The Faerie Queene

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by Edmund Spenser

Or doen you loue, or doen you lacke your will?

  What euer be the cause, it sure beseemes you ill.

  38 Faire Sir, (said she halfe in disdainefull wise,)

  How is it, that this word in me ye blame,

  And in your selfe do not the same aduise?

  Him ill beseemes, anothers fault to name,

  That may vnwares be blotted with the same:

  Pensiue I yeeld I am, and sad in mind,

  Through great desire of glory and of fame;

  Ne ought I weene are ye therein behind,

  That haue twelue moneths sought one, yet no where can her

  [find.

  39 The Prince was inly moued at her speach,

  Well weeting trew, what she had rashly told;

  Yet with faire samblaunt sought to hide the breach,

  Which chaunge of colour did perforce vnfold,

  Now seeming flaming whot, now stony cold.

  Tho turning soft aside, he did inquire,

  What wight she was, that Poplar braunch did hold:

  It answered was, her name was Prays-desire,

  That by well doing sought to honour to aspire.

  40 The whiles, the Faerie knight did entertaine

  Another Damsell of that gentle crew,

  That was right faire, and modest of demaine,

  But that too oft she chaung’d her natiue hew:

  Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew,

  Close round about her tuckt with many a plight:

  Vpon her fist the bird, which shonneth vew,

  And keepes in couerts close from liuing wight,

  Did sit, as yet ashamd, how rude Pan did her dight.

  41 So long as Guyon with her commoned,

  Vnto the ground she cast her modest eye,

  And euer and anone with rosie red

  The bashfull bloud her snowy cheekes did dye,

  That her became, as polisht yuory,

  Which cunning Craftesman hand hath ouerlayd

  With faire vermilion or pure Castory.

  Great wonder had the knight, to see the mayd

  So straungely passioned, and to her gently sayd,

  42 Faire Damzell, seemeth, by your troubled cheare,

  That either me too bold ye weene, this wise

  You to molest, or other ill to feare

  That in the secret of your hart close lyes,

  From whence it doth, as cloud from sea arise.

  If it be I, of pardon I you pray;

  But if ought else that I mote not deuise,

  I will, if please you it discure, assay,

  To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may.

  43 She answerd nought, but more abasht for shame,

  Held downe her head, the whiles her louely face

  The flashing bloud with blushing did inflame,

  And the strong passion mard her modest grace,

  That Guyon meruayld at her vncouth cace:

  Till Alma him bespake, why wonder yee

  Faire Sir at mat, which ye so much embrace?

  She is the fountaine of your modestee;

  You shamefast are, but Shamefastnesse it selfe is shee.

  44 Thereat the Elfe did blush in priuitee,

  And turnd his face away; but she the same

  Dissembled faire, and faynd to ouersee.

  Thus they awhile with court and goodly game,

  Themselues did solace each one with his Dame,

  Till that great Ladie thence away them sought,

  To vew her castles other wondrous frame.

  Vp to a stately Turret she them brought,

  Ascending by ten steps of Alablaster wrought,

  45 That Turrets frame most admirable was,

  Like highest heauen compassed around,

  And lifted high aboue this earthly masse,

  Which it suruew’d, as hils doen lower ground;

  But not on ground mote like to this be found,

  Not that, which antique Cadmus whylome built

  In Thebes, which Alexander did confound;

  Nor that proud towre of Troy, though richly guilt,

  From which young Hectors bloud by cruell Greekes was spilt.

  46 The roofe hereof was arched ouer head,

  And deckt with flowers and herbars daintily;

  Two goodly Beacons, set in watches stead,

  Therein gaue light, and flam’d continually:

  For they of liuing fire most subtilly

  Were made, and set in siluer sockets bright,

  Couer’d with lids deuiz’d of substance sly,

  That readily they shut and open might.

  O who can tell the prayses of that makers might]

  47 Ne can I tell, ne can I stay to tell

  This parts great workmanship, & wondrous powre,

  That all this other worlds worke doth excell,

  And likest is vnto that heauenly towre,

  That God hath built for his owne blessed bowre.

  Therein were diuerse roomes, and diuerse stages,

  But three the chiefest, and of greatest powre,

  In which there dwelt three honorable sages,

  The wisest men, I weene, that liued in their ages.

  48 Not he, whom Greece, tbe Nourse of all good arts,

  By Phœbus doome, the wisest thought aliue,

  Might be compar’d to these by many parts:

  Nor that sage Pylian syre, which did suruiue

  Three ages, such as mortall men contriue,

  By whose aduise old Priams cittie fell,

  With these in praise of pollicies mote striue.

  These three in these three roomes did sundry dwell,

  And counselled faire Alma, how to gouerne well.

  49 The first of them could things to come foresee:

  The next could of things present best aduize;

  The third things past could keepe in memoree,

  So that no time, nor reason could arize,

  But that the same could one of these comprize.

  For thy the first did in the forepart sit,

  That nought mote hinder his quicke preiudize:

  He had a sharpe foresight, and working wit,

  That neuer idle was, ne once could rest a whit.

