now faining dalliance and wanton ſport,
Now throwing forth lewd words immodeſtly;
Till that the Palmer gan full bitterly
Her to rebuke, for being looſe and light:
Which not abiding, but more ſcornefully
Scoffing at him, that did her iuſtly wite,
She turnd her bote about, and from them rowed quite.
That was the wanton Phoedria, which late
Did ferry him ouer the Idle lake:
Whom nought regarding, they kept on their gate,
And all her vaine allurements did forſake,
When them the wary Boateman thus beſpake;
Here now behoueth vs well to auyſe,
And of our ſafetie good heede to take;
For here before a perlous paſſage lyes,
Where many Mermayds haunt, making falſe melodies.
But by the way, there is a great Quickſand,
And a whirlepoole of hidden ieopardy,
Therefore, Sir Palmer, keepe an euen hand;
Scarſe had he ſaid, when hard at hand they ſpy
That quickſand nigh with water couered;
But by the checked waue they did deſcry
It plaine, and by the ſea diſcoloured:
It called was the quickſand of Vnthriftyhed.
They paſſing by, a goodly Ship did ſee,
Laden from far with precious merchandize,
And brauely furniſhed, as ſhip might bee,
Which through great diſauenture, or meſprize,
Her ſelfe had runne into that hazardize;
Whoſe mariners and merchants with much toyle,
Labour'd in vaine, to haue recur'd their prize,
And the rich wares to ſaue from pitteous ſpoyle,
But neither toyle nor trauell might her backe recoyle.
On th'other ſide they ſee that perilous Poole,
That called was the VVhirlepoole of decay,
In which full many had with hapleſſe doole
Beene ſuncke, of whom no memorie did ſtay:
Whoſe circled waters rapt with whirling ſway,
Like to a reſtleſſe wheele, ſtill running round,
Did couet, as they paſſed by that way,
To draw the boate within the vtmoſt bound
Of his wide Labyrinth, and then to haue them dround.
But th'heedfull Boateman ſtrongly forth did ſtretch
His brawnie armes, and all his body ſtraine,
That th'vtmoſt ſandy breach they ſhortly fetch,
Whiles the dred daunger does behind remaine.
Suddeine they ſee from midſt of all the Maine,
The ſurging waters like a mountaine riſe,
And the great ſea puft vp with proud diſdaine,
To ſwell aboue the meaſure of his guiſe,
As threatning to deuoure all, that his powre deſpiſe.
The waues come rolling, and the billowes rore
Outragiouſly, as they enraged were,
Or wrathfull Neptune did them driue before
His whirling charet, for exceeding feare:
For not one puffe of wind there did appeare,
That all the three thereat woxe much afrayd,
Vnweeting, what ſuch horrour ſtraunge did reare.
Eftſoones they ſaw an hideous hoaſt arrayd,
Of huge Sea monſters, ſuch as liuing ſence diſmayd.
Moſt vgly ſhapes, and horrible aſpects,
Such as Dame Nature ſelfe mote feare to ſee,
Or ſhame, that euer ſhould ſo fowle defects
From her moſt cunning hand eſcaped bee;
All dreadfull pourtraicts of deformitee:
Spring-headed Hydraes, and ſea-ſhouldring Whales,
Great whirlpools, which all fiſhes make to flee,
Bright Scolopendraes, arm'd with ſiluer ſcales,
Mighty Monoceros, with immeaſured tayles.
The dreadfull Fiſh, that hath deſeru'd the name
Of Death, and like him lookes in dreadfull hew,
The griefly Waſſerman, that makes his game
The flying ſhips with ſwiftneſſe to purſew,
The horrible Sea-ſatyre, that doth ſhew
His fearefull face in time of greateſt ſtorme,
Huge Ziffius, whom Mariners eſchew
No leſſe, then rockes, (as trauellers informe,)
And greedy Roſmarines with viſages deforme.
All theſe, and thouſand thouſands many more,
And more deformed Monſters thouſand fold,
With dreadfull noiſe, and hollow rombling rore,
Came ruſhing in the fomy waues enrold,
Which ſeem'd to fly for feare, them 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 withall,
Compared to the creatures in the ſeas entrall.
Feare nought, (then ſaid the Palmer well auiz'd;)
For theſe ſame Monſters are not theſe in deed,
But are into theſe fearefull ſhapes diſguiz'd
By that ſame wicked witch, to worke vs dreed,
And draw from on this iourney to proceede.
Tho lifting vp his vertuous ſtaffe on hye,
He ſmote the ſea, which calmed was with ſpeed,
And all that dreadfull Armie faſt gan flye
Into great Tethys boſome, where they hidden lye.
Quit from that daunger, forth their courſe they kept,
And as they went, they heard a ruefull cry
Of one, that wayld and pittifull wept,
That through the ſea the reſounding plaints did fly:
At laſt they in an Iſland did eſpy
A ſeemely Maiden, ſitting by the ſhore,
That with great ſorrow and ſad agony,
Seemed ſome great misfortune to deplore,
And lowd to them for ſuccour called euermore.
Which Guyon hearing, ſtreight his Palmer bad,
To ſtere the boate towards that dolefull Mayd,
That he might know, and eaſe her ſorrow ſad:
Who him auizing 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 fine forgery,
Your ſtubborne hart t'affect 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 Boateman ſtrayt
Held on his courſe with ſtayed ſtedfaſtneſſe,
Ne euer ſhruncke, ne euer ſought to bayt
His tyred armes for toyleſome wearineſſe,
But with his oares did ſweepe the watry wilderneſſe.
And now they nigh approched to the ſted,
Where as thoſe Mermayds dwelt: it was a ſtill
And calmy bay, on th'one ſide ſheltered
With the brode ſhadow of an hoarie hill,
On th'other ſide an high rocke toured ſtill,
That twixt them both a peaſaunt port they made,
And did like an halfe Theatre fulfill:
There thoſe fiue ſiſters had continuall trade,
And vſd to bath themſelues in that deceiptfull ſhade.
They were faire Ladies, till they fondly ſtriu'd
With th' Heliconian maides for maiſtery;
Of whom they ouer-comen, were depriu'd
Of their proud beautie, and th'one moyity
Transform'd to fiſh, for their bold ſurquedry,
But th'vpper halfe their hew retained ſtill,
And their ſweet skill in wonted melody;
Which euer after they abuſd to ill,
T'allure weake trauellers, whom gotten they did kill.
So now to Guyon, as he paſſed by,
Their pleaſaunt tunes they ſweetly thus applide;
O thou faire ſonne of gentle Faery,
Thou art in mighty armes moſt magnifide
Aboue all knights, that euer battell tride,
O turne thy rudder hither-ward a while:
Here may thy ſtorme-bet veſſell ſafely ride;
This is the Port of reſt from troublous toyle,
The worlds ſweet In, from paine & weariſome turmoyle.
With that the rolling ſea reſounding ſoft,
In his big baſe them ſitly anſwered,
And on the rocke the waues breaking aloft,
A ſolemne Meane vnto them meaſured,
The whiles ſweet Zephirus lowd whiſteled
His treble, a ſtraunge kinde of harmony;
Which Guyons ſenſes ſoftly tickeled,
That he the boateman bad row eaſily,
And let him heare ſome part of their rare melody.
But him the Palmer from that vanity,
With temperate aduice diſcounſelled,
That they it paſt, and ſhortly gan deſcry
The land, to which their courſe they leueled;
When ſuddeinly a groſſe fog ouer ſpred
With his dull vapour all that deſert has,
And heauens chearefull face enueloped,
That all things one, and one as nothing was,
And this great Vniuerſe ſeemd one confuſed mas.
Thereat they greatly were diſmayd, ne wiſt
How to direct their way in darkeneſſe wide,
But feard to wander in that waſtfull miſt,
For tombling into miſchiefe vneſpide.
Worſe is the daunger hidden, then deſcride.
Suddeinly an innumerable flight
Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering, cride,
And with their wicked wings them oft did ſmight,
And ſore annoyed, groping in that grieſly night.
Euen all the nation of vnfortunate
And fatall birds about them flocked were,
Such as by nature men abhorre and hate,
The ill-faſte Owle, deaths dreadfull meſſengere,
The hoars Night-rauen, trump of dolefull drere,
The lether-winged Bat, dayes enimy,
The ruefull Strich, ſtill waiting on the bere,
The Whiſtler ſhrill, that who ſo heares, doth dy,
The helliſn Harpies, prophets of ſad deſtiny.
All thoſe, and all that elſe does horrour breed,
About them flew, and fild 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 faire land it ſelfe did plainly ſhow.
Said then the Palmer, Lo where does appeare
The ſacred ſoile, where all our perils grow;
Therefore, Sirknight, your ready armes about you throw.
He hearkned, and his armes about him tooke,
The whiles the nimble boate ſo well her ſped,
That with her crooked keele the land ſhe ſtrooke,
Then forth the noble Guyon ſallied,
And his ſage Palmer, that him gouerned;
But th'other by his boate behind did ſtay.
They marched fairly forth, of nought ydred,
Both firmely armd for euery hard aſſay,
With conſtancy and care, gainſt daunger and diſmay.
Ere long they heard an hideous bellowing
Of many beaſts, that roard outrageouſly,
As if that hungers point, or Venus ſting
Had them enraged with fell ſurquedry;
Yet nought they feard, but paſt on hardily,
Vntill they came in vew of thoſe wild beaſts:
Who all attonce, gaping full greedily,
And rearing fiercely their vpſtarting creſts,
Ran towards, to deuoure thoſe vnexpected gueſts.
But ſoone as they approcht with deadly threat,
The Palmer ouer them his ſtaffe vpheld,
His mighty ſtaffe, that could all charmes defeat:
Eftſoones their ſtubborne courages were queld,
And high aduaunced creſts downe meekely feld,
In ſtead of fraying, they them ſelues did feare,
And trembled, as them paſſing they beheld:
Such wondrous powre did in that ſtaffe appeare,
All monſters to ſubdew to him, that did it beare.
Of that ſame wood it fram'd was cunningly,
Of which Caduceus whilome was made,
Caduceus the rod of Mercury,
With which he wonts the Stygian realmes inuade,
Through ghaſtly horrour, and eternall ſhade;
Th'infernall feends with it he can aſſwage,
And Orcus tame, whom nothing can perſwade,
And rule the Furyes, when they moſt do rage:
Such vertue in his ſtaffe had eke this Palmer ſage.
Thence paſſing forth, they ſhortly do arriue,
Whereas the Bowre of Bliſſe was ſituate;
A place pick out by choice of beſt aliue,
That natures worke by art can imitate:
In which what euer in this worldly ſtate
Is ſweet, and pleaſing vnto liuing ſenſe,
Or that may dayntieſt fantaſie aggrate,
Was poured forth with plentifull diſpence,
And made there to abound with lauiſh affluence.
Goodly it was encloſed round about,
Aſwell their entred gueſtes to keepe within,
As thoſe vnruly 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 efforced bin:
And eke the gate was wrought of ſubſtaunce light,
Rather for pleaſure, then for battery or fight.
Yt framed was of precious yuory,
That ſeemd a worke of admirable wit;
And therein all the famous hiſtory
Of Iaſon and Medaea was ywrit;
Her mighty charmes, her furious louing fit,
His goodly conqueſt of the golden fleece,
His falſed faith, and loue too lightly flit,
The wondred Argo, which in venturous peece
Firſt through the Euxine ſeas bore all the flowr of Greece.
Ye might haue ſeene the frothy billowes fry
Vnder the ſhip, as thorough them ſhe went,
That ſeemd the waues were into yuory,
Or yuory into the waues were ſent;
And other where the ſnowy ſubſtaunce ſprent
With vermell, like the boyes bloud therein ſhed,
A piteous ſpectacle did repreſent,
And otherwhiles with gold beſprinkeled;
Yt ſeemd th'enchaunted flame, which did Creiiſa wed.
All this, and more might in that goodly gate
Be red; that euer open ſtood to all,
Which thither came: but in the Porch there ſate
A comely perſonage of ſtature tall,
And ſemblaunce pleaſing, more then naturall,
That trauellers to him ſeemd to entize;
His looſer garment to the ground did fall,
And flew about his heeles in wanton wize,
Not fit 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 liues, pertaines in charge particulare,
Who wondrous things concerning our welfare,
And ſtraunge phantomes doth let vs oft forſee,
And oft of ſecret ill bids vs beware:
That is our Selfe, whom though we do not ſee,
Yet each doth in him ſelfe it well perceiue 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 enuyes to all,
That ſecretly doth vs procure to fall,
Through guilefull ſemblaunts, which he makes vs ſee.
He of this Gardin had the gouernall,
And Pleaſures porter was deuizd to bee,
Holding a ſtaffe in hand for more formalitee.
With diuerſe flowres he daintily was deckt,
And ſtrowed round about, and by his ſide
A mighty Mazer bowle of wine was ſet
As if it had to him bene ſacrifide;
Wherewith all new-come gueſts he gratifide:
So did he eke Sir Guyon paſſing by:
But he his idle curteſie defide,
And ouerthrew his bowle diſdainfully;
And broke his ſtaffe, with which he charmed ſemblants ſly.
Thus being entred, they behold around
A large and ſpacious plaine, on euery ſide
Strowed with, pleaſauns, whoſe faire graſſy ground
Mantled with grenee, and goodly beautifide
With all the ornaments of Floraes pride,
Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in ſcome
Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride
Did decke her, and too lauiſhly adorne,
When forth from virgin bowre ſhe comes in th'early morne.
Thereto the Heauens alwayes Iouiall,
Lookt on them louely, ſtill in ſtedfaſt ſtate,
Ne ſuffred ſtorme nor froſt on them to fall,
Their tender buds or leaues to violate,
Nor ſcorching heat, nor cold intemperate
Tafflict the crearures, which therein did dwell,
But the milde aire with ſeaſon moderate
Gently attempred, and diſpoſd ſo well,
That ſtill it breathed forth ſweet ſpirit & holeſome ſmell.
More ſweet and holeſome, then the pleaſaunt hill
Of Rhodope, on which the Nimphe, that bore
A gyaunt babe, her ſelfe for griefe did kill;
Or the Theſſalian Tempe, where of yore
Faire Daphne Phoebus hart with loue did gore;
Or Ida, where the Gods lou'd to repaire,
When euer they their heauenly bowres forlore;
Or ſweet Parnaſſe, the ha unt of Muſes faire;
Of Eden, if ought with Eden mote compaire.
Much wondred Guyon at the faire aſpect
Of that ſweet place, yet ſuffred no delight
To ſincke into his ſence, nor mind affect,
But paſſed forth, and lookt ſtill forward right,
Bridling his will, and maiſtering his might:
Till that he came vnto another gate,
No gate, but like one, being goodly dight
With boughes and braunches, which did broad dilate
Their claſping armes, in wanton wreathings intricate.
So faſhioned a Porch with rare deuice,
Archt ouer head with an embracing vine,
Whoſe bounches hanging downe, ſeemed to entice
All paſſers by, to taſt their luſhious wine,
And did themſelues into their hands incline,
As freely offering to be gathered:
Some deepe empurpled as the Hyacint,
Some as the Rubine, laughing ſweetly red,
Some like faire Emeraudes, not yet well ripened.
And them amongſt, ſome were of burniſht gold,
So made by art, to beautifie the reſt,
Which did themſelues emongſt the leaues enfold,
As lurking from the vew of couetous gueſt,
That the weake bowes, with ſo rich load oppreſt,
Did bow adowne, as ouer-burdened.
Vnder that Porch a comely dame did reſt,
Clad in faire weedes, but fowle diſordered,
And garments looſe, that ſeemd vnmeet for womanhed
In her left hand a Cup of gold ſhe held,
And with her right the riper fruit did reach,
Whoſe ſappy liquor, that with fulneſſe ſweld,
Into her cup ſhe ſcruzd, with daintie breach
Of her fine fingers, without fowle empeach,
That ſo faire wine-preſſe made the wine more ſweet:
Thereof ſhe vſd to giue to drinke to each,
Whom paſſing by ſhe happened to meet:
It was her guiſe, all Straungers goodly ſo to greet,
So ſhe to Gayon offred it to taſt;
Who taking it out of her tender hond,
The cup to ground did violently caſt,
That all in pecces 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 not regarding her diſpleaſure forward goth.
There the mod daintie Paradiſe on ground,
It ſelfe doth offer to his ſober eye,
In which all pleaſures plenteouſly abound,
And none does others happineſſe enuye:
The painted flowres, the trees vpſhooting hye,
The dales for ſhade, the hilles for breathing ſpace,
The trembling groues, 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 haue thought, (ſo cunningly, the rude,
And ſcorned parts were mingled with the fine,)
That nature had for wantoneſſe enſude
Art, and that Art at nature did repine;
So ſtriuing each th'other to vndermine,
Each did the others worke more beautifie;
So diff'ring both in willes, agreed in fine:
So all agreed through ſweete diuerſitie,
This Gardin to adorne with all varietie.
And in the midſt of all, a fountaine ſtood,
Of richeſt ſubſtaunce, that on earth might bee,
So pure and ſhiny, that the ſiluer flood
Through euery channell running one might ſee;
Moſt goodly it with curious imageree
Was ouer-wrought, and ſhapes of naked boyes,
Of which ſome ſeemd with liuely iollitee,
To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,
Whileſt others did themſelues embay in liquid ioyes,
And ouer all, of pureſt gold was ſpred,
A trayle of yuie in his natiue hew:
For the rich mettall was ſo coloured,
That wight, who did not well auis'd it vew,
Would ſurely deeme it to be yuie trew:
Low his laſciuious armes adown did creepe,
That themſelues dipping in the ſiluer dew,
Their fleecy flowres they tenderly did ſteepe,
Which drops of Chriſtall ſeemd for wantones to weepe.
Infinit ſtreames continually did well
Out of this fountaine, ſweet and faire to ſee
The which into an ample lauer fell,
And ſhortly grew to ſo great quantitie,
That like a little lake it ſeemd to bee;
Whoſe depth exceeded not three cubits hight,
That through the waues one might the bortom ſee,
All pau'd beneath with Iaſpar ſhining bright,
That ſeemd the fountaine in that ſea did ſayle vpright.
And all the margent round about was ſet,
With ſhady Laurell trees, thence to defend
The ſunny beames, which on the billowes bet,
And thoſe which therein bathed, mote offend.
As Guyon hapned by the ſame to wend,
Two naked Damzelles he therein eſpyde,
Which therein bathing, ſeemed to contend,
And wreſtle wantonly, ne car'd to hyde,
Their dainty parts from vew of any, which them eyde.
Sometimes the one would lift the other quight
Aboue the waters, and then downe againe
Her plong, as ouer maiſtered by might,
Where both awhile would couered remaine,
And each the other from to riſe reſtraine;
The whiles their ſnowy limbes, as through a vele,
So through the Chriſtall waues appeared plaine:
Then ſuddeinly both would themſelues vnhele,
And th'amarous ſweet ſpoiles to greedy eyes reuele.
As that faire Starre, the meſſenger of morne,
His deawy face out of the ſea doth reare:
Or as the Cyprian goddeſſe, newly borne
Of th'Oceans fruitfull froth, did firſt appeare:
Such ſeemed they, and ſo their yellow heare
Chriſtalline humour dropped downe apace.
Whom ſuch when Guyon ſaw, he drew him neare,
And ſomewhat gan relent his earneſt pace,
His ſtubborne breſt gan ſecret pleaſaunce to embrace.
The wanton Maidens him eſpying, ſtood
Gazing a while at his vnwonted guiſe;
Then th'one her ſelfe low ducked in the flood,
Abaſht, that her a ſtraunger did a viſe:
But th'other rather higher did ariſe,
And her two lilly paps aloft diſplayd,
And all, that might his melting hart entiſe
To her delights, ſhe vnto him bewrayd:
The reſt hid vnderneath, him more deſirous made.
With that, the other likewiſe vp aroſe,
And her faire lockes, which formerly were bownd
Vp in one knot, ſhe low adowne did loſe:
Which flowing long and thick, her cloth'd arownd,
And th'yuorie in golden mantle gownd:
So that faire ſpectacle from him was reſt,
Yet that, which reſt it, no leſſe faire was fownd:
So hid in lockes and waues from lookers theft,
Nought but her louely face ſhe for his looking left.
Withall ſhe laughed, and ſhe bluſht withall,
That bluſhing to her laughter gaue more grace,
And laughter to her bluſhing, as did fall:
Now when they ſpide the knight to ſlacke his pace,
Them to behold, and in his ſparkling face
The ſecret ſignes of kindled luſt appeare,
Their wanton meriments they did encreace,
And to him beckned, to approch more neare,
And ſhewd him many ſights, that courage 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 fauorites ſo nam'd amis:
When thus the Palmer; Now Sir, well auiſe;
For here the end of all our trauell is:
Here wonnes Acraſia, whom we muſt ſurpriſe,
Elſe ſhe will ſlip away, and all our drift deſpiſe.
Eftſoones they heard a moſt melodious ſound,
Of all that mote delight a daintie eare,
Such as attonce might not on liuing ground,
Saue in this Paradiſe, be heard elſwhere:
Right hard it was, for wight, which did it heare,
To read, what manner muſicke that mote bee:
For all that pleaſing is to liuing eare,
Was there conſorted in one harmonee,
Birdes, voyces, inſtruments, windes, waters, all agree.
The ioyous birdes ſhrouded in chearefull ſhade,
Their notes vnto the voyce attempred ſweet;
Th' Angelicall ſoft trembling voyces made
To th'inſtruments diuine reſpondence meet:
The ſiluer ſounding inſtruments did meet
With the baſe murmure of the waters fall:
The waters fall with difference diſcreet,
Now ſoft, now loud, vnto the wind did call:
The gentle warbling wind low anſwered to all.
There, whence that Muſick ſeemed heard to bee,
Was the faire Witch her ſelfe now ſolacing,
With a new Louer, whom through ſorceree
And witchcraft, ſhe from farre did thither bring:
There ſhe had him now layd a ſlombering,
In ſecret ſhade, after long wanton ioyes:
Whilſt round about them pleaſauntly did ſing
Many faire Ladies, and laſciuious boyes,
That euer mixt their ſong with light licentious toyes.
And all that while, right ouer him ſhe hong,
With her falſe eyes faſt fixed in his ſight,
As ſeeking medicine, whence ſhe was ſtong,
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 ſpright,
Quite molten into luſt and pleaſure lewd;
Wherewith ſhe ſighed ſoft, as if his caſe ſhe rewd.
The whiles ſome one did chaunt this louely lay;
Ah ſee, who ſo faire thing doeſt faine to ſee,
In ſpringing flowre the image of thy day;
Ah ſee the Virgin Roſe, how ſweetly ſhee
Doth firſt peepe forth with baſhfull modeſtee,
That fairer ſeemes, the leſſe ye ſee her may;
Lo ſee ſoone after, how more bold and free
Her bared boſome ſhe doth broad diſplay;
Loe ſee ſoone after, how ſhe fades, and falles away.
So paſſeth, in the paſſing of a day,
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre,
Ne more doth flouriſh after firſt decay,
That earſt was ſought to decke both bed and bowre,
Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre:
Gather therefore the Roſe, whileſt yet is prime,
For ſoone comes age, that will her pride deflowre:
Gather the Roſe of loue, whileſt yet is time,
Whileſt louing thou mayſt loued be with equall crime.
He ceaſt, and then gan all the quire of birdes
Their diuerſe notes t'attune vnto his lay,
As in approuance of his pleaſing words.
The conſtant paire heard all, that he did ſay,
Yet ſwarued not, but kept their forward way,
Through many couert groues, and thickets cloſe,
In which they creeping did at laſt diſplay
That wanton Ladie, with her louer loſe,
Whoſe ſleepie head ſhe in her lap did ſoft diſpoſe.
Vpon 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 vele of ſilke and ſiluer thin,
That hid no whit her alablaſter skin,
But rather ſhewd more white, if more might bee:
More ſubtile web Arachne can not ſpin,
Nor the fine nets, which oft we wouen ſee
Of ſcorched deaw, do not in th'aire more lightly flee.
Her ſnowy breſt was bare to readie ſpoyle
Of hungry eies, which n'ote therewith be fild,
And yet through languour of her late ſweet toyle,
Few drops, more cleare then Nectar, forth diſtild,
That like pure Orient perles adowne it trild,
And her faire eyes ſweet ſmyling in delight,
Moyſtened their fierie beames, with which ſhe thrild
Fraile harts, yet quenched not; like ſtarry light
Which ſparckling on the ſilent waues, does ſeeme more bright.
The young man ſleeping by her, ſeemd to bee
Some goodly ſwayne of honorable place,
That certes it great pittie was to ſee
Him his nobilitie ſo foule deface;
A ſweet regard, and amiable grace,
Mixed with manly ſternneſſe did appeare
Yet ſleeping, in his well proportiond face,
And on his tender lips the downy heare
Did now but freſhly ſpring, and ſilken bloſſomes beare.
His warlike armes, the idle inſtruments
Of ſleeping praiſe, were hong vpon a tree,
And his braue ſhield, full of old moniments,
Was fowly ra'ſt, that none the ſignes might ſee;
Ne for them, ne for honour cared hee,
Ne ought, that did to his aduauncement tend,
But in lewd loues, 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 luſtfull game,
That ſuddein forth they on them ruſht, and threw
A ſubtile net, which onely for the ſame
The skilfull Palmer formally did frame.
So held them vnder faſt, the whiles the reſt
Fled all away for feare of fowler ſhame.
The faire Enchauntreſſe, ſo vnwares oppreſt,
Tryde all her arts, & all her ſleights, thence out to wreſt.
And eke her louer ſtroue: but all in vaine;
For that ſame net ſo cunningly was wound,
That neither guile, nor force might it diſtraine.
They tooke them both, & both them ſtrongly bound
In captiue bandes, which there they readie found:
But her in chaines of adamant he tyde;
For nothing elſe might keepe her ſafe and ſound;
But Verdant (ſo he hight) he ſoone vntyde,
And counſell ſage in ſteed thereof to him applyde.
But all thoſe pleaſant bowres and Pallace braue,
Guyon broke downe, with rigour pittileſſe;
Ne ought their goodly workmanſhip might ſaue
Them from the tempeſt of his wrathfulneſſe,
But that their bliſſe he turn'd to balefulneſſe:
Their groues he feld, their gardins did deface,
Their arbers ſpoyld, their Cabinets ſuppreſſe,
Their banket houſes burne, their buildings race,
And of the faireſt late, now made the fowleſt place.
Then led they her away, and eke that knight
They with them led, both ſorrowfull and ſad:
The way they came, the ſame retourn'd they right,
Till they arriued, where they 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 reskew, whom they lad;
But them the Palmer ſoone did pacify.
Then Guyon askt, what meant thoſe beaſtes, which there didly.
Said he, theſe ſeeming beaſts are men indeed,
Whom this Enchauntreſſe hath transformed thus,
Whylome her louers, which her luſts did feed,
Now turned into figures hideous,
According to their mindes like monſtruous.
Sad end (quoth he) of life intemperate,
And mournefull meed of ioyes delicious:
But Palmer, if it mote thee ſo aggrate,
Let them returned be vnto their former ſtate.
Streight way he with his vertuous ſtaffe them ſtrooke,
And ſtreight of beaſts they comely men became;
Yet being men they did vnmanly looke,
And ſtared ghaſtly, ſome for inward ſhame,
And ſome for wrath, to ſee their captiue Dame:
But one aboue the reſt in ſpeciall,
That had an hog beene late, hight Grille by name,
Repined greatly, and did him miſcall,
That had from hoggiſh forme him brought to naturall.
Said Guyon, See the mind of beaſtly man,
That hath ſo ſoone forgot the excellence
Of his creation, when he life began,
That now he chooſeth, with vile difference,
To be a beaſt, and lacke intelligence.
To whom the Palmer thus, The donghill kind
Delights in filth and foule incontinence:
Let Grill be Grill, and haue his hoggiſh mind,
But let vs hence depart, whileſt wether ſerues and wind.
THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE. Contayning, THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS. OR
Of Chaſtitie.
IT falles me here to write of Chaſtity,
That faireſt vertue, farre aboue the reſt;
For which what needs me fetch from Faery
Forreine enſamples, it to haue expreſt?
Sith it is ſhrined in my Soueraines breſt,
And form'd ſo liuely in each perfect part,
That to all Ladies, which haue it profeſt,
Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart,
If pourtrayd it might be by any liuing art.
But liuing art may not leaſt part expreſſe,
Nor life-reſembling pencill it can paint,
All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles:
His daedale hand would faile, and greatly faint,
And her perfections with his error taint:
Ne Poets wit, that paſſeth Painter farre
In picturing the parts of beautie daint,
So hard a workmanſhip aduenture darre,
For fear through want of words her excellence to marre.
How then ſhall I, Apprentice of the skill,
That whylome in diuineſt wits did raine,
Preſume ſo high to ſtretch mine humble quill?
Yet now my luckleſſe lot doth me conſtraine
Hereto perforce. But ô dred Soueraine
Thus farre forth pardon, ſith that choiceſt wit
Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure plaine
That I in colourd ſhowes may ſhadow it,
And antique praiſes vnto preſent perſons fit.
But if in liuing colours, and right hew,
Your ſelfe you couet to ſee pictured,
Who can it doe more liuely, or more trew,
Then that ſweet verſe, with Nectar ſprinckeled,
In which a gracious ſeruant pictured
His Cynthia, his heauens faireſt light?
That with his melting ſweetneſſe rauiſhed,
And with the wonder of her beames bright,
My ſenſes lulled are in ſlomber of delight.
But let that ſame delitious Poet lend
A little leaue vnto a ruſticke Muſe
To ſing his miſtreſſe prayſe, and let him mend,
If ought amis her liking may abuſe:
Ne let his faireſt Cynthia refuſe,
In mirrours more then one her ſelfe to ſee,
But either Gloriana let her chuſe,
Or in Belphoebe faſhioned to bee:
In th'one her rule, in th'other her rare chaſtitee.
Cant. I.
Guyon encountreth Britomart,
faire Florimell is chaced:
Dueſſaes traines and Materaſtaes
champions are defaced.
THe famous Briton Prince and Faerie knight,
After long wayes and perilous paines endured,
Hauing their wearie limbes to perfect plight
Reſtord, and ſory wounds right well recured,
Of the faire Alma greatly were procured,
To make there lenger ſoiourne and abode;
But when thereto they might not be allured,
From ſeeking praiſe, and deeds of armes abrode,
They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode.
But the captiu'd Acraſia he ſent,
Becauſe of trauell long, a nigher way,
With a ſtrong gard, all reskew to preuent,
And her to Faerie court ſafe to conuay,
That her for witneſſe of his hard aſſay,
Vnto his Faerie Queene he might preſent:
But he himſelfe betooke another way,
To make more triall of his hardiment,
And ſeeke aduentures, as he with Prince Arthur went.
Long ſo they trauelled through waſtefull wayes,
Where daungers dwelt, and perils moſt did wonne,
To hunt for glorie and renowmed praiſe;
Full many Countries they did ouerronne,
From the vpriſing to the ſetting Sunne,
And many hard aduentures did atchieue;
Of all the which they honour euer wonne,
Seeking the weake oppreſſed to relieue,
And to recouer right for ſuch, as wrong did grieue.
At laſt as through an open plaine they yode,
They ſpide a knight, that towards pricked faire,
And him beſide an aged Squire there rode,
That ſeem'd to couch vnder his ſhield three-ſquare,
As if that age bad him that burden ſpare,
And yield it thoſe, that ſtouter could it wield:
He them eſpying, gan himſelfe prepare,
And on his arme addreſſe his goodly ſhield
That bore a Lion paſſant in a golden field.
Which ſeeing good Sir Guyon, deare beſought
The Prince of grace, to let him runne that turne.
He graunted: then the Faery quickly raught
His poinant ſpeare, and ſharpely gan to ſpurne
His fomy ſteed, whoſe fierie feete did burne
The verdant graſſe, as he thereon did tread;
Ne did the other backe his foot returne,
But fiercely forward came withouten dread,
And bent his dreadfull ſpeare againſt the others head.
They bene ymet, and both their points arriued,
But Guyon droue ſo furious and fell,
That ſeem'd both ſhield & plate it would haue riued;
Natheleſſe it bore his foe not from his ſell,
But made him ſtagger, as he were not well:
But Guyon ſelfe, ere well he was aware,
Nigh a ſpeares length behind his crouper fell,
Yet in his fall ſo well him ſelfe he bare,
That miſchieuous miſchance his life & limbes did ſpare.
Great ſhame and ſorrow of that fall he tooke;
For neuer yet, ſith warlike armes he bore,
And ſhiuering ſpeare in bloudie field firſt ſhooke,
He found himſelfe diſhonored ſo ſore.
Ah gentleſt knight, that euer armour bore,
Let not thee grieue diſmounted to haue beene,
And brought to ground, that neuer waſt before;
For not thy fault, but ſecret powre vnſeene,
That ſpeare enchaunted was, which layd thee on the greene.
But weenedſt thou what wight thee ouerthrew,
Much greater griefe and ſhamefuller regret
For thy hard fortune then thou wouldſt renew,
That of a ſingle damzell thou wert met
On equall plaine, and there ſo hard beſet;
Euen the famous Britomart it was,
Whom ſtraunge aduenture did from Britaine fet,
To ſeeke her louer (loue farre ſought alas,)
Whoſe image ſhe had feene in Venus looking glas.
Full of diſdainefull wrath, he fierce vproſe,
For to reuenge that foule reprochfull ſhame,
And ſnatching his bright ſword began to cloſe
With her on foot, and ſtoutly forward came;
Die rather would he, then endure that ſame.
Which when his Palmer ſaw, he gan to feare
His toward perill and vntoward blame,
Which by that new rencounter he ſhould reare:
For death ſate on the point of that enchaunted ſpeare.
And haſting towards him gan faire perſwade,
Not to prouoke misfortune, nor to weene
His ſpeares default to mend with cruell blade;
For by his mightie Science he had ſeene
The ſecret vertue of that weapon keene,
That mortall puiſſance mote not withſtond:
Nothing on earth mote alwaies happie beene.
Great hazard were it, and aduenture fond,
To looſe long gotten honour with one euill hond.
By ſuch good meanes he him diſcounſelled,
From proſecuting his reuenging rage;
And eke the Prince like treaty handeled,
His wrathfull will with reaſon to aſſwage,
And laid the blame, not to his carriage,
But to his ſtarting ſteed, that ſwaru'd aſyde,
And to the ill purueyance of his page,
That had his furnitures not firmely tyde:
So is his angry courage fairely pacifyde.
Thus reconcilement was betweene them knit,
Through goodly temperance, and affection chaſte,
And either vowd with all their power and wit,
To let not others honour be defaſte,
Of friend or foe, who euer it embaſte,
Ne armes to beare againſt the others ſyde:
In which accord the Prince was alſo plaſte,
And with that golden chaine of concord tyde.
So goodly all agreed, they forth yfere did ryde.
O goodly vſage of thoſe antique times,
In which the ſword was ſeruant vnto right;
When not for malice and contentious crimes,
But all for praiſe, and proofe of manly might,
The martiall brood accuſtomed to fight:
Then honour was the meed of victorie,
And yet the vanquiſhed had no deſpight:
Let later age that noble vſe enuie,
Vile rancour to auoid, and cruell ſurquedrie.
Long they thus trauelled in friendly wiſe,
Through countries waſte, and eke well edifyde,
Seeking aduentures hard, to exerciſe
Their puiſſance, whylome full dernely tryde:
At length they came into a forreſt wyde,
Whoſe hideous horror and ſad trembling ſound
Full grieſly ſeem'd: Therein they long did ryde,
Yet tract of liuing creatures none they found,
Saue Beares, Lions, & Buls, which romed them around.
All ſuddenly out of the thickeſt bruſh,
Vpon a milke-white Palfrey all alone,
A goodly Ladie 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 wrought of beaten gold,
And all her ſteed with tinſell trappings ſhone,
Which fled ſo faſt, that nothing mote him hold,
And ſcarſe them leaſure gaue, her paſſing to behold.
Still as ſhe fled, her eye ſhe backward threw,
As fearing euill, that purſewd her faſt;
And her faire yellow locks behind her flew,
Looſely diſperſt with puffe of euery blaſt:
All as a blazing ſtarre doth farre outcaſt
His hearie beames, and flaming lockes diſpred,
At ſight whereof the people ſtand aghaſt:
But the ſage wiſard telles, as he has red,
That it importunes death and dolefull drerihed.
So as they gazed after her a while,
Lo where a grieſly Foſter forth did ruſh,
Breathing out beaſtly luſt her to defile:
His tyreling iade he fiercely forth did puſh,
Through thicke and thin, both ouer banke and buſh
In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke,
That from his gorie ſides the bloud 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 enuie and fell gealoſy,
They ſtayd not to auiſe, who firſt ſhould bee,
But all ſpurd after faſt, as they mote fly,
To reskew her from ſhamefull villany.
The Prince and Guyon equally byliue
Her ſelfe purſewd, in hope to win thereby
Moſt goodly meede, the faireſt Dame aliue:
But after the foule foſter Timias did ſtriue.
The whiles faire Britomart, whoſe conſtant mind,
Would not ſo lightly follow beauties chace,
Ne reckt of Ladies Loue, did ſtay behind,
And them awayted there a certaine ſpace,
To weet if they would turne backe to that place:
But when ſhe ſaw them gone, ſhe forward went,
As lay her iourney, through that perlous Pace,
With ſtedfaſt courage and ſtout hardiment;
Ne euill thing ſhe fear'd, ne euill thing ſhe ment.
At laſt as nigh out of the wood ſhe came,
A ſtately Caſtle farre 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 plaine,
Mantled with greene, it ſelfe did ſpredden wyde,
On which ſhe ſaw ſixe knights, that did darraine
Fierce battell againſt one, with cruell might and maine.
Mainly they all attonce vpon him laid,
And ſore beſet on euery ſide around,
That nigh he breathleſſe grew, yet nought diſmaid,
Ne euer to them yielded foot of ground
All had he loſt much bloud through many a wound,
But ſtoutly dealt his blowes, and euery way
To which he turned in his wrathfull ſtound,
Made them recoile, and fly from dred decay,
That none of all the ſixe before, him durſt aſſay.
Like daſtard Curres, that hauing at a bay
The ſaluage beaſt emboſt in wearie chace,
Dare not aduenture 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 doubtfull ieopardy,
When Britomart him ſaw, ſhe ran a pace
Vnto his reskew, and with earneſt cry,
Bad thoſe ſame ſixe forbeare that ſingle enimy.
But to her cry they liſt not lenden eare,
Ne ought the more their mightie ſtrokes ſurceaſſe,
But gathering him round about more neare,
Their direfull rancour rather did encreaſſe;
Till that ſhe ruſhing through the thickeſt preaſſe,
Perforce diſparted their compacted gyre,
And ſoone compeld to hearken vnto peace:
Tho gan ſhe myldly of them to inquyre
The cauſe of their diſſention and outrageous yre.
Whereto that ſingle knight did anſwere frame;
Theſe ſixe would me enforce by oddes of might,
To chaunge my liefe, and loue another Dame,
That death me liefer were, then ſuch deſpight,
So vnto wrong to yield my wreſted right:
For I loue one, the trueſt one on ground,
Ne liſt me chaunge; ſhe th'Errant Damzell hight,
For whoſe deare ſake full many a bitter ſtownd,
I haue endur'd, and taſted many a bloudy wound.
Certes (ſaid ſhe) then bene ye ſixe to blame,
To weene your wrong by force to iuſtifie:
For knight to leaue his Ladie were great ſhame,
That faithfull is, and better were to die.
All loſſe is leſſe, and leſſe the infamie,
Then loſſe of loue to him, that loues but one;
Ne may loue be compeld by maiſterie;
For ſoone as maiſterie comes, ſweet loue anone
Taketh his nimble wings, and ſoone away is gone.
Then ſpake one of thoſe ſixe, There dwelleth here
Within this caſtle wall a Ladie faire,
Whoſe ſoueraine beautie hath no liuing pere,
Thereto ſo bounteous and ſo debonaire,
That neuer any mote with her compaire.
She hath ordaind this law, which we approue,
That euery knight, which doth this way repaire,
In caſe he haue no Ladie, nor no loue,
Shall doe vnto her ſeruice neuer to remoue.
But if he haue a Ladie or a Loue,
Then muſt he her forgoe with foule defame,
Or elſe with vs by dint of ſword approue,
That ſhe is fairer, then our faireſt Dame,
As did this knight, before ye hither came.
Perdie (ſaid Britomart) the choiſe is hard:
But what reward had he, that ouercame?
He ſhould aduaunced be to high regard,
(Said they) and haue our Ladies loue for his reward.
Therefore a read Sir, if thou haue a loue.
Loue haue I ſure, (quoth ſhe) but Lady none;
Yet will I not fro mine owne loue remoue,
Ne to your Lady will I ſeruice done,
But wreake your wrongs wrought to this knight alone,
And proue his cauſe. With that her mortall ſpeare
She mightily auentred towards one,
And downe him ſmot, ere well aware he weare,
Then to the next ſhe rode, & downe the next did beare.
Ne did ſhe ſtay, till three on ground ſhe layd,
That none of them himſelfe could reare againe;
The fourth was by that other knight diſmayd,
All were he wearie of his former paine,
That now there do but two of ſix remaine;
Which two did yield, before ſhe did them ſmight.
Ah (ſaid ſhe then) now may ye all ſee plaine,
That truth is ſtrong, and trew loue moſt of might,
That for his truſty ſeruaunts doth ſo ſtrongly fight.
Too well we ſee, (ſaid they) and proue too well
Our faulty weakneſſe, and your matchleſſe might:
For thy faire Sir, yours be the Damozell,
Which by her owne law to your lot doth light,
And we your liege men faith vnto you plight.
So vnderneath her feet their ſwords they ſhard,
And after her beſought, well as they might,
To enter in, and reape the dew reward:
She graunted, and then in they all together far'd.
Long were it to deſcribe the goodly frame,
And ſtately port of Caſtle Ioyeous,
(For ſo that Caſtle hight by commune name)
Where they were entertaind with curteous
And comely glee of many gracious
Faire Ladies, and many a gentle knight,
Who through a Chamber long and ſpacious,
Eftſoones them brought vnto 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 liuing wit, I weene, cannot diſplay
The royall riches and exceeding coſt,
Of euery pillour and of euery poſt;
Which all of pureſt bullion framed were,
And with great pearles and pretious ſtones emboſt,
That the bright gliſter of their beames cleare
Did ſparckle forth great light, and glorious did appeare.
Theſe ſtraunger knights through paſſing, forth were led
Into an inner rowme, whoſe royaltee
And rich purueyance might vneath be red;
Mote Princes place be ſeeme ſo deckt to bee.
Which ſtately manner when as they did ſee,
The image of ſuperfluous riotize,
Exceeding much the ſtate of meane degree,
They greatly wondred, whence ſo ſumptuous guize
Might be maintaynd, and each gan diuerſely deuize.
The wals were round about apparelled
With coſtly clothes of Arras and of Toure,
In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed
The loue of Venus and her Paramoure
The faire Adonis, turned to a flowre,
A worke of rare deuice, and wondrous wit.
Firſt did it ſhew the bitter balefull ſtowre,
Which her aſſayd with many a feruent fit,
When firſt her tender hart was with his beautie ſmit.
Then with what ſleights and ſweet allurements ſhe
Entyſt the Boy, as well that art ſhe knew,
And wooed him her Paramoure to be;
Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew,
To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew;
Now leading him into a ſecret ſhade
From his Beauperes, and from bright heauens vew,
Where him to ſleepe ſhe gently would perſwade,
Or bathe him in a fountaine by ſome couert glade.
And whilſt he ſlept, ſhe ouer him would ſpred
Her mantle, colour'd like the ſtarry skyes,
And her ſoft arme lay vnderneath his hed,
And with ambroſiall kiſſes bathe his eyes;
And whileſt 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 Pances trim,
And euer with ſweet Nectar ſhe did ſprinkle him.
So did ſhe ſteale his heedeleſſe hart away,
And ioyd his loue in ſecret vneſpyde.
But for ſhe ſaw him bent to cruell play,
To hunt the ſaluage beaſt in forreſt wyde,
Dreadfull of daunger, that mote him betyde,
She oft and oft aduiz'd him to refraine
From chaſe of greater beaſts, whoſe brutiſh pryde
Mote breede him ſcath vnwares: but all in vaine;
For who can ſhun the chaunce, that deſt'ny doth ordaine?
Lo, where beyond he lyeth languiſhing,
Deadly engored of a great wild Bore,
And by his ſide the Goddeſſe groueling
Makes for him endleſſe mone, and euermore
With her ſoft garment wipes away the gore,
Which ſtaines his ſnowy skin with hatefull 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 liuely grew.
So was that chamber clad in goodly wize,
And round about it many beds were dight,
As whilome was the antique worldes guize,
Some for vntimely eaſe, ſome for delight,
As pleaſed them to vſe, that vſe it might:
And all was full of Damzels, and of Squires,
Dauncing and reueling both day and night,
And ſwimming deepe in ſenſuall deſires,
And Cupid ſtill emongſt them kindled luſtfull fires.
And all the while ſweet Muſicke did diuide
Her looſer notes with Lydian harmony;
And all the while ſweet birdes thereto applide
Their daintie layes and dulcet melody,
Ay caroling of loue and iollity,
That wonder was to heare their trim conſort.
Which when thoſe knights beheld, with ſcornefull eye,
They ſdeigned ſuch laſciuious diſport,
And loath'd the looſe demeanure of that wanton ſort.
Thence they were brought to that great Ladies vew,
Whom they found ſitting on a ſumptuous bed,
That gliſtred all with gold and glorious ſhew,
As the proud Perſian Queenes accuſtomed:
She ſeemd a woman of great bountihed,
And of rare beautie, ſauing that askaunce
Her wanton eyes, ill ſignes of womanhed,
Did roll too highly, and too often glaunce,
Without regard of grace, or comely amenaunce.
Long worke it were, and needleſſe to deuize
Their goodly entertainement and great glee:
She cauſed them be led in curteous wize
Into a bowre, diſarmed for to bee,
And cheared well with wine and ſpiceree:
The Redcroſſe Knight was ſoone diſarmed there,
But the braue Mayd would not diſarmed bee,
But onely vented vp her vmbriere,
And ſo did let her goodly viſage to appere.
As when faire Cynthia, in darke ſome night,
Is in a noyous cloud enueloped,
Where ſhe may find the ſubſtaunce thin and light,
Breakes forth her ſiluer beames, and her bright hed
Diſcouers to the world diſcomfited;
Of the poore traueller, that went aſtray,
With thouſand bleſſings ſhe is heried;
Such was the beautie and the ſhining ray,
With which faire Britomart gaue light vnto the day.
And eke thoſe ſix, which lately with her fought,
Now were diſarmd, and did them ſelues preſent
Vnto her vew, and company vnſoght;
For they all ſeemed curteous and gent,
And all ſixe brethren, borne of one parent,
Which had them traynd in all ciuilitee,
And goodly taught to tilt and turnament;
Now were they liegemen to this Lady free,
And her knights ſeruice ought, to hold of her in fee.
The firſt of them by name Gardante hight,
Aiolly perſon, and of comely vew;
The ſecond was Parlante, a bold knight,
And next to him Iocante did enſew;
Baſciante did him ſelfe moſt curteous ſhew;
But fierce Bacchante ſeemd too fell and keene;
And yet in amies Noctante greater grew:
All were faire knights, and goodly well beſeene,
But to faire Britomart they all but ſhadowes beene.
For ſhe was full of amiable grace,
And manly terrour mixed therewithall,
That as the one ſtird vp affections bace,
So th'other did mens raſh deſires apall,
And hold them backe, that would in errour fall;
As he, that hath eſpide a vermeill Roſe,
To which ſharpe thornes and breres the way forſtall,
Dare not for dread his hardy hand expoſe,
But wiſhing it far off, his idle wiſh doth loſe.
Whom when the Lady ſaw ſo faire a wight.
All ignoraunt of her contrary ſex,
(For ſhe her weend a freſh and luſty knight)
She greatly gan enamoured to wex,
And with vaine thoughts her falſed fancy vex:
Her fickle hart conceiued haſty fire,
Like ſparkes of fire, which fall in ſclender flex,
That ſhortly brent into extreme deſire,
And ranſackt all her veines with paſſion entire.
Eftſoones ſhe grew to great impatience
And into termes of open outrage bruſt,
That plaine diſcouered her incontinence,
Ne reckt ſhe, who her meaning did miſtruſt;
For ſhe was giuen all to fleſhly luſt,
And poured forth in ſenſuall delight,
That all regard of ſhame ſhe had diſcuſt,
And meet reſpect: of honour put to flight:
So ſhameleſſe beauty ſoone becomes a loathy ſight,
Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre,
And chaſte deſires do nouriſh in your mind,
Let not her fault your ſweet affections marre,
Ne blot the bounty of all womankind;
Mongſt thouſands good one wanton Dame to find:
Emongſt the Roſes grow ſome wicked weeds;
For this was not to loue, but luſt inclind;
For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds,
And in each gentle hart deſire of honour breeds.
Nought ſo of loue this looſer Dame did skill,
But as a coale to kindle fleſhly flame,
Giuing the bridle to her wanton will,
And treading vnder foote her honeſt name:
Such loue is hate, and ſuch deſire is ſhame.
Still did ſhe roue at her with crafty glaunce
Of her falſe eyes, that at her hart did ayme,
And told her meaning in her countenaunce;
But Britomart diſſembled it with ignoraunce.
Supper was ſhortly dight and downe they ſat,
Where they were ſerued with all ſumptuous fare,
Whiles fruitfull Ceres, and Lyaeus ſat
Pourd out their plenty, without ſpight or ſpare:
Nought wanted there, that dainty was and rare;
And aye the cups their bancks did ouerflow,
And aye betweene the cups, ſhe did prepare
Way to her loue, and ſecret darts did throw;
But Britomart would not ſuch guilfull meſſage know.
So when they ſlaked had the feruent heat
Of appetite with meates of euery ſort,
The Lady did faire Britomart entreat,
Her to diſarme, and with delightfull ſport
To looſe her warlike limbs and ſtrong effort,
But when ſhe mote not thereunto be wonne,
(For ſhe her ſexe vnder that ſtraunge purport
Did vſe to hide, and plaine apparaunce ſhonne:)
In plainer wiſe to tell her grieuaunce ſhe begonne.
And all attonce diſcouered her deſire
With ſighes, and ſobs, and plaints, & piteous griefe,
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 do her comfort, ſhe mote algates dye.
But the chaſte damzell, that had neuer priefe
Of ſuch malengine and fine forgerie,
Did eaſily beleeue her ſtrong extremitie.
Full eaſie was for her to haue beliefe,
Who by ſelf-feeling of her feeble ſexe,
And by long triall of the inward griefe,
Wherewith imperious loue her hart did vexe,
Could iudge what paines do louing harts perplexe.
Who meanes no guile, beguiled ſooneſt ſhall,
And to faire ſemblaunce doth light faith annexe;
The bird, that knowes not the falſe fowlers call,
Into his hidden net full eaſily doth fall.
For thy ſhe would not in diſcourteiſe wiſe,
Scorne the faire offer of good will profeſt;
For great rebuke it is, loue to deſpiſe,
Or rudely ſdeigne a gentle harts requeſt;
But with faire countenaunce, as beſeemed beſt,
Her entertaynd; nath'leſſe ſhe inly deemd
Her loue too light, to wooe a wandring gueſt:
Which ſhe miſconſtruing, thereby eſteemd
That from like inward fire that outward ſmoke had ſteemd,
Therewith a while ſhe her flit fancy fed,
Till ſhe mote winne fit time for her deſire,
But yet her wound ſtill inward freſhly bled,
And through her bones the falſe inſtilled fire
Did ſpred it ſelfe, and venime cloſe inſpire.
Tho were the tables taken all away,
And euery knight, and euery gentle Squire
Can chooſe his dame with Baſciomani gay,
With whom he meant to make his ſport & courtly play.
Some fell to daunce, ſome fell to hazardry,
Some to make loue, ſome to make meriment,
As diuerſe wits to diuers things apply;
And all the while faire Malecaſta bent
Her crafty engins to her cloſe intent.
By this th'eternall lampes, wherewith high loue
Doth light the lower world, were halfe yſpent,
And the moiſt daughters of huge Atlas ſtroue
Into the Ocean deepe to driue their weary droue.
High time it ſeemed then for euery wight
Them to betake vnto their kindly reſt;
Eftſoones long waxen torches weren light,
Vnto their bowres to guiden euery gueſt:
Tho when the Britoneſſe ſaw all the reſt
Auoided quite, ſhe gan her ſelfe deſpoile,
And ſafe commit to her ſoft fetheredneſt,
Where through long watch, & late dayes weary toile,
She ſoundly ſlept, & carefull thoughts did quite aſſoile.
Now when as all the world in ſilence deepe
Yſhrowded was, and euery mortall wight
Was drowned in the depth of deadly ſleepe,
Faire Malecaſta, whoſe engrieued ſpright
Could find no reſt in ſuch perplexed plight,
Lightly aroſe out of her wearie bed,
And vnder the blacke vele of guilty Night,
Her with a ſcarlot mantle couered,
That was with gold and Ermines faire enueloped.
Then panting ſoft, and trembling euery ioynt,
Her fearfull feete towards the bowre ſhe moued;
Where ſhe for ſecret purpoſe did appoynt
To lodge the warlike mayd vnwiſely loued,
And to her bed approching, firſt ſhe prooued,
Whether ſhe ſlept or wakt, with her ſoft hand
She ſoftly felt, if any member mooued,
And lent her weary eare to vnderſtand,
If any puffe of breath, or ſigne of ſence ſhe fond.
Which whenas none ſhe fond, with eaſie ſnift,
For feare leaſt her vnwares ſhe ſhould abrayd,
Th'embroderd quilt ſhe lightly vp did lift,
And by her ſide her ſelfe ſhe ſoftly layd,
Of euery fineſt fingers touch affrayd;
Ne any noiſe ſhe made, ne word ſhe ſpake,
But inly ſigh'd. At laſt the royall Mayd
Out of her quiet ſlomber did awake,
And chaungd her weary ſide, the better eaſe to take.
Where feeling one cloſe couched by her ſide,
She lightly lept out of her filed bed,
And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride
The loathed leachour. But the Dame halfe ded
Through ſuddein feare and ghaſtly drerihed,
Did ſhrieke alowd, that through the houſe it rong,
And the whole family therewith adred,
Raſhly out of their rouzed couches ſprong,
And to the troubled chamber all in armes did throng.
And thoſe ſix Knights that Ladies Champions,
And eke the Redcroſſe knight ran to the ſtownd,
Halfe armd and halfe vnarmd, with them attons:
Where when confuſedly they came, they fownd
Their Lady lying on the ſenceleſſe grownd;
On th'other ſide, they ſaw the warlike Mayd
All in her ſnow-white ſmocke, with locks vnbownd,
Threatning the point of her auenging blade,
That with ſo troublous terrour they were all diſmayde.
About their Lady firſt they flockt arownd,
Whom hauing laid in comfortable couch,
Shortly they reard out of her froſen ſwownd;
And afterwards they gan with fowle reproch
To ſtirre vp 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 themſelues emboſſe;
Her ſuccourd eke the Champion of the bloudy 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 bloud thereout did weepe,
Which did her lilly ſmock with ſtaines of vermeil ſteepe.
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 diſmayd:
Here, there, and euery where about her ſwayd
Her wrathfull ſteele, that none mote it a bide;
And eke the Redcroſſe knight gaue her good aid,
Ay ioyning foot to foot, and ſide to ſide,
That in ſhort ſpace their foes they haue quite terrifide.
Tho whenas all were put to ſhamefull flight,
The noble Britomartis her arayd,
And her bright armes about her body dight:
For nothing would ſhe lenger there be ſtayd,
Where ſo looſe life, and ſo vngentle trade
Was vſd of Knights and Ladies ſeeming gent:
So earely ere the groſſe Earthes gryeſy ſhade,
Was all diſperſt out of the firmament,
They tooke their ſteeds, & forth vpō their iourney went.
Cant. II.
The Redcroſſe knight to Britomart
deſcribeth Artegall:
The wondrous myrrhour, by which ſhe
in loue wth him did fall.
HEre haue I cauſe, in men iuſt blame to find,
That in their proper prayſe too partiall bee,
And not indifferent to woman kind,
To whom no ſhare in armes and cheualrie
They do impart, ne maken memorie
Of their braue geſtes and proweſe martiall;
Scarſe do they ſpare to one or two or three,
Rowme in their writs; yet the ſame writing ſmall
Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all,
But by record of anqique times I find,
That women wont in warres to beare moſt ſway,
And to all great exploits them ſelue inclind:
Of which they ſtill the girlond bore away,
Till enuious Men fearing their rules decay.
Gan coyne ſtreight lawes to curb their liberty;
Yet ſith they warlike armes haue layd away:
They haue exceld in artes and pollicy
That now we fooliſh men that prayſe gin eker'enuy.
Of warlike puiſſaunce in ages ſpent,
Be thou faire Britomart, whoſe prayſe I write
But of all wiſedome be thou precedent,
Endite I would as dewtie doth excite;
But ah my rimes too rude and rugged arre,
When in ſo high an obiect they do lite,
And ſtriuing, fit to make, I feare do marre:
Thy ſelfe thy prayſes tell, and make them knowen farre.
She trauelling with Guyon by the way,
Of ſundry things faire purpoſe gan to find,
T'abridg their iourney long, and lingring day;
Mongſt which it fell into that Faeries mind,
To aske this Briton Mayd, what vncouth wind,
Made her diſſemble her diſguiſed kind:
Faire Lady ſhe him ſeemd, like Lady dreſt,
But faireſt knight aliue, when armed washer breſt.
Thereat ſhe ſighing ſoftly, had no powre
To ſpeake a while, ne ready anſwere make,
But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter ſtowre,
As if ſhe had a feuer fit, did quake,
And euery daintie limbe with horrour ſhake;
And euer and anone the roſy red,
Flaſht through her face, as it had beene a flake
Oflightning, through bright heauen 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 haue beene trained, vp in warlike ſtowre,
To toſſen ſpeare and ſhield, and to affrap
The warlike ryder to his moſt miſhap;
Sithence I loathed haue my life to lead,
As Ladies wont, in pleaſures wanton lap,
To finger the fine needle and nyce thread;
Me leuer were with point of foemans ſpeare be dead.
All my delights deedes of armes is ſet,
To hunt out perils and aduentures hard,
By ſea, by land, where ſo they may be met,
Onely for honour and for high regard,
Without reſpect of richeſſe or reward.
For ſuch intent into theſe parts I came,
Withouten compaſſe, or withouten card,
Far fro my natiue ſoyle, that is by name
The greater Britaine, here to ſeeke for prayſe and fame.
Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond
Do many famous Knightes and Ladies wonne,
And many ſtraunge aduentures to be fond,
Of which great worth and worſhip may be wonne;
Which I to proue, this voyage haue begonne.
But mote I weet of you, right curteous knight,
Tydings of one, that hath vnto me donne
Late foule diſhonour and reprochfull ſpight,
The which I ſeeke to wreake, and Arthegall he hight.
The word gone out, ſhe backe againe would call,
As her repenting ſo to haue miſſayd,
But that he it vp-taking ere the fall,
Her ſhortly anſwered; Faire martiall Mayd
Certes ye miſa uiſed beene, t'vpbrayd
A gentle knight with ſo vnknightly blame:
For weet ye well of all, that euer playd
At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game,
The noble Arthegall hath euer borne the name.
For thy great wonder were it, if ſuch ſhame
Should euer enter in his bounteous thought,
Or euer do, that mote deſeruen blame:
The noble courage neuer weeneth ought,
That may vnworthy of it ſelfe be thought.
Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well aware,
Leaſt that too farre ye haue your ſorrow ſought:
You and your countrey both I wiſh welfare,
And honour both; for each of other worthy are.
The royall Mayd woxe inly wondrous glad,
To heare her Loue ſo highly magnifide,
And ioyd that euer ſhe affixed had,
Her hart on knight ſo goodly glorifide,
How euer finely ſhe it faind to hide:
The louing mother, that nine monethes did beare,
In the deare cloſet of her paine full ſide,
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 humour with his pleaſing ſtile,
Her liſt in ſtrifull termes with him to balke,
Aud thus replide, How euer, Sir, ye file
Your curteous tongue, his prayſes to compile,
It ill beſeemes a knight of gentle ſort,
Such as ye haue him boaſted, to beguile
A ſimple mayd, and worke ſo haynous tort,
In ſhame of knighthood, as I largely can report.
Let be therefore my vengeaunce to diſſwade,
And read, where I that faytour falſe may find.
Ah, but if reaſon faire might you perſwade,
To ſlake your wrath, and mollifie your mind,
(Said he) perhaps ye ſhould it better find:
For hardy thing it is, to weene by might,
That man to hard conditions to bind,
Or euer hope to match in equall fight,
Whoſe proweſſe paragon ſaw neuer liuing wight.
Ne ſoothlich is it eaſie for to read,
Where now on earth, or how he may be found;
For he ne wonneth in one certaine ſtead,
But reſtleſſe walketh all the world around,
Ay doing things, that to his ſame redound,
Defending Ladies cauſe, and Orphans right,
Where ſo he heares, that any doth confound
Them comfortleſſe, through tyranny or might;
So is his ſoueraine honour raiſde to heavens hight.
His feeling words her feeble ſence much pleaſed,
And ſoftly ſunck into her molten hart;
Hart that is inly hurt, is greatly eaſed
With hope of thing, that may allegge his ſmart;
For pleaſing words are like to Magick art,
That doth the charmed Snake in ſlomber lay:
Such ſecret eaſe felt gentle Britomart,
Yet liſt the ſame efforce with faind gaineſay;
So diſchord oft in Muſick makes the ſweeter lay.
And ſaid, Sir knight, theſe idle termes forbeare,
And ſith it is vneath to find his haunt,
Tell me ſome markes, by which he may appeare,
If chaunce I him encounter parauant;
For perdie one ſhall other ſlay, or daunt:
What ſhape, what ſhield, what armes, what ſteed, what ſted,
And what ſo elſe his perſon moſt may vaunt?
All which the Redcroſſe knight to point ared,
And him in euery part before her faſhioned.
Yet him in euery part before ſhe knew,
How euer liſt her now her knowledge faine,
Sith him whilome in Britaine ſhe did vew,
To her reuealed in a mirrhour plaine,
Whereof did grow her firſt engraffed paine;
Whoſe root and ſtalke ſo bitter yet did taſt,
That but the fruit more ſweetneſſe did containe,
Her wretched dayes in dolour ſhe mote waſt,
And yield the pray of loue to lothſome death at laſt.
By ſtrange occaſion ſhe did him behold,
And much more ſtrangely gan to loue his ſight,
As it in bookes hath written bene of old.
In Deheubarth that now South-wales is hight,
What time king Ryence raign'd, and dealed right,
The great Magitian Merlin had deuiz'd,
By his deepe ſcience, and hell-dreaded might,
A looking glaſſe, right wondrouſly aguiz'd,
Whoſe vertues through the wyde world ſoone were ſolemniz'd.
It vertue had, to ſhew in perfect ſight,
What euer thing was in the world contaynd,
Betwixt the loweſt earth and heauens hight,
So that it to the looker appertaynd;
What euer foe had wrought, or frend had faynd,
Therein diſcouered was, ne ought mote pas,
Ne ought in ſecret from the ſame remaynd;
For thy it round and hollow ſhaped was,
Like to the world it ſelfe, and ſeem'd a world of glas.
Who wonders not, that reades ſo wonderous worke?
But who does wonder, that has red the Towre,
Wherein th' Aegyptian Phaeo long did lurke
From all mens vew, that none might her diſcoure,
Yet ſhe might all men vew out of her bowre?
Great Ptolomaee it for his lemans ſake
Ybuilded all of glaſſe, by Magicke powre,
And alſo it impregnable did make;
Yet when his loue was falſe, he with a peaze it brake.
Such was the glaſſie globe that Merlin made,
And gaue vnto king Ryence for his gard,
That neuer foes his kingdome might inuade,
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 conuince;
Happie this Realme, had it remained euer ſince.
One day it fortuned, faire Britomart
Into her fathers cloſet to repayre;
For nothing he from her reſeru'd apart,
Being his onely daughter and his hayre:
Where when ſhe had eſpyed that mirrhour fayre,
Her ſelfe a while therein ſhe vewd in vaine;
Tho her auizing of the vertues rare,
Which thereof ſpoken were, ſhe gan againe
Her to be thinke of, that mote to her ſelfe pertaine.
But as it falleth, in the gentleſt harts
Imperious Loue hath higheſt ſet his throne,
And tyrannizeth in the bitter ſmarts
Of them, that to him buxome are and prone:
So thought this Mayd (as maydens vſe to done)
Whom fortune for her husband would allot,
Not that ſhe luſted after any one;
For ſhe was pure from blame of ſinfull blot,
Yet wiſt her life at laſt muſt lincke in that ſame knot.
Eftſoones there was preſented to her eye
A comely knight, all arm'd in complet wize,
Through whoſe bright ventayle lifted vp on hye
His manly face, that did his foes agrize,
And friends to termes of gentle truce entize,
Lookt foorth, as Phoebus face out of the eaſt,
Betwixt two ſhadie mountaines doth arize;
Portly his perſon was, and much increaſt
Through his Heroicke grace, and honorable geſt.
His creſt was couered with a couchant Hound,
And all his armour ſeem'd of antique mould,
But woundrous maſſie and aſſured ſound,
And round about yfretted all with gold,
In which there written was with cyphers old,
Achilles armes, which Arthegall did win.
And on his ſhield enueloped ſeuenfold
He bore a crowned litle Ermilin,
That deckt the azure field with her faire pouldred skin.
The Damzell well did vew his perſonage,
And like well, ne further faſtned not,
But went her way; ne her vnguilty age
Did weene, vnwares, that her vnlucky lot
Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot;
Of hurt vnwift 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.
Thenceforth the feather in her loftie creſt,
Ruffed of loue, gan lowly to auaile,
And her proud portance, and her princely geſt,
With which ſhe earſt tryumphed, now did quaile:
Sad, ſolemne, ſowre, and full of fancies fraile
She woxe; yet wiſt ſhe neither how, nor why,
She wiſt not, ſilly Mayd, what ſhe did aile,
Yet wiſt, ſhe was not well at eaſe perdy,
Yet thought it was not loue, but ſome melancholy.
So ſoone as Night had with her pallid hew
Defaſt the beautie of the ſhining sky,
And reft from men the worlds deſired vew,
She with her Nourſe adowne to ſleepe did lye;
But ſleepe full farre away from her did fly:
In ſtead there of fad ſighes, and ſorrowes deepe
Kept watch and ward about her warily,
That nought ſhe did but wayle, and often ſteepe
Her daintie couch with teares, which cloſely ſhe did weepe.
And if that any drop of ſlombring reſt
Did chaunce to ſtill into her wearie ſpright,
When feeble nature felt her ſelfe oppreſt,
Streight way with dreames, and with fantaſticke ſight
Of dreadfull things the ſame was put to flight,
That oft out of her bed ſhe did aſtart,
As one with vew of ghaſtly feends affright:
Tho gan ſhe to renew her former ſmart,
And thinke of that faire viſage, written in her hart.
One night, when ſhe was toſt with ſuch vnreſt,
Her aged Nurſe, whoſe name was Glauce hight,
Feeling her leape out of her loathed neſt,
Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight,
And downe againe in her warme bed her dight;
Ah my deare daughter, ah my deareſt dread,
What vncouth fit (ſaid ſhe) what euill plight
Hath thee oppreſt, and with ſad drearyhead
Chaunged thy liuely cheare, and liuing made thee dead?
For not of nought theſe ſuddeine ghaſtly feares
All night afflict thy naturall repoſe,
And all the day, when as thine equall peares
Their fit diſports with faire delight doe choſe,
Thou in dull corners doeſt thy ſelfe incloſe,
Ne taſteſt Princes pleaſures, ne doeſt ſpred
Abroad thy freſh youthes faireſt flowre, but loſe
Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely ſhed,
As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.
The time, that mortall men their weary cares
Do lay away, and all wilde beaſtes do reſt,
And euery riuer eke his courſe forbeares
Then doth this wicked euill thee infeſt,
And riue with thouſand throbs thy thrilled breſt;
Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed griefe,
Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow cheſt,
Whence forth it breakes in ſighes and anguiſh rife,
As ſmoke and ſulphure mingled with confuſed ſtrife.
Aye me, how much I feare, leaſt loue it bee;
But if that loue 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 auow by this moſt ſacred head
Of my deare foſter child, 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 therefore my liefeſt liefe.
So hauing ſaid, her twixt her armes twaine
She ſtraightly ſtraynd, and colled tenderly,
And euery trembling ioynt, and euery vaine
She ſoftly felt, and rubbed buſily,
To doe the froſen cold away to fly;
And her faire deawy eies with kiſſes deare
She oft did bath, and oft againe did dry;
And euer her importund, not to feare
To let the ſecret of her hart to her appeare.
The Damzell pauzd, and then thus fearefully;
Ah Nurſe, what needeth thee to eke my paine?
Is not enough, that I alone doe dye,
But it muſt doubled be with death of twaine?
For nought for me but death there doth remaine.
O daughter deare (ſaid ſhe) deſpaire no whit;
For neuer ſore, but might a ſalue obtaine:
That blinded God, which hath ye blindly ſmit,
Another arrow hath your louers hart to hit.
But mine is not (quoth ſhe) like others wound;
For which no reaſon can find remedy.
Was neuer ſuch, but mote the like be found,
(Said ſhe) and though no reaſon may apply
Salue to your ſore, yet loue can higher ſtye,
Then reaſons reach, and oft hath wonders donne.
But neither God of loue, nor God of sky
Can doe (ſaid ſhe) that, which cannot be donne.
Things oft impoſſible (quoth ſhe) ſeeme, ere begonne.
Theſe idle words (ſaid ſhe) doe nought aſſwage
My ſtubborne ſmart, but more annoyance breed,
For no no vſuall fire, no vſuall rage
It is, ô Nurſe, which on my life doth feed,
And ſuckes the bloud, which from my hart doth bleed.
But ſince thy faithfull zeale lets me not hyde
My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed.
Nor Prince, nor pere it is, whoſe loue hath gryde
My feeble breſt of late, and launched this wound wyde.
Nor man it is, nor other liuing wight;
For then ſome hope I might vnto me draw,
But th'only ſhade and ſemblant of a knight,
Whoſe ſhape or perſon yet I neuer ſaw,
Hath me ſubiected to loues cruell law:
The ſame one day, as me misfortune led,
I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour ſaw,
And pleaſed with that ſeeming goodly-hed,
Vnwares the hidden hooke with baite I ſwallowed.
Sithens it hath infixed faſter hold
Within my bleeding bowels, and ſo ſore
Now ranckleth in this ſame fraile fleſhly mould,
That all mine entrailes flow with poyſnous gore,
And th'vlcer groweth daily more and more;
Ne can my running ſore find remedie,
Other then my hard fortune to deplore,
And languiſh as the leafe falne from the tree,
Till death make one end of my dayes and miſerie.
Daughter (ſaid ſhe) what need ye be diſmayd,
Or why make ye ſuch Monſter of your mind?
Of much more vncouth thing I was affrayd;
Of filthy luſt, contrarie vnto kind:
But this affection nothing ſtraunge I find;
For who with reaſon can you aye reproue,
To loue the ſemblant pleaſing moſt your mind,
And yield your heart, whence ye cannot remoue?
No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of loue.
Not ſo th' Arabian Myrrhe did ſet her mind;
Not ſo did Biblis ſpend her pining hart,
But lou'd their natiue fleſh againſt all kind,
And to their purpoſe vſed wicked art:
Yet playd Paſiphaë a more moſtrous part,
That lou'd a Bull, and learnd a beaſt to bee;
Such ſhamefull luſts who loaths not, which depart
From courſe of nature and of modeſtie?
Sweet loue ſuch lewdnes bands from his faire companie.
But thine my Deare (welfare thy heart my deare)
Though ſtrange beginning had, yet fixed is
On one, that worthy may perhaps appeare;
And certes ſeemes beſtowed not amis:
Ioy thereof haue thou and eternall blis.
With that vpleaning on her elbow weake,
Her alablaſted breſt ſhe ſoft did kis,
Which all that while ſhe 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 loue 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, how euer ſhamefull and vnkind,
Yet did poſſeſſe their horrible intent:
Short end of ſorrowes they thereby did find;
So was their fortune good, though wicked were their mind.
But wicked fortune mine, though mind be good,
Can haue no end, nor hope of my deſire,
But feed on ſhadowes, whiles I die for food,
And like a ſhadow wexe, whiles with entire
Affection, I doe languiſh and expire.
I fonder, then Cephiſus fooliſh child,
Who hauing vewed in a fountaine ſhere
His face, was with the loue thereof beguild;
I fonder loue a ſhade, the bodie farre exild.
Nought like (quoth ſhe) for that ſame wretched boy
Was of himſelfe the idle Paramoure;
Both loue and louer, without hope of ioy,
For which he faded to a watry flowre.
But better fortune thine, and better howre,
Which lou'ſt the ſhadow of a warlike knight;
No ſhadow, but a bodie hath in powre:
That bodie, whereſoeuer that it light,
May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might.
But if thou may with reaſon yet repreſſe
The growing euill, ere it ſtrength haue got,
And thee abandond wholly doe poſſeſſe,
Againſt it ſtrongly ſtriue, and yield thee not,
Till thou in open field adowne be ſmot.
But if the paſſion mayſter thy fraile might,
So that needs loue or death muſt be thy lot,
Then I auow to thee, by wrong or right
To compaſſe thy deſire, and find that loued knight.
Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble ſpright
Of the ſicke virgin, that her downe ſhe layd
In her warme bed to ſleepe, if that ſhe might;
And the old-woman carefully diſplayd
The clothes about her round with buſie ayd;
So that at laſt a little creeping ſleepe
Surpriſd her ſenſe: She therewith well apayd,
The drunken lampe downe in the oyle did ſteepe,
And ſet her by to watch, and ſet her by to weepe.
Earely the morrow next, before that day
His ioyous face did to the world reueale,
They both vproſe and tooke their readie way
Vnto the Church, their prayers to appeale,
With great deuotion, and with litle zeale:
For the faire Damzell from the holy herſe
Her loue-ſicke hart to other thoughts did ſteale;
And that old Dame ſaid many an idle verſe,
Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reuerſe.
Returned home, the royall Infant fell
Into her former fit; for why, no powre
Nor guidance of her ſelfe in her did dwell.
But th'aged Nurſe her calling to her bowre,
Had gathered Rew, and Sauine, and the flowre
Of Camphara, and Calamint, and Dill,
All which ſhe in a earthen Pot did poure,
And to the brim with Colt wood did it fill,
And many drops of milke and bloud through it did ſpill.
Then taking thriſe three haires from off her head,
Them trebly breaded in a threefold lace,
And round about the pots mouth, bound the thread,
And after hauing whiſpered a ſpace
Certaine ſad words, with hollow voice and bace,
She to the virgin ſaid, thriſe ſaid ſhe it;
Come daughter come, come; ſpit vpon my face,
Spit thriſe vpon me, thriſe vpon me ſpit;
Th'vneuen number for this buſineſſe is moſt fit.
That ſayd, her round about ſhe from her turnd,
She turned her contrarie to the Sunne,
Thriſe ſhe her turnd contrary, and returnd,
All contrary, for ſhe the right did ſhunne,
And euer what ſhe did, was ſtreight vndonne.
So thought ſhe to vndoe her daughters loue:
But loue, that is in gentle breſt begonne,
No idle charmes ſo lightly may remoue,
That well can witneſſe, who by triall it does proue.
Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle,
Ne ſlake the furie of her cruell flame,
But that ſhe ſtill did waſte, and ſtill did wayle,
That through long laugour, and hart-burning brame
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 withſtond.
Cant. III.
Merlin bewrayes to Britomart,
the ſtate of Artegall.
And ſhewes the famous Progeny
which from them ſpringen ſhall.
MOſt ſacred fire, that burneſt mightily
In liuing breſts, ykindled firſt aboue,
Emongſt th'eternall ſpheres and lamping sky,
And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue;
Not that ſame, which doth baſe affections moue
In brutiſh minds, and filthy luſt inflame,
But that ſweet fit, that doth true beautie loue,
And choſeth vertue for his deareſt Dame,
Whence ſpring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame:
Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme,
That ouer mortall minds haſt ſo great might,
To order them, as beſt to thee doth ſeeme,
And all their actions to direct aright;
The fatall purpoſe of diuine foreſight,
Thou doeſt effect in deſtined deſcents,
Through deepe impreſſion of thy ſecret might,
And ſtirredſt vp th'Heroes high intents,
Which the late world admyres for wondrous monimēts.
But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more,
Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre
Shew'dſt thou, then in this royall Maid of yore,
Making her ſeeke an vnknowne Paramoure,
From the worlds end, through many a bitter ſtowre:
From whoſe two loynes thou afterwards did rayſe
Moſt famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre,
Which through the earth haue ſpred their liuing prayſe,
That fame in trompe of gold eternally diſplayes.
Begin then, ô my deareſt ſacred Dame,
Daughter of Phoebus and of Memorie,
That doeſt ennoble with immortall name
The warlike Worthies, from antiquitie,
In thy great volume of Eternitie:
Begin, ô Clio, and recount from hence
My glorious Soueraines goodly aunceſtie,
Till that by dew degrees and long pretence,
Thou haue it laſtly brought vnto her Excellence.
Full many wayes within her troubled mind,
Old Glauce, caſt, to cure this Ladies griefe:
Full many waies ſhe ſought, but none could find,
Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counſell, that is chiefe
And choiſeſt med'cine for ſicke harts reliefe:
For thy great care ſhe tooke, and greater feare,
Leaſt that it ſhould her turne to foule repriefe,
And ſore reproch, when ſo her father deare
Should of his deareſt daughters hard misfortune heare.
At laſt ſhe her auiſd, that he, which made
That mirrhour, wherein the ſicke Damoſell
So ſtraungely vewed her ſtraunge louers ſhade,
To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell,
Vnder what coaſt of heauen the man did dwell,
And by what meanes his loue might beſt be wrought:
For though beyond the Africk Iſmaell,
Or th'Indian Peru he were, ſhe thought
Him forth through infinite endeuour to haue ſought.
Forthwith themſelues diſguiſing both in ſtraunge
And baſe attyre, that none might them bewray,
To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge
Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way:
There the wiſe Merlin whylome wont (they ſay)
To make his wonne, low vnderneath the ground,
In a deepe delue, farre from the vew of day,
That of no liuing wight he mote be found,
When ſo he counſeld with his ſprights encōpaſt round.
And if thou euer happen that ſame way
To trauell, goe to ſee that dreadfull place:
It is an hideous hollow caue (they ſay)
Vnder a rocke that lyes a litle ſpace
From the ſwift Barry, tombling downe apace,
Emongſt the woodie hilles of Dyneuowre:
But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace,
To enter into that ſame balefull Bowre,
For fear the cruell Feends ſhould thee vnwares deuowre.
But ſtanding high aloft, low lay thine eare,
And there ſuch ghaſtly noiſe of yron chaines,
And braſen Caudrons thou ſhalt rombling heare,
Which thouſand ſprights with long enduring paines
Doe toſſe, that it will ſtonne thy feeble braines,
And oftentimes great grones, and grieuous ſtounds,
When too huge toile and labour them conſtraines:
And oftentimes loud ſtrokes, and ringing ſounds
From vnder that deepe Rocke moſt horribly rebounds.
The cauſe ſome ſay is this: A litle while
Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend,
A braſen wall in compas to compile
About Cairmardin, and did it commend
Vnto theſe Sprights, to bring to perfect end.
During which worke the Ladie of the Lake,
Whom long he lou'd, for him in haſt did ſend,
Who thereby forſt his workemen to forſake,
Them bound till his returne, their labour not to ſlake.
In the meane time through that falſe Ladies traine,
He was ſurpriſd, and buried vnder beare,
Ne euer to his worke returnd againe:
Nath'leſſe thoſe feends may not their worke forbeare,
So greatly his commaundement they feare,
But there doe toyle and trauell day and night,
Vntill that braſen wall they vp doe reare:
For Merlin had in Magicke more inſight,
Then euer him before or after liuing wight.
For he by words 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 darkeſome night he eke could turne to day:
Huge hoſtes of men he could alone diſmay,
And hoſtes of men of meaneſt things could frame,
When ſo him liſt his enimies to fray:
That to this day for terror of his fame,
The feends do quake, when any him to them does name.
And ſooth, men ſay that he was not the ſonne
Of mortall Syre, or other liuing wight,
But wondrouſly begotten, and begonne
By falſe illuſion of a guilefull Spright,
On a faire Ladie Nonne, that whilome hight
Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,
Who was the Lord of Mathrauall by right,
And cooſen vnto king Ambroſius:
Whence he indued was with skill ſo maruellous.
They here ariuing, ſtaid a while without,
Ne durſt aduenture raſhly in to wend,
But of their firſt intent gan make new dout
For dread of daunger, which it might portend:
Vntill the hardie Mayd (with loue to frend)
Firſt entering, the dreadfull Mage there found
Deepe buſied bout worke of wondrous end,
And writing ſtrange characters in the ground,
With which the ſtubborn feends he to his ſeruice bound.
He nought was moued at their entrance bold:
For of their comming well he wiſt afore,
Yet liſt them bid their buſineſſe to vnfold,
As if ought in this world in ſecret ſtore
Were from him hidden, or vnknowne of yore.
Then Glauce thus, let not it thee offend,
That we thus raſhly through thy darkeſome dore,
Vnwares haue preſt: for either fatall end,
Or other mightie cauſe vs two did hither ſend.
He bad tell on; And then ſhe thus began.
Now haue three Moones with borrow'd brothers light,
Thrice ſhined faire, and thrice ſeem'd dim and wan,
Sith a ſore euill, which this virgin bright
Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight,
Firſt rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee,
Or whence it ſprong, I cannot read aright:
But this I read, that but if remedee,
Thou her afford, full ſhortly I her dead ſhall ſee.
Therewith th'Enchaunter ſoftly gan to ſmyle
At her ſmooth ſpeeches, weeting inly well,
That ſhe to him diſſembled womaniſh guyle,
And to her ſaid, Beldame, by that ye tell,
More need of leach-craft hath your Damozell,
Then of my skill: who helpe may haue elſewhere,
In vaine ſeekes wonders out of Magicke ſpell.
Th'old woman wox half blanck, thoſe words to heare;
And yet was loth to let her purpoſe plaine appeare.
And to him ſaid, If any leaches skill,
Or other learned meanes could haue redreſt
This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill,
Certes I ſhould be loth thee to moleſt:
But this ſad euill, which doth her infeſt,
Doth courſe of naturall cauſe farre exceed,
And houſed is within her hollow breſt,
That either ſeemes ſome curſed witches deed,
Or euill ſpright, that in her doth ſuch torment breed.
The wiſard could no lenger beare her bord,
But bruſting forth in laughter, to her ſayd;
Glauce, what needs this colourable word,
To cloke the cauſe, that hath it ſelfe bewrayd?
Ne ye faire Britomartis, thus arayd,
More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele;
Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd,
Hath hither brought, for ſuccour to appele:
The which the powres to thee are pleaſed to reuele.
The doubtfull Mayd, ſeeing her ſelfe deſcryde,
Was all abaſht, and her pure yuory
Into a cleare Carnation ſuddeine dyde;
As faire Aurora riſing haſtily,
Doth by her bluſhing tell, that ſhe did lye
All night in old Tithonus froſen bed,
Whereof ſhe ſeemes aſhamed inwardly.
But her old 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 know?) of grace I pray,
Pitty our plaint, and yield vs meet reliefe.
With that the Prophet ſtill a while did ſtay,
And then his ſpirite thus gan forth diſplay;
Moſt noble Virgin, that by fatall lore
Haſt learn'd to loue, let no whit thee diſmay
The hard begin, that meets thee in the dore.
And with ſharpe fits thy tender hart oppreſſeth ſore.
For ſo muſt all things excellent begin,
And eke enrooted deepe muſt be that Tree,
Whoſe big embodied braunches ſhall not lin,
Till they to heauens hight forth ſtretched bee.
For from thy wombe a famous Progenie
Shall ſpring, out of the auncient Troian blood,
Which ſhall reuiue the ſleeping memorie
Of thoſe ſame antique Peres, the heauens brood,
Which Greece and Aſian riuers ſtained with their blood.
Renowmed kings, and ſacred Emperours,
Thy fruitfull Ofſpring, ſhall from thee deſcend;
Braue Captaines, and moſt mighty warriours,
That ſhall their conqueſts through all lands extend,
And their decayed kingdomes ſhall amend:
The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,
They ſhall vpreare, and mightily defend
Againſt their forrein foe, that comes from farre,
Till vniuerſall peace compound all ciuill iarre.
It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye,
Glauncing vnwares in charmed looking glas,
But the ſtreight courſe of heauenly deſtiny,
Led with eternall prouidence, that has
Guided thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas:
Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill,
To loue the proweſt knight, that euer was.
Therefore ſubmit thy wayes vnto his will,
And do by all dew meanes thy deſtiny fulfill.
But read (ſaid Glauce) thou Magitian
What meanes ſhall ſhe out ſeeke, or what wayes take?
How ſhall ſhe know, how ſhall ſhe find the man?
Or what needs her to toyle, ſith fates can make
Way for themſelues, their purpoſe to partake?
Then Merlin thus; Indeed the fates are firme,
And may not ſhrinck, though all the world do ſhake:
Yet ought mens good endeuours them confirme,
And guide the heauenly cauſes to their conſtant terme.
The man whom heauens haue 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 whilome by falſe Faries ſtolne away,
Whiles 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 vnto Cador Corniſh king,
And for his warlike feates renowmed is,
From where the day out of the ſea doth ſpring,
Vntill the cloſure of the Euening.
From thence, him firmely bound with faithfull band,
To this his natiue ſoyle thou backe ſhalt bring,
Strongly to aide his countrey, to withſtand
The powre of forrein Paynims, which inuade thy land.
Great aid thereto his mighty puiſſaunce,
And dreaded name ſhall giue in that ſad day:
Where alſo proofe of thy prow valiaunce
Thou then ſhalt make, t'increaſe thy louers 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 ſecret foes, that him ſhall make in miſchiefe fall.
Where thee yet ſhall he leaue for memory
Of his late puiſſaunce, his Image dead,
That liuing him in all actiuity
To thee ſhall repreſent. He from the head
Of his cooſin Conſtantius without dread
Shall take the crowne, that was his fathers right,
And therewith crowne himſelfe in th'others ſtead:
Then ſhall he iſſew forth with dreadfull mighty,
Againſt his Saxon foes in bloudy field to fight.
Like as a Lyon, that in drowſie caue
Hath long time ſlept, himſelfe ſo ſhall he ſhake,
And comming forth, ſhall ſpred his banner braue
Ouer 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 faire 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 ſhall he long time warre with happy ſpeed,
And with great honour many battels try:
But at the laſt to th'importunity
Of froward fortune ſhall be forſt to yield.
But his ſonne Malgo ſhall full mightily
Auenge his fathers loſſe, with ſpeare and ſhield,
And his proud foes diſcomfit in victorious field.
Behold the man, and tell me Britomart,
If ay more goodly creature thou didſt ſee;
How like a Gyaunt in each manly part
Beares he himſelfe with portly maieſtee,
That one of th'old Heroes ſeemes to bee:
He the ſix Iſlands, comprouinciall
In auncient times vnto great Britainee,
Shall to the ſame reduce, and to him call
Their ſundry kings to do their homage ſeuerall.
All which his ſonne Careticus awhile
Shall well defend, and Saxons powre ſuppreſſe,
Vntill a ſtraunger king from vnknowne ſoyle
Arriuing, him with multitude oppreſſe;
Great Gormond, hauing with huge mightineſſe
Ireland ſubdewd, and therein fixt his throne,
Like a ſwift Otter, fell through emptineſſe,
Shall ouerſwim the ſea with many one
Of his Norueyſes, to aſſiſt the Britons fone.
He in his furie all ſhall ouerrunne,
And holy Church with faithleſſe hands deface,
That thy ſad people vtterly fordonne,
Shall to the vtmoſt mountaines fly apace:
Was neuer ſo great waſt in any place,
Nor ſo fowle autrage doen by liuing men:
For all thy Cities they ſhall ſacke and race,
And the greene graſſe, that groweth, they ſhall bren,
That euen the wild beaſt ſhall dy in ſtarued den.
Whiles thus the Britons do in languour pine,
Proud Etheldred ſhall from the North ariſe,
Seruing 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 foolhardiſe:
For Cadwan pittying his peoples ill,
Shall ſtoutly him defeat, and thouſand Saxons kill.
But after him, Cadwallin mightily
On his ſonne Edwin all thoſe wrongs ſhall wreake;
Ne ſhall auaile the wicked ſorcery
Of falſe Pellite, his purpoſes to breake,
But him ſhall ſlay, and on a gallowes bleake
Shall giue th'enchaunter his vnhappy hire
Then ſhall the Britons, late diſmayd and weake,
From their long vaſſalage gin to reſpire,
And on their Paynim foes auenge their ranckled ire.
Ne ſhall he yet his wrath ſo mitigate,
Till both the ſonnes of Edwin he haue ſlaine,
Offricke and Oſricke, twinnes vnfortunate,
Both ſlaine in battell vpon Layburne plaine,
Together with the king of Louthiane,
Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny,
Both ioynt partakers of the fatall paine:
But Penda, fearefull of like deſteny,
Shall yield him ſelfe his liegeman, and ſweare fealty.
Him ſhall he make his fatall Inſtrument,
T'afflict the other Saxons vnſubdewd;
He marching forth with fury inſolent
Againſt the good king Oſwald, who indewd
With heauenly powre, and by Angels reskewd,
All holding croſſes in their hands on hye,
Shall him defeate withouten bloud imbrewd:
Of which, that field for endleſſe memory,
Shall Heuenfield be cald to all poſterity.
Whereat Cadwallin wroth, ſhall forth iſſew,
And an huge hoſte into Northumber lead,
With which he godly Oſwald ſhall ſubdew,
And crowne with martyrdome his ſacred head.
Whoſe brother Oſwin, daunted with like dread,
With price of ſiluer ſhall his kingdome buy,
And Penda, ſeeking him adowne to tread,
Shall tread adowne, and do him fowly dye,
But ſhall with gifts his Lord Cadwallin pacify.
Then ſhall Cadwallin dye, and then the raine
Of Britons eke with him attonce ſhall dye;
Ne ſhall the good Cadwallader with paine,
Or powre, behable it to remedy,
When the full time prefixt by deſtiny,
Shalbe expird of Britons regiment.
For heauen it ſelfe ſhall their ſucceſſe enuy,
And them with plagues and murrins peſtilent
Conſume, till all their warlike puiſſaunce be ſpent.
Yet after all theſe ſorrowes, and huge hills
Of dying people, during eight yeares ſpace,
Cadwallader not yielding to his ills,
From Armoricke, where long in wretched cace
He liu'd, returning to his natiue place,
Shalbe by viſion ſtaid from his intent:
For th'heauens haue decreed, to diſplace
The Britons, for their ſinnes dew puniſhment,
And to the Saxons ouer-giue their gouernment.
Then woe, and woe, and euerlaſting woe,
Be to the Briton babe, that ſhalbe borne,
To liue in thraldome of his fathers foe;
Late King, now captiue, late Lord, now forlorne,
The worlds reproch, the cruell victours ſcorne,
Baniſht from Princely bowre to waſtfull wood:
O who ſhall helpe me to lament, and mourne
The royall ſeed, the antique Troian blood,
Whoſe Empire lenger here, then euer 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 beſpake;
Ah but will heauens fury neuer ſlake,
Nor vengeaunce huge relent it ſelfe at laſt?
Will not long miſery late mercy make,
But ſhall their name for euer be defaſt,
And quite from th'earth their memory be raſt?
Nay but the terme (ſaid he) is limited,
That in this thraldome Britons ſhall abide,
And the iuſt reuolution meaſured,
That they as Straungers ſhalbe notifide.
For twiſe foure hundreth ſhalbe ſupplide,
Ere they to former rule reſtor'd ſhalbee.
And their importune fates all ſatisfide:
Yet during this their moſt obſcuritee,
Their beames ſhall oft breake forth, that men them faire may ſee.
For Rhodoricke, whoſe ſurname ſhalbe Great,
Shall of him ſelfe a braue enſample ſhew,
That Saxon kings his friendſhip ſhall intreat;
And Howell Dha ſhall goodly well indew
The ſaluage minds with skill of iuſt and trew;
Then Griffyth Conan alſo ſhall vp reare
His dreaded head, and the old ſparkes renew
Of natiue courage, that his foes ſhall feare,
Leaſt backe againe the kingdome he from them ſhould beare.
Ne ſhall the Saxons ſelues all peaceably
Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne
Firſt ill, and after ruled wickedly:
For ere two hundred yeares be full ouerronne,
There ſhall a Rauen far from riſing Sunne,
With his wide wings vpon them fiercely fly,
And bid his faithleſſe chickens ouerronne
The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty,
In their auenge, tread downe the victours ſurquedry.
Yet ſhall a third both theſe, and thine ſubdew;
There ſhall a Lyon 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'vſurped crowne, as if that he were wood,
And the ſpoile of the countrey conquered
Emongſt his young ones ſhall diuide with bountyhed.
Tho when the terme is full accompliſhid,
There ſhall a ſparke of fire, which hath long-while
Bene in his aſhes raked vp, and hid,
Be freſhly kindled in the fruitfull Ile
Of Mona, 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 ſoueraigne name;
So ſhall the Briton bloud their crowne againe reclame.
Thenceforth eternall vnion ſhall be made
Betweene the nations different afore,
And ſacred Peace ſhall louingly perſwade
The warlike minds, to learne her goodly lore,
And ciuile armes to exerciſe no more:
Then ſhall a royall virgin raine, which ſhall
Stretch her white rod ouer the Belgicke ſhore,
And the great Caſtle ſmite ſo ſore with all,
That it ſhall make him ſhake, and ſhortly learne to fall.
But yet the end is not. There Merlin ſtayd,
As ouercomen of the ſpirites powre,
Or other ghaſtly ſpectacle diſmayd,
That ſecretly he ſaw, yet note diſcoure:
Which ſuddein fit, and halfe extatick ſtoure
When the two fearefull women ſaw, they grew
Greatly confuſed in behauioure;
At laſt the fury paſt, to former hew
She turnd againe, and chearefull looks did ſhew.
Then, when them ſelues they well inſtructed had
Of all, that needed them to be inquird,
They both conceiuing hope of comfort glad,
With lighter hearts vnto their home retird;
Where they in ſecret counſell cloſe conſpird,
How to effect ſo hard an enterprize,
And to poſſeſſe the purpoſe they deſird:
Now this, now that twixt them they did deuiſe,
And diuerſe plots did frame, to maske in ſtrange deuiſe.
At laſt the Nourſe in her foolhardy wit
Conceiu'd a bold deuiſe, and thus beſpake;
Daughter, I deeme that counſell aye moſt fit,
That of the time doth dew aduauntage take;
Ye ſee that good king Vther now doth make
Strong warre vpon the Paynim brethren, hight
Octa and Oza, whom he lately brake
Beſide Cayr Verolame, in victorious fight,
That now all Britanie doth burne in armes bright.
That therefore nought our paſſage may empeach,
Let vs in feigned armes our ſelues diſguize,
And our weake hands (whom need new ſtrength ſhall teach
The dreadfull ſpeare and ſhield to exercize:
Ne certes daughter that ſame warlike wize
I weene, would you miſſeeme; for ye bene tall,
And large of limbe, t'atchieue an hard emprize,
Ne ought ye want, but skill, which practize ſmall
Will bring, and ſhortly make you a mayd Martiall.
And ſooth, it ought your courage much inflame,
To heare ſo often, in that royall hous,
From whence to none inferiour ye came:
Bards tell of many women valorous
Which haue full many feats aduenturous
Performd, in paragone of proudeſt men:
The bold Bunduca, whoſe victorious
Exploits made Rome to quake, ſtout Guendolen,
Renowmed Martia, and redoubted Emmilen.
And that, which more then all the reſt may ſway,
Late dayes enſample, which theſe eyes beheld,
In the laſt field before Meneuia
Which Vther with thoſe forrein Pagans held,
I ſaw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld
Great Vlfin thriſe vpon the bloudy plaine,
And had not Carados her hand withheld
From raſh reuenge, ſhe had him ſurely ſlaine,
Yet Carados himſelfe from her eſcapt with paine.
Ah read, (quoth Britomart) how is ſhe hight?
Faire Angela (quoth ſhe) men do her call,
No whit leſſe faire, then terrible in fight:
She hath the leading of a Martiall
And mighty people, dreaded more then all
The other Saxons, which do for her ſake
And loue, themſelues of her name Angles call.
Therefore faire Infant her enſample make
Vnto thy ſelfe, and equall courage to thee take.
Her harty words ſo deepe into the mynd
Of the young Damzell ſunke, that great deſire
Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd,
And generous ſtout courage did inſpire,
That ſhe reſolu'd, vnmeeting to her Sire,
Aduent'rous knighthood on her ſelfe to don,
And counſeld with her Nourſe, her Maides attire
To turne into a maſſy habergeon,
And bad her all things put in readineſſe anon.
Th'old woman nought, that needed, did omit;
But all things did conuiently puruay:
It fortuned (ſo time their turne did fit)
A band of Britons ryding on forray
Few dryes before, had gotten a great pray
Of Saxon goods, emongſt the which was ſeene
A goodly Armour, and full rich aray,
Which long'd to Angela, the Saxon Queene,
All fretted round with gold, and goodly well beſeene.
The ſame, with all the other ornaments,
King Ryence cauſed to be hanged hy
In his chiefe Church, for endleſſe moniments
Of his ſucceſſe and gladfull victory:
Of which her ſelfe auiſing readily,
In th'euening late old Glauce thither led
Faire Britomart, and that ſame Armory
Downe taking, her therein appareled,
Well as ſhe might, and with braue bauldrick garniſhed.
Beſide thoſe armes there ſtood a mighty ſpeare,
Which Bladud made by Magick art of yore,
And vſd the ſame in battell aye to beare;
Sith which it had bin here preſeru'd in ſtore,
For his great vertues proued long afore:
For neuer wight ſo faſt in ſell could ſit,
But him perforce vnto the ground it bore:
Both ſpeare ſhe tooke, and ſhield, which hong by it:
Both ſpeare & ſhield of great powre, for her purpoſe fit
Thus when ſhe had the virgin all arayd,
Another harneſſe, which did hang thereby,
About her ſelfe ſhe dight, that the young Mayd
She might in equall armes accompany,
And as her Squire attend her carefully:
Tho to their ready Steeds they clombe full light,
And through back wayes, that none might them eſpy,
Couered with ſecret cloud of ſilent night,
Themſelues they forth conuayd, & paſſed forward right.
Ne reſted they, till that to Faery lond
They came, as Merlin them directed late:
Where meeting with this Redcroſſe knight, ſhe fond
Of diuerſe things diſcourſes to dilate,
But moſt of Arthegall, and his eſtate.
At laſt their wayes ſo fell, that they mote part
Then each to other well affectionate,
Friendſhip profeſſed with vnfained hart,
The Redcroſſe knight diuerſt, but forth rode Britomart.
Cant. IIII.
Bold Marinell of Britomart,
Is throwne on the Rich ſtrond:
Faire Florimell of Arthur is
Long followed, but not fond.
WHere is the Antique glory now become,
That whilome wont in women to appeare?
Where be the braue atchieuements doen by ſome?
Where be the battels, 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?
Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herſe?
Or doen they onely ſleepe, and ſhall againe reuerſe?
If they be dead, then woe is me therefore:
But if they ſleepe, ô let them ſoone awake:
For all too long I burne with enuy ſore,
To heare the warlike feates, which Homere ſpake
Of bold Pantheſilee, which made a lake
Of Greekish bloud ſo oft in Troian plaine;
But when I read, how ſtout Debora ſtrake
Proud Siſera, and how Camill' hath ſlaine
The huge Orſilochus, I ſwell with great diſdaine.
Yet theſe, and all that elſe had puiſſaunce,
Cannot with noble Britomart compare,
Aſwell for glory of great valiaunce,
As for pure chaſtitie and vertue rare,
That all her goodly deeds do well declare.
Well worthy ſtock, from which the branches ſprong,
That in late yeares ſo faire a bloſſome bare,
As thee, ô Queene, the matter of my ſong,
Whoſe lignage from this Lady I deriue along.
Who when through ſpeaches with the Redcroſſe knight,
She learned had th'eſtate of Arthegall,
And in each point her ſelfe informd aright,
A friendly league of loue perpetuall
She with him bound, and Congé tooke withall.
Then he forth on his iourney did proceede,
To ſeeke aduentures, which mote him befall,
And win him worſhip through his warlike deed,
Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefeſt meed.
But Britomart kept on her former courſe,
Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way
Grew penſiue through that amorous diſcourſe,
By which the Redcroſſe knight did earſt diſplay
Her louers ſhape, and cheualrous aray;
A thouſand thoughts ſhe faſhioned in her mind,
And in her feigning fancie did pourtray
Him ſuch, as fitteſt ſhe for loue could find,
Wiſe, warlike, perſonable, curteous, and kind.
With ſuch ſelfe-pleaſing thoughts her wound ſhe fed,
And thought ſo to beguile her grieuous ſmart;
But ſo her ſmart was much more grieuous bred,
And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart,
That nought but death her dolour mote depart.
So forth ſhe rode without repoſe or reſt,
Searching all lands and each remoteſt part,
Following the guidaunce of her blinded gueſt,
Till that to the ſea-coaſt at length ſhe her addreſ
There ſhe a lighted from her light-foot beaſt,
And ſitting downe vpon the rocky ſhore,
Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creaſt;
Tho hauing vewd a while the ſurges hore,
That gainſt the craggy clifts did loudly rore,
And in their raging ſurquedry diſdaynd,
That the faſt earth affronted them ſo ſore,
And their deuoring couetize 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 hauen of reliefe,
Who do thy cruell billowes beat ſo ſtrong,
And thy moyſt mountaines each on others throng,
Threatning to ſwallow vp my fearefull life?
O do thy cruell wrath and ſpightfull wrong
At length allay, and ſtint thy ſtormy ſtrife,
Which in theſe troubled bowels raignes, & rageth rife.
For elſe my feeble veſſell crazd, and crackt
Through thy ſtrong buffets and outrageous blowes,
Cannot endure, but needs it muſt be wrackt
On the rough rocks, or on the ſandy ſhallowes,
The whiles that loue it ſteres, and fortune rowes;
Loue my lewd Pilot hath a reſtleſſe mind
And fortune Boteſwaine no aſſuraunce knowes,
But ſaile withouten ſtarres, gainſt tide and wind:
How can they other do, ſith both are bold and blind?
Thou God of winds, that raigneſt in the ſeas,
That raigneſt alſo in the Continent,
At laſt blow vp ſome gentle gale of eaſe,
The which may bring my ſhip, ere it be rent,
Vnto the gladſome port of her intent:
Then when I ſhall my ſelfe in ſafety ſee,
A table for eternall moniment
Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,
Great Neptune, I auow to hallow vnto thee.
Then ſighing ſoftly ſore, and inly deepe,
She ſhut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe;
For her great courage would not let her weepe,
Till that old Glauce gan with ſharpe repriefe,
Her to reſtraine, and giue her good reliefe,
Through hope of thoſe, which Merlin had her told
Should of her name and nation be chiefe,
And fetch their being from the ſacred mould
Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.
Thus as ſhe her recomforted, ſhe ſpyde,
Where farre away one all in armour bright,
With haſtie gallop towards her did ryde;
Her dolour ſoone ſhe ceaſt, and on her dight
Her Helmet, to her Courſer mounting light:
Her former ſorrow into ſuddein wrath,
Both cooſen paſſions of diſtroubled ſpright,
Conuerting, forth ſhe beates the duſtie path;
Loue and deſpight attonce her courage kindled hath.
As when a foggy miſt hath ouercaſt
The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engroſt,
The world in darkeneſſe dwels, till that at laſt
The watry Southwinde from the ſeabord coſt
Vpblowing, doth diſperſe the vapour lo'ſt,
And poures it ſelfe forth in a ſtormy ſhowre;
So the faire Britomart hauing diſclo'ſt
Her clowdy care into a wrathfull ſtowre,
The miſt of griefe diſſolu'd, into vengeance powre,
Eftſoones her goodly ſhield addreſſing faire,
That mortall ſpeare ſhe in her hand did take,
And vnto battell did her ſelfe prepaire.
The knight approching, ſternely her beſpake;
Sir knight, that doeſt thy voyage raſhly make
By this forbidden way in my deſpight,
Ne doeſt by others death enſample take,
I read thee 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;
Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat
To paſſe; but maugre thee will paſſe or dy.
Ne lenger ſtayd for th'other to reply,
But with ſharpe ſpeares the reſt made dearly knowne.
Srongly the ſtraunge knight ran, and ſturdily
Strooke her full on the breſt, that made her downe
Decline her head, & touch her crouper with her crowne.
But ſhe againe him in the ſhield did ſmite
With ſo fierce furie and great puiſſaunce,
That through his threeſquare ſcuchin percing quite,
And through his mayled hauberque, by miſchaunce
The wicked ſteele through his left ſide did glaunce;
Him ſo transfixed ſhe before her bore
Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce,
Till ſadly ſoucing on the ſandie ſhore,
He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.
Like as the ſacred Oxe, that careleſſe ſtands,
With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd,
Proud of his dying honor and deare bands,
Whiles th'altars fume with frankincenſe arownd,
All ſuddenly with mortall ſtroke aſtownd,
Doth groueling fall, and with his ſtreaming gore
Diſtaines the pillours, and the holy grownd,
And the faire flowres, that decked him afore;
So fell proud Marinell vpon the pretious ſhore.
The martiall Mayd ſtayd not him to lament,
But forward rode, and kept her readie way
Along the ſtrond, which as ſhe ouer-went,
She ſaw beſtrowed all with rich aray
Of pearles and pretious ſtones of great aſſay,
And all the grauell mixt with golden owre;
Whereat ſhe wondred much, but would not ſtay
For gold, or perles, or pretious ſtones an howre,
But them deſpiſed all; for all was in her powre.
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 vnto an earthly peare,
The famous Dumarin; who on a day
Finding the Nymph a ſleepe in ſecret wheare,
As he by chaunce did wander that ſame way,
Was taken with her loue, and by her cloſely lay.
There he this knight of her begot, whom borne
She of his father Marinell did name,
And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne,
Long time ſhe foſtred vp, till he became
A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame
Did get through great aduentures by him donne:
For neuer man he ſuffred by that ſame
Rich ſtrond to trauell, whereas he did wonne,
But that he muſt do battell with the Sea-nymphes ſonne.
An hundred knights of honorable name
He had ſubdew'd, and them his vaſſals made,
That through all Farie lond his noble fame
Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade,
That none durſt paſſen through that perilous glade.
And to aduance his name and glorie more,
Her Sea-god ſyre ſhe dearely did perſwade,
T'endow her ſonne with threaſure and rich ſtore,
Boue 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 waues he did commaund,
Out of their hollow boſome forth to throw
All the huge threaſure, which the ſea below
Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe,
And him enriched through the ouerthrow
And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe,
And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe.
Shortly vpon that ſhore there heaped was,
Exceeding riches and all pretious things,
The ſpoyle of all the world, that it did pas
The wealth of th'Eaſt, and pompe of Perſian kings;
Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings,
And all that elſe was pretious and deare,
The ſea vnto him voluntary brings,
That ſhortly he a great Lord did appeare,
As was in all the lond of Faery, or elſewheare.
Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight,
Tryde often to the ſcath of many deare,
That none in equall armes him matchen might,
The which his mother ſeeing, gan to feare
Leaſt his too haughtie hardines might reare
Some hard miſhap, in hazard of his life:
For thy ſhe oft him counſeld to forbeare
The bloudie battell, and to ſtirre vp ſtrife,
But after all his warre, to reſt his wearie knife.
And for his more aſſurance, ſhe inquir'd
One day of Proteus by his mightie ſpell,
(For Proteus was with prophecie inſpir'd)
Her deare ſonnes deſtinie to her to tell,
And the ſad end of her ſweet Marinell.
Who through foreſight of his eternall skill,
Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:
For of a woman he ſhould haue much ill,
A virgin ſtrange and ſtout him ſhould diſmay, or kill.
For thy ſhe gaue him warning euery day,
The loue of women not to entertaine;
A leſſon too too hard for liuing clay,
From loue in courſe of nature to refraine:
Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,
And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly;
Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine,
That they for loue of him would algates dy:
Dy, who ſo liſt for him, he was loues enimy.
But ah, who can deceiue his deſtiny,
Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate?
That when he ſleepes in moſt ſecurity,
And ſafeſt ſeemes, him ſooneſt doth amate,
And findeth dew effect or ſoone or late.
So feeble is the powre of fleſhly arme.
His mother bad him womens loue to hate,
For ſhe of womans force did feare no harme;
So weening to haue arm'd him, ſhe did quite diſarme.
This was that woman, this that deadly wound,
That Proteus prophecide ſhould him diſmay,
The which his mother vainely did expound,
To be hart-wounding loue, which ſhould aſſay
To bring her ſonne vnto his laſt decay.
So tickle be the termes of mortall ſtate,
And full of ſubtile ſophiſmes, which do play
With double ſenſes, and with falſe debate,
Tapproue the vnknowen purpoſe of eternall fate.
Too true the famous Marinell it fownd,
Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond
Inglorious now lies in ſenſeleſſe ſwownd,
Through heauy ſtroke of Britomartis hond.
Which when his mother deare did vnderſtond,
And heauy tydings heard, whereas ſhe playd
Amongſt her watry ſiſters by a pond,
Gathering ſweet daffadillyes, to haue made
Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to ſhade.
Eftſoones both flowres and girlonds farre away
She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent,
To ſorrow huge ſhe turnd her former play,
And gameſon merth to grieuous dreriment:
She threw her ſelfe downe on the Continent,
Ne word did ſpeake, but lay as in a ſwowne,
Whiles all her ſiſters did for her lament,
With yelling outcries, and with ſhrieking ſowne;
And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne.
Soone as ſhe vp out of her deadly fit
Aroſe, ſhe bad her charet to be brought,
And all her ſiſters, that with her did ſit,
Bad eke attonce their charets to be ſought;
Tho full of bitter griefe and penſiue thought,
She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the reſt,
And forth together went, with ſorrow fraught.
The waues obedient to their beheaſt,
Them yielded readie paſſage, and their rage ſurceaſt.
Great Neptune ſtood amazed at their ſight,
Whiles on his broad round backe they ſoftly ſlid
And eke himſelfe mournd at their mournfull plight,
Yet wiſt not what their wailing ment, yet did
For great compaſſion of their ſorrow, bid
His mightie waters to them buxome bee:
Eftſoones the roaring billowes ſtill abid,
And all the griefly Monſters of the See
Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to ſee.
