Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  RENOWMED Lord, that for your worthinesse

  And noble deeds, have your deserved place

  High in the favour of that Emperesse,

  The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace;

  Here eke of right have you a worthie place, 145

  Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,

  And for your owne high merit in like cace,

  Of which apparaunt proofe was to be seene,

  When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene

  Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify, 150

  And their disloiall powre defaced clene,

  The record of enduring memory.

  Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse,

  That all posteritie thy honor may reherse.

  E. S.

  TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF BUCKHURST, ONE OF HER MAJESTIES PRIVIE COUNSELL

  IN vain I thinke, right honourable Lord, 155

  By this rude rime to memorize thy name,

  Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record

  In golden verse, worthy immortal fame:

  Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)

  Thy gracious Soverains praises to compile, 160

  And her imperiall majestie to frame

  In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.

  But sith thou maist not so, give leave a while

  To baser wit his power therein to spend,

  Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file, 165

  And unadvised oversights amend.

  But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine

  Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.

  TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR FR. WALSINGHAM, KNIGHT, PRINCIPALL SECRETARY TO HER MAJESTY AND OF HER HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNSELL

  THAT Mantuane poetes incompared spirit,

  Whose girland now is set in highest place, 170

  Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit,

  It first advaunst to great Augustus grace,

  Might long, perhaps, have lien in silence bace,

  Ne bene so much admir’d of later age.

  This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace, 175

  Flies for like aide unto your patronage;

  That are the great Mecenas of this age,

  As wel to al that civil artes professe,

  As those that are inspir’d with martial rage,

  And craves protection of her feeblenesse: 180

  Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse

  In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse.

  E. S.

  TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST VALIAUNT CAPTAINE, SIR JOHN NORRIS, KNIGHT, LORD PRESIDENT OF MOUNSTER

  WHO ever gave more honourable prize

  To the sweet Muse then did the martiall crew,

  That their brave deeds she might immortalize 185

  In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?

  Who then ought more to favour her then you,

  Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,

  And precedent of all that armes ensue?

  Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage, 190

  Tempred with reason and advizement sage,

  Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile,

  In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage,

  And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile.

  Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd thy fame, 195

  Love him that hath eternized your name.

  E. S.

  TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND MOST VERTUOUS LADY, THE COUNTESSE OF PENBROKE

  REMEMBRAUNCE of that most heroicke spirit,

  The hevens pride, the glory of our daies,

  Which now triumpheth through immortall merit

  Of his brave vertues, crownd with lasting baies 200

  Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies;

  Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore,

  To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies;

  Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore

  His goodly image living evermore 205

  In the divine resemblaunce of your face;

  Which with your vertues ye embellish more,

  And native beauty deck with hevenlie grace:

  For his, and for your owne especial sake,

  Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take.

  E. S. 210

  TO THE MOST VERTUOUS AND BEAUTIFULL LADY, THE LADY CAREW

  NE may I, without blot of endlesse blame,

  You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place,

  But with remembraunce of your gracious name,

  Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace,

  And deck the world, adorne these verses base. 215

  Not that these few lines can in them comprise

  Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace,

  Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes,

  And in subdued harts do tyranyse;

  For thereunto doth need a golden quill 220

  And silver leaves, them rightly to devise;

  But to make humble present of good will:

  Which, whenas timely meanes it purchase may,

  In ampler wise it selfe will forth display.

  E. S.

  TO ALL THE GRATIOUS AND BEAUTIFULL LADIES IN THE COURT

  THE CHIAN peincter, when he was requirde 225

  To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew,

  To make his worke more absolute, desird

  Of all the fairest maides to have the vew.

  Much more me needs, to draw the semblant trew

  Of Beauties Queene, the worlds sole wenderment, 230

  To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew,

  And steale from each some part of ornament.

  If all the world to seeke I overwent,

  A fairer crew yet no where could I see

  Then that brave court doth to mine eie present, 235

  That the worlds pride seemes gathered there to bee.

  Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte:

  Forgive it me, faire Dames, sith lesse ye have not lefte.

  E. S.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Faerie Queene: Book I. The Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse.

  Canto I

  THE FIRST BOOK

  OF THE FAERIE QUEENE

  CONTAYNING

  THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT

  OF THE RED CROSSE

  OR

  OF HOLINESSE

  I

  LO! I the man, whose Muse whylome did maske,

  As time her taught, in lowly shephards weeds,

  Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske,

  For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds,

  And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds; 5

  Whose praises having slept in silence long,

  Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

  To blazon broade emongst her learned throng:

  Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.

  II

  Helpe then, O holy virgin, chiefe of nyne, 10

  Thy weaker novice to performe thy will;

  Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne

  The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

  Of Faerie knights, and fayrest Tanaquill,

  Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long 15

  Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

  That I must rue his undeserved wrong:

  O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.

  III

  And thou, most dreaded impe of highest Jove.

  Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart 20

  At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,

  That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,

  Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart,

  And with thy mother mylde come to mine ayde:

  Come both, and with y
ou bring triumphant Mart, 25

  In loves and gentle jollities arraid,

  After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd.

  IV

  And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,

  Mirrour of grace and majestie divine,

  Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light 30

  Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth shine,

  Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

  And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile,

  To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

  The argument of mine afflicted stile: 35

  The which to heare vouchsafe, O dearest dread, a while.

