They also doe by his diuine permission xxxii

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, xxxiii

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 rebellious[340] sound,

And softly royne, when saluage choler gan redound.

So sitting high in dreaded souerayntie, xxxiv

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 xxxv

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, xxxvi

When these two stranger knights arriv’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, xxxvii

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, xxxviii

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, xxxix

And rare in-sight, hard matters to reuele;

That well could charme his tongue, and 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 xl

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 xli

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, whom she to death did dryue.

But through high heauens grace, which fauour not xlii

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, xliii

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[341] xliv

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, xlv

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_[342] of birth, that bread

Great ruth through her misfortunes tragicke stowre;

And lastly _Griefe_[343] did plead, and many teares forth powre.

With the neare touch whereof in tender hart xlvi

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, xlvii

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, xlviii

Abhorred _Murder_, who with bloudie knyfe

Yet dropping fresh in hand did her detect,

And there with guiltie bloodshed 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, xlix

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 l

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[332] vii 1 yearne _1609_

[333] x 8 strange _1609 passim_

[334] xviii 4 hard] hart _1596_

[335] xxii 8 oft-times _1609_

[336] xxvi 4 FONS _1596_, _1609_

[337] 9 slanders _1609 passim_

[338] xxxi 4 hight, _1596_

[339] 5 _Litæ_ _1596_

[340] xxxiii 8 rebellions _1596_

[341] xliv 1 oppose _1609_

[342] xlv 7 Nobilitie _1596_

[343] 9 Griefe _1596_

_Cant. X._

[Illustration:

_Prince Arthur takes the enterprize

for Belge[344] for to fight.

Gerioneos Seneschall

he slayes in Belges right._

]

Some Clarkes doe doubt in their deuicefull art, i

Whether this heauenly thing, whereof I treat,

To weeten _Mercie_,[345] 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, ii

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, iii

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_[346] 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; iv

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, v

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, vi

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[347],

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 _Belge_[348] who in former age vii

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, viii

Had left her now but fiue of all that brood:

For twelue of them he did by times deuoure,

And to his Idols[349] 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[350] ix

Of Gyants race, the sonne of _Geryon_,

He that whylome in Spaine so sore was dred[351],

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, x

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, xi

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[352];

Which gaue beginning to her woe and wretchednesse.

Then this bold Tyrant, of her widowhed xii

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 xiii

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, xiv

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 xv

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 xvi

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,[353]

Vnto his way, which now was all his care and count.

Then taking humble leaue of that great Queene, xvii

Who gaue him roiall giftes and riches rare,

As tokens of her thankefull mind beseene,

And leauing _Artegall_ to his owne care,[354]

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 _Artegall_[355] abide,

But on his first aduenture forward forth did ride.

It was not long, till that the Prince arriued xviii

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, xix

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, xx

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 xxi

(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, xxii

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? xxiii

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, xxiv

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, xxv

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 commaund, without needing perswade.

That Castle was the strength of all that state, xxvi

Vntill that state by strength was pulled downe,

And that same citie, so now[356] 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, xxvii

And made it beare the yoke of inquisition,

Stryuing long time in vaine it to withstand;

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, xxviii

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[357] to see it would agrize.

And for more horror and more crueltie, xxix

Vnder that cursed Idols altar stone[358]

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, xxx

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, xxxi

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, xxxii

And their sharpe speares doe both together smite

Amid their shields, with so huge might and maine,

That seem’d their soules they wold[359] 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, xxxiii

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, xxxiv

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; xxxv

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, and 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 xxxvi

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 xxxvii

To sperre the gate; but that same lumpe of clay,

Whose grudging ghost was thereout fled and past,[360]

Right in the middest of the threshold lay,

That it the Posterne did from closing stay:

The whiles the Prince hard[361] 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, xxxviii

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, xxxix

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[344] Arg. 2 _Belgee_ _1596_

[345] i 3 _Mercie_ _1596_

[346] iii 6 _Americke conj. Todd_

[347] vi 4 and her Peares _1609_

[348] vii 1 _Belgæ_ _1596_, _1609_

[349] viii 4 Idol _conj. Church_

[350] ix i brad _1609_

[351] 3 drad _1609_

[352] xi 8 decease _1609_

[353] xvi 8 mount; _1596_

[354] xvii 4 care; _1596_, _1609_

[355] 8 _Artigall_ _1596_

[356] xxvi 3 now so _conj. Church_

[357] xxviii 9 eyes, _1596_

[358] xxix 2 stone; _1596_, _1609_

[359] xxxii 4 would _1609_

[360] xxxvii 3 past; _1596_

[361] 6 hard] had _1609_

_Cant. XI._

[Illustration:

_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, i

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, ii

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, iii

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, iv

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, v

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 vi

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, vii

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, viii

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, ix

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, x

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, xi

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, xii

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, xiii

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[362] the body strooke.

