The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

  Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,

  The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift

  Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.

  23 Or as a Castle reared high and round,

  By subtile engins and malitious slight

  Is vndermined from the lowest ground,

  And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,

  At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight

  Her hastie ruine does more heauie make,

  And yields it selfe vnto the victours might;

  Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemd to shake

  The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.

  24 The knight then lightly leaping to the pray,

  With mortall steele him smot againe so sore,

  That headlesse his vnweldy bodie lay,

  All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,

  Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store,

  But soone as breath out of his breast did pas,

  That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore,

  Was vanisht quite, and of that monstrous mas

  Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.

  25 Whose grieuous fall, when false Duessa spide,

  Her golden cup she cast vnto the ground,

  And crowned mitre rudely threw aside;

  Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound,

  That she could not endure that dolefull stound,

  But leauing all behind her, fled away:

  The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,

  And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay,

  So brought vnto his Lord, as his deserued pray.

  26 The royall Virgin, which beheld from farre,

  In pensiue plight, and sad perplexitie,

  The whole atchieuement of this doubtfull warre,

  Came running fast to greet his victorie,

  With sober gladnesse, and myld modestie,

  And with sweet ioyous cheare him thus bespake;

  Faire braunch of noblesse, flowre of cheualrie,

  That with your worth the world amazed make,

  How shall I quite the paines, ye suffer for my sake?

  27 And you fresh bud of vertue springing fast,

  Whom these sad eyes saw nigh vnto deaths dore,

  What hath poore Virgin for such perill past,

  Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore

  My simple selfe, and sendee euermore;

  And he that high does sit, and all things see

  With equall eyes, their merites to restore,

  Behold what ye this day haue done for mee,

  And what I cannot quite, requite with vsuree.

  28 But sith the heauens, and your faire handeling

  Haue made you maister of the field this day,

  Your fortune maister eke with gouerning,

  And well begun end all so well, I pray,

  Ne let that wicked woman scape away;

  For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall,

  My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeon lay,

  Where he his better dayes hath wasted all.

  O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.

  29 Forthwith he gaue in charge vnto his Squire,

  That scarlot whore to keepen carefully;

  Whiles he hunselfe with greedie great desire

  Into the Castle entred forcibly,

  Where liuing creature none he did espye;

  Then gan he lowdly through the house to call:

  But no man car’d to answere to his crye.

  There raignd a solemne silence ouer all,

  Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall.

  30 At last with creeping crooked pace forth came

  An old old man, with beard as white as snow,

  That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame,

  And guide his wearie gate both too and fro:

  For his eye sight him failed long ygo,

  And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,

  The which vnused rust did ouergrow:

  Those were the keyes of euery inner dore,

  But he could not them vse, but kept them still in store.

  31 But very vncouth sight was to behold,

  How he did fashion his vntoward pace,

  For as he forward moou’d his footing old,

  So backward still was turnd his wrincled face,

  Vnlike to men, who euer as they trace,

  Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.

  This was the auncient keeper of that place,

  And foster father of the Gyant dead;

  His name Ignaro did his nature right aread.

  32 His reuerend haires and holy grauitie

  The knight much honord, as beseemed well,

  And gently askt, where all the people bee,

  Which in that stately building wont to dwell.

  Who answerd him full soft, he could not tell.

  Againe he askt, where that same knight was layd,

  Whom great Orgoglio with his puissaunce fell

  Had made his caytiue thrall, againe he sayde,

  He could not tell: ne euer other answere made.

  33 Then asked he, which way he in might pas:

  He could not tell, againe he answered.

  Thereat the curteous knight displeased was,

  And said, Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red

  How ill it sits with that same siluer hed

  In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:

  But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed

  With natures pen, in ages graue degree,

  Aread in grauer wise, what I demaund of thee.

  34 His answere likewise was, he could not tell.

  Whose sencelesse speach, and doted ignorance

  When as the noble Prince had marked well,

  He ghest his nature by his countenance,

  And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance.

  Then to him stepping, from his arme did reach

  Those keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.

  Each dore he opened without any breach;

  There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.