  50 His chamber was dispainted all within,

  With sundry colours, in the which were writ

  Infinite shapes of things dispersed thin;

  Some such as in the world were neuer yit,

  Ne can deuized be of mortall wit;

  Some daily seene, and knowen by their names,

  Such as in idle fantasies doe flit:

  Infernall Hags, Centaurs, feendes, Hippodames,

  Apes, Lions, Ægles, Owles, fooles, louers, children, Dames.

  51 And all the chamber filled was with flyes,

  Which buzzed all about, and made such sound,

  That they encombred all mens eares and eyes,

  Like many swarmes of Bees assembled round,

  After their hiues with honny do abound:

  All those were idle thoughts and fantasies,

  Deuices, dreames, opinions vnsound,

  Shewes, visions, sooth-sayes, and prophesies;

  And all that fained is, as leasings, tales, and lies.

  52 Emongst them all sate he, which wonned there,

  That hight Phantastes by his nature trew;

  A man of yeares yet fresh, as mote appere,

  Of swarth complexion, and of crabbed hew,

  That him full of melancholy did shew;

  Bent hollow beetle browes, sharpe staring eyes,

  That mad or foolish seemd: one by his vew

  Mote deeme him borne with ill disposed skyes,

  When oblique Saturne sate in the house of agonyes.

  53 Whom Alma hauing shewed to her guestes,

  Thence brought them to the second roome, whose wals

  Were painted faire with memorable gestes,

  Of famous Wisards, and with picturals

 
Of Magistrates, of courts, of tribunals,

  Of commen wealthes, of states, of pollicy,

  Of lawes, of iudgements, and of decretals;

  All artes, all science, all Philosophy,

  And all that in the world was aye thought wittily.

  54 Of those that roome was full, and them among

  There sate a man of ripe and perfect age,

  Who did them meditate all his life long,

  That through continuall practise and vsage,

  He now was growne right wise, and wondrous sage.

  Great pleasure had those stranger knights, to see

  His goodly reason, and graue personage,

  That his disciples both desir’d to bee;

  But Alma thence them led to th’hindmost roome of three.

  55 That chamber seemed ruinous and old,

  And therefore was remoued farre behind,

  Yet were the wals, that did the same vphold,

  Right firme & strong, though somewhat they declind;

  And therein sate an old oldman, halfe blind,

  And all decrepit in his feeble corse,

  Yet liuely vigour rested in his mind,

  And recompenst him with a better scorse:

  Weake body well is chang’d for minds redoubled forse.

  56 This man of infinite remembrance was,

  And things foregone through many ages held,

  Which he recorded still, as they did pas,

  Ne suffred them to perish through long eld,

  As all things else, the which this world doth weld,

  But laid them vp in his immortall scrine,

  Where they for euer incorrupted dweld:

  The warres he well remembred of king Nine,

  Of old Assaracus, and Inachus diuine.

  57 The yeares of Nestor nothing were to his,

  Ne yet Mathusalem, though longest liu’d;

  For he remembred both their infancies:

  Ne wonder then, if that he were depriu’d

  Of natiue strength now, that he them suruiu’d.

  His chamber all was hangd about with rolles,

  And old records from auncient times deriu’d,

  Some made in books, some in long parchment scrolles,

  That were all worme-eaten, and full of canker holes.

  58 Amidst them all he in a chaire was set,

  Tossing and turning them withouten end;

  But for he was vnhable them to fet,

  A litle boy did on him still attend,

  To reach, when euer he for ought did send;

  And oft when things were lost, or laid amis,

  That boy them sought, and vnto him did lend.

  Therefore he Anamnestes cleped is,

  And that old man Eumnestes, by their propertis.

  59 The knights there entring, did him reuerence dew

  And wondred at his endlesse exercise,

  Then as they gan his Librarie to vew,

  And antique Registers for to auise,

  There chaunced to the Princes hand to rize,

  An auncient booke, bight Briton moniments,

  That of this lands first conquest did deuize,

  And old diuision into Regiments,

  Till it reduced was to one mans gouernments.

  60 Sir Guyon chaunst eke on another booke,

  That hight Antiquitie of Faerie lond.

  In which when as he greedily did looke;

  Th’off-spring of Elues and Faries there he fond,

  As it deliuered was from hond to hond:

  Whereat they burning both with feruent fire,

  Their countries auncestry to vnderstond,

  Crau’d leaue of Alma, and that aged sire,

  To read those bookes; who gladly graunted their desire.

  CANTO X

  A chronicle of Briton kings,

  from Brute to Vthers rayne.

  And rolles of Elfin Emperours,

  till time of Gloriane.

  1 Who now shall giue vnto me words and sound.

  Equall vnto this haughtie enterprise?

  Or who shal lend me wings, with which from ground

  My lowly verse may loftily arise,

  And lift it selfe vnto the highest skies?

  More ample spirit, then hitherto was wount,

  Here needes me, whiles the famous auncestries

  Of my most dreaded Soueraigne I recount,

  By which all earthly Princes she doth farre surmount.

  2 Ne vnder Sunne, that shines so wide and faire,

  Whence all that liues, does borrow life and light,

  Liues ought, that to her linage may compaire,

  Which though from earth it be deriued right,

  Yet doth it selfe stretch forth to heauens hight,

  And all the world with wonder ouerspred;

  A labour huge, exceeding farre my might:

  How shall fraile pen, with feare disparaged,

  Conceiue such soueraine glory, and great bountihed?

  3 Argument worthy of Mœonian quill,

  Or rather worthy of great Phœbus rote,

  Whereon the ruines of great Ossa hill,

  And triumphes of Phlegrœan loue he wrote,

  That all the Gods admird his loftie note.

  But if some relish of that heauenly lay

  His learned daughters would to me report,

  To decke my song withall, I would assay,

  Thy name, ô soueraine Queene, to blazon farre away.

  4 Thy name ô soueraine Queene, thy realme and race,

  From this renowmed Prince deriued arre,

  Who mightily vpheld that royall mace,

  Which now thou bearst, to thee descended farre

  From mightie kings and conquerours in wane,

  Thy lathers and great Grandfathers of old,

  Whose noble deedes aboue the Northerne starre

  Immortall fame for euer hath enrold;

  As in that old mans booke they were in order told.

  The land, which warlike Britons now possesse,

  5 And therein haue their mightie empire raysd,

  In antique times was saluage wildernesse,

  Vnpeopled, vnmanurd, vnprou’d, vnpraysd,

  Ne was it Island then, ne was it paysd

  Amid the Ocean waues, ne was it sought

  Of marchants farre, for profits therein praysd,

  But was all desolate, and of some thought

  By sea to haue bene from the Celticke mayn-land brought

  6 Ne did it then deserue a name to haue,

  Till that the venturous Mariner that way

  Learning his ship from those white rocks to saue,

  Which all along the Southerne sea-coast lay,

  Threatning vnheedie wrecke and rash decay,

  For safeties sake that same his sea-marke made,

  And namd it Albion. But later day

  7 Finding in it fit ports for fishers trade,

  Gan more the same frequent, and further to inuade.

  But farre in land a saluage nation dwelt,

  Of hideous Giants, and halfe beastly men,

  That neuer tasted grace, nor goodnesse felt,

  But like wild beasts lurking in loathsome den,

  And flying fast as Roebucke through the fen,

  All naked without shame, or care of cold,

  By hunting and by spoiling liued then;

  Of stature huge, and eke of courage bold,

  That sonnes of men amazd their sternnesse to behold.

  8 But whence they sprong, or how they were begot,

  Vneath is to assure; vneath to wene

  That monstrous error, which doth some assot,

  That Dioclsians fiftie daughters shene

  Into this land by chaunce haue driuen bene,

  Where companing with feends and filthy Sprights,

  Through vaine illusion of their lust vndene,

  They brought forth Giants and such dreadfiill wights,

  As farre exceeded men
in their immeasurd mights.

  9 They held this land, and with their filthinesse

  Polluted this same gentle soyle long time:

  That their owne mother loathd their beastlinesse,

  And gan abhorre her broods vnkindly crime,

  All were they borne of her owne natiue slime;

  Vntill that Brutus anciently deriu’d

  From royall stocke of old Assaracs line,

  Driuen by fatall error, here arriu’d,

  And them of their vniust possession depriu’d.

  10 But ere he had established his throne,

  And spred his empire to the vtmost shore,

  He fought great battels with his saluage fone;

  In which he them defeated euermore,

  And many Giants left on groning flore;

  That well can witnesse yet vnto this day

  The westerne Hogh, besprincled with the gore

  Of mightie Goёmot, whom in stout fray

  Corineus conquered, and cruelly did slay.

  11 And eke that ample Pit, yet farre renownd,

  For the large leape, which Debon did compell

  Coulin to make, being eight lugs of grownd;

  Into the which returning backe, he fell,

  But those three monstrous stones doe most excell

  Which that huge sonne of hideous Albion,

  Whose father Hercules in Fraunce did quell,

  Great Godmer threw, in fierce contention,

  At bold Canutes; but of him was slaine anon.

  12 In meed of these great conquests by them got,

  Corineus had that Prouince vtmost west,

  To him assigned for his worthy lot,

  Which of his name and memorable gest

  He called Cornewaile, yet so called best:

  And Debons shayre was, that is Deuonshyre:

  But Canute had his portion from the rest,

  The which he cald Canutium, for his hyre;

  Now Cantium, which Kent we commenly inquire.

  13 Thus Brute this Realme vnto his rule subdewd,

  And raigned long in great felicitie,

  Lou’d of his friends, and of his foes eschewd,

  He left three sonnes, his famous progeny,

  Borne of faire Inogene of Italy,

  Mongst whom he parted his imperiall state,

  And Locrine left chiefe Lord of Britany.

  At last ripe age bad him surrender late

  His life, and long good fortune vnto finall fate.

  14 Locrine was left the soueraine Lord of all;

  But Albanact had all the Northrene part,

  Which of himselfe Albania he did call;

  And Camber did possesse the Westerne quart,

  Which Seuerne now from Logris doth depart:

  And each his portion peaceably enioyd,

  Ne was there outward breach, nor grudge in hart,

  That once their quiet gouernment annoyd,

 

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