A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray,
Drew the ſmooth charet of ſad Cymoent;
They were all taught by Triton, to obay
To the long traines, at her commaundement:
As ſwift as ſwallowes, on the waues they went,
That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare,
Ne bubbling roundell they behind them ſent;
The reſt of other fiſhes drawen weare,
Which with their finny oars the ſwelling ſea did ſheare.
Soone as they bene arriu'd vpon the brim
Of the Rich ſtrond, their charets they forlore,
And let their temed fiſhes ſoftly ſwim
Along the margent of the fomy ſhore,
Leaſt they their finnes ſhould bruze, and ſurbate ſore
Their tender feet vpon the ſtony ground:
And comming to the place, where all in gore
And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found
The luckleſſe Marinell, lying in deadly ſwound;
His mother ſwowned thriſe, and the third time
Could ſcarce recouered be out of her paine;
Had ſhe not bene deuoyd of mortall ſlime,
She ſhould not then haue bene reliu'd againe,
But ſoone as life recouered had the raine,
She made ſo piteous mone and deare wayment,
That the hard rocks could ſcarſe from teares refraine,
And all her ſiſter Nymphes with one conſent
Supplide her ſobbing breaches with ſad complement.
Deare image of my ſelfe (ſhe ſaid) that is,
The wretched ſonne of wretched mother borne,
Is this thine high aduauncement, ô is this
Th'immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne
Thy Granſire Nereus promiſt to adorne?
Now lyeſt thou of life and honor reft;
Now lyeſt thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,
Ne of thy late life memory is left,
Ne can thy irreuocable deſtiny be weft?
Fond Proteus, father of falſe prophecis,
And they more fond, that credit to thee giue,
Not this the worke of womans hand ywis,
That ſo deepe wound through theſe deare members driue.
I feared loue: but they that loue do liue,
But they that die, doe neither loue nor hate.
Nath'leſſe to thee thy folly I forgiue,
And to my ſelfe, and to accurſed fate
The guilt I doe aſcribe: deare wiſedome bought too late.
O what auailes it of immortall ſeed
To beene ybred and neuer borne to die?
Farre better I it deeme to die with ſpeed,
Then waſte in woe and wailefull miſerie.
Who dyes the vtmoſt dolour doth abye,
But who that liues, is left to waile his loſſe:
So life is loſſe, and death felicitie.
Sad life worſe then glad death: and greater croſſe
To ſee friends graue, thē dead the graue ſelfe to engroſſe.
But if the heauens did his dayes enuie,
And my ſhort bliſſe maligne, yet mote they well
Thus much afford me, ere that he did die
That the dim eyes of my deare Marinell
I mote haue cloſed, and him bed farewell,
Sith other offices for mother meet
They would not graunt.
Yet 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 wound:
And that they might him handle more at will,
They him diſarm'd, and ſpredding on the ground
Their watchet mantles frindgd with ſiluer round,
They ſoftly wipt away the gelly blood
From th'orifice; which hauing well vpbound,
They pourd in ſoueraine balme, and Nectar good,
Good both for earthly med'cine, and for heauenly food.
Tho when the lilly handed Liagore,
(This Liagore whylome had learned skill
In leaches craft, by great Appolloes lore,
Sith her whylome vpon high Pindus hill,
He loued, and at laſt her wombe did fill
With heauenly ſeed, whereof wiſe Paeon ſprong)
Did feele his pulſe, ſhe knew their ſtaied ſtill
Some litle life his feeble ſprites emong;
Which to his mother told, deſpeire ſhe from her flong.
Tho vp him taking in their tender hands,
They eaſily vnto her charet beare:
Her teme at her commaundement quiet ſtands,
Whiles they the corſe into her wagon reare,
And ſtrow with flowres the lamentable beare:
Then all the reſt into their coches clim,
And through the brackiſh waues their paſſage ſheare;
Vpon 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 hye,
Like to thicke cloudes, that threat a ſtormy ſhowre,
And vauted all within, like to the sky,
In which the Gods do dwell eternally:
There they him laid in eaſie couch well dight;
And ſent in haſte for Tryphon, to apply
Salues to his wounds, and medicines of might:
For Tryphon of ſea gods the ſoueraine leach is hight.
The whiles the Nymphes ſit all about him round,
Lamenting his miſhap and heauy plight;
And oft his mother vewing his wide wound,
Curſed the hand, that did ſo deadly ſmight
Her deareſt ſonne, her deareſt harts delight.
But none of all thoſe curſes ouertooke
The warlike Maid, th'enſample of that might,
But fairely well ſhe thriu'd, and well did brooke
Her noble deeds, ne her right courſe for ought forſooke.
Yet did falſe Archimage her ſtill purſew,
To bring to paſſe his miſchieuous intent,
Now that he had her ſingled from the crew
Of courteous knights, the Prince, and Faery gent,
Whom late in chace of beautie excellent
She left, purſewing that ſame foſter ſtrong;
Of whoſe foule outrage they impatient,
And full of fiery zeale, him followed long,
To reskew her from ſhame, and to reuenge her wrong.
Through thick and thin, through mountaines & through plains,
Thoſe two great chāpions did attonce purſew
The fearefull damzell, with inceſſant paines:
Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew
Of hunter ſwift, and ſent of houndes trew.
At laſt they came vnto a double way,
Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew,
Themſelues they did diſpart, each to aſſay,
Whether more happie were, to win ſo goodly pray.
But Timias, the Princes gentle Squire,
That Ladies loue vnto his Lord forlent,
And with proud enuy, and indignant ire,
After that wicked foſter fiercely went.
So beene they three three ſundry wayes ybent.
But faireſt fortune to the Prince befell,
Whoſe chaunce it was, that ſoone he did repent,
To take that way, in which that Damozell
Was fled afore, affraid of him, as feend of hell.
At laſt of her farre off he gained vew:
Then gan he freſhly pricke his fomy ſteed,
And euer as he nigher to her drew,
So euermore he did increaſe his ſpeed,
And of each turning ſtill kept warie heed:
Aloud to her he oftentimes did call,
To doe away vaine doubt, and needleſſe dreed:
Full myld to her he ſpake, and oft let fall
Many meeke wordes, to ſtay and comfort her withall.
But nothing might relent her haſtie flight;
So deepe the deadly feare of that foule ſwaine
Was earſt impreſſed in her gentle ſpright:
Like as a fearefull Doue, which through the raine,
Of the wide aire her way does cut amaine,
Hauing farre off eſpyde a Taſſell gent,
Which after her his nimble wings doth ſtraine,
Doubleth her haſte for feare to be for-hent,
And with her pineons cleaues the liquid firmament.
With no leſſe haſte, and eke with no leſſe dreed,
That fearefull Ladie fled from him, that ment
To her no euill thought, nor euill deed;
Yet former feare of being fowly ſhent,
Carried her forward with her firſt intent:
And though oft looking backward, well ſhe vewd,
Her ſelfe freed from that foſter inſolent,
And that it was a knight, which now her ſewd,
Yet ſhe no leſſe the knight feard, then that villein rude.
His vncouth ſhield and ſtraunge armes her diſmayd,
Whoſe like in Faery lond were ſeldome ſeene,
That faſt ſhe from him fled, no leſſe affrayd,
Then of wilde beaſtes if ſhe had chaſed beene:
Yet he her followd ſtill with courage keene,
So long that now the golden Heſperus
Was mounted high in top of heauen ſheene,
And warnd his other brethren ioyeous,
To light their bleſſed lamps in Ioues eternall hous.
All ſuddenly dim woxe the dampiſh ayre,
And grieſly ſhadowes couered heauen bright,
That now with thouſand ſtarres was decked fayre;
Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull ſight,
And that perforce, for want of lenger light,
He mote ſurceaſe his ſuit, and loſe the hope
Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte
His wicked fortune, that had turnd aſlope,
And curſed night, that reft from him ſo goodly ſcope.
Tho when her wayes he could no more deſcry,
But to and fro at diſauenture ſtrayd;
Like as a ſhip, whoſe Lodeſtarre ſuddenly
Couered with cloudes, her Pilot hath diſmayd;
His weariſome purſuit perforce he ſtayd,
And from his loftie ſteed diſmounting low,
Did let him forage. Downe himſelfe he layd
Vpon the graſſie ground, to ſleepe a throw;
The cold earth was his couch, the hard ſteele his pillow.
But gentle Sleepe enuyde him any reſt;
In ſtead thereof ſad ſorrow, and diſdaine
Of his hard hap did vexe his noble breſt,
And thouſand fancies bet his idle braine
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 euer haſtie Night he blamed bitterlie.
Night thou foule Mother of annoyance ſad,
Siſter of heauie death, and nourſe of woe,
Which waſt begot in heauen, 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 blacke hous,
(Blacke Herebus thy husband is the foe
Of all the Gods) where thou vngratious,
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 things deface, ne letteſt ſee
The beautie of his worke? Indeed in ſleepe
The ſlouthfull bodie, that doth loue to ſteepe
His luſtleſſe limbes, and drowne his baſer mind,
Doth praiſe thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe
Calles thee, his goddeſſe in his error blind,
And great Dame Natures handmaide, chearing euery kind.
But well I wote, that to an heauy hart
Thou art the root and nurſe of bitter cares,
Breeder of new, renewer of old ſmarts:
In ſtead of reſt thou lendeſt rayling teares,
In ſtead of ſleepe thou ſendeſt troublous feares,
And dreadfull viſions, in the which aliue
The drearie image of ſad death appeares:
So from the wearie ſpirit thou doeſt driue
Deſired reſt, and men of happineſſe depriue.
Vnder thy mantle blacke there hidden lye,
Light-ſhonning theft, and traiterous intent,
Abhorred bloudſhed, and vile felony,
Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent;
Foule horror, and eke helliſh dreriment:
All theſe I wote in thy protection bee,
And light doe ſhonne, for feare of being ſhent:
For lightylike is loth'd of them and thee,
And all that lewdneſſe loue, doe hate the light to ſee.
For day diſcouers all diſhoneſt wayes,
And ſheweth each thing, as it is indeed:
The prayſes of high God he faire diſplayes,
And his large bountie rightly doth areed.
Dayes deareſt children be the bleſſed ſeed,
Which darkneſſe ſhall ſubdew, and heauen win:
Truth is his daughter; he her firſt did breed,
Moſt ſacred virgin, without ſpot of ſin.
Our life is day, but death with darkneſſe doth begin.
O when will day then turne to me againe,
And bring with him his long expected light?
O Titan, haſte to reare thy ioyous waine:
Speed thee to ſpred abroad thy beames bright?
And chaſe away this too long lingring night,
Chaſe her away, from whence ſhe came, to hell.
She, ſhe it is, that hath me done deſpight:
There let her with the damned ſpirits dwell,
And yeeld her roome to day, that can it gouerne well.
Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare,
In reſtleſſe anguiſh and vnquiet paine:
And earely, ere the morrow did vpreare
His deawy head out of the Ocean maine,
He vp aroſe, as halfe in great diſdaine,
And clombe vnto his ſteed. So forth he went,
With heauie looke and lumpiſh pace, that plaine
In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent:
His ſteed eke ſeem'd t'apply his ſteps to his intent.
Cant. V.
Prince Arthur heares of Florimell:
three foſters Timias wound,
Belphebe finds him almoſt dead,
and reareth out of ſownd.
WOnder it is to ſee, in diuerſe minds,
How diuerſly loue doth his pageants play,
And ſhewes his powre in variable kinds:
The bafer wit, whoſe idle thoughts alway
Are wont to cleaue vnto the lowly clay,
It ſtirreth vp to ſenſuall deſire,
And in lewd ſlouth to waſt his careleſſe day:
But in braue ſprite it kindles goodly fire,
That to all high deſert and honour doth aſpire.
Ne ſuffereth it vncomely idleneſſe,
In his free thought to build her ſluggiſh neſt:
Ne ſuffereth it thought of vngentleneſſe,
Euer to creepe into his noble breſt,
But to the higheſt and the worthieſt
Lifteth it vp, that elſe would lowly fall:
It lets not fall, it lets it not to reſt:
It lets not ſcarſe this Prince to breath at all,
But to his firſt pourſuit him forward ſtill doth call.
Who long time wandred through the forreſt wyde,
To finde ſome iſſue thence, till that at laſt
He met a Dwarfe, that ſeemed terrifyde
With ſome late perill, which he hardly paſt,
Or other accident, which him aghaſt;
Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,
And whither now he trauelled ſo faſt:
For ſore he ſwat, and running through that ſame
Thicke foreſt, was be ſcratcht, & 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 haue many a day
Serued a gentle Lady of great ſway,
And high accompt through out all Elfin land,
Who lately left the ſame, and tooke this way:
Her now I ſeeke, and if ye vnderſtand
Which way ſhe fared hath, good Sir tell out of hand.
What miſter wight (ſaid he) and how arayd?
Royally clad (quoth he) in cloth of gold,
As meeteſt may beſeeme a noble mayd;
Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,
And fairer wight did neuer Sunne behold,
And on a Palfrey rides more white then ſnow,
Yet ſhe her ſelfe is whiter manifold:
The ſureſt ſigne, whereby ye may her know,
Is, that ſhe is the faireſt wight aliue, I trow.
Now certes ſwaine (ſaid he) ſuch one I weene,
Faſt flying through this foreſt from her fo,
A foule ill fauoured foſter, I haue ſeene;
Her ſelfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho,
But could not ſtay; ſo faſt ſhe did foregoe,
Carried away with wings of ſpeedy feare.
Ah deareſt God (quoth he) that is great woe,
And wondrous ruth to all, that ſhall it heare.
But can ye read Sir, how I may her find, or where.
Perdy me leuer were to weeten that,
(Said he) then ranſome of the richeſt knight,
Or all the good that euer yet I gat:
But froward fortune, and too forward Night
Such happineſſe did, maulgre, to me ſpight,
And fro me reſt both life and light attone.
But Dwarfe aread, what is that Lady bright,
That through this foreſt wandreth thus alone;
For of her errour ſtraunge I haue great ruth and mone.
That Lady is (quoth he) where ſo ſhe bee,
The bountieſt virgin, and moſt debonaire,
That euer liuing eye I weene did ſee;
Liues none this day, that may with her compare
In ſtedfaſt chaſtitie and vertue rare,
The goodly ornaments of beautie bright;
And is ycleped Florimell the faire,
Faire Florimell belou'd of a many a knight,
Yet ſhe loues none but one, that Marinell is hight.
A Sea-nymphes ſonne, that Marinell is hight,
Of my deare Dame is loued dearely well;
In other none, but him, ſhe ſets delight,
All her delight is ſet on Marinell;
But he ſets nought at all by Florimell:
For Ladies loue his mother long ygoe
Did him, they ſay, forwarne through ſacred ſpell.
But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe
He is yſlaine, which is the ground of all our woe.
Fiue dayes there be, ſince he (they ſay) was ſlaine,
And foure, ſince Florimell the Court for-went,
And vowed neuer to returne againe,
Till him aliue or dead ſhe did inuent.
Therefore, faire Sir, for loue of knighthood gent,
And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may
By your good counſell, or bold hardiment,
Or ſuccour her, or me direct the way;
Do one, or other good, I you moſt humbly pray.
So may you gaine to you full great renowme,
Of all good Ladies through the world ſo wide,
And haply in her hart find higheſt rowme,
Of whom ye ſeeke to be moſt magnifide:
At leaſt eternall meede ſhall you abide.
To whom the Prince; Dwarfe, comfort to thee take,
For till thou tidings learne, what her betide,
I here auow thee neuer to forſake.
Ill weares he armes, that nill them vſe for Ladies ſake.
So with the Dwarfe he backe return'd againe,
To ſeeke his Lady, where he mote her find;
But by the way he greatly gan complaine
The want of his good Squire late left behind,
For whom he wondrous penſiue grew in mind,
For douht of daunger, which mote him betide;
For him he loued aboue all mankind,
Hauing him trew and faithfall euer tride,
And bold, as euer Squire that waited by knights ſide.
Who all this while full hardly was aſſayd
Of deadly daunger, which to him betid;
For whiles his Lord purſewd that noble Mayd,
After that foſter fowle he fiercely rid,
To bene auenged of the ſhame, he did
To that faire Damzell: Him he chaced long
Through the thicke woods, wherein he would haue hid
His ſhamefull head from his auengement ſtrong.
And oft him threatned death for his outrageous wrong.
Nathleſſe the villen ſped himſelfe ſo well,
Whether through ſwiftneſſe of his ſpeedy 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 deeds, which dayly he increaſt,
Ne ceaſed not, till him oppreſſed hard
The heauy plague, that for ſuch leachours is prepard.
For ſoone as he was vaniſht out of ſight,
His coward courage gan emboldned bee,
And caſt t auenge him of that fowle deſpight,
Which he had borne of his bold enimee.
Tho to his brethren came: for they were three
Vngratious children of one graceleſſe ſire,
And vnto them complained, how that he
Had vſed bene of that foolehardy Squire;
So them with bitter words he ſtird to bloudy ire.
Forthwith themſelues with their ſad inſtruments
Of ſpoyle and murder they gan arme byliue,
And with him forth into the foreſt went,
To wreake the wrath, which he did earſt reuiue
In their ſterne breſts, on him which late did driue
Their brother to reproch and ſhamefull flight:
For they had vow'd, that neuer he aliue
Out of that foreſt ſhould eſcape their might;
Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with ſuch deſpight.
Within that wood there was a couert glade,
Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne,
Through which it was vneath for wight to wade;
And now by fortune it was ouerflowne:
By that ſame way they knew that Squire vnknowne
Mote algates paſſe; for thy themſelues they ſet
There in await, with thicke woods ouer growne,
And all the while their malice they did whet
With cruell threats, his paſſage through the ford to let.
It fortuned, as they deuized had,
The gentle Squire came ryding that ſame way,
Vnweeting of their wile and treaſon bad,
And through the ford to paſſen did aſſay;
But that fierce foſter, which late fled away,
Stoutly forth ſtepping on the further ſhore,
Him boldly bad his paſſage there to ſtay,
Till he had made amends, and full reſtore
For all the damage, which he had him doen afore.
With that at him a quiu'ring dart he threw,
With ſo fell force and villeinous deſpighte,
That through his haberieon the forkehead flew,
And through the linked mayles empierced quite,
But had no powre in his ſoft fleſh to bite:
That ſtroke the hardy Squire did ſore 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 diſeaſe.
And ſtill the foſter with his long bore-ſpeare
Him kept from landing at his wiſhed will;
Anone one ſent out of the thicket neare
Acruell ſhaft, headed with deadly ill,
And fethered with an vnlucky quill;
The wicked ſteele ſtayd not, till it did light
In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill:
Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight,
But more that with his foes he could not come to fight.
At laſt through wrath and vengeaunce making way,
He on the bancke arriu'd with mickle paine,
Where the third brother him did ſore aſſay,
And droue at him with all his might and maine
A forreſt bill, which both his hands did ſtraine;
But warily he did auoide the blow,
And with his ſpeare requited him againe,
That both his ſides were thrilled with the throw,
And a large ſtreame of bloud out of the wound did flow.
He tombling downe, with gnaſhing teeth did bite
The bitter earth, and bad to let him in
Into the balefull houſe of endleſſe night,
Where wicked ghoſts do waile their former ſin.
Tho gan the battell 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 vpon him layd, his life for to haue had.
Tho when that villain he auiz'd, which late
Affrighted had the faireſt Florimell,
Full of fiers fury, and indignant hate,
To him he turned, and with rigour fell
Smote him ſo rudely on the Pannikell,
That to the chin he cleft his head in twaine:
Downe on the ground his carkas groueling fell;
His ſinfull ſoule with deſperate diſdaine,
Out of her fleſhly ferme fled to the place of paine.
That ſeeing now the onely laſt of three,
Who with that wicked ſhaft him wounded had,
Trembling with horrour, as that did foreſee
The fearefull end of his auengement ſad,
Through which he follow ſhould his brethren bad,
His booteleſſe bow in feeble hand vpcaught,
And therewith ſhot an arrow at the lad;
Which faintly fluttring, ſcarce his helmet raught,
And glauncing fell to ground, but him annoyed naught.
With that he would haue fled into the wood;
But Timias him lightly ouerhent,
Right as he entring was into the flood,
And ſtrooke at him with force ſo violent,
That headleſſe him into the foord he ſent:
The carkas with the ſtreame was carried downe,
But th'head fell backeward on the Continent.
So miſchieffel vpon the meaners crowne;
They three be dead with ſhame, the Squire liues with renowne.
He liues, 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 bloud forth guſht in ſo great ſtore,
That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore.
Now God thee keepe, thou gentleſt Squire aliue,
Elſe ſhall thy louing Lord thee ſee no more,
But both of comfort him thou ſhalt depriue,
And eke thy ſelfe of honour, which thou didſt atchiue.
Prouidence heauenly paſſeth liuing thought,
And doth for wretched mens reliefe make way;
For loe great grace or fortune thither brought
Comfort to him, that comfortleſſe now lay.
In thoſe ſame woods, ye well remember may,
How that a noble huntereſſe did wonne,
She, that baſe Braggadochio did affray,
And made him faſt out of the forreſt runne;
Belphoebe was her name, as faire as Phoebus ſunne.
She on a day, as ſhe purſewd the chace
Of ſome wild beaſt, which with her arrowes keene
She wounded had, the ſame along did trace
By tract of bloud, which ſhe had freſhly ſeene,
To haue be ſprinckled all the graſſy greene;
By the great perſue, which ſhe there perceau'd,
Well hoped ſhe the beaſt engor'd had beene,
And made more haſt, the life to haue bereau'd:
But ah, her expectation greatly was deceau'd.
Shortly ſhe came, whereas that woefull Squire
With bloud deformed, lay in deadly ſwownd:
In whoſe faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire,
The Chriſtall humour ſtood congealed rownd;
His locks, like faded leaues fallen to grownd,
Knotted with bloud, in bounches rudely ran,
And his ſweete lips, on which before that ſtownd
The bud of youth to bloſſome faire began,
Spoild of their roſie red, were woxen pale and wan.
Saw neuer liuing eye more heauy ſight,
That could haue made a rocke of ſtone to rew,
Or riue in twaine: which when that Lady bright
Beſides all hope with melting eyes did vew,
All ſuddeinly abaſht ſhe chaunged hew,
And with ſterne horrour backward gan to ſtart:
But when ſhe better him beheld, ſhe grew
Full of ſoft paſſion and vnwonted ſmart:
The point of pitty perced through her tender hart.
Meekely ſhe bowed downe, to weete if life
Yet in his froſen members did remaine,
And feeling by his pulſes beating rife,
That the weake ſoule her ſeat did yet retaine,
She caſt to comfort him with buſie paine:
His double folded necke ſhe reard vpright,
And rubd his temples, and each trembling vaine;
His mayled haberieon ſhe did vndight,
And from his head his heauy burganet did light,
Into the woods thenceforth in haſt ſhe went,
To ſeeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy;
For ſhe of hearbes had great intendiment,
Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancy
Her nourced had in trew Nobility:
There, whether it diuine Tobacco were,
Or Fanachaea, or Polygony,
She found, and brought it to her patient deare
Who al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare.
The ſoueraigne weede betwixt two marbles plaine
She pownded ſmall, and did in peeces bruze,
And then atweene her lilly handes twaine,
Into his wound the iuyce thereof did ſcruze,
And round about, as ſhe could well it vze,
The fleſh therewith ſhe ſuppled and did ſteepe,
T'abate all ſpaſme, and ſoke the ſwelling bruze,
And after hauing ſearcht the intuſe deepe,
She with her ſcarfe did bind the wound frō cold to keepe.
By this he had ſweet life recur'd againe,
And groning inly deepe, at laſt his eyes,
His watry eyes, drizling like deawy raine,
He vp gan lift toward the azure skies,
From whence deſcend all hopeleſſe remedies:
Therewith he ſigh'd, and turning him aſide,
The goodly Mayd full of diuinities,
And gifts of heauenly grace he by him ſpide,
Her bow and gilden quiuer lying him beſide.
Mercy deare Lord (ſaid he) what grace is this,
That thou haſt ſhewed to me ſinfull wight,
To ſend thine Angell from her bowre of blis,
To comfort me in my diſtreſſed plight?
Angell, or Goddeſſe do I call thee right?
What ſeruice may I do vnto thee meete,
That haſt from darkeneſſe me returnd to light,
And with thy heauenly ſalues and med'cines ſweete,
Haſt dreſt my ſinfull wounds? I kiſſe thy bleſſed feete.
Thereat ſhe bluſhing ſaid, Ah gentle Squire,
Nor Goddeſſe I, nor Angell, but the Mayd,
And daughter of a woody Nymphe, deſire
No ſeruice, but thy ſafety and ayd;
Which if thou gaine, I ſhalbe well apayd.
We mortall wights, whoſe liues and fortunes bee
To commun accidents ſtill open layd,
Are bound with commun bond of frailtee,
To ſuccour wretched wights, whom we captiued ſee.
By this her Damzels, which the former chace
Had vndertaken after her arriu'd,
As did Belphoebe, in the bloudy place,
And thereby deemd the beaſt had bene depriu'd
Of life, whom late their Ladies arrow ryu'd:
For thy the bloudy tract they follow faſt,
And euery one to runne the ſwifteſt ſtryu'd;
But two of them the reſt far ouerpaſt,
And where their Lady was, arriued at the laſt.
Where when they ſaw that goodly boy, with blood
Defowled, and their Lady dreſſe his wownd,
They wondred much, and ſhortly vnderſtood,
How him in deadly caſe their Lady fownd,
And reskewed out of the heauy ſtownd.
Eftſoones his warlike courſer, which was ſtrayd
Farre in the woods, whiles that he lay in ſwownd,
She made thoſe Damzels ſearch, which being ſtayd,
They did him ſet thereon, and forthwith them conuayd.
Into that foreſt farre they thence him led,
Where was their dwelling, in a pleaſant glade,
With mountaines round about enuironed,
And mighty woods, which did the valley ſhade,
And like a ſtately Theatre it made,
Spreading it ſelfe into a ſpatious plaine.
And in the midſt a little riuer plaide
Emongſt the pumy ſtones, which ſeemd to plaine
With gentle murmure, that his courſe they did reſtraine.
Beſide the ſame a dainty place there lay,
Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene,
In which the birds ſong many a louely lay
Of gods high prayſe, and of their loues ſweet teene,
As it an earthly Paradize had beene:
In whoſe encloſed ſhadow there was pight
A faire Pauilion, ſcarcely to be ſeene,
The which was all within moſt richly dight,
That greateſt Princes liuing it mote well delight.
Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd
In eaſie couch his feeble limbes to reſt;
He reſted him a while, and then the Mayd
His ready wound with better ſalues new dreſt;
Dayly ſhe dreſſed him, and did the beſt
His grieuous hurt to gariſh, that ſhe might,
That ſhortly ſhe his dolour hath redreſt,
And his foule ſore reduced to faire plight:
It ſhe reduced, but himſelfe deſtroyed quight.
O fooliſh Phyſick, and vnfruitfull paine,
That heales vp one and makes another wound:
She his hurt thigh to him recur'd againe,
But hurt his hart, the which before was ſound,
Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound
From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce.
What bootes it him from death to be vnbound,
To be captiued in endleſſe duraunce
Of ſorrow and deſpaire without aleggeaunce?
Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole,
So ſtill his hart woxe ſore, and health decayd:
Madneſſe to ſaue a part, and loſe the whole.
Still whenas he beheld the heauenly Mayd,
Whiles dayly plaiſters to his wound ſhe layd,
So ſtill his Malady the more increaſt,
The whiles her matchleſſe beautie him diſmayd.
Ah God, what other could he do at leaſt,
But loue ſo faire a Lady, that his life releaſt?
Long while he ſtroue in his courageous breſt,
With reaſon dew the paſſion to ſubdew,
And loue for to diſlodge out of his neſt:
Still when her excellencies he did vew,
Her ſoueraigne bounty, and celeſtiall hew,
The ſame to loue he ſtrongly was conſtraind:
But when his meane eſtate he did renew,
He from ſuch hardy boldneſſe was reſtraind,
And of his luckleſſe lot and cruell loue thus plaind.
Vnthankfull wretch (ſaid he) is this the meed,
With which her ſoueraigne mercy thou doeſt quight?
Thy life ſhe ſaued by her gracious deed,
But thou doeſt weene with villeinous deſpight,
To blot her honour, and her heauenly light.
Dye rather, dye, then ſo diſloyally
Deeme of her high deſert, or ſeeme ſo light:
Faire death it is to ſhonne more ſhame, to dy:
Dye rather, dy, then euer loue diſloyally.
But if to loue diſloyalty it bee,
Shall I then hate her, that from deathes dore
Me brought? ah farre be ſuch reproch fro mee.
What can I leſſe do, then her loue therefore,
Sith I her dew reward cannot reſtore:
Dye rather, dye, and dying do her ſerue,
Dying her ſerue, and liuing her adore;
Thy life ſhe gaue, thy life ſhe doth deſerue:
Dye rather, dye, then euer from her ſeruice ſwerue.
But fooliſh boy, what bootes thy ſeruice bace
To her, to whom the heauens do ſerue and ſew?
Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place,
She heauenly borne, and of celeſtiall hew.
How then? of all loue taketh equall vew:
And doth not higheſt God vouchſafe to take
The loue and ſeruice of the baſeſt crew?
If ſhe will not, dye meekly for her ſake;
Dye rather, dye, then euer ſo faire loue forſake.
Thus warreid he long time againſt his will,
Till that through weakneſſe he was forſt at laſt,
To yield himſelfe vnto the mighty ill:
Which as a victour proud, gan ranſack faſt
His inward parts, and all his entrayles waſt,
That neither bloud in face, nor life in hart
It left, but both did quite drye vp, and blaſt;
As percing leuin, which the inner part
Of euery thing conſumes, and calcineth by art.
Which ſeeing faire Belphoebe, gan to feare,
Leaſt that his wound were inly well not healed,
Or that the wicked ſteele empoyſned were:
Litle ſhe weend, that loue he cloſe concealed;
Yet ſtill he waſted, as the ſnow congealed,
When the bright ſunne his beams thereon doth beat;
Yet neuer he his hart to her reuealed,
But rather choſe to dye for ſorrow great,
Then with diſhonorable termes her to entreat.
She gracious Lady, yet no paines did ſpare,
To do him eaſe, or do him remedy:
Many Reſtoratiues of vertues rare,
And coſtly Cordialles ſhe did apply,
To mitigate his ſtubborne mallady:
But that ſweet Cordiall, which can reſtore
A loue-ſick hart, ſhe did to him enuy;
To him, and to all th'vnworthy world forlore
She did enuy that ſoueraigne ſalue, in ſecret ſtore.
That dainty Roſe, the daughter of her Morne,
More deare then life ſhe tendered, whoſe flowre
The girlond of her honour did adorne:
Ne ſuffred ſhe the Middayes ſcorching powre,
Ne the ſharp Northerne wind thereon to ſhowre,
But lapped vp her ſilken leaues moſt chaire,
When ſo the froward skye began to lowre:
But ſoone as calmed was the Chriſtall aire,
She did it faire diſpred, and let to floriſh faire.
Eternall God in his almighty powre,
To make enſample of his heauenly grace,
In Paradize whilome did plant this flowre,
Whence he it fetcht out of her natiue place,
And did in ſtocke of earthly fleſh enrace,
That mortall men her glory ſhould admire
In gentle Ladies breſt, and bounteous race
Of woman kind it faireſt flowre doth ſpire,
And beareth fruit of honour and all chaſt deſire.
Faire ympes of beautie, whoſe bright ſhining beames
Adorne the world with like to heauenly light,
And to your willes both royalties and Realmes
Subdew, through conqueſt of your wondrous might,
With this faire flowre your goodly girlonds dight,
Of chaſtity and vertue virginall,
That ſhall embelliſh more your beautie bright,
And crowne your heades with heauenly coronall,
Such as the Angels weare before Gods tribunall.
To your faire ſelues a faire enſample frame,
Of this faire virgin, this Belphoebe faire,
To whom in perfect loue, and ſpotleſſe fame
Of chaſtitie, none liuing may compaire:
Ne poyſnous Enuy iuſtly can empaire
The prayſe of her freſh flowring Maidenhead;
For thy ſhe ſtandeth on the higheſt ſtaire
Of th'honorable ſtage of womanhead,
That Ladies all may follow her enſample dead.
In ſo great prayſe of ſtedfaſt chaſtity,
Nathleſſe ſhe was ſo curteous and kind,
Tempred with grace, and goodly modeſty,
That ſeemed thoſe two vertues ſtroue to find
The higher place in her Heroick mind:
So ſtriuing each did other more augment,
And both encreaſt the prayſe of woman kind,
And both encreaſt her beautie excellent;
So all did make in her a perfect complement.
Cant. VI.
The birth of faire Belphoebe and
Of Amoret is told.
The Gardins of Adonis fraught
With pleaſures manifold.
WEll may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while
Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell
So great perfections did in her compile,
Sith that in ſaluage foreſts ſhe did dwell,
So farre from court and royall Citadell,
The great ſchoolmiſtreſſe of all curteſy:
Seemeth that ſuch wild woods ſhould far expell
All ciuill vſage and gentility,
And gentle ſprite deforme with rude ruſticity.
But to this faire Belphoebe in her berth
The heauens ſo fauourable were and free,
Looking with myld aſpect vpon the earth,
In th'Horoſcope of her natiuitee,
That all the gifts of grace and chaſtitee
On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;
Ioue laught on Venus from his ſoueraigne ſee,
And Phoebus with faire beames did her adorne,
And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne.
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 vnſpotted from all loathly crime,
That is ingenerate in fleſhly ſlime.
So was this virgin borne, ſo was ſhe bred,
So was ſhe trayned vp from time to time,
In all chaſt vertue, and true bounti-hed
Till to her dew perfection ſhe was ripened.
Her mother was the faire Chryſogonee,
The daughter of Amphiſa, who by race
A Faerie was, yborne of high degree,
She bore Belphaebe, ſhe bore in like cace
Faire Amoretta in the ſecond place:
Theſe two were twinnes, & twixt them two did ſhare
The heritage of all celeſtiall grace.
That all the reſt it ſeem'd they robbed bare
Of bountie, and of beautie, and all vertues rare.
It were a goodly ſtorie, to declare,
By what ſtraunge accident faire Chryſogone
Conceiu'd theſe infants, and how them ſhe bare,
In this wild forreſt wandring all alone,
After ſhe had nine moneths fulfild and gone:
For not as other wemens 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'heauens fruitfull ray,
As it in antique bookes is mentioned.
It was vpon a Som
•
ers ſhynie day,
When Titan faire his beames did diſplay,
In a freſh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,
She bath'd her breſt, the boyling heat t'allay;
She bath'd with roſes red, and violets blew,
And all the ſweeteſt flowres, that in the forreſt grew.
Till faint through irkeſome wearineſſe, adowne
Vpon the graſſie ground her ſelfe ſhe layd
To ſleepe, the whiles a gentle ſlombring ſwowne
Vpon her fell all naked bare diſplayd;
The ſunne-beames bright vpon her body playd,
Being through former bathing mollifide,
And pierſt into her wombe, where they embayd
With ſo ſweet ſence and ſecret power vnſpide,
That in her pregnant fleſh they ſhortly fructifide.
Miraculous may ſeeme to him, that reades
So ſtraunge enſample of conception;
But reaſon teacheth that the fruitfull ſeades
Of all things liuing, through impreſſion
Of the ſunbeames in moyſt complexion,
Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd:
So after Nilus invndation,
Infinite ſhapes of creature men do fynd,
Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath ſhynd.
Great father he of generation
Is rightly cald, th'author of life and light;
And his faire ſiſter for creation
Miniſtreth matter fit, which tempred right
With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight.
So ſprong theſe twinnes in wombe of Chryſogone,
Yet wiſt ſhe nought thereof, but ſore affright,
Wondred to ſee her belly ſo vpblone,
Which ſtill increaſt, till ſhe her terme had full outgone.
Whereof conceiuing ſhame and foule diſgrace,
Albe her guiltleſſe conſcience her cleard,
She ſled into the wilderneſſe a ſpace,
Till that vnweeldy burden ſhe had reard,
And ſhund diſhonor, which as death ſhe feard:
Where wearie of long trauell, downe to reſt
Her ſelfe ſhe ſet, and comfortably cheard;
There a ſad cloud of ſleepe her ouerkeſt,
And ſeized euery ſenſe with ſorrow ſore oppreſt.
It fortuned, faire Venus hauing loſt
Her little ſonne, the winged god of loue,
Who for ſome light diſpleaſure, which him croſt,
Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue,
And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue,
(So from her often he had fled away,
When ſhe for ought him ſharpely did reproue,
And wandred in the world in ſtrange aray,
Diſguiz'd in thouſand ſhapes, that none might him bewray.
Him for to ſeeke, ſhe left her heauenly hous,
The houſe of goodly formes and faire aſpects,
Whence all the world deriues the glorious
Features of beauties, and all ſhapes ſelect,
With which high God his workmanſhip hath deckt;
And ſearched euery way, through which his wings
Had borne him, or his tract ſhe mote detect:
She promiſt kiſſes ſweet, and ſweeter things
Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.
Firſt ſhe him ſought in Court, where moſt he vſed
Whylome to haunt, but there ſhe found him not;
But many there ſhe found, which ſore accuſed
His falſehood, and with foule infamous blot
His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did ſpot:
Ladies and Lords ſhe euery where mote heare
Complayning, how with his empoyſned ſhot
Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,
And ſo had left them languiſhing twixt hope and feare.
She then the Citties ſought from gate to gate,
And euery one did aske, did he him ſee;
And euery one her anſwerd, that too late
He had him ſeene, and felt the crueltie
Of his ſharpe darts and whot artillerie;
And euery one threw forth reproches rife
Of his miſchieuous deedes, and ſaid, That hee
Was the diſturber of all ciuill life,
The enimy of peace, and author of all ſtrife.
Then in the countrey ſhe abroad him ſought,
And in the rurall cottages inquired,
Where alſo many plaints to her were brought,
How he their heedleſſe harts with loue had fyred,
And his falſe venim through their veines inſpyred;
And eke the gentle ſhepheard ſwaynes, which ſat
Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred,
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 auize, where elſe he mote him hyde:
At laſt ſhe her bethought, that ſhe had not
Yet ſought the ſaluage woods and forreſts wyde,
In which full many louely Nymphes abyde,
Mongſt whom might be, that he did cloſely lye,
Or that the loue of ſome of them him tyde:
For thy ſhe thither caſt her courſe t'apply,
To ſearch the ſecret haunts of Dianes company.
Shortly vnto the waſtefull woods ſhe came,
Whereas ſhe found the Goddeſſe with her crew,
After late chace of their embrewed game,
Sitting beſide a fountaine in a rew,
Some of them waſhing with the liquid dew
From off their dainty limbes the duſtie ſweat,
And ſoyle which did deforme their liuely hew;
Others lay ſhaded from the ſcorching heat;
The reſt vpon her perſon gaue attendance great.
She hauing hong vpon a bough on high
Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaſte
Her ſiluer buskins from her nimble thigh,
And her lancke loynes vngirt, and breſts vnbraſte,
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 vndight,
And were with ſweet Ambroſia all be ſprinckled light.
Soone as ſhe Venus ſaw behind her backe,
She was aſham'd to be ſo looſe ſurprized
And woxe halfe wroth againſt her damzels flacke,
That had nother thereof before auized,
But ſuffred her ſo careleſly diſguized
Be ouertaken. Soone her garments looſe
Vpgath'ring, in her boſome ſhe comprized,
Well as ſhe might, and to the 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 wilderneſſe for her vnmeet,
From her ſweete bowres, and beds with pleaſures fraught:
That ſuddein change ſhe ſtrange aduenture thought.
To whom halfe weeping, ſhe thus anſwered,
That ſhe her deareſt ſonne Cupido ſought,
Who in his frowardneſſe from her was fled;
That ſhe repented ſore, to haue him angered.
Thereat Diana gan to ſmile, in ſcorne
Of her vaine plaint, and to her ſcoffing ſayd;
Great pittie ſure, that ye be ſo forlorne
Of your gay ſonne, that giues ye ſo good ayd
To your diſports: ill mote ye bene apayd.
But ſhe was more engrieued, and replide;
Faire ſiſter, ill beſeemes it to vpbrayd
A dolefull heart with ſo diſdainfull pride;
The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.
As you in woods and wanton wilderneſſe
Your glory ſet, to chace the ſaluage beaſts,
So my delight is all in ioyfulneſſe,
In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feaſts:
And ill becomes you with your loftie creaſts,
To ſcorne the ioy, that Ioue is glad to ſeeke;
We both are bound to follow heauens beheaſts,
And tend our charges with obeiſance meeke:
Spare, gentle ſiſter, with reproch my paine to eeke.
And tell me, if that ye my ſonne haue heard,
To lurke emongſt your Nymphes in ſecret wize;
Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard,
Leaſt he like one of them him ſelfe diſguize,
And turne his arrowes to their exercize:
So may he long himſelfe full eaſie hide:
For he is faire and freſh in face and guize,
As any Nymph (let not it be enuyde.)
So ſaying euery Nymph full narrowly ſhe eyde.
But Phoebe therewith ſore was angered,
And ſharply ſaid; Goe Dame, goe ſeeke your boy,
Where you him lately left, 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, whoſe ſad annoy
The Gods doe dread, he dearely ſhall abye:
Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more ſhall fly.
Whom when as Venus ſaw ſo ſore diſpleaſed,
She inly ſory was, and gan relent,
What ſhe had ſaid: ſo her ſhe ſoone appeaſed,
With ſugred words and gentle blandiſhment,
From which a fountaine from her ſweet lips went,
And welled goodly forth, that in ſhort ſpace
She was well pleaſd, and forth her damzels ſent,
Through all the woods, to ſearch from place to place,
If any tract of him or tydings they mote trace.
To ſearch the God of loue, her Nymphes ſhe ſent
Throughout the wandring forreſt euery where:
And after them her ſelfe eke with her went
To ſeeke the fugitiue, both farre and nere,
So long they ſought, till they arriued were
In that ſame ſhadie couert, whereas lay
Faire Cryſogone in ſlombry traunce whilere:
Who in her ſleepe (a wondrous thing to ſay)
Vnwares had borne two babes, as faire as ſpringing day.
Vnwares ſhe them conceiu'd, vnwares ſhe bore:
She bore withouten paine, that ſhe conceiued
Withouten pleaſure: ne her need implore
Lucinaes aide: which when they both perceiued,
They were through wonder nigh of ſenſe bereaued,
And gazing each on other, nought beſpake:
At laſt they both agreed, her ſeeming grieued
Out of her heauy ſwowne not to awake,
But from her louing ſide the tender babes to take.
Vp they them tooke, each one a babe vptooke,
And with them carried, to be foſtered;
Dame Phoebe to a Nymph her babe betooke,
To be vpbrought in perfect Maydenhed,
And of her ſelfe her name Belphoebe red:
But Venus hers hence farre away conuayd,
To be vpbrought in goodly womanhed,
And in her litle loues ſtead, which was ſtrayd,
Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her diſmayd.
She brought her to her ioyous Paradize,
Where moſt ſhe wonnes, whē ſhe on earth does dwel.
So faire a place, as Nature can deuize:
Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill,
Or it in Gnidus be, I wote not well;
But well I wote by tryall, that this ſame
All other pleaſant places doth excell,
And called is by her loſt louers name,
The Gardin of Adonis, farre renowmd by fame.
In that ſame Gardin all the goodly flowres,
Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,
And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,
Are fetcht: there is the firſt ſeminarie
Of all things, that are borne to liue and die,
According to their kindes. Long worke it were,
Here to account the endleſſe pregenie
Of all the weedes, 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 walles on either ſide;
The one of yron, the other of bright gold,
That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-ſtride:
And double gates it had, which opened wide,
By which both in and out men moten pas;
Th'one faire and freſh, the other old and dride:
Old Genius the porter of them was,
Old Genius, the which a double nature has.
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, which doe require,
That he with fleſhly weedes would them attire:
Such as him liſt, ſuch as eternall fate
Ordained hath, he clothes with ſinfull mire,
And ſendeth forth to liue in mortall ſtate,
Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.
After that they againe returned beene,
They in that Gardin planted be againe;
And grow a freſh, as they had neuer ſeene
Fleſhly corruption, nor mortall paine.
Some thouſand yeares ſo doen they there remaire;
And then of him are clad with other hew,
Or ſent into the chaungefull world againe,
Till thither they returne, where firſt they grew:
So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.
Ne needs there Gardiner to ſet, or ſow,
To plant of prune: for of their owne accord
All things, as they created were, doe grow,
And yet remember well the mightie word,
Which firſt was ſpoken by th'Almightie lord,
That bad them to increaſe and multiply:
Ne doe they need with water of the ford,
Or of the clouds to moyſten their roots dry;
For in themſelues eternall moiſture they imply.
Infinite ſhapes of creatures there are bred,
And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew,
And euery ſort is in a ſundry bed
Set by itſelfe, and ranckt in comely rew:
Some fit for reaſonable ſoules t'indew,
Some made for beaſts, ſome made for birds to weare,
And all the fruitfull ſpawne of fiſhes hew
In endleſſe rancks along enraunged were,
That ſeem'd the Ocean could not containe them there.
Daily they grow, and daily forth are ſent
Into the world, it to repleniſh more;
Yet is the ſtocke not leſſened, nor ſpent,
But ſtill remaines in euerlaſting ſtore,
As it at firſt created was of yore.
For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,
In hatefull darkeneſſe and in deepe horrore,
An huge eternall Chaos, which ſupplyes
The ſubſtances of natures fruitfull progenyes.
All things from thence doe their firſt being fetch,
And borrow matter, whereof they are made,
Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,
Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade
The ſtate of life, out of the griefly ſhade.
That ſubſtance is eterne, and bideth ſo,
Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,
Doth it conſume, and into nothing go,
But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.
The ſubtance is not chaunged, nor altered,
But th'only forme and outward faſhion;
For euery ſubſtance is conditioned
To change her hew, and ſundry formes to don,
Meet for her temper and complexion:
For formes are variable and decay,
By courſe of kind, 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 ſprings,
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 doe wither, and are fowly mard:
He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings
Beates downe both leaues and buds without regard,
Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard.
Yet pittie often did the gods relent,
To ſee ſo faire things mard, and ſpoyled quight:
And their great mother Venus did lament
The loſſe of her deare brood, her deare delight;
Her hart was pierſt with pittie at the ſight,
When walking through the Gardin, them ſhe ſpyde,
Yet no'te ſhe find redreſſe for ſuch deſpight.
For all that liues, is ſubiect to that law:
All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.
But were it not, that Time their troubler is,
All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,
Should happie be, and haue immortall blis:
For here all plentie, and all pleaſure flowes,
And ſweet loue gentle fits emongſt them throwes,
Without fell rancor, or fond gealoſie;
Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,
Each bird his mate, ne any does enuie
Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.
There is continuall ſpring, and harueſt there
Continuall, both meeting at one time:
For both the boughes doe laughing bloſſomes beare,
And with freſh colours decke the wanton Prime,
And eke attonce the heauy trees they clime,
Which ſeeme to labour vnder their fruits lode:
The whiles the ioyous birdes make their paſtime
Emongſt the ſhadie leaues, their ſweet abode,
And their true loues without ſuſpition tell abrode.
Right in the middeſt of that Paradiſe,
There ſtood a ſtately Mount, on whoſe round top
A gloomy groue of mirtle trees did riſe,
Whoſe ſhadie boughes ſharpe ſteele did neuer lop,
Nor wicked beaſts their tender buds did crop,
But like a girlond compaſſed the hight,
And from their fruitfull ſides ſweet gum did drop,
That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,
Threw forth moſt dainty odours, & moſt ſweet delight.
And in the thickeſt couert of that ſhade,
There was a pleaſant arbour, not by art,
But of the trees owne inclination made,
Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,
With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart,
And Eglantine, and Caprifole emong,
Faſhiond aboue within their inmoſt part,
That nether Phoebus beams could through thē throng,
Nor Aeolus ſharp blaſt could worke them any wrong.
And all about grew euery ſort of flowre,
To which ſad louers were transformd of yore;
Freſh Hyacinthus, Phoebus paramoure,
Fooliſh Narciſſe, that likes the watry ſhore,
Sad Amaranthus, made a ſlowre but late,
Sad Amaranthus, in whoſe purple gore
Me ſeemes I ſee Amintas wretched fate,
To whom ſweet Poets verſe hath giuen endleſſe date.
There wont faire Venus often to enjoy
Her deare Adonis ioyous company,
And reape ſweet pleaſure of the wanton boy;
There yet, ſome ſay, in ſecret he does ly,
Lapped in flowres and pretious ſpycery,
By her hid from the world, and from the skill
Of Stygian Gods, which doe her loue enuy;
But ſhe her ſelfe, when euer that ſhe will,
Poſſeſſeth him, and of his ſweetneſſe takes her fill.
And ſooth it ſeemes they ſay: for he may not
For euer die, and euer buried bee
In balefull night, where all things are forgot;
All be he ſubiect to mortalitie,
Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,
And by ſucceſſion made perpetuall,
Transformed oft, and chaunged diuerſlie:
For him the Father of all formes they call;
Therefore needs mote he liue, that liuing giues to all.
There now he liueth in eternall blis,
Ioying his goddeſſe, and of her enioyd:
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,
Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:
For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,
She firmely hath empriſoned for ay,
That her ſweet loue his malice mote auoyd,
In a ſtrong rocky Caue, which is they ſay,
Hewen vnderneath that Mount, that none him loſen may.
There now he liues in euerlaſting ioy,
With many of the Gods in company,
Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy
Sporting himſelfe in ſafe felicity:
Who when he hath with ſpoiles and cruelty
Ranſackt the world, and in the wofull harts
Of many wretches ſet his triumphes hye,
Thither reſorts, and laying his ſad darts
Aſide, with faire Adonis playes his wanton parts.
And his true loue faire Pſyche with him playes,
Faire Pſyche to him lately reconcyld,
After long troubles and vnmeet vpbrayes,
With which his mother Venus her reuyld,
And eke himſelfe her cruelly exyld:
But now in ſtedfaſt loue and happy ſtate
She with him liues, and hath him borne a chyld,
Pleaſure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,
Pleaſure, the daughter of Cupid and Pſyche late.
Hither great Venus brought this infant faire,
The younger daughter of Chryſogonee,
And vnto Pſyche with great truſt and care
Committed her, yfoſtered to bee,
And trained vp in true feminitee.
Who no leſſe carefully her tendered,
Then her owne daughter Pleaſure, to whom ſhee
Made her companion, and her leſſoned
In all the lore of loue, and goodly womanhead.
In which when ſhe to perfect ripeneſſe grew,
Of grace and beautie noble Paragone,
She brought her forth into the worldes vew,
To be th'enſample of true loue alone,
And Lodeſtarre of all chaſte affectione,
To all faire Ladies, that doe liue on ground.
To Faery court ſhe came, where many one
Admyrd her goodly haueour, and found
His feeble hart wide launched with loues cruell wound.
But ſhe to none of them her loue did caſt,
Saue to the noble knight Sir Scudamore,
To whom her louing hart ſhe linked faſt
In fathfull loue, t'abide for euermore,
And for his deareſt ſake endured ſore,
Sore trouble of an hainous enimy;
Who her would forced haue to haue forlore
Her former loue, and ſtedfaſt loialty,
As ye may elſewhere read that ruefull hiſtory.
But well I weene, ye firſt deſire to learne,
What end vnto that fearefull Damozell,
Which fled ſo faſt from that ſame foſter ſtearne,
Whom with his brethren Timias ſlew, befell:
That was to weet, the goodly Florimell;
Who wandring for to ſeeke her louer deare,
Her louer deare, her deareſt Marinell,
Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,
And from Prince Arthur fled with wings of idle feare.
Cant. VII.
The witches ſonne loues Florimell:
ſhe flyes, he faines to die.
Satyrane ſaues the Squire of Dames
from Gyants tyrannie.
LIke as an Hynd forth ſingled from the heard,
That hath eſcaped from a rauenous beaſt,
Yet flyes away of her owne feet affeard,
And euery leafe, that ſhaketh with the leaſt
Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreaſt;
So fled faire Florimell from her vaine feare,
Long after ſhe from perill was releaſt:
Each ſhade ſhe ſaw, and each noyſe ſhe did heare,
Did ſeeme to be the ſame, which ſhe eſcapt whyleare.
All that ſame euening ſhe in flying ſpent,
And all that night her courſe continewed:
Ne did ſhe let dull ſleepe once to relent,
Nor wearineſſe to ſlacke her haſt, but fled
Euer alike, as if her former dred
Were hard behind, her readie to arreſt:
And her white Palfrey hauing conquered
The maiſtring raines out of her weary wreſt,
Perforce her carried, where euer he thought beſt.
So long as breath, and hable puiſſance
Did natiue courage vnto him ſupply,
His pace he freſhly forward did aduaunce,
And carried her beyond all ieopardy,
But nought that wanteth reſt, can long aby.
He hauing through inceſſant trauell ſpent
His force, at laſt perforce a downe did ly,
Ne foot could further moue: The Lady gent
Thereat was ſuddein ſtrooke with great aſtoniſhment.
And forſt t'alight, on foot mote algates fare,
A traueller vnwonted to ſuch way:
Need teacheth her this leſſon hard and rare,
That fortune all in equall launce doth ſway,
And mortall miſeries doth make her play.
So long ſhe trauelled, till at length ſhe came
To an hilles ſide, which did to her bewray
A little valley, ſubiect to the ſame,
All couerd with thick woods, that quite it ouercame.
Through the tops of the high trees ſhe did deſcry
A litle ſmoke, whoſe vapour thin and light,
Reeking aloft, vprolled to the sky:
Which, chearefull ſigne did ſend vnto her ſight,
That in the ſame did wonne ſome liuing wight.
Eſtſoones her ſteps ſhe thereunto applyde,
And came at laſt in weary wretched plight
Vnto the place, to which her hope did guyde,
To find ſome refuge there, and reſt her weary ſyde.
There in a gloomy hollow glen ſhe found
A little cottage, built of ſtickes and reedes
In homely wize, and wald with ſods around,
In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes,
And wilfull want, all careleſſe of her needes;
So chooſing ſolitarie to abide,
Far from all neighbours, that her deuiliſh deedes
And helliſh arts from people ſhe might hide,
And hurt far off vnknowne, whom euer ſhe enuide.
The Damzell there arriuing entred in;
Where ſitting on the flore the Hag ſhe found,
Buſie (as ſeem'd) about ſome wicked gin:
Who ſoone as ſhe beheld that ſudde in ſtound,
Lightly vpſtarted from the duſtie 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 her ſence did daze.
At laſt turning her feare to fooliſh wrath,
She askt, what deuill had her thither brought,
And who ſhe was, and what vnwonted path
Had guided her, vnwelcomed, vnſought?
To which the Damzell full of doubtfull thought,
Her mildly anſwer'd; Beldame be not wroth
With ſilly Virgin by aduenture brought
Vnto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,
That craue but rowme to reſt, while tempeſt ouerblo'th.
With that adowne out of her Chriſtall eyne
Few trickling teares ſhe ſoftly forth let fall,
That like two Orient pearles, did purely ſhyne
Vpon her ſnowy cheeke; and therewithall
She ſighed ſoft, that none ſo beſtiall,
Nor ſaluage 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 moued at ſo pitteous ſight.
And gan recomfort her in her rude wyſe,
With womaniſh compaſſion of her plaint,
Wiping the teares from her ſuffuſed eyes,
And bidding her ſit downe, to reſt her faint
And wearie limbs a while. She nothing quaint
Nor s'deignfull of ſo homely faſhion,
Sith brought ſhe was now to ſo hard conſtraint,
Sate downe vpon the duſty ground anon,
As glad of that ſmall reſt, as Bird of tempeſt gon.
Tho gan ſhe gather vp 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 heauenly 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 diuine as beauty, were but right.
This wicked woman had a wicked ſonne,
The comfort of her age and weary dayes,
A laeſie loord, for nothing good to donne,
But ſtretched forth in idleneſſe alwayes,
Ne euer caſt his mind to couet prayſe,
Or ply him ſelfe to any honeſt trade,
But all the day before the ſunny rayes
He vs'd to ſlug, or ſleepe in ſlothfull ſhade:
Such laeſineſſe both lewd and poore attonce him made.
He comming home at vndertime, there found
The faireſt creature, that he euer 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, that as one, which had gazed
On the bright Sunne vnwares, doth ſoone withdraw
His feeble eyne, with too much brightneſſe dazed;
So ſtared he on her, and ſtood long while amazed.
Softly at laſt he gan his mother aske,
What miſter wight that was, and whence deriued,
That in ſo ſtraunge diſguizement there did maske,
And by what accident ſhe there arriued:
But ſhe, as one nigh of her wits depriued,
With nought but ghaſtly lookes him anſwered,
Like to a ghoſt, that lately is reuiued
From Stygian ſhores, where late it wandered;
So both at her, and each at other wondered.
But the faire Virgin was ſo meeke and mild,
That ſhe to them vouchſafed to embace
Her goodly port, and to their ſenſes vild,
Her gentle ſpeach applide, that in ſhort ſpace
She grew familiare in that deſert place.
During which time, the Chorle through her ſo kind
And curteiſe vſe conceiu'd affection bace,
And caſt to loue her in his brutiſh mind,
No loue, but brutiſh luſt, that was ſo beaſtly tind.
Cloſely the wicked flame his bowels brent,
And ſhortly grew into outrageous fire;
Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment,
As vnto her to vtter his deſire;
His caytiue thought durſt not ſo high aſpire,
But with ſoft ſighes, and louely ſemblaunces,
He ween'd that his affection entire
She ſhould aread; many reſemblaunces
To her he made, and many kind remembraunces.
Oft from the forreſt wildings he did bring,
Whoſe ſides empurpled were with ſmiling red,
And oft young birds, which he had taught to ſing
His miſtreſſe prayſes, ſweetly caroled,
Girlonds of flowres ſometimes for her faire hed
He fine would dight; ſometimes the ſquirell wild
He brought to her in bands, as conquered
To be her thrall, his fellow ſeruant vild;
All which, ſhe of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild.
But paſt awhile, when ſhe fit ſeaſon ſaw
To leaue that deſert manſion, ſhe caſt
In ſecret wize her ſelfe thence to withdraw,
For feare of miſchiefe, which ſhe did forecaſt
Might be the witch or that her ſonne compaſt:
Her wearie Palfrey cloſely, as ſhe might,
Now well recouered after long repaſt,
In his proud furnitures ſhe freſhly dight,
His late miſwandred wayes now to remeaſure right.
And earely ere the dawning day appeard,
She forth iſſewed, and on her iourney went;
She went in perill, of each noyſe affeard,
And of each ſhade, that did it ſelfe preſent,
For ſtill ſhe feared to be ouerhent,
Of that vile hag, or her vnciuile ſonne:
Who when too late awaking, well they kent,
That their faire gueſt was gone, they both begonne
To make exceeding mone, as they had bene vndonne.
But that lewd louer did the moſt lament
For her depart, that euer 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 feare,
Leaſt his fraile ſenſes were emperiſht quight,
And loue to frenzy turnd, ſith loue is franticke hight.
All wayes ſhe ſought, him to reſtore to plight,
With herbs, with charms, with coūſell, & with teares,
But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counſell might
Aſſwage the fury, which his entrails teares:
So ſtrong is paſſion, that no reaſon heares.
Tho when all other helpes ſhe ſaw to faile,
She turnd her ſelfe backe to her wicked leares
And by her deuiliſh arts thought to preuaile,
To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale.
Eftſoones out of her hidden caue ſhe cald
An hideous beaſt, of horrible aſpect,
That could the ſtouteſt courage haue appald;
Monſtrous miſhapt, and all his backe was ſpect
With thouſand ſpots of colours queint elect,
Thereto ſo ſwift, that it all beaſts did pas:
Like neuer yet did liuing eye detect;
But likeſt it to an Hyena was,
That feeds on womens fleſh, as others feede on gras.
It forth ſhe cald, and gaue it ſtreight in charge,
Through thicke and thin her to purſew apace,
Ne once to ſtay to reſt, or breath at large,
Till her he had attaind, and brought in place,
Or quite deuourd her beauties ſcornefull grace.
The Monſter ſwift as word, that from her went,
Went forth in haſt, and did her footing trace
So ſure and ſwiftly, through his perfect ſent,
And paſſing ſpeede, that ſhortly he her ouerhent.
Whom when the fearefull Damzell nigh eſpide,
No need to bid her faſt away to flie;
That vgly ſhape ſo ſore her terrifide,
That it ſhe ſhund no leſſe, then dread to die,
And her flit Palfrey did ſo well apply
His nimble feet to her conceiued feare,
That whileſt his breath did ſtrength to him ſupply,
From perill free he her away did beare:
But when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare.
Which whenas ſhe perceiu'd, ſhe was diſmayd
At that ſame laſt extremitie full ſore,
And of her ſafetie greatly grew afrayd;
And now ſhe gan approch to the ſea ſhore,
As it befell, that ſhe could flie no more,
But yield her ſelfe 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 ſickerneſſe.
Not halfe ſo faſt the wicked Myrrha fled
From dread of her reuenging fathers hond:
Nor halfe ſo faſt to ſaue her maidenhed,
Fled fearefull Daphne on th'AEgaean ſtrond,
As Florimell fled from that Monſter yond,
To reach the ſea, ere ſhe of him were raught:
For in the ſea to drowne her ſelfe ſhe fond,
Rather then of the tyrant to be caught:
Thereto feare gaue her wings, and neede her courage taught.
It fortuned (high God did ſo ordaine)
As ſhe arriued on the roring ſhore,
In minde to leape into the mighty maine,
A little boate lay houing her before,
In which there ſlept a fiſher old and pore,
The whiles his nets were drying on the ſand:
Into the ſame ſhe leapt, and with the ore
Did thruſt the ſhallop from the floting ſtrand:
So ſafetie found at ſea, which ſhe found not at land.
The Monſter ready on the pray to ſeaſe,
Was of his forward hope deceiued quight;
Ne durſt aſſay to wade the perlous ſeas,
But greedily long gaping at the ſight,
At laſt in vaine was forſt to turne his flight,
And tell the idle tidings to his Dame:
Yet to auenge his deuiliſh deſpight,
He ſet vpon her Palfrey tired lame,
And ſlew him cruelly, ere any reskew came.
And after hauing him embowelled,
To fill his belliſh gorge, it chaunſt a knight
To paſſe that way, as forth he trauelled;
It was a goodly Swaine, and of great might,
As euer man that bloudy field did fight;
But in vaine ſheows, that wont yong knights bewitch,
And courtly ſeruices tooke no delight,
But rather ioyd to be, then ſeemen fich:
For both to be and ſeeme to him was labour lich.
It was to weete the good Sir Satyrane,
That raungd abroad to ſeeke aduentures wilde,
As was his wont in forreſt, and in plaine;
He was all armd in rugged ſteele vnfilde,
As in the ſmoky forge it was compilde,
And in his Scutchin bore a Satyres hed:
He comming preſent, where the Monſter vilde
Vpon that milke-white Palfreyes carkas fed,
Vnto his reskew ran, and greedily him ſped.
There well perceiu'd he, that it was the horſe,
Whereon 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 Mayd, the flowre of womens pride;
For her he dearely loued, and in all
His famous conqueſts highly magnifide:
Beſides her golden girdle, which did fall
From her in flight, he found, that did him ſore apall.
Full of ſad feare, and doubtfull agony,
Fiercely he flew vpon that wicked feend,
And with huge ſtrokes, and cruell battery
Him forſt to leaue his pray, for to attend
Him ſelfe from deadly daunger to defend:
Full many wounds in his corrupted fleſh
He did engraue, and muchell bloud did ſpend,
Yet might not do him dye, but aye more freſh
And fierce he ſtill appeard, the more he did him threſh,
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 him ſelfe weaker through infirmity;
Greatly he grew enrag'd, and furiouſly
Hurling his ſword away, he lightly lept
Vpon the beaſt, that with great cruelty
Rored, and raged to be vnder-kept:
Yet he perforce him held, and ſtrokes vpon him hept.
As he that ſtriues to ſtop a ſuddein flood,
And in ſtrong banckes his violence encloſe,
Forceth it ſwell aboue his wonted mood,
And largely ouerflow the fruitfull plaine,
That all the countrey ſeemes to be a Maine,
And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonne:
The wofull husbandman doth lowd complaine,
To ſee his whole yeares labour loſt ſo ſoone,
For which to God he made ſo many an idle boone,
So him he held, and did through might amate:
So long he held him, and him bet ſo long,
That at the laſt his fierceneſſe gan abate,
And meekely ſtoup vnto the victour ſtrong:
Who to auenge the implacable wrong,
Which he ſuppoſed donne to Florimell,
Sought by all meanes his dolour 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 her ſclender waſt, he tooke in hand,
And with it bound the beaſt, that lowd did rore
For great deſpight of that vnwonted band,
Yet dared not his victour to withſtand,
But trembled like a lambe, fled from the pray,
And all the way him followd on the ſtrand,
As he had long bene learned to obay;
Yet neuer learned he ſuch ſeruice, till that day.
Thus as he led the Beaſt along the way,
He ſpide far off a mighty Giaunteſle,
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 bounden hand and foote with cords of wire,
Whom ſhe did meane to make the thrall of her deſire.
Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in haſt
He left his captiue Beaſt at liberty,
And croſt the neareſt way, by which he caſt
Her to encounter, ere ſhe paſſed by:
But ſhe the way ſhund nathemore for thy,
But forward gallopt faſt; which when he ſpyde,
His mighty ſpeare he couched warily,
And at her ran: ſhe hauing him deſcryde,
Her ſelfe to fight addreſt, and threw her lode aſide.
Like as a Goſhauke, that in foote doth beare
A trembling Culuer, hauing ſpide on hight
An Egle, that with plumy wings doth ſheare
The ſubtile ayre, ſtouping with all his might,
The quarrey throwes to ground with fell deſpight,
And to the battell doth her ſelfe prepare:
So ran the Geaunteſſe vnto the fight;
Her firie eyes with furious ſparkes did ſtare,
And with blaſphemous bannes high God in peeces tare.
She caught in hand an huge great yron mace,
Wherewith ſhe many had of life depriued;
But ere the ſtroke could ſeize his aymed place,
His ſpeare amids her ſun-broad ſhield arriued;
Yet nathemore the ſteele a ſunder riued,
All were the beame in bigneſſe like a maſt,
Ne her out of the ſtedfaſt ſadle driued,
But glauncing on the tempred mettall, braſt
In thouſand ſhiuers, and ſo forth beſide her paſt.
Her Steed did ſtagger with that puiſſaunt ſtrooke;
But ſhe no more was moued with that might,
Then it had lighted on an aged Oke;
Or on the marble Pillour, that is pight
Vpon the top of Mount Olympus hight,
For the braue youthly Champions to aſſay,
With burning charet wheeles it nigh to ſmite:
But who that ſmites it, mars his ioyous play,
And is the ſpectacle of ruinous decay.
Yet there with ſore enrag'd, with ſterne regard
Her dreadfull weapon ſhe to him addreſt,
Which 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 vnto him adioyned ſide to ſyde;
And on his collar laying puiſſant hand,
Out of his wauering ſeat him pluckt perforſe,
Perforſe him pluckt, vnable to withſtand,
Or helpe himſelfe, and laying thwart her horſe,
In loathly wiſe like to a carion 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 when as nigh approaching ſhe eſpyde,
She threw away her burden angrily;
For ſhe liſt not the battell to abide,
But made her ſelfe more light, away to fly:
Yet her the hardy knight purſewd ſo nye,
That almoſt in the backe he oft her ſtrake:
But ſtill when him at hand ſhe did eſpy,
She turnd, and ſemblaunce of faire fight did make;
But when he ſtayd, to flight againe ſhe did her take.
By this 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 cheuiſaunce:
At length he ſpide, whereas that wofull Squire,
Whom he had reskewed from captiuaunce
Of his ſtrong foe, lay tombled in the myre,
Vnable to ariſe, or foot or hand to ſtyre.
To whom approching, well he mote perceiue
In that foule plight a comely perſonage,
And louely face, made fit for to deceiue
Fraile Ladies hart with loues conſuming rage,
Now in the bloſſome of his freſheſt age:
He reard him vp, 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.
Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire beſpake,
That Geaunteſſe Argante is behight,
A daughter of the Titans which did make
Warre againſt heauen, and heaped hils on hight,
To ſcale the skyes, and put Ioue from his right:
Her ſire Typhaeus was, who mad through merth,
And drunke with bloud of men, ſlaine by his might,
Through inceſt, her of his owne mother Earth
Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth.
For at that berth another Babe ſhe bore,
To weet the mighty Ollyphant, that wrought
Great wreake to many errant knights of yore,
And many hath to foule confuſion brought.
Theſe twinnes, men ſay, (a thing far paſſing thought)
Whiles in their mothers wombe encloſd they were,
Ere they into the lightſome world were brought,
In fleſhly luſt were mingled both yfere,
And in that monſtrous wiſe did to the world appere.
So liu'd they euer after in like ſin,
Gainſt natures law, and good behauioure:
But greateſt ſhame was to that maiden twin,
Who not content ſo fowly to deuoure
Her natiue fleſh, and ſtraine her brothers bowre,
Did wallow in all other fleſhly myre,
And ſuffred beaſts her body to deflowre:
So whot ſhe burned in that luſtfull fyre,
Yet all that might not ſlake her ſenſuall deſyre.
But ouer all the countrey ſhe did raunge,
To ſeeke young men, to quench her flaming thurſt,
And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge:
Whom ſo ſhe fitteſt finds to ſerue her luſt,
Through her maine ſtrength, in which ſhe moſt doth truſt,
She with her brings into a ſecret Ile,
Where in eternall bondage dye he muſt,
Or be the vaſſall of her pleaſures vile,
And in all ſhamefull ſort him ſelfe with her defile.
Me ſeely wretch ſhe ſo at vauntage caught,
After ſhe long in waite for me did lye,
And meant vnto her priſon to haue brought,
Her lothſome pleaſure there to ſatiſfye;
That thouſand deathes me leuer were to dye,
Then breake the vow, that to faire Columbell
I plighted haue, and yet keepe ſtedfaſtly:
As for my name, it miſtreth not to tell;
Call me the Squyre of Dames that me beſeemeth well.
But that bold knight, whom ye purſuing ſaw
That Geaunteſſe, is not ſuch, as ſhe ſeemed,
But a faire virgin, that in martiall law,
And deedes of armes aboue all Dames is deemed,
And aboue many knights is eke eſteemed,
For her great worth; She Palladine is hight:
She you from death, you me from dread redeemed.
Ne any may that Monſter match in fight,
But ſhe, or ſuch as ſhe, that is ſo chaſte a wight.
Her well beſeemes that Queſt (quoth Satyrane)
But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what vow is this,
Which thou vpon thy ſelfe haſt lately ta'ne?
That ſhall I you recount (quoth he) ywis,
So be ye pleaſd to pardon all amis.
That gentle Lady, whom I loue and ſerue,
After long ſuit and weary ſeruicis,
Did aske me, how I could her loue deſerue,
And how ſhe might be ſure, that I would neuer ſwerue.
I glad by any meanes her grace to gaine,
Bad her commaund my life to ſaue, or ſpill.
Eftſoones ſhe bad me, with inceſſaunt paine
To wander through the world abroad at will,
And euery where, where with my power or skill
I might do ſeruice vnto gentle Dames,
That I the ſame ſhould faithfully fulfill,
And at the twelue monethes end ſhould bring their names
And pledges; as the ſpoiles of my victorious games.
So well I to faire Ladies ſeruice did,
And found ſuch fauour in their louing hartes,
That ere the yeare his courſe had compaſſid,
Three hundred pledges for my good deſartes,
And thirſe 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 deuiſe a grieuous puniſhment.
To weet, that I my trauell ſhould reſume,
And with like labour walke the world around,
Ne euer to her preſence ſhould preſume,
Till I ſo many other Dames had found,
The which, for all the ſuit I could propound,
Would me refuſe their pledges to afford,
But did abide for euer chaſt and ſound.
Ah gentle Squire (quoth he) tell at one word,
How many foundſt thou ſuch to put in thy record?
In deed Sir knight (ſaid he) one word may tell
All, that I euer found ſo wiſely ſtayd;
For onely three they were diſpoſd ſo well,
And yet three yeares I now abroad haue ſtrayd,
To find them out. Mote I (then laughing ſayd
The knight) inquire of thee, what were thoſe three,
The which thy proffred curteſie denayd?
Or ill they ſeemed ſure auizd to bee,
Or brutiſhly brought vp, that neu'r did faſhions ſee.
The firſt which then refuſed me (ſaid hee)
Certes was but a common Courtiſane,
Yet flat refuſd to haue a do with mee,
Becauſe I could not giue her many a Iane.
(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 ſaid, I would diſcloſe
Her counſell, if ſhe ſhould her truſt in me repoſe.
The third a Damzell was of low degree,
Whom I in countrey cottage found by chaunce;
Full little weened I, that chaſtitee
Had lodging in ſo meane a maintenaunce,
Yet was ſhe faire, and in her countenance
Dwelt ſimple truth in ſeemely faſhion.
Long thus I woo'd her with dew obſeruance,
In hope vnto my pleaſure to haue won;
But was as farre at laſt, as when I firſt begon.
Safe her, I neuer any woman found,
That chaſtity did for it ſelfe 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 euer to attaine
My Ladies loue, in ſuch a deſperate caſe,
But all my dayes am like to waſt in vaine,
Seeking to match the chaſte with th'vnchaſte Ladies traine.
Perdy, (ſaid Satyrane) thou Squire 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 ouercame,
He found him not; for he had broke his band,
And was return'd againe vnto his Dame,
To tell what tydings of faire Florimell became.
Cant. VIII.
The Witch creates a ſnowy Lady,
like to Florimell,
Who wrongd by Carle by Proteus ſau'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 vpon,
Should plonged be in ſuch affliction,
Without all hope of comfort or reliefe,
That ſure I weene, the hardeſt hart of ſtone,
Would hardly find to aggrauate her griefe;
For miſery craues rather mercie, then repriefe.
But that accurſed Hag, her hoſteſſe late,
Had ſo enranckled her malitious hart,
That ſhe deſyrd th'abridgement of her fate,
Or long enlargement of her painefull ſmart.
Now when the Beaſt, which by her wicked art
Late forth ſhe ſent, ſhe backe returning ſpyde,
Tyde with her broken girdle, it a part
Of her rich ſpoyles, whom he had earſt deſtroyd,
She weend, and wondrous gladneſſe to her hart applyde.
And with it running haſt'ly to her ſonne,
Thought with that ſight him much to haue reliued;
Who thereby deeming ſure the thing as donne,
His former griefe with furie freſh reuiued,
Much more then earſt, and would haue algates riued
The hart out of his breſt: for ſith her ded
He ſurely dempt, himſelfe he thought depriued
Quite of all hope, where with he long had fed
His fooliſh maladie, and long time had miſled.
With thought whereof, exceeding mad he grew,
And in his rage his mother would haue ſlaine,
Had ſhe not fled into a ſecret mew,
Where ſhe was wont her Sprights to entertaine
The maiſters of her art: there was ſhe faine
To call them all in order to her ayde,
And them coniure vpon eternall paine,
To counſell her ſo carefully diſmayd,
How ſhe might heale her ſonne, whoſe ſenſes were decayd.
By their aduiſe, and her owne wicked wit,
She there deuiz'd a wondrous worke to frame,
Whoſe like on earth was neuer framed yit,
That euen Nature ſelfe enuide the ſame,
And grudg'd to ſee the counterfet ſhould ſhame
The thing it ſelfe. In hand ſhe boldly tooke
To make another like the former Dame,
Another Florimell, in ſhape and looke
So liuely and ſo like, that many it miſtooke.
The ſubſtance, whereof ſhe the bodie made,
Was pureſt ſnow in maſſie mould congeald,
Which ſhe had gathered in a ſhadie glade
Of the Riphoean hils, to her reueald
By errant Sprights, but from all men conceald:
The ſame ſhe tempred with fine Mercury,
And virgin wex, that neuer yet was ſeald,
And mingled them with perfect vermily,
That like a liuely ſanguine it ſeem'd to the eye.
In ſtead of eyes two burning lampes ſhe ſet
In ſiluer ſockets, ſhyning like the skyes,
And a quicke mouing Spirit did arret
To ſtirre and roll them, like a womans eyes;
In ſtead of yellow lockes ſhe did deuiſe,
With golden wyre to weaue her curled head;
Yet golden wyre was not ſo yellow thriſe
As Florimells faire haire: and in the ſtead
Of life, ſhe put a Spright to rule the carkaſſe dead.
A wicked Sprightyfraught with fawning guile,
And faire reſemblance aboue all the reſt,
Which with the Prince of Darkneſſe fell lomewhile,
From heauens bliſſe and euerlaſting reſt;
Him needed not inſtruct, which way were beſt
Himſelfe to faſhion likeſt Florimell,
Ne how to ſpeake, ne how to vſe his geſt,
For he in counterfeiſance 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 who ſo then her ſaw, would ſurely ſay,
It was her ſelfe, whom it did imitate,
Or fairer then her ſelfe, if ought algate
Might fairer be. And then ſhe forth her brought
Vnto her ſonne, that lay in feeble ſtate;
Who ſeeing her gan ſtreight vpſtart, and thought
She was the Lady ſelfe, who he ſo long had ſought.
Tho faſt her clipping twixt his armes twaine,
Extremely ioyed in ſo happie ſight,
And ſoone forgot his former ſickly paine;
But ſhe, the more to ſeeme ſuch as ſhe hight,
Coyly rebutted his embracement light;
Yet ſtill with gentle countenant retained,
Enough to hold a foole in vaine delight:
Him long ſhe ſo with ſhadowes entertained,
As her Creatreſſe had in charge to her ordained.
Till on a day, as he diſpoſed was
To walke the woods with that his Idole faire,
Her to diſport, and idle time to pas,
In th'open freſhneſſe of the gentle aire,
A knight that way there chaunced to repaire;
Yet knight was not, but a boaſtfull ſwaine,
That deedes of armes had euer in deſpaire,
Proud Braggadocchio, that in vaunting vaine
His glory did repoſe, and credit did maintaine.
He ſeeing with that Chorle ſo faire a wight,
Decked with many a coſtly ornament,
Much merueiled thereat, as well he might,
And thought that match a fowled diſparagement:
His bloudie ſpeare eftſoones he boldly bent
Againſt the ſilly clowne, who dead through feare,
Fell ſtreight to ground in great aſtoniſhment;
Villein (ſaid he) this Ladie 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 Braggadocchio deemed,
And next to none, after that happie day,
Being poſſeſſed of that ſpoyle, which ſeemed
The faireſt wight on ground, and moſt of men eſteemed.
But when he ſaw himſelfe free from pourſute,
He gan make gentle purpoſe to his Dame,
With termes of loue and lewdneſſe diſſolute;
For he could well his glozing ſpeaches frame
To ſuch vaine vſes, that him beſt became:
But ſhe thereto would lend but light regard,
As ſeeming ſory, that ſhe euer came
Into his powre, that vſed her ſo hard,
To reaue her honor, which ſhe more then life prefard.
Thus as they two of kindneſſe treated long,
There them by chaunce encountred on the way
An armed knight, vpon a courſer ſtrong,
Whoſe trampling feet vpon the hollow lay
Seemed to thunder, and did nigh affray
That Capons courage: yet he looked grim,
And fain'd to cheare his Ladie in diſmay;
Who ſeem'd for feare to quake in euery lim,
And her to ſaue from outrage, meekely prayed him.
Fiercely that ſtranger forward came, and nigh
Approching, with bold words and bitter threat,
Bad that ſame boaſter, as he mote, on high
To leaue to him that Lady for excheat,
Or bide him battell 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 ſeem'd to eſteeme.
Saying, Thou fooliſh knight, that weenſt with words
To ſteale away, that I with blowes haue wonne,
And brought throgh points of many perilous ſwords:
But if thee liſt to ſee thy Courſer ronne,
Or proue thy ſelfe, this ſad encounter ſhonne,
And ſeeke elſe without hazard of thy hed.
At thoſe proud words that other knight begonne
To wexe exceeding wroth, and him ared
To turne his ſteede about, or ſure he ſhould be ded.
Sith then (ſaid Braggadocchio) needes thou wilt,
Thy dayes abridge, through proofe of puiſſance,
Turne we our ſteedes, that both in equall tilt
May meet againe, and each take happie chance.
This ſaid, they both a furlongs mountenance
Retyrd their ſteeds, to ronne in euen race:
But Braggadocchio with his bloudie lance
Once hauing turnd, no more returnd his face,
But left his loue to loſſe, and fled himſelfe apace.
The knight him ſeeing fly, had no regard
Him to pourſew, but to the Ladie rode,
And hauing her from Trompart lightly reard,
Vpon his Courſer ſet the louely lode,
And with her fled away without abode.
Well weened he, that faireſt Florimell
It was, with whom in company he yode,
And ſo her ſelfe did alwaies to him tell;
So made him thinke him ſelfe in heauen, that was in hell.
But Florimell her ſelfe was farre away,
Driuen 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:
Yet there that cruell Queene auengereſſe,
Not ſatisfide ſo farre her to eſtraunge
From courtly bliſſe and wonted happineſſe,
Did heape on her new waues of weary wretchedneſſe.
For being fled into the fiſhers bote,
For refuge from the Monſters crueltie,
Long ſo ſhe on the mightie maine did flote,
And with the tide droue forward careleſlie;
For th'aire was milde, and cleared was the skie,
And all his windes Dan Aeolus did keepe,
From ſtirring vp their ſtormy enmitie,
As pittying to ſee her waile and weepe;
But all the while the fiſher did ſecurely ſleepe.
At laſt when droncke with drowſineſſe, he woke,
And ſaw his drouer driue along the ſtreame,
He was diſmayd, and thriſe his breaſt he ſtroke,
For maruell of that accident extreame;
But when he ſaw, that blazing beauties beame,
Which with rare light his bote did beautifie,
He marueild more, and thought he yet did dreame
Not well awakt, or that ſome extaſie
Aſſotted had his ſenſe, or dazed was his eie.
But when her well auizing, he perceiued
To be no viſion, nor fantaſticke ſight,
Great comfort of her preſence he conceiued,
And felt in his old courage new delight
To gin awake, and ſtirre his frozen ſpright:
Tho rudely askt her, how ſhe thither came.
Ah (ſaid ſhe) father, I note read aright,
What hard misfortune brought me to the ſame;
Yet am I glad that here I now in ſafety am.
But thou good man, ſith farre in ſea we bee,
And the great waters gin apace to ſwell,
That now no more we can the maine-land ſee,
Haue care, I pray, to guide the cock-bote well,
Leaſt worſe on ſea then vs on land befell.
Thereat th'old man did nought but fondly grin,
And ſaid, his boat the way could wiſely tell:
But his deceiptfull eyes did neuer lin,
To looke on her faire face, and marke her ſnowy skin.
The ſight whereof in his congealed fleſh,
Infixt ſuch ſecret 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 haue thruſt,
But ſhe with angry ſcorne him did withſtond,
And ſhamefully reproued for his rudeneſſe fond.
But he, that neuer 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 vnto his will,
Forcing to doe, that did him fowle miſſeeme:
Beaſtly he threw her downe, ne car'd to ſpill
Her garments gay with ſcales of fiſh, that all did fill.
The ſilly virgin ſtroue him to withſtand,
All that ſhe might, and him in vaine reuild:
She ſtruggled ſtrongly both with foot and hand,
To ſaue her honor from that villaine vild,
And cride to heauen, from humane helpe exild.
O ye braue knights, that boaſt this Ladies loue,
Where be ye now, when ſhe is nigh defild
Of filthy wretch? well may ſhee you reproue
Of falſhood or of ſlouth, when moſt it may behoue.
But if that thou, Sir Satyran, didſt weete,
Or thou, Sir Peridure, her ſorie ſtate,
How ſoone would yee aſſemble many a fleete,
To fetch from ſea, that ye at land loſt late;
Towres, Cities, Kingdomes ye would ruinate,
In your auengement and diſpiteous rage,
Ne ought your burning fury mote abate;
But if Sir Calidore could it preſage,
No liuing creature could his cruelty aſſwage.
But ſith that none of all her knights is nye,
See how the heauens of voluntary grace,
And ſoueraine fauour towards chaſtity,
Doe ſuccour ſend to her diſtreſſed cace:
So much high God doth innocence embrace.
It fortuned, whileſt thus ſhe ſtifly ſtroue,
And the wide ſea importuned long ſpace
With ſhrilling ſhriekes, Proteus abrode did roue,
Along the fomy waues driuing his finny droue.
Proteus is Shepheard of the ſeas of yore,
And hath the charge of Neptunes mightie heard;
An aged ſire with head all frowy hore,
And ſprinckled froſt vpon his deawy beard:
Who when thoſe pittifull outcries he heard,
Through all the ſeas ſo ruefully reſound,
His charet ſwift in haſte he thither ſteard,
Which with a teeme of ſcaly Phocas bound
Was drawne vpon the waues, that fomed him around.
And comming to that Fiſhers wandring bote,
That went at will, withouten carde or ſayle,
He therein ſaw that yrkeſome ſight, which ſmote
Deepe indignation and compaſſion frayle
Into his hart attonce: ſtreight did he hayle
The greedy villein from his hoped pray,
Of which he now did very litle fayle,
And with his ſtaffe, that driues his Heard aſtray,
Him bet ſo ſore, that life and ſenſe did much diſmay.
The whiles the pitteous Ladie vp did ryſe,
Ruffled and fowly raid with filthy ſoyle,
And blubbred face with teares of her faire eyes:
Her heart nigh broken was with weary toyle,
To ſaue her ſelfe from that outrageous ſpoyle,
But when ſhe looked vp, 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 loudly ſhright.
Her ſelfe not ſaued yet from daunger dred
She thought, but chaung'd from one to other feare;
Like as a fearefull Partridge, that is ſled
From the ſharpe Hauke, which her attached neare,
And fals to ground, to ſeeke for ſuccour theare,
Whereas the hungry Spaniels ſhe does ſpy,
With greedy iawes her readie for to teare;
In ſuch diſtreſſe and ſad perplexity
Was Florimell, when Proteus ſhe did ſee thereby.
But he endeuoured with ſpeeches milde
Her to recomfort, and accourage bold,
Bidding her feare no more her foeman vilde,
Nor doubt himſelfe; and who he was, her told.
Yet all that could not from affright her hold,
Ne to recomfort her at all preuayld;
For her faint heart was with the frozen cold
Benumbd ſo inly, that her wits nigh fayld,
And all her ſenſes with abaſhment quite were quayld.
Her vp betwixt his rugged hands he reard,
And with his frory lips full ſoftly kiſt,
Whiles the cold yſickles from his rough beard,
Dropped adowne vpon her yuorie breſt:
Yet he himſelfe ſo buſily addreſt,
That her out of aſtoniſhment he wrought,
And out of that ſame fiſhers filthy neſt
Remouing her, into his charet brought,
And there with many gentle termes her faire beſought.
But that old leachour, which with bold aſſault
That beautie durſt preſume to violate,
He caſt to puniſh for his hainous fault;
Then tooke he him yet trembling ſith of late,
And tyde behind his charet, to aggrate
The virgin, whom he had abuſde ſo ſore:
So drag'd him through the waues in ſcornefull ſtate,
And after caſt him vp, vpon the ſhore;
But Florimell with him vnto his bowre he bore.
His bowre is in the bottome of the maine,
Vnder a mightie rocke, gainſt which do raue
The roaring billowes in their proud diſdaine,
That with the angry working of the waue,
Therein is eaten out an hollow caue,
That ſeemes rough Maſons hand with engines keene
Had long while laboured it to engraue:
There was his wonne, ne liuing wight was ſeene,
Saue one old Nymph, hight Panope to keepe it cleane.
Thither he brought the ſory Florimell,
And entertained her the beſt he might
And Panope her entertaind eke well,
As an immortall mote a mortall wight,
To winne her liking vnto his delight:
With flattering words he ſweetly wooed her,
And offered faire gifts t'allure her ſight,
But ſhe both offers and the offerer
Deſpyſde, and all the fawning of the flatterer.
Daily he tempted her with this or that,
And neuer ſuffred her to be at reſt:
But euermore ſhe him refuſed flat,
And all his fained kindneſſe did deteſt.
So firmely ſhe had ſealed vp her breſt.
Sometimes he boaſted, that a God he hight:
But ſhe a mortall creature loued beſt:
Then he would make himſelfe a mortall wight;
But then ſhe ſaid ſhe lou'd none, but a Faerie knight.
Then like a Faerie knight himſelfe he dreſt;
For euery ſhape on him he could endew:
Then like a king he was to her expreſt,
And offred kingdomes vnto her in vew,
To be his Leman and his Ladie trew:
But when all this he nothing ſaw preuaile,
With harder meanes he caſt her to ſubdew,
And with ſharpe threates her often did aſſaile,
So thinking for to make her ſtubborne courage quaile.
To dreadfull ſhapes he did himſelfe transforme,
Now like a Gyant, now like to a feend,
Then like a Centaure, then like to a ſtorme,
Raging within the waues: thereby he weend
Her will to win vnto his wiſhed end.
But when with feare, nor fauour, nor with all
He elſe could doe, he ſaw himſelfe eſteemd,
Downe in a Dongeon deepe he let her fall,
And threatned there to make her his eternall thrall.
Eternall thraldome was to her more liefe,
Then loſſe of chaſtitie, or chaunge of loue:
Die had ſhe rather in tormenting griefe,
Then any ſhould of falſeneſſe her reproue,
Or looſeneſſe, that ſhe lightly did remoue.
Moſt vertuous virgin, glory be thy meed,
And crowne of heauenly praiſe with Saints aboue,
Where moſt ſweet hymmes of this thy famous deed
Are ſtill emongſt them ſong, that far my rymes exceed.
Fit ſong of Angels caroled to bee;
But yet what ſo my feeble Muſe can frame,
Shall be t'aduance thy goodly chaſtitee,
And to enroll thy memorable name,
In th'heart of euery honourable Dame,
That they thy vertuous deedes may imitate,
And be partakers of thy endleſſe fame.
It yrkes me, leaue thee in this wofull ſtate,
To tell of Satyrane, where I him left of late.
Who hauing ended with that Squire of Dames
A long diſcourſe of his aduentures vaine,
The which himſelfe, then Ladies more defames,
And finding not th'Hyena to be ſlaine,
With that ſame Squire, returned backe againe
To his firſt way. And as they forward went,
They ſpyde a knight faire pricking on the plaine,
As if he were on ſome aduenture bent,
And in his port appeared manly hardiment.
Sir Satyrane him towards did addreſſe,
To weet, what wight he was, and what his queſt:
And comming nigh, eftſoones he gan to geſſe
Both by the burning hart, which on his breſt
He bare, and by the colours in his creſt,
That Paridell it was. Tho to him yode,
And him ſaluting, as beſeemed beſt,
Gan firſt inquire of tydings farre abrode;
And afterwardes, on what aduenture now he rode.
Who thereto anſwering, ſaid; The tydings bad,
Which now in Faerie court all men do tell,
Which turned hath great mirth, to mourning ſad,
Is the late ruine of proud Marinell,
And ſuddein parture of faire Florimell,
To find him forth: and after her are gone
All the braue knights, that doen in armes excell,
To ſauegard her, ywandred all alone;
Emongſt the reſt my lot (vnworthy) is to be one.
Ah gentle knight (ſaid then Sir Satyrane)
Thy labour all is loſt, I greatly dread,
That haſt a thankleſſe ſeruice on thee ta'ne,
And offreſt ſacrifice vnto the dead:
For dead, I ſurely doubt, thou maiſt aread
Henceforth for euer Florimell to be,
That all the noble knights of Maydenhead,
Which her ador'd, may ſore repent with me,
And all faire Ladies may for euer ſory be.
Which words when Paridell had heard, his hew
Gan greatly chaunge, and ſeem'd diſmayd to bee;
Then ſaid, Faire Sir, how may I weene it trew,
That ye doe tell in ſuch vncertaintee?
Or ſpeake ye of report, or did ye ſee
Iuſt cauſe of dread, that makes ye doubt ſo ſore?
For perdie elſe how mote it euer bee,
That euer hand ſhould dare for to engore
Her noble bloud? the heauens ſuch crueltie abhore.
Theſe eyes did ſee, that they will euer rew
T'haue ſeene, (quoth he) when as a monſtrous beaſt
The Palfrey, whereon ſhe did trauell, ſlew,
And of his bowels made his bloudie feaſt:
Which ſpeaking token ſheweth at the leaſt
Her certaine loſſe, if not her ſure decay:
Beſides, that more ſuſpition encreaſt,
I found her golden girdle caſt aſtray,
Diſtaynd with durt and bloud, as relique of the pray.
Aye me, (ſaid Paridell) the ſignes be ſad,
And but God turne the ſame to good ſoothſay,
That Ladies ſafetie is ſore to be drad:
Yet will I not forſake my forward way,
Till triall doe more certaine truth bewray.
Faire Sir (quoth he) well may it you ſucceed,
Ne long ſhall Satyrane behind you ſtay,
But to the reſt, which in this Queſt proceed
My labour adde, and be partaker of their ſpeed.
Ye noble knights (ſaid then the Squire of Dames)
Well may ye ſpeed in ſo praiſeworthy paine:
But ſith the Sunne now ginnes to ſlake his beames,
In deawy vapours of the weſterne maine,
And loſe the teme out of his weary waine,
More not miſlike you alſo to abate
Your zealous haſt, till morrow next againe
Both light of heauen, 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,
•
here ſoone arriuing, they reſtrained were
Of readie entrance, which ought euermore
To errant knights be commun: wondrous ſore
Thereat diſpleaſd they were, till that young Squire
Gan them informe the cauſe, why that ſame dore
Was ſhut to all, which lodging did deſire:
The which to let you weet, will further time require.
Cant. IX.
Malbecco will no ſtraunge knights hoſt,
For pecuiſh gealoſie:
Paridell giuſts with Britomart:
Both ſhew their aunceſtrie.
REdoubted knights, and honorable Dames,
To whom I leuell all my labours end,
Right ſore I feare, leaſt with vnworthy blames
This odious argument my rimes ſhould ſhend,
Or ought your goodly patience offend,
Whiles of a wanton Lady I do write,
Which with her looſe incontinence doth blend
The ſhyning glory of your ſoueraigne light,
And knighthood fowle defaced by a faithleſſe knight.
But neuer let th'enſample of the bad
Offend the good: for good by paragone
Of euill, may more notably be rad,
As white ſeemes fairer, macht with blacke attone;
Ne all are ſhamed by the fault of one:
For lo in heauen, whereas all goodneſſe is,
Emongſt the Angels, a whole legione
Of wicked Sprights 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 Squire does tell.)
Therein a cancred 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 priuitie,
Yet has full large to liue, and ſpend at libertie.
But all his mind is ſet on mucky pelfe,
To hoord vp heapes of euill gotten maſſe,
For which he others wrongs, and wreckes himſelfe;
Yet is he lincked to a louely laſſe,
Whoſe beauty doth her bounty far ſurpaſſe,
The which to him both far vnequall yeares,
And alſo far vnlike conditions has;
For ſhe does ioy to play emongſt her peares,
And to be free from hard reſtraint and gealous feares.
But he is old, and withered like hay,
Vnfit faire Ladies ſeruice to ſupply;
The priuie guilt whereof makes him alway
Suſpect her truth, and keepe continuall ſpy
Vpon her with his other blincked eye;
Ne ſuffreth he reſort of liuing wight
Approch to her, ne keepe her company,
But in cloſe bowre her mewes from all mens ſight,
Depriu'd of kindly ioy and naturall delight.
Malbecco he, and Hellenore ſhe hight,
Vnfitly yokt together in one teeme,
That is the cauſe, why neuer any knight
It ſuffred here to enter, but he ſeeme
Such, as no doubt of him he neede miſdeeme.
Thereat Sir Satyrane gan ſmile, and ſay;
Extremely mad the man I ſurely deeme,
That weenes with watch and hard reſtraint to ſtay
A womans will, which is diſpoſd to go aſtray.
In vaine he feares that, which he cannot ſhonne:
For who wotes not, that womans ſubtiltyes
Can guilen Argus, when ſhe liſt miſdonne?
It is not yron bandes, nor hundred eyes,
Nor braſen walls, nor many wakefull ſpyes,
That can withhold her wilfull wandring feet;
But faſt good will with gentle curteſyes,
And timely ſeruice to her pleaſures meet
May her perhaps containe, that elſe would algates fleet.
Then is he not more mad (ſaid Paridell)
That hath himſelfe vnto ſuch ſeruice ſold,
In dolefull thraldome all his dayes to dwell?
For ſure a foole I do him firmely hold,
That loues his fetters, though they were of gold.
But why do we deuiſe of others ill,
Whiles thus we ſuffer this ſame dotard old,
To keepe vs out, in ſcorne of his owne will,
And rather do not ranſack all, and him ſelfe kill?
Nay let vs firſt (ſaid Satyrane entreat
The man by gentle meanes, to let vs in,
And afterwardes affray with cruell threat,
Ere that we to efforce it do begin:
Then if all fayle, we will by force it win,
And eke reward the wretch for his meſpriſe,
As may be worthy of his haynous ſin.
That counſell pleaſd: then Paridell did riſe,
And to the Caſtle gate approcht in quiet wiſe.
Whereat ſoft knocking, entrance he deſyrd.
The good man ſelfe, which then the Porter playd,
Him anſwered, that all were now retyrd
Vnto their reſt, and all the keyes conuayd
Vnto their maiſter, who in bed was layd,
That none him durſt awake out of his dreme;
And therefore them of patience gently prayd.
Then Paridell began to chaunge his theme,
And threatned him with force & puniſhment extreme.
But all in vaine; for nought mote him relent,
And now ſo long before the wicket faſt
They wayted, that the night was forward ſpent,
And the faire welkin fowly ouercaſt,
Gan blowen vp a bitter ſtormy blaſt,
With ſhoure and hayle ſo horrible and dred,
That this faire many were compeld at laſt,
To fly for ſuccour to a little ſhed,
The which beſide the gate for ſwine was ordered.
It fortuned, ſoone after they were gone,
Another knight, whom tempeſt thither 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 refuſd,
Sorely thereat he was diſpleaſd, and thought
How to auenge himſelfe ſo ſore abuſd,
And euermore the Carle of curteſie accuſd.
But to auoyde th'intollerable ſtowre,
He was compeld to ſeeke ſome refuge neare,
And to that ſhed, to ſhrowd him from the ſhowre,
He came, which full of gueſts he found why leare,
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 diſlodge, all were they liefe orloth;
And defide them each, and ſo defide them both.
Both were full loth to leaue that needfull tent,
And both full loth in darkeneſſe to debate;
Yet both full liefe him lodging to haue lent,
And both full liefe his boaſting to abate;
But chiefly Paridell his hart did grate,
To heare him threaten ſo deſpightfully,
As if he did a dogge to kenell rate,
That durſt not barke; and rather had he dy,
Then when he was deſide, in coward cornerly.
Tho haſtily remounting to his ſteed,
He forth iſſew'd; like as a boiſtrous wind,
Which in th'earthes hollow caues hath long bin hid,
And ſhut vp faſt within her priſons blind,
Makes the huge element againſt her kind
To moue, and tremble as it were agaſt,
Vntill that it an iſſew forth may find;
Then forth it breakes, and with his furious blaſt
Confounds both land & ſeas, and skyes doth ouercaſt.
Their ſteel-hed ſpeares they ſtrongly coucht, and met
Together with impetuous rage and forſe,
That with the terrour of their fierce affret,
They rudely droue to ground both man and horſe,
That each awhile lay like a ſenceleſſe corſe.
But Paridell ſore bruſed with the blow,
Could not ariſe, the counterchaunge to ſcorſe,
Till that young Squire him reared from below;
Then drew he his bright ſword, & gan about him throw.
But Satyrane forth ſtepping, did them ſtay
And with faire treatie pacifide their ire,
Then when they were accorded from the fray,
Againſt that Caſtles Lord they gan conſpire,
To heape on him dew vengeaunce for his hire.
They bene agreed, and to the gates they goe
To burne the ſame with vnquenchable fire,
And that vncurteous Carle their commune foe
To do fowle death to dye, or wrap in grieuous woe.
Malbecco ſeeing them reſolu'd in deed
To flame the gates, and hearing them to call
For fire in earneſt, ran with fearefull ſpeed,
And to them calling from the caſtle wall,
Beſought them humbly, him to beare with all,
As ignoraunt of ſeruants bad abuſe,
And ſlacke attendaunce vnto ſtraungers call.
The knights were willing all things to excuſe,
Though nought beleu'd, & entraūce late did not refuſe.
They bene ybrought into a comely bowre,
And ſeru'd of all things that mote needfull bee;
Yet ſecretly their hoſte did on them lowre,
And welcomde more for feare, then charitee;
But they diſſembled, what they did not ſee,
And welcomed themſelues. Each gan vndight
Their garments wet, and weary armour free,
To dry them ſelues by Vulcanes flaming light,
And eke their lately bruzed parts to bring in plight.
And eke that ſtraunger knight emongſt the reſt;
Was for like need enforſt to diſaray:
Tho whenas vailed was her loftie creſt,
Her golden locks, that were in tramels gay
Vpbounden, did them ſelues adowne diſplay,
And raught vnto her heeles; like ſunny beames,
That in a cloud their light did long time ſtay,
Their vapour vaded, ſhew their golden gleames,
And through the perſant aire ſhoote forth their azure ſtreames.
She alſo dofte her heauy haberieon,
Which the faire feature of her limbs did hyde,
And her well plighted frock, which ſhe did won
To tucke about her ſhort, when ſhe did ryde,
She low let fall, that flowd from her lanck ſyde
Downe to her foot, with careleſſe modeſtee.
Then of them all ſhe plainly was eſpyde,
To be a woman wight, vnwiſt to bee,
The faireſt woman wight, that euer eye did ſee.
Like as Minerua, being late returnd
From ſlaughter of the Giaunts conquered;
Where proud Encelade, whoſe wide noſethrils burnd
With breathed flames, like to a furnace red,
Transfixed with the ſpeare, downe tombled ded
From top of Hemus, by him heaped hye;
Hath looſd her helmet from her lofty hed,
And her Gorgonian, ſhield gins to vntye
From her left arme, to reſt in glorious victorye.
Which whenas they beheld, they ſmitten were
With great amazement of ſo wondrous ſight,
And each on other, and they all on her
Stood gazing, as if ſuddein great affright
Had them ſurpriſed. At laſt auizing right,
Her goodly perſonage and glorious hew,
Which they ſo much miſtooke, they tooke delight
In their firſt errour, and yet ſtill anew
With wonder of her beauty fed their hungry vew.
Yet note their hungry vew be ſatisfide,
But ſeeing ſtill the more deſir'd to ſee,
And euer firmely fixed did abide
In contemplation of diuinitie:
But they meruaild at her cheualree,
And noble proweſſe, which they had approued,
That much they faynd to know, who ſhe mote bee;
Yet none of all them her thereof amoued,
Yet euery one her likte, and euery one her loued.
And Paridell though partly diſcontent
With his late fall, and fowle indignity,
Yet was ſoone wonne his malice to relent,
Through gracious regard of her faire eye,
And knightly worth, which he too late did try,
Yet tried did adore. Supper was dight;
Then they Malbecco prayd of curteſy,
That of his Lady they might haue the ſight,
And company at meat, to do them more delight.
But he to ſhift their curious requeſt,
Gan cauſen, why ſhe could not come in place;
Her craſed health, her late recourſe to reſt,
And humid euening ill for ſicke folkes cace:
But none of thoſe excuſes could take place;
Ne would they eate, till ſhe in preſence came.
She came in preſence with right comely grace,
And fairely them ſaluted, as became,
And ſhewd her ſelfe in all a gentle curteous Dame.
They ſate to meat, and Satyrane his chaunce
Was her before, and Paridell beſyde;
But he him ſelfe ſate looking ſtill askaunce,
Gainſt Britomart, and euer cloſely eyde
Sir Satyrane, that glaunces might not glyde:
But his blind eye, that ſyded Paridell,
All his demeaſnure from his ſight did hyde:
On her faire face ſo did he feede his fill,
And ſent cloſe meſſages of loue to her at will.
And euer and anone, when none was ware,
With ſpeaking lookes, that cloſe embaſſage bore,
He rou'd at her, and told his ſecret care:
For all that art he learned had ofyore.
Ne was ſhe ignoraunt of that lewd lore,
But in his eye his meaning wiſely red,
And with the like him anſwerd euermore:
She ſent at him one firie dart, whoſe hed
Empoiſned was with priuy luſt, and gealous dred.
He from that deadly throw made no defence,
But to the wound his weake hart opened wyde;
The wicked engine through falſe influence,
Paſt through his eyes, and ſecretly did glyde
Into his hart, which it did ſorely gryde.
But nothing new to him was that ſame paine,
Ne paine at all; for he ſo oft had tryde
The powre thereof, and lou'd ſo oft in vaine,
That thing of courſe he counted, loue to entertaine.
Thenceforth to her he ſought to intimate
His inward griefe, by meanes to him well knowne,
Now Bacchus fruit out of the ſiluer plate
He on the table daſht, as ouerthrowne,
Or of the fruitfull liquor ouerflowne,
And by the dauncing bubbles did diuine,
Or therein write to let his loue be ſhowne;
Which well ſhe red out of the learned line,
A ſacrament prophane in miſtery of wine.
And when ſo 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
Vnto their wils, and one eyes watch eſcape;
Two eyes him needeth, for to watch and wake,
Who louers will deceiue. Thus was the ape,
By their faire handling, put into Malbeccoes cape.
Now when of meats and drinks they had their fill,
Purpoſe was moued by that gentle Dame,
Vnto thoſe knights aduenturous, to tell
Of deeds of armes, which vnto them became,
And euery one his kindred, and his name.
Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pryde
Of gracious ſpeach, and skill his words to frame
Abounded, being glad of ſo fit tyde
Him to commend to her, thus ſpake, of all well eyde.
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 skye
Vpon thee heapt a direfull deſtinie,
What boots it boaſt thy glorious deſcent,
And fetch from heauen thy great Genealogie,
Sith all thy worthy prayſes being blent,
Their of-ſpring hath embaſte, and later glory ſhent.
Moſt famous Worthy of the world, by whome
That warre was kindled, which did Troy inflame,
And ſtately towres of Ilion whilome
Brought vnto balefull ruine, was by name
Sir Paris far renowmd through noble fame,
Who through great proweſſe and bold hardineſſe,
From Lacedaemon fetcht the faireſt Dame,
That euer Greece did boaſt, or knight poſſeſſe,
Whom Venus to him gaue for meed of worthineſſe.
Faire Helene, flowre of beautie excellent,
And girlond of the mighty Conquerours,
That madeſt many Ladies deare lament
The heauie loſſe of their braue Paramours,
Which they far off beheld from Troian toures,
And ſaw the fieldes of faire Scamander ſtrowne
With carcaſes of noble warrioures,
Whoſe fruitleſſe liues were vnder furrow ſowne,
And Xanthus ſandy bankes with bloud all ouerflowne.
From him my linage I deriue aright,
Who long before the ten yeares ſiege of Troy,
Whiles yet on Ida he a ſhepheard hight,
On faire Oenone got a louely boy,
Whom for remembraunce of her paſſed ioy,
She of his Father Parius did name;
Who, after Greekes did Priams realme deſtroy,
Gathred the Troian reliques ſau'd from flame,
And with them ſayling thence, to th'Iſle of Paros came.
That was by him cald Paros, which before
Hight Nauſa, there he many yeares did raine,
And built Nauſicle by the Pontick ſhore,
The which he dying left next in remaine
To Paridas his ſonne.
From whom I Paridell by kin deſcend;
But for faire Ladies loue, and glories gaine,
My natiue ſoile haue left, my dayes to ſpend
In ſeewing deeds of armes, my liues and labours end.
When as the noble Britomart heard tell
Of Troian warres, and Priams Citie ſackt,
The ruefull ſtory of Sir Paridell,
She was empaſſiond at that piteous act,
With zelous enuy of Greekes cruell fact,
Againſt that nation, from whoſe race of old
She heard, that ſhe was lineally extract:
For noble Britons ſprong from Troians bold,
And Troynouant was built of old Troyes aſhes cold.
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 ſoueraigne crowne,
In one ſad night conſumd, and throwen downe:
What ſtony hart, that heares thy hapleſſe fate,
Is not empierſt with deepe compaſſiowne,
And makes enſample of mans wretched ſtate,
That floures ſo freſh at morne, and fades at euening late?
Behold, Sir, how your pitifull complaint
Hath found another partner of your payne:
For nothing may impreſſe ſo deare conſtraint,
As countries cauſe, and commune foes diſdayne.
But if it ſhould not grieue you, backe agayne
To turne your courſe, I would to heare deſyre,
What to Aeneas fell; ſith that men ſayne
He was not in the Cities wofull fyre
Conſum'd, but did him ſelfe to ſafetie retyre.
Anchyſes ſonne begot of Venus faire,
(Said he,) out of the flames for ſafegard fled,
And with a remnant did to ſea repaire,
Where he through fatall errour long was led
Full many yeares, and weetleſſe wandered
From ſhore to ſhore, emongſt the Lybicke ſands,
Ere reſt he found. Much there he ſuffered,
And many perils paſt in forreine lands,
To ſaue his people ſad from victours vengefull hands.
At laſt in Latium he did arriue,
Where he with cruell warre was entertaind
Of th'inland folke, which ſought him backe to driue,
Till he with old Latinus was conſtraind,
To contract wedlock: (ſo the fates ordaind.)
Wedlock contract in bloud, and eke in blood
Accompliſhed, that many deare complaind:
The riuall ſlaine, the victour through the flood
Eſcaped hardly, hardly praiſd his wedlock good.
Yet after all, he victour did ſuruiue,
And with Latinus did the kingdome part.
But after, when both nations gan to ſtriue,
Into their names the title to conuart,
His ſonne Iülus did from thence depart,
With all the warlike youth of Troians bloud,
And in long Alba plaſt his throne apart,
Where faire it floriſhed, and long time ſtoud,
Till Romulus renewing it, to Rome remoud.
There there (ſaid Britomart) a freſh appeard
The glory of the later world to ſpring,
And Troy againe out of her duſt was reard,
To ſit in ſecond ſeat of ſoueraigne king,
Of all the world vnder her gouerning.
But a third kingdome yet is to ariſe,
Out of the Troians ſcattered of-ſpring,
That in all glory and great enterpriſe,
Both firſt and ſecond Troy ſhall dare to equaliſe.
It Troynouant is hight, that with the waues
Of wealthy Thamis waſhed is along,
Vpon whoſe ſtubborne neck, whereat he raues
With roring rage, and ſore him ſelfe does throng,
That all men feare to tempt his billowes ſtrong,
She faſtned hath her foot, which ſtandes ſo hy,
That it a wonder of the world is ſong
In forreine landes, and all which paſſen by,
Beholding it from far, do thinke it threates the skye.
The Troian Brute did firſt that Citie found,
And Hygate gate made the meare thereof by Weſt,
And Ouert gate by North: that is the bound
Toward the land; two riuers bound the reſt.
So huge a ſcope at firſt him ſeemed beſt,
To be the compaſſe of his kingdomes ſeat:
So huge a mind could not in leſſer reſt,
Ne in ſmall meares containe his glory great,
That Albion had conquered firſt by warlike feat.
Ah faireſt Lady knight, (ſaid Paridell)
Pardon I pray my heedleſſe ouerſight,
Who had forgot, that whilome I heard tell
From aged Mnemon; for my wits bene light.
Indeed he ſaid (if I remember right,)
That of the antique Troian ſtocke, there grew
Another plant, that raught to wondrous hight,
And far abroad his mighty branches threw,
Into the vtmoſt Angle of the world he knew.
For that ſame Brute, whom much he did aduaunce
In all his ſpeach, was Syluius his ſonne,
Whom hauing ſlaine, through luckles arrowes glaūce
He fled for feare of that he had miſdonne,
Or elſe for ſhame, ſo fowle reproch to ſhonne,
And with him led to the ſea an youthly trayne,
Where wearie wandring they long time did wonne,
And many fortunes prou'd in th'Ocean mayne,
And great aduētures found, that now were lōg to ſayne.
At laſt by fatall courſe they driuen were
Into an Iſland ſpatious and brode,
The furtheſt North, that did to them appeare:
Which after reſt they ſeeking far abrode,
Found it the fitteſt ſoyle for their abode,
Fruitfull of all things fit for liuing foode,
But wholy waſt, and void of peoples trode,
Saue an huge nation of the Geaunts broode,
That fed on liuing fleſh, & druncke mens vitall blood.
Whom he through wearie wars and labours long,
Subdewd with loſſe of many Britons bold:
In which the great Goemagot of ſtrong
Corineus, and Coulin of Debon old
Were ouerthrowne, and layd on th'earth full cold,
Which quaked vnder their ſo hideous maſſe,
A famous hiſtory to be enrold
In euerlaſting moniments of braſſe,
That all the antique Worthies merits far did paſſe.
His worke great Troynouant, his worke is eke
Faire Lincolne, both renowmed far away,
That who from Eaſt to Weſt will endlong ſeeke,
Cannot two fairer Cities find this day,
Except Cleopolis: ſo heard I ſay
Old Mnemon. Therefore Sir, I greet you well
Your countrey kin, and you entirely pray
Of pardon for the ſtrife, which late beſell
Betwixt vs both vnknowne. So ended Paridell.
But all the while, that he theſe ſpeaches ſpent,
Vpon his lips hong faire Dame Hellenore,
With vigilant regard, and dew attent,
Faſhioning worlds of fancies euermore
In her fraile wit, that now her quite forlore:
The whiles vnwares away her wondring eye,
And greedy eares her weake hart from her bore:
Which he perceiuing, euer priuily
In ſpeaking, many falſe belgardes at her let fly.
So long theſe knights diſcourſed diuerſly,
Of ſtraunge affaires, and noble hardiment,
Which they had paſt with mickle ieopardy,
That now the humid night was farforth ſpent,
And heauenly lampes were halfendeale ybrent:
Which th'old man ſeeing well, who too long thought
Euery diſcourſe and euery argument,
Which by the houres he meaſured, beſought
Them go to reſt. So all vnto their bowres were brought.
Cant. X.
Paridell rapeth Hellenore:
Malbecco her purſ
•
wes:
Findes emongſt Satyres, whence with him
To turne ſhe doth refuſe.
THe morow next, ſo ſoone as Phoebus Lamp
Bewrayed had the world with early light,
And freſh Aurora had the ſhady damp
Out of the goodly heauen amoued quight,
Faire Britomart and that ſame Faerie knight
Vproſe, forth on their iourney for to wend:
But Paridell complaynd, that his late fight
With Britomart, ſo ſore did him offend,
That ryde he could not, till his hurts he did amend.
So forth they far'd, but he behind them ſtayd,
Maulgre his hoſt, who grudged grieuouſly,
To houſe a gueſt, that would be needes obayd,
And of his owne him left not liberty.
Might wanting meaſure moueth ſurquedry.
Two things he feared, but the third was death;
That fierce youngmans vnruly maiſtery;
His money, which he lou'd as liuing breath;
And his faire wife, whom honeſt long he kept vneath.
But patience perforce he muſt abie,
What fortune and his fate on him will lay,
Fond is the feare, that findes no remedie;
Yet warily he watcheth euery way,
By which he feareth euill happen may:
So th'euill thinkes by watching to preuent;
Ne doth he ſuffer her, nor night, nor day,
Out of his ſight her ſelfe once to abſent.
So doth he puniſh her and eke himſelfe torment.
But Paridell kept better watch, then hee,
A fit occaſion for his turne to find:
Falſe loue, why do men ſay, thou canſt not ſee,
And in their fooliſh fancie feigne thee blind,
That with thy charmes the ſharpeſt ſight doeſt bind,
And to thy will abuſe? Thou walkeſt free,
And ſeeſt euery ſecret of the mind;
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,
That he Melbeccoes halfen eye did wyle,
His halfen eye he wiled wondrous well,
And Hellenors both eyes did eke beguyle,
Both eyes and hart attonce, during the whyle
That he there ſoiourned his wounds to heale;
That Cupid ſelfe it ſeeing, cloſe did ſmyle,
To weet how he her loue away did ſteale,
And bad, that none their ioyous treaſon ſhould reueale.
The learned louer loſt no time nor tyde,
That leaſt auantage mote to him afford,
Yet bore ſo faire a ſaile, that none eſpyde
His ſecret drift, till he her layd abord.
When ſo in open place, and commune bord,
He fortun'd her to meet, with commune ſpeach
He courted her, yet bayted euery word,
That his vngentle hoſte n'ote him appeach
Of vile vngentleneſſe, or hoſpitages breach.
But when apart (if euer her apart)
He found, then his falſe engins faſt he plyde,
And all the ſleights vnboſomd in his hart;
He ſigh'd, he ſobd, he ſwownd, he perdy dyde,
And caſt himſelfe on ground her faſt beſyde:
Tho when againe he him bethought to liue,
He wept, and wayld, and falſe laments belyde,
Saying, but if ſhe Mercie would him giue
That he mote algates dye, yet did his death forgiue.
And otherwhiles with amorous delights,
And pleaſing toyes he would her entertaine,
Now ſinging ſweetly, to ſurpriſe her ſprights,
Now making layes of loue and louers paine,
Branſles, Ballads, virelayes, and verſes vaine;
Oft purpoſes, oft riddles he deuyſd,
And thouſands like, which flowed in his braine,
With which he fed her fancie, and entyſd
To take to his new loue, and leaue her old deſpyſd.
And euery where he might, and euery while
He did her ſeruice dewtifull, and ſewed
At hand with humble pride, and pleaſing guile,
So cloſely yet, that none but ſhe it vewed,
Who well perceiued all, and all indewed.
Thus finely did he his falſe nets diſpred,
With which he many weake harts had ſubdewed
Of yore, and many had ylike miſled:
What wonder then, if ſhe were likewiſe carried?
No fort ſo ſenſible, no wals ſo ſtrong,
But that continuall battery will riue,
Or daily ſiege through diſpuruayance long,
And lacke of reskewes will to parley driue;
And Peace, that vnto parley eare will giue,
Will ſhortly yeeld it ſelfe, and will be made
The vaſſall of the victors will by liue:
That ſtratageme had oftentimes aſſayd
This crafty Paramoure, and now it plaine diſplayd.
For through his traines he her intrapped hath,
That ſhe her loue and hart hath wholy ſold
To him, without regard of gaine, or ſcath,
Or care of credite, or of husband old,
Whom ſhe hath vow'd to dub a faire Cucquold.
Nought wants but time and place, which ſhortly ſhee
Deuized hath, and to her louer told.
It pleaſed well. So well they both agree;
So readie rype to ill, ill wemens counſels bee.
Darke was the Euening, fit for louers ſtealth,
When chaunſt Melbecco buſie be elſewhere,
She to his cloſet went, where all his wealth
Lay hid: thereof ſhe countleſſe ſummes did reare,
The which ſhe meant away with her to beare;
The reſt ſhe fyr'd for ſport, or for deſpight;
As Hellene, when ſhe ſaw aloft appeare
The Troiane flames, and reach to heauens hight
Did clap her hands, and ioyed at that dolefull ſight.
This ſecond Hellene, faire Dame Hellenore,
The whiles her husband ranne with ſory haſte,
To quench the flames which ſhe had tyn'd before,
Laught at his fooliſh labour ſpent in waſte;
And ranne into her louers armes right faſt;
Where ſtreight embraced, ſhe to him did cry,
And call aloud for helpe, ere helpe were paſt;
For loe that Gueſt would beare her forcibly,
And meant to rauiſh her, that rather had to dy.
The wretched man hearing her call for ayd,
And readie ſeeing him with her to fly,
In his diſquiet mind was much diſmayd:
But when againe he backward caſt his eye,
And ſaw the wicked fire ſo furiouſly
Conſume his hart, and ſcorch his Idoles face,
He was therewith diſtreſſed diuerſly,
Ne wiſt he how to turne, nor to what place;
Was neuer wretched man in ſuch a wofull cace.
Ay when to him ſhe cryde, to her he turnd,
And left the fire; loue money ouercame:
But when he marked, how his money burnd,
He left his wife; money did loue diſclame:
Both was he loth to looſe his loued Dame,
And loth to leaue his liefeſt pelfe behind,
Yet ſith he n'ote ſaue both, he ſau'd that ſame,
Which was the deareſt to his donghill mind,
The God of his deſire, the ioy of miſers blind.
Thus whileſt all things in troublous vprore were,
And all men buſie to ſuppreſſe the flame,
The louing couple need no reskew feare,
But leaſure had, and libertie to frame
Their purpoſt flight, free from all mens reclame;
And Night, the patroneſſe of loue-ſtealth faire,
Gaue them ſafe conduct, till to end they came:
So bene they gone yfeare, a wanton paire
Of louers looſely knit, where liſt them to repaire.
Soone as the cruell flames yſlaked were,
Malbecco ſeeing, how his loſſe did lye,
Out of the flames, which he had quencht whylere
Into huge waues of griefe and gealoſye
Full deepe emplonged was, and drowned nye,
Twixt inward doole and felonous deſpight;
He rau'd, he wept, he ſtampt, he lowd did cry,
And all the paſſions, that in man may light,
Did him attonce oppreſſe, and vex his caytiue ſpright.
Long thus he 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 ſeem'd more grieuous, then it was before:
At laſt when ſorrow he ſaw booted nought,
Ne griefe might not his loue to him reſtore,
He gan deuiſe, how her he reskew mought,
Ten thouſand wayes he caſt in his confuſed thought.
At laſt reſoluing, like a pilgrim pore,
To ſeach her forth, where ſo ſhe might be fond,
And bearing with him treaſure in cloſe ſtore,
The reſt he leaues in ground: So takes in hond
To ſeeke her endlong, both by ſea and lond.
Long he her ſought, he ſought her farre and nere,
And euery where that he mote vnderſtond,
Of knights and ladies any meetings were,
And of eachone he met, he tydings did inquere.
But all in vaine, his woman was too wiſe,
Euer to come into his clouch againe,
And he too ſimple euer to ſurpriſe
The iolly Paridell, for all his paine.
One day, as he forpaſſed by the plaine
With weary pace, he farre away eſpide
A couple, ſeeming well to be his twaine,
Which houed cloſe vnder a forreſt ſide,
As if they lay in waite, or elſe themſelues did hide.
Well weened he, that thoſe the ſame mote bee,
And as he better did their ſhape auize,
Him ſeemed more their manner did agree;
For th'one was armed all in warlike wize,
Whom, to be Paridell he did deuize;
And th'other all yclad in garments light,
Diſcolour'd like to womaniſh diſguiſe,
He did reſemble to his Ladie bright;
And euer his faint hart much earned at the ſight.
And euer faine he towards them would goe,
But yet durſt not for dread approchen nie,
But ſtood aloofe, vnweeting what to doe;
Till that prickt forth with loues extremitie,
That is the father of foule gealoſy,
He cloſely nearer crept, the truth to weet:
But, as he nigher drew, he eaſily
Might ſcerne, that it was not his ſweeteſt ſweet,
Ne yet her Belamour, the partner of his ſheet.
But it was ſcornefull Braggadocchio,
That with his ſeruant Trompart houerd there,
Sith late he fled from his too earneſt foe:
Whom ſuch when as Malbecco ſpyed clere,
He turned backe, and would haue fled arere;
Till Trompart ronning haſtily, him did ſtay,
And bad before his ſoueraine Lord appere:
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 haue kild him with his looke,
That to the ground him meekely made to bowe,
And awfull terror deepe into him ſtrooke,
That euery member of his bodie quooke.
Said he, thou man of nought, what doeſt thou here,
Vnfitly furniſht with thy bag and booke,
Where I expected one with ſhield and ſpere,
To proue ſome deedes of armes vpon an equall pere.
The wretched man at his imperious ſpeach,
Was all abaſht, and low proſtrating, ſaid;
Good Sir, let not my rudedeſſe be no breach
Vnto your patience, ne be ill ypaid;
For I vnwares this way by fortune ſtraid,
A ſilly Pilgrim driuen to diſtreſſe,
That ſeeke a Lady, There he ſuddein ſtaid,
And did the reſt with grieuous ſighes ſuppreſſe,
While teares ſtood in his eies, few drops of bitterneſſe.
What Ladie, man? (ſaid Trompart) take good hart,
And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye;
Was neuer better time to ſhew thy ſmart,
Then now, that noble ſuccour is thee by,
That is the whole worlds commune remedy.
That chearefull word his weake hart much did cheare,
And with vaine hope his ſpirits faint ſupply,
That bold he ſaid; ô moſt redoubted Pere,
Vouchſafe with mild regard a wretches cace to heare.
Then ſighing ſore, It is not long (ſaid hee)
Sith I enioyd the gentleſt Dame aliue;
Of whom a knight, no knight at all perdee,
But ſhame of all, that doe for honor ſtriue,
By treacherous deceipt did me depriue;
Through open outrage he her bore away,
And with fowle force vnto his will did driue,
Which all good knights, that armes do beare this day,
Are bound for to reuenge, and puniſh if they may.
And you moſt noble Lord, that can and dare
Redreſſe the wrong of miſerable wight,
Cannot employ your moſt victorious ſpeare
In better quarrell, then defence of right,
And for a Ladie gainſt a faithleſſe knight;
So ſhall your glory be aduaunced much,
And all faire Ladies magnifie your might,
And eke my ſelfe, albe I ſimple ſuch,
Your worthy paine ſhall well 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 ſaid; thy offers baſe I greatly loth,
And eke thy words vncourteous and vnkempt;
I tread in duſt thee and thy money both,
That, were it not for ſhame, So turned from him wroth.
But Trompart, that his maiſters humor knew,
In lofty lookes to hide an humble mind,
Was inly tickled with that golden vew,
And in his eare him grounded cloſe behind:
Yet ſtoupt he not, but lay ſtill in the wind,
Waiting aduauntage on the pray to ſeaſe;
Till Trompart lowly to the ground inclind,
Beſought him his great courage to appeaſe,
And pardon ſimple man, that raſh did him diſpleaſe.
Bigge looking like a doughtie Doucepere,
At laſt he thus; Thou clod of vileſt clay,
I pardon yield, and with thy rudeneſſe beare;
But weete henceforth, that all that golden pray,
And all that elſe the vaine world vaunten may,
I loath as doung, ne deeme my dew reward:
Fame is my meed, and glory vertues pray.
But minds of mortall men are muchell mard,
And mou'd amiſſe with maſſie mucks vnmeet regard.
And more, I graunt to thy great miſerie
Gratious reſpect, thy wife ſhall backe be ſent,
And that vile knight, who euer that he bee,
Which hath thy Lady reſt, and knighthood ſhent,
By Sanglamort my ſword, whoſe deadly dent
The bloud hath of ſo many thouſands ſhed,
I ſweare, ere long ſhall dearely it repent;
Ne he twixt heauen and earth ſhall hide his hed,
But ſoone he ſhall be found, and ſhortly doen be ded.
The fooliſh man thereat woxe wondrous blith,
As if the word ſo ſpoken, were halfe donne,
And humbly thanked him a thouſand ſith,
That had from death to life him newly wonne.
Tho forth the Boaſter marching, braue begonne
His ſtolen ſteed to thunder furiouſly,
As if he heauen and hell would ouerronne,
And all the world confound with cruelty,
That much Malbecco ioyed in his iollity.
Thus long they three together traueiled,
Through many a wood, and many an vncouth way,
To ſeeke his wife, that was farre wandered:
But thoſe two ſought nought, but the preſent pray,
To weete the treaſure, which he did bewray,
On which their eies and harts were wholly ſet,
With purpoſe, how they might it beſt betray;
For ſith the houre, that firſt he did them let
The ſame behold, therewith their keene deſires were whet.
It fortuned as they together far'd,
They ſpide, where Paridell came pricking faſt
Vpon the plaine, the which himſelfe prepar'd
To giuſt with that braue ſtraunger knight a caſt,
As on aduenture by the way he paſt:
Alone he rode without his Paragone;
For hauing filcht her bels, her vp he caſt
To the wide world, and let her fly alone,
He nould be clogd. So had he ſerued many one.
The gentle Lady, looſe at randon left,
The greene-wood long did walke, and wander wide
At wilde aduenture, like a forlorne weſt,
Till on a day the Satyres her eſpide
Straying alone withouten groome or guide;
Her vp they tooke, and with them home her led,
With them as houſewife euer to abide,
To milke their gotes, and make them cheeſe and bred,
And euery one as commune good her handeled.
That ſhortly ſhe Malbecco has forgot,
And eke Sir Paridell, all were he deare;
Who from her went to ſeeke another lot,
And now by fortune was arriued here,
Where thoſe two guilers with Malbecco were:
Soone as the oldman 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.
And after asked him for Hellenore,
I take no keepe of her (ſaid Paridell)
She wonneth in the forreſt there before.
So forth he rode, as his aduenture fell;
The whiles the Boaſter from his loftie ſell
Faynd to alight, ſomething amiſſe to mend;
But the freſh Swayne would not his leaſure dwell,
But went his way; whom when he paſſed kend,
He vp remounted light, and after faindto wend.
Perdy nay (ſaid Malbecco) ſhall ye not:
But let him paſſe as lightly, as he came:
For litle good of him is to be got,
And mickle perill to be put to ſhame.
But let vs go to ſeeke my deareſt Dame,
Whom he hath left in yonder forreſt wyld:
For of her ſafety in great doubt I am,
Leaſt ſaluage beaſtes her perſon haue deſpoyld:
Then all the world is loſt, and we in vaine haue toyld.
The all agree, and forward them addreſt:
Ah but (ſaid craftie Trompart) weete ye well,
That yonder in that waſtefull wilderneſſe
Huge monſters haunt, and many dangers dwell;
Dragons, and Minotaures, and feendes of hell,
And many wilde woodmen, which robbe and rend
All trauellers; therefore aduiſe ye well,
Before ye enterpriſe that way to wend:
One may his iourney bring too ſoone to euill end.
Malbecco ſtopt in great aſtoniſhment,
And with pale eyes faſt fixed on the reſt,
Their counſell crau'd, in daunger imminent.
Said Trompart, you that are the moſt oppreſt
With burden of great treaſure, I thinke beſt
Here for to ſtay in ſafetie behind;
My Lord and I will ſearch the wide forreſt.
That counſell pleaſed not Malbeccoes mind;
For he was much affraid, himſelfe alone to find.
Then is it beſt (ſaid he) that ye doe leaue
Your treaſure here in ſome ſecuritie,
Either faſt cloſed in ſome hollow greaue,
Or buried in the ground from ieopardie,
Till we returne againe in ſafetie:
As for vs two, leaſt doubt of vs ye haue,
Hence farre away we will blindfolded lie,
Ne priuie be vnto your treaſures graue.
It pleaſed: ſo he did, Then they march forward braue.
Now when amid the thickeſt woods they were,
They heard a noyſe of many bagpipes ſhrill,
And ſhrieking Hububs them approching nere,
Which all the forreſt did with horror fill:
That dreadfull ſound the boaſters hart did thrill,
With ſuch amazement, that in haſte he fled,
Ne euer looked backe for good or ill,
And after him eke fearefull Trompart ſped;
The old man could not fly, but fell to ground halfe ded.
Yet afterwards cloſe creeping, as he might,
He in a buſh did hide his fearefull hed,
The iolly Satyres full of freſh delight,
Came dauncing forth, and with them nimbly led
Faire Helenore, with girlonds all beſpred,
Whom their May-lady they had newly made:
She proud of that new honour, which they red,
And of their louely fellowſhip full glade,
Daunſt liuely, and her face did with a Lawrell ſhade.
The ſilly man that in the thicket lay
Saw all this goodly ſport, and grieued ſore,
Yet durſt he not againſt it doe or ſay,
But did his hart with bitter thoughts engore,
To ſee th'vnkindneſſe of his Hellenore.
All day they daunced with great luſtihed,
And with their horned feet the greene graſſe wore,
The whiles their Gotes vpon the brouzes fed.
Till drouping Phoebus gan to hide his golden hed.
Tho vp they gan their merry pypes to truſſe,
And all their goodly heards did gather round,
But euery Satyre firſt did giue a buſſe
To Hellenore: ſo buſſes did abound.
Now gan the humid vapour ſhed the ground
With perly deaw, and th'Earthes gloomy ſhade
Did dim the brightneſſe of the welkin round,
That euery bird and beaſt awarned made,
To ſhrowd themſelues, whiles ſleepe their ſenſes did inuade.
Which when Melbecco ſaw, out of his buſh
Vpon his hand and feete he crept full light,
And like a Gote emongſt the Gotes did ruſh,
That through the helpe of his faire hornes on hight,
And miſty dampe of miſconceiuing 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 louely wife emongſt them lay,
Embraced of a Satyre rough and rude,
Who all the night did minde his ioyous play:
Nine times he heard him come aloft ere day,
That all his hart with gealoſie did ſwell;
But yet that nights enſample did bewray,
That not for nought his wife them loued 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 plaine.
As one out of a dreame not waked well,
She turned her, and returned backe againe:
Yet her for to awake he did the more conſtraine.
At laſt with irkeſome trouble ſhe abrayd;
And then perceiuing, that it was indeed
Her old Malbecco, which did her vpbrayd,
With looſeneſſe of her loue, and loathly deed,
She was aſtoniſht with exceeding dreed,
And would haue wakt the Satyre by her ſyde;
But he her prayd, for mercy, or for meed,
To ſaue his life, ne let him be deſcryde,
But hearken to his lore, and all his counſell hyde.
Tho gan he her perſwade, to leaue that lewd
And loathſome life, of God and man abhord,
And home returne, where all ſhould be renewd
With perfect peace, and bandes of freſh accord,
And ſhe receiu'd againe to bed and bord,
As if no treſpaſſe euer had bene donne:
But 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.
He wooed her, till day ſprings he eſpyde;
But all in vaine: and then turnd to the heard,
Who butted him with hornes on euery ſyde,
And trode downe in the durt, where his hore beard
Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard.
Early before the heauens faireſt light
Out of the ruddy Eaſt was fully reard,
The heardes out of their foldes were looſed quight,
And he emongſt the reſt crept forth in ſory plight.
So ſoone as he the Priſon dore did pas,
He ran as faſt, as both his feete could beare,
And neuer looked, who behind him was,
Ne ſcarſely who before: like as a Beare
That creeping cloſe, amongſt the hiues to reare
An hony combe, the wakefull dogs eſpy,
And him aſſayling, ſore his carkaſſe teare,
That hardly he with life away does fly,
Ne ſtayes, till ſafe himſelfe he ſee from ieopardy.
Ne ſtayd he, till he came vnto 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 he became quite mad,
And ran away, ran with himſelfe away:
That who ſo ſtraungely had him ſeene beſtad,
With vpſtart haire, and ſtaring eyes diſmay,
From Limbo lake him late eſcaped ſure would ſay.
High ouer hilles and ouer dales he fled,
As if the wind him on his winges had borne,
Ne banck nor buſh could ſtay him, when he ſped
His nimble feet, as treading ſtill on thorne:
Griefe, and deſpight, and gealoſie, and ſcorne
Did all the way him follow hard behind,
And he himſelfe himſelfe loath'd ſo forlorne,
So ſhamefully forlorne of womankind;
That as a Snake, ſtill lurked in his wounded mind.
Still fled he forward, looking backward ſtill,
Ne ſtayd his flight, nor fearefull agony,
Till that he came vnto a rockie hill,
Ouer the ſea, ſuſpended dreadfully,
That liuing creature it would terrify,
To looke adowne, or vpward to the hight:
From thence he threw himſelfe diſpiteouſly,
All deſperate of his fore-damned ſpright,
That ſeem'd no helpe for him was left in liuing ſight.
But through long anguiſh, and ſelfe-murdring thought
He was ſo waſted and forpined quight,
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 receiu'd no hurt at all,
But chaunced on a craggy cliff to light;
Whence he with crooked clawes ſo long did crall,
That at the laſt he found a caue with entrance ſmall.
Into the ſame he creepes, and thenceforth there
Reſolu'd to build his balefull manſion,
In drery darkeneſſe, and continuall feare
Of that rockes fall, which euer and anon
Threates with huge ruine him to fall vpon,
That he dare neuer ſleepe, but that one eye
Still ope he keepes for that occaſion;
Ne euer reſts he in tranquillity,
The roring billowes beat his bowre ſo boyſtrouſly.
Ne euer is he wont on ought to feed,
But toades and frogs, his paſture poyſonous,
Which in his cold complexion do breed
A filthy bloud, or humour rancorous,
Matter of doubt and dread ſuſpitious,
That doth with cureleſſe care conſume the hart,
Corrupts the ſtomacke with gall vitious,
Croſcuts the liuer with internall ſmart,
And doth transfixe the ſoule with deathes eternall dart.
Yet can he neuer dye, but dying liues,
And doth himſelfe with ſorrow new ſuſtaine,
That death and life attonce vnto him giues.
And painefull pleaſure turnes to pleaſing paine.
There dwels he euer, miſerable ſwaine,
Hatefull both to him ſelfe, and euery wight;
Where he through priuy griefe, and horrour vaine,
Is woxen ſo deform'd, that he has quight
Forgot he was a man, and Gealoſie is hight.
Cant. XI.
Britomart chaceth Ollyphant,
findes Scudamour diſtreſt:
Aſſayes the houſe of Buſyrane,
where Loues ſpoyles are expreſt.
O Hatefull helliſh Snake, what furie furſt
Brought thee from balefull houſe of Proſerpine,
Where in her boſome ſhe thee long had nurſt,
And foſtred vp with bitter milke of tine,
Fowle Gealoſie, that turneſt loue diuine
To ioyleſſe dread, and mak'ſt the louing hart
With hatefull thoughts to languiſh and to pine,
And feed it ſelfe with ſelfe-conſuming ſmart?
Of all the paſſions in the mind thou vileſt art.
O let him far be baniſhed away,
And in his ſtead let Loue for euer dwell,
Sweet Loue, that doth his golding wings embay
In bleſſed Nectar, and pure Pleaſures well,
Vntroubled of vile feare, or bitter fell.
And ye faire Ladies, that your kingdomes make
In th'harts of men, them gouerne wiſely well,
And of faire Britomart enſample take,
That was as trew in loue, as Turtle to her make.
Who with Sir Satyrane, as earſt ye red,
Forth ryding from Malbeccoes hoſtleſſe hous,
Far off aſpyde a young man, the which fled
From an huge Geaunt, that with hideous
And hatefull outrage long him chaced thus;
It was that Ollyphant, the brother deare
Of that Argante vile and vitious,
From whom the Squire of Dames was reſt why lere;
This all as bad as ſhe, and worſe, if worſe ought were.
For as the ſiſter did in feminine
And filthy luſt exceede all woman kind,
So he ſurpaſſed his ſex maſculine,
In beaſtly vſe that I did euer find;
Whom when as Britomart beheld behind
The fearefull boy ſo greedily purſew,
She was emmoued in her noble mind,
T'employ her puiſſaunce to his reskew,
And pricked fiercely forward, where ſhe him did vew.
Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde,
But with like fierceneſſe did enſew the chace:
Whom when the Gyaunt ſaw, he ſooone reſinde
His former ſuit, and from them fled apace;
They after both, and boldly bad him bace,
And each did ſtriue the other to out-goe,
But he them both outran a wondrous ſpace,
For he was long, and ſwift as any Roe,
And now made better ſpeed, t'eſcape his feared foe.
It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare,
But Britomart the flowre of chaſtity;
For he the powre of chaſt 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 forreſt neare,
Where he is ſhrowded in ſecurity.
The wood they enter, and ſearch euery where,
They ſearched diuerſely, ſo both diuided were.
Faire Britomart ſo long him followed,
That ſhe at laſt came to a fountaine ſheare,
By which there lay a knight all wallowed
Vpon the graſſy ground, and by him neare
His haberieon, his helmet, and his ſpeare;
A little off, his ſhield was rudely throwne,
On which the winged boy in colours cleare
Depeincted was, full eaſie to be knowne,
And he thereby, where euer it in field was ſhowne.
His face vpon the ground did groueling ly,
As if he had bene ſlombring in the ſhade,
That the braue Mayd would not for courteſy,
Out of his quiet ſlomber him abrade,
Nor ſeeme too ſuddeinly him to inuade:
Still as ſhe ſtood, ſhe heard with grieuous throb
Him grone, 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 ſaid; ô ſoueraigne Lord that ſit'ſt on hye,
And raignſt in blis emongſt thy bleſſed Saintes,
How ſuffreſt thou ſuch ſhamefull cruelty,
So long vnwreaked of thine enimy?
Or haſt, thou Lord, of good mens cauſe no heed?
Or doth thy iuſtice ſleepe, and ſilent ly?
What booteth then the good and righteous deed,
If goodneſſe find no grace, nor righteouſneſſe no meed?
If good find grace, and righteouſneſſe reward,
Why then is Amoret in caytiue band,
Sith that more bounteous creature neuer far'd
On foot, vpon the face of liuing land?
Or if that heauely iuſtice may withſtand
The wrongfull outrage of vnrighteous men,
Why then is Buſirane with wicked hand
Suffred, theſe ſeuen monethes day in ſecret den
My Lady and my loue ſo cruelly to pen?
My Lady and my loue is cruelly pend
In dolefull darkeneſſe from the vew of day,
Whileſt deadly torments do her chaſt breſt rend,
And the ſharpe ſteele doth riue her hart in tway,
All for ſhe Scudamore will not denay.
Yet thou vile man, vile Scudamore art ſound,
Ne canſt her ayde, ne canſt her foe diſmay;
Vnworthy wretch to tread vpon the ground,
For whom ſo faire a Lady feeles ſo ſore a wound.
There an huge heape of ſingulfes did oppreſſe
His ſtrugling ſoule, and ſwelling throbs empeach
His foltring toung with pangs of drerineſſe,
Choking the remnant of his plaintife ſpeach,
As if his 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.
Tho ſtooping downe ſhe him amoued light;
Who therewith ſomewhat ſtarting, vp gan looke,
And ſeeing him behind a ſtraunger knight,
Whereas no liuing creature he miſtooke,
With great indignaunce 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 cenceiued griefe
Well ſeemes t'exceede the powre of patience,
Yet if that heauenly grace ſome good reliefe
You ſend, ſubmit you to high prouidence,
And euer 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 liue: for life is wretchedneſſe.
Therefore, faire Sir, do comfort to you take,
And freely read, what wicked felon ſo
Hath outrag'd you, and thrald your gentle make.
Perhaps this hand may helpe to eaſe your woe,
And wreake your ſorrow on your cruell foe,
And leaſt it faire endeuour will apply.
Thoſe feeling wordes ſo neare the quicke did goe,
That vp his head he reared eaſily,
And leaning on his elbow, theſe few wordes let fly.
What boots it plaine, that cannot be redreſt,
And ſow vaine ſorrow in a fruileſſe care,
Sith powre of hand, nor skill of learned breſt,
Ne worldly price cannot redeeme my deare,
Out of her thraldome and continuall feare?
For he the tyraunt, which her hath in ward
By ſtrong enchauntments and blacke Magicke leare,
Hath in a dungeon deepe her cloſe embard,
And many dreadfull feends hath pointed to her gard.
There he tormenteth her moſt terribly,
And day and night afflicts with mortall paine,
Becauſe to yield him loue ſhe doth deny,
Once to me yold, not to be yold againe:
But yet by torture he would her conſtraine
Loue to conceiue in her diſdainfull breaſt,
Till ſo ſhe do, ſhe muſt in doole remaine,
Ne may by liuing meanes be thence releſt:
What boots it then to plaine, that cannot be redreſt?
With this ſad herſall of his heauy ſtreſſe,
The warlike Damzell was empaſſiond ſore,
And ſaid; Sir knight, your cauſe is nothing leſſe,
Then is your ſorrow, certes if not more;
For nothing ſo much pitty doth implore,
As gentle Ladies helpleſſe miſery.
But yet, if pleaſe ye liſten to my lore,
I will with proofe of laſt extremity,
Deliuer her fro thence, or with her for you dy.
Ah gentleſt knight aliue, (ſaid Scudamore)
What huge heroicke magnanimity
Dwels in thy bounteous breſt? what couldſt thou more,
If ſhe were thine, and thou as now am I?
O ſpare thy happy dayes, and them apply
To better boot, but let me dye, that ought;
More is more loſſe: one is enough to dy.
Life is not loſt, (ſaid ſhe) for which is bought
Endleſſe renowm, that more then death is to be ſought.
Thus ſhe at length perſwaded him to riſe,
And with her wend, to ſee what new ſucceſſe
Mote him befall vpon new enterpriſe;
His armes, which he had vowed to diſprofeſſe,
She gathered vp and did about him dreſſe,
And his for wandred ſteed vnto him got:
So forth they both yfere make their progreſſe,
And march not paſt the mountenaunce of a ſhot,
Till they arriu'd, whereas their purpoſe they did plot.
There they diſmounting, drew their weapons bold
And ſtoutly came vnto the Caſtle gate;
Whereas no gate they found, them to withhold,
Nor ward to wait at morne and euening late,
But in the Porch, that did them ſore amate,
A flaming fire, ymixt with ſmouldry ſmoke,
And ſtinking Sulphure, that with grieſly hate
And dreadfull horrour did all entraunce choke,
Enforced them their forward footing to reuoke.
Greatly thereat was Britomart diſmayd,
Ne in that ſtownd wiſt, how her ſelfe to beare;
For daunger vaine it were, to haue aſſayd
That cruell element, which all things feare,
Ne none can ſuffer to approchen neare:
And turning backe to Scudamour, thus ſayd;
What monſtrous enmity prouoke we heare,
Foolhardy as th'Earthes children, the which made
Battell againſt the Gods? ſo we a God inuade.
Daunger without diſcretion to attempt,
Inglorious and beaſtlike is: therefore Sir knight,
A read what courſe of you is ſafeſt dempt,
And how we with our foe may come to fight.
This (quoth he) the dolorous deſpight,
Which earſt to you I playnd: for neither may
This fire be quencht by any wit or might,
Ne yet by any meanes remou'd away,
So mighty be th'enchauntments, which the ſame do ſtay.
What is there elſe, but ceaſe theſe fruitleſſe paines,
And leaue me to my former languiſhing;
Faire Amoret muſt dwell in wicked chaines,
And Scudamore here dye with ſorrowing.
Perdy not ſo; (ſaid ſhe) for ſhamefull thing
It were t'abandon noble cheuiſaunce,
For ſhew of perill, without venturing:
Rather let try extremities of chaunce,
Then enterpriſed prayſe for dread to diſauaunce.
Therewith reſolu'd to prone her vtmoſt might,
Her ample ſhield ſhe threw before her face,
And her ſwords point directing forward right,
Aſſayld the flame, the which eftſoones gaue place,
And did it ſelfe diuide with equall ſpace,
That throngh ſhe paſſed; as a thunder bolt
Perceth the yielding ayre, and doth diſplace
The ſoring clouds into ſad ſhowres ymolt;
So to her yold the flames, and did their force reuolt.
Whom whenas Scudamour ſaw paſt the fire,
Safe and Vntoucht, he likewiſe gan aſſay,
With greedy will, and enuious deſire,
And bad the ſtubborne flames to yield him way:
But cruell Mulciber would not obay
His threatfull pride, but did the more augment
His mighty rage, and imperious ſway
Him forſt (maulgre) his fierceneſſe relent,
And backe retire, all ſcorcht 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 woodneſſe he effierced was,
And wilfully him throwing on the gras,
Did beat and bounſe his head and breſt full ſore;
The whiles the Championeſſe now entred has
The vtmoſt rowme, and paſt the formeſt dore,
The vtmoſt rowme, abounding with all precious ſtore,
For round about, the wals yclothed were
With goodly arras of great maieſty,
Wouen with gold and ſilke ſo cloſe and nere,
That the rich metall lurked priuily,
As faining to be hid from enuious eye;
Yet here, and there, and euery where vnwares
It ſhewd it ſfelfe, and ſhone vnwillingly;
Like a diſcolourd Snake, whoſe hidden ſnares
Through the greene gras his long bright burniſht backe declares.
And in thoſe Tapets weren faſhioned
Many faire pourtraicts, and many a faire feate,
And all of loue, and all of luſty-hed,
As ſeemed by their ſemblaunt did entreat;
And eke all Cupids warres they did repeate,
And cruell battels, which he whilome fought
Gainſt all the Gods, to make his empire great;
Beſides the huge maſſacres, which he wrought
On mighty kings and keſars, into thraldome brought.
Therein was writ, how often thundring Ioue
Had felt the point of his hart-percing dart,
And leauing heauens kingdome, here did roue
In ſtraunge diſguize, to ſlake his ſcalding ſmart;
Now like a Ram, faire Helle to peruart,
Now like a Bull, Europa to withdraw:
Ah, how the fearefull Ladies tender hart
Did liuely ſeeme to tremble, when ſhe ſaw
The huge ſeas vnder her t'obay her ſeruaunts law.
Soone after that into a golden ſhowre
Him ſelfe he chaung'd faire Danaë to vew,
And through the roofe of her ſtrong braſen towre
Did raine into her lap an hony 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 him ſelfe transfard.
Then was he turnd into a ſnowy Swan,
To win faire Leda to his louely 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 inuade;
She ſlept, yet twixt her eyelids cloſely ſpyde,
How towards her he ruſht, and ſmiled at his pryde.
Then ſhewd it, how the Thebane Semelee
Deceiu'd of gealous Iuno, did require
To ſee him in his ſoueraigne maieſtee,
Armd with his thunderbolts and lightning fire,
Whence dearely ſhe with death bought her deſire▪
But faire Alcmena better match did make,
Ioying his loue in likeneſſe more entire;
Three nights in one, they ſay, that for her ſake
He then did put, her pleaſures lenger to partake.
Twiſe was he ſeene in ſoaring Eagles ſhape,
And with wide wings to beat the buxome ayre,
Once, when he with Aſterie did ſcape,
Againe, when as the Troiane boy ſo faire
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.
In Satyres ſhape Antiopa he ſnatcht:
And like a fire, when he Aegin' aſſayd:
A ſhepheard, when Mnemoſyne he catcht:
And like a Serpent to the Thracian mayd.
Whiles thus on earth great Ioue theſe pageaunts playd,
The winged boy did thruſt into his throne,
And ſcoffing, thus vnto his mother ſayd,
Lo now the heauens obey to me alone,
And take me for their Ioue, whiles Ioue to earth is gone.
And thou, faire Phoebus, in thy colours bright
Waſt there enwouen, and 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 ioyfulneſſe:
For thy he thrild thee with a leaden dart,
To loue faire Daphne, which thee loued leſſe:
Leſſe ſhe thee lou'd, then was thy iuſt deſart,
Yet was thy loue her death, & her death was thy ſmart.
So louedſt thou the luſty Hyacinct,
So louedſt thou the faire Coroxis deare:
Yet both are of thy hapleſſe hand extinct,
Yet both in flowres do liue, and loue thee beare,
The one a Paunce, the other a ſweet breare:
For griefe whereof, ye mote haue liuely ſeene
The God himſelfe rending his golden heare,
And breaking quite his gyrlond euer 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 loue a Shepheards daughter for his deareſt Dame.
He loued Iſſe for his deareſt Dame,
And for her ſake her cattell fed a while,
And for her ſake a cowheard vile became,
The ſeruant of Admetus cowheard vile,
Whiles that from heauen he ſuffered exile.
Long were to tell each other louely fit,
Now like a Lyon, hunting after ſpoile,
Now like a Hag, now like a faulcon flit:
All which in that faire arras was moſt liuely writ.
Next vnto him was Neptune pictured,
In his diuine reſemblance wondrous lyke:
His face was rugged, and his hoarie hed
Dropped with brackiſh deaw; his three-forkt Pyke
He ſtearnly ſhooke, and therewith fierce did ſtryke
The raging billowes, that on euery ſyde
They trembling ſtood, and made a long broad dyke,
That his ſwift charet might haue paſſage wyde,
Which foure great Hippodames did draw in temewiſe tyde.
His ſea-horſes did ſeeme to ſnort amayne,
And from their noſethrilles blow the brynie ſtreame,
That made the ſparckling waues to ſmoke agayne,
And flame with gold, but the white fomy creame,
Did ſhine with ſiluer, and ſhoot forth his beame.
The God himſelfe did penſiue ſeeme and ſad,
And hong adowne his head, as he did dreame:
For priuy loue his breſt empierced had,
Ne ought but deare Biſaltis ay could make him glad.
He loued eke Iphimedia deare,
And Aeolus faire daughter Arne hight.
For whom he turnd him ſelfe into a Steare,
And fed on fodder, to beguile her ſight.
Alſo to win Deucalions daughter bright,
Her turnd him ſelfe into a Dolphin fayre;
And like a winged horſe he tooke his flight,
To ſnaly-locke Meduſa to repayre,
On whom he got faire Pegaſus, that flitteth in the ayre.
Next Saturne was, (but who would euer weene,
That ſullein Saturne euer weend to loue?
Yet loue is ſullein, and Saturnlike ſeene,
As he did for Erigone it proue.)
That to a Centaure did him ſelfe tranſmoue.
So proou'd it eke that gracious God of wine,
When for to compaſſe Philliras hard loue,
He turnd himſelfe into a fruitfull vine,
And into her faire boſome made his grapes decline.
Long were to tell the amorous aſſayes,
And gentle pangues, with which he maked meeke
The mighty 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 vnwarlike ſmarts,
Priuily moyſtening his horrid cheek.
There was he painted full of burning darts,
And many wide woundes launched through his inner parts,
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 taſt the ſweet conſuming woe,
Which he had wrought to many others moe.
But to declare the mournfull Trage dyes,
And ſpoiles, wherewith he all the ground did ſtrow,
More eath to number, with how many eyes
High heauen beholds ſad louers nightly theeueryes.
Kings Queenes, Lords Ladies, Knights & Damzels gent
Were heap'd together with the vulgar ſort,
And mingled with the raskall rablement,
Without reſpect of perſon or of port,
To ſhew Dan Cupids powre and great effort:
And round about a border was entrayld,
Of broken bowes and arrowes ſhiuered ſhort,
And a long bloudy riuer through them rayld,
So liuely and ſo like, that liuing ſence it fayld.
And at the vpper end of that faire rowme,
There was an Altar built of pretious ſtone,
Of paſſing valew, and of great renowme,
On which there ſtood an Image all alone,
Of maſſy gold, which with his owne light ſhone;
And wings it had with ſundry colours dight,
More ſundry colours, then the proud Pauone
Beares in his boaſted fan, or Iris bright,
When her diſcolourd bow ſhe ſpreds through heauen bright,
Blindfold he was, and in his cruell fiſt
A mortall bow and arrowes keene did hold,
With which he ſhot at randon, when him liſt,
Some headed with ſad lead, ſome with pure gold;
(Ah man beware, how thou thoſe darts behold)
A wounded Dragon vnder him did ly,
Whoſe hideous tayle his left foot did enſold,
And with a ſhaft was ſhot through either eye,
That no man forth might draw, ne no man remedye.
And vnderneath his feet was written thus,
Vnto the Victor of the Gods this bee:
And all the people in that ample hous
Did to that image bow their humble knee,
And oft committed fowle Idola tree.
That wondrous ſight faire Britomart amazed,
Ne ſeeing could her wonder ſatisfie,
But euermore and more vpon it gazed,
The whiles the paſſing brightnes her fraile ſences dazed.
Tho as ſhe backward caſt her buſie eye,
To ſearch each ſecret of that goodly ſted
Ouer the dore thus written ſhe did ſpye
Be hold: ſhe oft and oft it ouer-red,
Yet could not find what ſence it figured:
But what ſo 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.
Much fairer, 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 ouerlayd,
Wrought with wilde Antickes, which their follies playd,
In the rich metall, as they liuing were:
A thouſand monſtrous formes therein were made,
Such as falſe loue doth oft vpon him weare?
For loue in thouſand mōſtrous formes doth oft appeare.
And all about, the gliſtring walles were hong
With warlike ſpoiles, and with victorious prayes,
Of mighty Conquerours and Captaines ſtrong,
Which were whilome captiued in their dayes
To cruell loue, and wrought their owne decayes:
Their ſwerds & ſperes were broke, & hauberques rent;
And their proud girlonds of tryumphant bayes
Troden in duſt with fury inſolent,
To ſhew the victors might and mercileſſe intent.
The warlike Mayde beholding earneſtly
The goodly ordinance of this rich place,
Did greatly wonder ne could ſatisfie
Her greedy eyes with gazing a long ſpace,
But more ſhe meruaild that no footings trace,
Nor wight appear'd, but waſtefull emptineſſe,
And ſolemne ſilence ouer all that place:
Straunge thing it ſeem'd, that none was to poſſeſſe
So rich purueyance, ne them keepe with carefulneſſe.
And as ſhe lookt about, ſhe did behold,
How ouer that ſame dore was likewiſe writ,
Be bold, be bold, and euery 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 roomes vpper end,
Another yron dore, on which was writ,
Be not too bold; whereto though ſhe did bend
Her earneſt mind, yet wiſt not what it might intend.
Thus ſhe there waited vntill euentyde,
Yet liuing creature none ſhe ſaw appeare:
And now ſad ſhadowes gan the world to hyde,
From mortall vew, and wrap in darkeneſſe dreare;
Yet nould ſhe d'off her weary armes, for feare
Of ſecret daunger, ne let ſleepe oppreſſe
Her heauy eyes with natures burdein deare,
But drew her ſelfe aſide in ſickerneſſe,
And her welpointed weapons did about her dreſſe.
Cant. XII.
The maske of Cupid, and th'enchaunted
Chamber are displayd,
Whence Britomart redeemes faire
Amoret, through charmes decayd.
THo when as cheareleſſe Night ycouered had
Faire heauen with an vniuerſall cloud,
That euery wight diſmayd with darkneſſe ſad,
In ſilence and in ſleepe themſelues did ſhroud,
She heard a ſhrilling Trompet ſound aloud,
Signe of nigh battell, or got victory;
Nought therewith daunted was her courage proud,
But rather ſtird to cruell enmity,
Expecting cuer, when ſome foe ſhe might deſcry.
With that, an hideous ſtorme of winde aroſe,
With dreadfull thunder and lightning atwixt,
And an earth-quake, as if it ſtreight would loſe
The worlds foundations from his centre fixt;
A direfull ſtench of ſmoke and ſulphure mixt
Enſewd, whoſe noyance fild the fearefull ſted,
From the fourth houre of night vntill the ſixt;
Yet the bold Britoneſſe was nought ydred,
Though much emmou'd, but ſtedfaſt ſtill perſeuered.
All ſuddenly a ſtormy whirlwind blew
Throughout the houſe, that clapped euery dore,
With which that yron wicket open flew,
As it with mightie leuers had bene tore:
And forth iſſewd, as on the ready flore
Of ſome Theatre, a graue perſonage,
That in his hand a branch of laurell bore,
With comely haueour and count'nance ſage,
Yclad in coſtly garments, fit for tragicke Stage.
Proceeding to the midſt, he ſtill did ſtand,
As if in mind he ſomewhat had to ſay,
And to the vulgar beckning with his hand,
In ſigne of ſilence, as to heare a play,
By liuely actions he gan bewray
Some argument of matter paſſioned;
Which doen, he backe retyred ſoft away,
And paſſing by, his name diſcouered,
Eaſe, on his robe in golden letters cyphered.
The noble Mayd, ſtill ſtanding all this vewd,
And merueild at his ſtrange intendiment;
With that a ioyous fellowſhip iſſewd
Of Minſtrals, making goodly meriment,
With wanton Bardes, and Rymers impudent,
All which together ſungfull chearefully
A lay of loues delight, with ſweet conſent:
After whom marcht a iolly company,
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 ſenſes wholly did confound,
And the fraile ſoule in deepe delight nigh dround:
And when it ceaſt, ſhrill trompets loud did bray,
That their report did farre away rebound,
And when they ceaſt, it gan againe to play,
The whiles the maskers marched forth in trim aray.
The firſt was Fancy, like a louely boy,
Of rare aſpect, and beautie without peare;
Matchable either to that ympe of Troy,
Whom Ioue did loue, and choſe his cup to beare,
Or that ſame daintie lad, which was ſo deare
To great Alcides, that when as he dyde,
He wailed womanlike with many a teare,
And euery wood, and euery valley wyde
He fild with Hylas name; the Nymphes eke Hylas cryde.
His garment neither was of ſilke nor ſay,
But painted 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 by his gate might eaſily appeare;
For ſtill he far'd as dauncing in delight,
And in his hand a windy fan did beare,
That in the idle aire he mou'd ſtill here and there.
And him beſide marcht amorous Deſyre,
Who ſeemd of riper yeares, then th'other Swaine,
Yet was that others ſwayne this elders ſyre,
And gaue him being, commune to them twaine:
His garment was diſguiſed very vaine,
And his embrodered Bonet ſat awry;
Twixt both his hands few ſparkes he cloſe did ſtraine,
Which ſtill he blew, and kindled buſily,
That ſoone they life conceiud, & forth in flames did fly.
Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad
In a diſcolour'd cote, of ſtraunge diſguyſe,
That at his backe a brode Capuccio had,
And ſleeues dependant Albaneſe-wyſe:
He lookt askew with his miſtruſtfull eyes,
And nicely trode, as thornes lay in his way,
Or that the flore to ſhrinke he did auyſe,
And on a broken reed he ſtill did ſtay
His feeble ſteps, which ſhrunke, when hard theron he lay.
With him went Daunger, cloth' 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 ruſtie blade
In th'other was, this Miſchiefe, that Miſhap;
With th'one his foes he threatned to inuade,
With th'other he his friends ment to enwrap:
For whom he could not kill, he practizd to entrap.
Next him was Feare, all arm'd from top to toe,
Yet thought himſelfe not ſafe enough thereby,
But feard each ſhadow mouing to and fro,
And his owne armes when glittering he did ſpy,
Or claſhing heard, he faſt away did fly,
As aſhes pale of hew, and wingyheeld;
And euermore on daunger fixt his eye,
Gainſt whom he alwaies bent a braſen ſhield,
Which his right hand vnarmed fearefully did wield.
With him went Hope in rancke, a handſome Mayd,
Of chearefull looke and louely to behold;
In ſilken ſamite ſhe was light arayd,
And her faire lockes were wouen vp in gold;
She alway ſmyld, and in her hand did hold
An holy water Sprinckle, dipt in deowe,
With which ſhe ſprinckled fauours manifold,
On whom ſhe liſt, and did great liking ſheowe,
Great liking vnto many, but true loue to feowe.
And after them Diſſemblance, and Suſpect
Marcht in one rancke, yet an vnequall 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 painted, and purloynd,
And her bright browes were deckt with borrowed haire:
Her deedes were forged, and her words falſe coynd,
And alwaies in her hand two clewes of ſilke ſhe twynd.
But he was foule, ill fauoured, and grim,
Vnder his eyebrowes looking ſtill askaunce;
And euer as Diſſemblance laught on him,
He lowrd on her with daungerous eyeglaunce;
Shewing his nature in his countenance;
His rolling eyes did neuer reſt in place,
But walkt each where, for feare of hid miſchaunce,
Holding a lattice ſtill before his face,
Through which he ſtill did peepe, as forward he did pace.
Next him went Griefe, and Fury matcht yfere;
Griefe all in ſable ſorrowfully clad,
Downe hanging his dull head, with heauy 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 thenceforth a wretched life they lad,
In wilfull languor and conſuming ſmart,
Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart.
But Fury was full ill appareiled
In rags, that naked nigh ſhe did appeare,
With ghaſtly lookes and dreadfull drerihed;
For from her backe her garments ſhe did teare,
And from her head oft rent her ſnarled heare:
In her right hand a firebrand ſhe did toſſe
About her head, ſtill roming here and there;
As a diſmayed Deare in chace emboſt,
Forgetfull of his ſafety, hath his right way loſt.
After them went Diſpleaſure and Pleaſance,
He looking lompiſh and full ſullein ſad,
And hanging downe his heauy countenance;
She chearefull freſh and full of ioyance glad,
As if no ſorrow ſhe ne felt ne drad;
That euill 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 ſixe couples forth in faire degree.
After all theſe there marcht a moſt faire 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 owne image figurd in her face,
Full of ſad ſignes, fearefull to liuing ſight;
Yet in that horror ſhewd a ſeemely grace,
And with her feeble feet did moue a comely pace.
Her breſt all naked, as net iuory,
Without adorne of gold or ſiluer bright,
Wherewith the Crafteſman wonts it beautify,
Of her dew honour was deſpoyled quight,
And a wide wound therein (O ruefull ſight)
Entrenched deepe with knife 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 oriſice her trembling hart
Was drawne forth, and in ſiluer baſin layd,
Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart,
And in her bloud yet ſteeming freſh embayd:
And thoſe two villeins, which her ſteps vpſtayd,
When her weake feete could ſcarcely her ſuſtaine,
And fading vitall powers gan to fade,
Her forward ſtill with torture did conſtraine,
And euermore encreaſed her conſuming paine.
Next after her the winged God himſelfe
Came riding on a Lion rauenous,
Taught to obay the menage of that Elfe,
That man and beaſt with powre imperious
Subdeweth to his knigdome tyrannous:
His blindfold eyes he bad a while vnbind,
That his proud ſpoyle of that ſame dolorous
Faire Dame he might behold in perfect kind;
Which ſeene, he much reioyced in his cruell mind.
Of which full proud, himſelfe vp rearing hye,
He looked round about with ſterne diſdaine;
And did ſuruay his goodly company:
And marſhalling the euill ordered traine,
With that the darts which his right did ſtraine,
Full dreadfully he ſhooke that all did quake,
And clapt on hie his coulourd winges twaine,
That all his many it affraide did make:
Tho blinding him againe, his way he forth did take.
Behinde him was Reproch, Repentance, Shame;
Reproch the firſt, Shame next, Repent behind:
Repentance feeble, ſorrowfull, and lame:
Reproch deſpightfull, careleſſe, and vnkind;
Shame moſt ill fauourd, beſtiall, and blind:
Shame lowrd, Repentance ſigh'd, Reproch did ſcould;
Reproch ſharpe ſtings, Repentance whips entwind,
Shame burning brond-yrons in her hand did hold:
All three to each vnlike, 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,
Vnquiet Care, and fond Vnthriftihead,
Lewd Loſſe of Time, and Sorrow ſeeming dead,
Inconſtant Chaunge, and falſe Diſloyaltie,
Conſuming Riotiſe, and guilty Dread
Of heauenly vengeance, faint Infirmitie,
Vile Pouertie, and laſtly Death with infamie.
There were full many moe like maladies,
Whoſe names and natures I note readen well;
So many moe, as there be phantaſies
In wauering wemens wit, that none can tell,
Or paines in loue, or puniſhments in hell;
And which diſguized marcht in masking wiſe,
About the chamber with that Damozell,
And then returned, hauing marched thriſe,
Into the inner roome, from whence they firſt did riſe.
So ſoone as they were in, the dore ſtreight way
Faſt locked, driuen with that ſtormy blaſt,
Which firſt it opened; and bore all away
Then the braue Maid, which all this while was plaſt,
In ſecret ſhade, and ſaw both firſt and laſt,
Iſſewed forth, and went vnto the dore,
To enter in, but found it locked faſt:
It vaine ſhe thought with rigorous vprore
For to efforce, when charmes had cloſed it afore.
Where force might not auaile, their ſleights and art
She caſt to vſe, both fit for hard emprize;
For thy from that ſame roome not to depart
Till morrow next, ſhe did her ſelfe auize,
When that ſame Maske againe ſhould forth arize.
The morrow next appeard with ioyous cheare,
Calling men to their daily exercize,
Then ſhe, as morrow freſh, her ſelfe did reare
Out of her ſecret ſtand, that day for to out weare.
All that day ſhe outwore in wandering,
And gazing on that Chambers ornament,
Till that againe the ſecond euening
Her couered 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,
Neither of idle ſhewes, nor of falſe charmes aghaſt.
So ſoone as ſhe was entred, round about
She 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 liuing wight ſhe ſaw in all that roome,
Saue that ſame woefull Ladie, both whoſe hands
Were bounden faſt, that did her ill become,
And her ſmall waſt girt round with yron bands,
Vnto a braſen pillour, by the which ſhe ſtands.
And her before the vile Enchaunter ſate,
Figuring ſtraunge characters of his art,
With liuing bloud he thoſe characters wrate,
Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,
Seeming transfixed with a cruell dart,
And all perforce to make her him to loue.
Ah who can loue the worker of her ſmart?
A thouſand charmes he formerly did proue;
Yet thouſand charmes could not her ſtedfaſt heart remoue.
Soone as that virgin knight he ſaw in place,
His wicked bookes in haſt he ouerthrew,
Not caring his long labours to deface,
And fiercely ronning 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.
From her, to whom his fury firſt he ment,
The wicked weapon raſhly he did wreſt,
And turning to her ſelfe his fell intent,
Vnwares it ſtrooke into her ſnowie cheſt,
That little drops empurpled 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 giue him the reward for ſuch vile outrage dew.
So mightily ſhe ſmote him, that to ground
He fell halfe dead; next ſtroke him ſhould haue ſlaine,
Had not the Lady, which by him ſtood bound,
Dernely vnto him called to abſtaine,
From doing him to dy. For elſe her paine
Should be remedileſſe, ſith none but hee,
Which wrought it, could the ſame recure againe.
Therewith ſhe ſtayd her hand, loth ſtayd to bee;
For life ſhe him enuyde, and long'd reuenge to ſee.
And to him ſaid, Thou wicked man, whoſe meed
For ſo huge miſchiefe, and vile villany
Is death, or if that ought do death exceed,
Be ſure, that nought may ſaue thee from to dy,
But if that thou this Dame doe preſently
Reſtore vnto her health, and former ſtate;
This doe and line, elſe die vndoubtedly.
He glad of life, that lookt for death but late,
Did yield himſelfe right willing to prolong his date.
And riſing vp, gan ſtreight to ouerlooke
Thoſe curſed leaues, his charmes backe to reuerſe;
Full dreadfull things out of that balefull booke
He red, and meaſur'd many a ſad verſe,
That horror gan the virgins hart to perſe,
And her faire lockes vp ſtared ſtiffe on end,
Hearing him thoſe ſame bloudy lines reherſe;
And all the while he red, ſhe did extend
Her ſword high ouer him, if ought he did offend.
Anon ſhe gan perceiue the houſe to quake,
And all the dores to rattle round about;
Yet all that did not her diſmaied make,
Nor ſlacke her threatfull hand for daungers dout,
But ſtill with ſtedfaſt eye and courage ſtout
Abode, to weet what end would come of all.
At laſt that mightie 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 riuen bowels gor'd,
Was cloſed vp, as it had not bene bor'd,
And euery part to ſafety full ſound,
As ſhe were neuer hurt, was ſoone reſtor'd:
Tho when ſhe felt her ſelfe to be vnbound,
And perfect hole, proſtrate ſhe fell vnto the ground.
Before faire Britomart, ſhe fell proſtrate,
Saying, Ah noble knight, what worthy meed
Can wretched Lady, quit from wofull ſtate,
Yield you in liew of this your gratious deed?
Your vertue ſelfe her owne reward ſhall breed,
Euen immortall praiſe, and glory wyde,
Which I your vaſſall, by your proweſſe freed,
Shall through the world make to be notifyde,
And goodly well aduance, that goodly well was tryde.
But Britomart vprearing her from ground,
Said, Gentle Dame, reward enough I weene
For many labours more, then I haue found,
This, that in ſafety now I haue you ſeene,
And meane of your deliuerance haue beene:
Henceforth faire Lady comfort to you take,
And put away remembrance of late teene;
In ſtead thereof know, that your louing Make,
Hath no leſſe griefe endured for your gentle ſake.
She much was cheard to heare him mentiond,
Whom of all liuing wights ſhe loued beſt.
Then laid the noble Championeſſe ſtrong hond
Vpon th'enchaunter, which had her diſtreſt
So ſore, and with foule outrages oppreſt:
With that great chaine, wherewith not long ygo
He bound that pitteous Lady priſoner, now releſt,
Himſelfe ſhe bound, more worthy to be ſo,
And captiue with her led to wretchedneſſe and wo.
Returning backe, thoſe goodly roomes, which erſt
She ſaw ſo rich and royally arayd,
Now vaniſht vtterly, and cleane ſubuerſt
She found, and all their glory quite decayd,
That ſight of ſuch a chaunge her much diſmayd.
Thence forth deſcending to that perlous Porch,
Thoſe dreadfull flames ſhe alſo found delayd,
And quenched quite, like a conſumed torch,
That erſt all entrers wont 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 all, that thither came,
Was vaniſht quite, as it were not the ſame,
And gaue her leaue at pleaſure forth to paſſe.
Th'Enchaunter ſelfe, which all that fraud did frame,
To haue efforſt the loue of that faire laſſe,
Seeing his worke now waſted deepe engrieued was.
But when the victoreſſe arriued there,
Where late ſhe left the penſife Scudamore,
With her owne truſty Squire, both full of feare,
Neither of them ſhe found where ſhe them lore:
There at her noble hart was ſtoniſht ſore;
But moſt faire Amoret, whoſe gentle ſpright
Now gan to feede on hope, which ſhe before
Conceiued had, to ſee her owne 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,
Miſdeeming ſure that her thoſe flames did burne;
And therefore gan aduize with her old Squire,
Who her deare nourſlings loſſe no leſſe did mourne,
Thence to depart for further aide t'enquire:
Where let them wend at will, whileſt here I doe reſpire.
A Viſion vpon this conceipt of the
Faery Queene.
ME thought I ſaw the graue, where Laura lay,
Within that Temple, where the veſtall flame
Was wont to burne, and paſſing by that way,
To ſee that buried duſt of liuing fame,
Whoſe tombe faire loue, and fairer vertue kept,
All ſuddenly I ſaw the Faery Queene:
At whoſe approch the ſoule of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth thoſe graces were not ſeene.
For they this Queene attended, in whoſe ſteed
Obliuion laid him downe on Lauras herſe:
Hereat the hardeſt ſtones were ſeene to bleed,
And grones of buried ghoſtes the heauens did perſe.
Where Homers ſpright did tremble all for griefe,
And curſt th'acceſſe of that celeſtiall theife.
Another of the ſame.
THe prayſe of meaner wits this worke like profit brings,
As doth the Cuckoes ſong delight when Philumena
ſings.
If thou haſt formed right true vertues face herein:
Vertue her ſelfe can beſt diſcerne, to whom they written bin.
If thou haſt beautie prayſd, let her ſole lookes diuine
Iudge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.
If Chaſtitie want ought, or Temperance her dew,
Behold her Princely mind aright, and write thy, Queene anew.
Meane while ſhe ſhall perceiue, how farre her vertues ſore
Aboue the reach of all that liue, or ſuch as wrote of yore:
And thereby will excuſe and fauour thy good will:
Whoſe vertue can not be expreſt, but by an Angels quill.
Of me no lines are lou'd, nor letters are of price,
Of all which ſpeake our Engliſh tongue, but thoſe of thy deuice.
W.R.
To the learned Shepheard
COllyn I ſee by thy new taken taske,
ſome ſacred fury hath enricht thy braynes,
That leades thy muſe in haughtie verſe to maske,
and loath the layes that longs to lowly ſwaynes.
That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes vnto kings,
So like the liuely Larke that mounting ſings.
Thy louely Roſolinde ſeemes now forlorne,
and all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight,
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in ſcorne,
thoſe prety pypes that did thy mates delight.
Thoſe truſtie mates, that loued thee ſo well,
VVhom thou gau'ſt mirth: as they gaue thee the bell.
Yet as thou earſt with thy ſweet roundelayes,
didſt ſtirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers:
So moughtſt thou now in theſe refyned layes,
delight the dainty eares of higher powers.
And ſo mought they in their deepe skanning skill
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quill.
And fare befall that Faerie Queene of thine,
in whoſe faire eyes loue linckt with vertue ſits:
Enfuſing by thoſe bewties fiers deuine,
Such high conceites into thy humble wits,
As raiſed hath poore paſtors oaten reede,
From ruſticke tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.
So mought thy Redcroſſe knight with happy hand
victorious be in that faire Hands right:
VVhich thou doeſt vaile in Type of Faery land
Elyzas bleſſed field, that Albion hight.
That ſhieldes her friends, and warres her mightie foes,
Yet ſtill with people, peace, and plentie flowes.
But (iolly Shepheard) though with pleaſing ſtyle,
thou feaſt the humour of the Courtly traine:
Let not conceipt thy ſetled ſence beguile,
ne daunted be through enuy or diſdaine.
Subiect thy dome to her Empyring ſpright,
From whence thy Muſe, and all the world takes light.
Hobynoll.
THE SECOND PART OF THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Containing THE FOVRTH, FIFTH, AND SIXTH BOOKES.
By Ed. Spenſer.
ANCHORA SPEI
printer's or publisher's device
Imprinted at London for VVilliam Ponſonby. 1596.
THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Containing The Legend of CAMBEL and TELAMOND, OR OF FRIENDSHIP.
THe rugged forhead that with graue foreſight
Welds kingdomes cauſes, & affaires of ſtate,
My looſer rimes (I wote) doth ſharply wite,
For praiſing loue, as I haue done of late,
And magnifying louers deare debate;
By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,
Through falſe allurement of that pleaſing baite,
That better were in vertues diſcipled,
Then with vaine poemes weeds to haue their fancies fed.
Such ones ill iudge of loue, that cannot loue,
Ne in their froſen hearts feele kindly flame:
For thy they ought not thing vnknowne reproue,
Ne naturall affection faultleſſe blame,
For fault of few that haue abuſd the ſame.
For it of honor and all vertue is
The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,
That crowne true louers with immortall blis,
The meed of them that loue, and do not liue amiſſe.
Which who ſo 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 braue exploits which great Heroes wonne,
In loue were either ended or begunne:
Witneſſe the father of Philoſophie,
Which to his Critias, ſhaded oft from ſunne,
Of loue full manie leſſons did apply,
The which theſe Stoicke cenſours cannot well deny.
To ſuch therefore I do not ſing at all,
But to that ſacred Saint my ſoueraigne Queene,
In whoſe chaſt breaſt all bountie naturall,
And treaſures of true loue enlocked beene,
Boue all her ſexe that euer yet was ſeene;
To her I ſing of loue, that loueth beſt,
And beſt is lou'd of all aliue I weene:
To her this ſong moſt fitly is addreſt,
The Queene of loue, & Prince of peace frō heauen bleſt.
Which that ſhe may the better deigne to heare,
Do thou dred infant, Venus dearling doue,
From her high ſpirit chaſe imperious feare,
And vſe of awfull Maieſtie remoue:
In ſted thereof with drops of melting loue,
Deawd with ambroſiall kiſſes, by thee gotten
From thy ſweete ſmyling mother from aboue,
Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage ſoften,
That ſhe may hearke to loue, and reade this leſſon often.
Cant. I.
Fayre Britomart ſaues Amoret,
Dueſſa diſcord breedes
Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:
Their fight and warlike deedes.
OF louers ſad calamities of old,
Full many piteous ſtories doe remaine,
But none more piteous euer was ytold,
Then that of Amorets hart-binding chaine,
And this of Florimels vnworthie paine:
The deare compaſſion of whoſe bitter fit
My ſoftened heart ſo ſorely doth conſtraine,
That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,
And oftentimes doe wiſh it neuer had bene writ.
For from the time that Scudamour her bought
In perilous fight, ſhe neuer 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 loue,
And eke the Ladie ſelfe he brought away,
Whom hauing wedded as did him behoue,
A new vnknowen miſchiefe did from him remoue.
For that ſame vile Enchauntour Buſyran,
The very ſelfe ſame day that ſhe was wedded,
Amidſt the bridale feaſt, whileſt euery man
Surcharg'd with wine, were heedleſſe and ill hedded,
All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,
Brought in that mask of loue which late was ſhowen:
And there the Ladie ill of friends beſtedded,
By way of ſport, as oft in maskes is knowen,
Conueyed quite away to liuing wight vnknowen.
Seuen moneths he ſo her kept in bitter ſmart,
Becauſe his ſinfull luſt ſhe would not ſerue,
Vntill ſuch time as noble Britomart
Releaſed her, that elſe was like to ſterue,
Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerue.
And now ſhe is with her vpon the way,
Marching in louely wiſe, that could deſerue
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 diuerſe vſage 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 euerie word did tremble as ſhe ſpake,
And euerie looke was coy, and wondrous quaint,
And euerie limbe that touched her did quake:
Yet could ſhe not but curteous coūtenance to her make.
For well ſhe wiſt, as true it was indeed,
That her liues Lord and patrone of her health
Right well deſerued as his duefull meed,
Her loue, her ſeruice, and her vtmoſt wealth.
All is his iuſtly, that all freely dealth:
Nathleſſe her honor dearer then her life,
She ſought to ſaue, as thing reſeru'd from ſtealth;
Die had ſhe leuer with Enchanters knife,
Then to be falſe in loue, profeſt a virgine wife.
Thereto her feare was made ſo much the greater
Through fine abuſion of that 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 other whiles to her ſhe purpos made
Of loue, 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 thraldome he redeemed,
For which no ſeruice ſhe too much eſteemed,
Yet dread of ſhame, and doubt of fowle diſhonor
Made 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 euening, that they came
Vnto a Caſtell, lodged there to bee,
Where many a knight, and many a louely Dame
Was then aſſembled, deeds of armes to ſee:
Amongſt all which was none more faire then ſhee,
That many of them mou'd to eye her ſore.
The cuſtome of that place was ſuch, that hee
Which had no loue 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 loue, auow'd
That faireſt Amoret was his by right,
And offred that to iuſtifie alowd.
The warlike virgine ſeeing his ſo prowd
And boaſtfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth,
But for the preſent did her anger ſhrowd;
And ſayd, her loue to loſe ſhe was full loth,
But either he ſhould neither of them haue, or both.
So foorth they went, and both together giuſted;
But that ſame younker ſoone was ouerthrowne,
And made repent, that he had raſhly luſted
For thing vnlawfull, that was not his owne:
Yet ſince he ſeemed valiant, though vnknowne,
She that no leſſe was courteous then ſtout,
Caſt how to ſalue, that both the cuſtome ſhowne
Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out,
That ſeem'd full hard t'accord two things ſo far in dout.
The Seneſchall was cal'd to deeme the right,
Whom ſhe requir'd, that firſt fayre Amoret
Might be to her allow'd, as to a Knight,
That did her win and free from chalenge ſet:
Which ſtraight to her was yeelded without let.
Then ſince that ſtrange Knights loue from him was quitted,
She claim'd that to her ſelfe, as Ladies det
He as a Knight might iuſtly be admitted;
So none ſhould be out ſhut, ſith all of loues were fitted.
With that her gliſtring helmet ſhe vnlaced;
Which doft, her golden lockes, that were vp bound
Still in a knot, vnto 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.
Such when thoſe Knights and Ladies all about
Beheld her, all were with amazement ſmit,
And euery 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
To them appear'd, with ſhield and armour fit;
Some, that it was a maske of ſtrange diſguiſe:
So diuerſely each one did ſundrie doubts deuiſe.
But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed
Was to that goodly fellowſhip reſtor'd,
Ten thouſand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,
And doubly ouercommen, her ador'd:
So did they all their former ſtrife accord;
And eke fayre Amoret now freed from feare,
More franke affection did to her afford,
And to her bed, which ſhe was wont forbeare,
Now freely drew, and found right ſafe aſſurance theare.
Where all that night they of their loues did treat,
And hard aduentures twixt themſelues alone,
That each the other gan with paſſion great,
And griefull pittie priuately bemone.
The morow next ſo ſoone as Titan ſhone,
They both vproſe, and to their waies them dight:
Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none,
That to their willes could them direct aright,
Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight.
Lo thus they rode, till at the laſt they ſpide
Two armed Knights, that toward them did pace,
And ech of them had ryding by his ſide
A Ladie, ſeeming in ſo farre a ſpace,
But Ladies none they were, albee in face
And outward ſhew faire ſemblance they did beare;
For vnder maske of beautie and good grace,
Vile treaſon and fowle falſhood hidden were,
That mote to none but to the warie wiſe appeare.
The one of them the falſe Dueſſa hight,
That now had chang'd her former wonted hew:
For ſhe could d'on ſo manie ſhapes in ſight,
As euer could Cameleon colours new;
So could ſhe forge all colours, ſaue the trew.
The other no whit better was then ſhee,
But that ſuch as ſhe was, ſhe plaine did ſhew;
Yet otherwiſe much worſe, if worſe might bee,
And dayly more offenſiue vnto each degree.
Her name was Ate, mother of debate,
And all diſſention, which doth dayly grow
Amongſt fraile men, that many a publike ſtate
And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.
Her falſe Dueſſa who 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,
Where ſhe in darknes waſtes her curſed daies & nights.
Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,
There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,
Which puniſh wicked men, that walke amiſſe,
It is a darkſome delue farre vnder ground,
With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,
That none the ſame may eaſily out win;
Yet many waies to enter may be found,
But none to iſſue forth when one is in:
For diſcord harder is to end then to begin.
And all within the riuen walls were hung
With ragged monuments of times forepaſt,
All which the ſad effects of diſcord ſung:
There were rent robes, and broken ſcepters plaſt,
Altars defyl'd, and holy things defaſt,
Diſſhiuered ſpeares, and ſhields ytorne in twaine,
Great cities ranſackt, and ſtrong caſtles raſt,
Nations captiued, and huge armies ſlaine:
Of all which ruines there ſome relicks did remaine.
There was the ſigne of antique Babylon,
Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,
Of ſacred Salem, and ſad Ilion,
For memorie of which on high there hong
The golden Apple, cauſe of all their wrong,
For which the three faire Goddeſſes did ſtriue:
There alſo was the name of Nimrod ſtrong,
Of Alexander, and his Princes fiue,
Which ſhar'd to them the ſpoiles that he had got aliue.
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 vnder great Alcides furie fell:
And of the dreadfull diſcord, which did driue
The noble Argonauts to outrage fell,
That each of life ſought others to depriue,
All mindleſſe of the Golden fleece, which made them ſtriue.
And eke of priuate 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 vnnaturall;
Some of deare louers, 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.
Such was her houſe within; but all without,
The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,
Which ſhe her ſelfe had ſowen all about,
Now growen great, at firſt of little ſeedes,
The ſeedes of euill wordes, and factious deedes;
Which when to ripeneſſe due they growen arre,
Bring foorth an infinite increaſe, that breedes
Tumultuous trouble and contentious iarre,
The which moſt often end in bloudſhed and in warre.
And thoſe ſame curſed ſeedes doe alſo ſerue
To her for bread, and yeeld her liuing food:
For life it is to her, when others ſterue
Through miſchieuous 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 infernall 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, vnmeete a mouth to bee,
That nought but gall and venim comprehended,
And wicked wordes that God and man offended:
Her lying tongue was in two parts diuided,
And both the parts did ſpeake, and both contended;
And as her tongue, ſo was her hart diſcided,
That neuer thoght one thing, but doubly ſtil was guided.
Als as ſhe double ſpake, ſo heard ſhe double,
With matchleſſe eares deformed and diſtort,
Fild with falſe rumors and ſeditios trouble,
Bred in aſſemblies of the vulgar ſort,
That ſtill are led with euery light report.
And as her eares ſo eke her feet were odde,
And much vnlike, th'one long, the other ſhort,
And both miſplaſt; that when th'one forward yode,
The other backe retired, and contrarie trode.
Likewiſe vnequall were her handes twaine,
That one did reach, the other puſht away,
That one did make, the other mard againe,
And ſought to bring all things vnto decay;
Whereby great riches gathered manie a day,
She in ſhort ſpace did often bring to nought,
And their poſſeſſours often did diſmay.
For all her ſtudie was and all her thought,
How ſhe might ouerthrow the things that Concord wrought.
So much her malice did her might ſurpas,
That euen th'Almightie ſelfe ſhe did maligne,
Becauſe to man ſo mercifull he was,
And vnto all his creatures ſo benigne,
Sith ſhe her ſelfe was of his grace indigne:
For all this worlds faire workmanſhip ſhe tride,
Vnto his laſt confuſion to bring,
And that great golden chaine quite to diuide,
With which it bleſſed Concord hath together tide.
Such was that hag, which with Dueſſa roade,
And ſeruing her in her malitious vſe,
To hurt good knights, was as it were her baude,
To ſell her borrowed beautie to abuſe.
For though like withered tree, that wanteth iuyce,
She old and crooked were, yet now of late,
As freſh and fragrant as the floure deluce
She 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,
That bore great ſway in armes and chiualrie,
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,
With two companions of like qualitie,
Faithleſſe Dueſſa, and falſe 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 aduenturous 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 louely mayd,
For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd.
By that the louely paire drew nigh to hond:
Whom when as Paridel more plaine beheld,
Albee in heart he like affection fond,
Yet mindfull how he late by one was feld,
That did thoſe armes and that ſame ſcutchion weld,
He had ſmall luſt to buy his loue ſo deare,
But anſwerd, Sir him wiſe I neuer held,
That hauing once eſcaped perill neare,
Would afterwards afreſh the ſleeping euill reare.
This knight too late his manhood and his might,
I did aſſay, that me right dearely coſt,
Ne liſt I for reuenge prouoke new fight,
Ne for light Ladies loue, that ſoone is loſt.
The hot-ſpurre youth ſo ſcorning to be croſt,
Take then to you this Dame of mine (quoth hee)
And I without your perill or your coſt,
Will chalenge yond ſame other for my fee:
So forth he fiercely prickt, that one him ſcare could ſee.
The warlike Britoneſſe her ſoone addreſt,
And with ſuch vncouth welcome did receaue
Her fayned Paramour, her forced gueſt,
That being forſt his ſaddle ſoone to leaue,
Him ſelfe he did of his new loue deceaue:
And made him ſelfe then ſample of his follie.
Which done, ſhe paſſed forth not taking leaue,
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 vnable once to weld,
They reared him on horſe backe, and vpſtayd,
Till on his way they had him forth conuayd:
And all the way with wondrous griefe of mynd,
And ſhame, he ſhewd him ſelfe to be diſmayd,
More for the loue 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 euill 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.
Whom when as Blandamour approching nie,
Perceiu'd to be ſuch as they ſeemd in vew,
He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.
For th'one of them he perfectly deſcride,
To be Sir Scudamour, by that he bore
The God of loue, with wings diſplayed wide,
Whom mortally he hated euermore,
Both for his worth, that all men did adore,
And eke becauſe his loue he wonne by right:
Which when he thought, it grieued him full ſore,
That through the bruſes of his former fight,
He now vnable was to wreake his old deſpight.
For thy he thus to Paridel beſpake,
Faire Sir, offriendſhip let me now you pray,
That as I late aduentured for your ſake,
The hurts whereof me now from battell ſtay,
Ye will me now with like good turne repay,
And iuſtifie my cauſe on yonder knight.
Ah Sir (ſaid Paridel) do not diſmay
Your ſelfe for this, my ſelfe will for you fight,
As ye haue done for me: the left hand rubs the right.
With that he put his ſpurres vnto his ſteed,
With ſpeare in reſt, and toward him did fare,
Like ſhaft out of a bow preuenting ſpeed.
But Scudamour was ſhortly well aware
Of his approch, and gan him ſelfe prepare
Him to receiue with entertainment meete.
So furiouſly they met, that either bare
The other downe vnder their horſes feete,
That what of them became, themſelues did ſcarſly weete.
As when two billowes in the Iriſh ſowndes,
Forcibly driuen with contrarie tydes
Do meete together, each abacke rebowndes
With roaring rage; and daſhing on all ſides,
That filleth all the ſea with ſome, diuydes
The doubtfull current into diuers wayes:
So fell thoſe two in ſpight of both their prydes,
But Scudamour himſelfe did ſoone vprayſe,
And mounting light his foe for lying long vpbrayes.
Who rolled on an heape lay ſtill in ſwound,
All careleſſe of his taunt and bitter rayle,
Till 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 ſtroue him to awake,
And doft his helmet, and vndid his mayle:
So much they did, that at the laſt they brake
His ſlomber, yet ſo mazed, that he nothing ſpake.
Which when as Blandamour beheld, he ſayd,
Falſe faitour Scudamour, that haſt by ſlight
And foule aduantage this good Knight diſmayd,
A Knight much better then thy ſelfe behight,
Well falles it thee that I am not in plight
This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne:
Such is thy wont, that ſtill when any Knight
Is weakned, then thou doeſt him ouerronne:
So haſt thou to thy ſelfe falſe honour often wonne.
He little anſwer'd, but in manly heart
His mightie indignation did forbeare,
Which was not yet ſo ſecret, but ſome part
Thereof did in his frouning face appeare:
Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare
An hideous ſtorme, is by the Northerne blaſt
Quite ouerblowne, yet doth not paſſe ſo cleare,
But that it all the skie doth ouercaſt
With darknes dred, and threatens all the world to waſt.
Ah gentle knight then falſe Dueſſa ſayd,
Why do ye ſtriue for Ladies loue ſo ſore,
Whoſe chiefe deſire is loue and friendly aid
Mongſt gentle Knights to nouriſh euermore?
Ne be ye wroth Sir Scudamour therefore,
That ſhe your loue liſt loue another knight,
Ne do your ſelfe diſlike a whit the more;
For Loue is free, and led with ſelfe delight,
Ne will enforced be with maiſterdome or might.
So falſe Dueſſa, but vile Ate thus;
Both fooliſh knights, I can but laugh at both,
That ſtriue and ſtorme with ſtirre outrageous,
For her that each of you alike doth loth,
And loues another, with whom now ſhe goth
In louely wiſe, and ſleepes, and ſports, and playes;
Whileſt both you here with many a curſed oth,
Sweare ſhe is yours, and ſtirre vp bloudie frayes,
To win a willow bough, whileſt other weares the bayes.
Vile hag (ſayd Scudamour) why doſt thou lye?
And falſly ſeekſt a vertuous wight to ſhame?
Fond knight (ſayd ſhe) the thing that with this eye
I ſaw, why ſhould I doubt to tell the ſame?
Then tell (quoth Blandamour) and feare no blame,
Tell what thou ſaw'ſt, maulgre who ſo it heares.
I ſaw (quoth ſhe) a ſtranger knight, whoſe name
I wote not well, but in his ſhield he beares
(That well I wote) the heads of many broken ſpeares.
I ſaw him haue 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 when as Scudamour did heare, his heart
Was thrild with inward griefe, as when in chace
The Parthian ſtrikes a ſtag with ſhiuering dart,
The beaſt aſtoniſht ſtands in middeſt of his ſmart.
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 vntrue 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 loue miſgotten,
Whereby the name of knight-hood thou doſt ſhend,
And all true louers with diſhonor blotten,
All things not rooted well, will ſoone be rotten,
Fy fy falſe knight (then falſe Dueſſa cryde)
Vnworthy life that loue with guile haſt gotten,
Be thou, where euer 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 refraine,
But that in all thoſe knights and ladies ſight,
He for reuenge had guiltleſſe Glauce ſlaine:
But being paſt, he thus began amaine;
Falſe traitour ſquire, falſe ſquire, of falſeſt knight,
Why doth mine hand from thine auenge abſtaine,
Whoſe Lord hath done my loue this ſoule deſpight?
Why do I not it wreake, on thee now in my might?
Diſcourteous, diſloyall Britomart,
Vntrue to God, and vnto man vniuſt,
What vengeance due can equall thy deſart,
That haſt with ſhamefull ſpot of ſinfull luſt
Defil'd the pledge committed to thy truſt?
Let vgly ſhame and endleſſe infamy
Colour thy name with foule reproaches ruſt.
Yet thou falſe Squire his fault ſhalt 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 haue aſſuaged
With ſober words, that ſufferance deſired,
Till time the tryall of her truth expyred:
And euermore ſought Britomart to cleare.
But he the more with furious rage was fyred,
And thriſe his hand to kill her did vpreare,
And thriſe he drew it backe: ſo did at laſt forbeare.
Cant. II.
Blandamour winnes falſe Florimell,
Paridell for her ſtriues,
They are accorded: Agape
doth lengthen her ſonnes liues.
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 vnknowen,
Is wicked diſcord, whoſe ſmall ſparkes once blowen
None but a God or godlike man can ſlake;
Such as was Orpheus, that when ſtrife was growen
Amongſt thoſe famous ympes of Greece, did take
His ſiluer Harpe in hand, and ſhortly friends them make.
Or ſuch as that celeſtiall Pſalmiſt was,
That when the wicked feend his Lord tormented,
With heauenly notes, that did all other pas,
The outrage of his furious ſit relented.
Such Muſicke is wiſe words with time concented,
To moderate ſtiffe minds, diſpoſd to ſtriue:
Such as that prudent Romane well inuented,
What time his people into partes did ruie,
Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes did driue.
Such vſ'd wiſe Glauce to that wrathfull knight,
To calme 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 vnwiſe, and wareleſſe of the euill,
That by themſelues vnto themſelues is wrought,
Through that falſe witch, and that foule aged dreuill,
The one a feend, the other an incarnate deuill.
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 weete the bold Sir Ferraugh hight,
He that from Braggadocchio whilome reft
The ſnowy Florimell, whoſe beautie bright
Made him ſeeme happie for ſo glorious theft;
Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.
Which when as Blandamour, whoſe fancie light
Was alwaies flitting as the wauering wind,
After each beautie, that appeard in ſight,
Beheld, eft ſoones it prickt his wanton mind
With 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?
But Paridell that had too late a tryall
Of the bad iſſue of his counſell vaine,
Liſt not to hearke, but made this faire denyall;
Laſt turne was mine, well proued to my paine,
This 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 ouerborne.
Who with the ſudden ſtroke aſtoniſht ſore,
Vpon the ground a while in ſlomber lay;
The whiles his loue away the other bore,
And ſhewing her, did Paridell vpbray;
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 enuie gan to ſwell,
And inly grudge at him, that he had ſped ſo well.
Nathleſſe proud man himſelfe the other deemed,
Hauing ſo peereleſſe paragon ygot:
For ſure the fayreſt Florimell him ſeemed,
To him was fallen for his happie lot,
Whoſe like aliue on earth he weened not:
Therefore he her did court, did ſerue, did wooe,
With humbleſt ſuit that he imagine mot,
And all things did deuiſe, and all things dooe,
That might her loue prepare, and liking win theretoo.
She in regard thereof him recompenſt
With golden words, and goodly countenance,
And ſuch fond fauours ſparingly diſpenſt:
Sometimes him bleſſing with alight eye-glance,
And coy lookes tempring with looſe dalliance;
Sometimes eſtranging him in ſterner wiſe,
That hauing caſt him in a fooliſh trance,
He ſeemed brought to bed in Paradiſe,
And prou'd himſelfe 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 his falſe allurements wylie draft,
Had thouſand women of their loue beraft,
Yet now he was ſurpriz'd: for that falſe ſpright,
Which that ſame witch had in this forme engraft,
Was ſo expert in euery ſubtile ſlight,
That it could ouerreach the wiſeſt earthly wight.
Yet he to her did dayly ſeruice more,
And dayly more deceiued was thereby;
Yet Paridell him enuied therefore,
As ſeeming plaſt in ſole felicity:
So blind is luſt, falſe colours to deſcry.
But Ate ſoone diſcouering his deſire,
And finding now fit opportunity
To ſtirre vp ſtrife, twixt loue and ſpight and ire,
Did priuily put coles vnto his ſecret fire.
By ſundry meanes thereto ſhe prickt him forth,
Now with remembrance of thoſe ſpightfull 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 euer when his paſſion is allayd,
She it reuiues 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 beare
The open wrongs, thou doeſt me day by day,
Well know'ſt thou, whē we friendſhip firſt did ſweare,
The couenant was, that euery ſpoyle or pray
Should equally be ſhard betwixt vs tway:
Where is my part then of this Ladie bright,
Whom to thy ſelfe 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 anſwere to him make;
Too fooliſh Paridell, that fayreſt floure
Wouldſt gather faine, and yet no paines wouldſt take:
But not ſo eaſie will I her forſake;
This hand her wonne, this hand ſhall her defend.
With that they gan their ſhiuering ſpeares to ſhake,
And deadly points at eithers breaſt to bend,
Forgetfull each to haue bene euer others frend.
Their firie Steedes with ſo vntamed forſe
Did beare them both to fell auenges end,
That both their ſpeares with pitileſſe remorſe,
Through ſhield and mayle, and haberieon did wend,
And in their fleſh a grieſly paſſage rend,
That with the furie of their owne affret,
Each other horſe and man to ground did ſend;
Where lying ſtill a while, both did forget
The perilous preſent ſtownd, in which their liues were ſet.
As when two warlike Brigandines at ſea,
With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,
Doe meete together on the watry lea,
They ſtemme ech other with ſo fell deſpight,
That with the ſhocke of their owne heedleſſe might,
Their wooden ribs are ſhaken nigh a ſonder;
They which from ſhore behold the dreadfull ſight
Of flaſhing fire, and heare the ordenance thonder,
Do greatly ſtand amaz'd at ſuch vnwonted wonder.
At length they both vpſtarted in amaze;
As men awaked raſhly out of dreme,
And round about themſelues a while did gaze,
Till ſeeing her, that Florimell did ſeme,
In doubt to whom ſhe victorie ſhould deeme,
Therewith their dulled ſprights they edgd a new,
And drawing both their ſwords with rage extreme,
Like two mad maſtiffes each on other flew,
And ſhields did ſhare, & mailes did raſh, and helmes did hew.
So furiouſly each other did aſſayle,
As if their ſoules they would attonce haue 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 beſitting,
To ſtint all ſtrife, and foſter friendly peace,
Was from thoſe Dames ſo farre and ſo vnfitting,
As that in ſtead of praying them ſurceaſe,
They did much more their cruelty encreaſe;
Bidding them fight for honour of their loue,
And rather die then Ladies cauſe releaſe.
With which vaine termes ſo much they did thē moue,
That both reſolu'd the laſt extremities to proue.
There they I weene would fight vntill this day,
Had not a Squire, euen he the Squire of Dames,
By great aduenture trauelled that way;
Who ſeeing both bent to ſo bloudy games,
And both of old well knowing by their names,
Drew nigh, to weete the cauſe of their debate:
And firſt laide on thoſe Ladies thouſand blames,
That did not fſeke t'appeaſe their deadly hate,
But gazed on their harmes, not pittying their eſtate.
And then thoſe Knights he humbly did beſeech,
To ſtay their hands, till he a while had ſpoken:
Who lookt a little vp at that his ſpeech,
Yet would not let their battell ſo be broken,
Both greedie fiers on other to be wroken.
Yet he to them ſo earneſtly did call,
And them coniur'd by ſome well knowen token,
That they at laſt their wrothfull hands let fall,
Content to heare him ſpeake, and glad to reſt withall.
Firſt he deſir'd their cauſe of ſtrife to ſee:
They ſaid, it was for loue of Florimell,
Ah gentle knights (quoth he) how may that bee,
And ſhe ſo farre aſtray, as none can tell,
Fond Squire, full angry then ſayd Paridell,
Seeſt not the Ladie there before thy face?
He looked backe, and her aduizing well,
Weend as he ſaid, by that her outward grace,
That fayreſt Florimell was preſent there in place.
Glad man was he to ſee that ioyous ſight,
For none aliue but ioy'd in Florimell,
And lowly to her lowting thus behight;
Fayreſt of faire, that faireneſſe doeſt excell,
This happie day I haue to greete you well,
In which you ſafe I ſee, whom thouſand late,
Miſdoubted loſt through miſchiefe that befell;
Long may you liue in health and happie ſtate,
She litle anſwer'd him, but lightly did aggrate.
Then turning to thoſe Knights, he gan a new;
And you Sir Blandamour and Paridell,
That for this Ladie preſent in your vew,
Haue rayſ'd this cruell warre and outrage fell,
Certes me ſeemes bene not aduiſed 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 ſterne,
All full of wrath, thus fiercely him beſpake;
A read thou Squire, that I the man may learne,
That dare fro me thinke Florimell to take.
Not one (quoth he) but many doe partake
Herein, as thus. It lately ſo befell,
That Satyran a girdle did vptake,
Well knowne to appertaine to Florimell,
Which for her ſake he wore, as him beſeemed well.
But when as ſhe her ſelfe was loſt and gone,
Full many knights, that loued her like deare,
Thereat did greatly grudge, that he alone
That loſt faire Ladies ornament ſhould weare,
And gan therefore cloſe ſpight to him to beare:
Which he to ſhun, and ſtop vile enuies ſting,
Hath lately cauſ'd to be proclaim'd each where
A ſolemne feaſt, with publike turneying,
To which all knights with them their Ladies are to bring.
And of them all ſhe that is fayreſt found,
Shall haue that golden girdle for reward,
And of thoſe Knights who is moſt ſtout on ground,
Shall to that faireſt Ladie be prefard.
Since therefore ſhe her ſelfe is now your ward,
To you that ornament of hers pertaines,
Againſt all thoſe, that chalenge it to gard,
And ſaue her honour with your ventrous paines;
That ſhall you win more glory, then ye here find gaines.
When they the reaſon of his words had hard,
They gan abate the rancour of their rage,
And with their honours and their loues regard,
The furious flames of malice to aſſwage.
Tho each to other did his faith engage,
Like faithfull 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, ſaue 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 vnder it hidde hate and hollow guyle.
Ne certes can that friendſhip long endure,
How euer gay and goodly be the ſtyle,
That doth ill cauſe or euill end enure:
For vertue is the band, that bindeth harts moſt ſure.
Thus as they marched all in cloſe diſguiſe,
Of fayned loue, they chaunſt to ouertake
Two knights, that lincked rode in louely wiſe,
As if they ſecret counſels did partake;
And each not farre behinde him had his make,
To weete, two Ladies of moſt goodly hew,
That twixt themſelues did gentle purpoſe make,
Vnmindfull both of that diſcordfull crew,
The which with ſpeedie pace did after them purſew.
Who as they now approched nigh at hand,
Deeming them doughtie as they did apeare,
They ſent that Squire afore, to vnderſtand,
What mote they be: who viewing them more neare
Returned readie newes, that thoſe ſame weare
Two of the proweſt Knights in Faery lond;
And thoſe two Ladies their two louers deare,
Couragious Cambell, and ſtout Triamond,
With Canacee and Cambine linckt in louely bond.
Whylome as antique ſtories tellen vs,
Thoſe two were foes the felloneſt on ground,
And battell made the dreddeſt daungerous,
That euer ſhrilling trumpet did reſound;
Though now their acts be no where to be found,
As that renowmed Poet them compyled,
With warlike numbers and Heroicke ſound,
Dan Chaucer, well of Engliſh vndefyled.
On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
But wicked Time that all good thoughts doth waſte,
And workes of nobleſt wits to nought out weare,
That famous moniment hath quite defaſte,
And robd the world of threaſure endleſſe deare,
The which mote haue enriched all vs heare.
O curſed Eld the cankerworme of writs,
How may theſe rimes, ſo rude as doth appeare,
Hope to endure, ſith workes of heauenly wits
Are quite deuourd, and brought to nought by little bits?
Then pardon, O moſt ſacred happie ſpirit,
That I thy labours loſt may thus reuiue,
And ſteale from thee the meede of thy due merit,
That none durſt euer whileſt thou waſt aliue,
And being dead in vaine yet many ſtriue:
Ne dare I like, but through infuſion ſweete
Of thine owne ſpirit, which doth in me ſurviue,
I follow here the footing of thy feete,
That with thy meaning ſo I may the rather meete.
Cambelloes ſiſter was fayre Canacee,
That was the learnedſt Ladie in her dayes,
Well ſeene in euerie ſcience that mote bee,
And euery ſecret worke of natures wayes,
In wittie riddles, and in wiſe ſoothſayes,
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 lou'd of Knights & Lords.
Full many Lords, and many Knights her loued,
Yet ſhe to none of them her liking lent,
Ne euer was with fond affection moued,
But rul'd her thoughts with goodly gouernement,
For dread of blame and honours blemiſhment;
And eke vnto her lookes a law ſhe made,
That none of them once out of order went,
But like to warie Centonels well ſtayd,
Still watcht on euery ſide, of ſecret foes affrayd.
So much die more as ſhe refuſd to loue,
So much the more ſhe loued was and ſought,
That oftentimes vnquiet ſtrife did moue
Amongſt her louers, and great quarrels wrought,
That oft for her in bloudie armes they fought.
Which whenas Cambell, that was ſtout and wiſe,
Perceiu'd would breede great miſchiefe, he bethought
How to preuent the perill that mote riſe,
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 ſhould bee,
All mightie men and dreadfull derring dooers,
(The harder it to make them well agree)
Amongſt them all this end he did decree;
That of them all, which loue to her did make,
They by conſent ſhould choſe the ſtouteſt three,
That with himſelfe ſhould combat for her ſake,
And of them all the victour ſhould his ſiſter take.
Bold was the chalenge, as himſelfe was bold,
And courage full of haughtie hardiment,
Approued oft in perils manifold,
Which he atchieu'd to his great ornament:
But yet his ſiſters skill vnto him lent
Moſt confidence and hope of happie ſpeed,
Conceiued 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 vndertake the fight;
More wiſe they weend to make of loue delight,
Then life to hazard for faire Ladies looke,
And yet vncertaine by ſuch outward ſight,
Though for her ſake they all that perill tooke,
Whether ſhe would them loue, or in her liking brooke.
Amongſt thoſe knights there were three brethren bold,
Three bolder brethren neuer were yborne,
Borne of one mother in one happie mold,
Borne at one burden in one happie morne,
Thriſe happie mother, 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 horſebacke vſed Triamond to fight,
And Priamond on foote had more delight,
But horſe and foote knew Diamond to wield:
With curtaxe vſed Diamond to ſmite,
And Triamond to handle ſpeare and ſhield,
But ſpeare and curtaxe both vſd Priamond in field.
Theſe three did loue 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 diuyde;
Like three faire branches budding farre and wide,
That from one roote deriu'd their vitall ſap:
And like that roote that doth her life diuide,
Their mother was, and had full bleſſed hap,
Theſe three ſo noble babes to bring forth at one clap.
Their mother was a Fay, and had the skill
Of ſecret things, and all the powres of nature,
Which ſhe by art could vſe vnto her will,
And to her ſeruice bind each liuing creature:
Through ſecret vnderſtanding of their feature.
Thereto ſhe was right faire, when ſo her face
She liſt diſcouer, and of goodly ſtature;
But ſhe as Fayes are wont, in priuie place
Did ſpend her dayes, and lov'd in foreſts wyld to ſpace.
There on a day a noble youthly knight
Seeking aduentures in the ſaluage 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 vnawares vpon her laying hold,
That ſtroue in vaine him long to haue withſtood,
Oppreſſed her, and there (as it is told)
Got theſe three louely babes, that prov'd three chāpions bold.
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 loued armes, and knighthood did enſew,
Seeking aduentures, where they anie knew.
Which when their mother ſaw, ſhe gan to dout
Their ſafetie, leaſt by ſearching daungers new,
And raſh prouoking perils all about,
Their days mote be abridged through their corage 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 vnder ground from tract of liuing went,
Downe in the bottome of the deepe Abyſſe,
Where Demogorgon in dull darkneſſe pent,
Farre from the view of Gods and heauens blis,
The hideous Chaos keepes, their dreadfull dwelling is.
There ſhe them found, all ſitting round about
The direfull diſtaffe ſtanding in the mid,
And with vnwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from liuing knowledge hid.
Sad Clotho held the rocke, the whiles the thrid
By grieſly Lacheſis was ſpun with paine,
That cruell Atropos eftſoones vndid,
With curſed knife cutting the twiſt in twaine:
Moſt wretched men, whoſe dayes depend on thrids ſo vaine.
She them ſaluting, there by them ſate ſtill,
Beholding how the thrids of life they ſpan:
And 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,
Well worthie thou to be of Ioue accurſt,
And eke thy childrens thrids to be a ſunder burſt.
Whereat ſhe ſore affrayd, yet her beſought
To graunt her boone, and rigour to abate,
That ſhe might ſee her childrēs thrids forth brought,
And know the meaſure of their vtmoſt date,
To them ordained by eternall fate.
Which Clotho graunting, ſhewed her the ſame:
That when ſhe ſaw, it did her much amate,
To ſee their thrids ſo thin, as ſpiders frame,
And eke ſo ſhort, that ſeemd their ends out ſhortly came
She then began them humbly to intreate,
To draw them longer out, and better twine,
That ſo their liues might be prolonged late.
But Lacheſis thereat gan to repine,
And ſayd, fond dame that deem'ſt of things diuine
As of humane, that they may altred bee,
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 Ioue him ſelf can free.
Then ſince (quoth ſhe) the terme of each mans life
For nought may leſſened nor enlarged bee,
Graunt this, that when ye ſhred with fatall knife
His line, which 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 liues may likewiſe be annext
Vnto the third, that his may ſo be trebly wext.
They graunted it; and then that carefull Fay
Departed thence with full contented mynd;
And comming home, in warlike freſh aray
Them found all three according to their kynd.
But vnto them what deſtinie was aſſynd,,
Or how their liues were eekt, ſhe did not tell;
But euermore, when ſhe fit time could fynd,
She warned them to tend their ſafeties well,
And loue each other deare, what euer them befell.
So did they ſurely during all their dayes,
And neuer diſcord did amongſt them fall;
Which much augmented all their other praiſe.
And now t'increaſe affection naturall,
In loue of Canacee they ioyned all:
Vpon 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 reſerue it for a Canto new.
Cant. III.
The battell twixt three brethren with
Cambell for Canacee
Cambina with true friendſhips bond
doth their long ſtrife agree.
O Why doe wretched men ſo much deſire,
To draw their dayes vnto the vtmoſt 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 euery 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,
The which in ſeeking for her children three
Long life, thereby did more prolong their paine.
Yet whileſt they liued none did euerſee
More happie creatures, then they ſeem'd to bee,
Nor more ennobled for their courteſie,
That made them dearely lou'd of each degree;
Ne more renowmed for their cheualrie,
That made them dreaded much of all men farre and nie.
Theſe three that hardie chalenge tooke in hand,
For Canacee with Cambell for to fight:
The day was ſet, that all might vnderſtand,
And pledges pawnd the ſame to keepe a right,
That day, the dreddeſt day that liuing wight
Did euer ſee vpon this world to ſhine,
So ſoone as heauens window ſhewed light,
Theſe 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,
To view and deeme the deedes of armes that day;
And on the other ſide in freſh aray,
Fayre Canacee vpon a ſtately ſtage
Was ſet, to ſee the fortnne of that fray,
And to be ſeene, as his moſt worthie wage,
That could her purchaſe with his liues aduentur'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 aduance,
In braue aray and goodly amenance,
With ſcutchins gilt and banners broad diſplayd:
And marching thriſe in warlike ordinance,
Thriſe lowted lowly to the noble Mayd,
The whiles ſhril trompets & loud clarions ſweetly playd.
Which doen the doughty chalenger came forth,
All arm'd to point his chalenge to abet:
Gainſt whom Sir Priamond with equall worth:
And equall armes himſelfe did forward ſet.
A trompet blew; they both together met,
With dreadfull force, and furious intent,
Careleſſe of perill in their fiers affret,
As if that life to loſſe they had forelent,
And cared not to ſpare, that ſhould be ſhortly ſpent.
Right practicke was Sir Priamond in fight,
And throughly skild in vſe of ſhield and ſpeare;
Ne leſſe approued was Cambelloes might,
Ne leſſe his sill in weapons did appeare,
That hard it was to weene which harder were.
Full many mightie ſtrokes on either ſide
Were ſent, that ſeemed death in them to beare,
But they were both ſo watchfull and well eyde,
That they auoyded were, and vainely by did ſlyde.
Yet one of many was ſo ſtrongly bent
By Priamond, that with vnluckie glaunce
Through Cambels ſhoulder it vnwarely went,
That forced him his ſhield to diſaduaunce,
Much was he grieued with that graceleſſe chaunce,
Yet from the wound no drop of bloud there fell,
But wondrous paine, that did the more enhaunce
His haughtie courage to aduengement fell:
Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes them more to ſwell.
With that his poynant ſpeare he fierce auentred,
With doubled force cloſe vnderneath his ſhield,
That through the mayles into his thigh it entred;
And there arreſting, readie way did yield,
For bloud to guſh forth on the graſſie field;
That he for paine himſelfe not right vpreare,
But too and fro in great amazement reel'd,
Like an old Oke whoſe pith and ſap is ſeare,
At puffe of euery ſtorme doth ſtagger here and theare.
Whom ſo diſmayd when Cambell had eſpide,
Againe he droue at him with double might,
That nought mote ſtay the ſteele, till in his ſide
The mortall point moſt cruelly empight:
Where faſt infixed, whileſt he ſought by ſlight
It forth to wreſt, the ſtaffe a ſunder brake,
And left the head behind: with which deſpight
He all enrag'd, his ſhiuering ſpeare did ſhake,
And charging him a freſh thus felly him beſpake.
Lo faitour there thy meede vnto thee take,
The meede of thy miſchalenge and abet:
Not for thine owne, but for thy ſiſters ſake,
Haue I thus long thy life vnto thee let:
But to forbeare doth not forgiue the det.
The wicked weapon heard his wrathfull vow,
And paſſing forth with furious affret,
Pierſt through his beuer quite into his brow,
That with the force it backward forced him to bow.
Therewith a ſunder in the midſt it braſt,
And in his hand nought but the troncheon left,
The other halfe behind yet ſticking faſt,
Out of his headpeece Cambell fiercely reſt,
And with ſuch furie backe at him it heft,
That making way vnto his deareſt life,
His weaſand pipe it through his gorget cleft:
Thence ſtreames of purple bloud iſſuing 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
Vnto her reſt in Plutoes grieſly land,
Ne into ayre did vaniſh preſently,
Ne chaunged was into a ſtarre in sky:
But through traduction was eftſoones deriued,
Like as his mother prayd the Deſtinie,
Into his other brethren, that ſuruiued,
In whom he liu'd a new, of former life depriued.
Whom when on ground his brother next beheld,
Though ſad and ſorie for ſo heauy ſight,
Yet leaue vnto his ſorrow did not yeeld,
But rather ſtird to vengeance and deſpight,
Through ſecret feeling of his generous ſpright,
Ruſht fiercely forth, the battell to renew,
As in reuerſion 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 deuoure;
And with their axes both ſo ſorely bet,
That neither plate nor mayle, whereas their powre
They felt, could once ſuſtaine the hideous ſtowre,
But riued were like rotten wood a ſunder,
Whileſt through their rifts the ruddie bloud did ſhowre
And fire did flaſh, like lightning after thunder,
That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.
As when two Tygers prickt with hungers rage,
Haue by good fortune found ſome beaſts freſh ſpoyle,
On which they weene their famine to aſſwage,
And gaine a feaſtfull guerdon of their toyle,
Both falling out doe ſtirre vp ſtrifefull broyle,
And cruell battell twixt themſelues doe make,
Whiles neither lets the other touch the ſoyle,
But either ſdeignes with other to partake:
So cruelly theſe Knights ſtroue for that Ladies ſake.
Full many ſtrokes, that mortally were ment,
The whiles were enterchaunged twixt them two;
Yet they were all with ſo good wariment
Or warded, or auoyded and let goe,
That ſtill the life ſtood feareleſſe of her foe:
Till Diamond diſdeigning long delay
Of doubtfull fortune wauering to and fro,
Reſolu'd to end it one or other way;
And heau'd his murdrous axe at him with mighty ſway.
The dreadfull ſtroke in caſe it had arriued,
Where it was ment, (ſo deadly it was ment)
The ſoule had ſure out of his bodie riued,
And ſtinted all the ſtrife incontinent.
But Cambels fate that fortune did preuent:
For ſeeing it at hand, he ſwaru'd aſyde,
And ſo gaue way vnto his fell intent:
Who miſſing of the marke which he had eyde,
Was with the force nigh feld whilſt his right foot did ſlyde.
As when a Vulture greedie of his pray,
Through hunger long, that hart to him doth lend,
Strikes at an Heron with all his bodies ſway,
That from his force ſeemes nought may it defend;
The warie fowle that ſpies him toward bend
His dreadfull ſouſe, auoydes it ſhunning light,
And maketh him his wing in vaine to ſpend;
That with the weight of his owne weeldleſſe might,
He falleth nigh to ground, and ſcarſe recouereth flight.
Which faire aduenture when Cambello ſpide,
Full lightly, ere himſelfe he could recower,
From daungers dread to ward his naked ſide,
He can let driue at him with all his power,
And with his axe him ſmote in euill hower,
That from his ſhoulders quite his head he reſt:
The headleſſe tronke, as heedleſſe of that ſtower,
Stood ſtill a while, and his faſt footing kept,
Till feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly ſlept.
They which that piteous ſpectacle beheld,
Were much amaz'd the headleſſe tronke to ſee
Stand vp ſo long, and weapon vaine to weld,
Vnweeting of the Fates diuine decree,
For lifes ſucceſſion in thoſe brethren three.
For notwithſtanding that one ſoule was reft,
Yet, had the bodie not diſmembred bee,
It would haue liued, and reuiued eft;
But finding no fit ſeat, the lifeleſſe corſe it left.
It left; but that ſame ſoule, which therein dwelt,
Streight entring into Triamond, him fild
With double life, and griefe, which when he felt,
As one whoſe inner parts had bene ythrild
With point of ſteele, that cloſe his hartbloud ſpild,
He lightly lept out of his place of reſt,
And ruſhing forth into the emptie field,
Againſt Cambello fiercely him addreſt;
Who him affronting ſoone to fight was readie preſt.
