The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

  Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,

  And all prostrate vpon the lowly plaine,

  Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count’nance faine.

  13 Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,

  And yieldes her to extremitie of time;

  So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,

  And walketh forth without suspect of crime:

  They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,

  Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,

  Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme,

  And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,

  Do worship her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround.

  14 And all the way their merry pipes they sound,

  That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,

  And with their horned feet do weare the ground,

  Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.

  So towards old Syluanus they her bring;

  Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out,

  To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning,

  And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout,

  And with an yuie twyne his wast is girt about

  15 Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad,

  Or Bacchus merry fruit they did inuent,

  Or Cybeles franticke rites haue made them mad;

  They drawing nigh, vnto their God present

  That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.

  The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,

  Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;

  His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire,

  And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.

  16 The woodborne people fall before her flat,

  And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;

  And old Syluanus selfe bethinkes not, what

  To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,

  In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;

  Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,

  But Venus neuer had so sober mood;

  Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,

  But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

  17 By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue

  His ancient loue, and dearest Cyparisse,

  And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,

  How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,

  And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse

  A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy

  Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;

  For griefe whereof the lad n’ould after ioy,

  But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.

  18 The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades

  Her to behold do thither runne apace,

  And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,

  Flocke all about to see her louely face:

  But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,

  They enuie her in their malicious mind,

  And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace:

  But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind,

  And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.

  19 Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid,

  Did her content to please their feeble eyes,

  And long time with that saluage people staid,

  To gather breath in many miseries.

  During which time her gentle wit she plyes,

  To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,

  And made her th’Image of Idolatryes;

  But when their boodesse zeale she did restraine

  From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.

  20 It fortuned a noble warlike knight

  By iust occasion to that forrest came,

  To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,

  From whence he tooke his well deserued name:

  He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,

  And fild far landes with glorie of his might,

  Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame,

  And euer lou’d to fight for Ladies right,

  But in vaine glorious frayes he lide did delight

  21 A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld,

  By straunge aduenture as it did betyde,

  And there begotten of a Lady myld,

  Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,

  That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde

  To Therion, a loose vnruly swayne;

  Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde,

  And chase the saluage beast with busie payne,

  Then serue his Ladies loue, and wast in pleasures vayne.

  22 The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne,

  And could not lacke her louers company,

  But to the wood she goes, to serue her turne,

  And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly,

  And followes other game and venery:

  A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,

  And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,

  The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,

  And made her person thrall vnto his beastly kind.

  23 So long in secret cabin there he held

  Her captiue to his sensuall desire,

  Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld,

  And bore a boy vnto that saluage sire:

  Then home he suffred her for to retire,

  For ransome leauing him the late borne childe;

  Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,

  He noursled vp in life and manners wilde,

  Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.

  24 For all he taught the tender ymp, was but

  To banish cowardize and bastard fearc;

  His trembling hand he would him force to put

  Vpon the Lyon and the rugged Beare,

  And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare;

  And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make

  To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;

  And the Robuckes in flight to ouertake,

  That euery beast for feare of him did fly and quake.

  25 Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell he grew,

  That his owne sire and maister of his guise

  Did often tremble at his horrid vew,

  And oft for dread of hurt would him aduise,

  The angry beasts not rashly to despise,

  Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne

  The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,

  (A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne

  Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.

  26 And for to make his powre approued more,

  Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell;

  The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore,

  The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell;

  The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell;

  And them constraine in equall teme to draw.

  Such ioy he had, their stubborne harts to quell,

  And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,

  That his beheast they feared, as a tyrans law.

  27 His louing mother came vpon a day

  Vnto the woods, to see her little sonne;

  And chaunst vnwares to meet him in the way,

  After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne,

  When after him a Lyonesse did runne,

  That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere

  Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:

  The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,

  And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.

  28 The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight,

  And turning backe, gan fast to fly away,

  Vntill with loue reuokt from vaine affright,

  She hardly yet perswaded was to stay,

 
; And then to him these womanish words gan say;

  Ah Satyrane, my dearling, and my ioy,

  For loue of me leaue off this dreadfull play;

  To dally thus with death, is no fit toy,

  Go find some other pky-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.

  29 In these and like delights of bloudy game

  He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,

  And there abode, whilst any beast of name

  Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught

  To feare his force: and then his courage haught

  Desird of forreine fbemen to be knowne,

  And far abroad for straunge aduentures sought:

  In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,

  But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.

  30 Yet euermore it was his manner faire,

  After long labours and aduentures spent,

  Vnto those natiue woods for to repaire,

  To see his sire and ofspring auncient.

  And now he thither came for like intent;

  Where he vnwares the fairest Vna found,

  Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment,

  Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,

  Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.

  31 He wondred at her wisedome heauenly rare,

  Whose like in womens wit he neuer knew;

  And when her curteous deeds he did compare,

  Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,

  Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,

  And ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie

  On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:

  Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,

  And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.

  32 But she all vowd vnto the Redcrosse knight,

  His wandring perill closely did lament,

  Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,

  But her deare heart with anguish did torment,

  And all her wit in secret counsels spent,

  How to escape. At last in privie wise

  To Satyrane she shewed her intent;

  Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,

  How with that pensiue Maid he best might thence arise.

  33 So on a day when Satyres all were gone,

  To do their seruice to Syluanus old,

  The gentle virgin left behind alone

  He led away with courage stout and bold.

  Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,

  Or euer hope recouer her againe:

  In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.

  So fast he carried her with carefull paine,

  That they the woods are past, & come now to the plaine.

  34 The better part now of thelingring day,

  They traueild had, when as they farre espide

  A wearie wight forwandring by the way,

  And towards him they gan in hast to ride,

  To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,

  Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse.

  But he them spying, gan to turne aside,

  For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse;

  More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.

  35 A silly man, in simple weedes forworne,

  And soild with dust of the long dried way;

  His sandales were with toilesome trauell torne,

  And face all tand with scorching sunny ray,

  As he had traueild many a sommers day,

  Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde;

  And in his hand a Iacobs staffe, to stay

  His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,

  His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.

  36 The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd

  Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;

  But warres, nor new aduentures none he herd.

  Then Vna gan to aske, if ought he knew,

  Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,

  That in his armour bare a croslet red.

  Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew

  To tell the sad sight, which mine eies haue red:

  These eyes did see that knight both liuing and eke ded.

  37 That cruell word her tender hart so thrild,

  That suddein cold did runne through euery vaine,

  And stony horrour all her sences fild

  With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine.

  The knight her lightly reared vp againe,

  And comforted with curteous kind reliefe;

  Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine

  The further processe of her hidden griefe;

  The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur’d the chiefe.

  38 Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day,

  This fatall day, that shall I euer rew,

  To see two knights in trauell on my way

  (A sory sight) arraung’d in battell new,

  Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:

  My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife,

  To see their blades so greedily imbrew,

  That drunke with bloud, yet thristed after life:

  What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim

  [knife.

  39 Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee,

  And he the stoutest knight, that euer wonne?

  Ah dearest dame (quoth he) how might I see

  The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?

  Where is (said Satyrane) that Paynims sonne,

  That him of life, and vs of ioy hath reft?

  Not far away (quoth he) he hence doth wonne

  Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left [cleft.

  Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were

  40 Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast,

  Whiles Vna with huge heauinesse opprest,

  Could not for sorrow fellow him so fast;

  And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,

  Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest,

  In secret shadow by a fountaine side:

  Euen he it was, that earst would haue supprest

  Faire Vna: whom when Satyrane espide,

  With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.

  41 And said, Arise thou cursed Miscreaunt,

  That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train

  Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt

  That good knight of the Redcrosse to haue slain:

  Arise, and with like treason now maintain

  Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield.

  The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,

  And catching vp in hast his three square shield,

  And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.

  42 And drawing nigh him said, Ah misborne Elfe,

  In euill houre thy foes thee hither sent,

  Anothers wrongs to wreake vpon thy selfe:

  Yet ill thou blamest me, for hauing blent

  My name with guile and traiterous intent;

  That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I neuer slew,

  But had he beene, where earst his armes were lent,

  Th’enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:

  But thou his errour shalt, I hope now prouen trew.

  43 Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,

  To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile

  Each other bent his enimy to quell,

  That with their force they perst both plate and maile,

  And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,

  That it would pitty any liuing eie.

  Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile;

  But floods of bloud could not them satisfie;

  Both hungred after death: both chose to win, or die.

  44 So long they fight, and fell reuenge purs
ue,

  That fainting each, themselues to breathen let,

  And oft refreshed, battell oft renue:

  As when two Bores with rancling malice met,

  Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,

  Till breathlesse both them selues aside retire,

  Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,

  And trample th’earth, the whiles they may respire;

  Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.

  45 So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once,

  They gan to fight returne, increasing more

  Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce,

  With heaped strokes more hugely, then before,

  That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore

  They both deformed, scarcely could be known.

  By this sad Vna fraught with anguish sore,

  Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown:

  Arriu’d, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown,

  46 Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin

  Espide, he gan reuiue the memory

  Of his lewd lusts, and late attempted sin,

  And left the doubtfull battell hastily,

  To catch her, newly offred to his eie:

  But Satyrane with strokes him turning, staid,

  And sternely bad him other businesse plie,

  Then hunt the steps of pure vnspotted Maid:

  Wherewith he all enrag’d, these bitter speaches said.

  47 O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad

  Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate?

  Were it not better, I that Lady had,

  Then that thou hadst repented it too late?

  Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate,

  To loue another. Lo then for thine ayd

  Here take thy louers token on thy pate.

  So they two fight; the whiles the royall Mayd

  Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.

  48 But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing told,

  Being in deed old Archimage, did stay

  In secret shadow, all this to behold,

  And much reioyced in their bloudy fray:

  But when he saw the Damsell passe away

  He left his stond, and her pursewd apace,

  In hope to bring her to her last decay.

  But for to tell her lamentable cace,

  And eke this battels end, will need another place.

  CANTO VII

  The Redcrosse knight is captiue made

  By Gyaunt proud opprest,

  Prince Arthur meets with Vna great-

  ly with those newes distrest.

  1 What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,

  As to descry the crafty cunning traine,

  By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,

  And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine,