The Faerie Queene Read Online

But by what haplesse fate,

Or hard misfortune she was thence conuayd,

And stolne away from her beloued mate,

Were long to tell; therefore I here will stay

Vntill another tyde, that I it finish may.

CANTO VII

Amoret rapt by greedie lust
   Belphebe saues from dread,
The Squire her hues, and being blam’d
   his dayes in dole doth lead.

1 Great God of loue, that with thy cruell darts

Doest conquer greatest conquerors on ground,

And setst thy kingdome in the captiue harts

Of Kings and Keasars, to thy seruice bound,

What glorie, or what guerdon hast thou found

In feeble Ladies tyranning so sore;

And adding anguish to the bitter wound,

With which their liues thou lanchedst long afore,

By heaping stormes of trouble on them daily more?

2 So whylome didst thou to faire Florimell;

And so and so to noble Britomart:

So doest thou now to her, of whom I tell,

The louely Amoret, whose gentle hart

Thou martyrest with sorow and with smart,

In saluage forrests, and in deserts wide,

With Beares and Tygers taking heauie part,

Withouten comfort, and withouten guide,

That pittie is to heare the perils, which she tride.

3 So soone as she with that braue Britonesse

Had left that Turneyment for beauties prise,

They trauel’d long, that now for wearinesse,

Both of the way, and warlike exercise,

Both through a forest ryding did deuise

T’alight, and rest their wearie limbs awhile.

There heauie sleepe the eye-lids did surprise

Of Britomart after long tedious toyle,

That did her passed paines in quiet rest assoyle.

4 The whiles faire Antoret, of nought affeard,

Walkt through the wood, for pleasure, or for need;

When suddenly behind her backe she heard

One rushing forth out of the thickest weed,

That ere she backe could turne to taken heed,

Had vnawares her snatched vp from ground.

Feebly she shriekt, but so feebly indeed,

That Britomart heard not the shrilling sound,

There where through weary trauel she lay sleeping sound.

5 It was to weet a wilde and saluage man,

Yet was no man, but onely like in shape,

And eke in stature higher by a span,

All ouergrowne with haire, that could awhape

An hardy hart, and his wide mouth did gape

With huge great teeth, like to a tusked Bore:

For he liu’d all on rauin and on rape

Of men and beasts; and fed on fleshly gore,

The signe whereof yet stain’d his bloudy lips afore.

6 His neather lip was not like roan nor beast,

But like a wide deepe poke, downe hanging low,

In which he wont the relickes of his feast,

And cruell spoyle, which he had spard, to stow:

And ouer it his huge great nose did grow,

Full dreadfully empurpled all with bloud;

And downe both sides two wide long eares did glow,

And raught downe to his waste, when vp he stood,

More great then th’eares of Elephants by Indus flood.

7 His wast was with a wreath of yuie greene

Engirt about, ne other garment wore:

For all his haire was like a garment seene;

And in his hand a tall young oake he bore,

Whose knottie snags were sharpned all afore,

And beath’d in fire for steele to be in sted.

But whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,

Of beasts, or of the earth, I haue not red:

But certes was with milke of Wolues and Tygres fed.

8 This vgly creature in his armes her snatcht,

And through the forrest bore her quite away,

With briers and bushes all to rent and scratcht;

Ne care he had, ne pittie of the pray,

Which many a knight had sought so many a day.

He stayed not, but in his armes her bearing

Ran, till he came to th’end of all his way,

Vnto his caue farre from all peoples hearing,

And there he threw her in, nought feeling, ne nought fearing.

9 For the deare Ladie all the way was dead,

Whilest he in armes her bore; but when she felt

Her selfe downe soust, she waked out of dread

Streight into griefe, that her deare hart nigh swelt,

And eft gan into tender teares to melt.

Then when she lookt about, and nothing found

But darknesse and dread horrour, where she dwelt,

She almost fell againe into a swound,

Ne wist whether aboue she were, or vnder ground.

10 With that she heard some one close by her side

Sighing and sobbing sore, as if the paine

Her tender hart in peeces would diuide:

Which she long listning, softly askt againe

What mister wight it was that so did plaine?

To whom thus aunswer’d was: Ah wretched wight

That seekes to know anothers griefe in vaine,

Vnweeting of thine owne like haplesse plight:

Selfe to forget to mind another, is ouersight.

11 Aye me (said she) where am I, or with whom?

Emong the liuing, or emong the dead?

What shall of me vnhappy maid become?

Shall death be th’end, or ought else worse, aread.

Vnhappy mayd (then answerd she) whose dread

Vntride, is lesse then when thou shalt it try:

Death is to him, that wretched life doth lead,

Both grace and gaine; but he in hell doth lie,

That liues a loathed life, and wishing cannot die.

12 This dismall day hath thee a caytiue made,

And vassall to the vilest wretch aliue,

Whose cursed vsage and vngodly trade

The heauens abhorre, and into darkenesse driue.

For on the spoile of women he doth liue,

Whose bodies chast, when euer in his powre

He may them catch, vnable to gainestriue,

He with his shamefull lust doth first deflowre,

And afterwards themselues doth cruelly deuoure.

13 Now twenty daies, by which die sonnes of men

Diuide their works, haue past through heuen sheene,

Since I was brought into this dolefull den;

During which space these sory eies haue seen

Seauen women by him slaine, and eaten clene.

And now no more for him but I alone,

And this old woman here remaining beene;

Till thou cam’st hither to augment our mone,

And of vs three to morrow he will sure eate one.

14 Ah dreadfull tidings which thou doest declare,

(Quoth she) of all that euer hath bene knowen:

Full many great calamities and rare

This feeble brest endured hath, but none

Equall to this, where euer I haue gone.

But what are you, whom like vnlucky lot

Hath linckt with me in the same chaine attone?

To tell (quoth she) that which ye see, needs not;

A wofull wretched maid, of God and man forgot.

15 But what I was, it irkes me to reherse;

Daughter vnto a Lord of high degree;

That ioyd in happy peace, till fates peruerse

With guilefull loue did secretly agree,

To ouerthrow my state and dignitie.

It was my lot to loue a gentle swaine,

Yet was he but a Squire of low degree;

Yet was he meet, vnlesse mine eye did faine,

By any Ladies side for Leman to haue laine.

16 But for his meannesse and disparagement,

My Sire, who me too dearely well did loue,

Vnto my choise by no meanes would assent,

But often did my folly fowle reproue.

Yet nothing could my fixed mind remoue,

But whether willed or nilled friend or foe,

I me resolu’d the vtmost end to proue,

And rather then my loue abandon so,

Both sire, and friends, and all for euer to forgo.

17 Thenceforth I sought by secret meanes to worke

Time to my will, and from his wrathfull sight

To hide th’intent, which in my heart did lurke,

Till I thereto had all things ready dight.

So on a day vnweeting vnto wight,

I with that Squire agreede away to flit,

And in a priuy place, betwixt vs bight,

Within a groue appointed him to meete;

To which I boldly came vpon my feeble feete.

18 But ah vnhappy houre me thither brought:

For in that place where I him thought to find,

There was I found, contrary to my thought,

Of this accursed Carle of hellish kind,

The shame of men, and plague of womankind,

Who trussing me, as Eagle doth his pray,

Me hether brought with him, as swift as wind,

Where yet vntouched till this present day,

I rest his wretched thrall, the sad Æmylxa.

19 Ah sad Æmylia (then sayd Amoret,)

Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne.

But read to me, by what deuise or wit,

Hast thou in all this time, from him vnknowne

Thine honor sau’d, though into thraldome throwne.

Through helpe (quoth she) of this old woman here

I haue so done, as she to me hath showne.

For euer when he burnt in lustfull fire,

She in my stead supplide his bestiall desire.

20 Thus of their euils as they did discourse,

And each did other much bewaile and mone;

Loe where the villaine selfe, their sorrowes sourse,

Came to the caue, and rolling thence the stone,

Which wont to stop the mouth thereof, that none

Might issue forth, came rudely rushing in,

And spredding ouer all the flore alone,

Gan dight him selfe vnto his wonted sinne;

Which ended, then his bloudy banket should beginne.

21 Which when as fearefull Amoret perceiued,

She staid not the vtmost end thereof to try,

But hke a ghastly Gelt, whose wits are reaued,

Ran forth in hast with hideous outcry,

For horrour of his shamefull villany.

But after her full lightly he vprose,

And her pursu’d as fast as she did flie:

Full fast she flies, and farre afore him goes,

Ne feeles the thorns and thickets pricke her tender toes.

22 Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she staies,

But ouerleapes them all, like Robucke light,

And through the thickest makes her nighest waies;

And euermore when with regardfull sight

She looking backe, espies that griesly wight

Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace,

And makes her feare a spur to hast her flight:

More swift then Myrrh’ or Daphne in her race,

Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in saluage chase.

23 Long so she fled, and so he follow’d long;

Ne liuing aide for her on earth appeares,

But if the heauens helpe to redresse her wrong,

Moued with pity of her plenteous teares.

It fortuned Belphebe with her peares

The woody Nimphs, and with that louely boy,

Was hunting then the Libbards and the Beares,

In these wild woods, as was her wonted ioy,

To banish sloth, that oft doth noble tnindes annoy.

24 It so befell, as oft it fals in chace,

That each of them from other sundred were,

And that same gentle Squire arriu’d in place,

Where this same cursed caytiue did appeare,

Pursuing that fake Lady full of feare,

And now he her quite ouertaken had;

And now he her away with him did beare

Vnder his arme, as seeming wondrous glad,

That by his grenning laughter mote farre off be rad.

25 Which drery sight the gentle Squire espying,

Doth hast to crosse him by the nearest way,

Led with that wofull Ladies piteous crying,

And him assailes with all the might he may,

Yet will not he the louely spoile downe lay,

But with his craggy club in his right hand,

Defends him selfe, and saues his gotten pray.

Yet had it bene right hard him to withstand,

But that he was full light and nimble on the land.

26 Thereto the villaine vsed craft in fight;

For euer when the Squire his iauelin shooke,

He held the Lady form before him right,

And with her body, as a buckler, broke

The puissance of his intended stroke.

And if it chaunst, (as needs it must in fight)

Whilest he on him was greedy to be wroke,

That any little blow on her did light,

Then would he laugh aloud, and gather great delight.

27 Which subtill sleight did him encumber much,

And made him oft, when he would strike, forbeare;

For hardly could he come the carle to touch,

But that he her must hurt, or hazard neare:

Yet he his hand so carefully did beare,

That at the last he did himselfe attaine,

And therein left the pike head of his speare.

A streame of coleblacke bloud thence gusht amaine,

That all her silken garments did with bloud bestaine.

28 With that he threw her rudely on the flore,

And laying both his hands vpon his glaue,

With dreadfull strokes let driue at him so sore,

That forst him flie abacke, himselfe to saue:

Yet he therewith so felly still did raue,

That scarse the Squire his hand could once vpreare,

But for aduantage ground vnto him gaue,

Tracing and trauersing, now here, now there;

For bootlesse thing it was to think such blowes to beare.

29 Whilest thus in battell they embusied were,

Belphebe raunging in that forrest wide,

The hideous noise of their huge strokes did heare,

And drew thereto, making her eare her guide.

Whom when that theefe approching nigh espide,

With bow in hand, and arrowes ready bent,

He by his former combate would not bide,

But fled away with ghastly dreriment,

Well knowing her to be his deaths sole instrument

30 Whom seeing flie, she speedily poursewed

With winged feete, as nimble as the winde,

And euer in her bow she ready shewed,

The arrow, to his deadly marke desynde.

As when Latonaes daughter cruell kynde,

In vengement of her mothers great disgrace,

With fell despight her cruell arrowes tynde

Gainst wofull Niobes vnhappy race,

That all the gods did mone her miserable case.

31 So well she sped her and so far she ventred,

That ere vnto his hellish den he raught,

Euen as he ready was there to haue entred,

She sent an arrow forth with mighty draught,

That in the very dore him ouercaught,

And in his nape arriuing, through it thrild

His greedy throte, therewith in two distraught,

That all his vitall spirites thereby spild,

And all his hairy brest with gory bloud was fild.

32 Whom when on ground she groueling saw to rowle,

She ran in hast his life to haue bereft:

But ere she could him reach, the sinfull sowle

Hauing his carrion corse quite sencelesse left,

Was fled to hell, surcharg’d with spoile and theft.

Yet ouer him she there long gazing stood,

And oft admir’d his monstrous shape, and oft

His mighty limbs, whilest all with filthy bloud

The place there ouerflowne, seemd like a sodaine flood.

33 Thenceforth she past into his dreadfull den,

Where nought but darkesome drerinesse she found,

Ne creature saw, but hearkned now and then

Some litle whispering, and soft groning sound.

With that she askt, what ghosts there vnder ground

Lay hid in horrour of eternall night?

And bad them, if so be they were not bound,

To come and shew themselues before the light,

Now freed from feare and danger of that dismall wight

34 Then forth the sad Æmylia issewed,

Yet trembling euery ioynt through former feare;

And after her the Hag, there with her mewed,

A foule and lothsome creature did appeare;

A leman fit for such a louer deare.

That mou’d Belphebe her no lesse to hate,

Then for to rue the others heauy cheare;

Of whom she gan enquire of her estate.

Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.

35 Thence she them brought toward the place, where late

She left the gentle Squire with Amoret:

There she him found by that new louely mate,

Who lay the whiles in swoune, full sadly set,

From her faire eyes wiping the deawy wet,

Which softly sold, and kissing them atweene,

And handling soft the hurts, which she did get.

For of that Carle she sorely bruz’d had beene,

Als of his owne rash hand one wound was to be seene.

36 Which when she saw, with sodaine glaundng eye,

Her noble heart with sight thereof was fild

With deepe disdaine, and great indignity,

That in her wrath she thought them both haue thrild,

With that selfe arrow, which the Carle had kild:

Yet held her wrathfull hand from vengeance sore,

But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld;

Is this the faith she said, and said no more,

But turnd her face, and fled away for euermore.

37 He seeing her depart, arose vp light,

Right sore agrieued at her sharpe reproofe,

And follow’d fast: but when he came in sight,

He durst not nigh approch, but kept aloofe,

For dread of her displeasures vtmost proofe.

And euermore, when he did grace entreat,

And framed speaches fit for his behoofe,

Her mortall arrowes, she at him did threat,

And forst him backe with fowle dishonor to retreat.

38 At last when long he follow’d had in vaine,

Yet found no ease of griefe, nor hope of grace,

Vnto those woods he turned backe againe,

Full of sad anguish, and in heauy case:

And finding there fit solitary place

For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy glade,

Where hardly eye mote see bright heauens face,

For mossy trees, which couered all with shade

And sad melancholy, there he his cabin made.

39 His wonted warlike weapons all he broke,

And threw away, with vow to vse no more,

Ne thenceforth euer strike in battell stroke,

Ne euer word to speake to woman more;

But in that wildernesse, of men forlore,

And of the wicked world forgotten quight,

His hard mishap in dolor to deplore,

And wast his wretched daies in wofull plight;

So on him selfe to wreake his follies owne despight.

40 And eke his garment, to be thereto meet,

He wilfully did cut and shape anew;

And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment sweet

To be embauhn’d, and sweat out dainty dew,

He let to grow and griesly to concrew,

Vncomb’d, vncurl’d, and carelesly vnshed;

That in short time his face they ouergrew,

And ouer all his shoulders did dispred,

That who he whilome was, vneath was to be red.

41 There he continued in this carefull plight,

Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares,

Through wilfull penury consumed quight,

That like a pined ghost he soone appeares.

For other food then that wilde forrest beares,

Ne other drinke there did he euer tast,

Then running water, tempred with his teares,

The more his weakened body so to wast:

That out of all mens knowledge he was worne at last

42 For on a day, by fortune as it fell,

His owne deare Lord Prince Arthure came that way,

Seeking aduentures, where he mote heare tell;

And as he through the wandring wood did stray,

Hauing espide this Cabin far away,

He to it drew, to weet who there did wonne;

Weening therein some holy Hermit lay,

That did resort of sinfull people shonne;

Or else some woodman shrowded there from scorching sunne.

43 Arriuing there, he found this wretched man,

Spending his daies in dolour and despaire,

And through long fasting woxen pale and wan,

All ouergrowen with rude and rugged haire;

That albeit his owne deare Squire he were,

Yet he him knew not, ne auiz’d at all,

But like strange wight, whom he had seene no where,

Saluting him, gan into speach to fall,

And pitty much his plight, that liu’d like outcast thrall.

44 But to his speach he aunswered no whit,

But stood still mute, as if he had beene dum,

Ne signe of sence did shew, ne common wit,

As one with griefe and anguishe ouercum,

And vnto euery thing did aunswere mum:

And euer when the Prince vnto him spake,

He louted lowly, as did him becum,

And humble homage did vnto him make,

Midst sorrow shewing ioyous semblance for his sake.

45 At which his vncouth guise and vsage quaint

The Prince did wonder much, yet could not ghesse

The cause of that his sorrowfull constraint;

Yet weend by secret signes of manlinesse,

Which close appeard in that rude brutishnesse,

That he whilome some gentle swaine had beene,

Traind vp in feats of armes and knightlinesse;

Which he obseru’d, by that he him had seene

To weld his naked sword, and try the edges keene.

46 And eke by that he saw on euery tree,

How he the name of one engrauen had,

Which likly was his liefest loue to be,

For whom he now so sorely was bestad;

Which was by him BELPHEBE rightly rad.

Yet who was that Belphebe, he ne wist;

Yet saw he often how he wexed glad,

When he it heard, and how the ground he kist,

Wherein it written was, and how himselfe he blist.

47 Tho when he long had marked his demeanor,

And saw that all he said and did, was vaine,

Ne ought mote make him change his wonted tenor,

Ne ought mote ease or mitigate his paine,

He left him there in languor to remaine,

Till time for him should remedy prouide,

And him restore to former grace againe.

Which for it is too long here to abide,

I will deferre the end vntill another tide.

CANTO VIII

The gentle Squire reamers grace,
   Sclaunder her guests doth staine:
Corflambo chaseth Placidas,
   And is by Arthure slaine.

1 Well said the wiseman, now prou’d true by this,

Which to this gentle Squire did happen late,

That the displeasure of the mighty is

Then death it selfe more dread and desperate.

For naught the same may calme ne mitigate,

Till time the tempest doe thereof delay

With sufferaunce soft, which rigour can abate,

And haue the sterne remembrance wypt away

Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay.

2 Like as it fell to this vnhappy boy,

Whose tender heart the faire Belphebe had,

With one sterne looke so daunted, that no ioy

In all his life, which afterwards he lad,

He euer tasted, but with penaunce sad

And pensiue sorrow pind and wore away,

Ne euer laught, ne once shew’d countenance glad;

But alwaies wept and wailed night and day,

As blasted bloosme through heat doth languish & decay;

3 Till on a day, as in his wonted wise

His doole he made, there chaunst a turtle Doue

To come, where he his dolors did deuise,

That likewise late had lost her dearest loue,

Which losse her made like passion also proue.

Who seeing his sad plight, her tender heart

With deare compassion deeply did emmoue,

That she gan mone his vndeserued smart,

And with her dolefull accent beare with him a part.

4 Shee sitting by him as on ground he lay,

Her mournefull notes full piteously did frame,

And thereof made a lamentable lay,

So sensibly compyld, that in the same

Him seemed oft he heard his owne right name.

With that he forth would poure so plenteous teares,

And beat his breast vnworthy of such blame,

And knocke his head, and rend his rugged heares,

That could haue perst the hearts of Tigres & of Beares.

5 Thus long this gentle bird to him did vse,

Withouten dread of perill to repaire

Vnto his wonne, and with her mournefull muse

Him to recomfort in his greatest care,

That much did ease his mourning and misfare:

And euery day for guerdon of her song,

He part of his small feast to her would share;

That at the last of all his woe and wrong

Companion she became, and so continued long.

6 Vpon a day as she him sate beside,

By chance he certaine miniments forth drew,

Which yet with him as relickes did abide

Of all the bounty, which Belphebe threw

On him, whilst goodly grace she did him shew:

Amongst the rest a iewell rich he found,

That was a Ruby of right perfect hew,

Shap’d like a heart, yet bleeding of the wound,

And with a litle golden chaine about it bound.

7 The same he tooke, and with a riband new,

In which his Ladies colours were, did bind

About the turtles necke, that with the vew

Did greatly solace his engrieued mind.

All vnawares the bird, when she did find

Her selfe so deckt, her nimble wings displaid,

And flew away, as lightly as the wind:

Which sodaine accident him much dismaid,

And looking after long, did marke which way she straid.

8 But when as long he looked had in vaine,

Yet saw her forward still to make her flight,

His weary eie returnd to him againe,

Full of discomfort and disquiet plight,

That both his iuell he had lost so light,

And eke his deare companion of his care.

But that sweet bird departing, flew forth right

Through the wide region of the wastfull aire,

Vntill she came where wonned his Belphebe faire.

9 There found she her (as then it did betide)

Sitting in couert shade of arbors sweet,

After late weary toile, which she had tride

In saluage chase, to rest as seem’d her meet.

There she alighting, fell before her feet,

And gan to her her mournfull plaint to make,

As was her wont, thinking to let her weet

The great tormenting griefe, that for her sake

Her gentle Squire through her displeasure did pertake.

10 She her beholding with attentiue eye,

At length did marke about her purple brest

That precious iuell, which she formerly

Had knowne right well with colourd ribbands drest:

Therewith she rose in hast, and her addrest

With ready hand it to haue reft away.

But the swift bird obayd not her behest,

But swaru’d aside, and there againe did stay;

She follow’d her, and thought againe it to assay.

11 And euer when she nigh approcht, the Doue

Would flit a litle forward, and then stay,

Till she drew neare, and then againe remoue;

So tempting her still to pursue the pray,

And still from her escaping soft away:

Till that at length into that forrest wide,

She drew her far, and led with slow delay.

In th’end she her vnto that place did guide,

Whereas that wofull man in languor did abide.

12 Efisoones she flew vnto his fearelesse hand,

And there a piteous ditty new deuiz’d,

As if she would haue made him vnderstand,

His sorrowes cause to be of her despis’d.

Whom when she saw in wretched weedes disguiz’d,

With heary glib deform’d, and meiger face,

Like ghost late risen from his graue agryz’d,

She knew him not, but pittied much his case,

And wisht it were in her to doe him any grace.

13 He her beholding, at her feet downe fell,

And kist the ground on which her sole did tread,

And washt the same with water, which did well

From his moist eies, and like two streames procead,

Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread

What mister wight he was, or what he ment,

But as one daunted with her presence dread,

Onely few ruefull lookes vnto her sent,

As messengers of his true meaning and intent.

14 Yet nathemore his meaning she ared,

But wondred much at his so selcouth case,

And by his persons secret seemlyhed

Well weend, that he had beene some man of place,

Before misfortune did his hew deface:

That being mou’d with ruth she thus bespake.

Ah wofull man, what heauens hard disgrace,

Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake?

Of selfe disliked life doth thee thus wretched make?

15 If heauen, then none may it redresse or blame,

Sith to his powre we all are subiect borne:

If wrathfull wight, then fowle rebuke and shame

Be theirs, that haue so cruell thee forlorne;

But if through inward griefe or wilfull scorne

Of life it be, then better doe aduise.

For he whose dales in wilfull woe are worne,

The grace of his Creator doth despise,

That will not vse his gifts for thanklesse nigardise.

16 When so he heard her say, eftsoones he brake

His sodaine silence, which he long had pent,

And sighing inly deepe, her thus bespake;

Then haue they all themselues against me bent:

For heauen, first author of my languishment,

Enuying my too great felicity,

Did closely with a cruell one consent,

To cloud my daies in dolefull misery,

And make me loath this life, still longing for to die.

17 Ne any but your selfe, ô dearest dred,

Hath done this wrong, to wreake on worthlesse wight

Your high displesure, through misdeeming bred:

That when your pleasure is to deeme aright,

Ye may redresse, and me restore to light.

Which sory words her mightie hart did mate

With mild regard, to see his ruefull plight,

That her inburning wrath she gan abate,

And him receiu’d againe to former fauours state.

18 In which he long time afterwards did lead

An happie life with grace and good accord,

Fearlesse of fortunes chaunge or enuies dread,

And eke all mindlesse of his owne deare Lord

The noble Prince, who neuer heard one word

Of tydings, what did vnto him betide,

Or what good fortune did to him afford,

But through the endlesse world did wander wide,

Him seeking euermore, yet no where him descride.

19 Till on a day as through that wood he rode,

He chaunst to come where those two Ladies late,

Æmylia and Amoret abode,

Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate;

The one right feeble through the euill rate

Of food, which in her duresse she had found:

The other almost dead and desperate

Through her late hurts, and through that haplesse wound,

With which the Squire in her defence her sore astound.

20 Whom when the Prince beheld, he gan to rew

The euill case in which those Ladies lay;

But most was moued at the piteous vew

Of Amoret, so neare vnto decay,

That her great daunger did him much dismay.

Eftsoones that pretious liquour forth he drew,

Which he in store about him kept alway,

And with few drops thereof did softly dew

Her wounds, that vnto strength restor’d her soone anew.

21 Tho when they both recouered were right well,

He gan of them inquire, what euill guide

Them thether brought, and how their harmes befell.

To whom they told all, that did them betide,

And how from thraldome vile they were vntide

Of that same wicked Carle, by Virgins hond;

Whose bloudie corse they shew’d him there beside,

And eke his caue, in which they both were bond:

At which he wondred much, when all those signes he fond.

22 And euermore he greatly did desire

To know, what Virgin did them thence vnbind;

And oft of them did earnestly inquire,

Where was her won, and how he mote her find.

But when as nought according to his mind

He could outlearne, he them from ground did reare:

No seruice lothsome to a gentle kind;

And on his warlike beast them both did beare,

Himselfe by them on foot, to succour them from feare.

23 So when that forrest they had passed well,

A litle cotage farre away they spide,

To which they drew, ere night vpon them fell;

And entring in, found none therein abide,

But one old woman sitting there beside,

Vpon the ground in ragged rude attyre,

With filthy lockes about her scattered wide,

Gnawing her nayles for felnesse and for yre,

And there out sucking venime to her parts entyre.

24 A foule and loathly creature sure in sight,

And in conditions to be loath’d no lesse:

For she was stuft with rancour and despight

Vp to the throat, that oft with bittemesse

It forth would breake, and gush in great excesse,

Pouring out streames of poyson and of gall

Gainst all, that truth or vertue doe professe,

Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall,

And wickedly backbite: Her name men Sclaunder call.

25 Her nature is all goodnesse to abuse,

And causelesse crimes continually to frame,

With which she guiltlesse persons may accuse,

And steale away the crowne of their good name;

Ne euer Knight so bold, ne euer Dame

So chast and loyall liu’d, but she would striue

With forged cause them falsely to defame;

Ne euer thing so well was doen aliue,

But she with blame would blot, & of due praise depriue.

26 Her words were not, as common words are ment,

T’expresse the meaning of the inward mind,

But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit sent

From inward parts, with cancred malice lind,

And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind;

Which passing through the eares, would pierce the hart,

And wound the soule it selfe with griefe vnkind:

For like the stings of Aspes, that kill with smart,

Her spightfull words did pricke, & wound the inner part

27 Such was that Hag, vnmeet to host such guests,

Whom greatest Princes court would welcome fayne,

But neede, that answers not to all requests,

Bad them not looke for better entertayne;

And eke that age despysed nicenesse vaine,

Enur’d to hardnesse and to homely fare,

Which them to warlike discipline did trayne,

And manly limbs endur’d with litle care

Against all hard mishaps and fortunelesse misfare.

28 Then all that euening welcommed with cold,

And chearelesse hunger, they together spent;

Yet found no fault, but that the Hag did scold

And rayle at them with grudgefull discontent,

For lodging there without her owne consent:

Yet they endured all with patience milde,

And vnto rest themselues all onely lent,

Regardlesse of that queane so base and vilde,

To be vniustly blamd, and bitterly reuilde.

29 Here well I weene, when as these rimes be red

With misregard, that some rash witted wight,

Whose looser thought will h’ghtly be misled,

These gentle Ladies will misdeeme too light,

For thus conuersing with this noble Knight;

Sith now of dayes such temperance is rare

And hard to finde, that heat of youthfull spright

For ought will from his greedie pleasure spare,

More hard for hungry steed t’abstaine from pleasant lare.

30 But antique age yet in the infancie

Of time, did liue then like an innocent,

In simple truth and blamelesse chastitie,

Ne then of guile had made experiment,

But voide of vile and treacherous intent,

Held vertue for it selfe in soueraine awe:

Then loyall loue had royall regiment,

And each vnto his lust did make a lawe,

From all forbidden things his liking to withdraw.

31 The Lyon there did with the Lambe consort,

And eke the Doue sate by the Faulcons side,

Ne each of other feared fraud or tort,

But did in safe securitie abide,

Withouten perill of the stronger pride:

But when the world woxe old, it woxe warre old

(Whereof it hight) and hauing shortly tride

The traines of wit, in wickednesse woxe bold,

And dared of all sinnes the secrets to vnfold.

32 Then beautie, which was made to represent

The great Creatours owne resemblance bright,

Vnto abuse of lawlesse lust was lent,

And made the baite of bestiall delight:

Then faire grew foule, and foule grew faire in sight,

And that which wont to vanquish God and man,

Was made the vassall of the victors might;

Then did her glorious flowre wex dead and wan,

Despisd and troden downe of all that ouerran.

33 And now it is so vtterly decayd,

That any bud thereof doth scarse remaine,

But if few plants preseru’d through heauenly ayd,

In Princes Court doe hap to sprout againe,

Dew’d with her drops of bountie Soueraine,

Which from that goodly glorious flowre proceed,

Sprung of the auncient stocke of Princes straine,

Now th’onely remnant of that royall breed,

Whose noble kind at first was sure of heauenly seed.

34 Tho soone as day discouered heauens face

To sinfull men with darknes ouerdight,

This gentle crew gan from their eye-h’ds chace

The drowzie humour of the dampish night,

And did themselues vnto their iourney dight.

So forth they yode, and forward softly paced,

That them to view had bene an vncouth sight;

How all the way the Prince on footpace traced,

The Ladies both on horse, together fast embraced.

35 Soone as they thence departed were afore,

That shamefull Hag, the slaunder of her sexe,

Them follow’d fast, and them reuiled sore,

Him calling theefe, them whores; that much did vexe

His noble hart; thereto she did annexe

False crimes and facts, such as they neuer ment,

That those two Ladies much asham’d did wexe:

The more did she pursue her lewd intent,

And rayl’d and rag’d, till she had all her poyson spent.

36 At last when they were passed out of sight,

Yet she did not her spightfull speach forbeare,

But after them did barke, and still backbite,

Though there were none her hatefull words to heare:

Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare

The stone, which passed straunger at him threw;

So she them seeing past the reach of eare,

Against the stones and trees did rayle anew,

Till she had duld the sting, which in her tongs end grew.

37 They passing forth kept on their readie way,

With easie steps so soft as foot could stryde,

Both for great feeblesse, which did oft assay

Faire Amoret, that scarcely she could ryde,

And eke through heauie armes, which sore annoyd

The Prince on foot, not wonted so to fare;

Whose steadie hand was faine his steede to guyde,

And all the way from trotting hard to spare,

So was his toyle the more, the more that was his care.

38 At length they spide, where towards them with speed

A Squire came gallopping, as he would flie;

Bearing a litle Dwarfe before his steed,

That all the way full loud for aide did crie,

That seem’d his shrikes would rend the brasen skie:

Whom after did a mightie man pursew,

Ryding vpon a Dromedare on hie,

Of stature huge, and horrible of hew,

That would haue maz’d a man his dreadfull face to vew.

39 For from his fearefull eyes two fierie beames,

More sharpe then points of needles did proceede,

Shooting forth farre away two flaming streames,

Full of sad powre, that poysonous bale did breede

To all, that on him lookt without good heed,

And secretly his enemies did slay:

Like as the Basiliske of serpents seede,

From powrefull eyes close venim doth conuay

Into the lookers hart, and killeth farre away.

40 He all the way did rage at that same Squire,

And after him full many threatnings threw,

With curses vaine in his auengefull ire:

But none of them (so fast away he flew)

Him ouertooke, before he came in vew.

Where when he saw the Prince in armour bright,

He cald to him aloud, his case to rew,

And rescue him through succour of his might,

From that his cruell foe, that him pursewd in sight.

41 Efboones the Prince tooke downe those Ladies twaine

From loftie steede, and mounting in their stead

Came to that Squire, yet trembling euery vaine:

Of whom he gan enquire his cause of dread;

Who as he gan the same to him aread,

Loe hard behind his backe his foe was prest,

With dreadfull weapon aymed at his head,

That vnto death had doen him vnredrest,

Had not the noble Prince his readie stroke represt

42 Who thrusting boldly twixt him and the blow,

The burden of the deadly brunt did beare

Vpon his shield, which lightly he did throw

Ouer his head, before the harme came neare.

Nathlesse it fell with so despiteous dreare

And heauie sway, that hard vnto his crowne

The shield it droue, and did the couering reare,

Therewith both Squire and dwarfe did tomble downe

Vnto the earth, and lay long while in senselesse swowne.

43 Whereat the Prince full wrath, his strong right hand

In full auengement heaued vp on hie,

And stroke the Pagan with his steely brand

So sore, that to his saddle bow thereby

He bowed low, and so a while did lie:

And sure had not his massie yron mace

Betwixt him and his hurt bene happily,

It would haue cleft him to the girding place,

Yet as it was, it did astonish him long space.

44 But when he to himselfe returnd againe,

All full of rage he gan to curse and sweare,

And vow by Mahoune that he should be slaine.

With that his murdrous mace he vp did reare,

That seemed nought the souse thereof could beare,

And therewith smote at him with all his might.

But ere that it to him approched neare,

The royall child with readie quicke foresight,

Did shun the proofe thereof and it auoyded light.

45 But ere his hand he could recure againe,

To ward his bodie from the balefull stound,

He smote at him with all his might and maine,

So furiously, that ere he wist, he found

His head before him tombling on the ground.

The whiles his babling tongue did yet blaspheme

And curse his God, that did him so confound;

The whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie streame,

His soule descended downe into the Stygian reame.

46 Which when that Squire beheld, he woxe full glad

To see his foe breath out his spright in vaine:

But that same dwarfe right sorie seem’d and sad,

And howld aloud to see his Lord there slaine,

And rent his haire and scratcht his face for paine.

Then gan the Prince at leasure to inquire

Of all the accident, there hapned plaine,

And what he was, whose eyes did flame with fire;

All which was thus to him declared by that Squire.

47 This mightie man (quoth he) whom you haue slaine,

Of an huge Geauntesse whylome was bred;

And by his strength rule to himselfe did gaine

Of many Nations into thraldome led,

And mightie kingdomes of his force adred;

Whom yet he conquer’d not by bloudie fight,

Ne hostes of men with banners brode dispred,

But by the powre of his infectious sight,

With which he killed all, that came within his might.

48 Ne was he euer vanquished afore,

But euer vanquisht all, with whom he fought;

Ne was there man so strong, but he downebore,

Ne woman yet so faire, but he her brought

Vnto his bay, and captiued her thought.

For most of strength and beautie his desire

Was spoyle to make, and wast them vnto nought,

By casting secret flakes of lustfull fire

From his false eyes, into their harts and parts entire.

49 Therefore Corflambo was he cald aright,

Though namelesse there his bodie now doth lie,

Yet hath he left one daughter that is hight

The faire Pœana; who seemes outwardly

So faire, as euer yet saw liuing eie:

And were her vertue like her beautie bright,

She were as faire as any vnder skie.

But ah she giuen is to vaine delight,

And eke too loose of life, and eke of loue too light.

50 So as it fell there was a gentle Squire,

That lou’d a Ladie of high parentage,

But for his meane degree might not aspire

To match so high, her friends with counsell sage,

Dissuaded her from such a disparage.

But she, whose hart to loue was wholly lent,

Out of his hands could not redeeme her gage,

But firmely following her first intent,

Resolu’d with him to wend, gainst all her friends consent.

51 So twixt themselues they pointed time and place,

To which when he according did repaire,

An hard mishap and disauentrous case

Him chaunst; in stead of his Æmylia faire

This Gyants sonne, that lies there on the laire

An headlesse heape, him vnawares there caught,

And all dismayd through mercilesse despaire,

Him wretched thrall vnto his dongeon brought,

Where he remaines, of all vnsuccour’d and vnsought

52 This Gyants daughter came vpon a day

Vnto the prison in her ioyous glee,

To view the thrals, which there in bondage lay:

Amongst the rest she chaunced there to see

This louely swaine the Squire of low degree;

To whom she did her liking lightly cast,

And wooed him her paramour to bee:

From day to day she woo’d and prayd him fast,

And for his loue him promist libertie at last.

53 He though affide vnto a former loue,

To whom his faith he firmely ment to hold,

Yet seeing not how thence he mote remoue,

But by that meanes, which fortune did vnfold,

Her graunted loue, but with affection cold

To win her grace his libertie to get.

Yet she him still detaines in captiue hold,

Fearing least if she should him freely set,

He would her shortly leaue, and former loue forget.

54 Yet so much fauour she to him hath hight,

Aboue the rest, that he sometimes may space

And walke about her gardens of delight,

Hauing a keeper still with him in place,

Which keeper is this Dwarfe, her dearling base,

To whom the keyes of euery prison dore

By her committed be, of speciall grace,

And at his will may whom he list restore,

And whom he list reserue, to be afflicted more.

55 Whereof when tydings came vnto mine eare,

Full inly sorie for the feruent zeale,

Which I to him as to my soule did beare;

I thether went where I did long conceale

My selfe, till that the Dwarfe did me reueale,

And told his Dame, her Squire of low degree

Did secretly out of her prison steale;

For me he did mistake that Squire to bee;

For neuer two so like did liuing creature see.

56 Then was I taken and before her brought,

Who through the likenesse of my outward hew,

Being likewise beguiled in her thought,

Gan blame me much for being so vntrew,

To seeke by flight her fellowship t’eschew,

That lou’d me deare, as dearest thing aliue.

Thence she commaunded me to prison new;

Whereof I glad did not gainesay nor striue,

But suffired that same Dwarfe me to her dongeon driue.

57 There did I finde mine onely faithfull fiend

In heauy plight and sad perplexitie;

Whereof I sorie, yet my selfe did bend,

Him to recomfort with my companie.

But him the more agreeu’d I found thereby:

For all his ioy, he said, in that distresse

Was mine and his Æmylias libertie.

Æmylia well he lou’d, as I mote ghesse;

Yet greater loue to me then her he did professe.

58 But I with better reason him auiz’d,

And shew’d him how through error and mis-thought

Of our like persons eath to be disguiz’d,

Or his exchange, or freedome might be wrought.

Whereto full loth was he, ne would for ought

Consent, that I who stood all fearelesse free,

Should wilfully be into thraldome brought,

Till fortune did perforce it so decree.

Yet ouerrul’d at last, he did to me agree.

59 The morrow next about the wonted howre,

The Dwarfe cald at the doore of Amyas,

To come forthwith vnto his Ladies bowre.

In steed of whom forth came I Placidas,

And vndiscerned, forth with him did pas.

There with great ioyance and with gladsome glee,

Of faire Pœana I receiued was,

And oft imbrast, as if that I were hee,

And with kind words accoyd, vowing great loue to mee.

60 Which I, that was not bent to former loue,

As was my friend, that had her long refusd,

Did well accept, as well it did behoue,

And to the present neede it wisely vsd.

My former hardnesse first I faire excusd;

And after promist large amends to make.

With such smooth termes her error I abusd,

To my friends good, more then for mine owne sake,

For whose sole libertie I loue and life did stake.

61 Thenceforth I found more fauour at her hand,

That to her Dwarfe, which had me in his charge,

She bad to lighten my too heauie band,

And graunt more scope to me to walke at large.

So on a day as by the flowrie marge

Of a fresh streame I with that Elfe did play,

Finding no meanes how I might vs enlarge,

But if that Dwarfe I could with me conuay,

I lightly snatcht him vp, and with me bore away.

62 Thereat he shriekt aloud, that with his cry

The Tyrant selfe came forth with yelling bray,

And me pursew’d; but nathemore would I

Forgoe the purchase of my gotten pray,

But haue perforce him nether brought away.

Thus as they talked, loe where nigh at hand

Those Ladies two yet doubtfull through dismay

In presence came, desirous t’vnderstand

Tydings of all, which there had hapned on the land.

63 Where soone as sad Æmylia did espie

Her captiue louers friend, young Pladdas;

All mindlesse of her wonted modestie,

She to him ran, and him with streight embras

Enfolding said, and liues yet Amyas?

He liues (quoth he) and his Æmylia loues.

Then lesse (said she) by all the woe I pas,

With which my weaker patience fortune proues.

But what mishap thus long him fro my selfe remoues?

64 Then gan he all this storie to renew,

And tell the course of his captiuitie;

That her deare hart full deepely made to rew,

And sigh full sore, to heare the miserie,

In which so long he mercilesse did lie.

Then after many teares and sorrowes spent,

She deare besought the Prince of remedie:

Who thereto did with readie will consent,

And well perform’d, as shall appeare by his euent.

CANTO IX

The Squire of low degree releast
   Pœana takes to wife:
Britomart fightes with many Knights
   Prince Arthur stints their strife.

1 Hard is the doubt, and difficult to deeme,

When all three kinds of loue together meet,

And doe dispart the hart with powre extreme,

Whether shall weigh the balance downe; to weet

The deare affection vnto kindred sweet,

Or raging fire of loue to woman kind,

Or zeale of friends combynd with vertues meet.

But of them all the band of vertuous mind

Me seemes the gentle hart, should most assured bind.

2 For naturall affection soone doth cesse,

And quenched is with Cupids greater flame:

But faithfull friendship doth them both suppresse,

And them with maystring discipline doth tame,

Through thoughts aspyring to eternall fame.

For as the soule doth rule the earthly masse,

And all the seruice of the bodie frame,

So loue of soule doth loue of bodie passe,

No lesse then perfect gold surmounts the meanest brasse.

3 All which who list by tryall to assay,

Shall in this storie find approued plaine;

In which these Squires true friendship more did sway,

Then either care of parents could refraine,

Or loue of fairest Ladie could constraine.

For though Pœana were as faire as morne,

Yet did this trustie squire with proud disdaine

For his friends sake her offred fauours scorne,

And she her selfe her syre, of whom she was yborne.

4 Now after that Prince Arthur graunted had,

To yeeld strong succour to that gentle swayne,

Who now long time had lyen in prison sad,

He gan aduise how best he mote darrayne

That enterprize, for greatest glories gayne.

That headlesse tyrants tronke he reard from ground,

And hauing ympt the head to it agayne,

Vpon his vsuall beast it firmely bound,

And made it so to ride, as it aliue was found.

5 Then did he take that chaced Squire, and layd

Before the ryder, as he captiue were,

And made his Dwarfe, though with vnwilling ayd,

To guide the beast, that did his maister beare,

Till to his castle they approched neare.

Whom when the watch, that kept continuall ward

Saw comming home; all voide of doubtfull feare,

He running downe, the gate to him vnbard;

Whom straight the Prince ensuing, in together far’d.

6 There he did find in her delirious boure

The faire Pœana playing on a Rote,

Complayning of her cruell Paramoure,

And singing all her sorrow to the note,

As she had learned readily by rote.

That with the sweetnesse of her rare delight,

The Prince halfe rapt, began on her to dote:

Till better him bethinking of the right,

He her vnwares attacht, and captiue held by might.

7 Whence being forth produc’d, when she perceiued

Her owne deare sire, she cald to him for aide.

But when of him no aunswere she receiued,

But saw him sencelesse by the Squire vpstaide,

She weened well, that then she was betraide:

Then gan she loudly cry, and weepe, and waile,

And that same Squire of treason to vpbraide.

But all in vaine, her plaints might not preuaile,

Ne none there was to reskue her, ne none to baile.

8 Then tooke he that same Dwarfe, and him compeld

To open vnto him the prison dore,

And forth to bring those thrals, which there he held.

Thence forth were brought to him aboue a score

Of Knights and Squires to him vnknowne afore:

All which he did from bitter bondage free,

And vnto former liberty restore.

Amongst the rest, that Squire of low degree

Came forth full weake and wan, not like him selfe to bee.

9 Whom soone as faire Æylia beheld,

And Placidas, they both vnto him ran,

And him embracing fast betwixt them held,

Striuing to comfort him all that they can,

And kissing oft his visage pale and wan.

That faire Pœana them beholding both,

Gan both enuy, and bitterly to ban;

Through iealous passion weeping inly wroth,

To see the sight perforce, that both her eyes were loth.

10 But when a while they had together beene,

And diuersly conferred of their case,

She, though full oft she both of them had seene

A sunder, yet not euer in one place,

Began to doubt, when she them saw embrace,

Which was the captiue Squire she lou’d so deare,

Deceiued through great likenesse of their face,

For they so like in person did appeare,

That she vneath discerned, whether whether weare.

11 And eke the Prince, when as he them auized,

Their like resemblaunce much admired there,

And mazd how nature had so well disguized

Her worke, and counterfet her selfe so nere,

As if that by one patterne seene somewhere,

She had them made a paragone to be,

Or whether it through skill, or errour were.

Thus gazing long, at them much wondred he,

So did the other knights and Squires, which him did see.

12 Then gan they ransacke that same Castle strong,

In which he found great store of hoorded threasure,

The which that tyrant gathered had by wrong

And tortious powre, without respect or measure.

Vpon all which the Briton Prince made seasure,

And afterwards continu’d there a while,

To rest him selfe, and solace in soft pleasure

Those weaker Ladies after weary toile;

To whom he did diuide part of his purchast spoile.

13 And for more ioy, that captiue Lady faire

The faire Pœana he enlarged free;

And by the rest did set in sumptuous chaire,

To feast and frollicke; nathemore would she

Shew gladsome countenaunce nor pleasaunt glee:

But grieued was for losse both of her sire,

And eke of Lordship, with both land and fee:

But most she touched was with griefe entire,

For losse of her new loue, the hope of her desire.

14 But her the Prince through his well wonted grace,

To better termes of myldnesse did entreat,

From that fowle rudenesse, which did her deface;

And that same bitter corsiue, which did eat

Her tender heart, and made refraine from meat,

He with good thewes and speaches well applyde,

Did molline, and calme her raging heat.

For though she were most faire, and goodly dyde,

Yet she it all did mar with cruelty and pride.

15 And for to shut vp all in friendly loue,

Sith loue was first the ground of all her griefe,

That trusty Squire he wisely well did moue

Not to despise that dame, which lou’d him liefe,

Till he had made of her some better priefe,

But to accept her to his wedded wife.

Thereto he offred for to make him chiefe

Of all her land and lordship during life:

He yeelded, and her tooke; so stinted all their strife.

16 From that day forth in peace and ioyous blis,

They liu’d together long without debate,

Ne priuate iarre, ne spite of enemis

Could shake the safe assuraunce of their state.

And she whom Nature did so faire create,

That she mote match the fairest of her daies,

Yet with lewd loues and lust intemperate

Had it defaste; thenceforth reformd her waies,

That all men much admyrde her change, and spake her praise.

17 Thus when the Prince had perfectly compylde

These paires of friends in peace and setled rest,

Him selfe, whose minde did trauell as with chylde,

Of his old loue, conceau’d in secret brest,

Resolued to pursue his former quest;

And taking leaue of all, with him did beare

Faire Amoret, whom Fortune by bequest

Had left in his protection whileare,

Exchanged out of one into an other feare.

18 Feare of her safety did her not constraine,

For well she wist now in a mighty hond,

Her person late in perill, did remaine,

Who able was all daungers to withstand.

But now in feare of shame she more did stond,

Seeing her selfe all soly succourlesse,

Left in the victors powre, like vassall bond;

Whose will her weakenesse could no way represse,

In case his burning lust should breake into excesse.

19 But cause of feare sure had she none at all

Of him, who goodly learned had of yore

The course of loose affection to forstall,

And lawlesse lust to rule with reasons lore;

That all the while he by his side her bore,

She was as safe as in a Sanctuary;

Thus many miles they two together wore,

To seeke their loues dispersed diuersly.

Yet neither shewed to other their hearts priuity.

20 At length they came, whereas a troupe of Knights

They saw together skirmishing, as seemed:

Sixe they were all, all full of fell despight,

But foure of them the battell best beseemed,

That which of them was best, mote not be deemed.

Those foure were they, from whom false Florimell

By Braggadochio lately was redeemed.

To weet, sterne Drum, and lewd Claribell,

Loue-lauish Blandamour, and lustfull Paridell.

21 Druons delight was all in single life,

And vnto Ladies loue would lend no leasure:

The more was Claribell enraged rife

With feruent flames, and loued out of measure:

So eke lou’d Blandamour, but yet at pleasure

Would change his liking, and new Lemans proue:

But Paridell of loue did make no threasure,

But lusted after all, that him did moue.

So diuersly these foure disposed were to loue.

22 But those two other which beside them stoode,

Were Britomart, and gentle Scudamour,

Who all the while beheld their wrathfull moode,

And wondred at their implacable stoure,

Whose like they neuer saw till that same houre:

So dreadfull strokes each did at other driue,

And laid on load with all their might and powre,

As if that euery dint the ghost would riue

Out of their wretched corses, and their liues depriue.

23 As when Dan Æolus in great displeasure,

For losse of his deare loue by Neptune hent,

Sends forth the winds out of his hidden threasure,

Vpon the sea to wreake his fell intent;

They breaking forth with rude vnruliment,

From all foure parts of heauen doe rage full sore,

And tosse the deepes, and teare the firmament,

And all the world confound with wide vprore,

As if in stead thereof they Chaos would restore.

24 Cause of their discord, and so fell debate,

Was for the loue of that same snowy maid,

Whome they had lost in Turneyment of late,

And seeking long, to weet which way she straid

Met here together, where through lewd vpbraide

Of Ate and Duessa they fell out,

And each one taking part in others aide,

This cruell conflict raised thereabout,

Whose dangerous successe depended yet in dout.

25 For sometimes Paridell and Blandamour

The better had, and bet the others backe,

Eftsoones the others did the field recoure,

And on their foes did worke full cruell wracke:

Yet neither would their fiendlike fury slacke,

But euermore their malice did augment;

Till that vneath they forced were for lacke

Of breath, their raging rigour to relent,

And rest themselues for to recouer spirits spent.

26 There gan they change their sides, and new parts take;

For Paridell did take to Druons side,

For old despight, which now forth newly brake

Gainst Blandamour, whom alwaies he enuide:

And Blandamour to Claribell relide.

So all afresh gan former fight renew.

As when two Barkes, this caried with the tide,

That with the wind, contrary courses sew,

If wind and tide doe change, their courses change anew.

27 Thenceforth they much more furiously gan fare,

As if but then the battell had begonne,

Ne helmets bright, ne hawberks strong did spare,

That through the clifts the vermeil bloud out sponne,

And all adowne their riuen sides did ronne.

Such mortall malice, wonder was to see

In friends profest, and so great outrage donne:

But sooth is said, and tride in each degree,

Faint friends when they fall out, most cruell fomen bee.

28 Thus they long while continued in fight,

Till Scudamour, and that same Briton maide,

By fortune in that place did chance to light:

Whom soone as they with wrathfull de bewraide,

They gan remember of the fowle vpbraide,

The which that Britonesse had to them donne,

In that late Turney for the snowy maide;

Where she had them both shamefully fordonne,

And eke the famous prize of beauty from them wonne.

29 Eftsoones all burning with a fresh desire

Of fell reuenge, in their malicious mood

They from them selues gan turne their furious ire,

And cruell blades yet steeming with whot bloud,

Against those two let driue, as they were wood:

Who wondring much at that so sodaine fit,

Yet nought dismayd, them stoutly well withstood;

Ne yeelded foote, ne once abacke did flit,

But being doubly smitten likewise doubly smit.

30 The warlike Dame was on her part assaid,

Of Claribell and Blandamour attone;

And Paridell and Drum fiercely laid

At Scudamour, both his professed fone.

Foure charged two, and two surcharged one;

Yet did those two them selues so brauely beare,

That the other litle gained by the lone,

But with their owne repayed duely weare,

And vsury withall: such gaine was gotten deare.

31 Full oftentimes did Britomart assay

To speake to them, and some emparlance moue;

But they for nought their cruell hands would stay,

Ne lend an ear to ought, that might behoue,

As when an eager mastiffe once doth proue

The tast of bloud of some engored beast,

No words may rate, nor rigour him remoue

From greedy hold of that his blouddy feast:

So litle did they hearken to her sweet beheast.

32 Whom when the Briton Prince a farre beheld

With ods of so vnequall match opprest,

His mighty heart with indignation sweld,

And inward grudge fild his heroicke brest:

Eftsoones him selfe he to their aide addrest,

And thrusting fierce into the thickest preace,

Diuided them, how euer loth to rest,

And would them faine from battell to surceasse,

With gentle words perswading them to friendly peace.

33 But they so farre from peace or patience were,

That all at once at him gan fiercely flie,

And lay on load, as they him downe would beare;

Like to a storme, which houers vnder skie

Long here and there, and round about doth stie,

At length breakes downe in raine, and haile, and sleet,

First from one coast, till nought thereof be drie;

And then another, till that likewise fleet;

And so from side to side till all the world it weet.

34 But now their forces greatly were decayd,

The Prince yet being fresh vntoucht afore;

Who them with speaches mild gan first disswade

From such foule outrage, and them long forbore:

Till seeing them through suffrance harmed more,

Him selfe he bent their furies to abate,

And layd at them so sharpely and so sore,

That shortly them compelled to retrate,

And being brought in daunger, to relent too late.

35 But now his courage being throughly fired,

He ment to make them know their follies prise,

Had not those two him instantly desired

T’asswage his wrath, and pardon their mesprise.

At whose request he gan him selfe aduise

To stay his hand, and of a truce to treat

In milder tearmes, as list them to deuise:

Mongst which the cause of their so cruell heat

He did them aske, who all that passed gan repeat;

36 And told at large how that same errant Knight,

To weet faire Britomart, them late had foyled

In open turney, and by wrongfull fight

Both of their publicke praise had them despoyled,

And also of their priuate loues beguyled,

Of two full hard to read the harder theft.

But she that wrongfull challenge soone assoyled,

And shew’d that she had not that Lady reft,

(As they supposd) but her had to her liking left.

37 To whom the Prince thus goodly well replied;

Certes sir Knight, ye seemen much to blame,

To rip vp wrong, that battell once hath tried;

Wherein the honor both of Armes ye shame,

And eke the loue of Ladies foule defame;

To whom the world this franchise euer yeelded,

That of their loues choise they might freedom clame,

And in that right should by all knights be shielded:

Gainst which me seemes this war ye wrongfully haue wielded.

38 And yet (quoth she) a greater wrong remaines:

For I thereby my former loue haue lost,

Whom seeking euer since with endlesse paines,

Hath me much sorrow and much trauell cost;

Aye me to see that gentle maide so tost.

But Scudamour then sighing deepe, thus saide,

Certes her losse ought me to sorrow most,

Whose right she is, where euer she be straide,

Through many perils wonne, and many fortunes waide.

39 For from the first that I her loue profest,

Vnto this houre, this present lucklesse howre,

I neuer ioyed happinesse nor rest,

But thus turmoild from one to other stowre,

I wast my life, and doe my daies deuowre

In wretched anguishe and incessant woe,

Passing the measure of my feeble powre,

That liuing thus, a wretch, and louing so,

I neither can my loue, ne yet my life forgo.

40 Then good sir Claribell him dius bespake,

Now were it not sir Scudamour to you,

Dislikefull paine, so sad a taske to take,

Mote we entreat you, sith this gentle crew

Is now so well accorded all anew;

That as we ride together on our way,

Ye will recount to vs in order dew

All that aduenture, which ye did assay

For that faire Ladies loue: past perils well apay.

41 So gan the rest him likewise to require,

But Britomart did him importune hard,

To take on him diat paine: whose great desire

He glad to satisfie, him selfe prepar’d

To tell through what misfortune he had far’d,

In that atchieuement, as to him befell.

And all those daungers vnto them declar’d,

Which sith they cannot in this Canto well

Comprised be, I will them in another tell.

CANTO X

Scudamour doth his conquest tell,
   Of vertuous Amoret:
Great Venus Temple is describ’d,
   And louers life forth set.

1 True he it said, what euer man it sayd,

That loue with gall and hony doth abound,

But if the one be with the other wayd,

For euery dram of hony therein found,

A pound of gall doth ouer it redound.

That I too true by triall haue approued:

For since the day that first with deadly wound

My heart was launcht, and learned to haue loued,

I neuer ipyed howre, but still with care was moued.

2 And yet such grace is giuen them from aboue,

That all the cares and euill which they meet,

May nought at all their setled mindes remoue,

But seeme gainst common sence to them most sweet;

As hosting in their martyrdome vnmeet.

So all that euer yet I haue endured,

I count as naught, and tread dowrie vnder feet,

Since of my loue at length I rest assured,

That to disloyalty she will not be allured.

3 Long were to tell the trauell and long toile,

Through which this shield of loue I late haue wonne,

And purchased this peerelesse beauties spoile,

That harder may be ended, then begonne.

But since ye so desire, your will be donne.

Then hearke ye gentle knights and Ladies free,

My hard mishaps, that ye may learne to shonne;

For though sweet loue to conquer glorious bee,

Yet is the paine thereof much greater then the fee.

4 What time the fame of this renowmed prise

Flew first abroad, and all mens eares possest,

I hauing armes then taken, gan auise

To winne me honour by some noble gest,

And purchase me some place amongst the best.

I boldly thought (so young mens thoughts are bold)

That this same braue emprize for me did rest,

And that both shield and she whom I behold,

Might be my lucky lot; sith all by lot we hold.

5 So on that hard aduenture forth I went,

And to the place of perill shortly came.

That was a temple faire and auncient,

Which of great mother Venus bare the name,

And farre renowmed through exceeding fame;

Much more then that, which was in Paphos built,

Or that in Cyprus, both long since this same,

Though all the pillours of the one were guilt,

And all the others pauement were with yuory spilt.

6 And it was seated in an Island strong,

Abounding all with delices most rare,

And wall’d by nature gainst inuaders wrong,

That none mote haue accesse, nor inward fare,

But by one way, that passage did prepare.

It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wize,

With curious Corbes and pendants grauen faire,

And arched all with porches, did arize

On stately pillours, fram’d after the Doricke guize.

7 And for defence thereof, on th’other end

There reared was a castle faire and strong,

That warded all which in or out did wend,

And flancked both the bridges sides along,

Gainst all that would it faine to force or wrong.

And therein wonned twenty valiant Knights;

All twenty tride in warres experience long;

Whose office was, against all manner wights

By all meanes to maintaine that castels ancients rights.

8 Before that Castle was an open plaine,

And in the midst thereof a piller placed;

On which this shield, of many sought in vaine,

The shield of Loue, whose guerdon me hath graced,

Was hangd on high with golden ribbands laced;

And in the marble stone was written this,

With golden letters goodly well enchaced,

Blessed the man that well can vse his blis:

Whose euer be the shield, faire Amoret be his.

9 Which when I red, my heart did inly earne,

And pant with hope of that aduentures hap:

Ne stayed further newes thereof to learne,

But with my speare vpon the shield did rap,

That all the castle ringed with the clap.

Stright forth issewd a Knight all arm’d to proofe,

And brauely mounted to his most mishap:

Who staying nought to question from aloofe,

Ran fierce at me, that fire glaunst from his horses hoofe.

10 Whom boldly I encountred (as I could)

And by good fortune shortly him vnseated.

Eftsoones out sprung two more of equall mould;

But I them both with equall hap defeated:

So all the twenty I likewise entreated,

And left them groning there vpon the plaine.

Then preacing to the pillour I repeated

The read thereof for guerdon of my paine,

And taking downe the shield, with me did it retaine.

11 So forth without impediment I past,

Till to the Bridges vtter gate I came:

The which I found sure lockt and chained fast

I knockt, but no man aunswred me by name;

I cald, but no man answred to my clame.

Yet I perseuer’d still to knocke and call,

Till at the last I spide within the same,

Where one stood peeping through a creuis small,

To whom I cald aloud, halfe angry therewithal!.

12 That was to weet the Porter of the place,

Vnto whose trust the charge thereof was lent:

His name was Doubt, that had a double face,

Th’one forward looking, th’other backeward benti

Therein resembling Ianus auncient,

Which hath in charge the ingate of the yeare:

And euennore his eyes about him went,

As if some proued perill he did feare,

Or did misdoubt some ill, whose cause did not appeare.

13 On th’one side he, on th’other sate Delay,

Behinde the gate, that none her might espy;

Whose manner was all passengers to stay,

And entertaine with her occasions sly,

Through which some lost great hope vnheedily,

Which neuer they recouer might againe;

And others quite excluded forth, did ly

Long languishing there in vnpittied paine,

And seeking often entraunce, afterwards in vaine.

14 Me when as he had priuily espide,

Bearing the shield which I had conquerd late,

He kend it streight, and to me opened wide.

So in I past, and streight he closd the gate.

But being in, Delay in close awaite

Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay,

Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate,

And time to steak, the threasure of mans day,

Whose smallest minute lost, no riches render may.

15 But by no meanes my way I would forslow,

For ought that euer she could doe or say,

But from my lofty steede dismounting low,

Past forth on foote, beholding all the way

The goodly workes, and stones of rich assay,

Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill,

That like on earth no where I recken may:

And vnderneath, the riuer rolling still

With murmure soft, that seem’d to serue me workmans will.

16 Thence forth I passed to the second gate,

The Gate of good desert, whose goodly pride

And costly frame, were long here to relate.

The same to all stoode alwaies open wide:

But in the Porch did euermore abide

An hideous Giant, dreadfull to behold,

That stopt the entraunce with his spacious stride,

And with the terrour of his countenance bold

Full many did affray, that else faine enter would.

17 His name was Daunger dreaded ouer all,

Who day and night did watch and duely ward,

From fearefull cowards, entrance to forstall,

And faint-heart-fooles, whom shew of perill hard

Could terrifie from Fortunes faire adward:

For oftentimes faint hearts at first espiall

Of his grim face, were from approaching scard;

Vhworihy they of grace, whom one deniall

Excludes from fairest hope, withouten further triall.

18 Yet many doughty warriours, often tride

In greater perils to be stout and bold,

Durst not the sternnesse of his looke abide,

But soone as they his countenance did behold,

Began to faint, and feele their corage cold.

Againe some other, that in hard assaies

Were cowards knowne, and litle count did hold,

Either through gifts, or guile, or such like waies,

Crept in by stouping low, or stealing of the kaies.

19 But I though meanest man of many moe,

Yet much disdaining vnto him to lout,

Or creepe betweene his legs, so in to goe,

Resolu’d him to assault with manhood stout,

And either beat him in, or driue him out.

Eftsoones aduauncing that enchaunted shield,

With all my might I gan to lay about:

Which when he saw, the glaiue which he did wield

He gan forthwith t’auale, and way vnto me yield.

20 So as I entred, I did backeward looke,

For feare of harme, that might lie hidden there;

And loe his hindparts, whereof heed I tooke,

Much more deformed fearefull vgly were,

Then all his former parts did earst appere.

For hatred, murther, treason, and despight,

With many moe lay in ambushment there,

Awayting to entrap the warelesse wight,

Which did not them preuent with vigilant foresight.

21 Thus hauing past all perill, I was come

Within the compasse of that Islands space;

The which did seeme vnto my simple doome,

The onely pleasant and delightfull place,

That euer troden was of footings trace.

For all that nature by her mother wit

Could frame in earth, and forme of substance base,

Was there, and all that nature did omit,

Art playing second natures part, supplyed it.

22 No tree, that is of count, in greenewood growes,

From lowest Iuniper to Ceder tall,

No flowre in field, that daintie odour throwes,

And deckes his branch with blossomes ouer all,

But there was planted, or grew naturall:

Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice,

But there mote find to please it selfe withall;

Nor hart could wish for any queint deuice,

But there it present was, and did fraile sense entice.

23 In such luxurious plentie of all pleasure,

It seem’d a second paradise to ghesse,

So lauishly enricht with natures threasure,

That if the happie soules, which doe possesse

Th’Elysian fields, and liue in lasting blesse,

‘ Should happen this with liuing eye to see,

They soone would loath their lesser happinesse,

And wish to life return’d againe to bee,

That in this ioyous place they mote haue ioyance free.

24 Fresh shadowes, fit to shroud from sunny ray;

Faire lawnds, to take the sunne in season dew;

Sweet springs, in which a thousand Nymphs did play;

Soft rambling brookes, that gentle slomber drew;

High reared mounts, the lands about to vew;

Low looking dales, disloignd from common gaze;

Delightfull bowres, to solace louers trew;

False Labyrinthes, fond runners eyes to daze;

All which by nature made did nature selfe amaze.

25 And all without were walkes and alleyes dight,

With diuers trees, enrang’d in euen rankes;

And here and there were pleasant arbors pight,

And shadie seates, and sundry flowring bankes,

To sit and rest the walkers wearie shankes,

And therein thousand payres of louers walkt,

Praysing their god, and yeelding him great thankes,

Ne euer ought but of their true loues talkt,

Ne euer for rebuke or blame of any balkt.

26 All these together by themselues did sport

Their spotlesse pleasures, and sweet loues content.

But farre away from these, another sort

Of louers lincked in true harts consent;

Which loued not as these, for like intent,

But on chast vertue grounded their desire,

Farre from all fraud, or fayned blandishment;

Which in their spirits kindling zealous fire,

Braue thoughts and noble deedes did euermore aspire.

27 Such were great Hercules, and Hyllus deare;

Trew Ionathan, and Dauid trustie tryde;

Stout Theseus, and Pirithous his feare;

Pylades and Orestes by bis syde;

Myld Titus and Gesippus without pryde;

Damon and Pythias whom death could not seuer:

All these and all that euer had bene tyde,

In bands of friendship there did liue for euer,

Whose h’ues although decay ‘d, yet loues decayed neuer.

28 Which when as I, that neuer tasted blis,

Nor happie howre, beheld with gazefull eye,

I thought there was none other heauen then this;

And gan their endlesse happinesse enuye,

That being free from feare and gealosye,

Might frankely there their loues desire possesse;

Whilest I through paines and perlous ieopardie,

Was forst to seeke my lifes deare patronesse:

Much dearer be the things, which come through hard distresse.

29 Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw,

Might not my steps withhold, but that forthright

Vnto that purposd place I did me draw,

Where as my loue was lodged day and night:

The temple of great Venus, that is bight

The Queene of beautie, and of loue the mother,

There worshipped of euery liuing wight;

Whose goodly workmanship farre past all other

That euer were on earth, all were they set together.

30 Not that same famous Temple of Diane,

Whose hight all Ephesus did ouersee,

And which all Asia sought with vowes prophane,

One of the worlds seuen wonders sayd to bee,

Might match with this by many a degree:

Nor that, which that wise King of Iurie framed,

With endlesse cost, to be th’Almighties see;

Nor all that else through all the world is named

To all the heathen Gods, might like to this be clamed.

31 I much admyring that so goodly frame,

Vnto the porch approcht, which open stood;

But therein sate an amiable Dame,

That seem’d to be of very sober mood,

And in her semblant shewed great womanhood:

Strange was her tyre; for on her head a crowne

She wore much like vnto a Danisk hood,

Poudred with pearle and stone, and all her gowne

Enwouen was with gold, that raught full low a downe.

32 On either side of her, two young men stood,

Both strongly arm’d, as fearing one another;

Yet were they brethren both of halfe the blood,

Begotten by two fathers of one mother,

Though of contrarie natures each to other:

The one of them hight Loue, the other Hate,

Hate was the elder, Loue the younger brother;

Yet was the younger stronger in his state

Then th’elder, and him maystred still in all debate.

33 Nathlesse that Dame so well them tempred both,

That she them forced hand to ioyne in hand,

Albe that Hatred was thereto full loth,

And turn’d bis face away, as he did stand,

Vnwilling to behold that louely band.

Yet she was of such grace and vertuous might,

That her commaundment he could not withstand,

But bit his lip for felonous despight,

And gnasht his yron tuskes at that displeasing sight.

34 Concord she cleeped was in common reed,

Mother of blessed Peace, and Friendship trew;

They both her twins, both borne of heauenly seed,

And she her selfe likewise diuinely grew;

The which right well her workes diuine did shew:

For strength, and wealth, and happinesse she lends,

And strife, and warre, and anger does subdew:

Of litle much, of foes she maketh frends,

And to afflicted minds sweet rest and quiet sends.

35 By her the heauen is in his course contained,

And all the world in state vnmoued stands,

As their Almightie maker first ordained,

And bound them with inuiolable bands;

Else would the waters ouerflow the lands,

And fire deuoure the ayre, and hell them quight,

But that she holds them with her blessed hands.

She is the nourse of pleasure and delight,

And vnto Venus grace the gate doth open right

36 By her I entring halfe dismayed was,

But she in gentle wise me entertayned,

And twixt her selfe and Loue did let me pas;

But Hatred would my entrance haue restrayned,

And with his club me threatned to haue brayned,

Had not the Ladie with her powrefull speach

Him from his wicked will vneath refrayned;

And th’other eke his malice did empeach,

Till I was throughly past the perill of his reach.

37 Into the inmost Temple thus I came,

Which fuming all with frankensence I found,

And odours rising from the altars name.

Vpon an hundred marble pillors round

The roofe vp high was reared from the ground,

All deckt with crownes, * chaynes, and girlands gay,

And thousand pretious gifts worth many a pound,

The which sad louers for their vowes did pay;

And all the ground was strow’d with flowres, as fresh as May.

38 An hundred Altars round about were set,

All flaming with their sacrifices fire,

That with the steme thereof the Temple swet,

Which rould in clouds to heauen did aspire,

And in them bore true louers vowes entire:

And eke an hundred brasen caudrons bright,

To bath in ioy and amorous desire,

Euery of which was to a damzell hight;

For all the Priests were damzels, in soft linnen dight.

39 Right in the midst the Goddesse selfe did stand

Vpon an altar of some costly masse,

Whose substance was vneath to vnderstand:

For neither pretious stone, nor durefull brasse,

Nor shining gold, nor mouldring clay it was;

But much more rare and pretious to esteeme,

Pure in aspect, and like to christall glasse,

Yet glasse was not, if one did rightly deeme,

But being faire and brickle, likest glasse did seeme.

40 But it in shape and beautie did excell

All other Idoles, which the heathen adore,

Farre passing that, which by surpassing skill

Phidias did make in Paphos Isle of yore,

With which that wretched Greeke, that life forlore

Did fall in loue: yet this much fairer shined,

But couered with a slender veile afore;

And both her feete and legs together twyned

Were with a snake, whose head & tail were fast combyned.

41 The cause why she was couered with a vele,

Was hard to know, for that her Priests the same

From peoples knowledge labour’d to concele.

But sooth it was not sure for womanish shame,

Nor any blemish, which the worke mote blame;

But for, they say, she hath both kinds in one,

Both male and female, both vnder one name:

She syre and mother is her selfe alone,

Begets and eke conceiues, ne needeth other none.

42 And all about her necke and shoulders flew

A flocke of litle loues, and sports, and ioyes,

With nimble wings of gold and purple hew;

Whose shapes seem’d not like to terrestriall boyes,

But like to Angels playing heauenly toyes;

The whilest their eldest brother was away,

Cupid their eldest brother; he enioyes

The wide kingdome of loue with Lordly sway,

And to his law compels all creatures to obay.

43 And all about her altar scattered lay

Great sorts of louers piteously complayning,

Some of their losse, some of their loues delay,

Some of their pride, some paragons disdayning,

Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently fayning,

As euery one had cause of good or ill.

Amongst the rest some one through loues constrayning,

Tormented sore, could not containe it still,

But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill

44 Great Venus, Queene of beautie and of grace,

The ioy of Gods and men, that vnder skie

Doest fayrest shine, and most adorne thy place,

That with thy smyling looke doest pacifie

The raging seas, and makst the stormes to me;

Thee goddesse, thee the winds, the clouds doe feare,

And when thou spredst thy mantle forth on hie,

The waters play and pleasant lands appeare,

And heauens laugh, & al the world shews ioyous cheare.

45 Then doth the dædale earth throw forth to thee

Out of her fruitfull lap aboundant flowres,

And then all liuing wights, soone as they see

The spring breake forth out of his lusty bowres,

They all doe learne to play the Paramours;

First doe the merry birds, thy prety pages

Priuily pricked with thy lustfull powres,

Chirpe loud to thee out of their leauy cages,

And thee their mother call to coole their kindly rages.

46 Then doe the saluage beasts begin to play

Their pleasant friskes, and loath their wonted food;

The Lyons rore, the Tygres loudly bray,

The raging Buls rebellow through the wood,

And breaking forth, dare tempt the deepest flood,

To come where thou doest draw them with desire:

So all things else, that nourish vitall blood,

Soone as with fury thou doest them inspire,

In generation seeke to quench their inward fire.

47 So all the world by thee at first was made,

And dayly yet thou doest the same repayre:

Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad,

Ne ought on earth that louely is and fayre,

But thou the same for pleasure didst prepayre.

Thou art the root of all that ioyous is,

Great God of men and women, queene of th’ayre,

Mother of laughter, and welspring of blisse,

O graunt that of my loue at last I may not misse.

48 So did he say: but I with murmure soft,

That none might heare the sorrow of my hart,

Yet inly groning deepe and sighing oft,

Besought her to graunt ease vnto my smart,

And to my wound her gratious help impart.

Whitest thus I spake, behold with happy eye

I spyde, where at the Idoles feet apart

A beuie of fayre damzels close did lye,

Wayting when as the Antheme should be sung on hye.

49 The first of them did seeme ofryper yeares,

And grauer countenance then all the rest;

Yet all the rest were eke her equall peares,

Yet vnto her obayed all the best.

Her name was Womanhood, that she exprest

By her sad semblant and demeanure wyse:

For stedfast still her eyes did fixed rest,

Ne rov’d at randon after gazers guyse,

Whose luring baytes oftimes doe heedlesse harts entyse.

50 And next to her sate goodly Shamefastnesse,

Ne euer durst her eyes from ground vpreare,

Ne euer once did looke vp from her desse,

As if some blame of euill she did feare,

That in her cheekes made roses oft appeare:

And her against sweet Cherefulnesse was placed,

Whose eyes like twinkling stars in euening cleare,

Were deckt with smyles, that all sad humors chaced,

And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced.

51 And next to her sate sober Modestie,

Holding her hand vpon her gentle hart;

And her against sate comely Curtesie,

That vnto euery person knew her part;

And her before was seated ouerthwart

Soft Silence, and submisse Obedience,

Both linckt together neuer to dispart,

Both gifts of God not gotten but from thence,

Both girlonds of his Saints against their foes offence.

52 Thus sate they all a round in seemely rate:

And in the midst of them a goodly mayd,

Euen in the lap of Womanhood there sate,

The which was all in lilly white arayd,

With siluer streames amongst the linnen stray’d;

Like to the Morne, when first her shyning face

Hath to the gloomy world it selfe bewray’d,

That same was fayrest Amoret in place,

Shyning with beauties light, and heauenly vertues grace.

53 Whom soone as I beheld, my hart gan throb,

And wade in doubt, what best were to be donne:

For sacrilege me seem’d the Church to rob,

And folly seem’d to leaue the thing vndonne,

Which with so strong attempt I had begonne.

Tho shaking off all doubt and shamefast feare,

Which Ladies loue I heard had neuer wonne

Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped neare,

And by the lilly hand her labour’d vp to reare.

54 Thereat that formost matrone me did blame,

And sharpe rebuke, for being ouer bold;

Saying it was to Knight vnseemely shame,

Vpon a recluse Virgin to lay hold,

That vnto Venus seruices was sold.

To whom I thus, Nay but it fitteth best,

For Cupids man with Venus mayd to hold,

For ill your goddesse seruices are drest

By virgins, and her sacrifices let to rest.

55 With that my shield I forth to her did show,

Which all that while I closely had conceld;

On which when Cupid with his killing bow

And cruell shafts emblazond she beheld,

At sight thereof she was with terror queld,

And said no more: but I which all that while

The pledge of faith, her hand engaged held,

Like warie Hynd within the weedie soyle,

For no intreatie would forgoe so glorious spoyle.

56 And euermore vpon the Goddesse face

Mine eye was fixt, for feare of her offence,

Whom when I saw with amiable grace

To laugh at me, and fauour my pretence,

I was emboldned with more confidence,

And nought for nicenesse nor for enuy sparing,

In presence of them all forth led her thence,

All looking on, and like astonisht staring,

Yet to lay hand on her, not one of all them daring.

57 She often prayd, and often me besought,

Sometime with tender teares to let her goe,

Sometime with witching smyles: but yet for nought,

That euer she to me could say or doe,

Could she her wished freedome fro me wooe;

But forth I led her through the Temple gate,

By which I hardly past with much adoe:

But that same Ladie which me friended late

In entrance, did me also friend in my retrate.

58 No lesse did daunger threaten me with dread,

When as he saw me, maugre all his powre,

That glorious spoyle of beautie with me lead,

Then Cerberus, when Orpheus did recoure

His Leman from the Stygian Princes boure.

But euermore my shield did me defend,

Against the storme of euery dreadfull stoure:

Thus safely with my loue I thence did wend.

So ended he his tale, where I this Canto end.

CANTO XI

Marinells former wound is heald,
   he comes to Proteus hall,
Where Thames doth the Medway wedd,
   and feasts the Sea-gods all.

1 Bvt ah for pittie that I haue thus long

Left a fayre Ladie languishing in payne:

Now well away, that I haue doen such wrong,

To let faire Florimell in bands remayne,

In bands of loue, and in sad thraldomes chayne;

From which vnlesse some heauenly powre her free

By miracle, not yet appearing playne,

She lenger yet is like captiu’d to bee:

That euen to thinke thereof, it inly pitties mee.

2 Here neede you to remember, how erewhile

Vnlouely Proteus, missing to his mind

That Virgins loue to win by wit or wile,

Her threw into a dongeon deepe and blind,

And there in chaynes her cruelly did bind,

In hope thereby her to his bent to draw:

For when as neither gifts nor graces kind

Her constant mind could moue at all he saw,

He thought her to compell by crueltie and awe.

3 Deepe in the bottome of an huge great rocke

The dongeon was, in which her bound he left,

That neither yron barres, nor brasen locke

Did neede to gard from force, or secret theft

Of all her louers, which would her haue reft.

For wall’d it was with waues, which rag’d and ror’d

As they the cliffe in peeces would haue cleft;

Besides ten thousand monsters foule abhor’d

Did waite about it, gaping griesly all begor’d.

4 And in the midst thereof did horror dwell,

And darkenesse dredd, that neuer viewed day,

Like to the balefull house of lowest hell,

In which old Styx her aged bones alway,

Old Styx the Grandame of the Gods, doth lay.

There did this lucklesse mayd seuen months abide,

Ne euer euening saw, ne mornings ray,

Ne euer from the day the night descride,

But thought it all one night, that did no houres diuide.

5 And all this was for loue of Marinell,

Who her despysd (ah who would her despyse?)

And wemens loue did from his hart expell,

And all those ioyes that weake mankind entyse.

Nathlesse his pride full dearely he did pryse;

For of a womans hand it was ywroke,

That of the wound he yet in languor lyes,

Ne can be cured of that cruell stroke

Which Britomart him gaue, when he did her prouoke.

6 Yet farre and neare the Nymph his mother sought,

And many salues did to his sore applie,

And many herbes did vse. But when as nought

She saw could ease his rankling maladie,

At last to Tryphon she for helpe did hie,

(This Tryphon is the seagods surgeon bight)

Whom she besought to find some remedie:

And for his paines a whistle him behight

That of a fishes shell was wrought with rare delight.

7 So well that Leach did hearke to her request,

And did so well employ his carefull paine,

That in short space his hurts he had redrest,

And him restor’d to healthfull state againe:

In which he long time after did remaine

There with the Nymph his mother, like her thrall;

Who sore against his will did him retaine,

For feare of perill, which to him mote fall,

Through his too ventrous prowesse proued ouer all.

8 It fortun’d then, a solemne feast was there

To all the Sea-gods and their fruitfull seede,

In honour of the spousalls, which then were

Betwixt the Medway and the Thames agreed.

Long had the Thames (as we in records reed)

Before that day her wooed to his bed;

But the proud Nymph would for no worldly meed,

Nor no entreatie to his loue be led;

Till now at last relenting, she to him was wed.

9 So both agreed, that this their bridale feast

Should for the Gods in Proteus house be made;

To which they all repayr’d, both most and least,

Aswell which in the mightie Ocean trade,

As that in riuers swim, or brookes doe wade.

All which not if an hundred tongues to tell,

And hundred mouthes, and voice of brasse I had,

And endlesse memorie, that mote excell,

In order as they came, could I recount them well.

10 Helpe therefore, O thou sacred imp of loue,

The noursling of Dame Memorie his deare,

To whom those rolles, layd vp in heauen aboue,

And records of antiquitie appeare,

To which no wit of man may comen neare;

Helpe me to tell the names of all those floods,

And all those Nymphes, which then assembled were

To that great banquet of the watry Gods,

And all their sundry kinds, and all their hid abodes.

11 First came great Neptune with his threeforkt mace,

That rules the Seas, and makes them rise or fall;

His dewy lockes did drop with brine apace,

Vnder his Diademe imperiall:

And by his side his Queene with coronall,

Faire Amphitrite, most diuinely faire,

Whose yuorie shoulders weren couered all,

As with a robe, with her owne siluer haire,

And deckt with pearles, which th’Indian seas for her prepaire.

12 These marched farre afore the other crew;

And all the way before them as they went,

Triton his trompet shrill before them blew,

For goodly triumph and great iollyment,

That made the rockes to roare, as they were rent.

And after them the royall issue came,

Which of them sprung by lineall descent:

First the Sea-gods, which to themselues doe clame

The powre to rule the billowes, and the waues to tame.

13 Phorcys, the father of that fatall brood,

By whom those old Heroes wonne such fame;

And Glaucus, that wise southsayes vnderstood;

And tragicke lnoes sonne, the which became

A God of seas through his mad mothers blame,

Now hight Palemon, and is saylers frend;

Great Brontes, and Astrœus, that did shame

Himselfe with incest of his kin vnkend;

And huge Orion, that doth tempests still portend.

14 The rich Cteatus, and Eurytus long;

Neleus and Pelias louely brethren both;

Mightie Chrysaor, and Cakus strong;

Eurypulus, that calmes the waters wroth;

And faire Euphœmus, that vpon them goth

As on the ground, without dismay or dread:

Fierce Eryx, and Alebius that know’th

The waters depth, and doth their bottome tread;

And sad Asopus, comely with his hoarie head.

15 There also some most famous founders were

Of puissant Nations, which the world possest;

Yet sonnes of Neptune, now assembled here:

Ancient Ogyges, euen th’auncientest,

And Inachus renowmd aboue the rest;

Phœnix, and Aon, and Pelasgus old,

Great Belus, Phœax, and Agenor best;

And mightie Albion, father of the bold

And warlike people, which the Britaine Islands hold.

16 For Albion the sonne of Neptune was,

Who for the proofe of his great puissance,

Out of his Albion did on dry-foot pas

Into old Gall, that now is deeped France,

To fight with Hercules, that did aduance

To vanquish all the world with matchlesse might,

And there his mortall part by great mischance

Was slaine: but that which is th’immortall spright

Iiues still: and to this feast with Neptunes seed was dight.

17 But what doe I their names seeke to reherse,

Which all the world haue with their issue fild?

How can they all in this so narrow verse

Contayned be, and in small compasse hild?

Let them record them, that are better skild,

And know the moniments of passed times:

Onely what needeth, shall be here fulfild,

T’expresse some part of that great equipage,

Which from great Neptune do deriue their parentage.

18 Next came the aged Ocean, and his Dame,

Old Tethys, th’oldest two of all the rest,

For all the rest of those two parents came,

Which afterward both sea and land possest:

Of all which Nereus th’eldest, and the best,

Did first proceed, then which none more vpright,

Ne more sincere in word and deed profest;

Most voide of guile, most free from fowle despight,

Doing him selfe, and teaching others to doe right.

19 Thereto he was expert in prophecies,

And could the ledden of the Gods vnfold,

Through which, when Paris brought his famous prise

The faire Tindarid lasse, he him fortold,

That her all Greece with many a champion bold

Should fetch againe, and finally destroy

Proud Priams towne. So wise is Nereus old,

And so well skild; nathlesse he takes great ioy

Oft-times amongst the wanton Nymphs to sport and toy.

20 And after him the famous riuers came,

Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie:

The fertile Nile, which creatures new doth frame;

Long Rhodanus, whose sourse springs from the sike;

Faire Ister, flowing from the mountaines hie;

Diuine Scamander, purpled yet with blood

Of Greekes and Troians, which therein did die;

Pactolus glistring with his golden flood,

And Tygris fierce, whose streames of none may be withstood.

21 Great Ganges, and immortall Euphrates,

Deepe Indus, and Mæander intricate,

Slow Peneus, and tempestuous Phasides,

Swift Rhene, and Alpheus still immaculate:

Ooraxes, feared for great Cyrus fate;

Tybris, renowmed for the Romaines fame,

Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late;

And that huge Riuer, which doth beare his name

Of warlike Amazons, which doe possesse the same.

22 Ioy on those warlike women, which so long

Can from all men so rich a kingdome hold;

And shame on you, ô men, which boast your strong

And valiant hearts, in thoughts lesse hard and bold,

Yet quaile in conquest of that land of gold.

But this to you, ô Britons, most pertaines,

To whom the right hereof it selfe hath sold;

The which for sparing litle cost or paines,

Loose so immortall glory, and so endlesse gaines.

23 Then was there heard a most celestiall sound,

Of dainty musicke, which did next ensew

Before the spouse: that was Arion crownd;

Who playing on his harpe, vnto him drew

The eares and hearts of all that goodly crew,

That euen yet the Dolphin, which him bore

Through the Ægæan seas from Pirates vew,

Stood still by him astonisht at his lore,

And all the raging seas for ioy forgot to rore.

24 So went he playing on the watery plaine.

Soone after whom the louely Bridegroome came,

The noble Thamis, with all his goodly traine,

But him before there went, as best became,

His auncient parents, namely th’auncient Thame.

But much more aged was his wife then he,

The Ouze, whom men doe Isis rightly name;

Full weake and crooked creature seemed shee,

And almost blind through eld, that scarce her way could see.

25 Therefore on either side she was sustained

Of two smal grooms, which by their names were hight

The Chume, and Charwell, two small streames, which pained

Them selues her footing to direct aright,

Which fayled oft through faint and feeble plight:

But Thame was stronger, and of better stay;

Yet seem’d full aged by his outward sight,

With head all hoary, and his beard all gray,

Deawed with siluer drops, that trickled downe alway.

26 And eke he somewhat seem’d to stoupe afore

With bowed backe, by reason of the lode,

And auncient heauy burden, which he bore

Of that faire City, wherein make abode

So many learned impes, that shoote abrode,

And with their braunches spred all Britany,

No lesse then do her elder sisters broode.

Ioy to you both, ye double noursery,

Of Arts, but Oxford thine doth Thame most glorify.

27 But he their sonne full fresh and iolly was,

All decked in a robe of watchet hew,

On which the waues, glittering like Christall glas,

So cunningly enwouen were, that few

Could weenen, whether they were false or trew.

And on his head like to a Coronet

He wore, that seemed strange to common vew,

In which were many towres and castels set,

That it encompast round as with a golden fret.

28 Like as the mother of the Gods, they say,

In her great iron charet wonts to ride,

When to Ioues pallace she doth take her way;

Old Cybele, arayd with pompous pride,

Wearing a Diademe embattild wide

With hundred turrets, like a Turribant.

With such an one was Thamis beautifide;

That was to weet the famous Troynouant,

In which her kingdomes throne is chiefly resiant

29 And round about him many a pretty Page

Attended duely, ready to obay;

All little Riuers, which owe vassallage

To him, as to their Lord, and tribute pay:

The chaulky Kenet, and the Thetis gray,

The morish Cole, and the soft sliding Breane,

The wanton Lee, that oft doth loose his way,

And the still Darent, in whose waters cleane

Ten thousand fishes play, and decke his pleasant streame.

30 Then came his neighbour flouds, which nigh him dwell,

And water all the English soile throughout;

They all on him this day attended well;

And with meet seruice waited him about;

Ne none disdained low to him to lout:

No not the stately Seuerne grudg’d at all,

Ne storming Humber, though he looked stout;

But both him honor’d as their principall,

And let their swelling waters low before him fall.

31 There was the speedy Tamar, which deuides

The Cornish and the Deuonish confines;

Through both whose borders swiftly downe it glides,

And meeting Plim, to Plimmouth thence declines:

And Dart, nigh chockt with sands of tinny mines.

But Auon marched in more stately path,

Proud of his Adamants, with which he shines

And glisters wide, as als’ of wondrous Bath,

And Bristow faire, which on his waues he builded hath.

32 And there came Stoure with terrible aspect,

Bearing his sixe deformed heads on hye,

That doth his course through Blandford plains direct,

And washeth Winborne meades in season drye.

Next him went Wylibourne with passage slye,

That of his wylinesse his name doth take,

And of him selfe doth name the shire thereby:

And Mole, that like a nousling Mole doth make

His way still vnder ground, till Thamis he ouertake.

33 Then came the Rother, decked all with woods

Like a wood God, and flowing fast to Rhy:

And Sture, that parteth with his pleasant floods

The Easterne Saxons from the Southerne ny,

And Clare, and Harwitch both doth beautify:

Him follow’d Yar, soft washing Norwitch wall,

And with him brought a present ioyfully

Of his owne fish vnto their festiuall,

Whose like none else could shew, the which they Ruffins call.

34 Next these the plenteous Ouse came far from land,

By many a city, and by many a towne,

And many riuers taking vnder hand

Into his waters, as he passeth downe,

The Cle, the Were, the Grant, the Sture, the Rowne.

Thence doth by Huntingdon and Cambridge flit,

My mother Cambridge, whom as with a Crowne

He doth adorne, and is adorn’d of it

With many a gentle Muse, and many a learned wit.

35 And after him the fatall Welland went,

That if old sawes proue true (which God forbid)

Shall drowne all Holland with his excrement,

And shall see Stamford, though now homely hid,

Then shine in learning, more then euer did

Cambridge or Oxford, Englands goodly beames.

And next to him the Nene downe softly slid;

And bounteous Trent, that in him selfe enseames

Bodi thirty sorts of fish, and thirty sundry streames.

36 Next these came Tyne, along whose stony bancke

That Romaine Monarch built a brasen wall,

Which mote the feebled Britons strongly flancke

Against the Picts, that swarmed ouer all,

Which yet thereof Gualseuer they doe call:

And Twede the limit betwixt Logris land

And Albany: and Eden though but small,

Yet often stainde with bloud of many a band

Of Scots and Engh’sh both, that tyned on his strand.

37 Then came those sixe sad brethren, like forlorne,

That whilome were (as antique fathers tell)

Sixe valiant Knights, of one faire Nymphe yborne,

Which did in noble deedes of armes excell,

And wonned there, where now Yorke people dwell;

Still Vre, swift Werfe, and Oze the most of might,

High Swale, vnquiet Nide, and troublous Skell;

All whom a Scythian king, that Humber night,

Slew cruelly, and in the riuer drowned quight.

38 But past not long, ere Brutus warlicke sonne

Locrinus them aueng’d, and the same date,

Which the proud Humber vnto them had donne,

By equall dome repayd on his owne pate:

For in the selfe same riuer, where he late

Had drenched them, he drowned him againe;

And nam’d the riuer of his wretched fate;

Whose bad condition yet it doth retaine,

Oft tossed with his stormes, which therein still remaine.

39 These after, came the stony shallow Lone,

That to old Loncaster his name doth lend;

And following Dee, which Britons long ygone

Did call diuine, that doth by Chester tend;

And Conway which out of his streame doth send

Plenty of pearles to decke his dames withall,

And Lindus that his pikes doth most commend,

Of which the auncient Lincolne men doe call,

All these together marched toward Proteus hall.

40 Ne thence the Irishe Riuers absent were,

Sith no lesse famous then the rest they bee,

And ioyne in neighbourhood of kingdome nere,

Why should they not likewise in loue agree,

And ioy likewise this solemne day to see.

They saw it all, and present were in place;

Though I them all according their degree,

Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race,

Nor read the saluage cuntreis, thorough which they pace.

41 There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea,

The sandy Slane, the stony Aubrian,

The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea,

The pleasant Boyne, the fishy fruitfull Ban,

Swift Awniduff, which of the English man

Is cal’de Blacke water, and the Liffar deep,

Sad Trowis, that once his people ouerran,

Strong Allo tombling from Slewlogher steep,

And Mulla mine, whose waues I whilom taught to weep.

42 And there the three renowmed brethren were,

Which that great Gyant Blomius begot,

Of the faire Nimph Rheusa wandring there.

One day, as she to shunne the season whot,

Vnder Slewbloome in shady groue was got,

This Gyant found her, and by force deflowr’d,

Whereof concerning, she in time forth brought

These three faire sons, which being thence forth powrd

In three great riuers ran, and many countries scowrd.

43 The first, the gentle Shure that making way

By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford;

The next, the stubborne Newre, whose waters gray

By faire Kilkenny and Rosseponte boord,

The third, the goodly Barow, which doth hoord

Great heapes of Salmons in his deepe bosome:

All which long sundred, doe at last accord

To ioyne in one, ere to the sea they come,

So flowing all from one, all one at last become.

44 There also was the wide embayed Mayre,

The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood,

The spreading Lee, that like an Island fayre

Encloseth Corke with his deuided flood;

And balefull Oure, late staind with English blood:

With many more, whose names no tongue can tell.

All which that day in order seemly good

Did on the Thamis attend, and waited well

To doe their duefull seruice, as to them befell.

45 Then came the Bride, the louely Medua came,

Clad in a vesture of vnknowen geare,

And vncouth fashion, yet her well became;

That seem’d like siluer, sprinckled here and theare

With glittering spangs, that did Uke starres appeare,

And wau’d vpon, Uke water Chamelot,

To hide the metall, which yet euery where

Bewrayd it selfe, to let men plainely wot,

It was no mortall worke, that seem’d and yet was not.

46 Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow

Vnto her waste, with flowres bescattered,

The which ambrosiall odours forth did throw

To all about, and all her shoulders spied

As a new spring; and likewise on her hed

A Chapelet of sundry flowers she wore,

From vnder which the deawy humour shed,

Did tride downe her haire, Uke to the hore

Congealed litle drops, which doe the morne adore.

47 On her two pretty handmaides did attend,

One cald the Theise, the other cald the Crane;

Which on her waited, things amisse to mend,

And both behind vpheld her spredding traine;

Vnder the which, her feet appeared plaine,

Her siluer feet, faire washt against this day:

And her before there paced Pages twaine,

Both clad in colours Uke, and Uke array,

The Doune & eke the Frith, both which prepard her way.

48 And after these the Sea Nymphs marched all,

All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire,

Whom of their sire Nereides men call,

All which the Oceans daughter to him bare

The gray eyde Doris: all which fifty are;

All which she there on her attending had.

Swift Proto, milde Eucrate, Thetis faire,

Soft Spio, sweete Eudore, Sao sad,

Light Doto, wanton Glauce, and Galene glad.

49 White hand Eunica, proud Dynamene,

Ioyous Thalia, goodly Amphitrite,

Louely Pasithee, kinde Eulimene,

Light foote Cymoihoe, and sweete Melite,

Fairest Pherusa, Phao lilly white,

Wondred Agaue, Poris, and Neseea,

With Erato that doth in loue delite,

And Pamopœ, and wise Protomedœa,

And snowy neckd Doris, and milkewhite Galathœa.

50 Speedy Hippothoe, and chaste Actea,

Large Lisianassa, and Pronœa sage,

Euagore, and light Pontoporea,

And she, that with her least word can asswage

The surging seas, when they do sorest rage,

Cymodoce, and stout Autonoe,

And Neso, and Eione well in age,

And seeming still to smile, Glauconome,

And she that hight of many heastes Polynome.

51 Fresh Alimeda, deckt with girlond greene;

Hyponeo, with salt bedewed wrests:

Laomedia, like the christall sheene;

Liagore, much praisd for wise behests;

And Psamathe, for her brode snowy brests;

Cymo, Eupompe, and Themiste iust;

And she that vertue loues and vice detests

Euarna, and Menippe true in trust,

And Nemertea learned well to rule her lust

52 All these the daughters of old Nereus were,

Which haue the sea in charge to them assinde,

To rule his tides, and surges to vprere,

To bring forth stormes, or fast them to vpbinde,

And sailers saue from wreckes of wrathfull winde.

And yet besides three thousand more there were

Of th’Oceans seede, but Ioues and Phœbus kinde;

The which in floods and fountaines doe appere,

And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere.

53 The which, more eath it were for mortall wight,

To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye,

Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right.

But well I wote, that these which I descry,

Were present at this great solemnity:

And there amongst the rest, the mother was

Of luckelesse Marinell Cymodoce,

Which, for my Muse her selfe now tyred has,

Vnto an other Canto I will ouerpas.

CANTO XII

Marin for hue of Florimell,
   In languor wastes his life:
The Nymph his mother getteth her,
   And giues to him for wife.

1 O what an endlesse worke haue I in hand,

To count the seas abundant progeny,

Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land,

And also those which wonne in th’azure sky?

For much more eath to tell the starres on hy,

Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation,

Then to recount the Seas posterity:

So fertile be the flouds in generation,

So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation.

2 Therefore the antique wisards well inuented,

That Venus of the fomy sea was bred;

For that the seas by her are most augmented.

Witnesse th’exceeding fry, which there are fed,

And wondrous sholes, which may of none be red.

Then blame me not, if I haue err’d in count

Of Gods, of Nymphs, of riuers yet vnred:

For though their numbers do much more surmount,

Yet all those same were there, which erst I did recount.

3 All those were there, and many other more,

Whose names and nations were too long to tell,

That Proteus house they fild euen to the dore;

Yet were they all in order, as befell,

According their degrees disposed well.

Amongst the rest, was faire Cymodoce,

The mother of vnlucky Marinell,

Who thither with her came, to learne and see

The manner of the Gods when they at banquet be.

4 But for he was halfe mortall, being bred

Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe,

He might not with immortall food be fed,

Ne with th’eternall Gods to bancket come;

But walkt abrode, and round about did rome,

To view the building of that vncouth place,

That seem’d vnlike vnto his earthly home:

Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace,

There vnto him betid a disauentrous case.

5 Vnder the hanging of an hideous clieffe,

He heard the lamentable voice of one,

That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe,

Which neuer she before disclosd to none,

But to her selfe her sorrow did bemone.

So feelingly her case she did complaine,

That ruth it moued in the rocky stone,

And made it seeme to feele her grieuous paine,

And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine.

6 Though vaine I see my sorrowes to vnfold,

And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare,

Yet hoping griefe may lessen being told,

I will them tell though vnto no man neare:

For heauen that vnto all lends equall eare,

Is farre from hearing of my heauy plight;

And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare,

Cares not what euils hap to wretched wight;

And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight.

7 Yet loe the seas I see by often beating,

Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares;

But his hard rocky hart for no entreating

Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares,

Is hardned more with my aboundant teares.

Yet though he neuer list to me relent,

But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,

Yet will I neuer of my loue repent,

But ioy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.

8 And when my weary ghost with griefe outworne,

By timely death shall winne her wished rest,

Let then this plaint vnto his eares be borne,

That blame it is to him, that armes profest,

To let her die, whom he might haue redrest.

There did she pause, inforced to giue place,

Vnto the passion, that her heart opprest,

And after she had wept and wail’d a space,

She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case.

9 Ye Gods of seas, if any Gods at all

Haue care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong,

By one or other way me woefull thrall,

Deliuer hence out of this dungeon strong,

In which I daily dying am too long.

And if ye deeme me death for lotting one,

That loues not me, then doe it not prolong,

But let me die and end my daies attone,

And let him Hue vnlou’d, or loue him selfe alone.

10 But if that life ye vnto me decree,

Then let mee liue, as louers ought to do,

And of my lifes deare loue beloued be:

And if he shall through pride your doome vndo,

Do you by duresse him compell thereto,

And in this prison put him here with me:

One prison fittest is to hold vs two:

So had I rather to be thrall, then free;

Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.

11 But ô vaine iudgement, and conditions vaine,

The which the prisoner points vnto the free,

The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine,

He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me.

So euer loose, so euer happy be.

But where so loose or happy that thou art,

Know Marinell that all this is for thee.

With that she wept and wail’d, as if her hart

Would quite haue burst through great abundance of her smart.

12 All which complaint when Marinell had heard,

And vnderstood the cause of all her care

To come of him, for vsing her so hard,

His stubborne heart, that neuer felt misfare

Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare;

That euen for griefe of minde he oft did grone,

And inly wish, that in bis powre it weare

Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none

He could no more but her great misery bemone.

13 Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth

Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide,

Dame Venus sonne that tameth stubborne youth

With iron bit, and maketh him abide,

Till like a victor on his backe he ride,

Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw,

That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride:

Then gan he make him tread his steps anew,

And leame to loue, by learning louers paines to rew.

14 Now gan he in his grieued minde deuise,

How from that dungeon he might her enlarge;

Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise

To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge:

But then he fear’d his mothers former charge

Gainst womens loue, long giuen him in vaine.

Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe

Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine:

But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.

15 Then did he cast to steale her thence away,

And with him beare, where none of her might know.

But all in vaine: for why he found no way

To enter in, or issue forth below:

For all about that rocke the sea did flow.

And though vnto his will she giuen were,

Yet without ship or bote her thence to row,

He wist not how her thence away to bere;

And daunger well he wist long to continue there.

16 At last when as no meanes he could inuent,

Backe to him selfe, he gan returne the blame,

That was the author of her punishment;

And with vile curses, and reprochtull shame

To damne him selfe by euery euill name;

And deeme vnworthy or of loue or life,

That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,

Which him had sought through trouble & long strife;

Yet had refusde a God that her had sought to wife.

17 In this sad plight he walked here and there,

And romed round about the rocke in vaine,

As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where;

Oft listening if he mote her heare againe;

And still bemoning her vnworthy paine.

Like as an Hynde whose calfe is falne vnwares

Into some pit, where she him heares complaine,

An hundred times about the pit side fares,

Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaued cares.

18 And now by this the feast was throughly ended,

And euery one gan homeward to resort.

Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended,

That his departure thence should be so short,

And leaue his loue in that sea-walled fort

Yet durst he not his mother disobay,

But her attending in full seemly sort,

Did march amongst the many all the way:

And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.

19 Being returned to his mothers bowre,

In solitary silence far from wight,

He gan record the lamentable stowre,

In which his wretched loue lay day and night,

For his deare sake, that ill deseru’d that plight:

The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,

That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;

Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe,

But pyn’d, & mourn’d, & languisht, and alone did weepe.

20 That in short space his wonted chearefull hew

Gan fade, and liuely spirits deaded quight:

His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew,

And brawney armes had lost their knowen might,

That nothing like himselfe he seem’d in sight.

Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of loue

He woxe, that lenger he note stand vpright,

But to his bed was brought, and layd aboue,

Like ruefull ghost, vnable once to stirre or moue.

21 Which when his mother saw, she in her mind

Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene,

Ne could by search nor any meanes out find

The secret cause and nature of his teene,

Whereby she might apply some medicine;

But weeping day and night, did him attend,

And mourn’d to see her losse before her eyne,

Which grieu’d her more, that she it could not mend:

To see an helpelesse euill, double griefe doth lend.

22 Nought could she read the roote of his disease,

Ne weene what mister maladie it is,

Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease.

Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis,

That that same former fatall wound of his

Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed,

But closely rankled vnder th’orifis:

Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed,

That loue it was, which in his hart lay vnreuealed.

23 Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast,

And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent,

That fayld the trust, which she in him had plast,

To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent:

Who now was falne into new languishment

Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.

So backe he came vnto her patient,

Where searching euery part, her well assured,

That it was no old sore, which his new paine procured.

24 But that it was some other maladie,

Or griefe vnknowne, which he could not discerne:

So left he her withouten remedie.

Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne,

And inly troubled was, the truth to learne.

Vnto himselfe she came, and him besought,

Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne,

If ought lay hidden in his grieued thought,

It to reueale: who still her answered, there was nought

25 Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide,

But leaning watry gods, as booting nought,

Vnto the shinie heauen in haste she hide,

And thence Apollo King of Leaches brought

Apollo came; who soone as he had sought

Through his disease, did by and by out find,

That he did languish of some inward thought,

The which afflicted his engrieued mind;

Which loue he red to be, that leads each liuing kind.

26 Which when he had vnto his mother told,

She gan thereat to fret, and greatly grieue.

And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold,

And chyde at him, that made her misbelieue:

But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieue,

And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose,

Which of the Nymphes his heart so sore did mieue.

For sure she weend it was some one of those,

Which he had lately seene, that for his loue he chose.

27 Now lesse she feared that same fatall read,

That warned him of womens loue beware:

Which being ment of mortall creatures sead,

For loue of Nymphes she thought she need not care,

But promist him, what euer wight she weare,

That she her loue, to him would shortly gaine:

So he her told: but soone as she did heare

That Florimell it was, which wrought his paine,

She gan a fresh to chafe, and grieue in euery vaine.

28 Yet since she saw the streight extremitie,

In which his life vnluckily was layd,

It was no time to scan the prophecie,

Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd,

That his decay should happen by a mayd.

It’s late in death of daunger to aduize,

Or loue forbid him, that is life denayd:

But rather gan in troubled mind deuize,

How she that Ladies libertie might enterprize.

29 To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it vaine,

Who was the root and worker of her woe:

Nor vnto any meaner to complaine,

But vnto great king Neptune selfe did goe,

And on her knee before him falling lowe,

Made humble suit vnto his Maiestie,

To graunt to her, her sonnes life, which his foe

A cruell Tyrant had presumpteouslie

By wicked doome condemn’d, a wretched death to die.

30 To whom God Neptune softly smyling, thus;

Daughter me seemes of double wrong ye plaine,

Gainst one that hath both wronged you, and vs:

For death t’adward I ween’d did appertaine

To none, but to the seas sole Soueraine.

Read therefore who it is, which this hath wrought,

And for what cause; the truth discouer plaine.

For neuer wight so euill did or thought,

But would some rightfull cause pretend, though rightly

[nought.

31 To whom she answerd, Then it is by name

Proteus, that hath ordayn’d my sonne to die;

For that a waift, the which by fortune came

Vpon your seas, he claym’d as propertie:

And yet nor his, nor his in equitie,

But yours the waift by high prerogatiue.

Therefore I humbly craue your Maiestie,

It to repleuie, and my sonne repriue:

So shall you by one gift saue all vs three aliue.

32 He graunted it: and streight his warrant made,

Vnder the Sea-gods seale autenticall,

Commaunding Proteus straight t’enlarge the mayd,

Which wandring on his seas imperiall,

He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall.

Which she receiuing with meete thankefulnesse,

Departed straight to Proteus therewithall:

Who reading it with inward loathfulnesse,

Was grieued to restore the pledge, he did possesse.

33 Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand,

But vnto her deliuered Florimell.

Whom she receiuing by the lilly hand,

Admyr’d her beautie much, as she mote well:

For she all liuing creatures did excell;

And was right ioyous, that she gotten had

So faire a wife for her sonne Marinell.

So home with her she streight the virgin lad,

And shewed her to him, then being sore bestad.

34 Who soone as he beheld that angels face,

Adorn’d with all diuine perfection,

His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace

Sad death, reuiued with her sweet inspection,

And feeble spirit inly felt refection;

As withered weed through cruell winters tine,

That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection,

Liftes vp his head, that did before decline

And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine.

35 Right so himselfe did Marinell vpreare,

When he in place his dearest loue did spy;

And though his limbs could not his bodie beare,

Ne former strength returne so suddenly,

Yet chearefull signes he shewed outwardly.

Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected,

But that she masked it with modestie,

For feare she should of lightnesse be detected:

Which to another place I leaue to be perfected.

THE FIFTH BOOKE
OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE

CONTAYNING
THE LEGEND OF ARTEGALL
OR
OF IVSTICE.

1 So oft as I with state of present time,

The image of the antique world compare,

When as mans age was in his freshest prime,

And the first blossome of faire vertue bare,

Such oddes I find twixt those, and these which are,

As that, through long continuance of his course,

Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square,

From the first point of his appointed sourse,

And being once amisse growe daily wourse and wourse.

2 For from the golden age, that first was named,

It’s now at earst become a stonie one;

And men themselves, the which at first were framed

Of earthly mould, and form’d of flesh and bone,

Are now transformed into hardest stone:

Such as behind their backs (so backward bred)

Were throwne by Pyrrha and Deucalione:

And if then those may any worse be red,

They into that ere long will be degendered.

3 Let none then blame me, if in discipline

Of vertue and of ciuill vses lore,

I doe not forme them to the common line

Of present dayes, which are corrupted sore,

But to the antique vse, which was of yore,

When good was onely for it selfe desyred,

And all men sought their owne, and none no more;

When Iustice was not for most meed outhyred,

But simple Truth did rayne, and was of all admyred.

4 For that which all men then did vertue call,

Is now cald vice; and that which vice was hight,

Is now hight vertue, and so us’d of all:

Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right,

As all things else in time are chaunged quight.

Ne wonder; for the heauens reuolution

Is wandred farre, from where it first was pight,

And so doe make contrarie constitution

Of all this lower world, toward his dissolution.

5 For who so list into the heauens looke,

And search the courses of the rowling spheares,

Shall find that from the point, where they first tooke

Their setting forth, in these few thousand yeares

They all are wandred much; that plaine appeares.

For that same golden fleecy Ram, which bore

Phrixus and Helle from their stepdames feares,

Hath now forgot, where he was plast of yore,

And shouldred hath the Bull, which fayre Europa bore.

6 And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent horne

So hardly butted those two twinnes of Ioue,

That they haue crusht the Crab, and quite him borne

Into the great Nemœan lions groue.

So now all range, and doe at randon roue

Out of their proper places farre away,

And all this world with them amisse doe moue,

And all his creatures from their course astray,

Till they arriue at their last ruinous decay.

7 Ne is that same great glorious lampe of light,

That doth enliumine all these lesser fyres,

In better case, ne keepes his course more right,

But is miscaried with the other Spheres.

For since the terme of fourteene hundred yeres,

That learned Ptobmœe his hight did take,

He is declyned from that marke of theirs,

Nigh thirtie minutes to the Southerne lake;

That makes me feare in time he will vs quite forsake.

8 And if to those Ægyptian wisards old,

Which in Star-read were wont haue best insight,

Faith may be giuen, it is by them told,

That since the time they first tooke the Sunnes hight,

Foure times his place he shifted hath in sight,

And twice hath risen, where he now doth West,

And wested twice, where he ought rise aright.

But most is Mars amisse of all the rest,

And next to him old Saturne, that was wont be best.

9 For during Saturnes ancient raigne it’s sayd,

That all the world with goodnesse did abound:

All loued vertue, no man was affrayd

Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found:

No warre was knowne, no dreadfull trompets sound,

Peace vniuersall rayn’d mongst men and beasts,

And all things freely grew out of the ground:

Iustice sate high ador’d with solemne feasts,

And to all people did diuide her dred beheasts.

10 Most sacred vertue she of all the rest,

Resembling God in his imperiall might;

Whose soueraine powre is herein most exprest,

That both to good and bad he dealeth right,

And all his workes with Iustice hath bedight.

That powre he also doth to Princes lend,

And makes them like himselfe in glorious sight,

To sit in his owne seate, his cause to end,

And rule his people right, as he doth recommend.

11 Dread Souerayne Goddesse, that doest highest sit

In seate of judgement, in th’ Almighties place,

And with magnificke might and wondrous wit

Doest to thy people righteous doome aread,

That furthest Nations filles with awfull dread,

Pardon the boldnesse of thy basest thrall,

That dare discourse of so diuine a read,

As thy great iustice praysed ouer all:

The instrument whereof loe here thy Artegall.

CANTO I

Artegall trayn’d in Iustice tore
   Irenaes quest pursewed,
He doeth auenge on Sanglier
   his Ladies bloud embrewed.

1 Though vertue then were held in highest price,

In those old times, of which I doe intreat,

Yet then likewise the wicked seede of vice

Began to spring which shortly grew full great,

And with their boughes the gentle plants did beat.

But euermore some of the vertuous race

Rose vp, inspired with heroicke heat,

That cropt the branches of the sient base,

And with strong hand their fruitfull rancknes did deface.

2 Such first was Bacchus, that with furious might

All th’East before vntam’d did ouerronne,

And wrong repressed, and establish right,

Which lawlesse men had formerly fordonne.

There Iustice first her princely rule begonne.

Next Hercules his like ensample shewed,

Who all the West with equall conquest wonne,

And monstrous tyrants with his club subdewed;

The club of Iustice dread, with kingly powre endewed.

3 And such was he, of whom I haue to tell,

The Champion of true Iustice Artegall.

Whom (as ye lately mote remember well)

An hard aduenture, which did then befall,

Into redoubted perill forth did call;

That was to succour a distressed Dame,

Whom a strong tyrant did vniustly thrall,

And from the heritage, which she did clame,

Did with strong hand withhold: Grantorto was his name.

4 Wherefore the Lady, which Eirena hight,

Did to the Faery Queene her way addresse,

To whom complayning her afflicted plight,

She her besought of gratious redresse.

That soueraine Queene, that mightie Emperesse,

Whose glorie is to aide all suppliants pore,

And of weake Princes to be Patronesse,

Chose Artegall to right her to restore;

For that to her he seem’d best skild in righteous lore.

5 For Artegall in iustice was vpbrought

Euen from the cradle of his infancie,

And all the depth of rightfull doome was taught

By faire Astrœa, with great Industrie,

Whilest here on earth she liued mortallie.

For till the world from his perfection fell

Into all filth and foule iniquitie,

Astrœa here mongst earthly men did dwell,

And in the rules of iustice them instructed well.

6 Whiles through the world she walked in this sort,

Vpon a day she found this gentle childe,

Amongst his peres playing his childish sport:

Whom seeing fit, and with no crime defilde,

She did allure with gifts and speeches milde,

To wend with her. So thence him farre she brought

Into a caue from companie exilde,

In which she noursled him, till yeares he raught,

And all the discipline of iustice there him taught.

7 There she him taught to weigh both right and wrong

In equall ballance with due recompence,

And equitie to measure out along,

According to the line of conscience,

When so it needs with rigour to dispence.

Of all the which, for want there of mankind,

She caused him to make experience

Vpon wyld beasts, which she in woods did find,

With wrongfull powre oppressing others of their kind.

8 Thus she him trayned, and thus she him taught,

In all the skill of deeming wrong and right,

Vntill the ripenesse of mans yeares he raught;

That euen wilde beasts did feare his awfull sight,

And men admyr’d his ouerruling might;

Ne any liu’d on ground, that durst withstand

His dreadfull heast, much lesse him match in fight,

Or bide the horror of his wreakfull hand,

When so he list in wrath lift vp his steely brand.

9 Which steely brand, to make him dreaded more,

She gaue vnto him, gotten by her slight

And earnest search, where it was kept in store

In Ioues eternall house, vnwist of wight,

Since he himselfe it vs’d in that great fight

Against the Titans, that whylome rebelled

Gainst highest heauen; Chrysaor it was tight;

Chrysaor that all other swords excelled,

Well prou’d in that same day, when Ioue those Gyants

[quelled.

10 For of most perfect metall it was made,

Tempred with Adamant amongst the same,

And garnisht all with gold vpon the blade

In goodly wise, whereof it tooke his name,

And was of no lesse vertue, then of fame.

For there no substance was so firme and hard,

But it would pierce or cleaue, where so it came;

Ne any armour could his dint out ward,

But wheresoeuer it did light, it throughly shard.

11 Now when the world with sinne gan to abound,

Astrœa loathing lenger here to space

Mongst wicked men, in whom no truth she found,

Return’d to heauen, whence she deriu’d her race;

Where she hath now an euerlasting place,

Mongst those twelue signes, which nightly we doe see

The heauens bright-shining baudricke to enchace;

And is the Virgin, sixt in her degree,

And next her selfe her righteous ballance hanging bee.

12 But when she parted hence, she left her groome

An yron man, which did on her attend

Alwayes, to execute her stedfast doome,

And willed Him with Artegall to wend,

And doe what euer thing he did intend.

His name was Talus, made of yron mould,

Immoueable, resistlesse, without end.

Who in his hand an yron flale did hould,

With which he thresht out falshood, and did truth vnfould.

13 He now went with him in this new inquest,

Him for to aide, if aide he chaunst to neede,

Against that cruell Tyrant, which opprest

The faire Irena with his foule misdeede,

And kept the crowne in which she should succeed.

And now together on their way they bin,

When as they saw a Squire in squallid weed,

Lamenting sore his sorowfull sad tyne,

With many bitter teares shed from his blubbred eyne.

14 To whom as they approched, they espide

A sorie sight, as euer seene with eye;

An headlesse Ladie lying him beside,

In her owne blood all wallow’d wofully,

That her gay clothes did in discolour die.

Much was he moued at that ruefull sight;

And flam’d with zeale of vengeance inwardly,

He askt, who had that Dame so fouly dight;

Or whether his owne hand, or whether other wight?

15 Ah woe is me, and well away (quoth hee)

Bursting forth teares, like springs out of a banke,

That euer I this dismall day did see:

Full farre was I from thinking such a pranke;

Yet title losse it were, and mickle thanke,

If I should graunt that I haue doen the same,

That I mote drinke the cup, whereof she dranke:

But that I should die guiltie of the blame,

The which another did, who now is fled with shame.

16 Who was it then (sayd Artegall) that wrought?

And why, doe it declare vnto me trew.

A knight (said he) if knight he may be thought,

That did his hand in Ladies bloud embrew,

And for no cause, but as I shall you shew.

This day as I in solace sate hereby

With a fayre loue, whose losse I now do rew,

There came this knight, hauing in companie

This lucklesse Ladie, which now here doth headlesse lie.

17 He, whether mine seem’d fayrer in his eye,

Or that he wexed weary of his owne,

Would change with me; but I did it denye;

So did the Ladies both, as may be knowne,

But he, whose spirit was with pride vpblowne,

Would not so rest contented with his right,

But hauing from his courser her downe throwne,

Fro me reft mine away by lawlesse might,

And on his steed her set, to beare her out of sight.

18 Which when his Ladie saw, she follow’d fast,

And on him catching hold, gan loud to crie

Not so to leaue her, nor away to cast,

But rather of his hand besought to die.

With mat his sword he drew all wrathfully,

And at one stroke cropt off her head with scorne,

In that same place, whereas it now doth lie.

So he my loue away with him hath borne,

And left me here, both his & mine owne loue to morne.

19 Aread (sayd he) which way then did he make?

And by what markes may he be knowne againe?

To hope (quoth he) him soone to ouertake,

That hence so long departed, is but vaine:

But yet he pricked ouer yonder plaine,

And as I marked, bore vpon his shield,

By which it’s easie him to know againe,

A broken sword within a bloodie field;

Expressing well his nature, which the same did wield.

20 No sooner sayd, but streight he after sent

His yron page, who him pursew’d so light,

As that it seem’d aboue the ground he went:

For he was swift as swallow in her flight,

And strong as Lyon in his Lordly might.

It was not long, before he ouertooke

Sir Sanglier; (so deeped was that Knight)

Whom at the first he ghessed by his looke,

And by the other markes, which of his shield he tooke.

21 He bad him stay, and backe with him retire;

Who full of scorne to be commaunded so,

The Lady to alight did eft require,

Whilest he reformed that vnciuill fo:

And streight at him with all his force did go.

Who mou’d no more therewith, then when a rocke

Is lightly stricken with some stones throw;

But to him leaping, lent him such a knocke,

That on the ground he layd him like a sencelesse blocks.

22 But ere he could him selfe recure againe,

Him in his iron paw he seized had;

That when he wak’t out of his warelesse paine,

He found him selfe vnwist, so ill bestad,

That lim he could not wag. Thence he him lad,

Bound like a beast appointed to the stall:

The sight whereof the Lady sore adrad,

And fain’d to fly for feare of being thrall;

But he her quickly stayd, and forst to wend withall.

23 When to the place they came, where Artegall

By that same carefull Squire did then abide,

He gently gan him to demaund of all,

That did betwixt him and that Squire betide.

Who with sterne countenance and indignant pride

Did aunswere, that of all he guiltlesse stood,

And his accuser thereuppon defide:

For neither he did shed that Ladies bloud,

Nor tooke away bis loue, but his owne proper good.

24 Well did the Squire perceiue him selfe too weake,

To aunswere his defiaunce in the field,

And rather chose his challenge off to breake,

Then to approue his right with speare and shield.

And rather guilty chose him selfe to yield.

But Artegall by signes perceiuing plaine,

That he it was not, which that Lady kild,

But that strange Knight, the fairer loue to gaine,

Did cast about by sleight the truth thereout to straine.

25 And sayd, now sure this doubtfull causes right

Can hardly but by Sacrament be tride,

Or else by ordele, or by blooddy fight;

That ill perhaps mote fell to either side.

But if ye please, that I your cause decide,

Perhaps I may all further quarrell end,

So ye will sweare my iudgement to abide.

Thereto they both did franckly condiscend,

And to his doome with listfull eares did both attend.

26 Sith then (sayd he) ye both the dead deny,

And both the liuing Lady claime your right,

Let both the dead and liuing equally

Deuided be betwixt you here in sight,

And each of either take his share aright.

But looke who does dissent from this my read,

He for a twelue moneths day shall in despight

Beare for his penaunce that same Ladies head;

To witnesse to the world, that she by him is dead.

27 Well pleased with that doome was Sangliere,

And offred streight the Lady to be slaine.

But that same Squire, to whom she was more dere,

When as he saw she should be cut in twaine,

Did yield, she rather should with him remaine

Aliue, then to him selfe be shared dead;

And rather then his loue should suffer paine,

He chose with shame to beare that Ladies head.

True loue despiseth shame, when life is cald in dread.

28 Whom when so willing Artegall perceaued;

Not so thou Squire, (he sayd) but thine I deeme

The liuing Lady, which from thee he reaued:

For worthy thou of her doest rightly seeme.

And you, Sir Knight, that loue so light esteeme,

As that ye would for little leaue the same,

Take here your owne, that doth you best beseeme,

And with it beare the burden of defame;

Your owne dead Ladies head, to tell abrode your shame.

29 But Sangliere disdained much his doome,

And sternly gan repine at his beheast;

Ne would for ought obay, as did become,

To beare that Ladies head before bis breast

Vntill that Talus had his pride represt,

And forced him, maulgre, it vp to reare.

Who when he saw it bootelesse to resist,

He tooke it vp, and thence with him did beare,

As rated Spaniell takes bis burden vp for feare.

30 Much did that Squire Sir Artegall adore,

For his great iustice, held in high regard;

And as his Squire him offred euermore

To serue, for want of other meete reward,

And wend with him on his aduenture hard.

But he thereto would by no meanes consent;

But leauing him forth on his iourney far’d:

Ne wight with him but onely Talus went.

They two enough t’encounter an whole Regiment

CANTO II

Artegall hemes of Florimell,
   Does with the Pagan fight:
Him shies, drownes Lady Munera,
   Does race her castle quight.

1 Nought is more honorable to a knight,

Ne better doth beseeme braue cheualry,

Then to defend the feeble in their right,

And wrong redresse in such as wend awry.

Whilome those great Heroes got thereby

Their greatest glory, for their rightfull deedes,

And place deserued with the Gods on hy.

Herein the noblesse of this knight exceedes,

Who now to perils great for iustice sake proceedes.

2 To which as he now was vppon the way,

He chaunst to meet a Dwarfe in hasty course;

Whom he requir’d his forward hast to stay,

Till he of tidings mote with him discourse.

Loth was the Dwarfe, yet did he stay perforce,

And gan of sundry newes his store to tell,

And to his memory they had recourse:

But chiefely of the fairest Florimell,

How she was found againe, and spousde to Marinell,

3 For this was Dony, Florimels owne Dwarfe,

Whom hauing lost (as ye haue heard whyleare)

And finding in the way the scattred scarfe,

The fortune of her life long time did feare.

But of her health when Artegall did heare,

And safe returne, he was full inly glad,

And askt him where, and when her bridale cheare

Should be solemniz’d: for if time he had,

He would be there, and honor to her spousall ad.

4 Within three daies (quoth he) as I do here,

It will be at the Castle of the strond;

What time if naught me let, I will be there

To doe her seruice, so as I am bond.

But in my way a little here beyond

A cursed cruell Sarazin doth wonne,

That keepes a Bridges passage by strong hond,

And many errant Knights hath there fordonne;

That makes all men for feare that passage for to shonne.

5 What mister wight (quoth he) and how far hence

Is he, that doth to trauellers such harmes?

He is (said he) a man of great defence;

Expert in battell and in deedes of armes;

And more emboldned by the wicked charmes,

With which his daughter doth him still support;

Hauing great Lordships got and goodly farmes,

Through strong oppression of his powre extort;

By which he stil them holds, & keepes with strong effort.

6 And dayly he his wrongs encreaseth more,

For neuer wight he lets to passe that way;

Ouer his Bridge, albee he rich or poore,

But he him makes his passage-penny pay:

Else he doth hold him backe or beat away.

Thereto he hath a groome of euill guize,

Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray,

Which pols and pils the poore in piteous wize;

But he him selfe vppon the rich doth tyrannize.

7 His name is bight Pollente, rightly so

For that he is so puissant and strong,

That with his powre he all doth ouergo,

And makes them subiect to his mighty wrong;

And some by sleight he eke doth vnderfong.

For on a Bridge he custometh to fight,

Which is but narrow, but exceeding long;

And in the same are many trap fals pight,

Through which the rider downe doth fall through ouersight.

8 And vnderneath the same a riuer flowes,

That is both swift and dangerous deepe withall;

Into the which whom so he ouerthrowes,

All destitute of helpe doth headlong fall,

But he him selfe, through practise vsuall,

Leapes forth into the floud, and there assaies

His foe confused through his sodaine fall,

That horse and man he equally dismaies,

And either both them drownes, or trayterously slaies.

9 Then doth he take the spoile of them at will,

And to his daughter brings, that dwels thereby:

Who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill

The coffers of her wicked threasury;

Which she with wrongs hath heaped vp so hy,

That many Princes she in wealth exceedes,

And purchast all the countrey lying ny

With the reuenue of her plenteous meedes,

Her name is Munera, agreeing with her deedes.

10 Thereto she is full faire, and rich attired,

With golden hands and siluer feete beside,

That many Lords haue her to wife desired:

But she them all despiseth for great pride.

Now by my life (sayd he) and God to guide,

None other way will I this day betake,

But by that Bridge, whereas he doth abide:

Therefore me thither lead. No more he spake,

But thitherward forthright his ready way did make.

11 Vnto the place he came within a while,

Where on the Bridge he ready armed saw

The Sarazin, awayting for some spoile.

Who as they to the passage gan to draw,

A villaine to them came with scull all raw,

That passage money did of them require,

According to the custome of their law.

To whom he aunswerd wroth, loe there thy hire;

And with that word him strooke, that streight he did expire.

12 Which when the Pagan saw, he wexed wroth,

And streight him selfe vnto the fight addrest,

Ne was Sir Artegall behinde: so both

Together ran with ready speares in rest.

Right in the midst, whereas they brest to brest

Should meete, a trap was letten downe to tall

Into the floud: streight leapt the Carle vnblest,

Well weening that his foe was falne withall:

But he was well aware, and leapt before his fall.

13 There being both together in the floud,

They each at other tyrannously flew;

Ne ought the water cooled their whot bloud,

But rather in them kindled choler new.

But there the Paynim, who that vse well knew

To fight in water, great aduantage had,

That oftentimes him nigh he ouerthrew:

And eke the courser, whereuppon he rad,

Could swim like to a fish, whiles he his backe bestrad.

14 Which oddes, when as Sir Artegall espide,

He saw no way, but close with him in hast;

And to him driuing strongly downe the tide,

Vppon his iron coller griped fast,

That with the straint his wesand nigh he brast,

There they together stroue and struggled long,

Ether the other from his steede to cast;

Ne euer Artegall his griple strong

For anything wold slacke, but still vppon him hong.

15 As when a Dolphin and a Sele are met,

In the wide champian of the Ocean plaine:

With cruell chaufe their courages they whet,

The maysterdome of each by force to gaine,

And dreadfull battaile twixt them do darraine:

They snuf, they snort, they bounce, they rage, they rore,

That all the sea disturbed with their traine,

Doth trie with fome aboue the surges hore.

Such was betwixt these two the troublesome vprore.

16 So Artegall at length him forst forsake

His horses backe, for dread of being drownd,

And to his handy swimming him betake.

Eftsoones him selfe he from his hold vnbownd,

And then no ods at all in him he fownd:

For Artegall in swimming skilful] was,

And durst the depth of any water sownd.

So ought each Knight, that vse of perill has,

In swimming be expert through waters force to pas.

17 Then very doubtfull was the warres euent,

Vncertaine whether had the better side.

For both were skild in that experiment,

And both in armes well traind and throughly tride.

But Artegall was better breath’d beside,

And towards th’end, grew greater in his might,

That his faint foe no longer could abide

His puissance, ne beare him selfe vpright,

But from the water to the land betooke his flight.

18 But Artegall pursewd him still so neare,

With bright Chrysaor in his cruell hand,

That as his head he gan a litle reare

Aboue the brincke, to tread vpon the land,

He smote it off, that tumbling on the strand

It bit the earth for very fell despight,

And gnashed with his teeth, as if he band

High God, whose goodnesse he despaired quight,

Or curst the hand, which did that vengeance on him dight.

19 His corps was carried downe along the Lee,

Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned:

But his blasphemous head, that all might see,

He pitcht vpon a pole on high ordayned;

Where many years it afterwards remayned,

To be a mirrour to all mighty men,

In whose right hands great power is contayned,

That none of them the feeble ouerren,

But alwaies doe their powre within iust compasse pen.

20 That done, vnto the Castle he did wend,

In which the Paynims daughter did abide,

Guarded of many which did her defend:

Of whom he entrance sought, but was denide,

And with reprochfull blasphemy defide,

Beaten with stones downe from the battilment,

That he was forced to withdraw aside;

And bad his seruant Talus to inuent

Which way he enter might, without endangerment.

21 Eftsoones his Page drew to the Castle gate,

And with his iron flale at it let flie,

That all the warders it did sore amate,

The which erewhile spake so reprochfully,

And made them stoupe, that looked earst so hie.

Yet still he bet, and bounst vppon the dore,

And thundred strokes thereon so hideouslie,

That all the peece he shaked from the flore,

And filled all the house with feare and great vprore.

22 With noise whereof the Lady forth appeared

Vppon the Castle wall, and when she saw

The daungerous state, in which she stood, she feared

The sad effect of her neare ouerthrow;

And gan entreat that iron man below,

To cease his outrage, and him faire besought,

Sith neither force of stones which they did throw,

Nor powr of charms, which she against him wrought,

Might otherwise preuaile, or make him cease for ought

23 But when as yet she saw him to proceede,

Vnmou’d with praiers, or with piteous thought,

She ment him to corrupt with goodly meede;

And causde great sackes with endlesse riches fraught,

Vnto the battilment to be vpbrought,

And powred forth ouer the Castle wall,

That she might win some time, though dearly bought

Whilest he to gathering of the gold did fall.

But he was nothing mou’d, nor tempted therewithall.

24 But still continu’d his assault the more,

And layd on load with his huge yron flaile,

That at the length he has yrent the dore,

And made way for his maister to assaile.

Who being entred, nought did then auaile

For wight, against his powre them selues to reare:

Each one did flie; their hearts began to faile,

And hid them selues in corners here and there;

And eke their dame halfe dead did hide her self for feare.

25 Long they her sought, yet no where could they finde her,

That sure they ween’d she was escapt away:

But Talus, that could like a limehound winde her,

And all things secrete wisely could bewray,

At length found out, whereas she hidden lay

Vnder an heape of gold. Thence he her drew

By the faire lockes, and fowly did array,

Withouten pitty of her goodly hew,

That Artegall him selfe her seemelesse plight did rew.

26 Yet for no pitty would he change the course

Of Iustice, which in Talus hand did lye;

Who rudely hayld her forth without remorse,

Still holding vp her suppliant hands on hye,

And kneeling at his feete submissiuely.

But he her suppliant hands, those hands of gold,

And eke her feete, those feete of siluer trye,

Which sought vnrighteousnesse, and iustice sold,

Chopt off, and nayld on high, that all might them behold.

27 Her selfe then tooke he by the sclender wast,

In vaine loud crying, and into the flood

Ouer the Castle wall adowne her cast,

And there her drowned in the durty mud:

But the streame washt away her guilty blood.

Thereafter all that mucky pelfe he tooke,

The spoile of peoples euill gotten good,

The which her sire had scrap’t by hooke and crooke,

And burning all to ashes, powr’d it downe the brooke.

28 And lastly all that Castle quite he raced,

Euen from the sole of his foundation,

And all the hewen stones thereof defaced,

That there mote be no hope of reparation,

Nor memory thereof to any nation.

All which when Talus throughly had perfourmed,

Sir Artegall vndid the euill fashion,

And wicked customes of that Bridge refourmed.

Which done, vnto his former iourney he retourned.

29 In which they measur’d mickle weary way,

Till that at length nigh to the sea they drew;

By which as they did trauell on a day,

They saw before them, far as they could vew,

Full many people gathered in a crew;

Whose great assembly they did much admire,

For neuer there the like resort they knew.

So towardes them they coasted, to enquire

What thing so many nations met, did there desire.

30 There they beheld a mighty Gyant stand

Vpon a rocke, and holding forth on hie

An huge great paire of ballance in his hand,

With which he boasted in his surquedrie,

That all the world he would weigh equallie,

If ought he had the same to counterpoys.

For want whereof he weighed vanity,

And fild his ballaunce full of idle toys:

Yet was admired much of fooles, women, and boys.

31 He sayd that he would all the earth vptake,

And all the sea, deuided each from either:

So would he of the fire one ballaunce make,

And one of th’ayre, without or wind, or wether:

Then would he ballaunce heauen and hell together,

And all that did within them all containe;

Of all whose weight, he would not misse a fether.

And looke what surplus did of each remaine,

He would to his owne part restore the same againe.

32 For why, he sayd they all vnequall were,

And had encroched vppon others share,

Like as the sea (which plaine he shewed there)

Had worne the earth, so did the fire the aire,

So all the rest did others parts empaire.

And so were realmes and nations run awry.

All which he vndertooke for to repaire,

In sort as they were formed aunciently;

And all things would reduce vnto equality.

33 Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke,

And cluster thicke vnto his leasings vaine,

Like foolish flies about an hony crocke,

In hope by him great benefite to gaine,

And vncontrolled freedome to obtaine.

All which when Artegall did see, and heare,

How he mis-led the simple peoples traine,

In sdeignfull wize he drew vnto him neare,

And thus vnto him spake, without regard or feare.

34 Thou that presum’st to weigh the world anew,

And all things to an equall to restore,

In stead of right me seemes great wrong dost shew,

And far aboue thy forces pitch to sore.

For ere thou limit what is lesse or more

In euery thing, thou oughtest first to know,

What was the poyse of euery part of yore:

And looke then how much it doth ouerflow,

Or faile thereof, so much is more then iust to trow.

35 For at the first they all created were

In goodly measure, by their Makers might,

And weighed out in ballaunces so nere,

That not a dram was missing of their right,

The earth was in the middle centre pight,

In which it doth immoueable abide,

Hemd in with waters like a wall in sight;

And they with aire, that not a drop can slide:

Al which the heauens containe, & in their courses guide.

36 Such heauenly iustice doth among them raine,

That euery one doe know their certaine bound,

In which they doe these many yeares remaine,

And mongst them al no change hath yet beene found.

But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound,

We are not sure they would so long remaine:

All change is perillous, and all chaunce vnsound.

Therefore leaue off to weigh them all againe,

Till we may be assur’d they shall their course retaine.

37 Thou foolishe Elfe (said then the Gyant wroth)

Seest not, how badly all things present bee,

And each estate quite out of order goth?

The sea it selfe doest thou not plainely see

Encroch vppon the land there vnder thee;

And th’earth it selfe how daily it’s increast,

By all that dying to it turned be.

Were it not good that wrong were then surceast,

And from the most, that some were giuen to the least?

38 Therefore I will throw downe these mountaines hie,

And make them leuell with the lowly plaine:

These towring rocks, which reach vnto the skie,

I will thrust downe into the deepest maine,

And as they were, them equalize againe.

Tyrants that make men subiect to their law,

I will suppresse, that they no more may raine;

And Lordings curbe, that commons ouer-aw;

And all the wealth of rich men to the poore will draw.

39 Of things vnseene how canst thou deeme aright,

Then answered the righteous Artegall,

Sith thou misdeem’st so much of things in sight?

What though the sea with waues continuall

Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all:

Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought,

For whatsoeuer from one place doth fall,

Is with the tide vnto an other brought:

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought

40 Likewise the earth is not augmented more,

By all that dying into it doe fade.

For of the earth they formed were of yore,

How euer gay their blossome or their blade

Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade.

What wrong then is it, if that when they die,

They turne to that, whereof they first were made?

All in the powre of their great Maker lie:

All creatures must obey the voice of the most hie.

41 They liue, they die, like as he doth ordaine,

Ne euer any asketh reason why.

The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine;

The dales doe not the lofty hils enuy.

He maketh Kings to sit in souerainty;

He maketh subiects to their powre obay;

He pulleth downe, he setteth vp on hy;

He giues to this, from that he takes away.

For all we haue is his: what he list doe, he may.

42 What euer thing is done, by him is donne,

Ne any may his mighty will withstand;

Ne any may his soueraine power shonne,

Ne loose that he hath bound with stedfast band.

In vaine therefore doest thou now take in hand,

To call to count, or weigh his workes anew,

Whose counsels depth thou canst not vnderstand,

Sith of things subiect to thy daily vew

Thou doest not know the causes, nor their courses dew.

43 For take thy ballaunce, if thou be so wise,

And weigh the winde, that vnder heauen doth blow;

Or weigh the light, that in the East doth rise;

Or weigh the thought, that from mans mind doth flow.

But if the weight of these thou canst not show,

Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall.

For how canst thou those greater secrets know,

That doest not know the least thing of them all?

Ill can he rule the great, that cannot reach the small.

44 Therewith the Gyant much abashed sayd;

That he of little things made reckoning light,

Yet the least word that euer could be layd

Within his ballaunce, he could way aright.

Which is (sayd he) more heauy then in weight,

The right or wrong, the false or else the trew?

He answered, that he would try it streight,

So he the words into his ballaunce threw,

But streight the winged words out of bis ballaunce flew.

45 Wroth wext he then, and sayd, that words were light,

Ne would within his ballaunce well abide.

But he could iustly weigh the wrong or right.

Well then, sayd Artegall, let it be tride.

First in one ballance set the true aside.

He did so first; and then the false he layd

In th’other scale; but still it downe did slide,

And by no meane could in the weight be stayd.

For by no meanes the false will with the truth be wayd.

46 Now take the right likewise, sayd Artegale,

And counterpeise the same with so much wrong.

So first the right he put into one scale;

And then the Gyant stroue with puissance strong

To fill the other scale with so much wrong.

But all the wrongs that he therein could lay,

Might not it peise; yet did he labour long,

And swat, and chauf’d, and proued euery way:

Yet all the wrongs could not a litle right downe way.

47 Which when he saw, he greatly grew in rage,

And almost would his balances haue broken:

But Artegall him fairely gan asswage,

And said; be not vpon thy balance wroken:

For they doe nought but right or wrong betoken;

But in the mind the doome of right must bee;

And so likewise of words, the which be spoken,

The eare must be the ballance, to decree

And iudge, whether with truth or falshood they agree.

48 But set the truth and set the right aside,

For they with wrong or falshood will not fare;

And put two wrongs together to be tride,

Or else two falses, of each equall share;

And then together doe them both compare.

For truth is one, and right is euer one.

So did he, and then plaine it did appeare,

Whether of them the greater were attone.

But right sate in die middest of the beame alone.

49 But he the right from thence did thrust away,

For it was not the right, which he did seeke;

But rather stroue extremities to way,

Th’one to diminish, th’other for to eeke.

For of the meane he gready did misleeke.

Whom when so lewdly minded Talus found,

Approching nigh vnto him cheeke by cheeke,

He shouldered him from off the higher ground,

And down the rock him throwing, in the sea him dround.

50 Like as a ship, whom cruell tempest driues

Vpon a rocke with horrible dismay,

Her shattered ribs in thousand peeces riues,

And spoyling all her geares and goodly ray,

Does make her selfe misfortunes piteous pray.

So downe the clffe the wretched Gyant tumbled;

His battred ballances in peeces lay,

His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled,

So was the high aspyring with huge ruine humbled.

51 That when the people, which had there about

Long wayted, saw his sudden desolation,

They gan to gather in tumultuous rout,

And mutining, to stirre vp ciuill faction,

For certaine losse of so great expectation.

For well they hoped to haue got great good;

And wondrous riches by his innouation.

Therefore resoluing to reuenge his blood,

They rose in armes, and all in battell order stood.

52 Which lawlesse multitude him comming too

In warlike wise, when Artegall did vew,

He much was troubled, ne wist what to doo.

For loth he was his noble hands t’embrew

In the base blood of such a rascall crew;

And otherwise, if that he should retire,

He fear’d least they with shame would him pursew.

Therefore he Talus to them sent, t’inquire

The cause of their array, and truce for to desire.

53 But soone as they him nigh approching spide,

They gan with all their weapons him assay,

And rudely stroke at him on euery side:

Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought dismay.

But when at them he with his flaile gan lay,

He like a swarme of flyes them ouerthrew;

Ne any of them durst come in his way,

But here and there before his presence flew,

And hid themselues in holes and bushes from his vew.

54 As when a Faulcon hath with nimble flight

Flowne at a flush of Ducks, foreby the brooke,

The trembling foule dismayd with dreadfull sight

Of death, the which them almost ouertooke,

Doe hide themselues from her astonying looke,

Amongst the flags and couert round about.

When Talus saw they all the field forsooke

And none appear’d of all that raskall rout,

To Artegall he turn’d, and went with him throughout.

CANTO III

The spousals of faire Florimell,
   where turney many knights:
There Braggadochio is vncas’d
   in all the Ladies sights.

1 After long stormes and tempests ouerblowne,

The sunne at length his ioyous face doth cleare:

So when as fortune all her spight hath showne,

Some blisfull houres at last must needes appeare;

Else should afflicted wights of times despeire.

So comes it now to Florimell by tourne,

After long sorrowes suffered whyleare,

In which captiu’d she many moneths did mourne,

To tast of ioy, and to wont pleasures to retourne.

2 Who being freed from Proteus cruell band

By Marinell, was vnto him affide,

And by him brought againe to Faerie land;

Where he her spous’d, and made his ioyous bride.

The time and place was blazed farre and wide;

And solemne feasts and giusts ordain’d therefore.

To which there did resort from euery side

Of Lords and Ladies infinite great store;

Ne any Knight was absent, that braue courage bore.

3 To tell the glorie of the feast that day,

The goodly seruice, the deuicefull sights,

The bridegromes state, the brides most rich aray,

The pride of Ladies, and the worth of knights,

The royall banquets, and the rare delights

Were worke fit for an Herauld, not for me:

But for so much as to my lot here lights,

That with this present treatise doth agree,

True vertue to aduance, shall here recounted bee.

4 When all men had with full satietie

Of meates and drinkes their appetites suffiz’d,

To deedes of armes and proofe of cheualrie

They gan themselues addresse, full rich aguiz’d,

As each one had his furnitures deuiz’d.

And first of all issu’d Sir Marinell,

And with him sixe knights more, which enterpriz’d

To chalenge all in right of Florimell,

And to maintaine, that she all others did excell.

5 The first of them was hight Sir Orimont,

A noble Knight, and tride in hard assayes:

The second had to name Sir Bellisont,

But second vnto none in prowesse prayse;

The third was Brunell, famous in his dayes;

The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might;

The fift Armeddan, skild in louely layes;

The sixt was Lansack, a redoubted Knight:

All sixe well seene in armes, and prou’d in many a fight

6 And them against came all that list to giust,

From euery coast and countrie vnder sunne:

None was debard, but all had leaue that lust.

The trompets sound; then all together ronne.

Full many deedes of armes that day were donne,

And many knights vnhorst, and many wounded,

As fortune fell; yet litle lost or wonne:

But all that day the greatest prayse redounded

To Marinell, whose name the Heralds loud resounded.

7 The second day, so soone as morrow light

Appear’d in heauen, into the field they came,

And there all day continew’d cruell fight,

With diuers fortune fit for such a game,

In which all stroue with perill to winne fame.

Yet whether side was victor, note be ghest:

But at the last the trompets did prodame

That Marinell that day deserued best.

So they disparted were, and all men went to rest.

8 The third day came, that should due tryall lend

Of all the rest, and then this warlike crew

Together met, of all to make an end.

There Marinell great deeds of armes did shew;

And through the thickest like a Lyon flew,

Rashing off helmes, and ryuing plates a sonder,

That euery one his daunger did eschew.

So terribly his dreadfull strokes did thonder,

That all men stood amaz’d, & at his might did wonder.

9 But what on earth can alwayes happie stand?

The greater prowesse greater perils find.

So farre he past amongst his enemies band,

That they haue him enclosed so behind,

As by no meanes he can himselfe outwind.

And now perforce they haue him prisoner taken;

And now they doe with captiue bands him bind;

And now they lead him thence, of all forsaken,

Vnlesse some succour had in time him ouertaken.

10 It fortun’d whylest they were thus ill beset,

Sir Artegall into the Tilt-yard came,

With Braggadochio, whom he lately met

Vpon the way, with that his snowy Dame.

Where when he vnderstood by common fame,

What euill hap to Marinell betid,

He much was mou’d at so vnworthie shame,

And streight that boastet prayd, with whom he rid,

To change his shield with him, to be the better hid.

11 So forth he went, and soone them ouer hent,

Where they were leading Marinell away,

Whom he assayld with dreadlesse hardiment,

And forst the burden of their prize to stay.

They were an hundred knights of that array;

Of which th’one halfe vpon himselfe did set,

Th’other stayd behind to gard the pray.

But he ere long the former fiftie bet;

And from th’other fiftie soone the prisoner fet.

12 So backe he brought Sir Marinell againe;

Whom hauing quickly arm’d againe anew,

They both together ioyned might and maine,

To set afresh on all the other crew.

Whom with sore hauocke soone they ouerthrew,

And chaced quite out of the field, that none

Against them durst his head to perill shew:

So were they left Lords of the field alone:

So Marinell by him was rescu’d from his fone.

13 Which when he had perform’d, then backe againe

To Braggadochio did his shield restore:

Who all this while behind him did remaine,

Keeping there close with him in pretious store

That his false Ladie, as ye heard afore.

Then did the trompets sound, and Iudges rose,

And all these knights, which that day armour bore,

Came to the open hall, to listen whose

The honour of the prize should be adiudg’d by those.

14 And thether also came in open sight

Fayre Florimell, into the common hall,

To greet his guerdon vnto euery knight,

And best to him, to whom the best should fall.

Then for that stranger knight they loud did call,

To whom that day they should the girlond yield.

Who came not forth: but for Sir Artegall

Came Braggadochio, and did shew his shield,

Which bore the Sunne brode blazed in a golden field.

15 The sight whereof did all with gladnesse fill:

So vnto him they did addeeme the prise

Of all that Tryumph. Then the trompets shrill

Don Braggadochios name resounded thrise:

So courage lent a cloke to cowardise.

And then to him came fayrest Florimell,

And goodly gan to greet his braue emprise,

And thousand thankes him yeeld, that had so well

Approu’d that day, that she all others did excell.

16 To whom the boaster, that all knights did blot,

With proud disdaine did scornefull answere make;

That what he did that day, he did it not

For her, but for his owne deare Ladies sake,

Whom on his perill he did vndertake,

Both her and eke all others to excell:

And further did vncomely speaches crake.

Much did his words the gentle La die quell,

And turn’d aside for shame to heare, what he did tell.

17 Then forth he brought his snowy Florimele,

Whom Trompart had in keeping there beside,

Couered from peoples gazement with a vele.

Whom when discouered they had throughly eide,

With great amazement they were stupefide;

And said, that surely Florimell it was,

Or if it were not Florimell so tride,

That Florimell her selfe she then did pas.

So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has.

18 Which when as Marinell beheld likewise,

He was therewith exceedingly dismayd;

Ne wist he what to thinke, or to deuise,

But like as one, whom feends had made affrayd,

He long astonisht stood, ne ought he sayd,

Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eies

He gazed still vpon that snowy mayd;

Whom euer as he did the more auize,

The more to be true Florimell he did surmize.

19 As when two sunnes appeare in the azure skye,

Mounted in Phoebus charet fierie bright,

Both darting forth faire beames to each mans eye,

And both adorn’d with lampes of flaming light,

All that behold so strange prodigious sight,

Not knowing natures worke, nor what to weene,

Are rapt with wonder, and with rare affright.

So stood Sir Marinell, when he had seene

The semblant of this false by his faire beauties Queene.

20 All which when Artegall, who all this while

Stood in the preasse close couered, well aduewed,

And saw that boasters pride and gracelesse guile,

He could no longer beare, but forth issewed,

And vnto all himselfe there open shewed,

And to the boaster said; Thou losell base,

That hast with borrowed plumes thyselfe endewed,

And others worth with leasings doest deface,

When they are all restor’d, thou shalt rest in disgrace.

21 That shield, which thou doest beare, was it indeed,

Which this dayes honour sau’d to Marinell;

But not that arme, nor thou the man I reed,

Which didst that seruice vnto Florimell.

For proofe shew forth thy sword, and let it tell,

What strokes, what dreadfull stoure it stird this day:

Or shew the wounds, which vnto thee befell;

Or shew the sweat, with which thou diddest sway

So sharpe a battell, that so many did dismay.

22 But this the sword, which wrought those cruell stounds,

And this the arme, the which that shield did beare,

And these the signes, (so shewed forth his wounds)

By which that glorie gotten doth appeare.

As for this Ladie, which he sheweth here,

Is not (I wager) Florimell at all;

But some fayre Franion, fit for such a fere,

That by misfortune in his hand did fall.

For proofe whereof, he bad them Florimell forth call.

23 So forth the noble Ladie was ybrought,

Adorn’d with honor and all comely grace:

Whereto her bashfull shamefastnesse ywrought

A great increase in her faire blushing face;

As roses did with lillies interlace.

For of those words, the which that boaster threw,

She inly yet concerned great disgrace.

Whom when as all the people such did vew,

They shouted loud, and signes of gladnesse all did shew.

24 Then did he set her by that snowy one,

Like the true saint beside the image set,

Of both their beauties to make paragone,

And triall, whether should the honor get.

Streightway so soone as both together met,

Th’enchaunted Damzell vanisht into nought:

Her snowy substance melted as with heat,

Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought,

But th’emptie girdle, which about her wast was wrought.

25 As when the daughter of Thaumantes faire,

Hath in a watry cloud displayed wide

Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid ayre;

That all men wonder at her colours pride;

All suddenly, ere one can looke aside,

The glorious picture vanisheth away,

Ne any token doth thereof abide:

So did this Ladies goodly forme decay,

And into nothing goe, ere one could it bewray.

26 Which when as all that present were, beheld,

They stricken were with great astonishment,

And their faint harts with senselesse horrour queld,

To see the thing, that seem’d so excellent,

So stolen from their fancies wonderment;

That what of it became, none vnderstood.

And Braggadochio selfe with dreriment

So daunted was in his despeyring mood,

That like a lifelesse corse immoueable he stood.

27 But Artegall that golden belt vptooke,

The which of all her spoyle was onely left;

Which was not hers, as many it mistooke,

But Florimells owne girdle, from her reft,

While she was flying, like a weary weft,

From that foule monster, which did her compell

To perils great; which he vnbuckling eft,

Presented to the fayrcst Florimell;

Who round about her tender wast it fitted well.

28 Full many Ladies often had assayd,

About their middles that faire belt to knit;

And many a one suppos’d to be a mayd:

Yet it to none of all their loynes would fit,

Till Florimell about her fastned it.

Such power it had, that to no womans wast

By any skill or labour it would fit,

Vnlesse that she were continent and chast,

But it would lose or breake, that many had disgrast.

29 Whilest thus they busied were bout Florimell,

And boastfuil Braggadochio to defame,

Sir Guyon as by fortune then befell,

Forth from the thickest preasse of people came,

His owne good steed, which he had stolne, to came;

And th’one hand seizing on his golden bit,

With th’other drew his sword: for with the same

He merit the thiefe there deadly to haue smit:

And had he not bene held, he nought had fayld of it.

30 Thereof great hurly burly moued was

Throughout the hall, for that same warlike horse.

For Braggadochio would not let him pas;

And Guyon would him algates haue perforse,

Or it approue vpon his carrion corse.

Which troublous stirre when Artegall perceiued,

He nigh them drew to stay th’auengers forse,

And gan inquire, how was that steed bereaued,

Whether by might extort, or else by slight deceaued.

31 Who all that piteous storie, which befell

About that wofull couple, which were slaine,

And their young bloodie babe to him gan tell;

With whom whiles he did in the wood remaine,

His horse purloyned was by subtill traine:

For which he chalenged the thiefe to fight.

But he for nought could him thereto constraine.

For as the death he hated such despight,

And rather had to lose, then trie in armes his right

32 Which Artegall well hearing, though no more

By law of armes there neede ones right to trie,

As was the wont of warlike knights of yore,

Then that his foe should him the field denie,

Yet further right by tokens to descrie,

He askt, what priuie tokens he did beare.

If that (said Guy on) may you satisfie,

Within his mouth a blacke spot doth appeare,

Shapt like a horses shoe, who list to seeke it there.

33 Whereof to make due tryall, one did take

The horse in hand, within his mouth to looke:

But with his heeles so sorely he him strake,

That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke,

That neuer word from that day forth he spoke.

Another that would seeme to haue more wit,

Him by the bright embrodered hedstall tooke:

But by the shoulder him so sore he bit,

That he him maymed quite, and all his shoulder split

34 Ne he his mouth would open vnto wight,

Vntill that Guyon selfe vnto him spake,

And called Brigadore (so was he hight)

Whose voice so soone as he did vndertake,

Eftsoones he stood as still as any stake,

And suffred all his secret marke to see:

And when as he him nam’d, for ioy he brake

His bands, and follow’d him with gladful glee,

And friskt, and flong aloft, and louted low on knee.

35 Thereby Sir Artegall did plaine areed,

That vnto him the horse belong’d, and sayd;

Lo there Sir Guyon, take to you the steed,

As he with golden saddle is arayd;

And let that losell, plainely now displayd,

Hence fare on foot, till he an horse haue gayned.

But the proud boaster gan his doome vpbrayd,

And him reuil’d, and rated, and disdayned,

That iudgement so vniust against him had ordayned.

36 Much was the knight incenst with his lewd word,

To haue reuenged that his villeny;

And thrise did lay his hand vpon his sword,

To haue him slaine, or dearely doen aby.

But Guyon did his choler pacify,

Saying, Sir knight, it would dishonour bee

To you, that are our iudge of equity,

To wreake your wrath on such a carle as hee

It’s punishment enough, that all bis shame doe see.

37 So did he mitigate Sir Artegall,

But Talus by the backe the boaster bent,

And drawing him out of the open hall,

Vpon him did inflict this punishment.

First he his beard did shaue, and fowly shent:

Then from him reft his shield, and it renuerst,

And blotted out his armes with falshood blent,

And himselfe bafruld, and his armes vnherst,

And broke his sword in twaine, and all bis armour sperst.

38 The whiles his guilefull groome was fled away:

But vaine it was to thinke from him to flie.

Who ouertaking him did disaray,

And all his face deform’d with infamie,

And out of court him scourged openly.

So ought all faytours, that true knighthood shame,

And armes dishonour with base villanie,

From all braue knights be banisht with defame:

For oft their lewdnes blotteth good deserts with blame.

39 Now when these counterfeits were thus vncased

Out of the foreside of their forgerie,

And in the sight of all men cleane disgraced,

All gan to iest and gibe full merilie

At the remembrance of their knauerie.

Ladies can laugh at Ladies, Knights at Knights,

To thinke with how great vaunt of brauerie

He them abused, through his subtill slights,

And what a glorious shew he made in all their sights.

40 There leaue we them in pleasure and repast,

Spending their ioyous dayes and gladfull nights,

And taking vsurie of time forepast,

With all deare delices and rare delights,

Fit for such Ladies and such louely knights:

And turne we here to this faire furrowes end

Our wearie yokes, to gather fresher sprights,

That when as time to Artegall shall tend,

We on his first aduenture may him forward send.

CANTO IV

Artegall dealeth right betwixt
   two brethren that doe striue,
Saues Terpine from the gallow tree,
   and doth from death repriue.

1 Who so vpon him selfe will take the skill

True Iustice vnto people to diuide,

Had neede haue mightie hands, for to fulfill

That, which he doth with righteous doome decide,

And for to maister wrong and puissant pride.

For vaine it is to deeme of things aright,

And makes wrong doers iustice to deride,

Vnlesse it be perform’d with dreadlesse might.

For powre is the right hand of Iustice truely hight.

2 Therefore whylome to knights of great emprise

The charge of Iustice giuen was in trust,

That they might execute her iudgements wise,

And with their might beat downe licentious lust,

Which proudly did impugne her sentence iust.

Whereof no brauer president this day

Remaines on earth, preseru’d from yron rust

Of rude obliuion, and long times decay,

Then this of Artegall, which here we haue to say.

3 Who hauing lately left that louely payre,

Enlincked fast in wedlockes loyall bond,

Bold Marinell with Florimell the fayre,

With whom great feast and goodly glee he fond,

Departed from the Castle of the strond,

To follow his aduentures first intent,

Which long agoe he taken had in hond:

Ne wight with him for his assistance went,

But that great yron groome, his gard and gouemment.

4 With whom as he did passe by the sea shore,

He chaunst to come, whereas two comely Squires,

Both brethren, whom one wombe together bore,

But stirred vp with different desires,

Together stroue, and kindled wrathfull fires:

And them beside two seemely damzels stood,

By all meanes seeking to asswage their ires,

Now with faire words; but words did little good,

Now with sharpe threats; but threats the more increast their

[mood.

5 And there before them stood a Coffer strong,

Fast bound on euery side with iron bands,

But seeming to haue suffred mickle wrong,

Either by being wreckt vppon the sands,

Or being carried farre from forraine lands.

Seem’d that for it these Squires at ods did fall,

And bent against them selues their cruell hands.

But euermore, those Damzels did forestall

Their furious encounter, and their fiercenesse pall.

6 But firmely fixt they were, with dint of sword,

And battailes doubtfull proofe their rights to try,

Ne other end their fury would afford,

But what to them Fortune would iustify.

So stood they both in readinesse: thereby

To ioyne the combate with cruell intent;

When Artegall arriuing happily,

Did stay a while their greedy bickerment,

Till he had questioned the cause of their dissent

7 To whom the elder did this aunswere frame;

Then weete ye Sir, that we two brethren be,

To whom our sire, Milsio by name,

Did equally bequeath his lands in fee,

Two Hands, which ye there before you see

Not farre in sea; of which the one appeares

But like a little Mount of small degree;

Yet was as great and wide ere many yeares,

As that same other Isle, that greater bredth now beares.

8 But tract of time, that all things doth decay,

And this deuouring Sea, that naught doth spare,

The most part of my land hath washt away,

And throwne it vp vnto my brothers share:

So his encreased, but mine did empaire.

Before which time I lou’d, as was my lot,

That further mayd, hight Philtera the faire,

With whom a goodly doure I should haue got,

And should haue ioyned bene to her in wedlocks knot.

9 Then did my younger brother Amidas

Loue that same other Damzell, Lucy bright,

To whom but little dowre allotted was;

Her vertue was the dowre, that did delight.

What better dowre can to a dame be hight?

But now when Philtra saw my lands decay,

And former liuelod fayle, she left me quight,

And to my brother did ellope streight way:

Who taking her from me, his owne loue left astray.

10 She seeing then her selfe forsaken so,

Through dolorous despaire, which she conceyued,

Into the Sea her selfe did headlong throw,

Thinking to haue her griefe by death bereaued.

But see how much her purpose was deceaued.

Whilest thus amidst the billowes beating of her

Twixt life and death, long to and fro she weaued,

She chaunst vnwares to light vppon this coffer,

Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer.

11 The wretched mayd that earst desir’d to die,

When as the paine of death she tasted had,

And but halfe seene his vgly visnomie,

Gan to repent, that she had beene so mad,

For any death to chaunge life though most bad:

And catching hold of this Sea-beaten chest,

The lucky Pylot of her passage sad,

After long tossing in the seas distrest,

Her weary barke at last vppon mine Isle did rest.

12 Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore,

Did her espy, and through my good endeuour

From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore

Her to haue swallow’d vp, did helpe to saue her.

She then in recompence of that great fauour,

Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me

The portion of that good, which Fortune gaue her,

Together with her selfe in dowry free;

Both goodly portions, but of both the better she.

13 Yet in this coffer, which she with her brought,

Great threasure sithence we did finde contained;

Which as our owne we tooke, and so it thought.

But this same other Damzell since hath fained,

That to her selfe that threasure appertained;

And that she did transport the same by sea,

To bring it to her husband new ordained,

But suffred cruell shipwracke by the way.

But whether it be so or no, I can not say.

14 But whether it indeede be so or no,

This doe I say, that what so good or ill

Or God or Fortune vnto me did throw,

Not wronging any other by my will,

I hold mine owne, and so will hold it still.

And though my land he first did winne away,

And then my loue (though now it little skill,)

Yet my good lucke he shall not likewise pray;

But I will it defend, whilst euer that I may.

15 So hauing sayd, the younger did ensew;

Full true it is, what so about our land

My brother here declared hath to you:

But not for it this ods twixt vs doth stand,

But for this threasure throwne vppon his strand;

Which well I proue, as shall appeare by triall,

To be this maides, with whom I fastned hand,

Known by good markes, and perfect good espiall,

Therefore it ought be rendred her without deniall

16 When they thus ended had, the Knight began;

Certes your strife were easie to accord,

Would ye remit it to some righteous man.

Vnto your selfe, said they, we giue our word,

To bide what iudgement ye shall vs afford.

Then for assuraunce to my doome to stand,

Vnder my foote let each lay downe his sword,

And then you shall my sentence vnderstand.

So each of them layd downe his sword out of his hand.

17 Then Artegall thus to the younger sayd;

Now tell me Amidas, if that ye may,

Your brothers land the which the sea hath layd

Vnto your part, and plukt from his away,

By what good right doe you withhold this day?

What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme,

But that the sea it to my share did lay?

Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme;

That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme.

18 Then turning to the elder thus he sayd;

Now Bracidas let this likewise be showne.

Your brothers threasure, which from him is strayd,

Being the dowry of his wife well knowne,

By what right doe you claime to be your owne?

What other right (quoth he) should you esteeme,

But that the sea hath it vnto me throwne?

Your right is good (sayd he) and so I deeme,

That what the sea vnto you sent, your own should seeme.

19 For equall right in equall things doth stand,

For what the mighty Sea hath once possest,

And plucked quite from all possessors hand,

Whether by rage of waues, that neuer rest,

Or else by wracke, that wretches hath distrest,

He may dispose by his imperiall might,

As thing at randon left, to whom he list.

So Amidas, the land was yours first hight,

And so the threasure yours is Bracidas by right.

20 When he his sentence thus pronounced had,

Both Amidas and Philtra were displeased:

But Bracidas and Lucy were right glad,

And on the threasure by that iudgement seased.

So was their discord by this doome appeased,

And each one had his right. Then Artegall

When as their sharpe contention he had ceased,

Departed on his way, as did befall,

To follow his old quest, the which him forth did call

21 So as he trauelled vppon the way,

He chaunst to come, where happily he spide

A rout of many people farre away;

To whom his course he hastily applide,

To weete the cause of their assemblaunce wide.

To whom when he approched neare in sight,

(An vncouth sight) he plainely then descride

To be a troupe of women warlike dight,

With weapons in their hands, as ready for to fight.

22 And in the midst of them he saw a Knight,

With both his hands behinde him pinnoed hard,

And round about his necke an halter tight,

As ready for the gallow tree prepard:

His face was couered, and his head was bar’d,

That who he was, vneath was to descry;

And with full heauy heart with them he far’d,

Grieu’d to the soule, and groning inwardly,

That he of womens hands so base a death should dy.

23 But they like tyrants, mercilesse the more,

Reioyced at his miserable case,

And him reuiled, and reproched sore

With bitter taunts, and termes of vile disgrace.

Now when as Artegall arriu’d in place,

Did aske, what cause brought that man to decay,

They round about him gan to swarme apace,

Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay,

And to haue wrought vnwares some villanous assay.

24 But he was soone aware of their ill minde,

And drawing backe deceiued their intent;

Yet though him selfe did shame on womankinde

His mighty hand to shend, he Talus sent

To wrecke on them their follies hardyment:

Who with few sowces of his yron flale,

Dispersed all their troupe incontinent,

And sent them home to tell a piteous tale,

Of their vaine prowesse, turned to their proper bale.

25 But that same wretched man, ordaynd to die,

They left behind them, glad to be so quit:

Him Talus tooke out of perplexitie,

And horrour of fowle death for Knight vnfit,

Who more then losse of life ydreaded it;

And him restoring vnto liuing light,

So brought vnto his Lord, where he did sit,

Beholding all that womanish weake fight;

Whom soone as he beheld, he knew, and thus behight.

26 Sir Turpine, haplesse man, what make you here?

Or haue you lost your selfe, and your discretion,

That euer in this wretched case ye were?

Or haue ye yeelded you to proude oppression

Of womens powre, that boast of mens subiection?

Or else what other deadly dismall day

Is falne on you, by heauens hard direction,

That ye were runne so fondly far astray,

As for to lead your selfe vnto your owne decay?

27 Much was the man confounded in his mind,

Partly with shame, and partly with dismay,

That all astonisht he him selfe did find,

And little had for his excuse to say,

But onely thus; Most haplesse well ye may

Me iustly terme, that to this shame am brought,

And made the scorne of Knighthod this same day.

But who can scape, what his owne fate hath wrought?

The worke of heauens will surpasseth humaine thought.

28 Right true: but faulty men vse oftentimes

To attribute their folly vnto fate,

And lay on heauen the guilt of their owne crimes.

But tell, Sir Terpin, ne let you amate

Your misery, how fell ye in this state.

Then sith ye needs (quoth he) will know my shame,

And all the ill, which chaunst to me of late,

I shortly will to you rehearse the same,

In hope ye will not turne misfortune to my blame.

29 Being desirous (as all Knights are woont)

Through hard aduentures deedes of armes to try,

And after fame and honour for to hunt,

I heard report that farre abrode did fly,

That a proud Amazon did late defy

All the braue Knights, that hold of Maidenhead,

And vnto them wrought all the villany,

That she could forge in her malicious head,

Which some hath put to shame, and many done be dead.

30 The cause, they say, of this her cruell hate,

Is for the sake of Bellodant the bold,

To whom she bore most feruent loue of late,

And wooed him by all the waies she could:

But when she saw at last, that he ne would

For ought or nought be wonne vnto her will,

She turn’d her loue to hatred manifold,

And for his sake vow’d to doe all the ill

Which she could doe to Knights, which now she doth fulfill.

31 For all those Knights, the which by force or guile

She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate.

First she doth them of warlike armes despoile,

And cloth in womens weedes: And then with threat

Doth them compell to worke, to earne their meat,

To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring;

Ne doth she giue them other thing to eat,

But bread and water, or like feeble thing,

Them to disable from reuenge aduenturing.

32 But if through stout disdaine of manly mind,

Any her proud obseruaunce will withstand,

Vppon that gibbet, which is there behind,

She causeth them be hang’d vp out of hand;

In which condition I right now did stand.

For being ouercome by her in fight,

And put to that base seruice of her band,

I rather chose to die in liues despight,

Then lead that shamefull life, vnworthy of a Knight.

33 How hight that Amazon ? (sayd Artegall)

And where, and how far hence does she abide?

Her name (quoth he) they Radigund doe call,

A Princesse of great powre, and greater pride,

And Queene of Amazons, in armes well tride,

And sundry battels, which she hath atchieued

With great successe, that her hath glorifide,

And made her famous, more then is belieued;

Ne would I it haue ween’d, had I not late it prieued.

34 Now sure (said he) and by the faith that I

To Maydenhead and noble knighthood owe,

I will not rest, till I her might doe trie,

And venge the shame, that she to Knights doth show.

Therefore Sir Terpin from you lightly throw

This squalid weede, the patterne of dispaire,

And wend with me, that ye may see and know,

How Fortune will your ruin’d name repaire,

And knights of Maidenhead, whose praise she would empaire.

35 With that, like one that hopelesse was repry’ud

From deathes dore, at which he lately lay,

Those yron fetters, wherewith he was gyu’d,

The badges of reproch, he threw away,

And nimbly did him dight to guide the way

Vnto the dwelling of that Amazone.

Which was from thence not past a mile or tway:

A goodly citty and a mighty one,

The which of her owne name she called Radegone.

36 Where they arriuing, by the watchmen were

Descried straight, who all the citty warned,

How that three warlike persons did appeare,

Of which the one him seem’d a Knight all armed,

And th’other two well likely to haue harmed.

Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran,

And like a sort of Bees in clusters swarmed:

Ere long their Queene her selfe, halfe like a man

Came forth into the rout, and them c’array began.

37 And now the Knights being arriued neare,

Did beat vppon the gates to enter in,

And at the Porter, skorning them so few,

Threw many threats, if they the towne did win,

To teare his flesh in peeces for his sin.

Which when as Radigund there comming heard,

Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin:

She bad that streight the gates should be vnbard,

And to them way to make, with weapons well prepard.

38 Soone as the gates were open to them set,

They pressed forward, entraunce to haue made.

But in the middle way they were ymet

With a sharpe showre of arrowes, which them staid,

And better bad aduise, ere they assaid

Vnknowen perill of bold womens pride.