Well mote ye wonder how that noble Knight,
After he had ſo often wounded beene,
Could ſtand on foot, now to renew the fight.
But had ye then him forth aduauncing ſeene,
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 his ragged skin and freſhly doth him dight.
All was through vertue of the ring he wore,
The which not onely did not from him let
One drop of bloud to fall, but did reſtore
His weakned powers, and dulled ſpirits whet,
Through working of the ſtone therein yſet.
Elſe how could one of equall might with moſt,
Againſt ſo many no leſſe mightie met,
Once thinke to match three ſuch on equall coſt,
Three ſuch as able were to match a puiſſant hoſt.
Yet nought thereof was Triamond adredde,
Ne deſperate of glorious victorie,
But ſharpely him aſſayld, and ſore beſtedde,
With heapes of ſtrokes, which he at him let flie,
As thicke as hayle 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 daſht.
Much was Cambello daunted with his blowes,
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 ſpent:
Which when for want of breath gan to abate,
He then 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 vp the Shenan with contrarie forſe,
And ouerruling him in his owne rayne,
Driues backe the current of his kindly courſe,
And makes it ſeeme to haue ſome other ſourſe:
But when the floud is ſpent, then backe againe
His borrowed waters forſt to redisbourſe,
He ſends the ſea his owne with double gaine,
And tribute eke withall, as to his Soueraine.
Thus did the battell varie to and fro,
With diuerſe fortune doubtfull to be deemed:
Now this the better had, now had his fo;
Then he halfe vanquiſht, then the other ſeemed,
Yet victors both them ſelues alwayes eſteemed.
And all the while the diſentrayled blood
Adowne their ſides like litle riuers ſtremed,
That with the waſting of his vitall 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 new,
Still when as he enfeebled was, him cheriſht,
And all his wounds, and all his bruſes guariſht,
Like as a withered tree through husbands toyle
Is often ſeene full freſhly to haue floriſht,
And fruitfull apples to haue borne awhile,
As freſh as when it firſt was planted in the ſoyle.
Through which aduantage, in his ſtrength he roſe,
And ſmote the other with ſo wondrous might,
That through die ſeame, which did his hauberk cloſe,
Into his throate and life it pierced quight,
That downe he fell as dead in all mens ſight:
Yet dead he was not, yet he ſure did die,
As all men do, that loſe the liuing ſpright:
So did one ſoule out of his bodie flie
Vnto her natiue home from mortall miſerie.
But natheleſſe whilſt all the lookers on
Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,
All vnawares he ſtarted vp anon,
As one that had out of a dreame bene reard,
And freſh aſſayld his foe, who halfe affeard
Of th'vncouth ſight, as he ſome ghoſt had ſeene,
Stood ſtill amaz'd, holding his idle ſweard;
Till hauing often by him ſtricken beene,
He forced was to ſtrike, and ſaue him ſelfe from teene.
Yet from thenceforth more warily he fought,
As one in feare the Stygian gods t'offend,
Ne followd on ſo faſt, but rather ſought
Him ſelfe to ſaue, and daunger to defend,
Then life and labour both in vaine to ſpend.
Which Triamond perceiuing, 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.
Whereof full blith, eftſoones his mightie hand
He heav'd on high, in mind with that ſame blow
To make an end of all that did withſtand:
Which Cambell ſeeing come, was nothing ſlow
Him ſelfe to ſaue from that ſo deadly throw;
And at that inſtant reaching forth his ſweard
Cloſe vnderneath his ſhield, that ſcarce did ſhow,
Stroke him, as he his hand to ſtrike vpreard,
In th'arm-pit full, that through both ſides the wound appeard.
Yet ſtill that direfull ſtroke kept on his way,
And falling heauie on Cambelloes creſt,
Strooke him ſo hugely, that in ſwowne he lay,
And in his head an hideous wound impreſt:
And ſure had it not happily found reſt
Vpon the brim of his brode plated ſhield,
It would haue cleft his braine downe to his breſt.
So both at once fell dead vpon the field,
And each to other ſeemd the victorie to yield.
Which when as all the lookers on beheld,
They weened ſure the warre was at an end,
And Iudges roſe, and Marſhals of the field
Broke vp the liſtes, their armes away to rend;
And Canacee gan wayle her deareſt frend.
All ſuddenly they both vpſtarted light,
The one out of the ſwownd, which him did blend,
The other breathing now another ſpright,
And fiercely each aſſayling, gan afreſh to fight.
Long while they then continued in that wize,
As if but then the battell had begonne:
Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did deſpiſe,
Ne either car'd to ward, or perill ſhonne,
Deſirous both to haue the battell donne;
Ne either cared life to ſaue or ſpill,
Ne which of them did winne, ne which were wonne.
So wearie both of fighting had their fill,
That life it ſelfe ſeemd loathſome, and long ſafetie ill.
Whilſt thus the caſe in doubtfull ballance hong,
Vnſure to whether ſide it would incline,
And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among
Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine,
And ſecret feare, to ſee their fatall fine,
All ſuddenly they heard a troublous noyes,
That ſeemd ſome perilous tumult to deſine,
Confuſd with womens cries, and ſhouts of boyes,
Such as the troubled Theaters oftimes annoyes.
Thereat the Champions both ſtood ſtill a ſpace,
To weeten what that ſudden clamour ment;
Lo where they ſpyde with ſpeedie whirling pace,
One in a charet of ſtraunge furniment,
Towards them driuing like a ſtorme out ſent.
The charet decked was in wondrous wize,
With gold and many a gorgeous ornament,
After the Perſian Monarks antique guize,
Such as the maker ſelfe could beſt by art deuize.
And drawne it was (that wonder is to tell)
Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood,
In which their powre all others did excell;
Now made forget their former cruell mood,
T'obey their riders heſt, as ſeemed good.
And therein ſate a Ladie paſſing faire
And bright, that ſeemed borne of Angels brood,
And with her beautie bountie did compare,
Whether of them in her ſhould haue the greater ſhare.
Thereto ſhe learned was in Magicke leare,
And all the artes, that ſubtill wits diſcouer,
Hauing therein bene trained many a yeare,
And well inſtructed by the Fay her mother,
That in the ſame ſhe farre exceld all other.
Who vnderſtanding by her mightie art,
Of th'euill 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'vnruly 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 ouer-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,
About the which two Serpents weren wound,
Entrayled mutually in louely lore,
And by the tailes together firmely bound,
And both were with one oliue garland crownd,
Like to the rod which Maias ſonne doth wield,
Wherewith the helliſhfiends he doth confound.
And in her other hand a cup ſhe hild,
The which was with Nepenthe to the brim vpfild.
Nepenthe is a drinck of ſouerayne grace,
Deuized by the Gods, for to aſſwage
Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,
Which ſtirs vp anguiſh and contentious rage:
In ſtead thereof ſweet peace and quiet age
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 ſuch as drinck, eternall happineſſe do fynd.
Such famous men, ſuch worthies of the earth,
As loue will haue aduaunced to the skie,
And there made gods, though borne of mortall berth,
For their high merits and great dignitie,
Are wont, before they may to heauen flie,
To drincke hereof, whereby all cares forepaſt
Are waſht away quite from their memorie.
So did thoſe olde Heroes hereof taſte,
Before that they in bliſſe amongſt the Gods were plaſte.
Much more of price and of more gratious powre
Is this, then that ſame water of Ardenne,
The which Rinaldo drunck in happie howre,
Deſcribed by that famous Tuſcane penne:
〈2 pages missing〉
With whom he ledd a long and happie life;
And Cambel tooke Cambina to his fere,
The which as life were each to other liefe.
So all alike did loue, and loued were,
That ſince their days ſuch louers were not found elſwere.
Cant. IIII.
Satyrane makes a Turneyment
For loue of Florimell:
Britomart winnes the prize from all,
And Artegall doth quell.
IT often fals, (as here it earſt befell)
That mortall foes doe turne to faithfull frends,
And friends profeſt are chaungd to foemen 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,
But of occaſion, with th'occaſion ends;
And friendſhip, which a faint affection breeds
Without regard of good, dyes like ill grounded ſeeds.
That well (me ſeemes) appeares, by that oflate
Twixt Camhell and Sir Triamond befell,
As els by this, that now a new debate
Stird vp twixt Scudamour and Paridell,
The which by courſe befals me here to tell:
Who hauing thoſe two other Knights eſpide
Marching afore, as ye remember well,
Sent forth their Squire to haue them both deſcride,
And eke thoſe masked Ladies riding them beſide.
Who backe returning, told as he had ſeene,
That they were doughtie knights of dreaded name;
And thoſe two Ladies, their two loues vnſeene;
And therefore wiſht them without blot or blame,
To let them paſſe at will, for dread of ſhame.
But Blandamour full of vainglorious ſpright,
And rather ſtird by his diſcordfull Dame,
Vpon them gladly would haue prov'd his might,
But that he yet was ſore of his late luckleſſe fight.
Yet nigh approching, he them fowle beſpake,
Diſgracing them, him ſelfe thereby to grace,
As was his wont, ſo weening way to make
To Ladies loue, where ſo he came in place,
And with lewd termes their louers to deface.
Whoſe ſharpe prouokement them incenſt ſo ſore,
That both were bent t'auenge his vſage baſe,
And gan their ſhields addreſſe them ſelues afore:
For euill 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 reconcyld,
And gan to treate of deeds of armes abrode,
And ſtrange aduentures, all the way they rode:
Amongſt the which they told, as then befell,
Of that great turney, which was blazed brode,
For that rich girdle of faire Florimell,
The prize of her, which did in beautie moſt excell.
To which folke-mote they all with one conſent,
Sith each of them his Ladie had him by,
Whoſe beautie each of them thought excellent,
Agreed to trauell, 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 Paridell himſelfe addreſt,
Him weening, ere he nigh approcht to haue repreſt.
Which th'other ſeeing, gan his courſe relent,
And vaunted ſpeare eftſoones to diſaduaunce,
As if he naught but peace and pleaſure ment,
Now falne into their fellowſhip by chance,
Whereat they ſhewed curteous countenaunce.
So as he rode with them accompanide,
His rouing eie did on the Lady glaunce,
Which Blandamour had riding by his ſide:
Whō ſure he weend, that he ſome wher tofore had eide.
It was to weete that ſnowy Florimell,
Which Ferrat late from Braggadochio wonne,
Whom he now ſeeing, her remembred well,
How hauing reft 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 proffer made by force her to reprize,
Which ſcornefull offer, Blandamour gan ſoone deſpize.
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 ſhame)
Yee ſhall her winne, as I haue done in fight:
And lo ſhee ſhall be placed here in ſight.
Together with this Hag beſide her ſet,
That who ſo winnes her, may her haue by right:
But he ſhall haue the Hag that is ybet,
And with her alwaies ride, till he another get.
That offer pleaſed all the company,
So Florimell with Ate forth was brought,
At which they all gan laugh full merrily:
But Braggadochio ſaid, he neuer thought
For ſuch an Hag, that ſeemed worſt then nought,
His perſon to emperill 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.
At which his vaine excuſe they all gan ſmile,
As ſcorning his vnmanly cowardize:
And Florimell him fowly gan reuile,
That for her ſake refuſ'd to enterprize
The battell, offred in ſo knightly wize.
And Ate eke prouokt him priuily,
With loue of her, and ſhame of ſuch meſprize.
But naught he car'd for friend or enemy,
For in baſe mind nor friendſhip dwels nor enmity.
But Cambell thus did ſhut vp all in ieſt,
Braue Knights and Ladies, certes ye doe wrong
To ſtirre vp ſtrife, when moſt vs needeth reſt,
That we may vs reſerue both freſh and ſtrong,
Againſt the Turneiment which is not long.
When who ſo 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 haue 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, where ſo they rode or came,
That masked Mock-knight was their ſport and play.
Till that at length vpon th'appointed day,
Vnto the place of turneyment they came;
Where they before them found in freſh aray
Manie a braue knight, and manie a daintie dame
Aſſembled, for to get the honour of that game.
There this faire crewe arriuing, did diuide
Them ſelues aſunder: Blandamour with thoſe
Of his, on th'one; the reſt on th'other ſide.
But boaſtfull Braggadocchio rather choſe,
For glorie vaine their fellowſhip to loſe,
That men on him the more might gaze alone.
The reſt them ſelues in troupes did elſe diſpoſe,
Like as it ſeemed beſt to euery one;
The knights in couples marcht, with ladies linckt attone.
Then firſt of all forth came Sir Satyrane,
Bearing that precious relicke in an arke
Of gold, that bad eyes might it not prophane:
Which drawing ſoftly forth out of the darke,
He open ſhewd, that all men it mote marke.
A gorgeous girdle, curiouſly emboſt
With pearle & precious ſtone, worth many a marke;
Yet did the workmanſhip farre paſſe the coſt:
It was the ſame, which lately Florimel had loſt.
That ſame aloft he hong in open vew,
To be the prize of beautie and of might;
The which eftſoones diſcouered, to it drew
The eyes of all, allur'd with cloſe delight,
And hearts quite robbed with ſo glorious ſight,
That all men threw out vowes and wiſhes vaine.
Thriſe happie 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 ſpeare, ſuch as he wont to wield,
And vauncing forth from all the other band
Of knights, addreſt his maiden-headed ſhield,
Shewing him ſelfe all ready for the field.
Gainſt whom there ſingled from the other ſide
A Painim knight, that well in armes was skild,
And had in many a battell oft bene tride,
Hight Bruncheual 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 ſtriue the rule to get
Of all the heard, meete 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,
Which neither able were to wag, or once to weld.
Which when the noble Ferramont eſpide,
He pricked forth in ayd of Satyran;
And him againſt Sir Blandamour did ride
With all the ſtrength and ſtifneſſe that he can.
But the more ſtrong and ſtiffely that he ran,
So much more ſorely to the ground he fell,
That on an heape were tumbled horſe and man.
Vnto whoſe reſcue forth rode Paridell;
But him likewiſe with that ſame ſpeare he eke did quell.
Which Braggadocchio ſeeing, had no will
To haſten greatly to his parties ayd,
Albee his turne were next; but ſtood there ſtill,
As one that ſeemed doubtfull or diſmayd.
But Triamond halfe wroth to ſee him ſtaid,
Sternly ſtept forth, and raught away his ſpeare,
With which ſo ſore he Ferramont aſſaid,
That horſe and man to ground he quite did beare,
That neither could in haſt themſelues againe vpreare.
Which to auenge, Sir Deuon him did dight,
But with no better fortune then the reſt:
For him likewiſe he quickly downe did ſmight,
And after him Sir Douglas him addreſt,
And after him Sir Faliumord forth preſt,
But none of them againſt his ſtrokes could ſtand,
But all the more, the more his praiſe increſt.
For either they were left vppon the land,
Or went away ſore wounded of his hapleſſe hand.
And now by this, Sir Satyrane abraid,
Out of the ſwowne, in which too long he lay;
And looking round about, like one diſmaid,
When as he ſaw the mercileſſe affray.
Which doughty Triamond had wrought that day,
Vnto the noble Knights of Maidenhead.
His mighty heart did almoſt rend in tway,
For very gall, that rather wholly dead
Himſelfe he wiſht haue beene, then in ſo bad a ſtead.
Eftſoones he gan to gather vp around
His weapons, which lay ſcattered all abrode,
And as it fell, his ſteed he ready found.
On whom remounting, fiercely forth he rode,
Like ſparke of fire that from the anduile glode.
There where he ſaw the valiant Triamond
Chaſing, and laying on them heauy lode.
That none his force were able to withſtond,
So dreadfull were his ſtrokes, ſo deadly was his hond.
With that at him his brauelike ſpeare he aimed,
And thereto all his power and might applide:
The wicked ſteele for miſchiefe firſt ordained,
And hauing now misfortune got for guide.
Staid not, till it arriued in his ſide.
And therein made a very grieſly wound,
That ſtreames of bloud his armour all bedide.
Much was he daunted with that direfull ſtound,
That ſcarſe he him vpheld from falling in a ſound.
Yet as he might, himſelfe he ſoft withdrew
Out of the field, that none perceiu'd it plaine,
Then gan the part of Chalengers anew
To range the field, and victorlike to raine,
That none againſt them battell durſt maintaine.
By that the gloomy euening on them fell,
That 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 Turney gan anew,
And with the firſt the hardy Satyrane
Appear'd in place, with all his noble crew,
On th'other ſide, full many a warlike ſwaine,
Aſſembled were, that glorious prize to gaine.
But mongſt them all, was not Sir Triamond,
Vnable he new battell to darraine,
Through grieuaunce of his late receiued wound,
That doubly did him grieue, when ſo himſelfe he found.
Which Cambell ſeeing, though he could not ſalue,
Ne done vndoe, yet for to ſalue his name,
And purchaſe honour in his friends behalue.
This goodly counterfeſaunce he did frame.
The ſhield and armes well knowne to be the ſame,
Which Triamond had worne, vnwares to wight,
And to his friend vnwiſt, for doubt of blame,
If he miſdid; he on himſelfe did dight,
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 enuy,
And caſt t'auenge his friends indignity.
A mightie ſpeare eftſoones at him he bent;
Who ſeeing him come on ſo furiouſly,
Met him mid-way with equall hardiment,
That forcibly to ground they both together went.
They vp againe them ſelues can lightly reare,
And to their tryed ſwords them ſelues betake;
With which they wrought ſuch wondrous maruels there,
That all the reſt it did amazed make,
Ne any dar'd their perill to partake;
Now cuffling cloſe, now chacing to and fro,
Now hurtling round aduantage for to take:
As two wild Boares together grapling go,
Chaufing 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;
Which vauntage Cambell did purſue ſo faſt,
That ere him ſelfe he had recouered well,
So ſore he ſowſt him on the compaſt creaſt,
That forced him to leaue his loftie ſell,
And rudely tumbling downe vnder his horſe feete fell.
Lightly Cambello leapt downe from his ſteed,
For to haue rent his ſhield and armes away,
That whylome wont to be the victors meed;
When all vnwares he felt an hideous ſway
Of many ſwords, that lode on him did lay.
An hundred knights had him encloſed round,
To reſcue Satyrane out of his pray;
All which at once huge ſtrokes on him did pound,
In hope to take him priſoner, where he ſtood on ground.
He with their multitude was nought diſmayd,
But with ſtout courage turnd vpon them all,
And with his brondiron 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 royall heart diſdaining to be thrall.
But all in vaine: for what might one do more?
They haue him taken captiue, though it grieue him ſore.
Whereof when newes to Triamond was brought,
There as he lay, his wound he ſoone forgot,
And ſtarting vp, ſtreight for his armour ſought:
In vaine he ſought; for there he found it not;
Cambello it away before had got:
Cambelloes armes therefore he on him threw,
And lightly iſſewd forth to take his lot.
There he in troupe found all that warlike crew,
Leading his friend away, full ſorie to his vew.
Into the thickeſt of that knightly preaſſe
He thruſt, and ſmote downe all that was betweene,
Caried with feruent zeale, ne did he ceaſſe,
Till that he came, where he had Cambell ſeene,
Like captiue thral two other Knights atweene,
There he amongſt them cruell hauocke makes.
That they which lead him, ſoone enforced beene
To let him looſe, to ſaue their proper ſtakes,
Who being freed, from one a weapon fiercely takes.
With that he driues at them with dreadfull might,
Both in remembrance of his friends late harme,
And in reuengement of his owne deſpight,
So both together giue a new allarme,
As if but now the battell wexed warme.
As when two greedy Wolues doe breake by force
Into an heard, farre from the husband farme,
They ſpoile and rauine without all remorſe,
So did theſe two through all the field their foes enforce.
Fiercely they followd on their bolde emprize,
Till trumpets ſound did warne them all to reſt;
Then all with one conſent did yeeld the prize
To Triamond and Cambell as the beſt.
But Triamond to Cambell it releſt.
And Cambell it to Triamond transferd;
Each labouring t'aduance the others geſt,
And make his praiſe before his owne preferd:
So that the doome was to another day differd.
The laſt day came, when all thoſe knightes againe
Aſſembled were their deedes of armes to ſhew.
Full many deedes that day were ſhewed plaine:
But Satyrane boue all the other crew,
His wondrous worth declared in all mens view.
For from the firſt he to the laſt endured,
And though ſome while Fortune from him withdrew,
Yet euermore his honour he recured,
And with vnwearied powre his party ſtill aſſured.
Ne was there Knight that euer thought of armes,
But that his vtmoſt proweſſe there made knowen,
That by their many wounds, and careleſſe harmes,
By ſhiuered ſpeares, and ſwords all vnder ſtrowen,
By ſcattered ſhields was eaſie to be ſhowen.
There might ye ſee looſe ſteeds at randon ronne,
Whoſe luckeleſſe riders late were ouerthrowen;
And ſquiers make haſt to helpe their Lords fordonne,
But ſtill the Knights of Maidenhead the better wonne.
Till that there entred on the other ſide,
A ſtraunger knight, from whence no man could reed,
In quyent diſguiſe, full hard to be deſcride.
For all his armour was like ſaluage weed,
With woody moſſe bedight, and all his ſteed
With oaken leaues attrapt, that ſeemed fit
For ſaluage wight, and thereto well agreed
His word, which on his ragged ſhield was writ,
Saluageſſe ſans fineſſe, ſhewing ſecret wit.
He at his firſt incomming, charg'd his ſpere
At him, that firſt appeared in his ſight:
That was to weet, the ſtout Sir Sangliere,
Who well was knowen to be a valiant Knight,
Approued oft in many a perlous fight.
Him at the firſt encounter downe he ſmote,
And ouerbore beyond his crouper quight,
And after him another Knight, that hote
Sir Brianor, ſo ſore, that none him life behote.
Then ere his hand he reard, he ouerthrew
Seuen 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 his bloodie game,
Hewing, and ſlaſhing ſhields, and helmets bright,
And beating downe, what euer nigh him came,
That euery one gan ſhun his dreadfull ſight,
No leſſe then death it ſelfe, in daungerous affright.
Much wondred all men, what, or whence he came,
That did amongſt the troupes ſo tyrannize;
And each of other gan inquire his name.
But when they could not learne it by no wize,
Moſt anſwerable to his wyld diſguize
It ſeemed, him to terme the ſaluage knight.
But certes his right name was otherwize,
Though knowne to few, that Arthegall he hight,
The doughtieſt knight that liv'd that day, and moſt of might.
Thus was Sir Satyrane with all his band
By his fole manhood and atchieuement ſtout
Diſmayd, that none of them in field durſt ſtand,
But beaten were, and chaſed all about.
So he continued all that day throughout,
Till euening, that the Sunne gan downward bend.
Then ruſhed forth out of the thickeſt rout
A ſtranger knight, that did his glorie ſhend:
So nought maybe eſteemed happie till the end.
He at his entrance charg'd his powrefull ſpeare
At Artegall, in middeſt of his pryde,
And therewith ſmote him on his Vmbriere
So ſore, that tombling backe, he downe did ſlyde
Ouer his horſes taile aboue a ſtryde;
Whence litle luſt he had to riſe againe.
Which Cambell ſeeing, much the ſame enuyde,
And ran at him with all his might and maine;
But ſhortly was likewiſe ſeene lying on the plaine.
Whereat full inly wroth was Triamond,
And caſt t'euenge the ſhame doen to his freend:
But by his friend himſelfe eke ſoone he fond,
In no leſſe neede of helpe, then him he weend.
All which when Blandamour from end to end
Beheld, he woxe therewith diſpleaſed ſore,
And thought in mind it ſhortly to amend:
His ſpeare he feutred, and at him it bore;
But with no better fortune, then the reſt afore.
Full many others at him likewiſe ran:
But all of them likewiſe diſmounted were,
Ne certes wonder; for no powre of man
Could bide the force of that enchaunted ſpeare,
The which this famous Britomart did beare;
With which ſhe wondrous deeds of arms atchieued,
And ouerthrew, what euer came her neare,
That all thoſe ſtranger knights full ſore agrieued,
And that late weaker band of chalengers relieued.
Like as in ſommers day when raging heat
Doth burne the earth, and boyled riuers drie,
That all brute beaſts forſt to refraine fro meat,
Doe hunt for ſhade, where ſhrowded they may lie,
And miſſing it, faine from themſelues to flie;
All trauellers tormented are with paine:
A watry cloud doth ouercaſt the skie,
And poureth forth a ſudden ſhoure of raine,
That all the wretched world recomforteth againe.
So did the warlike Britomart reſtore
The prize, to knights of Maydenhead that day,
Which elſe was like to haue bene loſt, and bore
The prayſe of proweſſe from them all away.
Then ſhrilling trompets loudly gan to bray,
And bad them leaue their labours and long toyle,
To ioyous feaſt and other gentle play,
Where beauties prize ſhold win that pretious ſpoyle:
Where I with ſound of trompe will alſo reſt a whyle.
Cant. V.
The Ladies for the girdle ſiriue
of famous Florimell:
Scudumour comming to Cares houſe,
doth ſleepe from him expell.
IT hath bene through all ages euer ſeene,
That with the praiſe of armes and cheualrie,
The prize of beautie ſtill hath ioyned beene;
And that for reaſons ſpeciall priuitie:
For either doth on other much relie.
For he me ſeemes moſt fit the faire to ſerue,
That can her beſt defend from villenie;
And ſhe moſt fit his ſeruice doth deſerue,
That faireſt is and from her faith will neuer ſwerue.
So fitly now here commeth next in place,
After the proofe of proweſſe ended well,
The controuerſe of beauties ſoueraine 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 vſe, which ſome doe tell
That glorious belt did in it ſelfe containe,
Which Ladies ought to loue, and ſeeke for to obtaine.
That girdle gaue the vertue of chaſt loue,
And wiuehood true, to all that did it beare;
But whoſoeuer contrarie doth proue,
Might not the ſame about her middle weare,
But it would looſe, or elſe a ſunder teare.
Whilome it was (as Faeries wont report)
Dame Venus girdle, by her ſteemed deare,
What time ſhe vſd to liue in wiuely ſort;
But layd aſide, when ſo ſhe vſd her looſer ſport.
Her husband Vulcan whylome for her ſake,
When firſt he loued her with heart entire,
This pretious ornament they ſay did make,
And wrought in Lemno with vnquenched fire:
And afterwards did for her loues firſt hire,
Giue it to her, for euer to remaine,
Therewith to bind laſciuious deſire,
And looſe affections ſtreightly to reſtraine;
Which vertue it for euer after did retaine.
The ſame one day, when ſhe her ſelfe diſpoſd
To viſite her beloued Paramoure,
The God of warre, ſhe from her middle looſd,
And left behind her in her ſecret bowre,
On Aridalian mount, where many an howre
She with the pleaſant Graces wont to play.
There Florimell in her firſt ages flowre
Was foſtered by thoſe Graces, (as they ſay)
And brought with her frō thence that goodly belt away.
That goodly belt was Ceſtas hight 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 appeare;
For peareleſſe ſhe was thought, that did it beare.
And now by this their feaſt all being ended,
The iudges which thereto ſelected were,
Into the Martian field adowne deſcended,
To deeme this doutfull caſe, for which they all cōtended.
But firſt was queſtion made, which of thoſe Knights
That 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, hauing firſt begonne.
The ſecond was to Triamond behight,
For that he ſau'd the victour from fordonne:
For Cambell victour was in all mens ſight,
Till by miſhap he in his foemens hand did light.
The third dayes prize vnto that ſtraunger Knight,
Whom all men term'd Knight of the Hebene ſpeare,
To Britomart was giuen by good right;
For that with puiſſant ſtroke ſhe downe did beare
The Saluage Knight, that victour was whileare,
And all the reſt, which had the beſt afore,
And to the laſt vnconquer'd did appeare;
For laſt is deemed beſt. To her therefore
The fayreſt Ladie was adiudgd for Paramore.
But thereat greatly grudged Arthegall,
And much repynd, that both of victors meede,
And eke of honour ſhe did him foreſtall.
Yet mote he not withſtand, what was decreede;
But inly thought of that deſpightfull deede
Fit time t'awaite auenged for to bee.
This being 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 vnto their view
His faire Cambina, couered with a veale;
Which being once withdrawne, moſt perfect hew
And paſſing beautie did eftſoones reueale,
That able was weake harts away to ſteale.
Next did Sir Triamond vnto their ſight
The face of his deare Canacee vnheale;
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 diuerſe wits affected diuers beene.
Then did Sir Ferramont vnto 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 who ſo 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 heauenly faces were not ſeene
Aſſembled in one place: ne he that thought
For Chian folke to pourtraict beauties Queene,
By view of all the faireſt to him brought,
So many faire did ſee, as here he might haue ſought.
At laſt the moſt redoubted Britoneſſe,
Her louely Amoret did open ſhew;
Whoſe face diſcouered, plainely did expreſſe
The heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew.
Well weened all, which her that time did vew,
That ſhe ſhould ſurely beare the bell away,
Till Blandamour, who thought he had the trew
And 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 contemptible did appeare,
Compar'd to her, that ſhone as Phebes light,
Amongſt the leſſer ſtarres in euening cleare.
All that her ſaw with wonder rauiſht weare,
And weend no mortall creature ſhe ſhould bee,
But ſome celeſtiall ſhape, that fleſh did beare:
Yet all were glad there Florimell to ſee;
Yet thought that Florimell was not ſo faire as ſhee.
As guilefull Goldſmith that by ſecret skill,
With golden foyle doth finely ouer ſpred
Some baſer metall, which commend he will
Vnto 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 her ſelfe 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 euer 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 vncouth ſight,
And each one thought, as to their fancies came.
But ſhe her ſelfe did thinke it doen for ſpight,
And touched was with ſecret wrath and ſhame
Therewith, as thing deuiz'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 vntide.
Which when that ſcornefull Squire of Dames did vew,
He lowdly gan to laugh, and thus to ieſt;
Alas for pittie that ſo faire a crew,
As like can not be ſeene from Eaſt to Weſt,
Cannot find one this girdle to inueſt.
Fie on the man, that did it firſt inuent,
To ſhame vs all with this, Vngirt vnbleſt.
Let neuer Ladie to his loue aſſent,
That hath this day ſo many ſo vnmanly ſhent.
Thereat all Knights gan laugh, and Ladies lowre:
Till that at laſt the gentle Amoret
Likewiſe aſſayd, to proue that girdles powre;
And hauing it about her middle ſet,
Did find it fit, withouten breach or let.
Whereat the reſt gan greatly to enuie:
But Florimell exceedingly did fret,
And ſnatching from her hand halfe angrily
The belt againe, about her bodie gan it tie.
Yet nathemore would it her bodie fit;
Yet natheleſſe to her, as her dew right,
It yeelded was by them, that iudged it:
And ſhe her ſelfe adiudged to the Knight,
That bore the Hebene ſpeare, as wonne in fight.
But Britomart 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 gouernment.
Whom when the reſt did ſee her to refuſe,
They were full glad, in hope themſelues to get her:
Yet at her choice they all did greatly muſe.
But after that the Iudges did arret her
Vnto the ſecond beſt, that lou'd her better;
That was the Saluage Knight: but he was gone
In great diſpleaſure, that he could not get her.
Then was ſhe iudged Triamond his one;
But Triamond lou'd Canacee, and other none.
Tho vnto Satyran ſhe was adiudged,
Who was right glad to gaine ſo goodly meed:
But Blandamour thereat full greatly grudged,
And litle prayſ'd his labours euill ſpeed,
That for to winne the ſaddle, loſt the ſteed.
Ne leſſe thereat did Paridell complaine,
And thought t'appeale from that, which was decreed,
To 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 chalenge as their rights,
Deſerued for their perils recompenſe.
Amongſt the reſt with boaſtfull vaine pretenſe
Stept Braggadochio forth, and as his thrall
Her claym'd, by him in battell wonne long ſens:
Whereto her ſelfe he did to witneſſe call;
Who being askt, accordingly confeſſed all.
Thereat exceeding wroth was Satyran;
And wroth with Satyran was Blandamour;
And wroth with Blandamour was Eriuan;
And at them both Sir Paridell did loure.
So all together ſtird vp 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 reſtraine.
Which troublous ſtirre when Satyrane auiz'd:
He gan to caſt how to appeaſe the ſame,
And to accord them all, this meanes deuiz'd:
Firſt in the midſt to ſet that fayreſt Dame,
To whom each once his chalenge ſhould diſclame,
And he himſelfe his right would eke releaſſe:
Then looke to whom ſhe voluntarie came,
He ſhould without diſturbance her poſſeſſe:
Sweete is the loue that comes alone with willingneſſe.
They all agreed, and then that ſnowy Mayd
Was in the middeſt plaſt among them all;
All on her gazing wiſht, and vowd, and prayd,
And to the Queene of beautie cloſe did call,
That ſhe vnto their portion might befall.
Then when ſhe long had lookt vpon each one,
As though ſhe wiſhed to haue 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 reuenge their willes they ſcarſe aſſwag'd:
Some thought from him her to haue reft by might;
Some proffer 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 perceiu'd,
That ſhe was gone, departed thence with ſpeed,
And follow'd them, in mind her to haue reau'd
From wight vnworthie of ſo noble meed.
In which pourſuit how each one did ſucceede,
Shall elſe be told in order, as it fell.
But now of Britomart it here doth neede,
The hard aduentures 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 louely Amoret,
Vpon her firſt aduenture forth did ride,
To ſeeke her lou'd, making blind loue her guide.
Vnluckie Mayd to ſeeke her enemie,
Vnluckie Mayd to ſeeke him farre and wide,
Whom, when he was vnto her ſelfe moſt nie,
She through his late diſguizemēt could him not deſcrie.
So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle:
Yet neither toyle nor griefe ſhe once did ſpare,
In ſeeking him, that ſhould her paine aſſoyle;
Whereto great comfort in her ſad misfare
Was Amoret, companion of her care:
Who likewiſe ſought her louer long miſwent,
The gentle Scudamour, whoſe hart whileare
That ſtryfull hag with gealous diſcontent
Had fild, that he to fell reueng was fully bent.
Bent to reuenge on blameleſſe Britomart
The crime, which curſed Ate kindled earſt,
The which like thornes did pricke her gealous hart,
And through his ſoule like poyſned arrow perſt,
That by no reaſon it might be reuerſt,
For ought that Glauce could or doe or ſay.
For aye the more that ſhe the ſame reherſt,
The more it gauld, and grieu'd him night and day,
That nought but dire reuenge his anger mote defray.
So as they trauelled, the drouping night
Couered with cloudie ſtorme and bitter ſhowre,
That dreadfull ſeem'd to euery liuing wight,
Vpon them fell, before her timely howre;
That forced them to ſeeke ſome couert bowre,
Where they might hide their heads in quiet reſt,
And ſhrowd their perſons from that ſtormie ſtowre.
Not farre away, not meete for any gueſt
They ſpide a little cottage, like ſome poore mans neſt.
Vnder a ſteepe hilles ſide it placed was,
There where the mouldred earth had cav'd the banke;
And faſt beſide a little brooke did pas
Of muddie water, that like puddle ſtanke,
By which few crooked ſallowes grew in ranke:
Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the ſound
Of many yron hammers beating ranke,
And anſwering their wearie turnes around,
That ſeemed ſome blackſmith dwelt in that deſert groūd.
There entring in, they found the goodman ſelfe
Full buſily vnto 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 his face appeare,
Beſmeard with ſmoke that nigh his eye-ſight blent;
With rugged beard, and hoarie ſhagged heare,
The which he neuer wont to combe, or comely ſheare.
Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,
Ne better had he, ne for better cared:
With bliſtred hands emongſt the cinders brent,
And fingers filthie, with long nayles vnpared,
Right fit to rend the food, on which he fared.
His name was Care; a blackſmith by his trade,
That neither day nor night, from working ſpared,
But to ſmall purpoſe yron wedges made;
Thoſe be vnquiet thoughts, that carefull minds inuade.
In which his worke he had ſixe ſeruants preſt,
About the Andvile ſtanding euermore,
With huge great hammers, that did neuer reſt
From heaping ſtroakes, which thereon ſouſed ſore:
All ſixe ſtrong groomes, but one then other more;
For by degrees they all were diſagreed;
So likewiſe did the hammers which they bore,
Like belles in greatneſſe orderly ſucceed,
That he which was the laſt, the firſt did farre exceede.
He like a monſtrous Gyant ſeem'd in ſight,
Farre paſſing Bronteus, or Pynacmon great,
The which in Lipari doe day and night
Frame thunderbolts for Ioues auengefull threate.
So dreadfully he did the anduile beat,
That ſeem'd to duſt he ſhortly would it driue:
So huge his ham mer and ſo fierce his heat,
That ſeem'd a rocke of Diamond it could riue,
And rend a ſunder quite, if he thereto liſt ſtriue.
Sit Scudamour there entring, much admired
The manner of their worke and wearie paine;
And hauing long beheld, at laſt enquired
The cauſe and end thereof: but all in vaine;
For they for nought would from their worke refraine,
Ne let his ſpeeches come vnto their eare.
And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,
Like to the Northren winde, that none could heare,
Thoſe Penſifeneſſe did moue; & Sighes the bellows weare.
Which when that warriour ſaw, he ſaid no more,
But in his armour layd him downe to reſt:
To reſt he layd him downe vpon the flore,
(Whylome for ventrous Knights the bedding beſt)
And thought his wearie limbs to haue redreſt.
And that old aged Dame, his faithfull Squire,
Her feeble ioynts layd eke a downe to reſt;
That needed much her weake age to deſire,
After ſo long a trauell, which them both did tire.
There lay Sir Scudamour long while expecting,
When gentle ſleepe his heauie eyes would cloſe;
Oft chaunging ſides, and oft new place electing,
Where better ſeem'd he mote himſelfe repoſe;
And oft in wrath he thence againe vproſe;
And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.
But whereſoeuer he did himſelfe diſpoſe,
He by no meanes could wiſhed eaſe obtaine:
So euery place ſeem'd painefull, and ech changing vaine.
And euermore, when he to ſleepe did thinke,
The hammers ſound his ſenſes did moleſt;
And euermore, when he began to winke,
The bellowes noyſe diſturb'd his quiet reſt,
Ne ſuffred ſleepe to ſettle in his breſt.
And all the 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
Vpon his heauie eye-lids chaunſt to fall,
Eftſoones one of thoſe villeins him did rap
Vpon his headpeece with his yron mall;
That he was ſoone awaked therewithall,
And lightly ſtarted vp as one affrayd;
Or as if one him ſuddenly did call.
So oftentimes he out of ſleepe abrayd,
And then lay muſing long, on that him ill apayd.
So long he muzed, and ſo long he lay,
That at the laſt his wearie ſprite oppreſt
With fleſhly weakneſſe, which no creature may
Long time reſiſt, gaue place to kindly reſt,
That 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 moſt appeare.
With that, the wicked carle the maiſter Smith
A paire of redwhot yron tongs did take
Out of the burning cinders, and therewith,
Vnder his ſide him nipt, that forſt to wake,
He felt his hart for very paine to quake,
And ſtarted vp auenged for to be
On him, the which his quiet ſlomber brake:
Yet looking round about him none could ſee;
Yet did the ſmart remaine, though he himſelfe did flee.
In ſuch diſquiet and hartfretting payne,
He all that night, that too long night did paſſe.
And now the day out of the Ocean mayne
Began to peepe aboue this earthly maſſe,
With pearly dew ſprinkling the morning graſſe:
Then vp he roſe like heauie 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.
Vnto his lofty ſteede he clombe anone,
And forth vpon his former voiage fared,
And with him eke that aged Squire attone;
Who whatſoeuer perill was prepared,
Both equall paines and equall perill ſhared:
The end whereof and daungerous euent
Shall for another canticle be ſpared.
But here my wearie teeme nigh ouer ſpent
Shall breath it ſelfe awhile, after ſo long a went.
Cant. VI.
Both Scadamour and Arthegall
Doe fight with Britomart,
He ſees her face; doth fall in loue,
and ſoone from her depart.
WHat equall torment to the griefe of mind,
And pyning anguiſh hid in gentle hart,
That inly feeds it ſelfe with thoughts vnkind,
And nouriſheth her owne conſuming ſmart?
What medicine can any Leaches art
Yeeld ſuch a ſore, that doth her grieuance hide,
And will to none her maladie impart?
Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride;
For which Dan Phebus ſelfe cannot a ſalue prouide.
Who hauing left that reſtleſſe houſe of Care,
The next day, as he on his way did ride,
Full of melancholie and ſad misfare,
Through miſconceipt; all vnawares eſpide
An armed Knight vnder 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 miſchieuous deede.
Which Scudamour perceiuing, forth iſſewed
To haue rencountred him in equall race;
But ſoone as th'other nigh approaching, vewed
The armes 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, vnto your grace
I me ſubmit, and you of pardon pray,
That almoſt had againſt you treſpaſſed this day.
Whereto thus Scudamour, Small harme it were
For any knight, vpon a ventrous knight
Without diſpleaſance for to proue his ſpere.
But reade you Sir, ſith ye my name haue hight,
What is your owne, that I mote you requite.
Certes (ſayd he) ye mote as now excuſe
Me from diſcouering you my name aright:
For time yet ſerues that I the ſame refuſe,
But call ye me the Saluage Knight, as others vſe.
Then this, Sir Saluage Knight (quoth he) areede;
Or doe you here within this forreſt wonne,
That ſeemeth well to anſwere to your weede?
Or haue ye it for ſome occaſion donne?
That rather ſeemes, ſith knowen armes ye ſhonne.
This other day (ſayd he) a ſtranger knight
Shame and diſhonour hath vnto me donne;
On whom I waite to wreake that foule deſpight,
When euer he this way ſhall paſſe by day or night.
Shame be his meede (quoth he) that meaneth ſhame.
But what is he, by whom ye ſhamed were?
A ſtranger knight, ſayd he, vnknowne by name,
But knowne by fame, and by an Hebene ſpeare,
With which he all that met him, downe did beare.
He in an open Turney lately held,
Fro me the honour of that game did reare;
And hauing me all wearie earſt, downe feld,
The fayreſt Ladie reft, and euer ſince withheld.
When Scudamour heard mention of that ſpeare,
He wiſt right well, that it was Britomart,
The which from him his faireſt loue did beare.
Tho gan he ſwell in euery inner part,
For fell deſpight, and gnaw his gealous hart,
That thus he ſharply ſayd; Now by my head,
Yet is not this the firſt vnknightly part,
Which that ſame knight, whom by his launce I read,
Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread.
For lately he my loue hath fro me reſt,
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 auenge by you decreed
This hand may helpe, or ſuccour ought ſupplie,
It ſhall not fayle, when ſo ye ſhall it need.
So both to wreake their wrathes on Britomart agreed.
Whiles thus they communed, lo farre away
A Knight ſoft ryding towards them they ſpyde,
Attyr'd in forraine armes and ſtraunge aray:
Whō when they nigh approcht, they plaine deſcryde
To be the ſame, for whom they did abyde.
Sayd then Sir Scudamour, Sir Saluage knight
Let me this craue, ſith firſt I was defyde,
That firſt I may that wrong to him requite:
And if I hap to fayle, you ſhall recure my right.
Which being yeelded, he his threatfull ſpeare
Gan fewter, and againſt her fiercely ran.
Who ſoone as ſhe him ſaw approaching neare
With ſo fell rage, her ſelfe 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 deuiſe.
But Artegall beholding his miſchaunce,
New matter added to his former fire;
And eft auentring his ſteeleheaded 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 vnawares his ſaddle he forwent,
And found himſelfe on ground in great amazement.
Lightly he ſtarted vp out of that ſtound,
And ſnatching forth his direfull deadly blade,
Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound
Thruſt to an Hynd within ſome couert glade,
Whom without perill he cannot inuade.
With ſuch fell greedines he her aſſayled,
That though ſhe mounted were, yet he her made
To giue him ground, (ſo much his force preuayled)
And ſhun his mightie ſtrokes, gainſt which no armes auayled.
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 euer reſt,
Till on her horſes hinder parts it fell;
Where byting deepe, ſo deadly it impreſt,
That quite it chynd his backe behind the ſell,
And to alight on foote her algates did compell.
Like as the lightning brond from riuen skie,
Throwne out by angry Ioue 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 from her that enchaunted lance,
Vnto her ſword and ſhield her ſoone betooke;
And therewithall 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 vnto 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 vnto the cruell dent.
At length when as he ſaw her haſtie heat
Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,
He through long ſufferāce growing now more great,
Roſe in his ſtrength, and gan her freſh aſſayle,
Heaping huge ſtrokes, as thicke as ſhowre of hayle,
And laſhing dreadfully at euery part,
As if he thought her ſoule to diſentrayle.
Ah cruell hand, and thriſe more cruell hart,
That workſt ſuch wrecke on her, to whom thou deareſt art.
What yron courage euer could endure,
To worke ſuch outrage on ſo faire a creature?
And in his madneſſe thinke with hands impure
To ſpoyle ſo goodly workmanſhip of nature,
The maker ſelfe reſembling in her feature?
Certes ſome helliſh furie, or ſome feend
This miſchiefe framd, for their firſt loues defeature,
To bath their hands in bloud of deareſt freend,
Thereby to make their loues beginning, their lines end.
Thus long they trac'd, and trauerſt to and fro,
Sometimes purſewing, and ſometimes purſewed,
Still as aduantage they eſpyde thereto:
But toward th'end Sir Arthegall renewed
His ſtrength ſtill more, but ſhe ſtill more decrewed.
At laſt his luckleſſe hand he heau'd on hie,
Hauing his forces all in one accrewed,
And therewith ſtroke at her ſo hideouſlie,
That ſeemed nought but death mote be her deſtinie.
The wicked ſtroke vpon her helmet chaunſt,
And with the force, which in it ſelfe it bore,
Her ventayle ſhard away, and thence forth glaunſt
A downe in vaine, ne harm'd her any more.
With that her angels face, vnſeene afore,
Like to the ruddie morne appeard in ſight,
Deawed with ſiluer drops, through ſweating ſore,
But ſomewhat redder, then beſeem'd aright,
Through toyleſome heate and labour of her weary fight.
And round about the ſame, her yellow heare
Hauing through ſtirring looſd their wonted band,
Like to a golden border did appeare,
Framed in goldſmithes forge with cunning hand:
Yet goldſmithes cunning could not vnderſtand
To frame ſuch ſubtile wire, ſo ſhinie cleare.
For it did gliſter like the golden ſand,
The which Pactolus with his waters ſhere,
Throwes forth vpon the riuage round about him nere.
And as his hand he vp againe did reare,
Thinking to worke on her his vtmoſt wracke,
His powreleſſe arme benumbd with ſecret feare
From his reuengefull 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 diuine a beauties excellence.
And he himſelfe long gazing thereupon,
At laſt fell humbly downe vpon his knee,
And of his wonder made religion,
Weening ſome heauenly goddeſſe he did ſee,
Or elſe vnweeting, 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.
Natheleſſe ſhe full of wrath for that late ſtroke,
All that long while vpheld her wrathfull hand,
With fell intent, on him to bene ywroke,
And looking ſterne, ſtill ouer him did ſtand,
Threatning to ſtrike, vnleſſe he would withſtand:
And bad him riſe, or ſurely he ſhould die.
But die or liue for nought he would vpſtand
But her of pardon prayd more earneſtlie,
Or wreake on him her will for ſo great iniurie.
Which when as Scudamour, who now abrayd,
Beheld, whereas he ſtood not farre aſide,
He was therewith right wondrouſly diſmayd,
And drawing nigh, when as he plaine deſcride
That peereleſſe paterne of Dame natures pride,
And heauenly image of perfection,
He bleſt himſelfe, as one ſore terrifide,
And turning his feare to faint deuotion,
Did worſhip her as ſome celeſtiall viſion.
But Glauce, ſeeing all that chaunced there,
Well weeting how their errour to aſſoyle,
Full glad of ſo good end, to them drew nere,
And her ſalewd with ſeemely belaccoyle,
Ioyous to ſee her ſafe after long toyle.
Then her beſought, as ſhe to her was deare,
To graunt vnto thoſe warriours truce a whyle;
Which yeelded, they their beuers vp did reare,
And ſhew'd themſelues to her, ſuch as indeed they were.
When Britomart with ſharpe auizefull eye
Beheld the louely 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
Long ſince in that enchaunted glaſſe ſhe ſaw.
Therewith her wrathfull courage gan appall,
And haughtie ſpirits meekely to adaw,
That her enhaunced hand ſhe downe can ſoft withdraw.
Yet ſhe it forſt to haue againe vpheld,
As fayning choler, which was turn'd to cold:
But euer when his viſage ſhe beheld,
Her hand fell downe, and would no longer hold
The wrathfull weapon 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 haue miſſayd.
But Scudamour now woxen inly glad,
That all his gealous feare he falſe had found,
And how that Hag his loue abuſed had
With breach of faith and loyaltie vnſound,
The which long time his grieued hart did wound,
Her thus beſpake; certes Sir Artegall,
I ioy to ſee you lout ſo low on ground,
And now become to liue 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 hart-ſtrings tremble,
For ſudden ioy, and ſecret feare withall,
And all her vitall powres with motion nimble,
To ſuccour it, themſelues gan there aſſemble,
That by the ſwift recourſe of fluſhing blood
Right plaine appeard, though ſhe it would diſſemble,
And fayned ſtill her former angry mood,
Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.
When Glauce thus gan wiſely all vpknit;
Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought,
To be ſpectators of this vncouth fit,
Which ſecret fate hath in this Ladie wrought,
Againſt the courſe of kind, ne meruaile nought,
Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo
Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,
Fearing leaſt ſhe your loues away ſhould woo,
Feared in vaine, ſith meanes ye ſee there wants theretoo.
And you Sir Artegall, the ſaluage knight,
Henceforth may not diſdaine, that womans hand
Hath conquered you anew in ſecond fight:
For whylome they haue conquerd ſea and land,
And heauen it ſelfe, that nought may them withſtand
Ne henceforth be rebellious vnto loue,
That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band
Of noble minds deriued from aboue,
Which being knit with vertue, neuer will remoue.
And you faire Ladie knight, my deareſt Dame,
Relent the rigour of your wrathfull 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 empart:
For louers heauen muſt paſſe by ſorrowes hell.
Thereat full inly bluſhed Britomart;
But Artegall cloſe ſmyling ioy'd in ſecret hart.
Yet durſt he not make loue ſo ſuddenly,
Ne thinke th'affection of her hart to draw
From one to other ſo quite contrary:
Beſides her modeſt countenance he ſaw
So goodly graue, and full of princely aw,
That it his ranging fancie did refraine,
And looſer thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw;
Whereby the paſſion grew more fierce and faine,
Like to a ſtubborne ſteede whom ſtrong hand would reſtraine.
But Scudamour whoſe hart twixt doubtfull feare
And feeble hope hung all this while ſuſpence,
Deſiring of his Amoret to heare
Some gladfull newes and ſure intelligence,
Her thus beſpake; But Sir without offence
Mote I requeſt you tydings of my loue,
My Amoret, ſith you her freed fro thence,
Where ſhe captiued long, great woes did proue;
That where ye left, I may her ſeeke, as doth behoue.
To whom thus Britomart, certes Sir knight,
What is of her become, or whether reſt,
I can not vnto you aread a right.
For from that time I from enchaunters theft
Her freed, in which ye her all hopeleſſe left,
I her preſeru'd from perill and from feare,
And euermore from villenie her kept:
Ne euer was there wight to me more deare
Then ſhe, ne vnto whom I more true loue did beare.
Till on a day as through a deſert wyld
We trauelled, both wearie of the way
We did alight, and ſate in ſhadow myld;
Where feareleſſe I to ſleepe me downe did lay.
But when as I did out of ſleepe abray,
I found her not, where I her left whyleare,
But thought ſhe wandred was, or gone aſtray.
I cal'd her loud, I ſo ught her farre and neare;
But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare.
When Scudamour thoſe heauie tydings heard,
His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare;
Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard,
But ſenſeleſſe ſtood, like to a mazed ſteare,
That yet of mortall ſtroke the ſtound doth beare.
Till Glauce thus; Faire Sir, be nought diſmayd
With needeleſſe dread, till certaintie ye heare:
For yet ſhe may be ſafe though ſomewhat ſtrayd;
Its beſt to hope the beſt, though of the worſt affrayd.
Nathleſſe he hardly of her chearefull ſpeech
Did comfort take, or in his troubled ſight
Shew'd change of better cheare: ſo ſore a breach
That ſudden newes had made into his ſpright;
Till Britomart him fairely thus behight;
Great cauſe of ſorrow certes Sir ye haue:
But comfort take: for by this heauens light
I vow, you dead or liuing not to leaue,
Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reaue.
Therewith he reſted, and well pleaſed was.
So peace being confirm'd amongſt them all,
They tooke their ſteeds, and forward thence did pas
Vnto ſome reſting place, which mote befall,
All being guided by Sir Artegall.
Where goodly ſolace was vnto them made,
And dayly feaſting both in bowre and hall,
Vntill that they their wounds well healed had,
And wearie limmes recur'd after late vſage bad.
In all which time, Sir Artegall made way
Vnto the loue of noble Britomart,
And with meeke ſeruice and much ſuit did lay
Continuall ſiege vnto her gentle hart,
Which being whylome launcht with louely dart,
More eath was new impreſſion to receiue,
How euer ſhe her paynd with womaniſh art
To hide her wound, that none might it pereciue:
Vaine is the art that ſeekes it ſelfe for to deceiue.
So well he woo'd her, and ſo well he wrought her,
With faire entreatie and ſweet blandiſhment,
That at the length vnto a bay he brought her,
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 yeelded her conſent
To be his loue, and take him for her Lord,
Till they with mariage meet might finiſh that accord.
Tho when they had long time there taken reſt,
Sir Artegall, who all this while was bound
Vpon an hard aduenture yet in queſt,
Fit time for him thence to depart it found,
To follow that, which he did long propound;
And vnto her his congee came to take.
But her therewith full ſore diſpleaſd he found,
And loth to leaue her late betrothed make,
Her deareſt loue full loth ſo ſhortly to forſake.
Yet he with ſtrong perſwaſions her aſſwaged,
And wonne her will to ſuffer him depart;
For which his faith with her he faſt engaged,
And thouſand vowes from bottome of his hart,
That all ſo ſoone as he by wit or art
Could that atchieue, whereto he did aſpire,
He vnto her would ſpeedily reuert:
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 yeelded leaue, how euer malcontent
She inly were, and in her mind diſpleaſed.
So early in 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 aduentures they did ride,
Saue that ſhe algates him a while accompanide.
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 leaue of him did take;
And eft againe deuiz'd ſome what 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 gouernment,
And backe returned with right heauie mind.
To Scudamour, who ſhe had left behind,
With whom ſhe went to ſeeke faire Amoret,
Her ſecond care, though in another kind;
For vertues onely ſake, which doth beget
True loue and faithfull friendſhip, ſhe by her did ſet.
Backe to that deſert forreſt they retyred,
Where ſorie Britomart had loſt her late;
There they her ſought, and euery where inquired,
Where they might tydings get of her eſtate;
Yet found they none. But by what hapleſſe fate,
Or hard misfortune ſhe was thence conuayd,
And ſtolne away from her beloued mate,
Were long to tell; therefore I here will ſtay
Vntill another tyde, that I it finiſh may.
Cant. VII.
Amoret rapt by greedie luſt
Belphebe ſaues from dread,
The Squire her loues, and being blam'd
his dayes in dole doth lead.
GReat God of loue, that with thy cruell dart
Doeſt conquer greateſt conquerors on ground,
And ſetſt thy kingdome in the captiue harts
Of Kings and Keaſars, to thy ſeruice bound,
What glorie, or what guerdon haſt thou found
In feeble Ladies tyranning ſo ſore;
And adding anguiſh to the bitter wound,
With which their liues thou lanchedſt long afore,
By heaping ſtormes of trouble on them daily more?
So whylome didſt thou to faire Florimell;
And ſo and ſo to noble Britomart:
So doeſt thou now to her, of whom I tell,
The louely Amoret, whoſe gentle hart
Thou martyreſt with ſorow and with ſmart,
In ſaluage forreſts, and in deſerts wide,
With Beares and Tygers taking heauie part,
Withouten comfort, and withouten guide,
That pittie is to heare the perils, which ſhe tride.
So ſoone as ſhe with that braue Britoneſſe
Had left that Turneyment for beauties priſe,
They trauel'd long, that now for wearineſſe,
Both of the way, and warlike exerciſe,
Both through a foreſt ryding did deuiſe
T'alight, and reſt their wearie limbs awhile.
There heauie ſleepe the eye-lids did ſurpriſe
Of Britomart after long tedious toyle,
That did her paſſed paines in quiet reſt aſſoyle.
The whiles faire 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 vnawares her ſnatched vp from ground.
Feebly ſhe ſhriekt, but ſo feebly indeed,
That Britomart heard not the ſhrilling ſound,
There where through weary trauel ſhe lay ſleeping ſoūd.
It was to weet a wilde and ſaluage man,
Yet was no man, but onely like in ſhape,
And eke in ſtature higher by a ſpan,
All ouer growne with haire, that could awhape
An hardy hart, and his wide mouth did gape
With huge great teeth, like to a Bore:
For he liu'd all on rauin and on rape
Of men and beaſts; and fed on fleſhly gore,
The ſigne whereof yet ſtain'd his bloudy lips afore.
His neather lip was not like man nor beaſt,
But like a wide deepe poke, downe hanging low,
In which he wont the relickes of his feaſt,
And cruell ſpoyle, which he had ſpard, to ſtow:
And ouer 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 vp he ſtood,
More great then th'eares of Elephants by Indus flood.
His waſt was with a wreath of yuie greene
Engirt about, ne other garment wore:
For all his haire was like a garment ſeene;
And in his hand a tall young oake he bore,
Whoſe knottie ſnags were ſharpned all afore,
And beath'd in fire for ſteele to be in ſted.
But whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,
Of beaſts, or of the earth, I haue not red:
But certes was with milke of Wolues and Tygres fed.
This vgly creature in his armes her ſnatcht,
And through the forreſt bore her quite away,
With briers and buſhes all to rent and ſcratcht;
Ne care he had, ne pittie of the pray,
Which many a knight had ſought ſo many a day.
He ſtayed not, but in his armes her bearing
Ran, till he came to th'end of all his way,
Vnto his caue 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 he in armes her bore; but when ſhe felt
Her ſelfe 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 lookt about, and nothing found
But darkneſſe and dread horrour, where ſhe dwelt,
She almoſt fell againe into a ſwound,
Ne wiſt whether aboue ſhe were, or vnder ground.
With that ſhe heard ſome one cloſe by her ſide
Sighing and ſobbing ſore, as if the paine
Her tender hart in peeces would diuide:
Which ſhe 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,
Vnweeting of thine owne like hapleſſe plight:
Selfe to forget to mind another, is ouerſight.
Aye me (ſaid ſhe) where am I, or with whom?
Emong the liuing, or emong the dead?
What ſhall of me vnhappy maid become?
Shall death be th'end, or ought elſe worſe, aread.
Vnhappy mayd (then anſwerd ſhe) whoſe dread
Vntride, is leſſe then when thou ſhalt it try:
Death is to him, that wretched life doth lead,
Both grace and gaine; but he in hell doth lie,
That liues a loathed life, and wiſhing cannot die.
This diſmall day hath thee a caytiue made,
And vaſſall to the vileſt wretch aliue,
Whoſe curſed vſage and vngodly trade
The heauens abhorre, and into darkeneſſe driue.
For on the ſpoile of women he doth liue,
Whoſe bodies chaſt, when euer in his powre
He may them catch, vnable to gaineſtriue,
He with his ſhamefull luſt doth firſt deflowre,
And afterwards themſelues doth cruelly deuoure.
Now twenty daies, by which the ſonnes of men
Diuide their works, haue paſt through heuen ſheene,
Since I was brought into this dolefull den;
During which ſpace theſe ſory eies haue ſeen
Seauen 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 hither to augment our mone,
And of vs three to morrow he will ſure eate one.
Ah dreadfull tidings which thou doeſt declare,
(Quoth ſhe) of all that euer hath bene knowen:
Full many great calamities and rare
This feeble breſt endured hath, but none
Equall to this, where euer I haue gone.
But what are you, whom like vnlucky lot
Hath linckt with me in the ſame chaine 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 vnto a Lord of high degree;
That ioyd in happy peace, till fates peruerſe
With guilefull loue did ſecretly agree,
To ouerthrow my ſtate and dignitie.
It was my lot to loue a gentle ſwaine,
Yet was he but a Squire of low degree;
Yet was he meet, vnleſſe mine eye did faine,
By any Ladies ſide for Leman to haue laine.
But for his meanneſſe and diſparagement,
My Sire, who me too dearely well did loue,
Vnto my choiſe by no meanes would aſſent,
But often did my folly fowle reproue.
Yet nothing could my fixed mind remoue,
But whether willed or nilled friend or foe,
I me reſolu'd the vtmoſt end to proue,
And rather then my loue abandon ſo,
Both ſire, and friends, and all for euer to forgo.
Thenceforth I ſought by ſecret meanes to worke
Time to my will, and from his wrathfull ſight
To hide th'intent, which in my heart did lurke,
Till I thereto had all things ready dight.
So on a day vnweeting vnto wight,
I with that Squire agreede away to flit,
And in a priuy place, betwixt vs hight,
Within a groue appointed him to meete;
To which I boldly came vpon my feeble feete.
But ah vnhappy houre me thither brought:
For in that place where I him thought to find,
There was I found, contrary to my thought,
Of this accurſed Carle of helliſh kind,
The ſhame of men, and plague of womankind,
Who truſſing me, as Eagle doth his pray,
Me hether brought with him, as ſwift as wind,
Where yet vntouched till this preſent day,
I reſt his wretched thrall, the ſad AEmylia.
Ah ſad AEmylia (then ſayd Amoret,)
Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne.
But read to me, by what deuiſe or wit,
Haſt thou in all this time, from him vnknowne
Thine honor ſau'd, though into thraldome throwne.
Through helpe (quoth ſhe) of this old woman here
I haue ſo done, as ſhe to me hath ſhowne.
For euer when he burnt in luſtfull fire,
She in my ſtead ſupplide his beſtiall deſire.
Thus of their euils as they did diſcourſe,
And each did other much bewaile and mone;
Loe where the villaine ſelfe, their ſorrowes ſourſe,
Came to the caue, and rolling thence the ſtone,
Which wont to ſtop the mouth thereof, that none
Might iſſue forth, came rudely ruſhing in,
And ſpredding ouer all the flore alone,
Gan dight him ſelfe vnto his wonted ſinne;
Which ended, then his bloudy banket ſhould beginne.
Which when as fearefull Amoret perceiued,
She ſtaid not the vtmoſt end thereof to try,
But like a ghaſtly Gelt, whoſe wits are reaued,
Ran forth in haſt with hideous outcry,
For horrour of his ſhamefull villany.
But after her full lightly he vproſe,
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 ouerleapes them all, like Robucke light,
And through the thickeſt makes her nigheſt waies;
And euermore when with regardfull ſight
She looking backe, eſpies that grieſly wight
Approching nigh, ſhe gins to mend her pace,
And makes her feare a ſpur to haſt her flight:
More ſwift then Myrrh' or Daphne in her race,
Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in ſaluage chaſe.
Long ſo ſhe fled, and ſo he follow'd long,
Ne liuing aide for her on earth appeares,
But if the heauens helpe to redreſſe her wrong,
Moued with pity of her plenteous teares.
It fortuned Belphebe with her peares
The woody Nimphs, and with that louely boy,
Was hunting then the Libbards and the Beares,
In theſe wild woods, as was her wonted ioy,
To baniſh ſloth, that oft doth noble mindes annoy.
It ſo befell, as oft it fals in chace,
That each of them from other ſundred were,
And that ſame gentle Squire arriu'd in place,
Where this ſame curſed caytiue did appeare,
Purſuing that faire Lady full of feare,
And now he her quite ouertaken had;
And now he her away with him did beare
Vnder his arme, as ſeeming wondrous glad,
That by his grenning laughter mote farre off be rad.
With drery ſight the gentle Squire eſpying,
Doth haſt 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 louely ſpoile downe lay,
But with his craggy club in his right hand,
Defends him ſelfe, and ſaues 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 vſed craft in fight;
For euer when the Squire his iauelin 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 neare:
Yet he his hand ſo carefully did beare,
That at the laſt he did himſelfe attaine,
And therein left the pike head of his ſpeare.
A ſtreame of coleblacke bloud thence guſht amaine,
That all her ſilken garments did with bloud beſtaine.
With that he threw her rudely on the flore,
And laying both his hands vpon his glaue,
With dreadfull ſtrokes let driue at him ſo ſore,
That forſt him flie abacke, himſelfe to ſaue:
Yet he therewith ſo felly ſtill did raue,
That ſcarſe the Squire his hand could once vpreare,
But for aduantage ground vnto him gaue,
Tracing and trauerſing, now here, now there;
For bootleſſe thing it was to think ſuch blowes to beare.
Whileſt thus in battell they embuſied were,
Belphebe raunging in that forreſt wide,
The hideous noiſe of their huge ſtrokes did heare,
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 his former combate would not bide,
But fled away with ghaſtly dreriment,
Well knowing her to be his deaths ſole inſtrument.
Whom ſeeing flie, ſhe ſpeedily pourſewed
With winged feete, as nimble as the winde,
And euer in her bow ſhe 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 vnhappy race,
That all the gods did mone her miſerable caſe.
So well ſhe ſped her and ſo far ſhe ventred,
That ere vnto his helliſh den he raught,
Euen as he ready was there to haue entred,
She ſent an arrow forth with mighty draught,
That in the very dore him ouercaught,
And in his nape arriuing, through it thrild
His greedy throte, therewith in two diſtraught,
That all his vitall ſpirites thereby ſpild,
And all his hairy breſt with gory bloud was fild.
Whom when on ground ſhe groueling ſaw to rowle,
She ran in haſt his life to haue bereſt:
But ere ſhe could him reach, the ſinfull ſowle
Hauing his carrion corſe quite ſenceleſſe left,
Was fled to hell, ſurcharg'd with ſpoile and theft.
Yet ouer him ſhe there long gazing ſtood,
And oft admir'd his monſtrous ſhape, and oft
His mighty limbs, whileſt all with filthy bloud
The place there ouerflowne, ſeemd like a ſodaine 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 vnder ground
Lay hid in horrour of eternall night?
And bad them, if ſo be they were not bound,
To come and ſhew themſelues before the light,
Now freed from feare and danger of that diſmall wight.
Then forth the ſaid AEmylia iſſewed,
Yet trembling euery ioynt through former feare;
And after her the Hag, there with her mewed,
A foule and lothſome creature did appeare;
A leman fit for ſuch a louer deare.
That mou'd Belphebe her no leſſe to hate,
Then for to rue the others heauy cheare;
Of whom ſhe gan enquire of her eſtate.
Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.
Thence ſhe them brought toward the place, where late
She left the gentle Squire with Amoret:
There ſhe him found by that new louely mate,
Who lay the whiles in ſwoune, full ſadly ſet,
From her faire eyes wiping the deawy wet,
Which ſoftly ſtild, and kiſſing them atweene,
And handling ſoft the hurts, which ſhe did get.
For of that Carle ſhe ſorely bruz'd had beene,
Als of his owne raſh hand one wound was to be ſeene.
Which when ſhe ſaw, with ſodaine glauncing eye,
Her noble heart with ſight thereof was fild
With deepe diſdaine, and great indignity,
That in her wrath ſhe thought them both haue thrild,
With that ſelfe arrow, which the Carle had kild:
Yet held her wrathfull hand 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 euermore.
He ſeeing her depart, aroſe vp light,
Right ſore agrieued at her ſharpe reproofe,
And follow'd faſt: but when he came in ſight,
He durſt not nigh approch, but kept aloofe,
For dread of her diſpleaſures vtmoſt proofe.
And euermore, 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 when long he follow'd had in vaine,
Yet found no eaſe of griefe, nor hope of grace,
Vnto thoſe woods he turned backe againe,
Full of ſad anguiſh, and in heauy caſe:
And finding there fit ſolitary place
For wofull wight, choſe out a gloomy glade,
Where hardly eye mote ſee bright heauens face,
For moſſy trees, which couered all with ſhade
And ſad melancholy, there he his cabin made.
His wonted warlike weapons all he broke,
And threw away, with vow to vſe no more,
Ne thenceforth euer ſtrike in battell ſtroke,
Ne euer word to ſpeake to woman more;
But in that wilderneſſe, of men forlore,
And of the wicked world forgotten quight,
His hard miſhap in dolor to deplore,
And waſt his wretched daies in wofull plight;
So on him ſelfe to wreake his follies owne deſpight.
And eke his garment, to be thereto meet,
He wilfully did cut and ſhape anew;
And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment ſweet
To be embaulm'd, and ſweat out dainty dew,
He let to grow and grieſly to concrew,
Vncomb'd, vncurl'd, and careleſly vnſhed;
That in ſhort time his face they ouergrew,
And ouer all his ſhoulders did diſpred,
That who he whilome was, vneath was to be red.
There he continued in this carefull plight,
Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares,
Through wilfull penury conſumed quight,
That like a pined ghoſt he ſoone appeares.
For other food then that wilde forreſt beares,
Ne other drinke there did he euer taſt,
Then running water, tempred with his teares,
The more his weakened body ſo to waſt:
That out of all mens knowledge he was worne at laſt.
For on a day, by fortune as it fell,
His owne deare Lord Prince Arthure came that way,
Seeking aduentures, where he mote heare tell;
And as he through the wandring wood did ſtray,
Hauing eſpide this Cabin far away,
He to it drew, to weet who there did wonne;
Weening therein ſome holy Hermit lay,
That did reſort of ſinfull people ſhonne;
Or elſe ſome woodman ſhrowded there from ſcorching ſunne.
Arriuing there, he found this wretched man,
Spending his daies in dolour and deſpaire,
And through long faſting woxen pale and wan,
All ouergrowen with rude and rugged haire;
That albeit his owne deare Squire he were,
Yet he him knew not, ne auiz'd at all,
But like ſtrange wight, whom he had ſeene no where,
Saluting him, gan into ſpeach to fall,
And pitty much his plight, that liu'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 ouercum,
And vnto euery thing did aunſwere mum:
And euer when the Prince vnto him ſpake,
He louted lowly, as did him becum,
And humble homage did vnto him make,
Midſt ſorrow ſhewing ioyous ſemblance for his ſake.
At which his vncouth guiſe and vſage quaint
The Prince did wonder much, yet could not gheſſe
The cauſe of that his ſorrowfull conſtraint;
Yet weend by ſecret ſignes of manlineſſe,
Which cloſe appeard in that rude brutiſhneſſe,
That he whilome ſome gentle ſwaine had beene,
Traind vp in feats of armes and knightlineſſe;
Which he obſeru'd, by that he him had ſeene
To weld his naked ſword, and try the edges keene.
And eke by that he ſaw on euery tree,
How he the name of one engrauen had,
Which likly was his liefeſt loue to be,
For 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 change his wonted tenor,
Ne ought mote eaſe or mitigate his paine,
He left him there in languor to remaine,
Till time for him ſhould remedy prouide,
And him reſtore to former grace againe.
Which for it is too long here to abide,
I will deferre the end vntill another tide.
Cant. VIII.
The gentle Squire recouers grace,
Sclaunder her gueſts doth ſtaine:
Corflambo chaſeth Placidas,
And is by Arthure ſlaine.
WEll ſaid the wiſeman, now prou'd true by this,
Which to this gentle Squire did happen late,
That the diſpleaſure of the mighty is
Then death it ſelfe more dread and deſperate.
Fornaught the ſame may calme ne mitigate,
Till time the tempeſt doe thereof delay
With ſufferaunce ſoft, which rigour can abate,
And haue the ſterne remembrance wypt away
Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay.
Like as it fell to this vnhappy boy,
Whoſe tender heart the faire Belphebe had,
With one ſterne looke ſo daunted, that no ioy
In all his life, which afterwards he lad,
He euer taſted, but with penaunce ſad
And penſiue ſorrow pind and wore away,
Ne euer laught, ne once ſhew'd countenance glad;
But alwaies wept and wailed night and day,
As blaſted blooſme through heat doth languiſh & decay
Till on a day, as in his wonted wiſe
His doole he made, there chaunſt a turtle Doue
To come, where he his dolors did deuiſe,
That likewiſe late had loſt her deareſt loue,
Which loſſe her made like paſſion alſo proue.
Who ſeeing his ſad plight, her tender heart
With deare compaſſion deeply did emmoue,
That ſhe gan mone his vndeſerued ſmart,
And with her dolefull accent beare with him a part.
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 teares,
And beat his breaſt vnworthy of ſuch blame,
And knocke his head, and rend his rugged heares,
That could haue perſt the hearts of Tigres & of Beares.
Thus long this gentle bird to him did vſe,
Withouten dread of perill to repaire
Vnto his wonne, and with her mournefull muſe
Him to recomfort in his greateſt care,
That much did eaſe his mourning and misfare:
And euery day for guerdon of her ſong,
He part of his ſmall feaſt to her would ſhare;
That at the laſt of all his woe and wrong
Companion ſhe became, and ſo continued long.
Vpon a day as ſhe him ſate beſide,
By chance he certaine miniments forth drew,
Which yet with him as relickes did abide
Of all the bounty, which Belphebe threw
On him, whilſt goodly grace ſhe did him ſhew:
Amongſt the reſt a iewell rich he found,
That was a Ruby of right perfect hew,
Shap'd like a heart, yet bleeding of the wound,
And with a litle golden chaine about it bound.
The ſame he tooke, and with a riband new,
In which his Ladies colours were, did bind
About the turtles necke, that with the vew
Did greatly ſolace his engrieued mind.
All vnawares the bird, when ſhe did find
Her ſelfe ſo deckt, hernimble wings diſplaid,
And flew away, as lightly as the wind:
Which ſodaine accident him much diſmaid,
And looking after long, did marke which way ſhe ſtraid.
But when as long he looked had in vaine,
Yet ſaw her forward ſtill to make her flight,
His weary eie returnd to him againe,
Full of diſcomfort and diſquiet plight,
That both his iuell he had loſt ſo light,
And eke his deare companion of his care.
But that ſweet bird departing, flew forth right
Through the wideregion of the waſtfull aire,
Vntill ſhe came where wonned his Belphebe faire.
There found ſhe her (as then it did betide)
Sitting in couert ſhade of arbors ſweet,
After late weary toile, which ſhe had tride
In ſaluage chaſe, to reſt as ſeem'd her meet.
There ſhe alighting, fell before her feet,
And gan to her her mournfull plaint to make,
As was herwont, thinking to let her weet
The great tormenting griefe, that for her ſake
Her gentle Squire through her diſpleaſure did pertake.
She her beholding with attentiue eye,
At length did marke about her purple breſt
That precious iuell, which ſhe formerly
Had knowne right well with colourd ribbands dreſt:
Therewith ſhe roſe in haſt, and her addreſt
With ready hand it to haue reſt away.
But the ſwift bird obayd not her beheſt,
But ſwaru'd aſide, and there againe did ſtay;
She follow'd her, and thought againe it to aſſay.
And euer when ſhe nigh approcht, the Doue
Would flit a litle forward, and then ſtay,
Till ſhe drew neare, and then againe remoue;
So tempting her ſtill to purſue the pray,
And ſtill from her eſcaping ſoft away:
Till that at length into that forreſt wide,
She drew her far, and led with ſlow delay.
In th'end ſhe her vnto that place did guide,
Whereas that wofull man in languor did abide.
Eftſoones ſhe flew vnto his feareleſſe hand,
And there a piteous ditty new deuiz'd,
As if ſhe would haue made him vnderſtand,
His ſorrowes cauſe to be of her deſpiſ'd.
Whom when ſhe ſaw in wretched weedes diſguiz'd,
With heary glib deform'd, and meiger face,
Like ghoſt late riſen from his graue 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 with her preſence dread,
Onely few ruefull lookes vnto her ſent,
As meſſengers 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 had beene ſome man of place,
Before misfortune did his hew deface:
That being mou'd with ruth ſhe thus beſpake.
Ah wofull man, what heauens hard diſgrace,
Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake?
Or ſelfe diſliked life doth thee thus wretched make?
If heauen, 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 haue ſo cruell thee forlorne;
But if through inward griefe or wilfull ſcorne
Of life it be, then better doe aduiſe.
For he whoſe daies in wilfull woe are worne,
The grace of his Creator doth deſpiſe,
That will not vſe his gifts for thankleſſe nigardiſe.
When ſo he heard her ſay, eftſoones he brake
His ſodaine ſilence, which he long had pent,
And ſighing inly deepe, her thus beſpake;
Then haue they all themſelues againſt me bent:
For heauen, firſt author of my languiſhment,
Enuying my too great felicity,
Did cloſely with a cruell one conſent,
To cloud my daies in dolefull miſery,
And make me loath this life, ſtill longing for to die.
Ne any but your ſelfe, ô deareſt dred,
Hath done this wrong, to wreake on worthleſſe wight
Your high diſpleſure, through miſdeeming bred:
That when your pleaſure is to deeme aright,
Ye may redreſſe, and me reſtore to light.
Which ſory words her mightie hart did mate
With mild regard, to ſee his ruefull plight,
That her inburning wrath ſhe gan abate,
And him receiu'd againe to former fauours ſtate.
In which he long time afterwards did lead
An happie life with grace and good accord,
Fearleſſe of fortunes chaunge or enuies dread,
And eke all mindleſſe of his owne deare Lord
The noble Prince, who neuer heard one word
Of tydings, what did vnto him betide,
Or what good fortune did to him afford,
But through the endleſſe world did wander wide,
Him ſeeking euermore, yet no where him deſcride.
Till on a day as through that wood he rode,
He chaunſt to come where thoſe two Ladies late,
Aemylia and Amoret abode,
Both in full ſad and ſorrowfull eſtate;
The one right feeble through the euill rate
Of food, which in her dureſſe ſhe had found:
The other almoſt dead and deſperate
Through her late hurts, and through that hapleſſe wound,
With which the Squire in her defence her ſore aſtound.
Whom when the Prince beheld, he gan to rew
The euill caſe in which thoſe Ladies lay;
But moſt was moued at the piteous vew
Of Amoret, ſo neare vnto decay,
That her great daunger did him much diſmay.
Eftſoones that pretious liquour forth he drew,
Which he in ſtore about him kept alway,
And with few drops thereof did ſoftly dew
Her wounds, that vnto ſtrength reſtor'd her ſoone anew.
Tho when they both recouered were right well,
He gan of them inquire, what euill guide
Them thether brought, and how their harmes befell.
To whom they told all, that did them betide,
And how from thraldome vile they were vntide
Of that ſame wicked Carle, by Virgins hond;
Whoſe bloudie corſe they ſhew'd him there beſide,
And eke his caue, in which they both were bond:
At which he wondred much, when all thoſe ſignes he fond.
And euermore he greatly did deſire
To know, what Virgin did them thence vnbind;
And oft of them did earneſtly inquire,
Where was her won, and how he mote her find.
But when as nought according to his mind
He could outlearne, he them from ground did reare:
No ſeruice lothſome to a gentle kind;
And on his warlike beaſt them both did beare,
Himſelfe by them on foot, to ſuccour them from feare.
So when that forreſt they had paſſed well,
A litle cotage farre away they ſpide,
To which they drew, ere night vpon them fell;
And entring in, found none therein abide,
But one old woman ſitting there beſide,
Vpon the ground in ragged rude attyre,
With filthy lockes about her ſcattered wide,
Gnawing her nayles for felneſſe and for yre,
And there out ſucking venime to her parts entyre.
A foule and loathly creature ſure in ſight,
And in conditions to be loath'd no leſſe:
For ſhe was ſtuft with rancour and deſpight
Vp to the throat, that 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 lewdly did miſcall,
And wickedly backbite: Her name men 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 goodname;
Ne euer Knight ſo bold, ne euer Dame
So chaſt and loyall liu'd, but ſhe would ſtriue
With forged cauſe them falſely to defame;
Ne euer thing ſo well was doen aliue,
But ſhe with blame would blot, & of due praiſe depriue.
Her words were not, as common words are ment,
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;
Which paſſing through the eares, would pierce the hart,
And wound the ſoule it ſelfe with griefe vnkind:
For like the ſtings of Aſpes, that kill with ſmart,
Her ſpightfull words did pricke, & wound the inner part.
Such was that Hag, vnmeet to hoſt ſuch gueſts,
Whom greateſt Princes court would welcome fayne,
But neede, that anſwers not to all requeſts,
Bad them not looke for better entertayne;
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.
Then all that euening welcommed with cold,
And cheareleſſe hunger, they together ſpent;
Yet found no fault, but that the Hag did ſcold
And rayle at them with grudgefull diſcontent,
For lodging there without her owne conſent:
Yet they endured all with patience milde,
And vnto reſt themſelues all onely lent,
Regardleſſe of that queane ſo baſe and vilde,
To be vniuſtly blamd, and bitterly reuilde.
Here well I weene, when as theſe rimes be red
With miſregard, that ſome raſh witted wight,
Whoſe looſer thought will lightly be miſled,
Theſe gentle Ladies will miſdeeme too light,
For thus conuerſing with this noble Knight;
Sith now of dayes ſuch temperance is rare
And hard to finde, that heat of youthfull ſpright
For ought will from his greedie pleaſure ſpare,
More hard for hungry ſteed t'abſtaine from pleaſant lare.
But antique age yet in the infancie
Of time, did liue then like an innocent,
In ſimple truth and blameleſſe chaſtitie,
Ne them of guile had made experiment,
But voide of vile and treacherous intent,
Held vertue for it ſelfe in ſoueraine awe:
Then loyall loue had royall regiment,
And each vnto 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 Doue ſate by the Faulcons ſide,
Ne each of other feared fraud or tort,
But did in ſafe ſecuritie abide,
Withouten perill of the ſtronger pride:
But when the world woxe old, it woxe warre old
(Whereof it hight) and hauing ſhortly tride
The traines of wit, in wickedneſſe woxe bold,
And dared of all ſinnes the ſecrets to vnfold.
Then beautie, which was made to repreſent
The great Creatours owne reſemblance bright,
Vnto abuſe of lawleſſe luſt was lent,
And made the baite of beſtiall delight:
Then faire grew foule, and foule grew faire in ſight,
And that which wont to vanquiſh God and man,
Was made the vaſſall of the victors might;
Then did her glorious flowre wex dead and wan,
Deſpiſd and troden downe of all that ouerran.
And now it is ſo vtterly decayd,
That any bud thereof doth ſcarſe remaine,
But if few plants preſeru'd through heauenly ayd,
In Princes Court doe hap to ſprout againe,
Dew'd with her drops of bountie Soueraine,
Which from that goodly glorious flowre 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 heauenly ſeed.
Tho ſoone as day diſcouered heauens face
To ſinfull men with darknes ouerdight,
This gentle crew gan from their eye-lids chace
The drowzie humour of the dampiſh night,
And did themſelues vnto their iourney dight.
So forth they yode, and forward ſoftly paced,
That them to view had bene an vncouth ſight;
How all the way the Prince on footpace traced,
The Ladies both on horſe, together faſt embraced.
Soone as they thence departed were afore,
That ſhamefull Hag, the ſlaunder of her ſexe,
Them follow'd faſt, and them reuiled ſore,
Him calling theeſe, them whores; that much did vexe
His noble hart; thereto ſhe did annexe
Falſe crimes and facts, ſuch as they neuer ment,
That thoſe two Ladies much aſham'd did wexe:
The more did ſhe purſue her lewd intent,
And rayl'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 hatefull words to heare:
Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare
The ſtone, which paſſed ſtraunger at him threw;
So ſhe them ſeeing paſt the reach of eare,
Againſt the ſtones and trees did rayle anew,
Till ſhe had duld the ſting, which in her tongs end grew.
They paſſing forth kept on their readie way,
With eaſie ſteps ſo ſoft as foot could ſtryde,
Both for great feebleſſe, which did oft aſſay
Faire Amoret, that ſcarcely ſhe could ryde,
And eke through heauie armes, which ſore annoyd
The Prince on foot, not wonted ſo to fare;
Whoſe ſteadie hand was faine his ſteede to guyde,
And all the way from trotting hard to ſpare,
So was his toyle the more, the more that was his care.
At length they ſpide, where towards them with ſpeed
A Squire came gallopping, 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 would rend the braſen skie:
Whom after did a mightie man purſew,
Ryding vpon a Dromedare on hie,
Of ſtature huge, and horrible of hew,
That would haue maz'd a man his dreadfull face to vew.
For from his fearefull eyes two fierie beames,
More ſharpe then points of needles did proceede,
Shooting forth farre away two flaming ſtreames,
Full of ſad powre, that poyſonous bale did breede
To all, that on him lookt without good heed,
And ſecretly his enemies did ſlay:
Like as the Baſiliske of ſerpents ſeede,
From powrefull eyes cloſe venim doth conuay
Into the lookers hart, and killeth farre away.
He all the way did rage at that ſame Squire,
And after him full many threatnings threw,
With curſes vaine in his auengefull ire:
But none of them (ſo faſt away he flew)
Him ouertooke, before he came in vew.
Where when 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.
Eftſoones the Prince tooke downe thoſe Ladies twaine
From loftie ſteede, and mounting in their ſtead
Came to that Squire, yet trembling euery 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 vnto death had doen him vnredreſt,
Had not the noble Prince his readie ſtroke repreſt.
Who thruſting boldly twixt him and the blow,
The burden of the deadly brunt did beare
Vpon his ſhield, which lightly he did throw
Ouer his head, before the harme came neare.
Nathleſſe it fell with ſo deſpiteous dreare
And heauie ſway, that hard vnto his crowne
The ſhield it droue, and did the couering reare,
Therewith both Squire and dwarfe did tomble downe
Vnto the earth, and lay long while in ſenſeleſſe ſwowne.
Whereat the Prince full wrath, his ſtrong right hand
In full auengement heaued vp 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 haue cleft him to the girding place,
Yet 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 vp 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 royall child with readie quicke foreſight,
Did ſhun the proofe thereof and it auoyded light.
But ere his hand he could recure againe,
To ward his bodie from the balefull ſtound,
He ſmote at him with all his might and maine,
So furiouſly, that ere he wiſt, he found
His head before him tombling on the ground.
The whiles his babling tongue did yet blaſpheme
And curſe his God, that did him ſo confound;
The whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie ſtreame,
His ſoule deſcended downe into the Stygian reame.
Which when that Squire beheld, he woxe full glad
To 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.
Then gan the Prince at leaſure to inquire
Of all the accident, there hapned plaine,
And what he was, whoſe eyes did flame with fire;
All which was thus to him declared by that Squire.
This mightie man (quoth he) whom you haue ſlaine,
Of an huge Geaunteſſe whylome was bred;
And by his ſtrength rule to himſelfe did gaine
Of many Nations into thraldome led,
And mightie kingdomes of his force adred;
Whom yet he conquer'd not by bloudie fight,
Ne hoſtes of men with banners brode diſpred,
But by the powre of his infectious ſight,
With which he killed all, that came within his might.
Ne was he euer vanquiſhed afore,
But euer 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
Vnto his bay, and captiued her thought.
For moſt of ſtrength and beautie his deſire
Was ſpoyle to make, and waſt them vnto nought,
By caſting ſecret flakes of luſtfull 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 Poeana; who ſeemes outwardly
So faire, as euer yet ſaw liuing eie:
And were her vertue like her beautie bright,
She were as faire as any vnder skie.
But ah ſhe giuen is to vaine delight,
And eke too looſe of life, and eke of loue too light.
So as it fell there was a gentle Squire,
That lou'd a 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 loue was wholly lent,
Out of his hands could not redeeme her gage,
But firmely following her firſt intent,
Reſolu'd with him to wend, gainſt all her friends conſent.
So twixt themſelues they pointed time and place,
To which when he according did repaire,
An hard miſhap and diſauentrous caſe
Him chaunſt; in ſtead of his Aemylia faire
This Gyants ſonne, that lies there on the laire
An headleſſe heape, him vnawares there caught,
And all diſmayd through mercileſſe deſpaire,
Him wretched thrall vnto his dongeon brought,
Where he remaines, of all vnſuccour'd and vnſought.
This Gyants daughter came vpon a day
Vnto the priſon in her ioyous glee,
To view the thrals, which there in bondage lay:
Amongſt the reſt ſhe chaunced there to ſee
This louely 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 loue him promiſt libertie at laſt.
He though affide vnto a former loue,
To whom his faith he firmely ment to hold,
Yet ſeeing not how thence he mote remoue,
But by that meanes, which fortune did vnfold,
Her graunted loue, but with affection cold
To win her grace his libertie to get.
Yet ſhe him ſtill detaines in captiue hold,
Fearing leaſt if ſhe ſhould him freely ſet,
He would her ſhortly leaue, and former loue forget.
Yet ſo much fauour ſhe to him hath hight,
Aboue the reſt, that he ſometimes may ſpace
And walke about her gardens of delight,
Hauing a keeper ſtill with him in place,
Which keeper is this Dwarfe, her dearling baſe,
To whom the keyes of euery priſon dore
By her committed be, of ſpeciall grace,
And at his will may whom he liſt reſtore,
And whom he liſt reſerue, to be afflicted more.
Whereof when tydings came vnto mine eare,
Full inly ſorie for the feruent zeale,
Which I to him as to my ſoule did beare;
I thether went where I did long conceale
My ſelfe, till that the Dwarfe did me reueale,
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 neuer two ſo like did liuing creature ſee.
Then was I taken and before her brought,
Who through the likeneſſe of my outward hew,
Being likewiſe beguiled in her thought,
Gan blame me much for being ſo vntrew,
To ſeeke by flight her fellowſhip t'eſchew,
That lou'd me deare, as deareſt thing aliue.
Thence ſhe commaunded me to priſon new;
Whereof I glad did not gaineſay nor ſtriue,
But ſuffred that ſame Dwarfe me to her dongeon driue.
There did I finde mine onely faithfull frend
In heauy plight and ſad perplexitie;
Whereof I ſorie, yet my ſelfe did bend,
Him to recomfort with my companie.
But him the more agreeu'd I found thereby:
For all his ioy, he ſaid, in that diſtreſſe
Was mine and his Aemylias libertie.
Aemylia well he lou'd, as I mote gheſſe;
Yet greater loue to me then her he did profeſſe.
But I with better reaſon him auiz'd,
And ſhew'd him how through error and miſ-thought
Of our like perſons eath to be diſguiz'd,
Or his exchange, or freedome might be wrought.
Whereto full loth was he, ne would for ought
Conſent, that I who ſtood all feareleſſe free,
Should wilfully be into thraldome brought,
Till fortune did perforce it ſo decree.
Yet ouerrul'd at laſt, he did to me agree.
The morrow next about the wonted howre,
The Dwarfe cald at the doore of Amyas,
To come forthwith vnto his Ladies bowre.
In ſteed of whom forth came I Placidas,
And vndiſcerned, forth with him did pas.
There with great ioyance and with gladſome glee,
Of faire Poeana I receiued was,
And oft imbraſt, as if that I were hee,
And with kind words accoyd, vowing great loue to mee.
Which I, that was not bent to former loue,
As was my friend, that had her long refuſd,
Did well accept, as well it did behoue,
And to the preſent neede it wiſely vſd.
My former hardneſſe firſt I faire excuſd;
And after promiſt large amends to make.
With ſuch ſmooth termes her error I abuſd,
To my friends good, more then for mine owne ſake,
For whoſe ſole libertie I loue and life did ſtake.
Thenceforth I found more fauour at her hand,
That to her Dwarfe, which had me in his charge,
She bad to lighten my too heauie band,
And graunt more ſcope to me to walke at large.
So on a day as by the flowrie marge
Of a freſh ſtreame I with that Elfe did play,
Finding no meanes how I might vs enlarge,
But if that Dwarfe I could with me conuay,
I lightly ſnatcht him vp, and with me bore away.
Thereat he ſhriekt 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 haue perforce him hether brought away.
Thus as they talked, loe where nigh at hand
Thoſe Ladies two yet doubtfull through diſmay
In preſence came, deſirous t'vnderſtand
Tydings of all, which there had hapned on the land.
Where ſoone as ſad Aemylia did eſpie
Her captiue louers friend, young Placidas;
All mindleſſe of her wonted modeſtie,
She to him ran, and him with ſtreight embras
Enfolding ſaid, and liues yet Amyas?
He liues (quoth he) and his Aemylia loues.
Then leſſe (ſaid ſhe) by all the woe I pas,
With which my weaker patience fortune proues.
But what miſhap thus long him fro my ſelfe remoues?
Then gan he all this ſtorie to renew,
And tell the courſe of his captiuitie;
That her deare hart full deepely made to rew,
And ſigh full ſore, to heare 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 perform'd, as ſhall appeare by his euent.
Cant. IX.
The Squire of low degree releaſt
Poeana takes to wife:
Britomart fightes with many Knights
Prince Arthur ſtints their ſtrife.
HArd is the doubt, and difficult to deeme,
When all three kinds of loue together meet,
And doe diſpart the hart with powre extreme,
Whether ſhall weigh the balance downe; to weet
The deare affection vnto kindred ſweet,
Or raging fire of loue to woman kind,
Or zeale of friends combynd with vertues meet.
But of them all the band of vertues mind
Me ſeemes the gentle hart, ſhould moſt aſſured bind.
For naturall affection ſoone doth ceſſe,
And quenched is with Cupids greater flame:
But faithfull friendſhip doth them both 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 ſeruice of the bodie frame,
So loue of ſoule doth loue 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 approued plaine;
In which theſe Squires true friendſhip more did ſway,
Then either care of parents could refraine,
Or loue of faireſt Ladie could conſtraine.
For though Poeana were as faire as morne,
Yet did this Truſtie ſquire with proud diſdaine
For his friends ſake her offred fauours ſcorne,
And ſhe her ſelfe her ſyre, of whom ſhe was yborne.
Now after that Prince Arthur graunted had,
To yeeld ſtrong ſuccour to that gentle ſwayne,
Who now long time had lyen in priſon ſad,
He gan aduiſe how beſt he mote darrayne
That enterprize, for greateſt glories gayne.
That headleſſe tyrants tronke he reard from ground,
And hauing ympt the head to it agayne,
Vpon his vſuall beaſt it firmely bound,
And made it ſo to ride, as it aliue was found.
Then did he take that chaced Squire, and layd
Before the ryder, as he captiue were,
And made his Dwarfe, though with vnwilling ayd,
To guide the beaſt, that did his maiſter beare,
Till to his caſtle they approched neare.
Whom when the watch, that kept continuall ward
Saw comming home; all voide of doubtfull feare,
He running downe, the gate to him vnbard;
Whom ſtraight the Prince enſuing, in together far'd.
There he did find in her delitious boure
The faire Poeana 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 halfe rapt, began on her to dote:
Till better him bethinking of the right,
He her vnwares attacht, and captiue held by might.
Whence being forth produc'd, when ſhe perceiued
Her owne deare ſire, ſhe cald to him for aide.
But when of him no aunſwere ſhe receiued,
But ſaw him ſenceleſſe by the Squire vpſtaide,
She weened well, that then ſhe was betraide:
Then gan ſhe loudly cry, and weepe, and waile,
And that ſame Squire of treaſon to vpbraide.
But all in vaine, her plaints might not preuaile,
Ne none there was to reskue her, ne none to baile.
Then tooke he that ſame Dwarfe, and him compeld
To open vnto him the priſon dore,
And forth to bring thoſe thrals, which there he held.
Thence forth were brought to him aboue a ſcore
Of Knights and Squires to him vnknowne afore:
All which he did from bitter bondage free,
And vnto former liberty reſtore.
Amongſt the reſt, that Squire of low degree
Came forth full weake and wan, not like him ſelfe to bee.
Whom ſoone as faire Aemylia beheld,
And Placidas, they both vnto him ran,
And him embracing faſt betwixt them held,
Striuing to comfort him all that they can,
And kiſſing oft his viſage pale and wan.
That faire Paeana them beholding both,
Gan both enuy, and bitterly to ban;
Through iealous paſſion weeping inly wroth,
To ſee the ſight perforce, that both her eyes were loth.
But when a while they had together beene,
And diuerſly conferred of their caſe,
She, though full oft ſhe both of them had ſeene
Aſunder, yet not euer in one place,
Began to doubt, when ſhe them ſaw embrace,
Which was the captiue Squire ſhe lou'd ſo deare,
Deceiued through great likeneſſe of their face,
For they ſo like in perſon did appeare,
That ſhe vneath diſcerned, whether whether weare.
And eke the Prince, when as he them auized,
Their like reſemblaunce much admired there,
And mazd how nature had ſo well diſguized
Her worke, and counterfet her ſelfe ſo nere,
As if that by one patterne ſeene ſomewhere,
She had them made a paragone to be,
Or whether it through skill, or errour were.
Thus gazing long, at them much wondred he,
So did the other knights and Squires, which him did ſee.
Then gan they ranſacke that ſame Caſtle ſtrong,
In which he found great ſtore of hoorded threaſure,
The which that tyrant gathered had by wrong
And tortious powre, without reſpect or meaſure.
Vpon all which the Briton Prince made ſeaſure,
And afterwards continu'd there a while,
To reſt him ſelfe, and ſolace in ſoft pleaſure
Thoſe weaker Ladies after weary toile;
To whom he did diuide part of his purchaſt ſpoile.
And for more ioy, that captiue Lady faire
The faire Paeana he enlarged free;
And by the reſt did ſet in ſumptuous chaire,
To feaſtand frollicke; nathemore would ſhe
Shew gladſome countenaunce nor pleaſaunt glee:
But grieued was for loſſe both of her ſire,
And eke of Lordſhip, with both land and fee:
But moſt ſhe touched was with griefe entire,
For loſſe of her new loue, 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 corſiue, which did eat
Her tender heart, and made refraine 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 vp all in friendly loue,
Sith loue was firſt the ground of all her griefe,
That truſty Squire he wiſely well did moue
Not to deſpiſe that dame, which lou'd him liefe,
Till he had made of her ſome better priefe,
But 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 liu'd together long without debate,
Ne priuate 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,
Yet with lewd loues and luſt intemperate
Had it defaſte; thenceforth reformd her waies,
That all men much admyrde her change, and ſpake her praiſe.
Thus when the Prince had perfectly compylde
Theſe paires of friends in peace and ſetled reſt,
Him ſelfe, whoſe minde did trauell as with chylde,
Of his old loue, conceau'd in ſecret breſt,
Reſolued to purſue his former gueſt;
And taking leaue of all, with him did beare
Faire Amoret, whom Fortune by bequeſt
Had left in his protection whileare,
Exchanged out of one into an other feare.
Feare of her ſafety did her not conſtraine,
For well ſhe wiſt now in a mighty hond,
Her perſon late in perill, did remaine,
Who able was all daungers to withſtond.
But now in feare of ſhame ſhe more did ſtond,
Seeing her ſelfe all ſoly ſuccourleſſe,
Left in the victors powre, like vaſſall bond;
Whoſe 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 forſtall,
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 loues diſperſed diuerſly,
Yet neither ſhewed to other their hearts priuity.
At length they came, whereas a troupe of Knights
They ſaw together skirmiſhing, as ſeemed:
Sixe they were all, all full offell deſpight,
But foure of them the battell beſt beſeemed,
That which of them was beſt, mote not be deemed.
Thoſe foure were they, from whom falſe Florimell
By Braggadochio lately was redeemed.
To weet, ſterne Druon, and lewd Claribell,
Loue-lauiſh Blandamour, and luſtfull Paridell.
Druons delight was all in ſingle life,
And vnto Ladies loue would lend no leaſure:
The more was Claribell enraged riſe
With feruent flames, and loued out of meaſure:
So eke lou'd Blandamour, but yet at pleaſure
Would change his liking, and new Lemans proue:
But Paridell of loue did make no threaſure,
But luſted after all, that him did moue.
So diuerſly theſe foure diſpoſed were to loue.
But thoſe two other which beſide them ſtoode,
Were Britomart, and gentle Scudamour,
Who all the while beheld their wrathfull moode,
And wondred at their impacable ſtoure,
Whoſe like they neuer ſaw till that ſame houre:
So dreadfull ſtrokes each did at other driue,
And laid on load with all their might and powre,
As if that euery dint the ghoſt would riue
Out of their wretched corſes, and their liues depriue.
As when Dan AEolus in great diſpleaſure,
For loſſe of his deare loue by Neptune hent,
Sends forth the winds out of his hidden threaſure,
Vpon the ſea to wreake his fell intent;
They breaking forth with rude vnruliment,
From all foure parts of heauen doe rage full ſore,
And toſſe the deepes, and teare the firmament,
And all the world confound with wide vprore,
As if in ſtead thereof they Chaos would reſtore.
Cauſe of their diſcord, and ſo fell debate,
Was for the loue of that ſame ſnowy maid,
Whome they had loſt in Turneyment of late,
And ſeeking long, to weet which way ſhe ſtraid
Met here together, where through lewd vpbraide
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 dout.
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 fiendlike fury ſlacke,
But euermore their malice did augment;
Till that vneath they forced were for lacke
Of breath, their raging rigour to relent,
And reſt themſelues for to recouer ſpirits ſpent.
Their gan they change their ſides, and new parts take;
For Paridell did take to Druons ſide,
For old deſpight, which now forth newly brake
Gainſt Blandamour, whom alwaies he enuide:
And Blandamour to Claribell relide.
So all afreſh gan former fight renew.
As when two Barkes, this caried with the tide,
That with the wind, 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 had begonne,
Ne helmets bright, ne hawberks ſtrong did ſpare,
That through the clifts the vermeil bloud out ſponne,
And all adowne their riuen 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 maide,
By fortune in that place did chance to light:
Whom ſoone as they with wrathfull eie bewraide,
They gan remember of the fowle vpbraide,
The which that Britoneſſe had to them donne,
In that late Turney for the ſnowy maide;
Where ſhe had them both ſhamefully fordonne,
And eke the famous prize of beauty from them wonne.
Eftſoones all burning with a freſh deſire
Of fell reuenge, in their malicious mood
They from them ſelues gan turne their furious ire,
And cruell blades yet ſteeming with whot bloud,
Againſt thoſe two let driue, 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.
The warlike Dame was on her part aſſaid,
Of Claribell and Blandamour attone;
And Paridell and Druon fiercely laid
At Scudamour, both his profeſſed fone.
Foure charged two, and two ſurcharged one;
Yet did thoſe two them ſelues ſo brauely beare,
That the other litle gained by the lone,
But with their owne repayred duely weare,
And vſury withall: ſuch gaine was gotten deare.
Full oftentimes did Britomart aſſay
To ſpeake to them, and ſome emparlance moue;
But they for nought their cruell hands would ſtay,
Ne lend an eare to ought, that might behoue,
As when an eager maſtiffe once doth proue
The taſt of bloud of ſome engored beaſt,
No words may rate, nor rigour him remoue
From greedy hold of that his blouddy feaſt:
So litle did they hearken to her ſweet beheaſt.
Whom when the Briton Prince a farre beheld
With ods of ſo vnequall match oppreſt,
His mighty heart with indignation fweld,
And inward grudge fild his heroicke breſt:
Eftſoones him ſelfe he to their aide addreſt,
And thruſting fierce into the thickeſt preace,
Diuided them, how euer loth to reſt,
And would them faine from battell to ſurceaſſe,
With gentle words perſwading them to friendly peace.
But they ſo farre from peace or patience were,
That all at once at him gan fiercely flie,
And lay on load, as they him downe would beare;
Like to aſtorme, which houers vnder skie
Long here and there, and round about doth ſtie,
At length breakes downe in raine, and haile, and 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 vntoucht afore;
Who them with ſpeaches milde gan firſt diſſwade
From ſuch foule outrage, and them long forbore:
Till ſeeing them through ſuffrance hartned more,
Him ſelfe he bent their furies to abate,
And layd at them ſo ſharpely and ſo ſore,
That ſhortly them compelled to retrate,
And being brought in daunger, to relent too late.
But now his courage being throughly fired,
He ment to make them know their follies priſe,
Had not thoſe two him inſtantly deſired
T'aſſwage his wrath, and pardon their meſpriſe.
At whoſe requeſt he gan him ſelfe aduiſe
To ſtay his hand, and of a truce to treat
In milder tearmes, as liſt them to deuiſe:
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 priuate loues 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 ſuppoſd) 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 vp wrong, that battell once hath tried;
Wherein the honor both of Armes ye ſhame,
And eke the loue of Ladies foule defame;
To whom the world this franchiſe euer yeelded,
That of their loues choiſe they might freedom clame,
And in that right ſhould by all knights be ſhielded:
Gainſt which me ſeemes this war ye wrongfully haue wielded.
And yet (quoth ſhe) a greater wrong remaines:
For I thereby my former loue haue loſt,
Whom ſeeking euer ſince with endleſſe paines,
Hath me much ſorrow and much trauell 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, where euer ſhe be ſtraide,
Through many perils wonne, and many fortunes waide.
For from the firſt that I her loue profeſt,
Vnto this houre, this preſent luckleſſe howre,
I neuer ioyed happineſſe nor reſt,
But thus turmoild from one to other ſtowre,
I waſt my life, and doe my daies deuowre
In wretched anguiſhe and inceſſant woe,
Paſſing the meaſure of my feeble powre,
That liuing thus, a wretch I and louing ſo,
I neither can my loue, 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 we entreat you, ſith this gentle crew
Is now ſo well accorded all anew;
That as we ride together on our way,
Ye will recount to vs in order dew
All that aduenture, which ye did aſſay
For that faire Ladies loue: paſt perils well apay.
So gan the reſt him likewiſe to require,
But Britomart did him importune hard,
To take on him that paine: whoſe great deſire
He glad to ſatisfie, him ſelfe prepar'd
To tell through what misfortune he had far'd,
In that atchieuement, as to him befell.
And all thoſe daungers vnto them declar'd,
Which ſith they cannot in this Canto well
Compriſed be, I will them in another tell.
Cant. X.
Scudamour doth his conquſt tell,
Of vertuous Amoret:
Great Venus Temple is deſcrib'd,
And louers life forth ſet.
TRue he it ſaid, what euer man it ſayd,
That loue with gall and hony doth abound,
But if the one be with the other wayd,
For euery dram of hony therein found,
A pound of gall doth ouer it redound.
That I too true by triall haue approued:
For ſince the day that firſt with deadly wound
My heart was launcht, and learned to haue loued,
I neuer ioyed howre, but ſtill with care was moued.
And yet ſuch grace is giuen them from aboue,
That all the cares and euill which they meet,
May nought at all their ſetled mindes remoue,
But ſeeme gainſt common ſence to them moſt ſweet;
As boſting in their martyrdome vnmeet.
So all that euer yet I haue endured,
I count as naught, and tread downe vnder feet,
Since of my loue at length I reſt aſſured,
That to diſloyalty ſhe will not be allured.
Long were to tell the trauell and long toile,
Through which this ſhield of loue I late haue wonne,
And purchaſed this peereleſſe 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 loue 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,
I hauing armes then taken, gan auiſe
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 braue emprize for me did reſt,
And that both ſhield and ſhe whom I behold,
Might be my lucky lot; ſith all by lot we hold.
So on that hard aduenture forth I went,
And to the place of perill ſhortly came.
That was a temple faire and auncient,
Which 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,
Though all the pillours of the one were guilt,
And all the others pauement were with yuory ſpilt.
And it was ſeated in an Iſland ſtrong,
Abounding all with delices moſt rare,
And wall'd by nature gainſt inuaders wrong,
That none mote haue 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 grauen faire,
And arched all with porches, did arize
On ſtately pillours, fram'd after the Doricke guize.
And for defence thereof, on th'other end
There reared was a caſtle faire and ſtrong,
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 nanner wights
By all meanes to maintaine, that caſtels ancients rights.
Before that Caſtle was an open plaine,
And in the midſt thereof a piller placed;
On which this ſhield, of many ſought in vaine,
The ſhield of Loue, whoſe guerdon me hath graced,
Was hangd on high with golden ribbands laced;
And in the marble ſtone was written this,
With golden letters goodly well enchaced,
Bleſſed the man that well can vſe his blis:
VVhoſe euer be the shield, faire Amoret be his.
Which when I red, my heart did inly earne,
And pant with hope of that aduentures hap:
Ne ſtayed further newes thereof to learne,
But with my ſpeare vpon the ſhield did rap,
That all the caſtle ringed with the clap.
Streight forth iſſewd a Knight all arm'd to proofe,
And brauely mounted to his moſt miſhap:
Who ſtaying nought to queſtion from aloofe,
Ran fierce at me, that fire glaunſt from his horſes hoofe.
Whom boldly I encountred (as I could)
And by good fortune ſhortly him vnſeated.
Eftſoones out ſprung two more of equall mould;
But I them both with equall hap defeated:
So all the twenty I likewiſe entreated,
And left them groning there vpon the plaine.
Then preacing to the pillour I repeated
The read thereof for guerdon of my paine,
And taking downe the ſhield, with me did it retaine.
So forth without impediment I paſt,
Till to the Bridges vtter gate I came:
The which I found ſure lockt and chained faſt.
I knockt, but no man aunſwred me by name;
I cald, but no man anſwerd to my clame.
Yet I perſeuer'd ſtill to knocke and call,
Till at the laſt I ſpide within the ſame,
Where one ſtood peeping through a creuis ſmall,
To whom I cald aloud, halfe angry therewithall.
That was to weet the Porter of the place,
Vnto whoſe truſt the charge thereof was lent:
His name was Doubt, that had a double face,
Th'one forward looking, th'other backeward bent,
Therein reſembling Ianus auncient,
Which hath in charge the ingate of the yeare:
And euermore his eyes about him went,
As if ſome proued perill he did feare,
Or did miſdoubt ſome ill, whoſe cauſe did not appeare.
On th'one ſide he, on th'other ſate Delay,
Behinde the gate, that none her might eſpy;
Whoſe manner was all paſſengers to ſtay,
And entertaine with her occaſions ſly,
Through which ſome loſt great hope vnheedily,
Which neuer they recouer might againe;
And others quite excluded forth, did ly
Long languiſhing there in vnpittied paine,
And ſeeking often entraunce, afterwards in vaine.
Me when as he had priuily eſpide,
Bearing the ſhield which I had conquerd late,
He kend it ſtreight, and to me opened wide.
So in I 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.
But by no meanes my way I would forſlow,
For ought that euer ſhe could doe or ſay,
But from my lofty ſteede diſmounting low,
Paſt forth on foote, beholding all the way
The goodly workes, and ſtones of rich aſſay,
Caſt into ſundry ſhapes by wondrous skill,
That like on earth no where I recken may:
And vnderneath, the riuer rolling ſtill
With murmure ſoft, that ſeem'd to ſerue the workmans will.
Thence forth I paſſed to the ſecond gate,
The Gate of good deſert, whoſe goodly pride
And coſtly frame, were long here to relate.
The ſame to all ſtoode alwaies open wide:
But in the Porch did euermore abide
An hideous Giant, dreadfull to behold,
That ſtopt the entraunce with his ſpacious ſtride,
And with the terrour of his countenance bold
Full many did affray, that elſe faine enter would.
His name was Daunger dreaded ouer 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 terrifie from Fortunes faire adward:
For oftentimes faint hearts at firſt eſpiall
Of his grim face, were from approaching ſcard;
Vnworthy they of grace, whom one deniall
Excludes from faireſt hope, withouten further triall.
Yet many doughty warriours, often tride
In greater perils to beſtout 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
Were 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 neareſt man of many moe,
Yet much diſdaining vnto him to lout,
Or creepe betweene his legs, ſo in to goe,
Reſolu'd him to aſſault with manhood ſtout,
And either beat him in, or driue him out.
Eftſoones aduauncing that enchaunted ſhield,
With all my might I gan to lay about:
Which when he ſaw, the glaiue which he did wield
He gan forthwith t'auale, and way vnto me yield.
So as I entred, I did backeward looke,
For feare of harme, that might lie hidden there;
And loe his hindparts, whereof heed I tooke,
Much more deformed fearefull vgly were,
Then all his former parts did earſt appere.
For hatred, murther, treaſon, and deſpight,
With many moe lay in ambuſhment there,
Awayting to entrap the wareleſſe wight,
Which did not them preuent with vigilant foreſight.
Thus hauing paſt all perill, I was come
Within the compaſſe of that Iſlands ſpace;
The which did ſeeme vnto my ſimple doome,
The onely pleaſant and delightfull place,
That euer 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, ſupplyed 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 branch with bloſſomes ouer all,
But there was planted, or grew naturall:
Nor ſenſe of man ſo coy and curious nice,
But there mote find to pleaſe it ſelfe withall;
Nor hart could wiſh for any queint deuice,
But there it preſent was, and did fraile ſenſe entice.
In ſuch luxurious plentie of all pleaſure,
It ſeem'd a ſecond paradiſe to bee,
So lauiſhly enricht with natures threaſure,
That if the happie ſoules, which doe poſſeſſe
Th'Elyſian fields, and liue in laſting bleſſe,
Should happen this with liuing eye to ſee,
They ſoone would loath their leſſer happineſſe,
And wiſh to life return'd againe to gheſſe,
That in this ioyous place they mote haue ioyance 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 play;
Soft rombling brookes, that gentle ſlomber drew;
High reared mounts, the lands about to vew;
Low looking dales, diſloignd from common gaze;
Delightfull bowres, to ſolace louers trew;
Falſe Labyrinthes, fond runners eyes to daze;
All which by nature made did nature ſelfe amaze.
And all without were walkes and all eyes dight,
With diuers trees, enrang'd in euen rankes;
And here and there were pleaſant arbors pight,
And ſhadie ſeates, and ſundry flowring bankes,
To ſit and reſt the walkers wearie ſhankes,
And therein thouſand payres of louers walkt,
Prayſing their god, and yeelding him great thankes,
Ne euer ought but of their true loues talkt,
Ne euer for rebuke or blame of any balkt.
All theſe together by themſelues did ſport
Their ſpotleſſe pleaſures, and ſweet loues content.
But farre away from theſe, another ſort
Of louers lincked in true harts conſent;
Which loued not as theſe, for like intent,
But on chaſt vertue grounded their deſire,
Farre from all fraud, or fayned blandiſhment;
Which in their ſpirits kindling zealous fire,
Braue thoughts and noble deedes did euermore aſpire.
Such were great Hercules, and Hyllus deare;
Trew Ionathan, and Dauid truſtie tryde;
Stout Theſeus, and Pirithous his feare;
Pylades and Oreſtes by his ſyde;
Myld Titus and Geſippus without pryde;
Damon and Pythias whom death could not ſeuer:
All theſe and all that euer had bene tyde,
In bands of friendſhip there did liue for euer,
Whoſe liues although decay'd, yet loues decayed neuer.
Which when as I, that neuer taſted blis,
Nor happie howre, beheld with gazefull eye,
I thought there was none other heauen then this;
And gan their endleſſe happineſſe enuye,
That being free from feare and gealoſye,
Might frankely there their loues deſire poſſeſſe;
Whileſt I through paines and perlous ieopardie,
Was forſt to ſeeke my lifes deare patroneſſe:
Much dearer be the things, which come through hard diſtreſſe.
Yet all thoſe ſights, and all that elſe I ſaw,
Might not my ſteps withhold, but that forthright
Vnto that purpoſd place I did me draw,
Where as my loue was lodged day and night:
The temple of great Venus, that is hight
The Queene of beautie, and of loue the mother,
There worſhipped of euery liuing wight;
Whoſe goodly workmanſhip farre paſt all other
That euer were on earth, all were they ſet together.
Not that ſame famous Temple of Diane,
Whoſe hight all Epheſus did ouerſee,
And which all Aſia ſought with vowes prophane,
One of the worlds ſeuen wonders ſayd to bee,
Might match with this by many a degree:
Nor that, which that wiſe King of Iurie framed,
With endleſſe coſt, to be th'Almighties ſee;
Nor all that elſe through all the world is named
To all the heathen Gods, might like to this be clamed.
I much admyring that ſo goodly frame,
Vnto 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 ſhewed great womanhood:
Strange was her tyre; for on her head a crowne
She wore much like vnto a Danisk hood,
Poudred with pearle and ſtone, and all her gowne
Enwouen was with gold, that taught full low a downe.
On either ſide of her, two young men ſtood,
Both ſtrongly arm'd, as fearing one another;
Yet were they brethren both of halfe the blood,
Begotten by two fathers of one mother,
Though of contrarie natures each to other:
The one of them hight Loue, the other Hate,
Hate was the elder, Loue the younger brother;
Yet was the younger ſtronger in his ſtate
Then th'elder, and him mayſtred ſtill in all debate.
Nathleſſe that Dame ſo well them tempted both,
That ſhe them forced hand to ioyne in hand,
Albe that Hatred was thereto full loth,
And turn'd his face away, as he did ſtand,
Vnwilling to behold that louely band.
Yet ſhe was of ſuch grace and vertuous might,
That her commaundment he could notwithſtand,
But bit his lip for felonous deſpight,
And gnaſht his yron tuskes at that diſpleaſing ſight.
Concord ſhe cleeped was in common reed,
Mother of bleſſed Peace, and Friendship trew;
They both her twins, both borne of heauenly ſeed,
And ſhe her ſelfe likewiſe diuinely grew;
The which right well her workes diuine did ſnew:
For ſtrength, and wealth, and happineſſe ſhe lends,
And ſtrife, and warre, and anger does ſubdew:
Of litle much, of foes ſhe maketh frends,
And to afflicted minds ſweet reſt and quiet ſends.
By her the heauen is in his courſe contained,
And all the world in ſtate vnmoued ſtands,
As their Almightie maker firſt ordained,
And bound them with inuiolable bands;
Elſe would the waters ouerflow the lands,
And fire deuoure the ayre, and hell them quight,
But that ſhe holds them with her bleſſed hands.
She is the nourſe of pleaſure and delight,
And vnto Venus grace the gate doth open right.
By her I entring halfe diſmayed was,
But ſhe in gentle wiſe me entertayned,
And twixt her ſelfe and loue did let me pas;
But Hatred would my entrance haue reſtrayned,
And with his club me threatned to haue brayned,
Had not the Ladie with her powrefull ſpeach
Him from his wicked will vneath refrayned;
And th'other eke his malice did empeach,
Till I was throughly paſt the perill of his reach.
Into the inmoſt Temple thus I came,
Which fuming all with frankenſence I found,
And odours riſing from the altars flame.
Vpon an hundred marble pillors round
The rooſe vp high was reared from the ground,
All deckt with crownes, & chaynes, and girlands gay,
And thouſand pretious gifts worth many a pound,
The which ſad louers for their vowes did pay;
And all the ground was ſtrow'd with flowres, as freſh as may.
An hundred Altars round about were ſet,
All flaming with their ſacrifices fire,
That with the ſteme thereof die Temple ſwet,
Which rould in clouds to heauen did aſpire,
And in them bore true louers vowes entire:
And eke an hundred braſen caudrons bright,
To bath in ioy and amorous deſire,
Euery of which was to a damzell hight;
For all the Prieſts were damzels, in ſoft linnen dight.
Right in the midſt the Goddeſſe ſelfe did ſtand
Vpon an altar of ſome coſtly maſſe,
Whoſe ſubſtance was vneath to vnderſtand:
For neither pretious ſtone, nor durefull braſſe,
Nor ſhining gold, nor mouldring clay it was;
But much more rare and pretious to eſteeme,
Pure in aſpect, and like to chriſtall glaſſe,
Yet glaſſe was not, if one did rightly deeme,
But being faire and brickle, likeſt glaſſe did ſeeme.
But it in ſhape and beautie did excell
All other Idoles, which the heathen adore,
Farre paſſing that, which by ſurpaſſing skill
Phidias did make in Paphos Iſle of yore,
With which that wretched Greeke, that life forlore
Did fall in loue: yet this much fairer ſhined,
But couered with a ſlender veile afore;
And both her feete and legs together twyned
Were with a ſnake, whoſe head & tail were faſt cōbyned.
The cauſe why ſhe was couered 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 ſure for womaniſh ſhame,
Nor any blemiſh, which the worke mote blame;
But for, they ſay, ſhe hath both kinds in one,
Both male and female, both vnder one name:
She ſyre and mother is her ſelfe alone,
Begets and eke conceiues, ne needeth other none.
And all about her necke and ſhoulders flew
A flocke of litle loues, and ſports, and ioyes,
With nimble wings of gold and purple hew;
Whoſe ſhapes ſeem'd not like to terreſtriall boyes,
But like to Angels playing heauenly toyes;
The whileſt their eldeſt brother was away,
Cupid their eldeſt brother; he enioyes
The wide kingdome of loue with Lordly ſway,
And to his law compels all creatures to obay.
And all about her altar ſcattered lay
Great ſorts of louers piteouſly complayning,
Some of their loſſe, ſome of their loues delay,
Some of their pride, ſome paragons diſdayning,
Some fearing fraud, ſome fraudulently fayning,
As euery one had cauſe of good or ill.
Amongſt the reſt ſome one through loues conſtrayning,
Tormented ſore, could not containe it ſtill,
But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill.
Great Venus, Queene of beautie and of grace,
The ioy of Gods and men, that vnder skie
Doeſt fayreſt ſhine, and moſt adorne thy place,
That with thy ſmyling looke doeſt pacifie
The raging ſeas, and makſt the ſtormes to flie;
Thee goddeſſe, thee the winds, the clouds doe feare,
And when thou ſpredſt thy mantle forth on hie,
The waters play and pleaſant lands appeare,
And heauens laugh, & al the world ſhews ioyous cheare.
Then doth the daedale earth throw forth to thee
Out of her fruitfull lap aboundant flowres,
And then all liuing wights, ſoone as they ſee
The ſpring breake forth out of his luſty bowres,
They all doe learne to play the Paramours;
Firſt doe the merry birds, thy prety pages
Priuily pricked with thy luſtfull powres,
Chirpe loud to thee out of their leauy cages,
And thee their mother call to coole their kindly rages.
Then doe the ſaluage beaſts begin to play
Their pleaſant friskes, and loath their wanted food;
The Lyons rore, the Tygres loudly bray,
The raging Buls rebellow through the wood,
And breaking forth, 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 inſpire,
In generation ſeeke 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 earth that merry is and glad,
Ne ought on earth that louely is and fayre,
But thou the ſame for pleaſure didſt prepayre.
Thou art the root of all that ioyous is,
Great God of men and women, queene of th'ayre,
Mother of laughter, and welſpring of bliſſe,
O graunt that of my loue at laſt I may not miſſe.
So did he ſay: but I with murmure ſoft,
That none might heare the ſorrow of my hart,
Yet inly groning deepe and ſighing oft,
Beſought her to graunt eaſe vnto my ſmart,
And to my wound her gratious help impart.
Whileſt thus I ſpake, behold with happy eye
I ſpyde, where at the Idoles feet apart
A beuie of fayre damzels cloſe did lye,
Wayting when as the Antheme ſhould be ſung on hye.
The firſt of them did ſeeme of ryper yeares,
And grauer countenance then all the reſt;
Yet all the reſt were eke her equall peares,
Yet vnto her obayed all the beſt.
Her name was VVomanhood, that ſhe expreſt
By her ſad ſemblant and demeanure wyſe:
For ſtedfaſt ſtill her eyes did fixed reſt,
Ne rov'd at randon after gazers guyſe,
Whoſe luring baytes oftimes doe heedleſſe harts entyſe.
And next to her ſate goodly Shamefaſtneſſe,
Ne euer durſt her eyes from ground vpreare,
Ne euer once did looke vp from her deſſe,
As if ſome blame of euill ſhe did feare,
That in her cheekes made roſes oft appeare:
And her againſt ſweet Cherefulneſſe was placed,
Whoſe eyes like twinkling ſtars in euening cleare,
Were deckt with ſmyles, that all ſad humors chaced,
And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced.
And next to her ſate ſober Modeſtie,
Holding her hand vpon her gentle hart;
And her againſt ſate comely Curteſie,
That vnto euery perſon knew her part;
And her before was ſeated ouerthwart
Soft Silence, and ſubmiſſe Obedience,
Both linckt together neuer to diſpart,
Both gifts of God not gotten but from thence,
Both girlonds of his Saints againſt their foes offence.
Thus ſate they all a round in ſeemely rate:
And in the midſt of them a goodly mayd,
Euen in the lap of VVomanhood there ſate,
The which was all in lilly white arayd,
With ſiluer ſtreames amongſt the linnen ſtray'd;
Like to the Morne, when firſt her ſhyning face
Hath to the gloomy world it ſelfe bewray'd,
That ſame was fayreſt Amoret in place,
Shyning with beauties light, and heauenly vertues grace.
Whom ſoone as I beheld, my hart gan throb,
And wade in doubt, what beſt were to be donne:
For ſacrilege me ſeem'd the Church to rob,
And folly ſeem'd to leaue the thing vndonne,
Which with ſo ſtrong attempt I had begonne.
Tho ſhaking off all doubt and ſhamefaſt feare,
Which Ladies loue I heard had neuer wonne
Moneſt men of worth, I to her ſtepped neare,
And by the lilly hand her labour'd vp to reare.
Thereat that formoſt matrone me did blame,
And ſharpe rebuke, for being ouer bold;
Saying it was to Knight vnſeemely ſhame,
Vpon a recluſe Virgin to lay hold,
That vnto Venus ſeruices was ſold.
To whom I thus, Nay but it fitteth beſt,
For Cupids man with Venus mayd to hold,
For ill your goddeſſe ſeruices 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 ſoyle,
For no intreatie would forgoe ſo glorious ſpoyle.
And euermore vpon the Goddeſſe face
Mine eye was fixt, for feare of her offence,
Whom when I ſaw with amiable grace
To laugh at me, and fauour my pretence,
I was emboldned with more confidence,
And nought for niceneſſe nor for enuy ſparing,
In 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 euer 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 my retrate.
No leſſe did daunger threaten me with dread,
When as he ſaw me, maugre all his powre,
That glorious ſpoyle of beautie with me lead,
Then Cerberus, when Orpheus did recoure
His Leman from the Stygian Princes boure.
But euermore my ſhield did me defend,
Againſt the ſtorme of euery dreadfull ſtoure:
Thus ſafely with my loue I thence did wend.
So ended he his tale, where I this Canto end.
Cant. XI.
Marinells former wound is heald,
he comes to Proteus hall,
Where Thames doth the Medway wedd,
and feaſts the Sea-gods all.
BVt ah for pittie that I haue thus long
Left a fayre Ladie languiſhing in payne:
Now well away, that I haue doen ſuch wrong,
To let faire Florimell in bands remayne,
In bands of loue, and in ſad thraldomes chayne;
From which vnleſſe ſome heauenly powre her free
By miracle, not yet appearing playne,
She lenger yet is like captiu'd to bee:
That euen to thinke thereof, it inly pitties mee.
Here neede you to remember, how erewhile
Vnlouely Proteus, miſſing to his mind
That Virgins loue to win by wit or wile,
Her threw into a dongeon deepe and blind,
And there in chaynes her cruelly did bind,
In hope thereby her to his bent to draw:
For when as neither gifts nor graces kind
Her conſtant mind could moue at all he ſaw,
He thought her to compell by crueltie and awe.
Deepe in the bottome of an huge great rocke
The dongeon was, in which her bound he left,
That neither yron barres, nor braſen locke
Did neede to gard from force, or ſecret theft
Of all her louers, which would her haue reſt.
For wall'd it was with waues, which rag'd and ror'd
As they the cliffe in peeces would haue 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 neuer viewed day,
Like to the balefull houſe of loweſt hell,
In which old Styx her aged bones alway,
Old Styx the Gramdame of the Gods, doth lay.
There did this luckleſſe mayd three months abide,
Ne euer euening ſaw, ne mornings ray,
Ne euer from the day the night deſcride,
But thought it all one night, that did no houres diuide.
And all this was for loue of Marinell,
Who her deſpyſd (ah who would her deſpyſe?)
And wemens loue did from his hart expell,
And all thoſe ioyes that weake mankind entyſe.
Nathleſſe his pride full dearely he did pryſe;
For of a womans hand it was ywroke,
That of the wound he yet in languor lyes,
Ne can be cured of that cruell ſtroke
Which Britomart him gaue, when he did her prouoke.
Yet farre and neare the Nymph his mother ſought,
And many ſalues did to his ſore applie,
And many herbes did vſe. But when as nought
She ſaw could eaſe his rankling maladie,
At laſt to Tryphon ſhe for helpe did hie,
(This Tryphon is the ſeagods ſurgeon hight)
Whom ſhe beſought to find ſome remedie:
And for his paines a whiſtle him behight
That 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,
That in ſhort ſpace his hurts he had redreſt,
And him reſtor'd to healthfull ſtate againe:
In which he long time after did remaine
There with the Nymph his mother, like her thrall;
Who ſore againſt his will did him retaine,
For feare of perill, which to him mote fall,
Through his too ventrous proweſſe proued ouer all.
It fortun'd then, a ſolemne feaſt was there
To all the Sea-gods and their fruitfull ſeede,
In honour of the ſpouſalls, which then were
Betwixt the Medway and the Thames agreed.
Long had the Thames (as we in records reed)
Before that day her wooed to his bed;
But the proud Nymph would for no worldly meed,
Nor no entreatie to his loue be led;
Till now at laſt relenting, ſhe to him was wed.
So both 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,
Aſwell which in the mightie Ocean trade,
As that in riuers ſwim, 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 excell,
In order as they came, could I recount them well.
Helpe therefore, O thou ſacred imp of Ioue,
The nourſling of Dame Memorie his deare,
To whom thoſe rolles, layd vp in heauen aboue,
And records of antiquitie appeare,
To which no wit of man may comen neare;
Helpe me to tell the names of all thoſe 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 threeforkt mace,
That rules the Seas, and makes them riſe or fall;
His dewy lockes did drop with brine apace,
Vnder his Diademe imperiall:
And by his ſide his Queene with coronall,
Faire Amphitrite, moſt diuinely faire,
Whoſe yuorie ſhoulders weren couered all,
As with a robe, with her owne ſiluer haire,
And deckt with pearles, which 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 triumph 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, which to themſelues doe clame
The powre to rule the billowes, and the waues to tame.
Phorcys, the father of that fatall brood,
By whom thoſe old Heroes wonne ſuch fame;
And Glaucus, that wiſe ſouthſayes vnderſtood;
And tragicke Inoes ſonne, the which became
A God of ſeas through his mad mothers blame,
Now hight Palemon, and is ſaylers frend;
Great Brontes, and Aſtraeus, that did ſhame
Himſelfe with inceſt of his kin vnkend;
And huge Orion, that doth tempeſts ſtill portend.
The rich Cteatus, and Eurytus long;
Neleus and Pelias louely brethren both;
Mightie Chryſaor, and Caïcus ſtrong;
Eurypulus, that calmes the waters wroth;
And faire Euphoemus, that vpon them goth
As on the ground, without diſmay or dread:
Fierce Eryx, and Alebius that know'th
The waters depth, and doth their bottome tread;
And ſad Aſopus, comely with his hoarie head.
There alſo ſome moſt famous founders were
Of puiſſant Nations, which the world poſſeſt;
Yet ſonnes of Neptune, now aſſembled here:
Ancient Ogyges, euen th'auncienteſt,
And Inachus renowmd aboue 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 aduance
To vanquiſh all the world with matchleſſe might,
And there his mortall part by great miſchance
Was ſlaine: but that which is th'immortall ſpright
Liues ſtill: and to this feaſt with Neptunes ſeed was dight.
But what doe I their names ſeeke to reherſe,
Which all the world haue with their iſſue fild?
How can they all in this ſo narrow verſe
Contayned be, and in ſmall compaſſe hild?
Let them record them, that are better skild,
And know the moniments of paſſed times:
Onely what needeth, ſhall be here fulfild,
T'expreſſe ſome part of that great equipage,
Which from great Neptune do deriue their parentage.
Next came the aged 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 poſſeſt:
Of all which Nereus th'eldeſt, and the beſt,
Did firſt proceed, then which none more vpright,
Ne more ſincere in word and deed profeſt;
Moſt voide of guile, moſt free from fowle deſpight,
Doing him ſelfe, and teaching others to doe right.
Thereto he was expert in prophecies,
And could the ledden of the Gods vnfold,
Through which, when Paris brought his famous priſe
The faire Tindarid laſſe, he him fortold,
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 amōgſt the wanton Nymphs to ſport and toy.
And after him the famous riuers came,
Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie:
The fertile Nile, which creatures new doth frame;
Long Rhodanus, whoſe ſourſe ſprings from the skie;
Faire Iſter, flowing from the mountaines hie;
Diuine Seaman der, purpled yet with blood
Of Greekes 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 Maeander intricate,
Slow Peneus, and tempeſtuous Phaſides,
Swift Rhene, and Alpheus ſtill immaculate:
Ooraxes, feared for great Cyrus fate;
Tybris, renowmed for the Romaines fame,
Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late;
And that huge Riuer, which doth beare his name
Of warlike Amazons, which doe poſſeſſe the ſame.
Ioy on thoſe warlike women, which ſo long
Can from all men ſo rich a kingdome hold;
And ſhame on you, ô men, which boaſt your ſtrong
And valiant hearts, in thoughts leſſe hard and bold,
Yet quaile in conqueſt of that land of gold.
But this to you, ô Britons, moſt pertaines,
To whom the right hereof it ſelfe 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, vnto him drew
The eares and hearts of all that goodly crew,
That euen yet the Dolphin, which him bore
Through the Agaean ſeas from Pirates vew,
Stood ſtill by him aſtoniſht at his lore,
And all the raging ſeas for ioy forgot to rore.
So went he playing on the watery plaine.
Soone after whom the louely Bridegroome came,
The noble Thamis, with all his goodly traine,
But him before there went, as beſt became;
His auncient parents, 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 their names were hight
The Churne, and Charwell, two ſmall ſtreames, which pained
Them ſelues her footing to direct aright,
Which fayled oft through faint and feeble plight:
But Thame was ſtronger, and of better ſtay;
Yet ſeem'd full aged by his outward ſight,
With head all hoary, and his beard all gray,
Deawed with ſiluer drops, that trickled downe alway.
And eke he ſomewhat ſeem'd to ſtoupe afore
With bowed backe, by reaſon of the lode,
And auncient heauy burden, which he bore
Of that faire City, wherein make abode
So many learned impes, that ſhoote abrode,
And with their braunches ſpred all Britany,
No leſſe then do her elder ſiſters broode.
Ioy to you both, ye double nourſery,
Of Arts, but Oxford thine doth Thame moſt glorify.
But he their ſonne full freſh and iolly was,
All decked in a robe of watchet hew,
On which the waues, glittering like Chriſtall glas,
So cunningly enwouen 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,
Than 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,
When to loues pallace ſhe doth take her way;
Old Cybele, arayd with pompous pride,
Wearing a Diademe embattild wide
With hundred turrets, like a Turribant.
With ſuch an one was Thamis beautifide;
That was to weet the famous Troynouant,
In which her kingdomes throne is chiefly reſiant.
And round about him many a pretty Page
Attended duely, ready to obay;
All little Riuers, which owe vaſſallage
To him, as to their Lord, and tribute pay:
The chaulky Kenet, and the Thetis gray,
The moriſh Cole, and the ſoft ſliding Breane,
The wanton Lee, that oft doth looſe his way,
And the ſtill Darent, in whoſe waters cleane
Ten thouſand fiſhes play, and decke his pleaſant ſtreame.
Then came his neighbour flouds, which nigh him dwell,
And water all the Engliſh ſoile throughout;
They all on him this day attended well;
And with meet ſeruice waited him about;
Ne none diſdained low to him to lout:
No not the ſtately Seuerne grudg'd at all,
Ne ſtorming Humber, 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 deuides
The Corniſh and the Deuoniſh confines;
Through both whoſe borders ſwiftly downe it glides,
And meeting Plim, to Plimmouth thence declines:
And Dart, nigh chockt with ſands of tinny mines.
But Auon marched in more ſtately path,
Proud of his Adamants, with which he ſhines
And gliſters wide, as alſ of wondrous Bath,
And Briſtow faire, which on his waues he builded hath.
And there came Stoure with terrible aſpect,
Bearing his ſixe deformed heads on hye,
That doth his courſe through Blandford plains direct,
And waſheth Winborne meades in ſeaſon drye.
Next him went Wylibourne with paſſage ſlye,
That of his wylineſſe his name doth take,
And of him ſelfe doth name the ſhire thereby:
And Mole, that like a nouſling Mole doth make
His way ſtill vnder ground, till Thamis he ouertake.
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 Eaſterne 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 vnto their feſtiuall,
Whoſe like none elſe could ſhew, the which they Ruffins call.
Next theſe the plenteous Ouſe came far from land,
By many a city, and by many a towne,
And many riuers taking vnder hand
Into his waters, as he paſſeth downe,
The Cle, the Were, the Guant, the Sture, the Rowne.
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 proue true (which God forbid)
Shall drowne all Holland with his excrement,
And ſhall ſee Stamford, though now homely hid,
Then ſhine in learning, more then euer did
Cambridge or Oxford, Englands goodly beames.
And next to him the Nene downe ſoftly ſlid;
And bounteous Trent, that in him ſelfe 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 flancke
Againſt the Picts, that ſwarmed ouer all,
Which yet thereof Gualſeuer they doe call:
And Twede the limit betwixt Logris land
And Albany: And Eden though but ſmall,
Yet often ſtainde with bloud of many a band
Of Scots and Engliſh both, that tyned on his ſtrand.
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 armes excell,
And wonned there, where now Yorke people dwell;
Still Vre, ſwift Werfe, and Oze the moſt of might,
High Swale, vnquiet Nide, and troublous Skell;
All whom a Scythian king, that Humber hight,
Slew cruelly, and in the riuer drowned quight.
But paſt not long, ere Brutus warlicke ſonne
Locrinus them aueng'd, and the ſame date,
Which the proud Humber vnto them had donne,
By equall dome repayd on his owne pate:
For in the ſelfe ſame riuer, where he late
Had drenched them, he drowned him againe;
And nam'd the riuer of his wretched fate;
Whoſe bad condition yet it doth retaine,
Oft toſſed with his ſtormes, which therein ſtill remaine.
Theſe after, came the ſtony ſhallow Lone,
That to old Loncaſter his name doth lend;
And following Dee, which Britons longygone
Did call diuine, that doth by Cheſter tend;
And Conway which out of his ſtreame doth ſend
Plenty of pearles to decke his dames withall,
And Lindus that his pikes doth moſt commend,
Of which the auncient Lincolne men doe call,
All theſe together marched toward Proteus hall.
Ne thence the Iriſhe Riuers abſent were,
Sith no leſſe famous then the reſt they bee,
And ioyne in neighbourhood of kingdome nere,
Why ſhould they not likewiſe in loue agree,
And ioy likewiſe this ſolemne day to ſee.
They ſaw it all, and preſent were in place;
Though I them all according their degree,
Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race,
Nor read the ſaluage cūtreis, thorough which they pace.
There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea,
The ſandy Slane, the ſtony Aubrian,
The ſpacious Shenan ſpreading like a ſea,
The pleaſant Boyne, the fiſhy fruitfull Ban,
Swift Awniduff, which of the Engliſh man
Is cal'de Blacke water, and the Liffar deep,
Sad Trowis, that once his people ouerran,
Strong Allo tombling from Slewlogher ſteep,
And Mulla mine, whoſe waues I whilom taught to weep.
And there the three renowmed brethren were,
Which that great Gyant Blomius begot,
Of the faire Nimph Rheuſa wandring there.
One day, as ſhe to ſhunne the ſeaſon whot,
Vnder Slewbloome in ſhady groue was got,
This Gyant found her, and by force deflowr'd,
Whereof conceiuing, ſhe in time forth brought
Theſe three faire ſons, which being thēce forth powrd
In three great riuers ran, and many countreis ſcowrd.
The firſt, the gentle Shure that making way
By ſweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford;
The next, the ſtubborne Newre, whoſe waters gray
By faire Kilkenny and Roſſeponte boord,
The third, the goodly Barow, which doth hoord
Great heapes of Salmons in his deepe boſome:
All which long ſundred, doe at laſt accord
To ioyne in one, ere to the ſea they come,
So flowing all from one, all one at laſt become.
There alſo was the wide embayed Mayre,
The pleaſaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood,
The ſpreading Lee, that like an Iſland fayre
Encloſeth Corke with his deuided flood;
And balefull Oure, late ſtaind with Engliſh blood:
With many more, whoſe names no tongue can tell.
All which that day in order ſeemly good
Did on the Thamis attend, and waited well
To doe their duefull ſeruice, as to them befell.
Then came the Bride, the louely Medua came,
Clad in a veſture of vnknowen geare,
And vncouth faſhion, yet her well became;
That ſeem'd like ſiluer, ſprinckled here and theare
With glittering ſpangs, that did like ſtarres appeare,
And wau'd vpon, like water Chamelot,
To hide the metall, which yet euery where
Bewrayd it ſelfe, to let men plainely wot,
It was no mortall worke, that ſeem'd and yet was not.
Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow
Vnto her waſte, with flowres beſcattered,
The which ambroſiall odours forth did throw
To all about, and all her ſhoulders ſpred
As a new ſpring; and likewiſe on her hed
A Chapelet of ſundry flowers ſhe wore,
From vnder 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;
Which on her waited, things amiſſe to mend,
And both behind vpheld her ſpredding traine;
Vnder the which, her feet appeared plaine,
Her ſiluer feet, faire waſht againſt this day:
And her before there paced Pages twaine,
Both clad in colours like, and like array,
The Doune & eke the Frith, both which prepard her way.
And after theſe the Sea Nymphs marched all,
All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire,
Whom of their ſire Nereides men call,
All which the Oceans daughter to him bare
The gray eyde 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, wanton Glauce, and Galene glad.
White hand Eunica, proud Dynamene,
Ioyous Thalia, goodly Amphitrite,
Louely Paſithee, kinde Eulimene,
Light foote Cymothoe, and ſweete Melite,
Faireſt Pheruſa, Phao lilly white,
Wondred Agaue, Poris, and Neſaea,
With Erato that doth in loue delite,
And Panopae, and wiſe Protomedaea,
And ſnowy neckd Doris, and milkewhite Galathaea.
Speedy Hippothoe, and chaſte Actea,
Large Liſianaſſa, and Pronaea 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 Autonoe,
And Neſo, and Eione well in age,
And ſeeming ſtill to ſmile, Glauconome,
And ſhe that hight of many heaſtes Polynome.
Freſh Alimeda, deckt with girlond greene;
Hyponeo, with ſalt bedewed wreſts:
Laomedia, like the chriſtall ſheene;
Liagore, much praiſd for wiſe beheſts;
And Pſamathe, for her brode ſnowy breſts;
Cymo, Eupompe, and Themiſte iuſt;
And ſhe that vertue loues and vice deteſts
Euarna, and Menippe true in truſt,
And Nemertea learned well to rule her luſt.
All theſe the daughters of old Nereus were,
Which haue the ſea in charge to them aſſinde,
To rule his tides, and ſurges to vprere,
To bring forth ſtormes, or faſt them to vpbinde.
And ſailers ſaue from wreckes of wrathfull winde.
And yet beſides three thouſand more there were
Of th'Oceans ſeede, but Ioues and Phoebus 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 I wote, that theſe which I deſcry,
Were preſent at this great ſolemnity:
And there amongſt the reſt, the mother was
Of luckeleſſe Marinell Cymodoce,
Which, for my Muſe her ſelfe now tyred has,
Vnto an other Canto I will ouerpas.
Cant. XII.
Marin for loue of Florimell,
In languor waſtes his life:
The Nymph his mother getteth her,
And giues to him for wife.
O What an endleſſe worke haue 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 more eath to tell the ſtarres on hy,
Albe they endleſſe 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.
Therefore the antique wiſards well inuented,
That Venus of the fomy ſea was bred;
For that the ſeas by her are moſt augmented.
Witneſſe th'exceeding fry, which there are fed,
And wondrous ſholes, which may of none be red.
Then blame me not, if I haue err'd in count
Of Gods, of Nymphs, Of riuers yet vnred:
For though their numbers do much more ſurmount,
Yet all thoſe ſame were there, which erſt I did recount.
All thoſe were there, and many other more,
Whoſe names and nations were too long to tell,
That Proteus houſe they fild euen to the dore;
Yet were they all in order, as befell,
According their degrees diſpoſed well.
Amongſt the reſt, was faire Cymodoce,
The mother of vnlucky Marinell,
Who thither with her came, to learne and ſee
The manner of the Gods when they at banquet be.
But for he was halfe mortall, being bred
Of mortall ſire, though of immortall wombe,
He might not with immortall food be fed,
Ne with th'eternall Gods to bancket come;
But walkt abrode, and round about did rome,
To view the building of that vncouth place,
That ſeem'd vnlike vnto his earthly home:
Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace,
There vnto him betid a diſauentrous caſe.
Vnder the hanging of an hideous clieffe,
He heard the lamentable voice of one,
That piteouſly complaind her carefull grieffe,
Which neuer ſhe before diſcloſd to none.
But to her ſelfe her ſorrow did bemone,
So feelingly her caſe ſhe did complaine,
That ruth it moued in the rocky ſtone,
And made it ſeeme to feele her grieuous paine,
And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine.
Though vaine I ſee my ſorrowes to vnfold,
And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare,
Yet hoping griefe may leſſen being told,
I will them tell though vnto no man neare:
For heauen that vnto all lends equall eare,
Is farre from hearing of my heauy plight;
And loweſt hell, to which I lie moſt neare,
Cares not what euils hap to wretched wight;
And greedy ſeas doe in the ſpoile of life delight.
Yet loe the ſeas I ſee by often beating,
Doe pearce the rockes, and hardeſt marble weares;
But his hard rocky hart for no entreating
Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares,
Is hardned more with my aboundant teares.
Yet though he neuer liſt to me relent,
But let me waſte in woe my wretched yeares,
Yet will I neuer of my loue 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 vnto his eares be borne,
That blame it is to him, that armes profeſt,
To let her die, whom he might haue redreſt.
There did ſhe pauſe, inforced to giue place,
Vnto 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 any Gods at all
Haue care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong,
By one or other way me woefull thrall,
Deliuer hence out of this dungeon ſtrong,
In which I daily dying am too long.
And if ye deeme me death for louing one,
That loues not me, then doe it not prolong,
But let me die and end my daies attone,
And let him liue vnlou'd, or loue him ſelfe alone.
But if that life ye vnto me decree,
Then let mee liue, as louers ought to do,
And of my lifes deare loue beloued be:
And if he ſhall through pride your doome vndo,
Do you by dureſſe him compell thereto,
And in this priſon put him here with me:
One priſon fitteſt is to hold vs two:
So had I rather to be thrall, then free;
Such thraldome or ſuch freedome let it ſurely be.
But ô vaine iudgement, and conditions vaine,
The which the priſoner points vnto the free,
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine,
He where he liſt goes looſe, and laughes at me.
So euer looſe, ſo euer happy be.
But where ſo looſe or happy that thou art,
Know Marinell that all this is for thee.
With that ſhe wept and wail'd, as if her hart
Would quite haue burſt through great abūdance of her ſmart.
All which complaint when Marinell had heard,
And vnderſtood the cauſe of all her care
To come of him, for vſing her ſo hard,
His ſtubborne heart, that neuer felt misfare
Was toucht with ſoft remorſe and pitty rare;
That euen for griefe of minde he oft did grone,
And inly wiſh, that in his powre it weare
Her to redreſſe: but ſince he meanes found none
He could no more but her great miſery bemone.
Thus whilſt his ſtony heart with tender ruth
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide,
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 loue, by learning louers paines to rew.
Now gan he in his grieued minde deuiſe,
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 loue, long giuen 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 vnto his will ſhe giuen were,
Yet without ſhip or bote her thence to row,
He wiſt not how her thence away to bere;
And daunger well he wiſt long to continue there.
At laſt when as no meanes he could inuent,
Backe to him ſelfe, he gan returne the blame,
That was the author of her puniſhment;
And with vile curſes, and reprochfull ſhame
To damne him ſelfe by euery euill name;
And deeme vnworthy or of loue or life,
That had deſpiſde ſo chaſt and faire a dame,
Which him had ſought through trouble & lōg ſtrife;
Yet had refuſde a God that 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 him ſelfe, he wiſt not where;
Oft liſtening if he mote her heare againe;
And ſtill bemoning her vnworthy paine.
Like as an Hynde whoſe calfe is falne vnwares
Into ſome pit, where ſhe him heares complaine,
An hundred times about the pit ſide fares,
Right ſorrowfully mourning her bereaued cares.
And now by this the feaſt was throughly ended,
And euery one gan homeward to reſort.
Which ſeeing Marinell, was ſore offended,
That his departure thence ſhould be ſo ſhort,
And leaue his loue 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.
Being returned to his mothers bowre,
In ſolitary ſilence far from wight,
He gan record the lamentable ſtowre,
In which his wretched loue lay day and night,
For his deare ſake, that ill deſeru'd that plight:
The thought whereof empierſt his hart ſo deepe,
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly ſleepe,
But pyn'd, & mourn'd, & languiſht, and alone did weepe.
That in ſhort ſpace his wonted chearefull hew
Gan fade, and liuely ſpirits deaded quight:
His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow 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 loue
He woxe, that lenger he note ſtand vpright,
But to his bed was brought, and layd aboue,
Like ruefull ghoſt, vnable once to ſtirre or moue.
Which when his mother ſaw, ſhe in her mind
Was 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 grieu'd her more, that ſhe it could not mend.
To ſee an helpeleſſe euill, double griefe doth lend.
Nought could ſhe read the roote of his diſeaſe,
Ne weene what miſter maladie it is,
Whereby to ſeeke ſome meanes it to appeaſe.
Moſt 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 rankled vnder th'orifis:
Leaſt did ſhe thinke, that which he moſt concealed,
That loue it was, which in his hart lay vnreuealed.
Therefore to Tryphon ſhe againe doth haſt,
And him doth chyde as falſe and fraudulent,
That fayld the truſt, which ſhe in him had 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 vnto her patient,
Where ſearching euery part, her well aſſured,
That it was no old ſore, which his new paine procured.
But that it was ſome other maladie,
Or griefe vnknowne, 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.
Vnto himſelfe ſhe came, and him beſought,
Now with faire ſpeches, now with threatnings ſterne,
If ought lay hidden in his grieued thought,
It to reueale: who ſtill her anſwered, there was nought.
Nathleſſe ſhe reſted not ſo ſatisfide,
But leauing watry gods, as booting nought,
Vnto the ſhinie heauen 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 engrieued mind;
Which loue he red to be, that leads each liuing kind.
Which when he had vnto his mother told,
She gan thereat to fret, and greatly grieue.
And comming to her ſonne, gan firſt to ſcold,
And chyde at him, that made her misbelieue:
But afterwards ſhe gan him ſoft to ſhrieue,
And wooe with faire intreatie, to diſcloſe,
Which of the Nymphes his heart ſo ſore did mieue.
For ſure ſhe weend it was ſome one of thoſe,
Which he had lately ſeene, that for his loue he choſe.
Now leſſe ſhe feared that ſame fatall read,
That warned him of womens loue beware:
Which being ment of mortall creatures ſead,
For loue of Nymphes ſhe thought ſhe need not care,
But promiſt him, what euer wight ſhe weare,
That ſhe her loue, to him would ſhortly gaine:
So he her told: but ſoone as ſhe did heare
That Florimell it was, which wrought his paine,
She gan a freſh to chafe, and grieue in euery vaine.
Yet ſince ſhe ſaw the ſtreight extremitie,
In which his life vnluckily was layd,
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 death of daunger to aduize,
Or loue forbid him, that is life denayd:
But rather gan in troubled mind deuize,
How ſhe that Ladies libertie might enterprize.
To Proteus ſelfe to ſew ſhe thought it vaine,
Who was the root and worker of her woe:
Nor vnto any meaner to complaine,
But vnto great king Neptune ſelfe did goe,
And on her knee before him falling lowe,
Made humble ſuit vnto his Maieſtie,
To graunt to her, her ſonnes life, which his foe
A cruell Tyrant had preſumpteouſlie
By wicked doome condemn'd, a wretched death to die.
To whom God Neptune ſoftly ſmyling, thus;
Daughter me ſeemes of double wrong ye plaine,
Gainſt one that hath both wronged you, and vs:
For death t'adward I ween'd did appertaine
To none, but to the ſeas ſole Soueraine.
Read therefore who it is, which this hath wrought,
And for what cauſe; the truth diſcouer plaine.
For neuer wight ſo euill did or thought,
But would ſome rightfull cauſe pretend, though rightly nought.
To whom ſhe anſwerd, Then it is by name
Proteus, that hath ordayn'd my ſonne to die;
For that a waiſt, the which by fortune came
Vpon your ſeas, he claym'd as propertie:
And yet nor his, nor his in equitie,
But yours the waift by high prerogatiue.
Therefore I humbly craue your Maieſtie,
It to repleuie, and my ſonne repriue:
So ſhall you by one gift ſaue all vs three aliue.
He graunted it: and ſtreight his warrant made,
Vnder the Sea-gods ſeale autenticall,
Commaunding Proteus ſtraight t'enlarge the mayd,
Which wandring on his ſeas imperiall,
He lately tooke, and ſithence kept as thrall.
Which ſhe receiuing with meete thankefulneſſe,
Departed ſtraight to Proteus therewithall:
Who reading it with inward loathfulneſſe,
Was grieued to reſtore the pledge, he did poſſeſſe.
Yet durſt he not the warrant to withſtand,
But vnto her deliuered Florimell.
Whom ſhe receiuing by the lilly hand,
Admyr'd her beautie much, as ſhe mote well:
For ſhe all liuing creatures did excell;
And was right ioyous, that ſhe gotten had
So faire a wife for her ſonne Marinell.
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 diuine perfection,
His cheared heart eftſoones away gan chace
Sad death, reuiued 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 vp his head, that did before decline
And gins to ſpread his leafe before the faire ſunſhine.
Right ſo himſelfe did Marinell vpreare,
When he in place his deareſt loue did ſpy;
And though his limbs could not his bodie beare,
Ne former ſtrength returne ſo ſuddenly,
Yet chearefull ſignes he ſhewed outwardly.
Ne leſſe was ſhe in ſecret hart affected,
But that ſhe masked it with modeſtie,
For feare ſhe ſhould of lightneſſe be detected:
Which to another place I leaue to be perfected.
THE FIFTH BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Contayning, THE LEGEND OF ARTEGALL
OR OF IVSTICE.
SO oft as I with ſtate of preſent time,
The image of the antique world compare,
When as 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 die world is runne quite out of ſquare,
From the firſt point of his appointed ſourſe,
And being once amiſſe growes daily wourſe and wourſe.
For from the golden age, that firſt was named,
It's now at earſt become a ſtonie one;
And men themſelues, the which 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.
Let none then blame me, if in diſcipline
Of vertue and of ciuill vſes lore,
I doe not forme them to the common line
Of preſent dayes, which are corrupted ſore,
But to the antique vſe, which was of yore,
When good was onely for it ſelfe deſyred,
And all men ſought their owne, and none no more;
When Iuſtice was not for moſt meed outhyred,
But ſimple Truth did rayne, and was of all admyred.
For that which all men then did vertue call,
Is now cald vice; and that which vice was hight,
Is now hight vertue, and ſo vſ'd of all:
Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right,
As all things elſe in time are chaunged quight.
Ne wonder; for the heauens reuolution
Is wandred farre from, where it firſt was pight,
And ſo doe make contrarie conſtitution
Of all this lower world, toward his diſſolution.
For who ſo liſt into the heauens looke,
And ſearch the courſes of the rowling ſpheares,
Shall find that from the point, where they firſt tooke
Their ſetting forth, in theſe few thouſand yeares
They all are wandred much; that plaine appeares.
For that ſame golden fleecy Ram, which bore
Phrixus and Helle from their ſtepdames feares,
Hath now forgot, where he was plaſt of yore,
And ſhouldred hath the Bull, which fayre Europa bore.
And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent horne
So hardly butted thoſe two twinnes of Ioue,
That they haue cruſht the Crab, and quite him borne
Into the great Nemoean lions groue.
So now all range, and doe at randon roue
Out of their proper places farre away,
And all this world with them amiſſe doe moue,
And all his creatures from their courſe aſtray,
Till they arriue 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 keepes his courſe more right,
But is miſcaried with the other Spheres.
For ſince the terme of fourteene hundred yeres,
That learned Ptolomaee his hight did take,
He is declyned from that marke of theirs,
Nigh thirtie minutes to the Southerne lake;
That makes me feare in time he will vs quite forſake.
And if to thoſe Aegyptian wiſards old,
Which in Star-read were wont haue beſt inſight,
Faith may be giuen, it is by them told,
That ſince the time they firſt tooke the Sunnes hight,
Foure times his place he ſhifted hath in ſight,
And twice hath riſen, where he now doth Weſt,
And weſted twice, where he ought riſe aright.
But moſtis Mars amiſſe of all the reſt,
And next to him old Saturne, that was wont be beſt.
For during Saturnes ancient raigne it's ſayd,
That all the world with goodneſſe did abound:
All loued vertue, no man was affrayd
Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found:
No warre was knowne, no dreadfull trompets ſound,
Peace vniuerſall rayn'd mongſt men and beaſts,
And all things freely grew out of the ground:
Iuſtice ſate high ador'd with ſolemne feaſts,
And to all people did diuide her dred beheaſts.
Moſt ſacred vertue ſhe of all the reſt,
Reſembling God in his imperiall might;
Whoſe ſoueraine powre is herein moſt expreſt,
That both to good and bad he dealeth right,
And all his workes with Iuſtice hath bedight.
That powre he alſo doth to Princes lend,
And makes then like himſelfe in glorious ſight,
To ſit in his owne ſeate, his cauſe to end,
And rule his people right, as he doth recommend.
Dread Souerayne Goddeſſe, that doeſt higheſt ſit
In ſeate of iudgement, in th'Almighties place,
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 diuine a read,
As thy great iuſtice prayſed ouer all:
The inſtrument whereof loe here thy Artegall.
Cant. I.
Artegall trayn'd in Iuſtice lore
Irenaes queſt purſewed,
He doeth auenge on Sanglier
his Ladies bloud embrewed.
THough vertue then were held in higheſt price,
In thoſe old times, of which I doe intreat,
Yet then likewiſe the wicked ſeede of vice
Began to ſpring which ſhortly grew full great,
And with their boughes the gentle plants did beat.
But euermore ſome of the vertuous race
Roſe vp, inſpired with heroicke heat,
That cropt the branches of the ſient baſe,
And with ſtrong hand their fruitfull rancknes did deface.
Such firſt was Bacchus, that with furious might
All th'Eaſt before vntam'd did ouerronne,
And wrong repreſſed, and eſtabliſht right,
Which lawleſſe men had formerly fordonne.
There Iuſtice firſt her princely rule begonne.
Next Hercules his like enſample ſhewed,
Who all the Weſt with equall conqueſt wonne,
And monſtrous tyrants with his club ſubdewed;
The club of Iuſtice dread, with kingly powre endewed.
And ſuch was he, of whom I haue to tell,
The Champion of true Iuſtice Artegall.
Whom (as ye lately mote remember well)
An hard aduenture, which did then befall,
Into redoubted perill forth did call;
That was to ſuccour a diſtreſſed Dame,
Whom a ſtrong tyrant did vniuſtly thrall,
And from the heritage, which ſhe did clame,
Did with ſtrong hand withhold: Grantorto was his name.
Wherefore the Lady, which Eirena hight,
Did to the Faery Queene her way addreſſe,
To whom complayning her afflicted plight,
She her beſought of gratious redreſſe.
That ſoueraine Queene, that mightie Empereſſe,
Whoſe 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 vpbrought
Euen from the cradle of his infancie,
And all the depth of rightfull doome was taught
By faire Aſtraea, with great induſtrie,
Whileſt here on earth the liued mortallie.
For till the world from his perfection fell
Into all filth and foule iniquitie,
Aſtraea here mongſt earthly men did dwell,
And in the rules of iuſtice them inſtructed well.
Whiles through the world ſhe walked in this ſort,
Vpon a day ſhe found this gentle childe,
Amongſt his peres playing his childiſh ſport:
Whom ſeeing fit, and with no crime defilde,
She did allure with gifts and ſpeaches milde,
To wend with her. So thence him farre ſhe brought
Into a caue from companie exilde,
In which ſhe nourſled him, till yeares he raught,
And all the diſcipline of iuſtice there him taught.
There ſhe him taught to weigh both right and wrong
In equall ballance with due recompence,
And equitie to meaſure out along,
According to the line of conſcience,
When ſo it needs with rigour to diſpence.
Of all the which, for want there of mankind,
She cauſed him to make experience
Vpon wyld beaſts, which ſhe in woods did find,
With wrongfull powre oppreſſing others of their kind.
Thus ſhe him trayned, and thus ſhe him taught,
In all the skill of deeming wrong and right,
Vntill the ripeneſſe of mans yeares he raught;
That euen wilde beaſts did feare his awfull ſight,
And men admyr'd his ouerruling might;
Ne any liu'd on ground, that durſt withſtand
His dreadfull heaſt, much leſſe him match in fight,
Or bide the horror of his wreakfull hand,
When ſo he liſt in wrath lift vp his ſteely brand.
Which ſteely brand, to make him dreaded more,
She gaue vnto him, gotten by her ſlight
And earneſt ſearch, where it was kept in ſtore
In Ioues eternall houſe, vnwiſt of wight,
Since he himſelfe it vſ'd in that great fight
Againſt the Titans, that whylome rebelled
Gainſt higheſt heauen; Chryſaor it was hight;
Chryſaor that all other ſwords excelled,
Well prou'd in that ſame day, when Ioue thoſe Gyants quelled.
For of moſt perfect metall it was made,
Tempred with Adamant amongſt the ſame,
And garniſht all with gold vpon the blade
In goodly wiſe, whereof it tooke his name,
And was of no leſſe vertue, then of fame.
For there no ſubſtance was ſo firme and hard,
But it would pierce or cleaue, where ſo it came;
Ne any armour could his dint out ward,
But whereſoeuer it did light, it throughly ſhard.
Now when the world with ſinne gan to abound,
Aſtraea loathing lenger here to ſpace
Mongſt wicked men, in whom no truth ſhe found,
Return'd to heauen, whence ſhe deriu'd her race;
Where ſhe hath now an euerlaſting place,
Mongſt thoſe twelue ſignes, which nightly we doe ſee
The heauens bright-ſhining baudricke to enchace;
And is the Virgin, ſixt in her degree,
And next her ſelfe her righteous ballance hanging bee.
But when ſhe parted hence, ſhe left her groome
An yron man, which did on her attend
Alwayes, to execute her ſtedfaſt doome,
And willed him with Artegall to wend,
And doe what euer thing he did intend.
His name was Talus, made of yron mould,
Immoueable, reſiſtleſſe, without end.
Who in his hand an yron flale did hould,
With which he threſht out falſhood, and did truth vnfould.
He now went with him in this new inqueſt,
Him for to aide, if aide he chaunſt to neede,
Againſt that cruell Tyrant, which oppreſt
The faire Irena with his foule miſdeede,
And kept the crowne in which ſhe ſhould ſucceed.
And now together on their way they bin,
When as they ſaw a Squire in ſquallid weed,
Lamenting ſore his ſorowfull ſad tyne,
With many bitter teares ſhed from his blubbred eyne.
To whom as they approched, they eſpide
A ſorie ſight, as euer ſeene with eye;
An headleſſe Ladie lying him beſide,
In her owne blood all wallow'd wofully,
That her gay clothes did in diſcolour die.
Much was he moued at that ruefull ſight;
And flam'd with zeale of vengeance inwardly,
He askt, who had that Dame ſo fouly dight;
Or whether his owne hand, or whether other wight?
Ah woe is me, and well away (quoth hee)
Burſting forth teares, like ſprings out of a banke,
That euer I this diſmall 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 haue doen the ſame,
That 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 vnto me trew.
A knight (ſaid he) if knight he may be thought,
That did 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 loue, whoſe loſſe I now do rew,
There came this knight, hauing in companie
This luckleſſe Ladie, which now here doth headleſſe lie.
He, whether mine ſeem'd fayrer in his eye,
Or that he wexed weary of his owne,
Would change with me; but I did it denye;
So did the Ladies both, as may be knowne,
But he, whoſe ſpirit was with pride vpblowne,
Would not ſo reſt contented with his right,
But hauing from his courſer her downe throwne,
Fro me reſt mine away by lawleſſe might,
And on his ſteed her ſet, to beare her out of ſight.
Which when his Ladie ſaw, ſhe follow'd faſt,
And on him catching hold, gan loud to crie
Not ſo to leaue 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 off her head with ſcorne,
In that ſame place, whereas it now doth lie.
So he my loue away with him hath borne,
And left me here, both his & mine owne loue to morne.
Aread (ſayd he) which way then did he make?
And by what markes may he be knowne againe?
To hope (quoth he) him ſoone to ouertake,
That hence ſo long departed, is but vaine:
But yet he pricked ouer yonder plaine,
And as I marked, bore vpon his ſhield,
By which it's eaſie him to know againe,
A broken ſword within a bloodie field;
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 aboue the ground he went:
For he was ſwift as ſwallow in her flight,
And ſtrong as Eyon in his Lordly might.
It was not long, before he ouertooke
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 he tooke.
He bad him ſtay, and backe with him retire;
Who full of ſcorne to be commaunded ſo,
The Lady to alight did eſt require,
Whileſt he reformed that vnciuill ſo:
And ſtreight at him with all his force did go.
Who mou'd no more therewith, then when a rocke
Is lightly ſtricken with ſome ſtones throw;
But to him leaping, lent him ſuch a knocke,
That on the ground he layd him like a ſenceleſſe blocke.
But ere he could him ſelfe recure againe,
Him in his iron paw he ſeized had;
That when he wak't out of his wareleſſe paine,
He found him ſelfe vnwiſt, ſo ill beſtad,
That lim he could not wag. Thence he him lad,
Bound like a beaſt appointed to the ſtall:
The ſight whereof the Lady ſore adrad,
And fain'd to fly for feare of being thrall;
But he her quickly ſtayd, and forſt to wend withall.
When 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.
Who with ſterne countenance and indignant pride
Did aunſwer, that of all he guiltleſſe ſtood,
And his accuſer thereuppon defide:
For neither he did ſhed that Ladies bloud,
Nor tooke away his loue, but his owne proper good.
Well did the Squire perceiue him ſelfe too weake,
To aunſwere his defiaunce in the field,
And rather choſe his challenge off to breake,
Then to approue his right with ſpeare and ſhield.
And rather guilty choſe him ſelfe to yield.
But Artegall by ſignes perceiuing plaine,
That he it was not, which that Lady kild,
But that ſtrange Knight, the fairer loue to gaine,
Did caſt about by ſleight the truth thereout to ſtraine.
And ſayd, now ſure this doubtfull cauſes right
Can hardly but by Sacrament be tride,
Or elſe by ordele, or by blooddy fight;
That ill perhaps mote fall to either ſide.
But if ye pleaſe, that I your cauſe decide,
Perhaps I may all further quarrell end,
So ye will ſweare my iudgement to abide.
Thereto they both did franckly condiſcend,
And to his doome with liſtfull eares did both attend.
Sith then (ſayd he) ye both the dead deny,
And both the liuing Lady claime your right,
Let both the dead and liuing equally
Deuided 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 twelue 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,
When as he ſaw ſhe ſhould be cut in twaine,
Did yield, ſhe rather ſhould with him remaine
Aliue, then to him ſelfe be ſhared dead;
And rather then his loue ſhould ſuffer paine,
He choſe with ſhame to beare that Ladies head.
True loue deſpiſeth ſhame, when life is cald in dread.
Whom when ſo willing Artegall perceaued;
Not ſo thou Squire, (he ſayd) but thine I deeme
The liuing Lady, which from thee he reaued:
For worthy thou of her doeſt rightly ſeeme.
And you, Sir Knight, that loue ſo light eſteeme,
As that ye would for little leaue 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 gan repine at his beheaſt;
Ne would for ought obay, as did become,
To beare that Ladies head before his breaſt.
Vntill that Talus had his pride repreſt,
And forced him, maulgre, it vp to reare.
Who when he ſaw it booteleſſe to reſiſt,
He tooke it vp, and thence with him did beare,
As rated Spaniell takes his burden vp for feare.
Much did that Squire Sir Artegall adore,
For his great iuſtice, held in high regard;
And as his Squire him offred euermore
To ſerue, for want of other meete reward,
And wend with him on his adueuture hard.
But he thereto would by no meanes conſent;
But leauing him forth on his iourney far'd:
Ne wight with him but onely Talus went.
They two enough t'encounter an whole Regiment.
Cant. II.
Artegall heares of Florimell,
Does with the Pagan fight:
Him ſlaies, drownes Lady Momera,
Does race her caſtle quight.
NOught is more honorable to a knight,
Ne better doth beſeeme braue cheualry,
Then to defend the feeble in their right,
And wrong redreſſe in ſuch as wend awry.
Whilome thoſe great Heroes got thereby
Their greateſt glory, for their rightfull deedes,
And place deſerued 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 vppon 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,
And to his memory they had recourſe:
But chiefely of the faireſt Florimell,
How ſhe was found againe, and ſpouſde to Marinell.
For this was Dony, Florimels owne Dwarfe,
Whom hauing loſt (as ye haue heard whyleare)
And finding in the way the ſcattred ſcarfe,
The fortune of her life long time did feare.
But 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 ſhe) as I do here,
It will be at the Caſtle of the ſtrond;
What time if naught me let, I will be there
To doe her ſeruice, ſo as I am bond.
But in my way a little here beyond
A curſed cruell Sarazin doth wonne,
That keepes a Bridges paſſage by ſtrong hond,
And many errant Knights hath there fordonne;
That makes all men for feare that paſſage for to ſhonne.
What miſter wight (quoth he) and how far hence
Is he, that doth to trauellers ſuch harmes?
He is (ſaid he) a man of great defence;
Expert in battell and in deedes of armes;
And more emboldned by the wicked charmes,
With which his daughter doth him ſtill ſupport;
Hauing great Lordſhips got and goodly farmes,
Through ſtrong oppreſſion of his powre extort;
By which he ſtil them holds, & keepes with ſtrong effort.
And dayly he his wrongs encreaſeth more,
For neuer wight he lets to paſſe that way;
Ouer his Bridge, albee he rich or poore,
But he him makes his paſſage-penny pay:
Elſe he doth hold him backe or beat away.
Thereto he hath a groome of euill guize,
Whoſe ſcalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray,
Which pols and pils the poore in piteous wize;
But he him ſelfe vppon the rich doth tyrannize.
His name is hight Pollente, rightly ſo
For that he is ſo puiſſant and ſtrong,
That with his powre he all doth ouergo,
And makes them ſubiect to his mighty wrong;
And ſome by ſleight he eke doth vnderfong.
For on a Bridge he 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 ouerſight
And vnderneath the ſame a riuer flowes,
That is both ſwift and dangerous deepe withall;
Into the which whom ſo he ouerthrowes,
All deſtitute of helpe doth headlong fall,
But he him ſelfe, through practiſe vſuall,
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 he take the ſpoile of them at will,
And to his daughter brings, that dwels thereby:
Who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill
The coffers of her wicked threaſury;
Which ſhe with wrongs hath heaped vp ſo hy,
That many Princes ſhe in wealth exceedes,
And purchaſt all the countrey lying ny
With the reuenue of her plenteous meedes,
Her name is Munera, agreeing with her deedes.
Thereto ſhe is full faire, and rich attired,
With golden hands and ſiluer feete beſide,
That many Lords haue her to wife deſired:
But 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 by that Bridge, whereas he doth abide:
Therefore me thither lead. No more he ſpake,
But thitherward forthright his ready way did make.
Vnto the place he came within a while,
Where on the Bridge he ready armed ſaw
The Sarazin, awayting for ſome ſpoile.
Who as they to the paſſage gan to draw,
A villaine to them came with ſcull all raw,
That paſſage money did of them require,
According to the cuſtome of their law.
To whom he aunſwerd wroth, loe there thy hire;
And with that word him ſtrooke, that ſtreight he did expire.
Which when the Pagan ſaw, he wexed wroth,
And ſtreight him ſelfe vnto the fight addreſt,
Ne was Sir Artegall behinde: ſo both
Together ran with ready ſpeares in reſt.
Right in the midſt, whereas they breſt to breſt
Should meete, a trap was letten downe to fall
Into the floud; ſtreight leapt the Carle vnbleſt,
Well weening that his foe was falne withall:
But he was well aware, and leapt before his fall.
There being both together in the floud,
They each at other tyrannouſty flew;
Ne ought the water cooled their whot bloud,
But rather in them kindled choler new.
But there the Paynim, who that vſe well knew
To fight in water, great aduantage had,
That oftentimes him nigh he ouerthrew:
And eke the courſer, whereuppon he rad,
Could ſwim like to a fiſh, whiles he his backe beſtrad.
Which oddes when as Sir Artegall eſpide,
He ſaw no way, but cloſe with him in haſt;
And to him driuing ſtrongly downe the tide,
Vppon his iron coller griped faſt,
That with the ſtraint his weſand nigh he braſt.
There they together ſtroue and ſtruggled long,
Either the other from his ſteede to caſt;
Ne euer Artegall his griple ſtrong
For any thing wold ſlacke, but ſtill vppon him hong.
As when a Dolphin and a Sele are met,
In the wide champian of the Ocean plaine:
With cruell chauſe their courages they whet,
The mayſterdome of each by force to gaine,
And dreadfull battaile twixt them do darraine:
They ſnuf, they ſnort, they boūce, they rage, they rore,
That all the ſea diſturbed with their traine,
Doth frie with ſome aboue the ſurges hore.
Such was betwixt theſe two the troubleſome vprore.
So Artegall at length him forſt forſake
His horſes backe, for dread of being drownd,
And to his handy ſwimming him betake.
Eftſoones him ſelfe he from his hold vnbownd,
And then no ods at all in him he fownd:
For Artegall in ſwimming skilfull was,
And durſt the depth of any water ſownd.
So ought each Knight, that vſe of perill has,
In ſwimming be expert through waters force to pas.
Then very doubtfull was the warres euent,
Vncertaine whether had the better ſide.
For both were skildin that experiment,
And both in armes well traind and throughly tride.
But Art egall was better breath'd beſide,
And towards th'end, grew greater in his might,
That his faint foe no longer could abide
His puiſſance, ne beare him ſelfe vpright,
But from the water to the land betooke his flight.
But Artegall purſewd him ſtill ſo neare,
With bright Chryſaor in his cruell hand,
That as his head he gan a litle reare
Aboue the brincke, to tread vpon the land,
He ſmote it off, that tumbling on the ſtrand
It bit the earth for very fell deſpight,
And gnaſhed with his teeth, as if he band
High God, whoſe goodneſſe he deſpaired quight,
Or curſt the hand, which did that vengeāce on him dight
His corps was carried downe along the Lee,
Whoſe waters with his filthy bloud it ſtayned:
But his blaſphemous head, that all might ſee,
He pitcht vpon 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 contayned,
That none of them the feeble ouerren,
But alwaies doe their powre within iuſt compaſſe pen.
That done, vnto 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 ſeruant Talus to inuent
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 erewhile ſpake ſo reprochfully,
And made them ſtoupe, that looked earſt ſo hie.
Yet ſtill he bet, and bounſt vppon the dore,
And thundred ſtrokes thereon ſo hideouſlie,
That all the peece he ſhaked from the flore,
And filled all the houſe with feare and great vprore.
With noiſe whereof the Lady forth appeared
Vppon the Caſtle wall, and when ſhe ſaw
The daungerous ſtate, in which ſhe ſtood, ſhe feared
The ſad effect of her neare ouerthrow;
And gan entreat that iron man below,
To ceaſe his outrage, and him faire beſought,
Sith neither force of ſtones which they did throw,
Nor powr of charms, which ſhe againſt him wrought,
Might otherwiſe preuaile, or make him ceaſe for ought.
But when as yet ſhe ſaw him to proceede,
Vnmou'd with praiers, or with piteous thought,
She ment him to corrupt with goodly meede;
And cauſde great ſackes with endleſſe riches fraught,
Vnto the battilment to be vpbrought,
And powred forth ouer the Caſtle wall,
That ſhe might win ſome time, though dearly bought
Whileſt he to gathering of the gold did fall.
But he was nothing mou'd, nor tempted therewithall.
But ſtill continu'd his aſſault the more,
And layd on load with his huge yron flaile,
That at the length he has yrent the dore,
And made way for his maiſter to aſſaile.
Who being entred, nought did then auaile
For wight, againſt his powre them ſelues to reare:
Each one did flie; their hearts began to faile,
And hid them ſelues in corners here and there;
And eke their dame halfe dead did hide her ſelf for feare.
Long they her ſought, yet no where could they finde her,
That ſure they ween'd ſhe was eſcapt away:
But Talus, that could like a limehound winde her,
And all things ſecrete wiſely could bewray,
At length found out, whereas ſhe hidden lay
Vnder an heape of gold. Thence he her drew
By the faire lockes, and fowly did array,
Withouten pitty of her goodly hew,
That Artegall him ſelfe her ſeemeleſſe plight did rew.
Yet for no pitty would he change the courſe
Of Iuſtice, which in Talus hand did lye;
Who rudely hayld her forth without remorſe,
Still holding vp her ſuppliant hands on hye,
And kneeling at his feete ſubmiſſiuely.
But he her ſuppliant hands, thoſe hands of gold,
And eke her feete, thoſe feete of ſiluer trye,
Which ſought vnrighteouſneſſe, and iuſtice ſold,
Chopt off, and nayld on high, that all might thē behold.
Her ſelfe then tooke he by the ſclender waſt,
In vaine loud crying, and into the flood
Ouer the Caſtle wall adowne her caſt,
And there her drowned in the durty mud:
But the ſtreame waſht away her guilty blood.
Thereafter all that mucky pelfe he tooke,
The ſpoile of peoples euill gotten good,
The which her ſire had ſcrap't by hooke and crooke,
And burning all to aſhes, powr'd it downe the brooke.
And laſtly all that Caſtle quite he raced,
Euen from the ſole of his foundation,
And all the hewen ſtones thereof defaced,
That there mote be no hope of reparation,
Nor memory thereof to any nation.
All which when Talus throughly had perfourmed,
Sir Artegall vndid the euill faſhion,
And wicked cuſtomes of that Bridge refourmed.
Which done, vnto his former iourney he retourned.
In which they meaſur'd mickle weary way,
Till that at length nigh to the ſea they drew;
By which as they did trauell on a day,
They ſaw before them, far as they could vew,
Full many people gathered in a crew;
Whoſe great aſſembly they did much admire.
For neuer there the like reſort they knew.
So towardes them they coaſted, to enquire
What thing ſo many nations met, did there deſire.
There they beheld a mighty Gyant ſtand
Vpon a rocke, and holding forth on hie
An huge great paire of ballance in his hand,
With which he boaſted in his ſurquedrie,
That all the world he would weigh equallie,
If ought he had the ſame to counterpoys.
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 vptake,
And all the ſea, deuided each from either:
So would he of the fire one ballaunce make,
And one of th'ayre, without or wind, or wether:
Then would he ballaunce heauen 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 vnequall were,
And had encroched vppon others ſhare,
Like as the ſea (which plaine he ſhewed there)
Had worne the care, ſo did the fire the aire,
So all the reſt did others parts empaire.
And ſo were realmes and nations run awry.
All which he vndertooke for to repaire,
In ſort as they were formed aunciently;
And all things would reduce vnto equality.
Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke,
And cluſter thicke vnto his leaſings vaine,
Like fooliſh flies about an hony crocke,
In hope by him great benefite to gaine,
And vncontrolled freedome to obtaine.
All which when Artegall did ſee, and heare,
How he miſ-led the ſimple peoples traine,
In ſdeignfull wize he drew vnto him neare,
And thus vnto him ſpake, without regard or feare.
Thou that preſum'ſt to weigh the world anew,
And all things to an equall to reſtore,
In ſtead of right me ſeemes great wrong doſt ſhew,
And far aboue thy forces pitch to ſore.
For ere thou limit what is leſſe or more
In euery thing, thou oughteſt firſt to know,
What was the poyſe of euery part of yore:
And looke then how much it doth ouerflow,
Or faile thereof, ſo much is more then iuſt to trow.
For at the firſt they all created were
In goodly meaſure, by their Makers might,
And weighed out in ballaunces ſo nere,
That not a dram was miſſing of their right,
The earth was in the middle centre pight,
In which it doth immoueable abide,
Hemd in with waters like a wall in ſight;
And they with aire, that not a drop can ſlide:
Al which the heauens containe, & in their courſes guide.
Such heauenly iuſtice doth among them raine,
That euery one doe know their certaine bound,
In which they doe theſe many yeares remaine,
And mongſt 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 vnſound.
Therefore leaue off to weigh them all againe,
Till we may be aſſur'd they ſhall their courſe retaine.
Thou fooliſhe Elfe (ſaid then the Gyant wroth)
Seeſt not, how badly all things preſent bee,
And each eſtate quite out of order goth?
The ſea it ſelfe doeſt thou not plainely ſee
Encroch vppon the land there vnder thee;
And th'earth it ſelfe 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 giuen to the leaſt?
Therefore I will throw downe theſe mountaines hie,
And make them leuell with the lowly plaine:
Theſe towring rocks, which reach vnto 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 ouer-aw;
And all the wealth of rich men to the poore will draw.
Of things vnſeene how canſt thou deeme aright,
Then anſwered the righteous Artegall,
Sith thou miſdeem'ſt ſo much of things in ſight?
What though the ſea with waues continuall
Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all:
Ne is the earth the leſſe, or loſeth ought,
For whatſoeuer from one place doth fall,
Is with the tide vnto an other 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 they formed were of yore,
How euer 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 they firſt were made?
All in the powre of their great Maker lie:
All creatures muſt obey the voice of the moſt hie.
They liue, they die, like as he doth ordaine,
Ne euer any asketh reaſon why.
The hils doe not the lowly dales diſdaine;
The dales doe not the lofty hils enuy.
He maketh Kings to ſit in ſouerainty;
He maketh ſubiects to their powre obay;
He pulleth downe, he ſetteth vp on hy;
He giues to this, from that he takes away.
For all we haue is his: what he liſt doe, he may.
What euer thing is done, by him is donne,
Ne any may his mighty will withſtand;
Ne any may his ſoueraine 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,
Whoſe counſels depth thou canſt not vnderſtand,
Sith of things ſubiect to thy daily vew
Thou doeſt not know the cauſes, nor their courſes dew.
For take thy ballaunce, if thou be ſo wiſe,
And weigh the winde, that vnder heauen doth blow;
Or weigh the light, that in the Eaſt doth riſe;
Or weigh the thought, that frō 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 them 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 euer could be layd
Within his ballaunce, he could way aright.
Which is (ſayd he) more heauy then in weight,
The right or wrong, the falſe or elſe the trew?
He anſwered, that he would try it ſtreight,
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 within 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 the weight be ſtayd.
For by no meanes the falſe will with the truth be wayd.
Now take the right likewiſe, ſayd Artegale,
And counterpeiſe the ſame with ſo much wrong.
So firſt the right he put into one ſcale;
And then the Gyant ſtroue 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; yet did he labour long,
And ſwat, and chauf'd, and proued euery way:
Yet all the wrongs could not a litle right downe way.
Which when he ſaw, he greatly grew in rage,
And almoſt would his balances haue broken:
But Artegall him fairely gan aſſwage,
And ſaid; be not vpon thy balance wroken:
For they doe nought but right or wrong betoken;
But in the mind the doome of right muſt bee;
And ſo likewiſe of words, the which be ſpoken,
The eare muſt be the ballance, to decree
And iudge, whether with truth or falſhood they agree.
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 equall ſhare;
And then together doe them both compare.
For truth is one, and right is euer one.
So did he, and then plaine it did appeare,
Whether of them the greater were attone.
But right ſate in the middeſt of the beame alone.
But he the right from thence did thruſt away,
For it was not the right, which he did ſeeke;
But rather ſtroue extremities to way,
Th'one to diminiſh, th'other for to eeke.
For of the meane he greatly did miſleeke.
Whom when ſo lewdly minded Talus found,
Approching nigh vnto him cheeke by cheeke,
He ſhouldered him from off the higher ground,
And down the rock him throwing, in the ſea him dround.
Like as a ſhip, whom cruell tempeſt driues
Vpon a rocke with horrible diſmay,
Her ſhattered ribs in thouſand peeces riues,
And ſpoyling all her geares and goodly ray,
Does makes her ſelfe misfortunes piteous pray.
So downe the cliffe the wretched Gyant tumbled;
His battred ballances in peeces lay,
His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled,
So was the high aſpyring with 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 vp ciuill faction,
For certaine loſſe of ſo great expectation.
For well they hoped to haue got great good;
And wondrous riches by his innouation.
Therefore reſoluing to reuenge his blood,
They roſe in armes, and all in battell order ſtood.
Which lawleſſe multitude him comming too
In warlike wiſe, when Artegall did vew,
He much was troubled, ne wiſt what to doo.
For loth he was his noble hands t'embrew
In the baſe blood of ſuch a raſcall crew;
And otherwiſe, if that he ſhould retire,
He fear'd leaſt they with ſhame would him purſew.
Therefore he Talus to them ſent, t'inquire
The cauſe of their array, and truce for to deſire.
But ſoone as they him nigh approching ſpide,
They gan with all their weapons him aſſay,
And rudely ſtroke at him on euery ſide:
Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought diſmay.
But when at them he with his flaile gan lay,
He like a ſwarme of flyes them ouerthrew;
Ne any of them durſt come in his way,
But here and there before his preſence flew,
And hid themſelues in holes and buſhes from his vew.
As when a Faulcon hath with nimble flight
Flowne at a fluſh of Ducks, foreby the brooke,
The trembling foule diſmayd with dreadfull ſight
Of death, the which them almoſt ouertooke,
Doe hide themſelues from her aſtonying looke,
Amongſt the flags and couert round about.
When Talus ſaw they all the field forſooke
And none appear'd of all that raskall rout,
To Artegall he turn'd, and went with him throughout.
Cant. III.
The ſpouſals of faire Florimell,
where turney many knights:
There Braggadochio is vncaſ'd
in all the Ladies ſights.
AFter long ſtormes and tempeſts ouerblowne,
The ſunne at length his ioyous face doth cleare:
So when as fortune all her ſpight hath ſhowne,
Some blisfull houres at laſt muſt needes appeare;
Elſe ſhould afflicted wights oftimes deſpeire.
So comes it now to Florimell by tourne,
After long ſorrowes ſuffered whyleare,
In which captiu'd ſhe many moneths did mourne,
To taſt of ioy, and to wont pleaſures to retourne.
Who being freed from Proteus cruell band
By Marinell, was vnto him affide,
And by him brought againe to Faerie land;
Where be her ſpouſ'd, and made his ioyous bride.
The time and place was blazed farre and wide;
And ſolemne feaſts and giuſts ordain'd therefore.
To which there did reſort from euery ſide
Of Lords and Ladies infinite great ſtore;
Ne any Knight was abſent, that braue courage bore.
To tell the glorie of the feaſt that day,
The goodly ſeruice, the deuicefull ſights,
The bridegromes ſtate, the brides moſt rich aray,
The pride of Ladies, and the worth of knights,
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 lights,
That with this preſent treatiſe doth agree,
True vertue to aduance, ſhall here recounted bee.
When all men had with full ſatietie
Of meates and drinkes their appetites ſuffiz'd,
To deedes of armes and proofe of cheualrie
They gan themſelues addreſſe, full rich aguiz'd,
As each one had his furnitures deuiz'd.
And firſt of all iſſu'd Sir Marinell,
And with him ſixe knights more, which enterpriz'd
To chalenge all in right 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 hard aſſayes:
The ſecond had to name Sir Belliſont,
But ſecond vnto none in proweſſe prayſe;
The third was Brunell, famous in his dayes;
The fourth Ecaſtor, of exceeding might;
The fift Armeddan, skild in louely layes;
The ſixt was Lanſack, a redoubted Knight:
All ſixe well ſeene in armes, and prou'd in many a fight.
And them againſt came all that liſt to giuſt,
From euery coaſt and countrie vnder ſunne:
None was debard, but all had leaue that luſt.
The trompets ſound; then all together ronne.
Full many deedes of armes that day were donne,
And many knights vnhorſt, and many wounded,
As fortune fell; yet litle loſt or wonne:
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 heauen, into the field they came,
And there all day continew'd cruell fight,
With diuers fortune fit for ſuch a game,
In which all ſtroue with perill to winne fame.
Yet whether ſide was victor, note be gheſt:
But at the laſt the trompets did proclame
That Marinell that day deſerued beſt.
So they diſparted were, and all men went to reſt.
The third day came, that ſhould due tryall lend
Of all the reſt, and then this warlike crew
Together met, of all to make an end.
There Marinell great deeds of armes did ſhew;
And through the thickeſt like a Lyon flew,
Raſhing oft helmes, and ryuing plates a ſonder,
That euery one his daunger did eſchew.
So terribly his dreadfull ſtrokes did thonder,
That all men ſtood amaz'd, & at his might did wonder.
But what on earth can alwayes happie ſtand?
The greater proweſſe greater perils find.
So farre he paſt amongſt his enemies band,
That they haue him encloſed ſo behind,
As by no meanes he can himſelfe outwind.
And now perforce they haue him priſoner taken;
And now they doe with captiue bands him bind;
And now they lead him thence, of all forſaken,
Vnleſſe ſome ſuccour had in time him ouertaken.
It fortun'd whyleſt they were thus ill beſet,
Sir Artegall into the Tilt-yard came,
With Braggadochio, whom he lately met
Vpon the way, with that his ſnowy Dame.
Where when he vnderſtood by common fame,
What euill hap to Marinell betid,
He much was mou'd at ſo vnworthie 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 ouer hent,
Where they were leading Marinell away,
Whom he aſſayld with dreadleſſe hardiment,
And forſt the burden of their prize to ſtay.
They were an hundred knights of that array;
Of which th'one halfe vpon himſelfe did ſet,
Th'other ſtayd behind to gard the pray.
But he ere long the former fiftie bet;
And from th'other fiftie ſoone the priſoner fet.
So backe he brought Sir Marinell againe;
Whom hauing quickly arm'd againe anew,
They both together ioyned might and maine,
To ſet afreſh on all the other crew.
Whom with ſore hauocke ſoone they ouerthrew,
And chaced quite out of the field, that none
Againſt them durſt his head to perill ſhew.
So were they left Lords of the field alone:
So Marinell by him was reſcu'd from his fone.
Which when he had perform'd, then backe againe
To Braggadochio did his ſhield reſtore:
Who all this while behind him did remaine,
Keeping there cloſe with him in pretious ſtore
That his falſe Ladie, as ye heard afore.
Then did the trompets ſound, and Iudges roſe,
And all theſe knights, which that day armour bore,
Came to the open hall, to liſten whoſe
The honour of the prize ſhould be adiudg'd by thoſe.
And thether alſo came in open ſight
Fayre Florimell, into the common hall,
To greet his guerdon vnto euery knight,
And beſt to him, to whom the beſt ſhould fall.
Then for that ſtranger knight they loud did call,
To whom that day they ſhould the girlond yield.
Who came not forth: but for Sir Artegall
Came Braggadochio, and did ſhew his ſhield,
Which bore the Sunne brode blazed in a golden field.
The ſight whereof did all with gladneſſe fill:
So vnto him they did addeeme the priſe
Of all that Tryumph. Then the trompets ſhrill
Don Braggadochios name reſounded thriſe:
So courage lent a cloke to cowardiſe.
And then to him came fayreſt Florimell,
And goodly gan to greet his braue empriſe,
And thouſand thankes him yeeld, that had ſo well
Approu'd that day, that ſhe all others did excell.
To whom the boaſter, that all knights did blot,
With proud diſdaine 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 vndertake,
Both her and eke all others to excell:
And further did vncomely ſpeaches crake.
Much did his words the gentle Ladie quell,
And turn'd aſide for ſhame to heare, what he did tell.
Then forth he brought his ſnowy Florimele,
Whom Trompart had in keeping there beſide,
Couered from peoples gazement with a vele.
Whom when diſcouered 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 her ſelfe ſhe then did pas.
So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has.
Which when as Marinell beheld likewiſe,
He was therewith exceedingly diſmayd;
Ne wiſt he what to thinke, or to deuiſe,
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 vpon that ſnowy mayd;
Whom euer as he did the more auize,
The more to be true Florimell he did ſurmize.
As when two ſunnes appeare in the azure skye,
Mounted in Phoebus charet fierie 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 what to weene,
Are rapt with wonder, and with rare affright.
So ſtood Sir Marinell, when he had ſeene
The ſemblant of this falſe by his faire beauties Queene.
All which when Artegall, who all this while
Stood in the preaſſe cloſe couered, well aduewed,
And ſaw that boaſters pride and graceleſſe guile,
He could no longer beare, but forth iſſewed,
And vnto all himſelfe there open ſhewed,
And to the boaſter ſaid; Thou loſell baſe,
That haſt with borrowed plumes thy ſelfe endewed,
And others worth with leaſings doeſt deface,
When they are all reſtor'd, thou ſhalt reſt in diſgrace.
That ſhield, which thou doeſt beare, was it indeed,
Which this dayes honour ſau'd to Marinell;
But not that arme, nor thou the man I reed,
Which didſt that ſeruice vnto Florimell.
For proofe ſhew forth thy ſword, and let it tell,
What ſtrokes, what dreadfull ſtoure it ſtird this day:
Or ſhew the wounds, which vnto thee befell;
Or ſhew the ſweat, with which thou diddeſt ſway
So ſharpe 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 ſignes, (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 fayre Franion, fit for ſuch a fere,
That by misfortune in his hand did fall.
For proofe whereof, he bad them Florimell forth call.
So forth the noble Ladie was ybrought,
Adorn'd with honor and all comely grace:
Whereto her baſhfull ſhamefaſtneſſe ywrought
A great increaſe in her faire bluſhing face;
As roſes did with lillies interlace.
For of thoſe words, the which that boaſter threw,
She inly yet conceiued great diſgrace.
Whom when as all the people ſuch did vew,
They ſhouted loud, and ſignes of gladneſſe all did ſhew.
Then did he ſet her by that ſnowy one,
Like the true ſaint beſide the image ſet,
Of both their beauties to make paragone,
And triall, whether ſhould the honor get.
Streight way ſo ſoone as both together met,
Th'enchaunted Damzell vaniſht into nought:
Her ſnowy ſubſtance melted as with heat,
Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought,
But th'emptie girdle, which about her waſt was wrought.
As when the daughter of Thaumantes faire,
Hath in a watry cloud diſplayed wide
Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid ayre;
That all men wonder at her colours pride;
All ſuddenly, 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.
Which when as all that preſent 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;
That what of it became, none vnderſtood.
And Braggadochio ſelfe with dreriment
So daunted was in his deſpeyring mood,
That like a lifeleſſe corſe immoueable he ſtood.
But Artegall that golden belt vptooke,
The which of all her ſpoyle was onely left;
Which was not hers, as many it miſtooke,
But Florimells owne girdle, from her reft,
While ſhe was flying, like a weary weft,
From that foule monſter, which did her compell
To perils great; which he vnbuckling eft,
Preſented to the fayreſt Florimell;
Who round about her tender waſt it fitted well.
Full many Ladies often had aſſayd,
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 ſit,
Vnleſſe that ſhe were continent and chaſt,
But it would loſe or breake, that many had diſgraſt.
Whileſt thus they buſied were bout Florimell,
And boaſtfull Braggadochio to defame,
Sir Guyon as by fortune then befell,
Forth from the thickeſt preaſſe of people came,
His owne good ſteed, which he had ſtolne, to clame;
And th'one hand ſeizing on his golden bit,
With th'other drew his ſword: for with the ſame
He ment the thiefe there deadly to haue ſmit:
And had he not bene held, he nought had fayld of it.
Thereof great hurly burly moued was
Throughout the hall, for that ſame warlike horſe.
For Braggadochio would not let him pas;
And Guyon would him algates haue perforſe,
Or it approue vpon his carrion corſe.
Which troublous ſtirre when Artegall perceiued,
He nigh them drew to ſtay th'auengers forſe,
And gan inquire, how was that ſteed bereaued,
Whether by might extort, or elſe by ſlight deceaued.
Who all that piteous ſtorie, which befell
About that wofull couple, which were ſlaine,
And their young bloodie babe to him gan tell;
With whom whiles he did in the wood remaine,
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, then trie in armes his right.
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 foe ſhould him the field denie,
Yet further right by tokens to deſcrie,
He askt, what priuie tokens he did beare.
If that (ſaid Guyon) may you ſatisfie,
Within his mouth a blacke ſpot doth appeare,
Shapt like a horſes ſhoe, who liſt to ſeeke it there.
Whereof to make due tryall, one did take
The horſe in hand, within his mouth to looke:
But with his heeles ſo ſorely he him ſtrake,
That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke,
That neuer word from that day forth he ſpoke.
Another that would ſeeme to haue more wit,
Him by the bright embrodered hedſtall tooke:
But by the ſhoulder him ſo ſore he bit,
That he him maymed quite, and all his ſhoulder ſplit.
Ne he his mouth would open vnto wight,
Vntill that Guyon ſelfe vnto him ſpake,
And called Brigadore (ſo was he hight)
Whoſe voice ſo ſoone as he did vndertake,
Eftſoones he ſtood as ſtill as any ſtake,
And ſuffred all his ſecret marke to ſee:
And when as he him nam'd, for ioy he brake
His bands, and follow'd him with gladfull glee,
And friskt, and flong aloft, and louted low on knee.
Thereby Sir Artegall did plaine areed,
That vnto 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 haue gayned.
But the proud boaſter gan his doome vpbrayd,
And him reuil'd, and rated, and diſdayned,
That iudegement ſo vniuſt againſt him had ordayned.
Much was the knight incenſt with his lewd word,
To haue reuenged that his villeny;
And thriſe did lay his hand vpon his ſword,
To haue 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,
To wreake your wrath on ſuch a carle as hee
It's puniſhment enough, that all his ſhame doe ſee.
So did he mitigate Sir Artegall,
But Talus by the backe the boaſter hent,
And drawing him out of the open hall,
Vpon him did inflict this puniſhment.
Firſt he his beard did ſhaue, and fowly ſhent:
Then from him reft his ſhield, and it renuerſt,
And blotted out his armes with falſhood blent,
And himſelfe baffuld, and his armes vnherſt,
And broke his ſword in twaine, and all his armour ſperſt.
The whiles his guilefull groome was fled away:
But vaine it was to thinke from him to flie.
Who ouertaking him did diſaray,
And all his face deform'd with infamie,
And out of court him ſcourged openly.
So ought all faytours, that true knighthood ſhame,
And armes diſhonour with baſe villanie,
From all braue knights be baniſht with defame:
For oft their lewdnes blotteth good deſerts with blame.
Now when theſe counterfeits were thus vncaſed
Out of the foreſide of their forgerie,
And in the ſight of all men cleane diſgraced,
All gan to ieſt and gibe full merilie
At the remembrance of their knauerie.
Ladies can laugh at Ladies, Knights at Knights,
To thinke with how great vaunt of brauerie
He them abuſed, through his ſubtill ſlights,
And what a glorious ſhew he made in all their ſights.
There leaue we them in pleaſure and repaſt,
Spending their ioyous dayes and gladfull nights,
And taking vſurie of time forepaſt,
With all deare delices and rare delights,
Fit for ſuch Ladies and ſuch louely knights:
And turne were here to this faire furrowes end
Our wearie yokes, to gather freſher ſprights,
That when as time to Artegall ſhall tend,
We on his firſt aduenture may him forward ſend.
Cant. IIII
Artegall dealeth right betwixt
two brethren that doe ſtriue,
Saues Terpine from the gallow tree,
and doth from death reprine.
WHo ſo vpon him ſelfe will take the skill
True Iuſtice vnto people to diuide,
Had neede haue 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 deeme of things aright,
And makes wrong doers iuſtice to deride,
Vnleſſe it be perform'd with dreadleſſe might.
For powre is the right hand of Iuſtice truely hight.
Therefore whylome to knights of great empriſe
The charge of Iuſtice giuen was in truſt,
That they might execute her iudgements wiſe,
And with their might beat downe licentious luſt,
Which proudly did impugne her ſentence iuſt.
Whereof no brauer preſident this day
Remaines on earth, preſeru'd from yron ruſt
Of rude obliuion, and long times decay,
Then this of Artegall, which here we haue to ſay.
Who hauing lately left that louely payre,
Enlincked faſt in wedlockes loyall bond,
Bold Marinell with Florimell the fayre,
With whom great feaſt and goodly glee he fond,
Departed from the Caſtle of the ſtrond,
To follow his aduentures firſt intent,
Which long agoe he taken had in hond:
Ne wight with him for his aſſiſtance went,
But that great yron groome, his gard and gouernment.
With whom as he did paſſe by the ſea ſhore,
He chaunſt to come, whereas two comely Squires,
Both brethren, whom one wombe together bore,
But ſtirred vp with different deſires,
Together ſtroue, and kindled wrathfull fires:
And them beſide two ſeemely damzels ſtood,
By all meanes ſeeking to aſſwage their ires,
Now with faire words; but words did little good,
Now with ſharpe threats; but threats the more increaſt their mood.
And there before them ſtood a Coffer ſtrong,
Faſt bound on euery ſide with iron bands,
But ſeeming to haue ſuffred mickle wrong,
Either by being wreckt vppon the ſands,
Or being carried farre from forraine lands.
Seem'd that for it theſe Squires at ods did fall,
And bent againſt them ſelues their cruell hands.
But euermore, 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 other end their fury would afford,
But what to them Fortune would iuſtify.
So ſtood they both in readineſſe; thereby
To ioyne the combate with cruell intent;
When Artegall arriuing happily,
Did ſtay a while their greedy bickerment,
Till he had queſtioned the cauſe of their diſſent.
To whom the elder did this aunſwere frame;
Then weete ye Sir, that we two brethren be,
To whom ourſire, Mileſio by name,
Did equally bequeath his lands in fee,
Two Ilands, which ye there before you ſee
Not farre in ſea; of which the one appeares
But like a little Mount of ſmall degree;
Yet was as great and wide ere many yeares,
As that ſame other Iſle, that greater bredth now beares.
But tract of time, that all things doth decay,
And this deuouring Sea, that naught doth ſpare,
The moſt part of my land hath waſht away,
And throwne it vp vnto my brothers ſhare:
So his encreaſed, but mine did empaire.
Before which time I lou'd, as was my lot,
That further mayd, hight Philtera the faire,
With whom a goodly doure I ſhould haue got,
And ſhould haue ioyned bene to her in wedlocks knot.
Then did my younger brother Amidas
Loue that ſame other Damzell, Lucy bright,
To whom but little dowre allotted was;
Her vertue was the dowre, that did delight.
What better dowre can to a dame be hight?
But now when Philtra ſaw my lands decay,
And former liuelod fayle, ſhe left me quight,
And to my brother did ellope ſtreight way:
Who taking her from me, his owne loue left aſtray.
She ſeeing then her ſelfe forſaken ſo,
Through dolorous deſpaire, which ſhe conceyued,
Into the Sea her ſelfe did headlong throw,
Thinking to haue her griefe by death bereaued.
But ſee how much her purpoſe was deccaued.
Whileſt thus amidſt the billowes beating of her
Twixt life and death, long to and fro ſhe weaued,
She chaunſt vnwares to light vppon this coffer,
Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer.
The wretched mayd that earſt deſir'd to die,
When as the paine of death ſhe taſted had,
And but halfe ſeene his vgly viſnomie,
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,
The lucky Pylot of her paſſage ſad,
After long toſſing in the ſeas diſtreſt,
Her weary barke at laſt vppon mine Iſle did reſt.
Where I by chaunce then wandring on the ſhore,
Did her eſpy, and through my good endeuour
From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned ſore
Her to haue ſwallow'd vp, did helpe to ſaue her.
She then in recompence of that great fauour,
Which I on her beſtowed, beſtowed on me
The portion of that good, which Fortune gaue her,
Together with her ſelfe in dowry free;
Both goodly portions, but of both the better ſhe.
Yet in this coffer, which ſhe with her brought,
Great threaſure ſithence we did finde contained;
Which as our owne we tooke, and ſo it thought.
But this ſame other Damzell ſince hath fained,
That to her ſelfe that threaſure appertained;
And that ſhe did tranſport the ſame by ſea,
To bring it to her husband new ordained,
But ſuffred cruell ſhipwracke by the way.
But whether it be ſo or no, I can not ſay.
But whether it indeede be ſo or no,
This doe I ſay, that what ſo good or ill
Or God or Fortune vnto me did throw,
Not wronging any other by my will,
I hold mine owne, and ſo will hold it ſtill.
And though my land he firſt did winne away,
And then my loue (though now it little skill,)
Yet my good lucke he ſhall not likewiſe pray;
But I will it defend, whilſt euer that I may.
So hauing ſayd, the younger did enſew;
Full true it is, what ſo about our land
My brother here declared hath to you:
But not for it this ods twixt vs doth ſtand,
But for this threaſure throwne vppon his ſtrand;
Which well I proue, as ſhall appeare by triall,
To be this maides, with whom I 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.
Vnto your ſelfe, ſaid they, we giue our word,
To bide what iudgement ye ſhall vs afford.
Then for aſſuraunce to my doome to ſtand,
Vnder my foote let each lay downe his ſword,
And then you ſhall my ſentence vnderſtand.
So each of them layd downe his ſword out of his hand.
Then Artegall thus to the younger ſayd;
Now tell me Amidas, if that ye may,
Your brothers land the which the ſea hath layd
Vnto your part, and pluckt from his away,
By what good right doe you withhold this day?
What other right (quoth he) ſhould you eſteeme,
But that the ſea it to my ſhare did lay?
Your right is good (ſayd he) and ſo I deeme,
That what the ſea vnto you ſent, your own 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 claime to beyour owne?
What other right (quoth he) ſhould you eſteeme,
But that the ſea hath it vnto me throwne?
Your right is good (ſayd he) and ſo I deeme,
That what the ſea vnto you ſent, your own 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 waues, that neuer reſt,
Or elſe by wracke, that wretches hath diſtreſt,
He may diſpoſe by his imperiall 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.
When he his ſentence thus pronounced had,
Both Amidas and Philtra were diſpleaſed:
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
When as their ſharpe contention he had ceaſed,
Departed on his way, as did befall,
To follow his old queſt, the which him forth did call.
So as he trauelled vppon the way,
He chaunſt to come, where happily 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,
(An vncouth ſight) he plainely then deſcride
To be 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,
With both his hands behinde him pinnoed hard,
And round about his necke an halter tight,
As ready for the gallow tree prepard:
His face was couered, and his head was bar'd,
That who he was, vneath was to deſcry;
And with full heauy heart with them he far'd,
Grieu'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 reuiled, and reproched ſore
With bitter taunts, and termes of vile diſgrace.
Now when as Artegall arriu'd in place,
Did aske, what cauſe brought that man to decay,
They round about him gan to ſwarme apace,
Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay,
And to haue wrought vnwares ſome villanous aſſay.
But he was ſoone aware of their ill minde,
And drawing backe deceiued their intent;
Yet though him ſelfe did ſhame on womankinde
His mighty hand to ſhend, he Talus ſent
To wrecke on them their follies hardyment:
Who with few ſowces of his yron flale,
Diſperſed all their troupe 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 perplexitie,
And horrour of fowle death for Knight vnfit,
Who more then loſſe of life ydreaded it;
And him reſtoring vnto liuing light,
So brought vnto his Lord, where he did ſit,
Beholding all that womaniſh weake fight;
Whom ſoone as he beheld, he knew, and thus behight.
Sir Turpine, hapleſſe man, what make you here?
Or haue you loſt your ſelfe, and your diſcretion,
That euer in this wretched caſe ye were?
Or haue ye yeelded you to proude oppreſſion
Of womens powre, that boaſt of mens ſubiection?
Or elſe what other deadly diſmall day
Is falne on you, by heauens hard direction,
That ye were runne ſo fondly far aſtray,
As for to lead your ſelfe vnto your owne decay?
Much was the man confounded in his mind,
Partly with ſhame, and partly with diſmay,
That all aſtoniſht he him ſelfe did find,
And little had for his excuſe to ſay,
But onely thus; Moſt hapleſſe well ye may
Me iuſtly terme, that to this ſhame am brought,
And made the ſcorne of Knighthod this ſame day.
But who can ſcape, what his owne fate hath wrought?
The worke of heauens will ſurpaſſeth humaine thought.
Right true: but faulty men vſe oftentimes
To attribute their folly vnto fate,
And lay on heauen the guilt of their owne crimes.
But tell, Sir Terpin, ne let you amate
Your miſery, how fell ye in this ſtate.
Then ſith ye needs (quoth he) will know my ſhame,
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 aduentures deedes of armes to try,
And after fame and honour for to hunt,
I heard report that farre abrode did fly,
That a proud Amazon did late defy
All the braue Knights, that hold of Maidenhead,
And vnto them wrought all the villany,
That ſhe could forge in her malicious head,
Which ſome hath put to ſhame, and many done be dead.
The cauſe, they ſay, of this her cruell hate,
Is for the ſake of Bellodant the bold,
To whom ſhe bore moſt feruent loue of late,
And wooed him by all the waies ſhe could:
But when ſhe ſaw at laſt, that he ne would
For ought or nought be wonne vnto her will,
She turn'd her loue to hatred manifold,
And for his ſake vow'd to doe all the ill
Which ſhe could doe to Knights, which now ſhe doth fulfill.
For all thoſe Knights, the which by force or guile
She doth ſubdue, ſhe fowly doth entreate.
Firſt ſhe doth them of warlike armes deſpoile,
And cloth in womens weedes: And then with threat
Doth them compell to worke, to earne their meat,
To ſpin, to card, to ſew, to waſh, to wring;
Ne doth ſhe giue them other thing to eat,
But bread and water, or like feeble thing,
Them to diſable from reuenge aduenturing.
But if through ſtout diſdaine of manly mind,
Any her proud obſeruaunce will withſtand,
Vppon that gibbet, which is there behind,
She cauſeth them be hang'd vp out of hand;
In which condition I right now did ſtand.
For being ouercome by her in fight,
And put to that baſe ſeruice of her band,
I rather choſe to die in lines deſpight,
Then lead that ſhamefull life, vnworthy of a Knight.
How hight that Amazon (ſayd Artegall?)
And where, and how far hence does ſhe abide?
Her name (quoth he) they Radigund doe call,
A Princeſſe of great powre, and greater pride,
And Queene of Amazons, in armes well tride,
And ſundry battels, which ſhe hath atchieued
With great ſucceſſe, that her hath glorifide,
And made her famous, more then is belieued;
Ne would I it haue ween'd, had I not late it prieued.
Now ſure (ſaid he) and by the faith that I
To Maydenhead and noble knighthood owe,
I 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 throw
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 knights of Maidenhead, whoſe praiſe ſhe would empaire.
With that, like one that hopeleſſe was repry'ud
From deathes dore, at which he lately lay,
Thoſe yron fetters, wherewith he was gyu'd,
The badges ofreproch, he threw away,
And nimbly did him dight to guide the way
Vnto the dwelling of that Amazone.
Which was from thence not paſt a mile or tway:
A goodly citty and a mighty one,
The which of her owne name ſhe called Radegone.
Where they arriuing, 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 haue harmed.
Eſtſoones the people all to harneſſe ran,
And like a ſort of Bees in cluſters ſwarmed:
Ere long their Queene her ſelfe halfe, like a man
Came forth into the rout, and them t'array began.
And now the Knights being arriued neare,
Did beat vppon 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 peeces for his ſin.
Which when as Radigund there comming heard,
Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin:
She bad that ſtreight the gates ſhould be vnbard,
And to them way to make, with weapons well prepard.
Soone as the gates were open to them ſet,
They preſſed forward, entraunce to haue made.
But in the middle way they were ymet
With a ſharpe ſhowre of arrowes, which them ſtaid,
And better bad aduiſe, ere they aſſaid
Vnknowen perill of bold womens pride.
Then all that rout vppon them rudely laid,
And heaped ſtrokes ſo faſt on euery ſide,
And arrowes haild ſo thicke, that they could not abide.
But Radigund her ſelfe, when ſhe eſpide
Sir Terpin, from her direfull doome acquit,
So cruell doile amongſt her maides dauide,
T'auenge that ſhame, they did on him commit,
All ſodainely enflam'd with furious fit,
Like a fell Lioneſſe at him ſhe flew,
And on his head-peece him ſo fiercely ſmit,
That to the ground him quite ſhe ouerthrew,
Diſmayd ſo with the ſtroke, that he no colours knew.
Soone as ſhe ſaw him on the ground to grouell,
She lightly to him leapt, and in his necke
Her proud foote ſetting, at his head did leuell,
Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake,
And his contempt, that did her iudg'ment breake.
As when a Beare hath ſeiz'd her cruell clawes
Vppon the carkaſſe of ſome beaſt too weake,
Proudly ſtands ouer, and a while doth pauſe,
To heare the piteous beaſt pleading her plaintiffe cauſe.
Whom when as Artegall in that diſtreſſe
By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy ſlaughter,
In which he ſwam, and ranne to his redreſſe.
There her aſſayling fiercely freſh, he raught her
Such an huge ſtroke, that it of ſence diſtraught her:
And had ſhe not it warded warily,
It had depriu'd her mother of a daughter.
Nathleſſe for all the powre ſhe did apply,
It made her ſtagger oft, and ſtare with 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
Vppon ſome fowle, that ſhould her feaſt prepare;
With dreadfull force he flies at her byliue,
That with his ſouce, which none enduren dare,
Her from the quarrey he away doth driue,
And from her griping pounce the greedy prey doth riue.
But ſoone as ſhe her ſence recouer'd had,
She fiercely towards him her ſelfe gan dight,
Through vengeful wrath & ſdeignfull pride half mad:
For neuer had ſhe ſuffred ſuch deſpight.
But ere ſhe could ioyne hand with him to fight,
Her warlike maides about her flockt ſo faſt,
That they diſparted them, maugre their might,
And with their troupes did far a ſunder caſt:
But mongſt the reſt the fight did vntill euening laſt.
And euery while that mighty yron man,
With his ſtrange weapon, neuer wont in warre,
Them ſorely vext, and courſt, and ouerran,
And broke their bowes, and did their ſhooting marre,
That none of all the many once did darre
Him to aſſault, nor once approach him nie,
But like a ſort of ſheepe diſperſed farre
For dread of their deuouring enemie,
Through all the fields and vallies did before him flie.
But when as daies faire ſhinie-beame, yclowded
With fearefull ſhadowes of deformed night,
Warn'd man and beaſt in quiet reſt be ſhrowded,
Bold Radigund with ſound of trumpe on hight,
Cauſd all her people to ſurceaſe from fight,
And gathering them vnto her citties gate,
Made them all enter in before her ſight,
And all the wounded, and the weake in ſtate,
To be conuayed in, ere ſhe would once retrate.
When thus the field was voided all away,
And all things quieted, the Elfin Knight
Weary of toile and trauell of that day,
Cauſd his pauilion to be richly pight
Before the city gate, in open ſight;
Where he him ſelfe did reſt in ſafety,
Together with ſir Terpin all that night:
But Talus vſde in times of ieopardy
To keepe a nightly watch, for dread of treachery.
But Radigund full of heart-gnawing griefe,
For the rebuke, which ſhe ſuſtain'd that day,
Could take no reſt, ne would receiue reliefe,
But toſſed in her troublous minde, what way
She mote reuenge that blot, which on her lay.
There ſhe reſolu'd her ſelfe in ſingle fight
To try her Fortune, and his force aſſay,
Rather then ſee her people ſpoiled quight,
As ſhe had ſeene that day a diſauenterous ſight.
She called forth to her a truſty mayd,
Whom ſhe thought fitteſt for that buſineſſe,
Her name was Clarin, and thus to her ſayd;
Goe damzell quickly, doe thy ſelfe addreſſe,
To doe the meſſage, which I ſhall expreſſe.
Goe thou vnto that ſtranger Faery Knight,
Who yeeſter day droue vs to ſuch diſtreſſe,
Tell, that to morrow I with him wil fight,
And try in equall field, whether hath greater might.
But theſe conditions doe to him propound,
That if I vanquiſhe him, he ſhall obay
My law, and euer to my lore be bound,
And ſo will I, if me he vanquiſh may;
What euer he ſhall like to doe or ſay.
Goe ſtreight, and take with thee, to witneſſe 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 obayd, and putting all
In readineſſe, forth to the Towne-gate went,
Where ſounding loud a Trumpet from the wall,
Vnto thoſe warlike Knights ſhe warning ſent.
Then Talus forth iſſuing from the tent,
Vnto the wall his way did feareleſſe take,
To weeten what that trumpets ſounding ment:
Where that ſame Damzell lowdly him beſpake,
And ſhew'd, that with his Lord ſhe would emparlaunce 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:
Which he accepting well, as he could weete,
Them fairely entertaynd with curt'ſies meete,
And gaue them gifts and things of deare delight.
So backe againe they homeward turnd their feete.
But Artegall him ſelfe to reſt did dight,
That he mote freſher be againſt the next daies fight.
Cant. V.
Artegall fights with Radigund
And is ſubdewd by guile:
He is by her empriſoned,
But wrought by Clarins wile.
SO ſoone as day forth dawning from the Eaſt,
Nights humid curtaine from the heauens withdrew,
And earely calling forth both man and beaſt,
Comaunded them their daily workes renew,
Theſe noble warriors, mindefull to purſew
The laſt daies purpoſe of their vowed fight,
Them ſelues thereto preparde in order dew;
The Knight, as beſt was ſeeming for a Knight,
And th'Amazon, as beſt it likt her ſelfe to dight.
All in a Camis light of purple ſilke
Wouen vppon with ſiluer, ſubtly wrought,
And quilted vppon ſattin white as milke,
Trayled with ribbands diuerſly diſtraught
Like as the workeman had their courſes taught;
Which was ſhort tucked for light motion
Vp to her ham, but when ſhe liſt, it raught
Downe to her loweſt heele, and thereuppon
She wore for her defence a mayled habergeon.
And on her legs ſhe painted buskins wore,
Baſted with bends of gold on euery ſide,
And mailes betweene, and laced cloſe afore:
Vppon her thigh her Cemitare was tide,
With an embrodered belt of mickell pride;
And on her ſhoulder hung her ſhield, bedeckt
Vppon 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 waite
Vppon her perſon for her ſure defence,
Playing on ſhaumes and trumpets, that from hence
Their ſound did reach vnto the heauens hight.
So forth into the field ſhe marched thence,
Where was a rich Pauilion ready pight,
Her to receiue, 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:
Soone after eke came ſhe, with fell intent,
And countenaunce fierce, as hauing fully bent her,
That battels vtmoſt triall to aduenter.
The Liſts were cloſed faſt, to barre the rout
From rudely preſſing to the middle center;
Which in great heapes them circled all about,
Wayting, how Fortune would reſolue that daungerous 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 haue rended:
But he that had like tempeſts often tride,
From that firſt flaw him ſelfe right well defended.
The more ſhe rag'd, the more he did abide;
She hewd, ſhe foynd, ſhe laſht, ſhe laid on euery ſide.
Yet ſtill her blowes he bore, and her forbore,
Weening at laſt to win aduantage new;
Yet ſtill her crueltie increaſed more,
And though powre faild, her courage did accrew,
Which fayling he gan fiercely her purſew.
Like as a Smith that to his cunning feat
The ſtubborne mettall ſeeketh to ſubdew,
Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat,
With his great yron ſledge doth ſtrongly on it beat.
So did Sir Artegall vpon her lay,
As if ſhe had an yron anduile beene,
That flakes of fire, bright as the ſunny ray,
Out of her ſteely armes were flaſhing ſeene,
That all on fire ye would her ſurely weene.
But with her ſhield ſo well her ſelfe ſhe warded,
From 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 it ſelfe did naked ſhow,
And thenceforth vnto daunger opened way.
Much was ſhe moued with the mightie ſway
Of that ſad ſtroke, that halfe enrag'd ſhe grew,
And like a greedie Beare vnto her pray,
With her ſharpe Cemitare at him ſhe flew,
That glauncing downe his thigh, the purple bloud forth drew.
Thereat ſhe gan to triumph with great boaſt,
And to vpbrayd 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 puiſſance fearefull fell;
Yet with her ſhield ſhe warded it againe,
That ſhattered all to peeces round about the plaine.
Hauing her thus diſarmed of her ſhield,
Vpon her helmet he againe her ſtrooke,
That downe ſhe fell vpon the graſſie field,
In ſenceleſſe ſwoune, as if her life forſooke,
And pangs of death her ſpirit ouertooke.
Whom when he ſaw before his foote proſtrated,
He to her lept with deadly dreadfull looke,
And her ſunſhynie helmet ſoone vnlaced,
Thinking at once both head and helmet to haue raced.
But when as he diſcouered 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;
Which in the rudeneſſe of that euill plight,
Bewrayd the ſignes of feature excellent:
Like as the Moone in foggie winters night,
Doth ſeeme to be her ſelfe, though darkned be her light.
At ſight thereof his cruell minded hart
Empierced 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.
By this vpſtarting 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,
With freſh aſſault vpon him ſhe did fly,
And gan renew her former cruelneſſe:
And though he ſtill retyt'd, yet natheleſſe
With 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 haue ſtayd.
Like as a Puttocke hauing ſpyde in ſight
A gentle Faulcon ſitting on an hill,
Whoſe other wing, now made vnmeete for flight,
Was lately broken by ſome fortune ill;
The fooliſh Kyte, led with licentious will,
Doth beat vpon the gentle bird in vaine,
With many idle ſtoups her troubling ſtill:
Euen 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,
Beare off the burden of her raging yre;
And euermore he gently did deſyre,
To ſtay her ſtroks, and he himſelfe would yield:
Yet nould ſhe hearke, ne let him once reſpyre,
Till he to her deliuered had his ſhield,
And to her mercie him ſubmitted in plaine field.
So was he ouercome, not ouercome,
But to her yeelded of his owne accord;
Yet was he iuſtly damned by the doome
Of his owne mouth, that ſpake ſo wareleſſe word,
To be her thrall, and ſeruice 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 vnhappy howre,
As he, on whom the luckleſſe ſtarres did lowre,
She cauſd to be attacht, and forthwith led
Vnto the crooke t'abide the balefull ſtowre,
From which he lately had through reskew fled:
Where he full ſhamefully was hanged by the hed.
But when they thought on Talus hands to lay,
He with his yron flaile amongſt them thondred,
That they were fayne to let him ſcape away,
Glad from his companie to be ſo ſondred;
Whoſe preſence all their troups ſo much encombred
That th'heapes of thoſe, which he did wound and ſlay,
Beſides the reſt diſmayd, might not be nombred:
Yet all that while he would not once aſſay,
To reskew his owne Lord, but thought it iuſt t'obay.
Then tooke the Amazon this noble knight,
Left to her will by his owne wilfull blame,
And cauſed him to be diſarmed quight,
Of all the ornaments of knightly name,
With which whylome he gotten had great fame:
In ſtead whereof ſhe made him to be dight
In womans weedes, that is to manhood ſhame,
And put before his lap a napron white,
In ſtead of Curiets and baſes fit for fight.
So being clad, ſhe brought him from the field,
In which he had bene trayned many a day,
Into a long large chamber, which was ſield
With moniments of many knights decay,
By her ſubdewed in victorious fray:
Amongſt the which ſhe cauſd his warlike armes
Be hang'd on high, that mote his ſhame bewray;
And broke his ſword, or feare of further harmes,
With which he wont to ſtirre vp battailous alarmes.
There entred in, he round about him ſaw
Many braue knights, whoſe names right well he knew,
There bound t'obay that Amazons proud law,
Spinning and carding all in comely rew,
That his bigge hart loth'd ſo vncomely vew.
But they were forſt through penurie and pyne,
To doe thoſe workes, to them appointed dew:
For nought was giuen them to ſup or dyne,
But what their hands could earne by twiſting linnen twyne.
Amongſt them all ſhe placed him moſt low,
And in his hand a diſtaffe to him gaue,
That he thereon ſhould ſpin both flax and tow;
A ſordid office for a mind ſo braue.
So hard it is to be a womans ſlaue.
Yet he it tooke in his owne ſelfes deſpight,
And thereto did himſelfe right well behaue,
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,
That whylome hath of Hercules bene told,
How for Iolas ſake he did apply
His mightie hands, the diſtaffe vile to hold,
For his huge club, which had ſubdew'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 loue, and with his miſtreſſe toyed.
Such is the crueltie of women kynd,
When they haue ſhaken off the ſhamefaſt band,
With which wiſe Nature did them ſtrongly bynd,
Tobay the heaſts of mans well ruling hand,
That then all rule and reaſon they withſtand,
To purchaſe a licentious libertie.
But vertuous women wiſely vnderſtand,
That they were borne to baſe humilitie,
Vnleſſe the heauens them lift to lawfull ſoueraintie.
Thus there long while continu'd Artegall,
Seruing proud Radigund with true ſubiection;
How euer it his noble heart did gall,
Tobay a womans tyrannous direction,
That might haue had of life or death election:
But hauing choſen, now he might not chaunge.
During which time, the warlike Amazon,
Whoſe wandring fancie after luſt did raunge,
Gan caſt a ſecret liking to this captiue ſtraunge.
Which long concealing in her couert breſt,
She chaw'd the cud of louers carefull plight;
Yet could it not ſo thoroughly digeſt,
Being faſt fixed in her wounded ſpright,
But it tormented her both day and night:
Yet would ſhe not thereto yeeld free accord,
To ſerue the lowly vaſſall of her might,
And of her ſeruant make her ſouerayne Lord:
So great her pride, that ſhe ſuch baſeneſſe much abhord.
So much the greater ſtill her anguiſh grew,
Through ſtubborne handling of her loue-ſicke hart;
And ſtill the more ſhe ſtroue it to ſubdew,
The more ſhe ſtill augmented her owne 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 conuert
To meeke obeyſance of loues mightie raine,
And him entreat for grace, that had procur'd her paine.
Vnto her ſelfe in ſecret ſhe did call
Her neareſt handmayd, whom ſhe moſt did truſt,
And to her ſaid; Clarinda whom of all
I truſt a liue, ſith I thee foſtred firſt;
Now is the time, that I vntimely muſt
Thereof make tryall, in my greateſt need:
It is ſo hapned, that the heauens vniuſt,
Spighting my happie freedome, haue 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 I would to thee diſcloſe,
Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine,
But dread of ſhame my doubtfull lips doth ſtill reſtraine.
Ah my deare dread (ſaid then the faithfull Mayd)
Can dread of ought your dreadleſſe hart withhold,
That many hath with dread of death diſmayd,
And dare euen deathes moſt dreadfull face behold?
Say on my ſouerayne Ladie, and be bold;
Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?
Therewith much comforted, ſhe gan vnfold
The cauſe of her conceiued maladie,
As one that would confeſſe, yet faine would it denie.
Clarin (ſayd ſhe) thou ſeeſt yond Fayry Knight,
Whom not my valour, but his owne braue mind
Subiected hath to my vnequall might;
What right is it, that he ſhould thraldome find,
For lending life to me a wretch vnkind;
That for ſuch good him recompence with ill?
Therefore I caſt, how I may him vnbind,
And by his freedome get his free goodwill;
Yet ſo, as bound to me he may continue ſtill.
Bound vnto me, but not with ſuch hard bands
Of ſtrong compulſion, and ſtreight violence,
As now in miſerable ſtate he ſtands;
But with ſweet loue and ſure beneuolence,
Voide of malitious mind, or foule offence.
To which if thou canſt win him any way,
Without diſcouerie of my thoughts pretence,
Both goodly meede of him it purchaſe may,
And eke with gratefull ſeruice me right well apay.
Which that thou mayſt the better bring to pas,
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 haue paſſage free.
Goe now, Clarinda, well thy wits aduiſe,
And all thy forces gather vnto thee;
Armies of louely lookes, and ſpeeches wiſe,
With which thou canſt euen Ioue himſelfe to loue entiſe.
The truſtie Mayd, conceiuing her intent,
Did with ſure promiſe of her good indeuour,
Giue her great comfort, and ſome harts content.
So from her parting, ſhe thenceforth did labour
By all the meanes ſhe might, to curry fauour
With th'Elfin Knight, her Ladies beſt beloued;
With daily ſhew of courteous kind behauiour,
Euen at the markewhite of his hart ſhe roued,
And with wide glauncing words, one day ſhe thus him proued.
Vnhappie Knight, vpon whoſe hopeleſſe ſtate
Fortune enuying good, hath felly frowned,
And cruell heauens haue heapt an heauy fate;
I rew that thus thy better dayes are drowned
In ſad deſpaire, and all thy ſenſes ſwowned
In ſtupid ſorow, ſith thy iuſter merit
Might elſe haue with felicitie bene crowned:
Looke vp at laſt, and wake thy dulled ſpirit,
To thinke how this long death thou mighteſt diſinherit.
Much did he maruell at her vncouth ſpeach,
Whoſe hidden drift he could not well perceiue;
And gan to doubt, leaſt ſhe him ſought t'appeach
Of treaſon, or ſome guilefull traine did weaue,
Through which ſhe might his wretched life bereaue.
Both which to barre, he with this anſwere met her;
Faire Damzell, that with ruth (as I perceaue)
Of my miſhaps, art mou'd to wiſh me better,
For ſuch your kind regard, I can but reſt your detter.
Yet weet ye well, that to a courage great
It is no leſſe beſeeming well, to beare
The ſtorme of fortunes frowne, or heauens threat,
Then in the ſunſhine of her countenance cleare
Timely to ioy, and carrie comely cheare.
For though this cloud haue now me ouercaſt,
Yet doe I not of better times deſpeyre;
And, though vnlike, they ſhould for euer laſt,
Yet in my truthes aſſurance I reſt fixed faſt.
But what ſo ſtonie mind (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?
Vnworthy ſure (quoth he) of better day,
That will not take the offer of good hope,
And eke purſew, if he attaine it may.
Which ſpeaches ſhe applying to the ſcope
Of her intent, this further purpoſe to him ſhope.
Then why doeſt not, thou ill aduized man,
Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,
And try if thou by faire entreatie, can
Moue Radigund? who though ſhe ſtill haue worne
Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne
Of Beares and Tygres, nor ſo ſaluage mynded,
As that, albe all loue of men ſhe ſcorne,
She yet forgets, that ſhe of men was kynded:
And ſooth oft ſeene, that proudeſt harts baſe loue hath blynded.
Certes Clarinda, not of cancred will,
(Sayd he) nor obſtinate diſdainefull mind,
I haue forbore this duetie to fulfill:
For well I may this weene, by that I fynd,
That ſhe a Queene, and come of Princely kynd,
Both worthie is for to be ſewd vnto,
Chiefely by him, whoſe life her law doth bynd,
And eke of powre her owne doome to vndo,
And alſ of princely grace to be inclyn'd thereto.
But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let,
From ſeeking fauour, where it doth abound;
Which if I might by your good office get,
I to your ſelfe ſhould reſt for euer bound,
And readie to deſerue, what grace I found.
She feeling him thus bite vpon the bayt,
Yet doubting leaſt his hold was but vnſound,
And not well faſtened, would not ſtrike him ſtrayt,
But drew him on with hope, fit leaſure to awayt.
But fooliſh Mayd, whyles heedleſſe of the hooke,
She thus oft times was beating off and on,
Through ſlipperie footing, fell into the brooke,
And there was caught to her confuſion.
For ſeeking thus to ſalue the Amazon,
She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart,
And gan thenceforth to caſt affection,
Conceiued cloſe in her beguiled hart,
To Artegall, through pittie of his cauſeleſſe ſmart.
Yet durſt ſhe nop diſcloſe her fancies wound,
Ne to himſelfe, for doubt of being ſdayned,
Ne yet to any other wight on ground,
For feare her miſtreſſe ſhold haue knowledge gayned,
But to her ſelfe it ſecretly retayned,
Within the cloſet of her couert breſt:
The more thereby her tender hart was payned.
Yet to awayt fit time ſhe weened beſt,
And fairely did diſſemble her ſad thoughts vnreſt.
One day her Ladie, calling her apart,
Can to demaund of her ſome tydings good,
Touching her loues 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 ouerpaſt, 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 loue for to haue wonne.
But ſayd, that he was obſtinate and ſterne,
Scorning her offers and conditions vaine;
Ne would be taught withany termes, to lerne
So fond a leſſon, as to loue againe.
Die rather would he in penurious paine,
And his abridged dayes in dolour waſt,
Then his foes loue or liking entertaine:
His reſolution was both firſt and laſt,
His bodie was her thrall, his hart was freely plaſt.
Which when the cruell Amazon perceiued,
She gan to ſtorme, and rage, and rend her gall,
For very fell deſpight, which ſhe conceiued,
To be ſo ſcorned of a baſe borne thrall,
Whoſe life did lie in her leaſt eye-lids fall;
Of which ſhe vow'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, & mildly gan entreat.
What now is left Clarinda? what remaines,
That we may compaſſe this our enterprize?
Great ſhame to loſe 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 a while with his firſt folly beare,
Till thou haue tride againe, & tempted him more neare.
Say, and do all, that may thereto preuaile;
Leaue nought vnpromiſt, that may him perſwade,
Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great auaile,
With which the Gods themſelues are mylder made:
Thereto adde art, euen womens witty trade,
The art of mightie words, that men can charme;
With which in caſe thou canſt him not inuade,
Let him feele hardneſſe of thy heauie arme:
Who will not ſtoupe with good, ſhall be made ſtoupe with harme.
Some of his diet doe from him withdraw;
For I him find to be too proudly fed.
Giue him more labour, and with ſtreighter law,
That he with worke may be forwearied.
Let him lodge hard, and lie in ſtrawen bed,
That may pull downe the courage of his pride;
And lay vpon him, for his greater dread,
Cold yron chaines, with which let him be tide;
And let, what euer he deſires, be him denide.
When thou haſt all this doen, then bring me newes
Of his demeane: thenceforth notlike a louer,
But like a rebell ſtout I will him vſe.
For I reſolue this ſiege not to giue ouer,
Till I the conqueſt of my will recouer.
So ſhe departed, full of griefe and ſdaine,
Which inly did to great impatience moue her.
But the falſe mayden ſhortly turn'd againe
Vnto the priſon, where her hart did thrall remaine.
There all her ſubtill nets ſhe did vnfold,
And all the engins of her wit diſplay;
In which ſhe meant him wareleſſe to enfold,
And of his innocence to make her pray.
So cunnningly ſhe wrought her crafts aſſay,
That both her Ladie, and her ſelfe withall,
And eke the knight attonce ſhe did betray:
But moſt the knight, whom ſhe with guilefull call
Did caſt for to allure, into her trap to fall.
As a bad Nurſe, which fayning to receiue
In her owne mouth the food, ment for her chyld,
Withholdes it to her ſelfe, and doeth deceiue
The infant, ſo for want of nourture ſpoyld:
Euen ſo Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld,
And turn'd the truſt, which was in her affyde,
To feeding of her priuate fire, which boyld
Her inward breſt, and in her entrayles fryde,
The more that ſhe it ſought to couer and to hyde.
For comming to this knight, ſhe purpoſe fayned,
How earneſt ſuit ſhe earſt for him had made
Vnto her Queene, his freedome to haue gayned;
But by no meanes could her thereto perſwade:
But that in ſtead thereof, ſhe ſternely bade
His miſerie to be augmented more,
And many yron bands on him to lade.
All which nathleſſe ſhe for his loue forbore:
So praying him t'accept her ſeruice euermore.
And more then that, ſhe promiſt that ſhe would,
In caſe ſhe might finde fauour in his eye,
Deuize how to enlarge him out of hould.
The 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 means he might, deſerue ſuch grace.
So daily he faire ſemblant did her ſhew,
Yet neuer meant he in his noble mind,
To his owne abſent loue to be vntrew:
Ne euer did deceiptfull Clarin find
In her falſe hart, his bondage to vnbind;
But rather how ſhe mote him faſter tye.
Therefore vnto her miſtreſſe moſt vnkind
She daily told, her loue he did defye,
And him ſhe told, her Dame his freedome did denye.
Yet thus much friendſhip ſhe to him did ſhow,
That his ſcarſe diet ſomewhat was amended,
And his worke leſſened, that his loue mote grow:
Yet to her Dame him ſtill ſhe diſcommended,
That ſhe with him mote be the more offended.
Thus he long while in thraldome there remayned,
Of both beloued well, but litle frended;
Vntill his owne true loue his freedome gayned,
Which in an other Canto will be beſt contayned.
Cant. VI.
Talus brings newes to Britomart,
of Artegals miſhap,
She goes to ſeeke him, Dolon meetes,
who ſeekes her to entrap.
SOme men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall
Great weakneſſe, and report of him much ill,
For yeelding ſo himſelfe a wretched thrall,
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 aduiz'd, that he ſtand ſtedfaſt ſtill:
For neuer yet was wight ſo well aware,
But he at firſt or laſt was trapt in womens ſnare.
Yet in the ſtreightneſſe of that captiue ſtate,
This gentle knight himſelfe ſo well behaued,
That notwithſtanding all the ſubtill bait,
With which thoſe Amazons his loue ſtill craued,
To his owne loue his loialtie he ſaued:
Whoſe character in th'Adamantine mould
Of his true hart ſo firmely was engraued,
That no new loues impreſſion euer could
Bereaue it thence: ſuch blot his honour blemiſh ſhould.
Yet his owne loue, the noble Britomart,
Scarſe ſo conceiued in her iealous thought,
What time ſad tydings of his balefull ſmart
In womans bondage, Talus to her brought;
Brought in vntimely houre, ere it was ſought.
For after that the vtmoſt date, aſſynde
For his returne, ſhe waited had for nought,
She gan to caſt in her miſdoubtfull mynde
A thouſand feares, that loue-ſicke fancies faine to fynde.
Sometime ſhe feared, leaſt ſome hard miſhap
Had him misfalne in his aduenturous queſt;
Sometime leaſt his falſe foe did him entrap
In traytrous traine, or had vnwares oppreſt:
But moſt ſhe did her troubled mynd moleſt,
And ſecretly afflict with iealous feare,
Leaſt ſome new loue 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 her ſelfe; another whyle
She him condemn'd, as truſtleſſe and vntrew:
And then, her griefe 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 make them ſeeme more few:
Yet when ſhe reckned them, ſtill drawing neare,
Each hour did ſeeme a moneth, & euery moneth a yeare.
But when as yet ſhe ſaw him not returne,
She thought to ſend ſome one to ſeeke him out;
But none ſhe found ſo fit to ſerue that turne,
As her owne ſelfe, to eaſe her ſelfe of dout.
Now ſhe deuiz'd amongſt the warlike rout
Of errant Knights, to ſeeke her errant Knight;
And then againe reſolu'd to hunt him out
Amongſt looſe Ladies, lapped in delight:
And then both Knights enuide, & Ladies eke did ſpight.
One day, when as ſhe long had ſought for eaſe
In euery place, and euery place thought beſt,
Yet found no place, that could her liking pleaſe,
She to a window came, that opened Weſt,
Towards which coaſt her loue his way addreſt.
There looking forth, ſhee in her heart did find
Many vaine fancies, working her vnreſt;
And ſent her winged thoughts, more ſwift then wind,
To beare vnto her loue the meſſage of her mind.
There as ſhe looked long, at laſt ſhe ſpide
One comming towards her with haſty ſpeede:
Well weend ſhe then, ere him ſhe plaine deſcride,
That it was one ſent from her loue indeede.
Who when he nigh approcht, ſhee mote arede
That it was Talus, Artegall his groome;
Whereat her heart was fild with hope and drede;
Ne would ſhe ſtay, till he in place could come,
But ran to meete him forth, to know his tidings ſomme.
Euen in the dore him meeting, ſhe begun;
And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence?
Declare at once; and hath he loſt or wun?
The yron man, albe he wanted ſence
And ſorrowes feeling, yet with conſcience
Of his ill newes, did inly chill and quake,
And ſtood ſtill mute, as one in great ſuſpence,
As if that by his ſilence he would make
Her rather reade his meaning, then him ſelfe it ſpake.
Till ſhe againe thus ſayd; Talus be bold,
And tell what euer 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 loue, 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?
Not by that Tyrant, his intended foe;
But by a Tyranneſſe (he then replide,)
That him captiued hath in hapleſſe woe.
Ceaſe thou bad newes-man, badly doeſt thou hide
Thy maiſters ſhame, in harlots bondage tide.
The reſt my ſelfe too readily can ſpell.
With that in rage ſhe turn'd from him aſide,
Forcing in vaine the reſt to her to tell,
And to her chamber went like ſolitary cell.
There ſhe began to make her monefull plaint
Againſt her Knight, for being ſo vntrew;
And him to touch with falſhoods fowle attaint,
That all his other honour ouerthrew.
Oft did ſhe blame her ſelfe, and often rew,
For yeelding to a ſtraungers loue ſo light,
Whoſe life and manners ſtraunge ſhe neuer knew;
And euermore ſhe did him ſharpely twight
For breach of faith to her, which he had firmely plight.
And then ſhe in her wrathfull will did caſt,
How to reuenge that blot of honour blent;
To fight with him, and goodly die her laſt:
And then againe ſhe did her ſelfe torment,
Inflicting on her ſelfe his puniſhment.
A while ſhe walkt, and chauft; a while ſhe threw
Her ſelfe vppon her bed, and did lament:
Yet did ſhe not lament with loude alew,
As women wont, but with deepe ſighes, and ſingulfs few.
Like as a wayward childe, whoſe ſounder ſleepe
Is broken with ſome fearefull dreames affright,
With froward will doth ſet him ſelfe to weepe;
Ne can be ſtild for all his nurſes might,
But kicks, and ſquals, and ſhriekes for fell deſpight:
Now ſcratching her, and her looſe locks miſuſing;
Now ſeeking darkeneſſe, and now ſeeking light;
Then crauing ſucke, and then the ſucke refuſing.
Such was this Ladies fit, in her loues fond accuſing.
But when ſhe had with ſuch vnquiet fits
Her ſelfe there cloſe afflicted long in vaine,
Yet found no eaſement in her troubled wits,
She vnto 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 (ſayd then the yron man,)
That he is not the while in ſtate to woo;
But lies in wretched thraldome, weake and wan,
Not by ſtrong hand compelled thereunto,
But his owne doome, that none can now vndoo.
Sayd I not then (quoth ſhee) erwhile aright,
That this is things compacte betwixt you two,
Me to deceiue of faith vnto me plight,
Since that he was not forſt, nor ouercome in fight?
With that he gan at large to her dilate
The whole diſcourſe of his captiuance ſad,
In ſort as ye haue heard the ſame of late.
All which when ſhe with hard enduraunce had
Here to the end, ſhe was right ſore beſtad,
With ſodaine ſtounds of wrath and griefe attone:
Ne would abide, till ſhe had aunſwere made,
But ſtreight her ſelfe did dight, and armor don;
And mounting to her ſteede, bad Talus guide heron.
So forth ſhe rode vppon her ready way,
To ſeeke her Knight, as Talus her did guide:
Sadly ſhe rode, and neuer word did ſay,
Nor good nor bad, ne euer lookt aſide,
But ſtill right downe, and in her thought did hide
The felneſſe of her heart, right fully bent
To fierce auengement of that womans pride,
Which had her Lord in her baſe priſon pent,
And ſo great honour with ſo fowle reproch had blent.
So as ſhe thus melancholicke did ride,
Chawing the cud of griefe and inward paine,
She chaunſt to meete toward th'euen-tide
A Knight, that ſoftly paced on the plaine,
As if him ſelfe to ſolace he were faine.
Well ſhot in yeares he ſeem'd, and rather bent
To peace, then needleſſe trouble to conſtraine.
As well by view of that his veſtiment,
As by his modeſt ſemblant, that no euill ment.
He comming 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,
Yet rather then ſhe kindneſſe would deſpize,
She would her ſelfe diſpleaſe, ſo him requite.
Then gan the other further to deuize
Of things abrode, as next to hand did light,
And many things demaund, to which ſhe anſwer'd light.
For little luſt had ſhe to talke of ought,
Or ought to heare, that mote delightfull bee;
Her minde was whole poſſeſſed of one thought,
That gaue none other place. Which when as hee
By outward ſignes, (as well he might) did ſee,
He liſt no lenger to vſe lothfull ſpeach,
But her beſought to take it well in gree,
Sith ſhady dampe had dimd the heauens reach,
To lodge with him that night, vnles good cauſe empeach
The Championeſſe, now ſeeing night at dore,
Was glad to yeeld vnto his good 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 arriuing they receiued 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'euening well, till time of reſt,
Then Britomart vnto a bowre was brought;
Where groomes awayted her to haue vndreſt.
But ſhe ne would vndreſſed be for ought,
Ne doffe her armes, though he her much beſought.
For ſhe had vow'd, ſhe ſayd, not to forgo
Thoſe warlike weedes, till ſhe reuenge had wrought
Of a late wrong vppon a mortall foe;
Which ſhe would ſure performe, betide her wele or wo.
Which when their Hoſt perceiu'd, right diſcontent
In minde he grew, for feare leaſt by that art
He ſhould his purpoſe miſſe, which cloſe he ment:
Yet taking leaue of her, he did depart.
There all that night remained Britomart,
Reſtleſſe, recomfortleſſe, with heart deepe grieued,
Not ſuffering the leaſt twinckling ſleepe to ſtart
Into her eye, which th'heart mote haue relieued,
But if the leaſt appear'd, her eyes ſhe ſtreight reprieued.
Ye guilty eyes (ſayd ſhe) the which with guyle
My heart at firſt betrayd, will ye betray
My life now to, for which a little whyle
Ye will not watch? falſe watches, wellaway,
I wote when ye did watch both night and day
Vnto your loſſe: and now needes will ye ſleepe?
Now ye haue made my heart to wake alway,
Now will ye ſleepe? ah wake, and rather weepe,
To thinke of your nights want, that ſhould yee waking keepe.
Thus did ſhe watch, and weare the weary night
In waylfull plaints, that none was to appeaſe;
Now walking ſoft, now ſitting ſtill vpright,
As ſundry chaunge her ſeemed beſt to eaſe.
Ne leſſe did Talus ſuffer ſleepe to ſeaze
His eye-lids ſad, but watcht continually,
Lying without her dore in great diſeaſe;
Like to a Spaniell wayting carefully
Leaſt any ſhould betray his Lady treacherouſly.
What time the natiue Belman of the night,
The bird, that warned Peter of his fall,
Firſt rings his ſiluer Bell t'each ſleepy wight,
That ſhould their mindes vp to deuotion call,
She heard a wondrous noiſe below the hall.
All ſodainely the bed, where ſhe ſhould lie,
By a falſe trap was let adowne to fall
Into a lower roome, and by and by
The loſt was rayſd againe, that no man could it ſpie.
With ſight whereof ſhe was diſmayd right ſore,
Perceiuing 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 euent.
It was not long, before ſhe heard the ſound
of armed men, comming with cloſe intent
Towards her chamber; at which dreadfull ſtound
She quickly caught her ſword, & ſhield about her bound.
With that there came vnto her chamber dore
Two Knights, all arm'd ready for to fight,
And after them full many other more,
A raskall rout, with weapons rudely dight.
Whom ſoone as Talus ſpide by glims of night,
He ſtarted vp, there where on ground he lay,
And in his hand his threſher ready keight.
They ſeeing that, let driue at him ſtreight way,
And round about him preace in riotous aray.
But ſoone as he began to lay about
With his rude yron flaile, they gan to flie,
Both armed Knights, and eke vnarmed rout:
Yet Talus after them apace did plie,
Where euer in the darke he could them ſpie;
That here and there like ſcattred ſheepe 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.
Wherewith though wondrous wroth, and inly burning,
To be auenged for ſo fowle a deede,
Yet being forſt to abide the daies returning,
She there remain'd, but with right wary heede,
Leaſt any more ſuch practiſe ſhould proceede.
Now mote ye know (that which to Britomart
Vnknowen was) whence all this did proceede,
And for what cauſe ſo great miſchieuous ſmart
Was ment to her, that neuer euill ment in hart.
The goodman of this houſe was Dolon hight,
A man of ſubtill wit and wicked minde,
That whilome in his youth had bene a Knight,
And armes had borne, but little good could finde,
And much leſſe honour by that warlike kinde
Of life: for he was nothing valorous,
But with ſlie ſhiftes and wiles did vnderminde
All noble Knights, which were aduenturous,
And many brought to ſhame by treaſon treacherous.
He had three ſonnes, all three like fathers 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
By Artegall, through his owne guilty wile;
His name was Guizor, whoſe vntimely fate
For to auenge, full many treaſons vile
His father Dolon had deuiz'd of late
With theſe his wicked ſons, and ſhewd his cankred hate.
For ſure he weend, that this his preſent gueſt
Was Artegall, by many tokens plaine;
But chiefly by that yron page he gheſt,
Which ſtill was wont with Artegall remaine;
And therefore ment him ſurely to haue ſlaine.
But by Gods grace, and her good heedineſſe,
She was preſerued from their traytrous traine.
Thus ſhe all night wore out in watchfulneſſe,
Ne ſuffred ſlothfull ſleepe her eyelids to oppreſſe.
The morrow next, ſo ſoone as dawning houre
Diſcouered had the light to liuing eye,
She forth yſſew'd out of her loathed bowre,
With full intent t'auenge that villany,
On that vilde man, and all his family
And comming down to ſeeke them, where they wond,
Nor ſire, nor ſonnes, nor any could ſhe ſpie:
Each rowme ſhe ſought, but them all empty fond;
They all were fled for feare, but whether, nether kond.
She ſaw it vaine to make there lenger ſtay,
But tooke her ſteede, and thereon mounting light,
Gan her addreſſe vnto her former way.
She had not rid the mountenance of a flight,
But that ſhe ſaw there preſent in her ſight,
Thoſe 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 mote needes fall ouer the lidge.
There they did thinke them ſelues on her to wreake:
Who as ſhe nigh vnto them drew, the one
Theſe vile reproches gan vnto 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 thee from the vengeance of thy fone,
But with thy bloud 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, but forward fared,
Till to the perillous Bridge ſhe came, and there
Talus deſir'd, that he might haue prepared
The way to her, and thoſe two loſels ſcared.
But ſhe thereat was wroth, that for deſpight
The glauncing ſparkles through her beuer glared,
And from her eies did flaſh out fiery light,
Like coles, that through a ſiluer Cenſer ſparkle bright.
She ſtayd not to aduiſe which way to take;
But putting ſpurres vnto her fiery beaſt,
Thorough the midſt of them ſhe way did make.
The one of them, which moſt her wrath increaſt,
Vppon her ſpeare ſhe bore before her breaſt,
Till to the Bridges further end ſhe paſt,
Where falling downe, his challenge he releaſt:
The other ouer ſide the Bridge ſhe caſt
Into the riuer, where he drunke his deadly laſt.
As when the flaſhing Leuin haps to light
Vppon two ſtubborne oakes, which ſtand ſo neare,
That way betwixt them none appeares in ſight;
The Engin fiercely flying forth, doth teare
Th'one from the earth, & through the aire doth beare;
The other it withforce doth ouerthrow,
Vppon one ſide, and from his rootes doth reare.
So did the Championeſſe thoſe two there ſtrow,
And to their ſire their carcaſſes left to beſtow.
Cant. VII
Britomart comes to Iſis Church,
Where ſhee ſtrange viſions ſees:
She fights with Radigund, her ſlases,
And Artegall thence frees.
NOught is on earth more ſacred or diuine,
That Gods and men doe equally adore,
Then this ſame vertue, that doth right define:
For th'heuens thēſelues, whence mortal men implore
Right in their wrongs, are rul'd by righteous lore
Of higheſt Ioue, who doth true iuſtice deale
To his inferiour Gods, and euermore
Therewith containes his heauenly Common-weale:
The skill whereof to Princes hearts he doth reueale.
Well therefore did the antique world inuent,
That Iuſtice was a God of ſoueraine grace,
And altars vnto him, and temples lent,
And heauenly honours in the higheſt place;
Calling him great Oſyris, of the race
Of th'old Aegyptian Kings, that whylome were;
With fayned colours ſhading a true caſe:
For that Oſyris, whileſt he liued here,
The iuſteſt man aliue, and trueſt did appeare.
His wife was Iſis, whom they likewiſe made
A Goddeſſe of great powre and ſouerainty,
And in her perſon cunningly did ſhade
That part of Iuſtice, which is Equity,
Whereof I haue to treat here preſently.
Vnto whoſe temple when as Britomart
Arriued, ſhee with great humility
Did enter in, ne would that night depart;
But Talus mote not be admitted to her part.
There ſhe receiued was in goodly wize
Of many Prieſts, which duely did attend
Vppon the rites and daily ſacrifize,
All clad in linnen robes with ſiluer hemd;
And on their heads with long locks comely kemd,
They wore rich Mitres ſhaped like the Moone,
To ſhew that Iſis doth the Moone portend;
Like as Oſyris ſignifies the Sunne.
For that they both like race in equall 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 vppon ſtately pillours, all diſpred
With ſhining gold, and arched ouer hed,
She wondred at the workemans paſſing skill,
Whoſe like before ſhe neuer ſaw nor red;
And thereuppon long while ſtood gazing ſtill,
But thought, that ſhe thereon could neuer gaze her fill.
Thence forth vnto the Idoll they her brought,
The which was framed all of ſiluer fine,
So well as could with cunning hand be wrought,
And clothed all in garments made of line,
Hemd all about with fringe of ſiluer twine.
Vppon her head ſhe wore a Crowne of gold,
To ſhew that ſhe had powre in things diuine;
And at her feete a Crocodile was rold,
That with her wreathed taile her middle did enfold.
One foote was ſet vppon the Crocodile,
And on the ground the other faſt did ſtand,
So meaning to ſuppreſſe both forged guile,
And open force: and in her other hand
She ſtretched forth a long white ſclender wand.
Such was the Goddeſſe, whom when Britomart
Had long beheld, her ſelfe vppon the land
She did proſtrate, and with right humble hart,
Vnto her ſelfe her ſilent prayers did impart.
To which the Idoll as it were inclining,
Her wand did moue with amiable looke,
By outward ſhew her inward ſence deſining.
Who well perceiuing, how her wand ſhe ſhooke,
It as a token of good fortune tooke.
By this the day with dampe was ouercaſt,
And ioyous light the houſe of Ioue forſooke:
Which when ſhe ſaw, her helmet ſhe vnlaſte,
And by the altars ſide her ſelfe to ſlumber plaſte.
For other beds the Prieſts there vſed none,
But on their mother Earths deare lap did lie,
And bake their ſides vppon the cold hard ſtone,
T'enure them ſelues to ſufferaunce 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,
They mote the better tend to their deuotion.
Therefore they 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,
Euen the bloud of Gyants, which were ſlaine,
By thundring Ioue in the Phlegrean plaine.
For which the earth (as they the ſtory tell)
Wroth with the Gods, which to perpetuall paine
Had damn'd her ſonnes, which gainſt them did rebell,
With inward griefe and malice did againſt them ſwell.
And of their vitall bloud, the which was ſhed
Into her pregnant boſome, forth ſhe brought
The fruitfull vine, whoſe liquor blouddy red
Hauing the mindes of men with fury fraught,
Mote in them ſtirre vp old rebellious thought,
To make new warre againſt the Gods againe:
Such is the powre of that ſame fruit, that nought
The fell contagion may thereof reſtraine,
Ne within reaſons rule, her madding mood containe.
There did the warlike Maide her ſelfe repoſe,
Vnder the wings of Iſis all that night,
And with ſweete reſt her heauy eyes did cloſe,
After that long daies toile and weary plight.
Where whileſt her earthly parts with ſoft delight
Of ſenceleſſe ſleepe did deeply drowned lie,
There did appeare vnto her heauenly ſpright
A wondrous viſion, which did cloſe implie
The courſe of all her fortune and poſteritie.
Her ſeem', das ſhe was doing ſacrifize
To Iſis, deckt with Mitre on her hed,
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 euen ſhe her ſelfe much wondered
At ſuch a chaunge, and ioyed to behold
Her ſelfe, adorn'd with gems and iewels manifold.
And in the midſt of her felicity,
An hideous tempeſt ſeemed from below,
To riſe through all the Temple ſodainely,
That from the Altar all about did blow
The holy fire, and all the embers ſtrow
Vppon the ground, which kindled priuily,
Into outragious flames vnwares did grow,
That all the Temple put in ieopardy
Of flaming, and her ſelfe in great perplexity.
With that the Crocodile, which ſleeping lay
Vnder the Idols feete in feareleſſe bowre,
Seem'd to awake in horrible diſmay,
As being troubled with that ſtormy ſtowre;
And gaping greedy wide, did ſtreight deuoure
Both flames and tempeſt: with which growen great,
And ſwolne with pride of his owne peereleſſe powre,
He gan to threaten her likewiſe to eat;
But that the Goddeſſe with her rod him backe did beat.
Tho turning all his pride to humbleſſe meeke,
Him ſelfe before her feete he lowly threw,
And gan for grace and loue 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 might;
That ſhortly did all other beaſts ſubdew.
With that ſhe waked, full of fearefull fright,
And doubtfully diſmayd through that ſo vncouth ſight.
So thereuppon long while ſhe muſing lay,
With thouſand thoughts feeding her fantaſie,
Vntill ſhe ſpide the lampe of lightſome day,
Vp-lifted in the porch of heauen hie.
Then vp ſhe roſe fraught with melancholy,
And forth into the lower parts did pas;
Whereas the Prieſtes ſhe found full buſily
About their holy things for morrow Mas:
Whom ſhe ſaluting faire, faire reſaluted was.
But by the change of her vnchearefull looke,
They might perceiue, ſhe was not well in plight;
Or that ſome penſiueneſſe to heart ſhe tooke.
Therefore thus one of them, who ſeem'd in ſight
To be the greateſt, and the graueſt wight,
To her beſpake; Sir Knight it ſeemes to me,
That thorough euill reſt of this laſt night,
Or ill apayd, or much diſmayd ye be,
That by your change of cheare is eaſie for to ſee.
Certes (ſayd ſhe) ſith ye ſo well haue ſpide
The troublous paſſion of my penſiue mind,
I will not ſeeke the ſame from you to hide,
But will my cares vnfolde, in hope to find
Your aide, to guide me out of errour blind.
Say on (quoth 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 ſhall require my comfort in their ſmart.
Then gan ſhe to declare the whole diſcourſe
Of all that viſion, which to her appeard,
As well as to her minde it had recourſe.
All which when he vnto the end had heard,
Like to a weake faint-hearted man he fared,
Through great aſtoniſhment of that ſtrange ſight;
And with long locks vp-ſtanding, ſtifly ſtared
Like one adawed with ſome dreadfull ſpright.
So fild with heauenly fury, thus he her behight.
Magnificke Virgin, that in queint diſguiſe
Of Britiſh armes doeſt maske thy royall blood,
So to purſue a perillous emprize,
How coulſt thou weene, through that diſguized hood,
To hide thy ſtate from being vnderſtood?
Can from th'immortall Gods ought hidden bee?
They doe thy linage, and thy Lordly brood;
They doe thy ſire, lamenting ſore for thee;
They doe thy loue, forlorne in womens thraldome ſee.
The end whereof, and all the long euent,
They doe to thee in this ſame dreame diſcouer.
For that ſame Crocodile doth repreſent
The righteous Knight, that is thy faithfull louer,
Like to Oſyris in all iuſt endeuer.
For that ſame Crocodile Oſyris is,
That vnder Iſis feete doth ſleepe tor euer:
To ſhew that clemence oft in things amis,
Reſtraines thoſe ſterne beheſts, and cruell doomes of his.
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 deare.
Then ſhalt thou take him to thy loued fere,
And ioyne in equall portion of thy realme:
And afterwards a ſonne to him ſhalt beare,
That Lion-like ſhall ſhew his powre extreame.
So bleſſe thee God, and giue thee ioyance of thy dreame.
All which when ſhe vnto 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 ſiluer wrought,
She for a preſent to their Goddeſſe brought.
Then taking leaue of them, ſhe forward went,
To ſeeke her loue, where he was to be ſought;
Ne reſted till ſhe came without relent
Vnto the land of Amazons, as ſhe was bent.
Whereof when newes to Radigund was brought,
Not with amaze, as women wonted 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 late her folke had ſlaine, ſhe bad thē forth to hold
So there without the gate (as ſeemed beſt)
She cauſed her Pauilion be pight;
In which ſtout Britomart her ſelfe did reſt,
Whiles Talus watched at the dore all night.
All night likewiſe, they of the towne in fright,
Vppon their 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 Amazon out of her bowre did peepe.
And cauſed ſtreight a Trumpet loud to ſhrill,
To warne her foe to battell ſoone be preſt:
Who long before awoke (for ſhe ful ill
Could ſleepe all night, that in vnquiet breſt
Did cloſely harbour ſuch a iealous gueſt)
Was to the battell whilome ready dight.
Eftſoones that warrioureſſe with haughty creſt
Did forth iſſue, all ready for the fight:
On th'other ſide her foe appeared ſoone in ſight.
But ere they reared hand, the Amazone
Began the ſtreight conditions to propound,
With which ſhe vſed ſtill to tye her fone;
To ſerue her ſo, as ſhe the reſt had bound.
Which 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 euer tie.
Then what preſcribed were by lawes of cheualrie.
The Trumpets ſound, and they together run
With greedy rage, and with their faulchins ſmot;
Ne either ſought the others ſtrokes to ſhun,
But through great fury both their skill forgot,
And practicke vſe in armes: ne ſpared not
Their dainty parts, which nature had created
So faire and tender, without ſtaine or ſpot,
For other vſes, then they them tranſlated;
Which they now hackt & hewd, as if ſuch vſe they hated,
As when a Tygre and a Lioneſſe
Are met at ſpoyling of ſome hungry pray,
Both challenge it with equall greedineſſe:
But firſt the Tygre clawes 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 hond;
And therefore ought it haue, where euer ſhe it fond.
Full fiercely layde the Amazon about,
And dealt her blowes vnmercifully ſore:
Which Britomart withſtood with courage ſtout,
And them repaide 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 trode, and on the ground their liues did ſtrow,
Like fruitles ſeede, of which vntimely death ſhould grow.
At laſt proud Radigund with fell deſpight,
Hauing by chaunce eſpide aduantage neare,
Let driue at her with all her dreadfull might,
And thus vpbrayding ſaid; This token beare
Vnto the man, whom thou doeſt loue ſo deare;
And tell him for his ſake thy life thou gaueſt.
Which ſpitefull words ſhe ſore engrieu'd to heare,
Thus anſwer'd; Lewdly thou my loue depraueſt,
Who ſhortly muſt repent that now ſo vainely braueſt.
Nath'leſſe that ſtroke ſo cruell paſſage found,
That glauncing on her ſhoulder plate, it bit
Vnto the bone, and made a grieſly wound,
That ſhe her ſhield through raging ſmart of it
Could ſcarſe vphold; yet ſoone ſhe it requit.
For hauing force increaſt through furious paine,
She her ſo rudely on the helmet ſmit,
That it empierced to the very braine,
And her proud perſon low proſtrated on the plaine.
Where being layd, the wrothfull Britoneſſe
Stayd not, till ſhe came to her ſelfe againe,
But in reuenge both of her loues diſtreſſe,
And her late vile reproch, though vaunted vaine,
And alſo of her wound, which ſore did paine,
She with one ſtroke both head and helmet cleft.
Which dreadfull ſight, when all her warlike traine
There preſent ſaw, each one of ſence bereft,
Fled faſt into the towne, and her ſole victor left.
But yet ſo faſt they could not home retrate,
But that ſwift Talus did the formoſt win;
And preſſing through the preace vnto the gate,
Pelmell with them attonce did enter in.
There then a piteous ſlaughter did begin:
For all that euer came within his reach,
He with his yron flale did threſh ſo thin,
That he no worke at all left for the leach:
Like to an hideous ſtorme, which nothing may empeach.
And now by this the noble Conquereſſe
Her ſelfe came in, her glory to partake;
Where though reuengefull vow ſhe did profeſſe,
Yet when ſhe ſaw the heapes, which he did make,
Of ſlaughtred carkaſſes, her heart did quake
For very ruth, which did it almoſt riue,
That ſhe his fury willed him to ſlake:
For elſe he ſure had left not one aliue,
But all in his reuenge of ſpirite would depriue.
Tho when ſhe had his execution ſtayd,
She for that yron priſon did enquire,
In which her wretched loue was captiue layd:
Which breaking open with indignant ire,
She entred into all the partes entire.
Where when ſhe ſaw that lothly vncouth ſight,
Of men diſguiz'd in womaniſhe attire,
Her heart gan grudge, for very deepe deſpight
Of ſo vnmanly maske, in miſery miſdight.
At laſt when as to her owne Loue ſhe came,
Whom like diſguize no leſſe deformed had,
At ſight thereof abaſht with ſecrete ſhame,
She turnd her head aſide, as nothing glad,
To haue beheld a ſpectacle ſo bad:
And then too well beleeu'd, that which tofore
Iealous ſuſpect as true vntruely drad,
Which vaine conceipt now nouriſhing no more,
She ſought with ruth to ſalue his ſad misfortunes ſore.
Not ſo great wonder and aſtoniſhment,
Did the moſt chaſt Penelope poſſeſſe,
To ſee her Lord, that was reported drent,
And dead long ſince in dolorous diſtreſſe,
Come home to her in piteous wretchedneſſe,
After long trauell of full twenty yeares,
That ſhe knew not his fauours likelyneſſe,
For many ſcarres and many hoary heares,
But ſtood long ſtaring on him, mongſt vncertaine feares.
Ah my deare Lord, what ſight is this (quoth ſhe)
What May-game hath misfortune made of you?
Where is that dreadfull manly looke? where be
Thoſe mighty palmes, the which ye wont t'embrew
In bloud of Kings, and great hoaſtes to ſubdew?
Could ought on earth ſo wondrous change haue wrought,
As to haue robde you of that manly hew?
Could ſo great courage ſtouped haue to ought?
Then farewell fleſhly force; I ſee thy pride is nought.
Thenceforth ſhe ſtreight into a bowre him brought,
And cauſd him thoſe vncomely weedes vndight;
And in their ſteede for other rayment ſought,
Whereof there was great ſtore, and armors bright,
Which had bene reft from many a noble Knight;
Whom that proud Amazon ſubdewed had,
Whileſt Fortune fauourd her ſucceſſe in fight,
In which when as ſhe him anew had clad,
She was reuiu'd, and ioyd much in his ſemblance glad.
So there a while they afterwards remained,
Him to refreſh, and her late wounds to heale:
During which ſpace ſhe there as Princes rained,
And changing all that forme of common weale,
The liberty of women did repeale,
Which they had long vſurpt; and them reſtoring
To mens ſubiection, did true Iuſtice deale:
That all they as a Goddeſſe her adoring,
Her wiſedome did admire, and hearkned to her loring.
For all thoſe Knights, which long in captiue ſhade
Had ſhrowded bene, ſhe did from thraldome free;
And magiſtrates of all that city made,
And gaue to them great liuing and large fee:
And that they ſhould for euer faithfull bee,
Made them ſweare fealty to Artegall.
Who when him ſelfe now well recur'd did ſee,
He purpoſd to proceed, what ſo be fall,
Vppon his firſt aduenture, which him forth did call.
Full ſad and ſorrowfull was Britomart
For his departure, her new cauſe of griefe;
Yet wiſely moderated her owne ſmart,
Seeing his honor, which ſhe tendred chiefe,
Conſiſted much in that aduentures priefe.
The care whereof, and hope of his ſucceſſe
Gaue vnto her great comfort and reliefe,
That womaniſh complaints ſhe did repreſſe,
And tempred for the time her preſent heauineſſe.
There ſhe continued for a certaine ſpace,
Till through his 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 euer howre did ceaſe,
Till he redeemed had that Lady thrall:
That for another Canto will more fitly fall.
Cant. VIII.
Prince Arthure and Sir Artegall,
Free Samient from feare:
They ſlay the Soudan, driue his wife,
A dicia to deſpaire.
NOught vnder heauen ſo ſtrongly doth allure
The ſence of man, and all his minde poſſeſſe,
As beauties lonely 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 cruelty.
So whylome learnd that mighty Iewiſh ſwaine,
Each of whoſe lockes did match a man in might,
To lay his ſpoiles before his lemans traine:
So alſo did that great Octean Knight
For his loues ſake his Lions skin vndight:
And ſo did warlike Antony neglect
The worlds whole rule for Cleopatras ſight.
Such wondrous powre hath wemens faire aſpect,
To captiue men, and make them all the world reiect.
Yet could it not ſterne Artegall retaine,
Nor hold from ſuite of his auowed queſt,
Which he had vndertane to Gloriane;
But left his loue, albe her ſtrong requeſt,
Faire Britomart in languor and vnreſt,
And rode him ſelfe vppon his firſt intent:
Ne day nor night did euer idly reſt;
Ne wight but onely Talus with him went,
The true guide of his way and vertuous gouernment.
So trauelling, he chaunſt far off to heed
A Damzell, flying on a palfrey faſt
Before two Knights, that after her did ſpeed
With all their powre, and her full fiercely chaſt
In hope to haue her ouerhent at laſt:
Yet fled ſhe faſt, and both them farre outwent,
Carried with wings of feare, like fowle aghaſt,
With locks all looſe, and rayment all to rent;
And euer as ſhe rode, her eye was backeward bent.
Soone after theſe he ſaw another Knight,
That after thoſe two former rode apace,
With 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 chaſe.
At length he ſaw the hindmoſt ouertake
One of thoſe two, and force him turne his face;
How euer loth 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 ſaue 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 haue ouerwent.
So both together ylike felly bent,
Like fiercely met. But Artegall was ſtronger,
And better skild in Tilt and Turnament,
And bore him quite out of his ſaddle, longer
Then two ſpeares length; So miſchiefe ouermatcht the wronger.
And in his fall misfortune hm miſtooke;
For on his head vnhappily he pight,
That his owne waight his necke aſunder broke,
And left there dead. Meane while the other Knight
Defeated had the other faytour quight,
And all his bowels in his body braſt:
Whom leauing there in that diſpiteous plight,
He ran ſtill on, thinking to follow faſt
His other fellow Pagan, which before him paſt.
In ſtead of whom finding there ready preſt
Sir Artegall, without diſcretion
He at him ran, with ready ſpeare in reſt:
Who 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, yet to and fro long ſhooke,
And tottred like two towres, which through a tempeſt quooke.
But when againe they had recouered ſence,
They drew their ſwords, in mind to make amends
For what their ſpeares had fayld of their pretence.
Which when the Damzell, who thoſe deadly ends
Of both her foes had ſeene, and now her frends
For her beginning a more fearefull fray,
She to them runnes in haſt, and her haire rends,
Crying to them their cruell hands to ſtay,
Vntill they both doe heare, what ſhe to them will ſay.
They ſtayd their hands, when ſhe thus gan to ſpeake;
Ah gentle Knights, what meane ye thus vnwiſe
Vpon your ſelues 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 deuiſe
Of more reuenge? if more, then I am ſhee,
Which was the roote of all, end your reuenge on mee.
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 when as 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 all vnweeting haue you wrong'd thus ſore,
Suffring my hand againſt my heart to ſtray:
Which if ye pleaſe forgiue, I will therefore
Yeeld for amends my ſelfe yours euermore,
Or what ſo penaunce ſhall by you be red.
To whom the Prince; Certes me needeth more
To craue the ſame, whom errour ſo miſled,
As that I did miſtake the liuing for the ded.
But ſith ye pleaſe, that both our blames ſhall die,
Amends may for the treſpaſſe ſoone be made,
Since neither is endamadg'd much thereby.
So can they both them ſelues full eath perſwade
To faire accordaunce, and both faults to ſhade,
Either embracing other louingly,
And ſwearing faith to either on his blade,
Neuer thenceforth to nouriſh enmity,
But either others cauſe to maintaine mutually.
Then Artegall gan of the Prince enquire,
What were thoſe knights, which there on groūd were layd,
And had receiu'd their follies worthy hire,
And for what cauſe they chaſed ſo that Mayd.
Certes I wote not well (the Prince then ſayd)
But by aduenture found them faring ſo,
As by the way vnweetingly 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 then nie,
And asked her, what were thoſe two her fone,
From whom ſhe earſt ſo faſt away did flie;
And what was ſhe her ſelfe ſo woe begone,
And for what cauſe purſu'd of them attone.
To whom ſhe thus; Then wote ye well, that I
Doe ſerue 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 nie.
Her name Mercilla moſt men vſe to call;
That is a mayden Queene of high renowne,
For her great bounty knowen ouer all,
And ſoueraine grace, with which her royall crowne
She doth ſupport, and ſtrongly beateth downe
The malice of her foes, which her enuy,
And at her happineſſe do fret and frowne:
Yet ſhe her ſelfe the more doth magnify,
And euen 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 ſubuert her Crowne and dignity,
And all his powre doth thereunto apply:
And her good Knights, of which ſo braue a band
Serues her, as any Princeſſe vnder sky,
He either ſpoiles, if they againſt him ſtand,
Or to his part allures, and bribeth vnder hand.
Ne him ſufficeth all the wrong and ill,
Which he vnto her people does each day,
But that he ſeekes by traytrous traines to ſpill
Her perſon, and her ſacred ſelfe to ſlay:
That ô ye heauens defend, and turne away
From her, vnto the miſcreant him ſelfe,
That neither hath religion nor fay,
But makes his God of his vngodly pelfe,
And Idols ſerues; ſo let his Idols ſerue the Elfe.
To all which cruell tyranny they ſay,
He is prouokt, and ſtird vp day and night
By his bad wife, that hight Adicia,
Who counſels him through confidence of might,
To breake all bonds of law, and rules of right.
For ſhe her ſelfe profeſſeth mortall foe
To Iuſtice, and againſt her ſtill doth fight,
Working to all, that loue her, deadly woe,
And making all her Knights and people to doe ſo.
Which my liege Lady ſeeing, thought it beſt,
With that his wife in friendly wiſe to deale,
For ſtint of ſtrife, and ſtabliſhment of reſt
Both to her ſelfe, and to her common weale,
And all forepaſt diſpleaſures to repeale.
So me in meſſage vnto 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 haue wont ſafe paſſage to afford
To meſſengers, that come for cauſes iuſt:
But this proude Dame diſdayning all accord,
Not onely into bitter termes forth bruſt,
Reuiling me, and rayling as ſhe Iuſt,
But laſtly to make proofe of vtmoſt ſhame,
Me like a dog ſhe out of dores did thruſt,
Miſcalling me by many a bitter name,
That neuer did her ill, ne once deſerued blame.
And laſtly, that no ſhame might wanting be,
When I was gone, ſoone after me ſhe ſent
Theſe two falſe Knights, whom there ye lying ſee,
To be by them diſhonoured and ſhent:
But thankt be God, and your good hardiment,
They haue the price of their owne folly payd.
So ſaid this Damzell, that hight Samient,
And to thoſe knights, for their ſo noble ayd,
Her ſelfe moſt gratefull ſhew'd, & heaped thanks repayd.
But they now hauing throughly heard, and ſeene
Al thoſe great wrongs, the which that mayd complained.
To haue bene done againſt her Lady Queene,
By that proud dame, which her ſo much diſdained,
Were moued much thereat, and twixt them fained,
With all their force to worke auengement ſtrong
Vppon the Souldanſelfe, which it mayntained,
And on his Lady, th'author of that wrong,
And vppon all thoſe Knights, that did to her belong.
But thinking beſt by counterfet diſguiſe
To their deſeigne to make the eaſier way,
They did this complot twixt them ſelues deuiſe,
Firſt that ſir Artegall ſhould him array,
Like one of thoſe two Knights, which dead there lay.
And then that Damzell, the ſad Samient,
Should as his purchaſt prize with him conuay
Vnto the Souldans court, her to preſent
Vnto his ſcornefull Lady, that for her had ſent.
So as they had deuiz'd, ſir Artegall
Him clad in th'armour of a Pagan knight,
And taking with him, as his vanquiſht thrall,
That Damzell, led her to the Souldans right.
Where ſoone as his proud wife of her had ſight,
Forth of her window as ſhe looking lay,
She weened ſtreight, it was her Paynim Knight,
Which 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,
Offred his ſeruice to diſarme the Knight;
But he refuſing him to let vnlace,
For doubt to be diſcouered by his ſight,
Kept himſelfe ſtill in his ſtraunge armour dight.
Soone after whom the Prince arriued there,
And ſending to the Souldan in deſpight
A bold defyance, did of him requere
That Damzell, whom he held as wrongfull priſonere.
Wherewith the Souldan all with furie fraught,
Swearing, and banning moſt blaſphemouſly,
Commaunded ſtraight his armour to be brought,
And mounting ſtraight vpon a charret hye,
With yron wheeles and hookes arm'd dreadfully,
And drawne of cruell ſteedes, which he had fed
With fleſh of men, whom through fell tyranny
He ſlaughtred had, and ere they were halfe ded,
Their bodies to his beaſts for prouender did ſpred.
So forth he came all in a cote of plate,
Burniſht with bloudie ruſt, whiles on the greene
The Briton Prince him readie did awayte,
In gliſtering armes right goodly well beſeene,
That ſhone as bright, as doth the heauen ſheene;
And by his ſtirrup Talus did attend,
Playing his pages part, as he had beene
Before directed by his Lord; to th'end
He ſhould his flale to finall execution bend.
Thus goe they both together to their geare,
With like fierce minds, but meanings different:
For the proud Souldan with preſumpteous cheare,
And countenance ſublime and inſolent,
Sought onely ſlaughter and auengement:
But the braue 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
Vnto his horſes gaue his gueſts for meat,
Till he himſelfe was made their greedie pray,
And torne in peeces by Alcides great.
So thought the Souldan in his follies threat,
Either the Prince in peeces to haue torne
With his ſharpe wheeles, in his firſt rages heat,
Or vnder his fierce horſes feet haue borne
And trampled downe in duſt his thoughts diſdained ſcorne.
But the bold child that perill well eſpying,
If he too raſhly to his charet drew,
Gaue way vnto his horſes ſpeedie flying,
And their reſiſtleſſe rigour did eſchew.
Yet as he paſſed by, the Pagan threw
A ſhiuering dart with ſo impetuous force,
That had he not it ſhun'd with heedfull vew,
It had himſelfe transfixed, or his horſe,
Or made them both one maſſe withouten more remorſe.
Oft drew the Prince vnto his charret nigh,
In hope ſome ſtroke to faſten on him neare;
But he was mounted in his ſeat ſo high,
And his wingfooted courſers him did beare
So faſt away, that ere his readie ſpeare
He could aduance, he farre was gone and paſt.
Yet ſtill he him did follow euery where,
And followed was of him likewiſe full faſt;
So long as in his ſteedes the flaming breath did laſt.
Againe the Pagan threw another dart,
Of which he had with him abundant ſtore,
On euery ſide of his embatteld cart,
And of all other weapons leſſe or more,
Which warlike vſes had deuiz'd of yore.
The wicked ſhaft guyded through th'ayrie wyde,
By ſome bad ſpirit, that it to miſchiefe bore,
Stayd not, till through his curat it did glyde,
And made a grieſly wound in his enriuen ſide.
Much was he grieued with that hapleſſe throe,
That opened had the welſpring of his blood;
But much the more that to his hatefull foe
He mote not come, to wreake his wrathfull mood.
That made him raue, like to a Lyon wood,
Which being wounded of the huntſmans hand
Can not come neare him in the couert 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 vnto him ny,
His charret wheeles 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 chace,
That his good ſteed, all were he much renound
For noble courage, and for hardie race,
Durſt not endure their ſight, but fled from place to place.
Thus long they traſt, and trauerſt to and fro,
Seeking by euery way to make ſome breach,
Yet could the Prince not nigh vnto him goe,
That one ſure ſtroke he might vnto him reach,
Whereby his ſtrengthes aſſay he might him teach.
At laſt from his victorious ſhield he drew
The vaile, which did his powrefull light empeach;
And comming full before his horſes vew,
As they vpon him preſt, it plaine to them did ſhew.
Like lightening flaſh, that hath the gazet burned,
So did the ſight thereof their ſenſe diſmay,
That backe againe vpon themſelues they turned,
And with their ryder ranne perforce away:
Ne could the Souldan them from flying ſtay,
With raynes, or wonted rule, as well he knew.
Nought feared they, what he could do, or ſay,
But th'onely feare, that was before their vew;
From which like mazed deare, diſmayfully they flew.
Faſt did they fly, as them their feete could beare,
High ouer hilles, and lowly ouer dales,
As they were follow'd of their former feare.
In vaine the Pagan bannes, and ſweares, and rayles,
And backe with both his hands vnto him hayles
The reſty raynes, regarded now no more:
He to them calles and ſpeakes, yet nought auayles;
They heare him not, they haue forgot his lore,
But go, which way they liſt, their guide they haue forlore.
As when the firie-mouthed ſteeds, which drew
The Sunnes bright wayne to Phaetons decay,
Soone as they did the monſtrous Scorpion vew,
With vgly craples crawling in their way,
The dreadfull ſight did them ſo ſore affray,
That their well knowne courſes they forwent,
And leading th'euer-burning lampe aſtray,
This lower world nigh all to aſhes brent,
And left their ſcorched path yet in the firmament.
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 draw
The yron charet, and the wheeles did teare,
And toſt the Paynim, without feare or awe;
From ſide to ſide they toſt him here and there,
Crying to them in vaine, 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 haue all ouerthrowne to ground
Quite topſide turuey, and the pagan hound
Amongſt the yron hookes and graples 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 vpon the greene.
Like as the curſed ſonne of Theſeus,
That following his chace in dewy morne,
To fly his ſtepdames loues 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 wooddy Nymphes did wayle and mourne.
So was this Souldan rapt and all to rent,
That of his ſhape appear'd no litle moniment.
Onely his ſhield and armour, which there lay,
Though nothing whole, but all to bruſd and broken,
He vp did take, and with him brought away,
That mote remaine for an eternall token
To all, mongſt whom this ſtorie ſhould be ſpoken,
How worthily, by heauens high decree,
Iuſtice that day of wrong her ſelfe had wroken,
That all men which that ſpectacle did ſee,
By like enſample mote for euer warned bee.
So on a tree, before the Tyrants dore,
He cauſed them be hung in all mens ſight,
To be a moniment for euermore.
Which when his Ladie from the caſtles hight
Beheld, it much appald her troubled ſpright:
Yet not, as women wont in dolefull fit,
She was diſmayd, or faynted through affright,
But gathered vnto her her troubled wit,
And gan eftſoones deuize to be aueng'd for it.
Streight downe ſhe ranne, like an enraged cow,
That is berobbed of her youngling dere,
With knife in hand, and fatally did vow,
To wreake her on that mayden meſſengere,
Whom ſhe had cauſd be kept as priſonere,
By Artegall, 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 reuenge and furious deſpight.
Like raging Ino, when with knife in hand
She threw her husbands murdred infant out,
Or fell Medea, 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 teare.
Yet neither Ino, nor Medea ſtout,
Nor all the Moenades ſo furious were,
As this bold woman, when ſhe ſaw that Damzell there.
But Artegall being thereof aware,
Did ſtay her cruell hand, ere ſhe her raught,
And as ſhe did her ſelfe 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 rage her bore,
With franticke paſſion, and with furie fraught;
And breaking forth out at a poſterne dore,
Vnto the wyld wood ranne, her dolours to deplore.
As a mad bytch, when as the franticke fit
Her burning tongue with rage inflamed hath,
Doth runne at randon, and with furious bit
Snatching at euery thing, doth wreake her wrath
On man and beaſt, that commeth in her path.
There they doe ſay, that ſhe transformed was
Into a Tygre, and that Tygres ſcath
In crueltie and outrage ſhe did pas,
To proue her ſurname true, that ſhe impoſed has.
Then Artegall himſelfe diſcouering plaine,
Did iſſue forth gainſt all that 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 ouercame.
Then cauſed he the gates be opened wyde,
And there the Prince, as victour of that day,
With tryumph entertayn'd 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 hauing ſtayd not long,
Marcht with that mayd, fit matter for another ſong.
Cant. 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 ſaluage wight
Is ſo exceeding furious and fell,
As wrong, when it hath arm'd it ſelfe with might?
Not fit mongſt men, that doe with reaſon mell,
But mongſt wyld beaſts and ſaluage woods to dwell;
Where ſtill the ſtronger doth the weake deuoure,
And they that moſt in boldneſſe doe excell,
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 late exyled;
There let her euer keepe her damned den,
Where none may be with her lewd parts defyled,
Nor none but beaſts may be of her deſpoyled:
And turne we to the noble Prince, where late
We did him leaue, after that he had foyled
The cruell Souldan, and with dreadfull fate
Had vtterly ſubuerted his vnrighteous ſtate.
Where hauing with Sir Artegall a ſpace
Well ſolaſt in that Souldans late delight,
They both reſoluing now to leaue the place,
Both it and all the wealth therein behight
Vnto that Damzell in her Ladies right,
And ſo would haue departed on their way.
But ſhe them woo'd by all the meanes ſhe might,
And earneſtly beſought, to wend that day
With her, to ſee her Ladie thence not farre away.
By whoſe entreatie both they ouercommen,
Agree to goe with her, and by the way,
(As often falles) of ſundry things did commen.
Mongſt which that Damzell did to them bewray
A ſtraunge aduenture, 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 countrie there about,
And brought the pillage home, whence none could get it out,
Thereto both his owne wylie wit, (ſhe ſayd)
And eke the faſtneſſe of his dwelling place,
Both vnaſſaylable, gaue him great ayde:
For he ſo crafty was to forge and face,
So light of hand, and nymble of his pace,
So ſmooth of tongue, and ſubtile in his tale,
That could deceiue one looking in his face;
Therefore by name Malengin they him call,
Well knowen by his feates, and famous ouer all.
Through theſe his ſlights he many doth confound,
And eke the rocke, in which he wonts to dwell,
Is wondrous ſtrong, and hewen farre vnder ground
A dreadfull depth, how deepe no man can tell;
But ſome doe ſay, it goeth downe to hell.
And all within, it full of wyndings is,
And hidden wayes, that ſcarſe an hound by ſmell
Can follow out thoſe falſe footſteps of his,
Ne none can backe returne, that once are gone amis.
Which when thoſe knights had heard, their harts gan earne,
To vnderſtand that villeins dwelling place,
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 preſence by you ment,
I would you guyde directly to the place.
Then let not that (ſaid they) ſtay your intent;
For neither will one foot, till we that carle haue hent.
So forth they paſt, till they approched ny
Vnto the rocke, where was the villains won,
Which when the Damzell neare at hand did ſpy,
She warn'd the knights thereof: who thereupon
Gan to aduize, what beſt were to be done.
So both agreed, to ſend that mayd afore,
Where ſhe might ſit nigh to the den alone,
Wayling, and rayſing pittifull vprore,
As if ſhe did ſome great calamitie deplore.
With noyſe whereof when as the caytiue 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, as ſhe was directed,
Vnto the rocke, and there vpon the ſoyle
Hauing her ſelfe in wretched wize abiected,
Gan weepe and wayle, as if great griefe had her affected.
The cry whereof entring the hollow caue,
Eftſoones brought forth the villaine, as they ment,
With hope of her ſome wiſhfull boot to haue.
Full dreadfull wight he was, as euer went
Vpon the earth, with hollow eyes deepe pent,
And long curld locks, that downe his ſhoulders ſhagged,
And on his backe an vncouth veſtiment
Made of ſtraunge ſtuffe, but all to worne and ragged,
And vnderneath his breech was all to torne and iagged.
And in his hand an huge long ſtaffe he held,
Whoſe top was arm'd with many an yron hooke,
Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld,
Or in the compaſſe of his clouches tooke;
And euer round about he caſt his looke.
Als at his backe a great wyde net he bore,
With which he ſeldome fiſhed at the brooke,
But vſd to fiſh for fooles on the dry ſhore,
Of which he in faire weather wont to take great ſtore.
Him when the damzell ſaw faſt by her ſide,
So vgly creature, ſhe was nigh diſmayd,
And now for helpe aloud in earneſt cride.
But when the villaine ſaw her ſo affrayd,
He gan with guilefull words her to perſwade,
To baniſh feare, and with Sardonian ſmyle
Laughing on her, his falſe intent to ſhade,
Gan forth to lay his bayte her to beguyle,
That from her ſelf vnwares he might her ſteale the whyle.
Like as the fouler on his guilefull pype
Charmes to the birds full many a pleaſant lay,
That they the whiles may take leſſe heedie keepe,
How he his nets doth for their ruine lay:
So did the villaine to her prate and play,
And many pleaſant trickes before her ſhow,
To turne her eyes from his intent away:
For he in ſlights and iugling feates did flow,
And of legierdemayne the myſteries did know.
To which whileſt ſhe lent her intentiue mind,
He ſuddenly his net vpon her threw,
That ouerſprad her like a puffe of wind;
And ſnatching her ſoone vp, ere well ſhe knew,
Ran with her faſt away vnto his mew,
Crying for helpe aloud. But when as ny
He came vnto his caue, and there did vew
The armed knights ſtopping his paſſage by,
He threw his burden downe, and faſt away did fly.
But Artegall him after did purſew,
The whiles the Prince there kept the entrance ſtill:
Vp to the rocke he ran, and thereon flew
Like a wyld Gote, leaping from hill to hill,
And dauncing on the craggy cliffes at will;
That deadly daunger ſeem'd in all mens ſight,
To tempt ſuch ſteps, where footing was ſo ill:
Ne ought auayled for the armed knight,
To thinke to follow him, that was ſo ſwift and light.
Which when he ſaw, his yron man he ſent,
To follow him; for he was ſwift in chace.
He him purſewd, where euer that he went,
Both ouer rockes, and hilles, and euery place,
Where ſo he fled, he followd him apace:
So that he ſhortly forſt him to forſake
The hight, and downe deſcend vnto the baſe.
There he him courſt a freſh, and ſoone did make
To leaue his proper forme, and other ſhape to take.
Into a Foxe himſelfe he firſt did tourne;
But he him hunted like a Foxe full faſt:
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 vpon the land,
But he then tooke it vp, and held faſt in his hand.
So he it brought with him vnto the knights,
And to his Lord Sir Artegall it lent,
Warning him hold it faſt, for feare of ſlights.
Who whileſt in hand it gryping hart he hent,
Into a Hedgehogge all vnwares it went,
And prickt him ſo, that he away it threw.
Then gan it runne away incontinent,
Being returned to his former hew:
But Talus ſoone him ouertooke, and backward drew.
But when as he would to a ſnake againe
Haue turn'd himſelfe, he with his yron flayle
Gan driue at him, with ſo huge might and maine,
That 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 deceiuer fayle,
There they him left a carrion outcaſt;
For beaſts and foules to feede vpon 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, arriu'd ye bee
Nigh to the place, which ye deſir'd to ſee:
There ſhall ye ſee my ſouerayne Lady Queene
Moſt ſacred wight, moſt debonayre and free,
That euer yet vpon this earth was ſeene,
Or that with Diademe hath euer crowned beene.
The gentle knights reioyced much to heare
The prayſes 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 hye,
And all their tops bright glittering with gold,
That ſeemed to out ſhine the dimmed skye,
And with their brightneſſe daz'd the ſtraunge beholders eye.
There they alighting, by that Damzell were
Directed in, and ſhewed all the ſight:
Whoſe porch, 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 gyantlike reſemblance,
To keepe out guyle, and malice, and deſpight,
That vnder ſhew oftimes of fayned ſemblance,
Are wont in Princes courts to worke great ſcath and hindrance.
His name was Awe; by whom they paſſing in
Went vp the hall, that was a large wyde roome,
All full of people making troublous din,
And wondrous noyſe, as if that there were ſome,
Which vnto them was dealing righteous doome.
By whom they paſſing, through the thickeſt preaſſe,
The marſhall of the hall to them did come;
His name hight Order, who commaunding peace,
Them guyded through the throng, that did their clamors ceaſſe.
They ceaſt their clamors vpon them to gaze;
Whom ſeeing all in armour bright as day,
Straunge there to ſee, it did them much amaze,
And with vnwonted terror halfe affray.
For neuer ſaw they there the like array.
Ne euer was the name of warre there ſpoken,
But ioyous peace and quietneſſe alway,
Dealing iuſt iudgements, that mote not be broken
For any 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 vyle
Nayld to a poſt, adiudged ſo by law:
For that therewith he falſely did reuyle,
And foule blaſpheme 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.
Thus there he ſtood, whyleſt high ouer his head,
There written was the purport of his ſin,
In cyphers ſtrange, that few could rightly read,
BON FONS: but bon that once had written bin,
Was raced out, and Mal was now put in.
So now Malfont was plainely to be red;
Eyther for th'euill, which he did therein,
Or that he likened was to a welhed
Of euill words, and wicked ſclaunders by him ſhed.
They paſſing by, were guyded by degree
Vnto the preſence of that gratious Queene:
Who ſate on high, that ſhe might all men ſee,
And might of all men royally be ſeene,
Vpon a throne of gold full bright and ſheene,
Adorned all with gemmes of endleſſe price,
As either might for wealth haue gotten bene,
Or could be fram'd by workmans rare deuice;
And all emboſt with Lyons and with Flourdelice.
All ouer her a cloth of ſtate was ſpred,
Not of rich tiſſew, nor of cloth of gold,
Nor of ought elſe, that may be richeſt red,
But like a cloud, as likeſt may be told,
That her brode ſpreading wings did wyde vnfold;
Whoſe skirts were bordred with bright ſunny beams,
Gliſtring like gold, amongſt the plights enrold,
And here and there ſhooting forth ſiluer ſtreames,
Mongſt which crept litle Angels through the glittering gleames.
Seemed thoſe litle Angels did vphold
The cloth of ſtate, and on their purpled wings
Did beare the pendants, through their nimbleſſe bold:
Beſides a thouſand more of ſuch, as ſings
Hymnes to high God, and carols heauenly things,
Encompaſſed the throne, on which ſhe ſate:
She Angel-like, the heyre of ancient kings
And mightie Conquerors, in royall ſtate,
Whyleſt kings and keſars at her feet did them proſtrate.
Thus ſhe did fit in ſouerayne Maieſtie,
Holding a Scepter in her royall hand,
The ſacred pledge of peace and clemencie,
With which high God had bleſt her happie land,
Maugre ſo many foes, which did withſtand.
But at her feet her ſword was likewiſe layde,
Whoſe long reſt ruſted the bright ſteely brand;
Yet when as foes enforſt, or friends ſought ayde,
She could it ſternely draw, that all the world diſmayde.
And round about, before her feet there ſate
A beuie of faire Virgins clad in white,
That goodly ſeem'd t'adorne her royall ſtate,
All louely daughters of high Ioue, that hight,
Litae by him begot in loues delight,
Vpon the righteous Themis: thoſe they ſay
Vpon Ioues iudgement ſeat wayt day and night,
And when in wrath he threats the worlds decay,
They doe his anger calme, and cruell vengeance ſtay.
They alſo doe by his diuine permiſſion
Vpon the thrones of mortall Princes tend,
And often treat for pardon and remiſſion
To ſuppliants, through frayltie which offend.
Thoſe did vpon Mercillaes throne attend:
Iuſt Dice, wiſe Eunomie, myld Eirene,
And them amongſt, her glorie to commend,
Sate goodly Temperance in garments clene,
And ſacred Reuerence, yborne of heauenly ſtrene.
Thus did ſhe ſit in royall rich eſtate,
Admyr'd of many, honoured of all,
Whyleſt vnderneath her feete, there as ſhe ſate,
An huge great Lyon lay, that mote appall
An hardie courage, like captiued thrall,
With a ſtrong yron chaine and coller bound,
That once he could not moue, nor quich at all;
Yet did he murmure with rebellions ſound,
And ſoftly royne, when ſaluage choler gan redound.
So ſitting high in dreaded ſouerayntie,
Thoſe two ſtrange knights were to her preſence brought;
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 his fierie teme
Towards the weſterne brim begins to draw,
Gins to abate the brightneſſe of his beme,
And feruour 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,
That whylome wont to doe ſo many quake,
And with more myld aſpect thoſe two to entertake.
Now at that inſtant, as occaſion fell,
When theſe two ſtranger knights arriu'd in place,
She was about affaires of common wele,
Dealing of Iuſtice with indifferent grace,
And hearing pleas of people meane and baſe.
Mongſt which as then, there was for to be heard
The tryall of a great and weightie caſe,
Which on both ſides was then debating hard:
But at the ſight of theſe, thoſe were a while debard.
But after all her princely entertayne,
To th'hearing of that former cauſe in hand,
Her ſelfe eftſoones ſhe gan conuert againe;
Which that thoſe knights likewiſe mote vnderſtand,
And witneſſe forth aright in forrain land,
Taking them vp vnto her ſtately throne,
Where they mote heare the matter throughly ſcand
On either part, ſhe placed th'one on th'one,
The other on the other ſide, and neare them none.
Then was there brought, as priſoner to the barre,
A Ladie of great countenance and place,
But that ſhe it with foule abuſe did marre;
Yet did appeare rare beautie in her face,
But blotted with condition vile and baſe,
That all her other honour did obſcure,
And titles of nobilitie deface:
Yet in that wretched ſemblant, ſhe did ſure
The peoples great compaſſion vnto her allure.
Then vp aroſe a perſon of deepe reach,
And rare in-ſight, hard matters to reuele;
That well could charme his tongue, & time his ſpeach
To all aſſayes; his name was called Zele:
He gan that Ladie ſtrongly to appele
Of many haynous crymes, by her enured,
And with ſharpe reaſons rang her ſuch a pele,
That thoſe, whom ſhe to pitie had allured,
He now t'abhorre and loath her perſon had procured.
Firſt gan he tell, how this that ſeem'd ſo faire
And royally arayd, Dueſſa hight
That falſe Dueſſa, which had wrought great care,
And mickle miſchiefe vnto many a knight,
By her beguyled, and confounded quight:
But not for thoſe ſhe now in queſtion came,
Though alſo thoſe mote queſtion'd be aright,
But for vyld treaſons, and outrageous ſhame,
Which ſhe againſt the dred Mercilla oft did frame.
For ſhe whylome (as ye mote yet right well
Remember) had her counſels falſe conſpyred,
With faithleſſe Blandamour and Paridell,
(Both two her paramours, both by her hyred,
And both with hope of ſhadowes vaine inſpyred.)
And with them practiz'd, how for to depryue
Mercilla of her crowne, by her aſpyred,
That ſhe might it vnto her ſelfe deryue,
And tryumph in their blood, whō ſhe to death did dryue.
But through high heauens grace, which fauour not
The wicked driftes of trayterous deſynes,
Gainſt loiall Princes, all this curſed plot,
Ere proofe it tooke, diſcouered was betymes,
And th'actours won the meede meet for their crymes.
Such be the meede of all, that by ſuch mene
Vnto the type of kingdomes title clymes.
But falſe Dueſſa now vntitled Queene,
Was brought to her ſad doome, as here was to be ſeene.
Strongly did Zele her haynous fact enforce,
And many other crimes of foule defame
Againſt her brought, to baniſh all remorſe,
And aggrauate the horror of her blame.
And with him to make part againſt her, came
Many graue perſons, that againſt her pled;
Firſt was a ſage old Syre, that had to name
The Kingdomes care, with a white ſiluer hed,
That many high regards and reaſons gainſt her red.
Then gan Authority her to appoſe
With peremptorie powre, that made all mute;
And then the law of Nations gainſt her roſe,
And reaſons brought, that no man could refute;
Next gan Religion gainſt her to impute
High Gods beheaſt, and powre of holy lawes;
Then gan the Peoples cry and Commons ſute,
Importune care of their owne publicke cauſe;
And laſtly Iuſtice charged her with breach of lawes.
But then for her, on the contrarie part,
Roſe many aduocates for her to plead:
Firſt: there came Pittie, with full tender hart,
And with her ioyn'd Regard of womanhead;
And then came Daunger threatning hidden dread,
And high alliance vnto forren powre;
Then came Nobilitie of birth, that bread
Great ruth through her misfortunes tragicke ſtowre;
And laſtly Griefe did plead, & many teares forth powre.
With the neare touch whereof in tender hart
The Briton Prince was ſore empaſſionate,
And woxe inclined much vnto her part,
Through the ſad terror of ſo dreadfull fate,
And wretched ruine of ſo high eſtate,
That for great ruth his courage gan relent.
Which when as Zele perceiued to abate,
He gan his earneſt feruour to augment,
And many fearefull obiects to them to preſent.
He gan t'efforce the euidence 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 priuie was, and partie in the caſe:
She, glad of ſpoyle 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 dropping freſh in hand did her detect,
And there with guiltie bloudſhed charged ryfe:
Then brought he forth Sedition, breeding ſtryfe
In troublous wits, and mutinous vprore:
Then brought he forth Incontinence of lyfe,
Euen foule Adulterie her face before,
And lewd Impietie, that her accuſed ſore.
All which when as the Prince had heard and ſeene,
His former fancies ruth he gan repent,
And from her partie eftſoones was drawen 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 vrge her puniſhment,
And to their Queene for iudgement loudly call,
Vnto Mercilla myld for Iuſtice gainſt the thrall.
But ſhe, whoſe Princely breaſt was touched nere
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 rather let in ſtead thereof to fall
Few perling drops from her faire lampes of light;
The which ſhe couering with her purple pall
Would haue the paſſion hid, and vp aroſe withall.
Cant. X.
Prince Arthur takes the enterprize
for Belgee for to fight,
Gerioneos Seneſchall
he ſlayes in Belges right.
SOme Clarkes doe doubt in their deuicefull art,
Whether this heauenly thing, whereof I treat,
To weeten Mercie be of Iuſtice part,
Or drawne forth from her by diuine extreate.
This well I wote, that ſure ſhe is as great,
And meriteth to haue as high a place,
Sith in th'Almighties euerlaſting ſeat
She firſt was bred, and borne of heauenly race;
From thence pour'd down on men, by influence of grace.
For if that Vertue be of ſo great might,
Which from iuſt verdict will for nothing ſtart,
But to preſerue inuiolated right,
Oft ſpilles the principall, to ſaue the part;
So much more then is that of powre and art,
That ſeekes to ſaue the ſubiect of her skill,
Yet neuer doth from doome of right depart:
As it is greater prayſe to ſaue, then ſpill,
And better to reforme, then to cut off the ill.
Who then can thee, Mercilla, throughly prayſe,
That herein doeſt all earthly Princes pas?
What heauenly Muſe ſhall thy great honour rayſe
Vp to the skies, whence firſt deriu'd it was,
And now on earth it ſelfe enlarged has,
From th'vtmoſt brinke of the Armericke ſhore,
Vnto the margent of the Molucas?
Thoſe Nations farre thy iuſtice doe adore:
But thine owne people do thy mercy prayſe much more.
Much more it prayſed was of thoſe two knights;
The noble Prince, and righteous Artegall,
When they had ſeene and heard her doome a rights
Againſt Dueſſa, damned by them all;
But by her tempred without griefe or gall,
Till ſtrong conſtraint did her thereto enforce.
And yet euen then ruing her wilfull fall,
With more then needfull naturall remorſe,
And yeelding the laſt honour to her wretched corſe.
During all which, thoſe knights continu'd there,
Both doing and receiuing curteſies,
Of that great Ladie, who with goodly chere
Them entertayn'd, fit for their dignities,
Approuing dayly to their noble eyes
Royall examples of her mercies rare,
And worthie paterns of her clemencies;
Which till this day mongſt many liuing are,
Who them to their poſterities doe ſtill declare.
Amongſt the reſt, which in that ſpace befell,
There came two Springals of full tender yeares,
Farre thence from forrein land, where they did dwell,
To ſeeke for ſuccour of her and of her Peares,
With humble prayers and intreatfull teares;
Sent by their mother, who a widow was,
Wrapt in great dolours and in deadly feares,
By a ſtrong Tyrant, who inuaded has
Her land, and ſlaine her children ruefully alas.
Her name was Belgae, who in former age
A Ladie of great worth and wealth had beene,
And mother of a frutefull heritage,
Euen ſeuenteene goodly ſonnes; which who had ſeene
In their firſt flowre, before this fatall teene
Them ouertooke, 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 fiue of all that brood:
For twelue of them he did by times deuoure,
And to his Idols ſacrifice their blood,
Whyleſt he of none was ſtopped, nor withſtood.
For ſoothly he was one of matchleſſe might,
Of horrible aſpect, and dreadfull mood,
And had three bodies in one waſt empight,
And th'armes and legs of three, to ſuccour him in fight.
And ſooth they ſay, that he was borne and bred
Of Gyants 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 combynd;
And eke all ſtrangers in that region
Arryuing, to his kyne for food aſſynd;
The fayreſt kyne aliue, but of the fierceſt kynd.
For they were all, they ſay, of purple hew,
Kept by a cowheard, hight Eurytion,
A cruell carle, the which all ſtrangers ſlew,
Ne day nor night did ſleepe, t'attend them on,
But walkt about them euer and anone,
With his two headed dogge, that Orthrus hight;
Orthrus begotten by great Typhaon,
And foule Echidna, in the houſe of night;
But Hercules them all did ouercome in fight.
His ſonne was this, Geryoneo hight;
Who after that his monſtrous father fell
Vnder Alcides club, ſtreight tooke his flight
From that ſad land, where he his ſyre did quell,
And came to this, where Belge then did dwell,
And flouriſh in all wealth and happineſſe,
Being then new made widow (as befell)
After her Noble husbands late deceſſe;
Which gaue beginning to her woe and wretchedneſſe.
Then this bold Tyrant, of her widowhed
Taking aduantage, and her yet freſh woes,
Himſelfe and ſeruice 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 vſd with carefull diligence,
The better to confirme her feareleſſe confidence.
By meanes whereof, ſhe did at laſt commit
All to his hands, and gaue him ſoueraine powre
To doe, what euer he thought good or fit.
Which hauing got, he gan forth from that howre
To ſtirre vp ſtrife, and many a Tragicke ſtowre,
Giuing her deareſt children one by one
Vnto a dreadfull Monſter to deuoure,
And ſetting vp an Idole of his owne,
The image of his monſtrous parent Geryone.
So tyrannizing, and oppreſſing all,
The woefull widow had no meanes now left,
But vnto gratious great Mercilla call
For ayde, againſt that cruell Tyrants theft,
Ere all her 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 which then fortuned to bee
The noble Briton Prince, with his braue Peare;
Who when he none of all thoſe knights did ſee
Haſtily bent, that enterpriſe to heare,
Nor vndertake the ſame, for cowheard feare,
He ſtepped forth with courage bold and great,
Admyr'd of all the reſt in preſence there,
And humbly gan that mightie Queene entreat,
To graunt him that aduenture for his former feat.
She gladly graunted it: then he ſtraight way
Himſelfe vnto his iourney gan prepare,
And all his armours readie dight that day,
That nought the morrow next mote ſtay his fare.
The morrow next appear'd, with purple hayre
Yet dropping freſh out of the Indian fount,
And bringing light into the heauens fayre,
When he was readie to his ſteede to mount;
Vnto his way, which now was all his care and count.
Then taking humble leaue of that great Queene,
Who gaue him roiall giftes and riches rare,
As tokens of her thankefull mind beſeene,
And leauing Artegall to his owne care;
Vpon his voyage forth he gan to fare,
With thoſe two gentle youthes, which him did guide,
And all his way before him ſtill prepare.
Ne after him did Artigall abide,
But on his firſt aduenture forward forth did ride.
It was not long, till that the Prince arriued
Within the land, where dwelt that Ladie ſad,
Whereof that Tyrant had her now depriued,
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,
That to thoſe fennes for faſtneſſe ſhe did fly,
And there her ſelfe did hyde from his hard tyranny.
There he her found in ſorrow and diſmay,
All ſolitarie without liuing wight;
For all her other children, through affray,
Had hid themſelues, or taken further flight:
And eke her ſelfe 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 vp ioyfully:
For well ſhe wiſt this knight came, ſuccour to ſupply.
And running vnto them with greedy ioyes,
Fell ſtraight about their neckes, as they did kneele,
And burſting forth in teares; Ah my ſweet boyes,
(Sayd ſhe) yet now I gin new life to feele,
And feeble ſpirits, that gan faint and reele,
Now riſe againe, at this your ioyous ſight.
Alreadie ſeemes that fortunes headlong wheele
Begins to turne, and ſunne to ſhine more bright,
Then it was wont, through comfort of this noble knight.
Then turning vnto him; And you Sir knight
(Said ſhe) that taken haue this toyleſome paine
For wretched woman, miſerable wight,
May you in heauen immortall guerdon gaine
For ſo great trauell, 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 lingring death, then loathed life to bee.
Much was he moued with her piteous plight,
And low diſmounting from his loftie ſteede,
Gan to recomfort her all that he might,
Seeking to driue away deepe rooted dreede,
With hope of helpe in that her greateſt neede.
So thence he wiſhed her with him to wend,
Vnto ſome place, where they mote reſt and feede,
And ſhe take comfort, which God now did ſend:
Good hart in euils doth the euils much amend.
Ay me (ſayd ſhe) and whether ſhall I goe?
Are not all places full of forraine powres?
My pallaces poſſeſſed of my foe,
My cities ſackt, and their sky-threating towres
Raced, and made ſmooth fields now full of flowres?
Onely theſe mariſhes, and myrie bogs,
In which the fearefull ewftes do build their bowres,
Yeeld me an hoſtry mongſt the croking frogs,
And harbour here in ſafety from thoſe rauenous dogs.
Nathleſſe (ſaid he) deare Ladie with me goe,
Some place ſhall vs receiue, and harbour yield;
If not, we will it force, maugre your foe,
And purchaſe it to vs with ſpeare and ſhield:
And if all fayle, yet farewell open field:
The earth to all her creatures lodging lends.
With ſuch his chearefull ſpeaches he doth wield
Her mind ſo well, that to his will ſhe bends
And bynding vp her locks and weeds, forth with him wends.
They came vnto a Citie farre vp land,
The which whylome that Ladies owne had bene;
But now by force extort out of her hand,
By her ſtrong foe, who had defaced cleene
Her ſtately towres, and buildings ſunny ſheene;
Shut vp her hauen, mard her marchants trade,
Robbed her people, that full rich had beene,
And in her necke a Caſtle huge had made,
The which did her cōmaund, without needing perſwade.
That Caſtle was the ſtrength of all that ſtate,
Vntill that ſtate by ſtrength was pulled downe,
And that 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 heauens liſt to lowre
Vpon their bliſſe, and balefull fortune frowne.
When thoſe gainſt ſtates and kingdomes do coniure,
Who then can thinke their hedlong ruine to recure.
But he had brought it now in ſeruile bond,
And made it beare the yoke of inquiſition,
Stryuing 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 lawes and orders new
Impoſd on it, with many a hard condition,
And forced it, the honour that is dew
To God, to doe vnto his Idole moſt vntrew.
To him he hath, before this Caſtle greene,
Built a faire Chappell, and an Altar framed
Of coſtly Iuory, full rich beſeene,
On which that curſed Idole farre proclamed,
He hath ſet vp, and him his God hath named,
Offring to him in ſinfull ſacrifice
The fleſh of men, to Gods 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,
Vnder that curſed Idols altar ſtone;
An hideous monſter doth in darkneſſe lie,
Whoſe dreadfull ſhape was neuer ſeene of none
That liues on earth; but vnto thoſe alone
The which vnto him ſacrificed bee.
Thoſe he deuoures, they ſay, both fleſh and bone:
What elſe they haue, 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 euery one,
And vanquiſhed all ventrous knights in fight;
To whom he wont ſhew all the ſhame he might,
After that them in battell he had wonne.
To which when now they gan approch in ſight,
The Ladie counſeld him the place to ſhonne,
Whereas ſo many knights had fouly bene fordonne.
Her fearefull ſpeaches nought he did regard,
But ryding ſtreight vnder the Caſtle wall,
Called aloud vnto the watchfull ward,
Which there did wayte, willing them forth to call
Into the field their Tyrants Seneſchall.
To whom 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 fight.
They both encounter in the middle plaine,
And their ſharpe ſpeares doe both together ſmite
Amid their ſhields, with ſo huge might and maine,
That ſeem'd their ſoules they wold haue ryuen quight
Out of their breaſts, with furious deſpight.
Yet could the Seneſchals no entrance find
Into the Princes ſhield, where it empight;
So pure the mettall was, and well refynd,
But ſhiuered 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:
Which tombling downe vpon the ſenſeleſſe ground,
Gaue leaue vnto his ghoſt from thraldome bound,
To wander in the grieſly ſhades of night.
There did the Prince him leaue in deadly ſwound,
And thence vnto the caſtle marched right,
To ſee if entrance there as yet obtaine he might.
But as he nigher drew, three knights he ſpyde,
All arm'd to point, iſſuing forth a pace,
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 Culuerings for battrie bent,
And leueld all againſt one certaine place,
Doe all attonce their thunders rage forth rent,
That makes the wals to ſtagger with aſtoniſhment.
So all attonce they on the Prince did thonder;
Who from his ſaddle ſwarued nought aſyde,
Ne to their force gaue way, that was great wonder,
But like a bulwarke, firmely did abyde,
Rebutting him, which in the midſt did ryde,
With ſo huge rigour, that his mortall ſpeare
Paſt through his ſhield, & pierſt through either ſyde,
That downe he fell vppon his mother deare,
And 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 aueng'd of their vnknightly play.
There whileſt they entring, th'one did th'other ſtay,
The hindmoſt in the gate he ouerhent,
And as he preſſed in, him there did ſlay:
His carkaſſe tumbling on the threſhold, ſent
His groning ſoule vnto her place of puniſhment.
The other which was entred, laboured faſt
To ſperre the gate; but that ſame lumpe of clay,
Whoſe grudging ghoſt was thereout fled and paſt;
Right in the middeſt of the threſhold lay,
That it the Poſterne did from cloſing ſtay:
The whiles the Prince hard preaſed in betweene,
And entraunce wonne. Streight th'other fled away,
And ran into the Hall, where he did weene
Him ſelfe to ſaue: 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 conuayd out at a Poſterne dore.
Long ſought the Prince, but when he found no more
T'oppoſe againſt his powre, he forth iſſued
Vnto that Lady, where he her had lore,
And her gan cheare, with what ſhe there had vewed,
And what ſhe had not ſeene, within vnto her ſhewed.
Who with right humble thankes him goodly greeting,
For ſo great proweſſe, as he there had proued,
Much greater then was euer in her weeting,
With great admiraunce inwardly was moued,
And honourd him, with all that her behoued.
Thenceforth into that Caſtle he her led,
With her two ſonnes, right deare of her beloued,
Where all that night them ſelues they cheriſhed,
And from her balefull minde all care he baniſhed.
Cant. XI
Prince Arthure ouercomes the great
Gerioneo in fight:
Doth ſlay the Monſter, and reſtore
Belge vnto her right.
IT often fals in courſe of common life,
That right long time is ouerborne of wrong,
Through auarice, or powre, or guile, or ſtrife,
That weakens her, and makes her party ſtrong:
But Iuſtice, though her dome ſhe doe prolong,
Yet at the laſt ſhe will her owne cauſe right.
As by ſad Belge ſeemes, whoſe wrongs though long
She ſuffred, yet at length ſhe did requight,
And ſent redreſſe thereof by this braue Briton Knight.
Whereof when newes was to that Tyrant brought,
How that the Lady Belge now had found
A Champion, that had with his Champion fought,
And laid his Seneſchall low on the ground,
And eke him ſelfe did threaten to confound,
He gan to burne in rage, and frieſe in feare,
Doubting ſad end of principle vnſound:
Yet ſith he heard but one, that did appeare,
He did him ſelfe encourage, and take better cheare.
Natheleſſe him ſelfe he armed all in haſt,
And forth he far'd with all his many bad,
Ne ſtayed ſtep, till that he came at laſt
Vnto the Caſtle, which they conquerd had.
There with huge terrour, to be more ydrad,
He ſternely marcht before the Caſtle gate,
And with bold vaunts, and ydle threatning bad
Deliuer him his owne, ere yet too late,
To which they had no right, nor any wrongfull ſtate.
The Prince ſtaid not his aunſwere to deuize,
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 wrong vnto that wofull Dame
So long had done, and from her natiue land
Exiled her, that all the world ſpake ſhame.
He boldly aunſwerd him, he there did ſtand
That would his doings iuſtifie with his owne hand.
With that ſo furiouſly at him he flew,
As if he would haue ouerrun him ſtreight,
And with his huge great yron axe gan hew
So hideouſly vppon his armour bright,
As he to peeces would haue chopt it quight:
That the bold Prince was forced foote to giue
To his firſt rage, and yeeld to his deſpight;
The whileſt at him ſo dreadfully he driue,
That ſeem'd a marble rocke aſunder could haue riue.
Thereto a great aduauntage eke he has
Through his three double hands thriſe multiplyde,
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
Could wield about, that ere it were eſpide,
The wicked ſtroke did wound his enemy,
Behinde, beſide, before, as he it liſt apply.
Which vncouth vſe when as the Prince perceiued,
He gan to watch the wielding of his hand,
Leaſt by ſuch ſlight he were vnwares deceiued;
And euer ere he ſaw the ſtroke to land,
He would it meete, and warily withſtand.
One time, when he his weapon faynd to ſhift,
As he was wont, and chang'd from hand to hand,
He met him with a counterſtroke ſo ſwift,
That quite ſmit off his arme, as he it vp did lift.
Therewith, all fraught with fury and diſdaine,
He brayd aloud for very fell deſpight,
And ſodainely t'auenge him ſelfe againe,
Gan into one aſſemble all the might
Of all his hands, and heaued them on hight,
Thinking to pay him with that one for all:
But the ſad ſteele ſeizd not, where it was hight,
Vppon the childe, but ſomewhat ſhort did fall,
And lighting on his horſes head, him quite did mall.
Downe ſtreight to ground fell his aſtoniſht ſteed,
And eke to th'earth his burden with him bare:
But he him ſelfe full lightly from him freed,
And gan him ſelfe to fight on foote prepare.
Whereof when as the Gyant was aware,
He wox right blyth, as he had got thereby,
And laught ſo loud, that all his teeth wide bare
One might haue ſeene enraung'd diſorderly,
Like to a rancke of piles, that pitched are awry.
Eftſoones againe his axe he raught on hie,
Ere he were throughly buckled to his geare,
And can let driue at him ſo dreadfullie,
That had he chaunced not his ſhield to reare,
Ere that huge ſtroke arriued on him neare,
He had him ſurely clouen quite in twaine.
But th'Adamantine ſhield, which he did beare,
So well was tempred, that for all his maine,
It would no paſſage yeeld vnto his purpoſe vaine.
Yet was the ſtroke ſo forcibly applide,
That made him ſtagger with vncertaine ſway,
As if he would haue tottered to one ſide.
Wherewith full wroth, he fiercely gan aſſay,
That curt'ſie with like kindneſſe to repay;
And ſmote at him with ſo importune might,
That two more of his armes did fall away,
Like fruitleſſe braunches, which the hatchets ſlight
Hath pruned from the natiue tree, and cropped quight.
With that all mad and furious he grew,
Like a fell maſtiffe through enraging heat,
And curſt, and band, and blaſphemies forth threw,
Againſt his Gods, and fire to them did threat,
And hell vnto him ſelfe with horrour great.
Thenceforth he car'd no more, which way he ſtrooke,
Nor where it light, but gan to chaufe and ſweat,
And gnaſht his teeth, and his head at him ſhooke,
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 ſaue him ſelfe from thoſe his furious heats,
And watch aduauntage, how to worke his care:
The which good Fortune to him offred faire.
For as he in his rage him ouerſtrooke,
He ere he could his weapon backe repaire,
His ſide all bare and naked ouertooke,
And with his mortal ſteel quite throgh the body ſtrooke.
Through all three bodies he him ſtrooke attonce;
That all the three attonce fell on the plaine:
Elſe ſhould he thriſe haue needed, for the nonce
Them to haue ſtricken, and thriſe to haue ſlaine.
So now all three one ſenceleſſe lumpe remaine,
Enwallow'd in his owne blacke bloudy gore,
And byting th'earth for very deaths diſdaine;
Who with a cloud of night him couering, bore
Downe to the houſe of dole, his daies there to deplore.
Which when the Lady from the Caſtle ſaw,
Where ſhe with her two ſonnes did looking ſtand,
She towards him in haſt her ſelfe 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
Vppon theſe warriours, greedy t'vnderſtand,
To whether ſhould the victory befall,
Now when they ſaw it falne, they eke him greeted all.
But Belge with her ſonnes proſtrated low
Before his feete, in all that peoples ſight;
Mongſt ioyes mixing ſome tears, mongſt wele, ſome wo,
Him thus beſpake; O moſt redoubted Knight,
The which haſt me, of all moſt wretched wight,
That earſt was dead, reſtor'd to life againe,
And theſe weake impes replanted by thy might;
What guerdon can I giue thee for thy paine,
But euen that which thou ſauedſt, thine ſtill to remaine?
He tooke her vp for by the lilly hand,
And her recomforted the beſt he might,
Saying; Deare Lady, deedes ought not be ſcand
By th'authors manhood, nor the doers might,
But by their trueth and by the cauſes right:
That ſame is it, which fought for you this day.
What other meed then need me to requight,
But that which yeeldeth vertues meed alway?
That is the vertue ſelfe, which her reward doth pay.
She humbly thankt him for that wondrous grace,
And further ſayd; Ah Sir, but mote ye pleaſe,
Sith ye thus farre haue tendred my poore caſe,
As from my chiefeſt foe me to releaſe,
That your victorious arme will not yet ceaſe,
Till ye haue rooted all the relickes out
Of that vilde race, and ſtabliſhed my peace.
What is there elſe (ſayd he) left of their rout?
Declare it boldly Dame, and doe not ſtand in dout.
Then wote you, Sir, that in this Church hereby,
There ſtands an Idole of great note and name,
The which this Gyant reared firſt on hie,
And of his owne vaine fancies thought did frame:
To whom for endleſſe horrour of his ſhame,
He offred vp for daily ſacrifize
My children and my people, burnt in flame;
With all the tortures, that he could deuize,
The more t'aggrate his God with ſuch his blouddy guize.
And vnderneath this Idoll there doth lie
An hideous monſter, that doth it defend,
And feedes on all the carkaſſes, that die
In ſacrifize vnto that curſed feend:
Whoſe vgly ſhape none euer ſaw, nor kend,
That euer ſcap'd: for of a man they ſay
It has the voice, that ſpeaches forth doth ſend,
Euen blaſphemous words, which ſhe doth bray
Out of her poyſnous entrails, fraught with dire decay.
Which when the Prince heard tell, his heart gan earne
For great deſire, that Monſter to aſſay,
And prayd the place of her abode to learne.
Which being ſhew'd, he gan him ſelfe ſtreight way
Thereto addreſſe, and his bright ſhield diſplay.
So to the Church he came, where it was told,
The Monſter vnderneath the Altar lay;
There he that Idoll ſaw of maſſy gold
Moſt richly made, but there no Monſter did behold.
Vpon the Image with his naked blade
Three times, as in defiance, there he ſtrooke;
And the third time out of an hidden ſhade,
There forth iſſewd, from vnder th'Altars ſmooke,
A dreadfull feend, with fowle deformed looke,
That ſtretcht it ſelfe, as it had long lyen ſtill;
And her long taile and fethers ſtrongly ſhooke,
That all the Temple did with terrour fill;
Yet him nought terrifide, that feared nothing ill.
An huge great Beaſt it was, when it in length
Was ſtretched forth, that nigh fild all the place,
And ſeem'd to be of infinite great ſtrength;
Horrible, hideous, and of helliſh race,
Borne of the brooding of Echidna baſe,
Or other like infernall furies kinde:
For of a Mayd ſhe had the outward face,
To hide the horrour, which did lurke behinde,
The better to beguile, whom ſhe ſo fond did finde.
Thereto the body of a dog ſhe had,
Full of fell rauin and fierce greedineſſe;
A Lions clawes, with powre and rigour clad,
To rend and teare, what ſo ſhe can oppreſſe;
A Dragons taile, whoſe ſting without redreſſe
Full deadly wounds, where ſo it is empight;
And Eagles wings, for ſcope and ſpeedineſſe,
That nothing may eſcape her reaching might,
Whereto ſhe euer liſt to make her hardy flight.
Much like in foulneſſe and deformity
Vnto that Monſter, whom the Theban Knight,
The father of that fatall progeny,
Made kill her ſelfe for very hearts deſpight,
That he had red her Riddle, which no wight
Could euer looſe, but ſuffred deadly doole.
So alſo did this Monſter vſe like ſlight
To many a one, which came vnto her ſchoole,
Whom ſhe did put to death, deceiued like a foole.
She comming forth, when as 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 haue turnd for great affright.
But he gan her with courage fierce aſſay,
That forſt her turne againe in her deſpight,
To ſaue her ſelfe, leaſt that he did her ſlay:
And ſure he had her ſlaine, had ſhe not turnd her 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 reaue out of the hand, that did it hend.
Strongly he ſtroue 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 away did wipe.
With that aloude ſhe gan to bray and yell,
And fowle blaſphemous ſpeaches forth did caſt,
And bitter curſes, horrible to tell,
That euen the Temple, wherein ſhe was plaſt,
Did quake to heare, and nigh aſunder braſt.
Tho with her huge long taile ſhe at him ſtrooke,
That made him ſtagger, and ſtand halfe agaſt
With trembling ioynts, as he for terrour ſhooke;
Who nought was terrifide, but greater courage tooke.
As when the Maſt of ſome well timbred hulke
Is with the blaſt of ſome outragious ſtorme
Blowne downe, it ſhakes the bottome of the bulke,
And makes her ribs to cracke, as they were torne,
Whileſt ſtill ſhe ſtands as ſtoniſht and forlorne:
So was he ſtound with ſtroke of her huge taile.
But ere that it ſhe backe againe had borne,
He with his ſword it ſtrooke, that without faile
He ioynted it, and mard the ſwinging of her flaile.
Then gan ſhe cry much louder then afore,
That all the people there without it heard,
And Belge ſelfe was therewith ſtonied ſore,
As if the onely ſound thereof ſhe feard.
But then the feend her ſelfe more fiercely reard
Vppon her wide great wings, and ſtrongly flew
With all her body at his head and beard,
That had he not foreſeene with heedfull vew,
And thrown his ſhield atween, ſhe had him done to rew.
But as ſhe preſt on him with heauy ſway,
Vnder her wombe his fatall ſword he thruſt,
And for her entrailes made an open way,
To iſſue forth; the which once being bruſt,
Like to a great Mill damb forth fiercely guſht,
And powred out of her infernall ſinke
Moſt vgly filth, and poyſon therewith ruſht,
That him nigh choked with the deadly ſtinke:
Such loathly matter were ſmall luſt to ſpeake, or thinke.
Then downe to ground fell that deformed Maſſe,
Breathing out clouds of ſulphure fowle and blacke,
In which a puddle of contagion was,
More loathd then Lerna, or then Stygian lake,
That any man would nigh awhaped make.
Whom when he ſaw on ground, he was full glad,
And ſtreight went forth his gladneſſe to partake
With Belge, who watcht all this while full ſad,
Wayting what end would be of that ſame daunger drad.
Whom when ſhe ſaw ſo ioyouſly come forth,
She gan reioyce, and ſhew triumphant chere,
Lauding and prayſing his renowmed worth,
By all the names that honorable were.
Then in he brought her, and her ſhewed there
The preſent of his paines, that Monſters ſpoyle,
And eke that Idoll deem'd ſo coſtly dere;
Whom he did all to peeces breake and foyle
In filthy durt, and left ſo in the loathely ſoyle.
Then all the people, which beheld that day,
Gan ſhout aloud, that vnto heauen it rong;
And all the damzels of that towne in ray,
Came dauncing forth, and ioyous carrols ſong:
So him they led through all their ſtreetes along,
Crowned with girlonds of immortall baies,
And all the vulgar did about them throng,
To ſee the man, whoſe euerlaſting praiſe
They all were bound to all poſterities to raiſe.
There he with Belgae did a while remaine,
Making great feaſt and ioyous merriment,
Vntill he had her ſettled in her raine,
With ſafe aſſuraunce and eſtabliſhment.
Then to his firſt emprize his mind he lent,
Full loath to Belgae, and to all the reſt:
Of whom yet taking leaue, thenceforth he went
And to his former iourney him addreſt,
On which long way he rode, ne euer day did reſt.
But turne we now to noble Artegall;
Who hauing left Mercilla, ſtreight way went
On his firſt queſt, the which him forth did call,
To weet to worke Irenaes franchiſement,
And eke Grantortoes worthy puniſhment.
So forth he fared as his manner was,
With onely Talus wayting diligent,
Through many perils and much way did pas,
Till nigh vnto the place at length approcht he has.
There as he traueld by the way, he met
An aged wight, wayfaring all alone,
Who through his yeares long ſince aſide had ſet
The vſe of armes, and battell quite forgone:
To whom as he approcht, he knew anone,
That it was he which whilome did attend
On faire Irene in her affliction,
When firſt to Faery court he ſaw her wend,
Vnto his ſoueraine Queene her ſuite for to commend.
Whom by his name ſaluting, thus he gan;
Haile good Sir Sergis, trueſt Knight aliue,
Well tride in all thy Ladies troubles than,
When her that Tyrant did of Crowne depriue;
What new ocaſion doth thee hither driue,
Whiles ſhe alone is left, and thou here found?
Or is ſhe thrall, or doth ſhe not ſuruiue?
To whom he thus; She liueth ſure and ſound;
But by that Tyrant is in wretched thraldome bound.
For ſhe preſuming on th'appointed tyde,
In which ye promiſt, as ye were a Knight,
To meete her at the ſaluage Ilands ſyde,
And then and there for triall of her right
With her vnrigteous enemy to fight,
Did thither come, where ſhe afrayd of nought,
By guilefull treaſon and by ſubtill ſlight
Surprized was, and to Grantorto brought,
Who her impriſond hath, and her life often ſought.
And now he hath to her prefixt a day,
By which if that no champion doe appeare,
Which will her cauſe in battailous array
Againſt him iuſtifie, and proue her cleare
Of all thoſe crimes, that he gainſt her doth reare
She death ſhall by. Thoſe tidings ſad
Did much abaſh Sir Artegall to heare,
And grieued ſore, that through his fault ſhe had
Fallen into that Tyrants hand and vſage bad.
Then thus replide; Now ſure and by my life,
Too much am I too blame for that faire Maide,
That haue her drawne to all this troublous ſtrife,
Through promiſe to afford her timely aide,
Which by default I haue not yet defraide.
But witneſſe vnto me, ye heauens, that knew
How cleare I am from blame of this vpbraide:
For ye into like thraldome me did throw,
And kept from compliſhing the faith, which I did owe.
But now aread, Sir Sergis, how long ſpace,
Hath he her lent, a Champion to prouide:
Ten daies (quoth he) he graunted hath of grace,
For that he weeneth well, before that tide
None can haue tidings to aſſiſt her ſide.
For all the ſhores, which to the ſea accoſte,
He day and night doth ward both far and wide,
That none can there arriue without an hoſte:
So her he deemes already but a damned ghoſte.
Now turne againe (Sir Artegall then ſayd)
For if I liue till thoſe ten daies haue end,
Aſſure your ſelfe, Sir Knight, ſhe ſhall haue ayd,
Though I this deareſt life for her doe ſpend;
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 confuſde array,
As if that there were ſome tumultuous affray.
To which as they approcht, the cauſe to know,
They ſaw a Knight in daungerous diſtreſſe
Of a rude rout him chaſing to and fro,
That ſought with lawleſſe powre him to oppreſſe,
And bring in bondage of their brutiſhneſſe:
And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,
They ſpide a Lady left all ſuccourleſſe,
Crying, and holding vp her wretched hands
To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage withſtands.
Yet ſtill he ſtriues, ne any perill ſpares,
To reskue her from their rude violence,
And like a Lion wood amongſt them fares,
Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large diſpence,
Gainſt which the pallid death findes no defence.
But all in vaine, their numbers are ſo great,
That naught may boot to baniſhe them from thence:
For ſoone as he their outrage backe doth beat,
They turne afreſh, and oft renew their former threat.
And now they doe ſo ſharpely him aſſay,
That they his ſhield in peeces battred haue,
And forced him to throw it quite away,
Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to ſaue;
Albe that it moſt ſafety to him gaue,
And much did magnifie his noble name.
For from the day that he thus did it leaue,
Amongſt all Knights he blotted was with blame,
And counted but a recreant Knight, with endles ſhame.
Whom when they thus diſtreſſed did behold,
They drew vnto his aide; but that rude rout
Them alſo gan aſſaile with outrage bold,
And forced them, how euer ſtrong and ſtout
They were, as well approu'd in many a doubt,
Backe to recule; vntill that yron man
With his huge flaile began to lay about,
From whoſe ſterne preſence they diffuſed ran,
Like ſcattred chaffe, the which the wind away doth fan.
So when that Knight from perill cleare was freed,
He drawing neare, began to greete them faire,
And yeeld great thankes for their ſo goodly deed,
In ſauing him from daungerous deſpaire
Of thoſe, which ſought his life for to empaire.
Of whom Sir Artegall gan then enquire
The whole occaſion of his late misfare,
And who he was, and what thoſe villaines were,
The which with mortall malice him purſu'd ſo nere.
To whom he thus; My name is Burbon hight,
Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,
Vntill late miſchiefe did vppon me light,
That all my former praiſe hath blemiſht ſore;
And that faire Lady, which in that vprore
Ye with thoſe caytiues ſaw, Flourdelis hight,
Is mine owne loue, though me ſhe haue forlore,
Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might,
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.
But ſure to me her faith ſhe firſt did plight,
To be my loue, and take me for her Lord,
Till that a Tyrant, which Grandtorto hight,
With golden giftes and many a guilefull word
Entyced her, to him for to accord.
O who may not with gifts and words be tempted?
Sith which ſhe hath me euer ſince abhord,
And to my foe hath guilefully conſented:
Ay me, that euer guyle in wemen was inuented.
And now he hath this troupe of villains ſent,
By open force to fetch her quite away:
Gainſt whom my ſelfe I long in vaine haue bent,
To reſcue her, and daily meanes aſſay,
Yet reſcue her thence by no meanes I may:
For they doe me with multitude oppreſſe,
And with vnequall might doe ouerlay,
That oft I driuen am to great diſtreſſe,
And forced to forgoe th'attempt remedileſſe.
But why haue ye (ſaid Artegall) forborne
Your owne good ſhield in daungerous diſmay?
That is the greateſt ſhame and fouleſt ſcorne,
Which vnto any knight behappen may
To looſe the badge, that ſhould his deedes diſplay.
To whom Sir Burbon, bluſhing halfe for ſhame,
That ſhall I vnto you (quoth he) bewray;
Leaſt ye therefore mote happily me blame,
And deeme it doen of will, that through inforcement came.
True is, that I at firſt was dubbed knight
By a good knight, the knight of the Redcroſſe;
Who when he gaue me armes, in field to fight,
Gaue me a ſhield, in which he did endoſſe
His deare Redeemers badge vpon the boſſe:
The ſame long while I bore, and therewithall
Fought many battels without wound or loſſe;
Therewith Grandtorto ſelfe I did appall,
And made him oftentimes in field before me fall.
But for that many did that ſhield enuie,
And cruell enemies increaſed more;
To ſtint all ſtrife and troublous enmitie,
That bloudie ſcutchin being battered ſore,
I layd aſide, and haue of late forbore,
Hoping thereby to haue my loue obtayned:
Yet can I not my loue haue nathemore;
For ſhe by force is ſtill fro me detayned,
And with corruptfull brybes is to vntruth miſ-trayned.
To whom thus Artegall; Certes Sir knight,
Hard 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 perill ought be leſſe, and leſſe all paine
Then loſſe of fame in diſauentrous field;
Dye rather, then doe ought, that mote diſhonour yield.
Not ſo; (quoth he) for yet when time doth ſerue,
My former ſhield I may reſume againe:
To temporize is not from truth to ſwerue,
Ne for aduantage terme to entertaine,
When as neceſſitie doth it conſtraine.
Fie on ſuch forgerie (ſaid Artegall)
Vnder 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 you of courteſie requeſt,
(Said Burbon) to aſſiſt me now at need
Againſt theſe peſants, which haue me oppreſt,
And forced me to ſo infamous deed,
That yet my loue may from their hands be freed.
Sir Artegall, albe he earſt did wyte
His wauering mind, yet to his aide agreed,
And buckling him eftſoones vnto the fight,
Did ſet vpon thoſe troupes withall his powre and might.
Who flocking round about them, as a ſwarme
Of flyes vpon a birchen bough doth cluſter,
Did them aſſault with terrible allarme,
And ouer all the fields themſelues did muſter,
With bils and glayues making a dreadfull luſter;
That forſt at firſt thoſe knights backe to retyre:
As when the wrathfull Boreas doth bluſter,
Nought may abide the tempeſt of his yre,
Both man and beaſt doe fly, and ſuccour doe inquyre.
But when as ouerblowen was that brunt,
Thoſe knights began a freſh them to aſſayle,
And all about the fields like Squirrels hunt;
But chiefly Talus with his yron flayle,
Gainſt which no flight nor reſcue mote auayle,
Made cruell hauocke of the baſer crew,
And chaced them both ouer hill and dale:
The raskall manie ſoone they ouerthrew,
But the two knights thēſelues their captains did ſubdew.
At laſt they came whereas that Ladie bode,
Whom now her keepers had forſaken quight,
To ſaue themſelues, and ſcattered were abrode:
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 vſage bad
Them fouly rent, and ſhamefully defaced had.
But Burbon ſtreight diſmounting from his ſteed,
Vnto her ran with greedie great deſyre,
And catching her faſt by her ragged weed,
Would haue embraced her with hart entyre.
But ſhe backſtarting with diſdainefull yre,
Bad him auaunt, ne would vnto his lore
Allured be, for prayer nor for meed.
Whom when thoſe knights ſo forward and forlore
Beheld, they her rebuked and vpbrayded ſore.
Sayd Artegall; what foule diſgrace is this,
To ſo faire Ladie, as ye ſeeme in ſight,
To blot your beautie, that vnblemiſht is,
With ſo foule blame, as breach of faith once plight,
Or change of loue for any worlds delight?
Is ought on earth ſo pretious or deare,
As prayſe and honour? Or is ought ſo bright
And beautifull, as glories beames appeare,
Whoſe goodly light then Phebus lampe doth ſhine more cleare?
Why then will ye, fond Dame, attempted bee
Vnto a ſtrangers loue, ſo lightly placed,
For guiftes of gold, or any worldly glee,
To leaue the loue, that ye before embraced,
And let your fame with falſhood be defaced.
Fie on the pelfe, for which good name is ſold,
And honour with indignitie debaſed:
Dearer is loue then life, and fame then gold;
But dearer thē them both, your faith once plighted hold;
Much was the Ladie in her gentle mind
Abaſht at his rebuke, that bit her neare,
Ne ought to anſwere thereunto did find;
But hanging downe her head with heauie cheare,
Stood long amaz'd, as ſhe amated weare.
Which Burbon ſeeing, her againe aſſayd,
And claſping twixt his armes, her vp did reare
Vpon his ſteede, whiles ſhe no whit gaineſayd,
So bore her quite away, nor well nor ill apayd.
Nathleſſe the yron man did ſtill purſew
That raskall many with vnpittied ſpoyle,
Ne ceaſſed not, till all their ſcattred crew
Into the ſea he droue quite from that ſoyle,
The which they troubled had with great turmoyle.
But Artegall ſeeing his cruell deed,
Commaunded him from ſlaughter to recoyle,
And to his voyage gan againe proceed:
For that the terme approching faſt, required ſpeed.
Cant. XII.
Artegall doth Sir Burbon aide,
And blames for changing ſhield:
He with the great Grantorto fights,
And ſlaieth him in field.
O Sacred hunger of ambitious mindes,
And impotent deſire of men to raine,
Whom neither dread of God, that deuils bindes,
Nor lawes of men, that common weales containe,
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beaſtes reſtraine,
Can keepe from outrage, and from doing wrong,
Where they may hope a kingdome to obtaine.
No faith ſo firme, no truſt can be ſo ſtrong,
No loue ſo laſting then, that may endure long.
Witneſſe may Burbon be, whom all the bands,
Which may a Knight aſſure, had ſurely bound,
Vntill the loue of Lordſhip and of lands
Made him become moſt faithleſſe and vnſound:
And witneſſe be Gerioneo found,
Who for like cauſe faire Belge did oppreſſe,
And right and wrong moſt cruelly confound:
And ſo be now Grantorto, who no leſſe
Then all the reſt burſt out to all outragiouſneſſe.
Gainſt whom Sir Artegall, long hauing ſince
Taken in hand th'exploit, being theretoo
Appointed by that mightie Faerie Prince,
Great Gloriane, that Tyrant to fordoo,
Through other great aduentures hethertoo
Had it forſlackt. But now time drawing ny,
To him aſſynd, her high beheaſt to doo,
To the ſea ſhore he gan his way apply,
To weete if ſhipping readie he mote there deſcry.
Tho when they came to the ſea coaſt, they found
A ſhip all readie (as good fortune fell)
To put to ſea, with whom they did compound,
To paſſe them ouer, where them liſt to tell:
The winde and weather ſerued them ſo well,
That in one day they with the coaſt did fall;
Whereas they readie found them to repell,
Great hoſtes of men in order martiall,
Which them forbad to land, and footing did forſtall.
But nathemore would they from land refraine,
But when as nigh vnto the ſhore they drew,
That foot of man might ſound the bottome plaine,
Talus into the ſea did forth iſſew,
Though darts from ſhore & ſtones they at him threw;
And wading through the waues with ſtedfaſt ſway,
Maugre the might of all thoſe troupes in vew,
Did win the ſhore, whence he them chaſt away,
And made to fly, like doues, whom the Eagle doth affray.
The whyles Sir Artegall, with that old knight
Did forth deſcend, there being none them neare,
And forward marched to a towne in ſight.
By this came tydings to the Tyrants eare,
By thoſe, which earſt did fly away for feare
Of their arriuall: wherewith troubled ſore,
He all his forces ſtreight to him did reare,
And forth iſſuing with his ſcouts afore,
Meant them to haue incountred, ere they left the ſhore.
But ere he marched farre, he with them met,
And fiercely charged them with all his force;
But Talus ſternely did vpon them ſet,
And bruſht, and battred them without remorſe,
That on the ground he left full many a corſe;
Ne any able was him to withſtand,
But he them ouerthrew both man and horſe,
That they lay ſcattred ouer 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 did make:
To which all harkning, did a while aſſwage
Their forces furie, and their terror ſlake;
Till he an Herauld cald, and to him ſpake,
Willing him wend vnto the Tyrant ſtreight,
And tell him that not for ſuch ſlaughters ſake
He thether came, but for to trie the right
Of fayre Irenaes cauſe with him in ſingle fight.
And willed him for to reclayme with ſpeed
His ſcattred people, ere they all were ſlaine,
And time and place conuenient to areed,
In which they two the combat might darraine.
Which meſſage when Grantorto heard, full fayne
And glad he was the ſlaughter ſo to ſtay,
And pointed for the combat twixt them twayne
The morrow next, ne gaue him longer day.
So ſounded the retraite, and drew his folke away.
That night Sir Artegall did cauſe his tent
There to be pitched on the open plaine;
For he had giuen ſtreight commaundement,
That none ſhould dare him once to entertaine:
Which none durſt breake, though many would right faine
For fayre Irena, whom they loued deare.
But yet old Sergis did ſo well him paine,
That from cloſe friends, that dar'd not to appeare,
He all things did puruay, which for them needfull weare.
The morrow next, that was the diſmall day,
Appointed for Irenas death before,
So ſoone as it did to the world diſplay
His chearefull face, and light to men reſtore,
The heauy Mayd, to whom none tydings bore
Of Artegals arryuall, her to free,
Lookt vp with eyes full ſad and hart full ſore;
Weening her lifes laſt howre then neare to bee,
Sith no redemption nigh ſhe did nor heare nor ſee.
Then vp ſhe roſe, and on her ſelfe did dight
Moſt ſqualid garments, fit for ſuch a day,
And with dull countenance, and with doleful ſpright,
She forth was brought in ſorrowfull diſmay,
For to receiue 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 vntimely drought nigh withered was,
And hung the head, ſoone as few drops of raine
Thereon diſtill, and deaw her daintie face,
Gins to looke vp, and with freſh wonted grace
Diſpreds the glorie of her leaues gay;
Such was Irenas countenance, ſuch her caſe,
When Artegall ſhe ſaw in that array,
There wayting for the Tyrant, till it was farre day.
Who came at length, with proud preſumpteous gate,
Into the field, as if he feareleſſe were,
All armed in a cote of yron plate,
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 in his hand an huge Polaxe did beare,
Whoſe ſteale was yron ſtudded, but not long,
With which he wont to fight, to iuſtifie his wrong.
Of ſtature huge and hideous he was,
Like to a Giant for his monſtrous hight,
And did in ſtrength moſt ſorts of men ſurpas,
Ne euer any found his match in might;
Thereto he had great skill in ſingle fight:
His face was vgly, and his countenance ſterne,
That could haue frayd one with the very ſight,
And gaped like a gulfe, when he did gerne,
That whether man or monſter one could ſcarſe diſcerne.
Soone as he did within the liſtes appeare,
With dreadfull looke he Artegall beheld,
As if he would haue daunted him with feare,
And grinning grieſly, did againſt him weld
His deadly weapon, which in hand he held.
But th'Elfin ſwayne, that oft had ſeene like fight,
Was with his ghaſtly count'nance nothing queld,
But gan him ſtreight to buckle to the fight,
And caſt his ſhield about, to be in readie plight.
The trompets ſound, and they together goe,
With dreadfull terror, and with fell intent;
And their huge ſtrokes full daungerouſly beſtow,
To doe moſt dammage, where as moſt they ment.
But with ſuch force and furie violent,
The tyrant thundred his thicke blowes ſo faſt,
That through the yron walles their way they rent,
And euen to the vitall parts they paſt,
Ne ought could them endure, but all they cleft or braſt.
Which cruell outrage when as Artegall
Did well auize, thenceforth with warie heed
He ſhund his ſtrokes, where euer they did fall,
And way did giue vnto their graceleſſe ſpeed:
As when a skilfull Marriner doth reed
A ſtorme approching, that doth perill threat,
He will not bide the daunger of ſuch dread,
But ſtrikes his ſayles, and vereth his mainſheat,
And lends vnto it leaue 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, ones head more high to reare,
And much to gaine, a litle for to yield;
So ſtouteſt knights doen oftentimes infield.
But ſtill the tyrant ſternely at him layd,
And did his yron axe ſo nimbly wield,
That many wounds into his fleſh it made,
And with his burdenous blowes him ſore did ouerlade.
Yet when as fit aduantage he did ſpy,
The whiles the curſed felon high did reare
His cruell hand, to ſmite him mortally,
Vnder his ſtroke he to him ſtepping neare,
Right in the flanke him ſtrooke with deadly dreare,
That the gore bloud thence guſhing grieuouſly,
Did vnderneath him like a pond appeare,
And all his armour did with purple dye;
Thereat he brayed loud, and yelled dreadfully.
Yet the huge ſtroke, which he before intended,
Kept on his courſe, as he did it direct,
And with ſuch monſtrous poiſe adowne deſcended,
That ſeemed nought could him from death protect:
But he it well did ward with wiſe reſpect,
And twixt him and the blow his ſhield did caſt,
Which thereon ſeizing, tooke no great effect,
But byting deepe therein did ſticke ſo faſt,
That by no meanes it backe againe he forth could wraſt.
Long while he tug'd and ſtroue, to get it out,
And all his powre applyed thereunto,
That he therewith the knight drew all about:
Nathleſſe, for all that euer he could doe,
His axe he could not from his ſhield vndoe.
Which Artegall perceiuing, ſtrooke no more,
But looſing ſoone his ſhield, did it forgoe,
And whiles he combred was therewith ſo ſore,
He gan at him let driue more fiercely then afore.
So well he him purſew'd, that at the laſt,
He ſtroke him with Chryſaor on the hed,
That with the ſouſe thereof full ſore aghaſt,
He ſtaggered to and fro in doubtfull 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 Tyrants awe,
Which with ſtrōg powre did thē long time oppreſſe;
And running all with greedie ioyfulneſſe
To faire Irena, at her feet did fall,
And her adored with due humbleneſſe,
As their true Liege and Princeſſe naturall;
And eke her champions glorie ſounded ouer all.
Who ſtreight her leading with meete maieſtie
Vnto 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
That Tyrants part, with cloſe or open ayde,
He ſorely puniſhed with heauie payne;
That in ſhort ſpace, whiles there with her he ſtayd,
Not one was left, that durſt her once haue diſobayd.
During which time, that he did there remaine,
His ſtudie was true Iuſtice how to deale,
And day and night employ'd his buſie paine
How to reforme that ragged common-weale:
And that ſame yron man which could reueale
All hidden crimes, through all that realme he ſent,
To ſearch out thoſe, that vſd to rob and ſteale,
Or did rebell gainſt lawfull gouernment;
On whom he did inflict moſt grieuous 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 reuoke from the right way,
In which he was that Realme for to redreſſe.
But enuies cloud ſtill dimmeth vertues ray.
So hauing freed Irena from diſtreſſe,
He tooke his leaue of her, there left in heauineſſe.
Tho as he backe returned from that land,
And there arriu'd againe, whence forth he ſet,
He had not paſſed farre vpon the ſtrand,
When as two old ill fauour'd Hags he met,
By the way ſide being together ſet,
Two grieſly creatures; and, to that their faces
Moſt foule and filthie were, their garments yet
Being all rag'd and tatter'd, their diſgraces
Did much the more augment, and made moſt vgly 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 her cheekes be red;
Her lips were like raw lether, pale and blew,
And as ſhe ſpake, therewith ſhe ſlauered;
Yet ſpake ſhe ſeldom, but thought more, the leſſe ſhe ſed.
Her hands were foule and durtie, neuer waſht
In all her life, with long nayles ouer raught,
Like puttocks clawes: with th'one of which ſhe ſcracht
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 ought;
That round about her iawes one might deſcry
The bloudie gore and poyſon dropping lothſomely.
Her name was Enuie, knowen well thereby;
Whoſe nature is to grieue, and grudge at all,
That euer 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 vnnaturall,
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 grieue, and teare
Her fleſh for felneſſe, which ſhe inward hid:
But if ſhe heard of ill, that any did,
Or harme, that any had, then would ſhe make
Great cheare, like one vnto a banquet bid;
And in anothers loſſe great pleaſure take,
As ſhe had got thereby, and gayned a great ſtake.
The other nothing better was, then ſhee;
Agreeing in bad will and cancred kynd,
But in bad maner they did diſagree:
For what ſo Enuie good or bad did fynd,
She did conceale, and murder her owne mynd;
But this, what euer euill ſhe conceiued,
Did ſpred abroad, and throw in th'open wynd.
Yet this in all her words might be perceiued,
That all ſhe ſought, was mens good name to haue bereaued.
For whatſoeuer good by any ſayd,
Or doen ſhe heard, ſhe would ſtreightwayes inuent,
How to depraue, or ſlaunderouſly vpbrayd,
Or to miſconſtrue of a mans intent,
And turne to ill the thing, that well was ment.
Therefore ſhe vſed 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 eeke, and make much worſe by telling,
And take great ioy to publiſh it to many,
That euery matter worſe was for her melling.
Her name was hight Detraction, and her dwelling
Was neare to Enuie, euen her neighbour next;
A wicked hag, and Enuy ſelfe excelling
In miſchiefe: for her ſelfe ſhe onely vext;
But this ſame both her ſelfe, and others eke perplext.
Her face was vgly, and her mouth diſtort,
Foming with poyſon round about her gils,
In which her curſed tongue full ſharpe and ſhort
Appear'd like Aſpis ſting, that cloſely kils,
Or cruelly does wound, whom ſo ſhe wils:
A diſtaffe in her other hand ſhe had,
Vpon the which ſhe litle ſpinnes, but ſpils,
And faynes to weaue falſe tales and leaſings bad,
To throw amongſt the good, which others had diſprad.
Theſe two now had themſelues 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 vnto themſelues they gotten had
A monſter, which the Blatant beaſt men call,
A dreadfull feend of gods and men ydrad,
Whom they by ſlights allur'd, and to their purpoſe lad.
Such were theſe Hags, and ſo vnhandſome 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 had bene two ſhepheards curres, had ſcryde
A rauenous Wolfe amongſt the ſcattered flockes.
And Enuie firſt, as ſhe that firſt him eyde,
Towardes him runs, and with rude flaring lockes
About her eares, does beat her breſt, & forhead knockes.
Then from her mouth the gobbet ſhe does take,
The which whyleare ſhe was ſo greedily
Deuouring, euen that halfe-gnawen ſnake,
And at him throwes it moſt deſpightfully.
The curſed Serpent, though ſhe hungrily
Earſt chawd 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 reuile,
And fouly rayle, with all ſhe could inuent;
Saying, that he had with vnmanly guile,
And foule abuſion both his honour blent,
And that bright ſword the ſword, of Iuſtice lent
Had ſtayned with reprochfull crueltie,
In guiltleſſe blood of many an innocent:
As for Grandtorto, him with treacherie
And traynes hauing 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 euermore thoſe hags them ſelues did paine,
To ſharpen him, and their owne curſed tongs did ſtraine.
And ſtill among moſt bitter wordes they ſpake,
Moſt ſhamefull, moſt vnrighteous, moſt vntrew,
That they the mildeſt man aliue would make
Forget his patience, and yeeld vengeaunce dew
To her, that ſo falſe ſclaunders at him threw.
And more to make thē pierce & wound more deepe,
She with the ſting, which in her vile tongue grew,
Did ſharpen them, and in freſh poyſon ſteepe:
Ye the paſt on, and ſeem'd of them to take no keepe.
But Talus hearing her ſo lewdly raile,
And ſpeake ſo ill of him, that well deſerued,
Would her haue chaſtiz'd with his yron flaile,
If her Sir Artegall had not preſerued,
And him forbidden, who his heaſt obſerued.
So much the more at him ſtill did ſhe ſcold,
And ſtones did caſt, yet he for nought would ſwerue
From his right courſe, but ſtill the way did hold
To Faery Court, where what him fell ſhall elſe be told.
THE SIXTE BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE.
Contayning THE LEGEND OF S. CALIDORE
OR OF COVRTESIE.
THe waies, through which my weary ſteps I guyde,
In this delightfull 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 I nigh rauiſht with rare thoughts delight,
My tedious trauell doe forget thereby;
And when I gin to feele decay of might,
tI ſtrength to me ſupplies, & chears my dulled ſpright.
Such ſecret comfort, and ſuch heauenly pleaſures,
Ye ſacred imps, that on Parnaſſo dwell,
And there the keeping haue of learnings threaſures,
Which doe all worldly riches farre excell,
Into the mindes of mortall men doe well,
And goodly fury into them infuſe;
Guyde ye my footing, and conduct me well
In theſe ſtrange waies, where neuer foote did vſe,
Ne none can find, but who was taught them by the Muſe.
Reuele to me the ſacred nourſery
Of vertue, which with you doth there remaine,
Where it in ſiluer bowre does hidden ly
From view of men, and wicked worlds diſdaine.
Since it at firſt was by the Gods with paine
Planted in earth, being deriu'd at furſt
From heauenly ſeedes of bounty ſoueraine,
And by them long with carefull labour nurſt,
Till it to ripeneſſe grew, and forth to honour burſt.
Amongſt them all growes not a fayrer flowre,
Then is the blooſme of comely courteſie,
Which though it on a lowly ſtalke doe bowre,
Yet brancheth forth in braue nobilitie,
And ſpreds it ſelfe through all ciuilitie:
Of which though preſent age doe plenteous ſeeme,
Yet being matcht with plaine Antiquitie,
Ye will them all but fayned ſhowes eſteeme,
Which carry colours faire, that feeble eies miſdeeme.
But in the triall of true curteſie,
Its now ſo farre from that, which then it was,
That it indeed is nought but forgerie,
Faſhion'd to pleaſe the eies of them, that pas,
Which ſee not perfect things but in a glas:
Yet is that glaſſe ſo gay, that it can blynd
The wiſeſt ſight, to thinke gold that is bras.
But vertues ſeat is deepe within the mynd,
And not in outward ſhows, but inward thoughts defynd.
But where ſhall I in all Antiquity
So faire a patterne finde, where may be ſeene
The goodly praiſe of Princely curteſie,
As in your ſelfe, O ſoueraine Lady Queene,
In whoſe pure minde, as in a mirrour ſheene,
It ſhowes, and with her brightneſſe doth inflame
The eyes of all, which thereon fixed beene;
But meriteth indeede an higher name:
Yet ſo from low to high vplifted is your name.
Then pardon me, moſt dreaded Soueraine,
That from your ſelfe I doe this vertue bring,
And to your ſelfe doe it returne againe:
So from the Ocean all riuers ſpring,
And tribute backe repay as to their King.
Right ſo from you all goodly vertues well
Into the reſt, which round about you ring,
Faire Lords and Ladies, which about you dwell,
And doe adorne your Court, where courteſies excell.
Cant. I.
Calidore ſaues from Maleffort,
A Damzell vſed vylde:
Doth vanquiſh Crudor, and doth make
Briana wexe more mylde.
OF Court it ſeemes, men Courteſie doe call,
For that it there moſt vſeth to abound;
And well beſeemeth that in Princes hall
That vertue ſhould be plentifully found,
Which of all goodly manners is the ground,
And roote of ciuill conuerſation.
Right ſo in Faery court it did redound,
Where curteous Knights and Ladies moſt did won
Of all on earth, and made a matchleſſe paragon.
But mongſt them all was none more courteous Knight,
Then Calidore, beloued ouer all,
In whom it ſeemes, that gentleneſſe of ſpright
And manners mylde were planted naturall;
To which he adding comely guize withall,
And gracious ſpeach, did ſteale mens hearts away.
Nathleſſe thereto he was full ſtout and tall,
And well approu'd in batteilous affray,
That him did much renowme, and far his fame diſplay.
Ne was there Knight, ne was there Lady found
In Faery court, but him did deare embrace,
For his faire vſage and conditions ſound,
The which in all mens liking gayned place,
And with the greateſt purchaſt greateſt grace:
Which he could wiſely vſe, and well apply,
To pleaſe the beſt, and th'euill to embaſe.
For he loathd leaſing, and baſe flattery,
And loued ſimple truth and ſtedfaſt houeſty.
And now he was in trauell on his way,
Vppon an hard aduenture ſore beſtad,
Whenas by chaunce he met vppon a day
With Artegall, returning yet halfe ſad
From his late conqueſt, which he gotten had.
Who whenas each of other had a ſight,
They knew them ſelues, and both their perſons rad:
When Calidore thus firſt; Haile nobleſt Knight
Of all this day on ground, that breathen liuing ſpright.
Now tell, if pleaſe you, of the good ſucceſſe,
Which ye haue had in your late enterprize.
To whom Sir Artegall gan to expreſſe
His whole exploite, and valorous emprize,
In order as it did to him arize.
Now happy man (ſayd then Sir Calidore)
Which haue ſo goodly, as ye can deuize,
Atchieu'd ſo hard a queſt, as few before;
That ſhall you moſt renowmed make for euermore.
But where ye ended haue, now I begin
To tread an endleſſe trace, withouten guyde,
Or good direction, how to enter in,
Or how to iſſue forth in waies vntryde,
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 ouertake, 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 anſwerd he) which often hath annoyd
Good Knights and Ladies true, and many elſe deſtroyd.
Of Cerberus whilome he was begot,
And fell Chimaera in her darkeſome den,
Through fowle commixture of his filthy blot;
Where he was foſtred long in Stygian fen,
Till he to perfect ripeneſſe grew, and then
Into this wicked world he forth was ſent,
To be the plague and ſcourge of wretched men:
Whom with vile tongue and venemous intent
He ſore doth wound, and bite, and cruelly torment.
Then ſince the ſaluage Iſland I did leaue
Sayd Artegall, I ſuch a Beaſt did ſee,
The which did ſeeme a thouſand tongues to haue,
That all in ſpight and malice did agree,
With which he bayd and loudly barkt at mee,
As if that he attonce would me deuoure.
But I that knew my ſelfe from perill free,
Did nought regard his malice nor his powre,
But he the more his wicked poyſon forth did poure.
That ſurely is that Beaſt (ſaide Calidore)
Which I purſue, of whom I am right glad
To heare theſe tidings, which of none afore
Through all my weary trauell I haue had:
Yet now ſome hope your words vnto me add.
Now God you ſpeed (quoth then Sir Artegall)
And keepe your body from the daunger drad:
For ye haue much adoe to deale withall,
So both tooke goodly leaue, and parted ſeuerall.
Sir Calidore thence trauelled not long,
When as by chaunce a comely Squire he found,
That thorough ſome more mighty enemies wrong,
Both hand and foote vnto a tree was bound:
Who ſeeing him from farre, with piteous ſound
Of his ſhrill cries him called to his aide.
To whom approching, in that painefull ſtound
When he him ſaw, for no demaunds he ſtaide,
But firſt him loſde, and afterwards thus to him ſaide.
Vnhappy Squire, what hard miſhap thee brought
Into this bay of perill and diſgrace?
What cruell hand thy wretched thraldome wrought,
And thee captyued in this ſhamefull place?
To whom he anſwerd thus; My hapleſſe caſe
Is not occaſiond through my miſdeſert,
But through misfortune, which did me abaſe
Vnto this ſhame, and my young hope ſubuert,
Ere that I in her guilefull traines was well expert.
Not farre from hence, vppon yond rocky hill,
Hard by a ſtreight there ſtands a caſtle ſtrong,
Which doth obſerue 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,
But they that Ladies lockes doe ſhaue away,
And that knights berd for toll, which they for paſſage pay
A ſhamefull vſe as euer I did heare,
Sayd Calidore, and to be ouerthrowne.
But by what meanes did they at firſt it reare,
And for what cauſe, tell if thou haue it knowne.
Sayd then that Squire: The Lady which doth owne
This Caſtle, is by name Briana hight.
Then which a prouder Lady liueth none:
She long time hath deare lou'd a doughty Knight,
And ſought to win his loue by all the meanes ſhe might.
His name is Crudor, who through high diſdaine
And proud deſpight of his ſelfe pleaſing mynd,
Refuſed hath to yeeld her loue againe,
Vntill a Mantle ſhe for him doe fynd,
With beards of Knights and locks of Ladies lynd.
Which to prouide, ſhe hath this Caſtle dight,
And therein hath a Seneſchall aſſynd,
Cald Maleffort, a man of mickle might,
Who executes her wicked will, with worſe deſpight.
He this ſame day, as I that way did come
With a faire Damzell, my beloued deare,
In execution of her lawleſſe doome,
Did ſet vppon vs flying both for feare:
For little bootes againſt him hand to reare.
Me firſt he tooke, vnhable to withſtond;
And whiles he her purſued euery where,
Till his returne vnto this tree he bond:
Ne wote I ſurely, whether her he yet haue fond.
Thus whiles they ſpake, they heard a ruefull ſhrieke
Of one loud crying, which they ſtreight way gheſt,
That it was ſhe, the which for helpe did ſeeke.
Tho looking vp vnto the cry to leſt,
They ſaw that Carle from farre, with hand vnbleſt
Hayling 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 looſd that Squire, and ſo him left,
With hearts diſmay and inward dolour queld,
For to purſue that villaine, which had reft
That piteous ſpoile by ſo iniurious theft.
Whom ouertaking, loude to him he cryde;
Leaue faytor quickely that miſgotten weft
To him, that hath it better iuſtifyde,
And turne thee ſoone to him, of whom thou art defyde.
Who hearkning to that voice, him ſelfe vpreard,
And ſeeing him ſo fiercely towardes make,
Againſt him ſtoutly ran, as nought afeard,
But rather more enrag'd for thoſe words ſake;
And with ſterne count'naunce thus vnto him ſpake.
Art thou the caytiue, that defyeſt me,
And for this Mayd, whoſe party thou doeſt take,
Wilt giue thy beard, though it but little bee?
Yet ſhall it not her lockes for raunſome 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 vnſtayd,
And oft recuile to ſhunne his ſharpe deſpight.
But Calidore, that was well skild in fight,
Him long forbore, and ſtill his ſpirite ſpar'd,
Lying in waite, how him he damadge might.
But when he felt him ſhrinke, and come to ward,
He greater grew, and gan to driue at him more hard.
Like as a water ſtreame, whoſe ſwelling ſourſe
Shall driue a Mill, within ſtrong bancks is pent,
And long reſtrayned of his ready courſe;
So ſoone as paſſage is vnto him lent,
Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent.
Such was the fury of Sir Calidore,
When once he felt his foeman to relent;
He fiercely him purſu'd, and preſſed ſore,
Who as he ſtill decayd, ſo he encreaſed more.
The heauy burden of whoſe dreadfull might
When as the Carle no longer could ſuſtaine,
His heart gan faint, and ſtreight he tooke his flight
Toward the Caſtle, where if need conſtraine,
His hope of refuge vſed to remaine.
Whom Calidore perceiuing faſt to flie,
He him purſu'd and chaced through the plaine,
That he for dread of death gan loude to crie
Vnto the ward, to open to him haſtilie.
They from the wall him ſeeing ſo aghaſt,
The gate ſoone opened to receiue him in,
But Calidore did follow him ſo faſt,
That euen in the Porch he him did win,
And cleft his head aſunder to his chin.
The carkarſſe tumbling downe within the dore,
Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of ſin,
That it could not be ſhut, whileſt Calidore
Did enter in, and ſlew the Porter on the flore.
With that the reſt, the which the Caſtle kept,
About him flockt, and hard at him did lay;
But he them all from him full lightly ſwept,
As doth a Steare, in heat of ſommers day.
With his long taile the bryzes bruſh away.
Thence paſſing forth, into the hall he came,
Where of the Lady ſelfe in ſad diſmay
He was ymett, who with vncomely ſhame
Gan him ſalute, and fowle vpbrayd with faulty blame.
Falſe traytor Knight, (ſayd ſhe) no Knight at all,
But ſcorne of armes that haſt with guilty hand
Murdred my men, and ſlaine my Seneſchall;
Now comeſt thou to rob my houſe vnmand,
And ſpoile my ſelfe, that can not thee withſtand?
Yet doubt thou not, but that ſome better Knight
Then thou, that ſhall thy treaſon vnderſtand,
Will it auenge, and pay thee with thy right:
And if none do, yet ſhame ſhal thee with ſhame requight
Much was the Knight abaſhed at that word;
Yet anſwerd thus; Not vnto me the ſhame,
But to the ſhamefull doer it afford.
Bloud is no blemiſh; for it is no blame
To puniſh thoſe, that doe deſerue the ſame;
But they that breake bands of ciuilitie,
And wicked cuſtomes make, thoſe doe defame
Both noble armes and gentle curteſie.
No greater ſhame to man then inhumanitie.
Then doe your ſelfe, for dread of ſhame, forgoe
This euill manner, which ye here maintaine,
And doe in ſtead thereof mild curt'ſie ſhowe
To all, that paſſe. That ſhall you glory gaine
More then his loue, which thus ye ſeeke t'obtaine.
Wherewith all full of wrath, ſhe thus replyde;
Vile recreant, know that I doe much diſdaine
Thy courteous lore, that doeſt my loue deride,
Who ſcornes thy ydle ſcoffe, and bids thee be defyde.
To take defiaunce at a Ladies word
(Quoth he) I hold it no indignity;
But were he here, that would it with his ſword
Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby.
Cowherd (quoth ſhe) were not, that thou wouldſt fly,
Ere thou doe come, he ſhould be ſoone in place.
If I doe ſo, (ſayd he) then liberty
I leaue to you, for aye me to diſgrace
With all thoſe ſhames, that erſt ye ſpake me to deface.
With that a Dwarfe ſhe cald to her in haſt,
And taking from her hand a ring of gould,
A priuy token, which betweene them paſt,
Bad him to flie with all the ſpeed he could,
To Crudor, and deſire him that he would
Vouchſafe to reskue her againſt a Knight,
Who through ſtrōg powre had now her ſelf in hould,
Hauing late ſlaine her Seneſchall in fight,
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
The comming of that ſo much threatned Knight,
Where that diſcourteous Dame with ſcornfull pryde,
And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,
That yron heart it hardly could ſuſtaine:
Yet he, that could his wrath full wiſely guyde,
Did well endure her womaniſh diſdaine,
And did him ſelfe from fraile impatience refraine.
The morrow next, before the lampe of light,
Aboue the earth vpreard his flaming head,
The Dwarfe, which bore that meſſage to her knight,
Brought aunſwere backe, that ere he taſted bread,
He would her ſuccour, and aliue or dead
Her foe deliuer vp into her hand:
Therefore he wild her doe away all dread;
And that of him ſhe mote aſſured ſtand,
He ſent to her his baſenet, as a faithfull band.
Thereof full blyth 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.
And hauing ſoone his armes about him dight,
Did iſſue forth, to meete his foe afore;
Where long he ſtayed not, when as a Knight
He ſpide come pricking on with al his powre and might.
Well weend he ſtreight, that he ſhould be the ſame,
Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;
Ne ſtayd to aske if it were he by name,
But coucht his ſpeare, and ran at him amaine.
They bene ymett in middeſt of the plaine,
With ſo fell fury, and diſpiteous 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 vproſe againe full light,
Whiles yet his foe lay faſt in ſenceleſſe ſound,
Yet would he not him hurt, although he might:
For ſhame he weend a ſleeping wight to wound.
But when Briana ſaw that drery ſtound,
There where ſhe ſtood vppon the Caſtle wall,
She deem'd him ſure to haue bene dead on ground,
And made ſuch piteous mourning therewithall,
That from the battlements ſhe ready ſeem'd to fall.
Nathleſſe at length him ſelfe he did vpreare
In luſtleſſe wiſe, as if againſt his will,
Ere he had ſlept his fill, he wakened were,
And gan to ſtretch his limbs; which feeling ill
Of his late fall, a while he reſted ſtill:
But when he ſaw his foe before in vew,
He ſhooke off luskiſhneſſe, and courage chill
Kindling a freſh, gan battell to renew,
To proue if better foote then horſebacke would enſew.
There then began a fearefull cruell fray
Betwixt them two, for mayſtery of might.
For both were wondrous practicke 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 a while their angers tempeſt ceaſt.
Thus long they trac'd and trauerſt to and fro,
And tryde all waies, how each mote entrance make
Into the life of his malignant foe;
They hew'd their helmes, and plates aſunder brake,
As they had potſhares bene; for nought mote ſlake
Their greedy vengeaunces, but goary blood,
That at the laſt like to a purple lake
Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them ſtood,
Which from their riuen ſides forth guſhed like a flood.
At length it chaunſt, that both their hands on hie,
At once did heaue, with all their powre and might,
Thinking the vtmoſt of their force to trie,
And proue the finall fortune of the fight:
But Calidore, that was more quicke of ſight,
And nimbler handed, then his enemie,
Preuented him before his ſtroke could light,
And on the helmet ſmote him formerlie,
That made him ſtoupe to ground with meeke humilitie.
And ere he could recouer foot againe,
He following that faire aduantage faſt,
His ſtroke redoubled with ſuch might and maine,
That him vpon the ground he groueling caſt;
And leaping to him light, would haue vnlaſt
His Helme, to make vnto his vengeance way.
Who ſeeing, in what daunger he was plaſt,
Cryde out, Ah mercie Sir, doe me not ſlay,
But ſaue my life, which lot before your foot doth lay.
With that his mortall hand a while he ſtayd,
And hauing 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 intreat,
But put away proud looke, and vſage ſterne,
The which ſhal nought to you but foule diſhonor yearne.
For nothing is more blamefull to a knight,
That court'ſie doth as well as armes profeſſe,
How euer ſtrong and fortunate in fight,
Then the reproch of pride and cruelneſſe.
In vaine he ſeeketh others to ſuppreſſe,
Who hath not learnd him ſelfe firſt to ſubdew:
All fleſh is frayle, and full of fickleneſſe,
Subiect to fortunes chance, ſtill chaunging new;
What haps to day to me, to morrow may to you.
Who will not mercie vnto others ſhew,
How can he mercy euer hope to haue?
To pay each with his owne is right and dew.
Yet ſince ye mercie now doe need to craue,
I will it graunt, your hopeleſſe life to ſaue;
With theſe conditions, which I will propound:
Firſt, that ye better ſhall your ſelfe behaue
Vnto all errant knights, whereſo on ground;
Next that ye Ladies ayde in euery ſtead and ſtound.
The wretched man, that all this while did dwell
In dread of death, his heaſts did gladly heare,
And promiſt to performe his precept well,
And whatſoeuer 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 louing fere,
Withouten dowre or compoſition;
But to releaſe his former foule condition.
All which accepting, and with faithfull oth
Bynding himſelfe moſt firmely to obay,
He vp aroſe, how euer liefe or loth,
And ſwore to him true fealtie for aye.
Then forth he cald from ſorrowfull diſmay
The ſad Briana, which all this beheld:
Who comming forth yet full of late affray,
Sir Calidore vpcheard, and to her teld
All this accord, to which he Crudor had compeld.
Whereof ſhe now more glad, then ſory earſt,
All ouercome with infinite affect,
For his exceeding courteſie, that pearſt
Her ſtubborne hart with inward deepe effect,
Before his feet her ſelfe ſhe did proiect,
And him adoring as her liues deare Lord,
With all due thankes, and dutifull reſpect,
Her ſelfe acknowledg'd bound for that accord,
By which he had to her both life and loue reſtord.
So all returning to the Caſtle glad,
Moſt ioyfully 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 ſhe mote it beſt explaine:
And after all, vnto Sir Calidore
She freely gaue that Caſtle for his paine,
And her ſelfe bound to him for euermore;
So wondrouſly now chaung'd, from that ſhe was afore.
But Calidore himſelfe would not retaine
Nor land nor fee, for hyre of his good deede,
But gaue them ſtreight vnto that Squire 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.
Cant. II.
Calidore ſees young Triſtram ſlay
A proud diſcourteous knight,
He makes him Squire, and of him learnes
his ſtate and preſent plight.
WHat vertue is ſo fitting for a knight,
Or for a Ladie, whom a knight ſhould loue,
As Curteſie, to beare themſelues aright
To all of each degree, as doth behoue?
For whether they be placed high aboue,
Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know
Their good, that none them rightly may reproue
Of rudeneſſe, for not yeelding what they owe:
Great 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 euery action doth them much commend,
And in the eyes of men great liking find;
Which others, that haue greater skill in mind,
Though they enforce themſelues, cannot attaine.
For euerie thing, to which one is inclin'd,
Doth beſt become, and greateſt grace doth gaine:
Yet praiſe likewiſe deſerue good thewes, enforſt with paine.
That well in courteous Calidore appeares,
Whoſe euery act and deed, that he did ſay,
Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes,
And both the eares did ſteale the hart away.
He now againe is on his former way,
To follow his firſt queſt, when as he ſpyde
A tall young man from thence not farre away,
Fighting on foot, as well he him deſcryde,
Againſt an armed knight, that did on horſebacke ryde.
And them beſide a Ladie faire he ſaw,
Standing alone on foot, in foule array:
To whom himſelfe he haſtily did draw,
To weet the cauſe of ſo vncomely fray,
And to depart them, if ſo be he may.
But ere he came in place, that youth had kild
That armed knight, that low on ground he lay;
Which when he ſaw, his hart was inly child
With great amazement, & his thought with wonder 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 ſeuenteene 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 lincolne greene, belayd with ſiluer lace;
And on his head an hood with aglets ſprad,
And by his ſide his hunters horne he hanging had.
Buskins he wore of coſtlieſt cordwayne,
Pinckt vpon gold, and paled part per part,
As then the guize was for 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 boreſpeare,
With which he wont to launch the ſaluage hart
Of many a Lyon, and of many a Beare
That firſt vnto his hand in chaſe did happen neare.
Whom Calidore a while well hauing vewed,
At length beſpake; what meanes this, gentle ſwaine?
Why hath thy hand too bold it ſelfe embrewed
In blood of knight, the which by thee is ſlaine,
By thee no knight; which armes impugneth plaine?
Certes (ſaid he) loth were I to haue broken
The law of armes; yet breake it ſhould againe,
Rather then let my ſelfe of wight be ſtroken,
So long as theſe two armes were able to be wroken.
For not I him as this his Ladie here
May witneſſe well, did offer firſt to wrong,
Ne ſurely thus vnarm'd I likely were;
But he me firſt, through pride and puiſſance ſtrong
Aſſayld, not knowing what to armes doth long.
Perdie great blame, (then ſaid Sir Calidore)
For armed knight a wight vnarm'd to wrong.
But then aread, thou gentle chyld, wherefore
Betwixt you two began this ſtrife and ſterne vprore.
That ſhall I ſooth (ſaid he) to you declare.
I whoſe vnryper yeares are yet vnfit
For thing of weight, or worke of greater care,
Doe ſpend my dayes, and bend my careleſſe wit
To ſaluage chace, where I thereon may hit
In all this forreſt, and wyld wooddie 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 plaine.
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 thicke and thin, vnfit for any Dame.
Yet not content, more to increaſe his ſhame,
When ſo ſhe lagged, as ſhe needs mote ſo,
He with his ſpeare, that was to him great blame,
Would thumpe 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 moued in indignant mind,
And gan to blame him for ſuch cruelty
Towards a Ladie, whom with vſage kind
He rather ſhould haue taken vp behind.
Wherewith he wroth, and full of proud diſdaine,
Tooke in foule ſcorne, that I ſuch fault did find,
And me in lieu thereof reuil'd againe,
Threatning to chaſtize me, as doth t'a chyld pertaine.
Which I no leſſe diſdayning, backe returned
His ſcornefull taunts vnto his teeth againe,
That he ſtreight way with haughtie choler burned,
And with his ſpeare ſtrooke me one ſtroke or twaine;
Which I enforſt to beare though to my paine,
Caſt to requite, and with a ſlender dart,
Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine,
Strooke him, as ſeemeth, vnderneath the hart,
That through the wound his ſpirit ſhortly did depart.
Much did Sir Calidore admyre his ſpeach
Tempred ſo well, but more admyr'd the ſtroke
That through the mayles had made ſo ſtrong a breach
Into his hart, and had ſo ſternely wroke
His wrath on him, that firſt occaſion broke.
Yet reſted not, but further gan inquire
Of that ſame Ladie, whether what he ſpoke,
Were ſoothly ſo, and that th'vnrighteous ire
Of her owne knight, had giuen him his owne due hire.
Of all which, when as ſhe could nought deny,
But cleard that ſtripling of th'imputed blame,
Sayd then Sir Calidore; neither will I
Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame:
For what he ſpake, for you he ſpake it, Dame;
And what he did, he did him ſelfe to ſaue:
Againſt both which that knight wrought knightleſſe ſhame.
For knights and all men this by nature haue,
Towards all womenkind them kindly to behaue.
But ſith that he is gone irreuocable,
Pleaſe it you Ladie, to vs to aread,
What cauſe could make him ſo diſhonourable,
To driue you ſo on foot vnfit to tread,
And lackey by him, gainſt all womanhead?
Certes Sir knight (ſayd ſhe) full loth I were
To rayſe a lyuing blame againſt the dead:
But ſince it me concernes, my ſelfe to clere,
I will the truth diſcouer, as it chaunſt whylere.
This day, as he and I together roade
Vpon our way, to which we weren bent,
We chaunſt to come foreby a couert glade
Within a wood, whereas a Ladie gent
Sate with a knight in ioyous iolliment,
Of their franke loues, free from all gealous ſpyes:
Faire was the Ladie ſure, that mote content
An hart, not carried with too curious eyes,
And vnto him did ſhew all louely courteſyes.
Whom when my knight did ſee ſo louely faire,
He inly gan her louer to enuy,
And wiſh, that he part of his ſpoyle might ſhare.
Whereto when as my preſence he did ſpy
To be a let, he bad me by and by
For to alight: but when as I was loth,
My loues owne part to leaue ſo ſuddenly,
He with ſtrong hand down frō his ſteed me throw'th,
And with preſumpteous powre againſt that knight ſtreight go'th.
Vnarm'd all was the knight, as then more meete
For Ladies ſeruice, and for loues delight,
Then fearing any foeman there to meete:
Whereof he taking oddes, ſtreight bids him dight
Himſelfe to yeeld his loue, or elſe to fight.
Whereat the other ſtarting vp diſmayd,
Yet boldly anſwer'd, as he rightly might;
To leaue his loue he ſhould be ill apayd,
In which he had good right gaynſt all, that it gaineſayd.
Yet ſince he was not preſently in plight
Her to defend, or his to iuſtifie,
He him requeſted, as he was a knight,
To lend him day his better right to trie,
Or ſtay till he his armes, which were thereby,
Might lightly fetch. But he was fierce and whot,
Ne time would giue, nor any termes aby,
But at him flew, and with his ſpeare him ſmot;
From which to thinke to ſaue himſelfe, it booted not.
Meane while his Ladie, which this outrage ſaw,
Whileſt they together for the quarrey ſtroue,
Into the couert did her ſelfe withdraw,
And cloſely hid her ſelfe within the groue.
My knight hers ſoone, as ſeemes, to daunger droue
And left ſore wounded: but when her he miſt,
He woxe halfe mad, and in that rape gan roue
And range through all the wood, where ſo he wiſt
She hidden was, and ſought her ſo long, as him liſt.
But when as her he by no meanes could find,
After long ſearch and chauff, he turned backe
Vnto the place, where me he left behind:
There gan 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,
Stroue to appeaſe him, and perſwaded long:
But ſtill his paſſion grew more violent and ſtrong.
Then as it were t'auenge his wrath on mee,
When forward we ſhould fare, he flat refuſed
To take me vp (as this young man did ſee)
Vpon 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 vaine 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 vs met,
And being moou'd with pittie of my plight,
Spake, as was meet, for eaſe of my regret:
Whereof befell, what now is in your ſight.
Now ſure (then ſaid Sir Calidore) and right
Me ſeemes, that him befell by his owne fault:
Or through ſupport of count'nance proud and hault
To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne aſſault.
Then turning backe vnto that gentle boy,
Which had himſelfe ſo ſtoutly well acquit;
Seeing his face ſo louely ſterne and coy,
And hearing th'anſweres of his pregnant wit,
He prayſd it much, and much admyred it;
That ſure he weend him borne of noble blood,
With whom thoſe graces did ſo goodly fit:
And when he long had him beholding ſtood,
He burſt into theſe words, as to him ſeemed good.
Faire gentle ſwayne, and yet as ſtout as fayre,
That in theſe woods amōgſt the Nymphs doſt wonne,
Which daily may to thy ſweete lookes repayre,
As they are wont vnto Latonaes ſonne,
After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne:
Well may I certes ſuch an one thee read,
As by thy worth thou worthily haſt wonne,
Or ſurely borne of ſome Heroicke ſead,
That in thy face appeares and gratious goodly head.
But ſhould it not diſpleaſe thee it to tell;
(Vnleſſe thou in theſe woods thy ſelfe conceale,
For loue amongſt the woodie Gods to dwell;)
I would thy ſelfe require thee to reueale,
For deare affection and vnfayned zeale,
Which to thy noble perſonage I beare,
And wiſh thee grow in worſhip and great weale.
For ſince the day that armes I firſt did reare,
I neuer ſaw in any greater hope appeare.
To whom then thus the noble youth; may be
Sir knight, that by diſcouering my eſtate,
Harme may ariſe vnweeting vnto 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, how euer thorough fate
Or fortune I my countrie haue forlorne,
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 liues deſpeire
Vntimely dyde, before I did attaine
Ripe yeares of reaſon, my right to maintaine.
After whoſe death, his brother ſeeing mee
An infant, weake a kingdome to ſuſtaine,
Vpon him tooke the roiall high degree,
And ſent me, where him liſt, inſtructed for to bee.
The widow Queene my mother, which then hight
Faire Emiline, conceiuing 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 remoue ſomewhere
Into ſome forrein land, where as no need
Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.
So taking counſell of a wiſe man red,
She was by him aduiz'd, to ſend me quight
Out of the countrie, wherein I was bred,
The which the fertile Lioneſſe is hight,
Into the land of Faerie, where no wight
Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong
To whoſe wiſe read ſhe hearkning, ſent me ſtreight
Into this land, where I haue wond thus long,
Since I was ten yeares old, now growen to ſtature ſtrong.
All which my daies I haue not lewdly ſpent,
Nor ſpilt the bloſſome of my tender yeares
In ydleſſe, but as was conuenient,
Haue trayned bene with many noble feres
In gentle thewes, and ſuch like ſeemely leres.
Mongſt which my moſt delight hath alwaies been,
To hunt the ſaluage chace amongſt my peres,
Of all that raungeth in the forreſt greene;
Of which none is to me vnknowne, that eu'r was ſeene.
Ne is there hauke, which mantleth her on pearch,
Whether high towring, or accoaſting low,
But I the meaſure of her flight doe ſearch,
And all her pray, and all her diet know.
Such be our ioyes, which in theſe forreſts grow:
Onely the vſe of armes, which moſt I ioy,
And fitteth moſt for noble ſwayne to know,
I haue not taſted yet, yet paſt a boy,
And being now high time theſe ſtrong ioynts to imploy.
Therefore, good Sir, ſith now occaſion fit
Doth fall, whoſe like hereafter ſeldome may,
Let me this craue, vnworthy though of it,
That ye will make me Squire without delay,
That from henceforth in batteilous array
I may beare armes, and learne to vſe them right;
The rather ſince that fortune hath this day
Giuen to me the ſpoile of this dead knight,
Theſe goodly gilden armes, which I haue won in fight.
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 loue of armes, which in you doth aſpire,
I may not certes without blame denie;
But rather wiſh, that ſome more noble hire,
(Though none more noble then is cheualrie,)
I had, you to reward with greater dignitie.
There him he cauſd to kneele, and made to ſweare
Faith to his knight, and truth to Ladies all,
And neuer 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,
Like as a flowre, whoſe ſilken leaues ſmall,
Long ſhut vp in the bud from heauens vew,
At length breakes forth, and brode diſplayes his ſmyling 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 aduenture, vowing not to ſtart,
But wayt on him in euery place and part.
Whereat Sir Calidore did much delight,
And greatly ioy'd at his ſo noble hart,
In hope he ſure would proue a doughtie knight:
Yet for the time this anſwere he to him behight.
Glad would I ſurely be, thou courteous Squire,
To haue 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 Soueraine, when I it aſſayd,
That in atchieuement of her high beheſt,
I ſhould no creature ioyne vnto mine ayde,
For thy I may not graunt, that ye ſo greatly prayde.
But ſince this Ladie is all deſolate,
And needeth ſafegard now vpon her way,
Ye may doe well in this her needfull ſtate
To ſuccour her, from daunger of diſmay;
That thankfull guerdon may to you repay.
The noble ympe of ſuch new ſeruice fayne,
It gladly did accept, as he did ſay.
So taking courteous leaue, they parted twayne,
And Calidore forth paſſed to his former payne.
But Triſtram then deſpoyling that dead knight
Of all thoſe goodly implements of prayſe,
Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire ſight
Of the bright mettall, ſhyning like Sunne rayes;
Handling and turning them a thouſand wayes.
And after hauing them vpon him dight,
He tooke that Ladie, and her vp did rayſe
Vpon the ſteed of her owne late dead knight,
So with her marched forth, as ſhe did him behight.
There to their fortune leaue we them awhile,
And turne we backe to good Sir Calidore;
Who ere he thence had traueild 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 wyde,
That all his garments, and the graſſe in vermeill dyde.
And there beſide him ſate vpon the ground
His wofull Ladie, piteouſly complayning
With loud laments that moſt vnluckie ſtound,
And her ſad ſelfe with carefull hand conſtrayning
To wype his wounds, and eaſe their bitter payning.
Which ſorie ſight when Calidore did vew
With heauie eyne, from teares vneath refrayning,
His mightie hart their mournefull caſe can rew,
And for their better comfort to them nigher drew.
Then ſpeaking to the Ladie, thus he ſayd:
Ye dolefull Dame, let not your griefe empeach
To tell, what cruell hand hath thus arayd
This knight vnarm'd, with ſo vnknightly breach
Of armes, that if I yet him nigh may reach,
I may auenge him of ſo foule deſpight.
The Ladie hearing his ſo courteous ſpeach,
Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull light,
And from her ſory hart few heauie words forth ſight.
In which ſhe ſhew'd, how that diſcourteous knight
(Whom Triſtram ſlew) them in that ſhadow found,
Ioying together in vnblam'd delight,
And him vnarm'd, as now he lay on ground,
Charg'd with his ſpeare and mortally did wound,
Withouten cauſe, but onely her to reaue
From him, to whom ſhe was for euer bound:
Yet when ſhe fled into that couert greaue,
He her not finding, both them thus nigh dead did leaue.
When Calidore this ruefull ſtorie had
Well vnderſtood, 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 vnderſtand,
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 waues, row'd in a ſommer barge.
Then gan Sir Calidore to gheſſe ſtreight way
By many ſignes, which ſhe deſcribed had,
That this was he, 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 him ſelfe in much more wretched plight;
Theſe eyes him ſaw vpon the cold earth ſprad,
The meede of his deſert for that deſpight,
Which to your ſelfe he wrought, & to your loued knight.
Therefore faire Lady lay aſide this griefe,
Which ye haue gathered to your gentle hart,
For that diſpleaſure; and thinke what reliefe
Were beſt deuiſe for this your louers ſmart,
And how ye may him hence, and to what part
Conuay 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 her loue; and to her ſelfe in that ſad dreare.
Yet could ſhe not deuiſe by any wit,
How thence ſhe might conuay him to ſome place.
For him to trouble ſhe it thought vnfit,
That was a ſtraunger to her wretched caſe;
And him to beare, ſhe thought it thing too baſe.
Which when as he perceiu'd, he thus beſpake;
Faire Lady let it not you ſeeme diſgrace,
To beare this burden on your dainty backe;
My ſelfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe.
So off he did his ſhield, and downeward layd
Vpon the ground, like to an hollow beare;
And powring balme, which he had long puruayd,
Into his wounds, him vp thereon did reare,
And twixt them both with parted paines did beare,
Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne.
Thence they him carried to a Caſtle neare,
In which a worthy auncient Knight did wonne:
Where what enſu'd, ſhall in next Canto be begonne.
Cant. III.
Calidore brings Priſcilla home,
Purſues the Blatant Beaſt:
Saues Serena whileſt Calepine
By Turpine is oppreſt.
TRue is, that whiLome that good Poet ſayd,
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.
For a man by nothing is ſo well bewrayd,
As by his manners, in which plaine is ſhowne
Of what degree and what race he is growne.
For ſeldome ſeene, a trotting Stalion get
An ambling Colt, that is his proper owne:
So ſeldome ſeene, that one in baſeneſſe ſet
Doth noble courage ſhew, with curteous manners met.
But euermore contrary hath bene tryde,
That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed;
As well may be in Calidore deſcryde,
By late enſample of that courteous deed,
Done to that wounded Knight in his great need,
Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought
Vnto the Caſtle where they had decreed.
There of the Knight, the which that Caſtle ought,
To make abode that night he greatly was beſought.
He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,
That in his youth had beene of mickle might,
And borne great ſway in armes amongſt his peares:
But now weake age had dimd his candle light.
Yet was he courteous ſtill to euery wight,
And loued all that did to armes incline.
And was the father of that wounded Knight,
Whom Calidore thus carried on his chine,
And Aldus was his name, and his ſonnes Aladine.
Who when he ſaw his ſonne ſo ill bedight,
With bleeding wounds, brought home vpon a Beare,
By a faire Lady, and a ſtraunger Knight,
Was inly touched with compaſſion deare,
And 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 ioy,
Which I expected long, now turnd to ſad annoy?
Such is the weakeneſſe of all mortall hope;
So tickle is the ſtate of earthly things,
That ere they come vnto their aymed ſcope,
They fall too ſhort of our fraile reckonings,
And bring vs bale and bitter ſorrowings,
In ſtead of comfort, which we ſhould embrace:
This is the ſtate of Keaſars and of Kings.
Let none therefore, that is in meaner place,
Too greatly grieue at any his vnlucky caſe.
So well and wiſely did that good old Knight
Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare,
To cheare his gueſts, whom he had ſtayd that night,
And make their welcome to them well appeare:
That to Sir Calidore was eaſie geare;
But that faire Lady would be cheard for nought,
But ſigh'd and ſorrow'd for her louer deare,
And inly did afflict her penſiue thought,
With thinking to what caſe her name ſhould now be brought.
For ſhe was daughter to a noble Lord,
Which dwelt thereby, who ſought her to affy
To a great pere; but ſhe did diſaccord,
Ne could her liking to his loue apply,
But lou'd this freſh young Knight, who dwelt her ny,
The luſty Aladine, though meaner borne,
And of leſſe liuelood and hability,
Yet full of valour, the which did adorne
His meaneſſe much, & make her th'others riches ſcorne.
So hauing both found fit occaſion,
They met together in that luckeleſſe glade;
Where that proud Knight in his preſumption
The gentle Aladine did earſt inuade,
Being vnarm'd, and ſet in ſecret ſhade.
Whereof ſhe now bethinking, gan t'aduize,
How great a hazard ſhe at earſt had made
Of her good fame, and further gan deuize,
How ſhe the blame might ſalue with coloured diſguize.
But Calidore with all good courteſie
Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away
The penſiue fit of her melancholie;
And that old Knight by all meanes did aſſay,
To make them both as merry as he may.
So they the euening paſt, till time of reſt,
When Calidore in ſeemly good array
Vnto his bowre was brought, and there vndreſt,
Did ſleepe all night through weary trauell of his queſt.
But faire Priſcilla (ſo that Lady hight)
Would to no bed, nor take no kindely ſleepe,
But by her wounded loue did watch all night,
And all the night for bitter anguiſh weepe,
And with her teares his wounds did waſh and ſteepe.
So well ſhe waſht them, and ſo well ſhe wacht him,
That of the deadly ſwound, in which full deepe
He drenched was, ſhe at the length diſpacht him,
And droue away the ſtound, which mortally attacht him.
The morrow next, when day gan to vplooke,
He alſo gan vplooke with drery eye,
Like one that out of deadly dreame awooke:
Where when he ſaw his faire Priſcilla by,
He deepely ſigh'd, and groaned inwardly,
To thinke of this ill ſtate, in which ſhe ſtood,
To which ſhe for his ſake had weetingly
Now brought her ſelfe, and blam'd her noble blood:
For firſt, next after life, he tendered her good.
Which ſhe perceiuing, did with plenteous teares
His care more then her owne compaſſionate,
Forgetfull of her owne, to minde his feares:
So both conſpiring, gan to intimate
Each others griefe with zeale affectionate,
And twixt them twaine with equall care to caſt,
How to ſaue hole 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 faithfull 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 thicke clouds, in which they ſteeped lay
All night in darkeneſſe, duld with yron ruſt.
Calidore riſing vp as freſh as day,
Gan freſhly him addreſſe vnto his former way.
But firſt him ſeemed fit, that wounded Knight
To viſite, after this nights perillous paſſe,
And to ſalute him, if he were in plight,
And eke that Lady his faire louely laſſe.
There he him found much better then he was,
And moued ſpeach to him of things of courſe,
The anguiſh of his paine to ouerpaſſe:
Mongſt which he namely did to him diſcourſe,
Of former daies miſhap, his ſorrowes wicked ſourſe.
Of which occaſion Aldine taking hold,
Gan breake to him the fortunes of his loue,
And all his diſaduentures to vnfold;
That Calidore it dearly deepe did moue.
In th'end his kyndly courteſie to proue,
He him by all the bands of loue beſought,
And as it mote a faithfull friend behoue,
To ſafeconduct his loue, and not for ought
To leaue, till to her fathers houſe he had her brought.
Sir Calidore his faith thereto did plight,
It to performe: ſo after little ſtay,
That ſhe her ſelfe had to the iourney dight,
He paſſed forth with her in faire array,
Feareleſſe, 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 can deuize this counter-caſt of ſlight,
To giue faire colour to that Ladies cauſe in ſight.
Streight to the carkaſſe of that Knight he went,
The cauſe of all this euill, who was ſlaine
The day before by iuſt auengement
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 daies paine,
Till to that Ladies fathers houſe he came,
Moſt penſiue man, through feare, what of his childe became.
There he arriuing boldly, did preſent
The fearefull Lady to her father deare,
Moſt perfect pure, and guiltleſſe innocent
Of blame, as he did on his Knighthood 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 beare:
Witneſſe thereof he ſhew'd his head there left,
And wretched life forlorne for vengement of his theft.
Moſt ioyfull man her ſire was her to ſee,
And heare th'aduenture of her late miſchaunce;
And thouſand thankes to Calidore for fee
Of his large paines in her deliueraunce
Did yeeld; Ne leſſe the Lady did aduaunce.
Thus hauing her reſtored truſtily,
As he had vow'd, ſome ſmall continuaunce
He there did make, and then moſt carefully
Vnto his firſt exploite he did him ſelfe apply.
So as he was purſuing of his queſt
He chaunſt to come whereas a iolly Knight,
In couert ſhade him ſelfe did ſafely reſt,
To ſolace with his Lady in delight:
His warlike armes he had from him vndight;
For that him ſelfe he thought from daunger free,
And far from enuious eyes that mote him ſpight.
And eke the Lady was full faire to ſee,
And courteous withall, becomming her degree.
To whom Sir Calidore approaching nye,
Ere they were well aware of liuing wight,
Them much abaſht, but more him ſelfe thereby,
That he ſo rudely did vppon them light,
And troubled had their quiet loues delight.
Yet ſince it was his fortune, not his fault,
Him ſelfe thereof he labour'd to acquite,
And pardon crau'd for his ſo raſh default,
That he gainſt courteſie ſo fowly did default.
With which his gentle words and goodly wit
He ſoone allayd that Knights conceiu'd diſpleaſure,
That he beſought him downe by him to ſit,
That they mote treat of things abrode at leaſure;
And of aduentures, which had in his meaſure
Of ſo long waies to him befallen late.
So downe he ſate, and with delightfull pleaſure
His long aduentures gan to him relate,
Which he endured had through daungerous debate.
Of which whileſt they diſcourſed both together,
The faire Serena (ſo his Lady hight)
Allur'd with myldneſſe of the gentle wether,
And pleaſaunce of the place, the which was dight
With diuers flowres diſtinct with rare delight;
Wandred about the fields, as liking led
Her wauering luſt after her wandring ſight,
To make a garland to adorne her hed,
Without ſuſpect of ill or daungers hidden dred.
All ſodainely out of the forreſt nere
The Blatant Beaſt forth ruſhing vnaware,
Caught her thus looſely wandring here and there,
And in his wide great mouth away her bare.
Crying aloud in vaine, to ſhew her ſad misfare
Vnto the Knights, and calling oft for ayde,
Who with the horrour of her hapleſſe care
Haſtily ſtarting vp, like men diſmayde,
Ran after faſt to reskue the diſtreſſed mayde.
The Beaſt with their purſuit incited more,
Into the wood was bearing her apace
For to haue ſpoyled her, when Calidore
Who was more light of foote and ſwift in chace,
Him ouertooke in middeſt of his race:
And fiercely charging him with all his might,
Forſt to forgoe his pray there in the place,
And to betake him ſelfe to fearefull flight;
For he durſt not abide with Calidore to fight.
Who natheleſſe, when he the Lady ſaw
There left on ground, though in full euill plight,
Yet knowing that her Knight now neare did draw,
Staide not to ſuccour her in that affright,
But follow'd faſt the Monſter in his flight:
Through woods and hils he follow'd him ſo faſt,
That he nould let him breath nor gather ſpright,
But forſt him gape and gaſpe, with dread aghaſt,
As if his lungs and lites were nigh a ſunder braſt.
And now by this Sir Calepine (ſo hight)
Came to the place, where he his Lady found
In dolorous diſmay and deadly plight,
All in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground,
Hauing both ſides through grypt with grieſly wound.
His weapons ſoone from him he threw away,
And ſtouping downe to her in drery ſwound,
Vprear'd her from the ground, whereon ſhe lay,
And in his tender armes her forced vp to ſtay.
So well he did his buſie paines apply,
That the faint ſprite he did reuoke againe,
To her fraile manſion of mortality.
Then vp he tooke her twixt his armes twaine,
And ſetting on his ſteede, her did ſuſtaine
With carefull hands ſofting foot her beſide,
Till to ſome place of reſt they mote attaine,
Where ſhe in ſafe aſſuraunce mote abide,
Till ſhe recured were of thoſe her woundes wide.
Now when as Phoebus with his fiery waine
Vnto his Inne began to draw apace;
Tho wexing weary of that toyleſome paine,
In trauelling on foote ſo long a ſpace,
Not wont on foote with heauy armes to trace,
Downe in a dale forby a riuers ſyde,
He chaunſt to ſpie a faire and ſtately place,
To which he meant his weary ſteps to guyde,
In hope there for his loue ſome ſuccour to prouyde.
But comming to the riuers ſide, he found
That hardly paſſable on foote it was:
Therefore there ſtill he ſtood as in a ſtound,
Ne wiſt which way he through the foord mote pas.
Thus whileſt he was in this diſtreſſed caſe,
Deuiſing what to doe, he nigh eſpyde
An armed Knight approaching to the place,
With a faire Lady lincked by his ſyde,
The which themſelues prepard through the foord to ride
Whom Calepine ſaluting (as became)
Beſought of courteſie in that his neede,
For ſafe conducting of his ſickely Dame,
Through that ſame perillous foord with better heede,
To take him vp behinde vpon his ſteed,
To whom that other did this taunt returne.
Perdy thou peaſant Knight, mightſt rightly reed
Me then to be full baſe and euill borne,
If I would beare behinde a burden of ſuch ſcorne.
But as thou haſt thy 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 backe with pleaſing payne,
And proue thy manhood on the billowes vayne.
With which rude ſpeach his Lady much diſpleaſed,
Did him reproue, yet could him not reſtrayne,
And would on her owne Palfrey him haue eaſed,
For pitty of his Dame, whom ſhe ſaw ſo diſeaſed.
Sir Calepine her thanckt, yet inly wroth
Againſt her Knight, her gentleneſſe refuſed,
And careleſly into the riuer goth,
As in deſpight to be ſo fowle abuſed
Of a rude churle, whom often he accuſed
Of fowle diſcourteſie, vnfit for Knight
And ſtrongly wading through the waues vnuſed,
With ſpeare in th'one hand, ſtayd him ſelfe vpright,
With th'other ſtaide his Lady vp with ſteddy might.
And all the while, that ſame diſcourteous Knight,
Stood on the further bancke beholding him,
At whoſe calamity, for more deſpight
He laught, and mockt to ſee him like to ſwim.
But when as Calepine came to the brim,
And ſaw his carriage paſt that perill well,
Looking at that ſame Carle with count'nance grim,
His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did ſwell,
And forth at laſt did breake in ſpeaches ſharpe and fell.
Vnknightly Knight, the blemiſh of that name,
And blot of all that armes vppon them take,
Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
Loe I defie thee, and here challenge make,
That thou for euer doe thoſe armes forſake;
And be for euer held a recreant Knight,
Vnleſſe thou dare for thy deare Ladies ſake,
And for thine owne defence on foote alight,
To iuſtifie thy fault gainſt me in equall fight.
The daſtard, that did heare him ſelfe defyde,
Seem'd not to weigh his threatfull 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 reuenge he forth could call,
But both his challenge and him ſelfe contemned,
Ne cared as a coward ſo to be condemned.
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,
But after went directly as he may,
For his ſicke charge ſome harbour there to ſeeke;
Where he arriuing 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 vnto him forbad.
Natheleſſe the Knight now in ſo needy caſe,
Gan him entreat euen with ſubmiſſion baſe,
And humbly praid to let them in that night:
Who to him aunſwer'd, that there was no place
Of lodging fit for any errant Knight,
Vnleſſe that with his Lord he formerly did fight.
Full loth am I (quoth he) as now at earſt,
When day is ſpent, and reſt vs needeth moſt,
And that this Lady, both whoſe ſides are pearſt
With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghoſt:
Ne would I gladly combate with mine hoſt,
That ſhould to me ſuch curteſie afford,
Vnleſſe that I were thereunto enforſt.
But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord,
That doth thus ſtrongly ward the Caſtle of the ford.
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 euery errant Knight,
Becauſe of one, that wrought him fowle deſpight.
Ill ſeemes (ſayd he) if he ſo valiaunt be,
That he ſhould be ſo ſterne to ſtranger wight:
For ſeldome yet did liuing creature ſee,
That curteſie and manhood euer diſagree.
But go thy waies to him, and fro me ſay,
That here is at his gate an errant Knight,
That houſe-rome craues, 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 fight, craue leaue till morne,
And tell with all, the lamentable plight,
In which this Lady languiſheth forlorne,
That pitty craues, as he of woman was yborne.
The groome went ſtreight way in, and to his Lord
Declar'd the meſſage, which that Knight did moue;
Who ſitting with his Lady then at bord,
Not onely did not his demaund reproue,
But both himſelfe reuil'd, and eke his loue;
Albe his Lady, that Blandina hight,
Him of vngentle vſage did approue
And earneſtly entreated that they might
Finde fauour to be lodged there for that ſame night.
Yet would he not perſwaded be for ought,
Ne from his curriſh will awhit reclame.
Which anſwer when the groome returning, brought
To Calepine, his heart did inly flame
With wrathfull fury for ſo foule a ſhame,
That he could not thereof auenged bee:
But moſt for pitty of his deareſt Dame,
Whom now in deadly dannger he did ſee;
Yet had no meanes to comfort, nor procure her glee.
But all in vaine; for why, no remedy
He ſaw, the preſent miſchiefe to redreſſe,
But th'vtmoſt end perforce for to aby,
Which that nights fortune would for him addreſſe.
So downe he tooke his Lady in diſtreſſe,
And layd her vnderneath a buſh to ſleepe,
Couer'd with cold, and wrapt in wretchedneſſe,
Whiles he him ſelfe all night did nought but weepe,
And wary watch about her for her ſafegard keepe.
The morrow next, ſo ſoone as ioyous day
Did ſhew it ſelfe in ſunny beames bedight,
Serena full of dolorous diſmay,
Twixt darkeneſſe dread, and hope of liuing light,
Vprear'd her head to ſee that chearefull ſight.
Then Calepine, how euer inly wroth,
And greedy to auenge that vile deſpight,
Yet for the feeble Ladies ſake, full loth
To make there lenger ſtay, forth on his iourney goth.
He goth on foote all armed by her ſide,
Vpſtaying ſtill her ſelfe vppon her ſteede,
Being vnhable elſe alone to ride;
So ſore her ſides, ſo much her wounds did bleede:
Till that at length, in his extreameſt neede,
He chaunſt far off an armed Knight to ſpy,
Purſuing him apace with greedy ſpeede,
Whom well he wiſt to be ſome enemy,
That meant to make aduantage of his miſery.
Wherefore he ſtayd, till that he nearer drew,
To weet what iſſue would thereof betyde,
Tho whenas he approched nigh in vew,
By certaine ſignes he plainely him deſcryde,
To be the man, that with ſuch ſcornefull pryde
Had him abuſde, and ſhamed yeſterday;
Therefore miſdoubting, leaſt he ſhould miſguyde
His former malice to ſome new aſſay,
He caſt to keepe him ſelfe ſo ſafely as he may.
By this the other came in place likewiſe,
And couching cloſe his ſpeare and all his powre,
As bent to ſome malicious enterpriſe,
He bad him ſtand, t'abide the bitter auoure
Of his ſore vengeaunce, or to make auoure
Of the lewd words and deedes, which he had done:
With that ran at him, as he would deuoure
His life attonce; who nought could do, but ſhun
The perill of his pride, or elſe be ouerrun.
Yet he him ſtill purſew'd from place to place,
With full intent him cruelly 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
Behinde his Ladies backe, who to him cryde,
And called oft with prayers loud and ſhrill,
As euer he to Lady was affyde,
To 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,
Hauing by chaunce a cloſe aduantage vew'd,
He ouer raught him, hauing long eſchew'd
His violence in vaine, and with his ſpere
Strooke through his ſhoulder, that the blood enſew'd
In great aboundance, as a well it were,
That forth out of an hill freſh guſhing did appere.
Yet ceaſt he not for all that cruell wound,
But chaſte him ſtill, for all his Ladies cry,
Not ſatisfyde till on the fatall ground
He ſaw his life powrd forth diſpiteouſly:
The which was certes in great ieopardy,
Had not a wondrous chaunce his reskue wrought,
And ſaued from his cruell villany.
Such chaunces oft exceed all humaine thought:
That in another Canto ſhall to end be brought.
Cant. IIII.
Calepine by a ſaluage man
from Turpine reskewed is,
And whyleſt an Infant from a Beare
he ſaues, his loue doth miſſe.
LIke as a ſhip with dreadfull ſtorme long toſt,
Hauing ſpent all her maſtes and her ground-hold,
Now farre from harbour likely to be loſt,
At laſt ſome fiſher barke doth neare behold,
That giueth comfort to her courage cold.
Such was the ſtate of this moſt courteous knight
Being oppreſſed by that faytour bold,
That he remayned in moſt perilous plight,
And his ſad Ladie left in pitifull affright.
Till that by fortune, paſſing all foreſight,
A ſaluage man, which in thoſe woods did wonne,
Drawne with that Ladies loud and piteous ſhright,
Toward the ſame inceſſantly did ronne,
To vnderſtand what there was to be donne.
There he this moſt diſcourteous crauen found,
As fiercely yet, as when he firſt begonne,
Chaſing the gentle Calepine around,
Ne ſparing him the more for all his grieuous wound.
The ſaluage man, that neuer till this houre
Did taſte of pittie, neither gentleſſe knew,
Seeing his ſharpe aſſault and cruell ſtoure
Was much emmoued at his perils vew,
That euen his ruder hart began to rew,
And feele compaſſion of his euill plight,
Againſt his foe that did him ſo purſew:
From whom he meant to free him, if he might,
And him auenge of that ſo villenous deſpight.
Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight,
Ne knew the vſe of warlike inſtruments,
Saue ſuch as ſudden rage him lent to ſmite,
But naked without needfull veſtiments,
To clad his corpſe with meete habiliments,
He cared not for dint 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 ſtayed not t'aduize, which way were beſt
His foe t'aſſayle, or how himſelfe to gard,
But with fierce fury and with force infeſt
Vpon him ran; who being well prepard,
His firſt aſſault full warily did ward,
And with the puſh of his ſharp-pointed ſpeare
Full on the breaſt him ſtrooke, ſo ſtrong and hard,
That forſt him backe recoyle, and reele areare;
Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud appeare.
With that the wyld man more enraged grew,
Like to a Tygre that hath miſt his pray,
And with mad mood againe vpon him flew,
Regarding neither ſpeare, that mote him ſlay,
Nor his fierce ſteed, that mote him much diſmay.
The ſaluage nation doth all dread deſpize:
Tho 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 leaue his enterprize.
Long did he wreſt and wring it to and fro,
And euery 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 hauing now no vſe of his long ſpeare,
So nigh at hand, nor force his ſhield to ſtraine,
Both ſpeare and ſhield, as things that needleſſe were▪
He quite forſooke, and fled himſelfe away for feare.
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 ouertaken in his flight.
Who euer, as he ſaw him nigh ſucceed,
Gan cry aloud with horrible affright,
And ſhrieked out, a thing vncomely for a knight.
But when the Saluage ſaw his labour vaine,
In following of him, that fled ſo faſt,
He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe
With ſpeede vnto the place, whereas he laſt
Had left that couple, nere their vtmoſt caſt.
There he that knight full ſorely bleeding found,
And eke the Ladie fearefully 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 that vile lozell, which her late offended,
Yet now no leſſe encombrance ſhe did ſee,
And perill by this ſaluage man pretended;
Gainſt whom ſhe ſaw no meanes to be defended,
By reaſon that her knight was wounded ſore.
Therefore her ſelfe ſhe wholy recommended
To Gods ſole grace, whom ſhe did oft implore,
To ſend her ſuccour, being of all hope forlore.
But the wyld man, contrarie to her feare,
Came to her creeping like a fawning hound,
And by rude tokens made to her appeare
His deepe compaſſion of her dolefull ſtound,
Kiſſing his hands, and crouching to the ground;
For other language had he none nor ſpeach,
But a ſoft murmure, and confuſed ſound
Of ſenſeleſſe words, which nature did him teach,
T'expreſſe his paſſions, which his reaſon did empeach.
And comming likewiſe to the wounded knight,
When he beheld the ſtreames of purple blood
Yet flowing freſh, as moued with the ſight,
He made great mone after his ſaluage mood,
And running ſtreight into the thickeſt wood,
A certaine herbe from thence vnto him brought,
Whoſe vertue he by vſe well vnderſtood:
The iuyce whereof into his wound he wrought,
And ſtopt the bleeding ſtraight, ere he it ſtaunched thought.
Then taking vp that Recreants ſhield and ſpeare,
Which earſt he left, he ſignes vnto them made,
With him to wend vnto his wonning neare:
To which he eaſily did them perſwade
Farre in the forreſt by a hollow glade,
Couered with moſſie ſhrubs, which ſpredding brode
Did vnderneath them make a gloomy ſhade;
There foot of liuing creature neuer trode,
Ne ſcarſe wyld beaſts durſt come, there was this wights abode.
Thether he brought theſe vnacquainted gueſts;
To whom faire ſemblance, as he could, he ſhewed
By ſignes, by lookes, and all his other geſts.
But the bare ground, with hoarie moſſe beſtrowed,
Muſt be their bed, their pillow was vnſowed,
And the frutes of the forreſt was their feaſt:
For their bad Stuard neither plough'd nor ſowed,
Ne fed on fleſh, ne euer of wyld beaſt
Did taſte the bloud, obaying natures firſt beheaſt.
Yet howſoeuer baſe and meane it were,
They tooke it well, and thanked God for all,
Which had them freed from that deadly feare,
And ſau'd from being to that caytiue thrall.
Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
Compelled were themſelues a while to reſt,
Glad of that eaſement, though it were but ſmall;
That hauing there their wounds awhile redreſt,
They mote the abler be to paſſe vnto the reſt.
During which time, that wyld man did apply
His beſt endeuour, and his daily paine,
In ſeeking all the woods both farre and nye
For herbes to dreſſe their wounds; ſtill ſeeming faine,
When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine.
So as ere long he had that knightes wound
Recured well, and made him whole againe:
But that ſame Ladies hurts no herbe he found,
Which could redreſſe, for it was inwardly vnſound.
Now when as Calepine was woxen ſtrong,
Vpon a day he caſt abrode to wend,
To take the ayre, and heare the thruſhes ſong,
Vnarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend,
And without ſword his perſon to defend.
There him befell, vnlooked for before,
An hard aduenture with vnhappie 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 fill,
As if his cry did meane for helpe 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 ouerpaſt,
Yet by the cry he follow'd, and purſewed faſt.
Well then him chaunſt his heauy armes to want,
Whoſe burden mote empeach his needfull ſpeed,
And hinder him from libertie to pant:
For hauing long time, as his daily weed,
Them wont to weare, and wend on foot for need,
Now wanting them he felt himſelfe ſo light,
That like an Hauke, which feeling her ſelfe freed
From bels and ieſſes, which did let her flight,
Him ſeem'd his feet did fly, and in their ſpeed delight.
So well he ſped him, that the wearie Beare
Ere long he ouertooke, and forſt to ſtay,
And without weapon him aſſayling neare,
Compeld him ſoone the ſpoyle adowne to lay.
Wherewith the beaſt enrag'd to looſe his pray,
Vpon him turned, and with greedie force
And furie, to be croſſed in his way,
Gaping full wyde, did thinke without remorſe
To be aueng'd on him, and to deuoure his corſe.
But the bold knight no whit thereat diſmayd,
But catching vp in hand a ragged ſtone,
Which lay thereby (ſo fortune him did ayde)
Vpon him ran, and thruſt it all attone
Into his gaping throte, that made him grone
And gaſpe for breath, that he nigh choked was,
Being vnable to digeſt that bone;
Ne could it vpward come, nor downward paſſe,
Ne could he brooke the coldneſſe of the ſtony maſſe.
Whom when as he thus combred did behold,
Stryuing in vaine that nigh his bowels braſt,
He with him cloſd, and laying mightie hold
Vpon his throte, did gripe his gorge ſo faſt,
That wanting breath, him downe to ground he caſt;
And then oppreſſing him with vrgent paine,
Ere long enforſt to breath his vtmoſt blaſt,
Gnaſhing his cruell teeth at him in vaine,
And threatning his ſharpe clawes, now wanting powre to ſtraine.
Then tooke he vp betwixt his armes twaine
The litle babe, ſweet relickes of his pray;
Whom pitying to heare ſo ſore complaine,
From his ſoft eyes the teares he wypt away,
And from his face the filth that did it ray,
And euery litle limbe he ſearcht around,
And euery part, that vnder ſweathbands lay,
Leaſt that the beaſts ſharpe teeth had any wound
Made in his tender fleſh, but whole them all he found.
So hauing all his bands againe vptyde,
He with him thought backe to returne againe:
But when he lookt about on euery ſyde,
To weet which way were beſt to entertaine,
To bring him to the place, where he would faine,
He could no path nor tract of foot deſcry,
Ne 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 a while,
Then North; then neither, but as fortune fell.
So vp and downe he wandred many a mile,
With wearie trauell and vncertaine toile,
Yet nought the nearer to his iourneys end;
And euermore his louely litle 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,
Him ſelfe out of the foreſt he did wynd,
And by good fortune the plaine champion wonne:
Where looking all about, where he mote fynd
Some place of ſuccour to content his mynd,
At length he heard vnder the forreſts ſyde
A voice, that ſeemed of ſome woman kynd,
Which to her ſelfe lamenting loudly cryde,
And oft complayn'd of fate, and fortune oft defyde.
To whom approching, when as ſhe perceiued
A ſtranger wight in place, her plaint ſhe ſtayd,
As if ſhe doubted to haue bene deceiued,
Or loth to let her ſorrowes be bewrayd.
Whom when as Calepine ſaw ſo diſmayd,
He to her drew, and with faire blandiſhment
Her chearing vp, thus gently to her ſayd;
What be you wofull Dame, which thus lament,
And for what cauſe declare, ſo mote ye not repent.
To whom ſhe thus, what need me Sir to tell,
That which your ſelfe haue earſt ared ſo right?
A wofull dame ye haue me termed well;
So much more wofull, as my wofull plight
Cannot redreſſed be by liuing wight.
Nathleſſe (quoth he) if need doe not you bynd,
Doe it diſcloſe, to eaſe your grieued ſpright:
Oftimes it haps, that ſorrowes of the mynd
Find remedie vnſought, which ſeeking cannot fynd.
Then thus began the lamentable Dame;
Sith then ye needs will know the griefe I hoord,
I am th'vnfortunate Matilde 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 ouerthrow by yonder foord,
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 hold it in his hand,
Ne any dares with him for it debate.
But to theſe happie fortunes, cruell fate
Hath ioyn'd one euill, which doth ouerthow
All theſe our ioyes, and all our bliſſe abate;
And like in time to further ill to grow,
And all this land with endleſſe loſſe to ouerflow.
For th'heauens enuying our proſperitie,
Haue not vouchſaft to graunt vnto vs twaine
The gladfull bleſſing of poſteritie,
Which we might ſee after our ſelues remaine
In th'heritage of our vnhappie 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
To leape into the ſame after our liues end.
But moſt my Lord is grieued herewithall,
And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke
That all this land vnto his foe ſhall fall,
For which he long in vaine did ſweat and ſwinke,
That now the ſame he greatly doth forthinke.
Yet was it ſayd, there ſhould to him a ſonne
Be gotten, not begotten, which ſhould drinke
And dry vp all the water, which doth ronne
In the next brooke, by whō that feend ſhold be fordonne.
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 magnifide,
And this proud gyant ſhould with braue emprize
Quite ouerthrow, who now ginnes to deſpize
The good Sir Bruin, growing farre in yeares;
Who thinkes from me his ſorrow all doth rize.
Lo this my cauſe of griefe to you appeares;
For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth ceaſeleſſe teares.
Which when he heard, he inly touched was
With tender ruth for her vnworthy griefe,
And when he had deuized of her caſe,
He gan in mind conceiue a fit reliefe
For all her paine, if pleaſe her make the priefe.
And hauing cheared her, thus ſaid; faire Dame,
In euils counſell is the comfort chiefe,
Which though I be not wiſe enough to frame,
Yet as I well it meane, vouchſafe it without blame.
If that the cauſe of this your languiſhment
Be lacke of children, to ſupply your place,
Low how good fortune doth to you preſent
This litle babe, of ſweete and louely face,
And ſpotleſſe ſpirit, in which ye may enchace
What euer formes ye liſt thereto apply,
Being now ſoft and fit them to embrace;
Whether ye liſt him traine in cheualry,
Or nourſle vp in lore of learn'd Philoſophy.
And certes it hath oftentimes bene ſeene,
That of the like, whoſe linage was vnknowne,
More braue and noble knights haue rayſed beene,
As their victorious deedes haue often ſhowen,
Being with fame through many Nations blowen,
Then thoſe, which haue bene dandled in the lap.
Therefore ſome thought, that thoſe braue imps were ſowen
Here by the Gods, and fed with heauenly ſap,
That made them grow ſo high t'all honorable hap.
The Ladie hearkning to his ſenſefull ſpeach,
Found nothing that he ſaid, vnmeet nor geaſon,
Hauing 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 liuerey and ſeiſin,
And hauing ouer it a litle wept,
She bore it thence, and euer 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 vnder hand ſo wrought,
That when that infant vnto him ſhe brought,
She made him thinke it ſurely was his owne,
And it in goodly thewes ſo well vpbrought,
That it became a famous knight well knowne
And did right noble deedes, the which elſwhere are ſhowne.
But Calepine, now being left alone
Vnder the greenewoods ſide in ſorie plight,
Withouten armes or ſteede to ride vpon,
Or houſe to hide his head from heauens ſpight,
Albe that Dame by all the meanes ſhe might,
Him oft deſired home with her to wend,
And offred him, his courteſie to requite,
Both horſe and armes, and what ſo elſe to lend,
Yet he them all refuſd, though thankt her as a frend.
And for exceeding griefe which inly grew,
That he his loue 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 neuer he in bed againe
His limbes would reſt, ne lig in eaſe emboſt,
Till that his Ladies ſight he mote attaine,
Or vnderſtand, that ſhe in ſafetie did remaine.
Cant. V.
The ſaluage ſerues Matilda well
till ſhe Prince Arthure fynd,
Who her together with his Squyre
with th'Hermit leaues behynd.
O What an eaſie thing is to deſcry
The gentle bloud, how euer it bewrapt
In ſad misfortunes foule deformity,
And wretched ſorrowes, which haue often hapt?
For howſoeuer it may grow miſ-ſhapt,
Like this wyld man, being vndiſciplynd,
That to all vertue it may ſeeme vnapt,
Yet will it ſhew ſome ſparkes of gentle mynd,
And at the laſt breake forth in his owne proper kynd.
That plainely may in this wyld man be red,
Who though he were ſtill in this deſert wood,
Mongſt ſaluage beaſts, both rudely borne and bred,
Ne euer ſaw faire guize, ne learned good,
Yet ſhewd ſome token of his gentle blood,
By gentle vſage of that wretched Dame.
For certes he was borne of noble blood,
How euer by hard hap he hether came;
As ye may know, when time ſhall be to tell the ſame.
Who when as 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 leauing there this Ladie all diſmayd,
Went forth ſtreightway into the forreſt wyde,
To ſeeke, if he perchance a ſleepe were layd,
Or what ſo elſe were vnto him betyde:
He ſought him farre & neare, yet him no where he ſpyde.
Tho backe returning to that ſorie Dame,
He ſhewed ſemblant of exceeding mone,
By ſpeaking ſignes, as he them beſt could frame;
Now wringing both his wretched hands in one,
Now beating his hard head vpon a ſtone,
That ruth it was to ſee him ſo lament.
By which ſhe well perceiuing, what was done,
Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent,
And beat her breaſt, and piteouſly her ſelfe torment.
Vpon the ground her ſelfe ſhe fiercely threw,
Regardleſſe of her wounds, yet bleeding rife,
That with their bloud did all the flore imbrew,
As if her breaſt new launcht with murdrous knife,
Would ſtreight diſlodge the wretched wearie life.
There ſhe long groueling, and deepe groning lay,
As if her vitall powers were at ſtrife
With ſtronger death, and feared their decay,
Such were this Ladies pangs and dolorous aſſay.
Whom when the Saluage ſaw ſo ſore diſtreſt,
He reared her vp from the bloudie ground,
And ſought by all the meanes, that he could beſt
Her to recure out of that ſtony ſwound,
And ſtaunch the bleeding of her dreary wound.
Yet nould ſhe be recomforted for nought,
Ne ceaſe her ſorrow and impatient ſtound,
But day and night did vexe her carefull thought,
And euer more and more her owne affliction wrought.
At length, when as no hope of his retourne
She ſaw now left, ſhe caſt to leaue the place,
And wend abrode, though feeble and forlorne,
To ſeeke ſome comfort in that ſorie caſe.
His ſteede now ſtrong through reſt ſo long a ſpace,
Well as ſhe could, ſhe got, and did bedight,
And being thereon mounted, forth did pace,
Withouten guide, her to conduct aright,
Or gard her to defend from bold oppreſſors might.
Whom when her Hoſt ſaw readie to depart,
He would not ſuffer her alone to fare,
But gan himſelfe addreſſe to take her part.
Thoſe warlike armes, which Calepine whyleare
Had left behind, he gan eftſoones prepare,
And put them all about himſelfe vnfit,
His ſhield, his helmet, and his curats bare.
But without ſword vpon his thigh to ſit:
Sir Calepine himſelfe away had hidden it.
So forth they traueld an vneuen payre,
That mote to all men ſeeme an vncouth ſight;
A ſaluage 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 faithfully did ſerue both day and night,
Withouten thought of ſhame or villeny,
Ne euer ſhewed ſigne of foule diſloyalty.
Vpon 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 combrous armes aſide did lay
Vpon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed,
And in his homely wize began to aſſay
T'amend what was amiſſe, and put in right aray.
Bout which whileſt he was buſied thus hard,
Lo where a knight together with his ſquire,
All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward,
Which ſeemed by their portance and attire,
To be two errant knights, that did inquire
After aduentures, where they mote them get.
Thoſe were to weet (if that ye it requre)
Prince Arthur and young Timias, which met
By ſtraunge occaſion, that here needs forth be ſet.
After that Timias had againe recured
The fauour of Belphebe, (as ye heard)
And of her grace did ſtand againe aſſured,
To happie bliſſe he was full high vprear'd,
Nether of enuy, nor of chaunge afeard,
Though many foes did him maligne therefore,
And with vniuſt detraction him did beard;
Yet he himſelfe ſo well and wiſely bore,
That in her ſoueraine lyking he dwelt euermore.
But of them all, which did his ruine ſeeke
Three mightie enemies did him moſt deſpight,
Three mightie ones, and cruell minded eeke,
That him not onely ſought by open might
To ouerthrow, but to ſupplant by ſlight.
The firſt of them by name was cald Deſpetto,
Exceeding all the reſt in powre and hight;
The ſecond not ſo ſtrong but wiſe, Decetto;
The third nor ſtrong nor wiſe, but ſpightfulleſt Defetto.
Oftimes their ſundry powres they did employ,
And ſeuerall deceipts, but all in vaine:
For neither they by force could him deſtroy,
Ne yet entrap in treaſons ſubtill traine.
Therefore conſpiring all together plaine,
They did their counſels now in one compound;
Where ſingled forces faile, conioynd may gaine.
The Blatant Beaſt the fitteſt meanes they found,
To worke his vtter ſhame, and throughly him confound.
Vpon a day as they the time did waite,
When he did raunge the wood for ſaluage game,
They ſent that Blatant Beaſt to be a baite,
To draw him from his deare beloued dame,
Vnwares into the daunger of defame.
For well they wiſt, that Squire to be ſo bold,
That no one beaſt in forreſt wylde or tame,
Met him in chaſe, but he it challenge would,
And plucke the pray oftimes out of their greedy hould.
The hardy boy, as they deuiſed had,
Seeing the vgly Monſter paſſing by,
Vpon him ſet, of perill nought adrad,
Ne skilfull of the vncouth ieopardy;
And charged him ſo fierce and furiouſly,
That his great force vnable to endure,
He forced was to turne from him and fly:
Yet ere he fled, he with his tooth impure
Him heedleſſe bit, the whiles he was thereof ſecure.
Securely he did after him purſew,
Thinking by ſpeed to ouertake his flight;
Who through thicke woods and brakes & briers him drew,
To weary him the more, and waſte his ſpight,
So that he now has almoſt ſpent his ſpright.
Till that at length vnto a woody glade
He came, whoſe couert ſtopt his further ſight,
There his three foes ſhrowded in guilefull ſhade,
Out of their ambuſh broke, and gan him to inuade.
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
Beare off their blowes, from percing thorough quite.
Yet he them all ſo warily did ward,
That none of them in his ſoft 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 maſtiffe, and a hound,
And a curre-dog; that doe him ſharpe aſſay
On euery ſide, and beat about him round;
But moſt that curre barking with bitter ſownd,
And creeping ſtill behinde, doth him incomber,
That in his chauffe he digs the trampled ground,
And threats his horns, and bellowes like the thonder,
So did that Squire his foes diſperſe, and driue aſonder.
Him well behoued ſo; for his three foes
Sought to encompaſſe him on euery ſide,
And dangerouſly did round about encloſe.
But moſt of all Defetto him annoyde,
Creeping behinde him ſtill to haue deſtroyde:
So did Decetto eke him circumuent,
But ſtout Deſpetto in his greater pryde,
Did front him face to face againſt him bent,
Yet he them all withſtood, and often made relent.
Till that at length nigh tyrd with former chace,
And weary now with carefull keeping ward,
He gan to ſhrinke, and ſomewhat to giue place,
Full like ere long to haue eſcaped hard;
When as vnwares he in the forreſt heard
A trampling ſteede, that with his neighing faſt
Did warne his rider be vppon his gard;
With noiſe whereof the Squire now nigh aghaſt,
Reuiued was, and ſad diſpaire away did caſt.
Eftſoones he ſpide a Knight approching nye,
Who ſeeing one in ſo great daunger ſet
Mongſt many foes, him ſelfe did faſter hye;
To reskue him, and his weake part abet,
For pitty ſo to ſee him ouerſet.
Whom ſoone as his three enemies did vew,
They fled, and faſt into the wood did get:
Him booted not to thinke them to purſew,
The couert was ſo thicke, that did no paſſage ſhew.
Then turning to that ſwaine, him well he knew
To be his Timias, his owne true Squire,
Whereof exceeding glad, he to him drew,
And him embracing twixt his armes entire,
Him thus beſpake; My liefe, my lifes deſire,
Why haue ye me alone thus long yleft?
Tell me what worlds deſpight, or heauens yre
Hath you thus long away from me bereft?
Where haue ye all this while bin wandring, where bene weft?
With that he ſighed deepe for inward tyne:
To whom the Squire nought aunſwered againe,
But ſhedding few ſoft teares from tender eyne,
His deare affect with ſilence did reſtraine,
And ſhut vp all his plaint in priuy paine.
There they awhile ſome gracious ſpeaches ſpent,
As to them ſeemed fit time to entertaine.
After all which vp to their ſteedes they went,
And forth together rode a comely couplement.
So now they be arriued both in ſight
Of this wyld man, whom they full buſie found
About the ſad Serena things to dight,
With thoſe braue armours lying on the ground,
That ſeem'd the ſpoile of ſome right well renownd.
Which when that Squire beheld, he to them ſtept,
Thinking to take them from that hylding hound:
But 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 vnwares on th'head he ſtrooke,
That made him downe vnto the earth encline;
Whence ſoone vpſtarting much he gan repine,
And laying hand vpon his wrathfull blade,
Thought therewithall forthwith him to haue ſlaine,
Who it perceiuing, hand vpon him layd,
And greedily him griping, his auengement ſtayd.
With that aloude the faire Serena cryde
Vnto the Knight, them to diſpart in twaine:
Who to them ſtepping did them ſoone diuide,
And did from further violence reſtraine,
Albe the wyld-man hardly would refraine.
Then gan the Prince, of her for to demand,
What and from whence ſhe was, and by what traine
She fell into that ſaluage villaines hand,
And whether free with him ſhe now were, or in band.
To whom ſhe thus; I am, as now ye ſee,
The wretchedſt Dame, that liue this day on ground,
Who both in minde, the which moſt grieueth me,
And body haue receiu'd a mortall wound,
That hath me driuen to this drery ſtound.
I was erewhile, the loue of Calepine,
Who whether he aliue be to be found,
Or by ſome deadly chaunce be done to pine,
Since I him lately loſt, vneath is to define.
In ſaluage forreſt I him loſt of late,
Where I had ſurely long ere this bene dead,
Or elſe remained in moſt wretched ſtate,
Had not this wylde man in that wofull ſtead
Kept, and deliuered me from deadly dread.
In ſuch a ſaluage wight, of brutiſh kynd,
Amongſt wilde beaſtes in deſert forreſts bred,
It is moſt ſtraunge and wonderfull to fynd
So milde humanity, and perfect gentle mynd.
Let me therefore this fauour for him finde,
That ye will not your wrath vpon him wreake,
Sith he cannot expreſſe his ſimple minde,
Ne yours conceiue, ne but by tokens ſpeake:
Small praiſe to proue your powre on wight ſo weake.
With ſuch faire words ſhe did their heate aſſwage,
And the ſtrong courſe of their diſpleaſure breake,
That they to pitty turnd their former rage,
And each ſought to ſupply the office of her page.
So hauing all things well about her dight,
She on her way caſt forward to proceede,
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 has.
So forth they rode together all in troupe,
To ſeeke ſome place, the which mote yeeld ſome eaſe
To theſe ſicke twaine, that now began to droupe,
And all the way the Prince ſought to appeaſe
The bitter anguiſh of their ſharpe diſeaſe,
By all the courteous meanes he could inuent,
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 vnknightly parts,
Which Turpine had vnto her ſhewed late,
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,
Not onely her excluded late at night,
But alſo trayterouſly did wound her weary Knight.
Wherewith the Prince ſore moued, there auoud,
That ſoone as he returned backe againe,
He would auenge th'abuſes of that proud
And ſhamefull Knight, of whom ſhe did complaine.
This wize did they each other entertaine,
To paſſe the tedious trauell of the way;
Till towards night they came vnto a plaine,
By which a little Hermitage there lay,
Far from all neighbourhoood, the which annoy it may.
And nigh thereto a little Chappell ſtoode,
Which being all with Yuy ouerſpred,
Deckt all the roofe, and ſhadowing the roode,
Seem'd like a groue faire braunched ouer hed:
Therein the Hermite, which his life here led
In ſtreight obſeruaunce of religious vow,
Was wont his howres and holy things to bed;
And therein he likewiſe was praying now,
Whenas theſe Knights arriu'd, they wiſt not where nor how.
They ſtayd not there, but ſtreight way in did pas.
Whom when the Hermite preſent ſaw in place,
From his deuotion ſtreight he troubled was;
Which breaking of he toward them did pace,
With ſtayed ſteps, and graue beſeeming grace:
For well it ſeem'd, that whilome he had beene
Soome goodly perſon, and of gentle race,
That could his good to all, and well did weene,
How each to entertaine with curt'ſie well beſeene.
And ſoothly it was ſayd by common fame,
So long as age enabled him thereto,
That he had bene a man of mickle name,
Renowmed much in armes and derring doe:
But being aged now and weary to
Of warres delight, and worlds contentious toyle,
The name of knighthood he did diſauow,
And hanging vp his armes and warlike ſpoyle,
From all this worlds incombraunce did himſelfe aſſoyle.
He thence them led into his Hermitage,
Letting their ſteedes to graze vpon 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.
Therein he them full faire did entertaine
Not with ſuch forged ſhowes, as fitter beene
For courting fooles, that curteſies would faine,
But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine.
Yet was their fare but homely, ſuch as hee
Did vſe, his feeble body to ſuſtaine;
The which full gladly they did take in glee,
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine,
But being well ſuffiz'd, them reſted faine.
But faire Serene all night could take no reſt,
Ne yet that gentle Squire for grieuous paine
Of their late woundes, the which the Blatant Beaſt
Had giuen them, whoſe griefe through ſuffraunce ſore increaſt.
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 painefull plight.
Then vp they roſe, and gan them ſelues to dight
Vnto their iourney; but that Squire and Dame
So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
Endure to trauell, nor one foote to frame:
Their hearts were ſicke, their ſides were ſore, their feete were lame.
Therefore the Prince, whom great affaires in mynd
Would not permit, to make their lenger ſtay,
Was forced there to leaue 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 ſaluage, that whyleare
Seeing his royall vſage and array,
Was greatly growne in loue of that braue pere,
Would needes depart, as ſhall declared be elſewhere.
Cant. VI.
The Hermite heales both Squire and dame
Of their ſore maladies:
He Turpine doth defeate, and ſhame
For his late villanies.
NO wound, which warlike hand of enemy
Inflicts with dint of 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 euer can recured be againe;
Ne all the skill, which that immortall ſpright
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine,
Can remedy ſuch hurts; ſuch hurts 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 vnto 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 ranckling wounds, & euery day them duely dreſt.
For he right well in Leaches craft was ſeene,
And through the long experience of his dayes,
Which had in many fortunes toſſed beene,
And paſt through many perillous aſſayes,
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 has.
So forth they rode together all in troupe,
To ſeeke ſome place, the which mote yeeld ſome eaſe
To theſe ſicke twaine, that now began to droupe,
And all the way the Prince ſought to appeaſe
The bitter anguiſh of their ſharpe diſeaſe,
By all the courteous meanes he could inuent,
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 vnknightly parts,
Which Turpine had vnto her ſhewed late,
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,
Not onely her excluded late at night,
But alſo trayterouſly did wound her weary Knight.
Wherewith the Prince ſore moued, there auoud,
That ſoone as he returned backe againe,
He would auenge th'abuſes of that proud
And ſhamefull Knight, of whom ſhe did complaine.
This wize did they each other entertaine,
To paſſe the tedious trauell of the way;
Till towards night they came vnto a plaine,
By which a little Hermitage there lay,
Far from all neighbourhoood, the which annoy it may.
And nigh thereto a little Chappell ſtoode,
Which being all with Yuy ouerſpred,
Deckt all the roofe, and ſhadowing the roode,
Seem'd like a groue faire braunched ouer hed:
Therein the Hermite, which his life here led
In ſtreight obſeruaunce of religious vow,
Was wont his howres and holy things to bed;
And therein he likewiſe was praying now,
Whenas theſe Knights arriu'd, they wiſt not where nor how.
They ſtayd not there, but ſtreight way in did pas.
Whom when the Hermite preſent ſaw in place,
From his deuotion ſtreight he troubled was;
Which breaking of he toward them did pace,
With ſtayed ſteps, and graue beſeeming grace:
For well it ſeem'd, that whilome he had beene
Soome goodly perſon, and of gentle race,
That could his good to all, and well did weene,
How each to entertaine with curt'ſie well beſeene.
And ſoothly it was ſayd by common fame,
So long as age enabled him thereto,
That he had bene a man of mickle name,
Renowmed much in armes and derring doe:
But being aged now and weary to
Of warres delight, and worlds contentious toyle,
The name of knighthood he did diſauow,
And hanging vp his armes and warlike ſpoyle,
From all this worlds incombraunce did himſelfe aſſoyle.
He thence them led into his Hermitage,
Letting their ſteedes to graze vpon 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.
Therein he them full faire did entertaine
Not with ſuch forged ſhowes, as fitter beene
For courting fooles, that curteſies would faine,
But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine.
Yet was their fare but homely, ſuch as hee
Did vſe, his feeble body to ſuſtaine;
The which full gladly they did take in glee,
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine,
But being well ſuffiz'd, them reſted faine.
But faire Serene all night could take no reſt,
Ne yet that gentle Squire for grieuous paine
Of their late woundes, the which the Blatant Beaſt
Had giuen them, whoſe griefe through ſuffraunce ſore increaſt.
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 painefull plight.
Then vp they roſe, and gan them ſelues to dight
Vnto their iourney; but that Squire and Dame
So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
Endure to trauell, nor one foote to frame:
Their hearts were ſicke, their ſides were ſore, their feete were lame.
Therefore the Prince, whom great affaires in mynd
Would not permit, to make their lenger ſtay,
Was forced there to leaue 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 ſaluage, that whyleare
Seeing his royall vſage and array,
Was greatly growne in loue of that braue pere,
Would needes depart, as ſhall declared be elſewhere.
Cant. VI.
The Hermite heales both Squire and dame
Of their ſore maladies:
He Turpine doth defeate, and ſhame
For his late villanies.
NO wound, which warlike hand of enemy
Inflicts with dint of 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 euer can recured be againe;
Ne all the skill, which that immortall ſpright
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine,
Can remedy ſuch hurts; ſuch hurts 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 vnto 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 ranckling wounds, & euery day them duely dreſt.
For he right well in Leaches craft was ſeene,
And through the long experience of his dayes,
Which had in many fortunes toſſed beene,
And paſt through many perillous aſſayes,
He knew the diuerſe went of mortall wayes,
And in the mindes of men had great inſight;
Which with ſage counſell, when they went aſtray,
He could enforme, and them reduce aright,
And al the paſſiōs heale, which woūd the weaker ſpright.
For whylome he had bene a doughty Knight,
As any one, that liued in his daies,
And proued oft in many perillous fight,
Of which he grace and glory wonne alwaies,
And in all battels bore away the baies.
But being now attacht with timely age,
And weary of this worlds vnquiet waies,
He tooke him ſelfe vnto this Hermitage,
In which he liu'd alone, like careleſſe bird in cage.
One day, as he was ſearching of their wounds,
He found that they had feſtred priuily,
And ranckling inward with vnruly ſtounds,
The inner parts now gan to putrify,
That quite they ſeem'd paſt helpe of ſurgery,
And rather needed to be diſciplinde
With holeſome reede of ſad ſobriety,
To rule the ſtubborne rage of paſſion blinde:
Giue ſalues to euery ſore, but counſell to the minde.
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 vaine of me ye hope for remedie,
And I likewiſe in vaine doe ſalues to you applie.
For in your ſelfe your onely helpe doth lie,
To heale your ſelues, 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, obſerue this one.
Firſt learne your outward ſences to refraine
From things, that ſtirre vp fraile affection;
Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your talke reſtaine
From that they moſt affect, and in due termes containe.
For from thoſe outward ſences ill affected,
The ſeede of all this euill firſt doth ſpring,
Which at the firſt before it had infected,
Mote eaſie be ſuppreſt with little thing:
But being growen ſtrong, it forth doth bring
Sorrow, and anguiſh, and impatient paine
In th'inner parts, and laſtly ſcattering
Contagious poyſon cloſe through euery vaine,
It neuer reſts, till it haue wrought his finall bane.
For that beaſtes teeth, which wounded you tofore,
Are ſo exceeding venemous and keene,
Made all of ruſty yron, ranckling ſore,
That where they bite, it booteth not to weene
With ſalue, or antidote, or other mene
It euer to amend: ne maruaile ought;
For that ſame beaſt was bred of helliſh ſtrene,
And long in darkſome Stygian den vpbrought,
Begot of foule Echidna, as in bookes is taught.
Echidna is a Monſter direfull dred,
Whom Gods doe hate, and heauens abhor to ſee;
So hideous is her ſhape, ſo huge her hed,
That euen the helliſh fiends affrighted 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 hinder parts did plaine expreſſe
A monſtrous Dragon, full of fearefull vglineſſe.
To her the Gods, for her ſo dreadfull face,
In fearefull darkeneſſe, furtheſt from the skie,
And from the earth, appointed haue her place,
Mongſt rocks and caues, where ſhe enrold doth lie
In hideous horrour and obſcurity,
Waſting the ſtrength of her immortall age.
There did Typhaon with her company,
Cruell Typhaon, whoſe tempeſtuous rage
Make th'heauens tremble oft, & him with vowes aſſwage.
Of that commixtion they did then beget
This helliſh Dog, that hight the Blatant Beaſt;
A wicked Monſter, that his tongue doth whet
Gainſt all, both good and bad, both moſt and leaſt,
And poures his poyſnous gall forth to infeſt
The nobleſt wights with notable defame:
Ne euer Knight, that bore ſo lofty creaſt,
Ne euer Lady of ſo honeſt name,
But he them ſpotted with reproch, or ſecrete ſhame.
In vaine therefore it were, with medicine
To goe about to ſalue ſuch kynd of ſore,
That rather needes wiſe read and diſcipline,
Then outward ſalues, that may augment it more.
Aye me (ſayd then Serena ſighing ſore)
What hope of helpe doth then for vs remaine,
If that no ſalues may vs to health reſtore?
But ſith we need good counſell (ſayd the ſwaine)
Aread good ſire, ſome counſell, that may vs ſuſtaine.
The beſt (ſayd he) that I can you aduize,
Is to auoide the occaſion of the ill:
For when the cauſe, whence euill doth arize,
Remoued is, th'effect ſurceaſeth ſtill.
Abſtaine from pleaſure, and reſtraine your will,
Subdue deſire, and bridle looſe delight,
Vſe ſcanted diet, and forbeare your fill,
Shun ſecreſie, and talke in open ſight:
So ſhall you ſoone repaire your preſent euill plight.
Thus hauing ſayd, his ſickely patients
Did gladly hearken to his graue beheaſt,
And kept ſo well his wiſe commaundements,
That in ſhort ſpace their malady was ceaſt,
And eke the biting of that harmefull Beaſt
Was throughly heal'd. Tho when they did perceaue
Their wounds recur'd, and forces reincreaſt,
Of that good Hermite both they tooke their leaue,
And went both on their way, ne ech would other leaue.
But each th'other vow'd t'accompany,
The Lady, for that ſhe was much in dred,
Now left alone in great extremity,
The Squire, for that he courteous was indeed,
Would not her leaue alone in her great need.
So both together traueld, till they met
With a faire Mayden clad in mourning weed,
Vpon a mangy iade vnmeetely ſet,
And a lewd foole her leading thorough dry and wet.
But by what meanes that ſhame to her befell,
And how thereof her ſelfe ſhe did acquite,
I muſt a while forbeare to you to tell;
Till that, as comes by courſe, I doe recite,
What fortune to the Briton Prince did lite,
Purſuing that proud Knight, the which whileare
Wrought to Sir Calidore ſo foule deſpight;
And eke his Lady, though ſhe ſickely were,
So lewdly had abuſde, as ye did lately heare.
The Prince according to the former token,
Which faire Serene to him deliuered had,
Purſu'd him ſtreight, in mynd to bene ywroken
Of all the vile demeane, and vſage bad,
With which he had thoſe two ſo ill beſtad:
Ne wight with him on that aduenture went,
But that wylde man, whom though he oft forbad,
Yet for no bidding, nor for being ſhent,
Would he reſtrayned be from his attendement.
Arriuing there, as did by chaunce befall,
He found the gate wyde ope, and in he rode,
Ne ſtayd, till that he came into the hall:
Where ſoft diſmounting like a weary lode,
Vpon the ground with feeble feete he trode,
As he vnable were for very neede
To moue one foote, but there muſt make abode;
The whiles the ſaluage man did take his ſteede,
And in ſome ſtable neare did ſet him vp to feede.
Ere long to him a homely groome there came,
That in rude wiſe him asked, what he was,
That durſt ſo boldly, without let or ſhame,
Into his Lords forbidden hall to paſſe.
To whom the Prince, him fayning to embaſe,
Mylde anſwer made; he was an errant Knight,
The which was fall'n into this feeble caſe,
Through many wounds, which lately he in fight,
Receiued had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.
But he, the more outrageous and bold,
Sternely did bid him quickely thence auaunt,
Or deare aby, for why his Lord of old
Did hate all errant Knights, which there did haunt,
Ne lodging would to any of them graunt,
And therefore lightly bad him packe away,
Not ſparing him with bitter words to taunt;
And therewithall rude hand on him did lay,
To thruſt him out of dore, doing his worſt aſſay.
Which when the Saluage comming now in place,
Beheld, eftſoones he all enraged grew,
And running ſtreight vpon that villaine baſe,
Like a fell Lion at him fiercely flew,
And with his teeth and nailes, in preſent vew,
Him rudely rent, and all to peeces tore:
So miſerably him all helpeleſſe ſlew,
That with the noiſe, whileſt he did loudly rore,
The people of the houſe roſe forth in great vprore.
Who when on ground they ſaw their fellow ſlaine,
And that ſame Knight and Saluage ſtanding by,
Vpon them two they fell with might and maine,
And on them layd ſo huge and horribly,
As if they would haue ſlaine them preſently.
But the bold Prince defended him ſo well,
And their aſſault withſtood ſo mightily,
That maugre all their might, he did repell,
And beat them back, whileſt many vnderneath him fell.
Yet he them ſtill ſo ſharpely did purſew,
That few of them he left aliue, which fled,
Thoſe euill tidings to their Lord to ſhew.
Who hearing how his people badly ſped,
Came forth in haſt: where when as with the dead
He ſaw the ground all ſtrow'd, and that ſame Knight
And ſaluage with their bloud freſh ſteeming red,
He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell deſpight,
And with reprochfull words him thus beſpake on hight.
Art thou he, traytor, that with treaſon vile,
Haſt ſlaine my men in this vnmanly maner,
And now triumpheſt in the piteous ſpoile
Of theſe poore folk, whoſe ſoules with black diſhonor
And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner?
The meede whereof ſhall ſhortly be thy ſhame,
And wretched end, which ſtill attendeth on her.
With that him ſelfe to battell he did frame;
So did his forty yeomen, which there with him came.
With dreadfull force they all did him aſſaile,
And round about with boyſtrous ſtrokes oppreſſe,
That on his ſhield did rattle like to haile
In a great tempeſt; that in ſuch diſtreſſe,
He wiſt not to which ſide him to addreſſe.
And euermore that crauen cowherd Knight,
Was at his backe with heartleſſe heedineſſe,
Wayting if he vnwares him murther might:
For cowardize doth ſtill in villany delight.
Whereof whenas the Prince was well aware,
He to him turnd with furious intent,
And him againſt his powre gan to prepare;
Like a fierce Bull, that being buſie bent
To fight with many foes about him ment,
Feeling ſome curre behinde his heeles to bite,
Turnes him about with fell auengement;
So likewiſe turnde the Prince vpon the Knight,
And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.
Who when he once his dreadfull ſtrokes had taſted,
Durſt not the furie of his force abyde,
But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him haſted
Through the thick preaſe, there thinking him to hyde.
But when the Prince had once him plainely eyde,
He foot by foot him followed alway,
Ne would him ſuffer once to ſhrinke aſyde
But ioyning cloſe, huge lode at him did lay:
Who flying ſtill did ward, and warding fly away.
But when his foe he ſtill ſo eger ſaw,
Vnto his heeles himſelfe he did betake,
Hoping vnto ſome refuge to withdraw:
Ne would the Prince him euer foot forſake,
Where ſo he went, but after him did make.
He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,
Whyleſt euery ioynt for dread of death did quake,
Still looking after him, that did him chace;
That made him euermore increaſe his ſpeedie pace.
At laſt he vp into the chamber came,
Whereas his loue was ſitting all alone,
Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
There did the Prince him ouertake anone,
Crying in vaine to her, him to bemone;
And with his ſword him on the head did ſmyte,
That to the gound he fell in ſenſeleſſe ſwone:
Yet whether thwart or flatly it did lyte,
The tempred ſteele did not into his braynepan byte.
Which when the Ladie ſaw, with great affright
She ſtarting vp, began to ſhrieke aloud,
And with her garment couering him from ſight,
Seem'd vnder her protection him to ſhroud;
And falling lowly at his feet, her bowd
Vpon her knee, intreating him for grace,
And often him beſought, and prayd, and vowd;
That with the ruth of her ſo wretched caſe,
He ſtayd his ſecond ſtrooke, and did his hand abaſe.
Her weed ſhe then withdrawing, did him diſcouer,
Who now come to himſelfe, yet would not rize,
But ſtill did lie as dead, and quake, and quiuer,
That euen the Prince his baſeneſſe did deſpize,
And eke his Dame him ſeeing in ſuch guize,
Gan him recomfort, and from ground to reare.
Who riſing vp at laſt in ghaſtly wize,
Like troubled ghoſt did dreadfully appeare,
As one that had no life him left through former feare.
Whom when the Prince ſo deadly ſaw diſmayd,
He for ſuch baſeneſſe ſhamefully him ſhent,
And with ſharpe words did bitterly vpbrayd;
Vile cowheard dogge, now doe I much repent,
That euer I this life vnto thee lent,
Whereof thou caytiue ſo vnworthie art;
That both thy loue, for lacke of hardiment,
And eke thy ſelfe, for want of manly hart,
And eke all knights haſt ſhamed with this knightleſſe part.
Yet further haſt thou heaped ſhame to ſhame,
And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare.
For firſt it was to thee reprochfull blame,
To erect this wicked cuſtome, which I heare,
Gainſt errant Knights and Ladies thou doſt reare;
Whom when thou mayſt, thou doſt of arms deſpoile,
Or of their vpper garment, which they weare:
Yet doeſt thou not with manhood, but with guile
Maintaine this euill vſe, thy foes thereby to foile.
And laſtly in approuance 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 right;
Yet haue, through proweſſe and their braue emprize,
Gotten great worſhip in this worldes ſight.
For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong, then right.
Yet ſince thy life vnto this Ladie fayre
I giuen haue, liue in reproch and ſcorne;
Ne euer armes, ne euer knighthood dare
Hence to profeſſe: for ſhame is to adorne
With ſo braue badges one ſo baſely borne;
But onely breath ſith that I did forgiue.
So hauing from his crauen bodie torne
Thoſe goodly armes, he them away did giue
And onely ſuffred him this wretched life to liue.
There whileſt he thus was ſetling things aboue,
Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant knight,
To whom his life he graunted for her loue,
He gan bethinke him, in what perilous plight
He had behynd him left that ſaluage wight,
Amongſt ſo many foes, whom ſure he thought
By this quite ſlaine in ſo vnequall fight:
Therefore deſcending backe in haſte, he ſought
If yet he were aliue, or to deſtruction brought.
There he him found enuironed about
With ſlaughtred bodies, which his hand had ſlaine,
And laying yet a freſh with courage ſtout
Vpon the reſt, that did aliue 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 which he layd about, and made them faſt to flie.
Whom when the Prince ſo felly ſaw to rage,
Approching to him neare, his hand he ſtayd,
And ſought, by making ſignes, him to aſſwage:
Who them perceiuing, ſtreight to him obayd,
As to his Lord, and downe his weapons layd,
As if he long had to his heaſts bene trayned.
Thence he him brought away, and vp conuayd
Into the chamber, where that Dame remayned
With her vnworthy knight, who ill him entertayned.
Whom when the Saluage ſaw from daunger free,
Sitting beſide his Ladie there at eaſe,
He well remembred, that the ſame was hee,
Which lately ſought his Lord for to diſpleaſe:
Tho all in rage, he on him ſtreight did ſeaze,
As if he would in peeces him haue rent;
And were not, that the Prince did him appeaze,
He had not left one limbe of him vnrent:
But ſtreight he held his hand at his commaundement.
Thus hauing all things well in peace ordayned,
The Prince himſelfe there all that night did reſt,
Where him Blandina fayrely entertayned,
With all the courteous glee and goodly feaſt,
The which for him ſhe could imagine beſt.
For well ſhe knew the wayes to win good will
Of euery wight, that were not too infeſt,
And how to pleaſe the minds of good and ill,
Through tempering of her words & lookes by wondrous skill.
Yet were her words and lookes but falſe and fayned,
To ſome hid end to make more eaſie way,
Or to allure ſuch fondlings, whom ſhe trayned
Into her trap vnto their owne decay:
Thereto, when needed, ſhe could weepe and pray,
And when her liſted, ſhe could fawne and flatter;
Now ſmyling ſmoothly, like to ſommers day,
Now glooming ſadly, ſo to cloke her matter;
Yet were her words but wynd, & all her teares but water.
Whether ſuch grace were giuen her by kynd,
As women wont their guilefull wits to guyde;
Or learn'd the art to pleaſe, I doe not fynd.
This well I wote, that ſhe ſo well applyde
Her pleaſing tongue, that ſoone ſhe pacifyde
The wrathfull Prince, & wrought her husbands peace.
Who natheleſſe not therewith ſatisfyde,
His rancorous deſpight did not releaſſe,
Ne ſecretly from thought of fell reuenge 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, whyleſt all the night was ſpent.
The morrow next the Prince did early rize,
And paſſed forth, to follow his firſt enterprize.
Cant. VII.
Turpine is baffuld, his two knights
doe gaine their treaſons meed,
Fayre Mirabellaes puniſhment
for loues diſdaine decreed.
LIke as the gentle hart it ſelfe bewrayes,
In doing gentle deedes with franke delight,
Euen ſo the baſer mind it ſelfe diſplayes,
In cancred malice and reuengefull ſpight.
For to maligne, t'enuie, t'vſe ſhifting ſlight,
Be arguments of a vile donghill mind,
Which what it dare not doe by open might,
To worke by wicked treaſon wayes doth find,
By ſuch diſcourteous deeds diſcouering his baſe kind.
That well appeares in this diſcourteous knight,
The coward Turpine, whereof now I treat;
Who notwithſtanding that in former fight
He of the Prince his life receiued late,
Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate
He gan denize, to be aueng'd anew
For all that ſhame, which kindled inward hate.
Therefore ſo ſoone as he was out of vew,
Himſelfe in haſt he arm'd, and did him faſt purſew.
Well did he tract his ſteps, as he did ryde,
Yet would not neare approch in daungers eye,
But kept aloofe for dread to be deſcryde,
Vntill fit time and place he mote eſpy,
Where he mote worke him ſcath and villeny.
At laſt he met two knights to him vnknowne,
The which were arm'd both agreeably,
And both combynd, what euer chaunce were blowne,
Betwixt them to diuide, and each to make his owne.
To whom falſe Turpine comming courteouſly,
To cloke the miſchiefe, which he inly ment,
Gan to complaine of great diſcourteſie,
Which a ſtraunge knight, that neare afore him went,
Had doen to him, and his deare Ladie ſhent:
Which if they would afford him ayde at need
For to auenge, in time conuenient,
They ſhould accompliſh both a knightly deed,
And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.
The knights beleeu'd, that all he ſayd, was trew,
And being freſh and full of youthly ſpright,
Were glad to heare of that aduenture new,
In which they mote make triall of their might,
Which neuer yet they had approu'd in fight;
And eke deſirous of the offred meed,
Said then the one of them; where is that wight,
The which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed,
That we may it auenge, and puniſh him with ſpeed?
He rides (ſaid Turpine) there not farre afore,
With a wyld man ſoft footing by his ſyde,
That if ye liſt to haſte a litle more,
Ye may him ouertake in timely tyde:
Eftſoones they pricked forth with forward pryde,
And ere that litle while they ridden had,
The gentle Prince not farre away they ſpyde,
Ryding a ſoftly pace with portance ſad,
Deuizing of his loue more, then of daunger drad.
Then one of them aloud vnto him cryde,
Bidding him turne againe, falſe traytour knight,
Foule womanwronger, for he him defyde.
With that they both at once with equall ſpight
Did bend their ſpeares, and both with equall might
Againſt him ran; but th'one did miſſe his marke,
And being carried with his force forthright,
Glaunſt ſwiftly by; like to that heauenly ſparke,
Which glyding through the ayre lights all the heauens darke.
But th'other ayming better, did him ſmite
Full in the ſhield, with ſo impetuous powre,
That all his launce in peeces ſhiuered quite,
And ſcattered all about, fell on the flowre.
But the ſtout Prince, with much more ſteddy ſtowre
Full on his beuer did him ſtrike ſo ſore,
That the cold ſteele through piercing, did deuowre
His vitall breath, and to the ground him bore,
Where ſtill he bathed lay in his owne bloody gore.
As when a caſt of Faulcons make their flight
At an Herneſhaw, that lyes aloft on wing,
The whyles they ſtrike at him with heedleſſe might,
The warie foule his bill doth backward wring;
On which the firſt, whoſe force her firſt doth bring,
Her ſelfe quite through the bodie doth engore,
And falleth downe to ground like ſenſeleſſe thing,
But th'other not ſo ſwift, as ſhe before,
Fayles of her ſouſe, and paſſing by doth hurt no more.
By this the other, which was paſſed by,
Himſelfe recouering, was return'd to fight;
Where when he ſaw his fellow lifeleſſe ly,
He much was daunted with ſo diſmall ſight;
Yet nought abating of his former ſpight,
Let driue at him with ſo malitious mynd,
As if he would haue paſſed through him quight:
But the ſteele-head no ſtedfaſt hold could fynd,
But glauncing by, deceiu'd him of that he deſynd.
Not ſo the Prince: for his well learned ſpeare
Tooke ſurer hould, and from his horſes backe
Aboue a launces length him forth did beare,
And gainſt the cold hard earth ſo ſore him ſtrake,
That all his bones in peeces nigh he brake.
Where ſeeing him ſo lie, he left his ſteed,
And to him leaping, vengeance thought to take
Of him, for all his former follies meed,
With flaming ſword in hand his terror more to breed.
The fearefull ſwayne beholding death ſo nie,
Cryde out aloud for mercie him to ſaue;
In lieu whereof he would to him deſcrie,
Great treaſon to him meant, his life to reaue.
The Prince ſoone hearkned, and his life forgaue.
Then thus ſaid he, There is a ſtraunger knight,
The which for promiſe of great meed, vs draue
To this attempt, to wreake his hid deſpight,
For that himſelfe thereto did want ſufficient might.
The Prince much muſed at ſuch villenie,
And ſayd; Now ſure ye well haue earn'd your meed,
For th'one is dead, and th'other ſoone ſhall die,
Vnleſſe to me thou hether bring with ſpeed
The wretch, that hyr'd you 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, where ſo he were, would ſeeke.
So vp he roſe, and forth ſtreight way 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 vncomely plight,
So different from that, which earſt ye ſeem'd in ſight?
Perdie (ſaid he) in euill houre it fell,
That euer I for meed did vndertake
So hard a taske, as life for hyre to ſell;
The which I earſt aduentur'd for your ſake.
Witneſſe the wounds, and this wyde bloudie lake,
Which ye may ſee yet all about me ſteeme.
Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promiſe make,
My due reward, the which right well I deeme
I yearned haue, that life ſo dearely did redeeme.
But where then is (quoth he halfe wrothfully)
Where is the bootie, which therefore I bought,
That curſed caytiue, 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) vpon the cold bare ground,
Slayne of that errant knight, with whom he fought;
Whom afterwards my ſelfe with many a wound
Did ſlay againe, 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 ryde,
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 tracting by the traile,
Ere long they came, whereas in euill tyde
That other ſwayne, like aſhes deadly pale,
Lay in the lap of death, rewing his wretched bale.
Much did the Crauen 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 wheres no courage, theres no ruth nor mone.
Thence paſſing forth, not farre away he found,
Whereas the Prince himſelfe lay all alone,
Looſely diſplayd vpon the graſſie ground,
Poſſeſſed of ſweete ſleepe, that luld him ſoft in ſwound.
Wearie of trauell in his former fight,
He there in ſhade himſelfe had layd to reſt,
Hauing his armes and warlike things vndight,
Feareleſſe of foes that mote his peace moleſt;
The whyles his ſaluage page, that wont be preſt,
Was wandred in the wood another way,
To doe ſome thing, that ſeemed to him beſt,
The whyles his Lord in ſiluer ſlomber lay,
Like to the Euening ſtarre adorn'd with deawy ray.
Whom when as Turpin ſaw ſo looſely layd,
He weened well, that he in deed was dead,
Like as that other knight to him had ſayd:
But when he nigh approcht, he mote aread
Plaine ſignes in him of life and liuelihead.
Whereat much grieu'd againſt that ſtraunger knight,
That him too light of credence did miſlead,
He would haue backe retyred from that ſight,
That was to him on earth the deadlieſt deſpight.
But that ſame knight would not once let him ſtart,
But 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 vanquiſhed, and put to foule diſgrace,
And how that he in lieu of life him lent,
Had vow'd vnto the victor, him to trace
And follow through the world, where ſo he went,
Till that he him deliuered to his puniſhment.
He therewith much abaſhed and affrayd,
Began to tremble euery limbe and vaine;
And ſoftly whiſpering him, entyrely prayd,
T'aduize him better, then by ſuch a traine
Him to betray vnto a ſtraunger ſwaine:
Yet rather counſeld him contrarywize,
Sith he likewiſe did wrong by him ſuſtaine,
To ioyne with him and vengeance to deuize,
Whyleſt time did offer meanes him ſleeping to ſurprize.
Natheleſſe for all his ſpeach, the gentle knight
Would not be tempted to ſuch villenie,
Regarding more his faith, which he did plight,
All were it to his mortall enemie,
Then to entrap him by falſe treacherie:
Great ſhame in lieges blood to be embrew'd.
Thus whyleſt they were debating diuerſlie,
The Saluage forth out of the wood iſſew'd
Backe to the place, whereas his Lord he 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,
To weet great ſtore of forreſt frute, which hee
Had for his food late gathered from the tree,
Himſelfe vnto his weapon he betooke,
That was an oaken plant, which lately hee
Rent by the root; which he ſo ſternely ſhooke,
That like an hazell wand, it quiuered and quooke.
Whereat the Prince awaking, when he ſpyde
The traytour Turpin with that other knight,
He ſtarted vp, and ſnatching neare his ſyde
His truſtie ſword, the ſeruant of his might,
Like a fell Lyon leaped to him light,
And his left hand vpon his collar layd.
Therewith the cowheard deaded with affright,
Fell flat to ground, ne word vnto him ſayd,
But holding vp 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 vpon the humbled gras,
His foot he ſet on his vile necke, in ſigne
Of ſeruile yoke, that nobler harts repine.
Then letting him ariſe like abiect thrall,
He gan to him obiect his haynous crime,
And to reuile, and rate, and recreant call,
And laſtly to deſpoyle of knightly banner all.
And after all, for greater infamie,
He by the heeles him hung vpon a tree,
And baffuld ſo, that all which paſſed by,
The picture of his puniſhment might ſee,
And by the like enſample warned bee,
How euer they through treaſon doe treſpaſſe.
But turne we now backe to that Ladie free,
Whom late we left ryding vpon an Aſſe,
Led by a Carle and foole, which by her ſide did paſſe.
She was a Ladie of great dignitie,
And lifted vp to honorable place,
Famous through all the land of Faerie,
Though of meane parentage and kindred baſe,
Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of natures grace,
That all men did her perſon much admire,
And praiſe the feature of her goodly face,
The beames whereof did kindle louely fire
In th'harts of many a knight, and many a gentle ſquire.
But ſhe thereof grew proud and inſolent,
That none ſhe worthie thought to be her fere,
But ſcornd them all, that loue vnto her ment;
Yet was ſhe lou'd of many a worthy pere,
Vnworthy ſhe to be belou'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 ſerued is of nobleſt knight.
But this coy Damzell thought contrariwize,
That ſuch proud looks would make her prayſed more;
And that the more ſhe did all loue deſpize,
The more would wretched louers her adore.
What cared ſhe, who ſighed for her 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 euer liue, and loue her owne delight.
Through ſuch her ſtubborne ſtifneſſe, and hard hart,
Many 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 ſoueraine might,
That with the onely twinckle of her eye,
She could or ſaue, or ſpill, whom ſhe would hight.
What could the Gods doe more, but doe it more aright?
But loe the Gods, that mortall follies vew,
Did worthily reuenge this maydens pride;
And nought regarding her ſo goodly hew,
Did laugh at her, that many did deride,
Whileſt ſhe did weepe, of no man mercifide.
For on a day, when Cupid kept his court,
As he is wont at each Saint Valentide,
Vnto the which all louers doe reſort,
That of their loues ſucceſſe they there may make report.
It fortun'd then, that when the roules were red,
In which the names of all loues folke were fyled,
That many there were miſſing, which were ded,
Or kept in bands, or from their loues exyled,
Or by ſome other violence deſpoyled.
Which when as Cupid heard, he wexed wroth,
And doubting to be wronged, or beguyled,
He bad his eyes to be vnblindfold both,
That he might ſee his men, and muſter them by oth.
Then found he many miſſing of his crew,
Which wont doe ſuit and ſeruice to his might;
Of whom what was becomen, no man knew.
Therefore a Iurie was impaneld ſtreight,
T'enquire of them, whether by force, or ſleight,
Or their owne guilt, they were away conuayd.
To whom foule Infamie, and fell Deſpight
Gaue euidence, that they were all betrayd,
And murdred cruelly by a rebellious Mayd.
Fayre Mirabella was her name, whereby
Of all thoſe crymes ſhe there indited was:
All which when Cupid heard, he by and by
In great diſpleaſure, wild a Capias
Should iſſue forth, t'attach that ſcornefull laſſe.
The warrant ſtraight was made, and therewithall
A Baylieffe errant forth in poſt did paſſe,
Whom they by name there Portamore did call;
He which doth ſummon louers to loues iudgement hall.
The damzell was attacht, and ſhortly brought
Vnto the barre, whereas ſhe was arrayned:
But ſhe thereto nould plead, nor anſwere ought
Euen for ſtubborne pride, which her reſtrayned.
So iudgement paſt, as is by law ordayned
In caſes like, which when at laſt ſhe ſaw,
Her ſtubborne hart, which loue before diſdayned,
Gan ſtoupe, and falling downe with humble awe,
Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.
The ſonne of Venus who is myld by kynd,
But where he is prouokt with peeuiſhneſſe,
Vnto her prayers piteouſly enclynd,
And did the rigour of his doome repreſſe;
Yet not ſo freely, but that natheleſſe
He vnto her a penance did impoſe,
Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildernes
She wander ſhould in companie of thoſe,
Till ſhe had ſau'd ſo many loues, as ſhe did loſe.
So now ſhe had bene wandring two whole yeares
Throughout the world, in this vncomely caſe,
Waſting her goodly hew in heauie teares,
And her good dayes in dolorous diſgrace:
Yet had ſhe not in all theſe two yeares ſpace,
Saued but two, yet in two yeares before,
Throgh her diſpiteous pride, whileſt loue lackt place,
She had deſtroyed two and twenty more.
Aie me, how could her loue make half amends therefore.
And now ſhe was vppon the weary way,
When as the gentle Squire, with faire Serene,
Met her in ſuch miſſeeming foule array;
The whiles that mighty man did her demeane
With all the euill termes and cruell meane,
That he could make; And eeke that angry foole
Which follow'd her, with curſed hands vncleane
Whipping her horſe, did with his ſmarting toole
Oft whip her dainty ſelfe, and much augment her doole.
Ne ought it mote auaile her to entreat
The one or th'other, better her to vſe:
For both ſo wilfull were and obſtinate,
That all her piteous plaint they did refuſe,
And rather did the more her beate and bruſe.
But moſt the former villaine, which did lead
Her tyreling iade, was bent her to abuſe;
Who though ſhe were with wearineſſe nigh dead,
Yet would not let her lite, nor reſt a little ſtead.
For he was ſterne, and terrible by nature,
And eeke of perſon huge and hideous,
Exceeding much the meaſure of mans ſtature,
And rather like a Gyant monſtruous.
Forſooth he was deſcended of the hous
Of thoſe old Gyants, which did warres darraine
Againſt the heauen in order battailous,
And ſib to great Orgolio, which was ſlaine
By Arthure, when as Vnas Knight he did maintaine.
His lookes were dreadfull, and his fiery eies
Like two great Beacons, glared bright and wyde,
Glauncing askew, as if his enemies
He ſcorned in his ouerweening pryde;
And ſtalking ſtately like a Crane, did ſtryde
At euery ſtep vppon the tiptoes hie,
And all the way he went, on euery ſyde
He gaz'd about, and ſtared horriblie,
As if he with his lookes would all men terrifie.
He wore no armour, ne for none did care,
As no whit dreading any liuing wight;
But in a Iacket quilted richly rare,
Vpon checklaton he was ſtraungely dight,
And on his head a roll of linnen plight,
Like to the Mores of Malaber he wore;
With which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night,
Were bound about, and voyded from before,
And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.
This was Diſdaine, who led that Ladies horſe
Through thick & thin, through mountains & through plains,
Compelling her, wher ſhe would not by force
Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines.
But that ſame foole, which moſt increaſt her paines,
Was Scorne, who hauing in his hand a whip,
Her therewith yirks, and ſtill when ſhe complaines,
The more he laughes, and does her cloſely quip,
To ſee her ſore lament, and bite her tender lip.
Whoſe cruell handling when that Squire beheld,
And ſaw thoſe villaines her ſo vildely vſe,
His gentle heart with indignation ſweld,
And could no lenger beare ſo great abuſe,
As ſuch a Lady ſo to beate and bruiſe;
But to him ſtepping, ſuch a ſtroke him lent,
That forſt him th'halter from his hand to looſe,
And maugre all his might, backe to relent:
Elſe had he ſurely there bene ſlaine, or fowly ſhent.
The villaine wroth for greeting him ſo ſore,
Gathered him ſelfe together ſoone againe,
And with his yron batton, which he bore,
Let driue at him ſo dreadfully amaine,
That for his ſafety he did him conſtraine
To giue him ground, and ſhift to euery ſide,
Rather then once his burden to ſuſtaine:
For booteleſſe thing him ſeemed, to abide,
So mighty blowes, or proue the puiſſaunce of his pride.
Like as a Maſtiffe hauing at a bay
A ſaluage Bull, whoſe cruell hornes doe threat
Deſperate daunger, if he them aſſay,
Traceth his ground, and round about doth beat,
To ſpy where he may ſome aduauntage get;
The whiles the beaſt doth rage and loudly rore,
So did the Squire, the whiles the Carle did fret,
And fume in his diſdainefull mynd the more,
And oftentimes by Turmagant and Mahound ſwore.
Natheleſſe ſo ſharpely ſtill he him purſewd,
That at aduantage him at laſt he tooke,
When his foote ſlipt (that ſlip he dearely rewd,)
And with his yron club to ground him ſtrooke;
Where ſtill he lay, ne out of ſwoune awooke,
Till heauy hand the Carle vpon him layd,
And bound him faſt: Tho when he vp did looke,
And ſaw him ſelfe captiu'd, he was diſmayd,
Ne powre had to withſtand, ne hope of any ayd.
Then vp he made himſelfe, and forward fare,
Led in a rope, which both his hands did bynd;
Ne ought that foole for pitty did him ſpare,
But with his whip him following behynd,
Him often ſcourg'd, and forſt his feete to fynd:
And other whiles with bitter mockes and mowes
He would him ſcorne, that to his gentle mynd
Was much more grieuous, then the others blowes:
Words ſharpely wound, but greateſt griefe of ſcorning growes.
The faire Serena, when ſhe ſaw him fall
Vnder that villaines club, then ſurely thought
That 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:
And paſt through many perils by the way,
Ere ſhe againe to Calepine was brought;
The which diſcourſe as now I muſt delay,
Till Mirabellaes fortunes I doe further ſay.
Cant. VIII.
Prince Arthure ouercomes Diſdaine,
Quites Mirabell from dreed:
Serena found of Saluages,
By Calepine is freed.
YE gentle Ladies, in whoſe ſoueraine powre
Loue hath the glory of his kingdome left,
And th'hearts of men, as your eternall dowre,
In yron chaines, of liberty bereft,
Deliuered hath into your hands by gift;
Be well aware, how ye the ſame doe vſe,
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 ye 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 loue of men to hate.
Enſample take of Mirabellaes caſe,
Who from the high degree of happy ſtate,
Fell into wretched woes, which ſhe repented late.
Who after thraldome of the gentle Squire,
Which ſhe beheld with lamentable eye,
Was touched with compaſſion entire,
And much lamented his calamity,
That for her ſake fell into miſery:
Which booted nought for prayers, nor for threat
To hope for to releaſe or mollify;
For aye the more, that ſhe did them entreat
The more they him miſuſt, and cruelly did beat.
So as they forward on their way did pas,
Him ſtill reuiling and afflicting ſore,
They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias,
(That was that courteous Knight, whom he before
Hauing ſubdew'd, yet did to life reſtore,)
To whom as they approcht, they gan augment
Their cruelty, and him to puniſh more,
Scourging and haling him more vehement;
As if it them ſhould grieue to ſee his puniſhment.
The Squire him ſelfe when as he ſaw his Lord,
The witneſſe of his wretchedneſſe, in place,
Was much aſham'd, that with an hempen cord
He like a dog was led in captiue 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 mynde was much emmoued therewithall.
And to the Prince thus ſayd; See you Sir Knight,
The greateſt ſhame that euer eye yet ſaw?
Yond Lady and her Squire with foule deſpight
Abuſde, againſt all reaſon and all law,
Without regard of pitty or of awe.
See how they doe that Squire beat and reuile;
See how they doe the Lady hale and draw.
But if ye pleaſe to lend me leaue a while,
I will them ſoone acquite, and both of blame aſſoile.
The Prince aſſented, and then he ſtreight way
Diſmounting light, his ſhield about him threw,
With which approching, thus he gan to ſay;
Abide ye caytiue treachetours vntrew,
That haue with treaſon thralled vnto you
Theſe two, vnworthy of your wretched bands;
And now your crime with cruelty purſew.
Abide, and from them lay your loathly hands;
Or elſe abide the death, that hard before you ſtands.
The villaine ſtayd not aunſwer to inuent,
But with his yron club preparing way,
His mindes ſad meſſage backe vnto 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,
Vnwares 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
Saued him ſelfe, but that he there him ſlew:
Yet ſau'd not ſo, but that the bloud it drew,
And gaue his foe good hope of victory.
Who therewith fleſht, vpon him ſet anew,
And with the ſecond ſtroke, thought certainely
To haue ſupplyde the firſt, and paide the vſury.
But Fortune aunſwerd not vnto his call;
For as his hand was heaued vp on hight,
The villaine met him in the middle fall,
And with his club bet backe his brondyron bright
So forcibly, that with his owne hands might
Rebeaten backe vpon him ſelfe againe,
He driuen was to ground in ſelfe deſpight;
From whence ere he recouery could gaine,
He in his necke had ſet his foote with fell diſdaine.
With that the foole, which did that end awayte,
Came running in, and whileſt on ground he lay,
Laide heauy hands on him, and held ſo ſtrayte,
That downe he kept him with his ſcornefull ſway,
So as he could not weld him any way.
The whiles that other villaine went about
Him to haue bound, and thrald without delay;
The whiles the foole did him reuile and flout,
Threatning to yoke them tow & tame their corage ſtout.
As when a ſturdy ploughman with his hynde
By ſtrength haue ouerthrowne a ſtubborne ſteare,
They downe him hold, and faſt with cords do bynde,
Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare:
So did theſe two this Knight oft tug and teare.
Which when the Prince beheld, there ſtanding by,
He left his lofty ſteede to aide him neare,
And buckling ſoone him ſelfe, gan fiercely fly
Vppon that Carle, to ſaue his friend from ieopardy.
The villaine leauing him vnto his mate
To be captiu'd, and handled as he liſt,
Himſelfe addreſt vnto this new debate,
And with his club him all about ſo bliſt,
That he which way to turne him ſcarcely wiſt:
Sometimes aloft he layd, ſometimes alow;
Now here, now there, and oft him neare he miſt;
So doubtfully, that hardly one could know
Whether more wary were to giue or ward the blow.
But yet the Prince ſo well enured was
With ſuch huge ſtrokes, approued oft in fight,
That way to them he gaue forth right to pas.
Ne would endure the daunger of their might,
But wayt aduantage, when they downe did light.
At laſt the caytiue after long diſcourſe,
When all his ſtrokes he ſaw auoyded quite,
Reſolued in one t'aſſemble all his force,
And make one end of him without ruth or remorſe.
His dreadfull hand he heaued vp aloft,
And with his dreadfull inſtrument of yre,
Thought ſure haue pownded him to powder ſoft,
Or deepe emboweld in the earth entyre:
But Fortune did not with his will conſpire.
For ere his ſtroke attayned his intent,
The noble childe preuenting his deſire,
Vnder his club with wary boldneſſe went,
And ſmote him on the knee, that neuer yet was bent.
It neuer 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 body beare,
It crackt throughout, yet did no bloud appeare;
So as it was vnable to ſupport
So huge a burden on ſuch broken geare,
But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of durt,
Whence he aſſayd to riſe, but could not for his hurt.
Eftſoones the Prince to him full nimbly ſtept,
And leaſt he ſhould recouer foote againe,
His head meant from his ſhoulders to haue ſwept.
Which when the Lady ſaw, ſhe cryde amaine;
Stay ſtay, Sir Knight, for loue of God abſtaine,
For that vnwares ye weetleſſe doe intend;
Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be ſlaine:
For more on him doth then him ſelfe depend;
My life will by his death haue lamentable end.
He ſtaide his hand according her deſire,
Yet nathemore him ſuffred to arize;
But ſtill ſuppreſſing gan of her inquire,
What meaning mote thoſe vncouth words comprize,
That in that villaines health her ſafety lies:
That, were no might in man, nor heart in Knights,
Which durſt her dreaded reskue enterprize,
Yet heauens them ſelues, that fauour feeble rights,
Would for it ſelfe redreſſe, and puniſh ſuch deſpights.
Then burſting forth in teares, which guſhed faſt
Like many water ſtreames, a while ſhe ſtayd;
Till the ſharpe paſſion being ouerpaſt,
Her tongue to her reſtord, then thus ſhe ſayd;
Nor heauens, nor men can me moſt wretched mayd
Deliuer from the doome of my deſart,
The which the God of loue hath on me layd,
And damned to endure this direfull ſmart,
For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.
In prime of youthly yeares, when firſt the flowre
Of beauty gan to bud, and blooſme delight,
And nature me endu'd with plenteous dowre,
Of all her gifts, that pleaſde each liuing ſight,
I was belou'd of many a gentle Knight,
And ſude and ſought with all the ſeruice dew:
Full many a one for me deepe groand and ſight,
And to the dore of death for ſorrow drew,
Complayning out on me, that would not on them rew.
But let them loue that liſt, or liue or die;
Me liſt not die for any louers doole:
Ne liſt me leaue my loued libertie,
To pitty him that liſt to play the foole:
To loue my ſelfe I learned had in ſchoole.
Thus I triumphed long in louers paine,
And ſitting careleſſe on the ſcorners ſtoole,
Did laugh at thoſe that did lament and plaine:
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 reuengement of thoſe wrongfull ſmarts,
Which I to others did inflict afore,
Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce ſore;
That in this wize, and this vnmeete array,
With theſe two lewd companions, and no more,
Diſdaine and Scorne, I through the world ſhould ſtray,
Till I haue ſau'd ſo many, as I earſt did ſlay.
Certes (ſayd then the Prince) the God is iuſt,
That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples ſpoile.
For were no law in loue, but all that luſt,
Might them oppreſſe, and painefully turmoile,
His kingdome would continue but a while.
But tell me Lady, wherefore doe you beare
This bottle thus before you with ſuch toile,
And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,
That for theſe Carles to carry much more comely were?
Here in this bottle (ſayd the ſory Mayd)
I put the teares of my contrition,
Till to the brim I haue it full defrayd:
And in this bag which I behinde me don,
I put repentaunce for things paſt and gon.
Yet is the bottle leake, and bag ſo torne,
That all which I put in, fals out anon;
And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne,
Who mocketh all my paine, & laughs the more I mourn.
The Infant hearkned wiſely to her tale,
And wondred much at Cupids iudg'ment wiſe,
That could ſo meekly make proud hearts auale,
And wreake him ſelfe on them, that him deſpiſe.
Then ſuffred he Diſdaine vp to ariſe,
Who was not able vp him ſelfe to reare,
By meanes his leg through his late luckeleſſe priſe,
Was crackt in twaine, but by his fooliſh feare
Was holpen vp, who him ſupported ſtanding neare.
But being vp, he lookt againe aloft,
As if he neuer had receiued fall;
And with ſterne eye-browes ſtared at him oft,
As if he would haue daunted him with all:
And ſtanding on his tiptoes, to ſeeme tall,
Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,
As if ſuch pride the other could apall;
Who was ſo far from being ought amazed,
That he his lookes deſpiſed, and his boaſt diſpraized.
Then turning backe vnto that captiue thrall,
Who all this while ſtood there beſide them bound,
Vnwilling to be knowne, or ſeene at all,
He from thoſe bands weend him to haue vnwound.
But when approching neare, he plainely 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 great deſire.
Meane while the Saluage man, when he beheld
That huge great foole oppreſſing th'other Knight,
Whom with his weight vnweldy downe he held,
He flew vpon him, like a greedy kight
Vnto ſome carrion offered to his ſight,
And downe him plucking, with his nayles 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 followeth.
And ſure I weene, had not the Ladies cry
Procur'd the Prince his cruell hand to ſtay,
He would with whipping, him haue done to dye:
But being checkt, he did abſtaine ſtreight way,
And let him riſe. Then thus the Prince gan ſay;
Now Lady ſith your fortunes thus diſpoſe,
That if ye liſt haue liberty, ye may,
Vnto your ſelfe I freely leaue to choſe,
Whether I ſhall you leaue, or from theſe villaines loſe.
Ah nay Sir Knight (ſayd ſhe) it may not be,
But that I needes muſt by all meanes fulfill
This penaunce, which enioyned is to me,
Leaſt vnto me betide a greater ill;
Yet no leſſe thankes to you for your good will.
So humbly taking leaue, ſhe turnd aſide,
But Arthure with the reſt, went onward ſtill
On his firſt queſt, in which did him betide
A great aduenture, which did him from them deuide.
But firſt it falleth me by courſe to tell
Of faire Serena, who as earſt you heard,
When firſt the gentle Squire at variaunce fell
With thoſe two Carles, fled faſt away, afeard
Of villany to be to her inferd:
So freſh the image of her former dread,
Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard,
That euery foote did tremble, which did tread,
And euery body two, and two ſhe foure did read.
Through hils & dales, through buſhes & through breres
Long thus ſhe fled, till that at laſt ſhe thought
Her ſelfe now paſt the perill of her feares.
Then looking round about, and ſeeing nought.
Which doubt of daunger to her offer mought,
She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine,
And ſitting downe, her ſelfe a while bethought
Of her long trauell and turmoyling paine;
And often did of loue, and oft of lucke complaine.
And euermore ſhe blamed Calepine,
The good Sir Calepine, her owne true Knight,
As th'onely author of her wofull tine:
For being of his loue to her ſo light,
As her to leaue in ſuch a piteous plight.
Yet neuer Turtle truer to his make,
Then he was tride vnto his Lady bright:
Who all this while endured for her ſake,
Great perill of his life, and reſtleſſe paines did take.
Tho when as all her plaints, ſhe had diſplayd,
And well disburdened her engrieued breſt,
Vpon the graſſe her ſelfe adowne ſhe layd;
Where being tyrde with trauell, and oppreſt
With ſorrow, ſhe betooke her ſelfe to reſt.
There whileſt in Morpheus boſome ſafe ſhe lay,
Feareleſſe of ought, that mote her peace moleſt,
Falſe Fortune did her ſafety betray,
Vnto a ſtraunge miſchaunce, that menac'd her decay.
In theſe wylde deſerts, where ſhe now abode,
There dwelt a ſaluage nation, which did liue
Of ſtealth and ſpoile, and making nightly rode
Into their neighbours borders; ne did giue
Them ſelues to any trade, as for to driue
The painefull plough, or cattell for to breed,
Or by aduentrous marchandize to thriue;
But on the labours of poore men to feed,
And ſerue their owne neceſſities with others need.
Thereto they vſde one moſt accurſed order,
To eate the fleſh of men, whom they mote fynde,
And ſtraungers to deuoure, which on their border
Were brought by errour, or by wreckfull wynde.
A monſtrous cruelty gainſt courſe of kynde.
They towards euening wandring euery way,
To ſeeke for booty, came by fortune blynde,
Whereas this Lady, like a ſheepe aſtray,
Now drowned in the depth of ſleepe all feareleſſe lay.
Soone as they ſpide her, Lord what gladfull glee
They made amongſt them ſelues; but when her face
Like the faire yuory ſhining they did ſee,
Each gan his fellow ſolace and embrace,
For ioy of ſuch good hap by heauenly grace.
Then gan they to deuize what courſe to take:
Whether to ſlay her there vpon the place,
Or ſuffer her out of her ſleepe to wake,
And then her eate attonce; or many meales to make.
The beſt aduizement was of bad, to let her
Sleepe out her fill, without encomberment:
For ſleepe they ſayd would make her battill better.
Then when ſhe wakt, they all gaue one conſent,
That ſince by grace of God ſhe there was ſent,
Vnto their God they would her ſacrifize,
Whoſe ſhare, her guiltleſſe bloud they would preſent,
But of her dainty fleſh they did deuize
To make a common feaſt, & feed with gurmandize.
So round about her they them ſelues did place
Vpon the graſſe, and diuerſely 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 whet their kniues, and ſtrip their elboes bare:
The Prieſt him ſelfe a garland doth compoſe
Of fineſt flowres, and with full buſie care
His bloudy veſſels waſh, and holy fire prepare.
The Damzell wakes, then all attonce vpſtart,
And round about her flocke, like many flies,
Whooping, and hallowing on euery part,
As if they would haue rent the braſen skies.
Which when ſhe ſees with ghaſtly griefful eies,
Her heart does quake, and deadly pallid hew
Benumbes her cheekes: Then out aloud ſhe cries,
Where none is nigh to heare, that will her rew,
And rends her golden locks, and ſnowy breſts embrew.
But all bootes not: they hands vpon her lay;
And firſt they ſpoile her of her iewls 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
The goodly threaſures of nature appeare:
Which as they view with luſtfull fantaſyes,
Each wiſheth to him ſelfe, and to the reſt enuyes.
Her yuorie necke, her alablaſter breſt,
Her paps, which like white ſilken pillowes were,
For loue in ſoft delight thereon to reſt;
Her tender ſides her bellie white and clere,
Which like an Altar did it ſelfe vprere,
To offer ſacrifice diuine thereon;
Her goodly thighes, whoſe glorie did appeare
Like a triumphall Arch, and thereupon
The ſpoiles of Princes hang'd, which were in battel won.
Thoſe daintie parts, the dearlings of delight,
Which mote not be prophan'd of common eyes,
Thoſe villeins vew'd with looſe laſciuious ſight,
And cloſely tempted with their craftie ſpyes;
And ſome of them gan mongſt themſelues deuize,
Thereof by force to take their beaſtly pleaſure.
But them the Prieſt rebuking, did aduize▪
To dare not to pollute ſo ſacred threaſure,
Vow'd to the gods: religiō held euen theeues in meaſure.
So being ſtayd, they her from thence directed
Vnto a litle groue not farre aſyde,
In which an altar ſhortly they erected,
To ſlay her on. And now the Euentyde
His brode black wings had through the heauens 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.
Tho when as all things readie were aright,
The Damzell was before the altar ſet,
Being alreadie dead with fearefull 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 diueliſh ceremonies met:
Which doen he gan aloft t'aduance his arme,
Whereat they ſhouted all, and made a loud alarme.
Then gan the bagpypes and the hornes 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:
The whyles ſhe wayld, the more they did reioyce.
Now mote ye vnderſtand that to this groue
Sir Calepine by chaunce, more then by choyce,
The ſelfe ſame euening fortune hether droue,
As he to ſeeke Serena through the woods did roue.
Long had he ſought her, and through many a ſoyle
Had traueld ſtill on foot in heauie armes,
Ne ought was tyred with his endleſſe toyles,
Ne ought was feared of his certaine harmes:
And now all weetleſſe of the wretched ſtormes,
In which his loue was loſt, he ſlept full faſt,
Till being waked with theſe loud alarmes,
He lightly ſtarted vp like one aghaſt,
And catching vp his arms ſtreight to the noiſe forth paſt.
There by th'vncertaine glims of ſtarry night,
And by the twinkling of their ſacred fire,
He mote perceiue a litle dawning ſight
Of all, which there was doing in that quire:
Mongſt whom a woman ſpoyld of all attire
He ſpyde, lamenting her vnluckie ſtrife,
And groning ſore from grieued hart entire;
Eftſoones he ſaw one with a naked knife
Readie to launch her breſt, and let out loued life.
With that he thruſts into the thickeſt throng,
And euen as his right hand adowne deſcends,
He him preuenting, layes on earth along,
And ſacrifizeth to th'infernall feends.
Then to the reſt his wrathfull hand he bends,
Of whom he makes ſuch hauocke 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 doues 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 lacke
Of clothes to couer, what they ought by kind,
He firſt her hands beginneth to vnbind;
And then to queſtion of her preſent woe;
And afterwards to cheare with ſpeaches kind.
But ſhe for nought that he could ſay or doe,
One word durſt ſpeake, or anſwere him awhit thereto.
So inward ſhame of her vncomely caſe
She did conceiue, through care of womanhood,
That though the night did couer her diſgrace,
Yet ſhe in ſo vnwomanly a mood,
Would not bewray the ſtate in which ſhe ſtood.
So all that night to him vnknowen ſhe paſt.
But day, that doth diſcouer bad and good,
Enſewing, made her knowen to him at laſt:
The end whereof Ile keepe vntill another caſt.
Cant. IX.
Calidore hoſtes with Meliboe
And loues fayre Paſtorell;
Coridon enuies 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
Vnplough'd, the which my coulter hath not cleft:
Yet ſeem'd the ſoyle both fayre and frutefull eft,
As I it paſt, that were too great a ſhame,
That ſo rich frute ſhould be from vs bereft;
Beſides the great diſhonour and defame,
Which ſhould befall to Calidores immortall name.
Great trauell hath the gentle Calidore
And toyle endured, ſith I left him laſt
Sewing the Blatant beaſt, which I forbore
To finiſh then, for other preſent haſt.
Full many pathes and perils he hath paſt,
Through hils, through dales, throgh foreſts, & throgh plaines
In that ſame queſt which fortune on him caſt,
Which he atchieued to his owne great gaines,
Reaping eternall 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 townes him preſt,
And from the townes into the countrie forſed,
And from the country back to priuate farmes he ſcorſed.
From thence into the open fields he fled,
Whereas the Heardes were keeping of their neat,
And ſhepheards ſinging to their flockes, that fed,
Layes of ſweete loue and youthes delightfull heat:
Him thether eke for all his fearefull threat
He followed faſt, and chaced him ſo nie,
That to the folds, where ſheepe at night doe ſeat,
And to the litle cots, where ſhepherds lie
In winters wrathfull time, he forced him to flie.
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 whyles their beaſts there in the budded broomes
Beſide them fed, and nipt the tender bloomes:
For other worldly wealth they cared nought.
To whom Sir Calidore yet ſweating comes,
And them to tell him courteouſly beſought,
If ſuch a beaſt they ſaw, which he had thether brought.
They anſwer'd him, that no ſuch beaſt they ſaw,
Nor any wicked feend, that mote offend
Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw:
But if that ſuch there were (as none they kend)
They prayd high God them farre from them to ſend.
Then one of them him ſeeing ſo to ſweat,
After his ruſticke wiſe, that well he weend,
Offred him drinke, to quench his thirſtie heat,
And if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.
The knight was nothing nice, where was no need,
And tooke their gentle offer: ſo adowne
They prayd him ſit, and gaue him for to feed
Such homely what, as ſerues the ſimple clowne,
That doth deſpiſe the dainties of the towne.
Tho hauing fed his fill, he there beſyde
Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne
Of ſundry flowres, with ſilken ribbands tyde.
Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had dyde.
Vpon a litle hillocke ſhe was placed
Higher then all the reſt, and round about
Enuiron'd with a girland, goodly graced,
Of louely laſſes, and them all without
The luſtie ſhepheard ſwaynes 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 heauenly hew
Were downe to them deſcended in that earthly vew.
And ſoothly ſure ſhe was full fayre of face,
And perfectly well ſhapt in euery lim,
Which ſhe did more augment with modeſt grace,
And comely carriage of her count'nance trim,
That all the reſt like leſſer lamps did dim:
Who her admiring as ſome heauenly wight,
Did for their ſoueraine goddeſſe her eſteeme,
And caroling her name both day and night,
The fayreſt Paſtorella her by name did hight.
Ne was there heard, ne was there ſhepheards ſwayne
But her did honour, and eke many a one
Burnt in her loue, and with ſweet pleaſing payne
Full many a night for her did ſigh and grone:
But moſt of all the ſhepheard Coridon
For her did languiſh, and his deare life ſpend;
Yet neither ſhe for him, nor other none
Did care a whit, ne any liking lend:
Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind aſcend.
Her whyles Sir Calidore there vewed well,
And markt her rare demeanure, which him ſeemed
So farre the meane of ſhepheards to excell,
As that he in his mind her worthy deemed,
To be a Princes Paragone eſteemed,
He was vnwares ſurpriſd in ſubtile bands
Of the blynd boy, ne thence could be redeemed
By any skill out of his cruell hands,
Caught like the bird, which gazing ſtill on others ſtands.
So ſtood he ſtill long gazing thereupon,
Ne any will had thence to moue away,
Although his queſt were farre afore him gon;
But after he had fed, yet did he ſtay,
And ſate there ſtill, vntill the flying day
Was farre forth ſpent, diſcourſing diuerſly
Of ſundry things, as fell to worke delay;
And euermore his ſpeach he did apply
To th'heards, 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 ſhepheards to their homes to haſt
Their tender flocks, now being fully fed,
For feare of wetting them before their bed;
Then came to them a good old aged ſyre,
Whoſe ſiluer lockes bedeckt his beard and hed,
With ſhepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre,
That wild the damzell riſe; the day did now expyre.
He was to weet by common voice eſteemed
The father of the fayreſt Paſtorell,
And of her ſelfe 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 vp brought home, and nourſed well
As his owne chyld; for other he had none,
That ſhe in tract of time accompted was his owne.
She at his bidding meekely did ariſe,
And ſtreight vnto her litle flocke did fare:
Then all the reſt about her roſe likewiſe,
And each his ſundrie ſheepe with ſeuerall care
Gathered together, and them homeward bare:
Whyleſt euerie one with helping hands did ſtriue
Amongſt themſelues, and did their labours ſhare,
To helpe faire Paſtorella, home to driue
Her fleecie flocke; but Coridon moſt helpe did giue.
But Meliboee (ſo hight that good old man)
Now ſeeing Calidore left all alone,
And night arriued hard at hand, began
Him to inuite vnto his ſimple home;
Which though it were a cottage clad with lome,
And all things therein meane, yet better ſo
To lodge, then in the ſaluage fields to rome.
The knight full gladly ſoone agreed thereto,
Being his harts owne wiſh, and home with him did go.
There he was welcom'd of that honeſt ſyre,
And of his aged Beldame homely well;
Who him beſought himſelfe to diſattyre,
And reſt himſelfe, till ſupper time 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 craue contented to abyde.
Tho when they had their hunger ſlaked well,
And the fayre mayd the table ta'ne away,
The gentle knight, as he that did excell
In courteſie, and well could 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,
Gan highly to commend the happie life,
Which Shepheards lead, without debate or bitter ſtrife.
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 enmitie
Doe them afflict, which no man can appeaſe,
That certes I your happineſſe enuie,
And wiſh my lot were plaſt in ſuch felicitie.
Surely my ſonne (then anſwer'd he againe)
If happie, then it is in this intent,
That hauing ſmall, yet doe I not complaine
Of want, ne wiſh for more it to augment,
But doe my ſelfe, with that I haue, content;
So taught of nature, which doth litle need
Of forreine helpes to lifes due nouriſhment:
The fields my food, my flocke my rayment breed;
No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed.
Therefore I doe not any one enuy,
Nor am enuyde of any one therefore;
They that haue much, feare much to looſe thereby,
And ſtore of cares doth follow riches ſtore.
The litle that I haue, growes dayly more
Without my care, but onely to attend it;
My lambes doe euery yeare increaſe their ſcore,
And my flockes father daily doth amend it.
What haue I, but to praiſe th'Almighty, that doth ſend it?
To them, that liſt, the worlds gay ſhowes I leaue,
And to great ones ſuch follies doe forgiue,
Which oft through pride do their owne perill weaue,
And through ambition downe themſelues doe driue
To ſad decay, that might contented liue.
Me no ſuch cares nor combrous thoughts offend,
Ne once my minds vnmoued quiet grieue,
But all the night in ſiluer ſleepe I ſpend,
And all the day, to what I liſt, I doe attend.
Sometimes I hunt the Fox, the vowed foe
Vnto my Lambes, and him diſlodge away;
Sometime the fawne I practiſe from the Doe,
Or from the Goat her kidde how to conuay;
Another while I baytes and nets diſplay,
The birds to catch, or fiſhes to beguyle:
And when I wearie am, I downe doe lay
My limbes in euery ſhade, to reſt from toyle,
And drinke of euery 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 amongſt mine equall peares
To follow ſheepe, and ſhepheards baſe attire:
For further fortune then I would inquire.
And leauing home, to roiall court I ſought;
Where I did ſell my ſelfe for yearely hire,
And in the Princes gardin daily wrought:
There I beheld ſuch vaineneſſe, as I neuer thought.
With ſight whereof ſoone cloyd, and long deluded
With idle hopes, which them doe entertaine,
After I had ten yeares my ſelfe excluded
From natiue home, and ſpent my youth in vaine,
I gan my follies to my ſelfe to plaine,
And this ſweet peace, whoſe lacke did then appeare.
Tho backe returning to my ſheepe againe,
I from thenceforth haue learn'd to loue more deare
This lowly quiet life, which I inherite here.
Whyleſt thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare
Hong ſtill vpon his melting mouth attent;
Whoſe ſenſefull words empierſt his hart ſo neare,
That he was rapt with double rauiſhment,
Both of his ſpeach 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,
He loſt himſelfe, and like one halfe entraunced grew.
Yet to occaſion meanes, to worke his mind,
And to inſinuate his harts deſire,
He thus replyde; Now ſurely ſyre, I find,
That all this worlds gay ſhowes, which we admire,
Be but vaine ſhadowes to this ſafe retyre
Of life, which here in lowlineſſe ye lead,
Feareleſſe of foes, or fortunes wrackfull yre,
Which toſſeth ſtates, and vnder foot doth tread
The mightie ones, affrayd of euery chaunges dread.
That euen I which daily doe behold
The glorie of the great, mongſt whom I won,
And now haue prou'd, what happineſſe ye hold
In this ſmall plot of your dominion,
Now loath great Lordſhip and ambition;
And wiſh th'heauens ſo much had graced mee,
As graunt me liue in like condition;
Or that my fortunes might tranſpoſed bee
From pitch of higher place, vnto this low degree.
In vaine (ſaid then old Meliboe) doe men
The heauens 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 vſe.
For not that, which men couet moſt, is beſt,
Nor that thing worſt, which men do moſt refuſe;
But fitteſt is, that all contented reſt
With that they hold: each hath his fortune in his breſt.
It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill,
That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore:
For ſome, that hath abundance at his will,
Hath not enough, but wants in greateſt ſtore;
And other, that hath litle, askes no more,
But in that litle is both rich and wiſe.
For wiſedome is moſt riches; fooles therefore
They are, which fortunes doe by vowes deuize,
Sith each vnto himſelfe his life may fortunize.
Since then in each mans ſelf (ſaid Calidore)
It is, to faſhion his owne lyfes eſtate,
Giue leaue 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 reſolue, or backe to turne againe,
I may here with your ſelfe ſome ſmall repoſe obtaine.
Not that the burden of ſo bold a gueſt
Shall chargefull 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 for recompence hereof, I ſhall
You well reward, and golden guerdon giue,
That may perhaps you better much withall,
And in this quiet make you ſafer liue.
So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it driue.
But the good man, nought tempted with the offer
Of his rich mould, did thruſt it farre away,
And thus beſpake; Sir knight, your bounteous proffer
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 couet to aſſay
This ſimple ſort of life, that ſhepheards lead,
Be it your owne: our rudeneſſe to your ſelfe aread.
So there that night Sir Calidore did dwell,
And long while after, whileſt him liſt remaine,
Dayly beholding the faire Paſtorell,
And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane.
During which time he did her entertaine
With all kind courteſies, he could inuent;
And euery day, her companie to gaine,
When to the field ſhe went, he with her went:
So for to quench his fire, he did it more augment.
But ſhe that neuer had acquainted beene
With ſuch queint vſage, fit for Queenes and Kings,
Ne euer had ſuch knightly ſeruice ſeene,
But being bred vnder baſe ſhepheards wings,
Had euer learn'd to loue the lowly things,
Did litle whit regard his courteous guize,
But cared more for Colins carolings
Then all that he could doe, or euer deuize:
His layes, his loues, his lookes ſhe did them all deſpize.
Which Calidore perceiuing, 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,
In ſtead of ſteelehead ſpeare, a ſhepheards hooke,
That who had ſeene him then, would haue bethought
On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke,
When he the loue of fayre Benone ſought,
What time the golden apple was vnto him brought.
So being clad, vnto the fields he went
With the faire Paſtorella euery day,
And kept her ſheepe with diligent attent,
Watching to driue the rauenous Wolfe away,
The whyleſt at pleaſure ſhe mote ſport and play;
And euery euening helping them to fold:
And otherwhiles for need, he did aſſay
In his ſtrong hand their rugged teats to hold,
And out of them to preſſe the milke: loue ſo much could.
Which ſeeing Coridon, who her likewiſe
Long time had lou'd, and hop'd her loue to gaine,
He much was troubled at that ſtraungers guize,
And many gealous thoughts conceiu'd in vaine,
That this of all his labour and long paine
Should reap the harueſt, ere it ripened were,
That made him ſcoule, and pout, and oft complaine
Of Paſtorell to all the ſhepheards there,
That ſhe did loue a ſtranger ſwayne then him more dere.
And euer when he came in companie,
Where Calidore was preſent, he would loure,
And byte his lip, and euen for gealouſie
Was readie oft his owne hart to deuoure,
Impatient of any paramoure:
Who on the other ſide did ſeeme ſo farre
From malicing, or grudging his good houre,
That all he could, he graced him with her,
Ne euer ſhewed ſigne of rancour or of iarre.
And oft, when Coridon vnto her brought
Or litle ſparrowes, ſtolen from their neſt,
Or wanton ſquirrels, in the woods farre ſought,
Or other daintie thing for her addreſt,
He would commend his guift, and make the beſt.
Yet ſhe no whit his preſents did regard,
Ne him could find to fancie in her breſt:
This newcome ſhepheard had his market mard.
Old loue is litle worth when new is more prefard.
One day when as the ſhepheard ſwaynes together
Were met, to make their ſports and merrie glee,
As they are wont in faire ſunſhynie weather,
The whiles their flockes in ſhadowes ſhrouded bee,
They fell to daunce: then did they all agree,
That Colin clout ſhould pipe as one moſt fit;
And Calidore ſhould lead the ring, as hee
That 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 when as Paſtorella, him to grace,
Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne head,
And plaſt on his, he did it ſoone diſplace,
And did it put on Coridons in ſtead:
Then Coridon woxe frollicke, that earſt ſeemed dead.
Another time, when as they did diſpoſe
To practiſe games, and maiſteries 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 practiſd was, and in the ſame
Thought ſure t'auenge his grudge, & worke his foe great ſhame.
But Calidore he greatly did miſtake;
For he was ſtrong and mightily ſtiffe pight,
That with one fall his necke he almoſt brake,
And had he not vpon him fallen light,
His deareſt ioynt he ſure had broken quight.
Then was the oaken crowne by Paſtorell
Giuen to Calidore, as his due right;
But he, that did in courteſie excell,
Gaue it to Coridon, and ſaid he wonne it well.
Thus did the gentle knight himſelfe abeare
Amongſt that ruſticke rout in all his deeds,
That euen they, the which his riuals were,
Could not maligne him, but commend him needs:
For courteſie amongſt the rudeſt breeds:
Good will and fauour. So it ſurely wrought
With this faire Mayd, and in her mynde the ſeeds
Of perfect loue did ſow, that laſt forth brought
The fruite of ioy and bliſſe, though long time dearely bought.
Thus Calidore continu'd there long time,
To winne the loue of the faire Paſtorell;
Which hauing got, he vſed without crime
Or blamefull blot, but menaged ſo well,
That he of all the reſt, which there did well,
Was fauoured, and to her grace commended.
But what ſtraunge fortunes vnto him befell,
Ere he attain'd the point by him intended,
Shall more conueniently in other place be ended.
Cant. X.
Calidore ſees the Graces daunce,
To Colins melody:
The whiles his Paſtorell is led,
Into captiuity.
WHo now does follow the foule Blatant Beaſt,
Whileſt Calidore does follow that faire Mayd,
Vnmyndfull of his vow and high beheaſt,
Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd,
That he ſhould neuer leaue, nor be delayd
From chacing him, till he had it attchieued?
But now entrapt of loue, which him betrayd,
He mindeth more, how he may be relieued
With grace from her, whoſe loue his heart hath ſore engrieued.
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 loue to gaine:
With whom he myndes for euer to remaine,
And ſet his reſt amongſt the ruſticke ſort,
Rather then hunt ſtill after ſhadowes vaine
Of courtly fauour, fed with light report,
Of euery blaſte, and ſayling alwaies on the port.
Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be,
From ſo high ſtep to ſtoupe vnto ſo low.
For who had taſted once (as oft did he)
The happy peace, which there doth ouerflow,
And prou'd the perfect pleaſures, which doe grow
Amongſt poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales,
Would neuer more delight in painted ſhow
Of ſuch falſe bliſſe, as there is ſet for ſtales,
T'entrap vnwary fooles in their eternall bales.
For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze
Like to one ſight, which Calidore did vew?
The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze,
That neuer more they ſhould endure the ſhew
Of that ſunne-ſhine, that makes them looke askew.
Ne ought in all that world of beauties rare,
(Saue onely Glorianaes heauenly hew
To which what can compare?) can it compare;
The which as commeth now, by courſe I will declare.
One day as he did raunge the fields abroad,
Whileſt his faire Paſtorella was elſewhere,
He chaunſt to come, far from all peoples troad,
Vnto a place, whoſe pleaſaunce did appere
To paſſe all others, on the earth which were:
For all that euer was by natures skill
Deuized 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,
Spredding pauilions 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 foote thereof, a gentle flud
His ſiluer waues did ſoftly tumble downe,
Vnmard with ragged moſſe or filthy mud,
Ne mote wylde beaſtes, ne mote the ruder clowne
Thereto approch, ne filth mote therein drowne:
But Nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did ſit,
In the woods ſhade, which did the waters crowne,
Keeping all noyſome things away from it,
And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.
And on the top thereof a ſpacious plaine
Did ſpred it ſelfe, to ſerue to all delight,
Either to daunce, when they to daunce would 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 ſeeme to ouerlooke the lowly vale;
Therefore it rightly cleeped was mount Acidale.
They ſay that Venus, when ſhe did diſpoſe
Her ſelfe to pleaſaunce, vſed to reſort
Vnto this place, and therein to repoſe
And reſt her ſelfe, as in a gladſome port,
Or with the Graces there to play and ſport;
That euen her owne Cytheron, though in it
She vſed moſt to keepe her royall court,
And in her ſoueraine Maieſty to ſit,
She in regard hereof refuſde and thought vnfit.
Vnto this place when as the Elfin Knight
Approcht, him ſeemed that the merry ſound
Of a ſhrill pipe he playing heard on hight,
And many feete faſt thumping th'hollow ground,
That through the woods their Eccho did rebound.
He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be;
There he a troupe of Ladies dauncing found
Full merrily, and making gladfull glee,
And in the midſt a Shepheard piping he did ſee.
He durſt not enter into th'open greene,
For dread of them vnwares to be deſcryde,
For breaking of their daunce, if he were ſeene;
But in the couert of the wood did byde,
Beholding all, yet of them vneſpyde.
There he did ſee, that pleaſed much his ſight,
That euen he him ſelfe his eyes enuyde,
An hundred naked maidens lilly white,
All raunged in a ring, and dauncing in delight.
All they without were raunged in a ring,
And daunced round; but in the midſt of them
Three other Ladies did both daunce and ſing,
The whileſt 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 richly well enchaced,
That with her goodly preſence all the reſt much graced.
Looke how the Crowne, which Ariadne wore
Vpon her yuory forehead that ſame day,
That Theſeus her vnto 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 heauen doth her beams diſplay,
And is vnto the ſtarres an ornament,
Which round about her moue 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 euer, as the crew
About her daunſt, ſweet flowres, that far did ſmell,
And fragrant odours they vppon her 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
Vppon this hill, and daunce there day and night:
Thoſe three to men all gifts of grace do graunt,
And all, that Venus in her ſelfe doth vaunt,
Is borrowed of them. But that faire one,
That in the midſt was placed parauaunt,
Was ſhe to whom that ſhepheard pypt alone,
That made him pipe ſo merrily, as neuer none.
She was to weete that iolly Shepheards laſſe,
Which piped there vnto that merry rout,
That iolly ſhepheard, which there piped, was
Poore Colin Clout (who knowes not Colin clout?)
He pypt apace, whileſt they him daunſt about.
Pype iolly ſhepheard, pype thou now apace
Vnto thy loue, that made thee low to lout;
Thy loue is preſent there with thee in place,
Thy loue is there aduaunſt to be another Grace.
Much wondred Calidore at this ſtraunge ſight,
Whoſe like before his eye had neuer ſeene,
And ſtanding long aſtoniſhed in ſpright,
And rapt with pleaſaunce, wiſt not what to weene;
Whether it were the traine of beauties Queene,
Or Nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted ſhow,
With which his eyes mote haue deluded beene.
Therefore reſoluing, what it was, to know,
Out of the wood he 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 neuer knew;
All ſaue the ſhepheard, who for fell deſpight
Of that diſpleaſure, broke his bag-pipe quight,
And made great mone for that vnhappy turne.
But Calidore, though no leſſe ſory wight,
For that miſhap, yet ſeeing him to mourne,
Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne.
And firſt him greeting, thus vnto him ſpake,
Haile iolly ſhepheard, which thy ioyous dayes
Here leadeſt in this goodly merry make,
Frequented of theſe gentle Nymphes alwayes,
Which to thee flocke, to heare thy louely layes;
Tell me, what mote theſe dainty Damzels be,
Which here with thee doe make their pleaſant playes?
Right happy thou, that mayſt them freely ſee:
But why when I them ſaw, fled they away from me?
Not I ſo happy anſwerd then that ſwaine,
As thou vnhappy, which them thence didſt chace,
Whom by no meanes thou canſt recall againe,
For being gone, none can them bring in place,
But whom they of them ſelues liſt ſo to grace.
Right ſory I, (ſaide then Sir Calidore,)
That my ill fortune did them hence diſplace.
But ſince things paſſed none may now reſtore,
Tell me, what were they all, whoſe lacke thee grieues ſo ſore.
Tho gan that ſhepheard thus for to dilate;
Then wote thou ſhepheard, whatſoeuer thou bee,
That all thoſe Ladies, which thou ſaweſt late,
Are Venus Damzels, all with in 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 adorne, when ſo ſhe forth doth wend:
But thoſe three in the midſt, doe chiefe on her attend.
They are the daughters of sky-ruling Ioue,
By him begot of faire Eurynome,
The Oceans daughter, in this pleaſant groue,
As he this way comming from feaſtfull glee,
Of Thetis wedding with AEcidee.
In ſommers ſhade him ſelfe here reſted weary.
The firſt of them hight mylde Euphroſyne,
Next faire Aglaia, laſt Thalia merry:
Sweete Goddeſſes all three which me in mirth do cherry.
Theſe three on men all gracious gifts beſtow,
Which decke the body or adorne the mynde,
To make them louely or well fauoured ſhow,
As comely carriage, entertainement kynde,
Sweete ſemblaunt, friendly offices that bynde,
And all the complements of curteſie:
They teach vs, how to each degree and kynde
We ſhould our ſelues demeane, to low, to hie;
To friends, to foes, which skill men call Ciuility.
Therefore they alwaies ſmoothly ſeeme to ſmile,
That we likewiſe ſhould mylde and gentle be,
And alſo naked are, that without guile
Or falſe diſſemblaunce all them plaine may ſee,
Simple and true from couert malice free:
And eeke them ſelues ſo in their daunce they bore,
That two of them ſtill forward ſeem'd to bee,
But one ſtill towards ſhew'd her ſelfe afore;
That good ſhould from vs goe, then come in greater ſtore.
Such were thoſe Goddeſſes, which ye did ſee;
But that fourth Mayd, which there amidſt thē traced,
Who can aread, what creature mote ſhe bee,
Whether a creature, or a goddeſſe graced
With heauenly gifts from heuen firſt enraced?
But what ſo ſure ſhe was, ſhe worthy was,
To be the fourth with thoſe three other placed:
Yet was ſhe certes but a counrtey laſſe,
Yet ſhe all other countrey 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 beautyfull array,
Aboue all other laſſes beare the bell,
Ne leſſe in vertue that beſeemes her well,
Doth ſhe exceede the reſt of all her race,
For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,
Haue for more honor brought her to this place,
And graced her ſo much to be another Grace.
Another Grace ſhe well deſerues to be,
In whom ſo many Graces gathered are,
Excelling much the meane of her degree;
Diuine reſemblaunce, beauty ſoueraine rare,
Firme Chaſtity, that ſpight ne blemiſh dare;
All which ſhe with ſuch courteſie doth grace,
That all her peres cannot with her compare,
But quite are dimmed, when ſhe is in place.
She made me often pipe and now to pipe apace.
Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky,
That all the earth doeſt lighten with thy rayes,
Great Gloriana, greateſt Maieſty,
Pardon thy ſhepheard, mongſt ſo many layes,
As he hath ſung of thee in all his dayes,
To make one minime of thy poore handmayd,
And vnderneath thy feete to place her prayſe,
That when thy glory ſhall be farre diſplayd
To future age of her this mention may be made.
When thus that ſhepherd ended had his ſpeach,
Sayd Calidore; Now ſure it yrketh mee,
That to thy bliſſe I made this luckeleſſe breach,
As now the author of thy bale to be,
Thus to bereaue thy loues deare ſight from thee:
But gentle Shepheard pardon thou my ſhame,
Who raſhly ſought that, which I mote not ſee.
Thus did the courteous Knight excuſe his blame,
And to recomfort him, all comely meanes did frame.
In ſuch diſcourſes they together ſpent
Long time, as fit occaſion forth them led;
With which the Knight him ſelfe did much content,
And with delight his greedy fancy fed,
Both of his words, which he with reaſon red;
And alſo of the place, whoſe pleaſures rare
With ſuch regard his ſences rauiſhed,
That thence, he had no will away to fare,
But wiſht, that with that ſhepheard he mote dwelling ſhare.
But that enuenimd ſting, the which of yore,
His poyſnous point deepe fixed in his hart
Had left, now gan afreſh to rancle ſore,
And to renue the rigour of his ſmart:
Whch to recure, no skill of Leaches art
Mote him auaile, but to returne againe
To his wounds worker, that with louely dart
Dinting his breſt, had bred his reſtleſſe paine,
Like as the wounded Whale to ſhore flies frō the maine.
So taking leaue of that ſame gentle ſwaine,
He backe returned to his ruſticke wonne,
Where his faire Paſtorella did remaine:
To whome in ſort, as he at firſt begonne,
He daily did apply him ſelfe to donne,
All dewfull ſeruice voide of thoughts impare
Ne any paines ne perill did he ſhonne,
By which he might her to his loue allure,
And liking in her yet vntamed heart procure.
And euermore the ſhepheard Coridon,
What euer thing he did her to aggrate,
Did ſtriue to match with ſtrong contention,
And all his paines did cloſely emulate;
Whether it were to caroll, as they ſate
Keeping their ſheepe, or games to exercize,
Or to preſent her with their labours late;
Through which if any grace chaunſt to arize
To him, the Shepheard ſtreight 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 Paſtorell her to ſurprize:
Whom ſhe beholding, now all deſolate
Gan cry to them aloud, to helpe her all too late.
Which Coridon firſt hearing, ran in haſt
To reskue her, but when he ſaw the feend,
Through cowherd feare he fled away as faſt,
Ne durſt abide the daunger of the end;
His life he ſteemed dearer then his frend.
But Calidore ſoone comming to her ayde,
When he the beaſt ſaw ready now to rend
His loues deare ſpoile, in which his heart was prayde,
He ran at him enraged in ſtead of being frayde.
He had no weapon, but his ſhepheards hooke,
To ſerue the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will,
With which ſo ſternely he the monſter ſtrooke,
That to the ground aſtoniſhed he fell;
Whence ere he could recour, 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 thankt, that had her death preuented.
From that day forth ſhe gan him to affect,
And daily more her fauour to augment;
But Coridon for cowherdize reiect,
Fit to keepe ſheepe, vnfit for loues content:
The gentle heart ſcornes baſe diſparagement.
Yet Calidore did not deſpiſe him quight,
But vſde him friendly for further intent,
That by his fellowſhip, he colour might
Both his eſtate, and loue from skill of any wight.
So well he wood her, and ſo well he wrought her,
With humble ſeruice, and with daily ſute,
That at the laſt vnto his will he brought her;
Which he ſo wiſely well did proſecute,
That of his loue he reapt the timely frute,
And ioyed long in cloſe felicity:
Till fortune fraught with malice, blinde, and brute,
That enuies louers long proſperity,
Blew vp a bitter ſtorme of foule aduerſity.
It fortuned one day, when Calidore
Was hunting in the woods (as was his trade)
A lawleſſe people, Brigants hight of yore,
That neuer vſde to liue by plough nor ſpade,
But fed on ſpoile and booty, which they made
Vpon their neighbours, which did nigh them border,
The dwelling of theſe ſhepheards did inuade,
And ſpoyld their houſes, and them ſelues did murder;
And droue away their flocks, with other much diſorder.
Amongſt the reſt, the which they then did pray,
They ſpoyld old Melibee of all he had,
And all his people captiue led away,
Mongſt which this luckleſſe mayd away was lad,
Faire Paſtorella, ſorrowfull and ſad,
Moſt ſorrowfull, moſt ſad, that euer ſight,
Now made the ſpoile of theeues and Brigants bad,
Which was the conqueſt of the gentleſt Knight,
That euer liu'd, and th'onely glory of his might.
With them alſo was taken Coridon,
And carried captiue by thoſe theeues away;
Who in the couert of the night, that none
Mote them deſcry, nor reskue from their pray,
Vnto their dwelling did them cloſe conuay.
Their dwelling in a little Iſland was,
Couered with ſhrubby woods, in which no way
Appeard for people in nor out to pas,
Nor any footing fynde for ouergrowen gras.
For vnderneath the ground their way was made,
Through hollow caues, that no man mote diſcouer
For the thicke ſhrubs, which did them alwaies ſhade
From view of liuing wight, and couered ouer:
But darkeneſſe dred and daily night did houer
Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt.
Ne ligntned was with window, nor with louer,
But with continuall candlelight, which delt
A doubtfull ſenſe of things, not ſo well ſeene, as felt.
Hither thoſe Brigants brought their preſent pray,
And kept them with continuall watch and ward,
Meaning ſo ſoone, as they conuenient may,
For ſlaues to ſell them, for no ſmall reward,
To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard,
Or ſold againe. Now when faire Paſtorell
Into this place was brought, and kept with gard
Of grieſly theeues, ſhe thought her ſelf in hell,
Where with ſuch damned fiends ſhe ſhould in darkneſſe dwell.
But for to tell the dolefull dreriment,
And pittifull complaints, which there ſhe made,
Where day and night ſhe nought did but lament
Her wretched life, ſhut vp in deadly ſhade,
And waſte her goodly beauty, which did fade
Like to a flowre, that feeles no heate of ſunne,
Which may her feeble leaues with comfort glade.
But what befell her in that theeuiſh wonne,
Will in an other Canto better be begonne.
Cant. XI.
The theeues fall out for Paſtorell,
VVhileſt Melibee is ſlaine:
Her Calidore from them redeemes,
And bringeth backe againe.
THe ioyes of loue, if they ſhould euer laſt,
Without affliction or diſquietneſſe,
That worldly chaunces doe amongſt them caſt,
Would be on earth too great a bleſſedneſſe,
Liker to heauen, 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,
To 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 theeues, which her in bondage ſtrong
Detaynd, yet Fortune not with all this wrong
Contented, greater miſchiefe on her threw,
And ſorrowes heapt on her in greater throng;
That who ſo heares her heauineſſe, 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 vnreſt,
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,
With luſtfull eyes, beheld that louely gueſt,
Faire Paſtorella, whoſe ſad mournefull hew
Like the faire Morning clad in miſty fog did ſhew.
At ſight whereof his barbarous heart was fired,
And inly burnt with flames moſt raging whot,
That her alone he for his part deſired
Of all the other pray, which they had got,
And her in mynde did to him ſelfe allot.
From that day forth he kyndneſſe to her ſhowed,
And ſought her loue, by all the meanes he mote;
With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed;
And mixed threats among, and much vnto her vowed.
But all that euer he could doe or ſay,
Her conſtant mynd could not a whit remoue,
Nor draw vnto the lure of his lewd lay,
To graunt him fauour, or afford him loue.
Yet ceaſt he not to ſew and all waies proue,
By which he mote accompliſh his requeſt,
Saying and doing all that mote behoue;
Ne day nor night he ſuffred 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
Vnto his luſt, and make his will his law,
Sith in his powre ſhe was to foe or frend,
She thought it beſt, for ſhadow to pretend
Some ſhew of fauour, by him gracing ſmall,
That ſhe thereby mote either freely wend,
Or at more eaſe continue there his thrall:
A little well is lent, that gaineth more withall.
So from thenceforth, when loue he to her made,
With better tearmes ſhe did him entertaine,
Which gaue him hope, and did him halfe perſwade,
That he in time her ioyaunce ſhould obtaine.
But when ſhe ſaw, through that ſmall fauours gaine,
That further, then ſhe willing was, he preſt,
She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine
A ſodaine ſickeneſſe, which her ſore oppreſt,
And made vnfit to ſerue his lawleſſe mindes beheſt.
By meanes whereof ſhe would not him permit
Once to approch to her in priuity,
But onely mongſt the reſt by her to ſit,
Mourning the rigour of her malady,
And ſeeking all things meete for remedy.
But ſhe reſolu'd no remedy to fynde,
Nor better cheare to ſhew in miſery,
Till Fortune would her captiue bonds vnbynde,
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,
Arriued in this Iſle though bare and blunt,
T'inquire for ſlaues; where being readie met
By ſome of theſe ſame theeues at the inſtant brunt,
Were brought vnto their Captaine, who was ſet
By his faire patients ſide with ſorrowfull regret.
To whom they ſhewed, how thoſe marchants were
Arriu'd in place, their bondſlaues for to buy,
And therefore prayd, that thoſe ſame captiues there
Mote to them for their moſt commodity
Be ſold, and mongſt them ſhared equally.
This their requeſt the Captaine much appalled;
Yet could he not their iuſt demaund deny,
And willed ſtreight the ſlaues ſhould forth be called,
And ſold for moſt aduantage not to be forſtalled.
Then forth the good old Meliboe was brought,
And Coridon, with many other moe,
Whom they before in diuerſe ſpoyles had caught:
All which he to the marchants ſale did ſhowe.
Till ſome, which did the ſundry priſoners knowe,
Gan to inquire for that faire ſhepherdeſſe,
Which with the reſt they tooke not long agoe,
And gan her forme and feature to expreſſe,
The more t'augment her price, through praiſe of comlineſſe.
To whom the Captaine in full angry wize
Made anſwere, that the Mayd of whom they ſpake,
Was his owne purchaſe and his onely prize,
With which none had to doe, ne ought partake,
But he himſelfe, which did that conqueſt make;
Litle for him to haue one ſilly laſſe:
Beſides through ſickneſſe now ſo wan and weake,
That nothing meet in marchandiſe to paſſe.
So ſhew'd them her, to proue how pale & weake ſhe was.
The ſight of whom, though now decayd and mard,
And eke but hardly ſeene by candle-light,
Yet like a Diamond of rich regard,
In doubtfull ſhadow of the darkeſome night,
With ſtarrie beames about her ſhining bright,
Theſe marchants fixed eyes did ſo amaze,
That what through wonder, & 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 priſes to them placed at their pleaſure,
They all refuſed in regard of her,
Ne ought would buy, how euer priſd with meaſure,
Withouten her, whoſe worth aboue all threaſure
They did eſteeme, and offred ſtore of gold.
But then the Captaine fraught with more diſpleaſure,
Bad them be ſtill, his loue ſhould not be ſold:
The reſt take if they would, he her to him would hold.
Therewith ſome other of the chiefeſt theeues
Boldly him bad ſuch iniurie forbeare;
For that ſame mayd, how euer it him greeues,
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 who ſo hardie hand on her doth lay,
It dearely ſhall aby, and death for handſell pay.
Thus as they words amongſt them multiply,
They fall to ſtrokes, the frute of too much talke,
And the mad ſteele about doth fiercely fly,
Not ſparing wight, ne leauing any balke,
But making way for death at large to walke:
Who in the horror of the grieſly night,
In thouſand dreadful ſhapes doth mongſt them ſtalke,
And makes huge hauocke, whiles the candlelight
Out quenched, leaues no skill nor difference of wight.
Like as a ſort of hungry dogs ymet
About ſome carcaſe by the common way,
Doe fall together, ſtryuing each to get
The greateſt portion of the greedie pray;
All on confuſed heapes themſelues aſſay,
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 Brigants there.
But firſt of all, their captiues they doe kill,
Leaſt they ſhould ioyne againſt the weaker ſide,
Or riſe againſt the remnant at their will;
Old Meliboe is ſlaine, and him beſide
His aged wife, with many others wide,
But Coridon eſcaping craftily,
Creepes forth of dores, whilſt darknes him doth hide,
And flyes away as faſt as he can hye,
Ne ſtayeth leaue to take, before his friends doe dye.
But Paſtorella, wofull wretched Elfe,
Was by the Captaine all this while defended,
Who minding more her ſafety then himſelfe,
His target alwayes ouer 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 ſame wound
Launcht through the arme, fell down with him in drerie ſwound.
There lay ſhe couered with confuſed preaſſe
Of carcaſes, which dying on her fell.
Tho when as 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 agreed well,
And lighting candles new, gan ſearch anone,
How many of their friends were ſlaine, how many ſone.
Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild,
And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,
Like a ſweet Angell twixt two clouds vphild:
Her louely light was dimmed and decayd,
With cloud of death vpon her eyes diſplayd;
Yet did the cloud make euen that dimmed light
Seeme much more louely in that darkneſſe layd,
And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright,
To ſparke out litle beames, like ſtarres in foggie night.
But when they mou'd the carcaſes aſide,
They found that life did yet in her remaine:
Then all their helpes they buſily applyde,
To call the ſoule backe to her home againe;
And wrought ſo well with labour and long paine,
That they to life recouered her at laſt.
Who ſighing ſore, as if her hart in twaine
Had riuen bene, and all her hart ſtrings braſt,
With drearie drouping eyne lookt vp like one aghaſt.
There ſhe beheld, that ſore her grieu'd to ſee,
Her father and her friends about her lying,
Her ſelfe ſole left, a ſecond ſpoyle to bee
Of thoſe, that hauing ſaued her from dying,
Renew'd her death by timely death denying:
What now is left her, but to wayle and weepe,
Wringing 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 reliu'd againe,
They left her ſo, in charge of one the beſt
Of many worſt, who with vnkind diſdaine
And cruell rigour her did much moleſt;
Scarſe yeelding her due food, or timely reſt,
And ſcarſely ſuffring her infeſtred wound,
That ſore her payn'd, by any to be dreſt.
So leaue we her in wretched thraldome bound,
And turne we backe to Calidore, where we him found.
Who when he backe returned from the wood,
And ſaw his ſhepheards cottage ſpoyled quight,
And his loue reft away, he wexed wood,
And halfe enraged at that ruefull ſight,
That euen his hart for very fell deſpight,
And his owne fleſh he readie was to teare,
He chauft, he grieu'd, he fretted, and he ſight,
And fared like a furious wyld Beare,
Whoſe whelpes are ſtolne away, ſhe being otherwhere.
Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine,
Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire;
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 vp and downe,
He chaunſt one comming towards him to ſpy,
That ſeem'd to be ſome ſorie ſimple clowne,
With ragged weedes, and lockes vpſtaring hye,
As if he did from ſome late daunger fly,
And yet his feare did follow him behynd:
Who as he vnto him approched nye,
He mote perceiue by ſignes, which he did fynd,
That Coridon it was, the ſilly ſhepherds hynd.
Tho to him running faſt, he did not ſtay
To greet him firſt, but askt where were the reſt;
Where Paſtorell? who full of freſh diſmay,
And guſhing forth in teares, was ſo oppreſt,
That he no word could ſpeake, but ſmit his breſt,
And vp to heauen 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 euer I did liue, this day to ſee,
This diſmall day, and was not dead before,
Before I ſaw faire Paſtorella dye.
Die? out alas then Calidore did cry:
How could the death dare euer her to quell?
But read thou ſhepheard, read what deſtiny,
Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell
Hath wrought this wicked deed, doe feare away, and tell.
Tho when the ſhepheard breathed had a whyle,
He thus began: where ſhall I then commence
This wofull tale? or how thoſe Brigants vyle,
With cruell rage and dreadfull violence
Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence?
Or how faire Paſtorell ſhould haue bene ſold
To marchants, but was ſau'd with ſtrong defence?
Or how thoſe theeues, whileſt one ſought her to hold,
Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold.
In that ſame conflict (woe is me) befell
This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,
Whoſe heauy tydings now I haue to tell.
Firſt all the captiues, which they here had hent,
Were by them ſlaine by generall conſent;
Old Meliboe and his good wife withall
Theſe eyes ſaw die, and dearely did lament:
But when the lot to Paſtorell did fall,
Their Captaine long withſtood, & did her death forſtall,
But what could he gainſt all them doe alone:
It could not boot; needs mote ſhe die at laſt:
I onely ſcapt through great confuſione
Of cryes and clamors, which amongſt them paſt,
In dreadfull darkneſſe dreadfully aghaſt;
That better were with them to haue bene dead,
Then here to ſee all deſolate and waſt,
Deſpoyled of thoſe ioyes and iolly head,
Which with thoſe gentle ſhepherds here I wont to lead.
When Calidore theſe ruefull newes had raught,
His hart quite deaded was with anguiſh great,
And all his wits with doole were nigh diſtraught,
That he his face, his head, his breſt did beat,
And death it ſelfe vnto himſelfe did threat;
Oft curſing th'heauens, 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 his courſe,
And ſpent it ſelfe in mourning, he at laſt
Began to mitigate his ſwelling ſourſe,
And in his mind with better reaſon caſt,
How he might ſaue her life, if life did laſt;
Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake,
Sith otherwiſe he could not mend thing paſt;
Or if it to reuenge he were too weake,
Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake.
Tho Coridon he prayd, ſith he well knew
The readie way vnto that theeuiſh wonne,
To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
Vnto the place, to ſee what ſhould be donne.
But he, whoſe hart through feare was late fordonne,
Would not for ought be drawne to former drede,
But by all meanes the daunger knowne did ſhonne:
Yet Calidore ſo well him wrought with meed,
And faire beſpoke with words, that he at laſt agreed.
So forth they goe together (God before)
Both clad in ſhepheards weeds agreeably,
And both with ſhepheards hookes: But Calidore
Had vnderneath, him armed priuily.
Tho to the place when they approched nye,
They chaunſt, vpon an hill not farre away,
Some flockes of ſheepe and ſhepheards to eſpy;
To whom they both agreed to take their way,
In hope there newes to learne, how they mote beſt aſſay.
There did they find, that which they did not feare,
The ſelfe ſame flocks, the which thoſe theeues had reft
From Meliboe and from themſeles whyleare,
And certaine of the theeues there by them left,
The which for want of heards themſelues then kept.
Right well knew Coridon his owne late ſheepe,
And ſeeing them, for tender pittie wept:
But when he ſaw the theeues, which did them keepe
His hart gan fayle, albe he ſaw them all aſleepe.
But Calidore recomforting his griefe,
Though not his feare: for nought may feare diſſwade;
Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe
Lay ſleeping ſoundly in the buſhes ſhade,
Whom Coridon him counſeld to inuade
Now all vnwares, and take the ſpoyle away;
But he, that in his mind had cloſely made
A further purpoſe, would not ſo them ſlay,
But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day.
Tho ſitting downe by them vpon the greene,
Of ſundrie things he purpoſe gan to faine;
That he by them might certaine tydings weene
Of Paſtorell, were ſhe aliue or ſlaine.
Mongſt which the theeues them queſtioned againe,
What miſter men, and eke from whence they were.
To whom they anſwer'd, as did appertaine,
That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere
Had frō their maiſters fled, & now ſought hyre elſwhere.
Whereof right glad they ſeem'd, and offer made
To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe:
For they themſelues were euill groomes, they ſayd,
Vnwont with heards to watch, or paſture ſheepe,
But to forray the land, or ſcoure the deepe.
Thereto they ſoone agreed, and earneſt tooke,
To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe:
For they for better hyre did ſhortly looke,
So there all day they bode, till light the sky forſooke.
Tho when as towards darkſome night it drew,
Vnto their helliſh dens thoſe theeues them brought,
Where ſhortly they in great acquaintance grew,
And all the ſecrets of their entrayles ſought.
There did they find, contrarie to their thought,
That Paſtorell yet liu'd, but all the reſt
Were dead, right ſo as Coridon had taught:
Whereof they both full glad and blyth did reſt,
But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had moſt poſſeſt.
At length when they occaſion fitteſt found,
In dead of night, when all the theeues did reſt
After a late forray, and ſlept full ſound,
Sir Calidore him arm'd, as he thought beſt,
Hauing of late by diligent inqueſt,
Prouided 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 Caue they came, they found it faſt:
But Calidore with huge reſiſtleſſe might,
The dores aſſayled, and the locks vpbraſt.
With noyſe whereof the theefe awaking light,
Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight
Encountring him with ſmall reſiſtance ſlew;
The whiles faire Paſtorell through great affright
Was almoſt dead, miſdoubting leaſt of new
Some vprore were like that, which lately ſhe did vew.
But when as Calidore was comen in,
And gan aloud for Paſtorell to call,
Knowing his voice although not heard long ſin,
She ſudden was reuiued therewithall,
And wondrous ioy felt in her ſpirits thrall:
Like him that being long in tempeſt toſt,
Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall,
At length eſpyes at hand the happie coſt,
On which he ſafety hopes, that earſt feard to be loſt.
Her gentle hart, that now long ſeaſon paſt
Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought,
Began ſome ſmacke of comfort new to taſt,
Like lyfull 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 him bore,
A thouſand times embraſt, and kiſt a thouſand more.
But now by this, with noyſe of late vprore,
The hue and cry was rayſed all about;
And all the Brigants flocking in great ſtore,
Vnto the caue gan preaſſe, nought hauing dout
Of that was doen, and entred 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.
Tho when no more could nigh to him approch,
He breath'd his ſword, and reſted him till day:
Which when he ſpyde vpon the earth t'encroch,
Through the dead carcaſes he made his way,
Mongſt which he found a ſword of better ſay,
With which he forth went into th'open light:
Where all the reſt for him did readie ſtay,
And fierce aſſayling him, with all their might
Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.
How many flyes in whotteſt ſommers day
Do ſeize vpon ſome beaſt, whoſe fleſh is bare,
That all the place with ſwarmes do ouerlay,
And with their litle ſtings right felly fare;
So many theeues about him ſwarming are,
All which do him aſſayle on euery ſide,
And ſore oppreſſe, ne any him doth ſpare:
But he doth with his raging brond diuide
Their thickeſt troups, & round about him ſcattreth wide.
Like as a Lion mongſt an heard of dere,
Diſperſeth them to catch his choyſeſt pray;
So did he fly amongſt them here and there,
And all that nere him came, did hew and ſlay,
Till he had ſtrowd with bodies all the way;
That none his daunger daring to abide,
Fled from his wrath, and did themſelues conuay
Into their caues, their heads from death to hide,
Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide.
Then backe returning to his deareſt deare,
He her gan to recomfort, all he might,
With gladfull ſpeaches, and with louely cheare,
And forth her bringing to the ioyous light,
Whereof ſhe long had lackt the wiſhfull ſight,
Deuiz'd all goodly meanes, from her to driue
The ſad remembrance of her wretched plight.
So her vneath at laſt he did reuiue,
That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue.
This doen, into thoſe theeuiſh dens he went,
And thence did all the ſpoyles and threaſures take,
Which they from many long had robd and rent,
But fortune now the victors meed did make;
Of which the beſt he did his loue betake;
And alſo all thoſe flockes, which they before
Had reft from Meliboe and from his make,
He did them all to Coridon reſtore.
So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.
Cant. XII.
Fayre Paſtorella by great hap
her parents vnderſtands,
Calidore doth the Blatant beaſt
ſubdew, and bynd in bands.
LIke as a ſhip, that through the Ocean wyde
Directs her courſe vnto one certaine coſt,
Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,
With which her winged ſpeed is let and croſt,
And ſhe her ſelfe in ſtormie ſurges toſt;
Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,
Still winneth way, ne hath her compaſſe loſt:
Right ſo it fares with me in this long way,
Whoſe courſe is often ſtayd, yet neuer 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 ſhew the courteſie by him profeſt,
Euen vnto the loweſt and the leaſt.
But now I come into my courſe againe,
To his atchieuement of the Blatant beaſt;
Who all this while at will did range and raine,
Whilſt none was him to ſtop, nor none him to reſtraine.
Sir Calidore when thus he now had raught
Faire Paſtorella from thoſe Brigants powre,
Vnto the Caſtle of Belgard her brought,
Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure;
Who whylome was in his youthes freſheſt flowre
A luſtie knight, as euer wielded ſpeare,
And had endured many a dreadfull ſtoure
In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,
The fayreſt Ladie then of all that liuing were.
Her name was Claribell, whoſe father hight
The Lord of Many Ilands, farre renound
For his great riches and his greater might.
He through the wealth, wherein he did abound,
This daughter thought in wedlocke to haue bound
Vnto the Prince of Picteland bordering nere,
But ſhe whoſe ſides before with ſecret wound
Of loue to Bellamoure empierced were,
By all meanes ſhund to match with any forrein fere.
And Bellamour againe ſo well her pleaſed,
With dayly ſeruice and attendance dew,
That of her loue he was entyrely ſeized,
And cloſely did her wed, but knowne to few.
Which when her father vnderſtood, he grew
In ſo great rage, that them in dongeon deepe
Without compaſſion cruelly he threw;
Yet did ſo ſtreightly them a ſunder keepe,
That neither could to company of th'other creepe.
Nathleſſe Sir Bellamour, whether through grace
Or ſecret guifts ſo with his keepers wrought,
That to his loue ſometimes he came in place,
Whereof her wombe vnwiſt to wight was fraught,
And in dew time a mayden child forth brought.
Which ſhe ſtreight way for dread leaſt, if her ſyre
Should know thereof, to ſlay he would haue ſought,
Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre
She ſhould it cauſe be foſtred vnder ſtraunge attyre.
The truſtie damzell bearing it abrode
Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight
Mote not bewray the ſecret of her lode,
She forth gan lay vnto the open light
The litle babe, to take thereof a ſight.
Whom whyleſt ſhe did with watrie eyne behold,
Vpon the litle breſt like chriſtall bright,
She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,
That like a roſe her ſilken leaues did faire vnfold.
Well ſhe it markt, and pittied the more,
Yet could not remedie her wretched caſe,
But cloſing it againe like as before,
Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place:
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle ſpace
Behind the buſhes, where ſhe her did hyde,
To weet what mortall hand, or heauens grace
Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde,
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.
At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe
His fleecie flocke vpon the playnes 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 vnbound;
And ſeeing there, that did him pittie ſore,
He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound;
So home vnto his honeſt wife it bore,
Who as her owne it nurſt, and named euermore.
Thus long continu'd Claribell a thrall,
And Bellamour in bands, till that her ſyre
Departed life, and left vnto them all.
Then all the ſtormes of fortunes former yre
Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.
Thenceforth they ioy'd in happineſſe together,
And liued long in peace and loue entyre,
Without diſquiet or diſlike of ether,
Till time that Calidore brought Paſtorella thether.
Both whom they goodly well did entertaine;
For Bellamour knew Calidore right well,
And loued for his proweſſe, ſith they twaine
Long ſince had fought in field. Als Claribell
No leſſe did tender the faire Paſtorell,
Seeing her weake and wan, through durance long.
There they a while together thus did dwell
In much delight, and many ioyes among,
Vntill the damzell gan to wex more ſound and ſtrong.
Tho gan Sir Calidore him to aduize
Of his firſt queſt, which he had long forlore,
Aſham'd to thinke, how he that enterprize,
The which the Faery Queene had long afore
Bequeath'd to him, forſlacked had ſo ſore;
That much he feared, leaſt reprochfull 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.
Therefore reſoluing to returne in haſt
Vnto ſo great atchieuement, he bethought
To leaue his loue, now perill being paſt,
With Claribell, whyleſt he that monſter ſought
Troughout the world, and to deſtruction brought.
So taking leaue of his faire Paſtorell,
Whom to recomfort, 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 aduentures tell,
In this exploite, me needeth to declare,
What did betide to the faire Paſtorell,
During his abſence left in heauy care,
Through daily mourning, and nightly misfare:
Yet did that auncient matrone all ſhe might,
To cheriſh her with all things choice and rare;
And her owne handmayd, that Meliſſa hight,
Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.
Who in a morning, when this Mayden faire
Was dighting her, hauing her ſnowy breſt
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
Into their comely treſſes dewly dreſt,
Chaunſt to eſpy vpon her yuory cheſt
The roſie marke, which ſhe remembred well
That litle Infant had, which forth ſhe keſt,
The daughter of her Lady Claribell,
The which ſhe bore, the whiles i
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priſon ſhe did dwell.
Which well auizing, ſtreight ſhe gan to caſt
In her conceiptfull mynd, that this faire Mayd
Was that ſame infant, which ſo long ſith paſt
She in the open fields had looſely layd
To fortunes ſpoile, vnable it to ayd.
So full of ioy, ſtreight forth ſhe ran in haſt
Vnto her miſtreſſe, being halfe diſmayd,
To tell her, how the heauens had her graſte,
To ſaue her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaſte.
The ſober mother ſeeing ſuch her mood,
Yet knowing not, what meant that ſodaine thro,
Askt her, how mote her words be vnderſtood,
And what the matter was, that mou'd her ſo.
My liefe (ſayd ſhe) ye know, that long ygo,
Whileſt ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gaue
A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho;
The ſame againe if now ye liſt to haue,
The ſame is yonder Lady, whom high God did ſaue.
Much was the Lady troubled at that ſpeach,
And gan to queſtion ſtreight how ſhe it knew.
Moſt certaine markes, (ſayd ſhe) do me it teach,
For on her breſt I with theſe eyes did vew
The litle purple roſe, which thereon grew,
Whereof her name ye then to her did giue.
Beſides her countenaunce, and her likely hew,
Matched with equall yeares, do ſurely prieue
That yond ſame is your daughter ſure, which yet doth liue
The matrone ſtayd no lenger to enquire,
But forth in haſt ran to the ſtraunger Mayd;
Whom catching greedily for great deſire,
Rent vp her breſt, and boſome open layd,
In which that roſe ſhe plainely ſaw diſplayd.
Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine,
She long ſo held, and ſoftly weeping ſayd;
And liueſt thou my daughter now againe?
And art thou yet aliue, whom dead I long did faine.
Tho further asking her of ſundry things,
And times comparing with their accidents,
She found at laſt by very certaine ſignes,
And ſpeaking markes of paſſed monuments,
That this young Mayd, whom chance to her preſents
Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.
Tho wondring long at thoſe ſo ſtraunge euents,
A thouſand times ſhe her embraced nere,
With many a ioyfull kiſſe, and many a melting teare.
Who euer is the mother of one chylde,
Which hauing thought long dead, ſhe fyndes aliue,
Let her by proofe of that, which ſhe hath fylde
In her owne breaſt, this mothers ioy deſcriue:
For other none ſuch paſſion can contriue
In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt,
When ſhe ſo faire a daughter ſaw ſuruiue,
As Pastorella was, that nigh ſhe ſwelt
For paſſing ioy, which did all into pitty melt.
Thence running forth vnto her loued Lord,
She vnto him recounted, all that fell:
Who ioyning ioy with her in one accord,
Acknowledg'd for his owne faire Pastorell.
There leaue we them in ioy, and let vs tell
Of Calidore, who ſeeking all this while
That monſtrous Beaſt by finall force to quell,
Through euery place, with reſtleſſe paine and toile
Him follow'd, by the tract of his outragious ſpoile.
Through all eſtates he found that he had paſt,
In which he many maſſacres had left,
And to the Clergy now was come at laſt;
In which ſuch ſpoile, ſuch hauocke, and ſuch theft
He wrought, that thence all goodneſſe he bereft,
That endleſſe were to tell. The Elfin Knight,
Who now no place beſides vnſought had left,
At length into a Monaſtere did light,
Where he him foūd deſpoyling all with maine & might.
Into their cloyſters now he broken had,
Through which the Monckes he chaced here & there,
And them purſu'd into their dortours ſad,
And ſearched all their cels and ſecrets neare;
In which what filth and ordure did appeare,
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,
Regarding 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 th'Images for all their goodly hew,
Did caſt to ground, whileſt none was them to rew;
So all confounded and diſordered there.
But ſeeing Calidore, away he flew,
Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;
But he him faſt purſuing, ſoone approched neare.
Him in a narrow place he ouertooke,
And fierce aſſailing forſt him turne againe:
Sternely he turnd againe, when he him ſtrooke
With his ſharpe ſteele, and ran at him amaine
With open mouth, that ſeemed to containe
A full good pecke within the vtmoſt brim,
All ſet with yron teeth in raunges twaine,
That terrifide his foes, and armed him,
Appearing like the mouth of Orcus grieſly grim.
And therein were a thouſand tongs empight,
Of ſundry 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, that groynd continually,
And ſome of Tygres, that did ſeeme to gren,
And ſnar at all, that euer paſſed by:
But moſt of them were tongues of mortall men,
Which ſpake reprochfully, not caring where nor when.
And them amongſt were mingled here and there,
The tongues of Serpents with three forked ſtings,
That ſpat out poyſon and gore bloudy gere
At all, that came within his rauenings,
And ſpake licentious words, and hatefull 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 his banefull teeth of iniury.
But Calidore thereof no whit afrayd,
Rencountred him with ſo impetuous might,
That th'outrage of his violence he ſtayd,
And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite,
And ſpitting forth the poyſon of his ſpight,
That fomed all about his bloody iawes.
Tho rearing vp his former feete on hight,
He rampt vpon him with his rauenous pawes,
As if he would haue rent him with his cruell clawes.
But he right well aware, his rage to ward,
Did caſt his ſhield atweene, and therewithall
Putting his puiſſaunce forth, purſu'd ſo hard,
That backeward he enforced him to fall,
And being downe, ere he new helpe could call,
His ſhield he 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,
Striuing in vaine to rere him ſelfe vpright.
For ſtill the more he ſtroue, the more the Knight
Did him ſuppreſſe, and forcibly ſubdew;
That made him almoſt mad for fell deſpight.
He grind, hee bit, he ſcratcht, he venim threw,
And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew.
Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine
That great Alcides whilome ouerthrew,
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,
Whileſt Calidore him vnder him downe threw;
Who nathemore his heauy load releaſt,
But aye the more he rag'd, the more his powre increaſt.
Tho when the Beaſt ſaw, he mote nought auaile,
By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply,
And ſharpely at him to reuile and raile,
With bitter termes of ſhamefull infamy;
Oft interlacing many a forged lie,
Whoſe like he neuer once did ſpeake, nor heare,
Nor euer thought thing ſo vnworthily:
Yet did he nought for all that him forbeare,
But ſtrained him ſo ſtreightly, that he chokt him neare.
At laſt when as he found his force to ſhrincke,
And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell ſtrong
Of ſureſt yron, made with many a lincke;
Therewith he mured vp his mouth along,
And therein ſhut vp his blaſphemous tong,
For neuer more defaming gentle Knight,
Or vnto louely Lady doing wrong:
And thereunto a great long chaine he tight,
With which he drew him forth, euē in his own deſpight.
Like as whylome that ſtrong Tirynthian 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 captyue with like conqueſt wonne.
Yet greatly did the Beaſt repine at thoſe
Straunge bands, whoſe like till then he neuer bore,
Ne euer any durſt till then impoſe,
And chauffed inly, ſeeing now no more
Him liberty was left aloud to rore:
Yet durſt he not draw backe; nor once withſtand
The proued powre of noble Calidore,
But trembled vnderneath his mighty 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 where ſo 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 wondred at the ſight;
And all ſuch perſons, as he earſt did wrong,
Reioyced much to ſee his captiue plight,
And much admyr'd the Beaſt, but more admyr'd the Knight,
Thus was this Monſter by the mayſtring might
Of doughty Calidore, ſuppreſt and tamed,
That neuer more he mote endammadge wight
With his vile tongue, which many had defamed,
And many cauſeleſſe cauſed to be blamed:
So did he eeke long after this remaine,
Vntill that, whether wicked fate ſo framed,
Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine,
And got into the world at liberty againe.
Thenceforth more miſchiefe and more ſcath he wrought
To mortall men, then he had done before;
Ne euer could by any more be brought
Into like bands, ne mayſtred any more:
Albe that long time after Calidore,
The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand,
And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore,
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land;
Yet none of them could euer bring him into band.
So now he 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 ſpareth he moſt learned wits to rate,
Ne ſpareth he the gentle Poets rime,
But rends without regard of perſon or of time.
Ne may this homely verſe, of many meaneſt,
Hope to eſcape his venemous deſpite,
More then my former writs, all were they cleareſt
From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite,
With which ſome wicked tongues did it backebite,
And bring into a mighty Peres diſpleaſure,
That neuer ſo deſerued to endite.
Therfore do you my rimes keep better meaſure,
And ſeeke to pleaſe, that now is counted wiſemens threaſure.
FINIS.