Edmund Spenser

THE FAERIE QUEENE

THE THIRD

BOOKE OF THE

FAERIE QVEENE.

Contayning,

The Legend of Britomartis,

or

Of Chastitie.

I T falles me here to write of Chastity,

That fairest vertue, farre aboue the rest;

For which what needs me fetch from Faery

Forreine ensamples, it to haue exprest?

Sith it is shrined in my Soueraines brest,

And form'd so liuely in each perfect part

That to all Ladies, which haue it profest,

Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart,

If pourtrayd it might be by any liuing art.

But liuing art may not least part expresse,

Nor life-resembling pencill it can paint,

All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles:

His daedale hand would faile, and greatly faint,

And her perfections with his error taint:

Ne Poets wit, that passeth Painter farre

In picturing the parts of beautie daint,

So hard a workmanship aduenture darre,

For fear through want of words her excellence to marre.

How then shall I, Apprentice of the skill,

That whylome in diuinest wits did raine,

Presume so high to stretch mine humble quill?

Yet now my lucklesse lot doth me constraine

Hereto perforce. But O dred Soueraine

Thus farre forth pardon, sith that choicest wit

Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure plaine

That I in colourd showes may shadow it,

And antique praises vnto present persons fit.

But if in liuing colours, and right hew,

Your selfe you couet to see pictured,

Who can it doe more liuely, or more trew,

Then that sweet verse, with Nectar sprinckeled,

In which a gracious seruant pictured

His Cynthia, his heauens fairest light?

That with his melting sweetnesse rauished,

And with the wonder of her beames bright,

My senses lulled are in slomber of delight.

But let that same delitious Poet lend

A little leaue vnto a rusticke Muse

To sing his mistresse prayse, and let him mend,

If ought amis her liking may abuse:

Ne let his fairest Cynthia refuse,

In mirrours more then one her selfe to see,

But either Gloriana let her chuse,

Or in Belphoebe fashioned to bee:

In th'one her rule, in th'other her rare chastitee.

Canto I

Guyon encountreth Britomart,

faire Florimell is chaced:

Duessaes traines and Malecastaes

champions are defaced.

T He famous Briton Prince and Faerie knight,

After long wayes and perilous paines endured,

Hauing their wearie limbes to perfect plight

Restord, and sory wounds right well recured,

Of the faire Alma greatly were procured,

To make there lenger soiourne and abode;

But when thereto they might not be allured,

From seeking praise, and deeds of armes abrode,

They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode.

But the captiu'd Acrasia he sent,

Because of trauell long, a nigher way,

With a strong gard, all reskew to preuent,

And her to Faerie court safe to conuay,

That her for witnesse of his hard assay,

Vnto his Faerie Queene he might present:

But he him selfe betooke another way,

To make more triall of his hardiment,

And seeke aduentures, as he with Prince Arthur went.

Long so they trauelled through wastefull wayes,

Where daungers dwelt, and perils most did wonne,

To hunt for glorie and renowmed praise;

Full many Countries they did ouerronne,

From the vprising to the setting Sunne,

And many hard aduentures did atchieue;

Of all the which they honour euer wonne,

Seeking the weake oppressed to relieue,

And to recouer right for such, as wrong did grieue.

At last as through an open plaine they yode,

They spide a knight, that towards pricked faire,

And him beside an aged Squire there rode,

That seem'd to couch vnder his shield three-square,

As if that age bad him that burden spare,

And yield it those, that stouter could it wield:

He them espying, gan himselfe prepare,

And on his arme addresse his goodly shield

That bore a Lion passant in a golden field.

Which seeing good Sir Guyon, deare besought

The Prince of grace, to let him runne that turne.

He graunted: then the Faery quickly raught

His poinant speare, and sharpely gan to spurne

His fomy steed, whose fierie feete did burne

The verdant grasse, as he thereon did tread;

Ne did the other backe his foot returne,

But fiercely forward came withouten dread,

And bent his dreadfull speare against the others head.

They bene ymet, and both their points arriued,

But Guyon droue so furious and fell,

That seem'd both shield & plate it would haue riued;

Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell,

But made him stagger, as he were not well:

But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware,

Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell,

Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare,

That mischieuous mischance his life & limbes did spare.

Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke;

For neuer yet, sith warlike armes he bore,

And shiuering speare in bloudie field first shooke,

He found himselfe dishonored so sore.

Ah gentlest knight, that euer armour bore,

Let not thee grieue dismounted to haue beene,

And brought to ground, that neuer wast before;

For not thy fault, but secret powre vnseene,

That speare enchaunted was, which layd thee on the greene.

But weenedst thou what wight thee ouerthrew,

Much greater griefe and shamefuller regret

For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew,

That of a single damzell thou wert met

On equall plaine, and there so hard beset;

Euen the famous Britomart it was,

Whom straunge aduenture did from Britaine fet,

To seeke her louer (loue farre sought alas,)

Whose image she had seene in Venus looking glas.

Full of disdainefull wrath, he fierce vprose,

For to reuenge that foule reprochfull shame,

And snatching his bright sword began to close

With her on foot, and stoutly forward came;

Die rather would he, then endure that same.

Which when his Palmer saw, he gan to feare

His toward perill and vntoward blame,

Which by that new rencounter he should reare:

For death sate on the point of that enchaunted speare.

And hasting towards him gan faire perswade,

Not to prouoke misfortune, nor to weene

His speares default to mend with cruell blade;

For by his mightie Science he had seene

The secret vertue of that weapon keene,

That mortall puissance mote not withstond:

Nothing on earth mote alwaies happie beene.

Great hazard were it, and aduenture fond,

To loose long gotten honour with one euill hond.

By such good meanes he him discounselled,

From prosecuting his reuenging rage;

And eke the Prince like treaty handeled,

His wrathfull will with reason to asswage,

And laid the blame, not to his carriage,

But to his starting steed, that swaru'd asyde,

And to the ill purueyance of his page,

That had his furnitures not firmely tyde:

So is his angry courage fairely pacifyde.

Thus reconcilement was betweene them knit,

Through goodly temperance, and affection chaste,

And either vowd with all their power and wit,

To let not others honour be defaste,

Of friend or foe, who euer it embaste,

Ne armes to beare against the others syde:

In which accord the Prince was also plaste,

And with that golden chaine of concord tyde.

So goodly all agreed, they forth yfere did ryde.

O goodly vsage of those antique times,

In which the sword was seruant vnto right;

When not for malice and contentious crimes,

But all for praise, and proofe of manly might,

The martiall brood accustomed to fight:

Then honour was the meed of victorie,

And yet the vanquished had no despight:

Let later age that noble vse enuie,

Vile rancour to auoid, and cruell surquedrie.

Long they thus trauelled in friendly wise,

Through countries waste, and eke well edifyde,

Seeking aduentures hard, to exercise

Their puissance, whylome full dernely tryde:

At length they came into a forrest wyde,

Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sound

Full griesly seem'd: therein they long did ryde,

Yet tract of liuing creatures none they found,

Saue Beares, Lions, & Buls, which romed them around.

All suddenly out of the thickest brush,

Vpon a milk-white Palfrey all alone,

A goodly Ladie did foreby them rush,

Whose face did seeme as cleare as Christall stone,

And eke through feare as white as whales bone:

Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold,

And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone,

Which fled so fast, that nothing mote him hold,

And scarse them leasure gaue, her passing to behold.

Still as she fled, her eye she backward threw,

As fearing euill, that pursewd her fast;

And her faire yellow locks behind her flew,

Loosely disperst with puffe of euery blast:

All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast

His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispred,

At sight whereof the people stand aghast:

But the sage wisard telles, as he has red,

That it importunes death and dolefull drerihed.

So as they gazed after her a while,

Lo where a griesly Foster forth did rush,

Breathing out beastly lust her to defile:

His tyreling iade he fiercely forth did push,

Through thicke and thin, both ouer banke and bush

In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke,

That from his gorie sides the bloud did gush:

Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke,

And in his clownish hand a sharp bore speare he shooke.

Which outrage when those gentle knights did see,

Full of great enuie and fell gealosy,

They stayd not to auise, who first should bee,

But all spurd after fast, as they mote fly,

To reskew her from shamefull villany.

The Prince and Guyon equally byliue

Her selfe pursewd, in hope to win thereby

Most goodly meede, the fairest Dame aliue:

But after the foule foster Timias did striue.

The whiles faire Britomart, whose constant mind,

Would not so lightly follow beauties chace,

Ne reckt of Ladies Loue, did stay behind,

And them awayted there a certaine space,

To weet if they would turne backe to that place:

But when she saw them gone, she forward went,

As lay her iourney, through that perlous Pace,

With stedfast courage and stout hardiment;

Ne euill thing she fear'd, ne euill thing she ment.

At last as nigh out of the wood she came,

A stately Castle farre away she spyde,

To which her steps directly she did frame.

That Castle was most goodly edifyde,

And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde:

But faire before the gate a spatious plaine,

Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde,

On which she saw sixe knights, that did darraine

Fierce battell against one, with cruell might and maine.

Mainly they all attonce vpon him laid,

And sore beset on euery side around,

That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid,

Ne euer to them yielded foot of ground

All had he lost much bloud through many a wound,

But stoutly dealt his blowes, and euery way

To which he turned in his wrathfull stound,

Made them recoile, and fly from dred decay,

That none of all the sixe before, him durst assay.

Like dastard Curres, that hauing at a bay

The saluage beast embost in wearie chace,

Dare not aduenture on the stubborne pray,

Ne byte before, but rome from place to place,

To get a snatch, when turned is his face.

In such distresse and doubtfull ieopardy,

When Britomart him saw, she ran a pace

Vnto his reskew, and with earnest cry,

Bad those same sixe forbeare that single enimy.

But to her cry they list not lenden eare,

Ne ought the more their mightie strokes surceasse,

But gathering him round about more neare,

Their direfull rancour rather did encreasse;

Till that she rushing through the thickest preasse,

Perforce disparted their compacted gyre,

And soone compeld to hearken vnto peace:

Tho gan she myldly of them to inquyre

The cause of their dissention and outrageous yre.

Whereto that single knight did answere frame;

These sixe would me enforce by oddes of might,

To chaunge my liefe, and loue another Dame,

That death me liefer were, then such despight,

So vnto wrong to yield my wrested right:

For I loue one, the truest one on ground,

Ne list me chaunge; she th'Errant Damzell hight,

For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd,

I haue endur'd, and tasted many a bloudy wound.

Certes (said she) then bene ye sixe to blame,

To weene your wrong by force to iustifie:

For knight to leaue his Ladie were great shame,

That faithfull is, and better were to die.

All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamie,

Then losse of loue to him, that loues but one;

Ne may loue be compeld by maisterie;

For soone as maisterie comes, sweet loue anone

Taketh his nimble wings, and soone away is gone.

Then spake one of those sixe, There dwelleth here

Within this castle wall a Ladie faire,

Whose soueraine beautie hath no liuing pere,

Thereto so bounteous and so debonaire,

That neuer any mote with her compaire.

She hath ordaind this law, which we approue,

That euery knight, which doth this way repaire,

In case he haue no Ladie, nor no loue,

Shall doe vnto her seruice neuer to remoue.

But if he haue a Ladie or a Loue,

Then must he her forgoe with foule defame,

Or else with vs by dint of sword approue,

That she is fairer, then our fairest Dame,

As did this knight, before ye hither came.

Perdie (said Britomart) the choise is hard:

But what reward had he, that ouercame?

He should aduaunced be to high regard,

(Said they) and haue our Ladies loue for his reward.

Therefore a read Sir, if thou haue a loue.

Loue haue I sure, (quoth she) but Lady none;

Yet will I not fro mine owne loue remoue,

Ne to your Lady will I seruice done,

But wreake your wrongs wrought to this knight alone,

And proue his cause. With that her mortall speare

She mightily auentred towards one,

And downe him smot, ere well aware he weare,

Then to the next she rode, & downe the next did beare.

Ne did she stay, till three on ground she layd,

That none of them himselfe could reare againe;

The fourth was by that other knight dismayd,

All were he wearie of his former paine,

That now there do but two of six remaine;

Which two did yield, before she did them smight.

Ah (said she then) now may ye all see plaine,

That truth is strong, and trew loue most of might,

That for his trusty seruaunts doth so strongly fight.

Too well we see, (said they) and proue too well

Our faulty weaknesse, and your matchlesse might:

For thy, faire Sir, yours be the Damozell,

Which by her owne law to your lot doth light,

And we your liege men faith vnto you plight.

So vnderneath her feet their swords they mard,

And after her besought, well as they might,

To enter in, and reape the dew reward:

She graunted, and then in they all together far'd.

Long were it to describe the goodly frame,

And stately port of Castle Ioyeous,

(For so that Castle hight by commune name)

Where they were entertaind with curteous

And comely glee of many gracious

Faire Ladies, and of many a gentle knight,

Who through a Chamber long and spacious,

Eftsoones them brought vnto their Ladies sight,

That of them cleeped was the Lady of delight.

But for to tell the sumptuous aray

Of that great chamber, should be labour lost:

For liuing wit, I weene, cannot display

The royall riches and exceeding cost,

Of euery pillour and of euery post;

Which all of purest bullion framed were,

And with great pearles and pretious stones embost,

That the bright glister of their beames cleare

Did sparckle forth great light, and glorious did appeare.

These straunger knights through passing, forth were led

Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee

And rich purueyance might vneath be red;

Mote Princes place beseeme so deckt to bee.

Which stately manner when as they did see,

The image of superfluous riotize,

Exceeding much the state of meane degree,

They greatly wondred, whence so sumptuous guize

Might be maintaynd, and each gan diuersely deuize.

The wals were round about apparelled

With costly clothes of Arras and of Toure,

In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed

The loue of Venus and her Paramoure

The faire Adonis, turned to a flowre,

A worke of rare deuice, and wondrous wit.

First did it shew the bitter balefull stowre,

Which her assayd with many a feruent fit,

When first her tender hart was with his beautie smit.

Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she

Entyst the Boy, as well that art she knew,

And wooed him her Paramoure to be;

Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew,

To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew;

Now leading him into a secret shade

From his Beauperes, and from bright heauens vew,

Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade,

Or bathe him in a fountaine by some couert glade.

And whilst he slept, she ouer him would spred

Her mantle, colour'd like the starry skyes,

And her soft arme lay vnderneath his hed,

And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes;

And whilest he bath'd, with her two crafty spyes,

She secretly would search each daintie lim,

And throw into the well sweet Rosemaryes,

And fragrant violets, and Pances trim,

And euer with sweet Nectar she did sprinkle him.

So did she steale his heedelesse hart away,

And ioyd his loue in secret vnespyde.

But for she saw him bent to cruell play,

To hunt the saluage beast in forrest wyde,

Dreadfull of daunger, that mote him betyde,

She oft and oft aduiz'd him to refraine

From chase of greater beasts, whose brutish pryde

Mote breede him scath vnwares: but all in vaine;

For who can shun the chaunce, that dest'ny doth ordaine?

Lo, where beyond he lyeth languishing,

Deadly engored of a great wild Bore,

And by his side the Goddesse groueling

Makes for him endlesse mone, and euermore

With her soft garment wipes away the gore,

Which staines his snowy skin with hatefull hew:

But when she saw no helpe might him restore,

Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew,

Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it liuely grew.

So was that chamber clad in goodly wize,

And round about it many beds were dight,

As whilome was the antique worldes guize,

Some for vntimely ease, some for delight,

As pleased them to vse, that vse it might:

And all was full of Damzels, and of Squires,

Dauncing and reueling both day and night,

And swimming deepe in sensuall desires,

And Cupid still emongst them kindled lustfull fires.

And all the while sweet Musicke did diuide

Her looser notes with Lydian harmony;

And all the while sweet birdes thereto applide

Their daintie layes and dulcet melody,

Ay caroling of loue and iollity,

That wonder was to heare their trim consort.

Which when those knights beheld, with scornefull eye,

They sdeigned such lasciuious disport,

And loath'd the loose demeanure of that wanton sort.

Thence they were brought to that great Ladies vew,

Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous bed,

That glistred all with gold and glorious shew,

As the proud Persian Queenes accustomed:

She seemd a woman of great bountihed,

And of rare beautie, sauing that askaunce

Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed,

Did roll too highly, and too often glaunce,

Without regard of grace, or comely amenaunce.

Long worke it were, and needlesse to deuize

Their goodly entertainement and great glee:

She caused them be led in curteous wize

Into a bowre, disarmed for to bee,

And cheared well with wine and spiceree:

The Redcrosse Knight was soone disarmed there,

But the braue Mayd would not disarmed bee,

But onely vented vp her vmbriere,

And so did let her goodly visage to appere.

As when faire Cynthia, in darkesome night,

Is in a noyous cloud enueloped,

Where she may find the substaunce thin and light,

Breakes forth her siluer beames, and her bright hed

Discouers to the world discomfited;

Of the poore traueller, that went astray,

With thousand blessings she is heried;

Such was the beautie and the shining ray,

With which faire Britomart gaue light vnto the day.

And eke those six, which lately with her fought,

Now were disarmd, and did them selues present

Vnto her vew, and company vnsoght;

For they all seemed curteous and gent,

And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent,

Which had them traynd in all ciuilitee,

And goodly taught to tilt and turnament;

Now were they liegemen to this Lady free,

And her knights seruice ought, to hold of her in fee.

The first of them by name Gardante hight,

A iolly person, and of comely vew;

The second was Parlante, a bold knight,

And next to him Iocante did ensew;

Basciante did him selfe most curteous shew;

But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and keene;

And yet in armes Noctante greater grew:

All were faire knights, and goodly well beseene,

But to faire Britomart they all but shadowes beene.

For she was full of amiable grace,

And manly terrour mixed therewithall,

That as the one stird vp affections bace,

So th'other did mens rash desires apall,

And hold them backe, that would in errour fall;

As he, that hath espide a vermeill Rose,

To which sharpe thornes and breres the way forstall,

Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose,

But wishing it far off, his idle wish doth lose.

Whom when the Lady saw so faire a wight.

All ignoraunt of her contrary sex,

(For she her weend a fresh and lusty knight)

She greatly gan enamoured to wex,

And with vaine thoughts her falsed fancy vex:

Her fickle hart conceiued hasty fire,

Like sparkes of fire, which fall in sclender flex,

That shortly brent into extreme desire,

And ransackt all her veines with passion entire.

Eftsoones she grew to great impatience

And into termes of open outrage brust,

That plaine discouered her incontinence,

Ne reckt she, who her meaning did mistrust;

For she was giuen all to fleshly lust,

And poured forth in sensuall delight,

That all regard of shame she had discust,

And meet respect of honour put to flight:

So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a loathy sight.

Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre,

And chaste desires do nourish in your mind,

Let not her fault your sweet affections marre,

Ne blot the bounty of all womankind;

'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find:

Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds;

For this was not to loue, but lust inclind;

For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds,

And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds.

Nought so of loue this looser Dame did skill,

But as a coale to kindle fleshly flame,

Giuing the bridle to her wanton will,

And treading vnder foote her honest name:

Such loue is hate, and such desire is shame.

Still did she roue at her with crafty glaunce

Of her false eyes, that at her hart did ayme,

And told her meaning in her countenaunce;

But Britomart dissembled it with ignoraunce.

Supper was shortly dight and downe they sat,

Where they were serued with all sumptuous fare,

Whiles fruitfull Ceres, and Lyæus fat

Pourd out their plenty, without spight or spare:

Nought wanted there, that dainty was and rare;

And aye the cups their bancks did ouerflow,

And aye betweene the cups, she did prepare

Way to her loue, and secret darts did throw;

But Britomart would not such guilfull message know.

So when they slaked had the feruent heat

Of appetite with meates of euery sort,

The Lady did faire Britomart entreat,

Her to disarme, and with delightfull sport

To loose her warlike limbs and strong effort,

But when she mote not thereunto be wonne,

(For she her sexe vnder that straunge purport

Did vse to hide, and plaine apparaunce shonne:)

In plainer wise to tell her grieuaunce she begonne.

And all attonce discouered her desire

With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, & piteous griefe,

The outward sparkes of her in burning fire;

Which spent in vaine, at last she told her briefe,

That but if she did lend her short reliefe,

And do her comfort, she mote algates dye.

But the chaste damzell, that had neuer priefe

Of such malengine and fine forgerie,

Did easily beleeue her strong extremitie.

Full easie was for her to haue beliefe,

Who by self-feeling of her feeble sexe,

And by long triall of the inward griefe,

Wherewith imperious loue her hart did vexe,

Could iudge what paines do louing harts perplexe.

Who meanes no guile, be guiled soonest shall,

And to faire semblaunce doth light faith annexe;

The bird, that knowes not the false fowlers call,

Into his hidden net full easily doth fall.

For thy, she would not in discourteise wise,

Scorne the faire offer of good will profest;

For great rebuke it is, loue to despise,

Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request;

But with faire countenaunce, as beseemed best,

Her entertaynd; nath'lesse she inly deemd

Her loue too light, to wooe a wandring guest:

Which she misconstruing, thereby esteemd

That from like inward fire that outward smoke had steemd.

Therewith a while she her flit fancy fed,

Till she mote winne fit time for her desire,

But yet her wound still inward freshly bled,

And through her bones the false instilled fire

Did spred it selfe, and venime close inspire.

Tho were the tables taken all away,

And euery knight, and euery gentle Squire

Gan choose his dame with Basciomani gay,

With whom he meant to make his sport & courtly play.

Some fell to daunce, some fell to hazardry,

Some to make loue, some to make meriment,

As diuerse wits to diuers things apply;

And all the while faire Malecasta bent

Her crafty engins to her close intent.

By this th'eternall lampes, wherewith high Ioue

Doth light the lower world, were halfe yspent,

And the moist daughters of huge Atlas stroue

Into the Ocean deepe to driue their weary droue.

High time it seemed then for euery wight

Them to betake vnto their kindly rest;

Eftsoones long waxen torches weren light,

Vnto their bowres to guiden euery guest:

Tho when the Britonesse saw all the rest

Auoided quite, she gan her selfe despoile,

And safe commit to her soft fethered nest,

Where through long watch, & late dayes weary toile,

She soundly slept, & carefull thoughts did quite assoile.

Now whenas all the world in silence deepe

Yshrowded was, and euery mortall wight

Was drowned in the depth of deadly sleepe,

Faire Malecasta, whose engrieued spright

Could find no rest in such perplexed plight,

Lightly arose out of her wearie bed,

And vnder the blacke vele of guilty Night,

Her with a scarlot mantle couered,

That was with gold and Ermines faire enueloped.

Then panting soft, and trembling euerie ioynt,

Her fearfull feete towards the bowre she moued;

Where she for secret purpose did appoynt

To lodge the warlike mayd vnwisely loued,

And to her bed approching, first she prooued,

Whether she slept or wakt, with her soft hand

She softly felt, if any member mooued,

And lent her wary eare to vnderstand,

If any puffe of breath, or signe of sence she fand.

Which whenas none she fond, with easie shift,

For feare least her vnwares she should abrayd,

Th'embroderd quilt she lightly vp did lift,

And by her side her selfe she softly layd,

Of euery finest fingers touch affrayd;

Ne any noise she made, ne word she spake,

But inly sigh'd. At last the royall Mayd

Out of her quiet slomber did awake,

And chaungd her weary side, the better ease to take.

Where feeling one close couched by her side,

She lightly lept out of her filed bed,

And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride

The loathed leachour. But the Dame halfe ded

Through suddein feare and ghastly drerihed,

Did shrieke alowd, that through the house it rong,

And the whole family therewith adred,

Rashly out of their rouzed couches sprong,

And to the troubled chamber all in armes did throng.

And those six Knights that Ladies Champions,

And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the stownd,

Halfe armd and halfe vnarmd, with them attons:

Where when confusedly they came, they fownd

Their Lady lying on the sencelesse grownd;

On th'other side, they saw the warlike Mayd

All in her snow-white smocke, with locks vnbownd,

Threatning the point of her auenging blade,

That with so troublous terrour they were all dismayde.

About their Lady first they flockt arownd,

Whom hauing laid in comfortable couch,

Shortly they reard out of her frosen swownd;

And afterwards they gan with fowle reproch

To stirre vp strife, and troublous contecke broch:

But by ensample of the last dayes losse,

None of them rashly durst to her approch,

Ne in so glorious spoile themselues embosse;

Her succourd eke the Champion of the bloudy Crosse.

But one of those sixe knights, Gardante hight,

Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene,

Which forth he sent with felonous despight,

And fell intent against the virgin sheene:

The mortall steele stayd not, till it was seene

To gore her side, yet was the wound not deepe,

But lightly rased her soft silken skin,

That drops of purple bloud thereout did weepe,

Which did her lilly smock with staines of vermeil steepe.

Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at them flew,

And with her flaming sword about her layd,

That none of them foule mischiefe could eschew,

But with her dreadfull strokes were all dismayd:

Here, there, and euery where about her swayd

Her wrathfull steele, that none mote it abide;

And eke the Redcrosse knight gaue her good aid,

Ay ioyning foot to foot, and side to side,

That in short space their foes they haue quite terrifide.

Tho whenas all were put to shamefull flight,

The noble Britomartis her arayd,

And her bright armes about her body dight:

For nothing would she lenger there be stayd,

Where so loose life, and so vngentle trade

Was vsd of Knights and Ladies seeming gent:

So earely ere the grosse Earthes gryesy shade

Was all disperst out of the firmament,

They tooke their steeds, & forth vpon their iourney went.

Canto II

The Redcrosse knight to Britomart

describeth Artegall:

The wondrous myrrhour, by which she

in loue with him did fall.

H Ere haue I cause, in men iust blame to find,

That in their proper prayse too partiall bee,

And not indifferent to woman kind,

To whom no share in armes and cheualrie

They do impart, ne maken memorie

Of their braue gestes and prowesse martiall;

Scarse do they spare to one or two or three,

Rowme in their writs; yet the same writing small

Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all.

But by record of antique times I find,

That women wont in warres to beare most sway,

And to all great exploits them selues inclind:

Of which they still the girlond bore away,

Till enuious Men fearing their rules decay,

Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their liberty;

Yet sith they warlike armes haue layd away:

They haue exceld in artes and pollicy,

That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t'enuy.

Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent,

Be thou faire Britomart, whose prayse I write,

But of all wisedome be thou precedent,

O soueraigne Queene, whose prayse I would endite,

Endite I would as dewtie doth excite;

But ah my rimes too rude and rugged arre,

When in so high an obiect they do lite,

And striuing, fit to make, I feare do marre:

Thy selfe thy prayses tell, and make them knowen farre.

She trauelling with Guyon by the way,

Of sundry things faire purpose gan to find,

T'abridg their iourney long, and lingring day;

Mongst which it fell into that Faeries mind,

To aske this Briton Mayd, what vncouth wind,

Brought her into those parts, and what inquest

Made her dissemble her disguised kind:

Faire Lady she him seemd, like Lady drest,

But fairest knight aliue, when armed was her brest.

Thereat she sighing softly, had no powre

To speake a while, ne ready answere make,

But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter stowre,

As if she had a feuer fit, did quake,

And euery daintie limbe with horrour shake;

And euer and anone the rosy red,

Flasht through her face, as it had been a flake

Of lightning, through bright heauen fulmined;

At last the passion past she thus him answered.

Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from the howre

I taken was from nourses tender pap,

I haue beene trained vp in warlike stowre,

To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap

The warlike ryder to his most mishap;

Sithence I loathed haue my life to lead,

As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap,

To finger the fine needle and nyce thread;

Me leuer were with point of foemans speare be dead.

All my delight on deedes of armes is set,

To hunt out perils and aduentures hard,

By sea, by land, where so they may be met,

Onely for honour and for high regard,

Without respect of richesse or reward.

For such intent into these parts I came,

Withouten compasse, or withouten card,

Far fro my natiue soyle, that is by name

The greater Britaine, here to seeke for prayse and fame.

Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond

Do many famous Knightes and Ladies wonne,

And many straunge aduentures to be fond,

Of which great worth and worship may be wonne;

Which I to proue, this voyage haue begonne.

But mote I weet of you, right curteous knight,

Tydings of one, that hath vnto me donne

Late foule dishonour and reprochfull spight,

The which I seeke to wreake, and Arthegall he hight.

The word gone out, she backe againe would call,

As her repenting so to haue missayd,

But that he it vp-taking ere the fall,

Her shortly answered; Faire martiall Mayd

Certes ye misauised beene, t'vpbrayd

A gentle knight with so vnknightly blame:

For weet ye well of all, that euer playd

At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game,

The noble Arthegall hath euer borne the name.

For thy great wonder were it, if such shame

Should euer enter in his bounteous thought,

Or euer do, that mote deseruen blame:

The noble courage neuer weeneth ought,

That may vnworthy of it selfe be thought.

Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well aware,

Least that too farre ye haue your sorrow sought:

You and your countrey both I wish welfare,

And honour both; for each of other worthy are.

The royall Mayd woxe inly wondrous glad,

To heare her Loue so highly magnifide,

And ioyd that euer she affixed had,

Her hart on knight so goodly glorifide,

How euer finely she it faind to hide:

The louing mother, that nine monethes did beare,

In the deare closet of her painefull side,

Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare,

Doth not so much reioyce, as she reioyced theare.

But to occasion him to further talke,

To feed her humour with his pleasing stile,

Her list in strifull termes with him to balke,

And thus replide, How euer, Sir, ye file

Your curteous tongue, his prayses to compile,

It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort,

Such as ye haue him boasted, to beguile

A simple mayd, and worke so haynous tort,

In shame of knighthood, as I largely can report.

Let be therefore my vengeaunce to disswade,

And read, where I that faytour false may find.

Ah, but if reason faire might you perswade,

To slake your wrath, and mollifie your mind,

(Said he) perhaps ye should it better find:

For hardy thing it is, to weene by might,

That man to hard conditions to bind,

Or euer hope to match in equall fight,

Whose prowesse paragon saw neuer liuing wight.

Ne soothlich is it easie for to read,

Where now on earth, or how he may be found;

For he ne wonneth in one certaine stead,

But restlesse walketh all the world around,

Ay doing things, that to his fame redound,

Defending Ladies cause, and Orphans right,

Where so he heares, that any doth confound

Them comfortlesse, through tyranny or might:

So is his soueraine honour raisde to heauens hight.

His feeling words her feeble sence much pleased,

And softly sunck into her molten hart;

Hart that is inly hurt, is greatly eased

With hope of thing, that may allegge his smart;

For pleasing words are like to Magick art,

That doth the charmed Snake in slomber lay:

Such secret ease felt gentle Britomart,

Yet list the same efforce with faind gainesay;

So dischord oft in Musick makes the sweeter lay.

And said, Sir knight, these idle termes forbeare,

And sith it is vneath to find his haunt,

Tell me some markes, by which he may appeare,

If chaunce I him encounter parauaunt;

For perdie one shall other slay, or daunt:

What shape, what shield, what armes, what steed, what sted,

And what so else his person most may vaunt?

All which the Redcrosse knight to point ared,

And him in euery part before her fashioned.

Yet him in euery part before she knew,

How euer list her now her knowledge faine,

Sith him whilome in Britaine she did vew,

To her reuealed in a mirrhour plaine,

Whereof did grow her first engraffed paine;

Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did tast,

That but the fruit more sweetnesse did containe,

Her wretched dayes in dolour she mote wast,

And yield the pray of loue to lothsome death at last.

By strange occasion she did him behold,

And much more strangely gan to loue his sight,

As it in bookes hath written bene of old.

In Deheubarth that now South-wales is hight,

What time king Ryence raign'd, and dealed right,

The great Magitian Merlin had deuiz'd,

By his deepe science, and hell-dreaded might,

A looking glasse, right wondrously aguiz'd,

Whose vertues through the wyde world soone were solemniz'd.

It vertue had, to shew in perfect sight,

What euer thing was in the world contaynd,

Betwixt the lowest earth and heauens hight,

So that it to the looker appertaynd;

What euer foe had wrought, or frend had faynd,

Therein discouered was, ne ought mote pas,

Ne ought in secret from the same remaynd;

For thy it round and hollow shaped was,

Like to the world it selfe, and seem'd a world of glas.

Who wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke?

But who does wonder, that has red the Towre,

Wherein th'Ægyptian Phao long did lurke

From all mens vew, that none might her discoure,

Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre?

Great Ptolomæe it for his lemans sake

Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre,

And also it impregnable did make;

Yet when his loue was false, he with a peaze it brake.

Such was the glassie globe that Merlin made,

And gaue vnto king Ryence for his gard,

That neuer foes his kingdome might inuade,

But he it knew at home before he hard

Tydings thereof, and so them still debar'd.

It was a famous Present for a Prince,

And worthy worke of infinite reward,

That treasons could bewray, and foes conuince;

Happie this Realme, had it remained euer since.

One day it fortuned, faire Britomart

Into her fathers closet to repayre;

For nothing he from her reseru'd apart,

Being his onely daughter and his hayre;

Where when she had espyde that mirrhour fayre,

Her selfe a while therein she vewd in vaine;

Tho her auizing of the vertues rare,

Which thereof spoken were, she gan againe

Her to bethinke of, that mote to her selfe pertaine.

But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts

Imperious Loue hath highest set his throne,

And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts

Of them, that to him buxome are and prone:

So thought this Mayd (as maydens vse to done)

Whom fortune for her husband would allot,

Not that she lusted after any one;

For she was pure from blame of sinfull blot,

Yet wist her life at last must lincke in that same knot.

Eftsoones there was presented to her eye

A comely knight, all arm'd in complete wize,

Through whose bright ventayle lifted vp on hye

His manly face, that did his foes agrize,

And friends to termes of gentle truce entize,

Lookt foorth, as Phoebus face out of the east,

Betwixt two shadie mountaines doth arize;

Portly his person was, and much increast

Through his Heroicke grace, and honorable gest.

His crest was couered with a couchant Hound,

And all his armour seem'd of antique mould,

But wondrous massie and assured sound,

And round about yfretted all with gold,

In which there written was with cyphers old,

Achilles armes, which Arthegall did win.

And on his shield enueloped seuenfold

He bore a crowned litle Ermilin,

That deckt the azure field with her faire pouldred skin.

The Damzell well did vew his personage,

And liked well, ne further fastned not,

But went her way; ne her vnguilty age

Did weene, vnwares, that her vnlucky lo t

Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot;

Of hurt vnwist most daunger doth redound:

But the false Archer, which that arrow shot

So slyly, that she did not feele the wound,

Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse wofull stound.

Thenceforth the feather in her loftie crest,

Ruffed of loue, gan lowly to auaile,

And her proud portance, and her princely gest,

With which she earst tryumphed, now did quail

Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies fraile

She woxe; yet wist she neither how, nor why,

She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did aile,

Yet wist, she was not well at ease perdy,

Yet thought it was not loue, but some melancholy.

So soone as Night had with her pallid hew

Defast the beautie of the shining sky,

And reft from men the worlds desired vew,

She with her Nourse adowne to sleepe did lye;

But sleepe full farre away from her did fly:

In stead thereof sad sighes, and sorrowes deepe

Kept watch and ward about her warily,

That nought she did but wayle, and often steepe

He daintie couch with teares, which closely she did weepe.

And if that any drop of slombring rest

Did chaunce to still into her wearie spright,

When feeble nature felt her selfe opprest,

Streight way with dreames, and with fantasticke sight

Of dreadfull things the same was put to flight,

That oft out of her bed she did astart,

As one with vew of ghastly feends affright:

Tho gan she to renew her former smart,

And thinke of that faire visage, written in her hart.

One night, when she was tost with such vnrest,

Her aged Nurse, whose name was Glauce hight,

Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest,

Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight,

And downe againe in her warme bed her dight;

Ah my deare daughter, ah my dearest dread,

What vncouth fit (said she) what euill plight

Hath thee opprest, and with sad drearyhead

Chaunged thy liuely cheare, and liuing made thee dead?

For not of nought these suddeine ghastly feares

All night afflict thy naturall repose,

And all the day, when as thine equall peares,

Their fit disports with faire delight doe chose,

Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe inclose,

Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest spred

Abroad thy fresh youthes fairest flowre, but lose

Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely shed,

As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.

