Edmund Spenser

THE FAERIE QUEENE

THE FIRST

BOOKE OF THE

FAERIE QVEENE.

Contayning

The Legende of the

Knight of the Red Crosse

or

of Holinesse.

LO I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,

As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds,

Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske,

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,

And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;

Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long,

Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:

Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song.

Helpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine,

Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,

Lay forth out of thine euerlasting scryne

The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:

O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.

And thou most dreaded impe of highest Ioue,

Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart

At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,

That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,

Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,

And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:

Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,

In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,

After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

And with them eke, O Goddesse heauenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and Maiestie diuine,

Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light

Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine,

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,

To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile:

The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-while.

Canto I

The Patron of true Holinesse,

Foule Errour doth defeate:

Hypocrisie him to entrappe,

Doth to his home entreate.

Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,

Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,

Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,

The cruell markes of many' a bloudy fielde;

Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:

Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,

And dead as liuing euer him ador'd:

Vpon his shield the like was also scor'd,

For soueraine hope, which in his helpe he had:

Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;

Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad.

Vpon a great aduenture he was bond,

That greatest Gloriana to him gaue,

That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond,

To winne him worship, and her grace to haue,

Which of all earthly things he most did craue;

And euer as he rode, his hart did earne

To proue his puissance in battell braue

Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;

Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.

A louely Ladie rode him faire beside,

Vpon a lowly Asse more white then snow,

Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide

Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,

And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,

As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,

And heauie sat vpon her palfrey slow:

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,

And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe,

She was in life and euery vertuous lore,

And by descent from Royall lynage came

Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore

Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore,

And all the world in their subiection held;

Till that infernall feend with foule vprore

Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:

Whom to auenge, she had this Knight from far compeld.

Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd in being euer last,

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,

The day with cloudes was suddeine ouercast,

And angry Ioue an hideous storme of raine

Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,

That euery wight to shrowd it did constrain,

And this faire couple eke to shroud themselues were fain.

Enforst to seeke some couert nigh at hand,

A shadie groue not far away they spide,

That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:

Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,

Did spred so broad, that heauens light did hide,

Not perceable with power of any starre:

And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

With footing worne, and leading inward farre:

Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.

And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,

Ioying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,

The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,

The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,

The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,

The Aspine good for staues, the Cypresse funerall.

The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours

And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,

The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,

The Eugh obedient to the benders will,

The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,

The Mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,

The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,

The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,

The caruer Holme, the Maple seeldom inward sound.

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,

Vntill the blustring storme is ouerblowne;

When weening to returne, whence they did stray,

They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,

But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,

Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,

That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:

So many pathes, so many turnings seene,

That which of them to take, in diuerse doubt they been.

At last resoluing forward still to fare,

Till that some end they finde or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,

And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollow caue,

Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout

Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,

And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gaue.

Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,

Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:

The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,

Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,

And perill without show: therefore your stroke

Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.

Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke

The forward footing for an hidden shade:

Vertue giues her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.

Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place

I better wot then you, though now too late

To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,

Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.

This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:

Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then

The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for liuing men.

But full of fire and greedy hardiment,

The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,

But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,

And looked in: his glistring armor made

A litle glooming light, much like a shade,

By which he saw the vgly monster plaine,

Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,

But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine,

Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

And as she lay vpon the durtie ground,

Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred,

Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,

Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred

A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,

Sucking vpon her poisonous dugs, each one

Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored:

Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone,

Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.

Their dam vpstart, out of her den effraide,

And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile

About her cursed head, whose folds displaid

Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.

She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle

Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;

For light she hated as the deadly bale,

Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,

Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any plaine.

Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu'd, he lept

As Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,

And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept

From turning backe, and forced her to stay:

Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray,

And turning fierce, her speckled taile aduaunst,

Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:

Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:

The stroke down from her head vnto her shoulder glaunst.

Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd,

Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,

And all attonce her beastly body raizd

With doubled forces high aboue the ground:

Tho wrapping vp her wrethed sterne arownd,

Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine

All suddenly about his body wound,

That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine:

God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.

His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,

Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee,

Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:

Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.

That when he heard, in great perplexitie,

His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,

And knitting all his force got one hand free,

Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,

That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.

Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw

A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,

Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,

Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke

His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:

Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,

With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,

And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:

Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.

As when old father Nilus gins to swell

With timely pride aboue the Aegyptian vale,

His fattie waues do fertile slime outwell,

And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:

But when his later spring gins to auale,

Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed

Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male

And partly female of his fruitfull seed;

Such vgly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man reed.

The same so sore annoyed has the knight,

That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,

His forces faile, ne can no longer fight.

Whose corage when the feend perceiu'd to shrinke,

She poured forth out of her hellish sinke

Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,

Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,

Which swarming all about his legs did crall,

And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.

As gentle Shepheard in sweete euen-tide,

When ruddy Phoebus gins to welke in west,

High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,

Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;

A cloud of combrous gnattes do him molest,

All striuing to infixe their feeble stings,

That from their noyance he no where can rest,

But with his clownish hands their tender wings

He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame,

Then of the certaine perill he stood in,

Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,

Resolv'd in minde all suddenly to win,

Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;

And strooke at her with more then manly force,

That from her body full of filthie sin

He raft her hatefull head without remorse;

A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse.

Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare

They saw so rudely falling to the ground,

Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,

Gathred themselues about her body round,

Weening their wonted entrance to haue found

At her wide mouth: but being there withstood

They flocked all about her bleeding wound,

And sucked vp their dying mothers blood,

Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.

That detestable sight him much amazde,

To see th'vnkindly Impes of heauen accurst,

Deuoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,

Hauing all satisfide their bloudy thurst,

Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst,

And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end

Of such as drunke her life, the which them nurst;

Now needeth him no lenger labour spend,

His foes haue slaine themselues, with whom he should contend.

His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre

Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,

And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,

Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:

Well worthy be you of that Armorie,

Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,

And proou'd your strength on a strong enimie,

Your first aduenture: many such I pray,

And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.

Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe,

And with the Lady backward sought to wend;

That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,

Ne euer would to any by-way bend,

But still did follow one vnto the end,

The which at last out of the wood them brought.

So forward on his way (with God to frend)

He passed forth, and new aduenture sought;

Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.

At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way

An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,

His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,

And by his belt his booke he hanging had;

Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,

And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,

And all the way he prayed, as he went,

And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.

He faire the knight saluted, louting low,

Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:

And after asked him, if he did know

Of straunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.

Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas,

Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,

Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,

Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

With holy father sits not with such things to mell.

But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell,

And homebred euill ye desire to heare,

Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell,

That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.

Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,

And shall you well reward to shew the place,

In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:

For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,

That such a cursed creature liues so long a space.

Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse

His dwelling is, by which no liuing wight

May euer passe, but thorough great distresse.

Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,

And well I wote, that of your later fight

Ye all forwearied be: for what so strong,

But wanting rest will also want of might?

The Sunne that measures heauen all day long,

At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waues emong.

Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest,

And with new day new worke at once begin:

Vntroubled night they say giues counsell best.

Right well Sir knight ye haue aduised bin,

(Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win

Is wisely to aduise: now day is spent;

Therefore with me ye may take vp your In

For this same night. The knight was well content:

So with that godly father to his home they went.

A little lowly Hermitage it was,

Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,

Far from resort of people, that did pas

In trauell to and froe: a little wyde

There was an holy Chappell edifyde,

Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say

His holy things each morne and euentyde:

Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,

Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.

Arriued there, the little house they fill,

Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:

Rest is their feast, and all things at their will;

The noblest mind the best contentment has.

With faire discourse the euening so they pas:

For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,

And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;

He told of Saintes and Popes, and euermore

He strowd an Aue-Mary after and before.

The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast,

And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,

As messenger of Morpheus on them cast

Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.

Vnto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:

Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,

He to his study goes, and there amiddes

His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,

He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes

Then choosing out few wordes most horrible,

(Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,

With which and other spelles like terrible,

He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame,

And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame

Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;

A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name

Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night,

At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.

And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred

Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes

Fluttring about his euer damned hed,

A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes,

To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:

Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,

And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;

The one of them he gaue a message too,

The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.

He making speedy way through spersed ayre,

And through the world of waters wide and deepe,

To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.

Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,

And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,

His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed

Doth euer wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,

Whiles sad Night ouer him her mantle black doth spred

Whose double gates he findeth locked fast,

The one faire fram'd of burnisht Yuory,

The other all with siluer ouercast;

And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,

Watching to banish Care their enimy,

Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.

By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,

And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe

In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.

And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft,

A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe

And euer-drizling raine vpon the loft,

Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne

Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:

No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,

As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,

Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,

Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.

The messenger approching to him spake,

But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:

So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.

Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,

Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe

Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.

As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine

Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,

He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.

The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,

And threatned vnto him the dreaded name

Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,

And lifting vp his lompish head, with blame

Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.

Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,

He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,

He bids thee to him send for his intent

A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent.

The God obayde, and calling forth straight way

A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,

Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay

His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,

Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.

He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,

Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,

And on his litle winges the dreame he bore

In hast vnto his Lord, where he him left afore.

Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,

Had made a Lady of that other Spright,

And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes

So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,

That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:

The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,

Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:

Her all in white he clad, and ouer it

Cast a blacke stole, most like to seeme for Vna fit.

Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,

Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,

Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,

And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,

In sort as he him schooled priuily:

And that new creature borne without her dew,

Full of the makers guile, with vsage sly

He taught to imitate that Lady trew,

Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.

Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast,

And comming where the knight in slomber lay,

The one vpon his hardy head him plast,

And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,

That nigh his manly hart did melt away,

Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:

Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,

And to him playnd, how that false winged boy,

Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame pleasures toy.