  CANTO I

  The patrone of true Holinesse

  Foule Errour doth defeate:

  Hypocrisie, him to entrappe,

  Doth to his home entreate.

  I

  A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine,

  Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,

  Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,

  The cruell markes of many’ a bloody fielde; 40

  Yet armes till that time did he never wield:

  His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

  As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:

  Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

  As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. 45

  II

  But on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,

  The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

  For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,

  And dead as living ever him ador’d:

  Upon his shield the like was also scor’d, 50

  For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had:

  Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,

  But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;

  Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

  III

  Upon a great adventure he was bond, 55

  That greatest Gloriana to him gave,

  That greatest glorious queene of Faery Lond,

  To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have,

  Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave;

  And ever as he rode his hart did earne 60

  To prove his puissance in battell brave

  Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;

  Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne.

  IV

  A lovely ladie rode him faire beside,

  Upon a lowly asse more white then snow, 65

  Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide

  Under a vele, that wimpled was full low,

  And over all a blacke stole shee did throw:

  As one that inly mournd, so was she sad,

  And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow: 70

  Seemed in heart some hidden care she had;

  And by her in a line a milkewhite lambe she lad.

  V

  So pure and innocent, as that same lambe,

  She was in life and every vertuous lore,

  And by descent from royall lynage came 75

  Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore

  Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore,

  And all the world in their subjection held,

  Till that infernall feend with foule uprore

  Forwasted all their land, and them expeld: 80

  Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld.

  VI

  Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,

  That lasie seemd, in being ever last,

  Or wearied with bearing of her bag

  Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, 85

  The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,

  And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine

  Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,

  That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain,

  And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain. 90

  VII

  Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,

  A shadie grove not farr away they spide,

  That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:

  Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,

  Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide, 95

  Not perceable with power of any starr:

  And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

  With footing worne, and leading inward farr:

  Faire harbour that them seemes, so in they entred ar.

  VIII

  And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, 100

  Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,

  Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

  Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

  Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy,

  The sayling pine, the cedar proud and tall, 105

  The vine-propp elme, the poplar never dry,

  The builder oake, sole king of forrests all,

  The aspine good for staves, the cypresse funerall,

  IX

  The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours

  And poets sage, the firre that weepeth still, 110

  The willow worne of forlorne paramours,

  The eugh obedient to the benders will,

  The birch for shaftes, the sallow for the mill,

  The mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,

  The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, 115

  The fruitfull olive, and the platane round,

  The carver holme, the maple seeldom inward sound.

  X

  Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,

  Untill the blustring storme is overblowne;

  When, weening to returne whence they did stray, 120

  They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,

  But wander too and fro in waies unknowne,

  Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,

  That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:

  So many pathes, so many turnings seene, 125

  That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.

  XI

  At last resolving forward still to fare,

  Till that some end they finde, or in or out,

  That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,

  And like to lead the labyrinth about; 130

  Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

  At length it brought them to a hollowe cave,

  Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout

  Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,

  And to the dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave. 135

  XII

  ‘Be well aware,’ quoth then that ladie milde,

  ‘Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke:

  The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,

  Breedes dreadfull doubts: oft fire is without smoke,

  And perill without show: therefore your stroke, 140

  Sir knight, with-hold, till further tryall made.’

  ‘Ah, ladie,’ sayd he, ‘shame were to revoke

  The forward footing for an hidden shade:

  Vertue gives her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.’

  XIII

  ‘Yea, but,’ quoth she, ‘the perill of this place 145

  I better wot then you; though nowe too late

  To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,

  Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

  To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.

  This is the wandring wood, this Errours den, 150

  A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:

  Therefore I read beware.’ ‘Fly, fly!’ quoth then

  The fearefull dwarfe: ‘this is no place for living men.’

  XIV

  But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
>
  The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide, 155

  But forth unto the darksom hole he went,

  And looked in: his glistring armor made

  A litle glooming light, much like a shade,

  By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,

  Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide, 160

  But th’ other halfe did womans shape retaine,

  Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

  XV

  And as she lay upon the durtie ground,

  Her huge long taile her den all overspred,

  Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound, 165

  Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred

  A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,

  Sucking upon her poisnous dugs, eachone

  Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill favored:

  Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone, 170

  Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.

  XVI

  Their dam upstart, out of her den effraide,

  And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile

  About her cursed head, whose folds displaid

  Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile. 175

  She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle,

  Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;

  For light she hated as the deadly bale,

  Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine,

  Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine. 180

  XVII

  Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv’d, he lept

  As lyon fierce upon the flying pray,

  And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept

  From turning backe, and forced her to stay:

  Therewith enrag’d she loudly gan to bray, 185

  And turning fierce, her speckled taile advaunst,

  Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay:

  Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:

  The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder glaunst.

  XVIII

  Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd, 190

  Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round,

  And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd

  With doubled forces high above the ground:

  Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd,

  Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine 195

  All suddenly about his body wound,

  That hand or foot to stirr he strove in vaine:

  God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.

  XIX

  His lady, sad to see his sore constraint,

  Cride out, ‘Now, now, sir knight, shew what ye bee: 200

  Add faith unto your force, and be not faint:

  Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee.’

  That when he heard, in great perplexitie,

  His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine;