THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS, OR OF CHASTITIE 342
APPENDIX.
STANZAS OMITTED IN THE SECOND EDITION (1596) 517
THE FAERIE
QVEENE.
_Disposed into twelue bookes,
Fashioning_
XII. Morall vertues.
[Illustration]
LONDON
Printed for VVilliam Ponsonbie.
1596.
[Illustration]
TO
THE MOST HIGH,
MIGHTIE
And
MAGNIFICENT
EMPRESSE RENOVVMED
FOR PIETIE, VERTVE,
AND ALL GRATIOVS
GOVERNMENT ELIZABETH BY
THE GRACE OF GOD QVEENE
OF ENGLAND FRAVNCE AND
IRELAND AND OF VIRGINIA,
DEFENDOVR OF THE
FAITH, &c. HER MOST
HVMBLE SERVAVNT
EDMVND SPENSER
DOTH IN ALL HVMILITIE
DEDICATE,
PRESENT
AND CONSECRATE THESE
HIS LABOVRS TO LIVE
VVITH THE ETERNITIE
OF HER
FAME.
[Illustration]
THE FIRST
BOOKE OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.
_Contayning_
THE LEGENDE OF THE
KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
_OR_
OF HOLINESSE.
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, i
As time her taught[14], in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To blazon broad emongst[15] her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song.
Helpe then, O[16] holy Virgin chiefe of nine, ii
Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights and fairest _Tanaquill_,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.
And thou most dreaded impe of highest _Ioue_, iii
Faire _Venus_ sonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant _Mart_,
In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,
After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.
And with them eke, O Goddesse heauenly bright, iv
Mirrour of grace and Maiestie diuine,
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
Like _Phœbus_ lampe throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my[17] feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted stile:
The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-while.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] i 2 taught _1596_
[15] 8 ’broad, amongst _1609_
[16] ii 1 O] ô _1596_, _1609 passim_
[17] iv 5 my] mine _1590_
_Canto I._
[Illustration:
_The Patron of true Holinesse,
Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie him to entrapp’[18],
Doth to his home entreate._
]
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, i
Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruell markes of many’ a bloudy[19] fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
But[20] on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore, ii
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as liuing euer him ador’d:
Vpon his shield the like was also scor’d,
For soueraine hope, which in his helpe he had:
Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad.
Vpon a great aduenture he was bond, iii
That greatest _Gloriana_ to him gaue,
That greatest Glorious Queene of _Faerie_ lond,
To winne him worship, and her grace to haue,
Which of all earthly things he most did craue;
And euer as he rode, his hart did earne
To proue his puissance in battell braue
Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.
A louely Ladie rode him faire beside, iv
Vpon a lowly Asse more white then snow,
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,
As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
And heauie sat[21] vpon her palfrey slow:
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.
So pure an innocent[22], as that same lambe, v
She was in life and euery vertuous lore,
And by descent from Royall lynage came
Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore,
And all the world in their subiection held;
Till that infernall feend with foule vprore
Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:
Whom to auenge, she had this Knight from far compeld[23].
Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag, vi
That lasie seemd in being euer last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,
The day with cloudes was suddeine ouercast,
And angry _Ioue_ an hideous storme of raine
Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,
That euery wight to shrowd it did constrain,
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselues were fain.
Enforst to seeke some couert nigh at hand, vii
A shadie groue not far away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:
Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heauens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starre:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farre:
Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.
And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, viii
Ioying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which therein shrouded from the tempest[24] dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,
The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,
The Aspine good for staues, the Cypresse funerall.
The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours ix
And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,
The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,
The Eugh obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
The Mirrhe sweete[25] bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,
The caruer Holme, the Maple seeldom[26] inward sound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, x
Vntill the blustring storme is ouerblowne;
When weening to returne, whence they did stray,
They[27] cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
That which of them to take, in diuerse doubt they been.
At last resoluing forward still to fare, xi
Till that some end they finde or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;
Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollow caue,
Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,
And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gaue.
Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde, xii
Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:
The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
And perill without show: therefore your stroke[28]
Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.
Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke
The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue giues her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.
Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place xiii
I better wot then you, though now too late[29]
To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the wandring wood, this _Errours den_,
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then
The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for liuing men.
But full of fire and greedy hardiment, xiv
The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,
But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,
And looked in: his glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
By which he saw the vgly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,
But th’other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.
And as she lay vpon the durtie ground, xv
Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
Sucking vpon her poisonous[30] dugs, eachone
Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored:
Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone,
Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.
Their dam vpstart, out of her den effraide, xvi
And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her cursed head, whose folds displaid
Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle
Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;
For light she hated as the deadly bale,
Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,
Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any plaine.
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu’d[31], he lept xvii
As Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,
And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, and forced her to stay:
Therewith enrag’d she loudly gan to bray,
And turning fierce, her speckled taile aduaunst,
Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:
Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:
The stroke down from her head vnto her shoulder glaunst.
Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd, xviii
Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,
And all attonce her beastly body raizd
With doubled forces high aboue the ground:
Tho wrapping vp her wrethed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine
All suddenly about his body wound,
That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine:
God helpe the man so wrapt in _Errours_ endlesse traine.
His Lady sad to see his sore constraint, xix
Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye[32] bee,
Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:
Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.
That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,
And knitting all his force got one hand free,
Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,
That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.
Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw xx
A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,
Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,
Which stunck so vildly[33], that it forst him slacke
His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:
Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,
With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,
And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:
Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.
As when old father _Nilus_ gins to swell xxi
With timely pride aboue the _Ægyptian_ vale,
His fattie waues do fertile slime outwell,
And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:
But when his later spring[34] gins to auale[35],
Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed
Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male
And partly female of his fruitfull seed;
Such vgly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man reed.
The same so sore annoyed has the knight, xxii
That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,
His forces fade, ne can no longer[36] fight.
Whose corage when the feend perceiu’d to shrinke,
She poured forth out of her hellish sinke
Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,
Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,
Which swarming all about his legs did crall,
And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.
As gentle Shepheard in sweete euen-tide, xxiii
When ruddy _Phœbus_[37] gins to welke in west,
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;
A cloud of combrous[38] gnattes do him molest,
All striuing to infixe their feeble stings,
That from their noyance he no where can rest,
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame, xxiv
Then of the certaine perill he stood in,
Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,
Resolv’d in minde all suddenly to win,
Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;
And strooke[39] at her with more then manly force,
That from her body full of filthie sin
He raft[40] her hatefull head without remorse;
A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse.
Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare xxv
They saw so rudely falling to the ground,
Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,
Gathred themselues about her body round,
Weening their wonted entrance to haue found
At her wide mouth: but being there withstood
They flocked all about her bleeding wound[41],
And sucked vp their dying mothers blood,
Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.
That detestable sight him much amazde, xxvi
To see th’vnkindly Impes of heauen accurst,
Deuoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,
Hauing all satisfide their bloudy thurst,
Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst,
And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end
Of such as drunke her life, the which them nurst;
Now needeth him no lenger[42] labour spend,
His foes haue slaine themselues, with whom he should contend.
His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre xxvii
Approcht in hast[43] to greet his victorie,
And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,
Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:
Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,
And proou’d your strength on a strong enimie,
Your first aduenture: many such I pray,
And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.
Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe, xxviii
And with the Lady backward sought to wend;
That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,
Ne euer would to any by-way bend,
But still did follow one vnto the end,
The which at last out of the wood them brought.
So forward on his way (with God to frend)
He passed[44] forth, and new aduenture sought;
Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.
At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way xxix
An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,
His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,
And by his belt his booke he hanging had;
Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,
And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,
And all the way he prayed, as he went,
And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.
He faire the knight saluted, louting low, xxx
Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:
And after asked him, if he did know
Of straunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.
Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas,
Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,
Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,
Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?
With holy father sits[45] not with such things to mell.
But if of daunger[46] which hereby doth dwell, xxxi
And homebred euill[47] ye desire to heare,
Of a straunge[48] man I can you tidings tell,
That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.
Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,
And shall you[49] well reward to shew the place,
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,
That such a cursed creature liues so long a space.
Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse xxxii
His dwelling is, by which no liuing wight
May euer passe, but thorough great distresse.
Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,
And well I wote, that of your later fight
Ye all forwearied[50] be: for what so strong,
But wanting rest will also want of might?
The Sunne that measures heauen all day long,
At night doth baite his steedes the _Ocean_ waues emong.
Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest, xxxiii
And with new day new worke at once begin:
Vntroubled night they say giues counsell best.
Right well Sir knight ye haue aduised bin,
(Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win
Is wisely to aduise: now day is spent;
Therefore with me ye may take vp your In
For this same night. The knight was well content:
So with that godly father to his home they went.
A little lowly Hermitage it was, xxxiv
Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,
Far from resort of people, that did pas
In trauell to and froe: a little wyde
There was an holy Chappell edifyde,
Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say
His holy things each morne and euentyde:
Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,
Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.
Arriued there, the little house they fill, xxxv
Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:
Rest is their feast, and all things at their will;
The noblest mind the best contentment has.
With faire discourse the euening so they pas:
For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,
And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;
He told of Saintes and Popes, and euermore[51]
He strowd an _Aue-Mary_ after and before.
The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast, xxxvi
And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,
As messenger of _Morpheus_ on them cast
Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.
Vnto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:
Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,
He to his study goes, and there amiddes
His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,
He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes.
Then choosing out few wordes most horrible, xxxvii
(Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,
With which and other spelles like terrible,
He bad awake blacke _Plutoes_ griesly Dame,
And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;
A bold bad man, that dar’d to call by name
Great _Gorgon_, Prince of darknesse and dead night,
At which _Cocytus_ quakes, and _Styx_ is put to flight.
And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred xxxviii
Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes
Fluttring about his euer damned hed,
A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes,
To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:
Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,
And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;
The one of them he gaue a message too,
The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.
He making speedy way through spersed ayre, xxxix
And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To _Morpheus_ house doth hastily repaire.
Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,
And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,
His dwelling is; there _Tethys_ his wet bed
Doth euer wash, and _Cynthia_ still doth steepe
In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,
Whiles sad Night ouer him her mantle black doth spred.
Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, xl
The one faire fram’d of burnisht Yuory,
The other all with siluer ouercast;
And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,
Watching to banish Care their enimy,
Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe[52].
By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,
And vnto _Morpheus_ comes, whom drowned deepe
In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.
And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, xli
A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe
And euer-drizling[53] raine vpon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.
The messenger approching to him spake, xlii
But his wast[54] wordes returnd[55] to him in vaine:
So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.
Then rudely he him thrust[56], and pusht with paine,
Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe
Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.
As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine
Is tost with troubled sights[57] and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.
The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake, xliii
And threatned vnto him the dreaded name
Of _Hecate_: whereat he gan to quake,
And lifting vp his lumpish[58] head, with blame
Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.
Hither[59] (quoth he) me _Archimago_ sent,
He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,
He bids thee to him send for his intent
A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent.
The God obayde, and calling forth straight way xliv
A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,
Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay
His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,
Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.
He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,
Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
In hast vnto his Lord, where he him left afore.
Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes, xlv
Had made a Lady of that other Spright,
And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes
So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,
That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:
The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:
Her all in white he clad, and ouer it
Cast a blacke stole, most like to seeme for _Vna_ fit.
Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought, xlvi
Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,
And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,
In sort as he him schooled priuily:
And that new creature borne without her dew,
Full of the makers guile, with vsage[60] sly
He taught to imitate that Lady trew,
Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.
Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast, xlvii
And comming where the knight in slomber lay,
The one vpon his hardy head him plast,
And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,
That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:
Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,
And to him playnd, how that false winged boy[61]
Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame pleasures toy.
And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene, xlviii
Faire _Venus_ seemde vnto his bed to bring
Her, whom he waking euermore did weene[62]
To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:
And eke the _Graces_ seemed all to sing,
_Hymen iõ Hymen_, dauncing all around,
Whilst freshest _Flora_ her with[63] Yuie girlond crownd.
In this great passion of vnwonted lust, xlix
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
He started[64] vp, as seeming to mistrust[65]
Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:
Lo there before his face his Lady is,
Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,
And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
With gentle blandishment and louely looke,
Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.
All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight, l
And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought haue[66] slaine her in his fierce despight:
But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise
To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.
Wringing her hands in wemens[67] pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,
Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.
And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue, li
Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,
And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,
Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,
For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?
Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state
You, whom my hard auenging destinie
Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.
Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue lii
My Fathers kingdome, There she stopt with teares;
Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,
And then againe begun[68], My weaker yeares
Captiu’d to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:
Let me not dye in languor and long teares.
Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?
What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?
Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint liii
Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night
In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.
Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
Suspect her truth: yet since no’vntruth[69] he knew,
Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight
He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,
That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew.
Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; liv
For all so deare as life is to my hart,
I deeme your loue, and hold me to you bound;
Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,
Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.
Not all content, yet seemd she to appease
Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,
And fed with words, that could not chuse[70] but please,
So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.
Long after lay he musing at her mood, lv
Much grieu’d to thinke that gentle Dame so light,
For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
At last dull wearinesse of former fight
Hauing yrockt a sleepe his irkesome spright,
That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,
With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:
But when he saw his labour all was vaine,
With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.
FOOTNOTES:
[18] Arg. 3 _entrape_ _1596_: _entrap_ _1609_
[19] i 4 bloody _1590 passim_
[20] ii 1 But] And _1590_
[21] iv 7 sat] sate _1590_
[22] v 1 and innocent _1590_: an Innocent _1609_
[23] 9 cõpeld _1590_, _1596 passim_
[24] viii 3 tempests _1609_
[25] ix 6 sweet, _1609_
[26] 9 sildom _1609 passim_
[27] x 4 They] The _1596_
[28] xii 5 your hardy stroke _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[29] xiii 2 late, _1596_
[30] xv 6 poisnous _1590_
[31] xvii 1 perceiu’ed _1596_
[32] xix 2 ye] you _1609_
[33] xx 4 vilely _1609_
[34] xxi 5 spring] ebbe _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[35] t’auale _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[36] xxii 3 lenger _1590_
[37] xxiii 2 _Phebus_ _1590_
[38] 5 cumbrous _1590_
[39] xxiv 6 stroke _1590_
[40] 8 reft _1609_
[41] xxv 7 wound. _1596_
[42] xxvi 8 longer _1609_
[43] xxvii 2 haste _1609_
[44] xxviii 8 passeth _1596_, _1609_
[45] xxx 9 fits _1609_
[46] xxxi 1 danger _1609_
[47] 2 euill _bis 1596_
[48] 3 strange _1609_
[49] 6 you] thee _1590_
[50] xxxii 6 for wearied _1596_
[51] xxxv 8 euemore _1596_
[52] xl 6 sleepe _1596_: sleep _1609_
[53] xli 3 euer] euery _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[54] xlii 2 waste _1590_, _1609_
[55] retournd _1590_
[56] 4 thrust] trust _1596_
[57] 8 sights] sighes _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[58] xliii 4 lompish _1590_
[59] 6 Hether _1590_
[60] xlvi 7 vsage] visage _1609_
[61] xlvii 8 boy, _1590_, _1596_
[62] xlviii 3 weene, _1590_, _1596_
[63] 9 with om. _1596_, _1609_
[64] xlix 3 starteth _1590_
[65] mistrust, _1590_, _1596_
[66] l 3 t’haue _1609_
[67] 7 womens _1609_
[68] lii 4 begonne _1590_
[69] liii 6 sith n’vntruth _1609_
[70] liv 8 chose _1590_
_Cant. II._
[Illustration:
_The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead[71] faire falshood steps,
And workes him wofull ruth._
]
By this the Northerne wagoner had set i
His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,
That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,
But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:
And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill
Had warned once, that _Phœbus_ fiery carre
In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,
Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.
When those accursed messengers of hell, ii
That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright
Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell
Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:
Who all in rage to see his skilfull might
Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine
And sad _Proserpines_ wrath, them to affright.
But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,
He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.
Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire, iii
And that false other Spright, on whom he spred
A seeming body of the subtile aire,
Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed[72]
His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,
Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:
Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,
Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,
Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.
Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast iv
Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights
And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,
Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,
As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,
And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,
That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights
Haue knit themselues in _Venus_ shamefull chaine;
Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour[73] staine.
All in amaze he suddenly vp start v
With sword in hand, and with the old man went;
Who soone him brought into a secret part,
Where that false couple were full closely ment
In wanton lust and lewd embracement[74]:
Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,
The eye of reason was with rage yblent,
And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.
Returning to his bed in torment great, vi
And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,
He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat,
And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,
Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.
At last faire _Hesperus_ in highest skie
Had spent his lampe, and[75] brought forth dawning light,
Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;
The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.
Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire, vii
Weary of aged _Tithones_ saffron bed,
Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,
And the high hils _Titan_ discouered,
The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,
And rising forth out of her baser bowre,
Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre;
Then gan she waile and[76] weepe, to see that woefull stowre.
And after him she rode with so much speede viii
As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:
For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,
That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;
Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,
But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine
Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,
He so vngently left her, whom she loued[77] best.
But subtill _Archimago_ when his guests ix
He saw diuided into double parts,
And _Vna_ wandring in woods and forrests,
Th’end of his drift, he praisd his diuelish arts,
That had such might ouer true meaning harts;
Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,
How he may worke vnto her further smarts:
For her he hated as the hissing snake,
And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.
He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise; x
For by his mightie science he could take
As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,
As euer _Proteus_ to himselfe could make:
Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,
Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,
That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,
And oft would flie away. O who can tell
The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?
But now seemde best, the person to put on xi
Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
In mighty armes he was yclad anon[78],
And siluer shield[79]: vpon his coward brest
A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest
A bounch of haires[80] discolourd diuersly:
Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,
And when he sate vpon his courser free,
_Saint George_ himself ye would haue deemed him to be.
But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare, xii
The true _Saint George_ was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;
Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.
At last him chaunst to meete vpon the way
A faithlesse Sarazin all arm’d to point,
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay
_Sans foy_: full large of limbe and euery ioint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.
He had a faire companion of his way, xiii
A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,
And like a _Persian_ mitre on her hed
She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,
The which her lauish louers to her gaue;
Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred
With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.
With faire disport and courting dalliaunce xiv
She intertainde her louer all the way:
But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,
She soone left off[81] her mirth and wanton play,
And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:
His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride
And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,
Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side
The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.
The knight of the _Redcrosse_ when him he spide, xv
Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous[82],
Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:
Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,
That daunted with their forces hideous,
Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,
And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,
Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,
Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.
As when two rams stird with ambitious pride, xvi
Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side
Do meete, that with the terrour[83] of the shocke
Astonied both, stand sencelesse[84] as a blocke,
Forgetfull of the hanging victory:
So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,
Both staring fierce, and holding idely[85]
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
The _Sarazin_ sore daunted with the buffe xvii
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equall puissaunce enuies,
And through their iron sides with cruell[86] spies
Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields
No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies
As from a forge out of their burning shields,
And streames of purple bloud new dies[87] the verdant fields.
Curse on that Crosse (quoth[88] then the _Sarazin_) xviii
That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;
Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,
Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:
But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,
And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest
With rigour[89] so outrageous he smitt,
That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.
Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark xix
Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,
And at his haughtie helmet making mark,
So hugely stroke[90], that it the steele did riue,
And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue
With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,
Whither[91] the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.
The Lady when she saw her champion fall, xx
Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,
But from him fled away with all her powre;
Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away
The _Sarazins_ shield, signe of the conqueroure.
Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.
She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce, xxi
Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show
On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,
And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low
In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,
Did much emmoue his stout heroïcke heart,
And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrow
Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.
Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament; xxii
The wretched[92] woman, whom vnhappy howre
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heauens list to lowre,
And fortune false betraide me to your[93] powre,
Was, (O what now auaileth that I was![94])
Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,
He that the wide West vnder his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where _Tiberis_ doth pas.
He in the first flowre of my freshest age, xxiii
Betrothed me vnto the onely haire
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was neuer Prince so faithfull and so faire,
Was neuer Prince so meeke and debonaire;
But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,
My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire,
Into the hands of his accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.
His blessed body spoild of liuely breath, xxiv
Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid
And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death
When tidings came to me vnhappy maid,
O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.
Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,
And many yeares throughout the world I straid,
A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind
With loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.
At last it chaunced this proud _Sarazin_[95] xxv
To meete me wandring, who perforce me led
With him away, but yet could neuer win
The Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.
There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,
Who whiles he liu’de, was called proud _Sans foy_,
The eldest of three brethren, all three bred
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is _Sans ioy_,
And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold _Sans loy_.
In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate, xxvi
Now miserable I _Fidessa_ dwell,
Crauing of you in pitty of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
And said, Faire[96] Lady hart of flint would rew
The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.
Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, xxvii
Hauing both found a new friend you to aid,
And lost an old foe, that did you molest:
Better new friend then an old foe is said.
With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid
Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth,
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty[97] they say maketh derth.
Long time they thus together traueiled, xxviii
Till weary of their way, they came at last,
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,
And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,
Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:
The fearefull Shepheard often there aghast
Vnder them neuer sat, ne wont there sound
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th’vnlucky ground.
But this good knight soone as he them can spie, xxix
For the coole shade him[98] thither hastly got:
For golden _Phœbus_ now ymounted[99] hie,
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That liuing creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselues to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, xxx
With goodly purposes there as they sit:
And in his falsed fancy he her takes
To be the fairest wight, that liued yit;
Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit,
And thinking of those braunches greene to frame
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the same.
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard, xxxi
Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teare
My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,
But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare
Least to you hap, that happened to me heare,
And to this[100] wretched Lady, my deare loue,
O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.
Astond he stood, and vp his haire did houe,
And with that suddein horror could no member moue.
At last whenas the dreadfull passion xxxii
Was ouerpast, and manhood well awake,
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
What voyce of damned Ghost from _Limbo_ lake,
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull[101] plaints[102], me bidding guiltlesse[103] bloud to
spare?
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,) xxxiii
Nor guilefull sprite to thee these wordes doth speake,
But once a man _Fradubio_, now a tree,
Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake,
A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,
Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
Where _Boreas_ doth blow full bitter bleake,
And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:
For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.
Say on _Fradubio_ then, or man, or tree, xxxiv
Quoth then the knight, by whose mischieuous arts
Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see?
He oft finds med’cine, who his griefe imparts;
But double griefs afflict concealing harts,
As raging flames who striueth to suppresse.
The author then (said he) of all my smarts,
Is one _Duessa_ a false sorceresse,
That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.
In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot xxxv
The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree
First kindled in my brest, it was my lot
To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye see,
Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;
With whom as once I rode accompanyde,
Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,
That had a like faire Lady by his syde,
Like a faire Lady, but did fowle _Duessa_ hyde.
Whose forged beauty he did take in hand, xxxvi
All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;
I in defence of mine did likewise stand,
Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:
So both to battell[104] fierce arraunged arre,
In which his harder fortune was to fall
Vnder my speare: such is the dye of warre:
His Lady left as a prise martiall,
Did yield her comely person, to be at my call.
So doubly lou’d of Ladies vnlike faire, xxxvii
Th’one seeming such, the other such indeede,
One day in doubt I cast for to compare,
Whether in beauties glorie did exceede;
A Rosy girlond was the victors meede:
Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee,
So hard the discord was to be agreede.
_Frælissa_ was as faire, as faire mote bee,
And euer false _Duessa_ seemde as faire as shee.
The wicked witch now seeing all this while xxxviii
The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,
What not by right, she cast to win by guile,
And by her hellish science raisd streight way
A foggy mist, that ouercast the day,
And a dull blast, that breathing on her face,
Dimmed her former beauties shining ray,
And with foule vgly forme did her disgrace:
Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.
Then cride she out, Fye[105], fye, deformed wight, xxxix
Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
To haue before bewitched all mens sight;
O leaue her soone, or let her soone be slaine.
Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,
Eftsoones I thought her such, as she me told,
And would haue kild her; but with faigned paine,
The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;
So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.
Thens forth[106] I tooke _Duessa_ for my Dame, xl
And in the witch vnweeting ioyd long time,
Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,
Till on a day (that day is euery Prime,
When Witches wont do penance for their crime)
I chaunst to see her in her proper hew,
Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme:
A filthy foule old woman I did vew,
That euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.
Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous, xli
Were hidd in water, that I could not see,
But they did seeme more foule and hideous,
Then womans shape man would beleeue to bee.
Thens forth[107] from her most beastly companie
I gan refraine, in minde to slip away,
Soone as appeard safe opportunitie[108]:
For danger great, if not assur’d decay
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.
The diuelish hag by chaunges of my cheare xlii
Perceiu’d my thought, and drownd in sleepie night,
With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare
My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,
That all my senses were bereaued quight:
Then brought she me into this desert waste,
And by my wretched louers side me pight,
Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,
Banisht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waste.
But how long time, said then the Elfin knight, xliii
Are you in this misformed house to dwell?
We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,
Till we be bathed in a liuing well;
That is the terme prescribed by the spell.
O how, said he, mote I that well out find,
That may restore you to your wonted well?
Time and suffised fates to former kynd
Shall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.
The false _Duessa_, now _Fidessa_ hight, xliv
Heard how in vaine _Fradubio_ did lament,
And knew well all was true. But the good knight
Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment,
When all this speech the liuing tree had spent,
The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground,
That from the bloud he might be innocent,
And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:
Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.
Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare, xlv
As all vnweeting of that well she knew,
And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare
Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew
And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew
At last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheare
Her vp he tooke, too simple and too trew,
And oft her kist. At length all passed feare,
He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.
FOOTNOTES:
[71] Arg. 3 _stead_] _steps_ _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[72] iii 4 lusty-hed. _1596_
[73] iv 9 honor _1590_
[74] v 5 enbracement _1590_
[75] vi 7 and] & _1596 passim_
[76] vii 9 and] & _1596 passim_
[77] viii 9 louest _1596_
[78] xi 3 anon: _1590_, _1596_
[79] 4 shield. _1590_, _1596_
[80] 6 heares _1590_
[81] xiv 4 off] of _1590 passim_
[82] xv 2 dispighteous _1609_
[83] xvi 4 terror _1590_
[84] 5 stands fencelesse _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[85] 8 idely, _1590_, _1596_: idlely _1609_
[86] xvii 5 cruelties _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[87] 9 die _1609_
[88] xviii 1 quoth] qd. _1590 passim_
[89] rigor _1590_
[90] xix 4 strooke, _1609_
[91] 9 Whether _1590 passim_
[92] xxii 2 wreched _1590_
[93] 5 your] thy _1590_
[94] 6 I was? _1590_
[95] xxv 1 _Sarazin_, _1590_, _1596_
[96] xxvi 8 faire _1590_, _1596_
[97] xxvii 9 so, Dainty _1609_
[98] xxix 2 shade him] shade _1596_: shadow _1609_
[99] 3 ymounted] that mounted _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[100] xxxi 6 this] his _1609_
[101] xxxii 9 tuefull _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[102] plants _1590_
[103] guitlesse _1596_
[104] xxxvi 5 batteill _1590 passim_
[105] xxxix 1 fye _1590_, _1596_
[106] xl 1 Then forth _1590_, _1596_: _corr. F. E._: Thenceforth _1609_
[107] xli 5 Then forth _1590_, _1596_: _corr. F. E._: Thenceforth _1609_
[108] xli 7 oportunitie _1596_
_Cant. III._
[Illustration:
_Forsaken Truth long seekes her loue,
And makes the Lyon mylde,
Marres blind Deuotions mart, and fals
In hand of leachour vylde._
]
Nought is there vnder heau’ns wide hollownesse, i
That moues more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t’vnworthy wretchednesse
Through enuies snares or fortunes freakes vnkind:
I, whether lately through her brightnesse[109] blind,
Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,
Which I do owe vnto all woman kind,
Feele my heart perst with so great agonie,
When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.
And now it is empassioned so deepe, ii
For fairest _Vnaes_ sake, of whom I sing,
That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe,
To thinke how she through guilefull handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,
Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,
Is from her knight diuorced in despaire
And her due loues deriu’d to that vile witches share.
Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while iii
Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd
Farre from all peoples prease, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,
To seeke her knight; who subtilly betrayd
Through that late vision, which th’Enchaunter wrought,[110]
Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,
Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought;
Yet wished tydings none of him vnto her brought.
One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, iv
From her vnhastie beast she did alight,
And on the grasse her daintie limbes did lay
In secret shadow, farre from all mens sight:
From her faire head her fillet she vndight,
And laid her stole aside. Her angels face
As the great eye of heauen shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shadie place;
Did neuer mortall eye behold such heauenly grace.
It fortuned out of the thickest wood v
A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly,
Hunting full greedie after saluage blood;
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To haue attonce deuour’d her tender corse:
But to the pray when as he drew more ny,
His bloudie rage asswaged with remorse,
And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.
In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet, vi
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,
As he her wronged innocence did weet.
O how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue auenging wrong?
Whose yeelded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her hart gan melt in great compassion,
And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.
The Lyon Lord of euerie beast in field,[111] vii
Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate,
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:
But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord,[112]
How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her that him lou’d, and euer most adord,
As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?
Redounding teares did choke th’end of her plaint, viii
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;
And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint
The kingly beast vpon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At last in close hart shutting vp her paine,
Arose the virgin borne of heauenly brood,
And to her snowy Palfrey got againe,
To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.
The Lyon would not leaue her desolate, ix
But with her went along, as a strong gard
Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:
Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when she wakt, he waited diligent,
With humble seruice to her will prepard:
From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,
And euer by her lookes conceiued her intent.
Long she thus traueiled through deserts wyde, x
By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas,
Yet neuer shew of liuing wight espyde;
Till that at length she found the troden gras,
In which the tract of peoples footing was,
Vnder the steepe foot of a mountaine hore;
The same she followes, till at last she has
A damzell spyde slow footing her before,
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.
To whom[113] approching she to her gan call, xi
To weet, if dwelling place were nigh at hand;
But the rude wench her answer’d nought at all,
She could not heare, nor speake, nor vnderstand;
Till seeing by her side the Lyon stand,
With suddaine feare her pitcher downe she threw,
And fled away: for neuer in that land
Face of faire Ladie she before did vew,
And that dread[114] Lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.
Full fast she fled, ne euer lookt behynd, xii
As if her life vpon the wager lay,
And home she came, whereas her mother blynd
Sate in eternall night: nought could she say,
But suddaine catching hold, did her dismay
With quaking hands, and other signes of feare:
Who full of ghastly fright and cold affray,
Gan shut the dore. By this arriued there
Dame _Vna_, wearie Dame, and entrance did requere.
Which when none yeelded, her vnruly Page xiii
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,
And let her in; where of his cruell rage
Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment,
She found them both in darkesome corner pent;
Where that old woman day and night did pray
Vpon her beades deuoutly penitent;
Nine hundred _Pater nosters_ euery day,
And thrise nine hundred _Aues_ she was wont to say.
And to augment her painefull pennance[115] more, xiv
Thrise euery weeke in ashes she did sit,
And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,
And thrise three times did fast from any bit:
But now for feare her beads she did forget.
Whose needlesse dread for to remoue away,
Faire _Vna_ framed words and count’nance fit:
Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray,
That in their cotage small, that night she rest her may.
The day is spent, and commeth drowsie night, xv
When euery creature shrowded is in sleepe;
Sad _Vna_ downe her laies in wearie plight,
And at her feet the Lyon watch doth keepe:
In stead of rest, she does lament, and weepe
For the late losse of her deare loued knight,
And sighes, and grones, and euermore does steepe
Her tender brest in bitter teares all night,
All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light.
Now when _Aldeboran_ was mounted hie xvi
Aboue the shynie _Cassiopeias_ chaire,
And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lie,
One knocked at the dore, and in would fare;
He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware,
That readie entrance was not at his call:
For on his backe a heauy load he bare
Of nightly stelths and pillage seuerall,
Which he had got abroad by purchase[116] criminall.
He was to weete a stout and sturdie thiefe, xvii
Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments,
And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,
Which giuen was to them for good intents;
The holy Saints of their rich vestiments
He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept,
And spoild the Priests of their habiliments,
Whiles none the holy things in safety kept;
Then he by cunning[117] sleights in at the window crept.
And all that he by right or wrong could find, xviii
Vnto this house he brought, and did bestow
Vpon the daughter of this woman blind,
_Abessa_ daughter of _Corceca_ slow,
With whom he whoredome vsd, that few did know,
And fed her fat with feast of offerings,
And plentie, which in all the land did grow;
Ne spared he to giue her gold and rings:
And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet, xix
Yet of those fearefull women none durst rize,
The Lyon frayed them, him in to let:
He would no longer stay him to aduize,
But open breakes the dore in furious wize,
And entring is; when that disdainfull beast
Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize,
And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest,
Vnder his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.
Him booteth not resist, nor succour call, xx
His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand,
Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small,
And quite dismembred hath: the thirstie land
Drunke[118] vp his life; his corse left on the strand.
His fearefull friends[119] weare out the wofull night,
Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to vnderstand
The heauie hap, which on them is alight,
Affraid, least to themselues the like mishappen might.
Now when broad day the world discouered has, xxi
Vp _Vna_ rose, vp rose the Lyon eke,
And on their former iourney forward pas,
In wayes vnknowne, her wandring knight to seeke,
With paines farre passing that long wandring _Greeke_,
That for his loue refused deitie;
Such were the labours of this Lady meeke,
Still seeking him, that from her still did flie,
Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.
Soone as she parted thence, the fearefull twaine, xxii
That blind old woman and her daughter deare
Came forth, and finding _Kirkrapine_ there slaine,
For anguish great they gan to rend their heare,
And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare.
And when they both had wept and wayld their fill,
Then forth they ranne like two amazed deare,
Halfe mad through malice, and reuenging will,
To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.
Whom ouertaking, they gan loudly bray, xxiii
With hollow howling, and lamenting cry,
Shamefully at her rayling all the way,
And her accusing of dishonesty,
That was the flowre of faith and chastity;
And still amidst her rayling, she did pray,
That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery
Might fall on her, and follow all the way,
And that in endlesse error she might euer stray.
But when she saw her prayers nought preuaile, xxiv
She backe returned with some labour lost;
And in the way as she did weepe and waile,
A knight her met in mighty armes embost,
Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost,
But subtill _Archimag_, that _Vna_ sought
By traynes into new troubles to haue tost:
Of that old woman tydings he besought,
If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought.
Therewith she gan her passion to renew, xxv
And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,
Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,
That causd her shed so many a bitter teare,
And so forth told the story of her feare:
Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce,
And after for that Ladie did inquere[120];
Which being taught, he forward gan aduaunce
His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce.
Ere long he came, where _Vna_ traueild slow, xxvi
And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde:
Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show
Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde
Vnto an hill; from whence when she him spyde,
By his like seeming shield, her knight by name
She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:
Approching nigh, she wist it was the same,
And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came.
And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord, xxvii
Where haue ye bene thus long out of my sight?
Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,
Or ought haue done, that ye displeasen might,
That should as death vnto my deare hart light:
For since mine eye your ioyous sight did mis,
My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night,
And eke my night of death the shadow is;
But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.
He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame, xxviii
Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will,
To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame,
As you to leaue, that haue me loued still,
And chose in Faery court of meere goodwill,
Where noblest knights were to be found on earth:
The earth shall sooner leaue her kindly skill
To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,
Then I leaue you, my liefe, yborne of heauenly berth.
And sooth to say, why I left you so long, xxix
Was for to seeke aduenture in strange[121] place,
Where _Archimago_ said a felon strong
To many knights did daily worke disgrace;
But knight he now shall neuer more deface:
Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please
Well to accept, and euermore embrace
My faithfull seruice, that by land and seas
Haue vowd you to defend, now then your plaint appease.
His louely words her seemd due recompence xxx
Of all her passed paines: one louing howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre:
She has forgot, how many a wofull stowre
For him she late endur’d; she speakes no more
Of past: true is, that true loue hath no powre
To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before.
Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.
Much like, as when the beaten marinere, xxxi
That long hath wandred in the _Ocean_ wide,
Oft soust in swelling _Tethys_ saltish teare,
And long time hauing tand his tawney hide
With blustring breath of heauen, that none can bide,
And scorching flames of fierce _Orions_ hound,
Soone as the port from farre he has espide,
His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound,
And _Nereus_ crownes with cups; his mates him pledg around.
Such ioy made _Vna_, when her knight she found; xxxii
And eke th’enchaunter ioyous seemd no lesse,
Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground
His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse,
He hurles out vowes, and _Neptune_ oft doth blesse:
So forth they past, and all the way they spent
Discoursing of her dreadfull late distresse,
In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment:
†Who told[122] her all that fell[123] in iourney as she went.
They had not ridden farre, when they might see xxxiii
One pricking towards them with hastie heat,
Full strongly armd, and on a courser free,
That through his fiercenesse fomed all with sweat,
And the sharpe yron did for anger eat,
When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side;
His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat
Cruell reuenge, which he in hart did hyde,
And on his shield _Sans loy_ in bloudie lines was dyde.
When nigh he drew vnto this gentle payre xxxiv
And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare,
He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones prepare
Himselfe to battell with his couched speare.
Loth was that other, and did faint through feare,[124]
To taste th’vntryed dint of deadly steele;
But yet his Lady did so well him cheare,
That hope of new good hap he gan to feele;
So bent his speare, and spurnd[125] his horse with yron heele.
But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce[126], xxxv
And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare
Through vainely crossed shield he quite did pierce[127],
And had his staggering steede not shrunke[128] for feare,
Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare:
Yet so great was the puissance of his push,
That from his saddle quite he did him beare:
He tombling rudely downe to ground did rush,
And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush.
Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed, xxxvi
He to him lept, in mind to reaue his life,
And proudly said, Lo there the worthie meed
Of him, that slew _Sansfoy_ with bloudie knife;
Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife,
In peace may passen ouer _Lethe_ lake,
When morning[129] altars purgd with enemies life,
The blacke infernall _Furies_ doen aslake:
Life from _Sansfoy_ thou tookst, _Sansloy_ shall from thee take.
Therewith in haste his helmet gan vnlace, xxxvii
Till _Vna_ cride, O hold that heauie hand,
Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place:
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand
Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand:
For he is one the truest knight aliue,
Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,
And whilest him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue
In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue.
Her piteous words might not abate his rage, xxxviii
But rudely rending vp his helmet, would
Haue slaine him straight[130]: but when he sees his age,
And hoarie head of _Archimago_ old,
His hastie hand he doth amazed hold,
And halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight:
For the[131] old man well knew he, though vntold,
In charmes and magicke to haue wondrous might,
Ne euer wont in field, ne in round lists to fight.
And said, Why _Archimago_, lucklesse syre, xxxix
What doe I see? what hard mishap is this,
That hath thee hither brought to taste mine yre?
Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,
In stead of foe to wound my friend amis?
He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay,
And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his
The cloud of death did sit. Which doen away,
He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay.
But to the virgin comes, who all this while xl
Amased stands, her selfe so mockt to see
By him, who has the guerdon of his guile,
For so misfeigning her true knight to bee:
Yet is she now in more perplexitie,
Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold,
From whom her booteth not at all to flie;
Who by her cleanly garment catching hold,
Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold.
But her fierce seruant full of kingly awe xli
And high disdaine, whenas his soueraine Dame
So rudely handled by her foe he sawe,
With gaping iawes full greedy at him came,
And ramping on his shield, did weene the same
Haue reft away with his sharpe rending clawes:
But he was stout, and lust did now inflame
His corage more, that from his griping pawes
He hath his shield redeem’d, and foorth[132] his swerd he drawes.
O then too weake and feeble was the forse xlii
Of saluage beast, his puissance to withstand:
For he was strong, and of so mightie corse,
As euer wielded speare in warlike hand,
And feates of armes did wisely vnderstand.
Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest
With thrilling point of deadly yron brand,
And launcht his Lordly hart: with death opprest
He roar’d aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest.
Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid xliii
From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will?
Her faithfull gard remou’d, her hope dismaid,
Her selfe a yeelded pray to saue or spill.
He now Lord of the field[133], his pride to fill,
With foule reproches, and disdainfull spight
Her vildly entertaines, and will or nill,
Beares her away vpon his courser light:
Her prayers nought preuaile, his rage is more of might.
And all the way, with great lamenting paine, xliv
And piteous plaints she filleth his dull eares,
That stony hart could riuen haue in twaine,
And all the way she wets with flowing teares:
But he enrag’d with rancor, nothing heares.
Her seruile beast yet would not leaue her so,
But followes her farre off, ne ought he feares,
To be partaker of her wandring woe,
More mild in beastly kind, then that her beastly foe.
FOOTNOTES:
[109] i 5 brightne _1590_: brightnes _F. E._
[110] iii 6 wrought _1590_
[111] vii 1 field _1590_, _1596_
[112] 6 Lord _1590_, _1596_
[113] xi 1 Whom _1596_
[114] 9 dredd _1590_
[115] xiv 1 penaunce _1590_
[116] xvi 9 purchas _1590_
[117] xvii 9 conning _1590_
[118] xx 5 Dronke _1590_
[119] 6 freends _1590_
[120] xxv 7 inquire _1596_
[121] xxix 2 straunge _1590_
[122] xxxii 9 told, _1609_
[123] all that her fell _sugg. ed._
[124] xxxiv 5 feare,] fea, _1596_
[125] 9 spurd _1590_
[126] xxxv 1 ferce _1590_
[127] 3 perce _1590_
[128] 4 shronke _1590_
[129] xxxvi 7 mourning _1590_
[130] xxxviii 3 streight _1590_
[131] 7 the] that _F. E. referring probably to this line_
[132] xli 9 forth _1590_
[133] xliii 5 fied _1596_
_Cant. IIII._
[Illustration:
_To sinfull house of Pride, Duessa
guides the faithfull knight,
Where brothers death to wreak Sansioy
doth chalenge him to fight._
]
Young knight, what euer that dost armes professe, i
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,
In choice, and change of thy deare loued Dame,
Least thou of her beleeue too lightly blame,
And rash misweening doe thy hart remoue:
For vnto knight there is no greater shame,
Then lightnesse and inconstancie in loue;
That doth this _Redcrosse_ knights ensample plainly proue.
Who after that he had faire _Vna_ lorne, ii
Through light misdeeming of her loialtie,
And false _Duessa_ in her sted had borne,
Called _Fidess’_, and so supposd to bee;
Long with her traueild, till at last they see
A goodly building, brauely garnished,
The house of mightie Prince it seemd to bee:
And towards it a broad high way that led,
All bare through peoples feet, which thither traueiled.
Great troupes of people traueild thitherward iii
Both day and night, of each degree and place,
But few returned, hauing scaped hard,
With balefull beggerie, or foule disgrace,
Which euer after in most wretched case[134],
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thither _Duessa_ bad him bend his pace:
For she is wearie of the toilesome way,
And also nigh consumed is the lingring day.
A stately Pallace built of squared bricke, iv
Which cunningly was without morter laid,
Whose wals were high, but nothing strong, nor thick,
And golden foile all ouer them displaid,
That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid:
High lifted vp were many loftie towres,
And goodly galleries farre ouer laid,
Full of faire windowes, and delightfull bowres;
And on the top a Diall told the timely howres.
It was a goodly heape for to behould, v
And spake the praises of the workmans wit;
But full great pittie, that so faire a mould
Did on so weake foundation euer sit:
For on a sandie hill, that still did flit,
And fall away, it mounted was full hie,
That euery breath of heauen shaked it:
And all the hinder parts, that few could spie,
Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly.
Arriued there they passed in forth right; vi
For still to all the gates stood open wide,
Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight
Cald _Maluenù_, who entrance none denide:
Thence to the hall, which was on euery side
With rich array and costly arras dight:
Infinite sorts of people did abide
There waiting long, to win the wished sight
Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright.
By them they passe, all gazing on them round, vii
And to the Presence mount; whose glorious vew
Their frayle amazed senses did confound:
In liuing Princes court none euer knew
Such endlesse richesse, and so sumptuous[135] shew;
Ne _Persia_ selfe, the nourse of pompous pride
Like euer saw. And there a noble crew
Of Lordes and Ladies stood on euery side,
Which with their presence faire, the place much beautifide.
High aboue all a cloth of State was spred, viii
And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day,
On which there sate most braue embellished
With royall robes and gorgeous array,
A mayden Queene, that shone as _Titans_ ray,
In glistring gold, and peerelesse pretious stone:
Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay
To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne,
As enuying her selfe, that too exceeding shone.
Exceeding shone, like _Phœbus_ fairest childe, ix
That did presume his fathers firie wayne,
And flaming mouthes of steedes vnwonted wilde
Through highest heauen with weaker hand to rayne;
Proud of such glory and aduancement vaine,
While flashing beames do daze his feeble eyen,
He leaues the welkin way most beaten plaine,
And rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen,
With fire not made to burne, but fairely for to shyne.
So proud she shyned in her Princely state, x
Looking to heauen; for earth she did disdayne,
And sitting high; for lowly she did hate:
Lo vnderneath her scornefull feete, was layne
A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne,
And in her hand she held a mirrhour bright,
Wherein her face she often vewed fayne,
And in her selfe-lou’d semblance tooke delight;
For she was wondrous faire, as any liuing wight.
Of griesly _Pluto_ she the daughter was, xi
And sad _Proserpina_ the Queene of hell;
Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth[136] to pas
That parentage, with pride so did she swell,
And thundring _Ioue_, that high in heauen doth dwell,
And wield the world, she claymed for her syre,
Or if that any else did _Ioue_ excell:
For to the highest she did still aspyre,
Or if ought higher were then that, did it desyre.
And proud _Lucifera_ men did her call, xii
That made her selfe a[137] Queene, and crownd to be,
Yet rightfull kingdome she had none at all,
Ne heritage of natiue soueraintie,
But did vsurpe with wrong and tyrannie
Vpon the scepter, which she now did hold:
Ne ruld her Realmes[138] with lawes, but pollicie,
And strong aduizement of six wisards old,
That with their counsels bad her kingdome did vphold.
Soone as the Elfin[139] knight in presence came, xiii
And false _Duessa_ seeming Lady faire,
A gentle Husher, _Vanitie_ by name
Made rowme, and passage for them did prepaire:
So goodly brought them to the lowest staire
Of her high throne, where they on humble knee
Making obeyssance[140], did the cause declare,
Why they were come, her royall state to see,
To proue the wide report of her great Maiestee.
With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so low, xiv
She thanked them in her disdainefull wise,
Ne other grace vouchsafed them to show
Of Princesse worthy, scarse them bad arise.
Her Lordes and Ladies all this while deuise
Themselues to setten forth to straungers sight:
Some frounce their curled haire in courtly guise,
Some prancke their ruffes, and others trimly dight
Their gay attire: each others greater pride does spight.
Goodly they all that knight do entertaine, xv
Right glad with him to haue increast their crew:
But to _Duess’_ each one himselfe did paine
All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew;
For in that court whylome her well they knew:
Yet the stout Faerie monist the middest crowd
Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew,
And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd,
That to strange knight no better countenance allowd.
Suddein vpriseth from her stately place xvi
The royall Dame, and for her coche doth call:
All hurtlen[141] forth, and she with Princely pace,
As faire _Aurora_ in her purple pall,
Out of the East the dawning day doth call:
So forth she comes: her brightnesse brode doth blaze;
The heapes of people thronging in the hall,
Do ride each other, vpon her to gaze:
Her glorious glitterand[142] light doth all mens eyes amaze.
So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme, xvii
Adorned all with gold, and girlonds gay,
That seemd as fresh as _Flora_ in her prime,
And stroue to match, in royall rich array,
Great _Iunoes_ golden chaire, the which they say
The Gods stand gazing on, when she does ride
To _Ioues_ high house through heauens bras-paued way
Drawne of faire Pecocks, that excell in pride,
And full of _Argus_ eyes their tailes dispredden wide.
But this was drawne of six vnequall beasts, xviii
On which her six sage Counsellours did ryde,
Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts,
With like conditions to their kinds applyde:
Of which the first, that all the rest did guyde,
Was sluggish _Idlenesse_ the nourse of sin;
Vpon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde,
Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,
Like to an holy Monck, the seruice to begin.
And in his hand his Portesse still he bare, xix
That much was worne, but therein little red,
For of deuotion he had little care,
Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dayes ded;
Scarse could he once vphold his heauie hed,
To looken, whether it were night or day:
May seeme the wayne was very euill led,
When such an one had guiding of the way,
That knew not, whether right he went, or else astray.
From worldly cares himselfe he did esloyne, xx
And greatly shunned manly exercise,
From[143] euery worke he chalenged essoyne,
For contemplation sake: yet otherwise,
His life he led in lawlesse riotise;
By which he grew to grieuous malady;
For in his lustlesse limbs through euill guise
A shaking feuer raignd continually:
Such one was _Idlenesse_, first of this company.
And by his side rode loathsome _Gluttony_, xxi
Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne,
His belly was vp-blowne with luxury,
And eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne,
And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne,
With which he swallowd vp excessiue feast,
For want whereof poore people oft did pyne;
And all the way, most like a brutish beast,
He spued vp his gorge, that all did him deteast.
In greene vine leaues he was right fitly clad; xxii
For other clothes he could not weare for heat,
And on his head an yuie girland had,
From vnder which fast trickled downe the sweat:
Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat,
And in his hand did beare a bouzing can,
Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat
His dronken corse[144] he scarse vpholden can,
In shape and life more like a monster, then a man.
Vnfit he was for any worldly[145] thing, xxiii
And eke vnhable[146] once to stirre or go,
Not meet to be of counsell to a king,
Whose mind in meat and drinke was drowned so,
That from his friend he seldome[147] knew his fo:
Full of diseases was his carcas blew,
And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow:
Which by misdiet daily greater grew:
Such one was _Gluttony_, the second of that crew.
And next to him rode lustfull _Lechery_, xxiv
Vpon a bearded Goat, whose rugged haire,
And whally eyes (the signe of gelosy,)
Was like the person selfe, whom he did beare:
Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare,
Vnseemely man to please faire Ladies eye;
Yet he of Ladies oft was loued deare,
When fairer faces were bid standen by:
O who does know the bent of womens fantasy?
In a greene gowne he clothed was full faire, xxv
Which vnderneath did hide his filthinesse,
And in his hand a burning hart he bare,
Full of vaine follies, and new fanglenesse:
For he was false, and fraught with ficklenesse,
And learned had to loue with secret lookes,
And well could daunce, and sing with ruefulnesse,
And fortunes tell, and read in louing bookes,
And thousand other wayes, to bait his fleshly hookes.
Inconstant man, that loued all he saw, xxvi
And lusted after all, that he did loue,
Ne would his looser life be tide to law,
But ioyd weake wemens hearts to tempt[148] and proue
If from their loyall loues he might then moue;
Which lewdnesse fild him with reprochfull paine
Of that fowle euill, which all men reproue,
That rots the marrow, and consumes the braine:
Such one was _Lecherie_, the third of all this traine.
And greedy _Auarice_ by him did ride, xxvii
Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold;
Two iron coffers[149] hong on either side,
With precious mettall full, as they might hold,
And in his lap an heape of coine he told;
For of his wicked pelfe[150] his God he made,
And vnto hell him selfe for money sold;
Accursed vsurie was all his trade,
And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.
His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplast, xxviii
And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware,
Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast,
But both from backe and belly still did spare,
To fill his bags, and richesse to compare;
Yet chylde ne kinsman liuing had he none
To leaue them to; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne,
He led a wretched life vnto him selfe vnknowne.
Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffise, xxix
Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store,
Whose need had end, but no end couetise,
Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him pore,
Who had enough, yet wished euer more[151];
A vile disease, and eke in foote and hand
A grieuous gout tormented him full sore,
That well he could not touch, nor go, nor stand:
Such one was _Auarice_, the fourth[152] of this faire band.
And next to him malicious _Enuie_ rode, xxx
Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and still did chaw
Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode,
That all the poison ran about his chaw[153];
But inwardly he chawed his owne maw
At neighbours[154] wealth, that made him euer sad;
For death it was, when any good he saw,
And wept, that cause of weeping none he had,
But when he heard of harme, he wexed wondrous glad.
All in a kirtle of discolourd say xxxi
He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes;
And in his bosome secretly there lay
An hatefull Snake, the which his taile vptyes
In many folds, and mortall sting implyes.
Still as he rode, he gnasht his teeth, to see
Those heapes of gold with griple Couetyse,
And grudged at the great felicitie
Of proud _Lucifera_, and his owne companie.
He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds, xxxii
And him no lesse, that any like did vse,
And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds,
His almes for want of faith he doth accuse;
So euery good to bad he doth abuse:
And eke the verse of famous Poets witt
He does backebite, and spightfull poison spues
From leprous mouth on all, that euer writt:
Such one vile _Enuie_ was, that fifte[155] in row did sitt.
And him beside rides fierce reuenging _Wrath_, xxxiii
Vpon a Lion, loth for to be led;
And in his hand a burning brond he hath,
The which he brandisheth about his hed;
His eyes did hurle forth sparkles fiery red,
And stared sterne on all, that him beheld,
As ashes pale of hew and seeming ded;
And on his dagger still his hand he held,
Trembling through hasty rage, when choler in him sweld.
His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood, xxxiv
Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,
Through vnaduized rashnesse woxen wood;
For of his hands he had no gouernement,
Ne car’d for bloud in his auengement:
But when the furious fit was ouerpast,
His cruell facts he often would repent;
Yet wilfull man he neuer would forecast,
How many mischieues should ensue his heedlesse hast.
Full many mischiefes follow cruell _Wrath_; xxxv
Abhorred bloudshed, and tumultuous strife,
Vnmanly murder, and vnthrifty scath,
Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife,
And fretting griefe the enemy of life;
All these, and many euils moe haunt ire,
The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging rife,
The shaking Palsey, and Saint _Fraunces_ fire:
Such one was _Wrath_, the last of this vngodly tire.
And after all, vpon the wagon beame xxxvi
Rode _Sathan_[156], with a smarting whip in hand,
With which he forward lasht the laesie teme,
So oft as _Slowth_ still in the mire did stand.
Huge routs of people did about them band,
Showting for ioy, and still before their way
A foggy mist had couered all the land;
And vnderneath their feet, all scattered lay
Dead sculs and bones of men, whose life had gone astray.
So forth they marchen in this goodly sort, xxxvii
To take the solace of the open aire,
And in fresh flowring fields themselues to sport;
Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire,
The fowle _Duessa_, next vnto the chaire
Of proud _Lucifera_[157], as one of the traine:
But that good knight would not so nigh repaire,
Him selfe estraunging from their ioyaunce vaine,
Whose fellowship seemd far vnfit for warlike swaine.
So hauing solaced themselues a space xxxviii
With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed,
They backe returned to the Princely Place;
Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,
And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red
Was writ _Sans ioy_, they new arriued find:
Enflam’d with fury and fiers hardy-hed,
He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts vnkind,
And nourish bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.
Who when the shamed shield of slaine _Sans foy_ xxxix
He spide with that same Faery champions page,
Bewraying him, that did of late destroy
His eldest brother, burning all with rage
He to him leapt, and that same enuious gage
Of victors glory from him snatcht away:
But th’Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,
Disdaind to loose[158] the meed he wonne in fray,
And him rencountring[159] fierce, reskewd the noble pray.
Therewith they gan to hurtlen[160] greedily, xl
Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne,
And clash their shields, and shake their swords[161] on hy,
That with their sturre they troubled all the traine;
Till that great Queene vpon eternall paine
Of high displeasure, that ensewen might,
Commaunded them their fury to refraine,
And if that either to that shield had right,
In equall lists they should the morrow next it fight.
Ah dearest Dame, (quoth then the Paynim bold,) xli
Pardon the errour[162] of enraged wight,
Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold
Of reasons rule, to see this recreant[163] knight,
No knight, but treachour full of false despight
And shamefull treason, who through guile hath slayn
The prowest knight, that euer field did fight,
Euen stout _Sans foy_ (O who can then refrayn?)
Whose shield he beares renuerst[164], the more to heape disdayn.
And to augment the glorie of his guile, xlii
His dearest loue the faire _Fidessa_ loe
Is there possessed of the traytour vile,
Who reapes the haruest sowen by his foe,
Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe:
That brothers hand shall dearely well requight
So be, O Queene, you equall fauour showe.
Him litle answerd th’angry Elfin knight;
He neuer meant with words, but swords to plead his right.
But threw his gauntlet as a sacred pledge[165], xliii
His cause in combat the next day to try:
So been they parted both, with harts on edge[166],
To be aueng’d each on his enimy.
That night they pas in ioy and iollity,
Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall;
For Steward was excessiue _Gluttonie_,
That of his plenty poured forth to all;
Which doen, the Chamberlain _Slowth_ did to rest them call.
Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd xliv
Her coleblacke curtein ouer brightest skye,
The warlike youthes on dayntie couches layd,
Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye,
To muse on meanes of hoped victory.
But whenas _Morpheus_ had with leaden mace
Arrested all that courtly company,
Vp-rose _Duessa_ from her resting place,
And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace.
Whom broad awake she finds, in troublous fit, xlv
Forecasting, how his foe he might annoy,
And him amoues with speaches seeming fit:
Ah deare _Sans ioy_[167], next dearest to _Sans foy_,
Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new ioy[168],
Ioyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,
And greeu’d, to thinke how foe did him destroy,
That was the flowre of grace and cheualrye;
Lo his _Fidessa_ to thy secret faith I flye.
With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet, xlvi
And bad say on the secret[169] of her hart.
Then sighing soft, I learne that litle sweet
Oft tempred is (quoth she) with muchell smart:
For since my brest was launcht with louely dart
Of deare _Sansfoy_, I neuer ioyed howre,
But in eternall woes my weaker hart
Haue wasted, louing him with all my powre,
And for his sake haue felt full many an heauie stowre.
At last when perils all I weened past, xlvii
And hop’d to reape the crop of all my care,
Into new woes vnweeting I was cast,
By this false faytor, who vnworthy ware
His worthy shield, whom he with guilefull snare
Entrapped slew, and brought to shamefull graue.
Me silly maid away with him he bare,
And euer since hath kept in darksome caue,
For that I would not yeeld, that to _Sans-foy_ I gaue.
But since faire Sunne hath sperst that lowring clowd, xlviii
And to my loathed life now shewes some light,
Vnder your beames I will me safely shrowd,
From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight:
To you th’inheritance belongs by right
Of brothers prayse, to you eke longs his loue.
Let not his loue, let not his restlesse spright
Be vnreueng’d, that calles to you aboue
From wandring _Stygian_ shores, where it doth endlesse moue.
Thereto said he, Faire[170] Dame be nought dismaid xlix
For sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone:
Ne yet of present perill be affraid;
For needlesse feare did neuer vantage none,
And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.
Dead is _Sans-foy_, his vitall paines are past,
Though greeued ghost for vengeance deepe do grone:
He liues, that shall him pay his dewties last,
And guiltie Elfin bloud shall sacrifice in hast.
O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth shee) l
Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in field.
Why dame (quoth he) what oddes can euer bee,
Where both do fight alike, to win or yield?
Yea but (quoth she) he beares a charmed shield,
And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce,
Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.
Charmd or enchaunted (answerd he then ferce)
I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce.
But faire _Fidessa_, sithens fortunes guile, li
Or enimies powre hath now captiued you,
Returne from whence ye came, and rest a while
Till morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew,
And with _Sans-foyes_ dead dowry you endew.
Ay me, that is a double death (she said)
With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew:
Where euer yet I be, my secrete aid
Shall follow you. So passing forth she him obaid.
FOOTNOTES:
[134] iii 5 case] care _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[135] vii 5 sumpteous _1590_
[136] xi 3 wroth _1596_
[137] xii 2 a _om. 1596_
[138] 7 Realme _1590_
[139] xiii 1 Elfing _1596_
[140] 7 obeysaunce _1590_: obeisance _1609_
[141] xvi 3 hurtlen] hurlen _1609_
[142] 9 glitter and _1596_, _1609_
[143] xx 3 For _1596_, _1609_
[144] xxii 8 corse] course _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[145] xxiii 1 wordly _1590_
[146] 2 vnable _1609_
[147] 5 seeldome _1590_: sildom _1609_
[148] xxvi 4 tempt, _1590_
[149] xxvii 3 coffets _1590_
[150] 6 pelfe] pelpe _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[151] xxix 5 euermore _1609_
[152] 9 fourth] forth _1590_
[153] xxx 4 chaw] jaw _1609_
[154] 6 neibors _1590_
[155] xxxii 9 fifte] first _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[156] xxxvi 2 _Satan_ _1609_
[157] xxxvii 6 _Lucifer’_ _1590_
[158] xxxix 8 lose _1609_
[159] 9 re’ncountring _1609_
[160] xl 1 hurlen _1609_
[161] 3 swerds _1590_
[162] xli 2 error _1590_
[163] 4 recreaunt _1590_
[164] 9 re’nverst _1609_
[165] xliii 1 pledg _1590_
[166] 3 edg _1590_
[167] xlv 4 _Sans ioy_] _Sans foy_ _1590_
[168] 5 cause of new ioy, _1590_, _1596_: _corr. F. E._
[169] xlvi 2 secrete _1590_
[170] xlix 1 faire _1590 &c._
_Cant. V._
[Illustration:
_The faithfull knight in equall field
subdewes his faithlesse foe,
Whom false Duessa saues, and for
his cure to hell does goe._
]
The noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought, i
And is with child of glorious great intent,
Can neuer rest, vntill it forth haue brought
Th’eternall brood of glorie excellent:
Such restlesse passion did all night torment
The flaming corage of that Faery knight,
Deuizing, how that doughtie turnament
With greatest honour he atchieuen might;
Still did he[171] wake, and still did watch for dawning light.
At last the golden Orientall gate[172] ii
Of greatest heauen gan to open faire,
And Phœbus fresh, as bridegrome to his mate,
Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:
And hurld[173] his glistring beames through gloomy aire.
Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiu’d, streight way
He started vp, and did him selfe prepaire,
In sun-bright armes, and battailous array:
For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.
And forth he comes into the commune[174] hall, iii
Where earely waite him many a gazing eye,
To weet what end to straunger knights may fall.
There many Minstrales maken melody,
To driue away the dull melancholy,
And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord
Can tune their timely voyces cunningly,
And many Chroniclers, that can record
Old loues, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.
Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin, iv
In wouen maile all armed warily,
And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin
Does care for looke of liuing creatures eye.
They bring them wines of _Greece_ and _Araby_,
And daintie spices fetcht from furthest _Ynd_,
To kindle heat of corage priuily:
And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd
T’obserue the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.
At last forth comes that far renowmed Queene, v
With royall pomp and Princely maiestie;
She is ybrought vnto a paled greene,
And placed vnder stately canapee,
The warlike feates of both those knights to see.
On th’other side in all mens open vew
_Duessa_ placed is, and on a tree
_Sans-foy_ his shield is hangd with bloudy hew:
Both those the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.
A shrilling trompet sownded from on hye, vi
And vnto battaill bad them selues addresse:
Their shining shieldes about their wrestes[175] they tye,
And burning blades about their heads do blesse,
The instruments of wrath and heauinesse:
With greedy force each other doth assayle,
And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse
Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle;
The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake and fraile.
The Sarazin was stout, and wondrous strong, vii
And heaped blowes like yron hammers great:
For after bloud and vengeance he did long.
The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat:
And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat:
For all for prayse and honour he did fight.
Both stricken strike, and beaten both do beat,
That from their shields forth flyeth firie light,
And helmets hewen[176] deepe, shew marks of eithers might.
So th’one for wrong, the other striues for right: viii
As when a Gryfon seized of his pray,
A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight,
Through widest ayre making his ydle way,
That would his rightfull rauine rend away:
With hideous horrour both together smight,
And souce so sore, that they the heauens affray:
The wise Southsayer seeing so sad sight,
Th’amazed vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.
So th’one for wrong, the other striues for right, ix
And each to deadly shame would driue his foe:
The cruell steele so greedily doth bight
In tender flesh, that streames of bloud down flow,
With which the armes, that earst so bright did show[177],
Into a pure vermillion now are dyde:
Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow,
Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde,
That victory they dare not wish to either side.
At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye, x
His suddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre,
Vpon his brothers shield, which hong thereby:
Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,
And said, Ah wretched sonne of wofull syre,
Doest[178] thou sit wayling by black _Stygian_ lake,
Whilest here thy shield is hangd for victors hyre,
And sluggish german doest thy forces slake,
To after-send his foe, that him may ouertake?
Goe caytiue Elfe, him quickly ouertake, xi
And soone redeeme from his long wandring woe;
Goe guiltie ghost, to him my message make,
That I his shield haue quit from dying foe.
Therewith vpon his crest he stroke him so,
That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall;
End of the doubtfull battell[179] deemed tho
The lookers on, and lowd to him gan call
The false _Duessa_, Thine the shield, and I, and all.
Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake, xii
Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,
And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake,
The creeping deadly cold away did shake:
Tho mou’d with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,
Of all attonce he cast auengd to bee,
And with so’exceeding furie at him strake,
That forced him to stoupe[180] vpon his knee;
Had he not stouped so, he should haue clouen bee.
And to him said, Goe now proud Miscreant, xiii
Thy selfe thy message doe to german deare,
Alone he wandring thee too long doth want:
Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.
Therewith his heauie hand he high gan reare,
Him to haue slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd
Vpon him fell: he no where doth appeare,
But vanisht is. The Elfe him cals alowd,
But answer none receiues: the darknes him does shrowd.
In haste _Duessa_ from her place arose, xiv
And to him running said, O prowest knight,
That euer Ladie to her loue did chose,
Let now abate the terror[181] of your might,
And quench the flame of furious despight,
And bloudie vengeance; lo th’infernall powres
Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
Haue borne him hence to _Plutoes_ balefull bowres.
The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.
Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye xv
He sought all round about, his thirstie[182] blade
To bath[183] in bloud of faithlesse enemy;
Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:
He standes amazed, how he thence should fade.
At last the trumpets[184] Triumph sound on hie,
And running Heralds humble homage made,
Greeting him goodly with new victorie,
And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie.
Wherewith he goeth to that soueraine Queene, xvi
And falling her before on lowly knee,
To her makes present of his seruice seene:
Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,
Greatly aduauncing his gay cheualree.
So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,
Whom all the people follow with great glee,
Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,
That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heauen bright.
Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed: xvii
Where many skilfull leaches him abide,
To salue his hurts, that yet still freshly bled.
In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide,
And softly can[185] embalme on euery side.
And all the while, most heauenly melody
About the bed sweet musicke did diuide,
Him to beguile of griefe and agony:
And all the while _Duessa_ wept full bitterly.
As when a wearie traueller[186] that strayes xviii
By muddy shore of broad seuen-mouthed _Nile_,
Vnweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,
Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,
Which in false griefe hyding his harmefull guile,
Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares:
The foolish man, that pitties all this while
His mournefull plight, is swallowd vp vnwares,
Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.
So wept _Duessa_ vntill euentide, xix
That shyning lampes in _Ioues_ high house were light:
Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide,
But comes vnto the place, where th’Hethen knight
In slombring swownd[187] nigh voyd of vitall spright,
Lay couer’d with inchaunted cloud all day:
Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,
To wayle his woefull case she would not stay,
But to the easterne coast of heauen makes speedy way.
Where griesly _Night_, with visage deadly sad, xx
That _Phœbus_ chearefull face durst neuer vew,
And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad,
She findes forth comming from her darkesome mew,
Where she all day did hide her hated hew.
Before the dore her yron charet stood,
Alreadie harnessed for iourney new;
And coleblacke steedes yborne of hellish brood,
That on their rustie bits did champ, as they were wood.
Who when she saw _Duessa_ sunny bright, xxi
Adornd with gold and iewels shining cleare,
She greatly grew amazed at the sight,
And th’vnacquainted light began to feare:
For neuer did such brightnesse there appeare,
And would haue backe retyred to her caue,
Vntill the witches speech she gan to heare,
Saying, Yet[188] O thou dreaded Dame, I craue
Abide, till I haue told the message, which I haue.
She stayd, and foorth _Duessa_ gan proceede, xxii
O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,
More old then _Ioue_, whom thou at first didst breede,
Or that great house of Gods cælestiall,
Which wast begot in _Dæmogorgons_ hall,
And sawst the secrets of the world vnmade,
Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall
With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade?
Lo where the stout _Sansioy_ doth sleepe in deadly shade.
And him before, I saw with bitter eyes xxiii
The bold _Sansfoy_ shrinke vnderneath his speare;
And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,
Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,
That whylome was to me too dearely deare.
O what of Gods then boots it to be borne,
If old _Aveugles_ sonnes so euill heare?
Or who shall not great _Nightes_[189] children scorne,
When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne.
Vp then, vp dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene, xxiv
Go gather vp the reliques of thy race,
Or else goe them auenge, and let be seene,
That dreaded _Night_ in brightest day hath place,
And can the children of faire light deface.
Her feeling speeches some compassion moued
In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:
Yet pittie in her hart was neuer proued
Till then: for[190] euermore she hated, neuer loued.
And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew xxv
The fall of famous children borne of mee,
And good successes, which their foes ensew:
But who can turne the streame of destinee,
Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee,
Which fast is tyde to _Ioues_ eternall seat?
The sonnes of Day he fauoureth, I see,
And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:
To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.
Yet shall they not escape so freely all; xxvi
For some shall pay the price of others guilt:
And he the man that made _Sansfoy_ to fall,
Shall with his owne bloud price that he hath spilt.
But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?
I that do seeme not I, _Duessa_ am[191],
(Quoth she) how euer now in garments gilt,
And gorgeous gold arayd I to thee came;
_Duessa_ I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.
Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist xxvii
The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face
The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist
Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace
It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place
Could it discerne, though I the mother bee
Of falshood[192], and root of _Duessaes_ race.
O welcome child, whom I haue longd to see,
And now haue seene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.
Then to her yron wagon she betakes, xxviii
And with her beares the fowle welfauourd witch:
Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes.
Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,
And two were browne, yet each to each vnlich,
Did softly swim away, ne euer stampe,
Vnlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch;
Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,
And trampling the fine element, would fiercely rampe.
So well they sped, that they be come at length xxix
Vnto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,
Deuoid of outward sense, and natiue strength,
Couerd with charmed cloud from vew of day,
And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray.
His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congealed,
They binden vp so wisely, as they may,
And handle softly, till they can be healed:
So lay him in her charet, close in night concealed.
And all the while she stood vpon the ground, xxx
The wakefull dogs did neuer cease to bay,
As giuing warning of th’vnwonted sound,
With which her yron wheeles did them affray,
And her darke griesly looke them much dismay;
The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle
With drearie shriekes did also her bewray;
And hungry Wolues continually did howle,
At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.
Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole, xxxi
And brought the heauie corse with easie pace
To yawning gulfe of deepe _Auernus_ hole.
By that same hole an entrance darke and bace
With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place,
Descends to hell: there creature neuer past,
That backe returned without heauenly grace;
But dreadfull _Furies_, which their chaines haue brast,
And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men aghast.
By that same way the direfull dames doe driue xxxii
Their mournefull charet, fild with rusty blood,
And downe to _Plutoes_ house are come biliue:
Which passing through, on euery side them stood
The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,
Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide
With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood
Of feends infernall flockt on euery side,
To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.
They pas the bitter waues of _Acheron_, xxxiii
Where many soules sit wailing woefully,
And come to fiery flood of _Phlegeton_,
Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry,
And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry,
Cursing high _Ioue_, the which them thither sent.
The house of endlesse paine is built thereby,
In which ten thousand sorts of punishment
The cursed creatures doe eternally torment.
Before the threshold dreadfull _Cerberus_ xxxiv
His three deformed heads did lay along,
Curled with thousand adders venemous,
And lilled forth his bloudie flaming tong:
At them he gan to reare his bristles strong,
And felly gnarre, vntill dayes enemy
Did him appease; then downe his taile he hong
And suffered them to passen quietly:
For she in hell and heauen had power equally.
There was _Ixion_ turned on a wheele, xxxv
For daring tempt the Queene of heauen to sin;
And _Sisyphus_ an huge round stone did reele
Against an hill, ne might from labour lin;
There thirstie _Tantalus_ hong by the chin;
And _Tityus_ fed a vulture on his maw;
_Typhœus_ ioynts were stretched on a gin,
_Theseus_ condemned to endlesse slouth by law,
And fifty sisters water in leake[193] vessels draw.
They all beholding worldly wights in place, xxxvi
Leaue off their worke, vnmindfull of their smart,
To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace,
Till they be come vnto the furthest part:
Where was a Caue ywrought by wondrous art,
Deepe, darke, vneasie, dolefull, comfortlesse,
In which sad _Æsculapius_ farre a part[194]
Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse,
For that _Hippolytus_ rent corse he did redresse.
_Hippolytus_ a iolly huntsman was, xxxvii
That wont in charet chace the foming Bore;
He all his Peeres in beautie did surpas,
But Ladies loue as losse of time forbore:
His wanton stepdame loued him the more,
But when she saw her offred sweets refused
Her loue she turnd to hate, and him before
His father fierce of treason false accused,
And with her gealous termes his open eares abused.
Who all in rage his Sea-god syre besought, xxxviii
Some cursed vengeance on his sonne to cast:
From surging gulf two monsters straight were brought,
With dread whereof his chasing steedes aghast,
Both charet swift and huntsman ouercast.
His goodly corps on ragged cliffs[195] yrent,
Was quite dismembred, and his members chast
Scattered on euery mountaine, as he went,
That of _Hippolytus_ was left no moniment.
His cruell stepdame seeing what was donne, xxxix
Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end,
In death auowing th’innocence of her sonne.
Which hearing his rash Syre, began to rend
His haire, and hastie tongue, that did offend:
Tho gathering vp the relicks[196] of his smart
By _Dianes_ meanes, who was _Hippolyts_ frend,
Them brought to _Æsculape_, that by his art
Did heale them all againe, and ioyned euery part.
Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine xl
When _Ioue_ auizd, that could the dead reuiue,
And fates expired could renew againe,
Of endlesse life he might him not depriue,
But vnto hell did thrust him downe aliue,
With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore:
Where long remaining, he did alwaies striue
Himselfe with salues to health for to restore,
And slake the heauenly fire[197], that raged euermore.
There auncient Night arriuing, did alight xli
From her nigh[198] wearie waine, and in her armes
To _Æsculapius_ brought the wounded knight:
Whom hauing softly disarayd of armes,
Tho gan to him discouer all his harmes,
Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,
If either salues, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes
A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise,
He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.
Ah Dame (quoth he) thou temptest me in vaine, xlii
To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew,
And the old cause of my continued paine
With like attempt to like end to renew.
Is not enough, that thrust from heauen dew
Here endlesse penance for one fault I pay,
But that redoubled crime with vengeance new
Thou biddest me to eeke? Can Night defray
The wrath of thundring _Ioue_, that rules both night and day?