there they stayed and sang aloud her praises, and set a green garland on
her head, crowning her "'twixt earnest and 'twixt game."
Last of all came the mob, hurrying to see the dragon-slayer, whom they
looked upon as sent from heaven, and at whom they stared with gaping
wonder. But when they arrived where lay the dead dragon they were filled
with fear. Some, indeed, were so terrified that they fled away; others
pretended to conceal their fear, while one who wished to be thought
wiser than all the rest, suggested that the dragon might not be really
dead. At this another immediately declared that he could see fire
sparkle in his eye, while a third was persuaded he had seen the monster
wink. Others, more bold, stood near its carcase, in order to measure how
many acres it covered.
Thus the people flocked about the dead dragon, while the king and his
train were entertaining the knight with gifts of ivory and gold. After
thanking him a thousand times, and embracing their fair daughter Una,
the king and queen conducted them to the palace, while the people
strewed the way with their garments and shouted aloud for joy.
Now when the Red-cross Knight had rested and been feasted, the king and
queen called upon him to relate the story of his adventures. Tears ran
down their cheeks as they listened, and when he had ended, the king
again welcomed him to the palace, and spoke of his resting there from
all further toil.
But the knight declared that he might not rest yet, for he was bound by
vow to Gloriana, Queen of Faeryland, to return and serve her for the
space of six years. Then the king called for Una, his only daughter and
sole heir, and with his own hands betrothed her to the knight.
Never in all her loveliness had Una looked so fair as when her father
called her forth. The toil of the journey over, she had put aside her
sober mournful robe, and was arrayed in a dress of pure and shining
white, while the brightness of her beautiful countenance astonished even
her own true lord. There was great joy among both old and young at the
marriage, and a solemn feast was ordered throughout the land.
The Red-cross Knight held himself a thrice happy man, and ever as he
looked on his dear lady rejoiced anew. In great peace and happiness he
remained with Una until his conscience and his vow compelled him to
return for a time to the court of Gloriana, leaving her in her dear
parent's care.
After this he was no longer known as the Red-cross Knight, but as St.
George, the slayer of the dragon--the great Saint George whom England
has made her patron saint.
BRITOMART AND THE MAGIC MIRROR.
Faerie Queene. Book III. Cantos II., III.
Once upon a time there lived in Cambria a king whose name was Ryence.
Now Ryence was a good king, and dealt justly with his people, and on
this account he won the approval of Merlin, the great magician. And
Merlin gave King Ryence a boon.
This boon was a looking-glass, so wonderfully made, and possessed of
such strange properties, that its fame spread throughout the wide world.
The glass was round, shaped like a ball, and hollow inside. He who
looked into it, saw not himself, but saw there portrayed anything that
was happening in any part of the world that might be of consequence to
him. If a foe were working him secret ill, or a friend feigning false
kindness, this glass revealed their deeds. Such, then, was the boon
which Merlin had given to King Ryence; and from it the king could learn
the approach of an enemy more surely and more quickly than from the
swiftest messenger.
Now the King of Cambria had one only child. This was Britomart, his
daughter and his heir. She was a noble damsel, tall and stately, with
rich golden hair, which, when loosened from its silken bands, fell like
a sunny shower, reaching down to her feet. And she was brave as she was
beautiful: gentle towards the weak, and ready to help those in trouble;
one who scorned to take advantage of the misfortunes of others. A fit
daughter of a great king, from whom her father kept no secrets.
It chanced that one day, as Britomart was wandering over the palace, she
found herself in the small apartment where Ryence kept the mirror.
Forgetful of its strange virtues, the princess looked into it, and was
surprised that she did not see a reflection of herself. Then she
remembered that Merlin's gift was no ordinary looking-glass, and as she
recalled its properties, she began to wonder what she might look for
there that was of importance to herself. Standing lingering by the
mirror, her thoughts fell on love, and she wondered--as maidens
will--whom fortune would allot for her husband.
Now Britomart was no foolish maiden, dwelling ever on her future, and in
it forgetting the duties of the present; but she was a rich and lovely
princess, and it was only natural that she should expect to marry some
day.
