The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,

  His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed

  Doth euer wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

  In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,

  Whiles sad Night ouer him her mande black doth spred.

  40 Whose double gates he findeth locked fast,

  The one faire fram’d of burnisht Yuory,

  The other all with siluer ouercast;

  And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,

  Watching to banish Care their enimy,

  Who oft is wont to trouble gentle sleepe.

  By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,

  And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe

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

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

  A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe

  And euer-drizling raine vpon the loft,

  Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne

  Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:

  No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,

  As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne,

  Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,

  Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.

  42 The messenger approching to him spake,

  But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:

  So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.

  Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,

  Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe

  Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.

  As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine

  Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,

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

  43 The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,

  And threatned vnto him the dreaded name

  Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,

  And lifting vp his lumpish head, with blame

  Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.

  Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,

  He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,

  He bids thee to him send for his intent

  A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent

  44 The God obayde, and calling forth straight way

  A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,

  Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay

  His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,

  Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.

  He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,

  Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,

  And on his litle winges the dreame he bore

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

  45 Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,

  Had made a Lady of that other Spright,

  And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes

  So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,

  That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:

  The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,

  Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:

  Her all in white he clad, and ouer it

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

  46 Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,

  Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,

  Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,

  And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,

  In sort as he him schooled priuily:

  And that new creature borne without her dew,

  Full of the makers guile, with vsage sly

  He taught to imitate that Lady trew,

  Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.

  47 Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast,

  And comming where the knight in slomber lay,

  The one vpon his hardy head him plast,

  And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,

  That nigh his manly hart did melt away,

  Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:

  Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,

  And to him playnd, how that false winged boy,

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

  48 And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene,

  Faire Venus seemde vnto his bed to bring

  Her, whom he waking euermore did weene,

  To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring

  On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,

  Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:

  And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,

  Hymen iö Hymen, dauncing all around,

  Whilst freshest Flora her with Yuie girlond crownd.

  49 In this great passion of vnwonted lust,

  Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,

  He started vp, as seeming to mistrust,

  Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:

  Lo there before his face his Lady is,

  Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,

  And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,

  With gentle blandishment and louely looke,

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

  50 All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,

  And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,

  He thought haue slaine her in his fierce despight:

  But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,

  He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise

  To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.

  Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,

  Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,

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

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

  Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,

  And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,

  Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,

  For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?

  Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

  Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state

  You, whom my hard auenging destinie

  Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.

  52 Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue

  My Fathers kingdome, There she stopt with teares;

  Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,

  And then againe begun, My weaker yeares

  Captiu’d to fortune and frayle worldly feares,

  Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:

  Let me not dye in languor and long teares.

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

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

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

  Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night

  In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,

  Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

  Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight

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

  Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight

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

  That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew

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

  For all so deare as life is to my hart,

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

  Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,

  Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

  Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

  Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,

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

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

  55 Long after lay he musing at her mood,

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

  For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

  At last dull wearinesse of former fight

  Hauing yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,

  That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,

  With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:

  But when he saw his labour all was vaine,

  With that misformed spright he backe returne againe.

  CANTO II

  The guilefull great Enchaunter parts

  The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:

  Into whose stead faire falshood steps,

  And workes him wofull ruth.

  1 By this the Northerne wagoner had set

  His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,

  That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,

  But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre

  To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:

  And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill

  Had warned once, that Phœbus fiery carre

  In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,

  Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

  2 When those accursed messengers of hell,

  That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright

  Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

  Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:

  Who all in rage to see his skilfull might

  Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine

  And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.

  But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

  He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

  3 Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,

  And that false other Spright, on whom he spred

  A seeming body of the subtile aire,

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

  His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,

  Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:

  Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,

  Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,

  Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

  4 Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast

  Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights

  And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,

  Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,

  As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,

  And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,

  That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights

  Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;

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

  5 All in amaze he suddenly vpstart

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

  Who soone him brought into a secret part,

  Where that false couple were full closely ment

  In wanton lust and lewd embracement:

  Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,

  The eye of reason was with rage yblent,

  And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,

  But hardly was restrained of that aged sire.

  6 Returning to his bed in torment great,

  And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,

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

  And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,

  Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night

  At last faire Hesperus in highest skie

  Had spent his lampe, & brought forth dawning light,

  Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;

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

  7 Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,

  Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,

  Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,

  And die high hils Titan discouered,

  The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,

  And rising forth out of her baser bowre,

  Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,

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

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

  8 And after him she rode with so much speede

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

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

  Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,

  That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;

  Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,

  But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine

  Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,

  He so vngently left her, whom she louest best.

  9 But subtill Archimago, when his guests

  He saw diuided into double parts,

  And Vna wandring in woods and forrests,

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

  That had such might ouer true meaning harts;

  Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,

  How he may worke vnto her further smarts:

  For her he hated as the hissing snake,

  And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

  10 He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;

  For by his mightie science he could take

  As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,

  As euer Proteus to himselfe could make:

  Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,

  Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,

  That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,

  And oft would flie away. O who can tell

  The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?

  11 But now seemde best, the person to put on

  Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:

  In mighty armes he was yclad anon:

  And siluer shield, vpon his coward brest

  A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest

  A bounch of haires discolourd diuersly;

  Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,

  And when he sate vpon his courser free,

  Saint George himself ye would haue deemed him to be.

  12 But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,

  The true Saint George was wandred far away,

  Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;

  Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.

  At last him chaunst to meete vpon the way

  A faithlesse Sarazin all arm’d to point,

  In whose great shield was writ with letters gay

  Sans Joy: full large of limbe and euery ioint

  He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

  13 He had a faire companion of his way,

  A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,

  Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,

  And like a Persian mitre on her hed

  She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,

  The which her lauish louers to her gaue;

  Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred

  With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,

  Whose bridle rang with golden bels and bosses braue.

  14 With faire disport and courting dalliaunce

  She intertainde her louer all the way:

  But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,

  She soone left off her mirth and wanton play,

  And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:

  His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride

  And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,

  Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side

  The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

  15 The knight of the Redcrosse when him he spide,

  Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous,

  Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:

  Soone meet
e they both, both fell and furious,

  That daunted with their forces hideous,

  Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,

  And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,

  Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,

  Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.

  16 As when two rams stird with ambitious pride,

  Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,

  Their horned fronts so fierce on either side

  Do meete, that with the terrour of die shocke

  Astonied both, stand sencelesse as a blocke,

  Forgetfull of the hanging victory:

  So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,

  Both staring fierce, and holding idely,

  The broken reliques of their former cruelty.

  17 The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe

  Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;

  Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:

  Each others equall puissaunce enuies,

  And through their iron sides with cruel spies

  Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields

  No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies

  As from a forge out of their burning shields,

  And streames of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

  18 Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin)

  That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;

  Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,

  Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:

  But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,

  And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest

  With rigour so outrageous he smitt,

  That a large share it hewd out of the rest,

  And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.

  19 Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark

  Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,

  And at his haughtie helmet mating mark,

  So hugely stroke, that it the steele did riue,

  And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,

  With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,

  Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue

  With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,

  Whither the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.

  20 The Lady when she saw her champion fall,

  Like the old mines of a broken towre,

  Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,

  But from him fled away with all her powre;

  Who after her as hastily gan scowre,

  Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away

  The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.

  Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,

  For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

  21 She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,