The Faerie Queene Read Online

Tho when they did perceaue

Their wounds recur’d, and forces reincreast,

Of that good Hermite both they tooke their leaue,

And went both on their way, ne ech would other leaue.

16 But each the other vow’d t’accompany,

The Lady, for that she was much in dred,

Now left alone in great extremity,

The Squire, for that he courteous was indeed,

Would not her leaue alone in her great need.

So both together traueld, till they met

With a faire Mayden clad in mourning weed,

Vpon a mangy iade vnmeetely set,

And a lewd foole her leading thorough dry and wet.

17 But by what meanes that shame to her befell,

And how thereof her selfe she did acquite,

I must a while forbeare to you to tell;

Till that, as comes by course, I doe recite,

What fortune to the Briton Prince did lite,

Pursuing that proud Knight, the which whileare

Wrought to Sir Calepine so foule despight;

And eke his Lady, though she sickely were,

So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately heare.

18 The Prince according to the former token,

Which faire Serene to him deliuered had,

Pursu’d him streight, in mynd to bene ywroken

Of all the vile demeane, and vsage bad,

With which he had those two so ill bestad:

Ne wight with him on that aduenture went,

But that wylde man, whom though he oft forbad,

Yet for no bidding, nor for being shent,

Would he restrayned be from his attendement.

19 Arriuing there, as did by chaunce befall,

He found the gate wyde ope, and in he rode,

Ne stayd, till that he came into the hall:

Where soft dismounting like a weary lode,

Vpon the ground with feeble feete he trode,

As he vnable were for very neede

To moue one foote, but there must make abode;

The whiles the saluage man did take his steede,

And in some stable neare did set him vp to feede.

20 Ere long to him a homely groome there came,

That in rude wise him asked, what he was,

That durst so boldly, without let or shame,

Into his Lords forbidden hall to passe.

To whom the Prince, him fayning to embase,

Mylde answer made; he was an errant Knight,

The which was fall’n into this feeble case,

Through many wounds, which lately he in fight,

Receiued had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.

21 But he, the more outrageous and bold,

Sternely did bid him quickely thence auaunt,

Or deare aby, for why his Lord of old

Did hate all errant Knights, which there did haunt,

Ne lodging would to any of them graunt,

And therefore lightly bad him packe away,

Not sparing him with bitter words to taunt;

And therewithall rude hand on him did lay,

To thrust him out of dore, doing his worst assay.

22 Which when the Saluage comming now in place,

Beheld, efisoones he all enraged grew,

And running streight vpon that villaine base,

Like a fell Lion at him fiercely flew,

And with his teeth and nailes, in present vew,

Him rudely rent, and all to peeces tore:

So miserably him all helpelesse slew,

That with the noise, whilest he did loudly rore,

The people of the house rose forth in great vprore.

23 Who when on ground they saw their fellow slaine,

And that same Knight and Saluage standing by,

Vpon them two they fell with might and maine,

And on them layd so huge and horribly,

As if they would haue slaine them presently.

But the bold Prince defended him so well,

And their assault withstood so mightily,

That maugre all their might, he did repell,

And beat them back, whilest many vndemeath him fell.

24 Yet he them still so sharpely did pursew,

That few of them he left aliue, which fled,

Those euill tidings to their Lord to shew.

Who hearing how his people badly sped,

Came forth in hast: where when as with the dead

He saw the ground all strow’d, and that same Knight

And saluage with their bloud fresh steeming red,

He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell despight,

And with reprochfull words him thus bespake on hight.

25 Art thou he, traytor, that with treason vile,

Hast slaine my men in this vnmanly maner,

And now triumphest in the piteous spoile

Of these poore folk, whose soules with black dishonor

And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner?

The meede whereof shall shortly be thy shame,

And wretched end, which still attendeth on her.

With that him selfe to battell he did frame;

So did his forty yeomen, which there with him came.

26 With dreadfull force they all did him assaile,

And round about with boystrous strokes oppresse,

That on his shield did rattle like to haile,

In a great tempest; that in such distresse,

He wist not to which side him to addresse.

And euermore that crauen cowherd Knight,

Was at his backe with heardesse heedinesse,

Wayting if he vnwares him murther might:

For cowardize doth still in villany delight.

27 Whereof whenas the Prince was well aware,

He to him turnd with furious intent,

And him against his powre gan to prepare;

Like a fierce Bull, that being busie bent

To fight with many foes about him ment,

Feeling some curre behinde his heeles to bite,

Turnes him about with fell auengement;

So likewise turnde the Prince vpon the Knight,

And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.

28 Who when he once his dreadfull strokes had tasted,

Durst not the furie of his force abyde,

But turn’d abacke, and to retyre him hasted

Through the thick prease, there thinking him to hyde.

But when the Prince had once him plainely eyde,

He foot by foot him followed alway,

Ne would him suffer once to shrinke asyde

But ioyning close, huge lode at him did lay:

Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.

29 But when his foe he still so eger saw,

Vnto his heeles himselfe he did betake,

Hoping vnto some refuge to withdraw:

Ne would the Prince him euer foot forsake,

Where so he went, but after him did make.

He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,

Whylest euery ioynt for dread of death did quake,

Still looking after him, that did him chace;

That made him euermore increase his speedie pace.

30 At last he vp into the chamber came,

Whereas his loue was sitting all alone,

Wayting what tydings of her folke became.

There did the Prince him ouertake anone,

Crying in vaine to her, him to bemone;

And with his sword him on the head did smyte,

That to the ground he fell in senselesse swone:

Yet whether thwart or flatly it did lyte,

The tempred Steele did not into his braynepan byte.

31 Which when the Ladie saw, with great affright

She starting vp, began to shrieke aloud,

And with her garment couering him from sight,

Seem’d vnder her protection him to shroud;

And Ming lowly at his feet, her bowd

Vpon her knee, intreating him for grace,

And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd;

That with the ruth of her so wretched case,

He stayd his second strooke, and did his hand abase.

32 Her weed she then withdrawing, did him discouer,

Who now come to himselfe, yet would not rize,

But still did lie as dead, and quake, and quiuer,

That euen the Prince his basenesse did despize,

And eke his Dame him seeing in such guize,

Gan him recomfort, and from ground to reare.

Who rising vp at last in ghastly wize,

Like troubled ghost did dreadfully appeare,

As one that had no life him left through former feare.

33 Whom when the Prince so deadly saw dismayd,

He for such basenesse shamefully him shent,

And with sharpe words did bitterly vpbrayd;

Vile cowheard dogge, now doe I much repent,

That euer I this life vnto thee lent,

Whereof thou caytiue so vnworthie art;

That both thy loue, for lacke of hardiment,

And eke thy selfe, for want of manly hart,

And eke all knights hast shamed with this knightlesse part.

34 Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,

And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare.

For first it was to thee reprochfull blame,

To erect this wicked custome, which I heare,

Gainst errant Knights and Ladies thou dost reare;

Whom when thou mayst, thou dost of arms despoile

Or of their vpper garment, which they weare:

Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with guile

Maintaine this euill vse, thy foes thereby to foile.

35 And lastly in approuance of thy wrong,

To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize,

Is greatest shame: for oft it falles, that strong

And valiant knights doe rashly enterprize,

Either for fame, or else for exercize,

A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight;

Yet haue, through prowesse and their braue emprize,

Gotten great worship in this worldes sight.

For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong, then right.

36 Yet since thy life vnto this Ladie fayre

I giuen haue, liue in reproch and scorne;

Ne euer armes, ne euer knighthood dare

Hence to professe: for shame is to adorne

With so braue badges one so basely borne;

But onely breath sith that I did forgiue.

So hauing from his crauen bodie torne

Those goodly armes, he them away did giue

And onely suffred him this wretched life to liue.

37 There whilest he thus was setting things aboue,

Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant knight,

To whom his life he graunted for her loue,

He gan bethinke him, in what perilous plight

He had behynd him left that saluage wight,

Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought

By this quite slaine in so vnequall fight:

Therefore descending backe in haste, he sought

If yet he were aliue, or to destruction brought.

38 There he him found enuironed about

With slaughtred bodies, which his hand had slaine,

And laying yet a fresh with courage stout

Vpon the rest, that did aliue remaine;

Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine,

Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safetie,

After he gotten had with busie paine

Some of their weapons, which thereby did lie,

With which he layd about, and made them fast to flie.

39 Whom when the Prince so felly saw to rage,

Approching to him neare, his hand he stayd,

And sought, by making signes, him to asswage:

Who them perceiuing, streight to him obayd,

As to his Lord, and downe his weapons layd,

As if he long had to his heasts bene trayned.

Thence he him brought away, and vp conuayd

Into the chamber, where that Dame remayned

With her vnworthy knight, who ill him entertayned.

40 Whom when the Saluage saw from daunger free,

Sitting beside his Ladie there at ease,

He well remembred, that the same was hee,

Which lately sought his Lord for to displease:

Tho all in rage, he on him streight did seaze,

As if he would in peeces him haue rent;

And were not, that the Prince did him appeaze,

He had not left one limbe of him vnrent:

But streight he held his hand at his commaundement.

41 Thus hauing all things well in peace ordayned,

The Prince himselfe there all that night did rest,

Where him Blandina fayrely entertayned,

With all the courteous glee and goodly feast,

The which for him she could imagine best.

For well she knew the wayes to win good will

Of euery wight, that were not too infest,

And how to please the minds of good and ill,

Through tempering of her words & lookes by wondrous skill.

42 Yet were her words and lookes but false and fayned,

To some hid end to make more easie way,

Or to allure such fondlings, whom she trayned

Into her trap vnto their owne decay:

Thereto, when needed, she could weepe and pray,

And when her listed, she could fawne and flatter;

Now smyling smoothly, like to sommers day,

Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter;

Yet were her words but wynd, & all her teares but water.

43 Whether such grace were giuen her by kynd,

As women wont their guilefull wits to guyde;

Or learn’d the art to please, I doe not fynd.

This well I wote, that she so well applyde

Her pleasing tongue, that soone she pacifyde

The wrathfull Prince, & wrought her husbands peace.

Who nathelesse not therewith satisfyde,

His rancorous despight did not releasse,

Ne secretly from thought of fell reuenge surceasse.

44 For all that night, the whyles the Prince did rest

In carelesse couch, not weeting what was ment,

He watcht in close awayt with weapons prest,

Willing to worke his villenous intent

On him, that had so shamefully him stent:

Yet durst he not for very cowardize

Effect the same, whylest all the night was spent.

The morrow next the Prince did early rize,

And passed forth, to follow his first enterprize.

CANTO VII

Turpine is baffuld, his two knights
   doe game their treasons meed,
Fayre Mirabeltaes punishment
   for hues disdaine decreed.

1 Like as the gentle hart it selfe bewrayes,

In doing gentle deedes with franke delight,

Euen so the baser mind it selfe displayes,

In cancred malice and reuengefull spight.

For to maligne, t’enuie, t’vse shifting slight,

Be arguments of a vile donghill mind,

Which what it dare not doe by open might,

To worke by wicked treason wayes doth find,

By such discourteous deeds discouering his base kind.

2 That well appeares in this discourteous knight,

The coward Turpine, whereof now I treat;

Who notwithstanding that in former fight

He of the Prince his life receiued late,

Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate

He gan deuize, to be aueng’d anew

For all that shame, which kindled inward hate.

Therefore so soone as he was out of vew,

Himselfe in hast he arm’d, and did him fast pursew.

3 Well did he tract his steps, as he did ryde,

Yet would not neare approch in daungers eye,

But kept aloofe for dread to be descryde,

Vntill fit time and place he mote espy,

Where he mote worke him scath and villeny.

At last he met two knights to him vnknowne,

The which were armed both agreeably,

And both combynd, what euer chaunce were blowne,

Betwixt them to diuide, and each to make his owne.

4 To whom false Turpine comming courteously,

To cloke the mischiefe, which he inly ment,

Gan to complaine of great discourtesie,

Which a straunge knight, that neare afore him went,

Had doen to him, and his deare Ladie shent:

Which if they would afford him ayde at need

For to auenge, in time conuenient,

They should accomplish both a knightly deed,

And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.

5 The knights beleeu’d, that all he sayd, was trew,

And being fresh and full of youthly spright,

Were glad to heare of that aduenture new,

In which they mote make triall of their might,

Which neuer yet they had approu’d in fight;

And eke desirous of the offred meed,

Said then the one of them; where is that wight,

The which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed,

That we may it auenge, and punish him with speed?

6 He rides (said Turpine) there not farre afore,

With a wyld man soft footing by his syde,

That if ye list to haste a litle more,

Ye may him ouertake in timely tyde:

Eftsoones they pricked forth with forward pryde,

And ere that lide while they ridden had,

The gentle Prince not farre away they spyde,

Ryding a softly pace with portance sad,

Deuizing of his loue more, then of daunger drad.

7 Then one of them aloud vnto him cryde,

Bidding him turne againe, false traytour knight,

Foule womanwronger, for he him defyde.

With that they both at once with equall spight

Did bend their speares, and both with equall might

Against him ran; but th’one did misse his marke,

And being carried with his force forthright,

Glaunst swiftly by; like to that heauenly sparke,

Which glyding through the ayre lights all the heauens darke.

8 But th’other ayming better, did him smite

Full in the shield, with so impetuous powre,

That all his launce in peeces shiuered quite,

And scattered all about, fell on the flowre.

But the stout Prince, with much more steddy stowre

Full on his beuer did him strike so sore,

That the cold steele through piercing, did deuowre

His vitall breath, and to the ground him bore,

Where still he bathed lay in his owne bloody gore.

9 As when a cast of Faulcons make their flight

At an Herneshaw, that lyes aloft on wing,

The whyles they strike at him with heedlesse might,

The warie foule his bill doth backward wring;

On which the first, whose force her first doth bring,

Her selfe quite through the bodie doth engore,

And falleth downe to ground like senselesse thing,

But th’other not so swift, as she before,

Fayles of her souse, and passing by doth hurt no more.

10 By this the other, which was passed by,

Himselfe recouering, was return’d to fight;

Where when he saw his fellow lifelessely,

He much was daunted with so dismall sight;

Yet nought abating of his former spight,

Let driue at him with so malitious mynd,

As if he would haue passed through him quight:

But the steele-head no stedfast hold could fynd,

But glauncing by, deceiu’d him of that he desynd.

11 Not so the Prince: for his well learned speare

Tooke surer hould, and from his horses backe

Aboue a launces length him forth did beare,

And gainst the cold hard earth so sore him strake,

That all his bones in peeces nigh he brake.

Where seeing him so lie, he left his steed,

And to him leaping, vengeance thought to take

Of him, for all his former follies meed,

With flaming sword in hand his terror more to breed.

12 The fearefull swayne beholding death so nie,

Cryde out aloud for mercie him to saue;

In lieu whereof he would to him descrie,

Great treason to him meant, his life to reaue.

The Prince soone hearkned, and his life forgaue.

Then thus said he, There is a straunger knight,

The which for promise of great meed, vs draue

To this attempt, to wreake his hid despight,

For that himselfe thereto did want sufficient might.

13 The Prince much mused at such villenie,

And sayd; Now sure ye well haue earn’d your meed,

For th’one is dead, and th’other soone shall die,

Vnlesse to me thou hether bring with speed

The wretch, that hyr’d you to this wicked deed,

He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake

The guilt on him, which did this mischiefe breed,

Swore by his sword, that neither day nor weeke

He would surceasse, but him, where so he were, would seeke.

14 So vp he rose, and forth straight way he went

Backe to the place, where Turpine late he lore;

There he him found in great astonishment,

To see him so bedight with bloodie gore,

And griesly wounds that him appalled sore.

Yet thus at length he said, how now Sir knight?

What meaneth this, which here I see before?

How fortuneth this foule vncomely plight,

So different from that, which earst ye seem’d in sight?

15 Perdie (said he) in euill houre it fell,

That euer I for meed did vndertake

So hard a taske, as life for hyre to sell;

The which I earst aduentur’d for your sake.

Witnesse the wounds, and this wyde bloudie lake,

Which ye may see yet all about me steeme.

Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promise make,

My due reward, the which right well I deeme

I yearned haue, that life so dearely did redeeme.

16 But where then is (quoth he halfe wrothfully)

Where is the bootie, which therefore I bought,

That cursed caytiue, my strong enemy,

That recreant knight, whose hated life I sought?

And where is eke your friend, which halfe it ought?

He lyes (said he) vpon the cold bare ground,

Slayne of that errant knight, with whom he fought;

Whom afterwards my selfe with many a wound

Did slay againe, as ye may see there in the stound.

17 Thereof false Turpin was full glad and faine,

And needs with him streight to the place would ryde,

Where he himselfe might see his foeman slaine;

For else his feare could not be satisfyde.

So as they rode, he saw the way all dyde

With streames of bloud; which trading by the traile,

Ere long they came, whereas in euill tyde

That other swayne, like ashes deadly pale,

Lay in the lap of death, rewing his wretched bale.

18 Much did the Crauen seeme to mone his case,

That for his sake his deare life had forgone;

And him bewayling with affection base,

Did counterfeit kind pittie, where was none:

For wheres no courage, theres no ruth nor mone.

Thence passing forth, not farre away he found,

Whereas the Prince himselfe lay all alone,

Loosely displayd vpon the grassie ground,

Possessed of sweete sleepe, that luld him soft in swound.

19 Wearie of trauell in his former fight,

He there in shade himselfe had layd to rest,

Hauing his armes and warlike things vndight,

Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace molest;

The whyles his saluage page, that wont be prest,

Was wandred in the wood another way,

To doe some thing, that seemed to him best,

The whyles his Lord in siluer slomber lay,

Like to the Euening starre adorn’d with deawy ray.

20 Whom when as Turpin saw so loosely layd,

He weened well, that he in deed was dead,

Like as that other knight to him had sayd:

But when he nigh approcht, he mote aread

Plaine signes in him of life and liuelihead.

Whereat much grieu’d against that straunger knight,

That him too light of credence did mislead,

He would haue backe retyred from that sight,

That was to him on earth the deadliest despight.

21 But that same knight would not once let him start,

But plainely gan to him declare the case

Of all his mischiefe, and late lucklesse smart;

How both he and his fellow there in place

Were vanquished, and put to foule disgrace,

And how that he in lieu of life him lent,

Had vow’d vnto the victor, him to trace

And follow through the world, where so he went,

Till that he him deliuered to his punishment.

22 He therewith much abashed and affrayd,

Began to tremble euery limbe and vaine;

And softly whispering him, entyrely prayd,

T’aduize him better, then by such a traine

Him to betray vnto a straunger swaine:

Yet rather counseld him contrarywize,

Sith he likewise did wrong by him sustaine,

To ioyne with him and vengeance to deuize,

Whylest time did offer meanes him sleeping to surprize.

23 Nathelesse for all his speach, the gentle knight

Would not be tempted to such villenie,

Regarding more his faith, which he did plight,

All were it to his mortall enemie,

Then to entrap him by false treacherie:

Great shame in lieges blood to be embrew’d.

Thus whylest they were debating diuerslie,

The Saluage forth out of the wood issew’d

Backe to the place, whereas his Lord he sleeping vew’d

24 There when he saw those two so neare him stand,

He doubted much what mote their meaning bee,

And throwing downe his load out of his hand,

To weet great store of forrest firute, which hee

Had for his food late gathered from the tree,

Himselfe vnto his weapon he betooke,

That was an oaken plant, which lately hee

Rent by the roof, which he so sternely shooke,

That like an hazell wand, it quiuered and quooke.

25 Whereat the Prince awaking, when he spyde

The traytour Turpin with that other knight,

He started vp, and snatching neare his syde

His trustie sword, the seruant of his might,

Like a fell Lyon leaped to him light,

And his left hand vpon his collar layd.

Therewith the cowheard deaded with affright,

Fell flat to ground, ne word vnto him sayd,

But holding vp his hands, with silence mercie prayd.

26 But he so full of indignation was,

That to his prayer nought he would incline,

But as he lay vpon the humbled gras,

His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe

Of seruile yoke, that nobler harts repine.

Then letting him arise like abiect thrall,

He gan to him obiect his haynous crime,

And to reuile, and rate, and recreant call,

And lastly to despoyle of knightly bannerall.

27 And after all, for greater infamie,

He by the heeles him hung vpon a tree,

And baffuld so, that all which passed by,

The picture of his punishment might see,

And by the like ensample warned bee,

How euer they through treason doe trespasse.

But turne we now backe to that Ladie free,

Whom late we left ryding vpon an Asse,

Led by a Carle and foole, which by her side did passe.

28 She was a Ladie of great dignitie,

And lifted vp to honorable place,

Famous through all the land of Faerie,

Though of meane parentage and kindred base,

Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of natures grace,

That all men did her person much admire,

And praise the feature of her goodly face,

The beames whereof did kindle louely fire

In th’harts of many a knight, and many a gentle squire.

29 But she thereof grew proud and insolent,

That none she worthie thought to be her fere,

But scornd them all, that loue vnto her ment;

Yet was she lou’d of many a worthy pere,

Vnworthy she to be belou’d so dere,

That could not weigh of worthinesse aright.

For beautie is more glorious bright and clere,

The more it is admir’d of many a wight,

And noblest she, that serued is of noblest knight.

30 But this coy Damzell thought contrariwize,

That such proud looks would make her praysed more;

And that the more she did all loue despize,

The more would wretched louers her adore.

What cared she, who sighed for her sore,

Or who did wayle or watch the wearie night?

Let them that list, their lucklesse lot deplore;

She was borne free, not bound to any wight,

And so would euer liue, and loue her owne delight.

31 Through such her stubborne stifnesse, and hard hart,

Many a wretch, for want of remedie,

Did languish long in lifeconsuming smart,

And at the last through dreary dolour die:

Whylest she, the Ladie of her libertie,

Did boast her beautie had such soueraine might,

That with the onely twinckle of her eye,

She could or saue, or spill, whom she would hight.

What could the Gods doe more, but doe it more aright?

32 But loe the Gods, that mortall follies vew,

Did worthily reuenge this may dens pride;

And nought regarding her so goodly hew,

Did laugh at her, that many did deride,

Whilest she did weepe, of no man mercifide.

For on a day, when Cupid kept his court,

As he is wont at each Saint Valentide,

Vnto the which all louers doe resort,

That of their loues successe they there may make report.

33 It fortun’d then, that when the roules were red,

In which the names of all loues folke were fyled,

That many there were missing, which were ded,

Or kept in bands, or from their loues exyled,

Or by some other violence despoyled.

Which when as Cupid heard, he wexed wroth,

And doubting to be wronged, or beguyled,

He bad his eyes to be vnblindfold both,

That he might see his men, and muster them by oth.

34 Then found he many missing of his crew,

Which wont doe suit and seruice to his might;

Of whom what was becomen, no man knew.

Therefore a Iurie was impaneld streight,

T’enquire of them, whether by force, or sleight,

Or their owne guilt, they were away conuayd.

To whom foule Infamie, and fell Despight

Gaue euidence, that they were all betrayd,

And murdred cruelly by a rebellious Mayd.

35 Fayre Mirabella was her name, whereby

Of all those crymes she there indited was:

All which when Cupid heard, he by and by

In great displeasure, wild a Capias

Should issue forth, t’attach that scornefull lasse.

The warrant straight was made, and therewithall

A Baylieffe errant forth in post did passe,

Whom they by name there Portamore did call;

He which doth summon louers to loues iudgement hall.

36 The damzell was attacht, and shortly brought

Vnto the barre, whereas she was arrayned:

But she thereto nould plead, nor answere ought

Euen for stubborne pride, which her restrayned.

So iudgement past, as is by law ordayned

In cases like, which when at last she saw,

Her stubborne hart, which loue before disdayned,

Gan stoupe, and falling downe with humble awe,

Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.

37 The sonne of Venus who is myld by kynd,

But where he is prouokt with peeuishnesse,

Vnto her prayers piteously enclynd,

And did the rigour of his doome represse;

Yet not so freely, but that nathelesse

He vnto her a penance did impose,

Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildemes

She wander should in companie of those,

Till she had sau’d so many loues, as she did lose.

38 So now she had bene wandring two whole yeares

Throughout the world, in this vncomely case,

Wasting her goodly hew in heauie teares,

And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace:

Yet had she not in all these two yeares space,

Saued but two, yet in two yeares before,

Throgh her dispiteous pride, whilest loue lackt place,

She had destroyed two and twenty more.

Aie me, how could her loue make half amends therefore.

39 And now she was vppon the weary way,

When as the gentle Squire, with faire Serene,

Met her in such misseeming foule array;

The whiles that mighty man did her demeane

With all the euill termes and cruell meane,

That he could make; And eeke that angry foole

Which follow’d her, with cursed hands vncleane

Whipping her horse, did with his smarting toole

Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much augment her doole.

40 Ne ought it mote auaile her to entreat

The one or th’other, better her to vse:

For both so wilfull were and obstinate,

That all her piteous plaint they did refuse,

And rather did the more her beate and bruse.

But most the former villaine, which did lead

Her tyreling iade, was bent her to abuse;

Who though she were with wearinesse nigh dead,

Yet would not let her lite, nor rest a little stead.

41 For he was sterne, and terrible by nature,

And eeke of person huge and hideous,

Exceeding much the measure of mans stature,

And rather like a Gyant monstruous.

For sooth he was descended of the hous

Of those old Gyants, which did warres darraine

Against the heauen in order battailous,

And sib to great Orgolio, which was slaine

By Arthure, when as Vnas Knight he did maintaine.

42 His lookes were dreadfull, and his fiery eies

Like two great Beacons, glared bright and wyde,

Glauncing askew, as if his enemies

He scorned in his ouerweening pryde;

And stalking stately like a Crane, did stryde

At euery step vppon the tiptoes hie,

And all the way he went, on euery syde

He gaz’d about, and stared horriblie,

As if he with his lookes would all men terrifie.

43 He wore no armour, ne for none did care,

As no whit dreading any liuing wight;

But in a Iacket quilted richly rare,

Vpon checklaton he was straungely dight,

And on his head a roll of linnen plight,

Like to the Mores of Malaber he wore;

With which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night,

Were bound about, and voyded from before,

And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.

44 This was Disdaine, who led that Ladies horse

Through thick & thin, through mountains & through plains,

Compelling her, wher she would not by force

Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines.

But that same foole, which most increast her paines,

Was Scome, who hauing in his hand a whip,

Her therewith yirks, and still when she complaines,

The more he laughes, and does her closely quip,

To see her sore lament, and bite her tender lip.

45 Whose cruell handling when that Squire beheld,

And saw those villaines her so vildely vse,

His gentle heart with indignation sweld,

And could no lenger beare so great abuse,

As such a Lady so to beate and bruse;

But to him stepping, such a stroke him lent,

That forst him th’halter from his hand to loose,

And maugre all his might, backe to relent:

Else had he surely there bene slaine, or fowly shent.

46 The villaine wroth for greeting him so sore,

Gathered him selfe together soone againe,

And with his yron batton, which he bore,

Let driue at him so dreadfully amaine,

That for his safety he did him constraine

To giue him ground, and shift to euery side,

Rather then once his burden to sustaine:

For bootelesse thing him seemed, to abide,

So mighty blowes, or proue the puissaunce of his pride.

47 Like as a Mastiffe hauing at a bay

A saluage Bull, whose cruell homes doe threat

Desperate daunger, if he them assay,

Traceth his ground, and round about doth beat,

To spy where he may some aduauntage get;

The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly rore,

So did the Squire, the whiles the Carle did fret,

And fume in his disdainefull mynd the more,

And oftentimes by Turmagant and Mahound swore.

48 Nathelesse so sharpely still he him pursewd,

That at aduantage him at last he tooke,

When his foote slipt (that slip he dearely rewd,)

And with his yron club to ground him strooke;

Where still he lay, ne out of swoune awooke,

Till heauy hand the Carle vpon him layd,

And bound him fast: Tho when he vp did looke,

And saw him selfe captiu’d, he was dismayd,

Ne powre had to withstand, ne hope of any ayd.

49 Then vp he made him rise, and forward fare,

Led in a rope, which both his hands did bynd;

Ne ought that foole for pitty did him spare,

But with his whip him following behynd,

Him often scourg’d, and forst his feete to fynd:

And other whiles with bitter mockes and mowes

He would him scome, that to his gentle mynd

Was much more grieuous, then the others blowes:

Words sharpely wound, but greatest griefe of scorning growes.

50 The faire Serena, when she saw him fall

Vnder that villaines club, then surely thought

That slaine he was, or made a wretched thrall,

And fled away with all the speede she mought,

To seeke for safety, which long time she sought:

And past through many perils by the way,

Ere she againe to Calepine was brought;

The which discourse as now I must delay,

Till Mirabettaes fortunes I doe further say.

CANTO VIII

Prince Arthure ouercomes Disdaine,
   Quites Mirabellfrom dreed:
Serena found of Saluages,
   By Calepine is freed.

1 Ye gentle Ladies, in whose soueraine powre

Loue hath the glory of his kingdome left,

And th’hearts of men, as your eternall dowre,

In yron chaines, of liberty bereft,

Deliuered hath into your hands by gift;

Be well aware, how ye the same doe vse,

That pride doe not to tyranny you lift;

Least if men you of cruelty accuse,

He from you take that chiefedome, which ye doe abuse.

2 And as ye soft and tender are by kynde,

Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties grace,

So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde;

But cruelty and hardnesse from you chace,

That all your other praises will deface,

And from you turne the loue of men to hate.

Ensample take of Mirabellaes case,

Who from the high degree of happy state,

Fell into wretched woes, which she repented late.

3 Who after thraldome of the gentle Squire,

Which she beheld with lamentable eye,

Was touched with compassion entire,

And much lamented his calamity,

That for her sake fell into misery:

Which booted nought for prayers, nor for threat

To hope for to release or mollify;

For aye the more, that she did them entreat

The more they him misust, and cruelly did beat.

4 So as they forward on their way did pas,

Him still reuiling and afflicting sore,

They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias,

(That was that courteous Knight, whom he before

Hauing subdew’d, yet did to life restore,)

To whom as they approcht, they gan augment

Their cruelty, and him to punish more,

Scourging and haling him more vehement;

As if it them should grieue to see his punishment.

5 The Squire him selfe when as he saw his Lord,

The witnesse of his wretchednesse, in place,

Was much asham’d, that with an hempen cord

He like a dog was led in captiue case,

And did his head for bashfulnesse abase,

As loth to see, or to be seene at all:

Shame would be bid. But whenas Enias

Beheld two such, of two such villaines thrall,

His manly mynde was much emmoued therewithall.

6 And to the Prince thus sayd; See you Sir Knight

The greatest shame that euer eye yet saw?

Yond Lady and her Squire with foule despight

Abusde, against all reason and all law,

Without regard of pitty or of awe.

See how they doe that Squire beat and reuile;

See how they doe the Lady hale and draw.

But if ye please to lend me leaue a while,

I will them soone acquite, and both of blame assoile.

7 The Prince assented, and then he streight way

Dismounting light, his shield about him threw,

With which approching, thus he gan to say;

Abide ye caytiue treachetours vntrew,

That haue with treason thralled vnto you

These two, vnworthy of your wretched bands;

And now your crime with cruelty pursew.

Abide, and from them lay your loathly hands;

Or else abide the death, that hard before you stands.

8 The villaine stayd not aunswer to inuent,

But with his yron club preparing way,

His mindes sad message backe vnto him sent;

The which descended with such dreadfull sway,

That seemed nought the course thereof could stay:

No more then lightening from the lofty sky.

Ne list the Knight the powre thereof assay,

Whose doome was death, but lightly slipping by,

Vnwares defrauded his intended destiny.

9 And to requite him with the like againe,

With his sharpe sword he fiercely at him flew,

And strooke so strongly, that the Carle with paine

Saued him selfe, but that he there him slew:

Yet sau’d not so, but that the bloud it drew,

And gaue his foe good hope of victory.

Who therewith flesht, vpon him set anew,

And with the second stroke, thought certainely

To haue supplyde the first, and paide the vsury.

10 But Fortune aunswerd not vnto his call;

For as his hand was heaued vp on hight,

The villaine met him in the middle fall,

And with his club bet backe his brondyron bright

So forcibly, that with his owne hands might

Rebeaten backe vpon him selfe againe,

He driuen was to ground in selfe despight;

From whence ere he recouery could gaine,

He in his necke had set his foote with fell disdaine.

11 With that the foole, which did that end awayte,

Came running in, and whilest on ground he lay,

Laide heauy hands on him, and held so strayte,

That downe he kept him with his scornefull sway,

So as he could not weld him any way.

The whiles that other villaine went about

Him to haue bound, and thrald without delay;

The whiles the foole did him reuile and flout,

Threatning to yoke them two & tame their corage stout.

12 As when a sturdy ploughman with his hynde

By strength haue ouerthrowne a stubborne steare,

They downe him hold, and fast with cords do bynde,

Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare:

So did these two this Knight oft tug and teare.

Which when the Prince beheld, there standing by,

He left his lofty steede to aide him neare,

And buckling soone him selfe, gan fiercely fly

Vppon that Carle, to saue his friend from ieopardy.

13 The villaine leauing him vnto his mate

To be captiu’d, and handled as he list,

Himselfe addrest vnto this new debate,

And with his club him all about so blist,

That he which way to turne him scarcely wist:

Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes alow;

Now here, now there, and oft him neare he mist;

So doubtfully, that hardly one could know

Whether more wary were to giue or ward the blow.

14 But yet the Prince so well enured was

With such huge strokes, approued oft in fight,

That way to them he gaue forth right to pas.

Ne would endure the daunger of their might,

But wayt aduantage, when they downe did light.

At last the caytiue after long discourse,

When all his strokes he saw auoyded quite,

Resolued in one t’assemble all his force,

And make one end of him without ruth or remorse.

15 His dreadfull hand he heaued vp aloft,

And with his dreadfull instrument of yre,

Thought sure haue pownded him to powder soft,

Or deepe emboweld in the earth entyre:

But Fortune did not with his will conspire.

For ere his stroke attayned his intent,

The noble childe preuenting his desire,

Vnder his club with wary boldnesse went,

And smote him on the knee, that neuer yet was bent.

16 It neuer yet was bent, ne bent it now,

Albe the stroke so strong and puissant were,

That seem’d a marble pillour it could bow,

But all that leg, which did his body beare,

It crackt throughout, yet did no bloud appeare;

So as it was vnable to support

So huge a burden on such broken geare,

But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of durt,

Whence he assayd to rise, but could not for his hurt.

17 Eftsoones the Prince to him full nimbly stept,

And least he should recouer foote againe,

His head meant from his shoulders to haue swept.

Which when the Lady saw, she cryde amaine;

Stay stay, Sir Knight, for loue of God abstaine,

From that vnwares ye weetlesse doe intend;

Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be slaine:

For more on him doth then him selfe depend;

My life will by his death haue lamentable end.

18 He staide his hand according her desire,

Yet nathemore him suffred to arize;

But still suppressing gan of her inquire,

What meaning mote those vncouth words comprize,

That in that villaines health her safety lies:

That, were no might in man, nor heart in Knights,

Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize,

Yet heauens them selues, that fauour feeble rights,

Would for it selfe redresse, and punish such despights.

19 Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast

Like many water streames, a while she stayd;

Till the sharpe passion being ouerpast,

Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd;

Nor heauens, nor men can me most wretched mayd

Deliuer from the doome of my desart,

The which the God of loue hath on me layd,

And damned to endure this direfull smart,

For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.

20 In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre

Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight,

And nature me endu’d with plenteous dowre,

Of all her gifts, that pleasde each liuing sight,

I was belou’d of many a gentle Knight,

And sude and sought with all the seruice dew:

Full many a one for me deepe groand and sight,

And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,

Complayning out on me, that would not on them rew.

21 But let them loue that list, or liue or die;

Me list not die for any louers doole:

Ne list me leaue my loued libertie,

To pitty him that list to play the foole:

To loue my selfe I learned had in schoole.

Thus I triumphed long in louers paine,

And sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,

Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine:

But all is now repayd with interest againe.

22 For loe the winged God, that woundeth harts,

Causde me be called to accompt therefore,

And for reuengement of those wrongfull smarts,

Which I to others did inflict afore,

Addeem’d me to endure this penaunce sore;

That in this wize, and this vnmeete array,

With these two lewd companions, and no more,

Disdaine and Scome, I through the world should stray,

Till I haue sau’d so many, as I earst did slay.

23 Certes (sayd then the Prince) the God is iust,

That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile.

For were no law in loue, but all that lust,

Might them oppresse, and painefully turmoile,

His kingdome would continue but a while.

But tell me Lady, wherefore doe you beare

This bottle thus before you with such toile,

And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,

That for these Carles to carry much more comely were?

24 Here in this bottle (sayd the sory Mayd)

I put the teares of my contrition,

Till to the brim I haue it full defrayd:

And in this bag which I behinde me don,

I put repentaunce for things past and gon.

Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne,

That all which I put in, fals out anon;

And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne,

Who mocketh all my paine, & laughs the more I mourn.

25 The Infant hearkned wisely to her tale,

And wondred much at Cupids iudg’ment wise,

That could so meekly make proud hearts auale,

And wreake him selfe on them, that him despise.

Then suffred he Disdaine vp to arise,

Who was not able vp him selfe to reare,

By meanes his leg through his late luckelesse prise,

Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare

Was holpen vp, who him supported standing neare.

26 But being vp, he lookt againe aloft,

As if he neuer had receiued fall;

And with Sterne eye-browes stared at him oft,

As if he would haue daunted him with all:

And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,

Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,

As if such pride the other could apall;

Who was so far from being ought amazed,

That he his lookes despised, and his boast dispraized.

27 Then turning backe vnto that captiue thrall,

Who all this while stood there beside them bound,

Vnwilling to be knowne, or seene at all,

He from those bands weend him to haue vnwound.

But when approching neare, he plainely found,

It was his owne true groome, the gentle Squire,

He thereat wext exceedingly astound,

And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,

Ne could with seeing satisfie his great desire.

28 Meane while the Saluage man, when he beheld

That huge great foole oppressing th’other Knight,

Whom with his weight vnweldy downe he held,

He flew vpon him, like a greedy kight

Vnto some carrion offered to his sight,

And downe him plucking, with his nayles and teeth

Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite;

And firom him taking his owne whip, therewith

So sore him scourgeth, that the bloud downe followeth.

29 And sure I weene, had not the Ladies cry

Procur’d the Prince his cruell hand to stay,

He would with whipping, him haue done to dye:

But being checkt, he did abstains streight way,

And let him rise. Then thus the Prince gan say;

Now Lady sith your fortunes thus dispose,

That if ye list haue liberty, ye may,

Vnto your selfe I freely leaue to chose,

Whether I shall you leaue, or from these villaines lose.

30 Ah nay Sir Knight (sayd she) it may not be,

But that I needes must by all meanes fulfill

This penaunce, which enioyned is to me,

Least vnto me betide a greater ill;

Yet no lesse thankes to you for your good will.

So humbly taking leaue, she turnd aside,

But Arthure with the rest, went onward still

On his first quest, in which did him betide

A great aduenture, which did him from them deuide.

31 But first it falleth me by course to tell

Of faire Serena, who as earst you heard,

When first the gentle Squire at variaunce fell

With those two Carles, fled fast away, afeard

Of villany to be to her inferd:

So fresh the image of her former dread,

Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard,

That euery foote did tremble, which did tread,

And euery body two, and two she foure did read.

32 Through hils & dales, through bushes & through breres

Long thus she fled, till that at last she thought

Her selfe now past the perill of her feares.

Then looking round about, and seeing nought,

Which doubt of daunger to her offer mought,

She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine,

And sitting downe, her selfe a while bethought

Of her long trauell and turmoyling paine;

And often did of loue, and oft of lucke complaine.

33 And euennore she blamed Calepine,

The good Sir Calepine, her owne true Knight,

As th’onely author of her wofull tine:

For being of his loue to her so light,

As her to leaue in such a piteous plight.

Yet neuer Turtle truer to his make,

Then he was tride vnto his Lady bright:

Who all this while endured for her sake,

Great perill of his life, and resdesse paines did take.

34 Tho when as all her plaints, she had displayd,

And well disburdened her engrieued brest,

Vpon the grasse her selfe adowne she layd;

Where being tyrde with trauell, and opprest

With sorrow, she betooke her selfe to rest.

There whitest in Morpheus bosome safe she lay,

Fearelesse of ought, that mote her peace molest,

False Fortune did her safety betray,

Vnto a straunge mischaunce, that menac’d her decay.

35 In these wylde deserts, where she now abode,

There dwelt a saluage nation, which did liue

Of stealth and spoile, and making nightly rode

Into their neighbours borders; ne did giue

Them selues to any trade, as for to driue

The painefull plough, or cattell for to breed,

Or by aduentrous marchandize to thriue;

But on the labours of poore men to feed,

And serue their owne necessities with others need.

36 Thereto they vsde one most accursed order,

To eate the flesh of men, whom they mote fynde,

And straungers to deuoure, which on their border

Were brought by errour, or by wreckfull wynde.

A monstrous cruelty gainst course of kynde.

They towards euening wandring euery way,

To seeke for booty, came by fortune blynde,

Whereas this Lady, like a sheepe astray,

Now drowned in the depth of sleepe all fearelesse lay.

37 Soone as they spide her, Lord what gladfull glee

They made amongst them selues; but when her face

Like the faire yuory shining they did see,

Each gan his fellow solace and embrace,

For ioy of such good hap by heauenly grace.

Then gan they to deuize what course to take:

Whether to slay her there vpon the place,

Or suffer her out of her sleepe to wake,

And then her eate attonce; or many meales to make.

38 The best aduizement was of bad, to let her

Sleepe out her fill, without encomberment:

For sleepe they sayd would make her battill better.

Then when she wakt, they all gaue one consent,

That since by grace of God she there was sent,

Vnto their God they would her sacrifize,

Whose share, her guildesse bloud diey would present,

But of her dainty flesh they did deuize

To make a common feast, & feed with gunnandize.

39 So round about her they them selues did place

Vpon the grasse, and diuersely dispose,

As each thought best to spend the lingring space.

Some with their eyes the daintest morsels chose;

Some praise her paps, some praise her lips and nose;

Some whet their kniues, and strip their elboes bare:

The Priest him selfe a garland doth compose

Of finest flowres, and with full busie care

His bloudy vessels wash; and holy fire prepare.

40 The Damzell wakes, then all attonce vpstart,

And round about her flocke, like many flies,

Whooping, and hallowing on euery part,

As if they would haue rent the brasen skies.

Which when she sees with ghastly grieflful eies,

Her heart does quake, and deadly pallid hew

Benumbes her cheekes: Then out aloud she cries,

Where none is nigh to heare, that will her rew,

And rends her golden locks, and snowy brests embrew.

41 But all bootes not: they hands vpon her lay;

And first they spoile her of her iewls deare,

And afterwards of all her rich array;

The which amongst them they in peeces teare,

And of the pray each one a part doth beare.

Now being naked, to their sordid eyes

The goodly threasures of nature appeare:

Which as they view with lustfull fantasyes,

Each wisheth to him selfe, and to the rest enuyes.

42 Her yuorie necke, her alablaster brest,

Her paps, which like white silken pillowes were,

For loue in soft delight thereon to rest;

Her tender sides, her bellie white and clere,

Which like an Altar did it selfe vprere,

To offer sacrifice diuine thereon;

Her goodly thighes, whose glorie did appeare

Like a triumphall Arch, and thereupon

The spoiles of Princes hang’d, which were in battel won.

43 Those daintie parts, the dearlings of delight,

Which mote not be prophan’d of common eyes,

Those villeins vew’d with loose lasciuious sight,

And closely tempted with their craftie spyes;

And some of them gan mongst themselues deuize,

Thereof by force to take their beastly pleasure.

But them the Priest rebuking, did aduize

To dare not to pollute so sacred threasure,

Vow’d to the gods: religion held euen theeues in measure.

44 So being stayd, they her from thence directed

Vnto a litle groue not farre asyde,

In which an altar shortly they erected,

To slay her on. And now the Euentyde

His brode black wings had through the heauens wyde

By this dispred, that was the tyme ordayned

For such a dismall deed, their guilt to hyde:

Of few greene turfes an altar soone they fayned,

And deckt it all with flowres, which they nigh hand obtayned.

45 Tho when as all things readie were aright,

The Damzell was before the altar set,

Being alreadie dead with fearefull fright.

To whom the Priest with naked armes full net

Approching nigh, and murdrous knife well whet,

Gan mutter close a certaine secret charme,

With other diuelish ceremonies met:

Which doen he gan aloft t’aduance his arme,

Whereat they shouted all, and made a loud alarme.

46 Then gan the bagpypes and the homes to shrill,

And shrieke aloud, that with the peoples voyce

Confused, did the ayre with terror fill,

And made the wood to tremble at the noyce:

The whyles she wayld, the more they did reioyce.

Now mote ye vnderstand that to this groue

Sir Calepine by chaunce, more then by choyce,

The selfe same euening fortune hether droue,

As he to seeke Serena through the woods did roue.

47 Long had he sought her, and through many a soyle

Had traueld still on foot in heauie armes,

Ne ought was tyred with his endlesse toyle,

Ne ought was feared of his certaine harmes:

And now all weedesse of the wretched stormes,

In which his loue was lost, he slept full fast,

Till being waked with these loud alarmes,

He lightly started vp like one aghast,

And catching vp his arms streight to the noise forth past.

48 There by th’vncertaine glims of starry night,

And by the twinkling of their sacred fire,

He mote perceiue a litle dawning sight

Of all, which there was doing in that quire:

Mongst whom a woman spoyld of all attire

He spyde, lamenting her vnluckie strife,

And groning sore from grieued hart entire;

Eftsoones he saw one with a naked knife

Readie to launch her brest, and let out loued life.

49 With that he thrusts into the thickest throng,

And euen as his right hand adowne descends,

He him preuenting, layes on earth along,

And sacrifizeth to th’infernall feends.

Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he bends,

Of whom he makes such hauocke and such hew,

That swarmes of damned soules to hell he sends:

The rest that scape his sword and death eschew,

Fly like a flocke of doues before a Faulcons vew.

50 From them returning to that Ladie backe,

Whom by the Altar he doth sitting find,

Yet fearing death, and next to death the lacke

Of clothes to couer, what they ought by kind,

He first her hands beginneth to vnbind;

And then to question of her present woe;

And afterwards to cheare with speaches kind.

But she for nought that he could say or doe,

One word durst speake, or answere him awhit thereto.

51 So inward shame of her vncomely case

She did conceiue, through care of womanhood,

That though the night did couer her disgrace,

Yet she in so vnwomanly a mood,

Would not bewray the state in which she stood.

So all that night to him vnknowen she past.

But day, that doth discouer bad and good,

Ensewing, made her knowen to him at last:

The end whereof Ile keepe vntill another cast.

CANTO IX

Calidore hostes with Melibce
   and loues fayre Pastorell;
Coridon enuies him, yet he
   for ill rewards him well.

1 Now turne againe my teme thou iolly swayne,

Backe to the furrow which I lately left;

I lately left a furrow, one or twayne

Vnplough’d, the which my coulter hath not cleft:

Yet seem’d the soyle both fayre and frutefull eft,

As I it past, that were too great a shame,

That so rich frute should be from vs bereft;

Besides the great dishonour and defame,

Which should befall to Calidores immortall name.

2 Great trauell hath the gentle Calidore

And toyle endured, sith I left him last

Sewing the Blatant beast, which I forbore

To finish then, for other present hast.

Full many pathes and perils he hath past,

Through hils, through dales, throgh forests, & throgh plaines

In that same quest which fortune on him cast,

Which he atchieued to his owne great gaines,

Reaping eternall glorie of his restlesse paines.

3 So sharply he the Monster did pursew,

That day nor night he suffred him to rest,

Ne rested he himselfe but natures dew,

For dread of daunger, not to be redrest,

If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest.

Him first from court he to the citties coursed,

And from the citties to the townes him prest,

And from the townes into the countrie forsed,

And from the country back to priuate farmes he scorsed.

4 From thence into the open fields he fled,

Whereas the Heardes were keeping of their neat,

And shepheards singing to their flockes, that fed,

Layes of sweete loue and youthes delightfull heat:

Him thether eke for all his fearefull threat

He followed fast, and chaced him so nie,

That to the folds, where sheepe at night doe seat,

And to the litle cots, where shepherds lie

In winters wrathfull time, he forced him to flie.

5 There on a day as he pursew’d the chace,

He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes,

Playing on pypes, and caroling apace,

The whyles their beasts there in the budded broomes

Beside them fed, and nipt the tender bloomes:

For other worldly wealth they cared nought.

To whom Sir Calidore yet sweating comes,

And them to tell him courteously besought,

If such a beast they saw, which he had thether brought.

6 They answer’d him, that no such beast they saw,

Nor any wicked feend, that mote offend

Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw:

But if that such there were (as none they kend)

They prayd high God him farre from them to send.

Then one of them him seeing so to sweat,

After his rusticke wise, that well he weend,

Offred him drinke, to quench his thirstie heat,

And if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.

7 The knight was nothing nice, where was no need,

And tooke their gentle offer: so adowne

They prayd him sit, and gaue him for to feed

Such homely what, as semes the simple clowne,

That doth despise the dainties of the towne.

Tho hauing fed his fill, he there besyde

Saw a faire damzell, which did weare a crowne

Of sundry flowres, with silken ribbands tyde,

Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had dyde.

8 Vpon a litle hillocke she was placed

Higher then all the rest, and round about

Enuiron’d with a girland, goodly graced,

Of louely lasses, and them all without

The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a rout,

The which did pype and sing her prayses dew,

And oft reioyce, and oft for wonder shout,

As if some miracle of heauenly hew

Were downe to them descended in that earthly vew.

9 And soothly sure she was full fayre of face,

And perfectly well shapt in euery lim,

Which she did more augment with modest grace,

And comely carriage of her count’nance trim,

That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim:

Who her admiring as some heauenly wight,

Did for their soueraine goddesse her esteeme,

And caroling her name both day and night,

The fayrest Pastorella her by name did hight.

10 Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne

But her did honour, and eke many a one

Burnt in her loue, and with sweet pleasing payne

Full many a night for her did sigh and grone:

But most of all die shepheard Condon

For her did languish, and his deare life spend;

Yet neither she for him, nor other none

Did care a whit, ne any liking lend:

Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind ascend.

11 Her whyles Sir Calidore there vewed well,

And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemed

So farre die meane of shepheards to excell,

As that he in his mind her worthy deemed,

To be a Princes Paragone esteemed,

He was vnwares surprisd in subtile bands

Of the blynd boy, ne thence could be redeemed

By any skill out of his cruell hands,

Caught like the bird, which gazing still on others stands.

12 So stood he still long gazing thereupon,

Ne any will had thence to moue away,

Although his quest were farre afore him gon;

But after he had fed, yet did he stay,

And sate there still, vntill the flying day

Was farre forth spent, discoursing diuersly

Of sundry things, as fell to worke delay;

And euermore his speach he did apply

To th’heards, but meant them to the damzels fantazy.

13 By this the moystie night approching fast,

Her deawy humour gan on th’earth to shed,

That warn’d the shepheards to their homes to hast

Their tender flocks, now being fully fed,

For feare of wetting them before their bed;

Then came to them a good old aged syre,

Whose siluer lockes bedeckt his beard and hed,

With shepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre,

That wild the damzell rise; the day did now expyre.

14 He was to weet by common voice esteemed

The father of the fayrest Pastorell,

And of her selfe in very deede so deemed;

Yet was not so, but as old stories tell

Found her by fortune, which to him befell,

Tn th’open fields an Infant left alone,

And taking vp brought home, and noursed well

As his owne chyld; for other he had none,

That she in tract of time accompted was his owne.

15 She at his bidding meekely did arise,

And streight vnto her litle flocke did fare:

Then all the rest about her rose likewise,

And each his sundrie sheepe with seuerall care

Gathered together, and them homeward bare:

Whylest euerie one with helping hands did striue

Amongst themselues, and did their labours share,

To helpe faire Pastorella, home to driue

Her fleecie flocke; but Coridon most helpe did giue.

16 But Melibœe (so bight that good old man)

Now seeing Calidore left all alone,

And night arriued hard at hand, began

Him to inuite vnto bis simple home;

Which though it were a cottage clad with lome,

And all things therein meane, yet better so

To lodge, then in the saluage fields to rome.

The knight full gladly soone agreed thereto,

Being his harts owne wish, and home with him did go.

17 There he was welcom’d of that honest syre,

And of his aged Beldame homely well;

Who him besought himselfe to disattyre,

And rest himselfe, till supper time befell.

By which home came the fayrest Pastorell,

After her flocke she in their fold had tyde,

And supper readie dight, they to it fell

With small adoe, and nature satisfyde,

The which doth litle craue contented to abyde.

18 Tho when they had their hunger slaked well,

And the fayre mayd the table ta’ne away,

The gentle knight, as he that did excell

In courtesie, and well could doe and say,

For so great kindnesse as he found that day,

Gan greatly thanke his host and his good wife;

And drawing thence his speach another way,

Gan highly to commend the happie life,

Which Shepheards lead, without debate or bitter strife.

19 How much (sayd he) more happie is the state,

In which ye father here doe dwell at ease,

Leading a life so free and fortunate,

From all the tempests of these worldly seas,

Which tosse the rest in daungerous disease?

Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked enmitie

Doe them afflict, which no man can appease,

That certes I your happinesse enuie,

And wish my lot were plast in such felicitie.

20 Surely my sonne (then answer’d he againe)

If happie, then it is in this intent,

That hauing small, yet doe I not complaine

Of want, ne wish for more it to augment,

But doe my selfe, with that I haue, content;

So taught of nature, which doth litle need

Of forreine helpes to lifes due nourishment:

The fields my food, my flocke my rayment breed;

No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed.

21 Therefore I doe not any one enuy,

Nor am enuyde of any one therefore;

They that haue much, feare much to lose thereby,

And store of cares doth follow riches store.

The litle that I haue, growes dayly more

Without my care, but onely to attend it;

My lambes doe euery yeare increase their score,

And my flockes father daily doth amend it.

What haue I, but to praise th’Ahnighty, that doth send it?

22 To them, that list, the worlds gay showes I leaue,

And to great ones such follies doe forgiue,

Which oft through pride do their owne perill weaue,

And through ambition downe themselues doe driue

To sad decay, that might contented liue.

Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts offend,

Ne once my minds vnmoued quiet grieue,

But all the night in siluer sleepe I spend,

And all the day, to what I list, I doe attend.

23 Sometimes I hunt the Fox, the vowed foe

Vnto my Lambes, and him. dislodge away;

Sometime the fawne I practise from the Doe,

Or from the Goat her kidde how to conuay;

Another while I baytes and nets display,

The birds to catch, or fishes to beguyle:

And when I wearie am, I downe doe lay

My limbes in euery shade, to rest from toyle,

And drinke of euery brooke, when thirst my throte doth boyle.

24 The time was once, in my first prime of yeares,

When pride of youth forth pricked my desire,

That I disdain’d amongst mine equall peares

To follow sheepe, and shepheards base attire:

For further fortune then I would inquire.

And leauing home, to roiall court I sought;

Where I did sell my selfe for yearely hire,

And in the Princes gardin daily wrought:

There I beheld such vainenesse, as I neuer thought.

25 With sight whereof soone cloyd, and long deluded

With idle hopes, which them doe entertaine,

After I had ten yeares my selfe excluded

From natiue home, and spent my youth in vaine,

I gan my follies to my selfe to plaine,

And this sweet peace, whose lacke did then appeare.

Tho backe returning to my sheepe againe,

I from thenceforth haue learn’d to loue more deare

This lowly quiet life, which I inherite here.

26 Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare

Hong still vpon his melting mouth at tent;

Whose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare,

That he was rapt with double rauishment,

Both of his speach that wrought him great content,

And also of the obiect of his vew,

On which his hungry eye was alwayes bent;

That twixt his pleasing tongue, and her faire hew,

He lost himselfe, and like one halfe entraunced grew.

27 Yet to occasion meanes, to worke his mind,

And to insinuate his harts desire,

He thus replyde; Now surely syre, I find,

That all this worlds gay showes, which we admire,

Be but vaine shadowes to this safe retyre

Of life, which here in lowlinesse ye lead,

Fearelesse of foes, or fortunes wrackfull yre,

Which tosseth states, and vnder foot doth tread

The mightie ones, affrayd of euery chaunges dread.

28 That euen I which daily doe behold

The glorie of the great, mongst whom I won,

And now haue prou’d, what happinesse ye hold

In this small plot of your dominion,

Now loath great Lordship and ambition;

And wish th’heauens so much had graced mee,

As graunt me liue in like condition;

Or that my fortunes might transposed bee

From pitch of higher place, vnto this low degree.

29 In vaine (said then old Melibœ) doe men

The heauens of their fortunes fault accuse,

Sith they know best, what is the best for them:

For they to each such fortune doe diffuse,

As they doe know each can most aptly vse.

For not that, which men couet most, is best,

Nor that thing worst, which men do most refuse;

But fittest is, that all contented rest

With that they hold: each hath his fortune in his brest,

30 It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill,

That maketh wretch or bappie, rich or poore:

For some, that hath abundance at his will,

Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store;

And other, that hath litle, askes no more,

But in that litle is both rich and wise.

For wisedome is most riches; fooles therefore

They are, which fortunes doe by vowes deuize,

Sith each vnto himselfe his life may fortunize.

31 Since then in each mans self (said Calidore)

It is, to fashion his owne lyfes estate,

Giue leaue awhyle, good father, in this shore

To rest my barcke, which hath bene beaten late

With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate,

In seas of troubles and of toylesome paine,

That whether quite from them for to retrate

I shall resolue, or backe to turne againe,

I may here with your selfe some small repose obtaine.

32 Not that the burden of so bold a guest

Shall chargefull be, or chaunge to you at all;

For your meane food shall be my daily feast,

And this your cabin both my bowre and hall.

Besides for recompence hereof, I shall

You well reward, and golden guerdon giue,

That may perhaps you better much withall,

And in this quiet make you safer liue.

So forth he drew much gold, and toward him it driue.

33 But the good man, nought tempted with the offer

Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away,

And thus bespake; Sir knight, your bounteous proffer

Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display

That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay,

That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread.

But if ye algates couet to assay

This simple sort of life, that shepheards lead,

Be it your owne: our rudenesse to your selfe aread.

34 So there that night Sir Calidore did dwell,

And long while after, whilest him list remaine,

Dayly beholding the faire Pastorell,

And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane.

During which time he did her entertaine

With all kind courtesies, he could inuent;

And euery day, her companie to gaine,

When to the field she went, he with her went:

So for to quench his fire, he did it more augment.

35 But she that neuer had acquainted beene

With such queint vsage, fit for Queenes and Kings,

Ne euer had such knightly seruice seene,

But being bred vnder base shepheards wings,

Had euer learn’d to loue the lowly things,

Did litle whit regard his courteous guize,

But cared more for Colins carolings

Then all that he could doe, or euer deuize:

His layes, his loues, his lookes she did them all despize.

36 Which Calidore perceiuing, thought it best

To chaunge the manner of his loftie looke;

And doffing his bright armes, himselfe addrest

In shepheards weed, and in his hand he tooke,

In stead of steelehead speare, a shepheards hooke,

That who had seene him then, would haue bethought

On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke,

When he the loue of fayre Oenone sought,

What time the golden apple was vnto him brought.

37 So being clad, vnto the fields he went

With the faire Pastorella euery day,

And kept her sheepe with diligent attent,

Watching to driue the rauenous Wolfe away,

The whylest at pleasure she mote sport and play;

And euery euening helping them to fold:

And otherwhiles for need, he did assay

In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold,

And out of them to presse the milke: loue so much could.

38 Which seeing Coridon, who her likewise

Long time had lou’d, and hop’d her loue to gaine,

He much was troubled at that straungers guize,

And many gealous thoughts conceiu’d in vaine,

That this of all his labour and long paine

Should reap the haruest, ere it ripened were,

That made him scoule, and pout, and oft complaine

Of Pastorell to all the shepheards there,

That she did loue a stranger swayne then him more dere.

39 And euer when he came in companie,

Where Calidore was present, he would loure,

And byte his lip, and euen for gealousie

Was readie oft his owne hart to deuoure,

Impatient of any paramoure:

Who on the other side did seeme so farre

From malicing, or grudging his good houre,

That all he could, he graced him with her,

Ne euer shewed signe of rancour or of iarre.

40 And oft, when Coridon vnto her brought

Or litle sparrowes, stolen from their nest,

Or wanton squirrels, in the woods farre sought,

Or other daintie thing for her addrest,

He would commend his guift, and make the best.

Yet she no whit his presents did regard,

Ne him could find to fancie in her brest:

This newcome shepheard had his market mard.

Old loue is litle worth when new is more prefard.

41 One day when as the shepheard swaynes together

Were met, to make their sports and merrie glee,

As they are wont in faire sunshynie weather,

The whiles their flockes in shadowes shrouded bee,

They fell to daunce: then did they all agree,

That Colin Clout should pipe as one most fit;

And Calidore should lead the ring, as hee

That most in Pastorellaes grace did sit.

Thereat frown’d Coridon, and his lip closely bit.

42 But Calidore of courteous inclination

Tooke Coridon, and set him in his place,

That he should lead the daunce, as was his fashion;

For Coridon could daunce, and trimly trace.

And when as Pastorella, him to grace,

Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne head,

And plast on his, he did it soone displace,

And did it put on Condons in stead:

Then Coridon woxe frolticke, that earst seemed dead.

43 Another time, when as they did dispose

To practise games, and maisteries to try,

They for their Iudge did Pastorella chose;

A garland was the meed of victory.

There Coridon forth stepping openly,

Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling game:

For he through long and perfect industry,

Therein well practisd was, and in the same

Thought sure t’auenge his grudge, & worke his foe great shame.

44 But Calidore he greatly did mistake;

For he was strong and mightily stifle pight,

That with one fall his necke he almost brake,

And had he not vpon him fallen light,

His dearest ioynt he sure had broken quight.

Then was the oaken crowne by Pastorell

Giuen to Calidore, as his due right;

But he, that did in courtesie excell,

Gaue it to Condon, and said he wonne it well.

45 Thus did the gentle knight himselfe abeare

Amongst that rusticke rout in all his deeds,

That euen they, the which his riuals were,

Could not maligne him, but commend him needs:

For courtesie amongst the rudest breeds

Good will and fauour. So it surely wrought

With this faire Mayd, and in her mynde the seeds

Of perfect loue did sow, that last forth brought

The fruite of ioy and blisse, though long time dearely bought.

46 Thus Calidore continu’d there long time,

To winne the loue of the faire Pastorell;

Which hauing got, he vsed without crime

Or blamefull blot, but menaged so well,

That he of all the rest, which there did dwell,

Was fauoured, and to her grace commended.

But what straunge fortunes vnto him befell,

Ere he attain’d the point by him intended,

Shall more conueniently in other place be ended.

CANTO X

Calidore sees the Graces daunce,
   To Colitis melody:
The whiles his Pastorell is led,
   Into captiuity.

1 Who now does follow the foule Blatant Beast,

Whilest Calidore does follow that faire Mayd,

Vnmyndfull of his vow and high beheast,

Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd,

That he should neuer leaue, nor be delayd

From chacing him, till he had it attchieued?

But now entrapt of loue, which him betrayd,

He mindeth more, how he may be relieued

With grace from her, whose loue his heart hath sore engrieued.

2 That from henceforth he meanes no more to sew

His former quest, so full of toile and paine;

Another quest, another game in vew

He hath, the guerdon of his loue to gaine:

With whom he myndes for euer to remaine,

And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort,

Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine

Of courtly fauour, fed with light report,

Of euery blaste, and sayling alwaies on the port.

3 Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be,

From so high step to stoupe vnto so low.

For who had tasted once (as oft did he)

The happy peace, which there doth ouerflow,

And prou’d the perfect pleasures, which doe grow

Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales,

Would neuer more delight in painted show

Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales,

T’entrap vnwary fooles in their eternall bales.

4 For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze

Like to one sight, which Calidore did vew?

The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze,

That neuer more they should endure the shew

Of that sunne-shine, that makes them looke askew.

Ne ought in all that world of beauties rare,

(Saue onely Glorianaes heauenly hew

To which what can compare?) can it compare;

The which as commeth now, by course I will declare.

5 One day as he did raunge the fields abroad,

Whilest his faire Pastorella was elsewhere,

He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad,

Vnto a place, whose pleasaunce did appere

To passe all others, on the earth which were:

For all that euer was by natures skill

Deuized to worke delight, was gathered there,

And there by her were poured forth at fill,

As if this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.

6 It was an hill plaste in an open plaine,

That round about was bordered with a wood

Of matchlesse hight, that seem’d th’earth to disdaine,

In which all trees of honour stately stood,

And did all winter as in sommer bud,

Spredding pauilions for the birds to bowre,

Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;

And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,

Sitting like Ring of fowles in maiesty and powre.

7 And at the foote thereof, a gentle flud

His siluer waues did softly tumble downe,

Vnmard with ragged mosse or filthy mud,

Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne

Thereto approch, ne filth mote therein drowne:

But Nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did sit,

In the woods shade, which did the waters crowne,

Keeping all noysome things away from it,

And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.

8 And on the top thereof a spacious plaine

Did spred it selfe, to seme to all delight,

Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine,

Or else to course about their bases light;

Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might

Desired be, or thence to banish bale:

So pleasauntly the hill with equall hight,

Did seeme to ouerlooke the lowly vale;

Therefore it rightly cleeped was mount Acidale.

9 They say that Venus, when she did dispose

Her selfe to pleasaunce, vsed to resort

Vnto this place, and therein to repose

And rest her selfe, as in a gladsome port,

Or with the Graces there to play and sport;

That euen her owne Cytheron, though in it

She vsed most to keepe her royall court,

And in her soueraine Maiesty to sit,

She in regard hereof refusde and thought vnfit.

10 Vnto this place when as the Elfin Knight

Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound

Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight,

And many feete fast thumping th’hollow ground,

That through the woods their Eccho did rebound.

He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be;

There he a troupe of Ladies dauncing found

Full merrily, and making gladfull glee,

And in the midst a Shepheard piping he did see.

11 He durst not enter into th’open greene,

For dread of them vnwares to be descryde,

For breaking of their daunce, if he were seene;

But in the couert of the wood did byde,

Beholding all, yet of them vnespyde.

There he did see, that pleased much his sight,

That euen he him selfe his eyes enuyde,

An hundred naked maidens lilly white,

All raunged in a ring, and dauncing in delight.

12 All they without were raunged in a ring,

And daunced round; but in the midst of them

Three other Ladies did both daunce and sing,

The whilest the rest them round about did hemme,

And like a girlond did in compasse stemme:

And in the middest of those same three, was placed

Another Damzell, as a precious gemme,

Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced,

That with her goodly presence all the rest much graced.

13 Looke how the Crowne, which Ariadne wore

Vpon her yuory forehead that same day,

That Theseus her vnto his bridale bore,

When the bold Centaures made that bloudy fray

With the fierce Lapithes, which did them dismay;

Being now placed in the firmament,

Through the bright heauen doth her beams display,

And is vnto the starres an ornament,

Which round about her moue in order excellent.

14 Such was the beauty of this goodly band,

Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:

But she that in the midst of them did stand,

Seem’d all the rest in beauty to excell,

Crownd with a rosie girlond, that right well

Did her beseeme. And euer, as the crew

About her daunst, sweet flowres, that far did smell,

And fragrant odours they vppon her threw;

But most of all, those three did her with gifts endew.

15 Those were the Graces, daughters of delight,

Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to haunt

Vppon this hill, and daunce there day and night:

Those three to men all gifts of grace do graunt,

And all, that Venus in her selfe doth vaunt,

Is borrowed of them. But that faire one,

That in the midst was placed parauaunt,

Was she to whom that shepheard pypt alone,

That made him pipe so merrily, as neuer none.

16 She was to weete that iolly Shepheards lasse,

Which piped there vnto that merry rout,

That iolly shepheard, which there piped, was

Poore Colin Clout (who knowes not Colin Clout?)

He pypt apace, whitest they him daunst about.

Pype iolly shepheard, pype thou now apace

Vnto thy loue, that made thee low to lout;

Thy loue is present there with thee in place,

Thy loue is there aduaunst to be another Grace.

17 Much wondred Calidore at this straunge sight,

Whose like before his eye had neuer seene,

And standing long astonished in spright,

And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what to weene;

Whether it were the traine of beauties Queene,

Or Nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted show,

With which his eyes mote haue deluded beene.

Therefore resoluing, what it was, to know,

Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.

18 But soone as he appeared to their vew,

They vanisht all away out of his sight,

And cleane were gone, which way he neuer knew;

All saue the shepheard, who for fell despight

Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight,

And made great mone for that vnhappy turne.

But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight,

For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne,

Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne.

19 And first him greeting, thus vnto him spake,

Haile iolly shepheard, which thy ioyous dayes

Here leadest in this goodly merry make,

Frequented of these gentle Nymphes alwayes,

Which to thee flocke, to heare thy louely layes;

Tell me, what mote these dainty Damzels be,

Which here with thee doe make their pleasant playes?

Right happy thou, that mayst them freely see:

But why when I them saw, fled they away from me?

20 Not I so happy answerd then that swaine,

As thou vnhappy, which them thence didst chace,

Whom by no meanes thou canst recall againe,

For being gone, none can them bring in place,

But whom they of them selues list so to grace.

Right sory I, (saide then Sir Calidore,)

That my ill fortune did them hence displace.

But since things passed none may now restore,

Tell me, what were they all, whose lacke thee grieues so sore.

21 Tho gan that shepheard thus for to dilate;

Then wote thou shepheard, whatsoeuer thou bee,

That all those Ladies, which thou sawest late,

Are Venus Damzels, all within her fee,

But differing in honour and degree:

They all are Graces, which on her depend,

Besides a thousand more, which ready bee

Her to adorne, when so she forth doth wend:

But those three in the midst, doe chiefe on her attend.

22 They are the daughters of sky-ruling Ioue,

By him begot of faire Eurynome,

The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant groue,

As he this way comming from feastfull glee,

Of Thetis wedding with JEacidee,

In sommers shade him selfe here rested weary.

The first of them hight mylde Euphrosyne,

Next faire Aglaia, last Thalia merry:

Sweete Goddesses all three which me in mirth do cherry.

23 These three on men all gracious gifts bestow,

Which decke the body or adorne the mynde,

To make them louely or well fauoured show,

As comely carriage, entertainement kynde,

Sweete semblaunt, friendly offices that bynde,

And all the complements of curtesie:

They teach vs, how to each degree and kynde

We should our selues demeane, to low, to hie;

To friends, to foes, which skill men call Ciuility.

24 Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile,

That we likewise should mylde and gentle be,

And also naked are, that without guile

Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine may see,

Simple and true from couert malice free:

And eeke them selues so in their daunce they bore,

That two of them still forward seem’d to bee,

But one still towards shew’d her selfe afore;

That good should from vs goe, then come in greater store.

25 Such were those Goddesses, which ye did see;

But that fourth Mayd, which there amidst them traced,

Who can aread, what creature mote she bee,

Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced

With heauenly gifts from heuen first enraced?

But what so sure she was, she worthy was,

To be the fourth with those three other placed:

Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse,

Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe.

26 So farre as doth the daughter of the day,

All other lesser lights in light excell,

So farre doth she in beautyfull array,

Aboue all other lasses beare the bell,

Ne lesse in vertue that beseemes her well,

Doth she exceede the rest of all her race,

For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,

Haue for more honor brought her to this place,

And graced her so much to be another Grace.

27 Another Grace she well deserues to be,

In whom so many Graces gathered are,

Excelling much the meane of her degree;

Diuine resemblaunce, beauty soueraine rare,

firme Chastity, that spight ne blemish dare;

All which she with such courtesie doth grace,

That all her peres cannot with her compare,

But quite are dimmed, when she is in place.

She made me often pipe and now to pipe apace.

28 Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky,

That all the earth doest lighten with thy rayes,

Great Gloriana, greatest Maiesty,

Pardon thy shepheard, mongst so many layes,

As he hath sung of thee in all his dayes,

To make one minime of thy poore handmayd,

And vnderneath thy feete to place her prayse,

That when thy glory shall be farre displayd

To future age of her this mention may be made.

29 When thus that shepherd ended had his speach,

Sayd Calidore; Now sure it yrketh mee,

That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse breach,

As now the author of thy bale to be,

Thus to bereaue thy loues deare sight from thee:

But gentle Shepheard pardon thou my shame,

Who rashly sought that, which I mote not see.

Thus did the courteous Knight excuse his blame,

And to recomfort him, all comely meanes did frame.

30 In such discourses they together spent

Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;

With which the Knight him selfe did much content,

And with delight his greedy fancy fed,

Both of his words, which he with reason red;

And also of the place, whose pleasures rare

With such regard his sences rauished,

That thence, he had no will away to fare,

But wisht, that with that shepheard he mote dwelling share.

31 But that enuenimd sting, the which of yore,

His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart

Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore,

And to renue the rigour of his smart:

Which to recure, no skill of Leaches art

Mote him auaile, but to returne againe

To his wounds worker, that with louely dart

Dinting his brest, had bred his restlesse paine,

Like as the wounded Whale to shore flies from the maine.

32 So taking leaue of that same gentle swaine,

He backe returned to his rusticke wonne,

Where his faire Pastorella did remaine:

To whome in sort, as he at first begonne,

He daily did apply him selfe to donne,

All dewfull seruice voide of thoughts impure

Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne,

By which he might her to his loue allure,

And liking in her yet vntamed heart procure.

33 And euermore the shepheard Coridon,

What euer thing he did her to aggrate,

Did striue to match with strong contention,

And all his paines did closely emulate;

Whether it were to caroll, as they sate

Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize,

Or to present her with their labours late;

Through which if any grace chaunst to arize

To him, the Shepheard streight with iealousie did frize.

34 One day as they all three together went

To the greene wood, to gather strawberies,

There chaunst to them a dangerous accident;

A Tigre forth out of the wood did rise,

That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize,

And greedy mouth, wide gaping like hell gate,

Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize:

Whom she beholding, now all desolate

Gan cry to them aloud, to helpe her all too late.

35 Which Coridon first hearing, ran in hast

To reskue her, but when he saw the feend,

Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast,

Ne durst abide the daunger of the end;

His life he steemed dearer then his frend.

But Calidore soone comming to her ayde,

When he the beast saw ready now to rend

His loues deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde,

He ran at him enraged in stead of being frayde.

36 He had no weapon, but his shepheards hooke,

To serue the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will,

With which so sternely he the monster strooke,

That to the ground astonished he fell;

Whence ere he could recou’r, he did him quell,

And hewing off his head, it presented

Before the feete of the faire Pastorell;

Who scarcely yet from former feare exempted,

A thousand times him thankt, that had her death preuented.

37 From that day forth she gan him to affect,

And daily more her fauour to augment;

But Condon for cowherdize reiect,

Fit to keepe sheepe, vnfit for loues content:

The gentle heart scornes base disparagement.

Yet Calidore did not despise him quight,

But vsde him friendly for further intent,

That by his fellowship, he colour might

Both his estate, and loue from skill of any wight.

38 So well he woo’d her, and so well he wrought her,

With humble seruice, and with daily sute,

That at the last vnto his will he brought her;

Which he so wisely well did prosecute,

That of his loue he reapt the timely finite,

And ioyed long in close felicity:

Till fortune fraught with malice, blinde, and brute,

That entries louers long prosperity,

Blew vp a bitter storme of foule aduersity.

39 It fortuned one day, when Calidore

Was hunting in the woods (as was his trade)

A lawlesse people, Brigants hight of yore,

That neuer vsde to liue by plough nor spade,

But fed on spoile and booty, which they made

Vpon their neighbours, which did nigh them border,

The dwelling of these shepheards did inuade,

And spoyld their houses, and them selues did murder;

And droue away their flocks, with other much disorder.

40 Amongst the rest, the which they then did pray,

They spoyld old Melibee of all he had,

And all his people captiue led away,

Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away was lad,

Faire Pastorella, sorrowfull and sad,

Most sorrowfull, most sad, that euer sight,

Now made the spoile of theeues and Brigants bad,

Which was the conquest of the gentlest Knight,

That euer liu’d, and th’onely glory of his might.

41 With them also was taken Condon,

And carried captiue by those theeues away;

Who in the couert of the night, that none

Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray,

Vnto their dwelling did them close conuay.

Their dwelling in a little Island was,

Couered with shrubby woods, in which no way

Appeard for people in nor out to pas,

Nor any footing fynde for ouergrowen gras.

42 For vnderneath the ground their way was made,

Through hollow caues, that no man mote discouer

For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade

From view of liuing wight, and couered ouer:

But darkenesse dred and daily night did houer

Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt

Ne lightned was with window, nor with louer,

But with continuall candlelight, which delt

A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene, as felt.

43 Hither those Brigants brought their present pray,

And kept them with continuall watch and ward,

Meaning so soone, as they conuenient may,

For slaues to sell them, for no small reward,

To merchants, which them kept in bondage hard,

Or sold againe. Now when faire Pastortll

Into this place was brought, and kept with gard

Of griesly theeues, she thought her self in hell,

Where with such damned fiends she should in darknesse dwell.

44 But for to tell the dolefull dreriment,

And pittifull complaints, which there she made,

Where day and night she nought did but lament

Her wretched life, shut vp in deadly shade,

And waste her goodly beauty, which did fade

Like to a flowre, that feeles no heate of sunne,

Which may her feeble leaues with comfort glade.

But what befell her in that theeuish wonne,

Will in an other Canto better be begonne.

CANTO XI

The theeues fall out for Pastorell,
   Whitest Melibee is shine:
Her Calidore from them redeemes,
   And bringeth backe againe.

1 The ioyes of loue, if they should euer last,

Without affliction or disquietnesse,

That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,

Would he on earth too great a blessednesse,

Liker to heauen, then mortall wretchednesse.

Therefore the winged God, to let men weet,

That here on earth is no sure happinesse,

A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet,

To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.

2 Like as is now befalne to this faire Mayd,

Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song,

Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd,

Amongst those theeues, which her in bondage strong

Detaynd, yet Fortune not with all this wrong

Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw,

And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng;

That who so heares her heauinesse, would rew

And pitty her sad plight, so chang’d from pleasaunt hew.

3 Whylest thus she in these hellish dens remayned,

Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts vnrest,

It so befell (as Fortune had ordayned)

That he, which was their Capitaine protest,

And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest,

One day as he did all his prisoners vew,

With lustfull eyes, beheld that louely guest,

Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull hew

Like the faire Morning clad in misty fog did shew.

4 At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired,

And inly burnt with flames most raging whot,

That her alone he for his part desired

Of all the other pray, which they had got,

And her in mynde did to him selfe allot.

From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,

And sought her loue, by all the meanes he mote;

With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed:

And mixed threats among, and much vnto her vowed.

5 But all that euer he could doe or say,

Her constant mynd could not a whit remoue,

Nor draw vnto the lure of his lewd lay,

To graunt him fauour, or afford him loue.

Yet ceast he not to sew and all waies proue,

By which he mote accomplish his request,

Saying and doing all that mote behoue;

Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest,

But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.

6 At last when him she so importune saw,

Fearing least he at length the raines would lend

Vnto his lust, and make his will his law,

Sith in his powre she was to foe or trend,

She thought it best, for shadow to pretend

Some shew of fauour, by him gracing small,

That she thereby mote either freely wend,

Or at more ease continue there his thrall:

A little well is lent, that gaineth more withall.

7 So from thenceforth, when loue he to her made,

With better tearmes she did him entertaine,

Which gaue him hope, and did him halfe perswade,

That he in time her ioyaunce should obtaine.

But when she saw, through that small fauours gaine,

That further, then she willing was, he prest,

She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine

A sodaine sickenesse, which her sore opprest,

And made vnfit to seme bis lawlesse mindes behest

8 By meanes whereof she would not him permit

Once to approch to her in priuity,

But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,

Mourning the rigour of her malady,

And seeking all things meete for remedy.

But she resolu’d no remedy to fynde,

Nor better cheare to shew in misery,

Till Fortune would her captiue bonds vnbynde,

Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde.

9 During which space that she thus sicke did lie,

It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount

To skim those coastes, for bondmen there to buy,

And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt,

Arriued in this Isle though bare and blunt,

T’inquire for slaues; where being readie met

By some of these same theeues at the instant brunt,

Were brought vnto their Captaine, who was set

By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret.

10 To whom they shewed, how those marchants were

Arriu’d in place, their bondslaues for to buy,

And therefore prayd, that those same captiues there

Mote to them for their most commodity

Be sold, and mongst them shared equally.

This their request the Captaine much appalled;

Yet could he not their iust demaund deny,

And willed streight the slaues should forth be called,

And sold for most aduantage not to be forstalled.

11 Then forth the good old Melibœ was brought,

And Coridon, with many other moe,

Whom they before in diuerse spoyles had caught:

All which he to the marchants sale did showe.

Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe,

Gan to inquire for that faire shepherdesse,

Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe,

And gan her forme and feature to expresse,

The more t’augment her price, through praise of comlinesse.

12 To whom the Captaine in full angry wize

Made answere, that the Mayd of whom they spake,

Was his owne purchase and his onely prize,

With which none had to doe, ne ought partake,

But he himselfe, which did that conquest make;

Litle for him to haue one silly lasse:

Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake,

That nothing meet in marchandise to passe.

So shew’d them her, to proue how pale & weake she was.

13 The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard,

And eke hut hardly seene by candle-light,

Yet like a Diamond of rich regard,

In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night,

With starrie beames about her shining bright,

These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze,

That what through wonder, & what through delight,

A while on her they greedily did gaze,

And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.

14 At last when all the rest them offred were,

And prises to them placed at their pleasure,

They all refused in regard of her,

Ne ought would buy, how euer prisd with measure,

Withouten her, whose worth aboue all threasure

They did esteeme, and offred store of gold.

But then the Captaine fraught with more displeasure,

Bad them be still, his loue should not be sold:

The rest take if they would, he her to him would hold.

15 Therewith some other of the chiefest theeues

Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare;

For that same mayd, how euer it him greeues,

Should with the rest be sold before him theare,

To make the prises of the rest more deare.

That with great rage he stoutly doth denay;

And fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare,

That who so hardie hand on her doth lay,

It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay.

16 Thus as they words amongst them multiply,

They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke,

And the mad Steele about doth fiercely fly,

Not sparing wight, ne leauing any balke,

But making way for death at large to walke:

Who in the horror of the griesly night,

In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke,

And makes huge hauocke, whiles the candlelight

Out quenched, leaues no skill nor difference of wight.

17 Like as a sort of hungry dogs ymet

About some carcase by the common way,

Doe fall together, stryuing each to get

The greatest portion of the greedie pray;

All on confused heapes themselues assay,

And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare;

That who them sees, would wonder at their fray,

And who sees not, would be affrayd to heare.

Such was the conflict of those cruell Brigants there.

18 But first of all, their captiues they doe kill,

Least they should ioyne against the weaker side,

Or rise against the remnant at their will;

Old Melibce is shine, and him beside

His aged wife, with many others wide,

But Coridon escaping craftily,

Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide,

And flyes away as fast as he can hye,

Ne stayeth leaue to take, before his friends doe dye.

19 But Pastorella, wofull wretched Elfe,

Was by the Captaine all this while defended,

Who minding more her safety then himselfe,

His target alwayes ouer her pretended;

By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended,

He at the length was slaine, and layd on ground,

Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended

Fayre Pastorell, who with the selfe same wound [swound.

Launcht through the arme, fell down with him in drerie

20 There lay she couered with confused preasse

Of carcases, which dying on her fell.

Tho when as he was dead, the fray gan ceasse,

And each to other calling, did compell

To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell,

Sith they that were the cause of all, were gone.

Thereto they all attonce agreed well,

And lighting candles new, gan search anone,

How many of their friends were slaine, how many fone.

21 Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild,

And in his armes the dreary dying mayd,

Like a sweet Angell twixt two clouds vphild:

Her louely light was dimmed and decayd,

With cloud of death vpon her eyes displayd;

Yet did the cloud make euen that dimmed light

Seeme much more louely in that darknesse layd,

And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright,

To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night

22 But when they mou’d the carcases aside,

They found that life did yet in her remaine:

Then all their helpes they busily applyde,

To call the soule backe to her home againe;

And wrought so well with labour and long paine,

That they to life recouered her at last.

Who sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine

Had riuen bene, and all her hart strings brast,

With drearie drouping eyne lookt vp like one aghast

23 There she beheld, that sore her grieu’d to see,

Her father and her friends about her lying,

Her selfe sole left, a second spoyle to bee

Of those, that hauing saued her from dying,

Renew’d her death by timely death denying:

What now is left her, but to wayle and weepe,

Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying?

Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe,

Albe with all dieir might those Brigants her did keepe.

24 But when they saw her now reliu’d againe,

They left her so, in charge of one the best

Of many worst, who with vnkind disdaine

And cruell rigour her did much molest;

Scarse yeelding her due food, or timely rest,

And scarsely suffring her infestred wound,

That sore her payn’d, by any to be drest.

So leaue we her in wretched thraldome bound,

And turne we backe to Calidore, where we him found.

25 Who when he backe returned from the wood,

And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight,

And his loue reft away, he wexed wood,

And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight,

That euen his hart for very fell despight,

And his owne flesh he readie was to teare,

He chauft, he grieu’d, he fretted, and he sight,

And fared like a furious wyld Beare,

Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere.

26 Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine,

Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire;

That more increast the anguish of his paine.

He sought the woods; but no man could see there,

He sought the plaines; but could no try dings heare.

The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound;

The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare:

Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound,

And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found.

27 At last as there he romed vp and downe,

He chaunst one comming towards him to spy,

That seem’d to be some sorie simple clowne,

With ragged weedes, and lockes vpstaring hye,

As if he did from some late daunger fly,

And yet his feare did follow him behynd:

Who as he vnto him approched nye,

He mote perceiue by signes, which he did fynd,

That Coridon it was, the silly shepherds hynd.

28 Tho to him running fast, he did not stay

To greet him first, but askt where were the rest;

Where Pastorell? who full of fresh dismay,

And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest,

That he no word could speake, but smit his brest,

And vp to heauen his eyes fast streming threw.

Whereat the knight amaz’d, yet did not rest,

But askt againe, what ment that rufull hew:

Where was his Pastorell? where all the other crew?

29 Ah well away (sayd he then sighing sore)

That euer I did liue, this day to see,

This dismall day, and was not dead before,

Before I saw faire Pastorella dye.

Die? out alas then Calidore did cry:

How could the death dare euer her to quell?

But read thou shepheard, read what destiny,

Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell

Hath wrought this wicked deed, doe feare away, and tell.

30 Tho when the shepheard breathed had a whyle,

He thus began: where shall I then commence

This wofull tale? or how those Brigants vyle,

With cruell rage and dreadfull violence

Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence?

Or how faire Pastorett should haue bene sold

To marchants, but was sau’d with strong defence?

Or how those theeues, whilest one sought her to hold,

Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold.

31 In that same conflict (woe is me) befell

This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,

Whose heauy tydings now I haue to tell.

First all the captiues, which they here had hent,

Were by them slaine by generall consent;

Old Melibœ and his good wife withall

These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament:

But when the lot to Pastorell did fall,

Their Captaine long withstood, & did her deam forstall..

32 But what could he gainst all them doe alone:

It could not boot; needs mote she die at last:

I onely scapt through great confusione

Of cryes and clamors, which amongst them past,

In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast;

That better were with them to haue bene dead,

Then here to see all desolate and wast,

Despoyled of those ioyes and iolly head,

Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead.

33 When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught,

His hart quite deaded was with anguish great,

And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,

That he his face, his head, his brest did beat,

And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat;

Oft cursing th’heauens, that so cruell were

To her, whose name he often did repeat;

And wishing oft, that he were present there,

When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere.

34 But after griefe awhile had had his course,

And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last

Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,

And in his mind with better reason cast,

How he might saue her life, if life did last;

Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake,

Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past;

Or if it to reuenge he were too weake,

Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake.

35 Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew

The readie way vnto that theeuish wonne,

To wend with him, and be his conduct trew

Vnto the place, to see what should be donne.

But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne,

Would not for ought be drawne to former drede,

But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne:

Yet Calidore so well him wrought with meed,

And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.

36 So forth they goe together (God before)

Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably,

And both with shepheards hookes: But Calidore

Had vnderneath, him armed priuily.

Tho to the place when they approched nye,

They chaunst, vpon an hill not farre away,

Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy;

To whom they both agreed to take their way,

In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay.

37 There did they find, that which they did not feare,

The selfe same flocks, the which those theeues had reft

From Melibœ and from themselues whyleare,

And certaine of the theeues there by them left,

The which for want of heards themselues then kept.

Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe,

And seeing them, for tender pittie wept:

But when he saw the theeues, which did them keepe

His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

38 But Calidore recomforting his griefe,

Though not his feare: for nought may feare disswade;

Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe

Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade,

Whom Coridon him counseld to inuade

Now all vnwares, and take the spoyle away;

But he, that in his mind had closely made

A further purpose, would not so them slay,

But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day.

39 Tho sitting downe by them vpon the greene,

Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine;

That he by them might certaine tydings weene

Of Pastorell, were she aliue or slaine.

Mongst which the theeues them questioned againe,

What mister men, and eke from whence they were.

To whom they answer’d, as did appertaine,

That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere

Had from their maisters fled, & now sought hyre elswhere.

40 Whereof right glad they seem’d, and offer made

To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe:

For they themselues were euill groomes, they sayd,

Vnwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe,

But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe.

Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke,

To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe:

For they for better hyre did shortly looke,

So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke.

41 Tho when as towards darksome night it drew,

Vnto their hellish dens those theeues them brought,

Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew,

And all the secrets of their entrayles sought.

There did they find, contrarie to their thought,

That Postorell yet liu’d, but all the rest

Were dead, right so as Condon had taught:

Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest,

But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had most possest

42 At length when they occasion fittest found,

In dead of night, when all the theeues did rest

After a late forray, and slept full sound,

Sir Calidore him arm’d, as he thought best,

Hauing of late by diligent inquest,

Prouided him a sword of meanest sort:

With which he streight went to the Captaines nest.

But Condon durst not with him consort,

Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort.

43 When to the Caue they came, they found it fast:

But Calidore with huge resistlesse might,

The dores assayled, and the locks vpbrast

With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light,

Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight

Encountring him with small resistance slew;

The whiles faire Pastorell through great affright

Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new

Some vprore were like that, which lately she did vew.

44 But when as Calidore was comen in,

And gan aloud for Pastorell to call,

Knowing his voice although not heard long sin,

She sudden was reuiued therewithall,

And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall:

Like him that being long in tempest tost,

Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall,

At length espyes at hand the happie cost,

On which he safety hopes, that earst feard to be lost

45 Her gentle hart, that now long season past

Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought,

Began some smacke of comfort new to tast,

Like lyfull heat to nummed senses brought,

And life to feele, that long for death had sought;

Ne lesse in hart reioyced Calidore,

When he her found, but like to one distraught

And robd of reason, towards her him bore,

A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.

46 But now by this, with noyse of late vprore,

The hue and cry was raysed all about;

And all the Brigants flocking in great store,

Vnto the caue gan preasse, nought hauing dout

Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.

But Calidore in th’entry close did stand,

And entertayning them with courage stout,

Still slew the formost, that came first to hand,

So long till all the entry was with bodies mand.

47 Tho when no more could nigh to him approch,

He breath’d his sword, and rested him till day:

Which when he spyde vpon the earth t’encroch,

Through the dead carcases he made his way,

Mongst which he found a sword of better say,

With which he forth went into th’open light:

Where all the rest for him did readie stay,

And fierce assayling him, with all their might

Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.

48 How many flyes in whottest sommers day

Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare,

That all the place with swarmes do ouerlay,

And with their litle stings right felly fare;

So many theeues about him swarming are,

All which do him assayle on euery side,

And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare:

But he doth with his raging brond diuide

Their thickest troups, & round about him scattreth wide.

49 Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere,

Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray;

So did he fly amongst them here and there,

And all that nere him came, did hew and slay,

Till he had strowd with bodies all the way;

That none his daunger daring to abide,

Fled from his wrath, and did themselues conuay

Into their caues, their heads from death to hide,

Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide.

50 Then backe returning to his dearest deare,

He her gan to recomfort, all he might,

With gladfull speaches, and with louely cheare,

And forth her bringing to the ioyous light,

Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,

Deuiz’d all goodly meanes, from her to driue

The sad remembrance of her wretched plight

So her vneath at last he did reuiue,

That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue.

51 This doen, into those theeuish dens he went,

And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,

Which they from many long had robd and rent,

But fortune now the victors meed did make;

Of which the best he did his loue betake;

And also all those flockes, which they before

Had reft from Melibœ and from his make,

He did them all to Coridon restore.

So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.

CANTO XII

Fayre Pastorella by great hap
   her parents understands,
Calidore doth the Blatant beast
   subdew, and bynd in bands.

1 Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde

Directs her course vnto one certaine cost,

Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,

With which her winged speed is let and crost,

And she her selfe in stormie surges tost;

Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,

Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost:

Right so it fares with me in this long way,

Whose course is often stayd, yet neuer is astray.

2 For all that hetherto hath long delayd

This gentle knight, from sewing his first quest,

Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd,

To shew the courtesie by him profest,

Euen vnto the lowest and the least.

But now I come into my course againe,

To his atchieuement of the Blatant beast;

Who all this while at will did range and raine,

Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine.

3 Sir Calidore when thus he now had raught

Faire Pastorella from those Brigants powre,

Vnto the Castle of Belgard her brought,

Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure;

Who whylome was in his youthes freshest flowre

A lustie knight, as euer wielded speare,

And had endured many a dreadfull stoure

In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,

The fayrest Ladie then of all that liuing were.

4 Her name was Claribell, whose father hight

The Lord of Many Ilands, farre renound

For his great riches and his greater might.

He through the wealth, wherein he did abound,

This daughter thought in wedlocke to haue bound

Vnto the Prince of Picteland bordering nere,

But she whose sides before with secret wound

Of loue to Bellamoure empierced were,

By all meanes shund to match with any forrein fere.

5 And Bellamour againe so well her pleased,

With dayly seruice and attendance dew,

That of her loue he was entyrely seized,

And closely did her wed, but knowne to few.

Which when her father vnderstood, he grew

In so great rage, that them in dongeon deepe

Without compassion cruelly he threw;

Yet did so streightly them a sunder keepe,

That neither could to company of th’other creepe.

6 Nathlesse Sir Bellamour, whether through grace

Or secret guifts so with his keepers wrought,

That to his loue sometimes he came in place,

Whereof her wombe vnwist to wight was fraught,

And in dew time a mayden child forth brought.

Which she streight way for dread least, if her syre

Should know thereof, to slay he would haue sought,

Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre

She should it cause be fostred vnder straunge attyre.

7 The trustie damzell bearing it abrode

Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight

Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,

She forth gan lay vnto the open light

The litle babe, to take thereof a sight.

Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,

Vpon the litle brest like christall bright,

She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,

That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold.

8 Well she it markt, and pittied the more,

Yet could not remedie her wretched case,

But closing it againe like as before,

Bedeaw’d with teares there left it in the place:

Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space

Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde,

To weet what mortall hand, or heauens grace

Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde,

For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

9 At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe

His fleecie flocke vpon the playnes around,

Led with the infants cry, that loud did weepe,

Came to the place, where when he wrapped found

Th’abandond spoyle, he softly it vnbound,

And seeing there, that did him pittie sore,

He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound;

So home vnto his honest wife it bore,

Who as her owne it nurst, and named euermore.

10 Thus long continu’d Claribell a thrall,

And Bellamour in bands, till that her syre

Departed life, and left vnto them all.

Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre

Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.

Thenceforth they ioy’d in happinesse together,

And liued long in peace and loue entyre,

Without disquiet or dislike of ether,

Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella thether.

11 Both whom they goodly well did entertaine;

For Bellamour knew Calidore right well,

And loued for his prowesse, sith they twaine

Long since had fought in field. Als Claribell

No lesse did tender the faire Pastorell,

Seeing her weake and wan, through durance long.

There they a while together thus did dwell

In much delight, and many ioyes among,

Vntill the damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.

12 Tho gan Sir Calidore him to aduize

Of his first quest, which he had long forlore,

Asham’d to thinke, how he that enterprize,

The which the Faery Queene had long afore

Bequeath’d to him, forslacked had so sore;

That much he feared, least reprochfull blame

With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore;

Besides the losse of so much loos and fame,

As through the world thereby should glorifie his name.

13 Therefore resoluing to returne in hast

Vnto so great atchieuement, he bethought

To leaue his loue, now perill being past,

With Claribell, whylest he that monster sought

Throughout the world, and to destruction brought

So taking leaue of his faire Pastorell,

Whom to recomfort, all the meanes he wrought,

With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell,

He went forth on his quest, and did, that him befell.

14 But first, ere I doe his aduentures tell,

In this exploite, me needeth to declare,

What did betide to the faire Pastorell,

During his absence left in heauy care,

Through daily mourning, and nightly misfares

Yet did that auncient matrone all she might,

To cherish her with all things choice and rare;

And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight,

Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.

15 Who in a morning, when this Mayden faire

Was dighting her, hauing her snowy brest

As yet not laced, nor her golden haire

Into their comely tresses dewly drest,

Chaunst to espy vpon her yuory chest

The rosie marke, which she remembred well

That litle Infant had, which forth she kest,

The daughter of her Lady Claribell,

The which she bore, the whiles in prison she did dwell

16 Which well auizing, streight she gan to cast

In her conceiptfull mynd, that this faire Mayd

Was that same infant, which so long sith past

She in the open fields had loosely layd

To fortunes spoile, vnable it to ayd.

So full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast

Vnto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd,

To tell her, how the heauens had her graste,

To saue her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaste.

17 The sober mother seeing such her mood,

Yet knowing not, what meant that sodaine thro,

Askt her, how mote her words be vnderstood,

And what the matter was, that mou’d her so.

My liefe (sayd she) ye know, that long ygo,

Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gaue

A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho;

The same againe if now ye list to haue,

The same is yonder Lady, whom high God did saue.

18 Much was the Lady troubled at that speach,

And gan to question streight how she it knew.

Most certaine markes, (sayd she) do me it teach,

For on her brest I with these eyes did vew

The litle purple rose, which thereon grew,

Whereof her name ye then to her did giue.

Besides her countenaunce, and her likely hew,

Matched with equall yeares, do surely prieue

That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet doth liue.

19 The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire,

But forth in hast ran to the straunger Mayd;

Whom catching greedily for great desire,

Rent vp her brest, and bosome open layd,

In which that rose she plainely saw displayd.

Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine,

She long so held, and softly weeping sayd;

And liuest thou my daughter now againe?

And art thou yet aliue, whom dead I long did faine?

20 Tho further asking her of sundry things,

And times comparing with their accidents,

She found at last by very certaine signes,

And speaking markes of passed monuments,

That this young Mayd, whom chance to her presents

Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.

Tho wondring long at those so straunge euents,

A thousand times she her embraced nere,

With many a ioyfull kisse, and many a melting teare.

21 Who euer is the mother of one chylde,

Which hauing thought long dead, she fyndes aliue,

Let her by proofe of that, which she hath fylde

In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descriue:

For other none such passion can contriue

In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt,

When she so faire a daughter saw suruiue,

As Pastorella was, that nigh she swelt

For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt

22 Thence running forth vnto her loued Lord,

She vnto him recounted, all that fell:

Who ioyning ioy with her in one accord,

Acknowledg’d for his own faire Pastorell.

There leaue we them in ioy, and let vs tell

Of Calidore, who seeking all this while

That monstrous Beast by finall force to quell,

Through euery place, with restlesse paine and toile

Him follow’d, by the tract of his outragious spoile.

23 Through all estates he found that he had past,

In which he many massacres had left,

And to the Clergy now was come at last;

In which such spoile, such hauocke, and such theft

He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft,

That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin Knight,

Who now no place besides vnsought. had left,

At length into a Monastere did light,

Where he him found despoyling all with maine & might

24 Into their cloysters now he broken had,

Through which the Monckes he chaced here & there,

And them pursu’d into their dortours sad,

And searched all their cels and secrets neare;

In which what filth and ordure did appeare,

Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule Beast

Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare,

And ransacke all their dennes from most to least,

Regarding nought religion, nor their holy heast.

25 From thence into the sacred Church he broke,

And robd the Chancell, and the deskes downe threw,

And Altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke,

And th’Images for all their goodly hew,

Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew;

So all confounded and disordered there.

But seeing Calidore, away he flew,

Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;

But he him fast pursuing, soone approched neare.

26 Him in a narrow place he ouertooke,

And fierce assailing forst him turne againe:

Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke

With his sharpe Steele, and ran at him amaine

With open mouth, that seemed to containe

A full good pecke within the vtmost brim,

All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,

That terrifide his foes, and armed him,

Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim.

27 And therein were a thousand tongs empight,

Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality,

Some were of dogs, that barked day and night,

And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry:

And some of Beares, that groynd continually,

And some of Tygres, that did seeme to gren,

And snar at all, that euer passed by:

But most of them were tongues of mortall men,

Which spake reprochfully, not caring when.

28 And them amongst were mingled here and there,

The tongues of Serpents with three forked stings,

That spat out poyson and gore bloudy gere

At all, that came within his rauenings,

And spake licentious words, and hatefull things

Of good and bad alike, of low and hie;

Ne Kesars spared he a whit, nor Kings,

But either blotted them with infamie,

Or bit them with his banefull teeth of iniury,

29 But Calidore thereof no whit afrayd,

Rencountred him with so impetuous might,

That th’outrage of his violence he stayd,

And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite,

And spitting forth the poyson of his spight,

That fomed all about his bloody iawes.

Tho rearing vp his former feete on hight,

He rampt vpon him with his rauenous pawes,

As if he would haue rent him with his cruell clawes.

30 But he right well aware, his rage to ward,

Did cast his shield atweene, and therewithall

Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu’d so hard,

That backeward he enforced him to fal1,

And being downe, ere he new helpe could call,

His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held,

Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall

Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld,

Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld.

31 Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore,

To be downe held, and maystred so with might,

That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore,

Striuing in vaine to rere him selfe vpright.

For still the more he stroue, the more the Knight

Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew;

That made him almost mad for fell despight.

He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw,

And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew.

32 Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine

That great Alcides whilome ouerthrew,

After that he had labourd long in vaine,

To crop his thousand heads, the which still new

Forth budded, and in greater number grew.

Such was the fury of this hellish Beast,

Whilest Calidore him vnder him downe threw;

Who nathemore his heauy load releast,

But aye the more he rag’d, the more his powre increast

33 Tho when the Beast saw, he mote nought auaile,

By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply,

And sharpely at him to reuile and raile,

With bitter termes of shamefull infamy;

Oft interlacing many a forged lie,

Whose like he neuer once did speake, nor heare,

Nor euer thought thing so vnworthily:

Yet did he nought for all that him forbeare,

But strained him so streightly, that he chokt him neare.

34 At last when as he found his force to shrincke,

And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell strong

Of surest yron, made with many a lincke;

Therewith he mured vp his mouth along,

And therein shut vp his blasphemous tong,

For neuer more defaming gentle Knight,

Or vnto louely Lady doing wrong:

And thereunto a great long chaine he tight,

With which he drew him forth, euen in his own despight

35 Like as whylome that strong Tirynthian swaine,

Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell,

Against his will fast bound in yron chaine,

And roring horribly, did him compell

To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell

To griesly Pluto, what on earth was donne,

And to the other damned ghosts, which dwell

For aye in darkenesse, which day light doth shonne.

So led this Knight his captyue with like conquest wonne.

36 Yet greatly did the Beast repine at those

Straunge bands, whose like till then he neuer bore,

Ne euer any durst till then impose,

And chauffed inly, seeing now no more

Him liberty was left aloud to rore;

Yet durst he not draw backe; nor once withstand

The proued powre of noble Calidore,

But trembled vnderneath his mighty hand,

And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land.

37 Him through all Faery land he follow’d so,

As if he learned had obedience long,

That all the people where so he did go,

Out of their townes did round about him throng,

To see him leade that Beast in bondage strong,

And seeing it, much wondred at the sight;

And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,

Reioyced much to see his captiue plight,

And much admyr’d the Beast, but more admyr’d the Knight

38 Thus was this Monster by the maystring might

Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed,

That neuer more he mote endammadge wight

With his vile tongue, which many had defamed,

And many causelesse caused to be blamed:

So did he eeke long after this remaine,

Vntill that, whether wicked fate so framed,

Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine,

And got into the world at liberty againe.

39 Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath he wrought

To mortall men, then he had done before;

Ne euer could by any more be brought

Into like bands, ne maystred any more:

Albe that long time after Calidore,

The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand,

And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore,

And all his brethren borne in Britaine land;

Yet none of them could euer bring him into band.

40 So now he raungeth through the world againe,

And rageth sore in each degree and state;

Ne any is, that may him now restraine,

He growen is so great and strong of late,

Barking and biting all that him doe bate,

Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime:

Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,

Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime,

But rends without regard of person or of time.

41 Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest,

Hope to escape his venemous despite,

More then my former writs, all were they clearest

From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite,

With which some wicked tongues did it backebite,

And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure,

That neuer so deserued to endite.

Therfore do you my rimes keep better measure,

And seeke to please, that now is counted wisemens threasure.

TWO CANTOS
OF
MUTABILITIE:

WHICH, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTER,
APPEARS TO BE PARCELL OF SOME FOLLOWING
BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEBNE
UNDER THE LEGEND
OF
CONSTANCIE.

Neuer before imprinted.

CANTO VI

Proud Change (not pleasd, in mortall things,
   beneath the Moone, to raigne)
Pretends, as well of Gods, as Men,
   to be the Soueraine.

1 What man that sees the euer-whirling wheele

Of Change, the which all mortall dungs doth sway,

But that therby doth find, & plainly feele,

How MVTABILITY in them doth play

Her cruell sports, to many mens decay?

Which that to all may better yet appeare,

I will rehearse that whylome I heard say,

How she at first her selfe began to reare,

Gainst all the Gods, and th’empire sought from them to beare.

2 But first, here falleth fittest to vnfold

Her antique race and linage ancient,

As I haue found it registred of old,

In Faery Land mongst records permanent:

She was, to weet, a daughter by descent

Of those old Titans, that did whylome striue

With Saturnes sonnc for heauens regiment

Whom, though high Ioue of kingdome did depriue,

Yet many of their stemme long after did surviue.

3 And many of them, afterwards obtain’d

Great power of Ioue, and high authority;

As Hecaté, in whose almighty hand,

He plac’t all rule and principality,

To be by her disposed diuersly,

To Gods, and men, as she them list diuide:

And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie

Warres and allarums vnto Nations wide,

That makes both heauen & earth to tremble at her pride.

4 So likewise did this Titanesse aspire,

Rule and dominion to her selfe to gaine;

That as a Goddesse, men might her admire,

And heauenly honours yield, as to them twaine.

And first, on earth she sought it to obtaine;

Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed

Of her great power, to many ones great paine,

That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed)

But eke all other creatures, her bad dooings rewed.

5 For, she the face of earthly things so changed,

That all which Nature had establisht first

In good estate, and in meet order ranged,

She did pervert, and all their statutes burst:

And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst

Of Gods or men to alter or misguide)

She alter’d quite, and made them all accurst

That God had blest; and did at first prouide

In that still happy state for euer to abide.

6 Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake,

But eke of Iustice, and of Policie;

And wrong of right, and bad of good did make.

And death for life exchanged foolishlie:

Since which, all liuing wights haue learn’d to die,

And all this world is woxen daily worse.

O pittious worke of MVTABILITIE !

By which, we all are subiect to that curse,

And death in stead of life haue sucked from our Nurse.

7 And now, when all the earth she thus had brought

To her behest, and thralled to her might,

She gan to cast in her ambitious thought,

T’attempt th’empire of the heauens hight,

And Ioue himselfe to shoulder from his right

And first, she past the region of the ayre,

And of the fire, whose substance thin and slight,

Made no resistance, ne could her contraire,

But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire.

8 Thence, to the Circle of the Moone she clambe,

Where Cynthia raignes in euerlasting glory,

To whose bright shining palace straight she came,

All fairely deckt with heauens goodly story;

Whose siluer gates (by which there sate an hory

Old aged Sire, with hower-glasse in hand,

Hight Tyme) she entred, were he liefe or sory:

Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand,

Where Cynthia did sit, that neuer still did stand.

9 Her sitting on an Iuory throne shee found,

Drawne of two steeds, th’one black, the other white,

Environd with tenne thousand starres around,

That duly her attended day and night;

And by her side, there ran her Page, that hight

Vesper, whom we the Euening-starre intend:

That with his Torche, still twinkling like twylight;

Her lightened all the way where she should wend,

And ioy to weary wandring trauailers did lend:

10 That when the hardy Titanesse beheld

The goodly building of her Palace bright,

Made of the heauens substance, and vp-held

With thousand Crystall pillors of huge hight,

Shee gan to burne in her ambitious spright,

And t’envie her that in such glorie raigned.

Eftsoones she cast by force and tortious might,

Her to displace, and to her selfe to haue gained

The kingdome of the Night, and waters by her wained.

11 Boldly she bid the Goddesse downe descend,

And let her selfe into that Ivory throne;

For, shee her selfe more worthy thereof wend,

And better able it to guide alone:

Whether to men, whose fall she did bemone,

Or vnto Gods, whose state she did maligne,

Or to th’infernall Powers, her need giue lone

Of her faire light, and bounty most benigne,

Her selfe of all that rule shee deemed most condigne.

12 But shee that had to her that soueraigne seat

By highest Ioue assign’d, therein to beare

Nights burning lamp, regarded not her threat,

Ne yielded ought for fauour or for feare;

But with sterne countenaunce and disdainfull cheare,

Bending her horned browes, did put her back:

And boldly blaming her for comming there,

Bade her attonce from heauens coast to pack,

Or at her perill bide the wrathfull Thunders wrack.

13 Yet nathemore the Giantesse forbare:

But boldly preacing-on, raught forth her hand

To pluck her downe perforce from off her chaire;

And there-with lifting vp her golden wand,

Threatned to strike her if she did with-stand.

Where-at the starres, which round about her blazed,

And eke the Moones bright wagon, still did stand,

All beeing with so bold attempt amazed,

And on her vncouth habit and sterne looke still gazed.

14 Meane-while, the lower World, which nothing knew

Of all that chaunced here, was darkned quite;

And eke the heauens, and all the heauenly crew

Of happy wights, now vnpurvaide of light,

Were much afraid, and wondred at that sight;

Fearing least Chaos broken had his chaine,

And brought againe on them eternall night:

But chiefely Mercury, that next doth raigne,

Ran forth in haste, vnto the king of Gods to plaine.

15 All ran together with a great out-cry,

To Ioues faire Palace, fixt in heauens hight;

And beating at his gates full earnestly,

Gan call to him aloud with all their might,

To know what meant that suddaine lack of light.

The father of the Gods when this he heard,

Was troubled much at their so strange affright,

Doubting least Typhon were againe vprear’d,

Or other his old foes, that once him sorely fear’d.

16 Eftsoones the sonne of Maia forth he sent

Downe to the Circle of the Moone, to knowe

The cause of this so strange astonishment,

And why shee did her wonted course forslowe;

And if that any were on earth belowe

That did with charmes or Magick her molest,

Him to attache, and downe to hell to throwe:

But, if from heauen it were, then to arrest

The Author, and him bring before his presence prest.

17 The wingd-foot God, so fast his plumes did beat,

That soone he came where-as the Titanesse

Was striuing with faire Cynthia for her seat:

At whose strange sight, and haughty hardinesse,

He wondred much, and feared her no lesse.

Yet laying feare aside to doe his charge,

At last, he bade her (with bold stedfastnesse)

Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at large,

Or come before high Ioue, her dooings to discharge.

18 And there-with-all, he on her shoulder laid

His snaky-wreathed Mace, whose awfull power

Doth make both Gods and hellish fiends affraid:

Where-at the Titanesse did sternely lower,

And stoutly answer’d, that in euill hower

He from his Ioue such message to her brought,

To bid her leaue faire Cynthias siluer bower;

Sith shee his Ioue and him esteemed nought,

No more then Cynthias selfe; but all their kingdoms sought.

19 The Heauens Herald staid not to reply,

But past away, his doings to relate

Vnto his Lord; who now in th’highest sky,

Was placed in his principall Estate,

With all the Gods about him congregate:

To whom when Hermes had his message told,

It did them all exceedingly amate,

Saue Ioue; who, changing nought his count’nance bold,

Did vnto them at length these speeches wise vnfold;

20 Harken to mee awhile yee heauenly Powers;

Ye may remember since th’Earths cursed seed

Sought to assaile the heauens eternal towers,

And to vs all exceeding feare did breed:

But how we then defeated all their deed,

Yee all doe knowe, and them destroied quite;

Yet not so quite, but that there did succeed

An off-spring of their bloud, which did alite

Vpon the fruitfull earth, which doth vs yet despite.

21 Of that bad seed is this bold woman bred,

That now with bold presumption doth aspire

To thrust faire Phoebe from her siluer bed,

And eke our selues from heauens high Empire,

If that her might were match to her desire:

Wherefore, it now behoues vs to advise

What way is best to driue her to retire;

Whether by open force, or counsell wise,

Areed ye sonnes of God, as best ye can deuise.

22 So hauing said, he ceast; and with his brow

(His black eye-brow, whose doomefull dreaded beck

Is wont to wield the world vnto his vow,

And euen the highest Powers of heauen to check)

Made signe to them in their degrees to speake:

Who straight gan cast their counsell graue and wise.

Meane-while, th’Earths daughter, thogh she nought did reck

Of Hermes message; yet gan now advise,

What course were best to take in this hot bold emprize.

23 Eftsoones she thus resolv’d; that whil’st the Gods

(After returne of Hermes Embassie)

Were troubled, and amongst themselues at ods,

Before they could new counsels re-allie,

To set vpon them in that extasie;

And take what fortune time and place would lend:

So, forth she rose, and through the purest sky

To Ioues high Palace straight cast to ascend,

To prosecute her plot: Good on-set boads good end.

24 Shee there arriuing, boldly in did pass;

Where all the Gods she found in counsell close,

All quite vnarm’d, as then their manner was.

At sight of her they suddaine all arose,

In great amaze, ne wist what way to chose.

But Ioue, all fearelesse, forc’t them to aby;

And in bis soueraine throne, gan straight dispose

Himselfe more full of grace and Maiestie,

That mote encheare his friends, & foes mote terrific.

25 That, when the haughty Titanesse beheld,

All were she fraught with pride and impudence,

Yet with the sight thereof was almost queld;

And inly quaking, seem’d as reft of sense,

And voyd of speech in that drad audience,

Vntill that Ioue himselfe, her selfe bespake:

Speake thou fraile woman, speake with confidence,

Whence art thou, and what doost thou here now make?

What idle errand hast thou, earths mansion to forsake?

26 Shee, halfe confused with his great commaund,

Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride,

Him boldly answer’d thus to his demaund:

I am a daughter, by the mothers side,

Of her that is Grand-mother magnifide

Of all the Gods, great Earth, great Chaos child:

But by the fathers (be it not envide)

I greater am in bloud (whereon I build)

Then all the Gods, though wrongfully from heauen exil’d.

27 For, Titan (as ye all acknowledge must)

Was Saturnes elder brother by birth-right;

Both, sonnes of Vranus: but by vniust

And guilefull meaties, through Corybantes slight,

The younger thrust the elder from his right:

Since which, thou Ioue, iniuriously hast held

The Heauens rule from Titans sonnes by might;

And them to hellish dungeons downe hast feld:

Witnesse ye Heauens the truth of all that I haue teld.

28 Whilst she thus spake, the Gods that gaue good eare

To her bold words, and marked well her grace,

Beeing of stature tall as any there

Of all the Gods, and beautifull of face,

As any of the Goddesses in place,

Stood all astonied, like a sort of Steeres;

Mongst whom, some beast of strange & forraine race,

Vnwares is chaunc’t, far straying from his peeres:

So did their ghastly gaze bewray their hidden feares.

29 Till hauing pauz’d awhile, Ioue thus bespake;

Will neuer mortall thoughts ceasse to aspire,

In this bold sort, to Heauen claime to make,

And touch celestiall seates with earthly mire?

I would haue thought, that bold Procrustes hire,

Or Typhons fall, or proud Ixions paine,

Or great Prometheus, tasting of our ire,

Would haue suffiz’d, the rest for to restraine;

And warn’d all men by their example to refraine:

30 But now, this off-scum of that cursed fry,

Dare to renew the like hold enterprize,

And chalenge th’heritage of this our skie;

Whom what should hinder, but that we likewise

Should handle as the rest of her allies,

And thunder-driue to hell? With that, he shooke

His Nectar-deawed locks, with which the skyes

And all the world beneath for terror quooke,

And eft his burning levin-brond in hand he tooke.

31 But, when he looked on her louely face,

In which, faire beames of beauty did appeare,

That could the greatest wrath soone turne to grace

(Such sway doth beauty euen in Heauen beare)

He staide bis hand: and hauing chang’d his cheare,

He thus againe in milder wise began;

But ah! if Gods should striue with flesh yfere,

Then shortly should the progeny of Man

Be rooted out, if loue should doe still what he can:

32 But thee faire Titans child, I rather weene,

Through some vaine errour or inducement light,

To see that mortall eyes haue neuer seene;

Or through ensample of thy sisters might,

Bellona; whose great glory thou doost spight,

Since thou hast seene her dreadfull power belowe,

Mongst wretched men (dismaide with her affright)

To bandie Crownes, and Kingdomes to bestowe:

And sure thy worth, no lesse then hers doth seem to showe.

33 But wote thou this, thou hardy Titanesse,

That not the worth of any liuing wight

May challenge ought in Heauens interesse;

Much lesse the Title of old Titans Right:

For, we by Conquest of our soueraine might,

And by eternall doome of Fates decree,

Haue wonne the Empire of the Heauens bright;

Which to our selues we hold, and to whom wee

Shall worthy deeme partakers of our blisse to bee.

34 Then ceasse thy idle claime thou foolish gerle,

And seeke by grace and goodnesse to obtaine

That place from which by folly Titan fell;

There-to thou maist perhaps, if so thou faine

Haue Ioue thy gratious Lord and Soueraigne.

So, hauing said, she thus to him replide;

Ceasse Saturnes sonne, to seeke by proffers vaine

Of idle hopes t’allure mee to thy side,

For to betray my Right, before I haue it tride.

35 But thee, ô Ioue, no equall Iudge I deeme

Of my desert, or of my dewfull Right;

That in thine owne behalfe maist partiall seeme:

But to the highest him, that is behight

Father of Gods and men by equall might;

To weet, the God of Nature, I appeale.

There-at Ioue wexed wroth, and in his spright

Did inly grudge, yet did it well concede;

And bade Dan Phoebus Scribe her Appellation seale.

36 Eftsoones the time and place appointed were,

Where all, both heauenly Powers, & earthly wights,

Before great Natures presence should appeare,

For triall of their Titles and best Rights:

That was, to weet, vpon the highest hights

Of Arlo-hill (Who knowes not Arlo-hill?)

That is the highest head (in all mens sights)

Of my old father Mole, whom Shepheards quill

Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill.

37 And, were it not ill fitting for this file,

To sing of hilles & woods, mongst warres & Knights,

I would abate the sternenesse of my stile,

Mongst these sterne stounds to mingle soft delights;

And tell how Arlo through Dianaes spights

(Beeing of old the best and fairest Hill

That was in all this holy-Islands hights)

Was made the most vnpleasant, and most ill.

Meane while, ô Clio, lend Calliope thy quill.

38 Whylome, when IRELAND florished in fame

Of wealths and goodnesse, far aboue the rest

Of all that beare the British Islands name,

The Gods then vs’d (for pleasure and for rest)

Oft to resort there-to, when seem’d them best:

But none of all there-in more pleasure found,

Then Cynthia; that is soueraine Queene protest

Of woods and forrests, which therein abound,

Sprinkled with wholsom waters, more then most on ground.

39 But mongst them all, as fittest for her game,

Either for chace of beasts with hound or boawe,

Or for to shroude in shade from Phœbus flame,

Or bathe in fountaines that doe freshly flowe,

Or from high hilles, or from the dales belowe,

She chose this Arlo; where shee did resort

With all her Nymphes enranged on a rowe,

With whom the woody Gods did oft consort:

For, with the Nymphes, the Satyres loue to play & sport.

40 Amongst the which, there was a Nymph that hight

Molanna; daughter of old father Mole,

And sister vnto Mulla, faire and bright:

Vnto whose bed false Bregog whylome stole,

That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole,

And made her lucklesse loues well knowne to be.

But this Molanna, were she not so shole,

Were no lesse faire and beautifull then shee:

Yet as she is, a fairer flood may no man see.

41 For, first, she springs out of two marble Rocks,

On which, a groue of Oakes high mounted growes,

That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks

Of som faire Bride, brought forth with pompous showes

Out of her bowre, that many flowers strowes:

So, through the flowry Dales she tumbling downe,

Through many woods, and shady coverts flowes

(That on each side her siluer channell crowne)

Till to the Plaine she come, whose Valleyes shee doth drowne.

42 In her sweet streames, Diana vsed oft

(After her sweatie chace and toilesome play)

To bathe her selfe; and after, on the soft

And downy grasse, her dainty limbes to lay

In couert shade, where none behold her may:

For, much she hated sight of liuing eye.

Foolish God Faunus, though full many a day

He saw her clad, yet longed foolishly

To see her naked mongst her Nymphes in priuity.

43 No way he found to compasse his desire,

But to corrupt Molanna, this her maid,

Her to discouer for some secret hire:

So, her with flattering words he first assaid;

And after, pleasing gifts for her purvaid,

Queene-apples, and red Cherries from the tree,

With which he her allured and betraid,

To tell what time he might her Lady see

When she her selfe did bathe, that he might secret bee.

44 There-to hee promist, if shee would him pleasure

With this small boone, to quit her with a better;

To weet, that where-as shee had out of measure

Long lov’d the Fanchin, who by nought did set her,

That he would vndertake, for this to get her

To be his Loue, and of him liked well:

Besides all which, he vow’d to be her debter

For many moe good turnes then he would tell;

The least of which, this litte pleasure should excell.

45 The simple maid did yield to him anone;

And eft him placed where he close might view

That neuer any saw, saue onely one;

Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew,

Was of his hounds devour’d in Hunters hew.

Tho, as her manner was on sunny day,

Diana, with her Nymphes about her, drew

To this sweet spring; where, doffing her array,

She bath’d her louely limbes, for Ioue a likely pray.

46 There Faunus saw that pleased much his eye,

And made his hart to tickle in his brest,

That for great ioy of some-what he did spy,

He could him not containe in silent rest;

But breaking forth in laughter, loud profest

His foolish thought. A foolish Faune indeed,

That couldst not hold thy selfe so hidden blest,

But wouldest needs thine owne conceit areed.

Babblers vnworthy been of so diuine a meed.

47 The Goddesse, all abashed with that noise,

In haste forth started from the guilty brooke;

And running straight where-as she heard his voice,

Enclos’d the bush about, and there him tooke,

Like darred Larke; not daring vp to looke

On her whose sight before so much he sought.

Thence, forth they drew him by the homes, & shooke

Nigh all to peeces, that they left him nought;

And then into the open light they forth him brought.

48 Like as an huswife, that with busie care

Thinks of her Dairie to make wondrous gaine,

Finding where-as some wicked beast vnware

That breakes into her Dayr’house, there doth draine

Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine;

Hath in some snare or gin set close behind,

Entrapped him, and caught into her traine,

Then thinkes what punishment were best assign’d,

And thousand deathes deuiseth in her vengefull mind:

49 So did Diana and her maydens all

Vse silly Faunus, now within their baile:

They mocke and scorne him, and him foule miscall;

Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the taile,

And by his goatish beard some did him haile:

Yet he (poore soule) with patience all did beare;

For, nought against their wils might countervaile:

Ne ought he said what euer he did heare;

But hanging downe his head, did like a Mome appeare.

50 At length, when they had flouted him their fill,

They gan to cast what penaunce him to giue.

Some would haue gelt him, but that same would spill

The Wood-gods breed, which must for euer liue:

Others would through the riuer him haue driue,

And ducked deepe: but that seem’d penaunce light;

But most agreed and did this sentence giue,

Him in Deares skin to clad; & in that plight,

To hunt him with their hounds, him selfe saue how hee might.

51 But Cynthia’s selfe, more angry then the rest,

Thought not enough, to punish him in sport,

And of her shame to make a gamesome iest;

But gan examine him in straighter sort,

Which of her Nymphes, or other close consort,

Him thither brought, and her to him betraid?

He, much affeard, to her confessed short,

That’t was Molanna which her so bewraid.

Then all attonce their hands vpon Molanna laid.

52 But him (according as they had decreed)

With a Deeres-skin they couered, and then chast

With all their hounds that after him did speed;

But he more speedy, from them fled more fast

Then any Deere: so sore him dread aghast.

They after follow’d all with shrill out-cry,

Shouting as they the heauens would haue brast:

That all the woods and dales where he did flie,

Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie.

53 So they him follow’d till they weary were;

When, back returning to Molann againe,

They, by commaund’ment of Diana, there

Her whelm’d with stones. Yet Faunus (for her paine)

Of her beloued Fanchin did obtaine,

That her he would receiue vnto his bed.

So now her waues passe through a pleasant Plaine,

Till with the Fanchin she her selfe doe wed,

And (both combin’d) themselues in one faire riuer spred.

54 Nath’lesse, Diana, full of indignation,

Thence-forth abandond her delicious brooke;

In whose sweet streame, before that bad occasion,

So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke:

Ne onely her, but also quite forsooke

All those faire forrests about Arlo hid,

And all that Mountaine, which doth over-looke

The richest champian that may else be rid,

And the faire Shure, in which are thousand Salmons bred.

55 Them all, and all that she so deare did way,

Thence-forth she left; and parting from the place,

There-on an heauy haplesse curse did lay,

To weet, that Wolues, where she was wont to space,

Should harbour’d be, and all those Woods deface,

And Thieues should rob and spoile that Coast around.

Since which, those Woods, and all that goodly Chase,

Doth to this day with Wolues and Thieues abound:

Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since haue found.

CANTO VII

Pealing, from Ioue, to Natur’s Bar,
   bold Alteration pleades
Large Euidence: but Nature soone
   her righteous Doome areads.

1 Ah! whither doost thou now thou greater Muse

Me from these woods & pleasing forrests bring?

And my fraile spirit (that dooth oft refuse

This too high flight, vnfit for her weake wing)

Lift vp aloft, to tell of heauens King

(Thy soueraine Sire) his fortunate successe,

And victory, in bigger noates to sing,

Which he obtain’d against that Titanesse,

That him of heauens Empire sought to dispossesse.

2 Yet sith I needs must follow thy behest,

Doe thou my weaker wit with skill inspire,

Fit for this turne; and in my sable brest

Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire,

Which learned minds inflameth with desire

Of heauenly things: for, who but thou alone,

That art yborne of heauen and heauenly Sire,

Can tell things doen in heauen so long ygone;

So farre past memory of man that may be knowne.

3 Now, at the time that was before agreed,

The Gods assembled all on Arlo hill;

As well those that are sprung of heauenly seed,

As those that all the other world doe fill,

And rule both sea and land vnto their will:

Onely th’infernall Powers might not appeare;

Aswell for horror of their count’naunce ill,

As for th’vnruly fiends which they did feare;

Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there.

4 And thither also came all other creatures,

What-euer life or motion doe retaine,

According to their sundry kinds of features;

That Arlo scarsly could them all containe;

So full they filled euery hill and Plaine:

And had not Natures Sergeant (that is Order)

Them well disposed by his busie paine,

And raunged farre abroad in euery border,

They would haue caused much confusion and disorder.

5 Then forth issewed (great goddesse) great dame Nature,

With goodly port and gracious Maiesty;

Being far greater and more tall of stature

Then any of the gods or Powers on hie:

Yet certes by her face and physnomy.

Whether she man or woman inly were,

That could not any creature well descry:

For, with a veile that wimpled euery where,

Her head and face was hid, that mote to none appeare.

6 That some doe say was so by skill deuized,

To hide the terror of her vncouth hew,

From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized;

For that her face did like a Lion shew,

That eye of wight could not indure to view:

But others tell that it so beautious was,

And round about such beames of splendor threw,

That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass,

Ne could be seene, but like an image in a glass.

7 That well may seemen true: for, well I weene

That this same day, when she on Arlo sat,

Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene,

That my fraile wit cannot deuize to what

It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that,

As those three sacred Saints, though else most wise,

Yet on mount Thabor quite their wits forgat,

When they their glorious Lord in strange disguise

Transfigur’d sawe; his garments so did daze their eyes.

8 In a fayre Plaine vpon an equall Hill,

She placed was in a pauilion;

Not such as Craftes-men by their idle skill

Are wont for Princes states to fashion:

But th’earth her self of her owne motion,

Out of her fruitfull bosome made to growe

Most dainty trees; that, shooting vp anon,

Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full lowe,

For homage vnto her, and like a throne did shew.

9 So heard it is for any liuing wight,

All her array and vestiments to tell,

That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright

The pure well head of Poesie did dwell)

In his Foules parley durst not with it mel,

But it transferd to Alane, who he thought

Had in his Plaint of kindes describ’d it well:

Which who will read set forth so as it ought,

Go seek he out that Alane where he may be sought.

10 And all the earth far vnderneath her feete

Was dight with flowres, that voluntary grew

Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet;

Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and hew,

That might delight the smell, or please the view:

The which, the Nymphes, from all the brooks thereby

Had gathered, which they at her foot-stoole threw;

That richer seem’d then any tapestry,

That Princes bowres adorne with painted imagery.

11 And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more,

Did deck himself in freshest faire attire,

And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore

With hardned frosts of former winters ire,

He with an Oaken girlond now did tire,

As if the loue of some new Nymph late seene,

Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire,

And made him change his gray attire to greene;

Ah gentle Mole! such ioyance hath thee well beseene.

12 Was neuer so great ioyance since the day,

That all the gods whylome assembled were,

On Hœtnus hill in their diuine array,

To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare,

Twixt Peleus, and dame Thetis pointed there;

Where Phoebus self, that god of Poets hight,

They say did sing the spousall hymne full cleere,

That all the gods were rauisht with delight

Of his celestiall song, & Musicks wondrous might.

13 This great Grandmother of all creatures bred

Great Nature, euer young yet full of eld,

Still moouing, yet vnmoued from her sted;

Vnseene of any, yet of all beheld;

Thus sitting in her throne as I haue teld,

Before her came dame Mutabilitie;

And being lowe before her presence feld,

With meek obaysance and humilitie,

Thus gan her plaintif Plea, with words to amplifie;

14 To thee ô greatest goddesse, onely great,

An humble suppliant loe, I lowely fly

Seeking for Right, which I of thee entreat;

Who Right to all dost deale indifferently,

Damning all Wrong and tortious Iniurie,

Which any of thy creatures doe to other

(Oppressing them with power, vnequally)

Sith of them all thou art the equall mother,

And knittest each to’each, as brother vnto brother.

15 To thee therefore of this same Ioue I plaine,

And of his fellow gods that faine to be,

That challenge to themselues the whole worlds raign;

Of which, the greatest part is due to me,

And heauen it selfe by heritage in Fee:

For, heauen and earth I both alike do deeme,

Sith heauen and earth are both alike to thee;

And, gods no more then men thou doest esteeme:

For, euen the gods to thee, as men to gods do seeme.

16 Then weigh, ô soueraigne goddesse, by what right

These gods do claime the worlds whole souerainty;

And that is onely dew vnto thy might

Arrogate to themselues ambitiously:

As for the gods owne principality,

Which Ioue vsurpes vniustly; that to be

My heritage, Ioue’s self cannot deny,

From my great Grandsire Titan, vnto mee,

Deriv’d by dew descent; as is well knowen to thee.

17 Yet mauger Ioue, and all his gods beside,

I doe possesse the worlds most regiment;

As, if ye please it into parts diuide,

And euery parts inholders to conuent,

Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent.

And first, the Earth (great mother of vs all)

That only seems vnmov’d and permanent,

And vnto Mutability not thrall;

Yet is she chang’d in part, and eeke in generall.

18 For, all that from her springs, and is ybredde,

How-euer feyre it flourish for a time,

Yet see we soone decay; and, being dead,

To turne again vnto their earthly slime:

Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime,

We daily see new creatures to arize;

And of their Winter spring another Prime,

Vnlike in forme, and chang’d by strange disguise:

So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.

19 As for her tenants; that is, man and beasts,

The beasts we daily see massacred dy,

As thralls and vassalls vnto mens beheasts:

And men themselues doe change continually,

From youth to eld, from wealth to pouerty,

From good to bad, from bad to worst of all.

Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly:

But eeke their minds (which they immortall call)

Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.

20 Ne is the water in more constant case;

Whether those same on high, or these belowe.

For, th’Ocean moueth stil, from place to place;

And euery Riuer still doth ebbe and flowe:

Ne any Lake, that seems most still and slowe,

Ne Poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde,

When any winde doth vnder heauen blowe;

With which, the clouds are also tost and roll’d;

Now like great Hills; &, streight, like sluces, them vnfold.

21 So likewise are all watry h’uing wights

Still tost, and turned, with continuall change,

Neuer abyding in their stedfast plights.

The fish, still floting, doc at randon range,

And neuer rest; but euermore exchange

Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie:

Ne haue the watry foules a certaine grange,

Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry;

But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.

22 Next is the Ayre: which who feeles not by sense

(For, of all sense it is the middle meane)

To flit still? and, with subtill influence

Of his thin spirit, all creatures to maintaine,

In state of life? O weake life! that does leane

On thing so tickle as th’vnsteady ayre;

Which euery howre is chang’d, and altred cleane

With euery blast that bloweth fowle or faire:

The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it impaire.

23 Therein the changes infinite beholde,

Which to her creatures euery minute chaunce;

Now, boyling hot: streight, friezing deadly cold:

Now, faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce:

Streight, bitter storms and balefull countenance,

That makes them all to shiuer and to shake:

Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance,

And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake)

With flames & flashing lights that thousand changes make.

24 Last is the fire: which, though it liue for euer,

Ne can be quenched quite; yet, euery day,

Wee see his parts, so soone as they do seuer,

To lose their heat, and shortly to decay;

So, makes himself his owne consuming pray.

Ne any liuing creatures doth he breed:

But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay;

And, with their death, his cruell life dooth feed;

Nought leauing, but their barren ashes, without seede.

25 Thus, all these fower (the which the ground-work bee

Of all the world, and of all liuing wights)

To thousand sorts of Change we subiect see:

Yet are they chang’d (by other wondrous slights)

Into themselues, and lose their natiue mights;

The Fire to Aire, and th’Ayre to Water sheere,

And Water into Earth: yet Water fights

With Fire, and Aire with Earth approaching neere:

Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare.

26 So, in them all raignes Mutabilitie;

How-euer these, that Gods themselues do’call,

Of them doe claime the rule and souerainty:

As, Vesta, of the fire æthereall;

Vulcan, of this, with vs so vsuall;

Ops, of the earth; and Iuno of the Ayre;

Neptune, of Seas; and Nymphes, of Riuers all.

For, all those Riuers to me subiect are:

And all the rest, which they vsurp, be all my share.

27 Which to approuen true, as I haue told,

Vouchsafe, ô goddesse, to thy presence call

The rest which doe the world in being hold:

As, times and seasons of the yeare that fall:

Of all the which, demand in generall,

Or iudge thy selfe, by verdit of thine eye,

Whether to me they are not subiect alL

Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by,

Bade Order call them all, before her Maiesty.

28 So, forth issew’d the Seasons of the yeare;

First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaues of flowres

That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare

(In which a thousand birds had built their bowres

That sweetly sung, to call forth Paramours):

And in his hand a iauelin he did beare,

And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)

A guilt engrauen morion he did weare;

That as some did him loue, so others did him feare.

29 Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight

In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,

That was vnlyned all, to be more light:

And on his head a girlond well beseene

He wore, from which as he had chauffed been

The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore

A boawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene

Had hunted late the Libbard or the Bore,

And now would bathe his limbes, with labor heated sore.

30 Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad,

As though he ioyed in his plentious store,

Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad

That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore

Had by the belly oft him pinched sore.

Vpon his head a wreath that was enrold

With eares of corne, of euery sort he bore:

And in his hand a sickle he did holde,

To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.

31 Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in frize,

Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill,

Whil’st on his hoary beard his breath did freese;

And the dull drops that from his purpled bill

As from a limbeck did adown distill.

In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,

With which his feeble steps he stayed still:

For, he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;

That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

32 These, marching softly, thus in order went,

And after them, the Monthes all riding came;

First, sturdy March with brows full sternly bent,

And armed strongly, rode vpon a Ram,

The same which ouer Hellespontus swam:

Yet in his hand a spade he also hent,

And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,

Which on the earth he strowed as he went,

And fild her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment

33 Next came fresh Aprill full of lustyhed,

And wanton as a Kid whose home new buds:

Vpon a Bull he rode, the same which led

Europa floting through th’Argolick fluds:

His hornes were gilden all with golden studs

And garnished with garlonds goodly dight

Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds

Which th’earth brings forth, and wet he seem’d in sight

With waues, through which he waded for his loues delight.

34 Then came faire May, the fayrest mayd on ground,

Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,

And throwing flowres out of her lap around:

Vpon two brethrens shoulders she did ride,

The twinnes of Leda; which on eyther side

Supported her like to their soueraine Queene.

Lord! how all creatures laught, when her they spide,

And leapt and daunc’t as they had rauisht beene!

And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

35 And after her, came iolly Iune, arrayd

All in greene leaues, as he a Player were;

Yet in his time, he wrought as well as playd,

That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare:

Vpon a Crab he rode, that him did beare

With crooked crawling steps an vncouth pase,

And backward yode, as Bargemen wont to fare

Bending their force contrary to their face,

Like that vngracious crew which faines demurest grace.

36 Then came hot Iuly boyling like to fire,

That all his garments he had cast away:

Vpon a Lyon raging yet with ire

He boldly rode and made him to obay:

It was the beast that whylome did fbrray

The Nemæan forrest, till th’Amphytrionide

Him slew, and with his hide did him array;

Behinde his back a sithe, and by his side

Vnder his belt he bore a sickle circling wide.

37 The sixt was August, being rich arrayd

In garment all of gold downe to the ground:

Yet rode he not, but led a louely Mayd

Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround

With eares of come, and full her hand was found;

That was the righteous Virgin, which of old

Liv’d here on earth, and plenty made abound;

But, after Wrong was lov’d and Iustice solde,

She left th’vnrighteous world and was to heauen extold.

38 Next him, September marched eeke on foote;

Yet was he heauy laden with the spoyle

Of haruests riches, which he made his boot,

And him enricht with bounty of the soyle:

In his one hand, as fit for haruests toyle,

He held a knife-hook; and in th’other hand

A paire of waights, with which he did assoyle

Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,

And equall gaue to each as Iustice duly scann’d.

39 Then came October full of merry glee:

For, yet his noule was totty of the must,

Which he was treading in the wine-fats see,

And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust

Made him so frollick and so full of lust:

Vpon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride,

The same which by Dianaes doom vniust

Slew great Orion: and eeke by his side

He had his ploughing share, and coulter ready tyde.

40 Next was Nouember, he full grosse and fat,

As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;

For, he had been a fatting hogs of late,

That yet his browes with sweat, did reek and steem,

And yet the season was full sharp and breem;

In planting eeke he took no small delight:

Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme;

For it a dreadfull Centaure was in sight,

The seed of Saturne, and faire Nais, Chiron hight

41 And after him, came next the chill December:

Yet he through merry feasting which he made,

And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;

His Sauiours birth his mind so much did glad:

Vpon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode,

The same wherewith Dan Ioue in tender yeares,

They say, was nourisht by th’Idæan mayd;

And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he beares;

Of which, he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.

42 Then came old Ianuary, wrapped well

In many weeds to keep the cold away;

Yet did he quake and quiuer like to quell,

And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may:

For, they were numbd with holding all the day

An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood,

And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray:

Vpon an huge great Earth-pot steane he stood;

From whose wide mouth, there flowed forth the Romane

[floud.

43 And lastly, came cold February, sitting

In an old wagon, for he could not ride;

Drawne of two fishes for the season fitting,

Which through the flood before did softly slyde

And swim away: yet had he by his side

His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground,

And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride

Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round:

So past the twelue Months forth, & their dew places found.

44 And after these, there came the Day, and Night,

Riding together both with equall pase,

Th’one on a Palfrey blacke, the other white;

But Night had couered her vncomely face

With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace,

On top whereof the moon and stars were pight,

And sleep and darknesse round about did trace:

But Day did beare, vpon his scepters hight,

The goodly Sun, encompast all with beames bright.

45 Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high Ioue,

And timely Night, the which were all endewed

With wondrous beauty fit to kindle loue;

But they were Virgins all, and loue eschewed,

That might forslack the charge to them fore-shewed

By mighty Ioue’, who did them Porters make

Of heauens gate (whence all the gods issued)

Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake

By euen turnes, ne euer did their charge forsake.

46 And after all came Life, and lastly Death;

Death with most grim and griesly visage seene,

Yet is he nought but parting of the breath;

Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene,

Vnbodied, vnsoul’d, vnheard, vnseene.

But Life was like a faire young lusty boy,

Such as they faine Dan Cupid to haue beene,

Full of delightfull health and liuely ioy,

Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold fit to employ.

47 When these were past, thus gan the Titanesse;

Lo, mighty mother, now be iudge and say,

Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse

CHANGE doth not raign & beare the greatest sway:

For, who sees not, that Time on all doth pray?

But Times do change and moue continually.

So nothing here long standeth in one stay:

Wherefore, this lower world who can deny

But to be subiect still to Mutabilitie?

48 Then thus gan Ioue; Right true it is, that these

And all things else that vnder heauen dwell

Are chaung’d of Time, who doth them all disseise

Of being: But, who is it (to me tell)

That Time himselfe doth moue and still compell

To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee

Which poure that vertue from our heauenly cell,

That moues them all, and makes them changed be?

So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee.

49 To whom, thus Mutability: The things

Which we see not how they are mov’d and swayd,

Ye may attribute to your selues as Kings,

And say they by your secret powre are made:

But what we see not, who shall vs perswade?

But were they so, as ye them faine to be,

Mov’d by your might, and ordred by your ayde;

Yet what if I can proue, that euen yee

Your selues are likewise chang’d, and subiect vnto mee?

50 And first, concerning her that is the first,

Euen you faire Cynthia, whom so much ye make

Ioues dearest darling, she was bred and nurst

On Cynthus hill, whence she her name did take:

Then is she mortall borne, how-so ye crake;

Besides, her face and countenance euery day

We changed see, and sundry forms partake,

Now homd, now round, now bright, now brown & gray:

So that as changefull as the Moone men vse to say.

51 Next, Mercury, who though he lesse appeare

To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one;

Yet, he his course doth altar euery yeare,

And is of late far out of order gone:

So Venus eeke, that goodly Paragone,

Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day;

And Phœbus self, who lightsome is alone,

Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way,

And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.

52 Now Mars that valiant man is changed most:

For, he some times so far runs out of square,

That he his way doth seem quite to haue lost,

And cleane without his vsuall sphere to fare;

That euen these Star-gazers stonisht are

At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes:

So likewise, grim Sir Satume oft doth spare

His sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes:

So many turning cranks these haue, so many crookes.

53 But you Dan Ioue, that only constant are,

And King of all the rest, as ye do clame,

Are you not subiect eeke to this misfare?

Then let me aske you this withouten blame,

Where were ye borne? some say in Crete by name,

Others in Thebes, and others other-where;

But wheresoeuer they comment the same,

They all consent that ye begotten were,

And borne here in this world, ne other can appeare.

54 Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me,

Vnlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make

Immortall, and vnchangeable to be;

Besides, that power and vertue which ye spake,

That ye here worke, doth many changes take,

And your owne natures change: for, each of you

That vertue haue, or this, or that to make,

Is checkt and changed from his nature trew,

By others opposition or obliquid view.

55 Besides, the sundry motions of your Spheares,

So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine,

Some in short space, and some in longer yeares;

What is the same but alteration plaine?

Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine:

Yet do the Starres and Signes therein still moue,

And euen itself is mov’d, as wizards saine.

But all that moueth, doth mutation loue:

Therefore both you and them to me I subiect proue.

56 Then since within this wide great Vniuerse

Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare,

Cut all things tost and turned by transuerse:

What then should let, but I aloft should reare

My Trophee, and from all, the triumph beare?

Now iudge then (ô thou greatest goddesse trew!)

According as thy selfe doest see and heare,

And vnto me addoom that is my dew;

That is the rule of all, all being rul’d by you.

57 So hauing ended, silence long ensewed,

Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space,

But with firme eyes affixt, the ground still viewed.

Meanewhile, all creatures, looking in her face,

Expecting th’end of this so doubtfull case,

Did hang in long suspence what would ensew,

To whether side should fall the soueraigne place:

At length, she looking vp with chearefull view,

The silence brake, and gaue her doome in speeches few.

58 I well consider all that ye haue sayd,

And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate

And changed be: yet being rightly wayd

They are not changed from their first estate;

But by their change their being doe dilate:

And turning to themselues at length againe,

Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate:

Then ouer them Change doth not rule and raigne;

But they raigne ouer change, and doe their states maintaine.

59 Cease therefore daughter further to aspire,

And thee content thus to be rul’d by me:

For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire;

But time shall come that all shall changed bee,

And from thenceforth, none no more change shall see.

So was the Titaness put downe and whist,

And Ioue confirm’d in his imperiall see.

Then was that whole assembly quite dismist,

And Natur’s selfe did vanish, whither no man wist

1 When I bethinke me on that speech whyleare,

Of Mutability, and well it way:

Me seemes, that though she all vnworthy were

Of the Heav’ns Rule; yet very sooth to say,

In all things else she beares the greatest sway.

Which makes me loath this state of life so tickle,

And loue of things so vaine to cast away;

Whose flowring pride, so fading and so fickle,

Short Time shall soon cut down with his consuming sickle.

2 Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd,

Of that same time when no more Change shall be,

But stedfast rest of all things firmely stayd

Vpon the pillours of Eternity,

That is contrayr to Mutabilitie:

For, all that moueth, doth in Change delight:

But thence-forth all shall rest eternally

With Him that is the God of Sabbaoth bight:

O that great Sabbaoth God, graunt me that Sabaoths sight.

FINIS

TEXTUAL APPENDIX

TEXTUAL CORRECTIONS:

Code: a 1590 edition of Faerie Queene, I-III
         b 1596 edition of Faerie Queene, I-VI
         c 1609 edition of Faerie Queene, I-VII
         d 1611 edition of Works
FE ‘Faults Escaped’, erratum page in   a  

The four columns are stanza and line, corrected reading, source of correction, and rejected reading from b if unspecified. The inclusion of a code letter instead of date of edition as source of corrected reading is to follow the practice established by the Variorum Edition of Spenser.

BOOK I

Canto 1

10.4 They   a   The

12.5 stroke   FE   hardy stroke   a  

20.7 loathly frogs ac
       loathlyfrogs

21.5 spring   FE   ebbe

25.7 wound   a   wound

31.2 euill   a   euill euill

34.8 gently   a   genlty

35.8 euermore   a   euemore

42.4 thrust   a   trust

48.9 her with Yuie   a   her Yuie

Canto 2

17.5 cruel spies   FE   cruelties

29.2 shade him thither   a   shade thither

29.3 ymounted   FE   that mounted

32.9 guiltlesse   a   guitlesse

40.1 Thensforth   FE   Thenforth

41.5 Thensforth   FE   Thenforth

Canto 3

3.9 brought,   a   brought,

11.1 whom   a   Whom

34.5 feare   a   fea

36.7 mourning acd morning

38.7 that   FE   the

43.5 field   a   fied

Canto 4

11.3 worth   a   wroth

12.2 selfe a Queene   a   selfe Queene

13.1 El1 fin   a   Elfing

16.9 glitterand   a   glitter and

20.3 From   a   For

32.9 fifte   FE   first

45.5 of my new   FE   of new

Canto 5

1.9 did he wake   a   did wake

2.1 gate   a   gate,

2.5 hurld   FE   hurls

24.9 for   a   and

30.9 filthey   a   filtey

38.6 cliffs   FE   clifts

41.2 nigh   a   high

51.5 that   FE   the

Canto 6

1.5 in   FE   it

5.5 win   a   with

15.2 Or 11 Of

26.9 as a tyrans   a   as tyrans

47.2 fate   a   fete

Canto 7

5.5 her a be

32.6 Selinis a Selinis

43.9 Gehons a Gebons

47.3 hands   FE   hand [so corrected in copy text]

Canto 8

Arg. 3 the   FE   that

11.9 murmur ring   FE   murmuring

15.3 nigh d night

29.4 forcibly, a forcibly.

30.2 An a And

33.5 sits a fits

40.8 beare,   a   beare.

41.7 and helmets a helmets

43.2 haue a kaue

Canto 9

11.4 vnawares a vnwares

12.9 on   FE   at

14.8 night;   a   night,

18.9 as   a   the

26.5 nye. [editorial conjecture] nye? abc

31.5 subtile tong
a subtilltongue

34.6 cliffs   FE   clifts

35.9 Were   a   Where

38.8 liuing   a   liniug

53.1 feeble a seely

Canto 10

10.5 [line moved to right]

16.8 her   FE   be

31.6 faire,   a   faire.

36.9 in commers-by c in-commers by ab

50.1 she   a   he

52.6 Brings   FE   Bring ab

57.5 pretious   FE   piteous

59.2 frame   FE   fame

61.3 thy   a   to thy

62.9 they’are   a   are

64.7 doen   a   doen then

Canto 11

1.1 faire, c faire, ab

4.5 stretcht a stretch

5.1 his   FE   this

5.2 withdraw d with draw

6.9 scared   FE   feared

8.7 vaste d wast

11.5 as   FE   all

18.5 vnsound   a   vnfound

25.1 wroth   a   wrath

25.6 [line moved to right]

27.2 vaunt   a   daunt

30.5 one   FE   it

30.6 [line moved to right]

35–1spy,   a   spy.

39.4 sting   a   string

39.7 string   a   sting

51.2 the   a   her

Canto 12

2.9 fall, c fall, ab

9.7 monstrous   a   monstrous

11.5 talants   FE   talents

16.1 pleasure   a   pleasures

18.8 Paynim   a   Pynin

21.7 To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,   a   To tell the dawning day is dawning neare,

22.4 heauenly   a   heaunnly

27.7 of yore   a   and yore

32.5 t’   FE   to

34.9 who   FE   wo

40.9 His   a   Her

BOOK II

Canto 1

2.7 natiue a natiues

4.1 lay, c lay. ab

4.6–7[Lines 6 and 7 should be transposed as in a.]

8.7 spoile,   a   ‘spoile.

11.7 he   a   be

16.7 torment? – torment

31.2 handling   a   hanfling

33.8 thrise   FE   these

39.4 dolour   a   labour

40.4 gore   a   gold

44.9 speake: help   a   speake:help

45.7 started   a   started

56.2 off c off, ab

59.1 equall   a   euill

59.6 bury all teene [editorial conjecture] buriall teene abc

Canto 2

9.1 whose   a   those

9.8 be   a   he

28.2 champions   a   champion

30.1 there c their ab

37.1 Fast FE First

41.4 eye, c eye. ab

Canto 3

9.7 From   a   For

Canto 4

10.4 not   FE   no

10.9 and   a   aud

41.2 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

44.8 sits   a   fits

45.4 might   a   migbt

45.8 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

Canto 5

1.9 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

4.4 broad ac braod

8.2 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

8.7 hurtle a hurle,

10.8 releast, a relast,

16.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

16.8 aread a a read

19.4 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles she chee a6

20.2 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

20.6 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

21.2 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

24.8 agayne, a agayne.

25.4 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

27.3 her a his

36.6 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

38.7 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

Canto 6

29.2 importune a importance

34.7 sweet alarmes c sweet Alarmes, a sweetalarms,

39.2 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

43.4 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

43.9 Pyrochles, ô Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles, ô Pyrrhocles

44.6 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

45.3 Burning a But

48.7 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

49.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhodes

Canto 7

4.9 And a A

16.3 glad thankes a gladthankes

17.2 Grandmother ac Gandmother

18.2 of that antique a of antique

37.1 earthly wight ac earthlywight

39.8 mesprise a mespise

40.5 As if that a   FE   As the

41.3 his a to

48.6 my deare, my c my deare my aft

53.1 Gardin a Gordin

Canto 8

12.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

19.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

21.7 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

25.1 his cruell   FE   those same

30.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

41.4 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

43.1 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

44.2 guiltie a gulty

46.8 Harrow   FE   Horrow

48.8 Prince Arthur c Sir Guyon ab

48.9 Pyrochles   FE   Pyrrhocles

53.6 Had a Hast

55.3 bowing   FE   with bowing

Canto 9

Arg. 4 flight a fight

5.7 amenatmce A amenatice

9.1 weete, [editorial conjecture] wote, abc

14.7 Sheepe – Speepe b

16.8 wind with blustring   a   wind blustring

17.5 conflict   a   comflict

21.3 feasible   a   sensible

22.9 Diapase PE Dyapase

34.2 Ladies sate   a   Ladiessate

37.8 you loue c your loue ab

40.6 about her   a   abouther

41.7 Castory PE lastery

Canto 10

4.3 Who FE Whom

9.7 Assaracs a Assaraos

20.2 rule to sway   a   rule of sway

26.6 their FE her

36.3 felicitie;   a   felicitie?

37.3 with   a   vp

38.2 of   a   or

43.1 sonne   a   sonnes

44.1 sonnes   a   sonne

50.8 warrayd   a   wrrayd

51.7 in his armes   a   in armes

65.1 Capitayns   a   Captains

67.2 Ambrose a Ambrise

67.5 slaine, ac slaine.

73.9 bee.   a   bee

77.5 gentle   a   geutle

77.9 noble   a   nobles

Canto 11

2.9 and for delight   a   and delight

4.4 And he eftsoones   a   And eftsoones

9.5 withhault   a   with hault

23.8 support   a   disport

29.4 ayd   a   aye

30.9 suruiue PE reuiue

42.5 adowne   a   a downe

Canto 12

1.6 that FE this

27.3 pittifully   a   pittifuH

30.6 pleasaunt   a   peasaunt

50.4 greene   a   (first issue) grenee

52.9 Or Eden selfe, if   a   Of Eden, if

83.7 spoyle   a   spoyld

BOOK III

Canto 1

Arg. 3 Matecastaes   FE   Materastaes

30.6 mard FE shard

31.6 and of   a   and bc

41.8 lightly c highly ab

47.1 wight, c wight, ab

48.9 loathly   a   loathy sight,   a   sight,

53.3 inburning   a   in burning

55.9 steemd.   a   steemd,

58.7 fethered nest,   a   fetherednest

60.8 wary c weary ab

Canto 2

41.2 Nor FE Not

41.5 monstrous   a   mostrous

42.7 alablaster   a   akblasted

49.6 Camphora a Camphara

Canto 3

4.7 auncestrie   a   auncestie

4.8 protense   a   pretence

21.8 dore,   a   dore.

22.9 Greeke a Greece

29.1 With   a   Where

33.3 vnknowne   a   vnkowne

34.6 outrage   a   autrage

35.1 thy   a   the

37.7 their   a   the

43.9 from of the PB from th

44.5 yeares shalbe   a   shalbe

44.6 shalbee, c shalbee.

46.4 outronne   a   ouerronne

50.9 Hee PE She looks as earst c looks ab

51.9 disguise   a   deuise

53.3 teach) [editorial conjecture] teach

57.5 vnweeting   a   vnmeeting

58.2 conueniently   a   conuiently

58.5 dayes   a   dryes

60.9 fit. c fit

62.6 part: c part

Canto 4

2.5 Penthesike a Panthesilee

6.9 to the; tot he   a   to the b addrest.   a   addres.

7.8 deuouring   a   deuoring

8.4 Why   a   Who

13.9 did into   a   into

15.6 speare c speares ab

l5.7 Strongly   a   Srongly

30.4 gamesom c gameson ab

33.4 raines   a   traines

41.7 there c their ab

60.4 bright, c bright?

Canto 5

5.5 A a And

6.9 where? c where, ab

8.8 of many   a   of a many

12.6 doubt   a   douht

12.8 faithfull   a   faithfall

13.8 strong, a strong.

31.9 light. a light,

37.6 followed   a   follow

38.9 forth with   a   forthwith

44.7 reuew   a   renew

Canto 6

4.4 Belphabe c Beiphtebe ab

8.8 creatures   a   creature

25.5 Which as c From which ab

28.3 Phoebe e Phcebe ab

28.6 thence   a   hence

33.3 afresh   a   afresh

33.5 remaine   a   remaire

34.2 or   a   of

53.4 faithfull   a   fathfull

Canto 7

7.8 amaze,   a   amaze.

18.5 Might by   a   Might be by her   a   that her

29.2 hellish   a   bellish

45.1 this the   a   this

49.5 staine   a   straine

59.5 countenaunce   a   countenance

Canto 8

8.3 somewhile e lomewhfle ab

9.9 whom c who ab

10.6 countenaunce   a   countenant

11.6 he was   a   was

20.2 fortune   a   Fortune

22.5 saw c saw, ab

30.3 frory e frowy ab

Canto 9

6.4 Is   a   It

8.4 For   a   Fo

9.1 Satyrane) entreat a Satyrane entreat)

13.8 or loth   a   orloth

13.9 And so defide   a   And defide

17.2 ire;   a   ire,

20.1 rest, c rest; ab

24.5 But most they   a   But they

46.2 Hygate   a   Hygate gate

48.6 to sea   a   to the sea

Canto 10

5.2 Malbeccoes a Metbeccoes

12.2 Malbecco a Melbecco

19.2 search   a   seach

25.3 rudenesse   a   rudedesse

30.4 rownded   a   grounded

30.6 [line moved to right]

40.1 They   a   The

42.9 did.   a   did,

45.8 fed, c fed. ab

47.1 Malbecco a Melbecco

47.2 hands   a   hand

52.1 day spring   a   day springs

Canto 11

2.3 golden c golding ab

9.6 hastthou, c hast, thou ab

13.7 Abiecting,   a   Abiecting

14.1 conceiued   a   cenceiued

15.6 At   a   And

16.2 fruitlesse   a   firuilesse

20.6 forwandred   a   forwandred

23.5 This is   a   This

26.7 and with   a   and

42.2 hight,   a   hight.

42.6 He   a   Her

42.8 snaky-locke   a   snaly-locke

43.4 proue) c proue.   a   proue.) b

44.9 parts,   a   parts,

45.2 so?)   a   so?

48.7 enfold   a   ensold

49.8 ener more c euermore ab

51.8 weare, a weare?

Canto 12

9.3 other c others ab

11.1 cloth’d   a   cloth’

12.6 winged heeld   a   (first issue) wingyheeld

15.5 countenaunce   a   countenance

18.7 had: c had ab

22.5 kingdome a knigdome

23.5 right hand PB right ab

26.6 All a And

27.3 away,   a   away

28.1 there c their oi

34.4 her c him

BOOK IV

Canto 1

7.9 excesse. e excesse

25.9 warre.