[913] xxii 9 _Greece_ _1596_, _1609_
[914] xxv 5 partake _1590_
[915] xxix 1 With] Where _1596_, _1609_
[916] xxxiv 6 autrage _1596_
[917] xxxv 1 thy] the _1596_, _1609_
[918] xxxvi 6 hire _1596_
[919] xxxvii 7 their] the _1596_, _1609_
[920] xliii 9 from th’earth _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[921] xliv 5 yeares _om. 1596, 1609_: shall be full supplide _1609_
[922] 6 to] vnto their _1590_
[923] xlv 7 th’olde _1609_
[924] xlvi 4 outronne] ouerronne _1596_
[925] l 9 Shee _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._
[926] <as earst> _om. 1590, 1596_: _add. 1609_
[927] li 9 disguise] deuise _1596_, _1609_
[928] liii 3 (need makes good schollers) teach _1590_
[929] liv 3 came: _1590 &c._
[930] lvii 5 vnmeeting _1596_
[931] lviii 2 conuiently _1596_
[932] 5 dryes _1596_
[933] lxii 6 part _1596_
_Cant. IIII._
[Illustration:
_Bold Marinell of Britomart,
Is throwne on the Rich strond:
Faire Florimell of Arthur is
Long followed, but not fond._
]
Where is the Antique glory now become, i
That whilome wont in women to appeare?
Where be the braue atchieuements doen by some?
Where be the battels, where the shield and speare,
And all the conquests, which them high did reare,
That matter made for famous Poets verse,
And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare?
Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herse?
Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reuerse?
If they be dead, then woe is me therefore: ii
But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake:
For all too long I burne with enuy sore,
To heare the warlike feates, which _Homere_ spake
Of bold _Penthesilee_[934], which made a lake
Of _Greekish_ bloud so oft in _Troian_ plaine;
But when I read, how stout _Debora_ strake
Proud _Sisera_, and how _Camill’_ hath slaine
The huge _Orsilochus_, I swell with great disdaine.
Yet these, and all that else had puissaunce, iii
Cannot with noble _Britomart_ compare,
Aswell for glory of great valiaunce,
As for pure chastitie and vertue rare,
That all her goodly deeds do well declare.
Well worthy stock, from which the branches sprong,
That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare,
As thee, O Queene, the matter of my song,
Whose lignage from this Lady I deriue along.
Who when through speaches with the _Redcrosse_ knight, iv
She learned had th’estate of _Arthegall_,
And in each point her selfe informd aright,
A friendly league of loue perpetuall
She with him bound, and _Congé_ tooke withall.
Then he forth on his iourney did proceede,
To seeke aduentures, which mote him befall,
And win him worship through his warlike deed,
Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefest meed.
But _Britomart_ kept on her former course, v
Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way
Grew pensiue through that amorous discourse,
By which the _Redcrosse_ knight did earst display
Her louers shape, and cheualrous aray;
A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind,
And in her feigning fancie did pourtray
Him such, as fittest she[935] for loue could find,
Wise, warlike, personable, curteous, and kind.
With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fed, vi
And thought so to beguile her grieuous smart;
But so her smart was much more grieuous bred,
And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart,
That nought but death her dolour mote depart.
So forth she rode without repose or rest,
Searching all lands and each remotest part,
Following the guidaunce of her blinded guest,
Till that to the sea-coast at length she her[936] addrest.
There she alighted from her light-foot beast, vii
And sitting downe vpon the rocky shore,
Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creast;
Tho hauing vewd a while the surges hore,
That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore,
And in their raging surquedry disdaynd,
That the fast earth affronted them so sore,
And their deuouring[937] couetize restraynd,
Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.
Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe, viii
Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long,
Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe,
Why[938] do thy cruell billowes beat so strong,
And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,
Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life?
O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong
At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,
Which in these[939] troubled bowels raignes, and rageth rife.
For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt ix
Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,
Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt
On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,
The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes;
Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind
And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes,
But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind:
How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind?
Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas, x
That raignest also in the Continent,
At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease,
The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,
Vnto the gladsome port of her intent:
Then when I shall my selfe in safety see,
A table for eternall moniment
Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,
Great _Neptune_, I auow to hallow vnto thee.
Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe, xi
She shut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe;
For her great courage would not let her weepe,
Till that old _Glauce_ gan with sharpe repriefe,
Her to restraine, and giue her good reliefe,
Through hope of those, which _Merlin_ had her told
Should of her name and nation be chiefe,
And fetch their being from the sacred mould
Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.
Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde, xii
Where farre away one all in armour bright,
With hastie gallop towards her did ryde;
Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight
Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light:
Her former sorrow into suddein wrath,
Both coosen passions of distroubled spright,
Conuerting, forth she beates the dustie path;
Loue and despight attonce her courage kindled hath.
As when a foggy mist hath ouercast xiii
The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engrost,
The world in darkenesse dwels, till that at last
The watry Southwinde from the seabord cost
Vpblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo’st,
And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre;
So the faire _Britomart_ hauing disclo’st
Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,
The mist of griefe dissolu’d, did[940] into vengeance powre.[941]
Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire, xiv
That mortall speare she in her hand did take,
And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire.
The knight approching, sternely her bespake;
Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make
By this forbidden way in my despight,
Ne doest by others death ensample take,
I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,
Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.
Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat, xv
She shortly thus; Fly they, that need to fly;
Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat
To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy.
Ne lenger stayd for th’other to reply,
But with sharpe speare[942] the rest made dearly knowne.
Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily
Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe
Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her crowne.
But she againe him in the shield did smite xvi
With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,
That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite,
And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce
The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce;
Him so transfixed she before her bore
Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce,
Till sadly soucing on the sandie shore,
He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.
Like as the sacred Oxe, that carelesse stands, xvii
With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd,
Proud of his dying honor and deare bands,
Whiles th’altars fume with frankincense arownd,
All suddenly with mortall stroke astownd,
Doth groueling fall, and with his streaming gore
Distaines the pillours, and the holy grownd,
And the faire flowres, that decked him afore;
So fell proud _Marinell_ vpon the pretious shore.
The martiall Mayd stayd not him to lament, xviii
But forward rode, and kept her readie way
Along the strond, which as she ouer-went,
She saw bestrowed all with rich aray
Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,
And all the grauell mixt with golden owre;
Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay
For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre,
But them despised all; for all was in her powre.
Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment, xix
Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare;
His mother was the blacke-browd _Cymoent_[943],
The daughter of great _Nereus_, which did beare
This warlike sonne vnto an earthly peare,
The famous _Dumarin_; who on a day
Finding the Nymph a sleepe in secret wheare,
As he by chaunce did wander that same way,
Was taken with her loue, and by her closely lay.
There he this knight of her begot, whom borne xx
She of his father _Marinell_ did name,
And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne,
Long time she fostred vp, till he became
A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame
Did get through great aduentures by him donne:
For neuer man he suffred by that same
_Rich strond_ to trauell, whereas he did wonne,
But that he must do battell with the Sea-nymphes sonne.
An hundred knights of honorable name xxi
He had subdew’d, and them his vassals made,
That through all Farie lond his noble fame
Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade,
That none durst passen through that perilous glade.
And to aduance his name and glorie more,
Her Sea-god syre she dearely did perswade,
T’endow her sonne with threasure and rich store,
Boue all the sonnes, that were of earthly wombes ybore.
The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund, xxii
To doen his Nephew in all riches flow;
Eftsoones his heaped waues he did commaund,
Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw
All the huge threasure, which the sea below
Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe,
And him enriched through the ouerthrow
And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe,
And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe.
Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was, xxiii
Exceeding riches and all pretious things,
The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas
The wealth of th’East, and pompe of _Persian_ kings;
Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings,
And all that else was pretious and deare,
The sea vnto him voluntary brings,
That shortly he a great Lord did appeare,
As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare.
Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight, xxiv
Tryde often to the scath[944] of many deare,
That none in equall armes him matchen might,
The which his mother seeing, gan to feare
Least his too haughtie hardines might reare
Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life:
For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare
The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife,
But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife.
And for his more assurance, she inquir’d xxv
One day of _Proteus_ by his mightie spell,
(For _Proteus_ was with prophecie inspir’d)
Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell,
And the sad end of her sweet _Marinell_.
Who through foresight of his eternall skill,
Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:
For of a woman he should haue much ill,
A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill.
For thy she gaue him warning euery day, xxvi
The loue of women not to entertaine;
A lesson too too hard for liuing clay,
From loue in course of nature to refraine:
Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,
And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly;
Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine,
That they for loue of him would algates dy:
Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy.
But ah, who can deceiue his destiny, xxvii
Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate?
That when he sleepes in most security,
And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate,
And findeth dew effect or soone or late.
So feeble is the powre of fleshly[945] arme.
His mother bad him womens loue to hate,
For she of womans force did feare no harme;
So weening to haue arm’d him, she did quite disarme.
This was that woman, this that deadly wound, xxviii
That _Proteus_ prophecide should him dismay,
The which his mother vainely did expound,
To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay
To bring her sonne vnto his last decay.
So tickle be the termes of mortall state,
And full of subtile sophismes, which do play
With double senses, and with false debate,
T’approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate.
Too true the famous _Marinell_ it fownd, xxix
Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond
Inglorious now lies in senselesse swownd,
Through heauy stroke of _Britomartis_ hond.
Which when his mother deare did vnderstond,
And heauy tydings heard, whereas she playd
Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,
Gathering sweet daffadillyes, to haue made
Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to shade;[946]
Eftsoones both flowres and girlonds farre away xxx
She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent,
To sorrow huge she turnd her former play,
And gamesom[947] merth to grieuous dreriment:
She threw her selfe downe on the Continent,
Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne[948],
Whiles all her sisters did for her lament,
With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne;
And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne.
Soone as she vp out of her deadly fit xxxi
Arose, she bad her charet to be brought,
And all her sisters, that with her did sit,
Bad eke attonce their charets to be sought;
Tho full of bitter griefe and pensiue[949] thought,
She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest,
And forth together went, with sorrow fraught.
The waues obedient to their beheast,
Them yielded readie passage, and their rage surceast.
Great _Neptune_ stood amazed at their sight, xxxii
Whiles on his broad round backe they softly slid
And eke himselfe mournd at their mournfull plight,
Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did
For great compassion of their sorrow, bid
His mightie waters to them buxome bee:
Eftsoones the roaring billowes still abid,
And all the griesly Monsters of the See
Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see.
A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray, xxxiii
Drew the smooth charet of sad _Cymoent_;
They were all taught by _Triton_, to obay
To the long raynes[950], at her commaundement:
As swift as swallowes, on the waues they went,
That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare,
Ne bubbling roundell they behind them sent;
The rest of other fishes drawen weare,
Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare.
Soone as they bene arriu’d vpon the brim xxxiv
Of the _Rich strond_, their charets they forlore,
And let their temed fishes softly swim
Along the margent of the fomy shore,
Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore
Their tender feet vpon the stony ground:
And comming to the place, where all in gore
And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found
The lucklesse _Marinell_, lying in deadly swound;
His mother swowned thrise, and the third time xxxv
Could scarce recouered be out of her paine;
Had she not bene deuoyd of mortall slime,
She should not then haue bene reliu’d againe,
But soone as life recouered had the raine,
She made so piteous mone and deare wayment,
That the hard rocks could scarse from teares refraine,
And all her sister Nymphes with one consent
Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.
Deare image of my selfe (she said) that is, xxxvi
The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne,
Is this thine high aduauncement, O is this
Th’immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne
Thy Gransire _Nereus_ promist to adorne?
Now lyest thou of life and honor reft;
Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,
Ne of thy late life memory is left,
Ne can thy irreuocable destiny be weft?
Fond _Proteus_, father of false prophecis, xxxvii
And they more fond, that credit to thee giue,
Not this the worke of womans hand ywis,
That so deepe wound through these deare members driue.
I feared loue: but they that loue do liue,
But they that die, doe neither loue nor hate.
Nath’lesse to thee thy folly I forgiue,
And to my selfe, and to accursed fate
The guilt I doe ascribe: deare wisedome bought too late.
O what auailes it of immortall seed xxxviii
To beene ybred and neuer borne to die?
Farre better I it deeme to die with speed,
Then waste in woe and wailefull miserie.
Who dyes the vtmost dolour doth abye,
But who that liues, is left to waile his losse:
So life is losse, and death felicitie.
Sad life worse then glad death: and greater crosse
To see friends graue, then dead the graue selfe to engrosse.
But if the heauens did his dayes enuie, xxxix
And my short blisse maligne, yet mote they well
Thus much afford me, ere that he did die
That the dim eyes of my deare _Marinell_
I mote haue closed, and him bed[951] farewell,
Sith other offices for mother meet
They would not graunt.
Yet maulgre them farewell, my sweetest sweet;
Farewell my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall meet[952].
Thus when they all had sorrowed their fill, xl
They softly gan to search his griesly wound:
And that they might him handle more at will,
They him disarm’d, and spredding on the ground
Their watchet mantles frindgd with siluer round,
They softly wipt away the gelly blood
From th’orifice; which hauing well vpbound,
They pourd in soueraine balme, and Nectar good,
Good both for earthly med’cine, and for heauenly food.
Tho when the lilly handed _Liagore_, xli
(This _Liagore_ whylome had learned skill
In leaches craft, by great _Appolloes_ lore,
Sith her whylome vpon high _Pindus_ hill,
He loued, and at last her wombe did fill
With heauenly seed, whereof wise _Pæon_ sprong)
Did feele his pulse, she knew their staied still
Some litle life his feeble sprites emong;
Which to his mother told, despeire she from her flong.
Tho vp him[953] taking in their tender hands, xlii
They easily vnto her charet beare:
Her teme at her commaundement quiet stands,
Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare,
And strow with flowres the lamentable beare:
Then all the rest into their coches clim,
And through the brackish waues their passage sheare;
Vpon great _Neptunes_ necke they softly swim,
And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him.
Deepe in the bottome of the sea, her bowre xliii
Is built of hollow billowes heaped hye,
Like to thicke cloudes, that threat a stormy showre,
And vauted[954] all within, like to the sky,
In which the Gods do dwell eternally:
There they him laid in easie couch well dight;
And sent in haste for _Tryphon_, to apply
Salues to his wounds, and medicines of might:
For _Tryphon_ of sea gods the soueraine leach is hight.
The whiles the _Nymphes_ sit all about him round, xliv
Lamenting his mishap and heauy plight;
And oft his mother vewing his wide wound,
Cursed the hand, that did so deadly smight
Her dearest sonne, her dearest harts delight.
But none of all those curses ouertooke
The warlike Maid, th’ensample of that might,
But fairely well she thriu’d, and well did brooke
Her noble deeds, ne her right course for ought forsooke.
Yet did false _Archimage_ her still pursew, xlv
To bring to passe his mischieuous intent,
Now that he had her singled from the crew
Of courteous knights, the Prince, and Faery gent,
Whom late in chace of beautie excellent
She left, pursewing that same foster strong;
Of whose foule outrage they impatient,
And full of fiery zeale, him followed long,
To reskew her from shame, and to reuenge her wrong.
Through thick and thin, through mountaines and through plains, xlvi
Those two great champions did attonce pursew
The fearefull damzell, with incessant paines:
Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew
Of hunter[955] swift, and sent of houndes trew.
At last they came vnto a double way,
Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew,
Themselues they did dispart, each to assay,
Whether more happie were, to win so goodly pray.
But _Timias_, the Princes gentle Squire, xlvii
That Ladies loue vnto his Lord forlent,
And with proud enuy, and indignant ire,
After that wicked foster fiercely went.
So beene they three three sundry wayes ybent.
But fairest fortune to the Prince befell,
Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did repent,[956]
To take that way, in which that Damozell
Was fled afore, affraid of him, as feend of hell.
At last of her farre off he gained vew: xlviii
Then gan he freshly pricke his fomy steed,
And euer as he nigher to her drew,
So euermore he did increase his speed,
And of each turning still kept warie heed:
Aloud to her he oftentimes did call,
To doe away vaine doubt, and needlesse dreed:
Full myld to her he spake, and oft let fall
Many meeke wordes, to stay and comfort her withall.
But nothing might relent her hastie flight; xlix
So deepe the deadly feare of that foule swaine
Was earst impressed in her gentle spright:
Like as a fearefull Doue, which through the raine,
Of the wide aire her way does cut amaine,
Hauing farre off espyde a Tassell gent,
Which after her his nimble wings doth straine,
Doubleth her haste for feare to be for-hent[957],
And with her pineons cleaues the liquid firmament.
With no lesse haste, and eke with no lesse dreed, l
That fearefull Ladie fled from him, that ment
To her no euill thought, nor euill deed;
Yet former feare of being fowly shent,
Carried her forward with her first intent:
And though oft looking backward, well she vewd,
Her selfe freed from that foster insolent,
And that it was a knight, which now her sewd,
Yet she no lesse the knight feard, then that villein rude.
His vncouth shield and straunge armes her dismayd, li
Whose like in Faery lond were seldome[958] seene,
That fast she from him fled, no lesse affrayd,
Then of wilde beastes if she had chased beene:
Yet he her followd still with courage keene,
So long that now the golden _Hesperus_
Was mounted high in top of heauen sheene,
And warnd his other brethren ioyeous,
To light their blessed lamps in _Ioues_ eternall hous.
All suddenly dim woxe the dampish ayre, lii
And griesly shadowes couered heauen bright,
That now with thousand starres was decked fayre;
Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull sight,
And that perforce, for want of lenger light,
He mote surcease his suit, and lose the hope
Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte
His wicked fortune, that had turnd aslope,
And cursed night, that reft from him so goodly scope.
Tho when her wayes he could no more descry, liii
But to and fro at disauenture strayd;
Like as a ship, whose Lodestarre suddenly
Couered with cloudes, her Pilot hath dismayd;
His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd,
And from his loftie steed dismounting low,
Did let him forage. Downe himselfe he layd
Vpon the grassie ground, to sleepe a throw;
The cold earth was his couch, the hard steele his pillow.
But gentle Sleepe enuyde him any rest; liv
In stead thereof sad sorrow, and disdaine
Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest,
And thousand fancies bet his idle braine
With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine:
Oft did he wish, that Lady faire mote bee
His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine:
Or that his Faery Queene were such, as shee:
And euer hastie Night he blamed bitterlie.
Night thou foule Mother of annoyance sad, lv
Sister of heauie death, and nourse of woe,
Which wast begot in heauen, but for thy bad
And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below,
Where by the grim floud of _Cocytus_ slow
Thy dwelling is, in _Herebus_ blacke hous,
(Blacke _Herebus_ thy husband is the foe
Of all the Gods) where thou vngratious,
Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous.
What had th’eternall Maker need of thee, lvi
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all things deface, ne lettest see
The beautie of his worke? Indeed in sleepe
The slouthfull bodie, that doth loue to steepe
His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from _Stygian_ deepe
Calles thee, his goddesse in his error blind,
And great Dame Natures handmaide, chearing euery kind.
But well I wote, that to an heauy hart lvii
Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares,
Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts:
In stead of rest thou lendest rayling teares,
In stead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares,
And dreadfull visions, in the which aliue
The drearie image of sad death appeares:
So from the wearie spirit thou doest driue
Desired rest, and men of happinesse depriue.
Vnder thy mantle blacke there hidden lye, lviii
Light-shonning theft, and traiterous intent,
Abhorred bloudshed, and vile felony,
Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent;
Foule horror, and eke hellish dreriment:
All these I wote in thy protection bee,
And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent:
For light ylike is loth’d of them and thee,
And all that lewdnesse loue, doe hate the light to see.
For day discouers all dishonest wayes, lix
And sheweth each thing, as it is indeed:
The prayses of high God he faire displayes,
And his large bountie rightly doth areed.
Dayes dearest children[959] be the blessed seed,
Which darknesse shall subdew, and heauen win:
Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed,
Most sacred virgin, without spot of sin.
Our life is day, but death with darknesse doth begin.
O when will day then turne to me againe, lx
And bring with him his long expected light?
O _Titan_, haste to reare thy ioyous waine:
Speed thee to spred abroad thy beames bright,[960]
And chase away this too long lingring night,
Chase her away, from whence she came, to hell.
She, she it is, that hath me done despight:
There let her with the damned spirits dwell,
And yeeld her roome to day, that can it gouerne well.
Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare, lxi
In restlesse anguish and vnquiet paine:
And earely, ere the morrow did vpreare
His deawy head out of the _Ocean_ maine,
He vp arose, as halfe in great disdaine,
And clombe vnto his steed. So forth he went,
With heauie looke and lumpish pace, that plaine
In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent:
His steed eke seem’d t’apply his steps to his intent.
FOOTNOTES:
[934] ii 5 _Panthesilee_ _1596_, _1609_
[935] v 8 she] he _1590_
[936] vi 9 her] had _1609_
[937] vii 8 deuoring _1596_
[938] viii 4 Why] Who _1609_
[939] 9 these] thy _1590_
[940] xiii 9 did _om. 1596_
[941] powre, _1596_
[942] xv 6 speares _1590_, _1596_
[943] xix 3 _Cymocnt_ _1590_
[944] xxiv 2 scathe _1609_
[945] xxvii 6 fleshy _1590_
[946] xxix 9 shade. _1590_, _1596_
[947] xxx 4 gameson _1590_, _1596_: gamesome _1609_
[948] 6 swownd _1590_
[949] xxxi 5 pensife _1590_
[950] xxxiii 4 raynes] traines _1596_, _1609_
[951] xxxix 5 bid _1609_
[952] 9 sith we no more shall meet] till we againe may meet _1590_
[953] xlii 1 vp him] him vp _1609_
[954] xliii 4 vaulted _1609_
[955] xlvi 5 hunters _1609_
[956] xlvii 7 repent _1609_
[957] xlix 8 fore-hent _1609_
[958] li 2 sildome _1609_
[959] lix 5 Dayes dearest children] The children of day _1590_
_Cant. V._
[Illustration:
_Prince Arthur heares of Florimell:
three fosters Timias wound,
Belphebe finds him almost dead,
and reareth out of sownd[961]._
]
Wonder it is to see, in diverse minds, i
How diversly loue doth his pageants play,
And shewes his powre in variable kinds:
The baser wit, whose idle thoughts alway
Are wont to cleave vnto the lowly clay,
It stirreth vp to sensuall desire,
And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day:
But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire,
That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.
Ne suffereth it vncomely idlenesse, ii
In his free thought to build her sluggish nest:
Ne suffereth it thought of vngentlenesse,
Euer to creepe into his noble brest,
But to the highest and the worthiest
Lifteth it vp, that else would lowly fall:
It lets not fall, it lets it not to rest:
It lets not scarse this Prince to breath[962] at all,
But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call.
Who long time wandred through the forrest wyde, iii
To finde some issue thence, till that at last[963]
He met a Dwarfe, that seemed terrifyde
With some late perill, which he hardly past,
Or other accident, which him aghast;
Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,
And whither now he trauelled so fast:
For sore he swat, and running through that same
Thicke forest, was bescratcht, and both his feet nigh lame.
Panting for breath, and almost out of hart, iv
The Dwarfe him answerd, Sir, ill mote I stay
To tell the same. I lately did depart
From Faery court, where I haue many a day
Serued a gentle Lady of great sway,
And high accompt[964] through out all Elfin land,
Who lately left the same, and tooke this way:
Her now I seeke, and if ye vnderstand
Which way she fared hath, good Sir tell out of hand.
What mister wight (said he) and how arayd? v
Royally clad (quoth he) in cloth of gold,
As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd;
Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,
A[965] fairer wight did neuer Sunne behold,
And on a Palfrey rides more white then snow,
Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold:
The surest signe, whereby ye may her know,
Is, that she is the fairest wight aliue, I trow.
Now certes swaine (said he) such one I weene, vi
Fast flying through this forest from her fo,
A foule ill fauoured foster, I haue seene;
Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho,
But could not stay; so fast she did foregoe,
Carried away with wings of speedy feare.
Ah dearest God (quoth he) that is great woe,
And wondrous ruth to all, that shall it heare.
But can ye read Sir, how I may her find, or where?[966]
Perdy me leuer were to weeten that, vii
(Said he) then ransome of the richest knight,
Or all the good that euer yet I gat:
But froward fortune, and too forward Night
Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me spight,
And fro me reft both life and light attone.
But Dwarfe aread, what is that Lady bright,
That through this forest wandreth thus alone;
For of her errour straunge I haue great ruth and mone.
That Lady is (quoth he) where so she bee, viii
The bountiest virgin, and most debonaire,
That euer liuing eye I weene did see;
Liues none this day, that may with her compare
In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare,
The goodly ornaments of beautie bright;
And is ycleped _Florimell_ the faire,
Faire _Florimell_ belou’d of many a[967] knight,
Yet she loues none but one, that _Marinell_ is hight.
A Sea-nymphes sonne, that _Marinell_ is hight, ix
Of my deare Dame is loued dearely well;
In other none, but him, she sets delight,
All her delight is set on _Marinell_;
But he sets nought at all by _Florimell_:
For Ladies loue his mother long ygoe
Did him, they say, forwarne through sacred spell.
But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe
He is yslaine, which is the ground of all our woe.
Fiue dayes there be, since he (they say) was slaine, x
And foure, since _Florimell_ the Court for-went,
And vowed neuer to returne againe,
Till him aliue or dead she did inuent.
Therefore, faire Sir, for loue of knighthood gent,
And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may
By your good counsell, or bold hardiment,
Or succour her, or me direct the way;
Do one, or other good, I you most humbly pray.
So may ye[968] gaine to you full great renowme, xi
Of all good Ladies through the world so wide,
And haply in her hart find highest rowme,
Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide:
At least eternall meede shall you abide.
To whom the Prince; Dwarfe, comfort to thee take,
For till thou tidings learne, what her betide,
I here auow thee neuer to forsake.
Ill weares he armes, that nill them vse for Ladies sake.
So with the Dwarfe he backe return’d againe, xii
To seeke his Lady, where he mote her find;
But by the way he greatly gan complaine
The want of his good Squire late left behind,
For whom he wondrous pensiue grew in mind,
For doubt[969] of daunger, which mote him betide;
For him he loued aboue all mankind,
Hauing him trew and faithfull[970] euer tride,
And bold, as euer Squire that waited by knights side.
Who all this while full hardly was assayd xiii
Of deadly daunger, which to him betid;
For whiles his Lord pursewd that noble Mayd,
After that foster fowle he fiercely rid,
To bene auenged of the shame, he did
To that faire Damzell: Him he chaced long
Through the thicke woods, wherein he would haue hid
His shamefull head from his auengement strong,[971]
And oft him threatned death for his outrageous wrong.
Nathlesse the villen sped him selfe so well, xiv
Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast,[972]
Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell,
That shortly he from daunger was releast,
And out of sight escaped at the least;
Yet not escaped from the dew reward
Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast,
Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard
The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.
For soone as he was vanisht out of sight, xv
His coward courage gan emboldned bee,
And cast t’auenge him of that fowle despight,
Which he had borne of his bold enimee.
Tho to his brethren came: for they were three
Vngratious children of one gracelesse sire,
And vnto them complained, how that he
Had vsed bene of that foolehardy Squire;
So them with bitter words he stird to bloudy ire.
Forthwith themselues with their sad instruments xvi
Of spoyle and murder they gan arme byliue,
And with him forth into the forest went,
To wreake the wrath, which he did earst reuiue
In their sterne brests, on him which late did driue
Their brother to reproch and shamefull flight:
For they had vow’d, that neuer he aliue
Out of that forest should escape their might;
Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with such despight.
Within that wood there was a couert glade, xvii
Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne,
Through which it was vneath for wight to wade[973];
And now by fortune it was ouerflowne:
By that same way they knew that Squire vnknowne
Mote algates passe; for thy themselues they set
There in await, with thicke woods ouer growne,
And all the while their malice they did whet
With cruell threats, his passage through the ford to let.
It fortuned, as they deuized had, xviii
The gentle Squire came ryding that same way,
Vnweeting of their wile and treason bad,
And through the ford to passen did assay;
But that fierce foster, which late fled away,
Stoutly forth stepping on the further shore,
Him boldly bad his passage there to stay,
Till he had made amends, and full restore
For all the damage, which he had him doen afore.
With that at him a quiu’ring dart he threw, xix
With so fell force and villeinous despighte,
That through his haberieon[974] the forkehead flew,
And through the linked mayles empierced quite,
But had no[975] powre in his soft flesh to bite:
That stroke the hardy Squire did sore displease,
But more that him he could not come to smite;
For by no meanes the high banke he could sease,
But labour’d long in that deepe ford with vaine disease.
And still the foster with his long bore-speare xx
Him kept from landing at his wished will;
Anone one sent out of the thicket neare
A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill,
And fethered with an vnlucky quill;
The wicked steele stayd not, till it did light
In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill:
Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight,
But more that with his foes he could not come to fight.
At last through wrath and vengeaunce making way, xxi
He on the bancke arriu’d with mickle paine,
Where the third brother him did sore assay,
And droue at him with all his might and maine
A forrest bill, which both his hands did straine;
But warily he did auoide the blow,
And with his speare requited him againe,
That both his sides were thrilled with the throw,
And a large streame of bloud[976] out of the wound did flow.
He tombling downe, with gnashing teeth did bite xxii
The bitter earth, and bad to let him in
Into the balefull house of endlesse night,
Where wicked ghosts do waile their former sin.
Tho gan the battell freshly to begin;
For nathemore for that spectacle bad,
Did th’other two their cruell vengeaunce blin,
But both attonce on both sides him bestad,
And load vpon him layd, his life for to haue had.
Tho when that villain he auiz’d, which late xxiii
Affrighted had the fairest _Florimell_,
Full of fiers fury, and indignant hate,
To him he turned, and with rigour fell
Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell,
That to the chin he cleft his head in twaine:
Downe on the ground his carkas groueling fell;
His sinfull soule with desperate disdaine,
Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place of paine.
That seeing now the onely last of three, xxiv
Who with that wicked shaft him wounded had,
Trembling with horrour, as that did foresee
The fearefull end of his auengement sad,
Through which he follow should his brethren bad,
His bootelesse bow in feeble hand vpcaught,
And therewith shot an arrow at the lad;
Which faintly fluttring, scarce his helmet raught,
And glauncing fell to ground, but him annoyed naught.
With that he would haue fled into the wood; xxv
But _Timias_ him lightly ouerhent,
Right as he entring was into the flood,
And strooke at him with force so violent,
That headlesse him into the foord he sent:
The carkas with the streame was carried downe,
But th’head fell backeward on the Continent.
So mischief fel vpon the meaners crowne;
They three be dead with shame, the Squire liues with renowne.
He liues, but takes small ioy of his renowne; xxvi
For of that cruell wound he bled so sore,
That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne;
Yet still the bloud forth gusht in so great store,
That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore.
Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest Squire aliue,
Else shall thy louing Lord thee see no more,
But both of comfort him thou shalt depriue,
And eke thy selfe of honour, which thou didst atchiue.
Prouidence heauenly passeth liuing thought, xxvii
And doth for wretched mens reliefs make way;
For loe great grace or fortune thither brought
Comfort to him, that comfortlesse now lay.
In those same woods, ye well remember may,
How that a noble hunteresse did wonne,
She, that base _Braggadochio_ did affray,
And made him fast out of the forrest runne;
_Belphœbe_ was her name, as faire as _Phœbus_ sunne.
She on a day, as she pursewd the chace xxviii
Of some wild beast, which with her arrowes keene
She wounded had, the same along did trace
By tract of bloud, which she had freshly seene,
To haue besprinckled all the grassy greene;
By the great persue, which she there perceau’d,
Well hoped she the beast engor’d had beene,
And made more hast, the life to haue bereau’d:
But ah, her expectation greatly was deceau’d.
Shortly she came, whereas that woefull Squire xxix
With bloud deformed, lay in deadly swownd:
In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire,
The Christall humour stood congealed rownd;
His locks, like faded leaues fallen to grownd,
Knotted with bloud, in bounches rudely ran,
And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd
The bud of youth to blossome faire began,
Spoild of their rosie red, were woxen pale and wan.
Saw neuer liuing eye more heauy sight, xxx
That could haue made a rocke of stone to rew,
Or riue in twaine: which when that Lady bright
Besides all hope with melting eyes did vew,
All suddeinly abasht she chaunged hew,
And with sterne horrour backward gan to start:
But when she better[977] him beheld, she grew
Full of soft passion and vnwonted smart:
The point of pitty perced through her tender hart.
Meekely she bowed downe, to weete if life xxxi
Yet in his frosen members did remaine,
And feeling by his pulses beating rife,
That the weake soule her seat did yet retaine,
She cast to comfort him with busie paine:
His double folded necke she reard vpright,
And rubd his temples, and each trembling vaine;
His mayled haberieon she did vndight,
And from his head his heauy burganet did light.
Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went, xxxii
To seeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy;
For she of hearbes had great intendiment,
Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancy
Her nourced[978] had in trew Nobility:
There, whether it diuine _Tobacco_ were,
Or _Panachæa_ or _Polygony_,
She found, and brought it to her patient deare
Who al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare.
The soueraigne weede betwixt two marbles plaine xxxiii
She pownded small, and did in peeces bruze,
And then atweene her lilly handes twaine,
Into his wound the iuyce thereof did scruze,
And round about, as she could well it vze,
The flesh therewith she suppled and did steepe,
T’abate all spasme, and soke the swelling bruze,
And after hauing searcht the intuse deepe,
She with her scarfe did bind the wound from cold to keepe.
By this he had sweete life recur’d againe, xxxiv
And groning inly deepe, at last his eyes,
His watry eyes, drizling like deawy raine,
He vp gan lift toward the azure skies,
From whence descend all hopelesse remedies:
Therewith he sigh’d, and turning him aside,
The goodly Mayd full of diuinities,
And gifts of heauenly grace he by him spide,
Her bow and gilden quiuer lying him beside.
Mercy deare Lord (said he) what grace is this, xxxv
That thou hast shewed to me sinfull wight,
To send thine Angell from her bowre of blis,
To comfort me in my distressed plight?
Angell, or Goddesse do I call thee right?
What seruice may I do vnto thee meete,
That hast from darkenesse me returnd to light,
And with thy heauenly salues and med’cines sweete,
Hast drest my sinfull wounds? I kisse thy blessed feete.
Thereat she blushing said, Ah gentle Squire, xxxvi
Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell, but the Mayd,
And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desire
No seruice, but thy safety and ayd;
Which if thou gaine, I shalbe well apayd.
We mortall wights, whose liues and fortunes bee
To commun[979] accidents still open layd,
Are bound with commun[980] bond of frailtee,
To succour wretched wights, whom we captiued see.
By this her Damzels, which the former chace xxxvii
Had vndertaken after her, arriu’d[981],
As did _Belphœbe_, in the bloudy place,
And thereby deemd the beast had bene depriu’d
Of life, whom late their Ladies arrow ryu’d:
For thy the bloudy tract they follow fast,
And euery one to runne the swiftest stryu’d;
But two of them the rest far ouerpast,
And where their Lady was, arriued at the last.
Where when they saw that goodly boy, with blood xxxviii
Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd,
They wondred much, and shortly vnderstood,
How him in deadly case their Lady fownd,
And reskewed out of the heauy stownd.
Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd
Farre in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd,
She made those Damzels search, which being stayd,
They did him set thereon, and forth with[982] them conuayd.
Into that forest farre they thence him led, xxxix
Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade,
With mountaines round about enuironed,
And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,
And like a stately Theatre it made,
Spreading it selfe into a spatious plaine.
And in the midst a little riuer plaide
Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine
With gentle murmure, that his[983] course they did restraine.
Beside the same a dainty place there lay, xl
Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene,
In which the birds song many a louely lay
Of gods high prayse, and of their loues sweet[984] teene,
As it an earthly Paradize had beene:
In whose enclosed shadow there was pight
A faire Pauilion, scarcely to be seene,
The which was all within most richly dight,
That greatest Princes liuing[985] it mote well delight.
Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd xli
In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest,
He rested him a while, and then the Mayd
His ready wound with better salues new drest;
Dayly she dressed him, and did the best
His grieuous hurt to garish[986], that she might,
That shortly she his dolour hath redrest,
And his foule sore reduced to faire plight:
It she reduced, but himselfe destroyed quight.
O foolish Physick, and vnfruitfull paine, xlii
That heales vp one and makes another wound:
She his hurt thigh to him recur’d againe,
But hurt his hart, the which before was sound,
Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound
From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce.
What bootes it him from death to be vnbound,
To be captiued in endlesse duraunce
Of sorrow and despaire without aleggeaunce?
Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole, xliii
So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd:
Madnesse to saue a part, and lose the whole.
Still whenas he beheld the heauenly Mayd,
Whiles dayly plaisters to his wound she layd,
So still his Malady the more increast,
The whiles her matchlesse beautie him dismayd.
Ah God, what other could he do at least,
But loue so faire a Lady, that his life releast?
Long while he stroue in his courageous brest, xliv
With reason dew the passion to subdew,
And loue for to dislodge out of his nest:
Still when her excellencies he did vew,
Her soueraigne bounty, and celestiall hew,
The same to loue he strongly was constraind:
But when his meane estate he did reuew[987],
He from such hardy boldnesse was restraind,
And of his lucklesse lot and cruell loue thus plaind.
Vnthankfull wretch (said he) is this the meed, xlv
With which her soueraigne mercy thou doest quight?
Thy life she saued by her gracious deed,
But thou doest weene with villeinous despight,
To blot her honour, and her heauenly light.
Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally
Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light:
Faire death it is to shonne more shame, to dy:
Dye rather, dy, then euer loue disloyally.
But if to loue disloyalty it bee, xlvi
Shall I then hate her, that from deathes dore
Me brought? ah farre be such reproch fro mee.
What can I lesse do, then her loue therefore,
Sith I her dew reward cannot restore?[988]
Dye rather, dye, and dying do her serue,
Dying her serue, and liuing her adore;
Thy life she gaue, thy life she doth deserue:
Dye rather, dye, then euer from her seruice swerue.
But foolish boy, what bootes thy seruice bace xlvii
To her, to whom the heauens do serue and sew?
Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place,
She heauenly borne, and of celestiall hew.
How then? of all loue taketh equall vew:
And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take
The loue and seruice of the basest crew?
If she will not, dye meekly for her sake;
Dye rather, dye, then euer so faire loue forsake.
Thus warreid he long time against his will, xlviii
Till that through weaknesse he was forst at last,
To yield himselfe vnto the mighty ill:
Which as a victour proud, gan ransack fast
His inward parts, and all his entrayles wast,
That neither bloud in face, nor life in hart
It left, but both did quite drye vp, and blast;
As percing leuin, which the inner part
Of euery thing consumes, and calcineth by art.
Which seeing faire _Belphœbe_, gan to feare, xlix
Least that his wound were inly well not healed,
Or that the wicked steele empoysned were:
Litle she weend, that loue he close concealed;
Yet still he wasted, as the snow congealed,
When the bright sunne his beams thereon doth beat;
Yet neuer he his hart to her reuealed,
But rather chose to dye for sorrow great,
Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.
She gracious Lady, yet no paines did spare, l
To do him ease, or do him remedy:
Many Restoratiues of vertues rare,
And costly Cordialles she did apply,
To mitigate his stubborne mallady:
But that sweet Cordiall, which can restore
A loue-sick hart, she did to him enuy;
To him, and to all[989] th’vnworthy world forlore
She did enuy that soueraigne salue, in secret store.
That dainty Rose, the daughter of her Morne, li
More deare then life she tendered, whose flowre
The girlond of her honour did adorne:
Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching powre,
Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to showre,
But lapped vp her silken leaues most chaire,
When so the froward skye began to lowre:
But soone as calmed was the Christall aire,
She did it faire dispred, and let to florish faire.
Eternall God in his almighty powre, lii
To make ensample of his heauenly grace,
In Paradize whilome did plant this flowre,
Whence he it fetcht out of her natiue place,
And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace,
That mortall men her glory should admire:[990]
In gentle Ladies brest, and bounteous race
Of woman kind it fairest flowre doth spire,
And beareth fruit of honour and all chast desire.
Faire ympes of beautie, whose bright shining beames liii
Adorne the world with like to heauenly light,
And to your willes both royalties and Realmes[991]
Subdew, through conquest of your wondrous might,
With this faire flowre your goodly girlonds dight,
Of chastity and vertue virginall,
That shall embellish more your beautie bright,
And crowne your heades with heauenly coronall,
Such as the Angels weare[992] before Gods tribunall.
To youre faire selues a faire ensample frame, liv
Of this faire virgin, this _Belphœbe_ faire,
To whom in perfect loue, and spotlesse fame
Of chastitie, none liuing may compaire:
Ne poysnous Enuy iustly can empaire
The prayse of her fresh flowring Maidenhead;
For thy she standeth on the highest staire
Of th’honorable stage of womanhead,
That Ladies all may follow her ensample dead.
In so great prayse of stedfast chastity, lv
Nathlesse she was so curteous and kind,
Tempred with grace, and goodly modesty,
That seemed those two vertues stroue to find
The higher place in her Heroick mind:
So striuing each did other more augment,
And both encreast the prayse of woman kind,
And both encreast her beautie excellent;
So all did make in her a perfect complement.
FOOTNOTES:
[960] lx 4 bright? _1590_, _1596_
[961] Arg. 4 _swound_ _1609_
[962] ii 8 breathe _1609_
[963] iii 2 till at the last _1609_
[964] iv 6 account _1609_
[965] v 5 A] And _1596_, _1609_
[966] vi 9 where. _1590_, _1596_
[967] viii 8 belou’d of a _1596_
[968] xi 1 ye] you _1596_, _1609_
[969] xii 6 douht _1596_
[970] 8 faithfall _1596_
[971] xiii 8 strong. _1596_
[972] xiv 2 beast; _1590_, _1596_
[973] xvii 3 wade] made _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[974] xix 3 habericon _1590_
[975] 5 no] now _1590_
[976] xxi 9 bloud] flood _1590_
[977] xxx 7 better] bitter _1590_
[978] xxxii 5 nursed _1609_
[979] xxxvi 7 common _1609_
[980] 8 common _1609_
[981] xxxvii 2 undertaken after her arriu’d _1596_: undertaken, after
her arriu’d _1609_
[982] xxxviii 9 forthwith _1596_
[983] xxxix 9 his] their _1590_
[984] xl 4 loues sweet] sweet loues _1590_
[985] 9 liuing] liking _1590_
[986] xli 6 guarish _1590_
[987] xliv 7 renew _1596_, _1609_
[988] xlvi 5 restore: _1590 &c._
[989] l 8 To him and all _1609_
[990] lii 6 admire _1590_, _1596_
[991] liii 3 Reames _1590_
[992] 9 weare] were _1590_
_Cant. VI._
[Illustration:
_The birth of faire Belphœbe and
Of Amoret is told.
The Gardins of Adonis fraught
With pleasures manifold._
]
Well may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while i
Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell
So great perfections did in her compile,
that in saluage forests she did dwell,
So farre from court and royall Citadell,
The great schoolmistresse[993] of all curtesy:
Seemeth that such wild woods should far expell
All ciuill vsage and gentility,
And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.
But to this faire _Belphœbe_ in her berth ii
The heauens so fauourable were and free,
Looking with myld aspect vpon the earth,
In th’_Horoscope_ of her natiuitee,
That all the gifts of grace and chastitee
On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;
_Ioue_ laught on _Venus_ from his soueraigne see,
And _Phœbus_ with faire beames did her adorne,
And all the _Graces_ rockt her cradle being borne.
Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew, iii
And her conception of the ioyous Prime,
And all her whole creation did her shew
Pure and vnspotted from all loathly crime,
That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.
So was this virgin borne, so was she bred,
So was she trayned vp from time to time,
In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed
Till to her dew perfection she was[994] ripened.
Her mother was the faire _Chrysogonee_, iv
The daughter of _Amphisa_, who by race
A Faerie was, yborne of high degree,
She bore _Belphœbe_, she bore in like cace
Faire _Amoretta_ in the second place:
These two were twinnes, and twixt them two did share
The heritage of all celestiall grace.
That all the rest it seem’d they robbed bare
Of bountie, and of beautie, and all vertues rare.
It were a goodly storie, to declare, v
By what straunge accident faire _Chrysogone_
Conceiu’d these infants, and how them she bare[995],
In this wild forrest wandring all alone,
After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone:
For not as other wemens commune brood,
They were enwombed in the sacred throne
Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food,
As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood.
But wondrously they were begot, and bred vi
Through influence of th’heauens fruitfull ray,
As it in antique bookes is mentioned.
It was vpon a Sommers shynie day,
When _Titan_ faire his beames[996] did display,
In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,
She bath’d her brest, the boyling heat t’ allay;
She bath’d with roses red, and violets blew,
And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.
Till faint through irkesome wearinesse, adowne vii
Vpon the grassie ground her selfe she layd
To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne
Vpon her fell all naked bare displayd;
The sunne-beames bright vpon her body playd,
Being through former bathing mollifide,
And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd
With so sweet sence and secret power vnspide,
That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.
Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades viii
So straunge ensample of conception;
But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades
Of all things liuing, through impression
Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion,
Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd:
So after _Nilus_ invndation,
Infinite shapes of creatures[997] men do fynd,
Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd.
Great father he of generation ix
Is rightly cald, th’author of life and light;
And his faire sister for creation
Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right
With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight.
So sprong these twinnes in wombe of _Chrysogone_,
Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright,
Wondred to see her belly so vpblone,
Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.
Whereof conceiuing shame and foule disgrace, x
Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard,
She fled into the wildernesse a space,
Till that vnweeldy burden she had reard,
And shund dishonor, which as death she feard:
Where wearie of long trauell, downe to rest
Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard;
There a sad cloud of sleepe her ouerkest,
And seized euery sense with sorrow sore opprest.
It fortuned, faire _Venus_ hauing lost xi
Her little sonne, the winged god of loue,
Who for some light displeasure, which him crost,
Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue,
And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue,
(So from her often he had fled away,
When she for ought him sharpely did reproue,
And wandred in the world in strange aray,
Disguiz’d in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.)
Him for to seeke, she left her heauenly hous, xii
The house of goodly formes and faire aspects,
Whence all the world deriues the glorious
Features of beautie[998], and all shapes select,
With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;
And searched euery way, through which his wings
Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect:
She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things
Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.
First she him sought in Court, where most he vsed xiii
Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not;
But many there she found, which sore accused
His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot
His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot:
Ladies and Lords she euery where mote heare
Complayning, how with his empoysned shot
Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,
And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.
She then the Citties sought from gate to gate, xiv
And euery one did aske, did he him see;
And euery one her answerd, that too late
He had him seene, and felt the crueltie
Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie;
And euery one threw forth reproches rife
Of his mischieuous deedes, and said, That hee
Was the disturber of all ciuill life,
The enimy of peace, and author of all strife.
Then in the countrey she abroad him sought, xv
And in the rurall cottages inquired,
Where also many plaints to her were brought,
How he their heedlesse harts with loue had fyred,
And his false venim through their veines inspyred;
And eke the gentle shepheard swaynes, which sat
Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred,
She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what
Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat.
But when in none of all these she him got, xvi
She gan auize, where else he mote him hyde:
At last she her bethought, that she had not
Yet sought the saluage woods and forrests wyde,
In which full many louely Nymphes abyde,
Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye,
Or that the loue of some of them him tyde:
For thy she thither cast her course t’apply,
To search the secret haunts of _Dianes_ company.
Shortly vnto the wastefull woods she came, xvii
Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew,
After late chace of their embrewed game,
Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew,
Some of them washing with the liquid dew
From off[999] their dainty limbes the dustie sweat,
And soyle which did deforme their liuely hew;
Others[1000] lay shaded from the scorching heat;
The rest vpon her person gaue attendance great.
She hauing hong vpon a bough on high xviii
Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaste
Her siluer buskins from her nimble thigh,
And her lancke loynes vngirt, and brests vnbraste,
After her heat the breathing cold to taste;
Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright
Embreaded were for hindring of her haste,
Now loose about her shoulders hong vndight,
And were with sweet _Ambrosia_ all besprinckled light.
Soone as she _Venus_ saw behind her backe, xix
She was asham’d to be so loose surprized,
And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacke,
That had not her thereof before auized,
But suffred her so carelesly disguized
Be ouertaken. Soone her garments loose
Vpgath’ring, in her bosome she comprized,
Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose,
Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose.
Goodly she gan faire _Cytherea_ greet, xx
And shortly asked her, what cause her brought
Into that wildernesse for her vnmeet,
From her sweete bowres, and beds with pleasures fraught:
That suddein change she strange aduenture thought.
To whom halfe weeping, she thus answered,
That she her dearest sonne _Cupido_ sought,
Who in his frowardnesse from her was fled;
That she repented sore, to haue him angered.
Thereat _Diana_ gan to smile, in scorne xxi
Of her vaine plaint, and to her scoffing sayd;
Great pittie sure, that ye be so forlorne
Of your gay sonne, that giues ye so good ayd
To your disports: ill mote ye bene apayd.
But she was more engrieued, and replide;
Faire sister, ill beseemes it to vpbrayd
A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride;
The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.
As you in woods and wanton wildernesse xxii
Your glory set, to chace the saluage beasts,
So my delight is all in ioyfulnesse,
In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feasts:
And ill becomes you with your loftie creasts,
To scorne the ioy, that _Ioue_ is glad to seeke;
We both are bound to follow heauens beheasts,
And tend our charges with obeisance meeke:
Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my paine to eeke.
And tell me, if that ye my sonne haue heard, xxiii
To lurke emongst your Nymphes in secret wize;
Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard,
Least he like one of them him selfe disguize,
And turne his arrowes to their exercize:
So may he long himselfe full easie hide:
For he is faire and fresh in face and guize,
As any Nymph (let not it be enuyde.)
So saying euery Nymph full narrowly she eyde.
But _Phœbe_ therewith sore was angered, xxiv
And sharply said; Goe Dame, goe seeke your boy,
Where you him lately left, in _Mars_ his bed;
He comes not here, we scorne his foolish ioy,
Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy:
But if I catch him in this company,
By _Stygian_ lake I vow, whose sad annoy
The Gods doe dread, he dearely shall abye:
Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more shall fly.
Whom when as _Venus_ saw so sore displeased, xxv
She inly sory was, and gan relent,
What she had said: so her she soone appeased,
With sugred words and gentle blandishment,
Which as[1001] a fountaine from her sweet lips went,
And welled goodly forth, that in short space
She was well pleasd, and forth her damzels sent,
Through all the woods, to search from place to place,
If any tract of him or tydings they mote trace.
To search the God of loue, her Nymphes she sent xxvi
Throughout the wandring forrest euery where:
And after them her selfe eke with her went
To seeke the fugitiue, both farre and nere,[1002]
So long they sought, till they arriued were
In that same shadie couert, whereas lay
Faire _Chrysogone_ in slombry traunce whilere:
Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to say)
Vnwares had borne two babes, as faire as springing day.
Vnwares she them conceiu’d, vnwares she bore: xxvii
She bore withouten paine, that she conceiued
Withouten pleasure: ne her need implore
_Lucinaes_ aide: which when they both perceiued,
They were through wonder nigh of sense bereaued,
And gazing each on other, nought bespake:
At last they both agreed, her seeming grieued
Out of her heauy swowne not to awake,
But from her louing side the tender babes to take.
Vp they them tooke, each one a babe vptooke, xxviii
And with them carried, to be fostered;
Dame _Phœbe_ to a Nymph her babe betooke,
To be vpbrought in perfect Maydenhed,
And of her selfe her name _Belphœbe_ red:
But _Venus_ hers thence[1003] farre away conuayd,
To be vpbrought in goodly womanhed,
And in her litle loues stead, which was strayd,
Her _Amoretta_ cald, to comfort her dismayd.
She brought her to her ioyous Paradize, xxix
Where most she wonnes, when she on earth does dwel.
So faire a place, as Nature can deuize:
Whether in _Paphos_, or _Cytheron_ hill,
Or it in _Gnidus_[1004] be, I wote not well;
But well I wote by tryall, that this same
All other pleasant places doth excell,
And called is by her lost louers name,
The _Gardin_ of _Adonis_, farre renowmd by fame.
In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres, xxx
Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,
And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,
Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie
Of all things, that are borne to liue and die,
According to their kindes. Long worke it were,
Here to account the endlesse progenie
Of all the weedes, that bud and blossome there;
But so much as doth need, must needs be counted here.
It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old, xxxi
And girt in with two walles on either side;
The one of yron, the other of bright gold,
That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-stride:
And double gates it had, which opened wide,
By which both in and out men moten pas;
Th’one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:
Old _Genius_ the porter of them was,
Old _Genius_, the which a double nature has.
He letteth in, he letteth out to wend, xxxii
All that to come into the world desire;
A thousand thousand naked babes attend
About him day and night, which doe require,
That he with fleshly weedes would them attire:
Such as him list, such as eternall fate
Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,
And sendeth forth to liue in mortall state,
Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.
After that they againe returned beene, xxxiii
They in that Gardin planted be againe;
And grow afresh, as they had neuer seene
Fleshly corruption, nor mortall paine.
Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine;[1005]
And then of him are clad with other hew,
Or sent into the chaungefull world againe,
Till thither they returne, where first they grew:
So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.
Ne needs there Gardiner to set, or sow, xxxiv
To plant or prune[1006]: for of their owne accord
All things, as they created were, doe grow,
And yet remember well the mightie word,
Which first was spoken by th’Almightie lord,
That bad them to increase and multiply:
Ne doe they need with water of the ford,
Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry;
For in themselues eternall moisture they imply.
Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred, xxxv
And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew,
And euery sort is in a sundry bed
Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew:
Some fit for reasonable soules t’indew,
Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,
And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew
In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,
That seem’d the _Ocean_ could not containe them there.
Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent xxxvi
Into the world, it to replenish more;
Yet is the stocke not lessened, nor spent,
But still remaines in euerlasting store,
As it at first created was of yore.
For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,
In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore,
An huge eternall _Chaos_, which supplyes
The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes.
All things from thence doe their first being fetch, xxxvii
And borrow matter, whereof they are made,
Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,
Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade
The state of life, out of the griesly shade.
That substance is eterne, and bideth so,
Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,
Doth it consume, and into nothing go,
But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.
The substance is not chaunged, nor altered, xxxviii
But th’only forme and outward fashion;
For euery substance is conditioned
To change her hew, and sundry formes to don,
Meet for her temper and complexion:
For formes are variable and decay,
By course of kind, and by occasion;
And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,
As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.
Great enimy to it, and to all the rest, xxxix
That in the _Gardin_ of _Adonis_ springs,
Is wicked _Time_, who with his scyth addrest,
Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things,
And all their glory to the ground downe flings,
Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard:
He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings
Beates downe both leaues and buds without regard,
Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard.
Yet pittie often did the gods relent, xl
To see so faire things mard, and spoyled quight:
And their great mother _Venus_ did lament
The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight:
Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight,
When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde[1007],
Yet no’te she find redresse for such despight.
For all that liues, is subiect to that law:
All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.
But were it not, that _Time_ their troubler is, xli
All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,
Should happie be, and haue immortall blis:
For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,
And sweet loue gentle fits emongst them throwes,
Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie;
Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,
Each bird his mate, ne any does enuie
Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.
There is continuall spring, and haruest there xlii
Continuall, both meeting at one time:
For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare,
And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime,
And eke attonce the heauy[1008] trees they clime,
Which seeme to labour vnder their fruits lode:
The whiles the ioyous birdes make their pastime
Emongst the shadie leaues, their sweet abode,
And their true loues without suspition tell abrode.
Right in the middest of that Paradise, xliii
There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top
A gloomy groue of mirtle trees did rise,
Whose shadie boughes sharpe steele did neuer lop,
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,
But like a girlond compassed the hight,
And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,
Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet delight.
And in the thickest couert of that shade, xliv
There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,
But of the trees owne inclination made,
Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,
With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart,
And Eglantine, and Caprifole emong,
Fashiond aboue within their inmost part,
That nether _Phœbus_ beams could through them throng,
Nor _Aeolus_ sharp blast could worke them any wrong.
And all about grew euery sort of flowre, xlv
To which sad louers were transformd of yore;
Fresh _Hyacinthus_, _Phœbus_ paramoure,
And dearest loue,[1009]
Foolish _Narcisse_[1010], that likes the watry shore,
Sad _Amaranthus_, made a flowre but late,
Sad _Amaranthus_, in whose purple gore
Me seemes I see _Amintas_ wretched fate,
To whom sweet Poets verse hath giuen endlesse date.
There wont faire _Venus_ often to enioy xlvi
Her deare _Adonis_ ioyous company,
And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy;
There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,
Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery,
By her hid from the world, and from the skill
Of _Stygian_ Gods, which doe her loue enuy;
But she her selfe, when euer that she will,
Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.
And sooth it seemes they say: for he may not xlvii
For euer die, and euer buried bee
In balefull night, where all things are forgot;
All be he subiect to mortalitie,
Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,
And by succession made perpetuall,
Transformed oft, and chaunged diuerslie:
For him the Father of all formes they call;
Therefore needs mote he liue, that liuing giues to all.
There now he liueth in eternall blis, xlviii
Ioying his goddesse, and of her enioyd:
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,
Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:
For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,
She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,
That her sweet loue his malice mote auoyd,
In a strong rocky Caue, which is they say,
Hewen vnderneath that Mount, that none him losen may.
There now he liues in euerlasting ioy, xlix
With many of the Gods in company,
Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy
Sporting himselfe in safe felicity:
Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty
Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts
Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,
Thither resorts, and laying his sad darts
Aside, with faire _Adonis_ playes his wanton parts.
And his true loue faire _Psyche_ with him playes, l
Faire _Psyche_ to him lately reconcyld,
After long troubles and vnmeet vpbrayes,
With which his mother _Venus_ her reuyld,
And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:
But now in stedfast loue and happy state
She with him liues, and hath him borne a chyld,
_Pleasure_, that doth both gods and men aggrate,
_Pleasure_, the daughter of _Cupid_ and _Psyche_ late.
Hither great _Venus_ brought this infant faire, li
The younger daughter of _Chrysogonee_,
And vnto _Psyche_ with great trust and care
Committed her, yfostered to bee,
And trained vp in true feminitee:
Who no lesse carefully her tendered,
Then her owne daughter _Pleasure_, to whom shee
Made her companion, and her lessoned
In all the lore of loue, and goodly womanhead.
In which when she to perfect ripenesse grew, lii
Of grace and beautie noble Paragone,
She brought her forth into the worldes vew,
To be th’ensample of true loue alone,
And Lodestarre of all chaste affectione,
To all faire Ladies, that doe liue on ground.
To Faery court she came, where many one
Admyrd her goodly haueour, and found
His feeble hart wide launched[1011] with loues cruell wound.
But she to none of them her loue did cast, liii
Saue to the noble knight Sir _Scudamore_,
To whom her louing hart she linked fast
In faithfull[1012] loue, t’abide for euermore,
And for his dearest sake endured sore,
Sore trouble of an hainous enimy;
Who her would forced haue to haue forlore
Her former loue, and stedfast loialty,
As ye may elsewhere read that ruefull history.
But well I weene, ye first desire to learne, liv
What end vnto that fearefull Damozell,
Which fled so fast from that same foster stearne,
Whom with his brethren _Timias_ slew, befell:
That was to weet, the goodly _Florimell_;
Who wandring for to seeke her louer deare,
Her louer deare, her dearest _Marinell_,
Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,
And from Prince _Arthur_ fled with wings of idle feare.
FOOTNOTES:
[993] i 6 schoolmaistresse _1590_
[994] iii 9 was] were _1590_
[995] v 3 bare] bore _1590_
[996] vi 5 his hot beames _1609_
[997] viii 8 creatures] creature _1596_
[998] xii 4 beauties _1596_, _1609_
[999] xvii 6 off] of _1590_
[1000] 8 Other _1609_
[1001] xxv 5 Which as] From which _1590_, _1596_: _corr. 1609_. Of
which _conj. Church_.
[1002] xxvi 4 both farre and nere _om. 1590_
[1003] xxviii 6 thence] hence _1596_, _1609_
[1004] xxix 5 _Gnidas_ _1590_
[1005] xxxiii 5 remaire; _1596_
[1006] xxxiv 2 of prune _1596_
[1007] xl 6 spyde] saw _corr. edd. But cf._ II viii 29 l. 7 _&c._
[1008] xlii 5 heauy] heauenly _1590_
[1009] xlv 4 And dearest loue, _om. 1590, 1596_: _add. 1609_
[1010] 5 _Marcisse_ _1590_
[1011] lii 9 launched] launch _1590_: launced _1609_
[1012] liii 4 fathful _1596_
_Cant. VII._
[Illustration:
_The witches sonne loues Florimell:
she flyes, he faines to die.
Satyrane saues the Squire of Dames
from Gyants[1013] tyrannie._
]
Like as an Hynd forth singled from the heard, i
That hath escaped from a rauenous beast,
Yet flyes away of her owne feet affeard,
And euery leafe, that shaketh with the least
Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast;
So fled faire _Florimell_ from her vaine feare,
Long after she from perill was releast:
Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did[1014] heare,
Did seeme to be the same, which she escapt whyleare.
All that same euening she in flying spent, ii
And all that night her course continewed:
Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent,
Nor wearinesse to slacke her hast, but fled
Euer alike, as if her former dred
Were hard behind, her readie to arrest:
And her white Palfrey hauing conquered
The maistring raines out of her weary wrest,
Perforce her carried, where euer he thought best.
So long as breath, and hable puissance iii
Did natiue courage vnto him supply,
His pace he freshly forward did aduaunce,
And carried her beyond all ieopardy,
But nought that wanteth rest, can long aby.
He hauing through incessant trauell spent
His force, at last perforce a downe did ly,
Ne foot could further moue: The Lady gent
Thereat was suddein strooke with great astonishment.
And forst t’alight, on foot mote algates fare, iv
A traueller vnwonted to such way:
Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare,
That fortune all in equall launce doth sway,
And mortall miseries doth make her play.
So long she trauelled, till at length she came
To an hilles side, which did to her bewray
A little valley, subiect to the same,
All couerd with thick woods, that quite it ouercame.
Through the tops[1015] of the high trees she did descry v
A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light,
Reeking aloft, vprolled to the sky:
Which, chearefull signe did send vnto her sight,
That in the same did wonne some liuing wight.
Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyde,
And came at last in weary wretched plight
Vnto the place, to which her hope did guyde,
To find some refuge there, and rest her weary syde.
There in a gloomy hollow glen she found vi
A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes
In homely wize, and wald with sods around,
In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes,
And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes;
So choosing solitarie to abide,
Far from all neighbours, that her deuilish deedes
And hellish arts from people she might hide,
And hurt far off vnknowne, whom euer she enuide.
The Damzell there arriuing entred in; vii
Where sitting on the flore the Hag she found,
Busie (as seem’d) about some wicked gin:
Who soone as she beheld that suddein stound,
Lightly vpstarted from the dustie ground,
And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze
Stared on her awhile, as one astound,
Ne had one word to speake, for great amaze,[1016]
But shewd by outward signes, that dread her sence did daze.
At last turning her feare to foolish wrath, viii
She askt, what deuill had her thither brought,
And who she was, and what vnwonted path
Had guided her, vnwelcomed, vnsought?
To which the Damzell full of doubtfull thought,
Her mildly answer’d; Beldame be not wroth
With silly Virgin by aduenture brought
Vnto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,
That craue but rowme to rest, while tempest ouerblo’th.
With that adowne out of her Christall eyne ix
Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall,
That like two[1017] Orient pearles, did purely shyne
Vpon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall
She sighed soft, that none so bestiall,
Nor saluage hart, but ruth of her sad plight
Would make to melt, or pitteously appall;
And that vile Hag, all were her whole delight
In mischiefe, was much moued at so pitteous sight.
And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse, x
With womanish compassion of her plaint,
Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes,
And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint
And wearie limbs a while. She nothing quaint
Nor s’deignfull of so homely fashion,
Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint,
Sate downe vpon the dusty ground anon,
As glad of that small rest, as Bird of tempest gon.
Tho gan she gather vp her garments rent, xi
And her loose lockes to dight in order dew,
With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament;
Whom such whenas the wicked Hag did vew,
She was astonisht at her heauenly hew,
And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,
But or some Goddesse, or of _Dianes_ crew,
And thought her to adore with humble spright;
T’adore thing so diuine as beauty, were but right.
This wicked woman had a wicked sonne, xii
The comfort of her age and weary dayes,
A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne,
But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes,
Ne euer cast his mind to couet prayse,
Or ply him selfe to any honest trade,
But all the day before the sunny rayes
He vs’d to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade:
Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him made.
He comming home at vndertime, there found xiii
The fairest creature, that he euer saw,
Sitting beside his mother on the ground;
The sight whereof did greatly him adaw,
And his base thought with terrour and with aw
So inly smot, that as one, which had gazed
On the bright Sunne vnwares, doth soone withdraw
His feeble eyne, with too much brightnesse dazed,
So stared he on her, and stood long while amazed.
Softly at last he gan his mother aske, xiv
What mister wight that was, and whence deriued,
That in so straunge disguizement there did maske,
And by what accident she there arriued:
But she, as one nigh of her wits depriued,
With nought but ghastly lookes him answered,
Like to a ghost, that lately is reuiued
From _Stygian_ shores, where late it wandered;
So both at her, and each at other wondered.
But the faire Virgin was so meeke and mild, xv
That she to them vouchsafed to embace
Her goodly port, and to their senses vild,
Her gentle speach applide, that in short space
She grew familiare in that desert place.
During which time, the Chorle through her so kind
And curteise vse conceiu’d affection bace,
And cast to loue her in his brutish mind;
No loue, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind.
Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent, xvi
And shortly grew into outrageous fire;
Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment,
As vnto her to vtter his desire;
His caytiue thought durst not so high aspire,
But with soft sighes, and louely semblaunces,
He ween’d that his affection entire
She should aread; many resemblaunces
To her he made, and many kind remembraunces.
Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring, xvii
Whose sides empurpled were with smiling red,
And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing
His mistresse[1018] prayses, sweetly caroled,
Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire hed
He fine would dight; sometimes the squirell wild
He brought to her in bands, as conquered
To be her thrall, his fellow seruant vild;
All which, she of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild.
But past awhile, when she fit season saw xviii
To leaue that desert mansion, she cast
In secret wize her selfe thence to withdraw,
For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast
Might be by[1019] the witch or that[1020] her sonne compast:
Her wearie Palfrey closely, as she might,
Now well recouered after long repast,
In his proud furnitures she freshly dight,
His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.
And earely ere the dawning day appeard, xix
She forth issewed, and on her iourney went;
She went in perill, of each noyse affeard,
And of each shade, that did it selfe present;
For still she feared to be ouerhent,
Of that vile hag, or her[1021] vnciuile sonne:
Who when too late awaking, well they kent,
That their faire guest was gone, they both begonne
To make exceeding mone, as they had bene vndonne.
But that lewd louer did the most lament xx
For her depart, that euer man did heare;
He knockt his brest with desperate intent,
And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare
His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare:
That his sad mother seeing his sore plight,
Was greatly woe begon, and gan to feare,
Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight,
And loue to frenzy turnd, sith loue is franticke hight.
All wayes she sought, him to restore to plight, xxi
With herbs, with charms, with counsell, and with teares,
But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell might
Asswage the fury, which his entrails teares:
So strong is passion, that no reason heares.
Tho when all other helpes she saw to faile,
She turnd her selfe backe to her wicked leares
And by her deuilish arts thought to preuaile,
To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale.
Eftsoones out of her hidden caue she cald xxii
An hideous beast, of horrible aspect,
That could the stoutest courage haue appald;
Monstrous[1022] mishapt, and all his backe was spect
With thousand spots of colours queint elect,
Thereto so swift, that it all beasts did pas:
Like neuer yet did liuing eye detect;
But likest it to an _Hyena_ was,
That feeds on womens flesh, as others feede on gras.
It forth she cald, and gaue it streight in charge, xxiii
Through thicke and thin her to pursew apace,
Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large,
Till her he[1023] had attaind, and brought in place,
Or quite deuourd her beauties scornefull grace.
The Monster swift as word, that from her went,
Went forth in hast, and did her footing trace
So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent,
And passing speede, that shortly he her ouerhent.
Whom when the fearefull Damzell nigh espide, xxiv
No need to bid her fast away to flie;
That vgly shape so sore her terrifide,
That it she shund no lesse, then dread to die,
And her flit Palfrey did so well apply
His nimble feet to her concerned feare,
That whilest his breath did strength to him supply,
From perill free he her away did beare:
But when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare.
Which whenas she perceiu’d, she was dismayd xxv
At that same last extremitie full sore,
And of her safetie greatly grew afrayd;
And now she gan approch to the sea shore,
As it befell, that she could flie no more,
But yield her selfe to spoile of greedinesse.
Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore,
From her dull horse, in desperate distresse,
And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickernesse.
Not halfe so fast the wicked _Myrrha_ fled xxvi
From dread of her reuenging fathers hond:
Nor halfe so fast to saue her maidenhed,
Fled fearefull _Daphne_ on th’_Ægæan_ strond,
As _Florimell_ fled from that Monster yond,
To reach the sea, ere she of him were raught:
For in the sea to drowne her selfe she fond,
Rather then of the tyrant to be caught:
Thereto feare gaue her wings, and neede her courage taught.
It fortuned (high God did so ordaine) xxvii
As she arriued on the roring shore,
In minde to leape into the mighty maine,
A little boate lay houing her before,
In which there slept a fisher old and pore,
The whiles his nets were drying on the sand:
Into the same she leapt, and with the ore
Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand:
So safetie found at sea, which she found not at land.
The Monster ready on the pray to sease, xxviii
Was of his forward hope deceiued quight;
Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas,
But greedily long gaping at the sight,
At last in vaine was forst to turne his flight,
And tell the idle tidings to his Dame:
Yet to auenge his deuilish despight,
He set vpon her Palfrey tired lame,
And slew him cruelly, ere any reskew came.
And after hauing him embowelled, xxix
To fill his hellish[1024] gorge, it chaunst a knight
To passe that way, as forth he trauelled;
It was a goodly Swaine, and of great might,
As euer man that bloudy field did fight;
But in vaine sheows, that wont yong knights bewitch,
And courtly seruices tooke no delight,
But rather ioyd to be, then seemen sich:
For both to be and seeme to him was labour lich.
It was to weete the good Sir _Satyrane_, xxx
That raungd abroad to seeke aduentures wilde,
As was his wont in forrest, and in plaine;
He was all armd in rugged steele vnfilde,
As in the smoky forge it was compilde,
And in his Scutchin bore a Satyres hed:
He comming present, where the Monster vilde
Vpon that milke-white Palfreyes carkas fed,
Vnto his reskew ran, and greedily him sped.
There well perceiu’d he, that it was the horse, xxxi
Whereon faire _Florimell_ was wont to ride,
That of that feend was rent without remorse:
Much feared he, least ought did ill betide
To that faire Mayd, the flowre of womens pride;
For her he dearely loued, and in all
His famous conquests highly magnifide:
Besides her golden girdle, which did fall
From her in flight, he found, that did him sore apall.
Full of sad feare, and doubtfull agony, xxxii
Fiercely he flew vpon that wicked feend,
And with huge strokes, and cruell battery
Him forst to leaue his pray, for to attend
Him selfe from deadly daunger to defend:
Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh
He did engraue, and muchell bloud did spend,
Yet might not do him dye, but aye more fresh
And fierce he still appeard, the more he did him thresh.
He wist not, how him to despoile of life, xxxiii
Ne how to win the wished victory,
Sith him he saw still stronger grow through strife,
And him selfe weaker through infirmity;
Greatly he grew enrag’d, and furiously
Hurling his sword away, he lightly lept
Vpon the beast, that with great cruelty
Rored, and raged to be vnder-kept:
Yet he perforce him held, and strokes vpon him hept.
As he that striues to stop a suddein flood, xxxiv
And in strong banckes his violence enclose[1025],
Forceth it swell aboue his wonted mood,
And largely ouerflow the fruitfull plaine,
That all the countrey seemes to be a Maine,
And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonne:
The wofull husbandman doth lowd complaine,
To see his whole yeares labour lost so soone,
For which to God he made so many an idle boone.
So him he held, and did through might amate: xxxv
So long he held him, and him bet so long,
That at the last his fiercenesse gan abate,
And meekely stoup vnto the victour strong:
Who to auenge the implacable wrong,
Which he supposed donne to _Florimell_,
Sought by all meanes his dolour to prolong,
Sith dint of steele his carcas could not quell:
His maker with her charmes had framed him so well.
The golden ribband, which that virgin wore xxxvi
About her sclender[1026] wast, he tooke in hand,
And with it bound the beast, that lowd did rore
For great despight of that vnwonted band,
Yet dared not his victour to withstand,
But trembled like a lambe, fled from the pray,
And all the way him followd on the strand,
As he had long bene learned to obay;
Yet neuer learned he such seruice, till that day.
Thus as he led the Beast along the way, xxxvii
He spide far off a mighty Giauntesse,
Fast flying on a Courser dapled gray,
From a bold knight, that with great hardinesse
Her hard pursewd, and sought for to suppresse;
She bore before her lap a dolefull Squire,
Lying athwart her horse in great distresse,
Fast bounden hand and foote with cords of wire,
Whom she did meane to make the thrall of her desire.
Which whenas _Satyrane_ beheld, in hast xxxviii
He left his captiue Beast at liberty,
And crost the nearest way, by which he cast
Her to encounter, ere she passed by:
But she the way shund nathemore for thy,
But forward gallopt fast; which when he spyde,
His mighty speare he couched warily,
And at her ran: she hauing him descryde,
Her selfe to fight addrest, and threw her lode aside.
Like as a Goshauke, that in foote doth beare xxxix
A trembling Culuer, hauing spide on hight
An Egle, that with plumy wings doth sheare
The subtile ayre, stouping with all his might,
The quarrey throwes to ground with fell despight,
And to the battell doth her selfe prepare:
So ran the Geauntesse vnto the fight;
Her firie eyes with furious sparkes did stare,
And with blasphemous bannes high God in peeces tare.
She caught in hand an huge great yron mace, xl
Wherewith she many had of life depriued,
But ere the stroke could seize his aymed place,
His speare amids her sun-broad shield arriued;
Yet nathemore the steele a sunder riued,
All were the beame in bignesse like a mast,
Ne her out of the stedfast sadle driued,
But glauncing on the tempred mettall, brast
In thousand shiuers, and so forth beside her past.
Her Steed did stagger with that puissaunt strooke; xli
But she no more was moued with that might,
Then it had lighted on an aged Oke;
Or on the marble Pillour, that is pight
Vpon the top of Mount _Olympus_ hight,
For the braue youthly Champions to assay,
With burning charet wheeles it nigh to smite:
But who that smites it, mars his ioyous play,
And is the spectacle of ruinous decay.
Yet therewith sore enrag’d, with sterne regard xlii
Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest,
Which on his helmet martelled so hard,
That made him low incline his lofty crest,
And bowd his battred visour to his brest:
Wherewith he was[1027] so stund[1028], that he n’ote ryde,
But reeled to and fro from East to West:
Which when his cruell enimy espyde,
She lightly vnto him adioyned side to syde;
And on his collar laying puissant hand, xliii
Out of his wauering seat him pluckt perforse,
Perforse him pluckt, vnable to withstand,
Or helpe himselfe, and laying thwart her horse,
In loathly wise like to a carion corse,
She bore him fast away. Which when the knight,
That her pursewed, saw[1029], with great remorse[1030]
He neare[1031] was touched in his noble spright,
And gan encrease his speed, as she encreast her flight.
Whom when as nigh approching she espyde, xliv
She threw away her burden angrily;
For she list not the battell to abide,
But made her selfe more light, away to fly:
Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye,
That almost in the backe he oft her strake:
But still when him at hand she did espy,
She turnd, and semblaunce of faire fight did make;
But when he stayd, to flight againe she did her take.
By this the[1032] good Sir _Satyrane_ gan wake[1033] xlv
Out of his dreame, that did him long entraunce,
And seeing none in place, he gan to make
Exceeding mone, and curst that cruell chaunce,
Which reft from him[1034] so faire a cheuisaunce:
At length he spide, whereas that wofull Squire,
Whom he had reskewed from captiuaunce
Of his strong foe, lay tombled in the myre,
Vnable to arise, or foot or hand to styre.
To whom approching, well he mote perceiue xlvi
In that foule plight a comely personage,
And louely face, made fit for to deceiue
Fraile Ladies hart with loues consuming rage,
Now in the blossome of his freshest age:
He reard him vp, and loosd his yron bands,
And after gan inquire his parentage,
And how he fell into that[1035] Gyaunts hands,
And who that was, which chaced her along the lands.
Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire bespake, xlvii
That Geauntesse _Argante_ is behight,
A daughter of the _Titans_ which did make
Warre against heauen, and heaped hils on hight,
To scale the skyes, and put _Ioue_ from his right:
Her sire _Typhœus_ was, who mad through merth,
And drunke with bloud of men, slaine by his might,
Through incest, her of his owne mother Earth
Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth.
For at that berth another Babe she bore, xlviii
To weet the mighty _Ollyphant_, that wrought
Great wreake to many errant knights of yore,
And many hath to foule[1036] confusion brought.
These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought)
Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosed they were,
Ere they into the lightsome world were brought,
In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere,
And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere.
So liu’d they euer after in like sin, xlix
Gainst natures law, and good behauioure:
But greatest shame was to that maiden twin,
Who not content so fowly to deuoure
Her natiue flesh, and staine[1037] her brothers bowre,
Did wallow in all other fleshly myre,
And suffred beasts her body to deflowre:
So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre,
Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre.
But ouer all the countrey she did raunge, l
To seeke young men, to quench her flaming thrust[1038],
And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge:
Whom so she fittest finds to serue her lust,
Through her maine strength, in which she most doth trust,
She with her brings into a secret Ile,
Where in eternall bondage dye he must,
Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile,
And in all shamefull sort him selfe with her defile.
Me seely wretch she so at vauntage caught, li
After she long in waite for me did lye,
And meant vnto her prison to haue brought,
Her lothsome pleasure there to satisfye;
That thousand deathes me leuer were to dye,
Then breake the vow, that to faire _Columbell_
I plighted haue, and yet keepe stedfastly:
As for my name, it mistreth not to tell;
Call me the _Squyre of Dames_, that me beseemeth well.
But that bold knight, whom ye pursuing saw lii
That Geauntesse, is not such, as she seemed,
But a faire virgin, that in martiall law,
And deedes of armes aboue all Dames is[1039] deemed,
And aboue many knights is eke esteemed,
For her great worth; She _Palladine_ is hight:
She you from death, you me from dread redeemed.
Ne any may that Monster match in fight,
But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight.
Her well beseemes that Quest (quoth _Satyrane_) liii
But read, thou _Squyre of Dames_, what vow is this,
Which thou vpon thy selfe hast lately ta’ne?
That shall I you recount (quoth he) ywis,
So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis.
That gentle Lady, whom I loue and serue,
After long suit and weary seruicis,
Did aske me, how I could her loue deserue,
And how she might be sure, that I would neuer swerue.
I glad by any meanes her grace to gaine, liv
Bad her commaund my life to saue, or spill.
Eftsoones she bad me, with incessaunt paine
To wander through the world abroad at will,
And euery where, where with my power or skill
I might do seruice vnto gentle Dames,
That I the same should faithfully fulfill,
And at the twelue monethes end should bring their names
And pledges; as the spoiles of my victorious games.
So well I to faire Ladies seruice did, lv
And found such fauour in their louing hartes,
That ere the yeare his course had compassid,
Three hundred pledges for my good desartes,
And thrise three hundred thanks for my good partes
I with me brought, and did to her present:
Which when she saw, more bent to eke my smartes,
Then to reward my trusty true intent,
She gan for me deuise a grieuous punishment.
To weet, that I my trauell should resume, lvi
And with like labour walke the world around,
Ne euer to her presence should presume,
Till I so many other Dames had found,
The which, for all the suit I could propound,
Would me refuse their pledges to afford,
But did abide for euer chast and sound.
Ah gentle Squire (quoth he) tell at one word,
How many foundst thou such to put in thy record?
In deed Sir knight (said he) one word may tell lvii
All, that I euer found so wisely stayd;
For onely three they were disposd so well,
And yet three yeares I now abroad haue strayd,
To find them out. Mote I (then laughing sayd
The knight) inquire of thee, what were those three,
The which thy proffred curtesie denayd?
Or ill they seemed sure auizd to bee,
Or brutishly brought vp, that neu’r did fashions see.
The first which then refused me (said hee) lviii
Certes was but a common Courtisane,
Yet flat refusd to haue a do with mee,
Because I could not giue her many a Iane.
(Thereat full hartely laughed _Satyrane_)
The second was an holy Nunne to chose,
Which would not let me be her Chappellane,
Because she knew, she said, I would disclose
Her counsell, if she should her trust in me repose.
The third a Damzell was of low degree, lix
Whom I in countrey cottage found by chaunce;
Full little weened I, that chastitee
Had lodging in so meane a maintenaunce,
Yet was she faire, and in her countenance
Dwelt simple truth in seemely fashion.
Long thus I woo’d her with dew obseruance,
In hope vnto my pleasure to haue won;
But was as farre at last, as when I first begon.
Safe her, I neuer any woman found, lx
That chastity did for it selfe embrace,
But were for other causes firme and sound;
Either for want of handsome time and place,
Or else for feare of shame and fowle disgrace.
Thus am I hopelesse euer to attaine
My Ladies loue, in such a desperate case,
But all my dayes am like to wast in vaine,
Seeking to match the chaste with th’vnchaste Ladies traine.
Perdy, (said _Satyrane_) thou _Squire of Dames_, lxi
Great labour fondly hast thou hent in hand,
To get small thankes, and therewith many blames,
That may emongst[1040] _Alcides_ labours stand.
Thence backe[1041] returning to the former land,
Where late he left the Beast, he ouercame,
He found him not; for he had broke his band,
And was return’d againe vnto his Dame,
To tell what tydings of faire _Florimell_ became.
FOOTNOTES:
[1013] Arg. 4 _Gynunt_, _1590_
[1014] i 8 she did] he did _1590_
[1015] v 1 th’tops _1609_
[1016] vii 8 amaze. _1596_
[1017] ix 3 two] to _conj. Hughes_
[1018] xvii 4 maistresse _1590_
[1019] xviii 5 be by] by _1590_: be _1596_, _1609_
[1020] that] by _1590_
[1021] xix 6 her] that _1609_
[1022] xxii 4 Monstrous, _1590_
[1023] xxiii 4 he] she _1590_
[1024] xxix 2 bellish _1596_
[1025] xxxiv 2 enclose] containe _MS. corr. in Malone 615. But cf._ III
vi 40 l. 6 _&c._
[1026] xxxvi 2 slender _1609_
[1027] xlii 6 he was] she was _1590_: _corr. to_ hee _F. E._
[1028] stuned _1590_: _corr. F. E._
[1029] xliii 7 saw _1590_, _1596_
[1030] remorse, _1590_, _1596_
[1031] 8 neare] were _1590_: _corr. to_ nere _F. E._
[1032] xlv 1 the _om. 1596, 1609_
[1033] wake] awake _1609_
[1034] 5 him from _1609_
[1035] xlvi 8 that] the _1590_
[1036] xlviii 4 And many hath to foule] Till him Chylde _Thopas_ to
_1590_
[1037] xlix 5 staine] straine _1596_, _1609_
[1038] l 2 thurst _1596_, _1609_
[1039] lii 4 is] it _1590_
[1040] lxi 4 emongst] among _1609_
[1041] 5 backe] bace _1590_
_Cant. VIII._
[Illustration:
_The Witch creates a snowy Lady,
like to Florimell,
Who wrongd by Carle by Proteus sau’d,
is sought by Paridell._
]
So oft as I this history record, i
My hart doth melt with meere compassion,
To thinke, how causelesse of her owne accord
This gentle Damzell, whom I write vpon,
Should plonged be in such affliction,
Without all hope of comfort or reliefe,
That sure I weene, the hardest hart of stone,
Would hardly find to aggrauate her griefe;
For misery craues rather mercie, then repriefe.
But that accursed Hag, her hostesse late, ii
Had so enranckled her malitious hart,
That she desyrd th’abridgement of her fate,
Or long enlargement of her painefull smart.
Now when the Beast, which by her wicked art
Late forth she sent, she backe returning spyde,
Tyde with her broken[1042] girdle, it a part
Of her rich spoyles, whom he had earst destroyd,
She weend, and wondrous gladnesse to her hart applyde.
And with it running hast’ly to her sonne, iii
Thought with that sight him much to haue reliued[1043];
Who thereby deeming sure the thing as donne,
His former griefe with furie fresh reuiued,
Much more then earst, and would haue algates riued
The hart out of his brest: for sith her ded
He surely dempt, himselfe he thought depriued
Quite of all hope, wherewith he long had fed
His foolish maladie, and long time had misled.
With thought whereof, exceeding mad he grew, iv
And in his rage his mother would haue slaine,
Had she not fled into a secret mew,
Where she was wont her Sprights to entertaine
The maisters[1044] of her art: there was she faine
To call them all in order to her ayde,
And them coniure vpon eternall paine,
To counsell her so carefully dismayd,
How she might heale her sonne, whose senses were decayd.
By their aduise[1045], and her owne wicked wit, v
She there deuiz’d a wondrous worke to frame,
Whose like on earth was neuer framed yit,
That euen Nature selfe enuide the same,
And grudg’d to see the counterfet should shame
The thing it selfe. In hand she boldly tooke
To make another like the former Dame,
Another _Florimell_, in shape and looke
So liuely and so like, that many it mistooke.
The substance, whereof she the bodie made, vi
Was purest snow in massie mould congeald,
Which she had gathered in a shadie glade
Of the _Riphœan_ hils, to her reueald
By errant Sprights, but from all men conceald:
The same she tempred with fine Mercury,
And virgin wex[1046], that neuer yet was seald,
And mingled them with perfect vermily,
That like a liuely sanguine it seem’d to the eye.
In stead of eyes two burning lampes she set vii
In siluer sockets, shyning like the skyes,
And a quicke mouing Spirit did arret
To stirre and roll them, like a womans[1047] eyes;
In stead of yellow lockes she did deuise,
With golden wyre to weaue her curled head;
Yet golden wyre was not so yellow thrise
As _Florimells_ faire haire: and in the stead
Of life, she put a Spright to rule the carkasse dead.
A wicked Spright yfraught with fawning guile, viii
And faire resemblance aboue all the rest,
Which with the Prince of Darknesse fell somewhile[1048],
From heauens blisse and euerlasting rest;
Him needed not instruct, which way were best
Himselfe to fashion likest _Florimell_,
Ne how to speake, ne how to vse his gest,
For he in counterfeisance did excell,
And all the wyles of wemens wits knew passing well.
Him shaped thus, she deckt in garments gay, ix
Which _Florimell_ had left behind her late,
That who so then her saw, would surely say,
It was her selfe, whom it did imitate,
Or fairer then her selfe, if ought algate
Might fairer be. And then she forth her brought
Vnto her sonne, that lay in feeble state;
Who seeing her gan streight vpstart, and thought
She was the Lady selfe, whom[1049] he so long had sought.
Tho fast her clipping twixt his armes twaine, x
Extremely ioyed in so happie sight,
And soone forgot his former sickly paine;
But she, the more to seeme such as she hight,
Coyly rebutted his embracement light;
Yet still with gentle countenaunce[1050] retained,
Enough to hold a foole in vaine delight:
Him long she so with shadowes entertained,
As her Creatresse had in charge to her ordained.
Till on a day, as he disposed was xi
To walke the woods with that his Idole faire,
Her to disport, and idle time to pas,
In th’open freshnesse of the gentle aire,
A knight that way there chaunced to repaire;
Yet knight he[1051] was not, but a boastfull swaine,
That deedes of armes had euer in despaire,
Proud _Braggadocchio_, that in vaunting vaine
His glory did repose, and credit did maintaine.
He seeing with that Chorle so faire a wight, xii
Decked with many a costly ornament,
Much merueiled thereat, as well he might,
And thought that match a fowle disparagement:
His bloudie speare eftsoones he boldly bent
Against the silly clowne, who dead through feare,
Fell streight to ground in great astonishment;
Villein (said he) this Ladie is my deare,
Dy, if thou it gainesay: I will away her beare.
The fearefull Chorle durst not gainesay, nor dooe, xiii
But trembling stood, and yielded him the pray;
Who finding litle leasure her to wooe,
On _Tromparts_ steed her mounted without stay,
And without reskew led her quite away.
Proud man himselfe then _Braggadocchio_ deemed,
And next to none, after that happie day,
Being possessed of that spoyle, which seemed
The fairest wight on ground, and most of men esteemed.
But when he saw himselfe free from poursute[1052], xiv
He gan make gentle purpose to his Dame,
With termes of loue and lewdnesse dissolute;
For he could well his glozing speaches frame
To such vaine vses, that him best became:
But she thereto would lend but light regard,
As seeming sory, that she euer came
Into his powre, that vsed her so hard,
To reaue her honor, which she more then life prefard.
Thus as they two of kindnesse treated long, xv
There them by chaunce encountred on the way
An armed knight, vpon a courser strong,
Whose trampling feet vpon the hollow lay
Seemed to thunder, and did nigh affray
That Capons courage: yet he looked grim,
And fain’d to cheare his Ladie in dismay;
Who seem’d for feare to quake in euery lim,
And her to saue from outrage, meekely prayed him.
Fiercely that stranger forward came, and nigh xvi
Approching, with bold words and bitter threat,
Bad that same boaster, as he mote, on high
To leaue to him that Lady for excheat,
Or bide him battell without further treat.
That challenge did too peremptory seeme,
And fild his senses with abashment great;
Yet seeing nigh him ieopardy extreme,
He it dissembled well, and light seem’d to esteeme.
Saying, Thou foolish knight, that weenst with words xvii
To steale away, that I with blowes haue wonne,
And brought throgh points of many perilous swords:
But if thee list to see thy Courser ronne,
Or proue thy selfe, this sad encounter shonne,
And seeke else without hazard of thy hed.
At those proud words that other knight begonne
To wexe exceeding wroth, and him ared
To turne his steede about, or sure he should be ded.
Sith then (said _Braggadocchio_) needes thou wilt xviii
Thy dayes abridge, through proofe of puissance,
Turne we our steedes, that both in equall tilt
May meet againe, and each take happie chance.
This said, they both a furlongs mountenance
Retyrd their steeds, to ronne in euen race:
But _Braggadocchio_ with his bloudie lance
Once hauing turnd, no more returnd his face,
But left his loue to losse, and fled himselfe apace.
The knight him seeing fly, had no regard xix
Him to poursew, but to the Ladie rode,
And hauing her from _Trompart_ lightly reard,
Vpon his Courser set the louely lode,
And with her fled away without abode.
Well weened he, that fairest _Florimell_
It was, with whom in company he yode,
And so her selfe did alwaies to him tell;
So made him thinke him selfe in heauen, that was in hell.
But _Florimell_ her selfe was farre away, xx
Driuen to great distresse by Fortune straunge,
And taught the carefull Mariner to play,
Sith late mischaunce had her compeld to chaunge
The land for sea, at randon there to raunge:
Yet there that cruell Queene auengeresse,
Not satisfide so farre her to estraunge
From courtly blisse and wonted happinesse,
Did heape on her new waues of weary wretchednesse.
For being fled into the fishers bote, xxi
For refuge from the Monsters crueltie,
Long so she on the mightie maine did flote,
And with the tide droue forward careleslie;
For th’aire was milde, and cleared was the skie,
And all his windes _Dan Aeolus_ did keepe,
From stirring vp their stormy enmitie,
As pittying to see her waile and weepe;
But all the while the fisher did securely sleepe.
At last when droncke with drowsinesse, he woke, xxii
And saw his drouer driue along the streame,
He was dismayd, and thrise his breast he stroke,
For maruell of that accident extreame;
But when he saw[1053] that blazing beauties beame,
Which with rare light his bote did beautifie,
He marueild more, and thought he yet did dreame
Not well awakt, or that some extasie
Assotted had his sense, or dazed was his eie.
But when her well auizing, he perceiued xxiii
To be no vision, nor fantasticke sight,
Great comfort of her presence he conceiued,
And felt in his old courage new delight
To gin awake, and stirre his frozen spright:
Tho rudely askt her, how she thither came.
Ah (said she) father, I note read aright,
What hard misfortune brought me to the[1054] same;
Yet am I glad that here I now in safety am.[1055]