From hope of heauen hath thee excluded quight,
Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing,
And fearest not, that more thee hurten might,
Now in the powre of euerlasting Night?
Goe to then, O thou farre renowmed[199] sonne
Of great _Apollo_, shew thy famous might
In medicine, that else hath to thee wonne
Great paines, and greater praise, both neuer to be donne.
Her words preuaild: And then the learned leach xliv
His cunning hand gan to his wounds[200] to lay,
And all things else, the which his art did teach:
Which hauing seene, from thence arose away
The mother of dread darknesse, and let stay
_Aueugles_ sonne there in the leaches cure,
And backe returning tooke her wonted way,
To runne her timely race, whilst _Phœbus_ pure
In westerne waues his wearie wagon did recure.
The false _Duessa_ leauing noyous Night, xlv
Returnd to stately pallace of dame Pride;
Where when she came, she found the Faery knight
Departed thence, albe his woundes[201] wide
Not throughly heald, vnreadie were to ride.
Good cause he had to hasten thence away;
For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spide,
Where in a dongeon[202] deepe huge numbers[203] lay
Of caytiue wretched thrals, that wayled night and day.
A ruefull sight, as could be seene with eie; xlvi
Of whom he learned had in secret wise
The hidden cause of their captiuitie,
How mortgaging their liues to _Couetise_,
Through wastfull Pride, and wanton Riotise,
They were by law of that proud Tyrannesse
Prouokt with _Wrath_, and _Enuies_ false surmise,
Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse,
Where they should liue in woe, and die in wretchednesse.
There was that great proud king of _Babylon_, xlvii
That would compell all nations to adore,
And him as onely God to call vpon,
Till through celestiall doome throwne out of dore,
Into an Oxe he was transform’d of yore:
There also was king _Crœsus_, that enhaunst
His heart too high through his great riches store;
And proud _Antiochus_, the which aduaunst
His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altars[204] daunst.
And them long time before, great _Nimrod_ was, xlviii
That first the world with sword and fire warrayd;
And after him old _Ninus_ farre did pas
In princely pompe, of all the world obayd;
There also was that mightie Monarch layd
Low vnder all, yet aboue all in pride,
That name of natiue syre did fowle vpbrayd,
And would as _Ammons_ sonne be magnifide,
Till scornd of God and man a shamefull death he dide.
All these together in one heape were throwne, xlix
Like carkases of beasts in butchers stall.
And in another corner wide were strowne
The antique ruines of the _Romaines_ fall:
Great _Romulus_ the Grandsyre of them all,
Proud _Tarquin_, and too lordly _Lentulus_,
Stout _Scipio_, and stubborne _Hanniball_,
Ambitious _Sylla_, and sterne _Marius_,
High _Cæsar_, great _Pompey_, and fierce _Antonius_.
Amongst these mighty men were wemen mixt, l
Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:
The bold _Semiramis_, whose sides transfixt
With sonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches spoke;
Faire _Sthenobœa_, that her selfe did choke
With wilfull cord[205], for wanting of her will;
High minded _Cleopatra_, that with stroke
Of Aspes sting her selfe did stoutly kill:
And thousands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.
Besides the endlesse routs of wretched thralles, li
Which thither were assembled day by day,
From all the world after their wofull falles,
Through wicked pride, and wasted wealthes decay.
But most of all, which in that[206] Dongeon lay
Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,
Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play,
Consumed had their goods, and thriftlesse howres,
And lastly throwne themselues into these heauy stowres.
Whose case when as the carefull Dwarfe had tould, lii
And made ensample of their mournefull sight
Vnto his maister, he no lenger would
There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,
But early rose, and ere that dawning light
Discouered had the world to heauen wyde,
He by a priuie Posterne tooke his flight,
That of no enuious eyes he mote be spyde:
For doubtlesse death ensewd, if any him descryde.
Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way, liii
For many corses, like a great Lay-stall
Of murdred men which therein strowed lay,
Without remorse, or decent funerall:
Which all through that great Princesse pride did fall
And came to shamefull end. And them beside
Forth ryding vnderneath the castell wall,
A donghill of dead carkases he spide,
The dreadfull spectacle of that sad house of _Pride_.
FOOTNOTES:
[171] i 9 he _om. 1596_
[172] ii 1 gate, _1590_, _1596_
[173] 5 hurld] hurls _1590_, _1596_: hurles _1609_: _corr. F. E._
[174] iii 1 common _1609_
[175] vi 3 wrists _1609_
[176] vii 9 hewen helmets _1590_
[177] ix 5 show _1590_, _1596_: showe _1609_
[178] x 6 Doost _1609 passim_
[179] xi 7 battaile _1590 passim_
[180] xii 8 stoope _1609_
[181] xiv 4 terrour _1590_
[182] xv 2 thristy _1590_
[183] 3 bathe _1590_, _1609_
[184] 6 trumpets, _1596_, _1609_
[185] xvii 5 can] gan _1590_
[186] xviii 1 traueiler _1590_
[187] xix 5 swoune _1609_
[188] xxi 8 yet _1590 &c._
[189] xxiii 8 _Nightes_] _Nights_ drad _1609_
[190] xxiv 9 for] and _1596_, _1609_
[191] xxvi 6 ame _1590_
[192] xxvii 7 fashood _1590_
[193] xxxv 9 leake] lete _1590_: leke _F. E._
[194] xxxvi 7 apart _1590_, _1609_
[195] xxxviii 6 clifts _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[196] xxxix 6 reliques _1609_
[197] xl 9 fire] sire _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[198] xli 2 nigh] high _1596_, _1609_
[199] xliii 6 renouned _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[200] xliv 2 woundez _1609_
[201] xlv 4 woundez _1609_
[202] xlv 8 dungeon _1590_, _1609_
[203] nombers _1590_
[204] xlvii 9 altares _1590_
[205] l 6 chord _1590_
[206] li 5 that] the _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
_Cant. VI._
[Illustration:
_From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace
fayre Vna is releast:
Whom saluage nation does adore,
and learnes her wise beheast._
]
As when a ship, that flyes faire vnder saile, i
An hidden rocke escaped hath vnwares,
That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,
The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares
At perill past, and yet in[207] doubt ne dares
To ioy at his foole-happie ouersight:
So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares
The dreadlesse courage[208] of this Elfin knight,
Hauing escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.
Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed ii
The faire _Duess’_ had forst him leaue behind;
And yet more sad, that _Vna_ his deare dreed
Her truth had staind with treason so vnkind;
Yet crime in her could neuer creature find,
But for his loue, and for her owne selfe sake,
She wandred had from one to other _Ynd_,
Him for to seeke, ne euer would forsake,
Till her vnwares the fierce _Sansloy_ did ouertake.
Who after _Archimagoes_ fowle defeat, iii
Led her away into a forrest wilde,
And turning wrathfull fire to lustfull heat,
With beastly sin thought her to haue defilde,
And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.
Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes,
Her to perswade, that stubborne fort to yilde:
For greater conquest of hard loue he gaynes,
That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines.
With fawning wordes he courted her a while, iv
And looking louely, and oft sighing sore,
Her constant hart did tempt with diuerse guile:
But wordes,[209] and lookes, and sighes she did abhore,
As rocke of Diamond stedfast euermore.
Yet for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye,
He snatcht the vele, that hong her face before;
Then gan her beautie shine, as brightest skye,
And burnt his beastly hart t’efforce her chastitye.
So when he saw his flatt’ring arts to fayle, v
And subtile engines bet from batteree,
With greedy force he gan the fort assayle,
Whereof he weend possessed soone to bee,
And win[210] rich spoile of ransackt chastetee.
Ah heauens, that do this hideous act behold,
And heauenly virgin thus outraged see,
How can ye vengeance iust so long withhold,
And hurle not flashing flames vpon that Paynim bold?
The pitteous maiden carefull comfortlesse, vi
Does throw out thrilling shriekes, and shrieking cryes,
The last vaine helpe of womens great distresse,
And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes,
That molten starres do drop like weeping eyes;
And _Phœbus_ flying so most shamefull sight,
His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes,
And hides for shame. What wit of mortall wight
Can now deuise to quit a thrall from such a plight?
Eternall prouidence exceeding thought, vii
Where none appeares can make her selfe a way:
A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought,
From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray.
Her shrill outcryes and shriekes so loud did bray,
That all the woodes and forestes did resownd;
A troupe of _Faunes_ and _Satyres_ far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,
Whiles old _Syluanus_ slept in shady arber sownd.
Who when they heard that pitteous strained voice, viii
In hast forsooke their rurall meriment,
And ran towards the far rebownded noyce,
To weet, what wight so loudly did lament.
Vnto the place they come incontinent:
Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,
A rude, misshapen[211], monstrous rablement,
Whose like he neuer saw, he durst not bide,
But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride.
The wyld woodgods arriued in the place, ix
There find the virgin dolefull[212] desolate,
With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face,
As her outrageous foe had left her late,
And trembling yet through feare of former hate;
All stand amazed at so vncouth sight,
And gin to pittie her vnhappie state,
All stand astonied at her beautie bright,
In their rude eyes vnworthie of so wofull plight.
She more amaz’d, in double dread doth dwell; x
And euery tender part for feare does shake:
As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger[213] fell
A seely Lambe farre from the flocke does take,
Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make,
A Lyon spyes fast running towards him,
The innocent pray in hast he does forsake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in euery lim
With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim.
Such fearefull fit assaid her trembling hart, xi
Ne word to speake, ne ioynt to moue she had:
The saluage nation feele her secret smart,
And read her sorrow in her count’nance sad;
Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad,
And rusticke horror all a side doe lay,
And gently grenning, shew a semblance glad
To comfort her, and feare to put away,
Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay.
The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit xii
Her single person to their barbarous truth,
But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit,
Late learnd what harme to hastie trust ensu’th,
They in compassion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beautie soueraine,
Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,
And all prostrate vpon the lowly plaine,
Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count’nance faine.
Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise, xiii
And yieldes her to extremitie of time;
So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,
And walketh forth without suspect of crime:
They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme,
And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,
Do worship her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround.
And all the way their merry pipes they sound, xiv
That all the woods with doubled[214] Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet do weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.
So towards old _Syluanus_ they her bring;
Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out,
To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning,
And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout,
And with an yuie twyne his wast[215] is girt about.
Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad, xv
Or[216] _Bacchus_ merry fruit they did inuent,
Or _Cybeles_ franticke rites haue made them mad;
They drawing nigh, vnto their God present
That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.
The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;
His owne faire _Dryope_ now he thinkes not faire,
And _Pholoe_ fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.
The woodborne people fall before her flat, xvi
And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;
And old _Syluanus_ selfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;
Sometimes Dame _Venus_ selfe he seemes to see,
But _Venus_ neuer had so sober mood;
Sometimes _Diana_ he her takes to bee,
But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.
By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue xvii
His ancient loue, and dearest _Cyparisse_,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy
Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;
For griefe whereof the lad n’ould after ioy,
But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.
The wooddy Nymphes, faire _Hamadryades_ xviii
Her to behold do thither runne apace,
And all the troupe of light-foot _Naiades_,
Flocke all about to see her louely face:
But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,
They enuie her in their malitious mind,
And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace:
But all the _Satyres_ scorne their woody kind,
And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.
Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid, xix
Did her content to please their feeble eyes,
And long time with that saluage people staid,
To gather breath in many miseries.
During which time her gentle wit she plyes,
To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,
And made her th’Image of Idolatryes;
But when their bootlesse zeale she did restraine
From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.
It fortuned a noble warlike knight xx
By iust occasion to that forrest came,
To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,
From whence he tooke his well deserued name:
He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,
And fild far landes with glorie of his might,
Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame,
And euer lou’d to fight for Ladies right,
But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight.
A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld, xxi
By straunge aduenture as it did betyde,
And there begotten of a Lady myld,
Faire _Thyamis_ the daughter of _Labryde_,
That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde
To _Therion_, a loose vnruly swayne;
Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde,
And chase the saluage beast with busie payne,
Then serue his Ladies loue, and wast in pleasures vayne.
The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne, xxii
And could not lacke her louers company,
But to the wood she goes, to serue her turne,
And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly,
And followes other game and venery:
A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,
And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,
The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,
And made her person thrall vnto his beastly kind.
So long in secret cabin there he held xxiii
Her captiue to his sensuall desire,
Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld,
And bore a boy vnto that saluage sire:
Then home he suffred her for to retire,
For ransome leauing him the late borne childe;
Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,
He noursled[217] vp in life and manners wilde,
Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.
For all he taught the tender ymp, was but xxiv
To banish cowardize and bastard feare;
His trembling hand he would him force to put
Vpon the Lyon and the rugged Beare,
And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare;
And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make
To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;
And the Robuckes in flight to ouertake,
That euery beast for feare of him did fly and quake.
Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell he grew, xxv
That his owne sire and maister of his guise
Did often tremble at his horrid vew,
And oft for dread of hurt would him aduise,
The angry beasts not rashly to despise,
Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne
The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,
(A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne
Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.
And for to make his powre approued more, xxvi
Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell;
The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore,
The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell;
The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell[218];
And them constraine in equall teme to draw.
Such ioy he had, their stubborne harts to quell,
And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,
That his beheast they feared, as a[219] tyrans law.
His louing mother came vpon a day xxvii
Vnto the woods, to see her little sonne;
And chaunst vnwares to meet him in the way,
After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne,
When after him a Lyonesse did runne,
That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere
Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:
The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,
And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.
The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight, xxviii
And turning backe, gan fast to fly away,
Vntill with loue reuokt from vaine affright,
She hardly yet perswaded was to stay,
And then to him these womanish words gan say;
Ah _Satyrane_, my dearling, and my ioy,
For loue of me leaue off this dreadfull play;
To dally thus with death, is no fit toy,
Go find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.
In these and like delights of bloudy game xxix
He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,
And there abode, whilst any beast of name
Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught
To feare his force: and then his courage haught
Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne,
And far abroad for straunge aduentures sought:
In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,
But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.
Yet euermore it was his manner faire, xxx
After long labours and aduentures spent,
Vnto those natiue woods for to repaire,
To see his sire and ofspring auncient.
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he vnwares the fairest _Vna_ found,
Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment,
Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.
He wondred at her wisedome heauenly rare, xxxi
Whose like in womens wit he neuer knew;
And when her curteous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,
Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,
And ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie
On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.
But she all vowd vnto the _Redcrosse_ knight, xxxii
His wandring perill closely did lament,
Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,
But her deare heart with anguish did torment,
And all her wit in secret counsels spent,
How to escape. At last in priuie wise
To _Satyrane_ she shewed her intent;
Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,
How with that pensiue Maid he best might thence arise.
So on a day when Satyres all were gone, xxxiii
To do their seruice to _Syluanus_ old,
The gentle virgin left behind alone
He led away with courage stout and bold.
Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,
Or euer hope recouer her againe:
In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.
So fast he carried her with carefull paine,
That they the woods[220] are past, and come now to the plaine.
The better part now of the lingring day, xxxiv
They traueild had, when as they farre espide
A wearie wight forwandring by the way,
And towards him they gan in hast to ride,
To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,
Or tydings of her knight of the _Redcrosse_.
But he them spying, gan to turne aside,
For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse;
More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.
A silly man, in simple weedes forworne, xxxv
And soild with dust of the long dried way;
His sandales were with toilesome trauell torne,
And face all tand with scorching sunny ray,
As he had traueild many a sommers day,
Through boyling sands of _Arabie_ and _Ynde_;
And in his hand a _Iacobs_ staffe, to stay
His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,
His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.
The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd xxxvi
Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;
But warres, nor new aduentures none he herd.
Then _Vna_ gan to aske, if ought he knew,
Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,
That in his armour bare a croslet red.
Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew
To tell the sad sight, which mine eies haue red:
These eyes did see that knight both liuing and eke ded.
That cruell word her tender hart so thrild, xxxvii
That suddein cold did runne[221] through euery vaine,
And stony horrour all her sences fild
With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine.
The knight her lightly reared vp againe,
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:
Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine
The further processe of her hidden griefe;
The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur’d the chiefe.
Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day, xxxviii
This fatall day, that shall I euer rew,
To see two knights in trauell on my way
(A sory sight) arraung’d in battell new,
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:
My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife,
To see their blades so greedily imbrew,
That drunke[222] with bloud, yet thristed[223] after life:
What more? the _Redcrosse_ knight was slaine with Paynim knife.
Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee, xxxix
And he the stoutest knight, that euer wonne?
Ah dearest dame (quoth he) how might I see
The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?
Where is (said _Satyrane_) that Paynims sonne,
That him of life, and vs of ioy hath reft?
Not far away (quoth he[224]) he hence doth wonne
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were cleft.
Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast, xl
Whiles _Vna_ with huge heauinesse opprest,
Could not for sorrow follow him so fast;
And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,
Whereas that _Pagan_ proud him selfe did rest,
In secret shadow by a fountaine side:
Euen he it was, that earst would haue supprest
Faire _Vna_: whom when _Satyrane_ espide,
With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.
And said, Arise thou cursed Miscreaunt, xli
That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train
Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the _Redcrosse_ to haue slain:
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield.
The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,
And catching vp in hast his three square shield,
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.
And drawing nigh him said, Ah misborne Elfe, xlii
In euill houre thy foes thee hither sent,
Anothers wrongs to wreake vpon thy selfe:
Yet ill thou blamest me, for hauing blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent;
That _Redcrosse_ knight, perdie, I neuer slew,
But had he beene, where earst his armes were lent,
Th’enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:
But thou his errour shalt, I hope now prouen trew.
Therewith they gan, both furious and fell, xliii
To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile
Each other bent his enimy to quell,
That with their force they perst both plate and maile,
And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,
That it would pitty any liuing eie.
Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile;
But floods of bloud could not them satisfie:
Both hungred[225] after death: both chose to win, or die.
So long they fight, and fell[226] reuenge pursue, xliv
That fainting each, themselues to breathen let,
And oft refreshed, battell oft renue:
As when two Bores with rancling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,
Til breathlesse both them selues aside retire,
Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,
And trample th’earth, the whiles they may respire;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.
So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once, xlv
They gan to fight returne, increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce,
With heaped strokes more hugely, then before,
That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore
They both deformed, scarsely could be known.
By this sad _Vna_ fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown,[227]
Arriu’d, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown.
Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin xlvi
Espide, he gan reuiue the memory
Of his lewd lusts, and late attempted sin,
And left the doubtfull battell hastily,
To catch her, newly offred to his eie:
But _Satyrane_ with strokes him turning, staid,
And sternely bad him other businesse plie,
Then hunt the steps of pure vnspotted Maid:
Wherewith he all enrag’d, these bitter speaches said.
O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad xlvii
Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate[228]?
Were it not better, I that Lady had,
Then that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate,
To loue another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy louers token on thy pate.
So they to[229] fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.
But that false _Pilgrim_, which that leasing told, xlviii
Being in deed old _Archimage_, did stay
In secret shadow, all this to behold,
And much reioyced in their bloudy fray:
But when he saw the Damsell passe away
He left his stond, and her pursewd apace,
In hope to bring her to her last decay.
But for to tell her lamentable cace,
And eke this battels end, will need another place.
FOOTNOTES:
[207] i 5 in] it _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[208] 8 corage _1590_
[209] iv 4 wordes _1596_
[210] v 5 win] with _1596_, _1609_
[211] viii 7 mishappen _1590_: mishapen _1596_
[212] ix 2 doolfull _1590_
[213] x 3 honger _1590_
[214] xiv 2 double _1609_
[215] 9 waste _1590_, _1609_
[216] xv 2 Or] Of _1596_, _1609_: If _conj. Hughes_
[217] xxiii 8 nousled _1590_
[218] xxvi 5 fierce and fell] swifte and cruell _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[219] 9 a _om. 1596_: proud _1609_
[220] xxxiii 9 woods] wods _1590_
[221] xxxvii 2 ronne _1590_
[222] xxxviii 8 dronke _1590_
[223] thirsted _1609_
[224] xxxix 7 quoth he] qd. she _1590_
[225] xliii 9 hongred _1590_
[226] xliv 1 fell] full _1590_
[227] xlv 8 thrown: _1590_, _1596_
[228] xlvii 2 fete _1596_
[229] 8 to] two _1596_, _1609_
_Cant. VII._
[Illustration:
_The Redcrosse knight is captiue made
By Gyaunt proud opprest,
Prince Arthur meets with Vna greatly
with those newes distrest._
]
What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware, i
As to descry the crafty cunning traine,
By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,
And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine,
To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,[230]
The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?
Great maistresse of her art was that false Dame,
The false _Duessa_, cloked with _Fidessaes_ name.
Who when returning from the drery _Night_, ii
She fownd not in that perilous house of _Pryde_,
Where she had left, the noble _Redcrosse_ knight,
Her hoped pray,[231] she would no lenger bide,
But forth she went, to seeke him far and wide.
Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie sate,
To rest him selfe, foreby a fountaine side,
Disarmed all of yron-coted Plate,
And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.
He feedes vpon the cooling shade, and bayes iii
His sweatie forehead in the breathing wind,
Which through the trembling leaues full gently playes
Wherein the cherefull birds of sundry kind
Do chaunt sweet musick, to delight his mind:
The Witch approching gan him fairely greet,
And with reproch of carelesnesse vnkind
Vpbrayd, for leauing her in place vnmeet,
With fowle words tempring faire, soure gall with hony sweet.
Vnkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat, iv
And bathe in pleasaunce of the ioyous shade,
Which shielded them against the boyling heat,
And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade,
About the fountaine like a girlond made;
Whose bubbling waue did euer freshly well,
Ne euer would through feruent sommer fade:
The sacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of _Dianes_ fauour, as it then befell.
The cause was this: one day when _Phœbe_ fayre v
With all her band was following the chace,
This Nymph, quite tyr’d with heat of scorching ayre
Sat downe to rest in middest of the race:
The goddesse wroth gan fowly her[232] disgrace,
And bad the waters, which from her did flow,
Be such as she her selfe was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters waxed[233] dull and slow,
And all that drunke thereof, did[234] faint and feeble grow.
Hereof this gentle knight vnweeting was, vi
And lying downe vpon the sandie graile,
Drunke of the streame, as cleare as cristall glas;[235]
Eftsoones his manly forces gan to faile,
And mightie strong was turnd to feeble fraile.
His chaunged powres at first them selues not felt,
Till crudled cold his corage gan assaile,
And chearefull bloud in faintnesse chill did melt,
Which like a feuer fit through all his body swelt.
Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame, vii
Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,
Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,
Which through the wood loud bellowing, did rebownd,
That all the earth for terrour seemd to shake,
And trees did tremble. Th’Elfe therewith astownd,
Vpstarted lightly from his looser make,
And his vnready weapons gan in hand to take.
But ere he could his armour on him dight, viii
Or get his shield, his monstrous enimy
With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight,
An hideous Geant horrible and hye,
That with his talnesse seemd to threat the skye,
The ground eke groned vnder him for dreed;
His liuing like saw neuer liuing eye,
Ne durst behold: his stature did exceed
The hight of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed.
The greatest Earth his vncouth mother was, ix
And blustring _Æolus_ his boasted sire,
Who with his breath, which through the world doth pas,
Her hollow womb did secretly inspire,
And fild her hidden caues with stormie yre,
That she conceiu’d; and trebling the dew time,
In which the wombes of women[236] do expire,
Brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime,
Puft vp with emptie wind, and fild with sinfull crime.
So growen great through arrogant delight x
Of th’high descent, whereof he was yborne,
And through presumption of his matchlesse might,
All other powres and knighthood he did scorne.
Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne,
And left to losse: his stalking steps are stayde
Vpon a snaggy Oke, which he had torne
Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made
His mortall mace, wherewith his foemen he dismayde.
That when the knight he spide, he gan aduance xi
With huge force and insupportable mayne,
And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;
Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse,[237] all in vaine
Did to him pace, sad battaile to darrayne,
Disarmd, disgrast, and inwardly dismayde,
And eke so faint in euery ioynt and vaine,
Through that fraile fountaine, which him feeble made,
That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse single blade.
The Geaunt strooke so maynly mercilesse, xii
That could haue ouerthrowne a stony towre,
And were not heauenly grace, that him did blesse,
He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre:
But he was wary of that deadly stowre,
And lightly lept from vnderneath the blow:
Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre,
That with the wind it did him ouerthrow,
And all his sences stound[238], that still he lay full low.
As when that diuelish yron Engin wrought xiii
In deepest Hell, and framd by _Furies_ skill,
With windy Nitre and quick Sulphur fraught,
And ramd with bullet[239] round, ordaind to kill,
Conceiueth fire, the heauens it doth fill
With thundring noyse, and all the ayre doth choke,
That none can breath, nor see, nor heare at will,
Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke[240],
That th’onely breath him daunts, who hath escapt the stroke.
So daunted when the Geaunt saw the knight,[241] xiv
His heauie hand he heaued vp on hye,
And him to dust thought to haue battred quight,
Vntill _Duessa_ loud to him gan crye;
O great _Orgoglio_, greatest vnder skye,
O hold thy mortall hand for Ladies sake,
Hold for my sake, and do him not to dye,
But vanquisht thine eternall bondslaue make,
And me thy worthy meed vnto thy Leman take.
He hearkned, and did stay from further harmes, xv
To gayne so goodly guerdon, as she spake:
So willingly she came into his armes,
Who her as willingly to grace did take,
And was possessed of his new found make.
Then vp he tooke the slombred sencelesse corse,
And ere he could out of his swowne awake,
Him to his castle brought with hastie forse,
And in a Dongeon deepe him threw without remorse.
From that day forth _Duessa_ was his deare, xvi
And highly honourd in his haughtie eye,
He gaue her gold and purple pall to weare,
And triple crowne set on her head full hye,
And her endowd with royall maiestye:
Then for to make her dreaded more of men,
And peoples harts with awfull terrour tye,
A monstrous beast ybred in filthy fen
He chose, which he had kept long time in darksome den.
Such one it was, as that renowmed Snake xvii
Which great _Alcides_ in _Stremona_ slew,
Long fostred in the filth of _Lerna_ lake,
Whose many heads out budding euer new,
Did breed him endlesse labour to subdew:
But this same Monster much more vgly was;
For seuen great heads out of his body grew,
An yron brest, and backe of scaly bras,
And all embrewd in bloud, his eyes did shine as glas.
His tayle was stretched out in wondrous length, xviii
That to the house of heauenly gods it raught,
And with extorted powre, and borrow’d strength,
The euer-burning lamps from thence it brought[242],
And prowdly threw to ground, as things of nought[243];
And vnderneath his filthy feet did tread
The sacred things, and holy heasts foretaught.
Vpon this dreadfull Beast with seuenfold head
He set the false _Duessa_, for more aw and dread.
The wofull Dwarfe, which saw his maisters fall, xix
Whiles he had keeping of his grasing steed,
And valiant knight become a caytiue thrall,
When all was past, tooke vp his forlorne weed,
His mightie armour, missing most at need;
His siluer shield, now idle maisterlesse;
His poynant speare, that many made to bleed,
The ruefull moniments of heauinesse,
And with them all departes, to tell his great distresse.
He had not trauaild long, when on the way xx
He wofull Ladie, wofull _Vna_ met,
Fast flying from the[244] Paynims greedy pray,
Whilest _Satyrane_ him from pursuit did let:
Who when her eyes she on the Dwarfe had set,
And saw the signes, that deadly tydings spake,
She fell to ground for sorrowfull regret,
And liuely breath her sad brest did forsake,
Yet might her pitteous hart be seene to pant and quake.
The messenger of so vnhappie newes[245] xxi
Would faine haue dyde: dead was his hart within,
Yet outwardly some little comfort shewes:
At last recouering hart, he does begin
To rub her temples, and to chaufe her chin,
And euery tender part does tosse and turne:
So hardly he the flitted life does win,
Vnto her natiue prison to retourne:
Then gins her grieued ghost thus to lament and mourne.
Ye dreary instruments of dolefull sight, xxii
That doe this deadly spectacle behold,
Why do ye lenger feed on loathed light,
Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould,
Sith cruell fates the carefull threeds vnfould,
The which my life and loue together tyde?
Now let the stony dart of senselesse cold
Perce to my hart, and pas through euery side,
And let eternall night so sad sight[246] fro me hide.
O lightsome day, the lampe of highest _Ioue_, xxiii
First made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde,
When darknesse he in deepest dongeon droue,
Henceforth thy hated face for euer hyde,
And shut vp heauens windowes shyning wyde:
For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed,
And late repentance, which shall long abyde.
Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed,
But seeled vp with death, shall haue their deadly meed.
Then downe againe she fell vnto the ground; xxiv
But he her quickly reared vp againe:
Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd,
And thrise he her reviu’d with busie paine:
At last when life recouer’d had the raine,
And ouer-wrestled his strong enemie,
With foltring tong, and trembling euery vaine,
Tell on (quoth she) the wofull Tragedie,
The which these reliques sad present vnto mine eie.
Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight, xxv
And thrilling sorrow throwne his vtmost dart;
Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heauy plight,
Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart:
Who hath endur’d the whole, can beare each part.
If death it be, it is not the first wound,
That launched hath my brest with bleeding smart.
Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound;
If lesse, then that I feare,[247] more fauour I haue found.
Then gan the Dwarfe the whole discourse declare, xxvi
The subtill traines of _Archimago_ old;
The wanton loues of false _Fidessa_ faire,
Bought with the bloud of vanquisht Paynim bold:
The wretched payre transform’d to treen mould;
The house of Pride, and perils round about;
The combat, which he with _Sansioy_ did hould;
The lucklesse conflict with the Gyant stout,
Wherein captiu’d, of life or death he stood in doubt.
She heard with patience all vnto the end, xxvii
And stroue to maister sorrowfull assay,
Which greater grew, the more she did contend,
And almost rent her tender hart in tway;
And loue fresh coles vnto her fire did lay:
For greater loue, the greater is the losse.
Was neuer Ladie loued dearer day,
Then she did loue the knight of the _Redcrosse_;
For whose deare sake so many troubles her did tosse.
At last when feruent sorrow slaked was, xxviii
She vp arose, resoluing him to find
A liue or dead: and forward forth doth pas,
All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd:
And euermore in constant carefull mind
he fed her wound with fresh renewed bale;
Long tost with stormes, and bet with bitter wind,
High ouer hils, and low adowne the dale,
She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale.
At last she chaunced by good hap to meet xxix
A goodly knight, faire marching by the way
Together with his Squire, arayed meet:
His glitterand armour shined farre away,
Like glauncing light of _Phœbus_ brightest ray;
From top to toe no place appeared bare,
That deadly dint of steele endanger may:
Athwart his brest a bauldrick braue he ware,
That shynd, like twinkling stars, with stons most pretious rare.
And in the midst thereof one pretious stone xxx
Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,
Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding shone,
Like _Hesperus_ emongst the lesser lights,
And stroue for to amaze the weaker sights;
Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong
In yuory sheath, ycaru’d with curious slights;
Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong
Of mother pearle, and buckled with a golden tong.
His haughtie helmet, horrid all with gold, xxxi
Both glorious brightnesse, and great terrour bred;
For all the crest a Dragon did enfold
With greedie pawes, and ouer all did spred
His golden wings: his dreadfull hideous hed
Close couched on the beuer, seem’d to throw
From flaming mouth bright sparkles fierie red,
That suddeine horror to faint harts did show;
And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his backe full low.
Vpon the top of all his loftie crest, xxxii
A bunch[248] of haires discolourd diuersly,
With sprincled pearle, and gold full richly drest,
Did shake, and seem’d to daunce for iollity,
Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye
On top of greene _Selinis_[249] all alone,
With blossomes braue bedecked daintily;
Whose[250] tender locks do tremble euery one
At euery little breath, that vnder heauen is blowne.
His warlike shield all closely couer’d was, xxxiii
Ne might of mortall eye be euer seene;
Not made of steele[251], nor of enduring bras,
Such earthly mettals soone consumed bene:
But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene
It framed was, one massie entire mould,
Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene,
That point of speare it neuer percen could,
Ne dint of direfull sword diuide the substance would.
The same to wight he neuer wont disclose, xxxiv
But when as monsters huge he would dismay,
Or daunt vnequall armies of his foes,
Or when the flying heauens he would affray;
For so exceeding shone his glistring ray,
That _Phœbus_ golden face it did attaint,
As when a cloud his beames doth ouer-lay;
And siluer _Cynthia_ wexed pale and faint,
As when her face is staynd with magicke arts constraint.
No magicke arts hereof had any might, xxxv
Nor bloudie wordes of bold Enchaunters call,
But all that was not such, as seemd in sight,
Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall:
And when him list the raskall routes appall,
Men into stones therewith he could transmew,
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;
And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.
Ne let it seeme[252], that credence this exceedes, xxxvi
For he that made the same, was knowne right well
To haue done much more admirable deedes.
It _Merlin_ was, which whylome did excell
All liuing wightes in might of magicke spell:
Both shield, and sword, and armour all he wrought
For this young Prince, when first to armes he fell;
But when he dyde, the Faerie Queene it brought
To Faerie lond, where yet it may be seene, if sought.
A gentle youth, his dearely loued Squire xxxvii
His speare of heben wood behind him bare,
Whose harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire,
Had riuen many a brest with pikehead square;
A goodly person, and could menage faire[253]
His stubborne steed with curbed canon bit,
Who vnder him did trample[254] as the aire,
And chauft[255], that any on his backe should sit;
The yron rowels into frothy fome he bit.
When as this knight nigh to the Ladie drew, xxxviii
With louely court he gan her entertaine;
But when he heard her answeres loth, he knew
Some secret sorrow did her heart distraine:
Which to allay, and calme her storming paine,
Faire feeling words he wisely gan display,
And for her humour fitting purpose faine,
To tempt the cause it selfe for to bewray;
Wherewith emmou’d[256], these bleeding words she gan to say.
What worlds delight, or ioy of liuing speach xxxix
Can heart, so plung’d in sea of sorrowes deepe,
And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach?
The carefull cold beginneth for to creepe,
And in my heart his yron arrow steepe,
Soone as I thinke vpon my bitter bale:
Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keepe,
Then rip vp griefe, where it may not auaile,
My last left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.
Ah Ladie deare, quoth then the gentle knight, xl
Well may I weene, your griefe is wondrous great;
For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright,
Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat.
But wofull Ladie let me you intrete,
For to vnfold the anguish of your hart:
Mishaps are maistred by aduice discrete,
And counsell mittigates the greatest smart;
Found neuer helpe, who neuer would his hurts impart.
O but (quoth she) great griefe will not be tould, xli
And can more easily be thought, then said.
Right so; (quoth he) but he, that neuer would,
Could neuer: will to might giues greatest aid.
But griefe (quoth she) does greater grow displaid,
If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire.
Despaire breedes not (quoth he) where faith is staid.
No faith so fast (quoth she) but flesh does paire.
Flesh may empaire (quoth he) but reason can repaire.
His goodly reason, and well guided speach xlii
So deepe did settle in her gratious thought,
That her perswaded to disclose the breach,
Which loue and fortune in her heart had wrought,
And said; Faire[257] Sir, I hope good hap hath brought
You to inquire[258] the secrets of my griefe,
Or that your wisedome will direct my thought,
Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe:
Then heare the storie sad, which I shall tell you briefe.
The forlorne Maiden, whom your eyes haue seene xliii
The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries,
Am th’only daughter of a King and Queene,
Whose parents deare, whilest[259] equall destinies
Did runne[260] about, and their felicities
The fauourable heauens did not enuy,
Did spread their rule through all the territories,
Which _Phison_ and _Euphrates_ floweth by,
And _Gehons_[261] golden waues doe wash continually.
Till that their cruell cursed enemy, xliv
An huge great Dragon horrible in sight,
Bred in the loathly lakes of _Tartary_,
With murdrous rauine, and deuouring might
Their kingdome spoild, and countrey wasted quight:
Themselues, for feare into his iawes to fall,
He forst to castle strong to take their flight,
Where fast embard in mightie brasen wall,
He has them now foure yeres besiegd to make them thrall.
Full many knights aduenturous and stout xlv
Haue enterprizd that Monster to subdew;
From euery coast that heauen walks about,
Haue thither come the noble Martiall crew,
That famous hard atchieuements still pursew,
Yet neuer any could that girlond win,
But all still shronke, and still he greater grew:
All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin,
The pitteous pray of his fierce crueltie haue bin.
At last yledd with farre reported praise, xlvi
Which flying fame throughout the world had spred,
Of doughtie knights, whom Faery land did raise,
That noble order hight of Maidenhed,
Forthwith to court of _Gloriane_ I sped,
Of _Gloriane_ great Queene of glory bright,
Whose kingdomes seat _Cleopolis_ is red,
There to obtaine some such redoubted knight,
That Parents deare from tyrants powre deliuer might.
It was my chance (my chance was faire and good) xlvii
There for to find a fresh vnproued knight,
Whose manly hands[262] imbrew’d in guiltie blood
Had neuer bene, ne euer by his might
Had throwne to ground the vnregarded right:
Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made
(I witnesse am) in many a cruell fight;
The groning ghosts of many one dismaide
Haue felt the bitter dint of his auenging blade.
And ye the forlorne reliques of his powre, xlviii
His byting sword, and his deuouring speare,
Which haue endured many a dreadfull stowre,
Can speake his prowesse, that did earst you beare,
And well could rule: now he hath left you heare,
To be the record of his ruefull losse,
And of my dolefull disauenturous deare:
O heauie record of the good _Redcrosse_,
Where haue you[263] left your Lord, that could so well you tosse?
Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had, xlix
That he my captiue langour[264] should redeeme,
Till all vnweeting, an Enchaunter bad
His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme
My loyalty, not such as it did seeme;
That rather death desire, then such despight.
Be iudge ye heauens, that all things right esteeme,
How I him lou’d, and loue with all my might,
So thought I eke of him, and thinke I thought aright.
Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke, l
To wander, where wilde fortune would me lead,
And other bywaies he himselfe betooke,
Where neuer foot of liuing wight did tread,
That brought not backe the balefull body dead;
In which him chaunced false _Duessa_ meete,
Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread,
Who with her witchcraft and misseeming sweete,
Inueigled him to follow her desires vnmeete.
At last by subtill sleights she him betraid li
Vnto his foe, a Gyant huge and tall,
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,
Vnwares surprised, and with mightie mall
The monster mercilesse him made to fall,
Whose fall did neuer foe before behold;
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Remedilesse, for aie he doth him hold;
This is my cause of griefe, more great, then may be told.
Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint: lii
But he her comforted and faire bespake,
Certes, Madame, ye haue great cause of plaint,
That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:
For till I haue acquit your captiue knight,
Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.
His chearefull words reuiu’d her chearelesse spright,
So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding euer right.
FOOTNOTES:
[230] i 6 frame; _1590_, _1596_
[231] ii 4 pray; _1590 &c._
[232] v 5 her] he _1596_
[233] 8 wexed _1590_
[234] 9 did] do _1590_
[235] vi 3 glas, _1596_
[236] ix 7 women] wemen _1590_
[237] xi 4 hopelesse; _1590_, _1596_
[238] xii 9 stoond _1590_
[239] xiii 4 bollet _1590_
[240] 8 smok _1590_
[241] xiv 1 knight _1596_
[242] xviii 4, braught _1590_
[243] xviii 5 naught _1590_
[244] xx 3 the] that _1590_
[245] xxi 1 newes, _1590 &c._
[246] xxii 9 sight _om. 1590_
[247] xxv 9 feare _1596_
[248] xxxii 2 bounch _1590_
[249] 6 Selinis _1596_
[250] 8 Whose] Her _1590_
[251] xxxiii 3 steeld _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[252] xxxvi 1 seeme] seene _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[253] xxxvii 5 faire, _1590_, _1596_
[254] 7 trample] amble _1590_
[255] 8 chauft] chanst _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[256] xxxviii 9 enmoud _1590_
[257] xlii 5 faire _1590_, _1596_
[258] 6 inquere _1590_
[259] xliii 4 whiles _1590_
[260] 5 runne] come _1590_: ronne _F. E._
[261] 9 _Gebons_ _1596_, _1609_
[262] xlvii 3 hand _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[263] xlviii 9 haue you] haue yee _1590_
[264] xlix 2 languor _1590_
_Cant. VIII._
[Illustration:
_Faire virgin to redeeme her deare
brings Arthur to the fight:
Who slayes the Gyant[265], wounds the beast,
and strips Duessa quight._
]
Ay me, how many perils doe enfold i
The righteous man, to make him daily fall?
Were not, that heauenly grace doth him vphold,
And stedfast truth acquite him out of all.
Her loue is firme, her care continuall,
So oft as he through[266] his owne foolish pride,
Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall:
Else should this _Redcrosse_ knight in bands haue dyde,
For whose deliuerance she this Prince doth thither guide.
They sadly traueild thus, vntill they came ii
Nigh to a castle builded strong and hie:
Then cryde the Dwarfe, lo yonder is the same,
In which my Lord my liege doth lucklesse lie,
Thrall to that Gyants hatefull tyrannie:
Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.
The noble knight alighted by and by
From loftie steede, and bad the Ladie stay,
To see what end of fight should him befall that day.
So with the[267] Squire, th’admirer of his might, iii
He marched forth towards that castle wall;
Whose gates he found fast shut, ne liuing wight
To ward the same, nor answere commers call.
Then tooke that Squire an horne of bugle small,
Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold,
And tassels gay. Wyde wonders ouer all
Of that same hornes great vertues weren told,
Which had approued bene in vses manifold.
Was neuer wight, that heard that shrilling sound, iv
But trembling feare did feele in euery vaine;
Three miles it might be easie heard around,
And Ecchoes three answerd it selfe againe:
No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine
Might once abide the terror of that blast,
But presently was voide and wholly vaine:
No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast,
But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.
The same before the Geants gate he blew, v
That all the castle quaked from the ground,
And euery dore of freewill open flew.
The Gyant selfe dismaied with that sownd,
Where he with his _Duessa_ dalliance fownd,
In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,
With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,
And staggering steps, to weet, what suddein stowre[268]
Had wrought that horror strange, and dar’d his dreaded powre.
And after him the proud _Duessa_ came, vi
High mounted on her manyheaded beast,
And euery head with fyrie tongue did flame,
And euery head was crowned on his creast,
And bloudie mouthed with late cruell feast.
That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild
Vpon his manly arme he soone addrest,
And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild,
And eger greedinesse through euery member thrild.
Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight, vii
Inflam’d with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,
And lifting vp his dreadfull club on hight,
All arm’d with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,
Him thought at first encounter to haue slaine.
But wise[269] and warie was that noble Pere,
And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,
Did faire auoide the violence him nere;
It booted nought, to thinke, such thunderbolts to beare.
Ne shame he thought to shunne[270] so hideous might: viii
The idle stroke, enforcing furious way,
Missing the marke of his misaymed sight
Did fall to ground, and with his heauie sway
So deepely dinted in the driuen clay,
That three yardes deepe a furrow vp did throw:
The sad earth wounded with so sore assay,
Did grone full grieuous vnderneath the blow,
And trembling with strange feare, did like an earthquake show.
As when almightie _Ioue_ in wrathfull mood, ix
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,
Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,
Through riuen cloudes and molten firmament;
The fierce threeforked engin making way,
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,
And all that might his angrie passage stay,
And shooting in the earth, casts vp a mount of clay.
His boystrous club, so buried in the ground, x
He could not rearen vp againe so light,
But that the knight him at auantage[271] found,
And whiles he stroue his combred clubbe to quight
Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright
He smote off his left arme, which like a blocke
Did fall to ground, depriu’d of natiue might;
Large streames of bloud out of the truncked stocke
Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riuen rocke.
Dismaied with so desperate deadly wound, xi
And eke impatient of vnwonted paine,
He loudly brayd with beastly yelling sound,
That all the fields rebellowed againe;
As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,
And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,
The neighbour woods around with hollow murmur ring[272].
That when his deare _Duessa_ heard, and saw xii
The euill stownd, that daungerd her estate,
Vnto his aide she hastily did draw
Her dreadfull beast, who swolne with bloud of late
Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous[273] gate,
And threatned all his heads like flaming brands.
But him the Squire made quickly to retrate,
Encountring fierce with single sword in hand,
And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke stand.
The proud _Duessa_ full of wrathfull spight, xiii
And fierce disdaine, to be affronted so,
Enforst her purple beast with all her might
That stop out of the way to ouerthroe,
Scorning the let of so vnequall foe:
But nathemore would that courageous swayne
To her yeeld passage, gainst his Lord to goe,
But with outrageous strokes did him restraine,
And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.
Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup, xiv
Which still she bore, replete with magick artes;
Death and despeyre did many thereof sup,
And secret poyson through their inner[274] parts,
Th’eternall bale of heauie wounded harts;
Which after charmes and some enchauntments said,
She lightly sprinkled on his weaker parts;
Therewith his sturdie courage soone was quayd,
And all his senses were with suddeine dread dismayd.
So downe he fell before the cruell beast, xv
Who on his necke his bloudie clawes did seize,
That life nigh[275] crusht out of his panting brest:
No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize.
That when the carefull knight gan well auise,
He lightly left the foe, with whom he fought,
And to the beast gan turne his enterprise;
For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought,
To see his loued Squire into such thraldome brought.
And high aduauncing his bloud-thirstie blade, xvi
Stroke one of those deformed heads so sore,
That of his puissance proud ensample made;
His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore,
And that misformed shape mis-shaped more:
A sea of bloud gusht from the gaping wound,
That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,
And ouerflowed all the field around;
That ouer shoes in bloud he waded on the ground.
Thereat he roared for exceeding paine, xvii
That to haue heard, great horror would haue bred,
And scourging th’emptie ayre with his long traine,
Through great impatience of his grieued hed
His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted
Would haue cast downe, and trod in durtie myre,
Had not the Gyant soone her succoured;
Who all enrag’d with smart and franticke yre,
Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre.
The force, which wont in two to be disperst, xviii
In one alone left hand he now vnites,
Which is through rage more strong then both were erst;
With which his hideous club aloft he dites,
And at his foe with furious rigour smites,
That strongest Oake might seeme to ouerthrow:
The stroke vpon his shield so heauie lites,
That to the ground it doubleth him full low[276]:
What mortall wight could euer beare so monstrous blow?
And in his fall his shield, that couered was, xix
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:
The light whereof, that heauens light did pas,
Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw,
That eye mote not the same endure to vew.
Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye,
He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew
His weapon huge, that heaued was on hye
For to haue slaine the man, that on the ground did lye.
And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amaz’d xx
At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,
Became starke blind, and all his senses daz’d,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,
And seem’d himselfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maistresse proud perceiu’d to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,
Vnto the Gyant loudly she gan call,
O helpe _Orgoglio_, helpe, or else we perish all.
At her so pitteous cry was much amoou’d[277] xxi
Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proou’d:
But all in vaine: for he has read his end
In that bright shield, and all their[278] forces spend
Themselues in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,
He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend;
As where th’Almighties lightning brond does light,
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the senses quight.
Whom when the Prince, to battell new addrest, xxii
And threatning high his dreadfull stroke did see,
His sparkling blade about his head he blest,
And smote off quite his right leg by the knee,
That downe he tombled; as an aged tree,
High growing on the top of rocky clift,
Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,
The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.
Or as a Castle reared high and round, xxiii
By subtile engins and malitious slight
Is vndermined from the lowest ground,
And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,
At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight
Her hastie ruine does more heauie make,
And yields it selfe vnto the victours might;
Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemd to shake
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.
The knight then lightly leaping to the pray, xxiv
With mortall steele him smot againe so sore,
That headlesse his vnweldy bodie lay,
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store.[279]
But soone as breath out of his[280] breast did pas,
That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore,
Was vanisht quite, and of that monstrous mas
Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.
Whose grieuous fall, when false _Duessa_ spide, xxv
Her golden cup she cast vnto the ground,
And crowned mitre rudely threw aside;
Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound,
That she could not endure that dolefull stound,
But leauing all behind her, fled away:
The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,
And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay,
So brought vnto his Lord, as his deserued pray.
The royall Virgin, which beheld from farre, xxvi
In pensiue plight, and sad perplexitie,
The whole atchieuement of this doubtfull warre,
Came running fast to greet his victorie,
With sober gladnesse, and myld modestie,
And with sweet ioyous cheare him thus bespake;
Faire braunch of noblesse, flowre of cheualrie,
That with your worth the world amazed make,
How shall I quite the paines, ye suffer for my sake?
And you fresh bud of vertue springing fast, xxvii
Whom these sad eyes saw nigh vnto deaths dore,
What hath poore Virgin for such perill past,
Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore
My simple selfe, and seruice euermore;
And he that high does sit, and all things see
With equall eyes[281], their merites to restore,
Behold what ye this day haue done for mee,
And what I cannot quite, requite with vsuree.
But sith the heauens, and your faire handeling[282] xxviii
Haue made you maister[283] of the field this day,
Your fortune maister eke with gouerning,
And well begun end all so well, I pray,
Ne let that wicked woman scape away;
For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall,
My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeon lay,
Where he his better dayes hath wasted all.
O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.
Forthwith he gaue in charge vnto his Squire, xxix
That scarlot whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himselfe with greedie great desire
Into the Castle entred forcibly,[284]
Where liuing creature none he did espye;
Then gan he lowdly through the house to call:
But no man car’d to answere to his crye.
There raignd a solemne silence ouer all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall.
At last with creeping crooked pace forth came xxx
An[285] old old man, with beard as white as snow,
That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame,
And guide his wearie gate both too and fro:
For his eye sight him failed long ygo,
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,
The which vnused rust did ouergrow:
Those were the keyes of euery inner dore,
But he could not them vse, but kept them still in store.
But very vncouth sight was to behold, xxxi
How he did fashion his vntoward pace,
For as he forward moou’d his footing old,
So backward still was turnd his wrincled face,
Vnlike to men, who euer as they trace,
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the auncient keeper of that place,
And foster father of the Gyant dead;
His name _Ignaro_ did his nature right aread.
His reuerend haires and holy grauitie xxxii
The knight much honord, as beseemed well,
And gently askt, where all the people bee,
Which in that stately building wont to dwell.
Who answerd him full soft, he could not tell.
Againe he askt, where that same knight was layd,
Whom great _Orgoglio_ with his puissaunce fell
Had made his caytiue thrall;[286] againe he sayde,
He could not tell: ne euer other answere made.
Then asked he, which way he in might pas: xxxiii
He could not tell, againe he answered.
Thereat the curteous[287] knight displeased was,
And said, Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red
How ill it sits[288] with that same siluer hed
In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed
With natures pen, in ages graue degree,
Aread in grauer wise, what I demaund of thee.
His answere likewise was, he could not tell. xxxiv
Whose sencelesse speach, and doted ignorance
When as the noble Prince had marked well,
He ghest his nature by his countenance,
And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance.
Then to him stepping, from his arme did reach
Those keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.
Each dore he opened without any breach;
There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.
There all within full rich arayd he found, xxxv
With royall arras and resplendent gold.
And did with store of euery thing abound,
That greatest Princes presence might behold.
But all the floore (too filthy to be told)
With bloud of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew,
Which there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold,
Defiled was, that dreadfull was to vew,
And sacred ashes ouer it was strowed new.
And there beside of marble stone was built xxxvi
An Altare, caru’d with cunning imagery,
On which true Christians bloud was often spilt,
And holy Martyrs often doen to dye,
With cruell malice and strong tyranny:
Whose blessed sprites from vnderneath the stone
To God for vengeance cryde continually,
And with great griefe were often heard to grone,
That hardest heart would bleede, to heare their piteous mone.
Through euery rowme he sought, and euery bowr, xxxvii
But no where could he find that wofull thrall:
At last he came vnto an yron doore,
That fast was lockt, but key found not at all
Emongst that bounch, to open it withall;
But in the same a little grate was pight,
Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call
With all his powre, to weet, if liuing wight
Were housed therewithin, whom he enlargen might.
Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce xxxviii
These piteous plaints and dolours did resound;
O who is that, which brings me happy choyce
Of death, that here lye dying euery stound,
Yet liue perforce in balefull darkenesse bound?
For now three Moones haue changed thrice their hew,
And haue beene thrice hid vnderneath the ground,
Since I the heauens chearefull face did vew,
O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.
Which when that Champion heard, with percing point xxxix
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore,
And trembling horrour ran through euery ioynt,
For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore:
Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore,
With furious force, and indignation fell;
Where entred in, his foot could find no flore,
But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell,
That breathed euer forth a filthie banefull smell.
But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands, xl
Nor noyous smell his purpose could withhold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands)
But that with constant zeale, and courage bold,
After long paines and labours manifold,
He found the meanes that Prisoner vp to reare;
Whose feeble thighes, vnhable to vphold
His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare,
A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere.
His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits, xli
Could not endure th’vnwonted sunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty sides deceiued of their dew,
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;
His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to riue steele plates, and[289] helmets hew,
Were cleane consum’d, and all his vitall powres
Decayd, and all his flesh shronk vp like withered flowres.
Whom when his Lady saw, to him she ran xlii
With hasty ioy: to see him made her glad,
And sad to view his visage pale and wan,
Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad.
Tho when her well of teares she wasted had,
She said, Ah dearest Lord, what euill starre
On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad,
That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,
And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth marre?
But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe, xliii
Whose presence I haue lackt too long a day;
And fie[290] on Fortune mine auowed foe,
Whose wrathfull wreakes them selues do now alay.
And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of euils priefe.
The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
His long endured famine needed more reliefe.
Faire Lady, then said that victorious knight, xliv
The things, that grieuous were to do, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Best musicke breeds †delight[291] in loathing eare:
But th’onely good, that growes of passed feare,
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.
Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength, xlv
And maister these mishaps with patient might;
Loe where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous length,
And loe that wicked woman in your sight,
The roote of all your care, and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her liue, or dye.
To do her dye (quoth _Vna_) were despight,
And shame t’auenge so weake an enimy;
But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.
So as she bad, that witch they disaraid, xlvi
And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,
And ornaments that richly were displaid;
Ne spared they to strip her naked all.
Then when they had despoild her tire and call,
Such as she was, their eyes might her behold,
That her misshaped[292] parts did them appall,
A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill fauoured, old,
Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.
Her craftie head was altogether bald, xlvii
And as in hate of honorable eld,
Was ouergrowne with scurfe and filthy scald;
Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,
And her sowre breath abhominably smeld;
Her dried dugs, like bladders lacking wind,
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;
Her wrizled skin as rough, as maple rind,
So scabby was, that would haue loathd all womankind.
Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind, xlviii
My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write;[293]
But at her rompe she growing had behind
A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight;
And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight;
For one of them was like an Eagles claw,
With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight,
The other like a Beares vneuen paw:
More vgly shape yet neuer liuing creature saw.
Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were, xlix
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.
Such then (said _Vna_) as she seemeth here,
Such is the face of falshood, such the sight
Of fowle _Duessa_, when her borrowed light
Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne.
Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight,
And all her filthy feature open showne,
They let her goe at will, and wander wayes vnknowne.
She flying fast from heauens hated face, l
And from the world that her discouered wide,
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,
From liuing eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurkt[294] in rocks and caues long vnespide.
But that faire crew of knights, and _Vna_ faire
Did in that castle afterwards abide,
To rest them selues, and weary powres repaire,
Where store they found of all, that dainty was and rare.
FOOTNOTES:
[265] Arg. 3 _the Gyant_] _that Gyaunt_ _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[266] i 6 through] thorough _1590_
[267] iii 1 the] his _1590_
[268] v 8 stowre, _1590_, _1596_
[269] vii 6 wise] wist _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[270] viii 1 shonne _1590_
[271] x 3 aduantage _1590_
[272] xi 9 murmur ring] murmuring _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[273] xii 5 presumptuous _1609_
[274] xiv 4 inner] inward _1609_
[275] xv 3 nigh] night _1596_
[276] xviii 8 low _1590_, _1596_: lowe, _1609_
[277] xxi 1 amoou’d, _1590_, _1596_
[278] 5 their] his _Grosart_
[279] xxiv 5 store, _1596_: store: _1609_
[280] 6 his] her _1590_
[281] xxvii 7 eye _1590_
[282] xxviii 1 handling _1609_
[283] 2 maister] master _1590_
[284] xxix 4 forcibly. _1596_
[285] xxx 2 An] And _1596_
[286] xxxii 8 thrall, _1596_
[287] xxxiii 3 courteous _1590_
[288] 5 sits] fits _1596_, _1609_
[289] xli 7 and _om. 1596_
[290] xliii 3 fie] sie 1590: fye _F. E._
[291] xliv 4 delight] dislike _conj. J. Jortin_
[292] xlvi 7 mishaped _1596_
[293] xlviii 2 write _1596_
[294] l 5 lurket _1596_
_Cant. IX._
[Illustration:
_His loues and lignage Arthur tells:[295]
The knights knit friendly bands[296]:
Sir Treuisan flies from Despayre,
Whom Redcrosse knight withstands._
]
O Goodly golden chaine, wherewith yfere i
The vertues linked are in lonely wize:
And noble minds of yore allyed were,
In braue poursuit of cheualrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid enuy to him, in need that stands,
But friendly each did others prayse deuize[297]
How to aduaunce with fauourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the _Redcrosse_ knight from bands.
Who when their powres,[298] empaird through labour long, ii
With dew repast they had recured well,
And that weake captiue wight now wexed strong,
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their aduentures fell,
But ere they parted, _Vna_ faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die vnknown, and buried be in thanklesse thought.
Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require iii
A thing without the compas of my wit:
For both the lignage and the certain Sire,
From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit.
For all so soone as life did me admit
Into this world, and shewed heauens light,
From mothers pap I taken was vnfit:
And streight deliuered to a Faery knight,
To be vpbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.
Vnto old _Timon_ he me brought byliue, iv
Old _Timon_, who in youthly yeares hath beene
In warlike feates th’expertest man aliue,
And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
Vnder the foot of _Rauran_ mossy hore,
From whence the riuer _Dee_ as siluer cleene
His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore:
There all my dayes he traind me vp in vertuous lore.
Thither the great Magicien _Merlin_ came, v
As was his vse, ofttimes to visit me:
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And Tutours nouriture to ouersee.
Him oft and oft I askt in priuitie,
Of what loines and what lignage I did spring:
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
That I was sonne and heire vnto a king,
As time in her iust terme the truth to light should bring.
Well worthy impe, said then the Lady gent, vi
And Pupill fit for such a Tutours hand.
But what aduenture, or what high intent
Hath brought you hither into Faery land,
Aread Prince _Arthur_, crowne of Martiall band?
Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright
The course of heauenly cause, or vnderstand
The secret meaning of th’eternall might,
That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of liuing wight.
For whither he through fatall deepe foresight vii
Me hither sent, for cause to me vnghest,
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riuen brest,
With forced fury following his behest,
Me hither brought by wayes yet neuer found,
You to haue helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.
Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound
Could euer find, to grieue the gentlest hart on ground?
Deare Dame (quoth he) you sleeping sparkes awake, viii
Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,
Ne euer will their feruent fury slake,
Till liuing moysture into smoke do flow,
And wasted life do lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow,
I will reuele, what ye so much desire:
Ah Loue, lay downe thy bow, the[299] whiles I may respire.
It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares, ix
When courage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first the[300] coale of kindly heat appeares
To kindle loue in euery liuing brest;
But me had warnd old _Timons_[301] wise behest,
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great vnrest,
As miserable louers vse to rew,
Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe still wexeth new.
That idle name of loue, and louers life, x
As losse of time, and vertues enimy
I euer scornd, and ioyd to stirre vp strife,
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy,
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:
Their God himselfe, grieu’d at my libertie,
Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent,
But I them warded all with wary gouernment.
But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong, xi
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sound,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or vnawares[302] at disauantage found;
Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground:
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boasts, in beauties chaine not to be bound,
Doth soonest fall in disauentrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytiue neck to victours most despight.
Ensample make of him your haplesse ioy, xii
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
Whose prouder vaunt that proud auenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertie.
For on a day prickt forth with iollitie
Of looser life, and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heauens with one consent
Did seeme to laugh on[303] me, and fauour mine intent.
For-wearied with my sports, I did alight xiii
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmet faire displayd:
Whiles euery sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So faire a creature yet saw neuer sunny day.
Most goodly glee and louely blandishment xiv
She to me made, and bad me loue her deare,
For dearely sure her loue was to me bent,
As when iust time expired should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was neuer hart so rauisht with delight,
Ne liuing man like words did euer heare,
As she to me deliuered all that night;
And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.
When I awoke, and found her place deuoyd, xv
And nought but pressed gras, where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so much, as earst I ioyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lou’d that face diuine;
From that day forth I cast in carefull mind,
To seeke her out with labour, and long tyne,
And neuer vow[304] to rest, till her I find,
Nine monethes I seeke in vaine yet ni’ll that vow vnbind.
Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale, xvi
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yet still he stroue to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke, that did his fire display,
Till gentle _Vna_ thus to him gan say;
O happy Queene of Faeries, that hast found
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:
True Loues are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.
Thine, O then, said the gentle _Redcrosse_ knight, xvii
Next to that Ladies loue, shalbe the place,
O fairest virgin, full of heauenly light,
Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,
Was firmest fixt in mine extremest case.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace:
For onely worthy you through prowes priefe
Yf liuing man mote worthy be, to be her liefe.
So diuersly discoursing of their loues, xviii
The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
And sad remembraunce now the Prince amoues,
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew:
Als _Vna_ earnd her traueill to renew.
Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd,
And loue establish each to other trew,
Gaue goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
And eke as[305] pledges firme, right hands together ioynd.
Prince _Arthur_ gaue a boxe of Diamond sure, xix
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament,
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure,
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wound could heale incontinent:
Which to requite, the _Redcrosse_ knight him gaue
A booke, wherein his[306] Saueours testament
Was writ with golden letters rich and braue;
A worke of wondrous grace, and able[307] soules to saue.
Thus beene they parted, _Arthur_ on his way xx
To seeke his loue, and th’other for to fight
With _Vnaes_ foe, that all her realme did pray.
But she now weighing the decayed plight,
And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight,
Would not a while her forward course pursew,
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight,
Till he recouered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew.
So as they traueild, lo they gan espy xxi
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing, that him agast.
Still as he fled, his eye was backward cast,
As if his feare still followed him behind;
Als flew his steed, as he his bands had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wind,
As he had beene a fole of _Pegasus_ his kind.
Nigh as he drew, they might perceiue his head xxii
To be vnarmd, and curld vncombed heares
Vpstaring stiffe, dismayd with vncouth dread;
Nor drop of bloud in all his face appeares
Nor life in limbe: and to increase his feares,
In fowle reproch of knighthoods faire degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring armes does ill agree;
But he of rope or armes has now no memoree.
The _Redcrosse_ knight toward him crossed fast, xxiii
To weet, what mister wight was so dismayd:
There him he finds all sencelesse and aghast,
That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd;
Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd,
Till he these wordes to him deliuer might;
Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight:
For neuer knight I saw in such misseeming plight.
He answerd nought at all, but adding new xxiv
Feare to his first amazment, staring wide
With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspide[308]
Infernall furies, with their chaines vntide.
Him yet againe, and yet againe bespake
The gentle knight; who nought to him replide,
But trembling euery ioynt did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth to shake.
For Gods deare loue, Sir knight, do me not stay; xxv
For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee.
Eft looking backe would faine haue runne away;
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secret cause of his perplexitie:
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach,
Could his bloud-frosen hart emboldned bee,
But through his boldnesse rather feare did reach,
Yet forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach.
And am I now in safetie sure (quoth he) xxvi
From him, that would haue forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this haplesse history?
Feare nought: (quoth he) no daunger now is nye.[309]
Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,
(Said he) the which with this vnlucky eye
I late beheld, and had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.
I lately chaunst (Would I had neuer chaunst) xxvii
With a faire knight to keepen companee,
Sir _Terwin_ hight, that well himselfe aduaunst
In all affaires, and was both bold and free,
But not so happie as mote happie bee:
He lou’d, as was his lot, a Ladie gent,
That him againe lou’d in the least degree:
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioyd to see her louer languish and lament.
From whom returning sad and comfortlesse, xxviii
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen (God from him me blesse)
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that cals himselfe _Despaire_:
Who first vs greets, and after faire areedes
Of tydings strange, and of aduentures rare:
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts xxix
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which loue had launched[310] with his deadly darts,
With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe[311]
He pluckt from vs all hope of due reliefe,
That earst vs held in loue of lingring life;
Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade vs die, to stint all further strife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rustie knife.
With which sad instrument of hastie death, xxx
That wofull louer, loathing lenger light,
A wide way made to let forth liuing breath.
But I more fearefull, or more luckie wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fled fast away, halfe dead with dying feare:
Ne yet assur’d of life by you, Sir knight,
Whose like infirmitie like chaunce may beare:
But God you neuer let his charmed speeches heare.
How may a man (said he) with idle speach xxxi
Be wonne, to spoyle the Castle of his health?
I wote (quoth he) whom triall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth:
His subtill tongue, like dropping honny, mealt’th[312]
Into the hart, and searcheth euery vaine,
That ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft, and weaknesse doth remaine.
O neuer Sir desire to try his guilefull traine.
Certes (said he) hence shall I neuer rest, xxxii
Till I that treachours art haue heard and tride;
And you Sir knight, whose name mote I request,
Of grace do me vnto his cabin guide.
I that hight _Treuisan_ (quoth he) will ride
Against my liking backe, to doe you grace:
But nor for gold nor glee will I abide
By you, when ye arriue in that same place;
For leuer had I die, then see his deadly face.
Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight xxxiii
His dwelling has, low in an hollow caue,
Farre vnderneath a craggie clift ypight[313],
Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedie graue,
That still for carrion carcases doth craue:
On top whereof aye dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which euer draue
Farre from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghostes did waile and howle.
And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, xxxiv
Whereon nor fruit, nor leafe was euer seene,
Did hang vpon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattered[314] on the greene,
And throwne about the cliffs[315]. Arriued there,
That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine haue fled, ne durst approchen neare,
But th’other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.
That darkesome caue they enter, where they find xxxv
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind;
His griesie lockes, long growen, and vnbound,
Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw-bone cheekes through penurie and pine,
Were[316] shronke into his iawes, as he did neuer dine.
His garment nought but many ragged clouts, xxxvi
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay vpon the gras
A drearie corse, whose life away did pas,
All wallowd in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
Which piteous spectacle, approuing trew xxxvii
The wofull tale that _Treuisan_ had told,
When as the gentle _Redcrosse_ knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to auenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein said, Thou damned wight,
The author of this fact, we here behold,
What iustice can but iudge against thee right,
With thine owne bloud to price his bloud, here shed in sight?[317]
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus distraught xxxviii
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to giue?
What iustice euer other iudgement taught,
But he should die, who merites not to liue?
None else to death this man despayring driue,
But his owne guiltie mind deseruing death.
Is then vniust to each his due to giue?
Or let him die, that loatheth liuing breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liueth here vneath?
Who trauels[318] by the wearie wandring way, xxxix
To come vnto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay,
Is not great grace to helpe him ouer past,
Or free his feet, that in the myre sticke fast?
Most enuious man, that grieues at neighbours good,
And fond, that ioyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood
Vpon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
He there does now enioy eternall rest xl
And happie ease, which thou doest want and craue,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some litle paine the passage haue,
That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter waue?
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet graue?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit, xli
And said, The terme of life is[319] limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not moue from watchfull sted,
Nor leaue his stand, vntill his Captaine bed.
Who life did limit by almightie doome,
(Quoth he) knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.
Is not his deed, what euer thing is donne, xlii
In heauen and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and haue their certaine date.
Who then can striue with strong necessitie,
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
The lenger life, I wote the greater sin, xliii
The greater sin, the greater punishment:
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and bloud-shed, and auengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and bloud must bloud repay.
Is not enough thy euill life forespent?
For he, that once hath missed the right way,
The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray.
Then do no further goe, no further stray, xliv
But here lie downe, and to thy rest betake,
Th’ill to preuent, that life ensewen may.
For what hath life, that may it loued make,
And giues not rather cause it to forsake?
Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife,
Paine, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;
And euer fickle fortune rageth rife,
All which, and thousands mo do make a loathsome life.
Thou wretched man, of death hast greatest need, xlv
If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy state:
For neuer knight, that dared warlike deede,
More lucklesse disauentures did amate:
Witnesse the dongeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shut vp, for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date,
Yet death then, would the like mishaps forestall,
Into the which hereafter thou maiest happen fall.
Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire xlvi
To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree?
Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
High heaped vp with huge iniquitie,
Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this Ladie milde
Thou falsed[320] hast thy faith with periurie,
And sold thy selfe to serue _Duessa_ vilde,
With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defilde?
Is not he iust, that all this doth behold xlvii
From highest heauen, and beares an equall eye?
Shall he thy sins vp in his knowledge fold,
And guiltie be of thine impietie?
Is not his law, Let euery sinner die:
Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,
Then linger, till the glasse be all out ronne?
Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.
The knight was much enmoued with his speach, xlviii
That as a swords point through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secret breach,
Well knowing true all, that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembrance did reuerse
The vgly vew of his deformed crimes,
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes,
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes.
In which amazement, when the Miscreant xlix
Perceiued him to wauer weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience dant,
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile,
To driue him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
He shew’d him painted in a table plaine,
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile,
And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine
With fire and brimstone, which for euer shall remaine.
The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid, l
That nought but death before his eyes he saw,
And euer burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th’Almighties law:
Then gan the villein him to ouercraw,
And brought vnto him swords, ropes, poison, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire:
For death was due to him, that had prouokt Gods ire.
But when as none of them he saw him take, li
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gaue it him in hand: his hand did quake,
And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene,
And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene
To come, and goe with tydings from the hart,
As it a running messenger had beene.
At last resolu’d to worke his finall smart,
He lifted vp his hand, that backe againe did start.
Which when as _Vna_ saw[321], through euery vaine lii
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but soone reliu’d[322] againe,
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him said, Fie, fie, faint harted knight,
What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?
Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright?
Come, come away, fraile, feeble[323], fleshly wight, liii
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,
Ne diuelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.
In heauenly mercies hast thou not a part?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Where iustice growes, there grows eke greater grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.[324]
Arise, Sir knight arise, and leaue this cursed place.
So vp he rose, and thence amounted streight. liv
Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
Would safe depart, for all his subtill sleight,
He chose an halter from among the rest,
And with it hung himselfe, vnbid vnblest.
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby;
For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,
Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die,
Till he should die his last, that is eternally.
FOOTNOTES:
[295] Arg. 1 _tells_ _1596_
[296] 2 _bands_] _hands_ _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[297] i 7 deuize, _1590_, _1596_
[298] ii 1 powres _1590_, _1596_
[299] viii 9 the] that _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[300] ix 3 the] that _1590_
[301] 5 _Timons_] _Cleons_ _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[302] xi 4 vnwares _1596_
[303] xii 9 on] at _1590_, _1596_: _corr. F. E. & 1609_
[304] xv 8 vowd _1590_
[305] xviii 9 as] the _1596_, _1609_
[306] xix 7 his] this 1590: _corr. F. E._
[307] 9 hable _1590_
[308] xxiv 4 espide _1609_
[309] xxvi 5 nye? _1590 &c._
[310] xxix 3 launced _1609_
[311] 4 repriefe, _1590 &c._
[312] xxxi 5 mealt’h _1590 &c. But cf._ Bk. II, Cant. II iv 5
[313] xxxiii 3 yplight _1590_
[314] xxxiv 5 scattred _1590_
[315] 6 clifts _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[316] xxxv 9 Were] Where _1596_
[317] xxxvii 9 sight. _1590 &c._
[318] xxxix 1 trauailes _1590_
[319] xli 2 is _om. 1590_: _corr. F. E._
[320] xlvi 7 falsest _1590_
[321] lii 1 saw] heard _1590_
[322] 3 relieu’d _1609_
[323] liii 1 feeble] seely _1596_: silly _1609_. _But cf._ Cant. VII vi
5, xi 8
[324] 8 deface, _1596_: deface: _1609_
_Cant. X._
[Illustration:
_Her faithfull knight faire Vna brings
to house of Holinesse,
Where he is taught repentance, and
the way to heauenly blesse._
]
What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might, i
And vaine assurance of mortality,
Which all so soone, as it doth come to fight,
Against spirituall foes, yeelds by and by,
Or from the field most cowardly doth fly?
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory.
If any strength we haue, it is to ill,
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.
By that, which lately hapned, _Vna_ saw, ii
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his sinews woxen weake and raw,
Through long enprisonment[325], and hard constraint,
Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was vnfit for bloudie fight:
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might,
Till he recouered had his late decayed plight.
There was an auntient house not farre away, iii
Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore,
And pure vnspotted life: so well they say
It gouernd was, and guided euermore,
Through wisedome of a matrone graue and hore;
Whose onely ioy was to relieue the needes
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore:
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.
Dame _Cœlia_ men did her call, as thought iv
From heauen to come, or thither to arise,
The mother of three daughters, well vpbrought
In goodly thewes, and godly exercise:
The eldest two most sober, chast, and wise,
_Fidelia_ and _Speranza_ virgins were,
Though spousd, yet wanting wedlocks solemnize;
But faire _Charissa_ to a louely fere
Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere.
Arriued there, the dore they find fast lockt; v
For it was warely watched night and day,
For feare of many foes: but when they knockt,
The Porter opened vnto them streight way:
He was an aged syre, all hory gray,
With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow,
Wont on a staffe his feeble steps to stay,
Hight _Humiltá_. They passe in stouping low;
For streight and narrow was the way, which he did show.
Each goodly thing is hardest to begin, vi
But entred in a spacious court they see,
Both plaine, and pleasant to be walked in,
Where them does meete a francklin faire and free,
And entertaines with comely courteous glee,
His name was _Zele_, that him right well became,
For in his speeches and behauiour hee
Did labour liuely to expresse the same,
And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.
There fairely them receiues a gentle Squire, vii
Of milde demeanure, and rare courtesie,
Right cleanly clad in comely sad attire;
In word and deede that shew’d great modestie,
And knew his good to all of each degree,
Hight _Reuerence_. He them with speeches meet
Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie,
But simple true[326], and eke vnfained sweet,
As might become a Squire so great persons to greet.
And afterwards them to his Dame he leades, viii
That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place:
Who all this while was busie at her beades:
Which doen, she vp arose with seemely grace,
And toward them full matronely did pace.
Where when that fairest _Vna_ she beheld,
Whom well she knew to spring from heauenly race,
Her hart with ioy vnwonted inly sweld,
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.
And her embracing said, O happie earth, ix
Whereon thy innocent feet doe euer tread,
Most vertuous virgin borne of heauenly berth,
That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,
From tyrans rage, and euer-dying dread,
Hast wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceasest not thy wearie soles to lead,
What grace hath thee now hither brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet vnweeting hither stray?
Strange thing it is an errant knight to see x
Here in this place, or any other wight,
That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee,
That chose[327] the narrow path, or seeke the right:
All keepe the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go astray,
And be partakers of their euill plight,
Then with a few to walke the rightest way;
O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay?
Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbs to rest, xi
O matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came,
And this good knight his way with me addrest,
Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame,
That vp to heauen is blowne. The auncient Dame[328]
Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,
And entertaynd them both, as best became,
With all the court’sies, that she could deuise,
Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.
Thus as they gan of sundry things deuise, xii
Loe two most goodly virgins came in place,
Ylinked arme in arme in louely wise,
With countenance demure, and modest grace,
They numbred euen steps and equall pace:
Of which the eldest, that _Fidelia_ hight,
Like sunny beames threw from her Christall face,
That could haue dazd the rash beholders sight,
And round about her head did shine like heauens light.
She was araied all in lilly white, xiii
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fild vp to the hight,
In which a Serpent did himselfe enfold,
That horrour made to all, that did behold;
But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood:
And in her other hand she fast did hold
A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood,
Wherein darke things were writ, hard to be vnderstood.
Her younger sister, that _Speranza_ hight, xiv
Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well;
Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight,
As was her sister; whether dread did dwell,
Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell:
Vpon her arme a siluer anchor lay,
Whereon she leaned euer, as befell:
And euer vp to heauen, as she did pray,
Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarued other way.
They seeing _Vna_, towards her gan wend, xv
Who them encounters with like courtesie;
Many kind speeches they betwene them spend,
And greatly ioy each other well[329] to see:
Then to the knight with shamefast modestie
They turne themselues, at _Vnaes_ meeke request,
And him salute with well beseeming glee;
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best,
And goodly gan[330] discourse of many a noble gest.
Then _Vna_ thus; But she your sister deare; xvi
The deare _Charissa_ where is she become?
Or wants she health, or busie is elsewhere?
Ah no, said they, but forth she may not come:
For she of late is lightned of her wombe,
And hath encreast the world with one sonne more,
That her to see should be but troublesome.
Indeede (quoth she) that should her[331] trouble sore,
But thankt be God, and her encrease so euermore.
Then said the aged _Cœlia_, Deare dame, xvii
And you good Sir, I wote that of your toyle,
And labours long, through which ye hither came,
Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle
I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle.
Then called she a Groome, that forth him led
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile
Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed;
His name was meeke _Obedience_ rightfully ared.
Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, xviii
And bodies were refresht with due repast,
Faire _Vna_ gan _Fidelia_ faire request,
To haue her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,
That of her heauenly learning he might taste,
And heare the wisedome of her words diuine.
She graunted, and that knight so much agraste,
That she him taught celestiall discipline,
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.
And that her sacred Booke, with bloud ywrit, xix
That none could read, except she did them teach,
She vnto him disclosed euery whit,
And heauenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker wit of man could neuer reach,
Of God, of grace, of iustice, of free will,
That wonder was to heare her goodly speach:
For she was able, with her words to kill,
And raise againe to life the hart, that she did thrill.
And when she list poure out her larger spright, xx
She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay,
Or backward turne his course from heauens hight;
Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay,
Dry-shod to passe, she parts the flouds in tway;[332]
And eke huge mountaines from their natiue seat
She would commaund, themselues to beare away,
And throw in raging sea with roaring threat.
Almightie God her gaue such powre, and puissance great.
The faithfull knight now grew in litle space, xxi
By hearing her, and by her sisters lore,
To such perfection of all heauenly grace,
That wretched world he gan for to abhore,
And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore,
Greeu’d with remembrance of his wicked wayes,
And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore,
That he desirde[333] to end his wretched dayes:
So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.
But wise _Speranza_ gaue him comfort sweet, xxii
And taught him how to take assured hold
Vpon her siluer anchor, as was meet;
Else had his sinnes so great, and manifold
Made him forget all that _Fidelia_ told.
In this distressed doubtfull agonie,
When him his dearest _Vna_ did behold,
Disdeining life, desiring leaue to die,
She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.
And came to _Cœlia_ to declare her smart, xxiii
Who well acquainted with that commune plight,
Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart,
Her wisely comforted all that she might,
With goodly counsell and aduisement right;
And streightway sent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight
In that disease of grieued conscience,
And well could cure the same; His name was _Patience_.
Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, xxiv
Could hardly him intreat, to tell his griefe:
Which knowne, and all that noyd his heauie spright[334]
Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply reliefe[335]
Of salues and med’cines, which had passing priefe,
And thereto added words of wondrous might:
By which to ease he him recured briefe,
And much asswag’d the passion of his plight,
That he his paine endur’d, as seeming now more light.
But yet the cause and root of all his ill, xxv
Inward corruption, and infected sin,
Not purg’d nor heald, behind remained still,
And festring sore did rankle yet within,
Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.
Which to extirpe, he laid him priuily
Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in,
Whereas he meant his corrosiues to apply,
And with streight[336] diet tame his stubborne malady.
In ashes and sackcloth he did array xxvi
His daintie corse, proud humors to abate,
And dieted with fasting euery day,
The swelling of his wounds to mitigate,
And made him pray both earely and eke late:
And euer as superfluous flesh did rot
_Amendment_ readie still at hand did wayt,
To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,
That soone in him was left no one corrupted iot.
And bitter _Penance_ with an yron whip, xxvii
Was wont him once to disple euery day:
And sharpe _Remorse_ his hart did pricke and nip,
That drops of bloud thence like a well did play;
And sad _Repentance_ vsed to embay[337]
His bodie in salt water smarting sore,[338]
The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.
So in short space they did to health restore
The man that would not liue, but earst lay at deathes dore.
In which his torment often was so great, xxviii
That like a Lyon he would cry and rore,
And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat.
His owne deare _Vna_ hearing euermore
His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore
Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare,
For pitty of his paine and anguish sore;
Yet all with patience wisely she did beare;
For well she wist, his crime could else be neuer cleare.
Whom thus recouer’d by wise _Patience_, xxix
And trew _Repentance_ they to _Vna_ brought:
Who ioyous of his cured conscience,
Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought
Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought
To put away out of his carefull brest.
By this _Charissa_, late in child-bed brought,
Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest;
To her faire _Vna_ brought this vnacquainted guest.
She was a woman in her freshest age, xxx
Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,
With goodly grace and comely personage,
That was on earth not easie to compare;
Full of great loue, but _Cupids_ wanton snare
As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;
Her necke and breasts were euer open bare,
That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill;
The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.
A multitude of babes about her hong, xxxi
Playing their sports, that ioyd her to behold,
Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake and young,
But thrust them forth still, as they wexed old:
And on her head she wore a tyre of gold,
Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire,[339]
Whose passing price vneath was to be told;
And by her side there sate a gentle paire
Of turtle doues, she sitting in an yuorie chaire.
The knight and _Vna_ entring, faire her greet, xxxii
And bid her ioy of that her happie brood;
Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,
And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.
Then _Vna_ her besought, to be so good,
As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,
Now after all his torment well withstood,
In that sad house of _Penaunce_, where his spright
Had past the paines of hell, and long enduring night.
She was right ioyous of her iust request, xxxiii
And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,
Gan him instruct in euery good behest,
Of loue, and righteousnesse, and well to donne,
And wrath, and hatred warely to shonne,
That drew on men Gods hatred, and his wrath,
And many soules in dolours had fordonne:
In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heauen she teacheth him the ready path.
Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide, xxxiv
An auncient matrone she to her does call,
Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:
Her name was _Mercie_, well knowne ouer all,
To be both gratious, and eke liberall:
To whom the carefull charge of him she gaue,
To lead aright, that he should neuer fall
In all his wayes through this wide worldes[340] waue,
That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might saue.