The time, that mortall men their weary cares

Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest,

And euery riuer eke his course forbeares

Then doth this wicked euill thee infest,

And riue with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest;

Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed griefe,

Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest,

Whence forth it breakes in sighes and anguish rife,

As smoke and sulphure mingled with confused strife.

Aye me, how much I feare, least loue it bee;

But if that loue it be, as sure I read

By knowen signes and passions, which I see,

Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead,

Then I auow by this most sacred head

Of my deare foster child, to ease thy griefe,

And win thy will: Therefore away doe dread;

For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe

Shall me debarre, tell me therefore my liefest liefe.

So hauing said, her twixt her armes twaine

She straightly straynd, and colled tenderly,

And euery trembling ioynt, and euery vaine

She softly felt, and rubbed busily,

To doe the frosen cold away to fly;

And her faire deawy eies with kisses deare

She oft did bath, and oft againe did dry;

And euer her importund, not to feare

To let the secret of her hart to her appeare.

The Damzell pauzd, and then thus fearefully;

Ah Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my paine?

Is not enough, that I alone doe dye,

But it must doubled be with death of twaine?

For nought for me but death there doth remaine.

O daughter deare (said she) despaire no whit;

For neuer sore, but might a salue obtaine:

That blinded God, which hath ye blindly smit,

Another arrow hath your louers hart to hit.

But mine is not (quoth she) like others wound;

For which no reason can find remedy.

Was neuer such, but mote the like be found,

(Said she) and though no reason may apply

Salue to your sore, yet loue can higher stye,

Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne.

But neither God of loue, nor God of sky

Can doe (said she) that, which cannot be donne.

Things oft impossible (quoth she) seeme, ere begonne.

These idle words (said she) doe nought asswage

My stubborne smart, but more annoyance breed,

For no no vsuall fire, no vsuall rage

It is, O Nurse, which on my life doth feed,

And suckes the bloud, which from my hart doth bleed.

But since thy faithfull zeale lets me not hyde

My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed.

Nor Prince, nor pere it is, whose loue hath gryde

My feeble brest of late, and launched this wound wyde.

Nor man it is, nor other liuing wight;

For then some hope I might vnto me draw,

But th'only shade and semblant of a knight,

Whose shape or person yet I neuer saw,

Hath me subiected to loues cruell law:

The same one day, as me misfortune led,

I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw,

And pleased with that seeming goodly-hed,

Vnwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed.

Sithens it hath infixed faster hold

Within my bleeding bowels, and so sore

Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould,

That all mine entrailes flow with poysnous gore,

And th'vlcer groweth daily more and more;

Ne can my running sore find remedie,

Other then my hard fortune to deplore,

And languish as the leafe falne from the tree,

Till death make one end of my dayes and miserie.

Daughter (said she) what need ye be dismayd,

Or why make ye such Monster of your mind?

Of much more vncouth thing I was affrayd;

Of filthy lust, contrarie vnto kind:

But this affection nothing straunge I find;

For who with reason can you aye reproue,

To loue the semblant pleasing most your mind,

And yield your heart, whence ye cannot remoue?

No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of loue.

Not so th'Arabian Myrrhe did set her mind;

Nor so did Biblis spend her pining hart,

But lou'd their natiue flesh against all kind,

And to their purpose vsed wicked art:

Yet playd Pasiphaë a more monstrous part,

That lou'd a Bull, and learnd a beast to bee;

Such shamefull lusts who loaths not, which depart

From course of nature and of modestie?

Sweet loue such lewdnes bands from his faire companie.

But thine my Deare (welfare thy heart my deare)

Though strange beginning had, yet fixed is

On one, that worthy may perhaps appeare;

And certes seemes bestowed not amis:

Ioy thereof haue thou and eternall blis.

With that vpleaning on her elbow weake,

Her alablaster brest she soft did kis,

Which all that while she felt to pant and quake,

As it an Earth-quake were; at last she thus bespake.

Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease;

For though my loue be not so lewdly bent,

As those ye blame, yet may it nought appease

My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent,

But rather doth my helpelesse griefe augment.

For they, how euer shamefull and vnkind,

Yet did possesse their horrible intent:

Short end of sorrowes they thereby did find;

So was their fortune good, though wicked were their mind.

But wicked fortune mine, though mind be good,

Can haue no end, nor hope of my desire,

But feed on shadowes, whiles I die for food,

And like a shadow wexe, whiles with entire

Affection, I doe languish and expire.

I fonder, then Cephisus foolish child,

Who hauing vewed in a fountaine shere

His face, was with the loue thereof beguild;

I fonder loue a shade, the bodie farre exild.

Nought like (quoth she) for that same wretched boy

Was of himselfe the idle Paramoure;

Both loue and louer, without hope of ioy,

For which he faded to a watry flowre.

But better fortune thine, and better howre,

Which lou'st the shadow of a warlike knight;

No shadow, but a bodie hath in powre:

That bodie, wheresoeuer that it light,

May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might.

But if thou may with reason yet represse

The growing euill, ere it strength haue got,

And thee abandond wholly doe possesse,

Against it strongly striue, and yield thee not,

Till thou in open field adowne be smot.

But if the passion mayster thy fraile might,

So that needs loue or death must be thy lot,

Then I auow to thee, by wrong or right

To compasse thy desire, and find that loued knight.

Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright

Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd

In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might;

And the old-woman carefully displayd

The clothes about her round with busie ayd;

So that at last a little creeping sleepe

Surprisd her sense: she therewith well apayd,

The drunken lampe downe in the oyle did steepe,

And set her by to watch, and set her by to weepe.

Earely the morrow next, before that day

His ioyous face did to the world reueale,

They both vprose and tooke their readie way

Vnto the Church, their prayers to appeale,

With great deuotion, and with litle zeale:

For the faire Damzell from the holy herse

Her loue-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale;

And that old Dame said many an idle verse,

Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reuerse.

Returned home, the royall Infant fell

Into her former fit; for why, no powre

Nor guidance of her selfe in her did dwell.

But th'aged Nurse her calling to her bowre,

Had gathered Rew, and Sauine, and the flowre

Of Camphara, and Calamint, and Dill,

All which she in a earthen Pot did poure,

And to the brim with Colt wood did it fill,

And many drops of milke and bloud through it did spill.

Then taking thrise three haires from off her head,

Them trebly breaded in a threefold lace,

And round about the pots mouth, bound the thread,

And after hauing whispered a space

Certaine sad words, with hollow voice and bace,

She to the virgin said, thrise said she it;

Come daughter come, come; spit vpon my face,

Spit thrise vpon me, thrise vpon me spit;

Th'vneuen number for this businesse is most fit.

That sayd, her round about she from her turnd,

She turned her contrarie to the Sunne,

Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd,

All contrary, for she the right did shunne,

And euer what she did, was streight vndonne.

So thought she to vndoe her daughters loue:

But loue, that is in gentle brest begonne,

No idle charmes so lightly may remoue,

That well can witnesse, who by triall it does proue.

Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle,

Ne slake the furie of her cruell flame,

But that she still did waste, and still did wayle,

That through long languour, and hart-burning brame

She shortly like a pyned ghost became,

Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond.

That when old Glauce saw, for feare least blame

Of her miscarriage should in her be fond,

She wist not how t'amend, nor how it to withstond.

Canto III

Merlin bewrayes to Britomart,

the state of Artegall.

And shewes the famous Progeny

which from them springen shall.

M Ost sacred fire, that burnest mightily

In liuing brests, ykindled first aboue,

Emongst th'eternall spheres and lamping sky,

And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue;

Not that same, which doth base affections moue

In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame,

But that sweet fit, that doth true beautie loue,

And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame,

Whence spring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame:

Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme,

That ouer mortall minds hast so great might,

To order them, as best to thee doth seeme,

And all their actions to direct aright;

The fatall purpose of diuine foresight,

Thou doest effect in destined descents,

Through deepe impression of thy secret might,

And stirredst vp th'Heroes high intents,

Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments.

But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more,

Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre

Shew'dst thou, then in this royall Maid of yore,

Making her seeke an vnknowne Paramoure,

From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre:

From whose two loynes thou afterwards did rayse

Most famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre,

Which through the earth haue spred their liuing prayse,

That fame in trompe of gold eternally displayes.

Begin then, O my dearest sacred Dame,

Daughter of Phoebus and of Memorie,

That doest ennoble with immortall name

The warlike Worthies, from antiquitie,

In thy great volume of Eternitie:

Begin, O Clio, and recount from hence

My glorious Soueraines goodly auncestrie,

Till that by dew degrees and long pretence,

Thou haue it lastly brought vnto her Excellence.

Full many wayes within her troubled mind,

Old Glauce cast, to cure this Ladies griefe:

Full many waies she sought, but none could find,

Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsell, that is chiefe

And choisest med'cine for sicke harts reliefe:

For thy great care she tooke, and greater feare,

Least that it should her turne to foule repriefe,

And sore reproch, when so her father deare

Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune heare.

At last she her auisd, that he, which made

That mirrhour, wherein the sicke Damosell

So straungely vewed her straunge louers shade,

To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell,

Vnder what coast of heauen the man did dwell,

And by what meanes his loue might best be wrought:

For though beyond the Africk Ismaell,

Or th'Indian Peru he were, she thought

Him forth through infinite endeuour to haue sought.

Forthwith themselues disguising both in straunge

And base attyre, that none might them bewray,

To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge

Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way:

There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)

To make his wonne, low vnderneath the ground,

In a deepe delue, farre from the vew of day,

That of no liuing wight he mote be found,

When so he counseld with his sprights encompast round.

And if thou euer happen that same way

To trauell, goe to see that dreadfull place:

It is an hideous hollow caue (they say)

Vnder a rocke that lyes a little space

From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace,

Emongst the woodie hilles of Dyneuowre:

But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace,

To enter into that same balefull Bowre,

For fear the cruell Feends should thee vnwares deuowre.

But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare,

And there such ghastly noise of yron chaines,

And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling heare,

Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines

Doe tosse, that it will stonne thy feeble braines,

And oftentimes great grones, and grieuous stounds,

When too huge toile and labour them constraines:

And oftentimes loud strokes, and ringing sounds

From vnder that deepe Rocke most horribly rebounds.

The cause some say is this: A litle while

Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend,

A brasen wall in compas to compile

About Cairmardin, and did it commend

Vnto these Sprights, to bring to perfect end.

During which worke the Ladie of the Lake,

Whom long he lou'd, for him in hast did send,

Who thereby forst his workemen to forsake,

Them bound till his returne, their labour not to slake.

In the meane time through that false Ladies traine,

He was surprisd, and buried vnder beare,

Ne euer to his worke returnd againe:

Nath'lesse those feends may not their worke forbeare,

So greatly his commaundement they feare,

But there doe toyle and trauell day and night,

Vntill that brasen wall they vp doe reare:

For Merlin had in Magicke more insight,

Then euer him before or after liuing wight.

For he by words could call out of the sky

Both Sunne and Moone, and make them him obay:

The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry,

And darkesome night he eke could turne to day:

Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay,

And hostes of men of meanest things could frame,

When so him list his enimies to fray:

That to this day for terror of his fame,

The feends do quake, when any him to them does name.

And sooth, men say that he was not the sonne

Of mortall Syre, or other liuing wight,

But wondrously begotten, and begonne

By false illusion of a guilefull Spright,

On a faire Ladie Nonne, that whilome hight

Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,

Who was the Lord of Mathrauall by right,

And coosen vnto king Ambrosius:

Whence he indued was with skill so maruellous.

They here ariuing, staid a while without,

Ne durst aduenture rashly in to wend,

But of their first intent gan make new dout

For dread of daunger, which it might portend:

Vntill the hardie Mayd (with loue to frend)

First entering, the dreadfull Mage there found

Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end,

And writing strange characters in the ground,

With which the stubborn feends he to his seruice bound.

He nought was moued at their entrance bold:

For of their comming well he wist afore,

Yet list them bid their businesse to vnfold,

As if ought in this world in secret store

Were from him hidden, or vnknowne of yore.

Then Glauce thus, Let not it thee offend,

That we thus rashly through thy darkesome dore,

Vnwares haue prest: for either fatall end,

Or other mightie cause vs two did hither send.

He bad tell on; and then she thus began.

Now haue three Moones with borrow'd brothers light,

Thrice shined faire, and thrice seem'd dim and wan,

Sith a sore euill, which this virgin bright

Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight,

First rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee,

Or whence it sprong, I cannot read aright:

But this I read, that but if remedee

Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see.

Therewith th'Enchaunter softly gan to smyle

At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well,

That she to him dissembled womanish guyle,

And to her said, Beldame, by that ye tell,

More need of leach-craft hath your Damozell,

Then of my skill: who helpe may haue elsewhere,

In vaine seekes wonders out of Magicke spell.

Th'old woman wox half blanck, those words to heare;

And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare.

And to him said, If any leaches skill,

Or other learned meanes could haue redrest

This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill,

Certes I should be loth thee to molest:

But this sad euill, which doth her infest,

Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed,

And housed is within her hollow brest,

That either seemes some cursed witches deed,

Or euill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.

The wisard could no lenger beare her bord,

But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd;

Glauce, what needs this colourable word,

To cloke the cause, that hath it selfe bewrayd?

Ne ye faire Britomartis, thus arayd,

More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele;

Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd,

Hath hither brought, for succour to appele;

The which the powres to thee are pleased to reuele.

The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe descryde,

Was all abasht, and her pure yuory

Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde;

As faire Aurora rising hastily,

Doth by her blushing tell, that she did lye

All night in old Tithonus frosen bed,

Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly.

But her old Nourse was nought dishartened,

But vauntage made of that, which Merlin had ared.

And sayd, Sith then thou knowest all our griefe,

(For what doest not thou know?) of grace I pray,

Pitty our plaint, and yield vs meet reliefe.

With that the Prophet still awhile did stay,

And then his spirite thus gan forth display;

Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore

Hast learn'd to loue, let no whit thee dismay

The hard begin, that meets thee in the dore,

And with sharpe fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore.

For so must all things excellent begin,

And eke enrooted deepe must be that Tree,

Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin,

Till they to heauens hight forth stretched bee.

For from thy wombe a famous Progenie

Shall spring, out of the auncient Troian blood,

Which shall reuiue the sleeping memorie

Of those same antique Peres, the heauens brood,

Which Greece and Asian riuers stained with their blood.

Renowmed kings, and sacred Emperours,

Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee descend;

Braue Captaines, and most mighty warriours,

That shall their conquests through all lands extend,

And their decayed kingdomes shall amend:

The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,

They shall vpreare, and mightily defend

Against their forrein foe, that comes from farre,

Till vniuersall peace compound all ciuill iarre.

It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye,

Glauncing vnwares in charmed looking glas,

But the streight course of heauenly destiny,

Led with eternall prouidence, that has

Guided thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas:

Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill,

To loue the prowest knight, that euer was.

Therefore submit thy wayes vnto his will,

And do by all dew meanes thy destiny fulfill.

But read (said Glauce) thou Magitian

What meanes shall she out seeke, or what wayes take?

How shall she know, how shall she find the man?

Or what needs her to toyle, sith fates can make

Way for themselues, their purpose to partake?

Then Merlin thus; Indeed the fates are firme,

And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake:

Yet ought mens good endeuours them confirme,

And guide the heauenly causes to their constant terme.

The man whom heauens haue ordaynd to bee

The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall:

He wonneth in the land of Fayeree,

Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all

To Elfes, but sprong of seed terrestriall,

And whilome by false Faries stolne away,

Whiles yet in infant cradle he did crall;

Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day,

But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.

But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlois,

And brother vnto Cador Cornish king,

And for his warlike feates renowmed is,

From where the day out of the sea doth spring,

Vntill the closure of the Euening.

From thence, him firmely bound with faithfull band,

To this his natiue soyle thou backe shalt bring,

Strongly to aide his countrey, to withstand

The powre of forrein Paynims, which inuade thy land.

Great aid thereto his mighty puissaunce,

And dreaded name shall giue in that sad day:

Where also proofe of thy prow valiaunce

Thou then shalt make, t'increase thy louers pray.

Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway,

Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call,

And his last fate him from thee take away,

Too rathe cut off by practise criminall

Of secret foes, that him shall make in mischiefe fall.

Where thee yet shall he leaue for memory

Of his late puissaunce, his Image dead,

That liuing him in all actiuity

To thee shall represent. He from the head

Of his coosin Constantius without dread

Shall take the crowne, that was his fathers right,

And therewith crowne himselfe in th'others stead:

Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might,

Against his Saxon foes in bloudy field to fight.

Like as a Lyon, that in drowsie caue

Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake,

And comming forth, shall spred his banner braue

Ouer the troubled South, that it shall make

The warlike Mertians for feare to quake:

Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win,

But the third time shall faire accordaunce make:

And if he then with victorie can lin,

He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly In.

His sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him succeede

In kingdome, but not in felicity;

Yet shall he long time warre with happy speed,

And with great honour many battels try:

But at the last to th'importunity

Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield.

But his sonne Malgo shall full mightily

Auenge his fathers losse, with speare and shield,

And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field.

Behold the man, and tell me Britomart,

If ay more goodly creature thou didst see;

How like a Gyaunt in each manly part

Beares he himselfe with portly maiestee,

That one of th'old Heroes seemes to bee:

He the six Islands, comprouinciall

In auncient times vnto great Britainee,

Shall to the same reduce, and to him call

Their sundry kings to do their homage seuerall.

All which his sonne Careticus awhile

Shall well defend, and Saxons powre suppresse,

Vntill a straunger king from vnknowne soyle

Arriuing, him with multitude oppresse;

Great Gormond, hauing with huge mightinesse

Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne,

Like a swift Otter, fell through emptinesse,

Shall ouerswim the sea with many one

Of his Norueyses, to assist the Britons fone.

He in his furie all shall ouerrunne,

And holy Church with faithlesse hands deface,

That thy sad people vtterly fordonne,

Shall to the vtmost mountaines fly apace:

Was neuer so great wast in any place,

Nor so fowle outrage doen by liuing men:

For all thy Cities they shall sacke and race,

And the greene grasse, that groweth, they shall bren,

That euen the wild beast shall dy in starued den.

Whiles thus thy Britons do in languour pine,

Proud Etheldred shall from the North arise,

Seruing th'ambitious will of Augustine,

And passing Dee with hardy enterprise,

Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brockwell twise,

And Bangor with massacred Martyrs fill;

But the third time shall rew his foolhardise:

For Cadwan pittying his peoples ill,

Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand Saxons kill.

But after him, Cadwallin mightily

On his sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall wreake;

Ne shall auaile the wicked sorcery

Of false Pellite, his purposes to breake,

But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleake

Shall giue th'enchaunter his vnhappy hire;

Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake,

From their long vassalage gin to respire,

And on their Paynim foes auenge their ranckled ire.

Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate,

Till both the sonnes of Edwin he haue slaine,

Offricke and Osricke, twinnes vnfortunate,

Both slaine in battell vpon Layburne plaine,

Together with the king of Louthiane,

Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny,

Both ioynt partakers of the fatall paine:

But Penda, fearefull of like desteny,

Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty.

Him shall he make his fatall Instrument,

T'afflict the other Saxons vnsubdewd;

He marching forth with fury insolent

Against the good king Oswald, who indewd

With heauenly powre, and by Angels reskewd,

All holding crosses in their hands on hye,

Shall him defeate withouten bloud imbrewd:

Of which, that field for endlesse memory,

Shall Heuenfield be cald to all posterity.

Where at Cadwallin wroth, shall forth issew,

And an huge hoste into Northumber lead,

With which he godly Oswald shall subdew,

And crowne with martyrdome his sacred head.

Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like dread,

With price of siluer shall his kingdome buy,

And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread,

Shall tread adowne, and do him fowly dye,

But shall with gifts his Lord Cadwallin pacify.

Then shall Cadwallin dye, and then the raine

Of Britons eke with him attonce shall dye;

Ne shall the good Cadwallader with paine,

Or powre, be hable it to remedy,

When the full time prefixt by destiny,

Shalbe expird of Britons regiment.

For heauen it selfe shall their successe enuy,

And them with plagues and murrins pestilent

Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spent.

Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge hills

Of dying people, during eight yeares space,

Cadwallader not yielding to his ills,

From Armoricke, where long in wretched cace

He liu'd, returning to his natiue place,

Shalbe by vision staid from his intent:

For th'heauens haue decreed, to displace

The Britons, for their sinnes dew punishment,

And to the Saxons ouer-giue their gouernment.

Then woe, and woe, and euerlasting woe,

Be to the Briton babe, that shalbe borne,

To liue in thraldome of his fathers foe;

Late King, now captiue, late Lord, now forlorne,

The worlds reproch, the cruell victors scorne,

Banisht from Princely bowre to wastfull wood:

O who shall helpe me to lament, and mourne

The royall seed, the antique Troian blood,

Whose Empire lenger here, then euer any stood.

The Damzell was full deepe empassioned,

Both for his griefe, and for her peoples sake,

Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned,

And sighing sore, at length him thus bespake;

Ah but will heauens fury neuer slake,

Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at last?

Will not long misery late mercy make,

But shall their name for euer be defast,

And quite from of th'earth their memory be rast?

Nay but the terme (said he) is limited,

That in this thraldome Britons shall abide,

And the iust reuolution measured,

That they as Straungers shalbe notifide.

For twise foure hundreth yeares shalbe supplide,

Ere they to former rule restor'd shalbee,

And their importune fates all satisfide:

Yet during this their most obscuritee,

Their beames shall oft breake forth, that men them faire may see.

For Rhodoricke, whose surname shalbe Great,

Shall of him selfe a braue ensample shew,

That Saxon kings his friendship shall intreat;

And Howell Dha shall goodly well indew

The saluage minds with skill of iust and trew;

Then Griffyth Conan also shall vp reare

His dreaded head, and the old sparkes renew

Of natiue courage, that his foes shall feare,

Least backe againe the kingdome he from them should beare.

Ne shall the Saxons selues all peaceably

Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne

First ill, and after ruled wickedly:

For ere two hundred yeares be full outronne,

There shall a Rauen far from rising Sunne,

With his wide wings vpon them fiercely fly,

And bid his faithlesse chickens ouerronne

The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty,

In their auenge, tread downe the victours surquedry.

Yet shall a third both these, and thine subdew;

There shall a Lyon from the sea-bord wood

Of Neustria come roring, with a crew

Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood,

Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood,

That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend

Th'vsurped crowne, as if that he were wood,

And the spoile of the countrey conquered

Emongst his young ones shall diuide with bountyhed.

Tho when the terme is full accomplishid,

There shall a sparke of fire, which hath long-while

Bene in his ashes raked vp, and hid,

Be freshly kindled in the fruitfull Ile

Of Mona, where it lurked in exile;

Which shall breake forth into bright burning flame,

And reach into the house, that beares the stile

Of royall maiesty and soueraigne name;

So shall the Briton bloud their crowne againe reclame.

Thenceforth eternall vnion shall be made

Betweene the nations different afore,

And sacred Peace shall louingly perswade

The warlike minds, to learne her goodly lore,

And ciuile armes to exercise no more:

Then shall a royall virgin raine, which shall

Stretch her white rod ouer the Belgicke shore,

And the great Castle smite so sore with all,

That it shall make him shake, and shortly learne to fall.

But yet the end is not. There Merlin stayd,

As ouercomen of the spirites powre,

Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd,

That secretly he saw, yet note discoure:

Which suddein fit, and halfe extatick stoure

When the two fearefull women saw, they grew

Greatly confused in behauioure;

At last the fury past, to former hew

Hee turnd againe, and chearefull looks as earst did shew.

Then, when them selues they well instructed had

Of all, that needed them to be inquird,

They both conceiuing hope of comfort glad,

With lighter hearts vnto their home retird;

Where they in secret counsell close conspird,

How to effect so hard an enterprize,

And to possesse the purpose they desird:

Now this, now that twixt them they did deuise,

And diuerse plots did frame, to maske in strange disguise.

At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit

Conceiu'd a bold deuise, and thus bespake;

Daughter, I deeme that counsell aye most fit,

That of the time doth dew aduauntage take;

Ye see that good king Vther now doth make

Strong warre vpon the Paynim brethren, hight

Octa and Oza, whom he lately brake

Beside Cayr Verolame, in victorious fight,

That now all Britanie doth burne in armes bright.

That therefore nought our passage may empeach,

Let vs in feigned armes our selues disguize,

And our weake hands (whom need new strength shall teach)

The dreadfull speare and shield to exercize:

Ne certes daughter that same warlike wize

I weene, would you misseeme; for ye bene tall,

And large of limbe, t'atchieue an hard emprize,

Ne ought ye want, but skill, which practize small

Will bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall.

And sooth, it ought your courage much inflame,

To heare so often, in that royall hous,

From whence to none inferiour ye came,

Bards tell of many women valorous

Which haue full many feats aduenturous

Performd, in paragone of proudest men:

The bold Bunduca, whose victorious

Exploits made Rome to quake, stout Guendolen,

Renowmed Martia, and redoubted Emmilen.

And that, which more then all the rest may sway,

Late dayes ensample, which these eyes beheld,

In the last field before Meneuia

Which Vther with those forrein Pagans held,

I saw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld

Great Vlfin thrise vpon the bloudy plaine,

And had not Carados her hand withheld

From rash reuenge, she had him surely slaine,

Yet Carados himselfe from her escapt with paine.

Ah read, (quoth Britomart) how is she hight?

Faire Angela (quoth she) men do her call,

No whit lesse faire, then terrible in fight:

She hath the leading of a Martiall

And mighty people, dreaded more then all

The other Saxons, which do for her sake

And loue, themselues of her name Angles call.

Therefore faire Infant her ensample make

Vnto thy selfe, and equall courage to thee take.

Her harty words so deepe into the mynd

Of the young Damzell sunke, that great desire

Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd,

And generous stout courage did inspire,

That she resolu'd, vnweeting to her Sire,

Aduent'rous knighthood on her selfe to don,

And counseld with her Nourse, her Maides attire

To turne into a massy habergeon,

And bad her all things put in readinesse anon.

Th'old woman nought, that needed, did omit;

But all things did conueniently puruay:

It fortuned (so time their turne did fit)

A band of Britons ryding on forray

Few dayes before, had gotten a great pray

Of Saxon goods, emongst the which was seene

A goodly Armour, and full rich aray,

Which long'd to Angela, the Saxon Queene,

All fretted round with gold, and goodly well beseene.

The same, with all the other ornaments,

King Ryence caused to be hanged hy

In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moniments

Of his successe and gladfull victory:

Of which her selfe auising readily,

In th'euening late old Glauce thither led

Faire Britomart, and that same Armory

Downe taking, her therein appareled,

Well as she might, and with braue bauldrick garnished.

Beside those armes there stood a mighty speare,

Which Bladud made by Magick art of yore,

And vsd the same in battell aye to beare;

Sith which it had bin here preseru'd in store,

For his great vertues proued long afore:

For neuer wight so fast in sell could sit,

But him perforce vnto the ground it bore:

Both speare she tooke, and shield, which hong by it:

Both speare & shield of great powre, for her purpose fit.

Thus when she had the virgin all arayd,

Another harnesse, which did hang thereby,

About her selfe she dight, that the young Mayd

She might in equall armes accompany,

And as her Squire attend her carefully:

Tho to their ready Steeds they clombe full light,

And through back wayes, that none might them espy,

Couered with secret cloud of silent night,

Themselues they forth conuayd, & passed forward right.

Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond

They came, as Merlin them directed late:

Where meeting with this Redcrosse knight, she fond

Of diuerse things discourses to dilate,

But most of Arthegall, and his estate.

At last their wayes so fell, that they mote part

Then each to other well affectionate,

Friendship professed with vnfained hart,

The Redcrosse knight diuerst, but forth rode Britomart.

Canto IV

Bold Marinell of Britomart,

Is throwne on the Rich strond:

Faire Florimell of Arthur is

Long followed, but not fond.

VV Here is the Antique glory now become,

That whilome wont in women to appeare?

Where be the braue atchieuements doen by some?

Where be the battels, where the shield and speare,

And all the conquests, which them high did reare,

That matter made for famous Poets verse,

And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare?

Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herse?

Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reuerse?

If they be dead, then woe is me therefore:

But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake:

For all too long I burne with enuy sore,

To heare the warlike feates, which Homere spake

Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake

Of Greekish bloud so oft in Troian plaine;

But when I read, how stout Debora strake

Proud Sisera, and how Camill' hath slaine

The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdaine.

Yet these, and all that else had puissaunce,

Cannot with noble Britomart compare,

Aswell for glory of great valiaunce,

As for pure chastitie and vertue rare,

That all her goodly deeds do well declare.

Well worthy stock, from which the branches sprong,

That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare,

As thee, O Queene, the matter of my song,

Whose lignage from this Lady I deriue along.

Who when through speaches with the Redcrosse knight,

She learned had th'estate of Arthegall,

And in each point her selfe informd aright,

A friendly league of loue perpetuall

She with him bound, and Congé tooke withall.

Then he forth on his iourney did proceede,

To seeke aduentures, which mote him befall,

And win him worship through his warlike deed,

Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefest meed.

But Britomart kept on her former course,

Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way

Grew pensiue through that amorous discourse,

By which the Redcrosse knight did earst display

Her louers shape, and cheualrous aray;

A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind,

And in her feigning fancie did pourtray

Him such, as fittest she for loue could find,

Wise, warlike, personable, curteous, and kind.

With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fed,

And thought so to beguile her grieuous smart;

But so her smart was much more grieuous bred,

And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart,

That nought but death her dolour mote depart.

So forth she rode without repose or rest,

Searching all lands and each remotest part,

Following the guidaunce of her blinded guest,

Till that to the sea-coast at length she her addrest.

There she alighted from her light-foot beast,

And sitting downe vpon the rocky shore,

Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creast;

Tho hauing vewd a while the surges hore,

That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore,

And in their raging surquedry disdaynd,

That the fast earth affronted them so sore,

And their deuouring couetize restraynd,

Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.

Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe,

Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long,

Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe,

Why do thy cruell billowes beat so strong,

And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,

Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life?

O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong

At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,

Which in these troubled bowels raignes, & rageth rife.

For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt

Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,

Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt

On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,

The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes;

Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind

And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes,

But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind:

How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind?

Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas,

That raignest also in the Continent,

At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease,

The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,

Vnto the gladsome port of her intent:

Then when I shall my selfe in safety see,

A table for eternall moniment

Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,

Great Neptune, I auow to hallow vnto thee.

Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe,

She shut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe;

For her great courage would not let her weepe,

Till that old Glauce gan with sharpe repriefe,

Her to restraine, and giue her good reliefe,

Through hope of those, which Merlin had her told

Should of her name and nation be chiefe,

And fetch their being from the sacred mould

Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.

Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde,

Where farre away one all in armour bright,

With hastie gallop towards her did ryde;

Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight

Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light:

Her former sorrow into suddein wrath,

Both coosen passions of distroubled spright,

Conuerting, forth she beates the dustie path;

Loue and despight attonce her courage kindled hath.

As when a foggy mist hath ouercast

The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engrost,

The world in darkenesse dwels, till that at last

The watry Southwinde from the seabord cost

Vpblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo'st,

And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre;

So the faire Britomart hauing disclo'st

Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,

The mist of griefe dissolu'd, did into vengeance powre.

Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire,

That mortall speare she in her hand did take,

And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire.

The knight approching, sternely her bespake;

Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make

By this forbidden way in my despight,

Ne doest by others death ensample take,

I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,

Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.

Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat,

She shortly thus; Fly they, that need to fly;

Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat

To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy.

Ne lenger stayd for th'other to reply,

But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne.

Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily

Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe

Decline her head, & touch her crouper with her crowne.

But she againe him in the shield did smite,

With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,

That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite,

And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce

The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce;

Him so transfixed she before her bore

Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce,

Till sadly soucing on the sandie shore,

He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.

Like as the sacred Oxe, that carelesse stands,

With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd,

Proud of his dying honor and deare bands,

Whiles th'altars fume with frankincense arownd,

All suddenly with mortall stroke astownd,

Doth groueling fall, and with his streaming gore

Distaines the pillours, and the holy grownd,

And the faire flowres, that decked him afore;

So fell proud Marinell vpon the pretious shore.

The martiall Mayd stayd not him to lament,

But forward rode, and kept her readie way

Along the strond, which as she ouer-went,

She saw bestrowed all with rich aray

Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,

And all the grauell mixt with golden owre;

Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay

For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre,

But them despised all; for all was in her powre.

Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment,

Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare;

His mother was the blacke-browd Cymoent,

The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare

This warlike sonne vnto an earthly peare,

The famous Dumarin; who on a day

Finding the Nymph a sleepe in secret wheare,

As he by chaunce did wander that same way,

Was taken with her loue, and by her closely lay.

There he this knight of her begot, whom borne

She of his father Marinell did name,

And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne,

Long time she fostred vp, till he became

A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame

Did get through great aduentures by him donne:

For neuer man he suffred by that same

Rich strond to trauell, whereas he did wonne,

But that he must do battell with the Sea-nymphes sonne.

An hundred knights of honorable name

He had subdew'd and them his vassals made,

That through all Farie lond his noble fame

Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade,

That none durst passen through that perilous glade.

And to aduance his name and glorie more,

Her Sea-god syre she dearely did perswade,

T'endow her sonne with threasure and rich store,

Boue all the sonnes, that were of earthly wombes ybore.

The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund,

To doen his Nephew in all riches flow;

Eftsoones his heaped waues he did commaund,

Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw

All the huge threasure, which the sea below

Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe,

And him enriched through the ouerthrow

And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe,

And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe.

Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was,

Exceeding riches and all pretious things,

The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas

The wealth of th'East, and pompe of Persian kings;

Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings,

And all that else was pretious and deare,

The sea vnto him voluntary brings,

That shortly he a great Lord did appeare,

As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare.

Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight,

Tryde often to the scath of many deare,

That none in equall armes him matchen might,

The which his mother seeing, gan to feare

Least his too haughtie hardines might reare

Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life:

For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare

The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife,

But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife.

And for his more assurance, she inquir'd

One day of Proteus by his mightie spell,

(For Proteus was with prophecie inspir'd)

Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell,

And the sad end of her sweet Marinell.

Who through foresight of his eternall skill,

Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:

For of a woman he should haue much ill,

A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill.

For thy she gaue him warning euery day,

The loue of women not to entertaine;

A lesson too too hard for liuing clay,

From loue in course of nature to refraine:

Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,

And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly;

Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine,

That they for loue of him would algates dy:

Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy.

But ah, who can deceiue his destiny,

Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate?

That when he sleepes in most security,

And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate,

And findeth dew effect or soone or late.

So feeble is the powre of fleshly arme.

His mother bad him womens loue to hate,

For she of womans force did feare no harme;

So weening to haue arm'd him, she did quite disarme.

This was that woman, this that deadly wound,

That Proteus prophecide should him dismay,

The which his mother vainely did expound,

To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay

To bring her sonne vnto his last decay.

So tickle be the termes of mortall state,

And full of subtile sophismes, which do play

With double senses, and with false debate,

T'approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate.

Too true the famous Marinell it fownd,

Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond

Inglorious now lies in senselesse swownd,

Through heauy stroke of Britomartis hond.

Which when his mother deare did vnderstond,

And heauy tydings heard, whereas she playd

Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,

Gathering sweet daffadillyes, to haue made

Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to shade.

Eftsoones both flowres and girlonds farre away

She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent,

To sorrow huge she turnd her former play,

And gamesom merth to grieuous dreriment:

She threw her selfe downe on the Continent,

Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne,

Whiles all her sisters did for her lament,

With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne;

And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne.

Soone as she vp out of her deadly fit

Arose, she bad her charet to be brought,

And all her sisters, that with her did sit,

Bad eke attonce their charets to be sought;

Tho full of bitter griefe and pensiue thought,

She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest,

And forth together went, with sorrow fraught.

The waues obedient to their beheast,

Them yielded readie passage, and their rage surceast.

Great Neptune stood amazed at their sight,

Whiles on his broad round backe they softly slid

And eke himselfe mournd at their mournfull plight,

Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did

For great compassion of their sorrow, bid

His mightie waters to them buxome bee;

Eftsoones the roaring billowes still abid,

And all the griesly Monsters of the See

Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see.

A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray,

Drew the smooth charet of sad Cymoent;

They were all taught by Triton, to obay

To the long raynes, at her commaundement:

As swift as swallowes, on the waues they went,

That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare,

Ne bubbling roundell they behind them sent;

The rest of other fishes drawen weare,

Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare.

Soone as they bene arriu'd vpon the brim

Of the Rich strond, their charets they forlore,

And let their temed fishes softly swim

Along the margent of the fomy shore,

Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore

Their tender feet vpon the stony ground:

And comming to the place, where all in gore

And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found

The lucklesse Marinell, lying in deadly swound;

His mother swowned thrise, and the third time

Could scarce recouered be out of her paine;

Had she not bene deuoyd of mortall slime,

She should not then haue bene reliu'd againe,

But soone as life recouered had the raine,

She made so piteous mone and deare wayment,

That the hard rocks could scarse from teares refraine,

And all her sister Nymphes with one consent

Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.

Deare image of my selfe (she said) that is,

The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne,

Is this thine high aduauncement, O is this

Th'immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne

Thy Gransire Nereus promist to adorne?

Now lyest thou of life and honor reft;

Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,

Ne of thy late life memory is left,

Ne can thy irreuocable destiny be weft?

Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis,

And they more fond, that credit to thee giue,

Not this the worke of womans hand ywis,

That so deepe wound through these deare members driue.

I feared loue: but they that loue do liue,

But they that die, doe neither loue nor hate.

Nath'lesse to thee thy folly I forgiue,

And to my selfe, and to accursed fate

The guilt I doe ascribe: deare wisedome bought too late.

O what auailes it of immortall seed

To beene ybred and neuer borne to die?

Farre better I it deeme to die with speed,

Then waste in woe and wailefull miserie.

Who dyes the vtmost dolour doth abye,

But who that liues, is left to waile his losse:

So life is losse, and death felicitie.

Sad life worse then glad death: and greater crosse

To see friends graue, them dead the graue selfe to engrosse.

But if the heauens did his dayes enuie,

And my short blisse maligne, yet mote they well

Thus much afford me, ere that he did die

That the dim eyes of my deare Marinell

I mote haue closed, and him bed farewell,

Sith other offices for mother meet

They would not graunt.

Yet maulgre them farewell, my sweetest sweet;

Farewell my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall meet.

Thus when they all had sorrowed their fill,

They softly gan to search his griesly wound:

And that they might him handle more at will,

They him disarm'd, and spredding on the ground

Their watchet mantles frindgd with siluer round,

They softly wipt away the gelly blood

From th'orifice; which hauing well vpbound,

They pourd in soueraine balme, and Nectar good,

Good both for earthly med'cine, and for heauenly food.

Tho when the lilly handed Liagore,

(This Liagore whylome had learned skill

In leaches craft, by great Appolloes lore,

Sith her whylome vpon high Pindus hill,

He loued, and at last her wombe did fill

With heauenly seed, whereof wise Pæon sprong)

Did feele his pulse, she knew their staied still

Some litle life his feeble sprites emong;

Which to his mother told, despeire she from her flong.

Tho vp him taking in their tender hands,

They easily vnto her charet beare:

Her teme at her commaundement quiet stands,

Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare,

And strow with flowres the lamentable beare:

Then all the rest into their coches clim,

And through the brackish waues their passage sheare;

Vpon great Neptunes necke they softly swim,

And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him.

Deepe in the bottome of the sea, her bowre

Is built of hollow billowes heaped hye,

Like to thicke cloudes, that threat a stormy showre,

And vauted all within, like to the sky,

In which the Gods do dwell eternally:

There they him laid in easie couch well dight;

And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply

Salues to his wounds, and medicines of might:

For Tryphon of sea gods the soueraine leach is hight.

The whiles the Nymphes sit all about him round,

Lamenting his mishap and heauy plight;

And oft his mother vewing his wide wound,

Cursed the hand, that did so deadly smight

Her dearest sonne, her dearest harts delight.

But none of all those curses ouertooke

The warlike Maid, th'ensample of that might,

But fairely well she thriu'd, and well did brooke

Her noble deeds, ne her right course for ought forsooke.

Yet did false Archimage her still pursew,

To bring to passe his mischieuous intent,

Now that he had her singled from the crew

Of courteous knights, the Prince, and Faery gent,

Whom late in chace of beautie excellent

She left, pursewing that same foster strong;

Of whose foule outrage they impatient,

And full of fiery zeale, him followed long,

To reskew her from shame, and to reuenge her wrong.

Through thick and thin, through mountaines & through plains,

Those two great champions did attonce pursew

The fearefull damzell, with incessant paines:

Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew

Of hunter swift, and sent of houndes trew.

At last they came vnto a double way,

Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew,

Themselues they did dispart, each to assay,

Whether more happie were, to win so goodly pray.

But Timias, the Princes gentle Squire,

That Ladies loue vnto his Lord forlent,

And with proud enuy, and indignant ire,

After that wicked foster fiercely went.

So beene they three three sundry wayes ybent.

But fairest fortune to the Prince befell,

Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did repent,

To take that way, in which that Damozell

Was fled afore, affraid of him, as feend of hell.

At last of her farre off he gained vew:

Then gan he freshly pricke his fomy steed,

And euer as he nigher to her drew,

So euermore he did increase his speed,

And of each turning still kept warie heed:

Aloud to her he oftentimes did call,

To doe away vaine doubt, and needlesse dreed:

Full myld to her he spake, and oft let fall

Many meeke wordes, to stay and comfort her withall.

But nothing might relent her hastie flight;

So deepe the deadly feare of that foule swaine

Was earst impressed in her gentle spright:

Like as a fearefull Doue, which through the raine,

Of the wide aire her way does cut amaine,

Hauing farre off espyde a Tassell gent,

Which after her his nimble wings doth straine,

Doubleth her haste for feare to be for-hent,

And with her pineons cleaues the liquid firmament.

With no lesse haste, and eke with no lesse dreed,

That fearefull Ladie fled from him, that ment

To her no euill thought, nor euill deed;

Yet former feare of being fowly shent,

Carried her forward with her first intent:

And though oft looking backward, well she vewd,

Her selfe freed from that foster insolent,

And that it was a knight, which now her sewd,

Yet she no lesse the knight feard, then that villein rude.

His vncouth shield and straunge armes her dismayd,

Whose like in Faery lond were seldome seene,

That fast she from him fled, no lesse affrayd,

Then of wilde beastes if she had chased beene:

Yet he her followd still with courage keene,

So long that now the golden Hesperus

Was mounted high in top of heauen sheene,

And warnd his other brethren ioyeous,

To light their blessed lamps in Ioues eternall hous.

All suddenly dim woxe the dampish ayre,

And griesly shadowes couered heauen bright,

That now with thousand starres was decked fayre;

Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull sight,

And that perforce, for want of lenger light,

He mote surcease his suit, and lose the hope

Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte

His wicked fortune, that had turnd aslope,

And cursed night, that reft from him so goodly scope.

Tho when her wayes he could no more descry,

But to and fro at disauenture strayd;

Like as a ship, whose Lodestarre suddenly

Couered with cloudes, her Pilot hath dismayd;

His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd,

And from his loftie steed dismounting low,

Did let him forage. Downe himselfe he layd

Vpon the grassie ground, to sleepe a throw;

The cold earth was his couch, the hard steele his pillow.

But gentle Sleepe enuyde him any rest;

In stead thereof sad sorrow, and disdaine

Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest,

And thousand fancies bet his idle braine

With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine:

Oft did he wish, that Lady faire mote bee

His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine:

Or that his Faery Queene were such, as shee:

And euer hastie Night he blamed bitterlie.

Night thou foule Mother of annoyance sad,

Sister of heauie death, and nourse of woe,

Which wast begot in heauen, but for thy bad

And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below,

Where by the grim floud of Cocytus slow

Thy dwelling is, in Herebus blacke hous,

(Blacke Herebus thy husband is the foe

Of all the Gods) where thou vngratious,

Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous.

What had th'eternall Maker need of thee,

The world in his continuall course to keepe,

That doest all things deface, ne lettest see

The beautie of his worke? Indeed in sleepe

The slouthfull bodie, that doth loue to steepe

His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind,

Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe

Calles thee, his goddesse in his error blind,

And great Dame Natures handmaide, chearing euery kind.

But well I wote, that to an heauy hart

Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares,

Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts:

In stead of rest thou lendest rayling teares,

In stead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares,

And dreadfull visions, in the which aliue

The drearie image of sad death appeares:

So from the wearie spirit thou doest driue

Desired rest, and men of happinesse depriue.

Vnder thy mantle blacke there hidden lye,

Light-shonning theft, and traiterous intent,

Abhorred bloudshed, and vile felony,

Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent;

Foule horror, and eke hellish dreriment:

All these I wote in thy protection bee,

And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent:

For light ylike is loth'd of them and thee,

And all that lewdnesse loue, doe hate the light to see.

For day discouers all dishonest wayes,

And sheweth each thing, as it is indeed:

The prayses of high God he faire displayes,

And his large bountie rightly doth areed.

Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed,

Which darknesse shall subdew, and heauen win;

Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed,

Most sacred virgin, without spot of sin.

Our life is day, but death with darknesse doth begin.

O when will day then turne to me againe,

And bring with him his long expected light?

O Titan, haste to reare thy ioyous waine:

Speed thee to spred abroad thy beames bright?

And chase away this too long lingring night,

Chase her away, from whence she came, to hell.

She, she it is, that hath me done despight:

There let her with the damned spirits dwell,

And yeeld her roome to day, that can it gouerne well.

Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare,

In restlesse anguish and vnquiet paine:

And earely, ere the morrow did vpreare

His deawy head out of the Ocean maine,

He vp arose, as halfe in great disdaine,

And clombe vnto his steed. So forth he went,

With heauie looke and lumpish pace, that plaine

In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent:

His steed eke seem'd t'apply his steps to his intent.

Canto V

Prince Arthur heares of Florimell:

three fosters Timias wound,

Belphebe finds him almost dead,

and reareth out of sownd.

VV Onder it is to see, in diuerse minds,

How diuersly loue doth his pageants play,

And shewes his powre in variable kinds:

The baser wit, whose idle thoughts alway

Are wont to cleaue vnto the lowly clay,

It stirreth vp to sensuall desire,

And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day:

But in braue sprite it kindles goodly fire,

That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.

Ne suffereth it vncomely idlenesse,

In his free thought to build her sluggish nest:

Ne suffereth it thought of vngentlenesse,

Euer to creepe into his noble brest,

But to the highest and the worthiest

Lifteth it vp, that else would lowly fall:

It lets not fall, it lets it not to rest:

It lets not scarse this Prince to breath at all,

But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call.

Who long time wandred through the forrest wyde,

To finde some issue thence, till that at last

He met a Dwarfe, that seemed terrifyde

With some late perill, which he hardly past,

Or other accident, which him aghast;

Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,

And whither now he trauelled so fast:

For sore he swat, and running through that same

Thicke forest, was bescratcht, & both his feet nigh lame.

Panting for breath, and almost out of hart,

The Dwarfe him answerd, Sir, ill mote I stay

To tell the same. I lately did depart

From Faery court, where I haue many a day

Serued a gentle Lady of great sway,

And high accompt throughout all Elfin land,

Who lately left the same, and tooke this way:

Her now I seeke, and if ye vnderstand

Which way she fared hath, good Sir tell out of hand.

What mister wight (said he) and how arayd?

Royally clad (quoth he) in cloth of gold,

As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd;

Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,

A fairer wight did neuer Sunne behold,

And on a Palfrey rides more white then snow,

Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold:

The surest signe, whereby ye may her know,

Is, that she is the fairest wight aliue, I trow.

Now certes swaine (said he) such one I weene,

Fast flying through this forest from her fo,

A foule ill fauoured foster, I haue seene;

Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho,

But could not stay; so fast she did foregoe,

Carried away with wings of speedy feare.

Ah dearest God (quoth he) that is great woe,

And wondrous ruth to all, that shall it heare.

But can ye read Sir, how I may her find, or where.

Perdy me leuer were to weeten that,

(Said he) then ransome of the richest knight,

Or all the good that euer yet I gat:

But froward fortune, and too forward Night

Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me spight,

And fro me reft both life and light attone.

But Dwarfe aread, what is that Lady bright,

That through this forest wandreth thus alone;

For of her errour straunge I haue great ruth and mone.

That Lady is (quoth he) where so she bee,

The bountiest virgin, and most debonaire,

That euer liuing eye I weene did see;

Liues none this day, that may with her compare

In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare,

The goodly ornaments of beautie bright;

And is ycleped Florimell the faire,

Faire Florimell belou'd of many a knight,

Yet she loues none but one, that Marinell is hight.

A Sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is hight,

Of my deare Dame is loued dearely well;

In other none, but him, she sets delight,

All her delight is set on Marinell;

But he sets nought at all by Florimell:

For Ladies loue his mother long ygoe

Did him, they say, forwarne through sacred spell.

But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe

He is yslaine, which is the ground of all our woe.

Fiue dayes there be, since he (they say) was slaine,

And foure, since Florimell the Court for-went,

And vowed neuer to returne againe,

Till him aliue or dead she did inuent.

Therefore, faire Sir, for loue of knighthood gent,

And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may

By your good counsell, or bold hardiment,

Or succour her, or me direct the way;

Do one, or other good, I you most humbly pray.

So may ye gaine to you full great renowme,

Of all good Ladies through the world so wide,

And haply in her hart find highest rowme,

Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide:

At least eternall meede shall you abide.

To whom the Prince; Dwarfe, comfort to thee take,

For till thou tidings learne, what her betide,

I here auow thee neuer to forsake.

Ill weares he armes, that nill them vse for Ladies sake.

So with the Dwarfe he backe return'd againe,

To seeke his Lady, where he mote her find;

But by the way he greatly gan complaine

The want of his good Squire late left behind,

For whom he wondrous pensiue grew in mind,

For doubt of daunger, which mote him betide;

For him he loued aboue all mankind,

Hauing him trew and faithfull euer tride,

And bold, as euer Squire that waited by knights side.

Who all this while full hardly was assayd

Of deadly daunger, which to him betid;

For whiles his Lord pursewd that noble Mayd,

After that foster fowle he fiercely rid,

To bene auenged of the shame, he did

To that faire Damzell: Him he chaced long

Through the thicke woods, wherein he would haue hid

His shamefull head from his auengement strong.

And oft him threatned death for his outrageous wrong.

Nathlesse the villen sped him selfe so well,

Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast,

Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell,

That shortly he from daunger was releast,

And out of sight escaped at the least;

Yet not escaped from the dew reward

Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast,

Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard

The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.

For soone as he was vanisht out of sight,

His coward courage gan emboldned bee,

And cast t'auenge him of that fowle despight,

Which he had borne of his bold enimee.

Tho to his brethren came: for they were three

Vngratious children of one gracelesse sire,

And vnto them complained, how that he

Had vsed bene of that foolehardy Squire;

So them with bitter words he stird to bloudy ire.

Forthwith themselues with their sad instruments

Of spoyle and murder they gan arme byliue,

And with him forth into the forest went,

To wreake the wrath, which he did earst reuiue

In their sterne brests, on him which late did driue

Their brother to reproch and shamefull flight:

For they had vow'd, that neuer he aliue

Out of that forest should escape their might;

Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with such despight.

Within that wood there was a couert glade,

Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne,

Through which it was vneath for wight to wade;

And now by fortune it was ouerflowne:

By that same way they knew that Squire vnknowne

Mote algates passe; for thy, themselues they set

There in await, with thicke woods ouer growne,

And all the while their malice they did whet

With cruell threats, his passage through the ford to let.

It fortuned, as they deuized had,

The gentle Squire came ryding that same way,

Vnweeting of their wile and treason bad,

And through the ford to passen did assay;

But that fierce foster, which late fled away,

Stoutly forth stepping on the further shore,

Him boldly bad his passage there to stay,

Till he had made amends, and full restore

For all the damage, which he had him doen afore.

With that at him a quiu'ring dart he threw,

With so fell force and villeinous despighte,

That through his haberieon the forkehead flew,

And through the linked mayles empierced quite,

But had no powre in his soft flesh to bite:

That stroke the hardy Squire did sore displease,

But more that him he could not come to smite;

For by no meanes the high banke he could sease,

But labour'd long in that deepe ford with vaine disease.

And still the foster with his long bore-speare

Him kept from landing at his wished will;

Anone one sent out of the thicket neare

A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill,

And fethered with an vnlucky quill;

The wicked steele stayd not, till it did light

In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill:

Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight,

But more that with his foes he could not come to fight.

At last through wrath and vengeaunce making way,

He on the bancke arriu'd with mickle paine,

Where the third brother him did sore assay,

And droue at him with all his might and maine

A forrest bill, which both his hands did straine;

But warily he did auoide the blow,

And with his speare requited him againe,

That both his sides were thrilled with the throw,

And a large streame of bloud out of the wound did flow.

He tombling downe, with gnashing teeth did bite

The bitter earth, and bad to let him in

Into the balefull house of endlesse night,

Where wicked ghosts do waile their former sin.

Tho gan the battell freshly to begin;

For nathemore for that spectacle bad,

Did th'other two their cruell vengeaunce blin,

But both attonce on both sides him bestad,

And load vpon him layd, his life for to haue had.

Tho when that villain he auiz'd, which late

Affrighted had the fairest Florimell,

Full of fiers fury, and indignant hate,

To him he turned, and with rigour fell

Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell,

That to the chin he cleft his head in twaine:

Downe on the ground his carkas groueling fell;

His sinfull soule with desperate disdaine,

Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place of paine.

That seeing now the onely last of three,

Who with that wicked shaft him wounded had,

Trembling with horrour, as that did foresee

The fearefull end of his auengement sad,

Through which he follow should his brethren bad,

His bootelesse bow in feeble hand vpcaught,

And therewith shot an arrow at the lad;

Which faintly fluttring, scarce his helmet raught,

And glauncing fell to ground, but him annoyed naught.

With that he would haue fled into the wood;

But Timias him lightly ouerhent,

Right as he entring was into the flood,

And strooke at him with force so violent,

That headlesse him into the foord he sent:

The carkas with the streame was carried downe,

But th'head fell backeward on the continent.

So mischief fel vpon the meaners crowne;

They three be dead with shame, the Squire liues with renowne.

He liues, but takes small ioy of his renowne;

For of that cruell wound he bled so sore,

That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne;

Yet still the bloud forth gusht in so great store,

That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore.

Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest Squire aliue,

Else shall thy louing Lord thee see no more,

But both of comfort him thou shalt depriue,

And eke thy selfe of honour, which thou didst atchiue.

Prouidence heauenly passeth liuing thought,

And doth for wretched mens reliefe make way;

For loe great grace or fortune thither brought

Comfort to him, that comfortlesse now lay.

In those same woods, ye well remember may,

How that a noble hunteresse did wonne,

She, that base Braggadochio did affray,

And made him fast out of the forrest runne;

Belphoebe was her name, as faire as Phoebus sunne.

She on a day, as she pursewd the chace

Of some wild beast, which with her arrowes keene

She wounded had, the same along did trace

By tract of bloud, which she had freshly seene,

To haue besprinckled all the grassy greene;

By the great persue, which she there perceau'd,

Well hoped she the beast engor'd had beene,

And made more hast, the life to haue bereau'd:

But ah, her expectation greatly was deceau'd.

Shortly she came, whereas that woefull Squire

With bloud deformed, lay in deadly swownd:

In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire,

The Christall humour stood congealed rownd;

His locks, like faded leaues fallen to grownd,

Knotted with bloud, in bounches rudely ran,

And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd

The bud of youth to blossome faire began,

Spoild of their rosie red, were woxen pale and wan.

Saw neuer liuing eye more heauy sight,

That could haue made a rocke of stone to rew,

Or riue in twaine: which when that Lady bright

Besides all hope with melting eyes did vew,

All suddeinly abasht she chaunged hew,

And with sterne horrour backward gan to start:

But when she better him beheld, she grew

Full of soft passion and vnwonted smart:

The point of pitty perced through her tender hart.

Meekely she bowed downe, to weete if life

Yet in his frosen members did remaine,

And feeling by his pulses beating rife,

That the weake soule her seat did yet retaine,

She cast to comfort him with busie paine:

His double folded necke she reard vpright,

And rubd his temples, and each trembling vaine;

His mayled haberieon she did vndight,

And from his head his heauy burganet did light.

Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went,

To seeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy;

For she of hearbes had great intendiment,

Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancy

Her nourced had in trew Nobility:

There, whether it diuine Tobacco were,

Or Panachæa, or Polygony,

She found, and brought it to her patient deare

Who al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare.

The soueraigne weede betwixt two marbles plaine

She pownded small, and did in peeces bruze,

And then atweene her lilly handes twaine,

Into his wound the iuyce thereof did scruze,

And round about, as she could well it vze,

The flesh therewith she suppled and did steepe,

T'abate all spasme, and soke the swelling bruze,

And after hauing searcht the intuse deepe,

She with her scarfe did bind the wound from cold to keepe.

By this he had sweete life recur'd againe,

And groning inly deepe, at last his eyes,

His watry eyes, drizling like deawy raine,

He vp gan lift toward the azure skies,

From whence descend all hopelesse remedies:

Therewith he sigh'd, and turning him aside,

The goodly Mayd full of diuinities,

And gifts of heauenly grace he by him spide,

Her bow and gilden quiuer lying him beside.

Mercy deare Lord (said he) what grace is this,

That thou hast shewed to me sinfull wight,

To send thine Angell from her bowre of blis,

To comfort me in my distressed plight?

Angell, or Goddesse do I call thee right?

What seruice may I do vnto thee meete,

That hast from darkenesse me returnd to light,

And with thy heauenly salues and med'cines sweete,

Hast drest my sinfull wounds? I kisse thy blessed feete.

Thereat she blushing said, Ah gentle Squire,

Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell, but the Mayd,

And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desire

No seruice, bu tthy safety and ayd;

Which if thou gaine, I shalbe well apayd.

We mortall wights, whose liues and fortunes bee

To commun accidents still open layd,

Are bound with commun bond of frailtee,

To succour wretched wights, whom we captiued see.

By this her Damzels, which the former chace

Had vndertaken after her, arriu'd,

As did Belphoebe, in the bloudy place,

And thereby deemd the beast had bene depriu'd

Of life, whom late their Ladies arrow ryu'd:

For thy, the bloudy tract they follow fast,

And euery one to runne the swiftest stryu'd;

But two of them the rest far ouerpast,

And where their Lady was, arriued at the last.

Where when they saw that goodly boy, with blood

Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd,

They wondred much, and shortly vnderstood,

How him in deadly case their Lady fownd,

And reskewed out of the heauy stownd.

Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd

Farre in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd,

She made those Damzels search, which being stayd,

They did him set thereon, and forthwith them conuayd.

Into that forest farre they thence him led,

Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade,

With mountaines round about enuironed,

And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,

And like a stately Theatre it made,

Spreading it selfe into a spatious plaine.

And in the midst a little riuer plaide

Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine

With gentle murmure, that his course they did restraine.

Beside the same a dainty place there lay,

Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene,

In which the birds song many a louely lay

Of gods high prayse, and of their loues sweet teene,

As it an earthly Paradize had beene:

In whose enclosed shadow there was pight

A faire Pauilion, scarcely to be seene,

The which was all within most richly dight,

That greatest Princes liuing it mote well delight.

Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd

In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest,

He rested him a while, and then the Mayd

His ready wound with better salues new drest;

Dayly she dressed him, and did the best

His grieuous hurt to garish, that she might,

That shortly she his dolour hath redrest,

And his foule sore reduced to faire plight:

It she reduced, but himselfe destroyed quight.

O foolish Physick, and vnfruitfull paine,

That heales vp one and makes another wound:

She his hurt thigh to him recur'd againe,

But hurt his hart, the which before was sound,

Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound

From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce.