The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

  35 Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy,

  No wonder if he wondred at the sight,

  And doubted, whether his late enemy

  It were, or other new supplied knight.

  He, now to proue his late renewed might,

  High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,

  Vpon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,

  That to the scull a yawning wound it made:

  The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid.

  36 I wote not, whether the reuenging steele

  Were hardned with that holy water dew,

  Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,

  Or his baptized hands now greater grew;

  Or other secret vertue did ensew;

  Else neuer could the force of fleshly arme,

  Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:

  For till that stownd could neuer wight him harme,

  By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

  37 The cruell wound enraged him so sore,

  That loud he yelded for exceeding paine;

  As hundred ramping Lyons seem’d to rore,

  Whom rauenous hunger did thereto constraine:

  Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,

  And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore,

  That to his force to yeelden it was faine;

  Ne ought his sturdie strokes might stand afore,

  That high trees ouerthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.

  38 The same aduauncing high aboue his head,

  With sharpe intended sting so rude him smot,

  That to the earth him droue, as stricken dead,

  Ne liuing wight would haue him life behot:

  The mortall sting his angry needle shot

  Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,

  Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got:

  The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,

  Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.

  39 But yet more mindfull of his honour deare,

  Then of the grieuous smart, which him did wring,

  From loathed soile he can him lightly reare,

  And stroue to loose the farre infixed sting:

  Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,

  Inflam’d with wrath, his raging blade he heft,

  And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string

  Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft,

  Fiue ioynts thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.

  40 Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes,

  With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,

  The hell-bred beast threw forth vnto the skyes,

  That all was couered with darknesse dire:

  Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,

  He cast at once him to auenge for all,

  And gathering vp himselfe out of the mire,

  With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall,

  Vpon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.

  41 Much was the man encombred with his hold,

  In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,

  Ne wist yet, how his talants to vnfold;

  For harder was from Cerberus greedie iaw

  To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw

  To reaue by strength, the griped gage away:

  Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,

  And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,

  It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.

  42 Tho when he saw no power might preuaile,

  His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,

  Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,

  And double blowes about him stoutly laid,

  That glaundng fire out of the yron plaid;

  As sparckles from the Anduile vse to fly,

  When heauie hammers on the wedge are swaid;

  Therewith at last he forst him to vnty

  One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

  43 The other foot, fast fixed on his shield

  Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine

  To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,

  He smot thereat with all his might and maine,

  That nought so wondrous puissance might sustaine;

  Vpon the ioynt the lucky steele did light,

  And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine;

  The paw yet missed not his minisht might,

  But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

  44 For griefe thereof, and diuelish despight,

  From his infernall fournace forth he threw

  Huge flames, that dimmed all the heauens light,

  Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew;

  As burning Aetna from his boyling stew

  Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,

  And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,

  Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke,

  That all the land with stench, and heauen with horror choke.

  45 The heate whereof, and hannefull pestilence

  So sore him noyd, that font him to retire

  A little backward for his best defence,

  To saue his bodie from the scorching fire,

  Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.

  It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide)

  As he recoyled backward, in the mire

  His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,

  And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

  46 There grew a goodly tree him faire beside,

  Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,

  As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,

  Whereof great vertues ouer all were red:

  For happie life to all, which thereon fed,

  And life eke euerlasting did befall:

  Great God it planted in that blessed sted

  With his almightie hand, and did it call

  The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall.

  47 In all the world like was not to be found,

  Saue in that soile, where all good things did grow,

  And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,

  As incorrupted Nature did them sow,

  Till that dread Dragon all did ouerthrow.

  Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,

  Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know

  Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:

  That tree through one mans fault hath doen vs all to dy.

  48 From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well,

  A trickling streame of Balme, most soueraine

  And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell,

  And ouerflowed all the fertill plaine,

  As it had deawed bene with timely raine:

  Life and long health that gratious ointment gaue,

  And deadly woundes could heale and reare againe

  The senselesse corse appointed for the graue.

  Into that same he fell: which did from death him saue.

  49 For nigh thereto the euer damned beast

  Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,

  And all that life preserued, did detest:

  Yet he it oft aduentur’d to inuade.

  By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,

  And yeeld his roome to sad succeeding night,

  Who with her sable mantle gan to shade

  The face of earth, and wayes of liuing wight,

  And high her burning torch set vp in heauen bright.

  50 When gentle Vna saw the second fall

  Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,

  And faint through losse of bloud, mou’d not at all,

  But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight,

  Besmeard with pretdo
us Balme, whose vertuous might

  Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,

  Againe she stricken was with sore affright,

  And for his safetie gan deuoutly pray;

  And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioyous day.

  51 The ioyous day gan early to appeare,

  And faire Aurora from the deawy bed

  Of aged Tithone gan her selfe to reare,

  With rosie cheekes, for shame as blushing red;

  Her golden lockes for haste were loosely shed

  About her eares, when Vna her did marke

  Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred;

  From heauen high to chase the chearelesse darke,

  With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.

  52 Then freshly vp arose the doughtie knight,

  All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,

  And did himselfe to battell readie dight;

  Whose early foe awaiting him beside

  To haue deuourd, so soone as day he spyde,

  When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare,

  As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,

  He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;

  Nathlesse with wonted rage he him aduaunced neare.

