The Faerie Queene Read Online

Downe himselfe he layd

Vpon the grassie ground, to sleepe a throw;

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

54 But gentle Sleepe enuyde him any rest;

In stead thereof sad sorrow, and disdaine

Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest,

And thousand fancies bet his idle braine

With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine:

Oft did he wish, that Lady faire mote bee

His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine:

Or that his Faery Queene were such, as shee:

And euer hastie Night he blamed bitterlie.

55 Night thou foule Mother of annoyance sad,

Sister of heauie death, and nourse of woe,

Which wast begot in heauen, but for thy bad

And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below,

Where by the grim floud of Cocytus slow

Thy dwelling is, in Herebus blacke hous,

(Blacke Herebus thy husband is the foe

Of all the Gods) where thou vngratious,

Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous.

56 What had th’eternall Maker need of thee,

The world in his continuall course to keepe,

That doest all things deface, ne lettest see

The beautie of his worke? Indeed in sleepe

The slouthfull bodie, that doth loue to steepe

His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind,

Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe

Calles thee, his goddesse in his error blind,

And great Dame Natures handmaide, chearing euery kind.

57 But well I wote, that to an heauy hart

Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares,

Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts:

Instead of rest thou lendest rayling teares,

Instead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares,

And dreadfull visions, in the which aliue

The drearie image of sad death appeares:

So from the wearie spirit thou doest driue

Desired rest, and men of happinesse depriue.

58 Vnder thy mantle blacke there hidden lye,

Light-shonning theft, and traiterous intent,

Abhorred bloudshed, and vile felony,

Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent;

Foule horror, and eke hellish dreriment:

All these I wote in thy protection bee,

And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent:

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

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

59 For day discouers all dishonest wayes,

And sheweth each thing, as it is indeed:

The prayses of high God he faire displayes,

And his large bountie rightly doth areed.

Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed,

Which darknesse shall subdew, and heauen win:

Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed,

Most sacred virgin, without spot of sin.

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

60 O when will day then turne to me againe,

And bring with him his long expected light?

O Titan, haste to reare thy ioyous waine:

Speed thee to spred abroad thy beames bright,

And chase away this too long lingring night,

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

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

There let her with the damned spirits dwell,

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

61 Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare,

In restlesse anguish and vnquiet paine:

And earely, ere the morrow did vpreare

His deawy head out of the Ocean maine,

He vp arose, as halfe in great disdaine,

And clombe vnto his steed. So forth he went,

With heauie looke and lumpish pace, that plaine

In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent:

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

CANTO V

Prince Arthur heares of Florimell:
   three fosters Timias wound,
Belphebe finds him almost dead,
   and reareth out of sownd.

1 Wonder it is to see, in diuerse minds,

How diuersly loue doth his pageants play,

And shewes his powre in variable kinds:

The baser wit, whose idle thoughts alway

Are wont to cleaue vnto the lowly clay,

It stirreth vp to sensuall desire,

And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day:

But in braue sprite it kindles goodly fire,

That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.

2 Ne suffereth it vncomely idlenesse,

In his free thought to build her sluggish nest:

Ne suffereth it thought of vngentlenesse,

Euer to creepe into his noble brest,

But to the highest and the worthiest

Lifteth it vp, that else would lowly fall:

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

It lets not scarse this Prince to breath at all,

But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call.

3 Who long time wandred through the forrest wyde,

To finde some issue thence, till that at last

He met a Dwarfe, that seemed terrifyde

With some late perill, which he hardly past,

Or other accident, which him aghast,

Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,

And whither now he trauelled so fast:

For sore he swat, and running through that same

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

4 Panting for breath, and almost out of hart,

The Dwarfe him answerd, Sir, ill mote I stay

To tell the same. I lately did depart

From Faery court, where I haue many a day

Serued a gentle Lady of great sway,

And high accompt through out all Elfin land,

Who lately left the same, and tooke this way:

Her now I seeke, and if ye vnderstand

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

5 What mister wight (said he) and how arayd?

Royally clad (quoth he) in cloth of gold,

As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd;

Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,

A fairer wight did neuer Sunne behold,

And on a Palfrey rides more white then snow,

Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold:

The surest signe, whereby ye may her know,

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

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

Fast flying through this forest from her fo,

A foule ill fauoured foster, I haue seene;

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

But could not stay; so fast she did foregoe,

Carried away with wings of speedy feare.

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

And wondrous ruth to all, that shall it heare.

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

7 Perdy me leuer were to weeten that,

(Said he) then ransome of the richest knight,

Or all the good that euer yet I gat:

But froward fortune, and too forward Night

Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me spight,

And fro me reft both life and light attone.

But Dwarfe aread, what is that Lady bright,

That through this forest wandreth thus alone;

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

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

The bountiest virgin, and most debonaire,

That euer liuing eye I weene did see;

Liues none this day, that may with her compare

In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare,

The goodly ornaments of beautie bright;

And is ycleped Florimell the faire,

Faire Florimell belou’d of many a knight,

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

9 A Sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is hight,

Of my deare Dame is loued dearely well;

In other none, but him, she sets delight,

All her delight is set on Marinell;

But he sets nought at all by Florimell:

For Ladies loue his mother long ygoe

Did him, they say, forwarne through sacred spell

But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe

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

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

And foure, since Florimell the Court for-went,

And vowed neuer to returne againe,

Till him aliue or dead she did inuent.

Therefore, faire Sir, for loue of knighthood gent,

And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may

By your good counsell, or bold hardiment,

Or succour her, or me direct the way;

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

11 So may you gaine to you full great renowme,

Of all good Ladies through the world so wide,

And haply in her hart find highest rowme,

Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide:

At least eternall meede shall you abide.

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

For till thou tidings learne, what her betide,

I here auow thee neuer to forsake.

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

12 So with the Dwarfe he backe return’d againe,

To seeke his Lady, where he mote her find;

But by the way he greatly gan complaine

The want of his good Squire late left behind,

For whom he wondrous pensiue grew in mind,

For doubt of daunger, which mote him betide;

For him he loued aboue all mankind,

Hauing him trew and faithfull euer tride,

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

13 Who all this while full hardly was assayd

Of deadly daunger, which to him betid;

For whiles his Lord pursewd that noble Mayd,

After that foster fowle he fiercely rid,

To bene auenged of the shame, he did

To that faire Damzell: Him he chaced long

Through the thicke woods, wherein he would haue hid

His shamefull head from his auengement strong,

And oft him threatned death for his outrageous wrong.

14 Nathlesse the villen sped himselfe so well,

Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast;

Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell,

That shortly he from daunger was releast,

And out of sight escaped at the least;

Yet not escaped from the dew reward

Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast,

Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard

The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.

15 For soone as he was vanisht out of sight,

His coward courage gan emboldned bee,

And cast t’auenge him of that fowle despight,

Which he had borne of his bold enimee.

Tho to his brethren came: for they were three

Vngratious children of one gracelesse sire,

And vnto them complained, how that he

Had vsed bene of that foolehardy Squire;

So them with bitter words he stird to bloudy ire.

16 Forthwith themselues with their sad instruments

Of spoyle and murder they gan arme byliue,

And with him forth into the forest went,

To wreake the wrath, which he did earst reuiue

In their sterne brests, on him which late did driue

Their brother to reproch and shamefull flight:

For they had vow’d, that neuer he aliue

Out of that forest should escape their might;

Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with such despight.

17 Within that wood there was a couert glade,

Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne,

Through which it was vneath for wight to wade;

And now by fortune it was ouerflowne:

By that same way they knew that Squire vnknowne

Mote algates passe; for thy themselues they set

There in await, with thicke woods ouer growne,

And all the while their malice they did whet

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

18 It fortuned, as they deuized had,

The gentle Squire came ryding that same way,

Vnweeting of their wile and treason bad,

And through the ford to passen did assay;

But that fierce foster, which late fled away,

Stoutly forth stepping on the further shore,

Him boldly bad his passage there to stay,

Till he had made amends, and full restore

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

19 With that at him a quiu’ring dart he threw,

With so fell force and villeinous despighte,

That through his haberieon the forkehead flew,

And through the linked mayles empierced quite,

But had no powre in his soft flesh to bite:

That stroke the hardy Squire did sore displease,

But more that him he could not come to smite;

For by no meanes the high banke he could sease,

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

20 And still the foster with his long bore-speare

Him kept from landing at his wished will;

Anone one sent out of the thicket neare

A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill,

And fethered with an vnlucky quill;

The wicked steele stayd not, till it did light

In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill:

Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight,

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

21 At last through wrath and vengeaunce making way,

He on the bancke arriu’d with mickle paine,

Where the third brother him did sore assay,

And droue at him with all his might and maine

A forrest bill, which both his hands did straine;

But warily he did auoide the blow,

And with his speare requited him againe,

That both his sides were thrilled with the throw,

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

22 He tombling downe, with gnashing teeth did bite

The bitter earth, and bad to let him in

Into the balefull house of endlesse night,

Where wicked ghosts do waile their former sin.

Tho gan the battell freshly to begin;

For nathemore for that spectacle bad,

Did th’other two their cruell vengeaunce blin,

But both attonce on both sides him bestad,

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

23 Tho when that villain he auiz’d, which late

Affrighted had the fairest Florimell,

Full of fiers fury, and indignant hate,

To him he turned, and with rigour fell

Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell,

That to the chin he cleft his head in twaine:

Downe on the ground his carkas groueling fell;

His sinfull soule with desperate disdaine,

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

24 That seeing now the onely last of three,

Who with that wicked shaft him wounded had,

Trembling with horrour, as that did foresee

The fearefull end of his auengement sad,

Through which he follow should his brethren bad,

His bootelesse bow in feeble hand vpcaught,

And therewith shot an arrow at the lad;

Which faintly fluttring, scarce his helmet raught,

And glauncing fell to ground, but him annoyed naught.

25 With that he would haue fled into the wood;

But Timias him lightly ouerhent,

Right as he entring was into the flood,

And strooke at him with force so violent,

That headlesse him into the foord he sent:

The carkas with the streame was carried downe,

But th’head fell backeward on the Continent.

So mischief fel vpon the meaners crowne;

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

26 He liues, but takes small ioy of his renowne;

For of that cruell wound he bled so sore,

That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne;

Yet still the bloud forth gusht in so great store,

That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore.

Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest Squire aliue,

Else shall thy louing Lord thee see no more,

But both of comfort him thou shalt depriue,

And eke thyselfe of honour, which thou didst atchiue.

27 Prouidence heauenly passeth liuing thought,

And doth for wretched mens reliefe make way;

For loe great grace or fortune thither brought

Comfort to him, that comfortlesse now lay.

In those same woods, ye well remember may,

How that a noble hunteresse did wonne,

She, that base Braggadochio did affray,

And made him fast out of the forrest runne;

Belphœbe was her name, as faire as Phœbus sunne.

28 She on a day, as she pursewd the chace

Of some wild beast, which with her arrowes keene

She wounded had, the same along did trace

By tract of bloud, which she had freshly seene,

To haue besprinckled all the grassy greene;

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

Well hoped she the beast engor’d had beene,

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

But ah, her expectation greatly was deceau’d.

29 Shortly she came, whereas that woefull Squire

With bloud deformed, lay in deadly swownd:

In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire,

The Christall humour stood congealed rownd;

His locks, like faded leaues fallen to grownd,

Knotted with bloud, in bounches rudely ran,

And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd

The bud of youth to blossome faire began,

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

30 Saw neuer liuing eye more heauy sight,

That could haue made a rocke of stone to rew,

Or riue in twaine: which when that Lady bright

Besides all hope with melting eyes did vew,

All suddeinly abasht she chaunged hew,

And with sterne honour backward gan to start:

But when she better him beheld, she grew

Full of soft passion and vnwonted smart:

The point of pitty perced through her tender hart.

31 Meekely she bowed downe, to weete if life

Yet in his frosen members did remaine,

And feeling by his pulses beating rife,

That the weake soule her seat did yet retaine,

She cast to comfort him with busie paine:

His double folded necke she reard vpright.

And rubd his temples, and each trembling vaine;

His mayled haberieon she did vndight,

And from his head his heauy burganet did light.

32 Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went,

To seeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy;

For she of harbes had great intendiment,

Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancy

Her nourced had in trew Nobility:

There, whether it diuine Tobacco were,

Or Panachœa, or Polygony,

She found, and brought it to her patient deare

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

33 The soueraigne weede betwixt two marbles plaine

She pownded small, and did in peeces bruze,

And then atweene her lilly handes twaine,

Into his wound the iuyce thereof did scruze,

And round about, as she could well it vze,

The flesh therewith she suppled and did steepe,

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

And after hauing searcht the intuse deepe,

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

34 By this he had sweet life recur’d againe,

And groning inly deepe, at last his eyes,

His watry eyes, drizling like deawy raine,

He vp gan lift toward the azure skies,

From whence descend all hopelesse remedies:

Therewith he sigh’d, and turning him aside,

The goodly Mayd full of diuinities,

And gifts of heauenly grace he by him spide,

Her bow and gilden quiuer lying him beside.

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

That thou hast shewed to me sinfull wight,

To send thine Angell from her bowre of blis,

To comfort me in my distressed plight?

Angell, or Goddesse do I call thee right?

What seruice may I do vnto thee meete,

That hast from darkenesse me returnd to light,

And with thy heauenly salues and med’cines sweete,

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

36 Thereat she blushing said, Ah gentle Squire,

Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell, but the Mayd,

And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desire

No seruice, but thy safety and ayd;

Which if thou gaine, I shalbe well apayd.

We mortall wights, whose liues and fortunes bee

To commun accidents still open layd,

Are bound with commun bond of frailtee,

To succour wretched wights, whom we captiued see.

37 By this her Damzels, which the former chace

Had vndertaken after her arriu’d,

As did Belphœbe, in the bloudy place,

And thereby deemd the beast had bene depriu’d

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

For thy the bloudy tract they followd fast,

And euery one to runne the swiftest stryu’d;

But two of them the rest far ouerpast,

And where their Lady was, arriued at the last.

38 Where when they saw that goodly boy, with blood

Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd,

They wondred much, and shortly vnderstood,

How him in deadly case their Lady fownd,

And reskewed out of the heauy stownd.

Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd

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

She made those Damzels search, which being stayd,

They did him set thereon, and forth with them conuayd.

39 Into that forest farre they thence him led,

Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade,

With mountaines round about enuironed,

And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,

And like a stately Theatre it made,

Spreading it selfe into a spatious plaine.

And in the midst a little riuer plaide

Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine

With gentle murmure, that his course they did restraine.

40 Beside the same a dainty place there lay,

Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene,

In which the birds song many a louely lay

Of gods high prayse, and of their loues sweet teene

As it an earthly Paradize had beene:

In whose enclosed shadow there was pight

A faire Pauilion, scarcely to be seene,

The which was all within most richly dight,

That greatest Princes liuing it mote well delight.

41 Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd

In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest;

He rested him a while, and then the Mayd

His ready wound with better salues new drest;

Dayly she dressed him, and did the best

His grieuous hurt to garish, that she might,

That shortly she his dolour hath redrest,

And his foule sore reduced to faire plight:

It she reduced, but himselfe destroyed quight.

42 O foolish Physick, and vnfruitfull paine,

That heales vp one and makes another wound:

She his hurt thigh to him recur’d againe,

But hurt his hart, the which before was sound,

Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound

From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce.

What bootes it him from death to be vnbound,

To be captiued in endlesse duraunce

Of sorrow and despaire without aleggeaunce?

43 Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole,

So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd:

Madnesse to saue a part, and lose the whole.

Still whenas he beheld the heauenly Mayd,

Whiles dayly plaisters to his wound she layd,

So still his Malady the more increast,

The whiles her matchlesse beautie him dismayd.

Ah God, what other could he do at least,

But loue so faire a Lady, that his life releast?

44 Long while he stroue in his courageous brest,

With reason dew the passion to subdew,

And loue for to dislodge out of his nest:

Still when her excellencies he did vew,

Her soueraigne bounty, and celestiall hew,

The same to loue he strongly was constraind:

But when his meane estate he did reuew,

He from such hardy boldnesse was restraind,

And of his lucklesse lot and cruell loue thus plaind.

45 Vnthankfull wretch (said he) is this the meed,

With which her soueraigne mercy thou doest quight?

Thy life she saued by her gracious deed,

But thou doest weene with villeinous despight,

To blot her honour, and her heauenly light.

Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally

Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light:

Faire death it is to shonne more shame, to dy:

Dye rather, dy, then euer loue disloyally.

46 But if to loue disloyalty it bee,

Shall I then hate her, that from deathes dore

Me brought? ah farre be such reproch fro mee.

What can I lesse do, then her loue therefore,

Sith I her dew reward cannot restore:

Dye rather, dye, and dying do her serue,

Dying her serue, and liuing her adore;

Thy life she gaue, thy life she doth deserue:

Dye rather, dye, then euer from her seruice swerue.

47 But foolish boy, what bootes thy seruice bace

To her, to whom the heauens do serue and sew?

Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place,

She heauenly borne, and of celestiall hew.

How then? of all loue taketh equall vew:

And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take

The loue and seruice of the basest crew?

If she will not, dye meekly for her sake;

Dye rather, dye, then euer so faire loue forsake.

48 Thus warreid he long time against his will,

Till that through weaknesse he was forst at last,

To yield himselfe vnto the mighty ill:

Which as a victour proud, gan ransack fast

His inward parts, and all his entrayles wast,

That neither bloud in face, nor life in hart

It left, but both did quite drye vp, and blast;

As percing leuin, which the inner part

Of euery thing consumes, and calcineth by art.

49 Which seeing faire Belphœbe, gan to feare,

Least that his wound were inly well not healed,

Or that the wicked steele empoysned were:

Litle she weend, that loue he close concealed;

Yet still he wasted, as the snow congealed,

When the bright sunne his beams thereon doth beat;

Yet neuer he his hart to her reuealed,

But rather chose to dye for sorrow great,

Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.

50 She gracious Lady, yet no paines did spare,

To do him ease, or do him remedy:

Many Restoratiues of vertues rare,

And costly Cordialles she did apply,

To mitigate his stubborne mallady:

But that sweet Cordiall, which can restore

A loue-sick hart, she did to him enuy;

To him, and to all th’vnworthy world forlore

She did enuy that soueraigne salue, in secret store.

51 That dainty Rose, the daughter of her Morne,

More deare then life she tendered, whose flowre

The girlond of her honour did adorne:

Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching powre,

Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to showre,

But lapped vp her silken leaues most chaire,

When so the froward skye began to lowre:

But soone as calmed was the Christall aire,

She did it faire dispred, and let to florish faire.

52 Eternall God in his almighty powre,

To make ensample of his heauenly grace,

In Paradize whilome did plant this flowre,

Whence he it fetcht out of her natiue place,

And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace,

That mortall men her glory should admire

In gentle Ladies brest, and bounteous race

Of woman kind it fairest flowre doth spire,

And beareth fruit of honour and all chast desire.

53 Faire ympes of beautie, whose bright shining beames

Adorne the world with like to heauenly light,

And to your willes both royalties and Realmes

Subdew, through conquest of your wondrous might,

With this faire flowre your goodly girlonds dight,

Of chastity and vertue virginall,

That shall embellish more your beautie bright,

And crowne your heades with heauenly coronall,

Such as the Angels weare before Gods tribunall.

54 To your faire selues a faire ensample frame,

Of this faire virgin, this Belphœbe faire,

To whom in perfect loue, and spotlesse fame

Of chastitie, none liuing may compaire:

Ne poysnous Enuy iustly can empaire

The prayse of her fresh flowring Maidenhead;

For thy she standeth on the highest staire

Of th’honorable stage of womanhead,

That Ladies all may follow her ensample dead.

55 In so great prayse of stedfast chastity,

Nathlesse she was so curteous and kind,

Tempred with grace, and goodly modesty,

That seemed those two vertues stroue to find

The higher place in her Heroick mind:

So striuing each did other more augment,

And both encreast the prayse of woman kind,

And both encreast her beautie excellent;

So all did make in her a perfect complement.

CANTO VI

The birth of faire Belphœbe and
   Of Amoret is told.
The Gardins of Adonis fraught
   With pleasures manifold.

1 Well may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while

Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell

So great perfections did in her compile,

Sith that in saluage forests she did dwell,

So farre from court and royall Citadell,

The great schoolmistresse of all curtesy:

Seemeth that such wild woods should far expell,

All ciuill vsage and gentility,

And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

2 But to this faire Belphœbe in her berth

The heauens so fauourable were and free,

Looking with myld aspect vpon the earth,

In th’Horoscope of her natiuitee,

That all the gifts of grace and chastitee

On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;

Ioue laught on Venus from his soueraigne see,

And Phœbus with faire beames did her adorne,

And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne.

3 Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew,

And her conception of the ioyous Prime,

And all her whole creation did her shew

Pure and vnspotted from all loathly crime,

That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.

So was this virgin borne, so was she bred,

So was she trayned vp from time to time,

In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed

Till to her dew perfection she was ripened.

4 Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee,

The daughter of Amphisa, who by race

A Faerie was, yborne of high degree,

She bore Belphœbe, she bore in like cace

Faire Amoretta in the second place:

These two were twinnes, & twixt them two did share

The heritage of all celestiall grace.

That all the rest it seem’d they robbed bare

Of bountie, and of beautie, and all vertues rare.

5 It were a goodly storie, to declare,

By what straunge accident faire Chrysogone

Conceiu’d these infants, and how them she bare,

In this wild forrest wandring all alone,

After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone:

For not as other wemens commune brood,

They were enwombed in the sacred throne

Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food,

As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood.

6 But wondrously they were begot, and bred

Through influence of th’heauens fruitfull ray,

As it in antique bookes is mentioned.

It was vpon a Sommers shynie day,

When Titan faire his beames did display,

In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,

She bath’d her brest, the boyling heat t’allay;

She bath’d with roses red, and violets blew,

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.

7 Till faint through irkesome wearinesse, adowne

Vpon the grassie ground her selfe she layd

To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne

Vpon her fell all naked bare displayd;

The sunne-beames bright vpon her body playd,

Being through former bathing mollifide,

And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd

With so sweet sence and secret power vnspide,

That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.

8 Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades

So straunge ensample of conception;

But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades

Of all things liuing, through impression

Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion,

Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd:

So after Nilus invndation,

Infinite shapes of creatures men do fynd,

Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd.

9 Great rather he of generation

Is rightly cald, th’author of life and light;

And his faire sister for creation

Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right

With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight.

So sprong these twinnes in wombe of Chrysogone,

Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright,

Wondred to see her belly so vpblone,

Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.

10 Whereof concerning shame and foule disgrace,

Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard,

She fled into the wildernesse a space,

Till that vnweeldy burden she had reard,

And shund dishonor, which as death she feard:

Where wearie of long trauell, downe to rest

Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard;

There a sad cloud of sleepe her ouerkest,

And seized euery sense with sorrow sore opprest.

11 It fortuned, faire Venus hauing lost

Her little sonne, the winged god of loue,

Who for some light displeasure, which him crost,

Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue,

And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue,

(So from her often he had fled away,

When she for ought him sharpely did reproue,

And wandred in the world in strange aray,

Disguiz’d in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.)

12 Him for to seeke, she left her heauenly hous,

The house of goodly formes and faire aspects,

Whence all the world deriues the glorious

Features of beauties, and all shapes select,

With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;

And searched euery way, through which his wings

Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect:

She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things

Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.

13 First she him sought in Court, where most he vsed

Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not;

But many there she found, which sore accused

His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot

His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot:

Ladies and Lords she euery where mote heare

Complayning, how with his empoysned shot

Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,

And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.

14 She then the Citties sought from gate to gate,

And euery one did aske, did he him see;

And euery one her answerd, that too late

He had him seene, and felt the crueltie

Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie;

And euery one threw forth reproches rife

Of his mischieuous deedes, and said, That hee

Was the disturber of all ciuill life,

The enimy of peace, and author of all strife.

15 Then in the countrey she abroad him sought,

And in the rurall cottages inquired,

Where also many plaints to her were brought,

How he their heedlesse harts with loue had fyred,

And his false venim through their veines inspyred;

And eke the gentle shepheard swaynes, which sat

Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred,

She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what

Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat.

16 But when in none of all these she him got,

She gan auize, where else he mote him hyde:

At last she her bethought, that she had not

Yet sought the saluage woods and forrests wyde,

In which full many louely Nymphes abyde,

Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye,

Or that the loue of some of them him tyde:

For thy she thither cast her course t’apply,

To search the secret haunts of Dianes company.

17 Shortly vnto the wastefull woods she came,

Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew,

After late chace of their embrewed game,

Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew,

Some of them washing with the liquid dew

From off their dainty limbes the dustie sweat,

And soyle which did deforme their liuely hew,

Others lay shaded from the scorching heat;

The rest vpon her person gaue attendance great.

18 She hauing hong vpon a bough on high

Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaste

Her siluer buskins from her nimble thigh,

And her lancke loynes vngirt, and brests vnbraste,

After her heat the breathing cold to taste;

Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright

Embreaded were for hindring of her haste,

Now loose about her shoulders hong vndight,

And were with sweet Ambrosia all besprinckled light.

19 Soone as she Venus saw behind her backe,

She was asham’d to be so loose surprized

And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacke,

That had not her thereof before auized,

But suffred her so carelesly disguized

Be ouertaken. Soone her garments loose

Vpgath’ring, in her bosome she comprized,

Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose,

Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose.

20 Goodly she gan faire Cytherea greet,

And shortly asked her, what cause her brought

Into that wildernesse for her vnmeet,

From her sweete bowres, and beds with pleasures fraught:

That suddein change she strange aduenture thought.

To whom halfe weeping, she thus answered,

That she her dearest sonne Cupido sought,

Who in his frowardnesse from her was fled;

That she repented sore, to haue him angered.

21 Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne

Of her vaine plaint, and to her scoffing sayd;

Great pittie sure, that ye be so forlorne

Of your gay sonne, that giues ye so good ayd

To your disports: ill mote ye bene apayd.

But she was more engrieued, and replide;

Faire sister, ill beseemes it to vpbrayd

A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride;

The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.

22 As you in woods and wanton wildernesse

Your glory set, to chace the saluage beasts,

So my delight is all in ioyfulnesse,

In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feasts:

And ill becomes you with your loftie creasts,

To scorne the ioy, that Ioue is glad to seeke;

We both are bound to follow heauens beheasts,

And tend our charges with obeisance meeke:

Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my paine to eeke.

23 And tell me, if that ye my sonne haue heard,

To lurke emongst your Nymphes in secret wize;

Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard,

Least he like one of them him selfe disguize,

And turne his arrowes to their exercize:

So may he long himselfe full easie hide:

For he is faire and fresh in face and guize,

As any Nymph (let not it be enuyde.)

So saying euery Nymph full narrowly she eyde.

24 But Phœbe therewith sore was angered,

And sharply said; Goe Dame, goe seeke your boy,

Where you him lately left, in Mars his bed;

He comes not here, we scorne his foolish ioy,

Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy:

But if I catch him in this company,

By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy

The Gods doe dread, he dearely shall abye:

Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more shall fly.

25 Whom when as Venus saw so sore displeased,

She inly sory was, and gan relent,

What she had said: so her she soone appeased,

With sugred words and gentle blandishment,

Which as a fountaine from her sweet lips went,

And welled goodly forth, that in short space

She was well pleasd, and forth her damzels sent,

Through all the woods, to search firom place to place,

If any tract of him or tydings they mote trace.

26 To search the God of loue, her Nymphes she sent

Throughout the wandring forrest euery where:

And after them her selfe eke with her went

To seeke the fugitiue, both farre and nere,

So long they sought, till they arriued were

In that same shadie couert, whereas lay

Faire Crysogone in slombry traunce whilere:

Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to say)

Vnwares had borne two babes, as faire as springing day.

27 Vnwares she them conceiu’d, vnwares she bore:

She bore withouten paine, that she conceiued

Withouten pleasure: ne her need implore

Lucinaes aide: which when they both perceiued,

They were through wonder nigh of sense bereaued,

And gazing each on other, nought bespake:

At last they both agreed, her seeming grieued

Out of her heauy swowne not to awake,

But from her louing side the tender babes to take.

28 Vp they them tooke, each one a babe vptooke,

And with them carried, to be fostered;

Dame Phœbe to a Nymph her babe betooke,

To be vpbrought in perfect Maydenhed,

And of her selfe her name Belphœbe red:

But Venus hers thence farre away conuayd,

To be vpbrought in goodly womanhed,

And in her litle loues stead, which was strayd,

Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dismayd.

29 She brought her to her ioyous Paradize,

Where most she wonnes, when she on earth does dwel.

So faire a place, as Nature can deuize:

Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill,

Or it in Gnidus be, I wote not well;

But well I wote by tryall, that this same

All other pleasant places doth excell,

And called is by her lost louers name,

The Gardin of Adonis, farre renowmd by fame.

30 In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres,

Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,

And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,

Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie

Of all things, that are borne to liue and die,

According to their kindes. Long worke it were,

Here to account the endlesse progenie

Of all the weedes, that bud and blossome there;

But so much as doth need, must needs be counted here.

31 It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old,

And girt in with two walles on either side;

The one of yron, the other of bright gold,

That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-stride:

And double gates it had, which opened wide,

By which both in and out men moten pas;

Th’one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:

Old Genius the porter of them was,

Old Genius, the which a double nature has.

32 He letteth in, he letteth out to wend,

All that to come into the world desire;

A thousand thousand naked babes attend

About him day and night, which doe require,

That he with fleshly weedes would them attire:

Such as him list, such as eternall fate

Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,

And sendeth forth to liue in mortall state,

Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.

33 After that they againe returned beene,

They in that Gardin planted be againe;

And grow afresh, as they had neuer seene

Fleshly corruption, nor mortall paine.

Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine;

And then of him are clad with other hew,

Or sent into the chaungefull world againe,

Till thither they returne, where first they grew:

So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.

34 Ne needs there Gardiner to set, or sow,

To plant or prune: for of their owne accord

All things, as they created were, doe grow,

And yet remember well the mightie word,

Which first was spoken by th’Almightie lord,

That bad them to increase and multiply:

Ne doe they need with water of the ford,

Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry;

For in themselues eternall moisture they imply.

35 Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred,

And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew,

And euery sort is in a sundry bed

Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew:

Some fit for reasonable soules t’indew,

Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,

And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew

In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,

That seem’d the Ocean could not containe them there.

36 Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent

Into the world, it to replenish more;

Yet is the stocks not lessened, nor spent,

But still remaines in euerlasting store,

As it at first created was of yore.

For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,

In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore,

An huge eternall Chaos, which supplyes

The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes.

37 All things from thence doe their first being fetch,

And borrow matter, whereof they are made,

Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,

Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade

The state of life, out of the griesly shade.

That substance is eterne, and bideth so,

Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,

Doth it consume, and into nothing go,

But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.

38 The substance is not chaunged, nor altered,

But th’only forme and outward fashion;

For euery substance is conditioned

To change her hew, and sundry formes to don,

Meet for her temper and complexion:

For formes are variable and decay,

By course of kind, and by occasion;

And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,

As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

39 Great enimy to it, and to all the rest,

That in the Gardin of Adonis springs,

Is wicked Time, who with his scyth addrest,

Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things,

And all their glory to the ground downe flings,

Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard:

He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings

Beates down both leaues and buds without regard,

Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard.

40 Yet pittie often did the gods relent,

To see so faire things mard, and spoyled quight:

And their great mother Venus did lament

The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight;

Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight,

When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde,

Yet no’te she find redresse for such despight.

For all that liues, is subiect to that law:

All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.

41 But were it not, that Time their troubler is,

All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,

Should happie be, and haue immortall blis:

For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,

And sweet loue gentle fits emongst them throwes,

Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie;

Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,

Each bird his mate, ne any does enuie

Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.

42 There is continuall spring, and haruest there

Continuall, both meeting at one time:

For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare,

And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime,

And eke attonce the heauy trees they clime,

Which seeme to labour vnder their fruits lode:

The whiles the ioyous birdes make their pastime

Emongst the shadie leaues, their sweet abode,

And their true loues without suspition tell abrode.

43 Right in the middest of that Paradise,

There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top

A gloomy groue of mirtle trees did rise,

Whose shadie boughes sharpe Steele did neuer lop,

Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,

But like a girlond compassed the hight,

And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop,

That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,

Threw forth most dainty odours, & most sweet delight.

44 And in the thickest couert of that shade,

There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,

But of the trees owne inclination made,

Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,

With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart,

And Eglantine, and Caprisole emong,

Fashiond aboue within their inmost part,

That nether Phœbus beams could through them throng,

Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong.

45 And all about grew euery sort of flowre,

To which sad louers were transformd of yore;

Fresh Hyacinthus, Phæbus paramoure,

Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watry shore,

Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late,

Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore

Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fete,

To whom sweet Poets verse hath giuen endlesse date.

46 There wont faire Venus often to enioy

Her deare Adonis ioyous company,

And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy;

There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,

Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery,

By her hid from the world, and from the skill

Of Stygian Gods, which doe her loue enuy;

But she her selfe, when euer that she will,

Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.

47 And sooth it seemes they say: for he may not

For euer die, and euer buried bee

In balefull night, where all things are forgot;

All be he subiect to mortalitie,

Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

And by succession made perpetuall,

Transformed oft, and chaunged diuerslie:

For Him the Father of all formes they call;

Therefore needs mote he liue, that liuing giues to all.

48 There now he liues in eternall blis,

Ioying his goddesse, and of her enioyd:

Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,

Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:

For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,

She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,

That her sweet loue his malice mote auoyd,

In a strong rocky Caue, which is they say,

Hewen vndemeath that Mount, that none him losen may.

49 There now he Hues in euerlasting ioy,

With many of the Gods in company,

Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy

Sporting himselfe in safe felicity:

Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty

Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts

Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,

Thither resorts, and laying his sad darts

Aside, with faire Adonis playes his wanton parts.

50 And his true loue faire Psyche with him playes,

Faire Psyche to him lately reconcyld,

After long troubles and vnmeet vpbrayes,

With which his mother Venus her reuyld,

And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:

But now in stedfast loue and happy state

She with him liues, and hath him borne a chyld,

Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,

Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late.

51 Hither great Venus brought this infant faire,

The younger daughter of Chrysogonee,

And vnto Psyche with great trust and care

Committed her, yfostered to bee,

And trained vp in true feminitee:

Who no lesse carefully her tendered,

Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee

Made her companion, and her lessoned

In all the lore of loue, and goodly womanhead.

52 In which when she to perfect ripenesse grew,

Of grace and beautie noble Paragone,

She brought her forth into the worldes vew,

To be th’ensample of true loue alone,

And Lodestarre of all chaste affectione,

To all faire Ladies, that doe liue on ground.

To Faery court she came, where many one

Admyrd her goodly haueour, and found

His feeble hart wide launched with loues cruell wound.

53 But she to none of them her loue did cast,

Saue to the noble knight Sir Scudamore,

To whom her louing hart she linked fast

In faithfull loue, t’abide for euermore,

And for his dearest sake endured sore,

Sore trouble of an hainous enimy;

Who her would forced haue to haue forlore

Her former loue, and stedfast loialty,

As ye may elsewhere read that ruefull history.

54 But well I weene, ye first desire to learne,

What end vnto that fearefull Damozell,

Which fled so fast from that same foster stearne,

Whom with his brethren Timias slew, befell:

That was to weet, the goodly Florimell;

Who wandring for to seeke her louer deare,

Her louer deare, her dearest Marinell,

Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,

And from Prince Arthur fled with wings of idle feare.

CANTO VII

The witches sonne loves Florimell:
   she flyes, he faines to die.
Satyrane saues the Squire of Dames
   from Gyants tyrannie.

1 Like as an Hynd forth singled from the heard,

That hath escaped from a rauenous beast,

Yet flyes away of her owne feet affeard,

And euery leafe, that shaketh with the least

Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast;

So fled faire Florimell from her vaine feare,

Long after she from perill was releast:

Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did heare,

Did seeme to be the same, which she escapt whyleare.

2 All that same euening she in flying spent,

And all that night her course continewed:

Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent,

Nor wearinesse to slacke her hast, but fled

Euer alike, as if her former dred

Were hard behind, her readie to arrest:

And her white Palfrey hauing conquered

The maistring raines out of her weary wrest,

Perforce her carried, where euer he thought best

3 So long as breath, and liable puissance

Did natiue courage vnto him supply,

His pace he freshly forward did aduaunce,

And carried her beyond all ieopardy,

But nought that wanteth rest, can long aby.

He hauing through incessant trauell spent

His force, at last perforce adowne did ly,

Ne foot could further moue: The Lady gent

Thereat was suddein strooke with great astonishment.

4 And forst t’alight, on foot mote algates fire,

A traueller vnwonted to such way:

Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare,

That fortune all in equall launce doth sway,

And mortall miseries doth make her play.

So long she trauelled, till at length she came

To an hilles side, which did to her bewray

A little valley, subiect to the same,

All couerd with thick woods, that quite it ouercame.

5 Through the tops of the high trees she did descry

A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light,

Reeking aloft, vprolled to the sky:

Which, chearefull signe did send vnto her sight,

That in the same did wonne some liuing wight.

Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyde,

And came at last in weary wretched plight

Vnto the place, to which her hope did guyde,

To find some refuge there, and rest her weary syde.

6 There in a gloomy hollow glen she found

A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes

In homely wize, and wald with sods around,

In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes,

And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes;

So choosing solitarie to abide,

Far from all neighbours, that her deuilish deedes

And hellish arts from people she might hide,

And hurt far off vnknowne, whom euer she enuide.

7 The Damzell there arriuing entred in;

Where sitting on the flore the Hag she found,

Busie (as seem’d) about some wicked gin:

Who soone as she beheld that suddein stound,

Lightly vpstarted from the dustie ground,

And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze

Stared on her awhile, as one astound,

Ne had one word to speake, for great amaze,

But shewd by outward signes, that dread her sence did daze.

8 At last turning her feare to foolish wrath,

She askt, what deuill had her thither brought,

And who she was, and what vnwonted path

Had guided her, vnwelcomed, vnsought?

To which the Damzell full of doubtfull thought,

Her mildly answer’d; Beldame be not wroth

With silly Virgin by aduenture brought

Vnto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,

That craue but rowme to rest, while tempest ouerblo’th.

9 With that adowne out of her Christall eyne

Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall,

That like two Orient pearles, did purely shyne

Vpon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall

She sighed soft, that none so bestiall,

Nor saluage hart, but ruth of her sad plight

Would make to melt, or pitteously appall;

And that vile Hag, all were her whole delight

In mischiefe, was much moued at so pitteous sight.

10 And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse,

With womanish compassion of her plaint,

Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes,

And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint

And wearie limbs a while. She nothing quaint

Nor s’deignfull of so homely fashion,

Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint,

Sate downe vpon the dusty ground anon,

As glad of that small rest, as Bird of tempest gon.

11 Tho gan she gather vp her garments rent,

And her loose lockes to dight in order dew,

With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament;

Whom such whenas the wicked Hag did vew,

She was astonisht at her heauenly hew,

And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,

But or some Goddesse, or of Dianes crew,

And thought her to adore with humble spright;

T’adore thing so diuine as beauty, were but right.

12 This wicked woman had a wicked sonne,

The comfort of her age and weary dayes,

A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne,

But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes,

Ne euer cast his mind to couet prayse,

Or ply him selfe to any honest trade,

But all the day before the sunny rayes

He vs’d to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade:

Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him made.

13 He comming home at vndertime, there found

The fairest creature, that he euer saw,

Sitting beside his mother on the ground;

The sight whereof did greatly him adaw,

And his base thought with terrour and with aw

So inly smot, that as one, which had gazed

On the bright Sunne vnwares, doth soone withdraw

His feeble eyne, with too much brightnesse dazed;

So stared he on her, and stood long while amazed.

14 Softly at last he gan his mother aske,

What mister wight that was, and whence deriued,

That in so straunge disguizement there did maske,

And by what accident she there arriued:

But she, as one nigh of her wits depriued,

With nought but ghastly lookes him answered,

Like to a ghost, that lately is reuiued

From Stygian shores, where late it wandered;

So both at her, and each at other wondered.

15 But the faire Virgin was so meeke and mild,

That she to them vouchsafed to embace

Her goodly port, and to their senses vild,

Her gentle speach applide, that in short space

She grew familiare in that desert place.

During which time, the Chorle through her so kind

And curteise vse concein’d affection bace,

And cast to loue her in his brutish mind;

No loue, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind.

16 Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent,

And shortly grew into outrageous fire;

Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment,

As vnto her to vtter his desire;

His caytiue thought durst not so high aspire,

But with soft sighes, and louely semblaunces,

He ween’d that his affection entire

She should aread; many resemblaunces

To her he made, and many kind remembraunces.

17 Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring,

Whose sides empurpled were with smiling red,

And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing

His mistresse prayses, sweetly caroled,

Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire hed

He fine would dight; sometimes the squirell wild

He brought to her in bands, as conquered

To be her thrall, his fellow seruant vild;

All which, she of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild.

18 But past awhile, when she fit season saw

To leaue that desert mansion, she cast

In secret wize her selfe thence to withdraw,

For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast

Might by the witch or by her sonne compast:

Her wearie Palfrey closely, as she might,

Now well recouered after long repast,

In his proud furnitures she freshly dight,

His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.

19 And earely ere the dawning day appeard,

She forth issewed, and on her iourney went;

She went in perill, of each noyse affeard,

And of each shade, that did it selfe present,

For still she feared to be ouerhent,

Of that vile hag, or her vnciuile sonne:

Who when too late awaking, well they kent,

That their faire guest was gone, they both begonne

To make exceeding mone, as they had bene vndonne.

20 But that lewd louer did the most lament

For her depart, that euer man did heare;

He knockt his brest with desperate intent,

And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare

His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare:

That his sad mother seeing his sore plight,

Was greatly woe begon, and gan to feare,

Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight,

And loue to frenzy turnd, sith loue is franticke hight

21 All wayse she sought, him to restore to plight,

With herbs, with charms, with counsell, & with teares,

But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell might

Asswage the fury, which his entrails teares:

So strong is passion, that no reason heares.

Tho when all other helpes she saw to faile,

She turnd her selfe backe to her wicked leares

And by her deuilish arts thought to preuaile,

To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale.

22 Eftsoones out of her hidden caue she cald

An hideous beast, of horrible aspect,

That could the stoutest courage haue appald;

Monstrous mishapt, and all his backe was spect

With thousand spots of colours queint elect,

Thereto so swift, that it all beasts did pas:

Like neuer yet did liuing eye detect;

But likest it to an Hyena was,

That feeds on womens flesh, as others feede on gras.

23 It forth she cald, and gaue it streight in charge,

Through thicke and thin her to pursew apace,

Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large,

Till her he had attaind, and brought in place,

Or quite deuourd her beauties scornefull grace.

The Monster swift as word, that from her went,

Went forth in hast, and did her footing trace

So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent,

And passing speede, that shortly he her ouerhent.

24 Whom when the fearefull Damzell nigh espide,

No need to bid her fast away to flie;

That vgly shape so sore her terrifide,

That it she shund no lesse, then dread to die,

And her flit Palfrey did so well apply

His nimble feet to her concerned feare,

That whilest his breath did strength to him supply,

From perill free he her away did beare:

But when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare.

25 Which whenas she perceiu’d, she was dismayd

At that same last extremitie full sore,

And of her safetie greatly grew afrayd;

And now she gan approch to the sea shore,

As it befell, that she could flie no more,

But yield her selfe to spoile of greedinesse.

Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore,

From her dull horse, in desperate distresse,

And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickernesse.

26 Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha fled

From dread of her reuenging fathers hond:

Nor halfe so fast to saue her maidenhed,

Fled fearefull Daphne on th’ Ægœan strond,

As Florimell fled from that Monster yond,

To reach the sea, ere she of him were raught:

For in the sea to drowne her selfe she fond,

Rather then of the tyrant to be caught:

Thereto feare gaue her wings, and neede her courage taught.

27 It fortuned (high God did so ordaine)

As she arriued on the roring shore,

In minde to leape into the mighty maine,

A little boate lay houing her before,

In which there slept a fisher old and pore,

The whiles his nets were drying on the sand:

Into the same she leapt, and with the ore

Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand:

So safetie found at sea, which she found not at land.

28 The Monster ready on the pray to sease,

Was of his forward hope deceiued quight;

Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas,

But greedily long gaping at the sight,

At last in vaine was forst to turne his flight,

And tell the idle tidings to his Dame:

Yet to auenge his deuilish despight,

He set vpon her Palfrey tired lame,

And slew him cruelly, ere any reskew came.

29 And after hauing him embowelled,

To fill his hellish gorge, it chaunst a knight

To passe that way, as forth he trauelled;

It was a goodly Swaine, and of great might,

As euer man that bloudy field did fight;

But in vaine sheows, that wont yong knights bewitch,

And courtly seruices tooke no delight,

But rather ioyd to be, then seemen sich:

For both to be and seeme to him was labour lich.

30 It was to weete the good Sir Satyrane,

That raungd abroad to seeke aduentures wilde,

As was his wont in forrest, and in plaine;

He was all armd in rugged Steele vnfilde,

As in the smoky forge it was compilde,

And in his Scutchin bore a Satyres hed:

He comming present, where the Monster vilde

Vpon that milke-white Palfreyes carkas fed,

Vnto his reskew ran, and greedily him sped.

31 There well perceiu’d he, that it was the horse,

Whereon faire Florimell was wont to ride,

That of that feend was rent without remorse:

Much feared he, least ought did ill betide

To that faire Mayd, the flowre of womens pride;

For her he dearely loued, and in all

His famous conquests highly magnifide:

Besides her golden girdle, which did fall

From her in flight, he found, that did him sore apall.

32 Full of sad feare, and doubtfull agony,

Fiercely he flew vpon that wicked feend,

And with huge strokes, and cruell battery

Him forst to leaue his pray, for to attend

Him selfe from deadly daunger to defend:

Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh

He did engraue, and muchell bloud did spend,

Yet might not do him dye, but aye more fresh

And fierce he still appeard, the more he did him thresh.

33 He wist not, how him to despoile of life,

Ne how to win the wished victory,

Sith him he saw still stronger grow through strife,

And him selfe weaker through infirmity;

Greatly he grew enrag’d, and furiously

Hurling his sword away, he lightly lept

Vpon die beast, that with great cruelty

Rored, and raged to be vnder-kept:

Yet he perforce him held, and strokes vpon him hept.

34 As he that striues to stop a suddein flood,

And in strong banckes his violence enclose,

Forceth it swell aboue his wonted mood,

And largely ouerflow the fruitfull plaine,

That all the countrey seemes to be a Maine,

And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonne:

The wofull husbandman doth lowd complaine,

To see his whole yeares labour lost so soone,

For which to God he made so many an idle boone.

35 So him he held, and did through might amate:

So long he held him, and him bet so long,

That at the last his fiercenesse gan abate,

And meekely stoup vnto the victour strong:

Who to auenge the implacable wrong,

Which he supposed donne to Florimell,

Sought by all meanes his dolour to prolong,

Sith dint of Steele his carcas could not quell:

His maker with her charmes had framed him so well.

36 The golden ribband, which that virgin wore

About her sclender wast, he tooke in hand,

And with it bound the beast, that lowd did rore

For great despight of that vnwonted band,

Yet dared not his victour to withstand,

But trembled like a lambe, fled from the pray,

And all the way him followd on the strand,

As he had long bene learned to obay;

Yet neuer learned he such seruice, till that day.

37 Thus as he led the Beast along the way,

He spide far off a mighty Giauntesse,

Fast flying on a Courser dapled gray,

From a bold knight, that with great hardinesse

Her hard pursewd, and sought for to suppresse;

She bore before her lap a dolefull Squire,

Lying athwart her horse in great distresse,

Fast bounden hand and foote with cords of wire,

Whom she did meane to make the thrall of her desire.

38 Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in hast

He left his captiue Beast at liberty,

And crost the nearest way, by which he cast

Her to encounter, ere she passed by:

But she the way shund nathemore for thy,

But forward gallopt fast; which when he spyde,

His mighty speare he couched warily,

And at her ran: she hauing him descryde,

Her selfe to fight addrest, and threw her lode aside.

39 Like as a Goshauke, that in foote doth beare

A trembling Culuer, hauing spide on hight

An Egle, that with plumy wings doth sheare

The subtile ayre, stouping with all his might,

The quarrey throwes to ground with fell despight,

And to the battell doth her selfe prepare:

So ran the Geauntesse vnto the fight;

Her firie eyes with furious sparkes did stare,

And with blasphemous bannes high God in peeces tare.

40 She caught in hand an huge great yron mace,

Wherewith she many had of life depriued,

But ere the stroke could seize his aymed place,

His speare amids her sun-broad shield arriued;

Yet nathemore the steele a sunder riued,

All were the beame in bignesse like a mast,

Ne her out of the steadfast sadle driued,

But glauncing on the tempred mettall, brast

In thousand shiuers, and so forth beside her past.

41 Her Steed did stagger with that puissaunt strooke;

But she no more was moued with that might,

Then it had lighted on an aged Oke;

Or on the marble Pillour, that is pight

Vpon the top of Mount Olympus hight,

For the braue youthly Champions to assay,

With burning charet wheeles it nigh to smite:

But who that smites it, mars his ioyous play,

And is the spectacle of ruinous decay.

42 Yet therewith sore enrag’d, with sterne regard

Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest,

Which on his helmet martelled so hard,

That made him low incline his lofty crest,

And bowd his battred visour to his brest:

Wherewith he was so stund, that he n’ote ryde,

But reeled to and fro from East to West:

Which when his cruell enimy espyde,

She lightly vnto him adioyned side to syde;

43 And on his collar laying puissant hand,

Out of his wauering seat him pluckt perforse,

Perforse him pluckt, vnable to withstand,

Or helpe himselfe, and laying thwart her horse,

In loathly wise like to a carion corse,

She bore him fast away. Which when the knight,

That her pursewed, saw with great remorse,

He neare was touched in his noble spright,

And gan encrease his speed, as she encreast her flight.

44 Whom when as nigh approching she espyde,

She threw away her burden angrily;

For she list not the battell to abide,

But made her selfe more light, away to fly:

Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye,

That almost in the backe he oft her strake:

But still when him at hand she did espy,

She turnd, and semblaunce of faire fight did make;

But when he stayd, to flight againe she did her take.

45 By this the good Sir Satyrane gan wake

Out of his dreame, that did him long entraunce,

And seeing none in place, he gan to make

Exceeding mone, and curst that cruell chaunce,

Which reft from him so faire a cheuisaunce:

At length he spide, whereas that wofull Squire,

Whom he had reskewed from captiuaunce

Of his strong foe, lay tombled in the myre,

Vnable to arise, or foot or hand to styre.

46 To whom approching, well he mote perceiue

In that foule plight a comely personage,

And louely face, made fit for to deceiue

Fraile Ladies hart with loues consuming rage,

Now in the blossome of his freshest age:

He reard him vp, and loosd his yron bands,

And after gan inquire his parentage,

And how he fell into that Gyaunts hands,

And who that was, which chaced her along the lands.

47 Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire bespake,

That Geauntesse Argante is behight,

A daughter of the Titans which did make

Warre against heauen, and heaped hils on hight,

To scale the skyes, and put Ioue from his right:

Her sire Typhœus was, who mad through merth,

And drunke with bloud of men, slaine by his might,

Through incest, her of his owne mother Earth

Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth.

48 For at that berth another Babe she bore,

To weet the mighty Ollyphant, that wrought

Great wreake to many errant knights of yore,

And many hath to foule confusion brought.

These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought)

Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosd they were,

Ere they into the lightsome world were brought,

In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere,

And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere.

49 So liu’d they euer after in like sin,

Gainst natures law, and good behauioure:

But greatest shame was to that maiden twin,

Who not content so fowly to deuoure

Her natiue flesh, and staine her brothers bowre,

Did wallow in all other fleshly myre,

And suffred beasts her body to deflowre:

So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre,

Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre.

50 But ouer all the countrey she did raunge,

To seeke young men, to quench her flaming thurst,

And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge:

Whom so she fittest finds to serue her lust,

Through her maine strength, in which she most doth trust,

She with her brings into a secret Ile,

Where in eternall bondage dye he must,

Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile,

And in all shamefull sort him selfe with her defile.

51 Me seely wretch she so at vauntage caught,

After she long in waite for me did lye,

And meant vnto her prison to haue brought,

Her lothsome pleasure there to satisfye;

That thousand deathes me leuer were to dye,

Then breake the vow, that to faire Columbell

I plighted haue, and yet keepe stedfastly:

As for my name, it mistreth not to tell;

Call me the Squyre of Dames that me beseemeth well.

52 But that bold knight, whom ye pursuing saw

That Geauntesse, is not such, as she seemed,

But a faire virgin, that in martiall law,

And deedes of armes aboue all Dames is deemed,

And aboue many knights is eke esteemed,

For her great worth; She Palladine is hight:

She you from death, you me from dread redeemed.

Ne any may that Monster match in fight,

But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight.

53 Her well beseemes that Quest (quoth Satyrane)

But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what vow is this,

Which thou vpon thy selfe hast lately ta’ne?

That shall I you recount (quoth he) ywis,

So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis.

That gentle Lady, whom I loue and serue,

After long suit and weary seruicis,

Did aske me, how I could her loue deserue,

And how she might be sure, that I would neuer swerue.

54 I glad by any meanes her grace to gaine,

Bad her commaund my life to saue, or spill.

Eftsoones she bad me, with incessaunt paine

To wander through the world abroad at will,

And euery where, where with my power or skill

I might do seruice vnto gentle Dames,

That I the same should faithfully fulfill,

And at the twelue monethes end should bring their names

And pledges; as the spoiles of my victorious games.

55 So well I to faire Ladies seruice did,

And found such fauour in their louing hartes,

That ere the yeare his course had compassid,

Three hundred pledges for my good desartes,

And thrise three hundred thanks for my good partes

I with me brought, and did to her present:

Which when she saw, more bent to eke my smartes,

Then to reward my trusty true intent,

She gan for me deuise a grieuous punishment.

56 To weet, that I my trauell should resume,

And with like labour walke the world around,

Ne euer to her presence should presume,

Till I so many other Dames had found,

The which, for all the suit I could propound,

Would me refuse their pledges to afford,

But did abide for euer chast and sound.

Ah gentle Squire (quoth he) tell at one word,

How many foundst thou such to put in thy record?

57 In deed Sir knight (said he) one word may tell

All, that I euer found so wisely stayd;

For onely three they were disposd so well,

And yet three yeares I now abroad haue strayd,

To find them out. Mote I (then laughing sayd

The knight) inquire of thee, what were those three,

The which thy profited curtesie denayd?

Or ill they seemed sure auizd to bee,

Or brutishly brought vp, that neu’r did fashions see.

58 The first which then refused me (said hee)

Certes was but a common Courtisane,

Yet flat refusd to haue a do with mee,

Because I could not giue her many a Iane.

(Thereat full hartely laughed Satyrane)

The second was an holy Nunne to chose,

Which would not let me be her Chappellane,

Because she knew, she said, I would disclose

Her counsell, if she should her trust in me repose.

59 The third a Damzell was of low degree,

Whom I in countrey cottage found by chaunce;

Full little weened I, that chastitee

Had lodging in so meane a maintenaunce,

Yet was she faire, and in her countenaunce

Dwelt simple truth in seemely fashion.

Long thus I woo’d her with dew obseruance,

In hope vnto my pleasure to haue won;

But was as farre at last, as when I first begon.

60 Safe her, I neuer any woman found,

That chastity did for it selfe embrace,

But were for other causes firme and sound;

Either for want of handsome time and place,

Or else for feare of shame and fowle disgrace.

Thus am I hopelesse euer to attaine

My Ladies loue, in such a desperate case,

But all my dayes am like to wast in vaine,

Seeking to match the chaste with th’vnchaste Ladies traine.

61 Perdy, (said Satyrane) thou Squire of Dames,

Great labour fondly hast thou hent in hand,

To get small thankes, and therewith many blames,

That may emongst Alcides labours stand.

Thence backe returning to the former land,

Where late he left the Beast, he ouercame,

He found him not; for he had broke his band,

And was return’d againe vnto his Dame,

To tell what tydings of faire Florimell became.

CANTO VIII

The Witch creates a snowy Lady,
   like to Florimell,
Who wrongd by Carle by Proteus sau’d,
   is sought by Paridell.

1 So oft as I this history record,

My hart doth melt with meere compassion,

To thinke, how causelesse of her owne accord

This gentle Damzell, whom I write vpon,

Should plonged be in such affliction,

Without all hope of comfort or reliefe,

That sure I weene, the hardest hart of stone,

Would hardly find to aggrauate her griefe;

For misery craues rather mercie, then repriefe.

2 But that accursed Hag, her hostesse late,

Had so enranckled her malitious hart,

That she desyrd th’abridgement of her fate,

Or long enlargement of her painefull smart.

Now when the Beast, which by her wicked art

Late forth she sent, she backe returning spyde,

Tyde with her broken girdle, it a part

Of her rich spoyles, whom he had earst destroyd,

She weend, and wondrous gladnesse to her hart applyde.

3 And with it running hast’ly to her sonne,

Thought with that sight him much to haue reliued;

Who thereby deeming sure the thing as donne,

His former griefe with furie fresh reuiued,

Much more then earst, and would haue algates riued

The hart out of his brest: for sith her ded

He surely dempt, himselfe he thought depriued

Quite of all hope, wherewith he long had fed

His foolish maladie, and long time had misled.

4 With thought whereof, exceeding mad he grew,

And in his rage his mother would haue slaine,

Had she not fled into a secret mew,

Where she was wont her Sprights to entertaine

The maisters of her art: there was she faine

To call them all in order to her ayde,

And them coniure vpon eternall paine,

To counsell her so carefully dismayd,

How she might heale her sonne, whose senses were decayd.

5 By their aduise, and her owne wicked wit,

She there deuiz’d a wondrous worke to frame,

Whose like on earth was neuer framed yit,

That euen Nature selfe enuide the same,

And grudg’d to see the counterfet should shame

The thing it selfe. In hand she boldly tooke

To make another like the former Dame,

Another Florimell, in shape and looke

So liuely and so like, that many it mistooke.

6 The substance, whereof she the bodie made,

Was purest snow in massie mould congeald,

Which she had gathered in a shadie glade

Of the Riphœan hils, to her reueald

By errant Sprights, but from all men conceald:

The same she tempred with fine Mercury,

And virgin wex, that neuer yet was seald,

And mingled them with perfect vemily,

That like a liuely sanguine it seem’d to the eye.

7 In stead of eyes two burning lampes she set

In siluer sockets, shyning like the skyes,

And a quicke mouing Spirit did arret

To stirre and roll them, like a womans eyes;

In stead of yellow lockes she did deuise,

With golden wyre to weaue her curled head;

Yet golden wyre was not so yellow thrise

As Florimells faire haire: and in the stead

Of life, she put a Spright to rule the carkasse dead.

8 A wicked Spright yfraught with fawning guile,

And faire resemblance aboue all the rest,

Which with the Prince of Darknesse fell somewhile,

From heauens blisse and euerlasting rest;

Him needed not instruct, which way were best

Himselfe to fashion likest Florimell,

Ne how to speake, ne how to vse his gest,

For he in counterfeisance did excell,

And all the wyles of wemens wits knew passing well.

9 Him shaped thus, she deckt in garments gay,

Which Florimell had left behind her late,

That who so then her saw, would surely say,

It was her selfe, whom it did imitate,

Or fairer then her selfe, if ought algate

Might fairer be. And then she forth her brought

Vnto her sonne, that lay in feeble state;

Who seeing her gan streight vpstart, and thought

She was the Lady selfe, whom he so long had sought.

10 Tho fast her clipping twixt his armes twaine,

Extremely ioyed in so happie sight,

And soone forgot bis former sickly paine;

But she, the more to seeme such as she hight,

Coyly rebutted his embracement light;

Yet still with gentle countenaunce retained,

Enough to hold a foole in vaine delight:

Him long she so with shadowes entertained,

As her Creatresse had in charge to her ordained.

11 Till on a day, as he disposed was

To walke the woods with that his Idole faire,

Her to disport, and idle time to pas,

In th’open freshnesse of the gentle aire,

A knight that way there chaunced to repaire;

Yet knight he was not, but a boastfull swaine,

That deedes of armes had euer in despaire,

Proud Braggadocchio, that in vaunting vaine

His glory did repose, and credit did maintaine.

12 He seeing with that Chorle so faire a wight,

Decked with many a costly ornament,

Much merueiled thereat, as well he might,

And thought that match a fowle disparagement:

His bloudie speare eftsoones he boldly bent

Against the silly clowne, who dead through feare,

Fell streight to ground in great astonishment;

Villein (said he) this Ladie is my deare,

Dy, if thou it gainesay: I will away her beare.

13 The fearefull Chorle durst not gainesay, nor dooe,

But trembling stood, and yielded him the pray;

Who finding litle leasure her to wooe,

On Tromparts steed her mounted without stay,

And without reskew led her quite away.

Proud man himselfe then Braggadocchio deemed,

And next to none, after that happie day,

Being possessed of that spoyle, which seemed

The fairest wight on ground, and most of men esteemed.

14 But when he saw himselfe free from poursute,

He gan make gentle purpose to his Dame,

With termes of loue and lewdnesse dissolute;

For he could well his glozing speaches frame

To such vaine vses, that him best became:

But she thereto would lend but light regard,

As seeming sory, that she euer came

Into his powre, that vsed her so hard,

To reaue her honor, which she more then life prefard.

15 Thus as they two of kindnesse treated long,

There them by chaunce encountred on the way

An armed knight, vpon a courser strong,

Whose trampling feet vpon the hollow lay

Seemed to thunder, and did nigh affray

That Capons courage: yet he looked grim,

And fain’d to cheare his Ladie in dismay;

Who seem’d for feare to quake in euery lim,

And her to saue from outrage, meekely prayed him.

16 Fiercely that stranger forward came, and nigh

Approching, with bold words and bitter threat,

Bad that same boaster, as he mote, on high

To leaue to him that Lady for excheat,

Or bide him battell without further treat.

That challenge did too peremptory seeme,

And fild his senses with abashment great;

Yet seeing nigh him ieopardy extreme,

He it dissembled well, and light seem’d to esteeme.

17 Saying, Thou foolish knight, that weenst with words

To steale away, that I with blowes haue wonne,

And brought throgh points of many perilous swords:

But if thee list to see thy Courser ronne,

Or proue thy selfe, this sad encounter shonne,

And seeke else without hazard of thy hed.

At those proud words that other knight begonne

To wexe exceeding wroth, and him ared

To turne his steede about, or sure he should be ded.

18 Sith then (said Braggadocchio) needes thou wilt

Thy dayes abridge, through proofe of puissance,

Turne we our steedes, that both in equall tilt

May meet againe, and each take happie chance.

This said, they both a furlongs mountenance

Retyrd their steeds, to ronne in euen race:

But Braggadocchio with his bloudie lance

Once hauing turnd, no more returnd his face,

But left his loue to losse, and fled himselfe apace.

19 The knight him seeing fly, had no regard

Him to poursew, but to the Ladie rode,

And hauing her from Trompart lightly reard,

Vpon his Courser set the louely lode,

And with her fled away without abode.

Well weened he, that fairest Florimell

It was, with whom in company he yode,

And so her selfe did alwaies to him tell;

So made him thinke himselfe in heauen, that was in hell.

20 But Florimell her selfe was farre away,

Driuen to great distresse by fortune straunge,

And taught the carefull Mariner to play,

Sith late mischaunce had her compeld to chaunge

The land for sea, at randon there to raunge:

Yet there that cruell Queene auengeresse,

Not satisfide so farre her to estraunge

From courtly blisse and wonted happinesse,

Did heape on her new waues of weary wretchednesse.

21 For being fled into the fishers bote,

For refuge from the Monsters crueltie,

Long so she on the mightie maine did flote,

And with the tide droue forward careleslie;

For th’aire was milde, and cleared was the sike,

And all his windes Dan Aeolus did keepe,

From stirring vp their stormy enmitie,

As pittying to see her waile and weepe;

But all the while the fisher did securely sleepe.

22 At last when droncke with drowsinesse, he woke,

And saw his drouer driue along the streame,

He was dismayd, and thrise his breast he stroke,

For maruell of that accident extreame;

But when he saw that blazing beauties beame,

Which with rare light his bote did beautifie,

He marueild more, and thought he yet did dreame

Not well awakt, or that some extasie

Assorted had his sense, or dazed was his eie.

23 But when her well auizing, he perceiued

To be no vision, nor fantasticke sight,

Great comfort of her presence he conceiued,

And felt in his old courage new delight

To gin awake, and stirre his frozen spright:

Tho rudely askt her, how she thither came.

Ah (said she) father, I note read aright,

What hard misfortune brought me to the same;

Yet am I glad that here I now in safety am.

24 But thou good man, sith farre in sea we bee,

And the great waters gin apace to swell,

That now no more we can the maine-land see,

Haue care, I pray, to guide the cock-bote well,

Least worse on sea then vs on land befell.

Thereat th’old man did nought but fondly grin,

And said, his boat the way could wisely tell:

But his deceiptfull eyes did neuer lin,

To looke on her faire face, and marke her snowy skin.

25 The sight whereof in his congealed flesh,

Infixt such secret sting of greedy lust,

That the drie withered stocke it gan refresh,

And kindled heat, that soone in flame forth brust:

The driest wood is soonest burnt to dust.

Rudely to her he lept, and his rough hand

Where ill became him. rashly would haue thrust,

But she with angry scorne him did withstond,

And shamefully reproued for his rudenesse fond.

26 But he, that neuer good nor maners knew,

Her sharpe rebuke full litle did esteeme;

Hard is to teach an old horse amble trew.

The inward smoke, that did before but steeme,

Broke into open fire and rage extreme,

And now he strength gan adde vnto his will,

Forcing to doe, that did him fowle misseeme:

Beastly he threw her downe, ne car’d to spill

Her garments gay with scales offish, that all did fill.

27 The silly virgin stroue him to withstand,

All that she might, and him in vaine reuild:

She struggled strongly both with foot and hand,

To saue her honor from that villaine vild,

And cride to heauen, from humane helpe exild.

O ye braue knights, that boast this Ladies loue,

Where be ye now, when she is nigh defild

Of filthy wretch? well may shee you reproue

Of falshood or of slouth, when most it may behoue.

28 But if that thou, Sir Satyran, didst weete,

Or thou, Sir Peridure, her sorie state,

How soone would yee assemble many a fleete,

To fetch from sea, that ye at land lost late;

Towres, Cities, Kingdomes ye would ruinate,

In your auengement and dispiteous rage,

Ne ought your burning fury mote abate;

But if Sir Calidore could it presage,

No liuing creature could his cruelty asswage.

29 But sith that none of all her knights is nye,

See how the heauens of voluntary grace,

And soueraine fauour towards chastity,

Doe succour send to her distressed cace:

So much high God doth innocence embrace.

It fortuned, whilest thus she stifly stroue,

And the wide sea importuned long space

With shrilling shriekes, Proteus abrode did roue,

Along the fomy waues drilling his finny droue.

30 Proteus is Shepheard of the seas of yore,

And hath the charge of Neptunes mightie heard;

An aged sire with head all frory hore,

And sprinckled frost vpon his deawy beard:

Who when those pittifull outcries he heard,

Through all the seas so ruefully resound,

His charet swift in haste he thither steard,

Which with a teeme of scaly Phocas bound

Was drawne vpon the waues, that fomed him around.

31 And comming to that Fishers wandring bote,

That went at will, withouten carde or sayle,

He therein saw that yrkesome sight, which smote

Deepe indignation and compassion frayle

Into his hart attonce: streight did he hayle

The greedy villein from his hoped pray,

Of which he now did very litle fayle,

And with his staffe, that driues his Heard astray,

Him bet so sore, that life and sense did much dismay.

32 The whiles the pitteous Ladie vp did ryse,

Ruffled and fowly raid with filthy soyle,

And blubbred face with teares of her faire eyes:

Her heart nigh broken was with weary toyle,

To saue her selfe from that outrageous spoyle,

But when she looked vp, to weet, what wight

Had her from so infamous fact assoyld,

For shame, but more for feare of his grim sight,

Downe in her lap she hid her face, and loudly shright.

33 Her selfe not saued yet from daunger dred

She thought, but chaung’d from one to other feare;

Like as a fearefull Partridge, that is fled

From the sharpe Hauke, which her attached neare,

And fals to ground, to seeke for succour theare,

Whereas the hungry Spaniels she does spy,

With greedy iawes her readie for to teare;

In such distresse and sad perplexity

Was Florimell, when Proteus she did see thereby.

34 But he endeuoured with speeches milde

Her to recomfort, and accourage bold,

Bidding her feare no more her foeman vilde,

Nor doubt himselfe; and who he was, her told.

Yet all that could not from affright her hold,

Ne to recomfort her at all preuayld;

For her faint heart was with the frozen cold

Benumbd so inly, that her wits nigh fayld,

And all her senses with abashment quite were quayld.

35 Her vp betwixt his rugged hands he reard,

And with his frory lips full softly kist,

Whiles the cold ysickles from his rough beard,

Dropped adowne vpon her yuorie brest:

Yet he himselfe so busily addrest,

That her out of astonishment he wrought,

And out of that same fishers filthy nest

Remouing her, into his charet brought,

And there with many gentle termes her faire besought.

36 But that old leachour, which with bold assault

That beautie durst presume to violate,

He cast to punish for his hainous fault;

Then tooke he him yet trembling sith of late,

And tyde behind his charet, to aggrate

The virgin, whom he had abusde so sore:

So drag’d him through the waues in scornefull state,

And after cast him vp, vpon the shore;

But Florimell with him vnto his bowre he bore.

37 His bowre is in the bottome of the maine,

Vnder a mightie rocke, gainst which do raue

The roaring billowes in their proud disdaine,

That with the angry working of the waue,

Therein is eaten out an hollow caue,

That seemes rough Masons hand with engines keene

Had long while laboured it to engraue:

There was his wonne, ne liuing wight was seene,

Saue one old Nymph, hight Panope to keepe it cleane.

38 Thither he brought the sory Florimell,

And entertained her the best he might

And Panope her entertaind eke well,

As an immortall mote a mortall wight,

To winne her liking vnto his delight:

With flattering words he sweetly wooed her,

And offered faire gifts t’allure her sight,

But she both offers and the offerer

Despysde, and all the fawning of the flatterer.

39 Daily he tempted her with this or that,

And neuer suffred her to be at rest:

But euermore she him refused flat,

And all his fained kindnesse did detest,

So firmely she had sealed vp her brest.

Sometimes he boasted, that a God he hight:

But she a mortall creature loued best:

Then he would make himselfe a mortall wight;

But then she said she lou’d none, but a Faerie knight

40 Then like a Faerie knight himselfe he drest;

For euery shape on him he could endew:

Then like a king he was to her exprest,

And offred kingdomes vnto her in vew,

To be his Leman and his Ladie trew:

But when all this he nothing saw preuaile,

With harder meanes he cast her to subdew,

And with sharpe threates her often did assaile,

So thinking for to make her stubborne courage quaile.

41 To dreadrull shapes he did himselfe transforme,

Now like a Gyant, now like to a feend,

Then like a Centaure, then like to a storme,

Raging within the waues: thereby he weend

Her will to win vnto his wished end.

But when with feare, nor fauour, nor with all

He else could doe, he saw himselfe esteemd,

Downe in a Dongeon deepe he let her fall,

And threatned there to make her his eternall thrall.

42 Eternall thraldome was to her more liefe,

Then losse of chastitie, or chaunge of loue:

Die had she rather in tormenting griefe,

Then any should of falsenesse her reproue,

Or loosenesse, that she lightly did remoue.

Most vertuous virgin, glory be thy meed,

And crowne of heauenly praise with Saints aboue,

Where most sweet hymmes of this thy famous deed

Are still emongst them song, that far my rymes exceed.

43 Fit song of Angels caroled to bee;

But yet what so my feeble Muse can frame,

Shall be t’aduance ihy goodly chastitee,

And to enroll thy memorable name,

In th’heart of euery honourable Dame,

That they thy vertuous deedes may imitate,

And be partakers of thy endlesse fame.

It yrkes me, leaue thee in this wofull state,

To tell of Satyrane, where I him left of late.

44 Who hauing ended with that Squire of Dames

A long discourse of his aduentures vaine,

The which himselfe, then Ladies more defames,

And finding not th’ Hyena to be slaine,

With that same Squire, returned backe againe

To his first way. And as they forward went,

They spyde a knight faire pricking on the plaine,

As if he were on some aduenture bent,

And in his port appeared manly hardiment.

45 Sir Satyrane him towards did addresse,

To weet, what wight he was, and what his quest:

And comming nigh, eftsoones he gan to gesse

Both by the burning hart, which on his brest

He bare, and by the colours in his crest,

That Paridell it was. Tho to him yode,

And him saluting, as beseemed best,

Gan first inquire of tydings farre abrode;

And afterwardes, on what aduenture now he rode.

46 Who thereto answering, said; The tydings bad,

Which now in Faerie court all men do tell,

Which turned hath great mirth, to mourning sad,

Is the late mine of proud Marinell,

And suddein parture of faire Florimell,

To find him forth: and after her are gone

All the braue knights, that doen in armes excell,

To sauegard her, ywandred all alone;

Emongst the rest my lot (vnworthy) is to be one.

47 Ah gentle knight (said then Sir Satyrane)

Thy labour all is lost, I greatly dread,

That hast a thanklesse seruice on thee ta’ne,

And offrest sacrifice vnto the dead:

For dead, I surely doubt, thou maist aread

Henceforth for euer Florimell to be,

That all the noble knights of Maydenhead,

Which her ador’d, may sore repent with me,

And all faire Ladies may for euer sory be.

48 Which words when Paridell had heard, his hew

Gan greatly chaunge, and seem’d dismayd to bee;

Then said, Faire Sir, how may I weene it trew,

That ye doe tell in such vncertaintee?

Or speake ye of report, or did ye see

Iust cause of dread, that makes ye doubt so sore?

For perdie else how mote it euer bee,

That euer hand should dare for to engore

Her noble bloud? the heauens such crueltie abhore.

49 These eyes did see, that they will euer rew

T’haue seene, (quoth he) when as a monstrous beast

The Palfrey, whereon she did trauell, slew,

And of his bowels made his bloudie feast:

Which speaking token sheweth at the least

Her certaine losse, if not her sure decay:

Besides, that more suspition encreast,

I found her golden girdle cast astray,

Distaynd with durt and bloud, as relique of the pray.

50 Aye me, (said Paridell) the signes be sad,

And but God turne the same to good soothsay,

That Ladies safetie is sore to be drad:

Yet will I not forsake my forward way,

Till triall doe more certaine truth bewray.

Faire Sir (quoth he) well may it you succeed,

Ne long shall Satyrane behind you stay,

But to the rest, which in this Quest proceed

My labour adde, and be partaker of their speed.

51 Ye noble knights (said then the Squire of Dames)

Well may ye speed in so praiseworthy paine:

But sith the Sunne now ginnes to slake his beames,

In deawy vapours of the westerne maine,

And lose the teme out of his weary waine,

Mote not mislike you also to abate

Your zealous hast, till morrow next againe

Both light of heauen, and strength of men relate:

Which if ye please, to yonder castle turne your gate.

52 That counsell pleased well; so all yfere

Forth marched to a Castle them before,

Where soone arriuing, they restrained were

Of readie entrance, which ought euermore

To errant knights be commun: wondrous sore

Thereat displeasd they were, till that young Squire

Gan them informe the cause, why that same dore

Was shut to all, which lodging did desire:

The which to let you weet, will further time require.

CANTO IX

Malbecco will no straunge knights host,
   For peeuish gealosie:
Paridell giusts with Britomart:
   Both shew their auncestrie.

1 Redoubted knights, and honorable Dames,

To whom I leuell all my labours end,

Right sore I feare, least with vnworthy blames

This odious argument my rimes should shend,

Or ought your goodly patience offend,

Whiles of a wanton Lady I do write,

Which with her loose incontinence doth blend

The shyning glory of your soueraigne light,

And knighthood fowle defaced by a faithlesse knight

2 But neuer let th’ensample of the bad

Offend the good: for good by paragone

Of euill, may more notably be rad,

As white seemes fairer, macht with blacke attone;

Ne all are shamed by the fault of one:

For lo in heauen, whereas all goodnesse is,

Emongst the Angels, a whole legione

Of wicked Sprights did fall from happy blis;

What wonder then, if one of women all did mis?

3 Then listen Lordings, if ye list to weet

The cause, why Satyrane and Paridell

Mote not be entertaynd, as seemed meet,

Into that Castle (as that Squire does tell.)

Therein a cancred crabbed Carle does dwell,

That has no skill of Court nor courtesie,

Ne cares, what men say of him ill or well;

For all his dayes he drownes in priuitie,

Yet has full large to liue, and spend at libertie.

4 But all his mind is set on mucky pelfe,

To hoord vp heapes of euill gotten masse,

For which he others wrongs, and wreckes himselfe;

Yet is he lincked to a louely lasse,

Whose beauty doth her bounty far surpasse,

The which to him both far vnequall yeares,

And also far vnlike conditions has;

For she does ioy to play emongst her peares,

And to be free from hard restraint and gealous feares.

5 But he is old, and withered like hay,

Vnfit faire Ladies seruice to supply;

The priuie guilt whereof makes him alway

Suspect her truth, and keepe continuall spy

Vpon her with his other blincked eye;

Ne suffreth he resort of liuing wight

Approch to her, ne keepe her company,

But in close bowre her mewes from all mens sight,

Depriu’d of kindly ioy and naturall delight.

6 Malbecco he, and Hellenore she hight,

Vnfitly yokt together in one teeme,

That is the cause, why neuer any knight

Is suffred here to enter, but he seeme

Such, as no doubt of him he neede misdeeme.

Thereat Sir Satyrane gan smile, and say;

Extremely mad the man I surely deeme,

That weenes with watch and hard restraint to stay

A womans will, which is disposd to go astray.

7 In vaine he feares that, which he cannot shonne:

For who wotes not, that womans subtiltyes

Can guilen Argus, when she list misdonne?

It is not yron bandes, nor hundred eyes,

Nor brasen walls, nor many wakefull spyes,

That can withhold her wilfull wandring feet;

But fast good will with gentle curtesyes,

And timely seruice to her pleasures meet

May her perhaps containe, that else would algates fleet

8 Then is he not more mad (said Paridell)

That hath himselfe vnto such seruice sold,

In dolefull thraldome all his dayes to dwell?

For sure a foole I do him firmely hold,

That loues his fetters, though they were of gold.

But why do we deuise of others ill,

Whiles thus we suffer this same dotard old,

To keepe vs out, in scorne of his owne will,

And rather do not ransack all, and him selfe kill?

9 Nay let vs first (said Satyrane) entreat

The man by gentle meanes, to let vs in,

And afterwardes affray with cruell threat,

Ere that we to efforce it do begin:

Then if all fayle, we will by force it win,

And eke reward the wretch for his mesprise,

As may be worthy of his haynous sin.

That counsell pleasd: then Paridell did rise,

And to the Castle gate approcht in quiet wise.

10 Whereat soft knocking, entrance he desyrd.

The good man selfe, which then the Porter playd,

Him answered, that all were now retyrd

Vnto their rest, and all the keyes conuayd

Vnto their maister, who in bed was layd,

That none him durst awake out of his dreme;

And therefore them of patience gently prayd.

Then Paridell began to chaunge his theme,

And threatned him with force & punishment extreme.

11 But all in vaine; for nought mote him relent,

And now so long before the wicket fast

They wayted, that the night was forward spent,

And the faire welkin fowly ouercast,

Gan blowen vp a bitter stormy blast,

With shoure and hayle so horrible and dred,

That this faire many were compeld at last,

To fly for succour to a little shed,

The which beside the gate for swine was ordered.

12 It fortuned, soone after they were gone,

Another knight, whom tempest thither brought,

Came to that Castle, and with earnest mone,

Like as the rest, late entrance deare besought;

But like so as the rest he prayd for nought,

For flatly he of entrance was refusd,

Sorely thereat he was displeasd, and thought

How to auenge himselfe so sore abusd,

And euermore the Carle of curtesie accusd.

13 But to auoyde th’intollerable stowre,

He was compeld to seeke some refuge neare,

And to that shed, to shrowd him from the showre,

He came, which full of guests he found whyleare,

So as he was not let to enter there:

Whereat he gan to wex exceeding wroth,

And swore, that he would lodge with them yfere,

Or them dislodge, all were they liefe or loth;

And so defide them each, and so defide them both.

14 Both were full loth to leaue that needfull tent,

And both full loth in darkenesse to debate;

Yet both full liefe him lodging to haue lent,

And both full liefe his boasting to abate;

But chiefly Paridell his hart did grate,

To heare him threaten so despightfully,

As if he did a dogge to kenell rate,

That durst not barke; and rather had he dy,

Then when he was defide, in coward corner ly.

15 Tho hastily remounting to his steed,

He forth issew’d; like as a boistrous wind,

Which in th’earthes hollow caues hath long bin hid,

And shut vp fast within her prisons blind,

Makes the huge element against her kind

To moue, and tremble as it were agast,

Vntill that it an issew forth may find;

Then forth it breakes, and with his furious blast

Confounds both land & seas, and skyes doth ouercast

16 Their steel-hed speares they strongly coucht, and met

Together with impetuous rage and forse,

That with the terrour of their fierce affret,

They rudely droue to ground both man and horse,

That each awhile lay like a sencelesse corse.

But Paridell sore brused with the blow,

Could not arise, the counterchaunge to scorse,

Till that young Squire him reared from below;

Then drew he his bright sword, & gan about him throw.

17 But Satyrane forth stepping, did them stay

And with faire treatie pacifide their ire;

Then when they were accorded from the fray,

Against that Castles Lord they gan conspire,

To heape on him dew vengeaunce for his hire.

They bene agreed, and to the gates they goe

To burne the same with vnquenchable fire,

And that vncurteous Carle their commune foe

To do fowle death to dye, or wrap in grieuous woe.

18 Malbecco seeing them resolu’d in deed

To flame the gates, and hearing them to call

For fire in earnest, ran with fearefull speed,

And to them calling from the castle wall,

Besought them humbly, him to beare with all,

As ignoraunt of seruants bad abuse,

And slacke attendaunce vnto straungers call.

The knights were willing all things to excuse,

Though nought beleu’d, & entraunce late did not refuse.

19 They bene ybrought into a comely bowre,

And seru’d of all things that mote needfull bee;

Yet secretly their hoste did on them lowre,

And welcomde more for feare, then charitee;

But they dissembled, what they did not see,

And welcomed themselues. Each gan vndight

Their garments wet, and weary armour free,

To dry them selues by Vulcanes flaming light,

And eke their lately bruzed parts to bring in plight.

20 And eke that straunger knight emongst the rest,

Was for like need enforst to disaray:

Tho whenas vailed was her loftie crest,

Her golden locks, that were in tramels gay

Vpbounden, did them selues adowne display,

And raught vnto her heeles; like sunny beames,

That in a cloud their light did long time stay,

Their vapour vaded, shew their golden gleames,

And through the persant aire shoote forth their azure streames.

21 She also dofte her heauy haberieon,

Which the faire feature of her limbs did hyde,

And her well plighted frock, which she did won

To tucke about her short, when she did ryde,

She low let fall, that flowd from her lanck syde

Downe to her foot, with carelesse modestee.

Then of them all she plainly was espyde,

To be a woman wight, vnwist to bee,

The fairest woman wight, that euer eye did see.

22 Like as Minerua, being late returnd

From slaughter of the Giaunts conquered;

Where proud Encelade, whose wide nosethrils burnd

With breathed flames, like to a furnace red,

Transfixed with the speare, downe tombled ded

From top of Hemus, by him heaped hye;

Hath loosd her helmet from her lofty hed,

And her Gorgonian shield gins to vntye

From her left arme, to rest in glorious victorye.

23 Which whenas they beheld, they smitten were

With great amazement of so wondrous sight,

And each on other, and they all on her

Stood gazing, as if suddein great affright

Had them surprised. At last auizing right,

Her goodly personage and glorious hew,

Which they so much mistooke, they tooke delight

In their first errour, and yet still anew

With wonder of her beauty fed their hungry vew.

24 Yet note their hungry vew be satisfide,

But seeing still the more desir’d to see,

And euer firmely fixed did abide

In contemplation of diuinitie:

But most they meruaild at her cheualree,

And noble prowesse, which they bad approued,

That much they faynd to know, who she mote bee;

Yet none of all them her thereof amoued,

Yet euery one her likte, and euery one her loued,

25 And Paridell though partly discontent

With his late fall, and fowle indignity,

Yet was soone wonne his malice to relent,

Through gracious regard of her faire eye,

And knightly worth, which he too late did try,

Yet tried did adore. Supper was dight;

Then they Malbecco prayd of curtesy,

That of his Lady they might haue the sight,

And company at meat, to do them more delight

26 But he to shift their curious request,

Gan causen, why she could not come in place;

Her erased health, her late recourse to rest,

And humid euening ill for sicke folkes cace:

But none of those excuses could take place;

Ne would they eate, till she in presence came.

She came in presence with right comely grace,

And fairely them saluted, as became,

And shewd her selfe in all a gentle curteous Dame.

27 They sate to meat, and Satyrane his chaunce

Was her before, and Paridell besyde;

But he him selfe sate looking still askaunce,

Gainst Britomart, and euer closely eyde

Sir Satyrane, that glaunces might not glyde:

But his blind eye, that syded Paridell,

All his demeasnure from his sight did hyde:

On her faire face so did he feede his fill,

And sent close messages of loue to her at will.

28 And euer and anone, when none was ware,

With speaking lookes, that dose embassage bore,

He rou’d at her, and told his secret care:

For all that art he learned had of yore.

Ne was she ignoraunt of that lewd lore,

But in his eye his meaning wisely red,

And with the like him answerd euermore:

She sent at him one firie dart, whose hed

Empoisned was with priuy lust, and gealous dred.

29 He from that deadly throw made no defence,

But to the wound his weake hart opened wyde;

The wicked engine through false influence,

Past through his eyes, and secretly did glyde

Into his hart, which it did sorely gryde.

But nothing new to him was that same paine,

Ne paine at all; for he so oft had tryde

The powre thereof, and lou’d so oft in vaine,

That thing of course he counted, loue to entertaine.

30 Thenceforth to her he sought to intimate

His inward griefe, by meanes to him well knowne,

Now Bacchus fruit out of the siluer plate

He on the table dasht, as ouerthrowne,

Or of the fruitfull h’quor ouerflowne,

And by the dauncing bubbles did diuine,

Or therein write to let his loue be showne;

Which well she red out of the learned line,

A sacrament prophane in mistery of wine.

31 And when so of his hand the pledge she raught,

The guilty cup she fained to mistake,

And in her lap did shed her idle draught,

Shewing desire her inward flame to slake:

By such close signes they secret way did make

Vnto their wils, and one eyes watch escape;

Two eyes him needeth, for to watch and wake,

Who louers will deceiue. Thus was the ape,

By their faire handling, put into Malbeccoes cape.

32 Now when of meats and drinks they had their fill,

Purpose was moued by that gentle Dame,

Vnto those knights aduenturous, to tell

Of deeds of armes, which vnto them became,

And euery one his kindred, and his name.

Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pryde

Of gracious speach, and skill his words to frame

Abounded, being glad of so fit tyde

Him to commend to her, thus spake, of all well eyde.

33 Troy, that art now nought, but an idle name,

And in thine ashes buried low dost lie,

Though whilome far much greater then thy fame,

Before that angry Gods, and cruell skye

Vpon thee heapt a direfull destinie,

What boots it boast thy glorious descent,

And fetch from heauen thy great Genealogie,

Sith all thy worthy prayses being blent,

Their of-spring hath embaste, and later glory shent.

34 Most famous Worthy of the world, by whome

That warre was kindled, which did Troy inflame,

And stately towres of Ilion whilome

Brought vnto balefull mine, was by name

Sir Paris far renowmd through noble fame,

Who through great prowesse and bold hardinesse,

From Lacedœmon fetcht the fairest Dame,

That euer Greece did boast, or knight possesse,

Whom Venus to him gaue for meed of worthinesse.

35 Faire Helene, flowre of beautie excellent,

And girlond of the mighty Conquerours,

That madest many Ladies deare lament

The heauie losse of their braue Paramours,

Which they far off beheld from Troian toures,

And saw the fieldes of faire Scamander strowne

With carcases of noble warrioures,

Whose fruitlesse h’ues were vnder furrow sowne,

And Xanthus sandy bankes with bloud all ouernowne.

36 From him my linage I deriue aright,

Who long before the ten yeares siege of Troy,

Whiles yet on Ide he a shepheard hight,

On faire Oenone got a louely boy,

Whom for remembraunce of her passed ioy,

She of his Father Parius did name;

Who, after Greekes did Priams realme destroy,

Gathred the Troian reliques sau’d from flame,

And with them sayling thence, to th’Isle of Paros came.

37 That was by him cald Paros, which before

Hight Nausa, there he many yeares did raine,

And built Nausicle by the Pontick shore,

The which he dying left next in remaine

To Paridas his sonne.

From whom I Paridell by kin descend;

But for faire Ladies loue, and glories gaine,

My natiue soile haue left, my dayes to spend

In seewing deeds of armes, my liues and labours end.

38 Whenas the noble Britomart heard tell

Of Troian warres, and Priams Citie sackt,

The ruefull story of Sir Paridell,

She was empassiond at that piteous act,

With zelous enuy of Greekes cruell fact,

Against that nation, from whose race of old

She heard, that she was lineally extract:

For noble Britons sprong from Troians bold,

And Troynouant was built of old Troyes ashes cold.

39 Then sighing soft awhile, at last she thus:

O lamentable fall of famous towne,

Which raignd so many yeares victorious,

And of all Asie bore the soueraigne crowne,

In one sad night consumd, and throwen downe:

What stony hart, that heares thy haplesse fate,

Is not empierst with deepe compassiowne,

And makes ensample of mans wretched state,

That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at euening late?

40 Behold, Sir, how your pitifull complaint

Hath found another partner of your payne:

For nothing may impresse so deare constraint,

As countries cause, and commune foes disdayne.

But if it should not grieue you, backe agayne

To turne your course, I would to heare desyre,

What to Aeneas fell; sith that men sayne

He was not in the Cities wofull fyre

Consum’d, but did him selfe to safetie retyre.

41 Anchyses sonne begot of Venus faire,

(Said he,) out of the flames for safegard fled,

And with a remnant did to sea repaire,

Where he through fatall errour long was led

Full many yeares, and weetlesse wandered

From shore to shore, emongst the Lybicke sands,

Ere rest he found. Much there he suffered,

And many perils past in forreine lands,

To saue his people sad from victours vengefull hands.

42 At last in Latium he did arriue,

Where he with cruell warre was entertaind

Of th’inland folke, which sought him backe to driue,

Till he with old Latinus was constraind,

To contract wedlock: (so the fates ordaind.)

Wedlock contract in bloud, and eke in blood

Accomplished, that many deare complaind:

The riuall slaine, the victour through the flood

Escaped hardly, hardly praisd his wedlock good.

43 Yet after all, he victour did suruiue,

And with Latinus did the kingdome part.

But after, when both nations gan to striue,

Into their names the title to conuart,

His sonne lülus did from thence depart,

With all the warlike youth of Troians bloud,

And in long Alba plast his throne apart,

Where faire it florished, and long time stoud,

Till Romulus renewing it, to Rome remoud.

44 There there (said Britomart) a fresh appeard

The glory of the later world to spring,

And Troy againe out of her dust was reard,

To sit in second seat of soueraigne king,

Of all the world vnder her gouerning.

But a third kingdome yet is to arise,

Out of the Troians scattered of-spring,

That in all glory and great enterprise,

Both first and second Troy shall dare to equalise.

45 It Troynouant is hight, that with the waues

Of wealthy Thamis washed is along,

Vpon whose stubborne neck, whereat he raues

With roring rage, and sore him selfe does throng,

That all men feare to tempt his billowes strong,

She fastned hath her foot, which standes so hy,

That it a wonder of the world is song

In forreine landes, and all which passen by,

Beholding it from far, do thinke it threates the skye.

46 The Troian Brute did first that Citie found,

And Hygate made the meare thereof by West,

And Ouert gate by North: that is the bound

Toward the land; two riuers bound the rest.

So huge a scope at first him seemed best,

To be the compasse of his kingdomes seat:

So huge a mind could not in lesser rest,

Ne in small meares containe his glory great,

That Albion had conquered first by warlike feat.

47 Ah fairest Lady knight, (said Paridell)

Pardon I pray my heedlesse ouersight,

Who had forgot, that whilome I heard tell

From aged Mnemon; for my wits bene light.

Indeed he said (if I remember right,)

That of the antique Troian stocke, there grew

Another plant, that raught to wondrous hight,

And far abroad his mighty branches threw,

Into the vtmost Angle of the world he knew.

48 For that same Brute, whom much he did aduaunce

In all his speach, was Syluius his sonne,

Whom hauing slaine, through luckles arrowes glaunce

He fled for feare of that he had misdonne,

Or else for shame, so fowle reproch to shonne,

And with him led to sea an youthly trayne,

Where wearie wandring they long time did wonne,

And many fortunes prou’d in th’Ocean mayne,

And great aduentures found, that now were long to sayne.

49 At last by fatall course they driuen were

Into an Island spatious and brode,

The furthest North, that did to them appeare:

Which after rest they seeking far abrode,

Found it the fittest soyle for their abode,

Fruitfull of all things fit for liuing foode,

But wholy wast, and void of peoples trode,

Saue an huge nation of the Geaunts broode,

That fed on liuing flesh, & druncke mens vitall blood.

50 Whom he through wearie wars and labours long,

Subdewd with losse of many Britons bold:

In which the great Goemagot of strong

Corineus, and Coulin af Debon old

Were ouerthrowne, and layd on th’earth full cold,

Which quaked vnder their so hideous masse,

A famous history to be enrold

In euerlasting moniments of brasse,

That all the antique Worthies merits far did passe.

51 His worke great Troynouant, his worke is eke

Faire Lincolne, both renowmed far away,

That who from East to West will endlong seeke,

Cannot two fairer Cities find this day,

Except Cleopolis: so heard I say

Old Mnemon. Therefore Sir, I greet you well

Your countrey kin, and you entirely pray

Of pardon for the strife, which late befell

Betwixt vs both vnknowne. So ended Paridell.

52 But all the while, that he these speeches spent,

Vpon his lips hong faire Dame Hellenore,

With vigilant regard, and dew attent,

Fashioning worlds of fancies euermore

In her fraile wit, that now her quite forlore:

The whiles vnwares away her wondring eye,

And greedy eares her weake hart from her bore:

Which he perceiuing, euer priuily

In speaking, many false belgardes at her let fly.

53 So long these knights discoursed diuersly,

Of straunge affaires, and noble hardiment,

Which they had past with mickle ieopardy,

That now the humid night was farforth spent,

And heauenly lampes were halfendeale ybrent:

Which th’old man seeing well, who too long thought

Euery discourse and euery argument,

Which by the houres he measured, besought

Them go to rest. So all vnto their bowres were brought

CANTO X

Paridell rapeth Hellenore:
   Malbecco her pursewes:
Findes emongst Satyres, whence with him
   To turne she doth refuse.

1 The morow next, so soone as Phœbus Lamp

Bewrayed had the world with early light,

And fresh Aurora had the shady damp

Out of the goodly heauen amoued quight,

Faire Britomart and that same Faerie knight

Vprose, forth on their iourney for to wend:

But Paridell complaynd, that his late fight

With Britomart, so sore did him offend,

That ryde he could not, till his hurts he did amend.

2 So forth they far’d, but he behind them stayd,

Maulgre his host, who grudged grieuously,

To house a guest, that would be needes obayd,

And of his owne him left not liberty:

Might wanting measure moueth surquedry.

Two things he feared, but the third was death;

That fierce youngmans vnruly maistery;

His money, which he lou’d as liuing breath;

And his faire wife, whom honest long he kept vneath.

3 But patience perforce he must abie,

What fortune and his fate on him will lay,

Fond is the feare, that findes no remedie;

Yet warily he watcheth euery way,

By which he feareth euill happen may:

So th’euill thinkes by watching to preuent;

Ne doth he suffer her, nor night, nor day,

Out of his sight her selfe once to absent.

So doth he punish her and eke himselfe torment

4 But Paridell kept better watch, then hee,

A fit occasion for his turne to find:

False loue, why do men say, thou canst not see,

And in their foolish fancie feigne thee blind,

That with thy charmes the sharpest sight doest bind,

And to thy will abuse? Thou walkest free,

And seest euery secret of the mind;

Thou seest all, yet none at all sees thee;

All that is by the working of thy Deitee.

5 So perfect in that art was Paridell,

That he Malbeccoes halfen eye did wyle,

His halfen eye he wiled wondrous well,

And Hellenors both eyes did eke beguyle,

Both eyes and hart attonce, during the whyle

That he there soiourned his wounds to heale;

That Cupid selfe it seeing, close did smyle,

To weet how he her loue away did steale,

And bad, that none their ioyous treason should reueale.

6 The learned louer lost no time nor tyde,

That least auantage mote to him afford,

Yet bore so faire a saile, that none espyde

His secret drift, till he her layd abord.

When so in open place, and commune bord,

He fortun’d her to meet, with commune speach

He courted her, yet bayted euery word,

That his vngentle hoste n’ote him appeach

Of vile vngentlenesse, or hospitages breach.

7 But when apart (if euer her apart)

He found, then his false engins fast he plyde,

And all the sleights vnbosomd in his hart;

He sigh’d, he sobd, he swownd, he perdy dyde,

And cast bimselfe on ground her fast besyde:

Tho when againe he him bethought to liue,

He wept, and wayld, and false laments belyde,

Saying, but if she Mercie would him giue

That he mote algates dye, yet did his death forgiue.

8 And otherwhiles with amorous delights,

And pleasing toyes he would her entertaine,

Now singing sweetly, to surprise her sprights,

Now making layes of loue and louers paine,

Bransles, Ballads, virelayes, and verses vaine;

Oft purposes, oft riddles he deuysd,

And thousands like, which flowed in his braine,

With which he fed her fancie, and entysd

To take to his new loue, and leaue her old despysd.

9 And euery where he might, and euery while

He did her seruice dewtifull, and sewed

At hand with humble pride, and pleasing guile,

So closely yet, that none but she it vewed,

Who well perceiued all, and all indewed.

Thus finely did he his false nets dispred,

With which he many weake harts had subdewed

Of yore, and many had ylike misled:

What wonder then, if she were likewise carried?

10 No fort so fensible, no wals so strong,

But that continuall battery will riue,

Or daily siege through dispuruayance long,

And lacke of reskewes will to parley driue;

And Peace, that vnto parley eare will giue,

Will shortly yeeld it selfe, and will be made

The vassall of the victors will byliue:

That stratageme had oftentimes assayd

This crafty Paramoure, and now it plaine displayd.

11 For through his traines he her intrapped hath,

That she her loue and hart hath wholy sold

To him, without regard of gaine, or scath,

Or care of credite, or of husband old,

Whom she hath vow’d to dub a faire Cucquold.

Nought wants but time and place, which shortly shee

Deuized hath, and to her louer told.

It pleased well. So well they both agree;

So readie rype to ill, ill wemens counsels bee.

12 Darke was the Euening, fit for louers stealth,

When chaunst Malbecco busie be elsewhere,

She to his closet went, where all his wealth

Lay hid: thereof she countlesse summes did reare,

The which she meant away with her to beare;

The rest she fyr’d for sport, or for despight;

As Hellene, when she saw aloft appeare

The Troiane flames, and reach to heauens hight

Did clap her hands, and ioyed at that dolefull sight.

13 This second Hellene, faire Dame Hellenore,

The whiles her husband ranne with sory haste,

To quench the flames which she had tyn’d before,

Laught at his foolish labour spent in waste;

And ranne into her louers armes right fast;

Where streight embraced, she to him did cry,

And call aloud for helpe, ere helpe were past;

For loe that Guest would beare her forcibly,

And meant to rauish her, that rather had to dy.

14 The wretched man hearing her call for ayd,

And readie seeing him with her to fly,

In his disquiet mind was much dismayd:

But when againe he backward cast bis eye,

And saw the wicked fire so furiously

Consume his hart, and scorch his Idoles face,

He was therewith distressed diuersly,

Ne wist he how to turne, nor to what place;

Was neuer wretched man in such a wofull cace.

15 Ay when to him she cryde, to her he turnd,

And left the fire; loue money ouercame:

But when he marked, how his money burnd,

He left his wife; money did loue disclame:

Both was he loth to loose his loued Dame,

And loth to leaue his liefest pelfe behind,

Yet sith he n’ote saue both, he sau’d that same,

Which was the dearest to his donghill mind,

The God of his desire, the ioy of misers blind.

16 Thus whilest all things in troublous vprore were,

And all men busie to suppresse the flame,

The louing couple need no reskew feare,

But leasure had, and libertie to frame

Their purpost flight, free from all mens reclame;

And Night, the patronesse of loue-stealth faire,

Gaue them safe conduct, till to end they came:

So bene they gone yfeare, a wanton paire

Of louers loosely knit, where list them to repaire.

17 Soone as the cruell flames yslaked were,

Malbecco seeing, how his losse did lye,

Out of the flames, which he had quencht whylere

Into huge waues of griefe and gealosye

Full deepe emplonged was, and drowned nye,

Twixt inward doole and felonous despight;

He rau’d, he wept, he stampt, he lowd did cry,

And all the passions, that in man may light,

Did him attonce oppresse, and vex his caytiue spright.

18 Long thus he chawd the cud of inward griefe,

And did consume his gall with anguish sore,

Still when he mused on his late mischiefe,

Then still the smart thereof increased more,

And seem’d more grieuous, then it was before:

At last when sorrow he saw booted nought,

Ne griefe might not his loue to him restore,

He gan deuise, how her he reskew mought,

Ten thousand wayes he cast in his confused thought.

19 At last resoluing, like a pilgrim pore,

To search her forth, where so she might be fond,

And bearing with him treasure in close store,

The rest he leaues in ground: So takes in hond

To seeke her endlong, both by sea and lond

Long he her sought, he sought her farre and nere,

And euery where that he mote vnderstond,

Of knights and ladies any meetings were,

And of eachone he met, he tydings did inquere.

20 But all in vaine, his woman was too wise,

Euer to come into his clouch againe,

And he too simple euer to surprise

The iolly Paridell, for all his paine.

One day, as he forpassed by the plaine

With weary pace, he farre away espide

A couple, seeming well to be his twaine,

Which houed close vnder a forrest side,

As if they lay in wait, or else themselues did hide.

21 Well weened he, that those the same mote bee,

And as he better did their shape auize,

Him seemed more their manner did agree;

For th’one was armed all in warlike wize,

Whom, to be Paridell he did deuize;

And th’other all yclad in garments light,

Discolour’d like to womanish disguise,

He did resemble to his Ladie bright;

And euer his faint hart much earned at the sight

22 And euer faine he towards them would goe,

But yet durst not for dread approchen nie,

But stood aloofe, vnweeting what to doe;

Till that prickt forth with loues extremitie,

That is the father of foule gealosy,

He closely nearer crept, the truth to weet:

But, as he nigher drew, he easily

Might scerne, that it was not his sweetest sweet,

Ne yet her Belamour, the partner of his sheet

23 But it was scornefull Braggadocchio,

That with his seruant Trompart houerd there,

Sith late he fled from his too earnest foe:

Whom such when as Malbecco spyed clere,

He turned backe, and would haue fled arere;

Till Trompart ronning hastily, him did stay,

And bad before his soueraine Lord appere:

That was him loth, yet durst he not gainesay,

And comming him before, low louted on the lay.

24 The Boaster at him sternely bent his browe,

As if he could haue kild him with his looke,

That to the ground him meekely made to bowe,

And awfull terror deepe into him strooke,

That euery member of his bodie quooke.

Said he, thou man of nought, what doest thou here,

Vnfitly furnisht with thy bag and booke,

Where I expected one with shield and spere,

To proue some deedes of armes vpon an equall pere.

25 The wretched man at his imperious speach,

Was all abasht, and low prostrating, said;

Good Sir, let not my rudenesse be no breach

Vnto your patience, ne be ill ypaid;

For I vnwares this way by fortune straid,

A silly Pilgrim driuen to distresse,

That seeke a Lady, There he suddein staid,

And did the rest with grieuous sighes suppresse,

While teares stood in his eies, few drops of bitternesse.

26 What Ladie, man? (said Trompart) take good hart,

And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye;

Was neuer better time to shew thy smart,

Then now, that noble succour is thee by,

That is the whole worlds commune remedy.

That chearefull word his weake hart much did cheare,

And with vaine hope his spirits faint supply,

That bold he said; ô most redoubted Pere,

Vouchsafe with mild regard a wretches cace to heare.

27 Then sighing sore, It is not long (said hee)

Sith I enioyd the gentlest Dame aliue;

Of whom a knight, no knight at all perdee,

But shame of all, that doe for honor striue,

By treacherous deceipt did me depriue;

Through open outrage he her bore away,

And with fowle force vnto his will did driue,

Which all good knights, that armes do beare this day,

Are bound for to reuenge, and punish if they may.

28 And you most noble Lord, that can and dare

Redresse the wrong of miserable wight,

Cannot employ your most victorious speare

In better quarrell, then defence of right,

And for a Ladie gainst a faithlesse knight;

So shall your glory be aduaunced much,

And all faire Ladies magnifie your might,

And eke my selfe, albe I simple such,

Your worthy paine shall well reward with guerdon rich.

29 With that out of his bouget forth he drew

Great store of treasure, therewith him to tempt;

But he on it lookt scornefully askew,

As much disdeigning to be so misdempt,

Or a war-monger to be basely nempt;

And said; thy offers base I greatly loth,

And eke thy words vncourteous and vnkempt;

I tread in dust thee and thy money both,

That, were it not for shame, So turned firom him wroth.

30 But Trompart, that his maisters humor knew,

In lofty lookes to hide an humble mind,

Was inly tickled with that golden vew,

And in his eare him rownded close behind:

Yet stoupt he not, but lay still in the wind,

Waiting aduauntage on die pray to sease;

Till Trompart lowly to the ground inclind,

Besought him his great courage to appease,

And pardon simple man, that rash did him displease.

31 Bigge looking like a doughtie Doucepere,

At last he thus; Thou clod of vilest clay,

I pardon yield, and with thy rudenesse beare;

But weete henceforth, that all that golden pray,

And all that else the vaine world vaunten may,

I loath as doung, ne deeme my dew reward:

Fame is my meed, and glory vertues pray.

But minds of mortall men are muchell mard,

And mou’d amisse with massie mucks vnmeet regard.

32 And more, I graunt to thy great miserie

Gratious respect, thy wife shall backe be sent,

And that vile knight, who euer that he bee,

Which hath thy Lady reft, and knighthood shent,

By Sanglamort my sword, whose deadly dent

The bloud hath of so many thousands shed,

I sweare, ere long shall dearely it repent;

Ne he twixt heauen and earth shall hide Ms hed,

But soone he shall be found, and shortly doen be ded.

33 The foolish man thereat woxe wondrous blith,

As if the word so spoken, were halfe donne,

And humbly thanked him a thousand sith,

That had from death to life him newly wonne.

Tho forth the Boaster marching, braue begonne

His stolen steed to thunder furiously,

As if he heauen and hell would ouerronne,

And all the world confound with cruelty,

That much Malbecco ioyed in his iollity.

34 Thus long they three together traueiled,

Through many a wood, and many an vncouth way,

To seeke his wife, that was farre wandered:

But those two sought nought, but the present pray,

To weete the treasure, which he did bewray,

On which their eies and harts were wholly set,

With purpose, how they might it best betray;

For sith the houre, that first he did them let

The same behold, therewith their keene desires were whet.

35 It fortuned as they together far’d,

They spide, where Paridell came pricking fast

Vpon the plaine, the which himselfe prepar’d

To giust with that braue straunger knight a cast,

As on aduenture by the way he past:

Alone he rode without his Paragone;

For hauing filcht her bels, her vp he cast

To the wide world, and let her fly alone,

He nould be clogd. So had he serued many one.

36 The gentle Lady, loose at randon left,

The greene-wood long did walke, and wander wide

At wilde aduenture, like a forlorne weft,

Till on a day the Satyres her espide

Straying alone withouten groome or guide;

Her vp they tooke, and with them home her led,

With them as housewife euer to abide,

To milke their gotes, and make them cheese and bred,

And’ euery one as commune good her handeled.

37 That shortly she Malbecco has forgot,

And eke Sir Paridell, all were he deare;

Who from her went to seeke another lot,

And now by fortune was arriued here,

Where those two guilers with Malbecco were:

Soone as the oldman saw Sir Paridell,

He fainted, and was almost dead with feare,

Ne word he had to speake, his griefe to tell,

But to him louted low, and greeted goodly well.

38 And after asked him for Hellenore,

I take no keepe of her (said Paridell)

She wonneth in the forrest there before.

So forth he rode, as his aduenture fell;

The whiles the Boaster from his loftie sell

Faynd to alight, something amisse to mend;

But the fresh Swayne would not his leasure dwell,

But went his way; whom when he passed kend.

He vp remounted light, and after faind to wend.

39 Perdy nay (said Malbecco) shall ye not:

But let him passe as lightly, as he came:

For litle good of him is to be got,

And mickle perill to be put to shame.

But let vs go to seeke my dearest Dame,

Whom he hath left in yonder forrest wyld:

For of her safety in great doubt I am,

Least saluage beastes her person haue despoyld:

Then all the world is lost, and we in vaine haue toyld.

40 They all agree, and forward them addrest:

Ah but (said craftie Trompart) weete ye well,

That yonder in that wastefull wilderncsse

Huge monsters haunt, and many dangers dwell;

Dragons, and Minotaures, and feendes of hell,

And many wilde woodmen, which robbe and rend

All trauellers; therefore aduise ye well,

Before ye enterprise that way to wend:

One may his iourney bring too soone to euill end.

41 Malbecco stopt in great astonishment,

And with pale eyes fast fixed on the rest,

Their counsell crau’d, in daunger imminent.

Said Trompart, you that are the most opprest

With burden of great treasure, I thinke best

Here for to stay in safetie behind;

My Lord and I will search the wide forrest.

That counsell pleased not Malbeccoes mind;

For he was much affraid, himselfe alone to find.

42 Then’ is it best (said he) that ye doe leaue

Your treasure here in some securitie,

Either fast closed in some hollow greaue,

Or buried in the ground from ieopardie,

Till we returne againe in safetie:

As for vs two, least doubt of vs ye haue,

Hence farre away we will blindfolded lie,

Ne priuie be vnto your treasures graue.

It pleased: so he did. Then they march forward braue.

43 Now when amid the thickest woods they were,

They heard a noyse of many bagpipes shrill,

And shrieking Hububs them approching nere,

Which all the forrest did with horror fill:

That dreadfull sound the boasters hart did thrill,

With such amazement, that in haste he fled,

Ne euer looked backe for good or ill,

And after him eke fearefull Trompart sped;

The old man could not fly, but fell to ground halfe ded.

44 Yet afterwards close creeping, as he might,

He in a bush did hide his fearefull hed,

The iolly Satyres full of fresh delight,

Came dauncing forth, and with them nimbly led

Faire Helenore, with girlonds all bespred,

Whom their May-lady they had newly made:

She proud of that new honour, which they red,

And of their louely fellowship full glade,

Daunst liuely, and her face did with a Lawrell shade.

45 The silly man that in the thicket lay

Saw all this goodly sport, and grieued sore,

Yet durst he not against it doe or say,

But did his hart with bitter thoughts engore,

To see th’vnkindnesse of his Hellenore.

All day they daunced with great lustihed,

And with their horned feet the greene grasse wore,

The whiles their Gotes vpon the brouzes fed,

Till drouping Phœbus gan to hide his golden hed.

46 Tho vp they gan their merry pypes to trusse,

And all their goodly heards did gather round,

But euery Satyre first did giue a busse

To Hellenore: so busses did abound.

Now gan the humid vapour shed the ground

With perly deaw, and th’Earthes gloomy shade

Did dim the brightnesse of the welkin round,

That euery bird and beast awarned made,

To shrowd themselues, whiles sleepe their senses did inuade.

47 Which when Malbecco saw, out of his bush

Vpon his hands and feete he crept full light,

And like a Gote emongst the Gotes did rush,

That through the helpe of his faire homes on bight,

And misty dampe of misconceiuing night,

And eke through likenesse of his gotish beard,

He did the better counterfeite aright:

So home he marcht emongst the homed heard,

That none of all the Satyres him espyde or heard

48 At night, when all they went to sleepe, he vewd,

Whereas his louely wife emongst them lay,

Embraced of a Satyre rough and rude,

who all the night did minde his ioyous plays

Nine times he heard him come aloft ere day,

That all his hart with gealosie did swell;

But yet that nights ensample did bewray,

That not for nought his wife them loued so well,

When one so oft a night did ring his matins bell.

49 So closely as he could, he to them crept,

When wearie of their sport to sleepe they fell,

And to his wife, that now full soundly slept,

He whispered in her eare, and did her tell,

That it was he, which by her side did dwell,

And therefore prayd her wake, to heare him plaine.

As one out of a dreame not waked well,

She turned her, and returned backe againe:

Yet her for to awake he did the more constraint

50 At last with irkesome trouble she abrayd;

And then perceiuing, that it was indeed

Her old Malbecco, which did her vpbrayd,

With loosenesse of her loue, and loathly deed,

She was astonisht with exceeding dreed,

And would haue wakt the Satyre by her syde;

But he her prayd, for mercy, or for meed,

To saue his life, ne let him be descryde,

But hearken to his lore, and all his counsell hyde.

51 Tho gan he her perswade, to leaue that lewd

And loathsome life, of God and man abhord,

And home returne, where all should be renewd

With perfect peace, and bandes of fresh accord,

And she receiu’d againe to bed and bord,

As if no trespasse euer had bene donne:

But she it all refused at one word,

And by no meanes would to his will be wonne,

But chose emongst the iolly Satyres still to wonne.

52 He wooed her, till day spring he espyde;

But all in vaine: and then turnd to the heard,

Who butted him with homes on euery syde,

And trode downe in the durt, where his hore beard

Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard.

Early before the heauens fairest light

Out of the ruddy East was fully reard,

The heardes out of their foldes were loosed quight,

And he emongst the rest crept forth in sory plight.

53 So soone as he the Prison dare did pas,

He ran as fast, as both his feete could beare,

And neuer looked, who behind him was,

Ne scarsely who before: like as a Beare

That creeping close, amongst the hiues to reare

An hony combe, the wakefull dogs espy,

And him assayling, sore his carkasse teare,

That hardly he with life away does fly,

Ne stayes, till safe himselfe he see from ieopardy.

54 Ne stayd he, till he came vnto the place,

Where late his treasure he entombed had,

Where when he found it not (for Trompart bace

Had it purloyned for his maister bad:)

With extreme fury be became quite mad,

And ran away, ran with himselfe away:

That who so straungely had him seene bestad,

With vpstart haire, and staring eyes dismay,

From Limbo lake him late escaped sure would say.

55 High ouer hilles and ouer dales he fled,

As if the wind him on his winges had borne,

Ne banck nor bush could stay him, when he sped

His nimble feet, as treading still on thorne:

Griefe, and despight, and gealosie, and scorne

Did all the way him follow hard behind,

And he himselfe himselfe loath’d so forlorne,

So shamefully forlorne of womankind;

That as a Snake, still lurked in his wounded mind.

56 Still fled he forward, looking backward still,

Ne stayd his flight, nor fearefull agony,

Till that he came vnto a rockie hill,

Ouer the sea, suspended dreadfully,

That liuing creature it would terrify,

To looke adowne, or vpward to the hight:

From thence he threw himselfe dispiteously,

All desperate of his fore-damned spright,

That seem’d no helpe for him was left in liuing sight

57 But through long anguish, and selfe-murdring thought

He was so wasted and forpined quight,

That all his substance was consum’d to nought,

And nothing left, but like an aery Spright,

That on the rockes he fell so flit and light,

That he thereby receiu’d no hurt at all,

But chaunced on a craggy cliff to light;

Whence he with crooked clawes so long did crall,

That at the last he found a caue with entrance small.

58 Into the same he creepes, and thenceforth there

Resolu’d to build his balefull mansion,

In drery darkenesse, and continuall feare

Of that rockes fall, which euer and anon

Threates with huge ruine him to fall vpon,

That he dare neuer sleepe, but that one eye

Still ope he keepes for that occasion;

Ne euer rests he in tranquillity,

The roring billowes beat his bowre so boystrously.

59 Ne euer is he wont on ought to feed,

But toades and frogs, his pasture poysonous,

Which in his cold complexion do breed

A filthy bloud, or humour rancorous,

Matter of doubt and dread suspitious,

That doth with curelesse care consume the hart,

Corrupts the stomacke with gall vitious,

Croscuts the liuer with internall smart,

And doth transfixe the soule with deathes etemall dart

60 Yet can he neuer dye, but dying liues,

And doth himselfe with sorrow new sustaine,

That death and life attonce vnto him giues.

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.

There dwels he euer, miserable swaine,

Haterull both to him selfe, and euery wight;

Where he through priuy griefe, and horrour vaine,

Is woxen so deform’d, that he has quight

Forgot he was a man, and Gealosie is hight

CANTO XI

Britomart chaceth Ollyphant,
   findes Scudamour distrest:
Assayes the house ofBusyrane,
   where Loues spoyles are exprest.

1 O hatefull hellish Snake, what furie furst

Brought thee from balefull house of Proserpine,

Where in her bosome she thee long had nurst,

And fostred vp with bitter milke of tine,

Fowle Gealosie, that turnest loue diuine

To ioylesse dread, and mak’st the louing hart

With hatefull thoughts to languish and to pine,

And feed it selfe with selfe-consuming smart?

Of all the passions in the mind thou vilest art.

2 O let him far be banished away,

And in his stead let Loue for euer dwell,

Sweet Loue, that doth his golden wings embay

In blessed Nectar, and pure Pleasures well,

Vntroubled of vile feare, or bitter fell.

And ye faire Ladies, that your kingdomes make

In th’harts of men, them gouerne wisely well,

And of faire Britomart ensample take,

That was as trew in loue, as Turtle to her make.

3 Who with Sir Satyrane, as earst ye red,

Forth ryding from Malbeccoes hosdesse hous,

Far off aspyde a young man, the which fled

From an huge Geaunt, that with hideous

And hatefull outrage long him chaced thus;

It was that Ollyphant, the brother deare

Of that Argante vile and vitious,

From whom the Squire of Dames was reft whylere;

This all as bad as she, and worse, if worse ought were.

4 For as die sister did in feminine

And filthy lust exceede all woman kind,

So he surpassed his sex masculine,

In beastly vse that I did euer find;

Whom when as Britomart beheld behind

The fearefull boy so greedily pursew,

She was emmoued in her noble mind,

T’employ her puissaunce to his reskew,

And pricked fiercely forward, where she him did vew.

5 Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde,

But with like fiercenesse did ensew the chace:

Whom when the Gyaunt saw, he soone resinde

His former suit, and from them fled apace;

They after both, and boldly bad him bace,

And each did striue the other to out-goe,

But he them both outran a wondrous space,

For he was long, and swift as any Roe,

And now made better speed, t’escape his feared foe.

6 It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare,

But Britomart the flowre of chastity;

For he the powre of chast hands might not beare,

But alwayes did their dread encounter fly:

And now so fast his feet he did apply,

That he has gotten to a forrest neare,

Where he is shrowded in security.

The wood they enter, and search euery where,

They searched diuersely, so both diuided were.

7 Faire Britomart so long him followed,

That she at last came to a fountaine sheare,

By which there lay a knight all wallowed

Vpon the grassy ground, and by him neare

His haberieon, his helmet, and his speare;

A little off, his shield was rudely throwne,

On which the winged boy in colours cleare

Depeincted was, full easie to be knowne,

And he thereby, where euer it in field was showne.

8 His face vpon the ground did groueling ly,

As if he had bene slombring in the shade,

That the braue Mayd would not for courtesy,

Out of his quiet slomber him abrade,

Nor seeme too suddeinly him to inuade:

Still as she stood, she heard with grieuous throb

Him grone, as if his hart were peeces made,

And with most painefull pangs to sigh and sob,

That pitty did the Virgins hart of patience rob.

9 At last forth breaking into bitter plaintes

He said; ô soueraigne Lord that sit’st on bye,

And raignst in bus emongst thy blessed Saintes,

How suffrest thou such shamefull cruelty,

So long vnwreaked of thine enimy?

Or hast thou, Lord, of good mens cause no heed?

Or doth thy iustice sleepe, and silent ly?

What booteth then the good and righteous deed,

If goodnesse find no grace, nor righteousnesse no meed?

10 If good find grace, and righteousnesse reward,

Why then is Amoret in caytiue band,

Sith that more bounteous creature neuer far’d

On foot, vpon the face of liuing land?

Or if that heauenly iustice may withstand

The wrongfull outrage of vnrighteous men,

Why then is Busirane with wicked hand

Suffred, these seuen monethes day in secret den

My Lady and my loue so cruelly to pen?

11 My Lady and my loue is cruelly pend

In dolefull darkenesse from the vew of day,

Whilest deadly torments do her chast brest rend,

And the sharpe Steele doth riue her hart in tway,

All for she Scudamore will not denay.

Yet thou vile man, vile Scudamore art sound,

Ne canst her ayde, ne canst her foe dismay;

Vnworthy wretch to tread vpon the ground,

For whom so faire a Lady feeles so sore a wound.

12 There an huge heape of singulfes did oppresse

His strugling soule, and swelling throbs empeach

His foltring toung with pangs of drerinesse,

Choking the remnant of his plaintfie speach,

As if his dayes were come to their last reach.

Which when she heard, and saw the ghastly fit,

Threatning into his life to make a breach,

Both with great ruth and terrour she was smit,

Fearing least from her cage the wearie soule would flit

13 Tho stooping downe she him amoued light;

Who therewith somewhat starting, vp gan looke,

And seeing him behind a straunger knight,

Whereas no liuing creature he mistooke,

With great indignaunce he that sight forsooke,

And downe againe himselfe disdainefully

Abiecting, th’earth with his faire forhead strooke:

Which the bold Virgin seeing, gan apply

Fit med’dne to his griefe, and spake thus courtesly.

14 Ah gentle knight, whose deepe concerned griefe

Well seemes t’exceede the powre of patience,

Yet if that heauenly grace some good reliefe

You send, submit you to high prouidence,

And euer in your noble hart prepense,

That all the sorrow in the world is lesse,

Then vertues might, and values confidence,

For who nill bide the burden of distresse,

Must not here thinke to liue: for life is wretchednesse.

15 Therefore, faire Sir, do comfort to you take,

And freely read, what wicked felon so

Hath outrag’d you, and thrald your gentle make.

Perhaps this hand may helpe to ease your woe,

And wreake your sorrow on your cruell foe,

At least it faire endeuour will apply.

Those feeling wordes so neare the quicke did goe,

That vp his head he reared easily,

And leaning on his elbow, these few wordes let fly.

16 What boots it plaine, that cannot be redrest,

And sow vaine sorrow in a fruitlesse eare,

Sith powre of hand, nor skill of learned brest,

Ne worldly price cannot redeeme my deare,

Out of her thraldome and continuall feare?

For he the tyraunt, which her hath in ward

By strong enchauntments and blacke Magicke leare,

Hath in a dungeon deepe her close embard,

And many dreadfull feends hath pointed to her gard.

17 There he tormenteth her most terribly,

And day and night afflicts with mortall paine,

Because to yield him loue she doth deny,

Once to me yold, not to be yold againe:

But yet by torture he would her constraine

Loue to conceiue in her disdainfull brest,

Till so she do, she must in doole remaine,

Ne may by liuing meanes be thence relest:

What boots it then to plaine, that cannot be redrest?

18 With this sad hersall of his heauy stresse,

The warlike Damzell was empassiond sore,

And said; Sir knight, your cause is nothing lesse,

Then is your sorrow, certes if not more;

For nothing so much pitty doth implore,

As gentle Ladies helplesse misery.

But yet, if please ye listen to my lore,

I will with proofe of last extremity,

Deliuer her fro thence, or with her for you dy.

19 Ah gentlest knight aliue, (said Scudamore)

What huge heroicke magnanimity

Dwels in thy bounteous brest? what couldst thou more,

If she were thine, and thou as now am I?

O spare thy happy dayes, and them apply

To better boot, but let me dye, that ought;

More is more losse: one is enough to dy.

Life is not lost, (said she) for which is bought

Endlesse renowm, that more then death is to be sought

20 Thus she at length perswaded him to rise,

And with her wend, to see what new successe

Mote him befall vpon new enterprise;

His armes, which he had vowed to disprofesse,

She gathered vp and did about him dresse,

And his forwandred steed vnto him got:

So forth they both yfere make their progresse,

And march not past the mountenaunce of a shot,

Till they arriu’d, whereas their purpose they did plot

21 There they dismounting, drew their weapons bold

And stoutly came vnto the Castle gate;

Whereas no gate they found, them to withhold,

Nor ward to wait at morne and euening late,

But in the Porch, that did them sore amate,

A flaming fire, ymixt with smouldry smoke,

And stinking Sulphure, that with griesly hate

And dreadfull horrour did all entraunce choke,

Enforced them their forward footing to reuoke.

22 Greatly thereat was Britomart dismayd,

Ne in that stownd wist, how her selfe to beare;

For daunger vaine it were, to haue assayd

That cruell element, which all things feare,

Ne none can suffer to approchen neare:

And turning backe to Scudamour, thus sayd;

What monstrous enmity prouoke we heare,

Foolhardy as th’Earthes children, the which made

Battell against the Gods? so we a God inuade.

23 Daunger without discretion to attempt,

Inglorious and beastlike is: therefore Sir knight,

Aread what course of you is safest dempt,

And how we with our foe may come to fight

This is (quoth he) the dolorous despight,

Which earst to you I playnd: for neither may

This fire be quencht by any wit or might,

Ne yet by any meanes remou’d away,

So mighty be th’enchauntments, which the same do stay.

24 What is there else, but cease these fruidesse paines,

And leaue me to my former languishing;

Faire Amoret must dwell in wicked chaines,

And Scudamore here dye widi sorrowing.

Perdy not so; (said she) for shamefull thing

It were t’abandon noble cheuisaunce,

For shew of perill, without venturing:

Rather let try extremities of chaunce,

Then enterprised prayse for dread to disauaunce.

25 Therewithresolu’d to proue her vtmost might,

Her ample shield she threw before her race,

And her swords point directing forward right,

Assayld the flame, the which eftsoones gaue place,

And did it sdfe diuide with equall space,

That through she passed; as a thunder bolt

Perceth the yielding ayre, and dothdisplace

The soring clouds into sad showres ymolt;

So to her yold the flames, and did their force reuolt.

26 Whom whenas Scudamour saw past die fire,

Safe and vntoucht, he likewise gan assay,

With greedy will, and enuious desire,

And bad the stubborne flames to yield him way:

But cruell Mulciber would not obay

His threatfull pride, but did die more augment

His mighty rage, and widi imperious sway

Him forst (maulgre) his fiercenesse to relent,

And backe retire, all scorcht and pitifully brent

27 With huge impatience he inly swelt,

More for great sorrow, that he could not pas,

Then forthe burning torment, which he felt,

That with fell woodnesse he effierced was,

And wilfully him throwing onthe gras,

Did beat and bounse bis head and brest full sore;

The whiles the Championesse now entred has

The vtmost rowme, and past the formest dore,

The vtmost rowme, abounding with all precious store.

28 For round about, the wals yclothed were

With goodly arras of great maiesty,

Wouen with gold and silke so dose and nere,

That the rich metall lurked priuily,

As faining to be hid from enuious eye;

Yet here, and there, and euery where vnwares

It shewd it selfe, and shone vnwillingly;

Like a discolourd Snake, whose hidden snares

Through the greene gras his long bright burnisht backe

[declares.

29 And in those Tapets weren fashioned

Many faire pourtraicts, and many a faire feate,

And all of loue, and all of lusty-hed,

As seemed by their semblaunt did entreat;

And eke all Cupids warres they did repeate,

And cruell battels, which he whilome fought

Gainst all the Gods, to make his empire great;

Besides the huge massacres, which he wrought

On mighty kings and kesars, into thraldome brought.

30 Therein was writ, how often thundring Ioue

Had felt the point of his hart-percing dart,

And leauing heauens kingdome, here did roue

In straunge disguize, to slake his scalding smart;

Now like a Ram, faire Helle to peruart,

Now like a Bull, Europa to withdraw:

Ah, how the fearefull Ladies tender hart

Did liuely seeme to tremble, when she saw

The huge seas vnder her t’obay her seruaunts law.

31 Soone after that into a golden showre

Him selfe he chaung’d faire Danaë to vew,

And through the roofe of her strong brasen towre

Did raine into her lap an hony dew,

The whiles her foolish garde, that little knew

Of such deceipt, kept th’yron dore fast bard,

And watcht, that none should enter nor issew;

Vaine was the watch, and bootlesse all the ward,

Whenas the God to golden hew him selfe transfard.

32 Then was he turnd into a snowy Swan,

To win faire Leda to his louely trade:

O wondrous skill, and sweet wit of the man,

That her in daffadillies sleeping made,

From scorching heat her daintie limbes to shade:

Whiles the proud Bird ruffing his fethers wyde,

And brushing his faire brest, did her inuade;

She slept, yet twixt her eyelids closely spyde,

How towards her he rusht, and smiled at his pryde.

33 Then shewd it, how the Thebane Semelee

Deceiu’d of gealous Iuno, did require

To see him in his soueraigne maiestee,

Armd with his thunderbolts and lightning fire,

Whence dearely she with death bought her desire.

But faire Alcmena better match did make,

Ioying his Ioue in likenesse more entire;

Three nights in one, they say, that for her sake

He then did put, her pleasures lenger to partake.

34 Twise was he seene in soaring Eagles shape,

And with wide wings to beat the buxome ayre,

Once, when he with Asterie did scape,

Againe, when as the Troiane boy so faire

He snatcht from Ida hill, and with him bare:

Wondrous delight it was, there to behould,

How the rude Shepheards after him did stare,

Trembling through feare, least down he fallen should

And often to him calling, to take surer hould.

35 In Satyres shape Antiopa he snatcht:

And like a fire, when he Aegin assayd:

A shepheard, when Mnemosyne he catcht:

And like a Serpent to the Thracian mayd.

Whiles thus on earth great Ioue these pageaunts playd,

The winged boy did thrust into his throne,

And scoffing, thus vnto his mother sayd,

Lo now the heauens obey to me alone,

And take me for their Ioue, whiles Ioue to earth is gone.

36 And thou, faire Phoebus, in thy colours bright

Wast there enwouen, and the sad distresse,

In which that boy thee plonged, for despight,

That thou bewray’dst his mothers wantonnesse,

When she with Mars was meynt in ioyfulnesse:

For thy he thrild thee with a leaden dart,

To loue faire Daphne, which thee loued lesse:

Lesse she thee lou’d, then was thy iust desart,

Yet was thy loue her death, & her death was thy smart.

37 So louedst thou the lusty Hyacinct,

So louedst thou the faire Coronis deare:

Yet both are of thy haplesse hand extinct,

Yet both in flowres do liue, and loue thee beare,

The one a Paunce, the other a sweet breare:

For griefe whereof, ye mote haue liuely seene

The God himselfe rending his golden heare,

And breaking quite his gyrlond euer greene,

With other signes of sorrow and impatient teene.

38 Both for those two, and for his owne deare sonne,

The sonne of Climene he did repent,

Who bold to guide the charet of the Sunne,

Himselfe in thousand peeces fondly rent,

And all the world with flashing fier brent,

So like, that all the walles did seeme to flame.