Then all that rout vppon them rudely laid,

And heaped strokes so fast on euery side,

And arrowes haild so thicke, that they could not abide.

39 But Radigund her selfe, when she espide

Sir Terpin, from her direfull doome acquit,

So cruell doale amongst her maides diuide,

T’auenge that shame, they did on him commit,

All sodainely enflam’d with furious fit,

Like a fell Lionesse at him she flew,

And on his head-peece him so fiercely smit,

That to the ground him quite she ouerthrew,

Dismayd so with the stroke, that he no colours knew.

40 Soone as she saw him on the ground to grouell,

She lightly to him leapt, and in his necke

Her proud foote setting, at his head did leuell,

Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake,

And his contempt, that did her iudg’ment breake.

As when a Beare hath seiz’d her cruell clawes

Vppon the carkasse of some beast too weake,

Proudly stands ouer, and a while doth pause,

To heare the piteous beast pleading her plaintiffe cause.

41 Whom when as Artegall in that distresse

By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy slaughter,

In which he swam, and ranne to his redresse.

There her assayling fiercely fresh, he raught her

Such an huge stroke, that it of sence distraught her:

And had she not it warded warily,

It had depriu’d her mother of a daughter.

Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply,

It made her stagger oft, and stare with ghastly eye.

42 Like to an Eagle in his kingly pride,

Soring through his wide Empire of the aire,

To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce hath spide

A Goshauke, which hath seized for her share

Vppon some fowle, that should her feast prepare;

With dreadfull force he flies at her byliue,

That with his souce, which none enduren dare,

Her from the quarrey he away doth driue,

And from her griping pounce the greedy prey doth riue.

43 But soone as she her sence recouer’d had,

She fiercely towards him her selfe gan dight,

Through vengeful wrath & sdeignfull pride half mad:

For neuer had she suffred such despight.

But ere she could ioyne hand with him to fight,

Her warlike maides about her flockt so fast,

That they disparted them, maugre their might,

And with their troupes did far a sunder cast:

But mongst the rest the fight did vntill euening last.

44 And euery while that mighty yron man,

With his strange weapon, neuer wont in warre,

Them sorely vext, and courst, and ouerran,

And broke their bowes, and did their shooting marre,

That none of all the many once did darre

Him to assault, nor once approach him nie,

But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre

For dread of their deuouring enemie,

Through all the fields and vallies did before him flie.

45 But when as daies faire shinie-beame, yclowded

With fearefull shadowes of deformed night,

Warn’d man and beast in quiet rest be shrowded,

Bold Radigund with sound of trumpe on hight,

Causd all her people to surcease from fight,

And gathering them vnto her citties gate,

Made them all enter in before her sight,

And all the wounded, and the weake in state,

To be conuayed in, ere she would once retrate.

46 When thus the field was voided all away,

And all things quieted, the Elfin Knight

Weary of toile and trauell of that day,

Causd his pauilion to be richly pight

Before the city gate, in open sight;

Where he him selfe did rest in safety,

Together with sir Terpin all that night:

But Talus vsde in times of ieopardy

To keepe a nightly watch, for dread of treachery.

47 But Radigund full of heart-gnawing griefe,

For the rebuke, which she sustain’d that day,

Could take no rest, ne would receiue reliefe,

But tossed in her troublous minde, what way

She mote reuenge that blot, which on her lay.

There she resolu’d her selfe in single fight

To try her Fortune, and his force assay,

Rather then see her people spoiled quight,

As she had seene that day a disauenterous sight.

48 She called forth to her a trusty mayd,

Whom she thought fittest for that businesse,

Her name was Clarin, and thus to her sayd;

Goe damzell quickly, doe thy selfe addresse,

To doe the message, which I shall expresse.

Goe thou vnto that stranger Faery Knight,

Who yeester day droue vs to such distresse,

Tell, that to morrow I with him wil fight,

And try in equall field, whether hath greater might.

49 But these conditions doe to him propound,

That if I vanquishe him, he shall obay

My law, and euer to my lore be bound,

And so will I, if me he vanquish may;

What euer he shall like to doe or say.

Goe streight, and take with thee, to witnesse it,

Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array,

And beare with you both wine and iuncates fit,

And bid him eate, henceforth he oft shall hungry sit.

50 The Damzell streight obayd, and putting all

In readinesse, forth to the Towne-gate went,

Where sounding loud a Trumpet from the wall,

Vnto those warlike Knights she warning sent.

Then Talus forth issuing from the tent,

Vnto the wall his way did fearelesse take,

To weeten what that trumpets sounding ment:

Where that same Damzell lowdly him bespake,

And shew’d, that with his Lord she would emparlaunce make.

51 So he them streight conducted to his Lord,

Who, as he could, them goodly well did greete,

Till they had told their message word by word:

Which he accepting well, as he could weete,

Them fairely entertaynd with curt’sies meete,

And gaue them gifts and things of deare delight.

So backe againe they homeward turnd their feete.

But Artegall him selfe to rest did dight,

That he mote fresher be against the next daies fight

CANTO V

Artegall fights with Radigund
   And is subdewd by guile:
He is by her emprisoned,
   But wrought by Chains wile.

1 So soone as day forth dawning from the East,

Nights humid curtaine from the heauens withdrew,

And earely calling forth both man and beast,

Comaunded them their daily workes renew,

These noble warriors, mindefull to pursew

The last daies purpose of their vowed fight,

Them selues thereto preparde in order dew;

The Knight, as best was seeming for a Knight,

And th’Amazon, as best it likt her selfe to dight,

2 All in a Camis light of purple silke

Wouen vppon with siluer, subtly wrought,

And quilted vppon sattin white as milke,

Trayled with ribbands diuersly distraught

Like as the workeman had their courses taught;

Which was short tucked for light motion

Vp to her ham, but when she list, it raught

Downe to her lowest heele, and thereuppon

She wore for her defence a mayled habergeon.

3 And on her legs she painted buskins wore,

Basted with bends of gold on euery side,

And mailes betweene, and laced close afore:

Vppon her thigh her Cemitare was tide,

With an embrodered belt of mickell pride;

And on her shoulder hung her shield, bedeckt

Vppon the bosse with stones, that shined wide,

As the faire Moone in her most full aspect,

That to the Moone it mote be like in each respect.

4 So forth she came out of the citty gate,

With stately port and proud magnificence,

Guarded with many damzels, that did wake

Vppon her person for her sure defence,

Playing on shaumes and trumpets, that from hence

Their sound did reach vnto the heauens hight.

So forth into the field she marched thence,

Where was a rich Pauilion ready pight,

Her to receiue, till time they should begin the fight.

5 Then forth came Artegall out of his tent,

All arm’d to point, and first the Lists did enter:

Soone after eke came she, with fell intent,

And countenaunce fierce, as hauing fully bent her,

That battels vtmost triall to aduenter.

The Lists were closed fast, to barre the rout

From rudely pressing to the middle center;

Which in great heapes them circled all about,

Wayting, how Fortune would resolue that daungerous dout.

6 The Trumpets sounded, and the field began;

With bitter strokes it both began, and ended.

She at the first encounter on him ran

With furious rage, as if she had intended

Out of his breast the very heart haue rended:

But he that had like tempests often tride,

From that first flaw him selfe right well defended.

The more she rag’d, the more he did abide;

She hewd, she foynd, she lasht, she laid on euery side.

7 Yet still her blowes he bore, and her forbore,

Weening at last to win aduantage new;

Yet still her crueltie increased more,

And though powre faild, her courage did accrew,

Which fayling he gan fiercely her pursew.

Like as a Smith that to his cunning feat

The stubbome mettall seeketh to subdew,

Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat,

With his great yron fledge doth strongly on it beat.

8 So did Sir Artegall vpon her lay,

As if she had an yron anduile beene,

That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray,

Out of her steely armes were flashing seene,

That all on fire ye would her surely weene.

But with her shield so well her selfe she warded,

From the dread daunger of his weapon keene,

That all that while her life she safely garded:

But he that helpe from her against her will discarded.

9 For with his trenchant blade at the next blow

Halfe of her shield he shared quite away,

That halfe her side it selfe did naked show,

And thenceforth vnto daunger opened way.

Much was she moued with the mightie sway

Of that sad stroke, that halfe enrag’d she grew,

And like a greedie Beare vnto her pray,

With her sharpe Cemitare at him she flew,

That glauncing downe his thigh, the purple bloud forth drew.

10 Thereat she gan to triumph with great boast,

And to vpbrayd that chaunce, which him misfell,

As if the prize she gotten had almost,

With spightfull speaches, fitting with her well;

That his great hart gan inwardly to swell

With indignation, at her vaunting vaine,

And at her strooke with puissance fearefull fell;

Yet with her shield she warded it againe,

That shattered all to peeces round about the plaine.

11 Hauing her thus disarmed of her shield,

Vpon her hehnet he againe her strooke,

That downe she fell vpon the grassie field,

In sencelesse swoune, as if her life forsooke,

And pangs of death her spirit ouertooke.

Whom when he saw before his foote prostrated,

He to her lept with deadly dreadfull looke,

And her sunshynie hehnet soone vnlaced,

Thinking at once both head and hehnet to haue raced.

12 But when as he discouered had her face,

He saw his senses straunge astonishment,

A miracle of natures goodly grace,

In her faire visage voide of ornament,

But bath’d in bloud and sweat together ment;

Which in the rudenesse of that euill plight,

Bewrayd the signes of feature excellent:

Like as the Moone in foggle winters night,

Doth seeme to be her selfe, though darkned be her light

13 At sight thereof his cruell minded hart

Empierced was with pittifull regard,

That his sharpe sword he threw from him apart,

Cursing his hand that had that visage mard:

No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard,

But ruth of beautie will it mollifie.

By this vpstarting from her swoune, she star’d

A while about her with confused eye;

Like one that from his dreame is waked suddenlye.

14 Soone as the knight she there by her did spy,

Standing with emptie hands all weaponlesse,

With fresh assault vpon him she did fly,

And gan renew her former cruelnesse:

And though he still retyr’d, yet nathelesse

With huge redoubled strokes she on him layd;

And more increast her outrage mercilesse,

The more that he with meeke intreatie prayd,

Her wrathful hand from greedy vengeance to haue stayd.

15 Like as a Puttocke hauing spyde in sight

A gentle Faulcon sitting on an hill,

Whose other wing, now made vnmeete for flight,

Was lately broken by some fortune ill;

The foolish Kyte, led with licentious will,

Doth beat vpon the gentle bird in vaine,

With many idle stoups her troubling still:

Euen so did Radigund with bootlesse paine

Annoy this noble Knight, and sorely him constraine.

16 Nought could he do, but shun the dred despight

Of her fierce wrath, and backward still retyre,

And with his single shield, well as he might,

Beare off the burden of her raging yre;

And euermore he gently did desyre,

To stay her stroks, and he himselfe would yield:

Yet nould she hearke, ne let him. once respyre,

Till he to her deliuered had his shield,

And to her mercie him submitted in plaine field.

17 So was he ouercome, not ouercome,

But to her yeelded of his owne accord;

Yet was he iustdy damned by the doome

Of his owne mouth, that spake so warelesse word,

To be her thrall, and seruice her afford.

For though that he first victorie obtayned,

Yet after by abandoning his sword,

He wilfull lost, that he before attayned.

No fayrer conquest, then that with goodwill is gayned.

18 Tho with her sword on him she flatting strooke,

In signe of true subiection to her powre,

And as her vassall him to thraldome tooke.

But Terpine borne to’a more vnhappy howre,

As he, on whom the lucklesse starres did lowre,

She causd to be attacht, and forthwith led

Vnto the crooke t’abide the balefull stowre,

From which he lately had through reskew fled:

Where he full shamefully was hanged by the hed.

19 But when they thought on Talus hands to lay,

He with his yron flaile amongst them thondred,

That they were fayne to let him scape away,

Glad from his companie to be so sondred;

Whose presence all their troups so much encombred

That th’heapes of those, which he did wound and slay,

Besides the rest dismayd, might not be nombred:

Yet all that while he would not once assay,

To reskew his owne Lord, but thought it iust t’obay.

20 Then tooke the Amazon this noble knight,

Left to her will by his owne wilfull blame,

And caused him to be disarmed quight,

Of all the ornaments of knightly name,

With which whylome he gotten had great fame:

In stead whereof she made him to be dight

In womans weedes, that is to manhood shame,

And put before his lap a napron white,

In stead of Curiets and bases fit for fight.

21 So being clad, she brought him from the field,

In which he had bene trayned many a day,

Into a long large chamber, which was sield

With moniments of many knights decay,

By her subdewed in victorious fray:

Amongst the which she causd his warlike armes

Be hang’d on high, that mote his shame bewray;

And broke his sword, for feare of further harmes,

With which he wont to stirre vp battailous akrmes.

22 There entred in, he round about him saw

Many braue knights, whose names right well he knew,

There bound t’obay that Amazons proud law,

Spinning and carding all in comely rew,

That his bigge hart loth’d so vncomely vew.

But they were forst through penurie and pyne,

To doe those workes, to them appointed dew:

For nought was giuen them to sup or dyne,

But what their hands could earne by twisting linnen twyne.

23 Amongst them all she placed him most low,

And in his hand a distaffe to him gaue,

That he thereon should spin both flax and tow;

A sordid office for a mind so braue.

So hard it is to be a womans slaue.

Yet he it tooke in his owne selfes despight,

And thereto did himselfe right well behaue,

Her to obay, sith he his faith had plight,

Her vassall to become, if she him wonne in fight.

24 Who had him seene, imagine mote thereby,

That whylome hath of Hercules bene told,

How for Iolas sake he did apply

His mightie hands, the distaffe vile to hold,

For his huge club, which had subdew’d of old

So many monsters, which the world annoyed;

His Lyons skin chaungd to a pall of gold,

In which forgetting warres, he onely ioyed

In combats of sweet loue, and with his mistresse toyed.

25 Such is the crueltie of womenkynd,

When they haue shaken off the shamefast band,

With which wise Nature did them strongly bynd,

T’obay the heasts of mans well ruling hand,

That then all rule and reason they withstand,

To purchase a licentious libertie.

But vertuous women wisely vnderstand,

That they were borne to base humilitie,

Vnlesse the heauens them lift to lawfiill soueraintie.

26 Thus there long while continu’d Artegall,

Seruing proud Radigund with true subiection;

How euer it his noble heart did gall,

T’obay a womans tyrannous direction,

That might haue had of life or death election:

But hailing chosen, now he might not chaunge.

During which time, the warlike Amazon,

Whose wandring fancie after lust did raunge,

Gan cast a secret liking to this captiue straunge.

27 Which long concealing in her couert brest,

She chaw’d the cud of louers carefull plight;

Yet could it not so thoroughly digest,

Being fast fixed in her wounded spright,

But it tormented her both day and night:

Yet would she not thereto yeeld free accord,

To serue the lowly vassall of her might,

And of her seruant make her souerayne Lord:

So great her pride, that she such basenesse much abhord.

28 So much the greater still her anguish grew,

Through stubborne handling of her loue-sicke hart;

And still the more she stroue it to subdew,

The more she still augmented her owne smart,

And wyder made the wound of th’hidden dart

At last when long she struggled had in vaine,

She gan to stoupe, and her proud mind conuert

To meeke obeysance of loues mightie raine,

And him entreat for grace, that had procur’d her paine.

29 Vnto her selfe in secret she did call

Her nearest handmayd, whom she most did trust,

And to her said; Clarinda whom of all

I trust a liue, sith I thee fostred first;

Now is the time, that I vntimely must

Thereof make tryall, in my greatest need:

It is so hapned, that the heauens vniust,

Spighting my happie freedome, haue agreed,

To thrall my looser life, or my last bale to breed.

30 With that she turn’d her head, as halfe abashed,

To hide the blush which in her visage rose,

And through her eyes like sudden lightning flashed,

Decking her cheeke with a vermilion rose:

But soone she did her countenance compose,

And to her turning, thus began againe;

This griefes deepe wound I would to thee disclose,

Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine,

But dread of shame my doubtfull lips doth still restraine.

31 Ah my deare dread (said then the faithfull Mayd)

Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold,

That many hath with dread of death dismayd,

And dare euen deathes most dreadfull face behold?

Say on my souerayne Ladie, and be bold;

Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?

Therewith much comforted, she gan vnfold

The cause of her concerned maladie,

As one that would confesse, yet faine would it denie.

33 Clarin (sayd she) thou seest yond Fayry Knight,

Whom not my valour, hut his owne braue mind

Subiected hath to my vnequall might;

What right is it, that he should thraldome find,

For lending life to me a wretch vnkind;

That for such good him recompence with ill?

Therefore I cast, how I may him vnbind,

And by his freedome get his free goodwill;

Yet so, as bound to me he may continue still.

33 Bound vnto me, but not with such hard bands

Of strong compulsion, and streight violence,

As now in miserable state he stands;

But with sweet loue and sure beneuolence,

Voide of malirious mind, or foule offence.

To which if thou canst win him any way,

Without discouerie of my thoughts pretence,

Both goodly meede of him it purchase may,

And eke with gratefull seruice me right well apay.

34 Which that thou mayst the better bring to pas,

Loe here this ring, which shall thy warrant bee,

And token true to old Eumenias,

From time to time, when thou it best shalt see,

That in and out thou mayst haue passage free.

Goe now, Clarinda, well thy wits aduise,

And all thy forces gather vnto thee;

Armies of louely lookes, and speeches wise,

With which thou canst euen Ioue himselfe to loue entise.

35 The trustie Mayd, concerning her intent,

Did with sure promise of her good indeuour,

Giue her great comfort, and some harts content.

So from her parting, she thenceforth did labour

By all the meanes she might, to curry fauour

With th’Elfin Knight, her Ladies best beloued;

With daily shew of courteous kind behauiour,

Euen at the markewhite of his hart she roued,

And with wide glauncing words, one day she thus him proued.

36 Vnhappie Knight, vpon whose hopelesse state

Fortune enuying good, hath felly frowned,

And cruell heauens haue heapt an heauy fate;

I rew that thus thy better dayes are drowned

In sad despaire, and all thy senses swowned

In stupid sorow, sith thy iuster merit

Might else haue with felicitie bene crowned:

Looke vp at last, and wake thy dulled spirit,

To thinke how this long death thou mightest disinherit.

37 Much did he maruell at her vncouth speach,

Whose hidden drift he could not well perceiue;

And gan to doubt, least she him sought t’appeach

Of treason, or some guilefull traine did weaue,

Through which she might his wretched life bereaue.

Both which to barre, he with this answere met her;

Faire Damzell, that with ruth (as I perceaue)

Of my mishaps, art mou’d to wish me better,

For such your kind regard, I can but rest your detter.

38 Yet weet ye well, that to a courage great

It is no lesse beseeming well, to beare

The storme of fortunes frowne, or heauens threat,

Then in the sunshine of her countenance cleare

Timely to ioy, and carrie comely cheare.

For though this cloud haue now me ouercast,

Yet doe I not of better tunes despeyre;

And, though vnlike, they should for euer last,

Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast.

39 But what so stonie mind (she then replyde)

But if in his owne powre occasion lay,

Would to his hope a windowe open wyde,

And to his fortunes helpe make readie way?

Vnworthy sure (quoth he) of better day,

That will not take the offer of good hope,

And eke pursew, if he attaine it may.

Which speaches she applying to the scope

Of her intent, this further purpose to him shope.

40 Then why doest not, thou ill aduized man,

Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,

And try if thou by faire entreatie, can

Moue Radigund? who though she still haue worne

Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne

Of Beares and Tygres, nor so saluage mynded,

As that, albe all loue of men she scorne,

She yet forgets, that she of men was kynded:

And sooth oft seene, that proudest harts base loue hath blynded.

41 Certes Clarinda, not of cancred will,

(Sayd he) nor obstinate disdainefull mind,

I haue forbore this duetie to fulfill:

For well I may this weene, by that I fynd,

That she a Queene, and come of Princely kynd,

Both worthie is for to be sewd vnto,

Chiefely by him, whose life her law doth bynd,

And eke of powre her owne doome to vndo,

And als’ of princely grace to be indyn’d thereto.

42 But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let,

From seeking fauour, where it doth abound;

Which if I might by your good office get,

I to your selfe should rest for euer bound,

And readie to deserue, what grace I found.

She feeling him thus bite vpon the bayt,

Yet doubting least his hold was but vnsound,

And not well fastened, would not strike him strayt,

But drew him on with hope, fit leasure to awayt.

43 But foolish Mayd, whyles heedlesse of the hooke,

She thus oft times was beating off and on,

Through slipperie footing, fell into the brooke,

And there was caught to her confusion.

For seeking thus to salue the Amazon,

She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart,

And gan thenceforth to cast affection,

Concerned close in her beguiled hart,

To Artegall, through pittie of his causelesse smart.

44 Yet durst she not disclose her fancies wound,

Ne to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned,

Ne yet to any other wight on ground,

For feare her mistresse shold haue knowledge gayned,

But to her selfe it secretly retayned,

Within the closet of her couert brest:

The more thereby her tender hart was payned.

Yet to awayt fit time she weened best,

And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts vnrest.

45 One day her Ladie, calling her apart,

Gan to demaund of her some tydings good,

Touching her loues successe, her lingring smart.

Therewith she gan at first to change her mood,

As one adaw’d, and halfe confused stood;

But quickly she it ouerpast, so soone

As she her face had wypt, to fresh her blood:

Tho gan she tell her all, that she had donne,

And all the wayes she sought, his loue for to haue wonne.

46 But sayd, that he was obstinate and sterne,

Scorning her offers and conditions vaine;

Ne would be taught with any termes, to lerne

So fond a lesson, as to loue againe.

Die rather would he in penurious paine,

And his abridged dayes in dolour wast,

Then his foes loue or liking entertaine:

His resolution was both first and last,

His bodie was her thrall, his hart was freely plast.

47 Which when the cruell Amazon perceiued,

She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall,

For very fell despight, which she concerned,

To be so scorned of a base borne thrall,

Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall;

Of which she vow’d with many a cursed threat,

That she therefore would him ere long forstall.

Nathlesse when calmed was her furious heat,

She chang’d that threatfull mood, & mildly gan entreat.

48 What now is left Clarinda? what remaines,

That we may compasse this our enterprize?

Great shame to lose so long employed paines,

And greater shame t’abide so great misprize,

With which he dares our offers thus despize.

Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare,

And more my gradous merde by this wize,

I will a while with his first folly beare,

Till thou haue tride againe, & tempted him more neare.

49 Say, and do all, that may thereto preuaile;

Leaue nought vnpromist, that may him perswade,

Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great auaile,

With which the Gods themselues are mylder made:

Thereto adde art, euen womens witty trade,

The art of mightie words, that men can charme;

With which in case thou canst him not inuade,

Let him feele hardnesse of thy heauie arme:

Who will not stoupe with good, shall be made stoupe with

[harme.

50 Some of his diet doe from him withdraw;

For I him find to be too proudly fed.

Giue him more labour, and with streighter law,

That he with worke may be forwearied.

Let him lodge hard, and h’e in strawen bed,

That may pull downe the courage of his pride;

And lay vpon him, for his greater dread,

Cold yron chaines, with which let him be tide;

And let, what euer he desires, be him denide.

51 When thou hast all this doen, then bring me newes

Of his demeane: thenceforth not like a louer,

But like a rebell stout I will him vse.

For I resolue this siege not to giue ouer,

Till I the conquest of my will recouer.

So she departed, full of griefe and sdaine,

Which inly did to great impatience moue her,

But the false mayden shortly turn’d againe

Vnto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine.

52 There all her subtill nets she did vnfold,

And all the engins of her wit display;

In which she meant him warelesse to enfold,

And of his innocence to make her pray.

So cunningly she wrought her crafts assay,

That both her Ladie, and her selfe withall,

And eke the knight attonce she did betray:

But most the knight, whom she with guilefull call

Did cast for to allure, into her trap to fall.

53 As a bad Nurse, which fayning to receiue

In her owne mouth the food, merit for her chyld,

Withholdes it to her selfe, and doeth deceiue

The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld:

Euen so Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld,

And turn’d the trust, which was in her affyde,

To feeding of her priuate fire, which boyld

Her inward brest, and in her entrayles fryde,

The more that she it sought to couer and to hyde.

54 For comming to this knight, she purpose fayned,

How earnest suit she earst for him had made

Vnto her Queene, his freedome to haue gayned;

But by no meanes could her thereto perswade:

But that instead thereof, she sternely bade

His miserie to be augmented more,

And many yron bands on him to lade.

All which nathlesse she for his loue forbore:

So praying him t’accept her sendee euermore.

55 And more then that, she promist that she would,

In case she might finde fauour in his eye,

Deuize how to enlarge him out of hould.

The Fayrie glad to gaine his libertie,

Can yeeld great thankes for such her curtesie,

And with faire words, fit for the time and place,

To feede the humour of her maladie;

Promist, if she would free him from that case,

He wold by all good means he might, deserue such grace.

56 So daily he faire semblant did her shew,

Yet neuer meant he in his noble mind,

To his owne absent loue to be vntxew:

Ne euer did deceiptfull Clarin find

In her false hart, his bondage to vnbind;

But rather how she mote him faster tye.

Therefore vnto her mistresse most vnkind

She daily told, her loue he did defye,

And him she told, her Dame his freedome did denye.

57 Yet thus much friendship she to him did show,

That his scarse diet somewhat was amended,

And his worke lessened, that his loue mote grow:

Yet to her Dame him still she discommended,

That she with him mote be the more offended.

Thus he long while in thraldome there remayned,

Of both beloued well, but litle trended;

Vntill his owne true loue his freedome gayned,

Which in an other Canto will be best contayned.

CANTO VI

Talus brings newes to Britomart,
   of Artegals mishap,
She goes to seeke him, Dolon meetes,
   who seekes her to entrap.

1 Some men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall

Great weaknesse, and report of him much ill,

For yeelding so himselfe a wretched thrall,

To th’insolent commaund of womens will;

That all his former praise doth fowly spill.

But he the man, that say or doe so dare,

Be well aduiz’d, that he stand stedfast still:

For neuer yet was wight so well aware,

But he at first or last was trapt in womens snare.

2 Yet in the streightnesse of that captiue state,

This gentle knight himselfe so well behaued,

That notwithstanding all the subtill bait,

With which those Amazons his loue still craued,

To his owne loue his loialtie he saued:

Whose character in th’Adamantine mould

Of his true hart so finnely was engraued,

That no new loues impression euer could

Bereaue it thence: such blot his honour blemish should.

3 Yet his owne loue, the noble Britomart,

Scarse so concerned in her iealous thought,

What time sad tydings of his balefull smart

In womans bondage, Talus to her brought;

Brought in vntimely houre, ere it was sought.

For after that the vtmost date, assynde

For his returne, she waited had for nought,

She gan to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde

A thousand feares, that loue-sicke fancies faine to fynde.

4 Sometime she feared, least some hard mishap

Had him misfalne in his aduenturous quest;

Sometime least his false foe did him entrap

In traytrous traine, or had vnwares opprest:

But most she did her troubled mynd molest,

And secretly afflict with iealous feare,

Least some new loue had him from her possest;

Yet loth she was, since she no ill did heare,

To thinke of him so ill: yet could she not forbeare.

5 One while she blam’d her selfe; another whyle

She him condemn’d, as trustlesse and vntrew:

And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle,

She fayn’d to count the time againe anew,

As if before she had not counted trew.

For houres but dayes; for weekes, that passed were,

She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few:

Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare,

Each hour did seeme a moneth, & euery moneth a yeare.

6 But when as yet she saw him not returne,

She thought to send some one to seeke him out;

But none she found so fit to serue that turne,

As her owne selfe, to ease her selfe of dout.

Now she deuiz’d amongst the warlike rout

Of errant Knights, to seeke her errant Knight;

And then againe resolu’d to hunt him out

Amongst loose Ladies, lapped in delight:

And then both Knights enuide, & Ladies eke did spight

7 One day, when as she long had sought for ease

In euery place, and euery place thought best,

Yet found no place, that could her liking please,

She to a window came, that opened West,

Towards which coast her loue his way addrest.

There looking forth, shee in her heart did find

Many vaine fancies, working her vnrest;

And sent her winged thoughts, more swift then wind,

To beare vnto her loue the message of her mind.

8 There as she looked long, at last she spide

One comming towards her with hasty speede:

Well weend she then, ere him she plaine descride,

That it was one sent from her loue indeede.

Who when he nigh approcht, shee mote arede

That it was Talus, Artegall his groome;

Whereat her heart was fild with hope and drede;

Ne would she stay, till he in place could come,

But ran to meete him forth, to know his tidings somme.

9 Euen in the dore him meeting, she begun;

And where is he thy Lord, and how far hence?

Declare at once; and hath he lost or wun?

The yron man, albe he wanted sence

And sorrowes feeling, yet with conscience

Of his ill newes, did inly chill and quake,

And stood still mute, as one in great suspence,

As if that by his silence he would make

Her rather reade his meaning, then him selfe it spake.

10 Till she againe thus sayd; Talus be bold,

And tell what euer it be, good or bad,

That from thy tongue thy hearts intent doth hold.

To whom he thus at length. The tidings sad,

That I would hide, will needs, I see, be rad.

My Lord, your loue, by hard mishap doth lie

In wretched bondage, wofully bestad.

Ay me (quoth she) what wicked destinie?

And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy?

11 Not by that Tyrant, his intended foe;

But by a Tyrannesse (he then replide.)

That him captiued hath in haplesse woe.

Cease thou bad newes-man, badly doest thou hide

Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage tide.

The rest my selfe too readily can spell.

With that in rage she turn’d from him aside,

Forcing in vaine the rest to her to tell,

And to her chamber went like solitary cell.

12 There she began to make her monefull plaint

Against her Knight, for being so vntrew;

And him to touch with falshoods fowle attaint,

That all his other honour ouerthrew.

Oft did she blame her selfe, and often rew,

For yeelding to a straungers loue so light,

Whose life and manners straunge she neuer knew;

And euermore she did him sharpely twight

For breach of faith to her, which he had firmly plight.

13 And then she in her wrathfull will did cast,

How to reuenge that blot of honour blent;

To fight with him, and goodly die her last:

And then againe she did her selfe torment,

Inflicting on her selfe his punishment.

A while she walkt, and chauft; a while she threw

Her selfe vppon her bed, and did lament:

Yet did she not lament with loude alew,

As women wont, but with deepe sighes, and singulfs few.

14 like as a wayward childe, whose sounder sleepe

Is broken with some fearefull dreames affright,

With froward will doth set him selfe to weepe;

Ne can be stild for all his nurses might,

But kicks, and squals, and shriekes for fell despight:

Now scratching her, and her loose locks misusing;

Now seeking darkenesse, and now seeking light;

Then crauing sucke, and then the sucke refusing.

Such was this Ladies fit, in her loues fond accusing.

15 But when she had with such vnquiet fits

Her selfe there close afflicted long in vaine,

Yet found no easement in her troubled wits,

She vnto Talus forth return’d againe,

By change of place seeking to ease her paine;

And gan enquire of him, with mylder mood,

The certaine cause of Artegals detaine;

And what he did, and in what state he stood,

And whether he did woo, or whether he were woo’d.

16 Ah wellaway (sayd then the yron man,)

That he is not the while in state to woo;

But lies in wretched thraldome, weake and wan,

Not by strong hand compelled thereunto,

But his owne doome, that none can now vndoo.

Sayd I not then (quoth shee) erwhile aright,

That this is things compacte betwixt you two,

Me to deceiue of faith vnto me plight,

Since that he was not forst, nor ouercome in fight?

17 With that he gan at large to her dilate

The whole discourse of his captiuance sad,

In sort as ye haue heard the same of late.

All which when she with hard enduraunce had

Heard to the end, she was right sore bestad,

With sodaine stounds of wrath and griefe attone:

Ne would abide, till she had aunswere made,

But streight her selfe did dight, and armor don;

And mounting to her steede, bad Talus guide her on.

18 So forth she rode vppon her ready way,

To seeke her Knight, as Talus her did guide:

Sadly she rode, and neuer word did say,

Nor good nor bad, ne euer lookt aside,

But still right downe, and in her thought did hide

The felnesse of her heart, right fully bent

To fierce auengement of that womans pride,

Which had her Lord in her base prison pent,

And so great honour with so fowle reproch had blent

19 So as she thus melancholicke did ride,

Chawing the cud of griefe and inward paine,

She chaunst to meete toward th’euen-tide

A Knight, that softly paced on the plaine,

As if him selfe to solace he were faine.

Well shot in yeares he seem’d, and rather bent

To peace, then needlesse trouble to constraine.

As well by view of that his vestiment,

As by his modest semblant, that no euill ment

20 He comming neare, gan gently her salute

With curteous words.in the most comely wize;

Who though desirous rather to rest mute,

Then termes to entertaine of common guize,

Yet rather then she kindnesse would despize,

She would her selfe displease, so him requite.

Then gan the other further to deuize

Of things abrode, as next to hand did light,

And many things demaund, to which she answer’d light.

21 For little lust had she to talke of ought,

Or ought to heare, that mote delightfull bee;

Her minde was whole possessed of one thought,

That gaue none other place. Which when as hee

By outward signes, (as well he might) did see,

He list no lenger to vse lothfull speach,

But her besought to take it well in gree,

Sith shady dampe had dimd the heauens reach,

To lodge with him that night, vnles good cause empeach.

22 The Championesse, now seeing night at dore,

Was glad to yeeld vnto his good request:

And with him went without gaine-saying more.

Not farre away, but little wide by West,

His dwelling was, to which he him addrest;

Where soone arriuing they receiued were

In seemely wise, as them beseemed best:

For he their host them goodly well did cheare,

And talk’t of pleasant things, the night away to weare.

23 Thus passing th’euening well, till time of rest,

Then Britomart vnto a bowre was brought;

Where groomes awayted her to haue vndrest.

But she ne would vndressed be for ought,

Ne doffe her armes, though he her much besought.

For she had vow’d, she sayd, not to forgo

Those warlike weedes, till she reuenge had wrought

Of a late wrong vppon a mortall foe;

Which she would sure performe, betide her wele or wo.

24 Which when their Host perceiu’d, right discontent

In minde he grew, for feare least by that art

He should his purpose misse, which close he ment:

Yet taking leaue of her, he did depart.

There all that night remained Britomart,

Restlesse, recomfortlesse, with heart deepe grieued,

Not suffering the least twinckling sleepe to start

Into her eye, which th’heart mote haue relieued,

But if the least appear’d, her eyes she streight reprieued.

25 Ye guilty eyes (sayd she) the which with guyle

My heart at first betrayd, will ye betray

My life now to, for which a little whyle

Ye will not watch? false watches, wellaway,

I wote when ye did watch both night and day

Vnto your losse: and now needes will ye sleepe?

Now ye haue made my heart to wake alway,

Now will ye sleepe? ah wake, and rather weepe,

To thinke of your nights want, that should yee waking keepe.

26 Thus did she watch, and weare the weary night

In waylfull plaints, that none was to appease;

Now walking soft, now sitting still vpright,

As sundry chaunge her seemed best to ease.

Ne lesse did Talus suffer sleepe to seaze

His eye-lids sad, but watcht continually,

Lying without her dore in great disease;

Like to a Spaniell wayting carefully

Least any should betray his Lady treacherously.

27 what time the natiue Belman of the night,

The bird, that warned Peter of his fall,

First rings his siluer Bell t’each sleepy wight,

That should their mindes vp to deuotion call,

She heard a wondrous noise below the hall.

All sodainely the bed, where she should lie,

By a false trap was let adowne to fall

Into a lower roome, and by and by

The loft was raysd againe, that no man could it spie.

28 With sight whereof she was dismayd right sore,

Perceiuing well the treason, which was ment:

Yet stirred not at all for doubt of more,

But kept her place with courage confident,

Wayting what would ensue of that euent.

It was not long, before she heard the sound

Of armed men, comming with close intent

Towards her chamber; at which dreadfull stound

She quickly caught her sword, & shield about her bound.

29 With that there came vnto her chamber dore

Two Knights, all arm’d ready for to fight,

And after them full many other more,

A raskall rout, with weapons rudely dight.

Whom soone as Talus spide by glims of night,

He started vp, there where on ground he lay,

And in his hand his thresher ready keight.

They seeing that, let driue at him straight way,

And round about him preace in riotous aray.

30 But soone as he began to lay about

With his rude yron flaile, they gan to flie,

Both armed Knights, and eke vnarmed rout:

Yet Talus after them apace did plie,

Where euer in the darke he could them spie;

That here and there like scattred sheepe they lay.

Then backe returning, where his Dame did he,

He to her told the story of that fray,

And all that treason there intended did bewray.

31 Wherewith though wondrous wroth, and inly burning,

To be auenged for so fowle a deede,

Yet being forst to abide the daies returning,

She there remain’d, but with right wary heede,

Least any more such practise should proceede.

Now mote ye know (that which to Britomart

Vnknowen was) whence all this did proceede,

And for what cause so great mischieuous smart

Was ment to her, that neuer euill ment in hart.

32 The goodman of this house was Dolon hight,

A man of subtill wit and wicked minde,

That whilome in his youth had bene a Knight,

And armes had borne, but little good could finde,

And much lesse honour by that warlike kinde

Of life: for he was nothing valorous,

But with slie shiftes and wiles did vnderminde

All noble Knights, which were aduenturous,

And many brought to shame by treason treacherous.

33 He had three sonnes, all three like fathers sonnes,

Like treacherous, like full of fraud and guile,

Of all that on this earthly compasse wonnes:

The eldest of the which was slaine erewhile

By Artegall, through his owne guilty wile;

His name was Guizor, whose vntimely fate

For to auenge, full many treasons vile

His father Dolon had deuiz’d of late

With these his wicked sons, and shewd his cankred hate.

34 For sure he weend, that this his present guest

Was Artegall, by many tokens plaine;

But chiefly by that yron page he ghest,

Which still was wont with Artegall remaine;

And therefore ment him surely to haue slaine.

But by Gods grace, and her good heedinesse,

She was preserued from their traytrous traine.

Thus she all night wore out in watchfulnesse,

Ne suffred slothfull sleepe her eyelids to oppresse.

35 The morrow next, so soone as dawning houre

Discouered had the light to liuing eye,

She forth yssew’d out of her loathed bowre,

With full intent t’auenge that villany,

On that vilde man, and all his family

And comming down to seeke them, where they wond,

Nor sire, nor sonnes, nor any could she spie:

Each rowme she sought, but them all empty fond:

They all were fled for feare, but whether, nether kond,

36 She saw it vaine to make there lenger stay,

But tooke her steede, and thereon mounting light,

Gan her addresse vnto her former way.

She had not rid the mountenance of a flight,

But that she saw there present in her sight,

Those two false brethren, on that perillous Bridge,

On which Pollente with Artegall did fight.

Streight was the passage like a ploughed ridge,

That if two met, the one mote needes fall ouer the lidge.

37 There they did thinke themselues on her to wreake:

Who as she nigh vnto them drew, the one

These vile reproches gan vnto her speake;

Thou recreant false traytor, that with lone

Of armes hast knighthood stolne, yet Knight art none,

No more shall now the darkenesse of the night

Defend thee from the vengeance of thy fone,

But with thy bloud thou shalt appease the spright

Of Guizor, by thee slaine, and murdred by thy slight.

38 Strange were the words in Britomartis eare;

Yet stayd she not for them, but forward fared,

Till to the perillous Bridge she came, and there

Talus desir’d, that he might haue prepared

The way to her, and those two losels scared.

But she thereat was wroth, that for despight

The glauncing sparkles through her beuer glared,

And from her eies did flash out fiery light,

Like coles, that through a siluer Censer sparkle bright.

39 She stayd not to aduise which way to take;

But putting spurres vnto her fiery beast,

Thorough the midst of them she way did make.

The one of them, which most her wrath increast,

Vppon her speare she bore before her breast,

Till to the Bridges further end she past,

Where falling downe, his challenge he releast:

The other ouer side the Bridge she cast

Into the riuer, where he drunke his deadly last.

40 As when the flashing Leuin haps to light

Vppon two stubborne oakes, which stand so neare,

That way betwixt them none appeares in sight;

The Engin fiercely flying forth, doth teare

Th’one from the earth, & through the aire doth beare;

The other it with force doth ouerthrow,

Vppon one side, and from his rootes doth reare.

So did the Championesse those two there strow,

And to their sire their carcasses left to bestow.

CANTO VII

Britomart comes to Isis Church,
   Where shee strange visions sees:
She fights with Radigund, her shies,
   And Artegatt thence frees.

1 Nought is on earth more sacred or diuine,

That Gods and men doe equally adore,

Then this same vertue, that doth right define:

For th’heuens themselues, whence mortal men implore

Right in their wrongs, are rul’d by righteous lore

Of highest Ioue, who doth true iustice deale

To his inferiour Gods, and euermore

Therewith containes his heauenly Common-weale:

The skill whereof to Princes hearts he doth reueale.

2 Well therefore did the antique world inuent,

That Iustice was a God of soueraine grace,

And altars vnto him, and temples lent,

And heauenly honours in the highest place;

Calling him great Osyris, of the race

Of th’old Ægyptian Kings, that whylome were;

With fayned colours shading a true case:

For that Osyris, whitest he liued here,

The iustest man aliue, and truest did appeare.

3 His wife was Isis, whom they likewise made

A Goddesse of great powre and souerainty,

And in her person cunningly did shade

That part of Iustice, which is Equity,

Whereof I haue to treat here presently.

Vnto whose temple when as Britomart

Arriued, shee with great humility

Did enter in, ne would that right depart;

But Talus mote not be admitted to her part

4 There she receiued was in goodly wize

Of many Priests, which duely did attend

Vppon the rites and daily sacrifice,

All clad in linnen robes with siluer hemd;

And on their heads with long locks comely kemd,

They wore rich Mitres shaped like the Moone,

To shew that Isis doth the Moone portend;

Like as Osyris signifies the Sunne.

For that they both like race in equall iustice runne.

5 The Championesse them greeting, as she could,

Was thence by them into the Temple led;

Whose goodly building when she did behould,

Borne vppon stately pillours, all dispred

With shining gold, and arched ouer hed,

She wondred at the workemans passing skill,

Whose like before she neuer saw nor red;

And thereuppon long while stood gazing still,

But thought, that she thereon could neuer gaze her fill.

6 Thence forth vnto the Idoll they her brought,

The which was framed all of siluer fine,

So well as could with cunning hand be wrought,

And clothed all in garments made of line,

Hemd all about with fringe of siluer twine.

Vppon her head she wore a Crowne of gold,

To shew that she had powre in things diuine;

And at her feete a Crocodile was rold,

That with her wreathed taile her middle did enfold.

7 One foote was set vppon the Crocodile,

And on the ground the other fast did stand,

So meaning to suppresse both forged guile,

And open force: and in her other hand

She stretched forth a long white sclender wand.

Such was the Goddesse; whom when Britomart

Had long beheld, her selfe vppon the land

She did prostrate, and with right humble hart,

Vnto her selfe her silent prayers did impart.

8 To which the Idoll as it were inclining,

Her wand did moue with amiable looke,

By outward shew her inward sence desining.

Who well perceiuing, how her wand she shooke,

It as a token of good fortune tooke.

By this the day with dampe was ouercast,

And ioyous light the house of Ioue forsooke:

Which when she saw, her helmet she vnlaste,

And by the altars side her selfe to slumber plaste.

9 For other beds the Priests there vsed none,

But on their mother Earths deare lap did lie,

And bake their sides vppon the cold hard stone,

T’enure them selues to sufferaunce thereby

And proud rebellious flesh to mortify.

For by the vow of their religion

They tied were to stedfast chastity,

And continence of life, that all forgon,

They mote the better tend to their deuotion.

10 Therefore they mote not taste of fleshly food,

Ne feed on ought, the which doth bloud containe,

Ne drinke of wine, for wine they say is blood,

Euen the bloud of Gyants, which were slaine,

By thundring Ioue in the Phlegrean plaine.

For which the earth (as they the story tell)

Wroth with the Gods, which to perpetuall paine

Had damn’d her sonnes, which gainst them did rebell,

With inward griefe and malice did against them swell.

11 And of their vitall bloud, the which was shed

Into her pregnant bosome, forth she brought

The fruitfull vine, whose liquor blouddy red

Hauing the mindes of men with fury fraught,

Mote in them stirre vp old rebellious thought,

To make new warre against the Gods againe:

Such is the powre of that same fruit, that nought

The fell contagion may thereof restraine,

Ne within reasons rule, her madding mood containe.

12 There did the warlike Maide her selfe repose,

Vnder the wings of Isis all that night,

And with sweete rest her heauy eyes did close,

After that long daies toile and weary plight.

Where whilest her earthly parts with soft delight

Of sencelesse sleepe did deeply drowned lie,

There did appeare vnto her heauenly spright

A wondrous vision, which did close implie

The course of all her fortune and posteritie.

13 Her seem’d, as she was doing sacrifize

To Isis, deckt with Mitre on her hed,

And linnen stole after those Priestes guize,

All sodainely she saw transfigured

Her linnen stole to robe of scarlet red,

And Moone-like Mitre to a Crowne of gold,

That euen she her selfe much wondered

At such a chaunge, and ioyed to behold

Her selfe, adorn’d with gems and iewels manifold.

14 And in the midst of her felicity,

An hideous tempest seemed from below,

To rise through all the Temple sodainely,

That from the Altar all about did blow

The holy fire, and all the embers strow

Vppon the ground, which kindled priuily,

Into outragious flames vnwares did grow,

That all the Temple put in ieopardy

Of flaming, and her selfe in great perplexity.

15 With that the Crocodile, which sleeping lay

Vnder the Idols feete in fearelesse bowre,

Seem’d to awake in horrible dismay,

As being troubled with that stormy stowre;

And gaping greedy wide, did streight deuoure

Both flames and tempest: with which growen great,

And swolne with pride of his owne peerelesse powre,

He gan to threaten her likewise to eat;

But that the Goddesse with her rod him backe did beat.

16 Tho turning all his pride to humblesse meeke,

Him selfe before her feete he lowly threw,

And gan for grace and loue of her to seeke:

Which she accepting, he so neare her drew,

That of his game she soone enwombed grew,

And forth did bring a Lion of great might;

That shortly did all other beasts subdew.

With that she waked, full of fearefull fright,

And doubtfully dismayd through that so vncouth sight.

17 So thereuppon long while she musing lay,

With thousand thoughts feeding her fantasie,

Vntill she spide the lampe of lightsome day,

Vp-lifted in the porch of heauen hie.

Then vp she rose fraught with melancholy,

And forth into the lower parts did pas;

Whereas the Priestes she found full busily

About their holy things for morrow Mas:

Whom she saluting faire, faire resaluted was.

18 But by the change of her vnchearefull looke,

They might perceiue, she was not well in plight;

Or that some pensiuenesse to heart she tooke.

Therefore thus one of them, who seem’d in sight

To be the greatest, and the grauest wight,

To her bespake; Sir Knight it seemes to me,

That thorough euill rest of this last night,

Or ill apayd, or much dismayd ye be,

That by your change of cheare is easie for to see.

19 Certes (sayd she) sith ye so well haue spide

The troublous passion of my pensiue mind,

I will not seeke the same from you to hide,

But will my cares vnfolde, in hope to find

Your aide, to guide me out of errour blind.

Say on (quoth he) the secret of your hart:

For by the holy vow, which me doth bind,

I am adiur’d, best counsell to impart

To all, that shall require my comfort in their smart

20 Then gan she to declare the whole discourse

Of all that vision, which to her appeard,

As well as to her minde it had recourse.

All which when he vnto the end had heard,

Like to a weake faint-hearted man he fared,

Through great astonishment of that strange sight;

And with long locks vp-standing, stifly stared

Like one adawed with some dreadfull spright

So fild with heauenly fury, thus he her behight

21 Magnificke Virgin, that in queint disguise

Of British armes doest maske thy royall blood,

So to pursue a perillous emprize,

How coulst thou weene, through that disguized hood,

To hide thy state from being vnderstood?

Can from th’immortall Gods ought hidden bee?

They doe thy linage, and thy Lordly brood;

They doe thy sire, lamenting sore for thee;

They doe thy loue, forlorne in womens thraldome see.

22 The end whereof and all the long euent,

They doe to thee in this same dreame discouer.

For that same Crocodile doth represent

The righteous Knight, that is thy faithfull louer,

Like to Osyris in all iust endeuer.

For that same Crocodile Osyris is,

That vnder Isis feete doth sleepe for euer:

To shew that clemence oft in things amis,

Restraines those sterne behests, and cruell doomes of his.

23 That Knight shall all the troublous stormes asswage,

And raging flames, that many foes shall reare,

To hinder thee from the iust heritage

Of thy sires Crowne, and from thy countrey deare.

Then shalt thou take him to thy loued fere,

And ioyne in equall portion of thy realme:

And afterwards a sonne to him shalt beare,

That Lion-like shall shew his powre extreame.

So blesse thee God, and giue thee ioyance of thy dreame.

24 All which when she vnto the end had heard,

She much was eased in her troublous thought,

And on those Priests bestowed rich reward:

And royall gifts of gold and siluer wrought,

She for a present to their Goddesse brought.

Then taking leaue of them, she forward went,

To seeke her loue, where he was to be sought;

Ne rested till she came without relent

Vnto the land of Amazons, as she was bent.

25 Whereof when newes to Radigund was brought,

Not with amaze, as women wonted bee,

She was confused in her troublous thought,

But fild with courage and with ioyous glee,

As glad to heare of armes, the which now she

Had long surceast, she bad to open bold,

That she the face of her new foe might see.

But when they of that yron man had told,

Which late her folke had skine, she bad them forth to hold.

26 So there without the gate (as seemed best)

She caused her Pauilion be pight;

In which stout Britomart her selfe did rest,

Whiles Talus watched at the dore all night.

All night likewise, they of the towne in fright,

Vppon their wall good watch and ward did keepe.

The morrow next, so soone as dawning light

Bad doe away the dampe of drouzie sleepe,

The warlike Amazon out of her bowre did peepe.

27 And caused streight a Trumpet loud to shrill,

To warne her foe to battell soone be prest:

Who long before awoke (for she ful ill

Could sleepe all night, that in vnquiet brest

Did closely harbour such a iealous guest)

Was to the battell whilome ready dight.

Eftsoones that warriouresse with haughty crest

Did forth issue, all ready for the fight:

On th’other side her foe appeared soone in sight.

28 But ere they reared hand, the Amazone

Began the streight conditions to propound,

With which she vsed still to tye her fone;

To serue her so, as she the rest had bound.

Which when the other heard, she sternly frownd

For high disdaine of such indignity,

And would no lenger treat, but bad them sound.

For her no other termes should euer tie

Then what prescribed were by lawes of cheualrie.

29 The Trumpets sound, and they together run

With greedy rage, and with their faulchins smot;

Ne either sought the others strokes to shun,

But through great fury both their skill forgot,

And practicke vse in armes: ne spared not

Their dainty parts, which nature had created

So faire and tender, without staine or spot,

For other vses, then they them translated;

Which they now hackt & hewd, as if such vse they hated,

30 As when a Tygre and a Lionesse

Are met at spoyling of some hungry pray,

Both challenge it with equall greedinesse:

But first the Tygre clawes thereon did lay;

And therefore loth to loose her right away,

Doth in defence thereof full stoutly stond:

To which the Lion strongly doth gainesay,

That she to hunt the beast first tooke in hond;

And therefore ought it haue, where euer she it fond.

31 Full fiercely layde the Amazon about,

And dealt her blowes vnmercifully sore:

Which Britomart withstood with courage stout,

And them repaide againe with double more.

So long they fought, that all the grassie flore

Was fild with bloud, which from their sides did flow,

And gushed through their armes, that all in gore

They trode, and on the ground their liues did strow,

Like fruitles seede, of which vntimely death should grow.

32 At last proud Radigund with fell despight,

Hauing by chaunce espide aduantage neare,

Let driue at her with all her dreadfull might,

And thus vpbrayding said; This token beare

Vnto the man, whom thou doest loue so deare;

And tell him for his sake thy life thou gauest.

Which spitefull words she sore engrieu’d to heare,

Thus answer’d; Lewdly thou my loue deprauest,

Who shortly must repent that now so vainely brauest

33 Nath’lesse that stroke so cruell passage found,

That glauncing on her shoulder plate, it bit

Vnto the bone, and made a griesly wound,

That she her shield through raging smart of it

Could scarse vphold; yet soone she it requit.

For hauing force increast through furious paine,

She her so rudely on the helmet smit,

That it empierced to the very braine,

And her proud person low prostrated on the plaine.

34 Where being layd, the wrothfull Britonesse

Stayd not, till she came to her selfe againe,

But in reuenge both of her loues distresse,

And her late vile reproch, though vaunted vaine,

And also of her wound, which sore did paine,

She with one stroke both head and helmet cleft.

Which dreadfull sight, when all her warlike traine

There present saw, each one of sence bereft,

Fled fast into the towne, and her sole victor left.

35 But yet so fast they could not home retrate,

But that swift Talus did the formost win;

And pressing through the preace vnto the gate,

Pelmell with them attonce did enter in.

There then a piteous slaughter did begin:

For all that euer came within his reach,

He with his yron flale did thresh so thin,

That he no worke at all left for the leach:

Like to an hideous storme, which nothing may empeach.

36 And now by this the noble Conqueresse

Her selfe came in, her glory to partake;

Where though rcuengefull vow she did professe,

Yet when she saw the heapes, which he did make,

Of slaughtred carkasses, her heart did quake

For very ruth, which did it almost riue,

That she his fury willed him to slake:

For else he sure had left not one aliue,

But all in his reuenge of spirite would depriue.

37 Tho when she had his execution stayd,

She for that yron prison did enquire,

In which her wretched loue was captiue layd:

Which breaking open with indignant ire,

She entred into all the partes entire.

Where when she saw that lothly vncouth sight,

Of men disguiz’d in womanishe attire,

Her heart gan grudge, for very deepe despight

Of so vnmanly maske, in misery misdight.

38 At last when as to her owne Loue she came,

Whom like disguize no lesse deformed had,

At sight thereof abasht with secrete shame,

She turnd her head aside, as nothing glad,

To haue beheld a spectacle so bad:

And then too well beleeu’d, that which tofore

Iealous suspect as true vntruely drad,

Which vaine conceipt now nourishing no more,

She sought with ruth to salue his sad misfortunes sore.

39 Not so great wonder and astonishment,

Did the most chast Penelope possesse,

To see her Lord, that was reported drent,

And dead long since in dolorous distresse,

Come home to her in piteous wretchednesse,

After long trauell of full twenty yeares,

That she knew not his fauours likelynesse,

For many scarres and many hoary heares,

But stood long staring on him, mongst vncertaine feares.

40 Ah my deare Lord, what sight is this (quoth she)

What May-game hath misfortune made of you?

Where is that dreadfull manly looke? where be

Those mighty palmes, the which ye wont t’embrew

In bloud of Kings, and great hoastes to subdew?

Could ought on earth so wondrous change haue wrought,

As to haue robde you of that manly hew?

Could so great courage stouped haue to ought?

Then farewell fleshly force; I see thy pride is nought.

41 Thenceforth she straight into a bowre him brought,

And causd him those vncomely weedes vndight;

And in their steede for other rayment sought,

Whereof there was great store, and armors bright,

Which had bene reft from many a noble Knight;

Whom that proud Amazon subdewed had,

Whilest Fortune fauourd her successe in fight,

In which when as she him anew had clad,

She was reuiu’d, and ioyd much in his semblance glad.

42 So there a while they afterwards remained,

Him to refresh, and her late wounds to heale:

During which space she there as Princes rained,

And changing all that forme of common weale,

The liberty of women did repeale,

Which they had long vsurpt; and them restoring

To mens subiection, did true Iustice deale:

That all they as a Goddesse her adoring,

Her wisedome did admire, and hearkned to her loring.

43 For all those Knights, which long in captiue shade

Had shrowded bene, she did from thraldome free;

And magistrates of all that city made,

And gaue to them great liuing and large fee:

And that they should for euer faithfull bee,

Made them sweare fealty to Artegall.

Who when him selfe now well recur’d did see,

He purposd to proceed, what so be fall,

Vppon his first aduenture, which him forth did call.

44 Full sad and sorrowfull was Britomart

For his departure, her new cause of griefe;

Yet wisely moderated her owne smart,

Seeing his honor, which she tendred chiefe,

Consisted much in that aduentures priefe.

The care whereof, and hope of his successe

Gaue vnto her great comfort and reliefe,

That womanish complaints she did represse,

And tempred for the time her present heauinesse.

45 There she continu’d for a certaine space,

Till through his want her woe did more increase:

Then hoping that the change of aire and place

Would change her paine, and sorrow somewhat ease,

She parted thence, her anguish to appease.

Meane while her noble Lord sir Artegall

Went on his way, ne euer howre did cease,

Till he redeemed had that Lady thrall:

That for another Canto will more fitly fall.

CANTO VIII

Prince Arthure and Sir Artegall,
   Free Samient from feare:
They slay the Soudan, driue his wife,
   Adicia to despaire.

1 Nought vnder heauen so strongly doth allure

The sence of man, and all his minde possesse,

As beauties louely baite, that doth procure

Great warriours oft their rigour to represse,

And mighty hands forget their manlinesse;

Drawne with the powre of an heart-robbing eye,

And wrapt in fetters of a golden tresse,

That can with melting pleasaunce mollifye

Their hardned hearts, enur’d to bloud and cruelty.

2 So whylome learnd that mighty Iewish swaine,

Each of whose lockes did match a man in might,

To lay his spoiles before his lemans traine:

So also did that great Oetean Knight

For his loues sake his Lions skin vndight:

And so did warlike Antony neglect

The worlds whole rule for Cleopatras sight.

Such wondrous powre hath wemens faire aspect,

To captiue men, and make them all the world reiect

3 Yet could it not sterne Artegall retaine,

Nor hold from suite of his auowed quest,

Which he had vndertane to Gloriane;

But left his loue, albe her strong request,

Faire Britomart in languor and vnrest,

And rode him selfe vppon his first intent:

Ne day nor night did euer idly rest;

Ne wight but onely Talus with him went,

The true guide of his way and vertuous gouemment.

4 So trauelling, he chaunst far off to heed

A Damzell, flying on a palfrey fast

Before two Knights, that after her did speed

With all their powre, and her full fiercely chast

In hope to haue her ouerhent at last:

Yet fled she fast, and both them farre outwent,

Carried with wings of feare, like fowle aghast,

With locks all loose, and rayment all to rent;

And euer as she rode, her eye was backeward bent

5 Soone after these he saw another Knight,

That after those two former rode apace,

With speare in rest, and prickt with all his might:

So ran they all, as they had bene at bace,

They being chased, that did others chase.

At length he saw the hindmost ouertake

One of those two, and force him turne his face;

How euer loth he were his way to slake,

Yet mote he algates now abide, and answere make.

6 But th’other still pursu’d the fearefull Mayd;

Who still from him as fast away did flie,

Ne once for ought her speedy passage stayd,

Till that at length she did before her spie

Sir Artegall, to whom she streight did hie

With gladfull hast, in hope of him to get

Succour against her greedy enimy:

Who seeing her approch gan forward set,

To saue her from her feare, and him from force to let.

7 But he like hound full greedy of his pray,

Being impatient of impediment,

Continu’d still his course, and by the way

Thought with his speare him quight haue ouerwent

So both together ylike felly bent,

Like fiercely met. But Artegall was stronger,

And better skild in Tilt and Turnament,

And bore him quite out of his saddle, longer

Then two speares length; So mischiefe ouermatcht the wronger.

8 And in his fall misfortune him mistooke;

For on his head vnhappily he pight,

That his owne waight his necke asunder broke,

And left there dead. Meane while the other Knight

Defeated had the other faytour quight,

And all his bowels in his body brast:

Whom leauing there in that dispiteous plight,

He ran still on, thinking to follow fast

His other fellow Pagan, which before him past

9 Instead of whom finding there ready prest

Sir Artegall, without discretion

He at him ran, with ready speare in rest:

Who seeing him come still so fiercely on,

Against him made againe. So both anon

Together met, and strongly either strooke

And broke their speares; yet neither has forgon

His horses backe, yet to and fro long shooke,

And tottred like two towres, which through a tempest quooke.

10 But when againe they had recouered sence,

They drew their swords, in mind to make amends

For what their speares had fayld of their pretence.

Which when the Damzell, who those deadly ends

Of both her foes had seene, and now her frends

For her beginning a more fearefull fray,

She to them runnes in hast, and her haire rends,

Crying to them their cruell hands to stay,

Vntill they both doe heare, what she to them will say.

11 They stayd their hands, when she thus gan to speake;

Ah gentle Knights, what meane ye thus vnwise

Vpon your selues anothers wrong to wreake?

I am the wrong’d, whom ye did enterprise

Both to redresse, and both redrest likewise:

Witnesse the Paynims both, whom ye may see

There dead on ground. What doe ye then deuise

Of more reuenge? if more, then I am shee,

Which was the roote of all, end your reuenge on mee.

12 Whom when they heard so say, they lookt about,

To weete if it were true, as she had told;

Where when they saw their foes dead out of doubt,

Eftsoones they gan their wrothfull hands to hold,

And Ventailes reare, each other to behold.

Tho when as Artegall did Arthure vew,

So faire a creature, and so wondrous bold,

He much admired both his heart and hew,

And touched with intire affection, nigh him drew.

13 Saying, sir Knight, of pardon I you pray,

That all vnweeting haue you wrong’d thus sore,

Suffring my hand against my heart to stray:

Which if ye please forgiue, I will therefore

Yeeld for amends my selfe yours euermore,

Or what so penaunce shall by you be red.

To whom the Prince; Certes me needeth more

To craue the same, whom errour so misled,

As that I did mistake the liuing for the ded.

14 But sith ye please, that both our blames shall die,

Amends may for the trespasse soone be made,

Since neither is endamadg’d much thereby.

So can they both them selues full eath perswade

To faire accordaunce, and both faults to shade,

Either embracing other louingly,

And swearing faith to either on his blade,

Neuer thenceforth to nourish enmity,

But either others cause to maintaine mutually.

15 Then Artegall gan of the Prince enquire,

What were those knights, which there on ground were layd,

And had receiu’d their follies worthy hire,

And for what cause they chased so that Mayd.

Certes I wote not well (the Prince then sayd)

But by aduenture found them faring so,

As by the way vnweetingly I strayd,

And lo the Damzell selfe, whence all did grow,

Of whom we may at will the whole occasion know.

16 Then they that Damzell called to them nie,

And asked her, what were those two her fone,

From whom she earst so fast away did flie;

And what was she her selfe so woe begone,

And for what cause pursu’d of them attone.

To whom she thus; Then wote ye well, that I

Doe serue a Queene, that not far hence doth wone,

A Princesse of great powre and maiestie,

Famous through all the world, and honor’d far and nie.

17 Her name Mercilla most men vse to call;

That is a mayden Queene of high renowne,

For her great bounty knowen ouer all,

And soueraine grace, with which her royall crowne

She doth support, and strongly beateth downe

The malice of her foes, which her enuy,

And at her happinesse do fret and frowne:

Yet she her selfe the more doth magnify,

And euen to her foes her mercies multiply.

18 Mongst many which maligne her happy state,

There is a mighty man, which wonnes here by

That with most fell despight and deadly hate,

Seekes to subuert her Crowne and dignity,

And all his powre doth thereunto apply:

And her good Knights, of which so braue a band

Serues her, as any Princesse vnder sky,

He either spoiles, if they against him stand,

Or to his part allures, and bribeth vnder hand.

19 Ne him sufficeth all the wrong and ill,

Which he vnto her people does each day,

But that he seekes by traytrous traines to spill

Her person, and her sacred selfe to slay:

That ô ye heauens defend, and turne away

From her, vnto the miscreant him selfe,

That neither hath religion nor fay,

But makes his God of his vngodly pelfe,

And Idols serues; so let his Idols serue the Elfe.

20 To all which cruell tyranny they say,

He is prouokt, and stird vp day and night

By his bad wife, that hight Adicia,

Who counsels him through confidence of might,

To breake all bonds of law, and rules of right.

For she her selfe professeth mortall foe

To Iustice, and against her still doth fight,

Working to all, that loue her, deadly woe,

And making all her Knights and people to doe so.

21 Which my liege Lady seeing, thought it best,

With that his wife in friendly wise to deale,

For stint of strife, and stablishment of rest

Both to her selfe, and to her common weale,

And all forepast displeasures to repeale.

So me in message vnto her she sent,

To treat with her by way of enterdeale,

Of finall peace and faire attonement,

Which might concluded be by mutuall consent.

22 All times haue wont safe passage to afford

To messengers, that come for causes iust:

But this proude Dame disdayning all accord,

Not onely into bitter termes forth brust,

Reuiling me, and rayling as she lust,

But lastly to make proofe of vtmost shame,

Me like a dog she out of dores did thrust,

Miscalling me by many a bitter name,

That neuer did her ill, ne once deserued blame.

23 And lastly, that no shame might wanting be,

When I was gone, soone after me she sent

These two false Knights, whom there ye lying see,

To be by them dishonoured and shent:

But thankt be God, and your good hardiment,

They haue the price of their owne folly payd.

So said this Damzell, that hight Samient,

And to those knights, for their so noble ayd,

Her selfe most gratefull shew’d, & heaped thanks repayd.

24 But they now hauing throughly heard, and seene

Al those great wrongs, the which that mayd complained

To haue bene done against her Lady Queene,

By that proud dame, which her so much disdained,

Were moued much thereat, and twixt them fained,

With all their force to worke auengement strong

Vppon the Souldan selfe, which it mayntained,

And on his Lady, th’author of that wrong,

And vppon all those Knights, that did to her belong.

25 But thinking best by counterfet disguise

To their deseigne to make the easier way,

They did this complot twixt them selues deuise,

First that sir Artegall should him array,

Like one of those two Knights, which dead there lay.

And then that Damzell, the sad Samient,

Should as his purchast prize with him conuay

Vnto the Souldans court, her to present

Vnto his scornefull Lady, that for her had sent.

26 So as they had deuiz’d, sir Artegall

Him clad in th’annour of a Pagan knight,

And taking with him, as his vanquisht thrall,

That Damzell, led her to the Souldans right.

Where soone as his proud wife of her had sight,

Forth of her window as she looking lay,

She weened streight, it was her Paynim Knight,

Which brought that Damzell, as his purchast pray;

And sent to him a Page, that mote direct his way.

27 Who bringing them to their appointed place,

Offred his seruice to disarme the Knight;

But he refusing him to let vnlace,

For doubt to be discouered by his sight,

Kept himselfe still in his straunge armour dight.

Soone after whom the Prince arriued there,

And sending to the Souldan in despight

A bold defyance, did of him requere

That Damzell, whom he held as wrongfull prisonere.

28 Wherewith the Souldan all with furie fraught,

Swearing, and banning most blasphemously,

Commaunded straight his armour to be brought,

And mounting straight vpon a charret hye,

With yron wheeles and hookes arm’d dreadfully,

And drawne of cruell steedes, which he had fed

With flesh of men, whom through fell tyranny

He slaughtred had, and ere they were halfe ded,

Their bodies to his beasts for prouender did spred.

29 So forth he came all in a cote of plate,

Burnisht with bloudie rust, whiles on the greene

The Briton Prince him readie did awayte,

In glistering armes right goodly well beseene,

That shone as bright, as doth the heauen sheene;

And by his stirrup Talus did attend,

Playing his pages part, as he had beene

Before directed by his Lord; to th’end

He should his flale to flnall execution bend.

30 Thus goe they both together to their geare,

With like fierce minds, but meanings different:

For the proud Souldan with presumpteous cheare,

And countenance sublime and insolent,

Sought onely slaughter and auengement:

But the braue Prince for honour and for right,

Gainst tortious powre and lawlesse regiment,

In the behalfe of wronged weake did fight:

More in his causes truth he trusted then in might

31 Like to the Thraclan Tyrant, who they say

Vnto his horses gaue his guests for meat,

Till he himselfe was made their greedie pray,

And torne in peeces by Alcides great.

So thought the Souldan in his follies threat,

Either the Prince in peeces to haue torne

With his sharpe wheeles, in his first rages heat,

Or vnder his fierce horses feet haue borne

And trampled downe in dust his thoughts disdained scorne.

32 But the bold child that perill well espying,

If he too rashly to his charet drew,

Gaue way vnto his horses speedie flying,

And their resistlesse rigour did eschew.

Yet as he passed by, the Pagan threw

A shiuering dart with so impetuous force,

That had he not it shun’d with heedfull vew,

It had himselfe transfixed, or his horse,

Or made them both one masse withouten more remorse.

33 Oft drew the Prince vnto his charret nigh,

In hope some stroke to fasten on him neare;

But he was mounted in his seat so high,

And his wingfooted coursers him did beare

So fast away, that ere his readie speare

He could aduance, he farre was gone and past.

Yet still he him did follow euerywhere,

And followed was of him likewise full fast;

So long as in his steedes the flaming breath did last.

34 Againe the Pagan threw another dart,

Of which he had with him abundant store,

On euery side of his embatteld cart,

And of all other weapons lesse or more,

Which warlike vses had deuiz’d of yore.

The wicked shaft guyded through th’ayrie wyde,

By some bad spirit, that it to mischiefe bore,

Stayd not, till through his curat it did glyde,

And made a griesly wound in his enriuen side.

35 Much was he grieued with that haplesse throe,

That opened had the welspring of his blood;

But much the more that to his hatefull foe

He mote not come, to wreake his wrathfull mood.

That made him raue, like to a Lyon wood,

Which being wounded of the huntsmans hand

Can not come neare him in the couert wood,

Where he with boughes hath built his shady stand,

And fenst himselfe about with many a flaming brand.

36 Still when he sought t’approch vnto him ny,

His charret wheeles about him whirled round,

And made him backe againe as fast to fly;

And eke his steedes like to an hungry hound,

That hunting after game hath carrion found,

So cruelly did him pursew and chace,

That his good steed, all were he much renound

For noble courage, and for bardie race,

Durst not endure their sight, but fled from place to place.

37 Thus long they trast, and trauerst to and fro,

Seeking by euery way to make some breach,

Yet could the Prince not nigh vnto him goe,

That one sure stroke he might vnto him reach,

Whereby his strengthes assay he might him teach.

At last from his victorious shield he drew

The vaile, which did his powrefull light empeach;

And comming full before his horses vew,

As they vpon him prest, it plaine to them did shew.

38 like lightening flash, that hath the gazer burned,

So did the sight thereof their sense dismay,

That backe againe vpon themselues they turned,

And with their ryder ranne perforce away:

Ne could the Souldan them from flying stay,

With raynes, or wonted rule, as well he knew.

Nought feared they, what he could do, or say,

But th’onely feare, that was before their vew;

From which like mazed deare, dismayfully they flew.

39 Fast did they fly, as them their feete could beare,

High ouer hilles, and lowly ouer dales,

As they were follow’d of their former feare.

In vaine the Pagan bannes, and sweares, and rayles,

And backe with both his hands vnto him hayles

The resty raynes, regarded now no more:

He to them calles and speakes, yet nought auayles;

They heare him not, they haue forgot his lore,

But go, which way they list, their guide they haue forlore.

40 As when the fine-mouthed steeds, which drew

The Sunnes bright wayne to Phaetons decay,

Soone as they did the monstrous Scorpion vew,

With vgly craples crawling in their way,

The dreadfull sight did them so sore affray,

That their well knowne courses they forwent,

And leading th’euer-burning lampe astray,

This lower world nigh all to ashes brent,

And left their scorched path yet in the firmament.

41 Such was the furie of these head-strong steeds,

Soone as the infants sunlike shield they saw,

That all obedience both to words and deeds

They quite forgot, and scornd all former law;

Through woods, and rocks, and mountaines they did draw

The yron charet, and the wheeles did teare,

And tost the Paynim, without feare or awe;

From side to side they tost hirn here and there,

Crying to them in vaine, that nould his crying heare.

42 Yet still the Prince pursew’d him close behind,

Oft making offer him to smite, but found

No easie meanes according to his mind.

At last they haue all ouerthrowne to ground

Quite topside turuey, and the pagan hound

Amongst the yron hookes and graples keene,

Torne all to rags, and rent with many a wound,

That no whole peece of him was to be seene,

But scattred all about, and strow’d vpon the greene.

43 Like as the cursed sonne of Theseus,

That following his chace in dewy morne,

To fly his stepdam.es loues outrageous,

Of his owne steedes was all to peeces torne,

And his faire limbs left in the woods forlorne;

That for his sake Diana did lament,

And all the wooddy Nymphes did wayle and mourne.

So was this Souldan rapt and all to rent,

That of his shape appear’d no litle moniment.

44 Onely his shield and armour, which there lay,

Though nothing whole, but all to brusd and broken,

He vp did take, and with him brought away,

That mote remaine for an eternall token

To all, mongst whom this stone should be spoken,

How worthily, by heauens high decree,

Iustice that day of wrong her selfe had wroken,

That all men which that spectacle did see,

By like ensample mote for euer warned bee.

45 So on a tree, before the Tyrants dore,

He caused them be hung in all mens sight,

To be a moniment for euermore.

Which when his Ladie from the castles bight

Beheld, it much appald her troubled spright:

Yet not, as women wont in dolefull fit,

She was dismayd, or faynted through affright,

But gathered vnto her her troubled wit,

And gan efrsoones deuize to be aueng’d for it.

46 Streight downe she ranne, like an enraged cow,

That is berobbed of her youngling dere,

With knife in hand, and fatally did vow,

To wreake her on that mayden messengere,

Whom she had causd be kept as prisonere,

By Artegall, misween’d for her owne Knight,

That brought her backe. And comming present there,

She at her ran with all her force and might,

All flaming with reuenge and furious despight

47 Like raging Ino, when with knife in hand

She threw her husbands murdred infant out,

Or fell Medea, when on Colchkke strand

Her brothers bones she scattered all about;

Or as that madding mother, mongst the rout

Of Bacchus Priests her owne deare flesh did teare.

Yet neither Ino, nor Medea stout,

Nor all the Mœnades so furious were,

As this bold woman, when she saw that Damzell there.

48 But Artegall being thereof aware,

Did stay her cruell hand, ere she her raught,

And as she did her selfe to strike prepare,

Out of her fist the wicked weapon caught:

With that like one enfelon’d or distraught,

She forth did rome, whether her rage her bore,

With franticke passion, and with furie fraught;

And breaking forth out at a posterne dore,

Vnto the wyld wood ranne, her dolours to deplore.

49 As a mad bytch, when as the franticke fit

Her burning tongue with rage inflamed hath,

Doth runne at randon, and with furious bit

Snatching at euery thing, doth wreake her wrath

On man and beast, that commeth in her path.

There they doe say, that she transformed was

Into a Tygre, and that Tygres scath

In crueltde and outrage she did pas,

To proue her surname true, that she imposed has.

50 Then Artegall himselfe discouering plaine,

Did issue forth gainst all that warlike rout

Of knights and armed men, which did maintaine

That Ladies part, and to the Souldan lout:

All which he did assault with courage stout,

All were they nigh an hundred knights of name,

And like wyld Goates them chaced all about,

Flying from place to place with cowheard shame,

So that with finall force them all he ouercame.

51 Then caused he the gates be opened wyde,

And there the Prince, as victour of that day,

With tryumph entertayn’d and glorifyde,

Presenting him with all the rich array,

And roiall pompe, which there long hidden lay,

Purchast through lawlesse powre and tortious wrong

Of that proud Souldan, whom he earst did slay.

So both for rest there hauing stayd not long,

Marcht with that mayd, fit matter for another song.

CANTO IX

Arthur and Artegall catch Guyle
   whom Talus doth dismay,
They to Mercillaes pallace come,
   and see her rich array.

1 What Tygre, or what other saluage wight

Is so exceeding furious and fell,

As wrong, when it hath arm’d it selfe with might?

Not fit mongst men, that doe with reason mell,

But mongst wyld beasts and saluage woods to dwell;

Where still the stronger doth the weake deuoure,

And they that most in boldnesse doe excell,

Are dreadded most, and feared for their powre:

Fit for Adicia, there to build her wicked bowre.

2 There let her wonne farre from resort of men,

Where righteous Artegall her late exyled;

There let her euer keepe her damned den,

Where none may be with her lewd parts defyled,

Nor none but beasts may be of her despoyled:

And turne we to the noble Prince, where late

We did him leaue, after that he had foyled

The cruell Souldan, and with dreadfull fate

Had vtterly subuerted his vnrighteous state.

3 Where hauing with Sir Artegall a space

Well solast in that Souldans late delight,

They both resoluing now to leaue the place,

Both it and all the wealth therein behight

Vnto that Damzell in her Ladies right,

And so would haue departed on their way.

But she them woo’d by all the meanes she might,

And earnestly besought, to wend that day

With her, to see her Ladie thence not farre away.

4 By whose entreatie both, they ouercommen,

Agree to goe with her, and by the way,

(As often falles) of sundry things did commen.

Mongst which that Damzell did to them bewray

A straunge aduenture, which not farre thence lay;

To weet a wicked villaine, bold and stout,

Which wonned in a rocke not farre away,

That robbed all the countrie there about,

And brought the pillage home, whence none could get it out.

5 Thereto both his owne wylie wit, (she sayd)

And eke the fastnesse of his dwelling place,

Both vnassaylable, gaue him great ayde:

For he so crafty was to forge and face,

So light of hand, and nymble of his pace,

So smooth of tongue, and subtile in his tale,

That could deceiue one looking in his face;

Therefore by name Malengin they him call,

Well knowen by his feates, and famous ouer all.

6 Through these his slights he many doth confound,

And eke the rocke, in which he wonts to dwell,

Is wondrous strong, and hewen farre vnder ground

A dreadfull depth, how deepe no man can tell;

But some doe say, it goeth downe to hell.

And all within, it full of wyndings is,

And hidden wayes, that scarse an hound by smell

Can follow out those false footsteps of his,

Ne none can backe returne, that once are gone amis.

7 Which when those knights had heard, their harts gan earne,

To vnderstand that villeins dwelling place,

And greatly it desir’d of her to learne,

And by which way they towards it should trace.

Were not (sayd she) that it should let your pace

Towards my Ladies presence by you ment,

I would you guyde directly to the place.

Then let not that (said they) stay your intent;

For neither will one foot, till we that carle haue hent.

8 So forth they past, till they approched ny

Vnto the rocke, where was the villains won,

Which when the Damzell neare at hand did spy,

She warn’d the knights thereof: who thereupon

Gan to aduize, what best were to be done.

So both agreed, to send that mayd afore,

Where she might sit nigh to the den alone,

Wayling, and raysing pittifull vprore,

As if she did some great calamitie deplore.

9 With noyse whereof when as the caytiue carle

Should issue forth, in hope to find some spoyle,

They in awayt would closely him ensnarle,

Ere to his den he backward could recoyle,

And so would hope him easily to foyle.

The Damzell straight went, as she was directed,

Vnto the rocke, and there vpon the soyle

Hauing her selfe in wretched wize abiected,

Gan weepe and wayle, as if great griefe had her affected.

10 The cry whereof entring the hollow caue,

Eftsoones brought forth the villaine, as they ment,

With hope of her some wishfull boot to haue.

Full dreadfull wight he was, as euer went

Vpon the earth, with hollow eyes deepe pent,

And long curld locks, that downe his shoulders shagged,

And on his backe an vncouth vestiment

Made of straunge stuffe, but all to worne and ragged,

And vndemeath his breech was all to tome and iagged.

11 And in his hand an huge long staffe he held,

Whose top was arm’d with many an yron hooke,

Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld,

Or in the compasse of his douches tooke;

And euer round about he cast his looke.

Als at his backe a great wyde net he bore,

With which he seldome fished at the brooke,

But vsd to fish for fooles on the dry shore,

Of which he in faire weather wont to take great store.

12 Him when the damzell saw fast by her side,

So vgly creature, she was nigh dismayd,

And now for helpe aloud in earnest cride.

But when the villaine saw her so affrayd,

He gan with guilefull words her to perswade,

To banish feare, and with Sardonian smyle

Laughing on her, his false intent to shade,

Gan forth to lay his bayte her to beguyle,

That from her self vnwares he might her steale the whyle.

13 Like as the fouler on his guilefull pype

Charmes to the birds full many a pleasant lay,

That they the whiles may take lesse heedie keepe,

How he his nets doth for their ruine lay:

So did the villaine to her prate and play,

And many pleasant trickes before her show,

To turne her eyes from his intent away:

For he in slights and iugling feates did flow,

And of legierdemayne the mysteries did know.

14 To which whitest she lent her intentiue mind,

He suddenly his net vpon her threw,

That ouersprad her like a puffe of wind;

And snatching her soone vp, ere well she knew,

Ran with her fast away vnto his mew,

Crying for helpe aloud. But when as ny

He came vnto his caue, and there did vew

The armed knights stopping his passage by,

He threw his burden downe, and fast away did fly.

15 But Artegall him after did pursew,

The whiles the Prince there kept the entrance still:

Vp to the rocke he ran, and thereon flew

Like a wyld Gote, leaping from hill to hill,

And daundng on the craggy cliffes at will;

That deadly daunger seem’d in all mens sight,

To tempt such steps, where footing was so ill:

Ne ought auayled for the armed knight,

To thinke to follow him, that was so swift and light.

16 ‘Which when he saw, his yron man he sent,

To follow him; for he was swift in chace.

He him pursewd, where euer that he went,

Both ouer rockes, and hilles, and euery place.

Where so he fled, he followd him apace:

So that he shortly forst him to forsake

The hight, and downe descend vnto the base.

There he him courst a fresh, and soone did make

To leaue his proper forme, and other shape to take.

17 Into a Foxe himselfe he first did tourne;

But he him hunted nice a Foxe full fast:

Then to a bush himselfe he did transforme,

But he the bush did beat, till that at last

Into a bird it chaung’d, and from him past,

Flying from tree to tree, from wand to wand:

But he then stones at it so long did cast,

That like a stone it fell vpon the land,

But he then tooke it vp, and held fast in his hand.

18 So he it brought with him vnto the knights,

And to his Lord Sir Artegall it lent,

Warning him hold it fast, for feare of slights.

Who whilest in hand it gryping hard he hent,

Into a Hedgehogge all vnwares it went,

And prickt him so, that he away it threw.

Then gan it runne away incontinent,

Being returned to his former hew:

But Talus soone him ouertooke, and backward drew.

19 But when as he would to a snake againe

Haue turn’d himselfe, he with his yron flayle

Gan driue at him, with so huge might and maine,

That all his bones, as small as sandy grayle

He broke, and did his bowels disentrayle;

Crying in vaine for helpe, when helpe was past.

So did deceipt the selfe deceiuer fayle,

There they him left a carrion outcast;

For beasts and foules to feede vpon for their repast.

20 Thence forth they passed with that gentle Mayd,

To see her Ladie, as they did agree.

To which when she approched, thus she sayd;

Loe now, right noble knights, arriu’d ye bee

Nigh to the place, which ye desir’d to see:

There shall ye see my souerayne Lady Queene

Most sacred wight, most debonayre and free,

That euer yet vpon this earth was seene,

Or that with Diademe hath euer crowned beene.

21 The gentle knights reioyced much to heare

The prayses of that Prince so manifold,

And passing litle further, commen were,

Where they a stately pallace did behold,

Of pompous show, much more then she had told;

With many towres, and tarras mounted hye,

And all their tops bright glistering with gold,

That seemed to outshine the dimmed skye,

And with their brightnesse daz’d the straunge beholders eye.

22 There they alighting, by that Damzell were

Directed in, and shewed all the sight:

Whose porch, that most magnificke did appeare,

Stood open wyde to all men day and night;

Yet warded well by one of mickle might,

That sate thereby, with gyantlike resemblance,

To keepe out guyle, and malice, and despight,

That vnder shew oftim.es of fayned semblance,

Are wont in Princes courts to worke great scath and hindrance.

23 His name was Awe; by whom they passing in

Went vp the hall, that was a large wyde roome,

All full of people making troublous din,

And wondrous noyse, as if that there were some,

Which vnto them was dealing righteous doome.

By whom they passing, through the thickest preasse,

The marshall of the hall to them did come;

His name hight Order, who commaunding peace,

Them guyded through the throng, that did their clamors ceasse.

24 They ceast their clamors vpon them to gaze;

Whom seeing all in armour bright as day,

Straunge there to see, it did them much amaze,

And with vnwonted terror halfe affray.

For neuer saw they there the like array.

Ne euer was the name of warre there spoken,

But ioyous peace and quietnesse alway,

Dealing iust iudgements, that mote not be broken

For any brybes, or threates of any to be wroken.

25 There as they entred at the Scriene, they saw

Some one, whose tongue was for his trespasse vyle

Nayld to a post, adiudged so by law:

For mat therewith he falsely did reuyle,

And foule blaspheme that Queene for forged guyle,

Both with bold speaches, which he blazed had,

And with lewd poems, which he did compyle;

For the bold title of a Poet bad

He on himselfe had ta’en, and rayling rymes had sprad.

26 Thus there he stood, whylest high ouer his head,

There written was the purport of his sin,

In cyphers strange, that few could rightly read,

BON FONS : but bon that once had written bin,

Was raced out, and Mal was now put in.

So now Malfont was plainely to be red;

Eyther for th’euill, which he did therein,

Or that he likened, was to a welhed

Of euill words, and wicked sclaunders by him shed.

27 They passing by, were guyded by degree

Vnto the presence of that gratious Queene:

Who sate on high, that she might all men see,

And might of all men royally be seene,

Vpon a throne of gold full bright and sheene,

Adorned all with gemmes of endlesse price,

As either might for wealth haue gotten bene,

Or could be fram’d by workmans rare deuice;

And all embost with Lyons and with Flourdelice.

28 All ouer her a cloth of state was spred,

Not of rich tissew, nor of cloth of gold,

Nor of ought else, that may be richest red,

But like a cloud, as likest may be told,

That her brode spreading wings did wyde vnfold;

Whose skirts were bordred with bright sunny beams,

Glistring like gold, amongst the plights enrold,

And here and there shooting forth siluer streames,

Mongst which crept litle Angels through the glittering gleames.

29 Seemed those litle Angels did vphold

The cloth of state, and on their purpled wings

Did beare the pendants, through their nimblesse bold:

Besides a thousand more of such, as sings

Hymnes to high God, and carols heauenly things,

Encompassed the throne, on which she sate:

She Angel-like, the heyre of ancient kings

And mightie Conquerors, in royall state,

Whylest kings and kesars at her feet did them prostrate.

30 Thus she did sit in souerayne Maiestie,

Holding a Scepter in her royall hand,

The sacred pledge of peace and clemencie,

With which high God had blest her happie land,

Maugre so many foes, which did withstand.

But at her feet her sword was likewise layde,

Whose long rest rusted the bright steely brand;

Yet when as foes enforst, or friends sought ayde,

She could it sternely draw, that all the world dismayde.

31 And round about, before her feet there sate

A beuie of faire Virgins clad in white,

That goodly seem’d t’adorne her royall state,

All louely daughters of high Ioue, that hight,

Litœ by him begot in loues delight,

Vpon the righteous Themis: those they say

Vpon loues iudgement seat wayt day and night,

And when in wrath he threats the worlds decay,

They doe his anger calme, and cruell vengeance stay.

32 They also doe by his diuine permission

Vpon the thrones of mortall Princes tend,

And often treat for pardon and remission

To suppliants, through frayltie which offend.

Those did vpon Mercillaes throne attend:

lust Dice, wise Eunomie, myld Eirene,

And them amongst, her glorie to commend,

Sate goodly Temperance in garments clene,

And sacred Reuerence, yborne of heauenly strene.

33 Thus did she sit in royall rich estate,

Admyr’d of many, honoured of all,

Whylest vnderneath her feete, there as she sate,

An huge great Lyon lay, that mote appall

An hardie courage, like captiued thrall,

With a strong yron chaine and coller bound,

That once he could not moue, nor quich at all;

Yet did he murmure with rebellions sound,

And softly royne, when saluage choler gan redound.

34 So sitting high in dreaded souerayntie,

Those two strange knights were to her presence brought;

Who bowing low before her Maiestie,

Did to her myld obeysance, as they ought,

And meekest boone, that they imagine mought.

To whom she eke inclyning her withall,

As a faire stoupe of her high soaring thought,

A chearefull countenance on them let fall,

Yet tempred with some maiestie imperiall.

35 As the bright sunne, what time his fierie teme

Towards the westerne brim begins to draw,

Gins to abate the brightnesse of his beme,

And feruour of his flames somewhat adaw:

So did this mightie Ladie, when she saw

Those two strange knights such homage to her make,

Bate somewhat of that Maiestie and awe,

That whylome wont to doe so many quake,

And with more myld aspect those two to entertake.

36 Now at that instant, as occasion fell,

When these two stranger knights arriu’d in place,

She was about affaires of common wele,

Dealing of Iustice with indifferent grace,

And hearing pleas of people meane and base.

Mongst which as then, there was for to be heard

The tryall of a great and weightie case,

Which on both sides was then debating hard:

But at the sight of these, those were a while debard.

37 But after all her princely entertayne,

To th’hearing of that former cause in hand,

Her selfe eftsoones she gan conuert againe;

Which that those knights likewise mote vnderstand,

And witnesse forth aright in forrain land,

Taking them vp vnto her stately throne,

Where they mote heare the matter throughly scand

On either part, she placed th’one on th’one,

The other on the other side, and neare them none.

38 Then was there brought, as prisoner to the barre,

A Ladie of great countenance and place,

But that she it with foule abuse did marre;

Yet did appeare rare beautie in her face,

But blotted with condition vile and base,

That all her other honour did obscure,

And titles of nobilitie deface:

Yet in that wretched semblant, she did sure

The peoples great compassion vnto her allure.

39 Then vp arose a person of deepe reach,

And rare in-sight, hard matters to reuele;

That well could charme his tongue, & time his speach

To all assayes; his name was called Zele:

He gan that Ladie strongly to appele

Of many haynous crymes, by her enured.

And with sharpe reasons rang her such a pele,

That those, whom she to pitie had allured,

He now t’abhorre and loath her person had procured.

40 First gan he tell, how this that seem’d so faire

And royally arayd, Duessa hight

That false Duessa, which had wrought great care,

And mickle mischiefe vnto many a knight,

By her beguyled, and confounded quight:

But not for those she now in question came,

Though also those mote question’d be aright,

But for vyld treasons, and outrageous shame,

Which she against the dred Mercilla oft did frame.

41 For she whylome (as ye mote yet right well

Remember) had her counsels false conspyred,

With faithlesse Blandamour and Paridell,

(Both two her paramours, both by her hyred,

And both with hope of shadowes vaine inspyred)

And with them practiz’d, how for to depryue

Mercilla of her crowne, by her aspyred,

That she might it vnto her selfe deryue,

And tryumph in their blood, whom she to death did dryue.

42 But through high heauens grace, which fauour not

The wicked driftes of trayterous desynes,

Gainst loiall Princes, all this cursed plot,

Ere proofe it tooke, discouered was betymes,

And th’actours won the meede meet for their cryines.

Such be the meede of all, that by such mene

Vnto the type of kingdomes title clymes.

But false Duessa now vntided Queene,

Was brought to her sad doome, as here was to be seene.

43 Strongly did Zele her haynous fact enforce,

And many other crimes of foule defame

Against her brought, to banish all remorse,

And aggrauate the horror of her blame.

And with him to make part against her, came

Many graue persons, that against her pled;

First was a sage old Syre, that had to name

The Kingdomes care, with a white siluer hed,

That many high regards and reasons gainst her red.

44 Then gan Authority her to appose

With peremptorie powre, that made all mute;

And then the law of Nations gainst her rose,

And reasons brought, that no man could refute;

Next gan Religion gainst her to impute

High Gods beheast, and powre of holy lawes;

Then gan the Peoples cry and Commons sute,

Importune care of their owne publicke cause;

And lastly Iustice charged her with breach of lawes.

45 But then for her, on the contrarie part,

Rose many aduocates for her to plead:

First there came Pittie, with full tender hart,

And with her ioyn’d Regard of womanhead;

And then came Daunger threading hidden dread,

And high alliance vnto forren powre;

Then came Nobilitie of birth, that bread

Great ruth through her misfortunes tragicke stowre;

And lastly Griefe did plead, & many teares forth powre.

46 With the neare touch whereof in tender hart

The Briton Prince was sore empassionate,

And woxe inclined much vnto her part,

Through the sad terror of so dreadfull fate,

And wretched mine of so high estate,

That for great ruth his courage gan relent.

Which when as Zele perceiued to abate,

He gan his earnest feruour to augment,

And many fearefull obiects to them to present.

47 He gan t’effbrce the euidence anew,

And new accusements to produce in place:

He brought forth that old hag of hellish hew,

The cursed Ate, brought her face to face,

Who priuie was, and partie in the case:

She, glad of spoyle and ruinous decay,

Did her appeach, and to her more disgrace,

The plot of all her practise did display,

And all her traynes, and all her treasons forth did lay.

48 Then brought he forth, with griesly grim aspect,

Abhorred Murder, who with bloudie knyfe

Yet dropping fresh in hand did her detect,

And there with guiltie bloudshed charged ryfe:

Then brought he forth Sedition, breeding stryfe

In troublous wits, and mutinous vprore:

Then brought he forth Incontinence of lyfe,

Euen foule Adulterie her face before,

And lewd Impietie, that her accused sore.

49 All which when as the Prince had heard and seene,

His former fancies ruth he gan repent,

And from her partie eftsoones was drawen cleene.

But Artegall with constant firme intent,

For zeale of Iustice was against her bent.

So was she guiltie deemed of them all.

Then Zele began to vrge her punishment,

And to their Queene for iudgement loudly call,

Vnto Mercilla myld for Iustice gainst the thrall.

50 But she, whose Princely breast was touched nere

With piteous ruth of her so wretched plight,

Though plaine she saw by all, that she did heare,

That she of death was guiltie found by right,

Yet would not let iust vengeance on her light;

But rather let in stead thereof to fall

Few perling drops from her faire lampes of light;

The which she couering with her purple pall

Would haue the passion hid, and vp arose withall.

CANTO X

Prince Arthur takes the enterprize
   for Belgee for to fight,
Gerioneos Seneschall
   he slayes in Belges right.

1 Some Clarkes doe doubt in their deuicefull art,

Whether this heauenly thing, whereof I treat,

To weeten Merck, be of Iustice part,

Or drawne forth from her by diuine extreate.

This well I wote, that sure she is as great,

And meriteth to haue as high a place,

Sith in th’Almighties euerlasting seat

She first was bred, and borne of heauenly race;

From thence pour’d down on men, by influence of grace.

2 For if that Vertue be of so great might,

Which from iust verdict will for nothing start,

But to preserue inuiolated right,

Oft spilles the principall, to saue the part;

So much more then is that of powre and art,

That seekes to saue the subiect of her skill,

Yet neuer doth from doome of right depart:

As it is greater prayse to saue, then spill,

And better to reforme, then to cut off the ill.

3 Who then can thee, Mercilla, throughly prayse,

That herein doest all earthly Princes pas?

What heauenly Muse shall thy great honour rayse

Vp to the skies, whence first deriu’d it was,

And now on earth it selfe enlarged has,

From th’vtmost brinke of the Armericke shore,

Vnto the margent of the Molucas?

Those Nations farre thy iustice doe adore:

But thine owne people do thy mercy prayse much more.

4 Much more it praysed was of those two knights;

The noble Prince, and righteous Artegall,

When they had seene and heard her doome a rights

Against Duessa, damned by them all;

But by her tempred without griefe or gall,

Till strong constraint did her thereto enforce.

And yet euen then ruing her wilfull fall,

With more then needfull naturall remorse,

And yeelding the last honour to her wretched corse.

5 During all which, those knights continu’d there,

Both doing and receiuing curtesies,

Of that great Ladie, who with goodly chere

Them entertayn’d, fit for their dignities,

Approuing dayly to their noble eyes

Royall examples of her mercies rare,

And worthie paterns of her clemencies;

Which till this day mongst many liuing are,

Who them to their posterities doe still declare.

6 Amongst the rest, which in that space befell,

There came two Springals of full tender yeares,

Farre thence from forrein land, where they did dwell,

To seeke for succour of her and her Peares,

With humble prayers and intreatfull teares;

Sent by their mother, who a widow was,

Wrapt in great dolours and in deadly feares,

By a strong Tyrant, who inuaded has

Her land, and slaine her children ruefully alas.

7 Her name was Beigœ, who in former age

A Ladie of great worth and wealth had beene,

And mother of a frutefull heritage,

Euen seuenteene goodly sonnes; which who had seene

In their first flowre, before this fatall teene

Them ouertooke, and their faire blossomes blasted,

More happie mother would her surely weene,

Then famous Niobe, before she tasted

Latonaes childrens wrath, that all her issue wasted.

8 But this fell Tyrant, through his tortious powre,

Had left her now but fiue of all that brood:

For twelue of them he did by times deuoure,

And to his Idols sacrifice their blood,

Whylest he of none was stopped, nor withstood.

For soothly he was one of matchlesse might,

Of horrible aspect, and dreadfull mood,

And had three bodies in one wast empight,

And th’armes and legs of three, to succour him in fight.

9 And sooth they say, that he was borne and bred

Of Gyants race, the sonne of Geryon,

He that whylome in Spaine so sore was dred,

For his huge powre and great oppression,

Which brought that land to his subiection,

Through his three bodies powre, in one combynd;

And eke all strangers in that region

Arryuing, to his kyne for food assynd;

The fayrest kyne aliue, but of the fiercest kynd.

10 For they were all, they say, of purple hew,

Kept by a cowheard, bight Eurytion,

A cruell carle, the which all strangers slew,

Ne day nor night did sleepe, t’attend them on,

But walkt about them euer and anone,

With his two headed dogge, that Orthrus hight;

Orthrus begotten by great Typhoon,

And foule Echidna, in the house of night;

But Hercules them all did ouercome in fight.

11 His sonne was this, Geryoneo hight,

Who after that his monstrous father fell

Vnder Alcides club, streight tooke his flight

From that sad land, where he his syre did quell,

And came to this, where Belge then did dwell,

And flourish in all wealth and happinesse,

Being then new made widow (as befell)

After her Noble husbands late decesse;

Which gaue beginning to her woe and wretchednesse.

12 Then this bold Tyrant, of her widowhed

Taking aduantage, and her yet fresh woes,

Himselfe and seruice to her offered,

Her to defend against all forrein foes,

That should their powre against her right oppose.

Whereof she glad, now needing strong defence,

Him entertayn’d, and did her champion chose:

Which long he vsd with carefull diligence,

The better to confirme her fearelesse confidence.

13 By meanes whereof, she did at last commit

All to his hands, and gaue him soueraine powre

To doe, what euer he thought good or fit.

Which hauing got, he gan forth from that howre

To stirre vp strife, and many a Tragicke stowre,

Giuing her dearest children one by one

Vnto a dreadfull Monster to deuoure,

And setting vp an Idole of his owne,

The image of his monstrous parent Geryone.

14 So tyrannizing, and oppressing all,

The woefull widow had no meanes now left,

But vnto gratious great Mercilla call

For ayde, against that cruell Tyrants theft,

Ere all her children he from her had reft.

Therefore these two, her eldest sonnes she sent,

To seeke for succour of this Ladies gieft:

To whom their sute they humbly did present,

In th’hearing of full many Knights and Ladies gent.

15 Amongst the which then fortuned to bee

The noble Briton Prince, with his braue Peare;

Who when he none of all those knights did see

Hastily bent, that enterprise to heare,

Nor vndertake the same, for cowheard feare,

He stepped forth with courage bold and great,

Admyr’d of all the rest in presence there,

And humbly gan that mightie Queene entreat,

To graunt him that aduenture for his former feat

16 She gladly graunted it: then he straight way

Himselfe vnto his iourney gan prepare,

And all his armours readie dight that day,

That nought the morrow next mote stay his fare.

The morrow next appear’d, with purple hayre

Yet dropping fresh out of the Indian fount,

And bringing light into the heauens fayre,

When he was readie to his steede to mount;

Vnto his way, which now was all his care and count.

17 Then taking humble leaue of that great Queene,

Who gaue him roiall giftes and riches rare,

As tokens of her thankefull mind beseene,

And leauing Artegall to his owne care;

Vpon his voyage forth he gan to fare,

With those two gentle youthes, which him did guide,

And all his way before him still prepare.

Ne after him did Artigall abide,

But on his first aduenture forward forth did ride.

18 It was not long, till that the Prince arriued

Within the land, where dwelt that Ladie sad,

Whereof that Tyrant had her now depriued,

And into moores and marshes banisht had,

Out of the pleasant soyle, and citties glad,

In which she wont to harbour happily:

But now his cruelty so sore she drad,

That to those fennes for fastnesse she did fly,

And there her selfe did hyde from his hard tyranny.

19 There he her found in sorrow and dismay,

All solitarie without liuing wight;

For all her other children, through affray,

Had hid themselues, or taken further flight:

And eke her selfe through sudden strange affright,

When one in armes she saw, began to fly;

But when her owne two sonnes she had in sight,

She gan take hart, and looke vp ioyfully:

For well she wist this knight came, succour to supply.

20 And running vnto them with greedy ioyes,

Fell straight about their neckes, as they did kneele,

And bursting forth in teares; Ah my sweet boyes,

(Sayd she) yet now I gin new life to feele,

And feeble spirits, that gan faint and reele,

Now rise againe, at this your ioyous sight.

Alreadie seemes that fortunes headlong wheele

Begins to turne, and sunne to shine more bright,

Then it was wont, through comfort of this noble knight.

21 Then turning vnto him; And you Sir knight

(Said she) that taken haue this toylesome paine

For wretched woman, miserable wight,

May you in heauen immortall guerdon gaine

For so great trauell, as you doe sustaine:

For other meede may hope for none of mee,

To whom nought else, but bare life doth remaine,

And that so wretched one, as ye do see

Is liker lingring death, then loathed life to bee.

22 Much was he moued with her piteous plight,

And low dismounting from his loftie steede,

Gan to recomfort her all that he might,

Seeking to driue away deepe rooted dreede,

With hope of helpe in that her greatest neede.

So thence he wished her with him to wend,

Vnto some place, where they mote rest and feede,