The godly Matrone by the hand him beares xxxv

Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,

Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,

Which still before him she remou’d away,

That nothing might his ready passage stay:

And euer when his feet encombred were,

Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,

She held him fast, and firmely did vpbeare,

As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

Eftsoones vnto an holy Hospitall, xxxvi

That was fore by the way, she did him bring,

In which seuen Bead-men that had vowed all

Their life to seruice of high heauens king

Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing:

Their[341] gates to all were open euermore,

That by the wearie way were traueiling,

And one sate wayting euer them before,

To call in commers-by[342], that needy were and pore.

The first of them that eldest was, and best, xxxvii

Of all the house had charge and gouernement,

As Guardian and Steward of the rest:

His office was to giue entertainement

And lodging, vnto all that came, and went:

Not vnto such, as could him feast againe,

And double quite, for that he on them spent,

But such, as want of harbour did constraine:

Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

The second was as[343] Almner of the place, xxxviii

His office was, the hungry for to feed,

And thristy giue to drinke, a worke of grace:

He feard not once him selfe to be in need,

Ne car’d to hoord for those, whom he did breede:

The grace of God he layd vp still in store,

Which as a stocke he left vnto his seede;

He had enough, what need him care for more?

And had he lesse, yet some he would giue to the pore.

The third had of their wardrobe custodie, xxxix

In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,

The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,

But clothes[344] meet to keepe keene could away,

And naked nature seemely to aray;

With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,

The images of God in earthly clay;

And if that no spare cloths[345] to giue he had,

His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

The fourth appointed by his office was, xl

Poore prisoners to relieue with gratious ayd,

And captiues to redeeme with price of bras,

From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd;

And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,

That God to vs forgiueth euery howre

Much more then that, why they in bands were layd,

And he that harrowd hell with heauie stowre,

The faultie soules from thence brought to his heauenly bowre.

The fift had charge sicke persons to attend, xli

And comfort those, in point of death which lay;

For them most needeth comfort in the end,

When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay

The feeble soule departing hence away.

All is but lost, that liuing we bestow,

If not well ended at our dying day.

O man haue mind of that last bitter throw;

For as the tree does fall, so lyes it euer low.

The sixt had charge of them now being dead, xlii

In seemely sort their corses to engraue,

And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,

That to their heauenly spouse both sweet and braue

They might appeare, when he their soules shall saue.

The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,

Whose face he made, all beasts to feare, and gaue

All in his hand, euen dead we honour should.

Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.

The seuenth now after death and buriall done, xliii

Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead

And widowes ayd, least they should be vndone:

In face of iudgement he their right would plead,

Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread

In their defence, nor would for gold or fee

Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread:

And when they stood in most necessitee,

He did supply their want, and gaue them euer free.

There when the Elfin knight arriued was, xliv

The first and chiefest of the seuen, whose care

Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:

Where seeing _Mercie_, that his steps vp bare,

And alwayes led, to her with reuerence rare

He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse,

And seemely welcome for her did prepare:

For of their order she was Patronesse,

Albe _Charissa_ were their chiefest founderesse.

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest, xlv

That to the rest more able he might bee:

During which time, in euery good behest

And godly worke of Almes and charitee

She him instructed with great industree;

Shortly therein so perfect he became,

That from the first vnto the last degree,

His mortall life he learned had to frame

In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

Thence forward by that painfull way they pas, xlvi

Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;

On top whereof a sacred chappell was,

And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,

Wherein an aged holy man did lye,

That day and night said his deuotion,

Ne other worldly busines did apply;

His name was heauenly _Contemplation_;

Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.

Great grace that old man to him giuen had; xlvii

For God he often saw from heauens hight,

All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,

And through great age had lost their kindly sight,

Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,

As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:

That hill they scale with all their powre and might,

That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne

Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.

There they do finde that godly aged Sire, xlviii

With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,

As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire

The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.

Each bone might through his body well be red,

And euery sinew seene through his long fast:

For nought he car’d his carcas long vnfed;

His mind was full of spirituall repast,

And pyn’d his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.

Who when these two approching he aspide xlix

At their first presence grew agrieued sore,

That forst him lay his heauenly thoughts aside;

And had he not that Dame respected more,

Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,

He would not once haue moued for the knight.

They him saluted standing far afore;

Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,

And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height.

What end (quoth she[346]) should cause vs take such paine, l

But that same end, which euery liuing wight

Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?

Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right

To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright

With burning starres, and euerliuing fire,

Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight

By wise _Fidelia_? she doth thee require,

To shew it to this knight, according his desire.

Thrise happy man, said then the father graue, li

Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,

And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to saue.

Who better can the way to heauen aread,

Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred

In heauenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?

Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead

Present before the maiestie diuine,

And his auenging wrath to clemencie incline.

Yet since[347] thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne. lii

Then come thou man of earth, and see the way,

That neuer yet was seene of Faeries sonne,

That neuer leads the traueiler astray,

But after labours long, and sad delay,

Brings[348] them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.

But first thou must a season fast and pray,

Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,

And haue her strength recur’d from fraile infirmitis.

That done, he leads him to the highest Mount; liii

Such one, as that same mighty man of God,

That bloud-red billowes like a walled front

On either side disparted with his rod,

Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,

Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in stone

With bloudy letters by the hand of God,

The bitter doome of death and balefull mone

He did receiue, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie, liv

Adornd with fruitfull Oliues all arownd,

Is, as it were for endlesse memory

Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,

For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:

Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay

Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,

On which the thrise three learned Ladies play

Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.

From thence, far off he vnto him did shew lv

A litle path, that was both steepe and long,

Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;

Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong

Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong

Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;

Too high a ditty for my simple song;

The Citie of the great king hight it well,

Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see lvi

The blessed Angels to and fro descend

From highest heauen, in gladsome companee,

And with great ioy into that Citie wend,

As commonly as friend does with his frend.

Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,

What stately building durst so high extend

Her loftie towres vnto the starry sphere,

And what vnknowen nation there empeopled were.

Faire knight (quoth he) _Hierusalem_ that is, lvii

The new _Hierusalem_, that God has built

For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,

His chosen people purg’d from sinfull guilt,

With pretious[349] bloud, which cruelly was spilt

On cursed tree, of that vnspotted lam,

That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:

Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,

More deare vnto their God, then younglings to their dam.

Till now, said then the knight, I weened well, lviii

That great _Cleopolis_, where I haue beene,

In which that fairest _Faerie Queene_ doth dwell,[350]

The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;

And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,

_Panthea_, seemd the brightest thing, that was:

But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;

For this great Citie that does far surpas,

And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.

Most trew, then said the holy aged man; lix

Yet is _Cleopolis_ for earthly frame[351],

The fairest peece, that eye beholden can:

And well beseemes all knights of noble name,

That couet in th’immortall booke of fame

To be eternized, that same to haunt,

And doen their seruice to that soueraigne Dame,

That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:

For she is heauenly borne, and heauen may iustly vaunt.

And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race, lx

How euer now accompted[352] Elfins sonne,

Well worthy doest thy seruice for her grace,

To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.

But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,

And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,

Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,

And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:

For bloud can nought but sin, and wars but sorrowes yield.

Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage, lxi

Which after all to heauen shall thee send;

Then peaceably thy[353] painefull pilgrimage

To yonder same _Hierusalem_ do bend,

Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:

For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,

Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend

And Patrone: thou Saint _George_ shalt called bee,

Saint _George_ of mery England, the signe of victoree.

Vnworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace, lxii

How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?

These that haue it attaind, were in like cace

(Quoth he) as wretched, and liu’d in like paine.[354]

But deeds of armes must I at last be faine,

And Ladies loue to leaue so dearely bought?

What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,

(Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?[355]

As for loose loues are vaine,[356] and vanish into nought.

O let me not (quoth he) then turne[357] againe lxiii

Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;

But let me here for aye in peace remaine,

Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,

That nothing may my present hope empare.

That may not be (said he) ne maist thou yit

Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,

Who did her cause into thy hand commit,

Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit.

Then shall I soone, (quoth he) so God me grace, lxiv

Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,

And shortly backe returne vnto this place,

To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.

But now aread, old father, why of late

Didst thou behight me borne of English blood,

Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?[358]

That word shall I (said he) auouchen good,

Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.

For well I wote, thou springst from ancient race lxv

Of _Saxon_ kings, that haue with mightie hand

And many bloudie battailes fought in place[359]

High reard their royall throne in _Britane_[360] land,

And vanquisht them, vnable to withstand:

From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reft,

There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,

And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.

Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaungd by Faeries theft.

Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond, lxvi

And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,

Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,

As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,

And brought thee vp in ploughmans state to byde,

Whereof _Georgos_ he thee gaue to name;

Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,

To Faery court thou cam’st to seeke for fame,

And proue thy puissaunt armes, as seemes thee best became.

O holy Sire (quoth he) how shall I quight lxvii

The many fauours I with thee haue found,

That hast my name and nation red aright,

And taught the way that does to heauen bound?

This said, adowne he looked to the ground,

To haue returnd, but dazed were his eyne,

Through passing brightnesse, which did quite confound

His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne.

So darke are earthly things compard to things diuine.

At last whenas himselfe he gan to find, lxviii

To _Vna_ back he cast him to retire;

Who him awaited still with pensiue mind.

Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre,

He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.

So came to _Vna_, who him ioyd to see,

And after litle rest, gan him desire,

Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.

So leaue they take of _Cœlia_, and her daughters three.

FOOTNOTES:

[325] ii 4 imprisonment _1609_

[326] vii 8 simple, trew _Morris_

[327] x 4 chuse _1609_

[328] xi 5 Dame, _1590 &c._

[329] xv 4 well] for _1590_

[330] 9 gan] can _1609_

[331] xvi 8 her] be _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[332] xx 5 _om. omitted?] 1590, 1596_: _add. 1609_

[333] xxi 8 desirde, _1590_, _1596_

[334] xxiv 3 spright, _1590 &c._

[335] 4 relief, _1590_: reliefe, _1596_

[336] xxv 9 streight] streict _1609_

[337] xxvii 5 embay, _1590 &c._

[338] 6 His blamefull body in salt water sore, _1590_

[339] xxxi 6 faire. _1596_

[340] xxxiv 8 worlds _1609_

[341] xxxvi 6 Their _1609_: There _1590_, _1596_

[342] 9 in-commers by _1590_, _1596_

[343] xxxviii 1 as] an _1609_

[344] xxxix 4 clothez _1609_

[345] 8 clothes _1590_, _1609_

[346] l she] he _1596_

[347] lii 1 since] sith _1609_

[348] 6 Brings] Bring _1590_, _1596_

[349] lvii 5 pretious] piteous _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[350] lviii 3 dwell _1590 &c._

[351] lix 2 frame] fame _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[352] lx 2 accounted _1609_

[353] lxi 3 to thy _1596_

[354] lxii 4 As wretched men, and liued in like paine. _1590_

[355] 8 and bitter battailes all are fought? _1590_

[356] 9 they are vaine, _1590_

[357] lxiii 1 then turne] returne _1609_

[358] lxiv 7 doen then nominate? _1596_

[359] lxv 3 place] face _1590_

[360] 4 _Britans_ _1590_

_Cant. XI._

[Illustration:

_The knight with that old Dragon fights

two dayes incessantly:

The third him ouerthrowes, and gayns

most glorious victory._

]

High time now gan it wex for _Vna_ faire[361], i

To thinke of those her captiue Parents deare,

And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:

Whereto whenas they now approched neare,

With hartie words her knight she gan to cheare,

And in her modest manner thus bespake;

Deare knight, as deare, as euer knight was deare,

That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake,

High heauen behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take.

Now are we come vnto my natiue soyle, ii

And to the place, where all our perils dwell;

Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle,

Therefore henceforth be at[362] your keeping well,

And euer ready for your foeman fell.

The sparke of noble courage now awake,

And striue your excellent selfe to excell;

That shall ye euermore renowmed make,

Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vndertake.

And pointing forth, lo yonder is (said she) iii[363]

The brasen towre in which my parents deare

For dread of that huge feend emprisond be,[364]

Whom I from far[365] see on the walles appeare,

Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:

And on the top of all I do espye

The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare,

That O my parents might I happily

Vnto you bring, to ease you of your misery.

With that they heard a roaring hideous sound, iv

That all the ayre with terrour filled wide,

And seemd vneath to shake the stedfast ground.

Eftsoones that dreadfull Dragon they espide,

Where stretcht[366] he lay vpon the sunny side[367]

Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.

But all so soone, as he from far descride

Those glistring armes, that heauen with light did fill,

He rousd himselfe full blith, and hastned them vntill.

Then bad the knight his[368] Lady yede aloofe, v

And to an hill her selfe with draw aside,

From whence she might behold that battailles proof

And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:

She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.

Now O thou sacred Muse, most learned Dame,

Faire ympe of _Phœbus_ and his aged bride,

The Nourse of time, and euerlasting fame,

That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name;

O gently come into my feeble brest, vi

Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,

Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,

And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,

That nought their kindled courage may aswage,[369]

Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd;[370]

The God of warre with his fiers equipage

Thou doest awake, sleepe neuer he so sownd,

And scared[371] nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.

Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit aside, vii

Till I of warres and bloudy _Mars_ do sing,

And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,

Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim king,

That with their horrour heauen and earth did ring,

A worke of labour long, and endlesse prayse:

But now a while let downe that haughtie string,

And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,

That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.

By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand, viii

Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his hast,

That with his largenesse measured much land,

And made wide shadow vnder his huge wast;

As mountaine doth the valley ouercast.

Approching nigh, he reared high afore

His body monstrous, horrible, and vast[372],

Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more,

Was swolne with wrath, and poyson, and with bloudy gore.

And ouer, all with brasen scales was armd, ix

Like plated coate of steele, so couched neare,

That nought mote perce, ne might his corse be harmd

With dint of sword[373], nor push of pointed speare;

Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare,

His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely dight,

So shaked he, that horrour was to heare,

For as the clashing of an Armour bright,

Such noyse his rouzed scales did send vnto the knight.

His flaggy wings when forth he did display, x

Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd

Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way:

And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd,[374]

Were like mayne-yards, with flying canuas lynd[375],

With which whenas him list the ayre to beat,

And there by force vnwonted passage find,

The cloudes before him fled for terrour great,

And all the heauens stood still amazed with his threat.

His huge long tayle wound vp in hundred foldes, xi

Does ouerspred his long bras-scaly backe,

Whose wreathed boughts when euer he vnfoldes,

And thicke entangled knots adown does slacke,[376]

Bespotted as[377] with shields of red and blacke,

It sweepeth all the land behind him farre,

And of three furlongs does but litle lacke;

And at the point two stings in-fixed arre,

Both deadly sharpe, that sharpest steele exceeden farre.

But stings and sharpest steele did far exceed xii

The sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes;

Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed,

What euer thing does touch his rauenous pawes,

Or what within his reach he euer drawes.

But his most hideous head my toung to tell[378]

Does tremble: for his deepe deuouring iawes

Wide gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell,

Through which into his darke abisse all rauin fell.

And that more wondrous was, in either iaw xiii

Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were,

In which yet trickling bloud and gobbets raw

Of late deuoured bodies did appeare,

That sight thereof bred cold congealed feare:

Which to increase, and all atonce to kill,

A cloud of smoothering smoke and sulphur seare

Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed still,

That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did fill.

His blazing eyes, like two bright shining shields, xiv

Did burne with wrath, and sparkled liuing fyre;

As two broad Beacons, set in open fields,

Send forth their flames farre off to euery shyre,

And warning giue, that enemies conspyre,

With fire and sword the region to inuade;

So flam’d his eyne with rage and rancorous yre:

But farre within, as in a hollow glade,

Those glaring lampes were set, that made a dreadfull shade.

So dreadfully he towards him did pas, xv

Forelifting vp aloft his speckled brest,

And often bounding on the brused gras,

As for great ioyance of his newcome guest.

Eftsoones he gan aduance his haughtie crest,

As chauffed Bore his bristles doth vpreare,

And shoke his scales to battell readie drest;

That made the _Redcrosse_ knight nigh quake for feare,

As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare.

The knight gan fairely couch his steadie speare, xvi

And fiercely ran at him with rigorous might:

The pointed steele arriuing rudely theare,

His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight,

But glauncing by forth passed forward right;

Yet sore amoued with so puissant push,

The wrathfull beast about him turned light,

And him so rudely passing by, did brush

With his long tayle, that horse and man to ground did rush.

Both horse and man vp lightly rose againe, xvii

And fresh encounter towards him addrest:

But th’idle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,

And found no place his deadly point to rest.

Exceeding rage enflam’d the furious beast,

To be auenged of so great despight;

For neuer felt his imperceable brest

So wondrous force, from hand of liuing wight;

Yet had he prou’d the powre of many a puissant knight.

Then with his wauing wings displayed wyde, xviii

Himselfe vp high he lifted from the ground,

And with strong flight did forcibly diuide

The yielding aire, which nigh too feeble found

Her flitting partes, and element vnsound,

To beare so great a weight: he cutting way

With his broad sayles, about him soared round:

At last low stouping with vnweldie sway,

Snatcht vp both horse and man, to beare them quite away.

Long he them bore aboue the subiect plaine, xix

So farre as Ewghen bow a shaft may send,

Till struggling strong did him at last constraine,

To let them downe before his flightes end:

As hagard hauke presuming to contend

With hardie fowle, aboue his hable might,

His wearie pounces all in vaine doth spend,

To trusse the pray too heauie for his flight;

Which comming downe to ground, does free it selfe by fight.

He so disseized of his gryping grosse, xx

The knight his thrillant speare againe assayd

In his bras-plated body to embosse,

And three mens strength vnto the stroke he layd;

Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked, as affrayd,

And glauncing from his scaly necke, did glyde

Close vnder his left wing, then broad displayd.

The percing steele there wrought a wound full wyde,

That with the vncouth smart the Monster lowdly cryde.

He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore, xxi

When wintry storme his wrathfull wreck does threat,

The rolling billowes beat the ragged shore,

As they the earth would shoulder from her seat,

And greedie gulfe does gape, as he would eat

His neighbour element in his reuenge:

Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat,

To moue the world from off his stedfast henge,

And boystrous battell make, each other to auenge.

The steely head stucke fast still in his flesh, xxii

Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood,

And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh

A gushing riuer of blacke goarie blood,

That drowned all the land, whereon he stood;

The streame thereof would driue a water-mill.

Trebly augmented was his furious mood

With bitter sense of his deepe rooted ill,

That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethrill.

His hideous tayle then hurled he about, xxiii

And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes

Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout

Striuing to loose the knot, that fast him tyes,

Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash implyes,

That to the ground he is perforce constraynd

To throw his rider: who can quickly ryse

From off[379] the earth, with durty bloud distaynd,

For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd.

And fiercely tooke his trenchand blade in hand, xxiv

With which he stroke so furious and so fell,

That nothing seemd the puissance could withstand:

Vpon his crest the hardned yron fell,

But his more hardned crest was armd so well,

That deeper dint therein it would not make;

Yet so extremely did the buffe him quell,

That from thenceforth he shund the like to take,

But when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.

The knight was wrath[380] to see his stroke beguyld, xxv

And smote againe with more outrageous might;

But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld,

And left not any marke, where it did light;

As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.

The beast impatient of his smarting wound,

And of so fierce and forcible despight,

Thought with his wings to stye aboue the ground;

But his late wounded wing vnseruiceable found.

Then full of griefe and anguish vehement, xxvi

He lowdly brayd, that like was neuer heard,

And from his wide deuouring ouen sent

A flake of fire, that flashing in his beard,

Him all amazd, and almost made affeard:

The scorching flame sore swinged[381] all his face,

And through his armour all his bodie seard,

That he could not endure so cruell cace,

But thought his armes to leaue, and helmet to vnlace.

Not that great Champion of the antique world, xxvii

Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt[382],

And hath for twelue huge labours high extold,

So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,

When him the poysoned garment did enchaunt

With _Centaures_ bloud, and bloudie verses charm’d,

As did this knight twelue thousand dolours daunt,

Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm’d,

That erst him goodly arm’d, now most of all him harm’d.

Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieued, brent xxviii

With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire

That neuer man such mischiefes did torment;

Death better were, death did he oft desire,

But death will neuer come, when needes require.

Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,

He cast to suffer him no more respire,

But gan his sturdie sterne about to weld,

And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

It fortuned (as faire it then befell) xxix

Behind his backe vnweeting, where he stood,

Of auncient time there was a springing well,

From which fast trickled forth a siluer flood,

Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good.

Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got

That happie land, and all with innocent blood

Defyld those sacred waues, it rightly hot

_The well of life_, ne yet his vertues had forgot.

For vnto life the dead it could restore, xxx

And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,

Those that with sicknesse were infected sore,

It could recure, and aged long decay

Renew, as one[383] were borne that very day.

Both _Silo_ this, and _Iordan_ did excell,

And th’English _Bath_, and eke the german _Spau_,

Ne can _Cephise_, nor _Hebrus_ match this well:

Into the same the knight backe ouerthrowen, fell.

Now gan the golden _Phœbus_ for to steepe xxxi

His fierie face in billowes of the west,

And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,

Whiles from their iournall labours they did rest,

When that infernall Monster, hauing kest

His wearie foe into that liuing well,

Can high aduance his broad discoloured brest,

Aboue his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,

And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.

Which when his pensiue Ladie saw from farre, xxxii

Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,

As weening that the sad end of the warre,

And gan to highest God entirely pray,

That feared chance from her to turne away;

With folded hands and knees full lowly bent

All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay

Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,

But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.

The morrow next gan early to appeare, xxxiii

That _Titan_ rose to runne his daily race;

But early ere the morrow next gan reare

Out of the sea faire _Titans_ deawy face,

Vp rose the gentle virgin from her place,

And looked all about, if she might spy

Her loued knight to moue his manly pace:

For she had great doubt of his safety,

Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.

At last she saw, where he vpstarted braue xxxiv

Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay;

As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean waue,

Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,

And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay,

Like Eyas hauke vp mounts vnto the skies,

His newly budded pineons to assay,

And marueiles[384] at himselfe, still as he flies:

So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy, xxxv

No wonder if he wondred at the sight,

And doubted, whether his late enemy

It were, or other new supplied knight.

He, now to proue his late renewed might,

High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,

Vpon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,

That to the scull a yawning wound it made:

The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid.

I wote not, whether the reuenging steele xxxvi

Were hardned with that holy water dew,

Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,

Or his baptized hands now greater grew;

Or other secret vertue did ensew;

Else neuer could the force of fleshly arme,

Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:

For till that stownd could neuer wight him harme,

By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

The cruell wound enraged him so sore, xxxvii

That loud he yelded[385] for exceeding paine;

As hundred ramping Lyons seem’d to rore,

Whom rauenous hunger did thereto constraine:

Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,

And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore,

That to his force to yeelden it was faine;

Ne ought his sturdie strokes might stand afore,

That high trees ouerthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.

The same aduauncing high aboue his head, xxxviii

With sharpe intended sting so rude him smot,

That to the earth him droue, as stricken dead,

Ne liuing wight would haue him life behot:

The mortall sting his angry needle shot

Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,

Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got:

The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,

Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.

But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, xxxix

Then of the grieuous smart, which him did wring,

From loathed soile he can him lightly reare,

And stroue to loose the farre infixed sting[386]:

Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,

Inflam’d with wrath, his raging blade he heft,

And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string[387]

Of his huge taile he quite a sunder[388] cleft,

Fiue ioynts thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.

Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes, xl

With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,

The hell-bred beast threw forth vnto the skyes,

That all was couered with darknesse dire:

Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,

He cast at once him to auenge for all,

And gathering vp himselfe out of the mire,

With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall[389]

Vpon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.

Much was the man encombred with his hold, xli

In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,

Ne wist yet, how his talants to vnfold;

Nor[390] harder was from _Cerberus_ greedie iaw

To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw

To reaue by strength[391] the griped gage away:

Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,

And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,

It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.

Tho when he saw no power might preuaile, xlii

His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,

Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,

And double blowes about him stoutly laid,

That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;

As sparckles from the Anduile vse to fly,

When heauie hammers on the wedge are swaid;

Therewith at last he forst him to vnty

One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

The other foot, fast fixed on his shield,[392] xliii

Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine

To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,

He smot thereat with all his might and maine,

That nought so wondrous puissance might sustaine;

Vpon the ioynt the lucky steele did light,

And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine;

The paw yet missed not his minisht might,

But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

For griefe thereof, and diuelish despight, xliv

From his infernall fournace forth he threw

Huge flames, that dimmed all the heauens light,

Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew;

As burning _Aetna_ from his boyling stew

Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,

And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,

Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke,

That all the land with stench, and heauen with horror choke.

The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence xlv

So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire

A little backward for his best defence,

To saue his bodie from the scorching fire,

Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.

It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide)

As he recoyled backward, in the mire

His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,

And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, xlvi

Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,

As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,

Whereof great vertues ouer all were red:

For happie life to all, which thereon fed,

And life eke euerlasting did befall:

Great God it planted in that blessed sted

With his almightie hand, and did it call

_The tree of life_,[393] the crime of our first fathers fall.

In all the world like was not to be found, xlvii

Saue in that soile, where all good things did grow,

And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,

As incorrupted Nature did them sow,

Till that dread Dragon all did ouerthrow.

Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,

Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know

Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:

That tree through one mans fault hath doen vs all to dy.

From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, xlviii

A trickling streame of Balme, most soueraine

And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell,

And ouerflowed all the fertill plaine,

As it had deawed bene with timely raine:

Life and long health that gratious ointment gaue,

And deadly woundes could heale,[394] and reare againe

The senselesse corse appointed for the graue.

Into that same he fell: which did from death him saue.

For nigh thereto the euer damned beast xlix

Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,

And all that life preserued, did detest:

Yet he it oft aduentur’d to inuade.

By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,

And yeeld his roome[395] to sad succeeding night,

Who with her sable mantle gan to shade

The face of earth, and wayes of liuing wight,

And high her burning torch set vp in heauen bright.

When gentle _Vna_ saw the second fall l

Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,

And faint through losse of bloud, mou’d not at all,

But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight,

Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might

Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,

Againe she stricken was with sore affright,

And for his safetie gan deuoutly pray;

And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioyous day.

The ioyous day gan early to appeare, li

And faire _Aurora_ from the[396] deawy bed

Of aged _Tithone_ gan her selfe to reare,

With rosie cheekes, for shame as blushing red;

Her golden lockes for haste were loosely shed

About her eares, when _Vna_ her did marke

Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred,[397]

From heauen high to chase the chearelesse darke;[398]

With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.

Then freshly vp arose the doughtie knight, lii

All healed of his hurts and woundes[399] wide,

And did himselfe to battell readie dight;

Whose early foe awaiting him beside

To haue deuourd, so soone as day he spyde,

When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare,

As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,

He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;

Nathlesse with wonted rage he him aduaunced neare.

And in his first encounter, gaping wide, liii

He thought attonce him to haue swallowd quight,

And rusht vpon him with outragious pride;

Who him r’encountring fierce, as hauke in flight,

Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright

Taking aduantage of his open iaw,

Ran through his mouth with so importune might,

That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,

And back retyrd, his life bloud forth with all did draw.

So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, liv

That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;

So downe he fell, that th’earth him vnderneath

Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;

So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,

Whose false foundation waues haue washt away,

With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,

And rolling downe, great _Neptune_ doth dismay;

So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.

The knight himselfe euen trembled at his fall, lv

So huge and horrible a masse it seem’d;

And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,

Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem’d,

But yet at last, when as the direfull feend

She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,

She nigher drew, and saw that ioyous end:

Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,

That had atchieu’d so great a conquest by his might.

FOOTNOTES:

[361] i 1 faire] _fayre_ _1590_: _faire_ _1596_

[362] ii 4 at] it _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[363] iii _om. 1590_

[364] 3 be _1596_

[365] 4 far, appeare _1596_

[366] iv 5 stretcht] stretch _1596_

[367] side, _1590_, _1596_

[368] v 1 his] this _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[369] vi 5 asswage; _1609_

[370] 6 sound, _1609_

[371] 9 scared] feared _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[372] viii 7 vaste _1590_: wast _1596_

[373] ix 4 swerd _1590_

[374] x 4 bynd _1596_

[375] 5 lynd] kynd _1590_

[376] xi 4 slack. _1590_: slacke. _1596_: slack; _1609_

[377] 5 as] all _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[378] xii 6 tell, _1590_, _1596_

[379] xxiii 8 off] of _1590_

[380] xxv 1 wroth _1590_, _1609_

[381] xxvi 6 swinged] singed _1609_

[382] xxvii 2 vaunt] daunt _1596_, _1609_

[383] xxx 5 one] it _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[384] xxxiv 8 merueiles _1590_

[385] xxxvii 2 yelded] yelled _1609_

[386] xxxix 4 sting] string _1596_, _1609_

[387] 7 string] sting _1596_, _1609_

[388] 8 in sunder _1609_

[389] xl 8 fall, _1590_, _1596_

[390] xli 4 Nor _1609_: For _1590_, _1596_

[391] 6 strength, _1590_, _1596_

[392] xliii 1 shield _1590_, _1596_

[393] xlvi 9 The tree of life, _1590_, _1596_. _But cf._ xxix 9

[394] xlviii 7 heale _1596_

[395] xlix 6 rowme _1590_

[396] li 2 the] her _1596_, _1609_

[397] 7 spred; _1590 &c._

[398] 8 darke, _1590 &c._

[399] lii 2 woundez _1609_

_Cant. XII._

[Illustration:

_Faire Vna to the Redcrosse knight

betrouthed is with ioy:

Though false Duessa it to barre

her false sleights doe imploy._

]

Behold I see the hauen nigh at hand, i

To which I meane my wearie course to bend;

Vere the maine shete, and beare vp with the land,

The which afore is fairely to be kend,

And seemeth safe from stormes, that may offend;

There this faire virgin wearie of her way

Must landed be, now at her iourneyes end:

There eke my feeble barke a while may stay,

Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.

Scarsely had _Phœbus_ in the glooming East ii

Yet harnessed his firie-footed teeme,

Ne reard aboue the earth his flaming creast,

When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme,

That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme[400]

Vnto the watchman on the castle wall;

Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme,

And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,

To tell, how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.[401]

Vprose with hastie ioy, and feeble speed iii

That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land,

And looked forth, to weet, if true indeede

Those tydings were, as he did vnderstand,

Which whenas true by tryall he out fond[402],

He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,

Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond

Proclaymed ioy and peace through all his state;

For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late.

Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie, iv

That sent to heauen the ecchoed report

Of their new ioy, and happie victorie

Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,

And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.

Then all the people, as in solemne feast,

To him assembled with one full consort,

Reioycing at the fall of that great beast,

From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.

Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene, v

Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,

And sad habiliments right well beseene;

A noble crew about them waited round

Of sage and sober Peres, all grauely gownd;

Whom farre before did march a goodly band

Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd,

But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;

Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land.

Vnto that doughtie Conquerour they came, vi

And him before themselues prostrating low,

Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,

And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.

Soone after them all dauncing on a row

The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,

As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow,

When morning deaw vpon their leaues doth light:

And in their hands sweet Timbrels all vpheld on hight.

And them before, the fry of children young vii

Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,

And to the Maydens sounding tymbrels[403] sung

In well attuned notes, a ioyous lay,

And made delightfull musicke all the way,

Vntill they came, where that faire virgin stood;

As faire _Diana_ in fresh sommers day[404]

Beholds her Nymphes, enraung’d in shadie wood,

Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood.

So she beheld those maydens meriment viii

With chearefull vew; who when to her they came,

Themselues to ground with gratious[405] humblesse bent,

And her ador’d by honorable name,

Lifting to heauen her euerlasting fame:

Then on her head they set a girland greene,

And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game;

Who in her selfe-resemblance well beseene,

Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.

And after,[406] all the raskall many ran, ix

Heaped together in rude rablement,

To see the face of that victorious man:

Whom all admired, as from heauen sent,

And gazd vpon with gaping wonderment.

But when they came, where that dead Dragon lay,

Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,

The sight with idle feare did them dismay,

Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.

Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd; x

One that would wiser seeme, then all the rest,

Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd

Some lingring life within his hollow brest,

Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest

Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull seed;

Another said, that in his eyes did rest

Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;

Another said, he saw him moue his eyes indeed.

One mother, when as[407] her foolehardie chyld xi

Did come too[408] neare, and with his talants play,

Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe reuyld,

And to her gossips[409] gan in counsell say;

How can I tell, but that his talants[410] may

Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?

So diuersly themselues in vaine they fray;

Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand,

To proue how many acres he did spread of land.

Thus flocked all the folke him round about, xii

The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,

Being arriued, where that champion stout

After his foes defeasance did remaine,

Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine,

With princely gifts of yuorie and gold,

And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.

Then when his daughter deare he does behold,

Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.

And after to his Pallace he them brings, xiii

With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet;

And all the way the ioyous people sings,

And with their garments strowes the paued street:

Whence mounting vp, they find purueyance meet

Of all, that royall Princes court became,

And all the floore was vnderneath their feet

Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,

On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame.

What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize, xiv

In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?

What needs of daintie dishes to deuize,

Of comely seruices, or courtly trayne[411]?

My narrow leaues cannot in them containe

The large discourse of royall Princes state.

Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:

For th’antique world excesse and pride did hate;

Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen vp but late.

Then when with meates and drinkes of euery kinde xv

Their feruent appetites they quenched had,

That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde,

Of straunge aduentures, and of perils sad,

Which in his trauell him befallen had,

For to demaund of his renowmed guest:

Who then with vtt’rance graue, and count’nance sad,

From point to point, as is before exprest,

Discourst his voyage long, according his request.

Great pleasure[412] mixt with pittifull regard, xvi

That godly King and Queene did passionate,

Whiles they his pittifull aduentures heard,

That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,

And often blame the too importune fate,

That heapd on him so many wrathfull wreakes:

For neuer gentle knight, as he of late,

So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes;

And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.

Then said that[413] royall Pere in sober wise; xvii

Deare Sonne, great beene the euils, which ye bore

From first to last in your late enterprise,

That I note, whether prayse, or pitty more:

For neuer liuing man, I weene, so sore

In sea of deadly daungers was distrest;

But since[414] now safe ye seised haue the shore,

And well arriued are, (high God be blest)

Let vs deuize of ease and euerlasting rest.

Ah dearest Lord, said then that doughty knight, xviii

Of ease or rest I may not yet deuize;

For by the faith, which I to armes haue plight,

I bounden am streight after this emprize,

As that your daughter can ye well aduize,

Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene,

And her to serue six yeares in warlike wize,

Gainst that proud Paynim[415] king, that workes her teene:

Therefore I ought craue pardon, till I there haue beene.

Vnhappie falles that hard necessitie, xix

(Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace,

And vowed foe of my felicitie;

Ne I against the same can iustly preace:

But since[416] that band ye cannot now release,

Nor doen vndo; (for vowes may not be vaine)

Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,

Ye then shall hither backe returne againe,

The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.

Which for my part I couet to performe, xx

In sort as through the world I did proclame,

That who so kild that monster most deforme,

And him in hardy battaile ouercame,

Should haue mine onely daughter to his Dame,

And of my kingdome heire apparaunt bee:

Therefore since[417] now to thee perteines the same,

By dew desert of noble cheualree,

Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo I yield to thee.

Then forth he called that his daughter faire, xxi

The fairest _Vn’_ his onely daughter deare,

His onely daughter, and his onely heyre;

Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare,

As bright as doth the morning starre appeare

Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight,

To tell that[418] dawning day is drawing[419] neare,

And to the world does bring long wished light;

So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.

So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; xxii

For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,

And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,

Wherewith her heauenly[420] beautie she did hide,

Whiles on her wearie iourney she did ride;

And on her now a garment she did weare,

All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride,

That seemd like silke and siluer wouen neare,

But neither silke nor siluer therein did appeare.

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, xxiii

And glorious light of her sunshyny face

To tell, were as to striue against the streame.

My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,

Her heauenly lineaments for to enchace.

Ne wonder; for her owne deare loued knight,

All were she dayly with himselfe in place,

Did wonder much at her celestiall sight:

Oft had he seene her faire, but neuer so faire dight.

So fairely dight, when she in presence came, xxiv

She to her Sire made humble reuerence,

And bowed low, that her right well became,

And added grace vnto her excellence:

Who with great wisedome, and graue eloquence

Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said,

With flying speede, and seeming great pretence,

Came running in, much like a man dismaid,

A Messenger with letters, which his message said.

All in the open hall amazed stood, xxv

At suddeinnesse of that vnwarie sight,

And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood.

But he for nought would stay his passage right,

Till fast before the king he did alight;

Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make,

And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight;

Then to his hands that writ he did betake,

Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake.

To thee, most mighty king of _Eden_ faire, xxvi

Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest,

The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire

Of that great Emperour of all the West;

And bids thee be aduized for the best,

Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band

Of wedlocke to that new vnknowen guest:

For he already plighted his right hand

Vnto another loue, and to another land.

To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, xxvii

He was affiaunced long time before,

And sacred pledges he both gaue, and had,

False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore:

Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore,

And guiltie heauens of his bold periury,

Which though he hath polluted oft of[421] yore,

Yet I to them for Judgement iust do fly,

And them coniure t’auenge this shamefull iniury.

Therefore since[422] mine he is, or free or bond, xxviii

Or false or trew, or liuing or else dead,

Withhold, O soueraine Prince, your hasty hond

From knitting league with him, I you aread;

Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,

Through weakenesse of my widowhed, or woe:

For truth is strong, her[423] rightfull cause to plead,

And shall find friends, if need requireth soe,

So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, _Fidessa_.

When he these bitter byting words had red, xxix

The tydings straunge did him abashed make,

That still he sate long time astonished

As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.

At last his solemne silence thus he brake,

With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;

Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake

Thy life and honour late aduenturest,

Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.

What meane these bloudy vowes, and idle threats, xxx

Throwne out from womanish impatient mind?

What heauens? what altars? what enraged heates

Here heaped vp with termes of loue vnkind,

My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind?

High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame.

But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,

Or wrapped be in loues of former Dame,

With crime do not it couer, but disclose the same.

To whom the _Redcrosse_ knight this answere sent, xxxi

My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd,

Till well ye wote by graue intendiment,

What woman, and wherefore doth me vpbrayd

With breach of loue, and loyalty betrayd.

It was in my mishaps, as hitherward

I lately traueild, that vnwares I strayd[424]

Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;

That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.

There did I find, or rather I was found xxxii

Of this false woman, that _Fidessa_ hight,

_Fidessa_ hight the falsest Dame on ground,

Most false _Duessa_, royall richly dight,

That easie was t’[425] inuegle weaker sight:

Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill,

Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,

Vnwares me wrought vnto her wicked will,

And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.

Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, xxxiii

And on the ground her selfe prostrating low,

With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;

O pardon me, my soueraigne Lord, to show

The secret treasons, which of late I know

To haue bene wroght by that false sorceresse.

She onely she it is, that earst did throw

This gentle knight into so great distresse,

That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.

And now it seemes, that she suborned hath xxxiv

This craftie messenger with letters vaine[426],

To worke new woe and improuided scath,

By breaking of the band betwixt vs twaine;

Wherein she vsed hath the practicke paine

Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,

Whom if ye please for to discouer plaine,

Ye shall him _Archimago_ find, I ghesse,

The falsest man aliue; who[427] tries shall find no lesse.

The king was greatly moued at her speach, xxxv

And all with suddein indignation fraight,

Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach.

Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait,

Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait:

Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band,

As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,

With idle force did faine them to withstand,

And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand.

But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, xxxvi

And bound him hand and foote with yron chains.

And with continuall watch did warely keepe;

Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains

He could escape fowle death or deadly paines?

Thus when that Princes wrath was pacifide,

He gan renew the late forbidden banes,

And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde,

With sacred rites and vowes for euer to abyde.

His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, xxxvii

That none but death for euer can deuide;

His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit,

The housling fire did kindle and prouide,

And holy water thereon sprinckled wide;

At which the[428] bushy Teade a groome did light,

And sacred lampe in secret chamber hide,

Where it should not be quenched day nor night,

For feare of euill fates, but burnen euer bright.

Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, xxxviii

And made great feast to solemnize that day;

They all perfumde with frankincense[429] diuine,

And precious odours fetcht from far away,

That all the house did sweat with great aray:

And all the while sweete Musicke did apply

Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play,

To driue away the dull Melancholy;

The whiles one sung a song of loue and iollity.

During the which there was an heauenly noise xxxix

Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly,

Like as it had bene many an Angels voice,

Singing before th’eternall maiesty,

In their trinall triplicities on hye;

Yet wist no creature, whence that heauenly sweet

Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly

Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet,

And rauished with rare impression in his sprite.

Great ioy was made that day of young and old, xl

And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land,

That their exceeding merth may not be told:

Suffice it heare by signes to vnderstand

The vsuall ioyes at knitting of loues band.

Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,

Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand,

And euer, when his eye did her behold,

His[430] heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold.

Her ioyous presence and sweet company xli

In full content he there did long enioy,

Ne wicked enuie, ne[431] vile gealosy

His deare delights were able to annoy:

Yet swimming in that sea of blisfull ioy,

He nought forgot, how he whilome had sworne,

In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,

Vnto his Faerie Queene backe to returne:

The which he shortly did, and _Vna_ left to mourne.

Now strike your sailes ye iolly Mariners, xlii

For we be come vnto a quiet rode,

Where we must land some of our passengers,

And light this wearie vessell of her lode.

Here she a while may make her safe abode,

Till she repaired haue her tackles spent,

And wants supplide. And then againe abroad

On the long voyage whereto she is bent:

Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.

_FINIS LIB. I._

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[400] ii 5 seeme, _1590 &c._

[401] 9 fall, _1590_, _1596_

[402] iii 5 fond] found _1596_, _1609_

[403] vii 3 tymbrel _1590_

[404] 7 day, _1590_, _1596_

[405] viii 3 gracious _1590 passim_

[406] ix 1 after _1590_

[407] xi 1 when as] whenas _1590_

[408] 2 too] to _1590_

[409] 4 gossibs _1590_

[410] 5 talents _1590 &c._; _corr. F. E._

[411] xiv 5 vntayne _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[412] xvi i pleasures _1596_, _1609_

[413] xvii 1 that] the _1596_, _1609_

[414] 7 since] sith _1609_

[415] xviii 8 Pynim _1596_

[416] xix 5 since] sith _1609_

[417] xx 7 since] sith _1609_

[418] xxi 7 that] the _1596_, _1609_

[419] drawing] dawning _1596_, _1609_

[420] xxii 4 heaunnly _1596_

[421] xxvii 7 of] and _1596_, _1609_

[422] xxviii 1 since] sith _1609_

[423] 7 her] his _1596_, _1609_

[424] xxxi 7 strayd] stayd _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[425] xxxii 5 t’] to _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[426] xxxiv 2 vaine] faine _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[427] 9 who] wo _1590_, _1596_: _corr. F. E._

[428] xxxvii 6 the] a _1609_

[429] xxxviii 3 frankencense _1596_, _1609_

[430] xl 9 His] Her _1596_, _1609_

[431] xli 3 ne] nor _1609_

[Illustration]

THE SECOND

BOOKE OF THE

FAERIE QVEENE.

Contayning,

THE LEGEND OF SIR GVYON,

OR

_Of Temperaunce_.

Right well I wote most mighty Soueraine, i

That all this famous antique history,

Of some th’aboundance of an idle braine

Will iudged be, and painted forgery,

Rather then matter of iust memory,

Sith none, that breatheth liuing aire, does know,

Where is that happy land of Faery,

Which I so much do vaunt, yet no where show,

But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.

But let that man with better sence aduize, ii

That of the world least part to vs is red:

And dayly how through hardy enterprize,

Many great Regions are discouered,

Which to late age were neuer mentioned.

Who euer heard of th’Indian _Peru_?

Or who in venturous vessell measured

The _Amazons_[432] huge riuer now found trew?

Or fruitfullest _Virginia_ who did euer vew?

Yet all these were, when no man did them know; iii

Yet haue from wisest ages hidden beene:

And later times things more vnknowne shall show.

Why then should witlesse man so much misweene

That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?

What if within the Moones faire shining spheare?

What if in euery other starre vnseene

Of other worldes he happily should heare?

He wonder would much more: yet such to some appeare.

Of Faerie lond yet if he more inquire, iv

By certaine signes here set in sundry place

He may it find; ne let him then admire,

But yield his sence to be too blunt and bace,

That no’te without an hound fine footing trace.

And thou[433], O fairest Princesse vnder sky,

In this faire mirrhour maist behold thy face,

And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery,

And in this antique Image thy great auncestry.

The which O pardon me thus to enfold v

In couert vele, and wrap in shadowes light,

That feeble eyes your glory may behold,

Which else[434] could not endure those beames[435] bright,

But would be dazled with exceeding light.

O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare

The braue aduentures of this Faery knight

The good Sir _Guyon_ gratiously to heare,

In whom great rule of Temp’raunce goodly doth appeare.

FOOTNOTES:

[432] Proem, ii 8 _Amarons_ _1590_: _Amazon_ _F. E._

[433] iv 6 thou] then _1590_

[434] v 4 else] elles _1590_

[435] beamez _1609_

_Cant. I._

[Illustration:

_Guyon by Archimage abusd,

The Redcrosse knight awaytes,

Findes Mordant and Amauia slaine

With pleasures poisoned baytes._

]

That cunning Architect of cancred guile, i

Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands,

For falsed letters and suborned wile,

Soone as the _Redcrosse_ knight he vnderstands[436]

To beene departed out of _Eden_ lands,

To serue againe his soueraine Elfin Queene,

His artes he moues, and out of caytiues[437] hands

Himselfe he frees by secret meanes vnseene;

His shackles emptie left, him selfe escaped cleene.

And forth he fares full of malicious mind, ii

To worken mischiefe and auenging woe,

Where euer he that godly knight may find,

His onely hart sore, and his onely foe,

Sith _Vna_ now he algates must forgoe,

Whom his victorious hands did earst restore

To natiue[438] crowne and kingdome late ygoe:

Where she enioyes sure peace for euermore,

As weather-beaten ship arriu’d on happie shore.

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight iii

And deadly food[439] he makes: him to offend

By forged treason, or by open fight

He seekes, of all his drift the aymed end:

Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,[440]

His practick wit, and his faire filed tong,

With thousand other sleights: for well he kend,

His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong;

For hardly could be[441] hurt, who was already stong.

Still as he went, he craftie stales did lay,[442] iv

With cunning traines him to entrap vnwares,

And priuie spials plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;

To ketch him at a vantage[443] in his snares.

But now so wise and warie was the knight[444]

By triall of his former harmes and cares,[445]

That he descride, and shonned still his slight:

The fish that once was caught, new bait will hardly bite.

Nath’lesse th’Enchaunter would not spare his paine, v

In hope to win occasion to his will;

Which when he long awaited had in vaine,

He chaungd his minde from one to other ill:

For to all good he enimy was still.

Vpon the way him fortuned to meet,

Faire marching vnderneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,

That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and vpright, vi

His countenaunce demure and temperate,

But yet so sterne and terrible in sight,

That cheard his friends, and did his foes amate:

He was an Elfin borne of noble state,

And mickle worship in his natiue land;

Well could he tourney and in lists debate,

And knighthood tooke of good Sir _Huons_ hand,

When with king _Oberon_ he came to Faerie land.

Him als accompanyd vpon the way vii

A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,

Of ripest yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,

That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,

Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:

And if by lookes one may the mind aread,

He seemd to be a sage and sober sire,

And euer with slow pace the knight did lead,

Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.

Such whenas _Archimago_ them did view, viii

He weened well to worke some vncouth wile,

Eftsoones vntwisting his deceiptfull clew,

He gan to weaue a web of wicked guile,

And with faire[446] countenance and flattring stile,

To them approching, thus the knight bespake:

Faire sonne of _Mars_, that seeke with warlike spoile,[447]

And great atchieu’ments great your selfe to make,

Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake, ix

And bad tell on the tenor of his plaint;

Who feigning then in euery limbe to quake,

Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faint

With piteous mone his percing speach gan paint;

Deare Lady how shall I declare thy cace,

Whom late I left in langourous[448] constraint?

Would God thy selfe now present were in place,

To tell this ruefull tale; thy sight could win thee grace.

Or rather would, O would it so had chaunst, x

That you, most noble Sir, had present beene,

When that lewd ribauld with vile lust aduaunst

Layd first his filthy hands on virgin cleene,

To spoile her daintie corse[449] so faire and sheene,

As on the earth, great mother of vs all,

With liuing eye more faire was neuer seene,

Of chastitie and honour virginall:

Witnesse ye heauens, whom she in vaine to helpe did call.

How may it be, (said then the knight halfe wroth,) xi

That knight should knighthood euer so haue shent?

None but that saw (quoth he) would weene for troth,

How shamefully that Maid he did torment.

Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,

And drew her on the ground, and his sharpe sword[450]

Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,

And threatned death with many a bloudie word;

Toung hates to tell the rest, that eye to see abhord.

Therewith amoued from his sober mood, xii

And liues he yet (said he) that wrought this act,

And doen the heauens afford him vitall food?

He liues, (quoth he) and boasteth of the fact,

Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.

Where may that treachour then (said he) be found,

Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?

That shall I shew (said he) as sure, as hound

The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.

He staid not lenger talke, but with fierce ire xiii

And zealous hast away is quickly gone

To seeke that knight, where him that craftie Squire

Supposd to be. They do arriue anone,

Where sate a gentle Lady all alone,

With garments rent, and haire discheueled,

Wringing her hands, and making piteous mone;

Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

The knight approching nigh, thus to her said, xiv

Faire Ladie, through foule sorrow ill bedight,

Great pittie is to see you thus dismaid,

And marre the blossome of your beautie bright:

For thy appease your griefe and heauie plight,

And tell the cause of your conceiued paine.

For if he liue, that hath you doen despight,[451]

He shall you doe due recompence againe,

Or else his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.

Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise, xv

She wilfully her sorrow did augment,

And offred hope of comfort did despise:

Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,

And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment,

Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,

But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,

Either for grieuous shame, or for great teene,

As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene.

Till her that Squire bespake, Madame my liefe[452], xvi

For Gods deare loue be not so wilfull bent,

But doe vouchsafe now to receiue reliefe,

The which good fortune doth to you present.

For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment,

When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,

And the weake mind with double woe torment?

When she her Squire heard speake, she gan appease

Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said, Ah gentle trustie Squire, xvii

What comfort can I wofull wretch conceaue,

Or why should euer I henceforth desire[453]

To see faire heauens face, and life not leaue,

Sith that false Traytour did my honour reaue?

False traytour certes (said the Faerie knight)

I read the man, that euer would deceaue

A gentle Ladie, or her wrong through might:

Death were too little paine for such a foule despight.

But now, faire Ladie, comfort to you make, xviii

And read, who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight;[454]

That short reuenge the man may ouertake,

Where so he be, and soone vpon him light.

Certes (saide she) I wote not how he hight,

But vnder him a gray steede did he[455] wield,

Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;

Vpright he rode, and in his siluer shield

He bore a bloudie Crosse, that quartred all the field.

Now by my head (said _Guyon_) much I muse, xix

How that same knight should do so foule amis,

Or euer gentle Damzell so abuse:

For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and true of word ywis:

I present was, and can it witnesse well,

When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris

Th’aduenture of the _Errant damozell_,

In which he hath great glorie wonne, as I heare tell.

Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde, xx

And fairely quite[456] him of th’imputed blame,

Else be ye sure he dearely shall abyde,

Or make you good amendment for the same:

All wrongs haue mends, but no amends of shame.

Now therefore Ladie, rise out of your paine,

And see the saluing of your blotted[457] name.

Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;

For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such, as she did faine, xxi

Ne yet her person such, as it was seene,

But vnder simple shew and semblant plaine

Lurckt false _Duessa_ secretly vnseene,

As a chast Virgin, that had wronged beene:

So had false _Archimago_ her disguisd,

To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;

And eke himselfe had craftily deuisd

To be her Squire, and do her seruice well aguisd.

Her late forlorne and naked he had found, xxii

Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,

Lurking in rockes and caues farre vnder ground,

And with greene mosse cou’ring her nakednesse,

To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse;

Sith her Prince _Arthur_ of proud ornaments

And borrow’d beautie spoyld. Her nathelesse

Th’enchaunter finding fit for his intents,

Did thus reuest, and deckt with due habiliments.

For all he did, was to deceiue good knights, xxiii

And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame,

To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,

And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.

And now exceeding griefe him ouercame,

To see the _Redcrosse_ thus aduaunced hye;

Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,

Against his praise to stirre vp enmitye

Of such, as vertues like mote vnto him allye.

So now he _Guyon_ guides an vncouth way xxiv

Through woods and mountaines, till they came at last

Into a pleasant dale, that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads ouerplast,

The valley did with coole shade ouercast,

Through midst thereof a little riuer rold,

By which there sate a knight with helme vnlast,

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,

After his trauell long, and labours manifold.

Loe yonder he, cryde _Archimage_ alowd, xxv

That wrought the shamefull fact, which I did shew;

And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,

To flie the vengeance for his outrage dew;

But vaine: for ye shall dearely do him rew,

So God ye speed, and send you good successe;

Which we farre off will here abide to vew.

So they him left, inflam’d with wrathfulnesse,

That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse.

Who seeing him from farre so fierce to pricke, xxvi

His warlike armes about him gan embrace,

And in the rest his readie speare did sticke;

Tho when as still he saw him towards pace,

He gan rencounter him in equall race.

They bene ymet, both readie to affrap,

When suddenly that warriour gan abace

His threatned speare, as if some new mishap

Had him betidde[458], or hidden daunger did entrap.

And cryde, Mercie Sir knight, and mercie Lord, xxvii

For mine offence and heedlesse hardiment,

That had almost committed crime abhord,

And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,

Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,

The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,

Which on your shield is set for ornament:

But his fierce foe his steede could stay vneath,

Who prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.

But when he heard him speake, streight way he knew xxviii

His error, and himselfe inclyning sayd;

Ah deare Sir _Guyon_, well becommeth you,

But me behoueth rather to vpbrayd,

Whose hastie hand so farre from reason strayd,

That almost it did haynous violence

On that faire image of that heauenly Mayd,

That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:

Your court’sie takes on you anothers due offence.

So bene they both attone[459], and doen vpreare xxix

Their beuers bright, each other for to greete;

Goodly comportance each to other beare,

And entertaine themselues with court’sies meet.

Then said the _Redcrosse_ knight, Now mote I weet,

Sir _Guyon_, why with so fierce saliaunce,

And fell intent ye did at earst me meet;

For sith I know your goodly gouernaunce,

Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some vncouth chaunce.

Certes (said he) well mote I shame to tell xxx

The fond encheason, that me hither led.

A false infamous faitour late befell

Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,

And playnd of grieuous outrage, which he red

A knight had wrought against a Ladie gent;

Which to auenge, he to this place me led,

Where you he made the marke of his intent,

And now is fled; foule shame him follow, where he went.

So can he turne his earnest vnto game, xxxi

Through goodly handling[460] and wise temperance.

By this his aged guide in presence came;

Who soone as on[461] that knight his eye did glance,

Eft soones of him had perfect cognizance,

Sith him in Faerie court he late auizd;

And said, Faire[462] sonne, God giue you happie chance,

And that deare Crosse vpon your shield deuizd,

Wherewith aboue all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd.

Ioy may you haue, and euerlasting fame, xxxii

Of late most hard atchieu’ment by you donne,

For which enrolled is your glorious name

In heauenly Registers aboue the Sunne,

Where you a Saint with Saints your seat haue wonne:

But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke,

Must[463] now anew begin, like race to runne;

God guide thee, _Guyon_, well to end thy warke,

And to the wished hauen bring thy weary barke.

Palmer, (him answered the _Redcrosse_ knight) xxxiii

His be the praise, that this atchieu’ment wrought,

Who made my hand the organ of his might;

More then goodwill to me attribute nought:

For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensewes,

Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,

That home ye may report thrise[464] happie newes;

For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes.

So courteous conge both did giue and take, xxxiv

With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.

Then _Guyon_ forward gan his voyage make,

With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still.

Still he him guided ouer dale and hill,

And with his steedie[465] staffe did point his way:

His race with reason, and with words his will,

From foule intemperance he oft did stay,

And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray.

In this faire wize they traueild long yfere, xxxv

Through many hard assayes, which did betide;

Of which he honour still away did beare,

And spred his glorie through all countries wide.

At last as chaunst them by a forest side

To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,

They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride

With percing shriekes, and many a dolefull lay;

Which to attend, a while their forward steps they stay.

But if that carelesse heauens (quoth she) despise xxxvi

The doome of iust reuenge, and take delight

To see sad pageants of mens miseries,

As bound by them to liue in liues[466] despight,

Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.

Come then, come soone, come sweetest death to mee,

And take away this long lent loathed light:

Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweet the medicines bee,

That long captiued soules from wearie thraldome free.

But thou, sweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate xxxvii

Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall,

Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing state,

Long maist thou liue, and better thriue withall,

Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall:

Liue thou, and to thy mother dead attest,

That cleare she dide from blemish criminall;

Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest

Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to rest.

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw, xxxviii

That through the wood reecchoed againe,

And after gaue a grone so deepe and low,

That seemd her tender heart was rent in twaine,

Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;

As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell steele

Through launched[467], forth her bleeding life does raine,

Whiles the sad pang approching she does feele,

Brayes out her latest breath, and vp her eyes doth seele.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict xxxix

From his tall steed, he rusht into the thicke,

And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraict

Of death and dolour[468] lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,

In whose white alabaster brest did sticke

A cruell knife, that made a griesly wound,

From which forth gusht a streme of gorebloud thick,

That all her goodly garments staind around,

And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassie ground.

Pittifull spectacle of deadly smart, xl

Beside a bubbling fountaine low she lay,

Which she increased with her bleeding hart,

And the cleane waues with purple gore[469] did ray;

Als in her lap a louely[470] babe did play

His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;

For in her streaming blood he did embay

His litle hands, and tender ioynts embrew;

Pitifull spectacle, as euer eye did view.

Besides them both, vpon the soiled gras xli

The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,

Whose armour all with bloud besprinckled was;

His ruddie lips did smile, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yet being ded:[471]

Seemd to haue beene a goodly personage,

Now in his freshest flowre of lustie hed,

Fit to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,

But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

Whom when the good Sir _Guyon_ did behold, xlii

His hart gan wexe as starke, as marble stone,

And his fresh bloud did frieze with fearefull cold,

That all his senses seemd bereft attone:[472]

At last his mightie ghost gan deepe to grone,

As Lyon grudging in his great disdaine,

Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone;

Till ruth and fraile affection did constraine[473]

His stout courage[474] to stoupe, and shew his inward paine.

Out of her gored wound the cruell steele xliii

He lightly snatcht, and did the floudgate stop

With his faire garment: then gan softly feele

Her feeble pulse, to proue if any drop

Of liuing bloud yet in her veynes did hop;

Which when he felt to moue, he hoped faire

To call backe life to her forsaken shop;

So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,

That at the last she gan to breath out liuing aire.

Which he perceiuing greatly gan reioice, xliv

And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart

Is meetest med’cine, tempred with sweet voice;

Ay me, deare Lady, which the image art

Of ruefull pitie, and impatient smart,

What direfull chance, armd with reuenging[475] fate,

Or cursed hand hath plaid this cruell part,

Thus fowle to hasten your vntimely date;

Speake, O deare Lady speake: help neuer comes too late.

Therewith her dim eie-lids she vp gan reare, xlv

On which the drery death did sit, as sad

As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare;

But when as him all in bright armour clad

Before her standing she espied had,

As one out of a deadly dreame affright,

She weakely started, yet she nothing drad:

Streight downe againe her selfe in great despight[476]

She groueling threw to ground, as hating life and light.

The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine xlvi

Vplifted light, and softly did vphold:

Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunke againe,

Till he his armes about her sides gan fold,

And to her said; Yet if the stony cold

Haue not all seized on your frozen hart,

Let one word fall that may your griefe vnfold,

And tell the secret of your mortall smart;

He oft finds present helpe, who does his griefe impart.

Then casting vp a deadly looke, full low[477] xlvii

Shee sight[478] from bottome of her wounded brest,

And after, many bitter throbs did throw

With lips full pale and foltring tongue opprest,

These words she breathed forth from riuen chest;

Leaue, ah leaue off, what euer wight thou bee,

To let a wearie wretch from her dew rest,

And trouble dying soules tranquilitee.

Take not away now got, which none would giue to me.

Ah farre be it (said he) Deare dame fro mee, xlviii

To hinder soule from her desired rest,

Or hold sad life in long captiuitee:

For all I seeke, is but to haue redrest

The bitter pangs, that doth your heart infest.

Tell then, O Lady tell, what fatall priefe

Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest?

That I may cast to compasse your reliefe,

Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe.

With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye, xlix

As heauen accusing guiltie of her death,

And with dry drops congealed in her eye,

In these sad words she spent her vtmost breath:

Heare then, O man, the sorrowes that vneath

My tongue can tell, so farre all sense they pas:

Loe this dead corpse, that lies here vnderneath,

The gentlest knight, that euer on greene gras

Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir _Mordant_[479] was.

Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now) l

My Lord my loue; my deare Lord, my deare loue,

So long as heauens iust with equall brow[480]

Vouchsafed to behold vs from aboue,

One day when him high courage did emmoue,

As wont ye knights to seeke aduentures wilde,

He pricked forth, his puissant force to proue,

Me then he left enwombed of this child,

This lucklesse child, whom thus ye see with bloud defild.

Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse) li

To come, where vile _Acrasia_ does wonne,

_Acrasia_ a false enchaunteresse,

That many errant knights hath foule fordonne:

Within a wandring Island, that doth ronne

And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is;[481]

Faire Sir, if euer there ye trauell, shonne

The cursed land where many wend amis,

And know it by the name; it hight the _Bowre of blis_.

Her blisse is all in pleasure and delight, lii

Wherewith she makes her louers drunken mad,

And then with words and weedes of wondrous might,

On them she workes her will to vses bad:

My lifest[482] Lord she thus beguiled had;

For he was flesh: (all flesh doth frailtie breed.)

Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad,

Weake wretch I wrapt my selfe in Palmers weed,

And cast to seeke him forth through daunger and great dreed.

Now had faire _Cynthia_ by euen tournes liii

Full measured three quarters of her yeare,

And thrise three times had fild her crooked hornes,

Whenas my wombe her burdein would forbeare,

And bad me call _Lucina_ to me neare.

_Lucina_ came: a manchild forth I brought:

The woods, the Nymphes, my bowres, my midwiues weare,

Hard helpe at need. So deare thee babe I bought,

Yet nought too deare I deemd, while so my dear I sought.

Him so I sought, and so at last I found, liv

Where him that witch had thralled to her will,

In chaines of lust and lewd desires ybound,

And so transformed from his former skill,

That me he knew not, neither his owne ill;

Till through wise handling and faire gouernance,

I him recured to a better will,

Purged from drugs of foule intemperance:

Then meanes I gan deuise for his deliuerance.

Which when the vile Enchaunteresse perceiu’d, lv

How that my Lord from her I would repriue,

With cup thus charmd, him parting she deceiu’d;

_Sad verse, giue death to him that death does giue,

And losse of loue, to her that loues to liue,

So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke_:[483]

So parted we and on our iourney driue,

Till comming to this well, he stoupt to drincke:

The charme fulfild, dead suddenly he downe did sincke.

Which when I wretch, Not one word more she sayd lvi

But breaking off[484] the end for want of breath,

And slyding soft, as downe to sleepe her layd,

And ended all her woe in quiet death.

That seeing good Sir _Guyon_, could vneath

From teares abstaine, for griefe his hart did grate,

And from so heauie sight his head did wreath,

Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate,

Which plunged[485] had faire Ladie in so wretched state.

Then turning to his[486] Palmer said, Old syre lvii

Behold the image of mortalitie,

And feeble nature cloth’d with fleshly tyre,

When raging passion with fierce tyrannie

Robs reason of her due regalitie,

And makes it seruant to her basest part:

The strong it weakens with infirmitie,

And with bold furie armes the weakest hart;

The strong through pleasure soonest falles, the weake through smart.

But temperance (said he) with golden squire lviii

Betwixt them both can measure out a meane,

Neither to melt in pleasures whot[487] desire,

Nor fry[488] in hartlesse griefe and dolefull teene.

Thrise happie man, who fares them both atweene:

But sith this wretched woman ouercome

Of anguish, rather then of crime hath beene,

Reserue her cause to her eternall doome,

And in the meane vouchsafe her honorable toombe.

Palmer (quoth he) death is an equall[489] doome lix

To good and bad, the common Inne of rest;

But after death the tryall is to come,

When best shall be to them, that liued best:

But both alike, when death hath both supprest,

Religious reuerence doth buriall teene,

Which who so wants, wants so much of his rest:

For all so great shame after death I weene,

As selfe to dyen bad, vnburied bad to beene.

So both agree their bodies to engraue; lx

The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,

And with sad Cypresse seemely it embraue,

Then couering with a clod their closed eye,

They lay therein those corses tenderly,

And bid them sleepe in euerlasting peace.

But ere they did their vtmost obsequy,

Sir _Guyon_ more affection to increace,

Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should aye releace.

The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew, lxi

With which he cut a locke of all their heare,

Which medling with their bloud and earth, he threw

Into the graue, and gan deuoutly sweare;

Such and such euill God on _Guyon_ reare,

And worse and worse young Orphane be thy paine,

If I or thou dew vengeance doe forbeare,

Till guiltie bloud her guerdon doe obtaine:

So shedding many teares, they closd the earth againe.

FOOTNOTES:

[436] i 4 vnderstands, _1590 &c._

[437] 7 caytiue _1609_

[438] ii 7 natiues _1596_, _1609_

[439] iii 2 food] feude _1609_

[440] 5 bend _1590_, _1596_

[441] 9 be] he _1609_

[442] iv 1 lay. _1590_, _1596_

[443] 5 avantage _1609_

[444] 6, 7 _transposed in 1596, 1606_

[445] 6, 7 _transposed in 1596, 1606_

[446] viii 5 with a faire _1596_

[447] 7 spoile. _1596_

[448] ix 7 languorous _1590_

[449] x 5 corps _1590_

[450] xi 6 sword, _1590 &c._

[451] xiv 7 despight; _1596_, _1609_

[452] xvi 1 liefe] life _1590_

[453] xvii 3 desyre, _1590_: desire, _1596_

[454] xviii 2 plight. _1590_, _1596_

[455] 6 did he] he did _1590_

[456] xx 2 quite] quit _1590_

[457] 7 blotting _1590_

[458] xxvi 9 betidde] betide _1590_

[459] xxix 1 attone] at one _1590_

[460] xxxi 2 handling] handing _1596_

[461] 4 on] one _1590_

[462] 7 fayre _1590_: faire _1596_

[463] xxxii 7 Must] Most _1590_

[464] xxxiii 8 thrise] these _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[465] xxxiv 6 steedy _1590_: steadie _1609_

[466] xxxvi 4 liues] lifes _1609_

[467] xxxviii 7 launced _1609_

[468] xxxix 4 dolour] labour _1596_, _1609_

[469] xl 4 gore] gold _1596_, _1609_

[470] 5 louely] little _1609_

[471] xli 5 ded, _1590_, _1596_

[472] xlii 4 attone, _1596_

[473] 8 constraine, _1590_, _1596_

[474] 9 stout courage] courage stout _1609_

[475] xliv 6 reuenging] auenging _1590_

[476] xlv 8 despight. _1590_: despight, _1596_, _1609_

[477] xlvii 1 low, _1596_

[478] 2 sigh’t _1609_

[479] xlix 9 Mortdant _1590_, _1596_

[480] l 3 brow, _1590_, _1596_

[481] li 6 is, _1590_, _1596_

[482] lii 5 liefest _1590_

[483] lv 6 _lincke_, _1590_, _1596_

[484] lvi 2 off] of, _1590_: off, _1596_

[485] 9 plonged _1590_

[486] lvii 1 his] the _1609_

[487] lviii 3 whot] hot _1609 passim_

[488] 4 fry] fryze _sugg. Church_

[489] lix 1 equall] euill _1596_, _1609_

_Cant. II._

[Illustration:

_Babes bloudie hands may not be clensd:[490]

the face of golden Meane.

Her sisters two Extremities[491]

striue her to banish cleane._

]

Thus when Sir _Guyon_ with his faithfull guide i

Had with due rites and dolorous lament

The end of their sad Tragedie vptyde,

The litle babe vp in his armes he hent;

Who with sweet pleasance and bold blandishment

Gan smyle on them, that rather ought to weepe,

As carelesse of his woe, or innocent

Of that was doen, that ruth emperced deepe

In that knights heart, and wordes with bitter teares did steepe.

Ah lucklesse babe, borne vnder cruell starre, ii

And in dead parents balefull ashes bred,

Full litle weenest thou, what sorrowes are

Left thee for portion of thy liuelihed,

Poore Orphane in the wide world scattered,

As budding braunch rent from the natiue tree,

And throwen forth, till it be withered:

Such is the state of men: thus enter wee

Into this life with woe, and end with miseree.

Then soft himselfe inclyning on his knee iii

Downe to that well, did in the water weene

(So loue does loath disdainfull nicitee)

His guiltie hands from bloudie gore to cleene.

He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they beene

For all his washing cleaner. Still he stroue,

Yet still the litle hands were bloudie seene;

The which him into great amaz’ment droue,

And into diuerse doubt his wauering wonder cloue.

He wist not whether blot of foule offence iv

Might not be purgd with water nor with bath;

Or that high God, in lieu[492] of innocence,

Imprinted had that token of his wrath,

To shew how sore bloudguiltinesse he hat’th[493];

Or that the charme and venim, which they druncke,

Their bloud with secret filth infected hath,

Being diffused through the senselesse truncke,

That through the great contagion direfull deadly stunck.

Whom thus at gaze, the Palmer gan to bord v

With goodly reason, and thus faire bespake;

Ye bene right hard[494] amated, gratious Lord,

And of your ignorance great maruell make,

Whiles cause not well conceiued ye mistake.

But know, that secret vertues are infusd

In euery fountaine, and in euery lake,

Which who hath skill them rightly to haue chusd,

To proofe of passing wonders hath full often vsd.

Of those some were so from their sourse indewd vi

By great Dame Nature, from whose fruitfull pap

Their welheads spring, and are with moisture deawd;

Which feedes each liuing plant with liquid sap,

And filles with flowres faire _Floraes_ painted lap:

But other some by gift of later grace,

Or by good prayers, or by other hap,

Had vertue pourd into their waters bace,

And thenceforth were renowmd, and sought from place to[495] place.

Such is this well, wrought by occasion straunge, vii

Which to her Nymph befell. Vpon a day,

As she the woods with bow and shafts did raunge,

The hartlesse Hind and Robucke to dismay,

_Dan Faunus_ chaunst to meet her by the way,

And kindling fire at her faire burning eye,

Inflamed was to follow beauties chace[496],

And chaced her, that fast from him did fly;

As Hind from her, so she fled from her enimy.

At last when fayling breath began to faint, viii

And saw no meanes to scape, of shame affrayd,

She set[497] her downe to weepe for sore constraint,

And to _Diana_ calling lowd for ayde,

Her deare besought, to let her dye a mayd.

The goddesse heard, and suddeine where she sate,

Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd

With stony feare of that rude rustick mate,

Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins state.

Lo now she is that stone, from whose[498] two heads, ix

As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,

Yet cold through feare, and old conceiued dreads;

And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,

Shapt like a maid, that such ye may her know;

And yet her vertues in her water byde:

For it is chast and pure, as purest snow,

Ne lets her waues with any filth be[499] dyde,

But euer like her selfe vnstained hath beene tryde.

From thence it comes, that this babes bloudy hand x

May not be clensd with water of this well:

Ne certes Sir striue you it to withstand,

But let them still be bloudy, as befell,

That they his mothers innocence may tell,

As she bequeathd in her last testament;

That as a sacred Symbole it may dwell

In her sonnes flesh, to minde reuengement,

And be for all chast Dames an endlesse moniment.

He hearkned to his reason, and the childe xi

Vptaking, to the Palmer gaue to beare;

But his sad fathers armes with bloud defilde,

An heauie load himselfe did lightly reare,

And turning to that place, in which whyleare

He left his loftie steed with golden sell,

And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare.

By other accident that earst befell,

He is conuaide, but how or where, here fits not tell.

Which when Sir _Guyon_ saw, all were he wroth, xii

Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease,

And fairely fare on foot, how euer loth;

His double burden did him sore disease.

So long they traueiled with litle ease,

Till that at last they to a Castle came,

Built on a rocke adioyning to the seas;[500]

It was an auncient worke of antique fame[501],

And wondrous strong by nature, and by skilfull frame.

Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort, xiii

The children of one sire by mothers three;

Who dying whylome did diuide this fort

To them by equall shares in equall fee:

But strifull[502] minde, and diuerse qualitee

Drew them in parts, and each made others foe:

Still did they striue, and dayly disagree;

The eldest did against the youngest goe,

And both against the middest meant to worken woe.

Where when the knight arriu’d, he was right well xiv

Receiu’d, as knight of so much worth became,

Of second sister, who did far excell

The other two; _Medina_ was her name,

A sober sad, and comely curteous Dame;

Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize,

In goodly garments, that her well became,

Faire marching forth in honorable wize,

Him at the threshold met, and well did enterprize.

She led him vp into a goodly bowre, xv

And comely courted with meet modestie,

Ne in her speach, ne in her hauiour,

Was lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie,

But gratious womanhood, and grauitie,

Aboue the reason of her youthly yeares:

Her golden lockes she roundly did vptye

In breaded[503] tramels, that no looser heares

Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame, xvi

Seemely to entertaine her new-come guest,

Newes hereof to her other sisters came,

Who all this while were at their wanton rest,

Accourting each her friend with lauish fest:

They were two knights of perelesse puissance,

And famous far abroad for warlike gest,

Which to these Ladies loue did countenaunce,

And to his mistresse each himselfe stroue to aduaunce.

He that made loue vnto the eldest Dame, xvii

Was hight Sir _Huddibras_, an hardy man;

Yet not so good of deedes, as great of name,

Which he by many rash aduentures wan,

Since errant armes to sew he first began;

More huge in strength, then wise in workes he was,

And reason with foole-hardize ouer ran;

Sterne melancholy did his courage pas,

And was for terrour more, all armd in shyning bras.

But he that lou’d the youngest, was _Sans-loy_, xviii

He that faire _Vna_ late fowle outraged,

The most vnruly, and the boldest boy,

That euer warlike weapons menaged,

And to all lawlesse lust encouraged,

Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might:

Ne ought he car’d, whom he endamaged

By tortious wrong, or whom bereau’d of right.

He now this Ladies champion chose for loue to fight.

These two gay knights, vowd to so diuerse loues, xix

Each other does enuie with deadly hate,

And dayly warre against his foeman moues,

In hope to win more fauour with his mate,

And th’others pleasing seruice to abate,

To magnifie his owne. But when they heard,

How in that place straunge knight arriued late,

Both knights and Ladies forth right angry far’d,

And fiercely vnto battell sterne themselues prepar’d.

But ere they could proceede vnto the place, xx

Where he abode, themselues at discord fell,

And cruell combat ioynd in middle space:

With horrible assault, and furie fell,

They heapt huge strokes, the scorned life to quell,

That all on vprore from her settled seat[504]

The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell;

Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great

Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat.

The noyse thereof cald[505] forth that straunger knight, xxi

To weet, what dreadfull thing was there in hand[506];

Where when as two braue knights in bloudy fight

With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,

His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,

And shyning blade vnsheathd, with which he ran

Vnto that stead, their strife to vnderstond;

And at his first arriuall, them began

With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.

But they him spying, both with greedy forse xxii

Attonce vpon him ran, and him beset

With strokes of mortall steele without remorse,

And on his shield like yron sledges bet:

As when a Beare and Tygre being met

In cruell fight on lybicke Ocean wide,

Espye a traueiler with feet surbet,

Whom they in equall pray hope to deuide,

They stint their strife, and him assaile on euery side.

But he, not like a wearie traueilere, xxiii

Their sharpe assault right boldly[507] did rebut,

And suffred not their blowes to byte him nere,

But with redoubled buffes them backe did put:

Whose grieued mindes, which choler did englut,

Against themselues turning their wrathfull spight,

Gan with new rage their shields to hew and cut;

But still when _Guyon_ came to part their fight,

With heauie load on him they freshly gan to smight.

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas, xxiv

Whom raging windes threatning to make the pray

Of the rough rockes, do diuersly disease,

Meetes two contrary billowes by the way,

That her on either side do sore assay,

And boast to swallow her in greedy graue;

She scorning both their spights, does make wide way,

And with her brest breaking the fomy waue,

Does ride on both their backs, and faire her selfe doth saue.

So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth xxv

Betweene them both, by conduct of his blade.

Wondrous great prowesse and heroick worth

He shewd that day, and rare ensample made,

When two so mighty warriours he dismade:

Attonce he wards and strikes, he takes and payes,

Now forst to yield, now forcing to inuade,

Before, behind, and round about him layes:

So double was his paines, so double be his prayse.

Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see xxvi

Three combats ioyne in one, and to darraine

A triple warre with triple enmitee,

All for their Ladies froward loue to gaine,

Which gotten was but hate. So loue does raine

In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre;

He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe,

And yet his peace is but continuall iarre:

O miserable men, that to him subiect arre.

Whilst thus they mingled were in furious armes, xxvii

The faire _Medina_ with her tresses torne,

And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes,

Emongst them ran, and falling them beforne,

Besought them by the womb, which them had borne,

And by the loues, which were to them most deare,

And by the knighthood, which they sure had sworne,

Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare,

And to her iust conditions of faire peace to heare.

But her two other sisters standing by, xxviii

Her lowd gainsaid, and both their[508] champions[509] bad

Pursew the end of their strong enmity,

As euer of their loues they would be glad.

Yet she with pitthy words and counsell sad,

Still stroue their stubborne rages to reuoke,

That at the last suppressing fury mad,

They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke,

And hearken to the sober speaches, which she spoke.

Ah puissaunt Lords, what cursed euill Spright, xxix

Or fell _Erinnys_, in your noble harts[510]

Her hellish brond hath kindled with despight,

And stird you vp to worke your wilfull smarts?

Is this the ioy of armes? be these the parts

Of glorious knighthood, after bloud to thrust[511],

And not regard dew right and iust desarts?

Vaine is the vaunt, and victory vniust,

That more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.

And were there[512] rightfull cause of difference xxx

Yet were not better, faire it to accord,

Then with bloud guiltinesse[513] to heape offence,

And mortall vengeaunce ioyne to crime abhord?

O fly from wrath, fly, O my liefest Lord:

Sad be the sights, and bitter fruits of warre,

And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sword;

Ne ought the prayse of prowesse more doth marre,

Then fowle reuenging rage, and base contentious iarre.

But louely concord, and most sacred peace xxxi

Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds;

Weake she makes[514] strong, and strong thing does increace,

Till it the pitch of highest prayse exceeds:

Braue be her warres, and honorable deeds,

By which she triumphes ouer ire and pride,

And winnes an Oliue girlond for her meeds:

Be therefore, O my deare Lords, pacifide,

And this misseeming discord meekely lay aside.

Her gracious wordes their rancour did appall, xxxii

And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests,

That downe they let their cruell weapons fall,

And lowly did abase their loftie crests

To her faire presence, and discrete behests.

Then she began a treatie to procure,

And stablish termes betwixt both their requests,

That as a law for euer should endure;

Which to obserue in word of knights they did assure.

Which to confirme, and fast to bind their league, xxxiii

After their wearie sweat and bloudy toile,

She them besought, during their quiet treague,

Into her lodging to repaire a while,

To rest themselues, and grace to reconcile.

They soone consent: so forth with her they fare,

Where they are well receiu’d, and made to spoile

Themselues of soiled armes, and to prepare

Their minds to pleasure, and their mouthes to dainty fare.

And those two froward sisters, their faire loues xxxiv

Came with them eke, all were they wondrous loth,

And fained cheare, as for the time behoues,

But could not colour yet so well the troth,

But that their natures bad appeard in both:

For both did at their second sister grutch,

And inly grieue, as doth an hidden moth

The inner garment fret, not th’vtter touch;

One thought their[515] cheare too litle, th’other thought too mutch.

_Elissa_ (so the eldest hight) did deeme xxxv

Such entertainment base, ne ought would eat,

Ne ought would speake, but euermore did seeme

As discontent for want of merth or meat;

No solace could her Paramour intreat

Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliance,

But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat,

She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunce,

Vnworthy of faire Ladies comely gouernaunce.

But young _Perissa_ was of other mind, xxxvi

Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light,

And quite contrary to her sisters kind;

No measure in her mood, no rule of right,

But poured out in pleasure and delight;

In wine and meats she flowd aboue the bancke,

And in excesse exceeded her owne might;

In sumptuous tire she ioyd her selfe to prancke,

But of her loue too lauish (litle haue she thancke.)

Fast[516] by her side did sit the bold _Sans-loy_, xxxvii

Fit mate for such a mincing mineon,

Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding ioy;

Might not be found a franker franion,

Of her lewd parts to make companion;

But _Huddibras_, more like a Malecontent,

Did see and grieue at his bold fashion;

Hardly could he endure his hardiment,

Yet still he sat, and inly did him selfe torment.

Betwixt them both the faire _Medina_ sate xxxviii

With sober grace, and goodly carriage:

With equall measure she did moderate

The strong extremities of their outrage;

That forward paire she euer would asswage,

When they would striue dew reason to exceed;

But that same froward twaine would accourage,

And of her plenty adde vnto their need:

So kept she them in order, and her selfe in heed.

Thus fairely she attempered her feast, xxxix

And pleasd them all with meete satietie,

At last when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,

She _Guyon_ deare besought of curtesie,

To tell from whence he came through ieopardie,

And whither now on new aduenture bound.

Who with bold grace, and comely grauitie,

Drawing to him the eyes of all around,

From lofty siege began these words aloud to sound.

This thy demaund, O Lady, doth reuiue xl

Fresh memory in me of that great Queene,

Great and most glorious virgin Queene aliue,

That with her soueraigne powre, and scepter shene

All Faery lond does peaceably[517] sustene.

In widest Ocean she her throne does reare,

That ouer all the earth it may be seene;

As morning Sunne her beames dispredden cleare,

And in her face faire peace, and mercy doth appeare.

In her the richesse of all heauenly grace[518] xli

In chiefe degree are heaped vp on hye:

And all that else this worlds enclosure bace[519]

Hath great or glorious in mortall eye,[520]

Adornes the person of her Maiestie;

That men beholding so great excellence,

And rare perfection in mortalitie,

Do her adore with sacred reuerence,

As th’Idole of her makers great magnificence.

To her I homage and my seruice owe, xlii

In number of the noblest knights on ground,

Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestowe

Order of _Maydenhead_, the most renownd,

That may this day in all the world be found:[521]

An yearely solemne feast she wontes to make[522]

The day that first doth lead the yeare around;

To which all knights of worth and courage bold

Resort, to heare of straunge aduentures to be told.

There this old Palmer shewed himselfe that day, xliii

And to that mighty Princesse did complaine

Of grieuous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay

Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,

Whereof he crau’d redresse. My Soueraine,

Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes

Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,

Eftsoones deuisd redresse for such annoyes;

Me all vnfit for so great purpose she employes.

Now hath faire _Phœbe_ with her siluer face xliv

Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,

Sith last I left that honorable place,

In which her royall presence is †introld[523];

Ne euer shall I rest in house nor hold,

Till I that false _Acrasia_ haue wonne;

Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to be told,[524]

I witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne,

Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne.

Tell on, faire Sir, said she, that dolefull tale, xlv

From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,

That we may pitty such vnhappy bale,

And learne from pleasures poyson to abstaine:

Ill by ensample good doth often gayne.

Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,

And told the storie of the mortall payne,

Which _Mordant_ and _Amauia_ did rew;

As with lamenting eyes him selfe did lately vew.

Night was far spent, and now in _Ocean_ deepe xlvi

_Orion_, flying fast from hissing snake,

His flaming head did hasten for to steepe,

When of his pitteous tale he end did make;

Whilest with delight of that he wisely spake,

Those guestes beguiled, did beguile their eyes

Of kindly sleepe, that did them ouertake.

At last when they had markt the chaunged skyes,

They wist their houre was spent; then each to rest him hyes.

FOOTNOTES:

[490] Arg. 1 _clensd_, _1590 &c._

[491] 3 _Extremities_: _1590 &c._

[492] iv 3 lieu] loue _sugg. Church_

[493] 5 hat’th] hat’h _1590_

[494] v 3 hard] hart _1590_

[495] vi 9 to _om. 1590_: _corr. F. E._

[496] vii 7 chace] pray _sugg. Collier_. _Cf._ II ii 42, II iii 28 _&c._

[497] viii 3 set] sate _1609_

[498] ix 1 whose] those _1596_, _1609_

[499] 8 be] he _1596_

[500] xii 7 seas, _1590_, _1596_

[501] 8 fame] frame _1590_

[502] xiii 5 strifefull _1609_

[503] xv 8 brayded _1609_

[504] xx 6 seat, _1590 &c._

[505] xxi 1 cald] calth _1596_, _1609_

[506] 2 hand] hond _1609_

[507] xxiii 2 boldly] bloudy _1596_: boldy _1609_

[508] xxviii 2 their] her _1590_