And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene,

Faire Venus seemde vnto his bed to bring

Her, whom he waking euermore did weene,

To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring

On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,

Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:

And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,

Hymen iO Hymen, dauncing all around,

Whilst freshest Flora her with Yuie girlond crownd.

In this great passion of vnwonted lust,

Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,

He started vp, as seeming to mistrust,

Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:

Lo there before his face his Lady is,

Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,

And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,

With gentle blandishment and louely looke,

Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.

All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,

And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,

He thought haue slaine her in his fierce despight:

But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,

He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise

To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.

Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,

Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,

Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.

And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue,

Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,

And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,

Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,

For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?

Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state

You, whom my hard auenging destinie

Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.

Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue

My Fathers kingdome,--There she stopt with teares;

Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,

And then againe begun, My weaker yeares

Captiu'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares,

Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:

Let me not dye in languor and long teares.

Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?

What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?

Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint

Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night

In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,

Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight

Suspect her truth: yet since no' vntruth he knew,

Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight

He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,

That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew.

Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;

For all so deare as life is to my hart,

I deeme your loue, and hold me to you bound;

Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,

Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,

And fed with words, that could not chuse but please,

So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.

Long after lay he musing at her mood,

Much grieu'd to thinke that gentle Dame so light,

For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

At last dull wearinesse of former fight

Hauing yrockt a sleepe his irkesome spright,

That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,

With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:

But when he saw his labour all was vaine,

With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

Canto II

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts

The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:

Into whose stead faire falshood steps,

And workes him wofull ruth.

BY this the Northerne wagoner had set

His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,

That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,

But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre

To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:

And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill

Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre

In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,

Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

When those accursed messengers of hell,

That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright

Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:

Who all in rage to see his skilfull might

Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine

And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.

But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,

And that false other Spright, on whom he spred

A seeming body of the subtile aire,

Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed

His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,

Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:

Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,

Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,

Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast

Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights

And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,

Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,

As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,

And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,

That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights

Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;

Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour staine.

All in amaze he suddenly vp start

With sword in hand, and with the old man went;

Who soone him brought into a secret part,

Where that false couple were full closely ment

In wanton lust and lewd embracement:

Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,

The eye of reason was with rage yblent,

And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,

But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

Returning to his bed in torment great,

And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,

He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat,

And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,

Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.

At last faire Hesperus in highest skie

Had spent his lampe, and brought forth dawning light,

Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;

The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.

Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,

Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,

Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,

And the high hils Titan discouered,

The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,

And rising forth out of her baser bowre,

Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,

And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre;

Then gan she waile and weepe, to see that woefull stowre.

And after him she rode with so much speede

As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:

For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,

Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,

That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;

Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,

But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine

Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,

He so vngently left her, whom she loued best.

But subtill Archimago, when his guests

He saw diuided into double parts,

And Vna wandring in woods and forrests,

Th'end of his drift, he praisd his diuelish arts,

That had such might ouer true meaning harts;

Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,

How he may worke vnto her further smarts:

For her he hated as the hissing snake,

And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;

For by his mightie science he could take

As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,

As euer Proteus to himselfe could make:

Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,

Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,

That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,

And oft would flie away. O who can tell

The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?

But now seemde best, the person to put on

Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:

In mighty armes he was yclad anon,

And siluer shield vpon his coward brest

A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest

A bounch of haires discolourd diuersly:

Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,

And when he sate vpon his courser free,

Saint George himself ye would haue deemed him to be.

But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,

The true Saint George was wandred far away,

Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;

Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.

At last him chaunst to meete vpon the way

A faithlesse Sarazin all arm'd to point,

In whose great shield was writ with letters gay

Sans foy: full large of limbe and euery ioint

He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

He had a faire companion of his way,

A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,

Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,

And like a Persian mitre on her hed

She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,

The which her lauish louers to her gaue;

Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred

With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,

Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.

With faire disport and courting dalliaunce

She intertainde her louer all the way:

But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,

She soone left off her mirth and wanton play,

And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:

His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride

And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,

Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side

The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

The knight of the Redcrosse when him he spide,

Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous,

Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:

Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,

That daunted with their forces hideous,

Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,

And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,

Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,

Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.

As when two rams stird with ambitious pride,

Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,

Their horned fronts so fierce on either side

Do meete, that with the terrour of the shocke

Astonied both, stand sencelesse as a blocke,

Forgetfull of the hanging victory:

So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,

Both staring fierce, and holding idely

The broken reliques of their former cruelty.

The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe

Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;

Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:

Each others equall puissaunce enuies,

And through their iron sides with cruell spies

Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields

No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies

As from a forge out of their burning shields,

And streames of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin)

That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;

Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,

Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:

But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,

And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest

With rigour so outrageous he smitt,

That a large share it hewd out of the rest,

And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark

Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,

And at his haughtie helmet making mark,

So hugely stroke, that it the steele did riue,

And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,

With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,

Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue

With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,

Whither the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.

The Lady when she saw her champion fall,

Like the old ruines of a broken towre,

Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,

But from him fled away with all her powre;

Who after her as hastily gan scowre,

Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away

The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.

Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,

For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,

Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show

On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,

And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low

In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,

Did much emmoue his stout hero¨icke heart,

And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrow

Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,

And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament;

The wretched woman, whom vnhappy howre

Hath now made thrall to your commandement,

Before that angry heauens list to lowre,

And fortune false betraide me to your powre,

Was, (O what now auaileth that I was!)

Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,

He that the wide West vnder his rule has,

And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.

He in the first flowre of my freshest age,

Betrothed me vnto the onely haire

Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;

Was neuer Prince so faithfull and so faire,

Was neuer Prince so meeke and debonaire;

But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,

My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire,

Into the hands of his accursed fone,

And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.

His blessed body spoild of liuely breath,

Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid

And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death

When tidings came to me vnhappy maid,

O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.

Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,

And many yeares throughout the world I straid,

A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind

With loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.

At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin

To meete me wandring, who perforce me led

With him away, but yet could neuer win

The Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.

There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,

Who whiles he liu'de, was called proud Sans foy,

The eldest of three brethren, all three bred

Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans ioy,

And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold Sans loy.

In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate,

Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,

Crauing of you in pitty of my state,

To do none ill, if please ye not do well.

He in great passion all this while did dwell,

More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,

Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;

And said, Faire Lady hart of flint would rew

The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.

Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest,

Hauing both found a new friend you to aid,

And lost an old foe, that did you molest:

Better new friend then an old foe is said.

With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid

Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth,

And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,

So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,

And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.

Long time they thus together traueiled,

Till weary of their way, they came at last,

Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred

Their armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,

And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,

Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:

The fearefull Shepheard often there aghast

Vnder them neuer sat, ne wont there sound

His mery oaten pipe, but shund th'vnlucky ground.

But this good knight soone as he them can spie,

For the coole shade him thither hastly got:

For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie,

From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot

Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,

That liuing creature mote it not abide;

And his new Lady it endured not.

There they alight, in hope themselues to hide

From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.

Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes,

With goodly purposes there as they sit:

And in his falsed fancy he her takes

To be the fairest wight, that liued yit;

Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit,

And thinking of those braunches greene to frame

A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,

He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came

Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the same.

Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,

Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teare

My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,

But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare

Least to you hap, that happened to me heare,

And to this wretched Lady, my deare loue,

O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.

Astond he stood, and vp his haire did houe,

And with that suddein horror could no member moue.

At last whenas the dreadfull passion

Was ouerpast, and manhood well awake,

Yet musing at the straunge occasion,

And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;

What voyce of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,

Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,

Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,

Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,

And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?

Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,)

Nor guilefull sprite, to thee these wordes doth speake,

But once a man Fradubio, now a tree,

Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake,

A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,

Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,

Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake,

And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:

For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.

Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,

Quoth then the knight, by whose mischieuous arts

Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see?

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;

But double griefs afflict concealing harts,

As raging flames who striueth to suppresse.

The author then (said he) of all my smarts,

Is one Duessa a false sorceresse,

That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.

In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot

The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree

First kindled in my brest, it was my lot

To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye see,

Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;

With whom as once I rode accompanyde,

Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,

That had a like faire Lady by his syde,

Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.

Whose forged beauty he did take in hand,

All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;

I in defence of mine did likewise stand,

Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:

So both to battell fierce arraunged arre,

In which his harder fortune was to fall

Vnder my speare: such is the dye of warre:

His Lady left as a prise martiall,

Did yield her comely person, to be at my call.

So doubly lou'd of Ladies vnlike faire,

Th'one seeming such, the other such indeede,

One day in doubt I cast for to compare,

Whether in beauties glorie did exceede;

A Rosy girlond was the victors meede:

Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee,

So hard the discord was to be agreede.

Frælissa was as faire, as faire mote bee,

And euer false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.

The wicked witch now seeing all this while

The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,

What not by right, she cast to win by guile,

And by her hellish science raisd streightway

A foggy mist, that ouercast the day,

And a dull blast, that breathing on her face,

Dimmed her former beauties shining ray,

And with foule vgly forme did her disgrace:

Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.

Then cride she out, Fye, fye, deformed wight,

Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine

To haue before bewitched all mens sight;

O leaue her soone, or let her soone be slaine.

Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,

Eftsoones I thought her such, as she me told,

And would haue kild her; but with faigned paine,

The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;

So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.

Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my Dame,

And in the witch vnweeting ioyd long time,

Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,

Till on a day (that day is euery Prime,

When Witches wont do penance for their crime)

I chaunst to see her in her proper hew,

Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme:

A filthy foule old woman I did vew,

That euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.

Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous,

Were hidd in water, that I could not see,

But they did seeme more foule and hideous,

Then womans shape man would beleeue to bee.

Thensforth from her most beastly companie

I gan refraine, in minde to slip away,

Soone as appeard safe opportunitie:

For danger great, if not assur'd decay

I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

The diuelish hag by chaunges of my cheare

Perceiu'd my thought, and drownd in sleepie night,

With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare

My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,

That all my senses were bereaued quight:

Then brought she me into this desert waste,

And by my wretched louers side me pight,

Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,

Banisht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waste.

But how long time, said then the Elfin knight,

Are you in this misformed house to dwell?

We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,

Till we be bathed in a liuing well;

That is the terme prescribed by the spell.

O how, said he, mote I that well out find,

That may restore you to your wonted well?

Time and suffised fates to former kynd

Shall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight,

Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,

And knew well all was true. But the good knight

Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment,

When all this speech the liuing tree had spent,

The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground,

That from the bloud he might be innocent,

And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:

Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.

Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare,

As all vnweeting of that well she knew,

And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare

Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew

And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew

At last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheare

Her vp he tooke, too simple and too trew,

And oft her kist. At length all passed feare,

He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.

Canto III

Forsaken Truth long seekes her loue,

And makes the Lyon mylde,

Marres blind Deuotions mart, and fals

In hand of leachour vylde.

NOught there vnder heau'ns wilde hollownesse,

That moues more deare compassion of mind,

Then beautie brought t'vnworthy wretchednesse

Through enuies snares or fortunes freakes vnkind:

I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind,

Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,

Which I do owe vnto all woman kind,

Feele my heart perst with so great agonie,

When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.

And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest Vnaes sake, of whom I sing,

That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe,

To thinke how she through guilefull handeling,

Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,

Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,

Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,

Is from her knight diuorced in despaire

And her due loues deriu'd to that vile witches share.

Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while

Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd

Farre from all peoples prease, as in exile,

In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight; who subtilly betrayd

Through that late vision, which th'Enchaunter wrought,

Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,

Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought;

Yet wished tydings none of him vnto her brought.

One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,

From her vnhastie beast she did alight,

And on the grasse her daintie limbes did lay

In secret shadow, farre from all mens sight:

From her faire head her fillet she vndight,

And laid her stole aside. Her angels face

As the great eye of heauen shyned bright,

And made a sunshine in the shadie place;

Did neuer mortall eye behold such heauenly grace.

It fortuned out of the thickest wood

A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly,

Hunting full greedie after saluage blood;

Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To haue attonce deuour'd her tender corse:

But to the pray when as he drew more ny,

His bloudie rage asswaged with remorse,

And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet,

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,

As he her wronged innocence did weet.

O how can beautie maister the most strong,

And simple truth subdue auenging wrong?

Whose yeelded pride and proud submission,

Still dreading death, when she had marked long,

Her hart gan melt in great compassion,

And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

The Lyon Lord of euerie beast in field,

Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,

Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late

Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:

But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord,

How does he find in cruell hart to hate

Her that him lou'd, and euer most adord,

As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?

Redounding teares did choke th'end of her plaint,

Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;

And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint

The kingly beast vpon her gazing stood;

With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.

At last in close hart shutting vp her paine,

Arose the virgin borne of heauenly brood,

And to her snowy Palfrey got againe,

To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.

The Lyon would not leaue her desolate,

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:

Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,

And when she wakt, he waited diligent,

With humble seruice to her will prepard:

From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,

And euer by her lookes conceiued her intent.

Long she thus traueiled through deserts wyde,

By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas,

Yet neuer shew of liuing wight espyde;

Till that at length she found the troden gras,

In which the tract of peoples footing was,

Vnder the steepe foot of a mountaine hore;

The same she followes, till at last she has

A damzell spyde slow footing her before,

That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.

To whom approching she to her gan call,

To weet, if dwelling place were nigh at hand;

But the rude wench her answer'd nought at all,

She could not heare, nor speake, nor vnderstand;

Till seeing by her side the Lyon stand,

With suddaine feare her pitcher downe she threw,

And fled away: for neuer in that land

Face of faire Ladie she before did vew,

And that dread Lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.

Full fast she fled, ne euer lookt behynd,

As if her life vpon the wager lay,

And home she came, whereas her mother blynd

Sate in eternall night: nought could she say,

But suddaine catching hold, did her dismay

With quaking hands, and other signs of feare:

Who full of ghastly fright and cold affray,

Gan shut the dore. By this arriued there

Dame Vna, wearie Dame, and entrance did requere.

Which when none yeelded, her vnruly Page

With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,

And let her in; where of his cruell rage

Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment,

She found them both in darkesome corner pent;

Where that old woman day and night did pray

Vpon her beades deuoutly penitent;

Nine hundred Pater nosters euery day,

And thrise nine hundred Aues she was wont to say.

And to augment her painefull pennance more,

Thrise euery weeke in ashes she did sit,

And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,

And thrise three times did fast from any bit:

But now for feare her beads she did forget.

Whose needlesse dread for to remoue away,

Faire Vna framed words and count'nance fit:

Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray,

That in their cotage small, that night she rest her may.

The day is spent, and commeth drowsie night,

When euery creature shrowded is in sleepe;

Sad Vna downe her laies in wearie plight,

And at her feet the Lyon watch doth keepe:

In stead of rest, she does lament, and weepe

For the late losse of her deare loued knight,

And sighes, and grones, and euermore does steepe

Her tender brest in bitter teares all night,

All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light.

Now when Aldeboran was mounted hie

Aboue the shynie Cassiopeias chaire,

And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lie,

One knocked at the dore, and in would fare;

He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware,

That readie entrance was not at his call:

For on his backe a heauy load he bare

Of nightly stelths and pillage seuerall,

Which he had got abroad by purchase criminall.

He was to weete a stout and sturdie thiefe,

Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments,

And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,

Which giuen was to them for good intents;

The holy Saints of their rich vestiments

He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept,

And spoild the Priests of their habiliments,

Whiles none the holy things in safety kept;

Then he by cunning sleights in at the window crept.

And all that he by right or wrong could find,

Vnto this house he brought, and did bestow

Vpon the daughter of this woman blind,

Abessa daughter of Corceca slow,

With whom he whoredome vsd, that few did know,

And fed her fat with feast of offerings,

And plentie, which in all the land did grow;

Ne spared he to giue her gold and rings:

And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.

Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet,

Yet of those fearefull women none durst rize,

The Lyon frayed them, him in to let:

He would no longer stay him to aduize,

But open breakes the dore in furious wize,

And entring is; when that disdainfull beast

Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize,

And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest,

Vnder his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.

Him booteth not resist, nor succour call,

His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand,

Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small,

And quite dismembred hath: the thirstie land

Drunke vp his life; his corse left on the strand.

His fearefull friends weare out the wofull night,

Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to vnderstand

The heauie hap, which on them is alight,

Affraid, least to themselues the like mishappen might.

Now when broad day the world discouered has,

Vp Vna rose, vp rose the Lyon eke,

And on their former iourney forward pas,

In wayes vnknowne, her wandring knight to seeke,

With paines farre passing that long wandring Greeke,

That for his loue refused deitie;

Such were the labours of this Lady meeke,

Still seeking him, that from her still did flie,

Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.

Soone as she parted thence, the fearefull twaine,

That blind old woman and her daughter deare

Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slaine,

For anguish great they gan to rend their heare,

And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare.

And when they both had wept and wayld their fill,

Then forth they ranne like two amazed deare,

Halfe mad through malice, and reuenging will,

To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.

Whom ouertaking, they gan loudly bray,

With hollow howling, and lamenting cry,

Shamefully at her rayling all the way,

And her accusing of dishonesty,

That was the flowre of faith and chastity;

And still amidst her rayling, she did pray,

That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery

Might fall on her, and follow all the way,

And that in endlesse error she might euer stray.

But when she saw her prayers nought preuaile,

She backe returned with some labour lost;

And in the way as she did weepe and waile,

A knight her met in mighty armes embost,

Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost,

But subtill Archimag, that Vna sought

By traynes into new troubles to haue tost:

Of that old woman tydings he besought,

If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought.

Therewith she gan her passion to renew,

And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,

Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,

That causd her shed so many a bitter teare,

And so forth told the story of her feare:

Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce,

And after for that Ladie did inquere;

Which being taught, he forward gan aduaunce

His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce.

Ere long he came, where Vna traueild slow,

And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde:

Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show

Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde

Vnto an hill; from whence when she him spyde,

By his like seeming shield, her knight by name

She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:

Approching nigh, she wist it was the same,

And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came.

And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord,

Where haue ye bene thus long out of my sight?

Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,

Or ought haue done, that ye displeasen might,

That should as death vnto my deare hart light:

For since mine eye your ioyous sight did mis,

My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night,

And eke my night of death the shadow is;

But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.

He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame,

Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will,

To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame,

As you to leaue, that haue me loued still,

And chose in Faery court of meere goodwill,

Where noblest knights were to be found on earth:

The earth shall sooner leaue her kindly skill

To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,

Then I leaue you, my liefe, yborne of heauenly berth.

And sooth to say, why I left you so long,

Was for to seeke aduenture in strange place,

Where Archimago said a felon strong

To many knights did daily worke disgrace;

But knight he now shall neuer more deface:

Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please

Well to accept, and euermore embrace

My faithfull seruice, that by land and seas

Haue vowd you to defend. Now then your plaint appease.

His louely words her seemd due recompence

Of all her passed paines: one louing howre

For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:

A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre:

She has forgot, how many a wofull stowre

For him she late endur'd; she speakes no more

Of past: true is, that true loue hath no powre

To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before.

Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.

Much like, as when the beaten marinere,

That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide,

Oft soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare,

And long time hauing tand his tawney hide

With blustring breath of heauen, that none can bide,

And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound,

Soone as the port from farre he has espide,

His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound,

And Nereus crownes with cups; his mates him pledg around.

Such ioy made Vna, when her knight she found;

And eke th'enchaunter ioyous seemd no lesse,

Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground

His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse,

He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse:

So forth they past, and all the way they spent

Discoursing of her dreadfull late distresse,

In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment:

Who told her all that fell in iourney as she went.

They had not ridden farre, when they might see

One pricking towards them with hastie heat,

Full strongly armd, and on a courser free,

That through his fiercenesse fomed all with sweat,

And the sharpe yron did for anger eat,

When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side;

His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat

Cruell reuenge, which he in hart did hyde,

And on his shield Sans loy in bloudie lines was dyde.

When nigh he drew vnto this gentle payre

And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare,

He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones prepare

Himselfe to battell with his couched speare.

Loth was that other, and did faint through feare,

To taste th'vntryed dint of deadly steele;

But yet his Lady did so well him cheare,

That hope of new good hap he gan to feele;

So bent his speare, and spurnd his horse with yron heele.

But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce,

And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare

Through vainely crossed shield he quite did pierce,

And had his staggering steede not shrunke for feare,

Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare:

Yet so great was the puissance of his push,

That from his saddle quite he did him beare:

He tombling rudely downe to ground did rush,

And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush.

Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed,

He to him lept, in mind to reaue his life,

And proudly said, Lo there the worthie meed

Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloudie knife;

Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife,

In peace may passen ouer Lethe lake,

When morning altars purgd with enemies life,

The blacke infernall Furies doen aslake:

Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take.

Therewith in haste his helmet gan vnlace,

Till Vna cride, O hold that heauie hand,

Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place:

Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand

Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand:

For he is one the truest knight aliue,

Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,

And whilest him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue

In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue.

Her piteous words might not abate his rage,

But rudely rending vp his helmet, would

Haue slaine him straight: but when he sees his age,

And hoarie head of Archimago old,

His hastie hand he doth amazed hold,

And halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight:

For the old man well knew he, though vntold,

In charmes and magicke to haue wondrous might,

Ne euer wont in field, ne in round lists to fight.

And said, Why Archimago, lucklesse syre,

What doe I see? what hard mishap is this,

That hath thee hither brought to taste mine yre?

Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,

In stead of foe to wound my friend amis?

He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay,

And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his

The cloud of death did sit. Which doen away,

He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay.

But to the virgin comes, who all this while

Amased stands, her selfe so mockt to see

By him, who has the guerdon of his guile,

For so misfeigning her true knight to bee:

Yet is she now in more perplexitie,

Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold,

From whom her booteth not at all to flie;

Who by her cleanly garment catching hold,

Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold.

But her fierce seruant full of kingly awe

And high disdaine, whenas his soueraine Dame

So rudely handled by her foe he sawe,

With gaping iawes full greedy at him came,

And ramping on his shield, did weene the same

Haue reft away with his sharpe rending clawes:

But he was stout, and lust did now inflame

His corage more, that from his griping pawes

He hath his shield redeem'd, and foorth his sword he drawes.

O then too weake and feeble was the forse

Of saluage beast, his puissance to withstand:

For he was strong, and of so mightie corse,

As euer wielded speare in warlike hand,

And feates of armes did wisely vnderstand.

Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest

With thrilling point of deadly yron brand,

And launcht his Lordly hart: with death opprest

He roar'd aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest.

Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid

From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will?

Her faithfull gard remou'd, her hope dismaid,

Her selfe a yeelded pray to saue or spill.

He now Lord of the field, his pride to fill,

With foule reproches, and disdainfull spight

Her vildly entertaines, and will or nill,

Beares her away vpon his courser light:

Her prayers nought preuaile, his rage is more of might.

And all the way, with great lamenting paine,

And piteous plaints she filleth his dull eares,

That stony hart could riuen haue in twaine,

And all the way she wets with flowing teares:

But he enrag'd with rancor, nothing heares.

Her seruile beast yet would not leaue her so,

But followes her farre off, ne ought he feares,

To be partaker of her wandring woe,

More mild in beastly kind, then that her beastly foe.

Canto IV

To sinfull house of Pride, Duessa

guides the faithfull knight,

Where brothers death to wreak Sansioy

doth chalenge him to fight.

YOung knight, what euer that dost armes professe,

And through long labours huntest after fame,

Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,

In choice, and change of thy deare loued Dame,

Least thou of her beleeue too lightly blame,

And rash misweening doe thy hart remoue:

For vnto knight there is no greater shame,

Then lightnesse and inconstancie in loue;

That doth this Redcrosse knights ensample plainly proue.

Who after that he had faire Vna lorne,

Through light misdeeming of her loialtie,

And false Duessa in her sted had borne,

Called Fidess', and so supposd to bee;

Long with her traueild, till at last they see

A goodly building, brauely garnished,

The house of mightie Prince it seemd to bee:

And towards it a broad high way that led,

All bare through peoples feet, which thither traueiled.

Great troupes of people traueild thitherward

Both day and night, of each degree and place,

But few returned, hauing scaped hard,

With balefull beggerie, or foule disgrace,

Which euer after in most wretched case,

Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.

Thither Duessa bad him bend his pace:

For she is wearie of the toilesome way,

And also nigh consumed is the lingring day.

A stately Pallace built of squared bricke,

Which cunningly was without morter laid,

Whose wals were high, but nothing strong, nor thick,

And golden foile all ouer them displaid,

That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid:

High lifted vp were many loftie towres,

And goodly galleries farre ouer laid,

Full of faire windowes, and delightfull bowres;

And on the top a Diall told the timely howres.

It was a goodly heape for to behould,

And spake the praises of the workmans wit;

But full great pittie, that so faire a mould

Did on so weake foundation euer sit:

For on a sandie hill, that still did flit,

And fall away, it mounted was full hie,

That euery breath of heauen shaked it:

And all the hinder parts, that few could spie,

Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly.

Arriued there they passed in forth right;

For still to all the gates stood open wide,

Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight

Cald Maluenú, who entrance none denide:

Thence to the hall, which was on euery side

With rich array and costly arras dight:

Infinite sorts of people did abide

There waiting long, to win the wished sight

Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright.

By them they passe, all gazing on them round,

And to the Presence mount; whose glorious vew

Their frayle amazed senses did confound:

In liuing Princes court none euer knew

Such endlesse richesse, and so sumptuous shew;

Ne Persia selfe, the nourse of pompous pride

Like euer saw. And there a noble crew

Of Lordes and Ladies stood on euery side

Which with their presence faire, the place much beautifide.

High aboue all a cloth of State was spred,

And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day,

On which there sate most braue embellished

With royall robes and gorgeous array,

A mayden Queene, that shone as Titans ray,

In glistring gold, and peerelesse pretious stone:

Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay

To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne,

As enuying her selfe, that too exceeding shone.

Exceeding shone, like Phoebus fairest childe,

That did presume his fathers firie wayne,

And flaming mouthes of steedes vnwonted wilde

Through highest heauen with weaker hand to rayne;

Proud of such glory and aduancement vaine,

While flashing beames do daze his feeble eyen,

He leaues the welkin way most beaten plaine,

And rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen,

With fire not made to burne, but fairely for to shyne.

So proud she shyned in her Princely state,

Looking to heauen; for earth she did disdayne,

And sitting high; for lowly she did hate:

Lo vnderneath her scornefull feete, was layne

A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne,

And in her hand she held a mirrhour bright,

Wherein her face she often vewed fayne,

And in her selfe-lou'd semblance tooke delight;

For she was wondrous faire, as any liuing wight.

Of griesly Pluto she the daughter was,

And sad Proserpina the Queene of hell;

Yet did she thinke her pearelesse wroth to pas

That parentage, with pride so did she swell,

And thundring Ioue, that high in heauen doth dwell,

And wield the world, she claymed for her syre,

Or if that any else did Ioue excell:

For to the highest she did still aspyre,

Or if ought higher were then that, did it desyre.

And proud Lucifera men did her call,

That made her selfe a Queene, and crownd to be,

Yet rightfull kingdome she had none at all,

Ne heritage of natiue soueraintie,

But did vsurpe with wrong and tyrannie

Vpon the scepter, which she now did hold:

Ne ruld her Realmes with lawes, but pollicie,

And strong aduizement of six wisards old,

That with their counsels bad her kingdome did vphold.

Soone as the Elfing knight in presence came,

And false Duessa seeming Lady faire,

A gentle Husher, Vanitie by name

Made rowme, and passage for them did prepaire:

So goodly brought them to the lowest staire

Of her high throne, where they on humble knee

Making obeyssance, did the cause declare,

Why they were come, her royall state to see,

To proue the wide report of her great Maiestee.

With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so low,

She thanked them in her disdainefull wise,

Ne other grace vouchsafed them to show

Of Princesse worthy, scarse them bad arise.

Her Lordes and Ladies all this while deuise

Themselues to setten forth to straungers sight:

Some frounce their curled haire in courtly guise,

Some prancke their ruffes, and others trimly dight

Their gay attire: each others greater pride does spight.