  53 And in his first encounter, gaping wide,

  He thought attonce him to haue swallowd quight,

  And rusht vpon him with outragious pride;

  Who him r’encountring fierce, as hauke in flight,

  Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright

  Taking aduantage of his open iaw,

  Ran through his mouth with so importune might,

  That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,

  And back retyrd, his life bloud forth with all did draw.

  54 So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath,

  That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;

  So downe he fell, that th’earth him vnderneath

  Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;

  So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,

  Whose false foundation waues haue washt away,

  With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,

  And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay;

  So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.

  55 The knight himselfe euen trembled at his fall,

  So huge and horrible a masse it seem’d;

  And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,

  Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem’d,

  But yet at last, when as the direfull feend

  She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,

  She nigher drew, and saw that ioyous end:

  Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,

  That had atchieu’d so great a conquest by his might.

  CANTO XII

  Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight

  betrouthed is with ioy:

  Though false Duessa it to barre

  her false sleights doe imploy.

  1 Behold I see the hauen nigh at hand,

  To which I meane my wearie course to bend;

  Vere the maine shete, and beare vp with the land,

  The which afore is fairely to be kend,

  And seemeth safe from stormes, that may offend;

  There this faire virgin wearie of her way

  Must landed be, now at her iourneyes end:

  There eke my feeble barke a while may stay,

  Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.

  2 Scarsely had Phœbus in the glooming East

  Yet harnessed his fine-footed teeme,

  Ne reard aboue the earth his flaming creast,

  When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme,

  That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme,

  Vnto the watchman on the castle wall;

  Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme,

  And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,

  To tell, how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.

  3 Vprose with hastie ioy, and feeble speed

  That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land,

  And looked forth, to weet, if true indeede

  Those tydings were, as he did vnderstand,

  Which whenas true by tryall he out found,

  He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,

  Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond

  Proclaymed ioy and peace through all his state;

  For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late.

  4 Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie,

  That sent to heauen the ecchoed report

  Of their new ioy, and happie victorie

  Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,

  And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.

  Then all the people, as in solemne feast,

  To him assembled with one full consort,

  Reioycing at the fall of that great beast,

  From whose etemall bondage now they were release

  5 Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene,s

  Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,

  And sad habiliments right well beseene;

  A noble crew about them waited round

  Of sage and sober Peres, all grauely gownd;

  Whom farre before did march a goodly band

  Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd,

  But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;

  Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land.

  6 Vnto that doughtie Conquerour they came,

  And him before themselues prostrating low,

  Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,

  And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.

  Soone after them all dauncing on a row

  The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,

  As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow,

  When morning deaw vpon their leaues doth light:

  And in their hands sweet Timbrels all vpheld on bight.

  7 And them before, the fry of children young

  Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,

  And to the Maydens sounding tymbrels sung

  In well attuned notes, a ioyous lay,

  And made delightfull musicke all the way,

  Vntill they came, where that faire virgin stood;

  As faire Diana in fresh sommers day,

  Beholds her Nymphes, enraung’d in shadie wood,

  Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood,

  8 So she beheld those maydens meriment

  With chearefull vew; who when to her they came,

  Themselues to ground with gratious humblesse bent,

  And her ador’d by honorable name,

  Lifting to heauen her euerlasting fame:

  Then on her head they set a girland greene,

  And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game;

  Who in her selfe-resemblance well beseene,

  Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.

  9 And after, all the raskall many ran,

  Heaped together in rude rablement,

  To see the face of that victorious man:

  Whom all admired, as from heauen sent,

  And gazd vpon with gaping wonderment.

  But when they came, where that dead Dragon lay,

  Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,

  The sight with idle feare did them dismay,

  Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.

  10 Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd;

  One that would wiser seeme, then all the rest,

  Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd

  Some lingring life within his hollow brest,

  Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest

  Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull seed;

  Another said, that in his eyes did rest

&n
bsp; Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;

  Another said, he saw him moue his eyes indeed.

  11 One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld

  Did come too neare, and with his talants play,

  Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe reuyld,

  And to her gossips gan in counsell say;

  How can I tell, but that his talants may

  Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?

  So diuersly themselues in vaine they fray;

  Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand,

  To proue how many acres he did spread of land.

  12 Thus flocked all the folke him round about,

  The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,

  Being arriued, where that champion stout

  After his foes defeasance did remaine,.

  Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine,

  With princely gifts of yuorie and gold,

  And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.

  Then when his daughter deare he does behold,

  Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.

  13 And after to his Pallace he them brings.

  With shaumes, & trompets, & with Clarions sweet;

  And all the way the ioyous people sings,

  And with their garments strowes the paued street:

  Whence mounting vp, they find purueyance meet

  Of all, that royall Princes court became,

  And all the floore was vnderneath their feet

  Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,

  On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame.

  14 What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize,

  In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?

  What needs of daintie dishes to deuize,

  Of comely seruices, or courtly trayne?

  My narrow leaues cannot in them containe

  The large discourse of royall Princes state.

  Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:

  For th’antique world excesse and pride did hate;

  Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen vp but late.

  15 Then when with meates and drinkes of euery kinde

  Their feruent appetites they quenched had,

  That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde,

  Of straunge aduentures, and of perils sad,

  Which in his trauell him befallen had,

  For to demaund of his renowmed guest:

  Who then with vtt’rance graue, and count’nance sad,

  From point to point, as is before exprest,

  Discount his voyage long, according his request

  16 Great pleasure mixt with pittifull regard,

  That godly King and Queene did passionate,

  Whiles they his pittifull aduentures heard,

  That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,