By-and-bye, as she gazed into the mirror, there appeared before her the
image of a knight, completely armed. His countenance was a right manly
one; a countenance to awe his foes, but to endear him to his friends.
His frame was large and strong, its natural strength increased by deeds
of chivalry which he continually practised. His armour was massive, and
seemed of some antique mould, as indeed it was, for in golden letters
there was written on it these words--
"ACHILLES' ARMS WHICH ARTEGAL DID WIN."
Artegal's crest was a hound couchant, and on his shield he bore the
figure of a crowned ermine on an azure field.
As Britomart looked on the image, she liked it, and having looked at it
well, she went her way, and little thought that Cupid, the false archer,
had shot an arrow into her heart. After a time, the stately Britomart
began to droop. She no longer moved about with her customary princely
bearing, but became sad, low-spirited, and full of foolish fears; nor
could she discover the cause of her discomfiture. At night when she lay
down to sleep, Glauce, the old nurse who still attended her, wondered at
her wakefulness, and at the tears which Britomart tried in vain to
conceal. And when sleep visited her weary eyes, it was only for a few
minutes at a time, and she started in her sleep as if some ghastly dream
had affrighted her. She did not know that she loved, but her thoughts
ever returned to the fair image she had seen.
One night when Britomart seemed more uneasy than usual, Glauce
determined to inquire into the cause of her unrest. With loving words
she besought the princess to tell her how it was that her former
cheerfulness had changed into this sad melancholy.
"Ah me," said the old nurse, "how much I fear lest love it be;" and
added--
"But be it worthy of thy race and royal seed,
Then I avow by this most sacred head
Of my dear foster-child to ease thy grief
And win thy will."
The nurse was a powerful personage in the king's household, and praying
Britomart to put away this melancholy humour, she promised that neither
death nor danger should prevent her from relieving her sorrow. Then she
took her dear foster-child in her arms and fondled her tenderly, and
chafed her cold limbs, and kissed and bathed her fair eyes, praying her
all the time to take courage and disclose the secret trouble of her
heart.
Britomart did not answer at once; but at length she spoke, and begged
Glauce to inquire no further, since there was no remedy for her
distress.
"Dear daughter," said the nurse, "despair not; there never yet was a
wound which something could not soothe."
"But mine," said Britomart, "is like no other; for it, reason can find
no remedy."
"Nevertheless," replied Glauce, "love can mount higher than reason, and
has oft done wondrous things."
"But," urged the poor princess, "not even love can do that which is not
possible to be done."
"Things often seem impossible," said Glauce, "before they are
attempted."
Then Britomart broke out bitterly--"These idle words," she said, "do me
no good; mine is no common grief, but, since you will know it, I shall
no longer conceal my crime, if crime it be. Neither for prince nor peer
is my heart pained, but only for the image and semblance of a knight,
aye, and the semblance of one I have not even seen."
So saying, she related to Glauce the adventure of the magic mirror, and
added that the image haunted her so that she almost longed for death
itself.
"Daughter," replied Glauce, "why be so dismayed? Thy love hath a strange
beginning, but there is nothing to be ashamed of in it, joy therefore
have thou, and eternal bliss;" and stooping over the maiden she kissed
her tenderly.
"Ah! nurse," said the Princess, "what you say comforts me but little;
for what good is it although my love be worthy if it be fixed on nothing
more than a shadow?"
"Nay," said Glauce, "there never was a shadow that had not a substance,
and one which could not by some means be discovered. Still, if thou
can'st conquer this evil before it grows more powerful, yield thee not,
but if it prove too great for thee, I promise that the beloved knight
shall be found."
Cheered by her words, Britomart laid herself down to sleep. Glauce
covered her with tender care, and by-and-bye the damsel slept. Well
pleased, the nurse darkened the light of the rude oil lamp and sat down
to watch her charge, and as she watched, tears fell from her aged eyes.
When morning dawned Glauce roused Britomart, and together they went to
the church to pray. But even there Britomart could not command her
thoughts--nor for that matter could Glauce--and as soon as they returned
home the old melancholy came back upon the Princess. When Glauce
perceived this she called Britomart into her own bower, and there tried
the effect of spells much resorted to in those old fairy days. But the
spells were of no avail, and Britomart grew worse, and became so thin
and pale that Glauce was well nigh in despair. At length it occurred to
her that it might be wise to consult Merlin, the great magician. She
therefore disguised herself and the Princess, and set out.
Now Merlin dwelt in a dark cave which ran low underneath the ground. It
was entered from a rock which lay a little way from a fierce brawling
stream that flowed amongst densely-wooded hills. It was a dismal spot,
and when the travellers reached it they paused and feared to enter, and
half repented their coming. But Britomart, whose nature was full of
spirit, recovered courage, and entered, followed by her nurse.
They found the magician busied in his mysteries, writing strange
characters on the ground. Their entrance did not surprise him, for by
his art he knew before-hand of their coming, and knew also the nature of
their business; but feigning ignorance, he bade them tell their errand.
Then Glauce spoke, humbly praying him not to be offended by their coming
since no light cause had brought them there. She paused, but he bade her
go on. Then she related how for the last three months the maiden before
him had been afflicted by a sore evil, but what it was she scarce could
tell; of one thing only was she certain, that unless a remedy were found
her nursling must die.
On hearing this Merlin began to smile, and knowing that she had not yet
told him the whole truth, said quietly, "If this be all, the damsel hath
need of a physician rather than of me," and added these words,
"Who help may have elsewhere
In vain seeks wonders out of magic spell."
This speech rather disconcerted Glauce, who wished to secure his help
without confessing who they were or referring to the magic mirror, which
would at once reveal the maiden's parentage. "Ah," she exclaimed, "if
physicians' skill or any learned means could have relieved my dear
daughter, truly I should be loath to disturb thee; but this evil has
arisen from a source beyond nature."
Thereupon the wizard laughed outright.
"Glauce," he said, "why try to cloak what is self-betrayed? And thou,
fair Britomart," he continued, turning towards the Princess, "art no
more hidden by thy disguise than is the sun when a passing cloud
conceals him. Thy good fortune hath brought thee hither to ask my help,
and it shall be granted thee."
On finding herself thus addressed, Britomart blushed deeply, but old
Glauce took heart and replied, "Since then thou knowest our grief, pity
it, I pray thee, and relieve us."
Whereupon Merlin sat silent for a time, and then spoke thus.
"Be not thou dismayed, most noble virgin, by the sharp pangs which have
so sore oppressed thine heart, for so must all excellent things begin.
Nor was it idle chance that led thee to look into the charmed mirror;
thine eyes were guided by eternal providence in order that heaven's
destiny be fulfilled. Thine is no evil fate, thus to love the noblest
among knights. Therefore submit thyself to Heaven, and take all due
means to fulfil thy destiny."
"But," said Glauce "advise us, thou great magician, what means to take.
How shall she find this knight, or indeed why need she do aught since
the fates can of themselves fulfil their own purpose."
"Nay," replied Merlin, "true is it that naught can shake the heavenly
destiny, nevertheless men must use their own endeavour to work it out.
Know then that he whom Britomart loves, and is to marry, is the knight
Artegal. He dwells in the Faeryland, and yet he is neither born of a
fairy nor in any way related to one, but was by them stolen from his
cradle, and to this day he is ignorant that he belongs not to their
race. But he is in truth a son of Gorlois, and a brother of Cador, the
great Cornish king, whose deeds are renowned from east to west. And to
thee, Britomart, is it given to bring Artegal back to his native soil.
He shall return to help his country to withstand the foreign invasion
which now threatens thy father's territory. His great strength and his
dreaded name shall render great assistance against the foe; and thy
prowess shall be added unto his, and together ye shall wear arms and
bear great command."
Then the magician saw before him a vision of the future. In his vision
he beheld wars and desolation, a ruined church, and a king made captive.
Overcome by the sorrows which lay before his people, the aged wizard
passed into an ecstasy which much alarmed the two women, who stood
silent and confused. Presently it passed away, the natural colour
returned to his face, and the expression of horror gave way to one of
calm cheerfulness. He then instructed Britomart and her nurse as to what
they should do, and they, with lightened hearts, bade him farewell and
returned home. There they held secret counsel how best to carry out
their difficult enterprise, proposing now one, and now a different plan.
At length Glauce hit upon a bold device.
"Daughter," she said, "I think that plan is ever the wisest that takes
into consideration present advantages. Good King Uther is now making war
upon the Saracens, and all Britain is in arms. Let us too wear arms and
learn to use the shield and spear; so shall we pass unrecognized where
we will throughout the land. Thou art tall and large of limb, and armour
will befit thee well, and practice will soon bring thee the needful
skill in handling weapons. Truly," continued Glauce waxing eager in
praise of her plan, "it ought to inflame thy courage to remember how
many women of thy house--a house inferior to none--have done deeds to
rival those of the bravest men. Remember bold Bundeca, brave Gwendolin,
Martia, and Emmeline; and more than these, let the example of the Saxon
Virgin incite thy courage."
"Ah," said Britomart, "what is her name?"
"Men call her fair Angela," replied the nurse, "for she is as fair as
she is courageous in battle: she is more dreaded than all the Saxons by
her foes, and so beloved by her people that they call themselves by her
name. Therefore, fair child, take her example for thine, and equal her
in courage."
These hearty words of Glauce sank deep into Britomart's heart, and
inspired in her a great desire to excel in arms. She therefore resolved
to undertake the perils of knighthood, and consulted with her nurse how
to attire herself in suitable array.
Now it chanced that only a few days previously a band of Cambrians who
had gone out against the Saxons had returned with much prey, and among
other booty had carried back a complete suit of the armour worn by
Angela, the Saxon Queen. It was a rich and beautiful suit, and fretted
over with gold. This suit along with other spoils of war King Ryence had
caused to be hung up in his chief church as a lasting monument of his
success and victory.
In the same church was a famous and mighty spear. It had been fashioned
in olden days by magic lore, and was preserved on account of its magic
powers. No matter how well or firmly a warrior sat his charger, this
spear bore him to the ground.
Glauce remembered these things, and late in the evening she led
Britomart to the church, and taking down Angela's armour from its place
on the wall, arrayed her fair nursling therein. She took also the spear,
and with it a shield, and gave them to Britomart.
When she had thus completed the Princess' attire, she took another suit
of armour and put it on herself, that she might attend Britomart and act
as her squire. And now, both being fully equipped, they mounted the
horses which Glauce had caused to be ready, and under cover of the
darkness escaped from the palace, nor did they rest until they reached
the Faeryland to which Merlin, the great magician, had directed them.
BRITOMART AND AMORET.
Faerie Queene. Book III. Cantos XI., XII.
After Britomart and Glauce left the palace of King Ryence, many
adventures befel them. In all her adventures Britomart's magic sword and
matchless prowess gained for her great renown, and she was spoken of far
and wide as the Knight of the Heben Spear, while old Glauce, her nurse,
was believed to be her squire. They encountered many a famous knight,
but they had not yet found him whom they sought.
One day, as they were continuing in their search, they came suddenly
upon a stranger knight, who lay with his face on the ground, his armour
scattered near him, and who seemed either asleep or in great distress.
Lest he should be sleeping, Britomart did not speak, but stood waiting
patiently. Presently the knight groaned as if his very heart were
breaking, and then burst forth into a piteous wail over the loss of
Amoret, his wife.
Unconscious that he was heard, the knight cried out against the cruelty
of the wicked enchanter who had taken her prisoner, and kept her for the
last seven months cruelly tormented, and shut out from the light of day,
in a stronghold guarded by thick smoke and magic fires. Then followed
such an outburst of grief that Britomart thought his very life in
danger, and no longer able to forbear, stooped down and spoke to him.
At the sound of her voice, the knight raised himself, and looked up, but
seeing a stranger, he hastily flung himself down, angry at being
disturbed. Britomart, however, was not to be easily daunted, and again
spoke.
"Ah! gentle knight," she exclaimed, "whose grief seems well-nigh past
bearing, scorn not the relief which Providence may send you. To my hand
it may be given to relieve your woe, and wreak vengeance on your enemy."
Her brave words so touched the knight's heart that he poured out the
whole bitterness of his woe, telling her how hard it was to reach
Amoret, since the tyrant had her in strong enchantment, and had guarded
her dungeon with dreadful fiends.
Britomart was greatly moved by his sad tale, and again offered her aid.
"Sir Knight," she said, "if you will listen to me, I will either deliver
her to you from thence or die with her."
At first the knight, whose name was Scudamour, would not accept so great
a boon, but Britomart at length succeeded in persuading him to arise and
accompany her to the scene of Amoret's captivity.
Arrived at the tyrant's stronghold, they dismounted, and went boldly to
its entrance. There they found neither gate nor porter, but a porch from
which issued flames of fire, mingled with smoke and sulphurous stench.
At this Britomart was greatly dismayed, and turning to Scudamour,
consulted with him how best to overcome this dreadful obstacle, "for,"
said she, "to run into danger without care and thought is worthy only of
the beasts."
"Alas!" said Scudamour, "this is the worst cause of my distress, for the
fire cannot be quenched by any wit or skill; what then is there left to
me but ceaseless sorrowing. Leave me to my grief, let Amoret dwell in
chains, and Scudamour die of misery."
"Nay," replied the noble maid, "to abandon a brave deed for the mere
show of danger were a shameful thing; better run all risks than turn
aside for fear."
Thereupon, resolved to trust her weapons to the utmost, Britomart threw
her great shield before her face, and pointing her magic sword straight
in front, moved onward; when lo! the dread flames parted on either side
of her, and she passed through scatheless.
When Scudamour saw that she had passed beyond the fire and was
uninjured, he, too, tried to force a way. But he was full of proud
passions, and commanded the flames to yield to him, and being foolish
enough to threaten them, increased their mighty rage so that with
imperious sway they sent him back scorched and burned. Impatience and
disappointment raged in his bosom, and in a very madness of misery he
again flung himself on the ground and beat his head and breast, and
would take neither hope nor comfort.
Meantime Britomart pursued her way, and going through the first door,
entered an outer chamber. It was full of precious stores, and was hung
round with rich arras, into which was woven many a fair scene,
portraying the feats of Cupid, the blind god. At the upper end of the
chamber stood an altar, built of gems of great beauty, and on the altar
was an image of massive gold with wings of divers colours, more varied
and brilliant than the hues of the rainbow. This image represented Cupid
with the fatal bow and arrows in his hand, and at his feet a wounded
dragon. Underneath were written these words--"Unto the victor of the
gods this be," and all the people that dwelt in the great castle paid it
homage.
Britomart stood still for a while, gazing at the golden image,
fascinated by its brightness; but at length she turned to look back and
take in the other wonders of the chamber. Then, for the first time, she
noticed the words "Be bold" written over a doorway. She puzzled over
their meaning for some time, and could not find it, but no way dismayed
by the apparent warning, she followed their advice, and advanced from
the first to a second chamber.
This chamber was still richer than the other. Its walls were overlaid
with gold wrought with figures of antique story, and all about were the
spoils and arms and trophies of mighty conquerors, who had been taken
captive by the cruel Cupid.
For a long time Britomart gazed around her, and the more she looked the
more she wondered, both at the richness of the room and at the wasteful
emptiness and solemn silence that pervaded the place. As she continued
her survey, she saw over the door through which she had just passed the
same words, three times written, "Be bold." While trying to make out
their import, her eye chanced to light upon an iron door at the other
end of the room, on which was written, "Be not too bold." This puzzled
her still more; but no living creature appeared from whom she could ask
an explanation. And now the shadows lengthened, and darkness fell, yet
Britomart would not sleep, but sat in watchfulness, her armour on, and
her weapons all about her.