Goodly they all that knight do entertaine,

Right glad with him to haue increast their crew:

But to Duess' each one himselfe did paine

All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew;

For in that court whylome her well they knew:

Yet the stout Faerie mongst the middest crowd

Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew,

And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd,

That to strange knight no better countenance allowd.

Suddein vpriseth from her stately place

The royall Dame, and for her coche doth call:

All hurtlen forth, and she with Princely pace,

As faire Aurora in her purple pall,

Out of the East the dawning day doth call:

So forth she comes: her brightnesse brode doth blaze;

The heapes of people thronging in the hall,

Do ride each other, vpon her to gaze:

Her glorious glitterand light doth all mens eyes amaze.

So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme,

Adorned all with gold, and girlonds gay,

That seemd as fresh as Flora in her prime,

And stroue to match, in royall rich array,

Great Iunoes golden chaire, the which they say

The Gods stand gazing on, when she does ride

To Ioues high house through heauens bras-paued way

Drawne of faire Pecocks, that excell in pride,

And full of Argus eyes their tailes dispredden wide.

But this was drawne of six vnequall beasts,

On which her six sage Counsellours did ryde,

Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts,

With like conditions to their kinds applyde:

Of which the first, that all the rest did guyde,

Was sluggish Idlenesse the nourse of sin;

Vpon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde,

Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,

Like to an holy Monck, the seruice to begin.

And in his hand his Portesse still he bare,

That much was worne, but therein little red,

For of deuotion he had little care,

Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dayes ded;

Scarse could he once vphold his heauie hed,

To looken, whether it were night or day:

May seeme the wayne was very euill led,

When such an one had guiding of the way,

That knew not, whether right he went, or else astray.

From worldy cares himselfe he did esloyne,

And greatly shunned manly exercise,

From euery worke he chalenged essoyne,

For contemplation sake: yet otherwise,

His life he led in lawlesse riotise;

By which he grew to grieuous malady;

For in his lustlesse limbs through euill guise

A shaking feuer raignd continually:

Such one was Idlenesse, first of this company.

And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony,

Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne,

His belly was vp-blowne with luxury,

And eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne,

And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne,

With which he swallowd vp excessiue feast,

For want whereof poore people oft did pyne;

And all the way, most like a brutish beast,

He spued vp his gorge, that all did him deteast.

In greene vine leaues he was right fitly clad;

For other clothes he could not weare for heat,

And on his head an yuie girland had,

From vnder which fast trickled downe the sweat:

Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat,

And in his hand did beare a bouzing can,

Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat

His dronken corse he scarse vpholden can,

In shape and life more like a monster, then a man.

Vnfit he was for any worldy thing,

And eke vnhable once to stirre or go,

Not meet to be of counsell to a king,

Whose mind in meat and drinke was drowned so,

That from his friend he seldome knew his fo:

Full of diseases was his carcas blew,

And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow:

Which by misdiet daily greater grew:

Such one was Gluttony, the second of that crew.

And next to him rode lustfull Lechery,

Vpon a bearded Goat, whose rugged haire,

And whally eyes (the signe of gelosy,)

Was like the person selfe, whom he did beare:

Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare,

Vnseemely man to please faire Ladies eye;

Yet he of Ladies oft was loued deare,

When fairer faces were bid standen by:

O who does know the bent of womens fantasy?

In a greene gowne he clothed was full faire,

Which vnderneath did hide his filthinesse,

And in his hand a burning hart he bare,

Full of vaine follies, and new fanglenesse:

For he was false, and fraught with ficklenesse,

And learned had to loue with secret lookes,

And well could daunce, and sing with ruefulnesse,

And fortunes tell, and read in louing bookes,

And thousand other wayes, to bait his fleshly hookes.

Inconstant man, that loued all he saw,

And lusted after all, that he did loue,

Ne would his looser life be tide to law,

But ioyd weake wemens hearts to tempt, and proue

If from their loyall loues he might then moue;

Which lewdnesse fild him with reprochfull paine

Of that fowle euill, which all men reproue,

That rots the marrow, and consumes the braine:

Such one was Lecherie, the third of all this traine.

And greedy Auarice by him did ride,

Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold;

Two iron coffers hong on either side,

With precious mettall full, as they might hold,

And in his lap an heape of coine he told;

For of his wicked pelfe his God he made,

And vnto hell him selfe for money sold;

Accursed vsurie was all his trade,

And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.

His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplast,

And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware,

Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast,

But both from backe and belly still did spare,

To fill his bags, and richesse to compare;

Yet chylde ne kinsman liuing had he none

To leaue them to; but thorough daily care

To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne,

He led a wretched life vnto him selfe vnknowne.

Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffise,

Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store,

Whose need had end, but no end couetise,

Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him pore,

Who had enough, yet wished euer more;

A vile disease, and eke in foote and hand

A grieuous gout tormented him full sore,

That well he could not touch, nor go, nor stand:

Such one was Auarice, the fourth of this faire band.

And next to him malicious Enuie rode,

Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and still did chaw

Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode,

That all the poison ran about his chaw;

But inwardly he chawed his owne maw

At neighbours wealth, that made him euer sad;

For death it was, when any good he saw,

And wept, that cause of weeping none he had,

But when he heard of harme, he wexed wondrous glad.

All in a kirtle of discolourd say

He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes;

And in his bosome secretly there lay

An hatefull Snake, the which his taile vptyes

In many folds, and mortall sting implyes.

Still as he rode, he gnasht his teeth, to see

Those heapes of gold with griple Couetyse,

And grudged at the great felicitie

Of proud Lucifera, and his owne companie.

He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds,

And him no lesse, that any like did vse,

And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds,

His almes for want of faith he doth accuse;

So euery good to bad he doth abuse:

And eke the verse of famous Poets witt

He does backebite, and spightfull poison spues

From leprous mouth on all, that euer writt:

Such one vile Enuie was, that fift in row did sitt.

And him beside rides fierce reuenging VVrath,

Vpon a Lion, loth for to be led;

And in his hand a burning brond he hath,

The which he brandisheth about his hed;

His eyes did hurle forth sparkles fiery red,

And stared sterne on all, that him beheld,

As ashes pale of hew and seeming ded;

And on his dagger still his hand he held,

Trembling through hasty rage, when choler in him sweld.

His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood,

Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,

Through vnaduized rashnesse woxen wood;

For of his hands he had no gouernement,

Ne car'd for bloud in his auengement:

But when the furious fit was ouerpast,

His cruell facts he often would repent;

Yet wilfull man he neuer would forecast,

How many mischieues should ensue his heedlesse hast.

Full many mischiefes follow cruell VVrath;

Abhorred bloudshed, and tumultuous strife,

Vnmanly murder, and vnthrifty scath,

Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife,

And fretting griefe the enemy of life;

All these, and many euils moe haunt ire,

The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging rife,

The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces fire:

Such one was VVrath, the last of this vngodly tire.

And after all, vpon the wagon beame

Rode Sathan, with a smarting whip in hand,

With which he forward lasht the laesie teme,

So oft as Slowth still in the mire did stand.

Huge routs of people did about them band,

Showting for ioy, and still before their way

A foggy mist had couered all the land;

And vnderneath their feet, all scattered lay

Dead sculs & bones of men, whose life had gone astray.

So forth they marchen in this goodly sort,

To take the solace of the open aire,

And in fresh flowring fields themselues to sport;

Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire,

The fowle Duessa, next vnto the chaire

Of proud Lucifer', as one of the traine:

But that good knight would not so nigh repaire,

Him selfe estraunging from their ioyaunce vaine,

Whose fellowship seemd far vnfit for warlike swaine.

So hauing solaced themselues a space

With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed

They backe returned to the Princely Place;

Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,

And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red

Was writ Sans ioy, they new arriued find:

Enflam'd with fury and fiers hardy-hed,

He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts vnkind,

And nourish bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.

Who when the shamed shield of slaine Sans foy

He spide with that same Faery champions page,

Bewraying him, that did of late destroy

His eldest brother, burning all with rage

He to him leapt, and that same enuious gage

Of victors glory from him snatcht away:

But th'Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,

Disdaind to loose the meed he wonne in fray,

And him rencountring fierce, reskewd the noble pray.

Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily,

Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne,

And clash their shields, and shake their swords on hy,

That with their sturre they troubled all the traine;

Till that great Queene vpon eternall paine

Of high displeasure, that ensewen might,

Commaunded them their fury to refraine,

And if that either to that shield had right,

In equall lists they should the morrow next it fight.

Ah dearest Dame, (quoth then the Paynim bold,)

Pardon the errour of enraged wight,

Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold

Of reasons rule, to see this recreant knight,

No knight, but treachour full of false despight

And shamefull treason, who through guile hath slayn

The prowest knight, that euer field did fight,

Euen stout Sans foy (O who can then refrayn?)

Whose shield he beares renuerst, the more to heape disdayn.

And to augment the glorie of his guile,

His dearest loue the faire Fidessa loe

Is there possessed of the traytour vile,

Who reapes the haruest sowen by his foe,

Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe:

That brothers hand shall dearely well requight

So be, O Queene, you equall fauour showe.

Him litle answerd th'angry Elfin knight;

He neuer meant with words, but swords to plead his right.

But threw his gauntlet as a sacred pledge,

His cause in combat the next day to try:

So been they parted both, with harts on edge,

To be aueng'd each on his enimy.

That night they pas in ioy and iollity,

Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall;

For Steward was excessiue Gluttonie,

That of his plenty poured forth to all:

Which doen, the Chamberlain Slowth did to rest them call.

Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd

Her coleblacke curtein ouer brightest skye,

The warlike youthes on dayntie couches layd,

Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye,

To muse on meanes of hoped victory.

But whenas Morpheus had with leaden mace

Arrested all that courtly company,

Vp-rose Duessa from her resting place,

And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace.

Whom broad awake she finds, in troublous fit,

Forecasting, how his foe he might annoy,

And him amoues with speaches seeming fit:

Ah deare Sans ioy, next dearest to Sans foy,

Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new ioy,

Ioyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,

And greeu'd, to thinke how foe did him destroy,

That was the flowre of grace and cheualrye;

Lo his Fidessa to thy secret faith I flye.

With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet,

And bad say on the secret of her hart.

Then sighing soft, I learne that litle sweet

Oft tempred is (quoth she) with muchell smart:

For since my brest was launcht with louely dart

Of deare Sansfoy, I neuer ioyed howre,

But in eternall woes my weaker hart

Haue wasted, louing him with all my powre,

And for his sake haue felt full many an heauie stowre.

At last when perils all I weened past,

And hop'd to reape the crop of all my care,

Into new woes vnweeting I was cast,

By this false faytor, who vnworthy ware

His worthy shield, whom he with guilefull snare

Entrapped slew, and brought to shamefull graue.

Me silly maid away with him he bare,

And euer since hath kept in darksome caue,

For that I would not yeeld, that to Sans-foy I gaue.

But since faire Sunne hath sperst that lowring clowd,

And to my loathed life now shewes some light,

Vnder your beames I will me safely shrowd,

From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight:

To you th'inheritance belongs by right

Of brothers prayse, to you eke longs his loue.

Let not his loue, let not his restlesse spright

Be vnreueng'd, that calles to you aboue

From wandring Stygian shores, where it doth endlesse moue.

Thereto said he, Faire Dame be nought dismaid

For sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone:

Ne yet of present perill be affraid;

For needlesse feare did neuer vantage none,

And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.

Dead is Sans-foy, his vitall paines are past,

Though greeued ghost for vengeance deepe do grone:

He liues, that shall him pay his dewties last,

And guiltie Elfin bloud shall sacrifice in hast.

O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth shee)

Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in field.

Why dame (quoth he) what oddes can euer bee,

Where both do fight alike, to win or yield?

Yea but (quoth she) he beares a charmed shield,

And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce,

Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.

Charmd or enchaunted (answerd he then ferce)

I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce.

But faire Fidessa, sithens fortunes guile,

Or enimies powre hath now captiued you,

Returne from whence ye came, and rest a while

Till morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew,

And with Sans-foyes dead dowry you endew.

Ay me, that is a double death (she said)

With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew:

Where euer yet I be, my secrete aid

Shall follow you. So passing forth she him obaid.

Canto v

The faithfull knight in equall field

subdewes his faithlesse foe,

Whom false Duessa saues, and for

his cure to hell does goe.

THe noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought,

And is with child of glorious great intent,

Can neuer rest, vntill it forth haue brought

Th'eternall brood of glorie excellent:

Such restlesse passion did all night torment

The flaming corage of that Faery knight,

Deuizing, how that doughtie turnament

With greatest honour he atchieuen might;

Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawning light.

At last the golden Orientall gate

Of greatest heauen gan to open faire,

And Phoebus fresh, as bridegrome to his mate,

Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:

And hurld his glistring beames through gloomy aire.

Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiu'd, streight way

He started vp, and did him selfe prepaire,

In sun-bright armes, and battailous array:

For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.

And forth he comes into the commune hall,

Where earely waite him many a gazing eye,

To weet what end to straunger knights may fall.

There many Minstrales maken melody,

To driue away the dull melancholy,

And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord

Can tune their timely voyces cunningly,

And many Chroniclers, that can record

Old loues, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.

Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin,

In wouen maile all armed warily,

And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin

Does care for looke of liuing creatures eye.

They bring them wines of Greece and Araby,

And daintie spices fetcht from furthest Ynd,

To kindle heat of corage priuily:

And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd

T'obserue the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.

At last forth comes that far renowmed Queene,

With royall pomp and Princely maiestie;

She is ybrought vnto a paled greene,

And placed vnder stately canapee,

The warlike feates of both those knights to see.

On th'other side in all mens open vew

Duessa placed is, and on a tree

Sans-foy his shield is hangd with bloudy hew:

Both those the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.

A shrilling trompet sownded from on hye,

And vnto battaill bad them selues addresse:

Their shining shieldes about their wrestes they tye,

And burning blades about their heads do blesse,

The instruments of wrath and heauinesse:

With greedy force each other doth assayle,

And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse

Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle;

The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake & fraile.

The Sarazin was stout, and wondrous strong,

And heaped blowes like yron hammers great:

For after bloud and vengeance he did long.

The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat:

And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat:

For all for prayse and honour he did fight.

Both stricken strike, and beaten both do beat,

That from their shields forth flyeth firie light,

And helmets hewen deepe, shew marks of eithers might.

So th'one for wrong, the other striues for right:

As when a Gryfon seized of his pray,

A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight,

Through widest ayre making his ydle way,

That would his rightfull rauine rend away:

With hideous horrour both together smight,

And souce so sore, that they the heauens affray:

The wise Southsayer seeing so sad sight,

Th'amazed vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.

So th'one for wrong, the other striues for right,

And each to deadly shame would driue his foe:

The cruell steele so greedily doth bight

In tender flesh, that streames of bloud down flow,

With which the armes, that earst so bright did show,

Into a pure vermillion now are dyde:

Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow,

Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde,

That victory they dare not wish to either side.

At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye,

His suddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre,

Vpon his brothers shield, which hong thereby:

Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,

And said, Ah wretched sonne of wofull syre,

Doest thou sit wayling by black Stygian lake,

Whilest here thy shield is hangd for victors hyre,

And sluggish german doest thy forces slake,

To after-send his foe, that him may ouertake?

Goe caytiue Elfe, him quickly ouertake,

And soone redeeme from his long wandring woe;

Goe guiltie ghost, to him my message make,

That I his shield haue quit from dying foe.

Therewith vpon his crest he stroke him so,

That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall;

End of the doubtfull battell deemed tho

The lookers on, and lowd to him gan call

The false Duessa, Thine the shield, and I, and all.

Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake,

Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,

And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake,

The creeping deadly cold away did shake:

Tho mou'd with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,

Of all attonce he cast auengd to bee,

And with so'exceeding furie at him strake,

That forced him to stoupe vpon his knee;

Had he not stouped so, he should haue clouen bee.

And to him said, Goe now proud Miscreant,

Thy selfe thy message doe to german deare,

Alone he wandring thee too long doth want:

Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.

Therewith his heauie hand he high gan reare,

Him to haue slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd

Vpon him fell: he no where doth appeare,

But vanisht is. The Elfe him cals alowd,

But answer none receiues: the darknes him does shrowd.

In haste Duessa from her place arose,

And to him running said, O prowest knight,

That euer Ladie to her loue did chose,

Let now abate the terror of your might,

And quench the flame of furious despight,

And bloudie vengeance; lo th'infernall powres

Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,

Haue borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.

The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.

Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye

He sought all round about, his thirstie blade

To bath in bloud of faithlesse enemy;

Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:

He standes amazed, how he thence should fade.

At last the trumpets Triumph sound on hie,

And running Heralds humble homage made,

Greeting him goodly with new victorie,

And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie.

Wherewith he goeth to that soueraine Queene,

And falling her before on lowly knee,

To her makes present of his seruice seene:

Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,

Greatly aduauncing his gay cheualree.

So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,

Whom all the people follow with great glee,

Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,

That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heauen bright.

Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed:

Where many skilfull leaches him abide,

To salue his hurts, that yet still freshly bled.

In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide,

And softly can embalme on euery side.

And all the while, most heauenly melody

About the bed sweet musicke did diuide,

Him to beguile of griefe and agony:

And all the while Duessa wept full bitterly.

As when a wearie traueller that strayes

By muddy shore of broad seuen-mouthed Nile,

Vnweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,

Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,

Which in false griefe hyding his harmefull guile,

Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares:

The foolish man, that pitties all this while

His mournefull plight, is swallowd vp vnwares,

Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.

So wept Duessa vntill euentide,

That shyning lampes in Ioues high house were light:

Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide,

But comes vnto the place, where th'Hethen knight

In slombring swownd nigh voyd of vitall spright,

Lay couer'd with inchaunted cloud all day:

Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,

To wayle his woefull case she would not stay,

But to the easterne coast of heauen makes speedy way.

Where griesly Night, with visage deadly sad,

That Phoebus chearefull face durst neuer vew,

And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad,

She findes forth comming from her darkesome mew,

Where she all day did hide her hated hew.

Before the dore her yron charet stood,

Alreadie harnessed for iourney new;

And coleblacke steedes yborne of hellish brood,

That on their rustie bits did champ, as they were wood.

Who when she saw Duessa sunny bright,

Adornd with gold and iewels shining cleare,

She greatly grew amazed at the sight,

And th'vnacquainted light began to feare:

For neuer did such brightnesse there appeare,

And would haue backe retyred to her caue,

Vntill the witches speech she gan to heare,

Saying, Yet O thou dreaded Dame, I craue

Abide, till I haue told the message, which I haue.

She stayd, and foorth Duessa gan proceede,

O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,

More old then Ioue, whom thou at first didst breede,

Or that great house of Gods cælestiall,

Which wast begot in Dæmogorgons hall,

And sawst the secrets of the world vnmade,

Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall

With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade?

Lo where the stout Sansioy doth sleepe in deadly shade.

And him before, I saw with bitter eyes

The bold Sansfoy shrinke vnderneath his speare;

And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,

Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,

That whylome was to me too dearely deare.

O what of Gods then boots it to be borne,

If old Aveugles sonnes so euill heare?

Or who shall not great Nightes children scorne,

When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne?

Vp then, vp dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene,

Go gather vp the reliques of thy race,

Or else goe them auenge, and let be seene,

That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place,

And can the children of faire light deface.

Her feeling speeches some compassion moued

In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:

Yet pittie in her hart was neuer proued

Till then: for euermore she hated, neuer loued.

And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew

The fall of famous children borne of mee,

And good successes, which their foes ensew:

But who can turne the streame of destinee,

Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee,

Which fast is tyde to Ioues eternall seat?

The sonnes of Day he fauoureth, I see,

And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:

To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.

Yet shall they not escape so freely all;

For some shall pay the price of others guilt:

And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall,

Shall with his owne bloud price that he hath spilt.

But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?

I that do seeme not I, Duessa am,

(Quoth she) how euer now in garments gilt,

And gorgeous gold arayd I to thee came;

Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.

Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist

The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face

The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist

Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace

It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place

Could it discerne, though I the mother bee

Of falshood, and root of Duessaes race.

O welcome child, whom I haue longd to see,

And how haue seene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.

Then to her yron wagon she betakes,

And with her beares the fowle welfauourd witch:

Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes.

Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,

And two were browne, yet each to each vnlich,

Did softly swim away, ne euer stampe,

Vnlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch;

Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,

And trampling the fine element, would fiercely rampe.

So well they sped, that they be come at length

Vnto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,

Deuoid of outward sense, and natiue strength,

Couerd with charmed cloud from vew of day,

And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray.

His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congealed,

They binden vp so wisely, as they may,

And handle softly, till they can be healed:

So lay him in her charet, close in night concealed.

And all the while she stood vpon the ground,

The wakefull dogs did neuer cease to bay,

As giuing warning of th'vnwonted sound,

With which her yron wheeles did them affray,

And her darke griesly looke them much dismay;

The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle

With drearie shriekes did also her bewray;

And hungry Wolues continually did howle,

At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.

Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole,

And brought the heauie corse with easie pace

To yawning gulfe of deepe Auernus hole.

By that same hole an entrance darke and bace

With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place,

Descends to hell: there creature neuer past,

That backe returned without heauenly grace;

But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines haue brast,

And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men aghast.

By that same way the direfull dames doe driue

Their mournefull charet, fild with rusty blood,

And downe to Plutoes house are come biliue:

Which passing through, on euery side them stood

The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,

Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide

With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood

Of feends infernall flockt on euery side,

To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.

They pas the bitter waues of Acheron,

Where many soules sit wailing woefully,

And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,

Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry,

And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry,

Cursing high Ioue, the which them thither sent.

The house of endlesse paine is built thereby,

In which ten thousand sorts of punishment

The cursed creatures doe eternally torment.

Before the threshold dreadfull Cerberus

His three deformed heads did lay along,

Curled with thousand adders venemous,

And lilled forth his bloudie flaming tong:

At them he gan to reare his bristles strong,

And felly gnarre, vntill dayes enemy

Did him appease; then downe his taile he hong

And suffered them to passen quietly:

For she in hell and heauen had power equally.

There was Ixion turned on a wheele,

For daring tempt the Queene of heauen to sin;

And Sisyphus an huge round stone did reele

Against an hill, ne might from labour lin;

There thirstie Tantalus hong by the chin;

And Tityus fed a vulture on his maw;

Typhoeus ioynts were stretched on a gin,

Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth by law,

And fifty sisters water in leake vessels draw.

They all beholding worldly wights in place,

Leaue off their worke, vnmindfull of their smart,

To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace,

Till they be come vnto the furthest part:

Where was a Caue ywrought by wondrous art,

Deepe, darke, vneasie, dolefull, comfortlesse,

In which sad Æsculapius farre a part

Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse,

For that Hippolytus rent corse he did redresse.

Hippolytus a iolly huntsman was,

That wont in charet chace the foming Bore;

He all his Peeres in beautie did surpas,

But Ladies loue as losse of time forbore:

His wanton stepdame loued him the more,

But when she saw her offred sweets refused

Her loue she turnd to hate, and him before

His father fierce of treason false accused,

And with her gealous termes his open eares abused.

Who all in rage his Sea-god syre besought,

Some cursed vengeance on his sonne to cast:

From surging gulf two monsters straight were brought,

With dread whereof his chasing steedes aghast,

Both charet swift and huntsman ouercast.

His goodly corps on ragged cliffs yrent,

Was quite dismembred, and his members chast

Scattered on euery mountaine, as he went,

That of Hippolytus was left no moniment.

His cruell stepdame seeing what was donne,

Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end,

In death auowing th'innocence of her sonne.

Which hearing his rash Syre, began to rend

His haire, and hastie tongue, that did offend:

Tho gathering vp the relicks of his smart

By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend,

Them brought to Æsculape, that by his art

Did heale them all againe, and ioyned euery part.

Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine

When Ioue auizd, that could the dead reuiue,

And fates expired could renew againe,

Of endlesse life he might him not depriue,

But vnto hell did thrust him downe aliue,

With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore:

Where long remaining, he did alwaies striue

Himselfe wilth salues to health for to restore,

And slake the heauenly fire, that raged euermore.

There auncient Night arriuing, did alight

From her nigh wearie waine, and in her armes

To Æsculapius brought the wounded knight:

Whom hauing softly disarayd of armes,

Tho gan to him discouer all his harmes,

Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,

If either salues, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes

A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise,

He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.

Ah Dame (quoth he) thou temptest me in vaine,

To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew,

And the old cause of my continued paine

With like attempt to like end to renew.

Is not enough, that thrust from heauen dew

Here endlesse penance for one fault I pay,

But that redoubled crime with vengeance new

Thou biddest me to eeke? Can Night defray

The wrath of thundring Ioue, that rules both night and day?

Not so (quoth she) but sith that heauens king

From hope of heauen hath thee excluded quight,

Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing,

And fearest not, that more thee hurten might,

Now in the powre of euerlasting Night?

Goe to then, O thou farre renowmed sonne

Of great Apollo, shew thy famous might

In medicine, that else hath to thee wonne

Great paines, & greater praise, both neuer to be donne.

Her words preuaild: And then the learned leach

His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay,

And all things else, the which his art did teach:

Which hauing seene, from thence arose away

The mother of dread darknesse, and let stay

Aueugles sonne there in the leaches cure,

And backe returning tooke her wonted way,

To runne her timely race, whilst Phoebus pure

In westerne waues his wearie wagon did recure.

The false Duessa leauing noyous Night,

Returnd to stately pallace of dame Pride;

Where when she came, she found the Faery knight

Departed thence, albe his woundes wide

Not throughly heald, vnreadie were to ride.

Good cause he had to hasten thence away;

For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spide,

Where in a dongeon deepe huge numbers lay

Of caytiue wretched thrals, that wayled night and day.

A ruefull sight, as could be seene with eie;

Of whom he learned had in secret wise

The hidden cause of their captiuitie,

How mortgaging their liues to Couetise,

Through wastfull Pride, and wanton Riotise,

They were by law of that proud Tyrannesse

Prouokt with VVrath, and Enuies false surmise,

Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse,

Where they should liue in woe, & die in wretchednesse.

There was that great proud king of Babylon,

That would compell all nations to adore,

And him as onely God to call vpon,

Till through celestiall doome throwne out of dore,

Into an Oxe he was transform'd of yore:

There also was king Croesus, that enhaunst

His heart too high through his great riches store;

And proud Antiochus, the which aduaunst

His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altars daunst.

And them long time before, great Nimrod was,

That first the world with sword and fire warrayd;

And after him old Ninus farre did pas

In princely pompe, of all the world obayd;

There also was that mightie Monarch layd

Low vnder all, yet aboue all in pride,

That name of natiue syre did fowle vpbrayd,

And would as Ammons sonne be magnifide,

Till scornd of God and man a shamefull death he dide.

All these together in one heape were throwne,

Like carkases of beasts in butchers stall.

And in another corner wide were strowne

The antique ruines of the Romaines fall:

Great Romulus the Grandsyre of them all,

Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus,

Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hanniball,

Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius,

High Cæsar, great Pompey, and fierce Antonius.

Amongst these mighty men were wemen mixt,

Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:

The bold Semiramis, whose sides transfixt

With sonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches spoke;

Faire Sthenoboea, that her selfe did choke

With wilfull cord, for wanting of her will;

High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke

Of Aspes sting her selfe did stoutly kill:

And thousands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.

Besides the endlesse routs of wretched thralles,

Which thither were assembled day by day,

From all the world after their wofull falles,

Through wicked pride, and wasted wealthes decay.

But most of all, which in the Dongeon lay

Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,

Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play,

Consumed had their goods, and thriftlesse howres,

And lastly throwne themselues into these heauy stowres.

Whose case when as the carefull Dwarfe had tould,

And made ensample of their mournefull sight

Vnto his maister, he no lenger would

There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,

But early rose, and ere that dawning light

Discouered had the world to heauen wyde,

He by a priuie Posterne tooke his flight,

That of no enuious eyes he mote be spyde:

For doubtlesse death ensewd, if any him descryde.

Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way,

For many corses, like a great Lay-stall

Of murdred men which therein strowed lay,

Without remorse, or decent funerall:

Which all through that great Princesse pride did fall

And came to shamefull end. And them beside

Forth ryding vnderneath the castell wall,

A donghill of dead carkases he spide,

The dreadfull spectacle of that sad house of Pride.

Canto VI

From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace

fayre Vna is releast:

Whom saluage nation does adore,

and learnes her wise beheast.

AS when a ship, that flyes faire vnder saile,

An hidden rocke escaped hath vnwares,

That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,

The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares

At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares

To ioy at his foole-happie ouersight:

So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares

The dreadlesse courage of this Elfin knight,

Hauing escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.

Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed

The faire Duess' had forst him leaue behind;

And yet more sad, that Vna his deare dreed

Her truth had staind with treason so vnkind;

Yet crime in her could neuer creature find,

But for his loue, and for her owne selfe sake,

She wandred had from one to other Ynd,

Him for to seeke, ne euer would forsake,

Till her vnwares the fierce Sansloy did ouertake.

Who after Archimagoes fowle defeat,

Led her away into a forrest wilde,

And turning wrathfull fire to lustfull heat,

With beastly sin thought her to haue defilde,

And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.

Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes,

Her to perswade, that stubborne fort to yilde:

For greater conquest of hard loue he gaynes,

That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines.

With fawning wordes he courted her a while,

And looking louely, and oft sighing sore,

Her constant hart did tempt with diuerse guile:

But wordes, and lookes, and sighes she did abhore,

As rocke of Diamond stedfast euermore.

Yet for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye,

He snatcht the vele, that hong her face before;

Then gan her beautie shine, as brightest skye,

And burnt his beastly hart t'efforce her chastitye.

So when he saw his flatt'ring arts to fayle,

And subtile engines bet from batteree,

With greedy force he gan the fort assayle,

Whereof he weend possessed soone to bee,

And win rich spoile of ransackt chastetee.

Ah heauens, that do this hideous act behold,

And heauenly virgin thus outraged see,

How can ye vengeance iust so long withhold,

And hurle not flashing flames vpon that Paynim bold?

The pitteous maiden carefull comfortlesse,

Does throw out thrilling shriekes, & shrieking cryes,

The last vaine helpe of womens great distresse,

And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes,

That molten starres do drop like weeping eyes;

And Phoebus flying so most shamefull sight,

His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes,

And hides for shame. What wit of mortall wight

Can now deuise to quit a thrall from such a plight?

Eternall prouidence exceeding thought,

Where none appeares can make her selfe a way:

A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought,

From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray.

Her shrill outcryes and shriekes so loud did bray,

That all the woodes and forestes did resownd;

A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away

Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,

Whiles old Syluanus slept in shady arber sownd.

Who when they heard that pitteous strained voice,

In hast forsooke their rurall meriment,

And ran towards the far rebownded noyce,

To weet, what wight so loudly did lament.

Vnto the place they come incontinent:

Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,

A rude, misshapen, monstrous rablement,

Whose like he neuer saw, he durst not bide,

But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride.

The wyld woodgods arriued in the place,

There find the virgin dolefull desolate,

With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face,

As her outrageous foe had left her late,

And trembling yet through feare of former hate;

All stand amazed at so vncouth sight,

And gin to pittie her vnhappie state,

All stand astonied at her beautie bright,

In their rude eyes vnworthie of so wofull plight.

She more amaz'd, in double dread doth dwell;

And euery tender part for feare does shake:

As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger fell

A seely Lambe farre from the flocke does take,

Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make,

A Lyon spyes fast running towards him,

The innocent pray in hast he does forsake,

Which quit from death yet quakes in euery lim

With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim.

Such fearefull fit assaid her trembling hart,

Ne word to speake, ne ioynt to moue she had:

The saluage nation feele her secret smart,

And read her sorrow in her count'nance sad;

Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad,

And rusticke horror all a side doe lay,

And gently grenning, shew a semblance glad

To comfort her, and feare to put away,

Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay.

The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit

Her single person to their barbarous truth,

But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit,

Late learnd what harme to hastie trust ensu'th,

They in compassion of her tender youth,

And wonder of her beautie soueraine,

Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,

And all prostrate vpon the lowly plaine,

Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count'nance faine.

Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,

And yieldes her to extremitie of time;

So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,

And walketh forth without suspect of crime:

They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,

Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,

Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme,

And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,

Do worship her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround.

And all the way their merry pipes they sound,

That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,

And with their horned feet do weare the ground,

Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.

So towards old Syluanus they her bring;

Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out,

To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning,

And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout,

And with an yuie twyne his wast is girt about.

Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad,

If Bacchus merry fruit they did inuent,

Or Cybeles franticke rites haue made them mad;

They drawing nigh, vnto their God present

That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.

The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,

Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;

His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire,

And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.

The woodborne people fall before her flat,

And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;

And old Syluanus selfe bethinkes not, what

To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,

In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;

Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,

But Venus neuer had so sober mood;

Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,

But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue

His ancient loue, and dearest Cyparisse,

And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,

How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,

And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse

A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy

Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;

For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after ioy,

But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.

The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades

Her to behold do thither runne apace,

And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,

Flocke all about to see her louely face:

But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,

They enuie her in their malitious mind,

And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace:

But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind,

And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.

Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid,

Did her content to please their feeble eyes,

And long time with that saluage people staid,

To gather breath in many miseries.

During which time her gentle wit she plyes,

To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,

And made her th'Image of Idolatryes;

But when their bootlesse zeale she did restraine

From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.

It fortuned a noble warlike knight

By iust occasion to that forrest came,

To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,

From whence he tooke his well deserued name:

He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,

And fild far landes with glorie of his might,

Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame,

And euer lou'd to fight for Ladies right,

But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight.

A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld,

By straunge aduenture as it did betyde,

And there begotten of a Lady myld,

Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,

That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde

To Therion, a loose vnruly swayne;

Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde,

And chase the saluage beast with busie payne,

Then serue his Ladies loue, and wast in pleasures vayne.

The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne,

And could not lacke her louers company,

But to the wood she goes, to serue her turne,

And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly,

And followes other game and venery:

A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,

And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,

The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,

And made her person thrall vnto his beastly kind.

So long in secret cabin there he held

Her captiue to his sensuall desire,

Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld,

And bore a boy vnto that saluage sire:

Then home he suffred her for to retire,

For ransome leauing him the late borne childe;

Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,

He noursled vp in life and manners wilde,

Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.

For all he taught the tender ymp, was but

To banish cowardize and bastard feare;

His trembling hand he would him force to put

Vpon the Lyon and the rugged Beare,

And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare;

And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make

To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;

And the Robuckes in flight to ouertake,

That euery beast for feare of him did fly and quake.

Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell he grew,

That his owne sire and maister of his guise

Did often tremble at his horrid vew,

And oft for dread of hurt would him aduise,

The angry beasts not rashly to despise,

Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne

The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,

(A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne

Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.

And for to make his powre approued more,

Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell;

The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore,

The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell;

The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell;

And them constraine in equall teme to draw.

Such ioy he had, their stubborne harts to quell,

And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,

That his beheast they feared, as tyrans law,

His louing mother came vpon a day

Vnto the woods, to see her little sonne;

And chaunst vnwares to meet him in the way,

After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne,

When after him a Lyonesse did runne,

That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere

Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:

The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,

And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.

The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight,

And turning backe, gan fast to fly away,

Vntill with loue reuokt from vaine affright,

She hardly yet perswaded was to stay,

And then to him these womanish words gan say;

Ah Satyrane, my dearling, and my ioy,

For loue of me leaue off this dreadfull play;

To dally thus with death, is no fit toy,

Go find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.

In these and like delights of bloudy game

He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,

And there abode, whilst any beast of name

Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught

To feare his force: and then his courage haught

Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne,

And far abroad for straunge aduentures sought:

In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,

But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.

Yet euermore it was his manner faire,

After long labours and aduentures spent,

Vnto those natiue woods for to repaire,

To see his sire and offspring auncient.

And now he thither came for like intent;

Where he vnwares the fairest Vna found,

Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment,

Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,

Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.

He wondred at her wisedome heauenly rare,

Whose like in womens wit he neuer knew;

And when her curteous deeds he did compare,

Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,

Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,

And ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie

On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:

Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,

And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.

But she all vowd vnto the Redcrosse knight,

His wandring perill closely did lament,

Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,

But her deare heart with anguish did torment,

And all her wit in secret counsels spent,

How to escape. At last in priuie wise

To Satyrane she shewed her intent:

Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,

How with that pensiue Maid he best might thence arise.

So on a day when Satyres all were gone,

To do their seruice to Syluanus old,

The gentle virgin left behind alone

He led away with courage stout and bold.

Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,

Or euer hope recouer her againe:

In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.

So fast he carried her with carefull paine,

That they the woods are past, & come now to the plaine.

The better part now of the lingring day,

They traueild had, when as they farre espide

A wearie wight forwandring by the way,

And towards him they gan in hast to ride,

To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,

Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse.

But he them spying, gan to turne aside,

For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse;

More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.

A silly man, in simple weedes forworne,

And soild with dust of the long dried way;

His sandales were with toilesome trauell torne,

And face all tand with scorching sunny ray,

As he had traueild many a sommers day,

Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde;

And in his hand a Iacobs staffe, to stay

His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,

His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.

The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd

Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;