The Faerie Queene Read Online

In the beginning of the feast, there presented him selfe a tall clownishe younge man, who falling before the Queen of Faries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which during that feast she might not refuse: which was that hee might haue the atchieuement of any aduenture, which during that feaste should happen, that being graunted, he rested him on the floore, vnfitte through his rusticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire Ladye in mourning weedes, riding on a white Asse, with a dwarfe behind her leading a warlike steed, that bore the Armes of a knight, and his speare in the dwarfes hand. Shee falling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that her father and mother an ancient King and Queene, had bene by an huge dragon many years shut vp in a brasen Castle, who thence suffred them not to yssew: and therefore besought the Faery Queene to assygne her some one of her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently that clownish person vpstarting, desired that aduenture: whereat the Queene much wondering, and the Lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his desire. In the end the Lady told him that vnlesse that armour which she brought, would seme him (that is the armour of a Christian man specified by Saint Paul v. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in that enterprise, which being forthwith put upon him with dewe furnitures thereunto, he seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the Lady. And eftesoones taking on him knighthood, and mounting on that straunge Courser, he went forth with her on that aduenture: where beginneth the first booke, vz.

A gentle knight was pricking on the playne. &c.

The second day ther came in a Palmer bearing an Infant with bloody hands, whose Parents he complained to haue bene slayn by an Enchaunteresse called Acrasia: and therfore craned of the Faery Queene, to appoint him some knight, to performe that aduenture, which being assigned to Sir Guyon, he presently went forth with that same Palmer: which is the beginning of the second booke and the whole subiect thereof. The third day there came in, a Groome who complained before the Faery Queene, that a vile Enchaunter called Busirane had in hand a most faire Lady called Amoretta, whom he kept in most grieuous torment, because she would not yield him the pleasure her body. Whereupon Sir Scudamour the louer of that Lady presently tooke on him that aduenture. But being vnable to performe it by reason oj the hard Enchauntments, after long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who succoured him, and reskewed his hue.

But by occasion hereof, many other aduentures are intermedled, but rather as Accidents, then intendments. As the hue oj Britomart, the ouer-throw of Marinell, the misery ojFlorimell, the vertuousnes oj Belphcebe, the lasciuiousnes of Hellenora, and many the like.

Thus much Sir, I haue briefly ouerronne to direct your vnderstanding to the wel-head of the History, that from thence gathering the whole intention of the conceit, ye may as in a handfull gripe al the discourse, which otherwise may happily seeme tedious and confused. So humbly crauing the continuaunce of your honorable fauour towards me, and th’eternall establishment of your happines, I humbly take leaue.

23. January. 1589.

Yours most humbly affectionate.

Ed. Spenser.

COMMENDATORY VERSES

A VISION VPON THIS CONCEIPT OF THE
FAERY QUEENE

Me thought I saw the graue, where Laura lay,

Within that Temple, where the vestall flame

Was wont to burne, and passing by that way,

To see that buried dust of liuing fame,

Whose tumbe faire loue, and fairer vertue kept,(5)

All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene:

At whose approch the soule of Petrarke wept,

And from thenceforth those graces were not seene.

For they this Queene attended, in whose steed

Obliuion laid him downe on Lauras herse:(10)

Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed,

And grones of buried ghostes the heuens did perse.

Where Homers spright did tremble all for griefe.

And curst th’accesse of that celestiall theife.

ANOTHER OF THE SAME

The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings,

As doth the Cuckoes song delight when Philumena sings.

If thou hast formed right true vertues face herein:

Vertue her selfe can best disceme, to whom they writen bin.

If thou hast beauty praysd, let her sole lookes diuine(5)

Iudge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.

If Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew,

Behold her Princely mind aright, and write thy Queene anew.

Meanewhile she shall perceiue, how far her vertues sore

Aboue the reach of all that Hue, or such as wrote of yore:(10)

And thereby will excuse and fauour thy good will:

Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by an Angels quill.

Of me no lines are loud, nor letters are of price,

Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy deuice.

W. R.

TO THE LEARNED SHEPEHEARD

Collyn I see by thy new taken taske,

some sacred Jury hath enricht thy braynes,

That leades thy muse in haughty verse to maske,

and loath the layes that longs to lowly swaynes.

That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes vnto hinges,(5)

So like the liuely Larke that mounting singes.

Thy louely Rosolinde semes now forlorne;

and all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight,

Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in same,

those prety pypes that did thy mates Might.(10)

Those trusty mates, that loued thee so well,

Whom thou gau’st mirth: as they gaue thee the bell.

Yet as thou earst with thy sweete roundelayes,

didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers:

So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes,(15)

delight the daintie ernes of higher powers.

And so mought they in their deepe skanning skill

Alow and grace our Cottyns flowing quyll.

And fare befall that Faery Queene of thine,

in whose faire eyes hue linckt with vertue sittes:(20)

Enfusing by those bewties fyers deuyne,

such high conceites into dry humble wittes,

As raised hath poore pastors oaten reede,

From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.

So mought thy Redcrosse knight with happy hand(25)

victorious be in that faire Ilands right:

Which thou dost vayle in Type of Faery land

Elyzas blessed field, that Albion hight.

That shieldes her friendes, and wanes her mightie foes,

Yet still with people, peace, and plentie flowes.(30)

But (iotty shepeheard) though with pleasing style,

thou feast the humour of the Courtly trayne:

Let not conceipt thy setled sence beguile,

ne daunted be through enuy or disdaine.

Subiect thy dome to her Empyring spright,(35)

From whence thy Muse, and all the world takes light,

Hobynoll.

Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately towne,

Runst paying tribute to the Ocean seas,

Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of renowne

Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes:

Nere thy sweet bankes, there liues that sacred crowne,(5)

Whose hand strowes Palme and neuer-dying bayes,

Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne

Present her with this worthy Poets prayes.

For he hath taught hye drifts in shepeherdes weedes,

And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes.(10)

R. S.

Graue Muses march in triumph and with prayses,

Our Goddesse here hath giuen you leaue to land:

And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces

Bow downe his brow vnto her sacred hand.

Desertes findes dew in that most princely doome,(5)

In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde:

So did that great Augustus erst in Roome

With leaues of fame adorne his Poets hedde.

Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene,

Euen of the fairest that the world hath scene.(10)

H.B.

When stout Achilles heard of Helens rape

And what reuenge the States of Greece deuisd:

Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape,

In womans weedes him selfe he then disguisde:

But this deuise Vlysses soone did spy, 5

And brought him forth, the chaunce of warre to try.

When Spencer saw die same was spredd so large,

Through Faery land of their renowned Queene:

Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge,

As in such haughty matter to be seene,(10)

To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice,

But Sydney heard him sing, and knew his voice.

And as Vlysses brought faire Thetis sonne

From his retyred life to menage armes:

So Spencer was by Sidneys speaches wonne,(15)

To blaze her fame not fearing future harmes:

For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred

In her high praise, that all the world admired.

Yet as Achilles in those warlike frayes,

Did win the palme from all the Grecian Peeres:(20)

So Spencer now to his immortall prayse,

Hath wonne the Laurell quite from all his feres.

What though his taske exceed a humaine witt,

He is excus’d, sith Sidney thought it fitt.

W.L

To looke vpon a worke of rare deuise

The which a workman setteth out to view,

And not to yield it the deserued prise,

That vnto such a workmanship is dew.

Doth either proue the iudgement to be naught(5)

Or els doth shew a mind with enuy fraught.

To labour to commend a peece of worke,

Which no man goes about to discommend,

Would raise a iealous doubt that there did lurke,

Some secret doubt, whereto the prayse did tend.(10)

For when men know the goodnes oj the wyne,

T’is needlessefor the hoast to haue a sygne.

Thus then to shew my iudgement to be such

As can discerne of colours blacke, and white,

As alls to free my minde from enuies tuch,(15)

That neuer giues to any man his right,

I here pronounce this workmanship is such,

As that no pen can set it forth too much

And thus I hang a garland at the dore,

Not for to shew the goodnes of the ware:(20)

But such hath beene the custome heretofore,

And customs very hardly broken are.

And when your tast shall tell you this is trew,

Then looke you giue your hoast his vtmost dew.

Ignoto.

DEDICATORY SONNETS

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON, LORD HIGH CHAUNCELOR OF ENGLAND. &C.

Those prudent heads, that with theire counsels wise

Whylom the Pillours of th’earth did sustaine,

And taught ambitious Rome to tyrannise,

And in the neck of all the world to rayne,

Oft from those graue affaires were wont abstaine,

With the sweet Lady Muses for to play:

So Ennius the elder Africane,

So Maro oft did Cœsars cares allay.

So you great Lord, that with your counsell sway

The burdeine of this kingdom mightily,

With like delightes sometimes may eke delay,

The rugged brow of carefull Policy:

And to these ydle rymes lend litle space,

Which for their titles sake may find more grace.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LO[RD] BURLEIGH LO[RD]
HIGH THREASURER OF ENGLAND.

To you right noble Lord, whose carefull brest

To menage of most graue affaires is bent,

And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest

The burdein of this kingdomes gouernement,

As the wide compasse of the firmament,

On Atlas mighty shoulders is vpstayd;

Vnfitly I these ydle rimes present,

The labor of lost time, and wit vnstayd:

Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd,

And the dim vele, with which from comune vew

Their fairer parts are bid, aside be layd.

Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you.

Such as they be, vouchsafe them to receaue,

And wipe their faults out of your censure graue.

E.S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF

OXENFORD,

LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAYNB OF ENGLAND. &C.

Receiue most Noble Lord in gentle gree,

The vnripe fruit of an vnready wit:

Which by thy countenaunce doth craue to bee

Defended from foule Enuies poisnous bit.

Which so to doe may thee right well besit,

Sith th’antique glory of thine auncestry

Vnder a shady vele is therein writ,

And eke thine owne long liuing memory,

Succeeding them in true nobility:

And also for the loue, which thou doest beare

To th’Heliconian ymps, and they to thee,

They vnto thee, and thou to them most deare:

Deare as thou art vnto thy selfe, so loue

That loues & honours thee, as doth behoue.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF

NORTHUMBERLAND.

The sacred Muses haue made alwaies clame

To be the Nourses of nobility,

And Registres of euerlasting fame,

To all that armes professe and cheualry.

Then by like right the noble Progeny,

Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde

T’embrace the seruice of sweete Poetry,

By whose endeuours they are glorifide,

And eke from all, of whom it is enuide,

To patronize the authour of their praise,

Which giues them life, that els would soone haue dide,

And crownes their ashes with immortall bates.

To thee therefore right noble Lord I send

This present of my paints, it to defend,

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF

CUMBERLAND.

Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind

The flowre of cheualry now bloosming faire,

Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind,

Which of their praises haue left you the haire;

To you this humble present I prepare,

For loue of vertue and of Martiall praise,

To which though nobly ye inclined are,

As goodlie well ye shew’d in late assaies,

Yet braue ensample of long passed daies,

In which trew honor yee may fashiond see,

To like desire of honor may ye raise,

And fill your mind with magnanimitee.

Receiue it Lord therefore as it was ment,

For honor of your name and high descent.

E.S.

TO THE MOST HONOURABLE AND EXCELLENT

LO[RD] THE EARLE OF ESSEX. GREAT MAISTER

OF THB HORSE TO HER HIGHNESSE, AND KNIGHT

OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER. &C.

Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent

Doe merit a most famous Poets witt,

To be thy lining praises instrument,

Yet doe not sdeigne, to let thy name be writt

In this base Poeme, for thee far vnfitt.

Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby,

But when my Muse, whose fethers nothing flitt

Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly

With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty

To the last praises of this Faery Queene,

Then shall it make more famous memory

Of thine Heroicke parts, such as they beene:

Till then vouchsafe thy noble countenaunce,

To these first labours needed furtheraunce,

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THB EARLE OF

ORMOND AND OSSORY.

Receiue most noble Lord a simple taste

Of the wilde fruit, which saluage soyl hath bred,

Which being through long wars left almost waste,

With brutish barbarisme is ouerspredd:

And in so faire a land, as may be redd,

Not one Parnassus, nor one Helicone

Left for sweete Muses to be harboured,

But where thy selfe hast thy braue mansione;

There in deede dwel faire Graces many one.

And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned wits,

And in thy person without Paragone

All goodly bountie and true honour sits,

Such therefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield,

Receiue dear Lord in worth, the fruit of barren field.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LO [RD]

CH[ARLES] HOWARD, LO[RD] HIGH ADMIRAL OF

ENGLAND, KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE

GARTER, AND ONE OF HER MAIESTIES PRIUIE

COUNSEL. &C.

And ye, braue Lord, whose goodly personage,

And noble deeds each other garnishing,

Make you ensample to the present age,

Of th’old Heroes, whose famous of spring

The antique Poets wont so much to sing,

In this same Pageaunt haue a worthy place,

Sith those huge castles of Castilian king,

That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace,

Like flying doues ye did before you chace;

And that proud people woxen insolent

Through many victories, didst first deface:

Thy praises euerlasting monument

Is in this verse engrauen semblably,

That it may liue to all posterity.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF

HUNSDON, HIGH CHAMBERLAINS TO HER

MAIESTY.

Renowmed Lord, that for your worthinesse

And noble deeds haue your deserued place,

High in the fauour of that Emperesse.

The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace,

Here eke of right haue you a worthie place,

Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,

And for your owne high merit in like cace,

Of which, apparaunt proofe was to be seene,

When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene

Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify,

And their disloiall powre defaced clene,

The record of enduring memory.

Liue Lord for eucr in this lasting verse,

That all posteritie thy honor may reherse.

E.S.

TO THE MOST RENOWMED AND VALIANT LORD,

THE LORD GREY OF WILTON, KNIGHT OF THE

NOBLE ORDER OF THB GARTER, &C.

Most Noble Lord the pillor of my life,

And Patrone of my Muses pupillage,

Through whose large bountie poured on me rife,

In the first season of my feeble age,

I now doe liue, bound yours by vassalage:

Sith nothing euer may redeeme, nor reaue

Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage,

Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receaue,

Which in your noble hands for pledge I leaue,

Of all the rest, that I am tyde t’account:

Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weaue

In sauadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount,

And roughly wrought in an vnlearned Loome:

The which vouchsafe dear Lord your fauorable doome.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF

BUCKHURST, ONE OF HER MAIESTIES PRIUIE

COUNSELL.

In vain I thinke right honourable Lord,

By this rude rime to memorize thy name;

Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record,

In golden verse, worthy immortal fame:

Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)

Thy gracious Souerain praises to compile.

And her imperiall Maiestie to frame,

In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.

But sith thou maist not so, giue leaue a while

To baser wit his power therein to spend,

Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file,

And vnaduised ouersights amend.

But euermore vouchsafe it to maintaine

Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR FR[ANCIS]

WALSINGHAM KNIGHT, PRINCIPALL SECRETARY

TO HER MAIESTY, AND OF HER HONOURABLE

PRIUY COUNSELL.

That Mantuane Poetes incompared spirit,

Whose girland now is set in highest place,

Had not Mecœnas for his worthy merit,

It first aduaunst to great Augustus grace,

Might long perhaps haue lien in silence bace,

Ne bene so much admir’d of later age.

This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,

Flies for like aide vnto your Patronage;

That are the great Mecenas of this age,

As wel to al that ciuil artes professe

As those that are inspird with Martial rage,

And craues protection of her feeblenesse:

Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse

In bigger tunes to sound your liuing prayse.

E.S.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST

VALIAUNT CAPTAINE, SIR JOHN NORRIS KNIGHT,

LORD PRESIDENT OF MOUNSTER,

Who euer gaue more honourable prize

To the sweet Muse, then did the Martiall crew;

That their braue deeds she might immortalize

In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?

Who then ought more to fauour her, then you

Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,

And Precedent of all that armes ensue?

Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,

Tempred with reason and aduizement sage

Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile,

In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage,

And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile.

Sith then each where thou hast dispredd thy fame,

Loue him, that hath eternized your name.

E.S.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT,

SIR WALTER RALEIGH, LO[RD] WARDEIN OF THE

STANNERYES, AND LIEFTENAUNT OF

CORNEWAILE.

To thee that art the sommers Nightingale,

Thy soueraine Goddesses most deare delight.

Why doe I send this rusticke Madrigale,

That may thy tunejull eare vnseason quite?

Thou onely fit this Argument to write,

In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bowre,

And dainty loue learnd sweetly to endite.

My rimes 1 know vnsauory and sowre,

To tast the streames, that like a golden showre

Flow from thy fruit full head, of thy loues praise,

Fitter perhaps to thonder Martiall stowre,

When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise:

Yet till that thou thy Poeme wilt make knowne,

Let thy Jain Cinthias praises bee thus rudely showne.

E.S.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND MOST

VERTUOUS LADY, THE COUNTESSE OF PENBROKE.

Remembraunce of that most Heroicke spirit,

The heuens pride, the glory of our daies,

Which now triumpheth through immortall merit

Of his braue vertues, crownd with lasting baies,

Of heuenlie blis and euerlasting praies;

Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore,

To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies;

Bids me most noble Lady to adore

His goodly image liuing euermore,

In the diuine resemblaunce of your face;

Which with your vertues ye embellish more,

And natiue beauty deck with heuenlie grace:

For his, and for your owne especial sake,

Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take.

E.S.

TO THE MOST VERTUOUS, AND BEAUTIFULL

LADY, THE LADY CAREW.

Ne may I, without blot of endlesse blame,

You fairest Lady leaue out of this place,

But with remembraunce of your gracious name,

Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace,

And deck the world, adorne these verses base:

Not that these few lines can in them comprise

Those glorious ornaments of heuenly grace,

Wherewith ye triumph ouer feeble eyes,

And in subdued harts do tyranyse:

For thereunto doth need a golden quill,

And siluer leaues, them rightly to deuise,

But to make humble present of good will:

Which whenas timely meanes it purchase may,

In ampler wise it selfe will forth display.

E.S.

TO ALL THE GRATIOUS AND BEAUTIFULL

LADIES IN THE COURT.

The Chian Peincter, when he was requirde

To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew,

To make his worke more absolute, desird

Of all the fairest Maides to haue the vew.

Much more me needs to draw the semblant trew,

Of beauties Queene, the worlds sole wonderment,

To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew,

And steals from each some part of ornament.

If all the world to seeke I ouerwent,

A fairer crew yet no where could I see,

Then that braue court doth to mine eie present,

That the worlds pride seemes gathered there to bee.

Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte:

Forgiue it me faire Dames, sith lesse ye haue not lefte.

E.S.

FINIS

THE FAERIE QUEENE

TO

THE MOST HIGH,

MIGHTIE

And

MAGNIFICENT

EMPRESSE RENOVV-

MED FOR PIETIE, VER-

TVE, AND ALL GRATIOVS

GOVERNMENT ELIZABETH BY

THE GRACE OF GOD QVEENE

OF ENGLAND FRAVNCE AND

IRELAND AND OF VIRGI-

NIA, DEFENDOVR OF THE

FAITH, &c . HER MOST

HVMBLE SERVAVNT

EDMVND SPENSER

DOTH IN ALL HV-

MILITIE DEDI-

CATE, PRE-

SENT

AND CONSECRATE THESE

HIS LABOVRS TO LIVE

WITH THE ETERNI-

TIE OF HER

FAME

THE FIRST BOOKE
OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE

CONTAYNING
THE LEGENDE OF THE
KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
OR
OF HOLINESSE.

1 Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,

As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,

Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske,

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,

And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;

Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long,

Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:

Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song.

2 Helpe then, ô holy Virgin chiefe of nine,

Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,

Lay forth out of thine euerlasting scryne

The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:

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

3 And thou most dreaded impe of highest Ioue,

Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart

At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,

That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,

Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,

And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:

Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,

In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,

After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

4 And with them eke, ô Goddesse heauenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and Maiesrie diuine,

Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light

Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth shine,

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,

To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile:

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

CANTO I

The Patron of true Holinesse,
   Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie him to entrape,
   Doth to his home entreate.

1 A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,

Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,

Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,

The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;

Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:

Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

2 But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,

And dead as liuing euer him ador’d:

Vpon his shield the like was also scor’d,

For soueraine hope, which in his helpe he had:

Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad,

Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad.

3 Vpon a great aduenture he was bond,

That greatest Gloriana to him gaue,

That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie land,

To winne him worship, and her grace to haue,

Which of all earthly things he most did craue;

And euer as he rode, his hart did earne

To proue his puissance in battell braue

Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;

Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.

4 A louely Ladie rode him faire beside,

Vpon a lowly Asse more white then snow,

Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide

Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,

And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,

As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,

And heauie sat vpon her palfrey slow;

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,

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

5 So pure an innocent, as that same lambe,

She was in life and euery vertuous lore,

And by descent from Royall lynage came

Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore

Their scepters stretcht from East to Westeme shore,

And all the world in their subiection held;

Till that infernall feend with foule vprore

Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:

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

6 Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd in being euer last,

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,

The day with cloudes was suddeine ouercast.

And angry Ioue an hideous storme of raine

Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,

That euery wight to shrowd it did constrain,

And this fair couple eke to shroud themselues were fain.

7 Enforst to seeke some couert nigh at hand,

A shadie groue not far away they spide,

That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:

Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,

Did spred so broad, that heauens light did hide,

Not perceable with power of any starre:

And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

With footing worne, and leading inward farre:

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

8 And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,

Ioying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,

The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,

The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,

The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,

The Aspine good for staues, the Cypresse funerall.

9 The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours

And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,

The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,

The Eugh obedient to the benders will,

The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,

The Mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,

The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,

The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,

The caruer Holme, the Maple seeldom inward sound.

10 Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,

Vntill the blustring storme is ouerblowne;

When weening to returne. whence they did stray,

They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,

But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,

Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,

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

So many pathes, so many turnings seene,

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

11 At last resoluing forward still to fere,

Till that some end they finde or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,

And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollow caue,

Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout

Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,

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

12 Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,

Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:

The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,

Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,

And perill without show: therefore your stroke

Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.

Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke

The forward footing for an hidden shade:

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

13 Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place

I better wot then you, though now too late,

To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,

Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.

This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:

Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then

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

14 But full of fire and greedy hardiment,

The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,

But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,

And looked in: his glistring armor made

A litle glooming light, much like a shade,

By which he saw the vgly monster plaine,

Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,

But th’other halfe did womans shape retaine,

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

15 And as she lay vpon the durtie ground,

Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred,

Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,

Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred

A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,

Sucking vpon her poisonous dugs, eachone

Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored:

Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone,

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

16 Their dam vpstart, out of her den effraide,

And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile

About her cursed head, whose folds displaid

Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.

She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle

Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;

For light she hated as the deadly bale,

Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,

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

17 Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu’ed, he lept

As Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,

And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept

From turning backe, and forced her to stay:

Therewith enrag’d she loudly gan to bray,

And turning fierce, her speckled taile aduaunst,

Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:

Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:

The stroke down from her head vnto her shoulder glaunst.

18 Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd,

Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,

And all attonce her beastly body raizd

With doubled forces high aboue the ground:

Tho wrapping vp her wrethed sterne arownd,

Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine

All suddenly about his body wound,

That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine:

God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.

19 His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,

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

Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:

Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.

That when he heard, in great perplexitie,

His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,

And knitting all his force got one hand free,

Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,

That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.

20 Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw

A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,

Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,

Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke

His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:

Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,

With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,

And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:

Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.

21 As when old father Nilus gins to swell

With timely pride aboue the Aegyptian vale,

His fattie waues do fertile slime outwell,

And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:

But when his later spring gins to auale,

Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed

Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male

And partly female of his fruitfull seed;

Such vgly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man reed.

22 The same so sore annoyed has the knight,

That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,

His forces faile, ne can no longer fight.

Whose corage when the feend perceiu’d to shrinke,

She poured forth out of her hellish sinke

Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,

Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,

Which swarming all about his legs did crall,

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

23 As gentle Shepheard in sweete euen-tide,

When ruddy Phœbus gins to welke in west,

High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,

Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;

A cloud of combrous gnattes do him molest,

All striuing to infixe their feeble stings,

That from their noyance he no where can rest,

But with his clownish hands their tender wings

He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

24 Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame,

Then of the certaine perill he stood in,

Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,

Resolv’d in minde all suddenly to win,

Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;

And strooke at her with more then manly force,

That from her body full of filthie sin

He raft her hatefull head without remorse;

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

25 Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare

They saw so rudely falling to the ground,

Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,

Gathred themselues about her body round,

Weening their wonted entrance to haue found

At her wide mouth: but being there withstood

They flocked all about her bleeding wound,

And sucked vp their dying mothers blood,

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

26 That detestable sight him much amazde,

To see th’vnkindly Impes of heauen accurst,

Deuoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,

Hauing all satisfide their bloudy thurst,

Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst,

And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end

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

Now needeth him no lenger labour spend,

His foes haue slaine themselues, with whom he should

[contend.

27 His Ladie seeing all, that, chaunst, from farre

Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,

And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,

Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:

Well worthy be you of that Armorie,

Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,

And proou’d your strength on a strong enimie,

Your first aduenture: many such I pray,

And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.

28 Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe,

And with the Lady backward sought to wend;

That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,

Ne euer would to any by-way bend,

But still did follow one vnto the end,

The which at last out of the wood them brought.

So forward on his way (with God to frend)

He passeth forth, and new aduenture sought;

Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.

29 At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way

An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,

His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,

And by his belt his booke he hanging had;

Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,

And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,

And all the way he prayed, as he went,

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

30 He faire the knight saluted, louting low,

Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:

And after asked him, if he did know

Of straunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.

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

Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,

Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,

Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

With holy father sits not with such things to mell.

31 But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell,

And homebred euill ye desire to heare,

Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell,

That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.

Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,

And shall you well reward to shew the place,

In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:

For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,

That such a cursed creature liues so long a space.

32 Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse

His dwelling is, by which no liuing wight

May euer passe, but thorough great distresse.

Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,

And well I wote, that of your later fight

Ye all forwearied be: for what so strong,

But wanting rest will also want of might?

The Sunne that measures heauen all day long,

At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waues emong.

33 Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest,

And with new day new worke at once begin:

Vntroubled night they say giues counsell best.

Right well Sir knight ye haue aduised bin,

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

Is wisely to aduise: now day is spent;

Therefore with me ye may take vp your In

For this same night. The knight was well content:

So with that godly father to his home they went.

34 A little lowly Hermitage it was,

Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,

Far from resort of people, that did pas

In trauell to and froe: a little wyde

There was an holy Chappell edifyde,

Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say

His holy things each morne and euentyde:

Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,

Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.

35 Arriued there, the little house they fill,

Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:

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

The noblest mind the best contentment has.

With faire discourse the euening so they pas:

For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,

And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;

He told of Saintes and Popes, and euermore

He strowd an Aue-Mary after and before.

36 The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fist,

And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,

As messenger of Morpheus on them cast

Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.

Vnto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:

Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,

He to his study goes, and there amiddes

His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,

He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes.

37 Then choosing out few wordes most horrible,

(Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,

With which and other spelles like terrible,

He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame,

And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame

Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;

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

Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night,

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

38 And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred

Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes

Fluttring about his euer damned hed,

A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes,

To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:

Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,

And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;

The one of them he gaue a message too,

The other by himselfe staide odier worke to doo.

39 He making speedy way through spersed ayre,

And through the world of waters wide and deepe,

To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.

Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,

And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,

His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed

Doth euer wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,

Whiles sad Night ouer him her mande black doth spred.

40 Whose double gates he findeth locked fast,

The one faire fram’d of burnisht Yuory,

The other all with siluer ouercast;

And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,

Watching to banish Care their enimy,

Who oft is wont to trouble gentle sleepe.

By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,

And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe

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

41 And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft,

A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe

And euer-drizling raine vpon the loft,

Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne

Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:

No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,

As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne,

Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,

Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.

42 The messenger approching to him spake,

But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:

So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.

Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,

Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe

Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.

As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine

Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,

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

43 The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,

And threatned vnto him the dreaded name

Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,

And lifting vp his lumpish head, with blame

Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.

Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,

He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,

He bids thee to him send for his intent

A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent

44 The God obayde, and calling forth straight way

A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,

Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay

His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,

Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.

He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,

Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,

And on his litle winges the dreame he bore

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

45 Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,

Had made a Lady of that other Spright,

And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes

So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,

That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:

The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,

Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:

Her all in white he clad, and ouer it

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

46 Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,

Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,

Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,

And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,

In sort as he him schooled priuily:

And that new creature borne without her dew,

Full of the makers guile, with vsage sly

He taught to imitate that Lady trew,

Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.

47 Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast,

And comming where the knight in slomber lay,

The one vpon his hardy head him plast,

And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,

That nigh his manly hart did melt away,

Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:

Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,

And to him playnd, how that false winged boy,

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

48 And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene,

Faire Venus seemde vnto his bed to bring

Her, whom he waking euermore did weene,

To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring

On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,

Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:

And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,

Hymen iö Hymen, dauncing all around,

Whilst freshest Flora her with Yuie girlond crownd.

49 In this great passion of vnwonted lust,

Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,

He started vp, as seeming to mistrust,

Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:

Lo there before his face his Lady is,

Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,

And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,

With gentle blandishment and louely looke,

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

50 All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,

And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,

He thought haue slaine her in his fierce despight:

But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,

He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise

To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.

Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,

Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,

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

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

Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,

And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,

Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,

For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?

Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state

You, whom my hard auenging destinie

Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.

52 Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue

My Fathers kingdome, There she stopt with teares;

Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,

And then againe begun, My weaker yeares

Captiu’d to fortune and frayle worldly feares,

Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:

Let me not dye in languor and long teares.

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

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

53 Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint

Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night

In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,

Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight

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

Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight

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

That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew

54 Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;

For all so deare as life is to my hart,

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

Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,

Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,

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

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

55 Long after lay he musing at her mood,

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

For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

At last dull wearinesse of former fight

Hauing yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,

That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,

With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:

But when he saw his labour all was vaine,

With that misformed spright he backe returne againe.

CANTO II

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
   The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead faire falshood steps,
   And workes him wofull ruth.

1 By this the Northerne wagoner had set

His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,

That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,

But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre

To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:

And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill

Had warned once, that Phœbus fiery carre

In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,

Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

2 When those accursed messengers of hell,

That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright

Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:

Who all in rage to see his skilfull might

Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine

And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.

But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

3 Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,

And that false other Spright, on whom he spred

A seeming body of the subtile aire,

Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed.

His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,

Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:

Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,

Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,

Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

4 Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast

Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights

And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,

Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,

As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,

And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,

That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights

Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;

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

5 All in amaze he suddenly vpstart

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

Who soone him brought into a secret part,

Where that false couple were full closely ment

In wanton lust and lewd embracement:

Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,

The eye of reason was with rage yblent,

And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,

But hardly was restrained of that aged sire.

6 Returning to his bed in torment great,

And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,

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

And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,

Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night

At last faire Hesperus in highest skie

Had spent his lampe, & brought forth dawning light,

Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;

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

7 Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,

Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,

Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,

And die high hils Titan discouered,

The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,

And rising forth out of her baser bowre,

Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,

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

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

8 And after him she rode with so much speede

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

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

Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,

That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;

Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,

But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine

Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,

He so vngently left her, whom she louest best.

9 But subtill Archimago, when his guests

He saw diuided into double parts,

And Vna wandring in woods and forrests,

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

That had such might ouer true meaning harts;

Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,

How he may worke vnto her further smarts:

For her he hated as the hissing snake,

And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

10 He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;

For by his mightie science he could take

As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,

As euer Proteus to himselfe could make:

Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,

Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,

That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,

And oft would flie away.