Yet cruell Cupid, not herewith content,

Forst him eftsoones to follow other game,

And loue a Shepheards daughter for his dearest Dame.

39 He loued Isse for his dearest Dame,

And for her sake her cattell fed a while,

And for her sake a cowheard vile became,

The seruant of Admetus cowheard vile,

Whiles that from heauen he suffered exile.

Long were to tell each other louely fit,

Now like a Lyon, hunting after spoile,

Now like a Hag, now like a faulcon flit:

All which in that faire arras was most liuely writ.

40 Next vnto him was Neptune pictured,

In his diuine resemblance wondrous lyke:

His face was rugged, and his hoarie hed

Dropped with brackish deaw; his three-forkt Pyke

He stearnly shooke, and therewith fierce did stryke

The raging billowes, that on euery syde

They trembling stood, and made a long broad dyke,

That his swift charet might haue passage wyde,

Which foure great Hippodames did draw in temewise tyde.

41 His sea-horses did seeme to snort amayne,

And from their nosethrilles blow the brynie streame,

That made the sparckling waues to smoke agayne,

And flame with gold, but the white fomy creame,

Did shine with siluer, and shoot forth his beame.

The God himselfe did pensiue seeme and sad,

And hong adowne his head, as he did dreame:

For priuy loue his brest empierced had,

Ne ought but deare Bisaltis ay could make him glad.

42 He loued eke Iphimedia deare,

And Aeolus faire daughter Ante bight,

For whom he turnd him selfe into a Steare,

And fed on fodder, to beguile her sight.

Also to win Deucalions daughter bright,

He turnd him selfe into a Dolphin fayre;

And like a winged horse he tooke his flight,

To snaky-locke Medusa to repayre,

On whom he got faire Pegasus, that flitteth in the ayre.

43 Next Satume was, (but who would euer weene,

The sullein Satume euer weend to loue?

Yet loue is sullein, and Saturnlike seene,

As he did for Erigone it proue)

That to a Centaure did him selfe transmoue.

So proou’d it eke that gracious God of wine,

When for to compasse Philliras hard loue,

He turnd himselfe into a fruitfull vine,

And into her faire bosome made his grapes decline.

44 Long were to tell the amorous assayes,

And gentle pangues, with which he maked meeke

The mighty Mars, to learne his wanton playes:

How oft for Venus, and how often eek

For many other Nymphes he sore did shreek,

With womanish teares, and with vnwarlike smarts,

Priuily moystening his horrid cheek.

There was he painted full of burning darts,

And many wide woundes launched through his inner parts.

45 Ne did he spare (so cruell was the Elfe)

His owne deare mother, (ah why should he so?)

Ne did he spare sometime to pricke himselfe,

That he might tast the sweet consuming woe,

Which he had wrought to many others moe.

But to declare the mournfull Tragedyes,

And spoiles, wherewith he all the ground did strow,

More eath to number, with how many eyes

High heauen beholds sad louers nightly theeueryes.

46 Kings Queenes, Lord’s Ladies, Knights & Damzels gent

Were heap’d together with the vulgar sort,

And mingled with the raskall rablement,

Without respect of person or of port,

To shew Dan Cupids powre and great effort:

And round about a border was entrayld,

Of broken bowes and arrowes shiuered short,

And a long bloudy riuer through them rayld,

So liuely and so like, that liuing sence it fayld.

47 And at lie vpper end of that faire rowme,

There was an Altar built of pretious stone,

Of passing valew, and of great renowme,

On which there stood an Image all alone,

Of massy gold, which with his owne light shone;

And wings it had with sundry colours dight,

More sundry colours, then the proud Pauone

Beares in his boasted fan, or Iris bright,

When her discolourd bow she spreds through heauen bright

48 Blindfold he was, and in his cruell fist

A mortall bow and arrowes keene did hold,

With which he shot at randon, when him list,

Some headed with sad lead, some with pure gold;

(Ah man beware, how thou those darts behold)

A wounded Dragon vnder him did ly,

Whose hideous tayle his left foot did enfold,

And with a shaft was shot through either eye,

That no man forth might draw, ne no man remedye.

49 And vnderneath his feet was written thus,

Vnto the Victor of the Gods this bee:

And all the people in that ample hous

Did to that image bow their humble knee,

And oft committed fowle Idolatree.

That wondrous sight faire Britomart amazed,

Ne seeing could her wonder satisfie,

But euer more and more vpon it gazed,

The whiles the passing brightnes her fraile sences dazed.

50 Tho as she backward cast her busie eye,

To search each secret of that goodly sted

Ouer the dore thus written she did spye

Be bold: she oft and oft it ouer-red,

Yet could not find what sence it figured:

But what so were therein or writ or ment,

She was no whit thereby discouraged

From prosecuting of her first intent,

But forward with bold steps into the next roome went.

51 Much fairer, then the former, was that roome,

And richlier by many partes arayd:

For not with arras made in painefull loome,

But with pure gold it all was ouerlayd,

Wrought with wilde Antickes, which their follies playd,

In the rich metall, as they liuing were:

A thousand monstrous formes therein were made,

Such as false loue doth oft vpon him weare,

For loue in thousand monstrous formes doth oft appeare.

52 And all about, the glistring walles were hong

With warlike spoiles, and with victorious prayes,

Of mighty Conquerours and Captaines strong,

Which were whilome captiued in their dayes

To cruell loue, and wrought their owne decayes:

Their swerds & speres were broke, & hauberques rent;

And their proud girlonds of tryumphant bayes

Troden in dust with fury insolent,

To shew the victors might and mercilesse intent.

53 The warlike Mayde beholding earnestly

The goodly ordinance of this rich place,

Did greatly wonder ne could satisfie

Her greedy eyes with gazing a long space,

Sut more she meruaild that no footings trace,

Nor wight appear’d, but wastefull emptinesse,

And solemne silence ouer all that place:

Straunge thing it seem’d, that none was to possesse

So rich purueyance, ne them keepe with carefulnesse.

54 And as she lookt about, she did behold,

How ouer that same dore was likewise writ,

Be hold, be bold, and euery where Be bold,

That much she muz’d, yet could not construe it

By any ridling skill, or commune wit.

At last she spyde at that roomes vpper end,

Another yron dore, on which was writ,

Be not too bold; whereto though she did bend

Her earnest mind, yet wist not what it might intend.

55 Thus she there waited vntill euentyde,

Yet liuing creature none she saw appeare:

And now sad shadowes gan the world to hyde,

From mortall vew, and wrap in darkenesse dreare;

Yet nould she d’off her weary armes, for feare

Of secret daunger, ne let sleepe oppresse

Her heauy eyes with natures burdein deare,

But drew her selfe aside in sickernesse,

And her welpointed weapons did about her dresse.

CANTO XII

The maske of Cupid, and th’enchaunted
   Chamber are displayd,
Whence Britomart redeemes faire
   Atnoret, through charities decayd.

1 Tho when as chearelesse Night ycouered had

Faire heauen with an vniuersall cloud,

That euery wight dismayd with darknesse sad,

In silence and in sleepe themselues did shroud,

She heard a shrilling Trompet sound aloud,

Signe of nigh battell, or got victory;

Nought therewith daunted was her courage proud,

Sut rather stird to cruell enmity,

Expecting euer, when some foe she might descry.

2 With that, an hideous storme of winde arose,

With dreadfull thunder and lightning atwixt,

And an earth-quake, as if it streight would lose

The worlds foundations from his centre fixt;

A direfull stench of smoke and sulphure mixt

Ensewd, whose noyance fild the fearefull sted,

From the fourth houre of night vntill the sixt;

Yet the bold Britonesse was nought ydred,

Though much emmou’d, but stedfast still perseuered.

3 All suddenly a stormy whirlwind blew

Throughout the house, that clapped euery dore,

With which that yron wicket open flew,

As it with mightie leuers had bene tore:

And forth issewd, as on the ready flore

Of some Theatre, a graue personage,

That in his hand a branch of laurell bore,

With comely haueour and count’nance sage,

Yclad in costly garments, fit for t

4 Proceeding to the midst, he still did stand,

As if in mind he somewhat had to say,

And to the vulgar beckning with his hand,

In signe of silence, as to heare a play,

By liuely actions he gan bewray

Some argument of matter passioned;

Which doen, he backe retyred soft away,

And passing by, his name discouered,

Ease, on his robe in golden letters cyphered.

5 The noble Mayd, still standing all this vewd,

And merueild at his strange intendiment;

With that a ioyous fellowship issewd

Of Minstrals, making goodly meriment,

With wanton Bardes, and Rymers impudent,

All which together sung full chearefully

A lay of loues delight, with sweet consent:

After whom marcht a iolly company,

In manner of a maske, enranged orderly.

6 The whiles a most delirious harmony,

In full straunge notes was sweetly heard to sound,

That the rare sweetnesse of the melody

The feeble senses wholly did confound,

And the fraile soule in deepe delight nigh dround:

And when it ceast, shrill trompets loud did bray,

That their report did farre away rebound,

And when they ceast, it gan againe to play,

The whiles the maskers inarched forth in trim aray.

7 The first was Fancy, like a louely boy,

Of rare aspect, and beaurie without peare;

Matchable either to that ympe of Troy,

Whom Ioue did loue, and chose bis cup to beare,

Or that same dainrie lad, which was so deare

To great Alcides, that when as he dyde,

He wailed womanlike with many a teare,

And euery wood, and euery valley wyde

He fild with Hylas name; the Nymphes eke Hylas cryde.

8 His garment neither was of silke nor say,

But painted plumes, in goodly order dight,

Like as the sunburnt Indians do aray

Their tawney bodies, in their proudest plight:

As those same plumes, so seemd he vaine and light,

That by his gate might easily appeare;

For still he far’d as daunting in delight,

And in his hand a windy fan did beare,

That in the idle aire he mou’d still here and there.

9 And him beside marcht amorous Desyre,

Who seemd of riper yeares, then th’other Swaine,

Yet was that other swayne this elders syre,

And gaue him being, commune to them twaine:

His garment was disguised very vaine,

And his embrodered Bonet sat awry;

Twixt both his hands few sparkes he close did straine,

Which still he blew, and kindled busily,

That soone they life conceiu’d, & forth in flames did fly.

10 Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad

In a disco’lour’d cote, of straunge disguyse.

That at his backe a brode Capuccio had,

And sleeues dependant Albanese-wyse:

He lookt askew with his mistrustfull eyes,

And nicely trode, as thornes lay in his way,

Or that the flore to shrinke he did auyse,

And on a broken reed he still did stay

His feeble steps, which shrunke, when hard theron he lay.

11 With him went Daunger, cloth’d in ragged weed,

Made of Beares skin, that him more dreadfull made,

Yet his owne face was dreadfull, ne did need

Straunge horrour, to deforme his griesly shade;

A net in th’one hand, and a rustie blade

In th’other was, this Mischiefe, that Mishap;

With th’one his foes he threatned to inuade,

With th’odier he his friends ment to enwrap:

For whom he could not kill, he practizd to entrap.

12 Next him was Feare, all arm’d from top to toe,

Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby,

But feard each shadow mouing to and fro,

And his owne armes when glittering he did spy,

Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,

As ashes pale of hew, and winged heeld;

And euermore on daunger fixt his eye,

Gainst whom he alwaies bent a brasen shield,

Which his right hand vnarmed fearefully did wield.

13 With him went Hope in rancke, a handsome Mayd,

Of chearefull looke and louely to behold;

In silken samite she was light arayd,

And her faire lockes were wouen vp in gold;

She alway smyld, and in her hand did hold

An holy water Sprinckle, dipt in deowe,

With which she sprinckled fauours manifold,

On whom she list, and did great liking sheowe,

Great liking vnto many, but true loue to feowe.

14 And after them Dissemblance, and Suspect

Marcht in one rancke, yet an vnequall paire:

For she was gentle, and of milde aspect,

Courteous to all, and seeming debonaire,

Goodly adorned, and exceeding faire:

Yet was that all but painted, and purloynd,

And her bright browes were deckt with borrowed haire:

Her deedes were forged, and her words false coynd,

And alwaies in her hand two clewes of silke she twynd.

15 But he was foule, ill fauoured, and grim,

Vnder his eyebrowes looking still askaunce;

And euer as Dissemblance laught on him,

He lowrd on her with daungerous eyeglaunce;

Shewing his nature in his countenaunce;

His rolling eyes did neuer rest in place,

But walkt each where, for feare of hid mischaunce,

Holding a lattice still before his face,

Through which he still did peepe, as forward he did pace.

16 Next him went Griefe, and Fury matcht yfere;

Griefe all in sable sorrowfully clad,

Downe hanging his dull head, with heauy chere,

Yet inly being more, then seeming sad:

A paire of Pincers in his hand he had,

With which he pinched people to the hart,

That from thenceforth a wretched life they lad,

In wilfull languor and consuming smart,

Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart

17 But Fury was full ill apparelled

In rags, that naked nigh she did appeare,

With ghastly lookes and dreadfull drerihed;

For from her backe her garments she did teare,

And from her head oft rent her snarled heare:

In her right hand a firebrand she did tosse

About her head, still roming here and there;

As a dismayed Deare in chace embost,

Forgetfull of his safety, hath his right way lost.

18 After them went Displeasure and Pleasance,

He looking lompish and full sullein sad,

And hanging downe his heauy countenance;

She chearefull fresh and full of ioyance glad,

As if no sorrow she ne felt ne drad;

That euill matched paire they seemd to bee:

An angry Waspe th’one in a viall had:

Th’other in hers an hony-lady Bee;

Thus marched these sixe couples forth in faire degree.

19 After all these there marcht a most faire Dame,

Led of two grysie villeins, th’one Despight,

The other cleped Cruelty by name:

She dolefull Lady, like a dreary Spright,

Cald by strong charmes out of eternall night,

Had deathes owne image figurd in her face,

Full of sad signes, fearefull to liuing sight;

Yet in that horror shewd a seemely grace,

And with her feeble feet did moue a comely pace.

20 Her brest all naked, as net iuory,

Without adorne of gold or siluer bright,

Wherewith the Craftesman wonts it beautify,

Of her dew honour was despoyled quight,

And a wide wound therein (O ruefull sight)

Entrenched deepe with knife accursed keene,

Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting spright,

(The worke of cruell hand) was to be seene,

That dyde in sanguine red her skin all snowy cleene.

21 At that wide orifice her trembling hart

Was drawne forth, and in siluer basin layd,

Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart,

And in her bloud yet steeming fresh embayd:

And those two villeins, which her steps vpstayd,

When her weake feete could scarcely her sustaine,

And fading vitall powers gan to fade,

Her forward still with torture did constraine,

And euermore encreased her consuming paine.

22 Next after her the winged God himselfe

Came riding on a Lion rauenous,

Taught to obay the menage of that Elfe,

That man and beast with powre imperious

Subdeweth to his kingdome tyrannous:

His blindfold eyes he bad a while vnbind,

That his proud spoyle of that same dolorous

Faire Dame he might behold in perfect kind;

Which seene, he much reioyced in his cruell mind.

23 Of which full proud, himselfe vp rearing hye,

He looked round about with sterne disdaine;

And did suruay his goodly company:

And marshalling the euill ordered traine,

With that the darts which his right hand did straine,

Full dreadfully he shooke that all did quake,

And dapt on hie his coulourd winges twaine,

That all his many it affraide did make:

Tho blinding him againe, his way he forth did take.

24 Behinde him was Reproch, Repentance, Shame;

Reproch the first, Shame next, Repent behind:

Repentance feeble, sorrowfull, and lame:

Reproch despightfull, carelesse, and vnkind;

Shame most ill fauourd, bestiall, and blind:

Shame lowrd, Repentance sigh’d, Reproch did scould;

Reproch sharpe stings, Repentance whips entwind,

Shame burning brond-yrons in her hand did hold:

All three to each vnlike, yet all made in one mould.

25 And after them a rude confused rout

Of persons flockt, whose names is hard to read:

Emongst them was sterne Strife, and Anger stout,

Vnquiet Care, and fond Vnthrifiihead,

Lewd Losse of Time, and Sorrow seeming dead,

Inconstant Chaunge, and false Disloyaltie,

Consuming Riotise, and guilty Dread

Of heauenly vengeance, faint Infirmitie,

Vile Pouertie, and lastly Death with infamie.

26 There were full many moe like maladies,

Whose names and natures I note readen well;

So many moe, as there be phantasies

In wauering wemens wit, that none can tell,

Or paines in loue, or punishments in hell;

All which disguized marcht in masking wise,

About the chamber with that Damozell,

And then returned, hauing marched thrise,

Into the inner roome, from whence they first did rise.

27 So soone as they were in, the dore streight way

Fast locked, driuen with that stormy blast,

Which first it opened; and bore all away.

Then the braue Maid, which all this while was plast,

In secret shade, and saw both first and last,

Issewed forth, and went vnto the dore,

To enter in, but found it locked fast:

It vaine she thought with rigorous vprore

For to efforce, when charmes had closed it afore.

28 Where force might not auaile, there sleights and art

She cast to vse, both fit for hard emprize;

For thy from that same roome not to depart

Till morrow next, she did her selfe auize,

When that same Maske againe should forth arize.

The morrow next appeard with ioyous cheare,

Calling men to their daily exercize,

Then she, as morrow fresh, her selfe did reare

Out of her secret stand, that day for to out weare.

29 All that day she outwore in wandering,

And gazing on that Chambers ornament,

Till that againe the second euening

Her couered with her sable vestiment,

Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she hath blent:

Then when the second watch was almost past,

That brasen dore flew open, and in went

Bold Britomart, as she had late forecast,

Neither of idle shewes, nor of false charmes aghast.

30 So soone as she was entred, round about

She cast her eies, to see what was become

Of all those persons, which she saw without:

But lo, they streight were vanisht all and some,

Ne liuing wight she saw in all that roome,

Saue that same woefull Ladie, both whose hands

Were bounden fast, that did her ill become,

And her small wast girt round with yron bands,

Vnto a brasen pillour, by the which she stands.

31 And her before the vile Enchaunter sate,

Figuring straunge characters of his art,

With liuing bloud he those characters wrate,

Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,

Seeming transfixed with a cruell dart,

And all perforce to make her him to loue.

Ah who can loue the worker of her smart?

A thousand charmes he formerly did proue;

Yet thousand charmes could not her stedfast heart remoue.

32 Soone as that virgin knight he saw in place,

His wicked bookes in hast he ouerthrew,

Not caring his long labours to deface,

And fiercely ronning to that Lady trew,

A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew,

The which he thought, for villeinous despight,

In her tormented bodie to embrew:

But the stout Damzell to him leaping light,

His cursed hand withheld, and maistered his might.

33 From her, to whom his fury first he ment,

The wicked weapon rashly he did wrest,

And turning to her selfe his fell intent,

Vnwares it strooke into her snowie chest,

That little drops empurpled her faire brest.

Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin grew,

Albe the wound were nothing deepe imprest,

And fiercely forth her mortall blade she drew,

To giue him the reward for such vile outrage dew.

34 So mightily she smote him, that to ground

He fell halfe dead; next stroke him should haue slaine..

Had not the Lady, which by him stood bound,

Dernely vnto her called to abstaine,

From doing him to dy. For else her paine

Should be remedilesse, sith none but hee,

Which wrought it, could the same recure againe.

Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd to bee;

For life she him enuyde, and long’d reuenge to see.

35 And to him said, Thou wicked man, whose meed

For so huge mischiefe, and vile villany

Is death, or if that ought do death exceed,

Be sure, that nought may saue thee from to dy,

But if that thou this Dame doe presently

Restore vnto her health, and former state;

This doe and liue, else die vndoubtedly.

He glad of life, that lookt for death but late,

Did yield himselfe right willing to prolong his date.

36 And rising vp, gan streight to ouerlooke

Those cursed leaues, his charmes backe to reuerse;

Full dreadfull things out of that balefull booke

He red, and measur’d many a sad verse,

That horror gan the virgins hart to perse,

And her faire lockes vp stared stiffe on end,

Hearing him those same bloudy lines reherse;

And all the while he red, she did extend

Her sword high ouer him, if ought he did offend.

37 Anon she gan perceiue the house to quake,

And all the dores to rattle round about;

Yet all that did not her dismaied make,

Nor slacke her threatfull hand for daungers dout,

But still with stedfast eye and courage stout

Abode, to weet what end would come of all.

At last that mightie chaine, which round about

Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan fall,

And that great brasen pillour broke in peeces small.

38 The cruell Steele, which thrild her dying hart,

Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord,

And the wyde wound, which lately did dispart

Her bleeding brest, and riuen bowels gor’d,

Was closed vp, as it had not bene bor’d,

And euery part to safety full sound,

As she were neuer hurt, was soone restor’d:

Tho when she felt her selfe to be vnbound,

And perfect hole, prostrate she fell vnto the ground.

39 Before faire Britomart, she fell prostrate,

Saying, Ah noble knight, what worthy meed

Can wretched Lady, quit from wofull state,

Yield you in liew of this your gratious deed?

Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall breed,

Euen immortall praise, and glory wyde,

Which I your vassall, by your prowesse freed,

Shall through the world make to be notifyde,

And goodly well aduance, that goodly well was tryde.

40 But Britomart vprearing her from ground,

Said, Gentle Dame, reward enough I weene

For many labours more, then I haue found,

This, that in safety now I haue you seene,

And meane of your deliuerance haue beene:

Henceforth faire Lady comfort to you take,

And put away remembrance of late teene;

In stead thereof know, that your louing Make,

Hath no lesse griefe endured for your gentle sake.

41 She much was cheard to heare him mentiond,

Whom of all liuing wights she loued best.

Then laid the noble Championesse strong hond

Vpon th’enchaunter, which had her distrest

So sore, and with foule outrages opprest:

With that great chaine, wherewith not long ygo

He bound that pitteous Lady prisoner, now relest,

Himselfe she bound, more worthy to be so,

And captiue with her led to wretchednesse and wo.

42 Returning backe, those goodly roomes, which erst

She saw so rich and royally arayd,

Now vanisht vtterly, and cleane subuerst

She found, and all their glory quite decayd,

That sight of such a chaunge her much dismay!

Thence forth descending to that perlous Porch,

Those dreadfull flames she also found delayd,

And quenched quite, like a consumed torch,

That erst all entrers wont so cruelly to scorch.

43 More easie issew now, then entrance late

She found: for now that fained dreadfull flame,

Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted gate,

And passage bard to all, that thither came,

Was vanisht quite, as it were not the same,

And gaue her leaue at pleasure forth to passe.

Th’Enchaunter selfe, which all that fraud did frame,

To haue efforst the loue of that faire lasse,

Seeing his worke now wasted deepe engrieued was.

44 But when the victoresse arriued there,

Where late she left the pensife Scudamore,

With her owne trusty Squire, both full of feare,

Neither of them she found where she them lore:

Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore;

But most faire Amoret, whose gentle spright

Now gan to feede on hope, which she before

Concerned had, to see her owne deare knight,

Being thereof beguyld was fild with new affright,

45 But he sad man, when he had long in drede

Awayted there for Britomarts returne,

Yet saw her not nor signe of her good speed,

His expectation to despaire did turne,

Misdeeming sure that her those flames did burne;

And therefore gan aduize with her old Squire,

Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse did mourne,

Thence to depart for further aide t’enquire:

Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doe respire.

[The 1590 edition concluded Book III with the following stanzas.
Stanzas 43–5were substituted in 1596.]

43a At last she came vnto the place, where late

She left Sir Scudamour in great distresse,

Twixt dolour and despight halfe desperate,

Of his loues succour, of his owne redresse,

And of the bardie Britomarts successe:

There on the cold earth him now thrown she found,

In wilfull anguish, and dead heauinesse,

And to him cald; whose voices knowen sound

Soone as he heard, himself he reared light from ground.

44a There did he see, that most on earth him ioyd,

His dearest loue, the comfort of his dayes,

Whose too long absence him had sore annoyd,

And wearied his life with dull delayes:

Straight he vpstarted from the loathed layes,

And to her ran with hasty egernesse,

Like as a Deare, that greedily embayes

In the coole soile, after long thirstinesse,

Which he in chace endured hath, now nigh breathlesse.

45a Lightly he clipt her twixt his armes twaine,

And streightly did embrace her body bright,

Her body, late the prison of sad paine,

Now the sweet lodge of loue and deare delight:

But she faire Lady ouercommen quight

Of huge affection, did in pleasure melt,

And in sweete rauishment pourd out her spright;

No word they spake, nor earthly thing they felt,

But like two senceles stocks in long embracement dwelt.

46a Had ye them seene, ye would haue surely thought,

That they had beene that faire Hermaphrodite,

Which that rich Romane of white marble wrought,

And in his costly Bath causd to bee site:

So seemd those two, as growne together quite,

That Britomart halfe enuying their blesse,

Was much empassiond in her gentle sprite,

And to herselfe oft wisht like happinesse,

In vaine she wisht, that fate n’ould let her yet possesse.

47a Thus doe those louers with sweet counteruayle,

Each other of loues bitter fruit despoile.

But now my teme begins to faint and fayle,

All woxen weary of their iournall toyle:

Therefore I will their sweatie yokes assoyle

At this same furrowes end, till a new day:

And ye faire Swayns, after your long turmoyle,

Now cease your worke, and at your pleasure play;

Now cease your worke; to morrow is an holy day.

THE FORTH BOOKE
OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE

CONTAYNING
THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TELAMOND,
OR
OF FRIENDSHIP.

1 The rugged forhead that with graue foresight

Welds kingdomes causes, & affaires of state,

My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite,

For praising loue, as I haue done of late,

And magnifying louers deare debate;

By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,

Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,

That better were in vertues discipled,

Then with vaine poemes weeds to haue their fancies fed.

2 Such ones ill iudge of loue, that cannot loue,

Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame:

For thy they ought not thing vnknowne reproue,

Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame,

For fault of few that haue abusd the same.

For it of honor and all vertue is

The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,

That crowne true louers with immortall blis,

The meed of them that loue, and do not liue amisse.

3 Which who so list looke backe to former ages,

And call to count the things that then were donne,

Shall find, that all the workes of those wise sages,

And braue exploits which great Heroes wonne,

In loue were either ended or begunne:

Witnesse the father of Philosophie,

Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne,

Of loue full manie lessons did apply,

The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.

4 To such therefore I do not sing at all,

But to that sacred Saint my soueraigne Queene,

In whose chast breast all bountie naturall,

And treasures of true loue enlocked beene,

Boue all her sexe that euer yet was seene;

To her I sing of loue, that loueth best,

And best is lou’d of all aliue I weene:

To her this song most fitly is addrest,

The Queene of loue, & Prince of peace from heauen blest

5 Which that she may the better deigne to heare,

Do thou dred infant, Venus dearling doue,

From her high spirit chase imperious feare,

And vse of awfull Maiestie remoue:

In sted thereof with drops of melting loue,

Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten

From thy sweete smyling mother from aboue,

Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,

That she may hearke to loue, and reade this lesson often.

CANTO I

Fayre Britomart saues Amoret,
   Duessa discord breedes
Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:
   Their fight and warlike deedes.

1 Of louers sad calamities of old,

Full many piteous stories doe remaine,

But none more piteous euer was ytold,

Then that of Amorets hart-binding chaine,

And this of Florimels vnworthie paine:

The deare compassion of whose bitter fit

My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,

That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,

And oftentimes doe wish it neuer had bene writ

2 For from the time that Scudamour her bought

In perilous fight, she neuer ioyed day,

A perilous fight when he with force her brought

From twentie Knights, that did him all assay:

Yet fairely well he did them all dismay:

And with great glorie both the shield of loue,

And eke the Ladie selfe he brought away,

Whom hauing wedded as did him behoue,

A new vnknowen mischiefe did from him remoue.

3 For that same vile Enchauntour Busyran,

The very selfe same day that she was wedded,

Amidst the bridale feast, whilest euery man

Surcharg’d with wine, were heedlesse and ill hedded,

All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,

Brought in that mask of loue which late was showen:

And there the Ladie ill of friends bestedded,

By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen,

Conueyed quite away to liuing wight vnknowen.

4 Seuen moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,

Because his sinfull lust she would not serue,

Vntill such time as noble Britomart

Released her, that else was like to sterue,

Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerue.

And now she is with her vpon the way,

Marching in louely wise, that could deserue

No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay

To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

5 Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell

The diuerse vsage and demeanure daint,

That each to other made, as oft befell.

For Atnoret right fearefull was and faint,

Lest she with blame her honor should attaint,

That euerie word did tremble as she spake,

And euerie looke was coy, and wondrous quaint,

And euerie limbe that touched her did quake:

Yet could she not but curteous countenance to her make.

6 For well she wist, as true it was indeed,

That her liues Lord and patrone of her health

Right well deserued as his duefull meed,

Her loue, her seruice, and her vtmost wealth.

All is his iustly, that all freely dealth:

Nathlesse her honor dearer then her life,

She sought to saue, as thing reseru’d from stealth;

Die had she leuer with Enchanters knife,

Then to be false in loue, profest a virgine wife.

7 Thereto her feare was made so much the greater

Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd:

Who for to hide her fained sex the better,

And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd

Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd,

That well she wist not what by them to gesse,

For other whiles to her she purpos made

Of loue, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse,

That much she feard his mind would grow to some ezcesse.

8 His will she feard; for him she surely thought

To be a man, such as indeed he seemed,

And much the more, by that he lately wrought,

When her from deadly thraldome he redeemed,

For which no seruice she too much esteemed;

Yet dread of shame, and doubt of fowle dishonor

Made her not yeeld so much, as due she deemed.

Yet Britomart attended duly on her,

As well became a knight, and did to her all honor.

9 It so befell one euening, that they came

Vnto a Castell, lodged there to bee,

Where many a knight, and many a louely Dame

Was then assembled, deeds of armes to see:

Amongst all which was none more faire then shee,

That many of them mou’d to eye her sore.

The custome of that place was such, that hee

Which had no loue nor lemman there in store,

Should either winne him one, or lye without the dore.

10 Amongst the rest-there was a iolly knight,

Who being asked for his loue, auow’d

That fairest Amoret was his by right,

And offred that to iustifie alowd.

The warlike virgine seeing his so prowd

And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth,

But for the present did her anger shrowd;

And sayd, her loue to lose she was full loth,

But either he should neither of them haue, or both.

11 So foorth they went, and both together giusted;

But that same younker soone was ouerthrowne,

And made repent, that he had rashly lusted

For thing vnlawfull, that was not his owne:

Yet since he seemed valiant, though vnknowne,

She that no lesse was courteous then stout,

Cast how to salue, that both the custome showne

Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out,

That seem’d full hard t’accord two diings so far in dout.

12 The Seneschall was cal’d to deeme the right,

Whom she requir’d, that first fayre Amoret

Might be to her allow’d, as to a Knight,

That did her win and free from chalehge set:

Which straight to her was yeelded without let.

Then since that strange Knights loue from him was quitted,

She claim’d that to her selfe, as Ladies det,

He as a Knight might iustly be admitted;

So none should be outshut, sith all of loues were fitted.

13 With that her glistring helmet she vnlaced;

Which doft, her golden lockes, that were vp bound

Still in a knot, vnto her heeles downe traced,

And like a silken veile in compasse round

About her backe and all her bodie wound:

Like as the shining skie in summers night,

What time the dayes with scorching heat abound,

Is creasted all with lines of firie light,

That it prodigious seemes in common peoples sight.

14 Such when those Knights and Ladies all about

Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,

And euery one gan grow in secret dout

Of this and that, according to each wit:

Some thought that some enchantment faygned it;

Some, that Bellona in that warlike wise

To them appear’d, with shield and armour fit;

Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:

So diuersely each one did sundrie doubts deuise.

15 But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed

Was to that goodly fellowship restor’d,

Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,

And doubly ouercommen, her ador’d:

So did they all their former strife accord;

And eke fayre Amoret now freed from feare,

More franke affection did to her afford,

And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,

Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

16 Where all that night they of their loues did treat,

And hard aduentures twixt themselues alone,

That each the other gan with passion great,

And griefull pittie priuately bemone.

The morow next so soone as Titan shone,

They both vprose, and to their waies them dight:

Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none,

That to their willes could them direct aright,

Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight,

17 Lo thus they rode, till at the last they spide

Two armed Knights, that toward them did pace,

And ech of them had ryding by his side

A Ladie, seeming in so farre a space,

But Ladies none they were, albee in face

And outward shew faire semblance they did beare:

For vnder maske of beautie and good grace,

Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,

That mote to none but to the warie wise appeare.

18 The one of them the false Duessa hight,

That now had chang’d her former wonted hew:

For she could d’on so manie shapes in sight,

As euer could Cameleon colours new;

So could she forge all colours, saue the trew.

The other no whit better was then shee,

But that such as she was, she plaine did shew;

Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,

And dayly more offensiue vnto each degree.

19 Her name was Ate, mother of debate,

And all dissention, which doth dayly grow

Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state

And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.

Her false Duessa who full well did know,

To be most fit to trouble noble knights,

Which hunt for honor, raised from below,

Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,

Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies & nights.

20 Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,

Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse,

It is a darksome delue farre vnder ground,

With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,

That none the same may easily out win;

Yet many waies to enter may be found,

But none to issue forth when one is in:

For discord harder is to end then to begin.

21 And all within the riuen walls were hung

With ragged monuments of times forepast,

All which the sad effects of discord sung:

There were rent robes, and broken scepters plast,

Altars defyl’d, and holy things defast,

Disshiuered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,

Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,

Nations captiued, and huge armies slaine:

Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

22 There was the signe of antique Babylon,

Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,

Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion,

For memorie of which on high there hong

The golden Apple, cause of all their wrong,

For which the three faire Goddesses did striue:

There also was the name of Nimrod strong,

Of Alexander, and his Princes flue,

Which shar’d to them the spoiles that he had got aliue.

23 And there the relicks of the drunken fray,

The which amongst the Lapithees befell,

And of the bloodie feast, which sent away

So many Centimes drunken soules to hell,

That vnder great Alcides furie fell:

And of the dreadfull discord, which did driue

The noble Argonauts to outrage fell,

That each of life sought others to depriue,

All mindlesse of the Golden fleece, which made them striue.

24 And eke of priuate persons many moe,

That were too long a worke to count them all;

Some of sworne friends, that did their faith forgoe;

Some of borne brethren, prov’d vnnaturall;

Some of deare louers, foes perpetuall:

Witnesse their broken bandes there to be seene,

Their girlonds rent, their bowres despoyled all;

The moniments whereof there byding beene,

As plaine as at the first, when they were fresh and greene.

25 Such was her house within; but all without,

The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,

Which she her selfe had sowen all about,

Now growen great, at first of little seedes,

The seedes of euill wordes, and factious deedes;

Which when to ripenesse due they growen arre,

Bring foorth an infinite increase, that breedes

Tumultuous trouble and contentious iarre,

The which most often end in bloudshed and in warre.

26 And those same cursed seedes doe also serue

To her for bread, and yeeld her liuing food:

For life it is to her, when others sterue

Through mischieuous debate, and deadly feood,

That she may sucke their life, and drinke their blood,

With which she from her childhood had bene fed.

For she at first was borne of hellish brood,

And by infernall furies nourished,

That by her monstrous shape might easily be red.

27 Her face most fowle and filthy was to see,

With squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended,

And loathly mouth, vnmeete a mouth to bee,

That nought but gall and venim comprehended,

And wicked wordes that God and man offended:

Her lying tongue was in two parts diuided,

And both the parts did speake, and both contended;

And as her tongue, so was her hart discided,

That neuer thoght one thing, but doubly stil was guided.

28 Als as she double spake, so heard she double,

With matchlesse eares deformed and distort,

Fild with false rumors and seditious trouble,

Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort,

That still are led with euery light report

And as her eares so eke her feet were odde,

And much vnlike, th’one long, the other short

And both misplast; that when th’one forward yode,

The other backe retired, and contrarie trode.

29 Likewise vnequall were her handes twaine,

That one did reach, the other pusht away,

That one did make, the other mard againe,

And sought to bring all things vnto decay;

Whereby great riches gathered manie a day,

She in short space did often bring to nought

And their possessours often did dismay.

For all her studie was and all her thought,

How she might ouerthrow the things that Concord wrought

30 So much her malice did her might surpas,

That euen th’Almightie selfe she did maligne,

Because to man so mercifull he was,

And vnto all his creatures so benigne,

Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne:

For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride,

Vnto his last confusion to bring,

And that great golden chaine quite to diuide,

With which it blessed Concord hath together tide.

31 Such was that hag, which with Duessa roade,

And seruing her in her malitious vse,

To hurt good knights, was as it were her baude,

To sell her borrowed beautie to abuse.

For though like withered tree, that wanteth iuyce,

She old and crooked were, yet now of late,

As fresh and fragrant as the floure deluce

She was become, by chaunge of her estate,

And made full goodly ioyance to her new found mate.

32 Her mate he was a iollie youthfull knight,

That bore great sway in armes and chiualrie,

And was indeed a man of mickle might:

His name was Blandamour, that did descrie

His fickle mind full of inconstancic.

And now himselfe he fitted had right well,

With two companions of like qualitie,

Faithlesse Duessa, and raise Paridell,

That whether were more false, full hard it is to tell.

33 Now when this gallant with his goodly crew,

From farre espide the famous Britomart,

Like knight aduenturous in outward vew,

With his faire paragon, his conquests part,

Approching nigh, eftsoones his wanton hart

Was tickled with delight, and iesting sayd;

Lo there Sir Paridel, for your desart,

Good lucke presents you with yond louely mayd,

For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd.

34 By that the louely paire drew nigh to hond:

Whom when as Paridel more plaine beheld,

Albee in heart he like affection fond,

Yet mindfull how he late by one was feld,

That did those armes and that same scutchion weld,

He had small lust to buy bis loue so deare,

But answerd, Sir him wise I neuer held,

That hauing once escaped perill neare,

Would afterwards afresh the sleeping euill reare.

35 This knight too late his manhood and his might,

I did assay, that me right dearely cost,

Ne list I for reuenge prouoke new fight,

Ne for light Ladies loue, that soone is lost

The hot-spurre youth so scorning to be crost,

Take then to you this Dame of mine (quoth hee)

And I without your perill or your cost,

Will chalenge yond same other for my fee:

So forth he fiercely prickt, that one him scarce could see.

36 The warlike Britonesse her soone addrest,

And with such vncouth welcome did receaue

Her fayned Paramour, her forced guest,

That being forst his saddle soone to leaue,

Him selfe he did of his new loue deceaue:

And made him selfe thensample of his follie.

Which done, she passed forth not taking leaue,

And left him now as sad, as whilome iollie,

Well warned to beware with whom he dar’d to dallie.

37 Which when his other companie beheld,

They to his succour ran with readie ayd:

And finding him vnable once to weld,

They reared him on horsebacke, and vpstayd,

Till on his way they had him forth conuayd:

And all the way with wondrous griefe of mynd,

And shame, he shewd him selfe to be dismayd,

More for the loue which he had left behynd.

Then that which he had to Sir Paridel resynd.

38 Nathlesse he forth did march well as he might,

And made good semblance to his companie,

Dissembling his disease and euill plight;

Till that ere long they chaunced to espie

Two other knights, that towards them did ply

With speedie course, as bent to charge them new.

Whom when as Blandamour approching nie,

Perceiu’d to be such as they seemd in vew,

He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.

39 For th’one of them he perfectly descride,

To be Sir Scudamour, by that he bore

The God of loue, with wings displayed wide,

Whom mortally he hated euermore,

Both for his worth, that all men did adore,

And eke because his loue he wonne by right:

Which when he thought, it grieued him full sore,

That through the bruses of his former fight,

He now vnable was to wreake his old despight

40 For thy he thus to Paridel bespake,

Faire Sir, of friendship let me now you pray,

That as I late aduentured for your sake,

The hurts whereof me now from battell stay,

Ye will me now with like good turne repay,

And iustifie my cause on yonder knight.

Ah Sir (said Paridel) do not dismay

Your selfe for this, my selfe will for you fight,

As ye haue done for me: the left hand rubs the right

41 With that he put his spurres vnto his steed,

With speare in rest, and toward him did fare,

like shaft out of a bow preuenting speed.

But Scudamour was shortly well aware

Of his approch, and gan him selfe prepare

Him to receiue with entertainment meete.

So furiously they met, that either bare

The other downe vnder their horses feete,

That what of them became, themselues did scarsly weete.

42 As when two billowes in the Irish sowndes,

Forcibly driuen with contrarie tydes

Do meete together, each abacke rebowndes

With roaring rage; and dashing on all sides,

That filleth all the sea with fome, diuydes

The doubtfull current into diuers wayes:

So fell those two in spight of both their prydes,

But Scudamour himselfe did soone vprayse,

And mounting light his foe for lying long vpbrayes.

43 Who rolled on an heape lay still in swound,

All carelesse of his taunt and bitter rayle,

Till that the rest him seeing lie on ground,

Ran hastily, to weete what did him ayle.

Where finding that the breath gan him to fayle,

With busie care they stroue him to awake,

And doft his helmet, and vndid his mayle:

So much they did, that at the last they brake

His slomber, yet so mazed, that he nothing spake.

44 Which when as Blandamour beheld, he sayd,

False faitour Scudamour, that hast by slight

And foule aduantage this good Knight dismayd,

A Knight much better then thy selfe behight,

Well falles it thee that I am not in plight

This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne:

Such is thy wont, that still when any Knight

Is weakned, then thou doest him ouerronne:

So hast thou to thy selfe false honour often wonne.

45 He little answer’d, but in manly heart

His mightie indignation did forbeare,

Which was not yet so secret, but some part

Thereof did in his frouning face appeare:

Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare

An hideous storme, is by the Northerne blast

Quite ouerblowne, yet doth not passe so cleare,

But that it all the skie doth ouercast

With darknes dred, and threatens all the world to wast

46 Ah gentle knight, then false Duessa sayd,

Why do ye striue for Ladies loue so sore,

Whose chiefe desire is loue and friendly aid

Mongst gentle Knights to nourish euermore?

Ne be ye wroth Sir Scudamour therefore,

That she your loue list loue another knight,

Ne do your selfe dislike a whit the more;

For Loue is free, and led with selfe delight,

Ne will enforced be with maisterdome or might

47 So false Duessa, but vile Ate thus;

Both foolish knights, I can but laugh at both,

That striue and storme with stirre outrageous,

For her that each of you alike doth loth,

And loues another, with whom now she goth

In louely wise, and sleepes, and sports, and playes;

Whilest both you here with many a cursed oth,

Sweare she is yours, and stirre vp bloudie frayes,

To win a willow bough, whilest other weares the bayes.

48 Vile hag (sayd Scudamour) why dost thou lye?

And falsly seekst a vertuous wight to shame?

Fond knight (sayd she) the thing that with this eye

I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same?

Then tell (quoth Blandamour) and feare no blame,

Tell what thou saw’st, maulgre who so it heares.

I saw (quoth she) a stranger knight, whose name

I wote not well, but in his shield he beares

(That well I wote) the heads of many broken speares.

49 I saw him haue your Amoret at will,

I saw him kisse, I saw him her embrace,

I saw him sleepe with her all night his fill,

All manie nights, and manie by in place,

That present were to testifie the case.

Which when as Scudamour did heare, his heart

Was thrild with inward griefe, as when in chace

The Parthian strikes a stag with shiuering dart,

The beast astonisht stands in middest of his smart.

50 So stood Sir Scudamour, when this he heard,

Ne word he had to speake for great dismay,

But lookt on Glauce grim, who woxe afeard

Of outrage for the words, which she heard say,

Albee vntrue she wist them by assay.

But Blandamour, whenas he did espie

His chaunge of cheere, that anguish did bewray,

He woxe full blithe, as he had got thereby,

And gan thereat to triumph without victorie.

51 Lo recreant (sayd he) the fruitlesse end

Of thy vaine boast, and spoile of loue misgotten,

Whereby the name of knight-hood thou dost shend,

And all true louers with dishonor blotten,

All things not rooted well, will soone be rotten.

Fy fy false knight (then false Duessa cryde)

Vnworthy life that loue with guile hast gotten,

Be thou, where euer thou do go or ryde,

Loathed of ladies all, and of all knights defyde.

52 But Scudamour for passing great despight

Staid not to answer, scarcely did refraine,

But that in all those knights and ladies sight,

He for reuenge had guiltlesse Glauce slaine:

But being past, he thus began amaine;

False traitour squire, false squire, of falsest knight,

Why doth mine hand from thine auenge abstaine,

Whose Lord hath done my loue this foule despight?

Why do I not it wreake, on thee now in my might?

53 Discourteous, disloyall Britomart,

Vntrue to God, and vnto man vniust,

What vengeance due can equall thy desart,

That hast with shamefull spot of sinfull lust

Defil’d the pledge committed to thy trust?

Let vgly shame and endlesse infamy

Colour thy name with foule reproaches rust.

Yet thou false Squire his fault shalt deare aby,

And with thy punishment his penance shalt supply.

54 The aged Dame him seeing so enraged,

Was dead with feare, nathlesse as neede required,

His flaming furie sought to haue assuaged

With sober words, that sufferance desired,

Till time the tryall of her truth expyred:

And euermore sought Britomart to cleare.

But he the more with furious rage was fyred,

And thrise his hand to kill her did vpreare,

And thrise he drew it backe: so did at last forbeare.

CANTO II

Blandamour winnes false Florimell,
   Paridell for her striues,
They are accorded: Agape
   doth lengthen her sonnes liues.

1 Firebrand of hell first tynd in Phlegeton,

By thousand furies, and from thence out throwen

Into this world, to worke confusion,

And set it all on fire by force vnknowen,

Is wicked discord, whose small sparkes once blowen

None but a God or godlike man can slake;

Such as was Orpheus, that when strife was growen

Amongst those famous ympes of Greece, did take

His filuer Harpe in hand, and shortly friends them make.

2 Or such as that celestiall Psalmist was,

That when the wicked feend his Lord tormented,

With heauenly notes, that did all other pas,

The outrage of his furious fit relented.

Such Musicke is wise words with time concerned,

To moderate stiffe minds, disposd to striue:

Such as that prudent Romane well inuented,

What time his people into partes did riue,

Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes did driue.

3 Such vs’d wise Glauce to that wrathfull knight,

To calme the tempest of his troubled thought:

Yet Blandamour with termes of foule despight,

And Paridell her scornd, and set at nought,

As old and crooked and not good for ought.

Both they vnwise, and warelesse of the euill,

That by themselues vnto themselues is wrought,

Through that false witch, and that foule aged dreuill,

The one a feend, the other an incarnate deuill.

4 With whom as they thus rode accompanide,

They were encountred of a lustie Knight,

That had a goodly Ladie by his side,

To whom he made great dalliance and delight

It was to weete the bold Sir Ferraugh bight,

He that from Braggadocchio whilome reft

The snowy Florimell, whose beautie bright

Made him seeme happie for so glorious theft;

Yet was it in due triall but a wandring weft.

5 Which when as Blandamour, whose fancie light

Was alwaies flitting as the wauering wind,

After each beautie, that appeard in sight,

Beheld, eftsoones it prickt his wanton mind

With sting of lust, that reasons eye did blind,

That to Sir Paridell these words he sent;

Sir knight why ride ye dumpish thus behind,

Since so good fortune doth to you present

So fayre a spoyle, to make you ioyous meriment?

6 But Paridell that had too late a tryall

Of the bad issue of his counsell vaine,

List not to hearke, but made this faire denyall;

Last turne was mine, well proued to my paine,

This now be yours, God send you better gaine.

Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in scorne,

Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in disdaine,

Against that Knight, ere he him well could torne

By meanes whereof he hath him lightly ouerborne.

7 Who with the sudden stroke astonisht sore,

Vpon the ground a while in slomber lay;

The whiles his loue away the other bore,

And shewing her, did Paridell vpbray;

Lo sluggish Knight the victors happie pray:

So fortune friends the bold: whom Paridell

Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say,

His hart with secret enuie gan to swell,

And inly grudge at him, that he had sped so well.

8 Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other deemed,

Hauing so peerelesse paragon ygot:

For sure the fayrest Florimell him seemed,

To him was fallen for his happie lot,

Whose like aliue on earth he weened not:

Therefore he her did court, did serue, did wooe,

With humblest suit that he imagine mot,

And all things did deuise, and all things dooe,

That might her loue prepare, and liking win theretoo.

9 She in regard thereof him recompenst

With golden words, and goodly countenance,

And such fond fauours sparingly dispenst:

Sometimes him blessing with a light eye-glance,

And coy lookes tempring with loose dalliance;

Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise,

That hauing cast him in a foolish trance,

He seemed brought to bed in Paradise,

And prou’d himselfe most foole, in what he seem’d most wise.

10 So great a mistresse of her art she was,

And perfectly practiz’d in womans craft,

That though therein himselfe he thought to pas,

And by his false allurements wylie draft,

Had thousand women of their loue beraft,

Yet now he was surpriz’d: for that false spright,

Which that same witch had in this forme engraft,

Was so expert in euery subtile slight,

That it could ouerreach the wisest earthly wight.

11 Yet he to her did dayly seruice more,

And dayly more deceiued was thereby;

Yet Paridell him enuied therefore,

As seeming plast in sole felicity:

So blind is lust, false colours to descry.

But Ate soone discouering his desire,

And finding now fit opportunity

To stirre vp strife, twixt loue and spight and ire,

Did priuily put coles vnto his secret fire.

12 By sundry meanes thereto she prickt him forth,

Now with remembrance of those spightfull speaches,

Now with opinion of his owne more worth,

Now with recounting of like former breaches

Made in their friendship, as that Hag him teaches:

And euer when his passion is allayd,

She it reuiues and new occasion reaches:

That on a time as they together way’d,

He made him open chalenge, and thus boldly sayd.

13 Too boastfull Blcmdamour, too long I beare

The open wrongs, thou doest me day by day,

Well know’st thou, when we friendship first did sweare,

The couenant was, that euery spoyle or pray

Should equally be shard betwixt vs tway:

Where is my part then of this Ladie bright,

Whom to thy selfe thou takest quite away?

Render therefore therein to me my right,

Or answere for thy wrong, as shall fall out in fight.

14 Exceeding wroth thereat was Blandamour,

And gan this bitter answere to him make;

Too foolish Paridell, that fayrest floure

Wouldst gather faine, and yet no paines wouldst take:

But not so easie will I her forsake;

This hand her wonne, this hand shall her defend.

With that they gan their shiuering speares to shake,

And deadly points at eithers breast to bend,

Forgetfull each to haue bene euer others frend.

15 Their firie Steedes with so vntamed forse

Did beare them both to fell auenges end,

That both their speares with pitilesse remorse,

Through shield and mayle, and haberieon did wend,

And in their flesh a griesly passage rend,

That with the furie of their owne affret,

Each other horse and man to ground did send;

Where lying still a while, both did forget

The perilous present stownd, in which their liues were set.

16 As when two warlike Brigandines at sea,

With murdrous weapons arm’d to cruell fight,

Doe meete together on the watry lea,

They stemme ech other with so fell despight,

That with the shocke of their owne heedlesse might,

Their wooden ribs are shaken nigh a sonder;

They which from shore behold the dreadfull sight

Of flashing fire, and heare the ordenance thonder,

Do greatly stand amaz’d at such vnwonted wonder.

17 At length they both vpstarted in amaze;

As men awaked rashly out of dreme,

And round about themselues a while did gaze,

Till seeing her, that Florimell did seme,

In doubt to whom she victorie should deeme,

Therewith their dulled sprights they edgd anew,

And drawing both their swords with rage extreme,

Like two mad mastiffes each on other flew,

And shields did share, & mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.

18 So furiously each other did assayle,

As if their soules they would attonce haue rent

Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle

Adowne, as if their springs of life were spent;

That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,

And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore,

Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent,

So mortall was their malice and so sore,

Become of fayned friendship which they vow’d afore.

19 And that which is for Ladies most befitting,

To stint all strife, and foster friendly peace,

Was from those Dames so farre and so vnfitting,

As that instead of praying them surcease,

They did much more their cruelty encrease;

Bidding them fight for honour of their loue,

And rather die then Ladies cause release.

With which vaine termes so much they did them moue,

That both resolu’d the last extremities to proue.

20 There they I weene would fight vntill this day,

Had not a Squire, euen he the Squire of Dames,

By great aduenture trauelled that way;

Who seeing both bent to so bloudy games,

And both of old well knowing by their names,

Drew nigh, to weete the cause of their debate:

And first laide on those Ladies thousand blames,

That did not seeke t’appease their deadly hate,

But gazed on their hannes, not pittying their estate.

21 And then those Knights he humbly did beseech,

To stay their hands, till he a while had spoken:

Who lookt a little vp at that his speech,

Yet would not let their battell so be broken,

Both greedie fiers on other to be wroken.

Yet he to them so earnestly did call,

And them coniur’d by some well knowen token,

That they at last their wrothfull hands let 611,

Content to heare him speake, and glad to rest withall.

22 First he desir’d their cause of strife to see:

They said, it was for loue of Florimell.

Ah gentle knights (quoth he) how may that bee,

And she so farre astray, as none can tell.

Fond Squire, full angry then sayd Paridell,

Seest not the Ladie there before thy face?

He looked backe, and her aduizing well,

Weend as he said, by that her outward grace,

That fayrest Florimell was present there in place.

23 Glad man was he to see that ioyous sight,

For none aliue but ioy’d in Florimell,

And lowly to her lowting thus behight;

Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest excell,

This happie day I haue to greete you well,

In which you safe I see, whom thousand late,

Misdoubted lost through mischiefe that befell;

Long may you liue in health and happie state.

She litle answer’d him, but lightly did aggrate.

24 Then turning to those Knights, he gan a new;

And you Sir Blandamour and Paridell,

That for this Ladie present in your vew,

Haue rays’d this cruell warre and outrage fell,

Certes me seemes bene not aduised well,

But rather ought in friendship for her sake

To ioyne your force, their forces to repell,

That seeke perforce her from you both to take,

And of your gotten spoyle their owne triumph to make.

25 Thereat Sir Blandamour with countenance sterne,

All full of wrath, thus fiercely him bespake;

A read thou Squire, that I the man may learne,

That dare fro me thinke Florimell to take.

Not one (quoth he) but many doe partake

Herein, as thus. It lately so befell,

That Satyran a girdle did vptake,

Well knowne to appertaine to Florimell,

Which for her sake he wore, as him beseemed well.

26 But when as she her selfe was lost and gone,

Full many knights, that loued her like deare,

Thereat did greatly grudge, that he alone

That lost faire Ladies ornament should weare,

And gan therefore close spight to him to beare:

Which he to shun, and stop vile entries sting,

Hath lately caus’d to be proclaim’d each where

A solemne feast, with publike turneying,

To which all knights with them their Ladies are to bring.

27 And of them all she that is fayrest found,

Shall haue that golden girdle for reward,

And of those Knights who is most stout on ground,

Shall to that fairest Ladie be prefard.

Since therefore she her selfe is now your ward,

To you that ornament of hers pertaines,

Against all those, that chalenge it to gard,

And saue her honour with your ventrous paines;

That shall you win more glory, then ye here find gaines.

28 When they the reason of his words had hard,

They gan abate the rancour of their rage,

And with their honours and their loues regard,

The furious flames of malice to asswage.

Tho each to other did his faith engage,

Like faithfull friends thenceforth to ioyne in one

With all their force, and battell strong to wage

Gainst all those knights, as their professed fone,

That chaleng’d ought in Florimell, saue they alone.

29 So well accorded forth they rode together

In friendly sort, that lasted but a while;

And of all old dislikes they made faire weather,

Yet all was forg’d and spred with golden foyle,

That vnder it hidde hate and hollow guyle.

Ne certes can that friendship long endure,

How euer gay and goodly be the style,

That doth ill cause or euill end enure:

For vertue is the band, that bindeth harts most sure.

30 Thus as they marched all in close disguise,

Of fayned loue, they chaunst to ouertake

Two knights, that lincked rode in louely wise,

As if they secret counsels did partake;

And each not farre behinde him had his make,

To weete, two Ladies of most goodly hew,

That twixt themselues did gentle purpose make,

Vnmindfull both of that discordfull crew,

The which with speedie pace did after them pursew.

31 Who as they now approched nigh at hand,

Deeming them doughtie as they did appeare,

They sent that Squire afore, to vnderstand,

What mote they be: who viewing them more neare

Returned readie newes, that those same weare

Two of the prowest Knights in Faery lond;

And those two Ladies their two louers deare,

Couragious Cambell, and stout Triamond,

With Canacee and Combine linckt in louely bond.

32 Whylome as antique stories tellen vs,

Those two were foes the fellonest on ground,

And battell made the dreddest daungerous,

That euer shrilling trumpet did resound;

Though now their acts be no where to be found,

As that renowmed Poet them compyled,

With warlike numbers and Heroicke sound,

Dan Chaucer, well of English vndefyled,

On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

33 But wicked Time that all good thoughts doth waste,

And workes of noblest wits to nought out weare,

That famous moniment hath quite defaste,

And robd the world of threasure endlesse deare,

The which mote haue enriched all vs heare.

O cursed Eld the cankerworme of writs,

How may these rimes, so rude as doth appeare,

Hope to endure, sith workes of heauenly wits

Are quite deuourd, and brought to nought by little bits?

34 Then pardon, O most sacred happie spirit,

That I thy labours lost may thus reuiue,

And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,

That none durst euer whilest thou wast aliue,

And being dead in vaine yet many striue:

Ne dare I like, but through infusion sweete

Of thine owne spirit, which doth in me surviue,

I follow here the footing of thy feete,

That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.

35 Cambelloes sister was fayre Canacee,

That was the learnedst Ladie in her dayes,

Well seene in euerie science that mote bee,

And euery secret worke of natures wayes,

In wittie riddles, and in wise soothsayes,

In power of herbes, and tunes of beasts and burds;

And, that augmented all her other prayse,

She modest was in all her deedes and words,

And wondrous chast of life, yet lou’d of Knights & Lords.

36 Full many Lords, and many Knights her loued,

Yet she to none of them her liking lent,

Ne euer was with fond affection moued,

But rul’d her thoughts with goodly gouernement,

For dread of blame and honours blemishment;

And eke vnto her lookes a law she made,

That none of them once out of order went,

But like to warie Centonels well stayd,

Still watcht on euery side, of secret foes affrayd.

37 So much the more as she refusd to loue,

So much the more she loued was and sought,

That oftentimes vnquiet strife did moue

Amongst her louers, and great quarrels wrought,

That oft for her in bloudie armes they fought.

Which whenas Cambell, that was stout and wise,

Perceiu’d would breede great mischiefe, he bethought

How to preuent the perill that mote rise,

And turne both him and her to honour in this wise.

38 One day, when all that troupe of warlike wooers

Assembled were, to weet whose she should bee,

All mightie men and dreadfull derring dooers,

(The harder it to make them well agree)

Amongst them all this end he did decree;

That of them all, which loue to her did make,

They by consent should chose the stoutest three,

That with himselfe should combat for her sake,

And of them all the victour should his sister take.

39 Bold was the chalenge, as himselfe was bold,

And courage full of haughtie hardiment,

Approued oft in perils manifold,

Which he atchieu’d to his great ornament:

But yet his sisters skill vnto him lent

Most confidence and hope of happie speed,

Concerned by a ring, which she him sent,

That mongst the manie vertues, which we reed,

Had power to staunch al wounds, that mortally did bleed.

40 Well was that rings great vertue knowen to all,

That dread thereof, and his redoubted might

Did all that youthly rout so much appall,

That none of them durst vndertake the fight;

More wise they weend to make of loue delight,

Then life to hazard for faire Ladies looke,

And yet vncertaine by such outward sight,

Though for her sake they all that perill tooke,

Whether she would them loue, or in her liking brooke.

41 Amongst those knights there were three brethren bold,

Three bolder brethren neuer were yborne,

Borne of one mother in one happie mold,

Borne at one burden in one happie morne,

Thrise happie mother, and thrise happie morne,

That bore three such, three such not to be fond;

Her name was Agape whose children werne

All three as one, the first bight Priamond,

The second Dyamond, the youngest Triamond.

42 Stout Priamond, but not so strong to strike,

Strong Diamond, but not so stout a knight,

But Triamond was stout and strong alike:

On horsebacke vsed Triamond to fight,

And Priamond on foote had more delight,

But horse and foote knew Diamond to wield:

With curtaxe vsed Diamond to smite,

And Triamond to handle speare and shield,

But speare and curtaxe both vsd Priamond in field.

43 These three did loue each other dearely well,

And with so firme affection were allyde,

As if but one soule in them all did dwell,

Which did her powre into three parts diuyde;

like three faire branches budding farre and wide,

That from one roote deriu’d their vitall sap:

And like that roote that doth her life diuide,

Their mother was, and had full blessed hap,

These three so noble babes to bring forth at one clap.

44 Their mother was a Fay, and had the skill

Of secret things, and all the powres of nature,

Which she by art could vse vnto her will,

And to her seruice bind each liuing creature:

Through secret vnderstanding of their feature.

Thereto she was right faire, when so her face

She list discouer, and of goodly stature;

But she as Fayes are wont, in priuie place

Did spend her dayes, and lov’d in forests wyld to space.

45 There on a day a noble youthly knight

Seeking aduentures in the saluage wood,

Did by great fortune get of her the sight;

As she sate carelesse by a cristall flood,

Combing her golden lockes, as seemd her good:

And vnawares vpon her laying hold,

That stroue in vaine him long to haue withstood,

Oppressed her, and there (as it is told)

Got these three louely babes, that prov’d three champions bold.

46 Which she with her long fostred in that wood,

Till that to ripenesse of mans state they grew:

Then shewing forth signes of their fathers blood,

They loued armes, and knighthood did ensew,

Seeking aduentures, where they anie knew.

Which when their mother saw, she gan to dout

Their safetie, least by searching daungers new,

And rash prouoking perils all about,

Their days mote be abridged through their corage stout

47 Therefore desirous th’end of all their dayes

To know, and them t’enlarge with long extent,

By wondrous skill, and many hidden wayes,

To the three fatall sisters house she went.

Farre vnder ground from tract of liuing went,

Downe in the bottome of the deepe Abysse,

Where Demogorgon in dull darknesse pent,

Farre from the view of Gods and heauens bh’s,

The hideous Chaos keepes, their dreadfull dwelling is.

48 There she them found, all sitting round about

The direfull distaffe standing in the mid,

And with vnwearied fingers drawing out

The lines of life, from liuing knowledge hid.

Sad Clotho held the rocke, the whiles the thrid

By griesly Lachesis was spun with paine,

That cruell Atropos eftsoones vndid,

With cursed knife cutting the twist in twaine:

Most wretched men, whose dayes depend on thrids so vaine.

49 She them saluting, there by them sate still,

Beholding how the thrids of life they span:

And when at last she had beheld her fill,

Trembling in heart, and looking pale and wan,

Her cause of comming she to tell began.

To whom fierce Atropos, Bold Fay, that durst

Come see the secret of the life of man,

Well worthie thou to be of Ioue accurst,

And eke thy childrens thrids to be asunder burst

50 Whereat she sore affrayd, yet her besought

To graunt her boone, and rigour to abate,

That she might see her childrens thrids forth brought,

And know the measure of their vtmost date,

To them ordained by eternall fate.

Which Clotho graunting, shewed her the same:

That when she saw, it did her much amate,

To see their thrids so thin, as spiders frame,

And eke so short, that seemd their ends out shortly came.

51 She then began them humbly to intreate,

To draw them longer out, and better twine,

That so their liues might be prolonged late.

But Lachesis thereat gan to repine,

And sayd, fond dame that deem’st of things diuine

As of humane, diat they may altred bee,

And chaung’d at pleasure for those impes of thine.

Not so; for what the Fates do once decree,

Not all the gods can chaunge, nor Ioue him self can free.

52 Then since (quoth she) the terme of each mans life

For nought may lessened nor enlarged bee,

Graunt this, that when ye shred with fatall knife

His line, which is the eldest of the three,

Which is of them the shortest, as I see,

Eftsoones his life may passe into the next;

And when the next shall likewise ended bee,

That both their Hues may likewise be annext

Vnto the third, that his may so be trebly wext.

53 They graunted it; and then that carefull Fay

Departed thence with full contented mynd;

And comming home, in warlike fresh aray

Them found all three according to their kynd:

But vnto them what destinie was assynd,

Or how their liues were eekt, she did not tell;

But euermore, when she fit time could fynd,

She warned them to tend their safeties well,

And loue each other deare, what euer them befell.

54 So did they surely during all their dayes,

And neuer discord did amongst them fall;

Which much augmented all their other praise.

And now t’increase affection naturall,

In loue of Canacee they ioyned all:

Vpon which ground this same great battell grew,

Great matter growing of beginning small;

The which for length I will not here pursew,

But rather will reserue it for a Canto new.

CANTO III

The battell twixt three brethren with
   Cambell for Canacee
Cambina with true friendships bond
   doth their long strife agree.

1 O why doe wretched men so much desire,

To draw their dayes vnto the vtmost date,

And doe not rather wish them soone expire,

Knowing the miserie of their estate,

And thousand perills which them still awate,

Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne,

That euery houre they knocke at deathes gate?

And he that happie seemes and least in payne,

Yet is as nigh his end, as he that most doth playne.

2 Therefore this Fay I hold but fond and vaine,

The which in seeking for her children three

Long life, thereby did more prolong their paine.

Yet whilest they liued none did euer see

More happie creatures, then they seem’d to bee,

Nor more ennobled for their courtesie,

That made them dearely lou’d of each degree;

Ne more renowmed for their cheualrie,

That made them dreaded much of all men farre and nie.

3 These three that hardie chalenge tooke in hand,

For Canacee with Cambell for to fight:

The day was set, that all might vnderstand,

And pledges pawnd the same to keepe a right,

That day, the dreddest day that liuing wight

Did euer see vpon this world to shine,

So soone as heauens window shewed light,

These warlike Champions all in armour shine,

Assembled were in field, the chalenge to define.

4 The field with listes was all about enclos’d,

To barre the prease of people farre away;

And at th’one side sixe iudges were dispos’d,

To view and deeme the deedes of armes that day;

And on the other side in fresh aray,

Fayre Canacee vpon a stately stage

Was set, to see the fortune of that fray,

And to be seene, as his most worthie wage,

That could her purchase with his liues aduentur’d gage.

5 Then entred Cambell first into the list,

With stately steps, and fearelesse countenance,

As if the conquest his he surely wist.

Soone after did the brethren three aduance,

In braue aray and goodly amenance,

With scutchins gilt and banners broad displayd:

And marching thrise in warlike ordinance,

Thrise lowted lowly to the noble Mayd,

The whiles shril trompets & loud clarions sweedy playd.

6 Which doen the doughty chalenger came forth,

All arm’d to point his chalenge to abet:

Gainst whom Sir Priamond with equall worth:

And equall armes himselfe did forward set

A trompet blew; they both together met,

With dreadfull force, and furious intent,

Carelesse of perill in their fiers affret,

As if that life to losse they had forelent,

And cared not to spare, that should be shortly spent

7 Right practicke was Sir Priamond in fight,

And throughly skild in vse of shield and speare;

Ne lesse approued was Cambelloes might,

Ne lesse his skill in weapons did appeare,

That hard it was to weene which harder were.

Full many mightie strokes on either side

Were sent, that seemed death in them to beare,

But they were both so watchfull and well eyde,

That they auoyded were, and vainely by did slyde.

8 Yet one of many was so strongly bent

By Priamond, that with vnluckie glaunce

Through Cambels shoulder it vnwarely went,

That forced him his shield to disaduaunce,

Much was he grieued with that gracelesse chaunce,

Yet from the wound no drop of bloud there fell,

But wondrous paine, that did the more enhaunce

His haughtie courage to aduengement fell:

Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes them more to swell.

9 With that his poynant speare he fierce auentred,

With doubled force close vnderneath his shield,

That through the mayles into his thigh it entred,

And there arresting, readie way did yield,

For bloud to gush forth on the grassie field;

That he for paine himselfe not right vpreare,

But too and fro in great amazement reel’d,

Like an old Oke whose pith and sap is seare,

At puffe of euery storme doth stagger here and theare.

10 Whom so dismayd when Campbell had espide,

Againe he droue at him with double might,

That nought mote stay the Steele, till in his side

The mortall point most cruelly empight:

Where fast infixed, whilest he sought by slight

It forth to wrest, the staffe a sunder brake,

And left the head behind: with which despight

He all enrag’d, his shiuering speare did shake,

And charging him afresh thus felly him bespake.

11 Lo faitour there thy meede vnto thee take,

The meede of thy mischalenge and abet:

Not for thine owne, but for thy sisters sake,

Haue I thus long thy life vnto thee let:

But to forbeare doth not forgiue the det.

The wicked weapon heard his wrathfull vow,

And passing forth with furious affret,

Pierst through his beuer quite into his brow,

That with the force it backward forced him to bow.

12 Therewith a sunder in the midst it brast,

And in his hand nought but the troncheon left,

The other halfe behind yet sticking fast,

Out of his headpeece Cambell fiercely reft,

And with such furie backe at him it heft,

That making way vnto his dearest life,

His weasand pipe it through his gorget cleft:

Thence streames of purple bloud issuing rife,

Let forth his wearie ghost and made an end of strife.

13 His wearie ghost assoyld from fleshly band,

Did not as others wont, directly fly

Vnto her rest in Plutoes griesly land,

Ne into ayre did vanish presently,

Ne chaunged was into a starre in sky:

But through traduction was eftsoones deriued,

Like as his mother prayd the Destinie,

Into his other brethren, that suruiued,

In whom he liu’d a new, of former life depriued.

14 Whom when on ground his brother next beheld,

Though sad and sorie for so heauy sight,

Yet leaue vnto his sorrow did not yeeld,

But rather stird to vengeance and despight,

Through secret feeling of his generous spright,

Rusht fiercely forth, the battell to renew,

As in reuersion of his brothers right;

And chalenging the Virgin as bis dew.

His foe was soone addrest: the trompets freshly blew.

15 With that they both together fiercely met,

As if that each ment other to deuoure;

And with their axes both so sorely bet,

That neither plate nor mayle, whereas their powre

They felt, could once sustaine the hideous stowre,

But riued were like rotten wood a sunder,

Whilest through dieir rifts the ruddie bloud did showre

And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder,

That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.

16 As when two Tygers prickt with hungers rage,

Haue by good fortune found some beasts fresh spoyle,

On which they weene their famine to asswage,

And gaine a feastfull guerdon, of their toyle,

Both falling out doe stirre vp strifefull broyle,

And cruell battell twixt themselues doe make,

Whiles neither lets the other touch the soyle,

But either sdeignes with other to partake:

So cruelly these Knights stroue for that Ladies sake.

17 Full many strokes, that mortally were ment,

The whiles were enterchaunged twixt them two;

Yet they were all with so good wariment

Or warded, or auoyded and let goe,

That still the life stood fearelesse of her foe:

Till Diamond disdeigning long delay

Of doubtfull fortune wauering to and fro,

Resolu’d to end it one or other way;

And heau’d his murdrous axe at him with mighty sway.

18 The dreadfull stroke in case it had arriued,

Where it was ment, (so deadly it was ment)

The soule had sure out of his bodie riued,

And stinted all the strife incontinent.

But Cambels fate that fortune did preuent:

For seeing it at hand, he swaru’d asyde,

And so gaue way vnto his fell intent:

Who missing of the marke which he had eyde,

Was with the force nigh feld whilst his right foot did slyde.

19 As when a Vulture greedie of his pray,

Through hunger long, that hart to him doth lend,

Strikes at an Heron with all his bodies sway,

That from his force seemes nought may it defend;

The warie fowle that spies him toward bend

His dreadfull souse, auoydes it shunning light,

And maketh him his wing in vaine to spend;

That with the weight of his owne weeldlesse might,

He falleth nigh to ground, and scarse recouereth flight.

20 Which faire aduenture when Cambello spide,

Full lightly, ere himselfe he could recower,

From daungers dread to ward his naked side,

He can let driue at him with all his power,

And with his axe him smote in euill hower,

That from his shoulders quite his head he reft:

The headlesse tronke, as heedlesse of that stower,

Stood still a while, and his fast footing kept,

Till feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly slept

21 They which that piteous spectacle beheld,

Were much amaz’d the headlesse tronke to see

Stand vp so long, and weapon vaine to weld,

Vnweeting of the Fates diuine decree,

For lifes succession in those brethren three.

For notwithstanding that one soule was reft,

Yet, had the bodie not dismembred bee,

It would haue liued, and reuiued eft;

But finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse it left.

22 It left; but that same soule, which therein dwelt,

Streight entring into Triamond, him fild

With double life, and griefe, which when he felt,

As one whose inner parts had bene ythrild

With point of Steele, that close his hartbloud spild,

He lightly lept out of his place of rest,

And rushing forth into the emptie field,

Against Cambello fiercely him addrest;

Who him affronting soone to fight was readie prest.

23 Well mote ye wonder how that noble Knight,

After he had so often wounded beene,

Could stand on foot, now to renew the fight.

But had ye then him forth aduauncing seene,

Some newborne wight ye would him surely weene:

So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight;

Like as a Snake, whom wearie winters teene,

Hath worne to nought, now feeling sommers might,

Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth him dight.

24 All was through vertue of the ring he wore,

The which not onely did not from him let

One drop of bloud to fall, but did restore

His weakned powers, and dulled spirits whet,

Through working of the stone therein yset.

Eke how could one of equall might with most,

Against so many no lesse mightie met,

Once thinke to match three such on equall cost,

Three such as able were to match a puissant host.

25 Yet nought thereof was Triamond adredde,

Ne desperate of glorious victorie,

But sharpely him assayld, and sore bestedde,

With heapes of strokes, which he at him let die,

As thicke as hayle forth poured from the skie:

He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, he lasht,

And did his yron brond so fast applie,

That from the same the fierie sparkles flasht,

As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rocke are dasht

26 Much was Cambello daunted with his blowes,

So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent,

That he was forst from daunger of the throwes

Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent,

Till th’heat of his fierce furie he had spent:

Which when for want of breath gan to abate,

He then afresh with new encouragement

Did him assayle, and mightily amate,

As fast as forward erst, now backward to retrate.

27 Like as the tide that comes from th’Ocean mayne,

Flowes vp the Shenan with contrarie forse,

And ouerruling him in his owne rayne,

Driues backe the current of his kindly course,

And makes it seeme to haue some other fourse:

But when the floud is spent, then backe againe

His borrowed waters forst to redisbourse,

He sends the sea his owne with double gaine,

And tribute eke withall, as to his Soueraine.

28 Thus did the battell varie to and fro,

With diuerse fortune doubtfull to be deemed:

Now this the better had, now had his fo;

Then he halfe vanquisht, then the other seemed,

Yet victors both them selues alwayes esteemed.

And all the while the disentrayled blood

Adowne their sides like litle riuers stremed,

That with the wasting of his vitall flood,

Sir Triamond at last full faint and feeble stood.

29 But Cambell still more strong and greater grew,

Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres emperisht,

Through that rings vertue, that with vigour new,

Still when as he enfeebled was, him cherisht,

And all his wounds, and all his bruses guarisht,

Like as a withered tree through husbands toyle

Is often seene full freshly to haue florisht,

And fruitfull apples to haue borne awhile,

As fresh as when it first was planted in the soyle.

30 Through which aduantage, in his strength he rose,

And smote the other with so wondrous might,

That through the seame, which did his hauberk close,

Into his throate and life it pierced quight,

That downe he fell as dead in all mens sight:

Yet dead he was not, yet he sure did die,

As all men do, that lose the liuing spright:

So did one soule out of his bodie flie

Vnto her natiue home from mortall miserie.

31 But nathelesse whilst all the lookers on

Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,

All vnawares he started vp anon,

As one that had out of a dreame bene reard,

And fresh assayld his foe, who halfe affeard

Of th’vncouth sight, as he some ghost had seene,

Stood still amaz’d, holding his idle sweard;

Till hauing often by him stricken beene,

He forced was to strike, and saue him selfe from teene.

32 Yet from thenceforth more warily he fought,

As one in feare the Stygian gods t’offend,

Ne followd on so fast, but rather sought

Him selfe to saue, and daunger to defend,

Then life and labour both in vaine to spend.

Which Triamond perceiuing, weened sure

He gan to faint, toward the battels end,

And that he should not long on foote endure,

A signe which did to him the victorie assure.

33 Whereof full blith, eftsoones his mightie hand

He heav’d on high, in mind with that same blow

To make an end of all that did withstand:

Which Cambell seeing come, was nothing slow

Him selfe to saue from that so deadly throw;

And at that instant reaching forth his sweard

Close vnderneath his shield, that scarce did show,

Stroke him, as he his hand to strike vpreard,

In th’arm-pit full, that through both sides the wound appeard.

34 Yet still that direfull stroke kept on his way,

And falling heauie on Cambelloes crest,

Strooke him so hugely, that in swowne he lay,

And in his head an hideous wound imprest:

And sure had it not happily found rest

Vpon the brim of his brode plated shield,

It would haue cleft his braine downe to his brest.

So both at once fell dead vpon the field,

And each to other seemd the victorie to yield.

35 Which when as all the lookers on beheld,

They weened sure the warre was at an end,

And Iudges rose, and Marshals of the field

Broke vp the listes, their armes away to rend;

And Canacee gan wayle her dearest frend.

All suddenly they both vpstarted light,

The one out of the swownd, which him did blend,

The other breathing now another spright,

And fiercely each assayling, gan afresh to fight.

36 Long while they then continued in that wize,

As if but then the battell had begonne:

Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did despise,

Ne either car’d to ward, or perill shonne,

Desirous both to haue the battell donne;

Ne either cared life to saue or spill,

Ne which of them did winne, ne which were wonne.

So wearie both of fighting had their fill,

That life it selfe seemd loathsome, and long safetie ill.

37 Whilst thus the case in doubtfull ballance hong,

Vnsure to whether side it would incline,

And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among

Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine,

And secret feare, to see their fatall fine,

All suddenly they heard a troublous noyes,

That seemd some perilous tumult to desine,

Confusd with womens cries, and shouts of boyes,

Such as the troubled Theaters oftimes annoyes.

38 Thereat the Champions both stood still a-space,

To weeten what that sudden clamour ment;

Lo where they spyde with speedie whirling pace,

One in a charet of straunge furniment,

Towards them driuing like a storme out sent.

The charet decked was in wondrous wize,

With gold and many a gorgeous ornament,

After the Persian Monarks antique guize,

Such as the maker selfe could best by art deuize.

39 And drawne it was (that wonder is to tell)

Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood,

In which their powre all others did excell;

Now made forget their former cruell mood,

T’obey their riders hest, as seemed good.

And therein sate a Ladie passing faire

And bright, that seemed borne of Angels brood,

And with her beautie bountie did compare,

Whether of them in her should haue the greater share.

40 Thereto she learned was in Magicke leare,

And all the artes, that subtill wits discouer,

Hauing therein bene trained many a yeare,

And well instructed by the Fay her mother,

That in the same she farre exceld all other.

Who vnderstanding by her mightie art,

Of th’euill plight, in which her dearest brother

Now stood, came forth in hast to take his part,

And pacific the strife, which causd so deadly smart.

41 And as she passed through th’vnruly preace

Of people, thronging thicke her to behold,

Her angrie teame breaking their bonds of peace,

Great heapes of them, like sheepe in narrow fold,

For hast did ouer-runne, in dust enrould,

That thorough rude confusion of the rout,

Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed hould,

Some laught for sport, some did for wonder shout,

And some that would seeme wise, their wonder turnd to dout.

42 In her right hand a rod of peace shee bore,

About the which two Serpents weren wound,

Entrayled mutually in louely lore,

And by the tailes together firmely bound,

And both were with one oliue garland crownd

Like to the rod which Maias sonne doth wield,

Wherewith the hellishfiends he doth confound.

And in her other hand a cup she hild,

The which was with Nepenthe to the brim vpfild.

43 Nepenthe is a drinck of souerayne grace,

Deuized by the Gods, for to asswage

Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,

Which stirs vp anguish and contentious rage:

In stead thereof sweet peace and quiet age

It doth establish in the troubled mynd.

Few men, but such as sober are and sage,

Are by the Gods to drinck thereof assynd;

But such as drinck, eternall happinesse do fynd.

44 Such famous men, such worthies of the earth,

As Ioue will haue aduaunced to the skie,

And there made gods, though borne of mortall berth,

For their high merits and great dignitie,

Are wont, before they may to heauen flie,

To drincke hereof, whereby all cares forepast

Are washt away quite from their memorie.

So did those olde Heroes hereof taste,

Before that they in blisse amongst the Gods were plaste.

45 Much more of price and of more gratious powre

Is this, then that same water of Ardenne,

The which Rinaldo drunck in happie howre,

Described by that famous Tuscane penne:

For that had might to change the hearts of men

Fro loue to hate, a change of euill choise:

But this doth hatred make in loue to brenne,

And heauy heart with comfort doth reioyce.

Who would not to this vertue rather yeeld his voice?

46 At last arriuing by the listes side,

Shee with her rod did softly smite the raile,

Which straight flew ope, and gaue her way to ride.

Eftsoones out of her Coch she gan auaile,

And pacing fairely forth, did bid all haile,

First to her brother, whom she loued deare,

That so to see him made her heart to quaile:

And next to Cambell, whose sad ruefull cheare

Made her to change her hew, and hidden loue t’appeare.

47 They lightly her requit (for small delight

They had as then her long to entertaine,)

And eft them turned both againe to fight,

Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy plaine

Her selfe she threw, and teares gan shed amaine;

Amongst her teares immuring prayers meeke,

And with her prayers reasons to restraine,

From blouddy strife, and blessed peace to seeke,

By all that vnto them was deare, did them beseeke.

48 But when as all might nought with them preuaile,

Shee smote them lightly with her powrefull wand.

Then suddenly as if their hearts did faile,

Their wrathfull blades downe fell out of their hand,

And they like men astonisht still did stand.

Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully distraught,

And mighty spirites bound with mightier band,

Her golden cup to them for drinke she raught,

Whereof full glad for thirst, ech drunk an harty draught.

49 Of which so soone as they once tasted had,

Wonder it is that sudden change to see:

Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad,

And louely haulst from feare of treason free,

And plighted hands for euer friends to be.

When all men saw this sudden change of things,

So mortall foes so friendly to agree,

For passing ioy, which so great maruaile brings,

They all gan shout aloud, that all the heauen rings.

50 All which, when gentle Canacee beheld,

In hast she from her lofty chaire descended,

Too weet what sudden tidings was befeld:

Where when she saw that cruell war so ended,

And deadly foes so faithfully affrended,

In louely wise she gan that Lady greet,

Which had so great dismay so well amended,

And entertaining her with curt’sies meet,

Profest to her true friendship and affection sweet.

51 Thus when they all accorded goodly were,

The trumpets sounded, and they all arose,

Thence to depart with glee and gladsome chere.

Those warlike champions both together chose,

Homeward to march, themselues there to repose,

And wise Cambina taking by her side

Faire Canacee, as fresh as morning rose,

Vnto her Coch remounting, home did ride,

Admir’d of all the people, and much glorifide.

52 Where making ioyous feast theire daies they spent

In perfect loue, deuoide of hatefull strife,

Allide with bands of mutuall couplement;

For Triamond had Canacee to wife,

With whom he ledd a long and happie life;

And Cambel tooke Cambina to his fere,

The which as life were each to other liefe.

So all alike did loue, and loued were,

That since their days such louers were not found elswere.

CANTO IV

Satyrane makes a Tumeyment
   For Ioue of Florimell:
Britomart winnes the prize from all,
   And Artegall doth quell.

1 It often fals, (as here it earst befell)

That mortall foes doe turne to faithfull frends,

And friends profest are chaungd to foemen fell:

The cause of both, of both their minds depends;

And th’end of both likewise of both their ends.

For enmitie, that of no ill proceeds,

But of occasion, with th’occasion ends;

And friendship, which a faint affection breeds

Without regard of good, dyes like ill grounded seeds.

2 That well (me seemes) appeares, by that of late

Twixt Cambell and Sir Triamond befell,

As els by this, that now a new debate

Stird vp twixt Blandamour and Paridell,

The which by course befals me here to tell:

Who hauing those two other Knights espide

Marching afore, as ye remember well,

Sent forth their Squire to haue them both descride,

And eke those masked Ladies riding them beside.

3 Who backe returning, told as he had seene,

That they were doughtie knights of dreaded name:

And those two Ladies, their two loues vnseene;

And therefore wisht them without blot or blame,

To let them passe at will, for dread of shame.

But Blandamour full of vainglorious spright,

And rather stird by bis discordfull Dame,

Vpon them gladly would haue prov’d his might,

But that he yet was sore of his late lucklesse fight.

4 Yet nigh approching, he them fowle bespake,

Disgracing them, him selfe thereby to grace,

As was his wont, so weening way to make

To Ladies loue, where so he came in place,

And with lewd termes their louers to deface.

Whose sharpe prouokement them incenst so sore,

That both were bent t’auenge his vsage base,

And gan their shields addresse them selues afore:

For euill deedes may better then bad words be bore.

5 But faire Cambina with perswasions myld,

Did mitigate the fiercenesse of their mode,

That for the present they were reconcyld,

And gan to treate of deeds of armes abrode,

And strange aduentures, all the way they rode:

Amongst the which they told, as then befell,

Of that great turney, which was blazed brode,

For that rich girdle of faire Florimell,

The prize of her, which did in beautie most excell.

6 To which folke-mote they all with one consent,

Sith each of them his Ladie had him by,

Whose beautie each of them thought excellent,

Agreed to trauell, and their fortunes try.

So as they passed forth, they did espy

One in bright armes, with ready speare in rest,

That toward them his course seem’d to apply,

Gainst whom Sir Paridell himselfe addrest,

Him weening, ere he nigh approcht to haue represt.

7 Which th’other seeing, gan his course relent,

And vaunted speare eftsoones to disaduaunce,

As if he naught but peace and pleasure ment,

Now falne into their fellowship by chance,

Whereat they shewed curteous countenaunce.

So as he rode with them accompanide,

His rouing eie did on the Lady glaunce,

Which Blandamour had riding by his side:

Whom sure he weend, that he some wher tofore had eide.

8 It was to weete that snowy Florimell,

Which Ferrau late from Braggodochio wonne,

Whom he now seeing, her remembred well,

How hauing reft her from the witches sonne,

He soone her lost: wherefore he now begunne

To challenge her anew, as his owne prize,

Whom formerly he had in battell wonne,

And proffer made by force her to reprize,

Which scornefull offer, Blandamour gan soone despize.

9 And said, Sir Knight, sith ye this Lady clame,

Whom he that hath, were loth to lose so light,

(For so to lose a Lady, were great shame)

Yee shall her winne, as I haue done in fight:

And lo shee shall be placed here in sight,

Together with this Hag beside her set,

That who so winnes her, may her haue by right:

But he shall haue the Hag that is ybet,

And with her alwaies ride, till he another get.

10 That offer pleased all the company,

So Florimell with Ate forth was brought,

At which they all gan laugh full merrily:

But Braggadochio said, he neuer thought

For such an Hag, that seemed worse then nought,

His person to emperill so in fight.

But if to match that Lady they had sought

Another like, that were like faire and bright,

His life he then would spend to iustifie his right.

11 At which his vaine excuse they all gan smile,

As scorning his vnmanly cowardize:

And Florimell him fowly gan reuile,

That for her sake refus’d to enterprize

The battell, offred in so knightly wize.

And Ate eke prouokt him priuily,

With loue of her, and shame of such mesprize.

But naught he car’d for friend or enemy,

For in base mind nor friendship dwels nor enmity.

12 But Cambell thus did shut vp all in iest,

Braue Knights and Ladies, certes ye doe wrong

To stirre vp strife, when most vs needeth rest,

That we may vs reserue both fresh and strong,

Against the Turneiment which is not long.

When who so list to fight, may fight his fill,

Till then your challenges ye may prolong;

And then it shall be tried, if ye will,

Whether shall haue the Hag, or hold the Lady still.

13 They all agreed, so turning all to game,

And pleasaunt bord, they past forth on their way,

And all that while, where so they rode or came,

That masked Mock-knight was their sport and play

Till that at length vpon th’appointed day,

Vnto the place of turneyment they came;

Where they before them found in fresh aray

Manie a braue knight, and manie a daintie dame

Assembled, for to get the honour of that game.

14 There this faire crewe arriuing, did diuide

Them selues asunder: Blandamour with those

Of his, on th’one; the rest on th’other side.

But boastfull Braggadocchio rather chose,

For glorie vaine their fellowship to lose,

That men on him the more might gaze alone.

The rest them selues in troupes did else dispose,

Like as it seemed best to euery one;

The knights in couples marcht, with ladies linckt attone.

15 Then first of all forth came Sir Satyrane,

Bearing that precious relicke in an arke

Of gold, that bad eyes might it not prophane:

Which drawing softly forth out of the darke,

He open shewd, that all men it mote marke.

A gorgeous girdle, curiously embost

With pearle & precious stone, worth many a marke;

Yet did the workmanship farre passe the cost:

It was the same, which lately Florimel had lost.

16 That same aloft he hong in open vew,

To be the prize of beautie and of might;

The which eftsoones discouered, to it drew

The eyes of all, allur’d with close delight,

And hearts quite robbed with so glorious sight,

That all men threw out vowes and wishes vaine.

Thrise happie Ladie, and thrise happie knight,

Them seemd that could so goodly riches gaine,

So worthie of the perill, wormy of the paine.

17 Then tooke the bold Sir Satyrane in hand

An huge great speare, such as he wont to wield,

And vaunting forth from all the other band

Of knights, addrest his maiden-headed shield,

Shewing him selfe all ready for the field.

Gainst whom there singled from the other side

A Painim knight, that well in armes was skild,

And had in many a battell oft bene tride,

Hight Bruncheual the bold, who fiersly forth did ride.

18 So furiously they both together met,

That neither could the others force sustaine;

As two fierce Buls, that striue the rule to get

Of all the heard, meete with so hideous maine,

That both rebutted, tumble on the plaine:

So these two champions to the ground were feld,

Where in a maze they both did long remaine,

And in their hands their idle troncheons held,

Which neither able were to wag, or once to weld.

19 Which when the noble Ferramont espide,

He pricked forth in ayd of Satyran;

And him against Sir Blandamour did ride

With all the strength and stifnesse that he can.

But the more strong and stiffely that he ran,

So much more sorely to the ground he fell,

That on an heape were tumbled horse and man.

Vnto whose rescue forth rode Paridell;

But him likewise with that same speare he eke did quell.

20 Which Braggadocchio seeing, had no will

To hasten greatly to his parties ayd,

Albee his turne were next; but stood there still,

As one that seemed doubtfull or dismayd.

But Triamond halfe wroth to see him staid,

Sternly stept forth, and raught away his speare,

With which so sore he Ferramont assaid,

That horse and man to ground he quite did beare,

That neither could in hast themselues againe vpreare.

21 Which to auenge, Sir Deuon him did dight,

But with no better fortune then the rest:

For him likewise he quickly downe did smight,

And after him Sir Douglas him addrest,

And after him Sir Paliumord forth prest.

But none of them against his strokes could stand,

But all the more, the more his praise increst

For either they were left vppon the land,

Or went away sore wounded of his haplesse hand.

22 And now by this, Sir Satyrane abraid,

Out of the swowne, in which too long he lay;

And looking round about, like one dismaid,

When as he saw the mercilesse affray,

Which doughty Triamond had wrought that day,

Vnto the noble Knights of Maidenhead,

His mighty heart did almost rend in tway,

For very gall, that rather wholly dead

Himselfe he wisht haue beene, then in so bad a stead.

23 Eftsoones he gan to gather vp around

His weapons, which lay scattered all abrode,

And as it fell, his steed he ready found.

On whom remounting, fiercely forth he rode,

Like sparke of fire that from the anduile glode,

There where he saw the valiant Triamond

Chasing, and laying on them heauy lode.

That none his force were able to withstond,

So dreadfull were his strokes, so deadly was his hond.

24 With that at him his beamlike speare he aimed,

And thereto all his power and might applide:

The wicked steele for mischiefe first ordained,

And hauing now misfortune got for guide,

Staid not, till it arriued in his side,

And therein made a very griesly wound,

That streames of bloud his armour all bedide.

Much was he daunted with that direfull stound,

That scarse he him vpheld from falling in a sound.

25 Yet as he might, himselfe he soft withdrew

Out of the field, that none perceiu’d it plaine,

Then gan the part of Chalengers anew

To range the field, and victorlike to raine,

That none against them battell durst maintaine.

By that the gloomy euening on them fell,

That forced them from fighting to refraine,

And trumpets sound to cease did them compell,

So Satyrane that day was iudg’d to beare the bell.

26 The morrow next the Turney gan anew,

And with the first the hardy Satyrane

Appear’d in place, with all his noble crew,

On th’other side, full many a warlike swaine,

Assembled were, that glorious prize to gaine.

But mongst them all, was not Sir Triamond,

Vnable he new battell to darraine,

Through grieuaunce of his late receiued wound,

That doubly did him grieue, when so himselfe he found.

27 Which Cambell seeing, though he could not salue,

Ne done vndoe, yet for to salue his name,

And purchase honour in his friends behalue,

This goodly counterfesaunce he did frame.

The shield and armes well knowne to be the same,

Which Triamond had worne, vnwares to wight,

And to his friend vnwist, for doubt of blame,

If he misdid; he on himselfe did dight,

That none could him discerne, and so went forth to fight.

28 There Satyrane Lord of the field he found,

Triumphing in great ioy and iolity;

Gainst whom none able was to stand on ground;

That much he gan his glorie to enuy,

And cast t’auenge his friends indignity.

A mightie speare eftsoones at him he bent;

Who seeing him come on so furiously,

Met him mid-way with equall hardiment,

That forcibly to ground they both together went.

29 They vp againe them selues can lightly reare,

And to their tryed swords them selues betake;

With which they wrought such wondrous maruels there,

That all the rest it did amazed make,

Ne any dar’d their perill to partake;

Now cuffing close, now chacing to and fro,

Now hurtling round aduantage for to take:

As two wild Boares together grapling go,

Chaufing and foming choler each against his fo.

30 So as they courst, and turneyd here and theare,

It chaunst Sir Satyrane his steed at last,

Whether through foundring or through sodein feare

To stumble, that his rider nigh he cast;

Which vauntage Cambell did pursue so fast,

That ere him selfe he had recouered well,

So sore he sowst him on the compast creast,

That forced him to leaue his loftie sell,

And rudely tumbling downe vnder his horse feete fell.

31 Lightly Cambello leapt downe from his steed,

For to haue rent his shield and armes away,

That whylome wont to be the victors meed;

When all vnwares he felt an hideous sway

Of many swords, that lode on him did lay.

An hundred knights had him enclosed round,

To rescue Satyrane out of his pray;

All which at once huge strokes on him did pound,

In hope to take him prisoner, where he stood on ground.

32 He with their multitude was nought dismayd,

But with stout courage turnd vpon them all,

And with his brondiron round about him layd;

Of which he dealt large almes, as did befall:

like as a Lion that by chaunce doth fall

Into the hunters toile, doth rage and rore,

In royall heart disdaining to be thrall.

But all in vaine: for what might one do more?

They haue him taken captiue, though it grieue him sore.

33 Whereof when newes to Triamond was brought,

There as he lay, his wound he soone forgot,

And starting vp, streight for his armour sought:

In vaine he sought; for there he found it not;

Cambello it away before had got:

Cambelloes armes therefore he on him threw,

And lightly issewd forth to take his lot.

There he in troupe found all that warlike crew,

Leading his friend away, full sorie to his vew.

34 Into the thickest of that knightly preasse

He thrust, and smote downe all that was betweene,

Caried with feruent zeale, ne did he ceasse,

Till that he came, where he had Cambell seene,

Like captiue thral two other Knights atweene,

There he amongst them cruell hauocke makes.

That they which lead him, soone enforced beene

To let him loose, to saue their proper stakes,

Who being freed, from one a weapon fiercely takes.

35 With that he driues at them with dreadfull might,

Both in remembrance of his friends late harme,

And in reuengement of his owne despight,

So both together giue a new allarme,

As if but now the battell wexed warme.

As when two greedy Wolues doe breake by force

Into an heard, farre from the husband farme,

They spoile and rauine without all remorse,

So did these two through all the field their foes enforce.

36 Fiercely they followd on their bolde emprize,

Till trumpets sound did warne them all to rest;

Then all with one consent did yeeld the prize

To Triamond and Cambell as the best.

But Triamond to Cambell it relest.

And Cambell it to Triamond transferd;

Each labouring t’aduance the others gest,

And make his praise before his owne preferd:

So that the doome was to another day differd.

37 The last day came, when all those knightes againe

Assembled were their deedes of armes to shew.

Full many deedes that day were shewed plaine:

But Satyrane boue all the other crew,

His wondrous worth declared in all mens view.

For from the first he to the last endured,

And though somewhile Fortune from him withdrew,

Yet euermore his honour he recured,

And with vnwearied powre his party still assured.

38 Ne was there Knight that euer thought of armes,

But that his vtmost prowesse there made knowen,

That by their many wounds, and carelesse harmes,

By shiuered speares, and swords all vnder strowen,

By scattered shields was easie to be showen.

There might ye see loose steeds at randon ronne,

Whose luckelesse riders late were ouerthrowen;

And squiers make hast to helpe their Lords fordonne,

But still the Knights of Maidenhead, the better wonne.

39 Till that there entred on the other side,

A straunger knight, from whence no man could reed,

In quyent disguise, full hard to be descride.

For all his armour was like saluage weed,

With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed

With oaken leaues attrapt, that seemed fit

For saluage wight, and thereto well agreed

His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,

Saluagesse sans finesse, shewing secret wit.

40 He at his first incomming, charg’d his spere

At him, that first appeared in his sight:

That was to weet, the stout Sir Sangliere,

Who well was knowen to be a valiant Knight,

Approued oft in many a perlous fight.

Him at the first encounter downe he smote,

And ouerbore beyond his crouper quight,

And after him another Knight, that hote

Sir Brianor, so sore, that none him life behote.

41 Then ere his hand he reard, he ouerthrew

Seuen Knights one after other as they came:

And when his speare was brust, his sword he drew,

The instrument of wrath, and with the same

Far’d like a lyon in his bloodie game,

Hewing, and slashing shields, and helmets bright,

And beating downe, what euer nigh him came,

That euery one gan shun his dreadfull sight,

No lesse then death it selfe, in daungerous affright.

42 Much wondred all men, what, or whence he came,

That did amongst the troupes so tyrannize;

And each of other gan inquire his name.

But when they could not learne it by no wize,

Most answerable to his wyld disguize

It seemed, him to terme the saluage knight.

But certes his right name was otherwize,

Though knowne to few, that Arthegall he bight,

The doughtiest knight that liv’d that day, and most of might.

43 Thus was Sir Satyrane with all his band

By his sole manhood and atchieuement stout

Dismayd, that none of them in field durst stand,

But beaten were, and chased all about.

So he continued all that day throughout,

Till euening, that the Sunne gan downward bend.

Then rushed forth out of the thickest rout

A stranger knight, that did his glorie shend:

So nought may be esteemed happie till the end.

44 He at his entrance charg’d his powrefull speare

At Artegall, in middest of his pryde,

And therewith smote him on his Vmbriere

So sore, that tombling backe, he downe did slyde

Ouer his horses taile aboue a stryde;

Whence litle lust he had to rise againe.

Which Cambell seeing, much the same enuyde,

And ran at him with all his might and maine;

But shortly was likewise seene lying on the plaine.

45 Whereat full inly wroth was Triamond,

And cast t’auenge the shame doen to his freend:

But by his friend himselfe eke soone he fond,

In no lesse neede of helpe, then him he weend.

All which when Blandamour from end to end

Beheld, he woxe therewith displeased sore,

And thought in mind it shortly to amend:

His speare he feutred, and at him it bore;

But with no better fortune, then the rest afore.

46 Fully many others at him likewise ran:

But all of them likewise dismounted were,

Ne certes wonder; for no powre of man

Could bide the force of that enchaunted speare,

The which this famous Britomart did beare;

With which she wondrous deeds of arms atchieued,

And ouerthrew, what euer came her neare,

That all those stranger knights full sore agrieued,

And that late weaker band of chalengers relieued.

47 Like as in sommers day when raging heat

Doth burne the earth, and boyled riuers drie,

That all brute beasts forst to refiraine fro meat,

Doe hunt for shade, where shrowded they may lie,

And missing it, faine from themselues to flie;

All trauellers tormented are with paine:

A watry cloud doth ouercast the skie,

And poureth forth a sudden shoure of raine,

That all the wretched world recomforteth againe.

48 So did the warlike Britomart restore

The prize, to knights of Maydenhead that day,

Which else was like to haue bene lost, and bore

The prayse of prowesse from them all away.

Then shrilling trompets loudly gan to bray,

And bad them leaue their labours and long toyle,

To ioyous feast and other gentle play,

Where beauties prize shold win that pretious spoyle:

Where I with sound of trompe will also rest a whyle.

CANTO V

The Ladies for the girdle striue
   of famous Florimell:
Scudamour comming to Cares house,
   doth sleepe from him expell.

1 It hath bene through all ages euer seene,

That with the praise of armes and cheualrie,

The prize of beau tie still hath ioyned beene;

And that for reasons speciall priuitie:

For either doth on other much relie.

For he me seemes most fit the faire to serue,

That can her best defend from villenie;

And she most fit his seruice doth deserue,

That fairest is and from her faith will neuer swerue.

2 So fitly now here commeth next in place,

After the proofe of prowesse ended well,

The controuerse of beauties soueraine grace;

In which to her that doth the most excell,

Shall fall the girdle of faire Florimell:

That many wish to win for glorie vaine,

And not for vertuous vse, which some doe tell

That glorious belt did in it selfe containe,

Which Ladies ought to loue, and seeke for to obtaine.

3 That girdle gaue the vertue of chast loue,

And wiuehood true, to all that did it beare;

But whosoeuer contrarie doth proue,

Might not the same about her middle weare,

But it would loose, or else a sunder teare.

Whilome it was (as Faeries wont report)

Dame Venus girdle, by her steemed deare,

What time she vsd to liue in wiuely sort;

But layd aside, when so she vsd her looser sport.

4 Her husband Vulcan whylome for her sake,

When first he loued her with heart entire,

This pretious ornament they say did make,

And wrought in Lemno with vnquenched fire:

And afterwards did for her loues first hire,

Giue it to her, for euer to remaine,

Therewith to bind lasciuious desire,

And loose affections streightly to restraine;

Which vertue it for euer after did retaine.

5 The same one day, when she her selfe disposd

To visite her beloued Paramoure,

The God of warre, she from her middle loosd,

And left behind her in her secret bowre,

On Acidalian mount, where many an howre

She with the pleasant Graces wont to play.

There Florimell in her first ages flowre

Was fostered by those Graces, (as they say)

And brought with her from thence that goodly belt away.

6 That goodly belt was Cestus bight by name,

And as her life by her esteemed deare.

No wonder then, if that to winne the same

So many Ladies sought, as shall appeare;

For pearelesse she was thought, that did it beare.

And now by this their feast all being ended,

The iudges which thereto selected were,

Into the Martian field adowne descended,

To deeme this doutfull case, for which they all contended.

7 But first was question made, which of those Knights

That lately turneyd, had the wager wonne:

There was it iudged by those worthie wights,

That Satyrane the first day best had donne:

For he last ended, hauing first begonne.

The second was to Triamond behight,

For that he sau’d the victour from fordonne:

For Cambell victour was in all mens sight,

Till by mishap he in his foemens hand did light.

8 The third dayes prize vnto that straunger Knight,

Whom all men term’d Knight of the Hebene speare,

To Britomart was giuen by good right;

For that with puissant stroke she downe did beare

The Saluage Knight, that victour was whileare,

And all the rest, which had the best afore,

And to the last vnconquer’d did appeare;

For last is deemed best. To her therefore

The fayrest Ladie was adiudgd for Paramore.

9 But thereat greatly grudged Arthegall,

And much repynd, that both of victors meede,

And eke of honour she did him forestall.

Yet mote he not withstand, what was decreede;

But inly thought of that despightfull deede

Fit time t’awaite auenged for to bee.

This being ended thus, and all agreed,

Then next ensew’d the Paragon to see

Of beauties praise, and yeeld the fayrest her due fee.

10 Then first Cambello brought vnto their view

His faire Cambina, couered with a veale;

Which being once withdrawne, most perfect hew

And passing beautie did eftsoones reueale,

That able was weake harts away to steale.

Next did Sir Triamond vnto their sight

The face of his deare Canacee vnheale;

Whose beauties beame eftsoones did shine so bright,

That daz’d the eyes of all, as with exceeding light.

11 And after her did Paridell produce

His false Duessa, that she might be seene,

Who with her forged beautie did seduce

The hearts of some, that fairest her did weene;

As diuerse wits affected diuers beene.

Then did Sir Ferramont vnto them shew

His Lucida, that was full faire and sheene,

And after these an hundred Ladies moe

Appear’d in place, the which each other did outgoe.

12 All which who so dare thinke for to enchace,

Him needeth sure a golden pen I weene,

To tell the feature of each goodly face.

For since the day that they created beene,

So many heauenly faces were not seene

Assembled in one place: ne he that thought

For Chian folke to pourtraict beauties Queene,

By view of all the fairest to him brought,

So many faire did see, as here he might haue sought.

13 At last the most redoubted Britonesse,

Her louely Amoret did open shew;

Whose face discouered, plainely did expresse

The heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew.

Well weened all, which her that time did vew,

That she should surely beare the bell away,

Till Blandamour, who thought he had the trew

And very Florimell, did her display:

The sight of whom once seene did all the rest dismay.

14 For all afore that seemed fayre and bright,

Now base and contemptible did appeare,

Compar’d to her, that shone as Phebes light,

Amongst the lesser starres in euening cleare.

All that her saw with wonder rauisht weare,

And weend no mortall creature she should bee,

But some celestiall shape, that flesh did beare:

Yet all were glad there Florimell to see;

Yet thought that Florimell was not so faire as shee.

15 As guilefull Goldsmith that by secret skill,

With golden foyle doth finely ouer spred

Some baser metall, which commend he will

Vnto the vulgar for good gold insted,

He much more goodly glosse thereon doth shed,

To hide his falshood, then if it were trew:

So hard, this Idole was to be ared,

That Florimell her selfe in all mens vew

She seem’d to passe: so forged things do fairest shew.

16 Then was that golden belt by doome of all

Graunted to her, as to the fayrest Dame.

Which being brought, about her middle small

They thought to gird, as best it her became;

But by no meanes they could it thereto frame.

For euer as they fastned it, it loos’d

And fell away, as feeling secret blame.

Full oft about her wast she it enclos’d;

And it as oft was from about her wast disclos’d.

17 That all men wondred at the vncouth sight,

And each one thought, as to their fancies came.

But she her selfe did thinke it doen for spight,

And touched was with secret wrath and shame

Therewith, as thing deuiz’d her to defame.

Then many other Ladies likewise tride,

About their tender loynes to knit the same;

But it would not on none of them abide,

But when they thought it fast, eftsoones it was vntide.

18 Which when that scornefull Squire of Dames did vew,

He lowdly gan to laugh, and thus to iest;

Alas for pittie that so faire a crew,

As like can not be seene from East to West,

Cannot find one this girdle to inuest.

Fie on the man, that did it first inuent,

To shame vs all with this, Vngirt vnblest.

Let neuer Ladie to his loue assent,

That hath this day so many so vnmanly shent.

19 Thereat all Knights gan laugh, and Ladies lowre:

Till that at last the gentle Amoret

Likewise assayd, to proue that girdles powre;

And hauing it about her middle set,

Did find it fit, withouten breach or let.

Whereat the rest gan greatly to enuie:

But Florimell exceedingly did fret,

And snatching from her hand halfe angrily

The belt againe, about her bodie gan it tie.

20 Yet nathemore would it her bodie fit;

Yet nathelesse to her, as her dew right,

It yeelded was by them, that iudged it:

And she her selfe adiudged to the Knight,

That bore the Hebene speare, as wonne in fight.

But Britomart would not thereto assent,

Ne her owne Amoret forgoe so light

For that strange Dame, whose beauties wonderment

She lesse esteem’d, then th’others vertuous gouernment.

21 Whom when the rest did see her to refuse,

They were full glad, in hope themselues to get her:

Yet at her choice they all did greatly muse.

But after that the Iudges did arret her

Vnto the second best, that lou’d her better;

That was the Saluage Knight: but he was gone

In great displeasure, that he could not get her,

Then was she iudged Triamond his one;

But Triamond lou’d Canacee, and other none.

22 Tho vnto Satyran she was adiudged,

Who was right glad to gaine so goodly meed:

But Blandamour thereat full greatly grudged,

And litle prays’d his labours euill speed,

That for to winne the saddle, lost die steed.

Ne lesse thereat did Paridell complaine,

And thought t’appeale from that, which was decreed,

To single combat with Sir Satyrane.

Thereto him Ate stird, new discord to maintaine.

23 And eke with these, full many other Knights

She through her wicked working did incense,

Her to demaund, and chalenge as their rights,

Deserued for their perils recompense.

Amongst the rest with boastfull vaine pretense

Stept Braggadochio forth, and as his thrall

Her claym’d, by him in battell wonne long sens:

Whereto her selfe he did to witnesse call;

Who being askt, accordingly confessed all.

24 Thereat exceeding wroth was Satyran;

And wroth with Satyran was Blandatnour’,

And wroth with Blandatnour was Eriuan;

And at them both Sir Paridell did loure.

So all together stird vp strifull stoore,

And readie were new battell to darraine.

Each one profest to be her paramoure,

And vow’d with speare and shield it to maintaine;

Ne Iudges powre, ne reasons rule mote them restraine.

25 Which troublous stirre when Satyrane auiz’d:

He gan to cast how to appease the same,

And to accord them all, this meanes deuiz’d:

First in the midst to set that fayrest Dame,

To whom each one his chalenge should disclame!

And he himselfe his right would eke releasse:

Then looke to whom she voluntarie came,

He should without disturbance her possesse:

Sweete is the loue that comes alone with willingnesse.

26 They all agreed, and then that snowy Mayd

Was in the middest plast among them all;

All on her gazing wisht, and vowd, and prayd,

And to the Queene of beautie close did call,

That she vnto their portion might befall.

Then when she long had lookt vpon each one,

As though she wished to haue pleasd them all,

At last to Braggadochio selfe alone

She came of her accord, in spight of all his fone.

27 Which when they all beheld they chaft and rag’d,

And woxe nigh mad for very harts despight,

That from reuenge their willes they scarse asswag’d:

Some thought from him her to haue reft by might;

Some proffer made with him for her to fight.

But he nought car’d for all that they could say:

For he their words as wind esteemed light.

Yet not fit place he thought it there to stay,

But secretly from thence that night her bore away.

28 They which remaynd, so soone as they perceiu’d,

That she was gone, departed thence with speed,

And follow’d them, in mind her to haue reau’d

From wight vnworthie of so noble meed.

In which poursuit how each one did succeede,

Shall else be told in order, as it fell.

But now of Britomart it here doth neede,

The hard aduentures and strange haps to tell;

Since with the rest she went not after Florimell.

29 For soone as she them saw to discord set,

Her list no longer in that place abide;

But taking with her louely Amoret,

Vpon her first aduenture forth did ride,

To seeke her lou’d, making blind loue her guide.

Vnluckie Mayd to seeke her enemie,

Vnluckie Mayd to seeke him farre and wide,

Whom, when he was vnto her selfe most nie,

She through his late disguizement could him not descrie.

30 So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle:

Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did spare,

In seeking him, that should her paine assoyle;

Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare

Was Amoret, companion of her care:

Who likewise sought her louer long miswent,

The gentle Scudamour, whose hart whileare

That stryfull hag with gealous discontent

Had fild, that he to fell reueng was fully bent.

31 Bent to reuenge on blamelesse Britomart

The crime, which cursed Ate kindled earst,

The which like thornes did pricke his gealous hart,

And through his soule like poysned arrow perst,

That by no reason it might be reuerst,

For ought that Glance could or doe or say.

For aye the more that she the same reherst,

The more it gauld, and grieu’d him night and day,

That nought but dire reuenge his anger mote defray.

32 So as they trauelled, the drouping night

Couered with cloudie storme and bitter showre,

That dreadfull seem’d to euery liuing wight,

Vpon them fell, before her timely howre;

That forced them to seeke some couert bowre,

Where they might hide their heads in quiet rest,

And shrowd their persons from that stormie stowre.

Not farre away, not meete for any guest

They spide a little cottage, like some poore mans nest.

33 Vnder a steepe hilles side it placed was,

There where the mouldred earth had cav’d the banke;

And fast beside a little brooke did pas

Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,

By which few crooked sallowes grew in ranke:

Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the sound

Of many yron hammers beating ranke,

And answering their wearie turnes around,

That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert ground.

34 There entring in, they found the goodman selfe,

Full busily vnto his worke ybent;

Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe,

With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,

As if he had in prison long bene pent:

Full blacke and griesly did his face appeare,

Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent;

With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare,

The which he neuer wont to combe, or comely sheare.

35 Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,

Ne better had he, ne for better cared:

With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent,

And fingers filthie, with long nayles vnpared,

Right fit to rend the food, on which he fared.

His name was Care; a blacksmith by his trade,

That neither day nor night, from working spared,

But to small purpose yron wedges made;

Those be vnquiet thoughts, that carefull minds inuade.

36 In which his worke he had size seruants prest,

About the Andvile standing euennore,

With huge great hammers, that did neuer rest

From heaping stroakes, which thereon soused sore:

All sixe strong groomes, but one then other more;

For by degrees they all were disagreed;

So likewise did the hammers which they bore,

Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed,

That he which was the last, the first did farre exceede.

37 He like a monstrous Gyant seem’d in sight,

Farre passing Bronteus, or Pyracmon great,

The which in Lipari doe day and night

Frame thunderbolts for Ioues auengefull threate.

So dreadfully he did the anduile beat,

That seem’d to dust he shortly would it driue:

So huge his hammer and so fierce his heat,

That seem’d a rocke of Diamond it could riue,

And rend a sunder quite, if he thereto list striue.

38 Sir Scudamour there entring, much admired

The manner of their worke and wearie paine;

And hauing long beheld, at last enquired

The cause and end thereof; but all in vaine;

For they for nought would from their worke refiraine,

Ne let his speeches come vnto their eare.

And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,

Like to the Northren winde, that none could heare,

Those Pensifenesse did moue; & Sighes the bellows weare.

39 Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,

But in his armour layd him downe to rest:

To rest he layd him downe vpon the flore,

(Whylome for ventrous Knights the bedding best)

And thought his wearie limbs to haue redrest.

And that old aged Dame, his faithfull Squire,

Her feeble ioynts layd eke a downe to rest;

That needed much her weake age to desire,

After so long a trauell, which them both did tire.

40 There lay Sir Scudamour long while expecting,

When gentle sleepe his heauie eyes would close;

Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,

Where better seem’d he mote himselfe repose;

And oft in wrath he thence againe vprose;

And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.

But wheresoeuer he did himselfe dispose,

He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:

So euery place seem’d painefull, and ech changing vaine.

41 And euermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,

The hammers sound his senses did molest;

And euermore, when he began to winke,

The bellowes noyse disturb’d his quiet rest,

Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest.

And all the night the dogs did barke and howle

About the house, at sent of stranger guest:

And now the crowing Cocke, and now the Owle

Lowde shriking him afflicted to the very sowle.

42 And if by fortune any litle nap

Vpon his heauie eye-lids chaunst to fall,

Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap

Vpon his headpeece with his yron mall;

That he was soone awaked therewithall,

And lightly started vp as one affrayd;

Or as if one him suddenly did call.

So oftentimes he out of sleepe abrayd,

And then lay musing long, on that him ill apayd.

43 So long he muzed, and so long he lay,

That at the last his wearie sprite opprest

With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may

Long time resist, gaue place to kindly rest,

That all his senses did full soone arrest:

Yet in his soundest sleepe, his dayly feare

His ydle braine gan busily molest,

And made him dreame those two disloyall were:

The things that day most minds, at night doe most appeare.

44 With that, the wicked carle die maister Smith

A paire of redwhot yron tongs did take

Out of the burning cinders, and therewith,

Vnder his side him nipt, that forst to wake,

He felt his hart for very paine to quake,

And started vp auenged for to be

On him, the which his quiet slomber brake:

Yet looking round about him none could see;

Yet did the smart remaine, though he himselfe did flee.

45 In such disquiet and hartfretting payne,

He all that night, that too long night did passe.

And now the day out of the Ocean mayne

Began to peepe aboue this earthly masse,

With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse:

Then vp he rose like heauie lumpe of lead,

That in his face, as in a looking glasse,

The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,

And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread.

46 Vnto his lofty steede he clombe anone,

And forth vpon his former voiage fared,

And with him eke that aged Squire at tone;

Who whatsoeuer perill was prepared,

Both equall paines and equall perill shared:

The end whereof and daungerous euent

Shall for another canticle be spared.

But here my wearie teeme nigh ouer spent

Shall breath it selfe awhile, after so long a went.

CANTO VI

Both Scudamour and Arthegall
   Doe fight with Britomart,
He sees her face; doth fall in loue,
   and soone front her depart.

1 What equall torment to the griefe of mind,

And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart,

That inly feeds it selfe with thoughts vnkind,

And nourisheth her owne consuming smart?

What medicine can any Leaches art

Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grieuance hide,

And will to none her maladie impart?

Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride;

For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salue prouide.

2 Who hauing left that restlesse house of Care,

The next day, as he on his way did ride,

Full of melancholie and sad misfare,

Through misconceipt; all vnawares espide

An armed Knight vnder a forrest side,

Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede;

Who soone as them approaching he descride,

Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,

That seem’d he was full bent to some mischieuous deede.

3 Which Scudamour perceiuing, forth issewed

To haue rencountred him in equall race;

But soone as th’other nigh approaching, vewed

The armes he bore, his speare he gan abase,

And voide his course: at which so suddain case

He wondred much. But th’other thus can say;

Ah gentle Scudamour, vnto your grace

I me submit, and you of pardon pray,

That almost had against you trespassed this day.

4 Whereto thus Scudamour, Small harme it were

For any knight, vpon a ventrous knight

Without displeasance for to proue his spere.

But reade you Sir, sith ye my name haue hight,

What is your owne, that I mote you requite.

Certes (sayd he) ye mote as now excuse

Me from discouering you my name aright:

For time yet serues that I the same refuse,

But call ye me the Saluage Knight, as others vse.

5 Then this, Sir Saluage Knight (quoth he) areede;

Or doe you here within this forrest wonne,

That seemeth well to answere to your weede?

Or haue ye it for some occasion donne?

That rather seemes, sith knowen armes ye shonne.

This other day (sayd he) a stranger knight

Shame and dishonour hath vnto me donne;

On whom I waite to wreake that foule despight,

When euer he this way shall passe by day or night.

6 Shame be his meede (quoth he) that meaneth shame.

But what is he, by whom ye shamed were?

A stranger knight, sayd he, vnknowne by name,

But knowne by fame, and by an Hebene speare,

With which he all that met him, downe did beare.

He in an open Turney lately held,

Fro me the honour of that game did reare;

And hauing me all wearie earst, downe feld,

The fayrest Ladie reft, and euer since withheld.

7 When Scudamour heard mention of that speare,

He wist right well, that it was Britomart,

The which from him his fairest loue did beare.

Tho gan he swell in euery inner part,

For fell despight, and gnaw his gealous hart,

That thus he sharply sayd; Now by my head,

Yet is not this the first vnknightly part,

Which that same knight, whom by his launce I read,

Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread.

8 For lately he my loue hath fro me reft,

And eke defiled with foule villanie

The sacred pledge, which in his faith was left,

In. shame of knighthood and fidelitie;

The which ere long full deare he shall abie.

And if to that auenge by you decreed

This hand may helpe, or succour ought supplie,

It shall not fayle, when so ye shall it need.

So both to wreake their wrathes on Britomart agreed.

9 Whiles thus they communed, lo farre away

A Knight soft ryding towards them they spyde,

Attyr’d in forraine armes and straunge aray:

Whom when they nigh approcht, they plaine descryde

To be the same, for whom they did abyde.

Sayd then Sir Scudamour, Sir Saluage knight

Let me lids craue, sith first I was defyde,

That first I may that wrong to him requite:

And if I hap to fayle, you shall recure my right.

10 Which being yeelded, he his threatfull speare

Gan fewter, and against her fiercely ran.

Who soone as she him saw approaching neare

With so fell rage, her selfe she lightly gan

To dight, to welcome him, well as she can:

But entertaind him in so rude a wise,

That to the ground she smote both horse and man;

Whence neither greatly hasted to arise,

But on their common harmes together did deuise.

11 But Artegall beholding bis mischaunce,

New matter added to his former fire;

And eft auentring his steeleheaded launce,

Against her rode, full of despiteous ire,

That nought but spoyle and vengeance did require.

But to himselfe his felonous intent

Returning, disappointed his desire,

Whiles vnawares his saddle he forwent,

And found himselfe on ground in great amazement

12 lightly he started vp out of that stound,

And snatching forth his direfull deadly blade,

Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound

Thrust to an Hynd within some couert glade,

Whom without perill he cannot inuade.

With such fell greedines he her assayled,

That though she mounted were, yet he her made

To giue him ground, (so much his force preuayled)

And shun his mightie strokes, gainst which no armes auayled.

13 So as they coursed here and there, it chaunst

That in her wheeling round, behind her crest

So sorely he her strooke, that thence it glaunst

Adowne her backe, the which it fairely blest

From foule mischance; ne did it euer rest,

Till on her horses hinder parts it fell;

Where byting deepe, so deadly it imprest,

That quite it chynd his backe behind the sell,

And to alight on foote her algates did compell.

14 Like as the lightning brand from riuen side,

Throwne out by angry Ioue in his vengeance,

With dreadfull force falles on some steeple hie;

Which battring, downe it on the church doth glance,

And teares it all with terrible mischance.

Yet she no whit dismayd, her steed forsooke,

And casting from her that enchaunted lance,

Vnto her sword and shield her soone betooke;

And therewithall at him right furiously she strooke.

15 So furiously she strooke in her first heat,

Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was,

That she him forced backward to retreat,

And yeeld vnto her weapon way to pas:

Whose raging rigour neither steele nor bras

Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went,

And pour’d the purple bloud forth on the gras;

That all his mayle yriv’d, and plates yrent,

Shew’d all his bodie bare vnto the cruell dent.

16 At length when as he saw her hastie heat

Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,

He through long sufferance growing now more great,

Rose in his strength, and gan her fresh assayle,

Heaping huge strokes, as thicke as showre of hayle,

And lashing dreadfully at euery part,

As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.

Ah cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,

That workst such wrecke on her, to whom thou dearest art.

17 What yron courage euer could endure,

To worke such outrage on so faire a creature?

And in his madnesse thinke with hands impure

To spoyle so goodly workmanship of nature,

The maker selfe resembling in her feature?

Certes some hellish furie, or some feend

This mischiefe framd, for their first loues defeature,

To bath their hands in bloud of dearest freend,

Thereby to make their loues beginning, their liues end.

18 Thus long they trac’d, and trauerst to and fro,

Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes pursewed,

Still as aduantage they espyde thereto:

But toward th’end Sir Arthegall renewed

His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.

At last his lucklesse hand he heau’d on hie,

Hauing his forces all in one accrewed,

And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie,

That seemed nought but death mote be her destinie.

19 The wicked stroke vpon her helmet chaunst,

And with the force, which in it selfe it bore,

Her ventayle shard away, and thence forth glaunst

A downe in vaine, ne harm’d her any more.

With that her angels face, vnseene afore,

Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight,

Deawed with siluer drops, through sweating sore,

But somewhat redder, then beseem’d aright,

Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary fight.

20 And round about the same, her yellow heare

Hauing through stirring loosd their wonted band,

like to a golden border did appeare,

Framed in goldsmithes forge with cunning hand:

Yet goldsmithes running could not vnderstand

To frame such subtile wire, so shinie cleare.

For it did glister like the golden sand,

The which Pactolus with his waters shere,

Throwes forth vpon the riuage round about him nere.

21 And as his hand he vp againe did reare,

Thinking to worke on her his vtmost wracke,

His powrelesse arme benumbd with secret feare

From his reuengefull purpose shronke abacke,

And cruell sword out of his fingers slacks

Fell downe to ground, as if the steele had sence,

And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,

Or both of them did thinke, obedience

To doe to so diuine a beauties excellence.

22 And he himselfe long gazing thereupon,

At last fell humbly downe vpon his knee,

And of his wonder made religion,

Weening some heauenly goddesse he did see,

Or else vnweeting, what it else might bee;

And pardon her besought his errour frayle,

That had done outrage in so high degree:

Whilest trembling horrour did his sense assayle,

And made ech member quake, and manly hart to quayle.

23 Nathelesse she full of wrath for that late stroke,

All that long while vpheld her wrathfull hand,

With fell intent, on him to bene ywroke,

And looking sterne, still ouer him did stand,

Threatning to strike, vnlesse he would withstand:

And bad him rise, or surely he should die.

But die or liue for nought he would vpstand

But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie,

Or wreake on him her will for so great iniurie.

24 Which when as Scudamour, who now abrayd,

Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside,

He was therewith right wondrously dismayd,

And drawing nigh, when as he plaine descride

That peerelesse paterne of Dame natures pride,

And heauenly image of perfection,

He blest himselfe, as one sore terrifide,

And turning his feare to faint deuotion,

Did worship her as some celestiall vision.

25 But Glauce, seeing all that chaunced there,

Well weeting how their errour to assoyle,

Full glad of so good end, to them drew nere,

And her salewd with seemely belaccoyle,

Ioyous to see her safe after long toyle.

Then her besought, as she to her was deare,

To graunt vnto those warriours truce a whyle;

Which yeelded, they their beuers vp did reare,

And shew’d themselues to her, such as indeed they were.

26 When Britomart with sharpe auizefull eye

Beheld the louely face of Artegatt,

Tempred widi sternesse and stout maiestie,

She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call,

To be the same which in her fathers hall

Long since in that enchaunted glasse she saw.

Therewidi her wrathfull courage gan appall,

And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw,

That her enhaunced hand she downe can soft withdraw.

27 Yet she it forst to haue againe vpheld,

As fayning choler, which was turn’d to cold:

But euer when his visage she beheld,

Her hand fell downe, and would no longer hold

The wrathfull weapon gainst his countnance bold:

But when in vaine to fight she oft assayd,

She arm’d her tongue, and thought at him to scold;

Nathlesse her tongue not to her will obayd, [missayd.

But brought forth speeches myld, when she would haue

28 But Scudamour now woxen inly glad,

That all his gealous feare he false had found,

And how that Hag his loue abused had

With breach of faith and loyaltie vnsound,

The which long time his grieued hart did wound,

He thus bespake; certes Sir Artegall,

I ioy to see you lout so low on ground,

And now become to liue a Ladies thrall,

That whylome in your minde wont to despise them all.

29 Soone as she heard the name of Artegall,

Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble,

For sudden ioy, and secret feare withall,

And all her vitall powres with motion nimble,

To succour it, themselues gan there assemble,

That by the swift recourse of flushing blood

Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble,

And fayned still her former angry mood,

Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.

30 When Glauce thus gan wisely all vpknit;

Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought,

To be spectators of this vncouth fit,

Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought,

Against the course of kind, ne meruaile nought,

Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo

Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,

Fearing least she your loues away should woo,

Feared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there wants theretoo.

31 And you Sir Artegall, the saluage knight,

Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand

Hath conquered you anew in second fight:

For whylome they haue conquerd sea and land.

And heauen it selfe, that nought may them withstand.

Ne henceforth be rebellious vnto loue,

That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band

Of noble minds deriued from aboue,

Which being knit with vertue, neuer will remoue.

32 And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame,

Relent the rigour of your wrathfull will,

Whose fire were better turn’d to other flame;

And wiping out remembrance of all ill,

Graunt him your grace, but so that he fulfill

The penance, which ye shall to him empart:

For louers heauen must passe by sorrowes hell.

Thereat full inly blushed Britomart;

But Artegall close smyling ioy’d in secret hart.

33 Yet durst he not make loue so suddenly,

Ne thinke th’affection of her hart to draw

From one to other so quite contrary:

Besides her modest countenance he saw

So goodly graue, and full of princely aw,

That it his ranging fancie did refraine,

And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw;

Whereby the passion grew more fierce and faine,

Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would restraine.

34 But Scudamour whose hart twixt doubtfull feare

And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,

Desiring of his Amoret to heare

Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence,

Her thus bespake; But Sir without offence

Mote I request you tydings of my loue,

My Amoret, sith you her freed fro thence,

Where she captiued long, great woes did proue;

That where ye left, I may her seeke, as doth behoue.

35 To whom thus Britomart, certes Sir knight,

What is of her become, or whether reft,

I can not vnto you aread a right.

For from that time I from enchaunters theft

Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,

I her preseru’d from perill and from feare,

And euermore from villenie her kept:

Ne euer was there wight to me more deare

Then she, ne vnto whom I more true loue did beare.

36 Till on a day as through a desert wyld

We trauelled, both wearie of the way

We did alight, and sate in shadow myld;

Where fearelesse I to sleepe me downe did lay.

But when as I did out of sleepe abray,

I found her not, where I her left whyleare,

But thought she wandred was, or gone astray.

I cal’d her loud, I sought her farre and neare;

But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare.

37 When Scudamour those heauie tydings heard,

His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare;

Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard,

But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare,

That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth beare.

Till Glauce thus; Faire Sir, be nought dismayd

With needelesse dread, till certaintie ye heare:

For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd;

Its best to hope the best, though of the worst aflrayd.

38 Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech

Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight

Shew’d change of better cheare: so sore a breach

That sudden newes had made into his spright;

Till Britomart him fairely thus benight;

Great cause of sorrow certes Sir ye haue:

But comfort take: for by this heauens light

I vow, you dead or liuing not to leaue,

Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reaue.

39 Therewith he rested, and well pleased was.

So peace being confirm’d amongst them all,

They tooke their steeds, and forward thence did pas

Vnto some resting place, which mote befall,

All being guided by Sir Artegall.

Where goodly solace was vnto them made,

And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,

Vntill that they their wounds well healed had,

And wearie limmes recur’d after late vsage bad.

40 In all which time, Sir Artegall made way

Vnto the loue of noble Britomart,

And with meeke seruice and much suit did lay

Continuall siege vnto her gentle hart,

Which being whylome launcht with louely dart,

More eath was new impression to receiue,

How euer she her paynd with womanish art

To hide her wound, that none might it perceiue:

Vaine is the art that seekes it selfe for to deceiue.

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

With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,

That at the length vnto a bay he brought her,

So as she to his speeches was content

To lend an eare, and softly to relent.

At last through many vowes which forth he pour’d,

And many othes, she yeelded her consent

To be his loue, and take him for her Lord,

Till they with mariage meet might finish that accord.

42 Tho when they had long time there taken rest,

Sir Artegall, who all this while was bound

Vpon an hard aduenture yet in quest,

Fit time for him thence to depart it found,

To follow that, which he did long propound;

And vnto her his congee came to take.

But her therewith full sore displeasd he found,

And loth to leaue her late betrothed make,

Her dearest loue full loth so shortly to forsake.

43 Yet he with strong perswasions her asswaged,

And wonne her will to suffer him depart;

For which his faith with her he fast engaged,

And thousand vowes from bottome of his hart,

That all so soone as he by wit or art

Could that atchieue, whereto he did aspire,

He vnto her would speedily reuert:

No longer space thereto he did desire,

But till the horned moone three courses did expire.

44 With which she for the present was appeased,

And yeelded leaue, how euer malcontent

She inly were, and in her mind displeased.

So early in the morrow next he went

Forth on his way, to which he was ybent.

Ne wight him to attend, or way to guide,

As whylome was the custome ancient

Mongst Knights, when on aduentures they did ride,

Saue that she algates him a while accompanide.

45 And by the way she sundry purpose found

Of this or that, the time for to delay,