Through all three bodies he him strooke attonce; xiv

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,[363] his daies there to deplore.

Which when the Lady from the Castle saw, xv

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 xvi

Before his feete, in all that peoples sight[364],

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 forby the lilly hand, xvii

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, xviii

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[365] 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, xix

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 xx

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[366] xxi

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 xxii

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 xxiii

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, xxiv

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[367] 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 xxv

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 xxvi

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, xxvii

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, xxviii

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 xxix

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[368] 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, xxx

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, xxxi

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, xxxii

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, xxxiii

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, xxxiv

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 bales,

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 _Belge_[369] did a while remaine, xxxv

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 _Belge_, 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_, xxxvi

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 xxxvii

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; xxxviii

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, xxxix

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 vnrighteous[370] 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, xl

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[371],

She death shall by[372]. 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, xli

Too much am I to blame[373] 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 know[374]

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, xlii

Hath he her lent, a Champion to prouide[375]?

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) xliii

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, xliv

They saw a Knight in daungerous[376] 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, xlv

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, xlvi

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, xlvii

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, xlviii

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[377]

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, xlix

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, l

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[378] troupe of villains sent, li

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 lii

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 liii

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 longwhile 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, liv

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, lv

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[379] field;

Dye rather, then doe ought, that mote dishonour yield.

Not so; (quoth he) for yet when time doth serue, lvi

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, lvii

(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 with all[380] his powre and might.

Who flocking round about them, as a swarme lviii

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, lix

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 themselues their captains did subdew.

At last they came whereas that Ladie bode, lx

Whom now her keepers had[381] 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, lxi

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[382].

Whom when those knights so froward[383] and forlore

Beheld, they her rebuked and vpbrayded sore.

Sayd _Artegall_; What[384] foule disgrace is this, lxii

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 lxiii

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[385]?

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 then them both, your faith once plighted hold[386].

Much was the Ladie in her gentle mind lxiv

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 lxv

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[362] xiii 9 through _1609_

[363] xiv 9 doole _1609_

[364] xvi 2 sight; _1596_

[365] xviii 7 vile _1609 passim_

[366] xxi 1 yearne _1609_

[367] xxiv 7 And] An _1609_

[368] xxix 6 stonn’d _1609_

[369] xxxv 1, 6 _Belge_] _Belgæ_ _1596_, _1609_

[370] xxxix 5 vnrigteous _1596_

[371] xl 5 reare _1596_

[372] 6 She death shall sure aby _1611_

[373] xli 2 too blame _1596_, _1609_: _corr. 1679_

[374] 6 know] knew _1596_, _1609_: _corr. Upton_

[375] xlii 2 prouide: _1596_, _1609_

[376] xliv 2 dangerous _1609_

[377] xlviii 6 enquere _1609_

[378] li 1 this] his _1609_

[379] lv 8 disaduentrous _1609_

[380] lvii 9 withall _1596_

[381] lx 2 had] haue _1609_

[382] lxi 7 meed] hyre _conj. Church_. _But cf._ II ii 7, _&c._

[383] 8 forward _1596_

[384] lxii 1 what _1596_

[385] lxiii 5 defaced. _1596_

[386] 9 hold; _1596_

_Cant. XII._

[Illustration:

_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, i

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 enduren[387] long.

Witnesse may _Burbon_ be, whom all the bands, ii

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 iii

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 iv

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, v

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 and 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[388] doth affray.

The whyles Sir _Artegall_, with that old knight vi

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, vii

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, viii

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 ix

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 x

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, xi

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 _Artegalls_[389] 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 xii

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, xiii

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[390] gate, xiv

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[391] was yron studded, but not long,

With which he wont to fight, to iustifie his wrong.

Of stature huge and hideous he was, xv

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, xvi

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 sight,

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, xvii

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[392] 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_ xviii

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, xix

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 in field.

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, xx

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, xxi

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, xxii

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, xxiii

He stroke[393] 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, xxiv

They shouted all for ioy of his successe,

Glad to be quit from that proud Tyrants awe,

Which with strong powre did them 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 xxv

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, xxvi

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, xxvii

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, xxviii

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, xxix

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 xxx

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[394],

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; xxxi

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, xxxii

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; xxxiii

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 what soeuer good by any sayd, xxxiv

Or doen she heard, she would streightwayes inuent,

How to depraue, or slaunderously[395] 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, xxxv

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, xxxvi

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, xxxvii

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: xxxviii

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, and forhead knockes.

Then from her mouth the gobbet she does take, xxxix

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, xl

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,[396]

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 xli

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, xlii

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[397] at him threw.

And more to make them pierce and wound more deepe,

She with the sting, which in her vile tongue grew,

Did sharpen them, and in fresh poyson steepe:

Yet he past on, and seem’d of them to take no keepe.

But _Talus_ hearing her so lewdly raile, xliii

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[387] i 9 enduren] endure _1596_

[388] v 9 th’Eagle _1609_

[389] xi 6 _Artegals_ _1596_

[390] xiv 1 presumptuous _1609 passim_

[391] 8 steele _1609_

[392] xvii 5 such] sure _1609_

[393] xxiii 2 strooke _1609_

[394] xxx 6 hungerly _1609_

[395] xxxiv 3 slanderously _1609_

[396] xl 5 And that bright sword the sword, of Iustice lent

_1596_

[397] xlii 5 slaunders _1609_

[Illustration]

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, i

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,

It[398] strength to me supplies, and chears my dulled spright.

Such secret comfort, and such heauenly pleasures, ii

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 iii

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[399] it at first was by the Gods with paine

Planted in earth, being deriv’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, iv

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, v

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 vi

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[400].

Then pardon me, most dreaded Soueraine, vii

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[398] 9 It] tI _1596_

[399] iii 5 Since] Sith _1609_

[400] vi 9 name] fame _edd._

_Cant. I._

[Illustration:

_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, i

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, ii

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 iii

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 honesty.

And now he was in trauell on his way, iv

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, v

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 vi

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, vii

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.)[401]

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, viii

And fell _Chimæra_ 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,[402] ix

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_) x

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.[403]

So both tooke goodly leaue, and parted seuerall.

Sir _Calidore_ thence trauelled not long, xi

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 xii

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, xiii

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.[404]

A shamefull vse as euer I did heare, xiv

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 xv

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 xvi

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[405] 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 xvii

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, xviii

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, xix

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 xx

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 xxi

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 xxii

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, xxiii

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 carkasse[406] 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, xxiv

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,[407]

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, xxv

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.[408]

Much was the Knight abashed at that word; xxvi

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 xxvii

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 xxviii

(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 he[409] 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, xxix

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 strong 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; xxx

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[410] xxxi

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, xxxii

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, xxxiii

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, xxxiv

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 xxxv

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 xxxvi

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[411] a while their angers tempest ceast.

Thus long they trac’d and trauerst to and fro, xxxvii

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[412] xxxviii

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, xxxix

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, xl

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[413].

For nothing is more blamefull to a knight, xli

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, xlii

How can he mercy euer hope to haue?

To pay each with his owne is right and dew.

Yet since[414] 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 xliii

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 xliv

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, xlv

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, xlvi

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 xlvii

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[401] vii 6 replide) _1596_

[402] ix i leaue _1596_

[403] x 8 withall, _1596_ withall; _1609_

[404] xiii 9 pay _1596_

[405] xvi 6 vnable _1609_

[406] xxiii 6 carkarsse _1596_

[407] xxiv 4 day. _1596_

[408] xxv 9 requight _1596_

[409] xxviii 6 Ere he] Ere thou _1596_

[410] xxxi 1 light, _1596_

[411] xxxvi 9 breathe _1609_

[412] xxxviii 1 hie, _1596_

[413] xl 9 earne _1609_

[414] xlii 4 sith _1609_

_Cant. II._

[Illustration:

_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, i

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: ii

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, iii

Whose euery deed and word[415], that he did say,

Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes[416],

And both the eares[417] 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, iv

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, and his thought with wonder fild.

Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee v

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[418] 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, vi

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[419] 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, vii

At length bespake; What[420] 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[421], as this his Ladie here viii

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, ix

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[422] 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, x

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, xi

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 xii

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 xiii

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, xiv

But cleard that stripling of th’imputed blame,

Sayd[423] then Sir _Calidore_; Neither[424] 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, xv

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[425] it me concernes, my selfe to clere,

I will the truth discouer, as it chaunst whylere.

This day, as he and I together roade xvi

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[426]

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, xvii

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 from 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 xviii

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 xix

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[427],

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, xx

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 rage 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, xxi

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, xxii

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[428] 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, xxiii

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:

Who euer thinkes through confidence of might,

Or through support of count’nance proud and hault

To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault.

Then turning backe vnto that gentle boy, xxiv

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, xxv

That in these woods amongst 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 goodlyhead.

But should it not displease thee it to tell; xxvi

(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[429] be xxvii

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 xxviii

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 xxix

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, xxx

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[430].

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, xxxi

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, xxxii

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 xxxiii

Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome[431] 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[432] 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, xxxiv

Him much more now, then earst he gan admire,

For the rare hope which in his yeares appear’d,

And thus replide; Faire[433] 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.