The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

  Whose wandring fancie after lust did raunge,

  Gan cast a secret liking to this captiue straunge.

  27 Which long concealing in her couert brest,

  She chaw’d the cud of louers carefull plight;

  Yet could it not so thoroughly digest,

  Being fast fixed in her wounded spright,

  But it tormented her both day and night:

  Yet would she not thereto yeeld free accord,

  To serue the lowly vassall of her might,

  And of her seruant make her souerayne Lord:

  So great her pride, that she such basenesse much abhord.

  28 So much the greater still her anguish grew,

  Through stubborne handling of her loue-sicke hart;

  And still the more she stroue it to subdew,

  The more she still augmented her owne smart,

  And wyder made the wound of th’hidden dart

  At last when long she struggled had in vaine,

  She gan to stoupe, and her proud mind conuert

  To meeke obeysance of loues mightie raine,

  And him entreat for grace, that had procur’d her paine.

  29 Vnto her selfe in secret she did call

  Her nearest handmayd, whom she most did trust,

  And to her said; Clarinda whom of all

  I trust a liue, sith I thee fostred first;

  Now is the time, that I vntimely must

  Thereof make tryall, in my greatest need:

  It is so hapned, that the heauens vniust,

  Spighting my happie freedome, haue agreed,

  To thrall my looser life, or my last bale to breed.

  30 With that she turn’d her head, as halfe abashed,

  To hide the blush which in her visage rose,

  And through her eyes like sudden lightning flashed,

  Decking her cheeke with a vermilion rose:

  But soone she did her countenance compose,

  And to her turning, thus began againe;

  This griefes deepe wound I would to thee disclose,

  Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine,

  But dread of shame my doubtfull lips doth still restraine.

  31 Ah my deare dread (said then the faithfull Mayd)

  Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold,

  That many hath with dread of death dismayd,

  And dare euen deathes most dreadfull face behold?

  Say on my souerayne Ladie, and be bold;

  Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?

  Therewith much comforted, she gan vnfold

  The cause of her concerned maladie,

  As one that would confesse, yet faine would it denie.

  33 Clarin (sayd she) thou seest yond Fayry Knight,

  Whom not my valour, hut his owne braue mind

  Subiected hath to my vnequall might;

  What right is it, that he should thraldome find,

  For lending life to me a wretch vnkind;

  That for such good him recompence with ill?

  Therefore I cast, how I may him vnbind,

  And by his freedome get his free goodwill;

  Yet so, as bound to me he may continue still.

  33 Bound vnto me, but not with such hard bands

  Of strong compulsion, and streight violence,

  As now in miserable state he stands;

  But with sweet loue and sure beneuolence,

  Voide of malirious mind, or foule offence.

  To which if thou canst win him any way,

  Without discouerie of my thoughts pretence,

  Both goodly meede of him it purchase may,

  And eke with gratefull seruice me right well apay.

  34 Which that thou mayst the better bring to pas,

  Loe here this ring, which shall thy warrant bee,

  And token true to old Eumenias,

  From time to time, when thou it best shalt see,

  That in and out thou mayst haue passage free.

  Goe now, Clarinda, well thy wits aduise,

  And all thy forces gather vnto thee;

  Armies of louely lookes, and speeches wise,

  With which thou canst euen Ioue himselfe to loue entise.

  35 The trustie Mayd, concerning her intent,

  Did with sure promise of her good indeuour,

  Giue her great comfort, and some harts content.

  So from her parting, she thenceforth did labour

  By all the meanes she might, to curry fauour

  With th’Elfin Knight, her Ladies best beloued;

  With daily shew of courteous kind behauiour,

  Euen at the markewhite of his hart she roued,

  And with wide glauncing words, one day she thus him proued.

  36 Vnhappie Knight, vpon whose hopelesse state

  Fortune enuying good, hath felly frowned,

  And cruell heauens haue heapt an heauy fate;

  I rew that thus thy better dayes are drowned

  In sad despaire, and all thy senses swowned

  In stupid sorow, sith thy iuster merit

  Might else haue with felicitie bene crowned:

  Looke vp at last, and wake thy dulled spirit,

  To thinke how this long death thou mightest disinherit.

  37 Much did he maruell at her vncouth speach,

  Whose hidden drift he could not well perceiue;

  And gan to doubt, least she him sought t’appeach

  Of treason, or some guilefull traine did weaue,

  Through which she might his wretched life bereaue.

  Both which to barre, he with this answere met her;

  Faire Damzell, that with ruth (as I perceaue)

  Of my mishaps, art mou’d to wish me better,

  For such your kind regard, I can but rest your detter.

  38 Yet weet ye well, that to a courage great

  It is no lesse beseeming well, to beare

  The storme of fortunes frowne, or heauens threat,

  Then in the sunshine of her countenance cleare

  Timely to ioy, and carrie comely cheare.

  For though this cloud haue now me ouercast,

  Yet doe I not of better tunes despeyre;

  And, though vnlike, they should for euer last,

  Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed fast.

  39 But what so stonie mind (she then replyde)

  But if in his owne powre occasion lay,

  Would to his hope a windowe open wyde,

  And to his fortunes helpe make readie way?

  Vnworthy sure (quoth he) of better day,

  That will not take the offer of good hope,

  And eke pursew, if he attaine it may.

  Which speaches she applying to the scope

  Of her intent, this further purpose to him shope.

  40 Then why doest not, thou ill aduized man,

  Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne,

  And try if thou by faire entreatie, can

  Moue Radigund? who though she still haue worne

  Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was not borne

  Of Beares and Tygres, nor so saluage mynded,

  As that, albe all loue of men she scorne,

  She yet forgets, that she of men was kynded:

  And sooth oft seene, that proudest harts base loue hath blynded.

  41 Certes Clarinda, not of cancred will,

  (Sayd he) nor obstinate disdainefull mind,

  I haue forbore this duetie to fulfill:

  For well I may this weene, by that I fynd,

  That she a Queene, and come of Princely kynd,

  Both worthie is for to be sewd vnto,

  Chiefely by him, whose life her law doth bynd,

  And eke of powre her owne doome to vndo,

  And als’ of princely grace to be indyn’d thereto.

  42 But want of meanes hath bene mine onely let,

  From seeking fauour, where it doth abound;

  Which if I might by your good offi
ce get,

  I to your selfe should rest for euer bound,

  And readie to deserue, what grace I found.

  She feeling him thus bite vpon the bayt,

  Yet doubting least his hold was but vnsound,

  And not well fastened, would not strike him strayt,

  But drew him on with hope, fit leasure to awayt.

  43 But foolish Mayd, whyles heedlesse of the hooke,

  She thus oft times was beating off and on,

  Through slipperie footing, fell into the brooke,

  And there was caught to her confusion.

  For seeking thus to salue the Amazon,

  She wounded was with her deceipts owne dart,

  And gan thenceforth to cast affection,

  Concerned close in her beguiled hart,

  To Artegall, through pittie of his causelesse smart.

  44 Yet durst she not disclose her fancies wound,

  Ne to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned,

  Ne yet to any other wight on ground,

  For feare her mistresse shold haue knowledge gayned,

  But to her selfe it secretly retayned,

  Within the closet of her couert brest:

  The more thereby her tender hart was payned.

  Yet to awayt fit time she weened best,

  And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts vnrest.

  45 One day her Ladie, calling her apart,

  Gan to demaund of her some tydings good,

  Touching her loues successe, her lingring smart.

  Therewith she gan at first to change her mood,

  As one adaw’d, and halfe confused stood;

  But quickly she it ouerpast, so soone

  As she her face had wypt, to fresh her blood:

  Tho gan she tell her all, that she had donne,

  And all the wayes she sought, his loue for to haue wonne.

  46 But sayd, that he was obstinate and sterne,

  Scorning her offers and conditions vaine;

  Ne would be taught with any termes, to lerne

  So fond a lesson, as to loue againe.

  Die rather would he in penurious paine,

  And his abridged dayes in dolour wast,

  Then his foes loue or liking entertaine:

  His resolution was both first and last,

  His bodie was her thrall, his hart was freely plast.

  47 Which when the cruell Amazon perceiued,

  She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her gall,

  For very fell despight, which she concerned,

  To be so scorned of a base borne thrall,

  Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall;

  Of which she vow’d with many a cursed threat,

  That she therefore would him ere long forstall.

  Nathlesse when calmed was her furious heat,

  She chang’d that threatfull mood, & mildly gan entreat.

  48 What now is left Clarinda? what remaines,

  That we may compasse this our enterprize?

  Great shame to lose so long employed paines,

  And greater shame t’abide so great misprize,

  With which he dares our offers thus despize.

  Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare,

  And more my gradous merde by this wize,

  I will a while with his first folly beare,

  Till thou haue tride againe, & tempted him more neare.

  49 Say, and do all, that may thereto preuaile;

  Leaue nought vnpromist, that may him perswade,

  Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great auaile,

  With which the Gods themselues are mylder made:

  Thereto adde art, euen womens witty trade,

  The art of mightie words, that men can charme;

  With which in case thou canst him not inuade,

  Let him feele hardnesse of thy heauie arme:

  Who will not stoupe with good, shall be made stoupe with

  [harme.

  50 Some of his diet doe from him withdraw;

  For I him find to be too proudly fed.

  Giue him more labour, and with streighter law,

  That he with worke may be forwearied.

  Let him lodge hard, and h’e in strawen bed,

  That may pull downe the courage of his pride;

  And lay vpon him, for his greater dread,

  Cold yron chaines, with which let him be tide;

  And let, what euer he desires, be him denide.

  51 When thou hast all this doen, then bring me newes

  Of his demeane: thenceforth not like a louer,

  But like a rebell stout I will him vse.

  For I resolue this siege not to giue ouer,

  Till I the conquest of my will recouer.

  So she departed, full of griefe and sdaine,

  Which inly did to great impatience moue her,

  But the false mayden shortly turn’d againe

  Vnto the prison, where her hart did thrall remaine.

  52 There all her subtill nets she did vnfold,

  And all the engins of her wit display;

  In which she meant him warelesse to enfold,

  And of his innocence to make her pray.

  So cunningly she wrought her crafts assay,

  That both her Ladie, and her selfe withall,

  And eke the knight attonce she did betray:

  But most the knight, whom she with guilefull call

  Did cast for to allure, into her trap to fall.

  53 As a bad Nurse, which fayning to receiue

  In her owne mouth the food, merit for her chyld,

  Withholdes it to her selfe, and doeth deceiue

  The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld:

  Euen so Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld,

  And turn’d the trust, which was in her affyde,

  To feeding of her priuate fire, which boyld

  Her inward brest, and in her entrayles fryde,

  The more that she it sought to couer and to hyde.

  54 For comming to this knight, she purpose fayned,

  How earnest suit she earst for him had made

  Vnto her Queene, his freedome to haue gayned;

  But by no meanes could her thereto perswade:

  But that instead thereof, she sternely bade

  His miserie to be augmented more,

  And many yron bands on him to lade.

  All which nathlesse she for his loue forbore:

  So praying him t’accept her sendee euermore.

  55 And more then that, she promist that she would,

  In case she might finde fauour in his eye,

  Deuize how to enlarge him out of hould.

  The Fayrie glad to gaine his libertie,

  Can yeeld great thankes for such her curtesie,

  And with faire words, fit for the time and place,

  To feede the humour of her maladie;

  Promist, if she would free him from that case,

  He wold by all good means he might, deserue such grace.

  56 So daily he faire semblant did her shew,

  Yet neuer meant he in his noble mind,

  To his owne absent loue to be vntxew:

  Ne euer did deceiptfull Clarin find

  In her false hart, his bondage to vnbind;

  But rather how she mote him faster tye.

  Therefore vnto her mistresse most vnkind

  She daily told, her loue he did defye,

  And him she told, her Dame his freedome did denye.

  57 Yet thus much friendship she to him did show,

  That his scarse diet somewhat was amended,

  And his worke lessened, that his loue mote grow:

  Yet to her Dame him still she discommended,

  That she with him mote be the more offended.

  Thus he long while in thraldome there remayned,

  Of both beloued well, but litle trended;

  Vntill his owne true loue his freedome gayned,

  Which in an other Canto wi
ll be best contayned.

  CANTO VI

  Talus brings newes to Britomart,

  of Artegals mishap,

  She goes to seeke him, Dolon meetes,

  who seekes her to entrap.

  1 Some men, I wote, will deeme in Artegall

  Great weaknesse, and report of him much ill,

  For yeelding so himselfe a wretched thrall,

  To th’insolent commaund of womens will;

  That all his former praise doth fowly spill.

  But he the man, that say or doe so dare,

  Be well aduiz’d, that he stand stedfast still:

  For neuer yet was wight so well aware,

  But he at first or last was trapt in womens snare.

  2 Yet in the streightnesse of that captiue state,

  This gentle knight himselfe so well behaued,

  That notwithstanding all the subtill bait,

  With which those Amazons his loue still craued,

  To his owne loue his loialtie he saued:

  Whose character in th’Adamantine mould

  Of his true hart so finnely was engraued,

  That no new loues impression euer could

  Bereaue it thence: such blot his honour blemish should.

  3 Yet his owne loue, the noble Britomart,

  Scarse so concerned in her iealous thought,

  What time sad tydings of his balefull smart

  In womans bondage, Talus to her brought;

  Brought in vntimely houre, ere it was sought.

  For after that the vtmost date, assynde

  For his returne, she waited had for nought,

  She gan to cast in her misdoubtfull mynde

  A thousand feares, that loue-sicke fancies faine to fynde.

  4 Sometime she feared, least some hard mishap

  Had him misfalne in his aduenturous quest;

  Sometime least his false foe did him entrap

  In traytrous traine, or had vnwares opprest:

  But most she did her troubled mynd molest,

  And secretly afflict with iealous feare,

  Least some new loue had him from her possest;

  Yet loth she was, since she no ill did heare,

  To thinke of him so ill: yet could she not forbeare.

  5 One while she blam’d her selfe; another whyle

  She him condemn’d, as trustlesse and vntrew:

  And then, her griefe with errour to beguyle,

  She fayn’d to count the time againe anew,

  As if before she had not counted trew.

  For houres but dayes; for weekes, that passed were,

  She told but moneths, to make them seeme more few:

  Yet when she reckned them, still drawing neare,

  Each hour did seeme a moneth, & euery moneth a yeare.

  6 But when as yet she saw him not returne,

  She thought to send some one to seeke him out;