  35 There all within full rich arayd he found,

  With royall arras and resplendent gold.

  And did with store of euery thing abound,

  That greatest Princes presence might behold.

  But all the floore (too filthy to be told)

  With bloud of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew,

  Which there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold,

  Defiled was, that dreadfull was to vew,

  And sacred ashes ouer it was strowed new.

  36 And there beside of marble stone was built

  An Altare, caru’d with cunning imagery,

  On which true Christians bloud was often spilt,

  And holy Martyres often doen to dye,

  With cruell malice and strong tyranny:

  Whose blessed sprites from vnderneath the stone

  To God for vengeance cryde continually,

  And with great griefe were often heard to grone,

  That hardest heart would bleede, to heare their piteous mone.

  37 Through euery rowme he sought, and euery bowr,

  But no where could he find that wofull thrall:

  At last he came vnto an yron doore,

  That fast was lockt, but key found not at all

  Emongst that bounch, to open it withall;

  But in the same a little grate was pight,

  Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call

  With all his powre, to weet, if liuing wight

  Were housed there within, whom he enlargen might

  38 Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce

  These piteous plaints and dolours did resound;

  O who is that, which brings me happy choyce

  O
f death, that here lye dying euery stound,

  Yet liue perforce in balefull darkenesse bound?

  For now three Moones haue changed thrice their hew,

  And haue beene thrice hid vnderneath the ground,

  Since I the heauens chearefull face did vew,

  O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.

  39 Which when that Champion heard, with perdng point

  Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore,

  And trembling horrour ran through euery ioynt,

  For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore:

  Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore,

  With furious force, and indignation fell;

  Where entred in, his foot could find no flore,

  But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell,

  That breathed euer forth a filthie banefull smell.

  40 But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands,

  Nor noyous smell his purpose could withhold,

  (Entire affection hateth nicer hands)

  But that with constant zeale, and courage bold,

  After long paines and labours manifold,

  He found the meanes mat Prisoner vp to reare;

  Whose feeble thighes, vnhable to vphold

  His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare,

  A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere.

  41 His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits,

  Could not endure th’vnwonted sunne to view;

  His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,

  And empty sides deceiued of their dew,

  Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;

  His rawbone annes, whose mighty brawned bowrs

  Were wont to riue steele plates, and helmets hew,

  Were cleane consum’d, and all his vitall powres

  Decayd, and all his flesh shronk vp like withered flowres.

  42 Whom when his Lady saw, to him she ran

  With hasty ioy: to see him made her glad,

  And sad to view his visage pale and wan,

  Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was dad.

  Tho when her well of teares she wasted had,

  She said, Ah dearest Lord, what euill starre

  On you hath firound, and pourd his influence bad,

  That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,

  And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth marre?

  43 But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe,

  Whose presence I haue lackt too long a day;

  And fie on Fortune mine auowed foe,

  Whose wrathfull wreakes them selues do now alay.

  And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay

  Of treble good: good growes of euils priefe.

  The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,

  Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;

  His long endured famine needed more reliefe.

  44 Faire Lady, then said that victorious knight,

  The things, that grieuous were to do, or beare,

  Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;

  Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare:

  But th’onely good, that gtowes of passed feare,

  Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.

  This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare

  Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,

  That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.

  45 Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength,

  And maister these mishaps with patient might;

  Loe where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous length,

  And loe that wicked woman in your sight,

  The roote of all your care, and wretched plight,

  Now in your powre, to let her liue, or dye.

  To do her dye (quoth Vna) were despight,

  And shame t’auenge so weake an enimy;

  But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.

  46 So as she bad, that witch they disaraid,

  And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,

  And ornaments that richly were displaid;

  Ne spared they to strip her naked all.

  Then when they had despoild her tire and call,

  Such as she was, their eyes might her behold,

  That her mishaped parts did them appall,

  A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill fauoured, old,

  Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.

  47 Her craftie head was altogether bald,

  And as in hate of honorable eld,

  Was ouergrowne with scurfe and filthy scald;

  Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,

  And her sowre breath abhominably smeld;

  Her dried dugs, like bladders lacking wind,

  Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;

  Her wrizled skin as rough, as maple rind,

  So scabby was, that would haue loathd all womankind.

  48 Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind,

  My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write

  But at her rompe she growing had behind

  A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight;

  And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight;

  For one of them was like an Eagles claw,

  With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight,

  The other like a Beares vneuen paw:

  More vgly shape yet neuer liuing creature saw.

  49 Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,

  And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.

  Such then (said Vna) as she seemeth here,

  Such is the face of falshood, such the sight

  Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light

  Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne.

  Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight,

  And all her filthy feature open showne,

  They let her goe at will, and wander wayes vnknowne.

  50 She flying fast from heauens hated face,

  And from the world that her discouered wide,

  Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,

  From liuing eyes her open shame to hide,

  And lurket in rocks and canes long vnespide.

  But that faire crew of knights, and Vna faire

  Did in that castle afterwards abide,

  To rest themselues, and weary powres repaire,

  Where store they found of all, that dainty was and rare.

  CANTO IX

  His loues and lignage Arthur tells

  The knights knit friendly bands:

  Sir Treuisan flies from Despayre,

  Whom Redcrosse knight withstands.

  1 O Goodly golden chaine, wherewith yfere

  The vertues linked are in louely wize:

  And noble minds of yore allyed were,

  In braue poursuit of cheualrous emprize,

  That none did others safety despize,

  Nor aid enuy to him, in need that stands,

  But friendly each did others prayse deuize,

  How to aduaunce with feuourable hands,

  As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands.

  2 Who when their powres empaird through labour long,

  With dew repast they had recured well,

  And that weake captiue wight now wexed strong,

  Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,

  But forward fere, as their aduentures fell,

  But ere they parted, Vna faire besought

  That straunger knight his name and nation tell;

  Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,

  Should die vnknown, & buried be in thanklesse thought

  3 Faire virgin (said die Prince) ye me require

  A thing without the compas of my wit:

  For both the lignage and the certain Sire,

  From which I sprang, from me are hidden yit

  For all so soone as life did me admit


  Into this world, and shewed heauens light,

  From mothers pap I taken was vnfit:

  And streight deliuered to a Faery knight,

  To be vpbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might

  4 Vnto old Timon he me brought byliue,

  Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene

  In warlike feates th’expertest man aliue,

  And is the wisest now on earth I weene;

  His dwelling is low in a valley greene,

  Vnder the foot of Rauran mossy hore,

  From whence the riuer Dee as siluer cleene

  His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore:

  There all my dayes he traind me vp in vertuous lore.

  5 Thither the great Magicien Merlin came,

  As was his vse, ofttimes to visit me:

  For he had charge my discipline to frame,

  And Tutours nouriture to ouersee.

  Him oft and oft I askt in priuitie,

  Of what loines and what lignage I did spring:

  Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,

  That I was sonne and heire vnto a king,

  As time in her iust terme the truth to light should bring.

  6 Well worthy impe, said then the Lady gent,

  And Pupil fit for such a Tutours hand.

  But what aduenture, or what high intent

  Hath brought you hither into Faery land,

  Aread Prince Arthur, crowne of Martiall band?

  Full hard it i s (quoth he) to read aright

  The course of heauenly cause, or vnderstand

  The secret meaning of th’eternall might,

  That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of liuing wight

  7 For whither he through fatall deepe foresight

  Me hither sent, for cause to me vnghest,

  Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night

  Whilome doth rancle in my riuen brest,

  With forced fury following his behest,

  Me hither brought by wayes yet neuer found,

  You to haue helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.

  Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound

  Could euer find, to grieue the gentlest hart on ground?

  8 Deare Dame (quoth he) you sleeping sparkes awake,

  Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,

  Ne euer will their feruent fury slake,

  Till liuing moysture into smoke do flow,

  And wasted life do lye in ashes low.

  Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,

  But told it flames, and hidden it does glow,

  I will reuele, what ye so much desire:

  Ah Loue, lay downe thy bow, the whiles I may respire.

  9 It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares,

  When courage first does creepe in manly chest,

  Then first the coale of kindly heat appeares