Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Doth sober Alma dwell,

  Besiegd of many foes, whom straunger

  knightes to flight compell.

  I

  OF all Gods workes, which doe this world adorne,

  There is no one more faire and excellent,

  Then is mans body both for powre and forme,

  Whiles it is kept in sober government;

  But none then it more fowle and indecent, 5

  Distempred through misrule and passions bace:

  It growes a monster, and incontinent

  Doth loose his dignity and native grace.

  Behold, who list, both one and other in this place.

  II

  After the Paynim brethren conquer’d were, 10

  The Briton Prince recov’ring his stolne sword,

  And Guyon his lost shield, they both yfere

  Forth passed on their way in fayre accord,

  Till him the Prince with gentle court did bord:

  ‘Sir knight, mote I of you this court’sy read, 15

  To weet why on your shield, so goodly scord,

  Beare ye the picture of that ladies head?

  Full lively is the semblaunt, though the substance dead.’

  III

  ‘Fayre sir,’ sayd he, ‘if in that picture dead

  Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine shew, 20

  What mote ye weene, if the trew lively-head

  Of that most glorious visage ye did vew?

  But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew,

  That is, her bounty and imperiall powre,

  Thousand times fairer then her mortal hew, 25

  O how great wonder would your thoughts devoure,

  And infinite desire into your spirite poure!

  IV

  ‘Shee is the mighty Queene of Faery,

  Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe beare;

  Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity, 30

  Throughout the world renowmed far and neare,

  My liefe, my liege, my soveraine, my deare,

  Whose glory shineth as the morning starre,

  And with her light the earth enlumines cleare:

  Far reach her mercies, and her praises farre, 35

  As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in warre.’

  V

  ‘Thrise happy man,’ said then the Briton knight,

  ‘Whom gracious lott and thy great valiaunce

  Have made thee soldier of that princesse bright,

  Which with her bounty and glad countenaunce 40

  Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high advaunce.

  How may straunge knight hope ever to aspire,

  By faithfull service and meete amenaunce,

  Unto such blisse? Sufficient were that hire

  For losse of thousand lives, to die at her desire.’ 45

  VI

  Said Guyon, ‘Noble lord, what meed so great,

  Or grace of earthly prince so soveraine,

  But by your wondrous worth and warlike feat

  Ye well may hope, and easely attaine?

  But were your will, her sold to entertaine, 50

  And numbred be mongst Knights of May-denhed,

  Great guerdon, well I wote, should you remaine,

  And in her favor high bee reckoned,

  As Arthegall and Sophy now beene honored.’

  VII

  ‘Certes,’ then said the Prince, ‘I God avow, 55

  That sith I armes and knighthood first did plight,

  My whole desire hath beene, and yet is now,

  To serve that Queene with al my powre and might.

  Now hath the sunne with his lamp-burning light

  Walkt round about the world, and I no lesse, 60

  Sith of that goddesse I have sought the sight,

  Yet no where can her find: such happinesse

  Heven doth to me envy, and Fortune favourlesse.’

  VIII

  ‘Fortune, the foe of famous chevisaunce,

  Seldome,’ said Guyon, ‘yields to vertue aide, 65

  But in her way throwes mischiefe and mischaunce,

  Whereby her course is stopt and passage staid.

  But you, faire sir, be not herewith dismaid,

  But constant keepe the way in which ye stand;

  Which were it not that I am els delaid 70

  With hard adventure, which I have in hand,

  I labour would to guide you through al Fary Land.’

  IX

  ‘Gramercy, sir,’ said he; ‘but mote I weete

  What straunge adventure doe ye now pursew?

  Perhaps my succour or advizement meete 75

  Mote stead you much your purpose to subdew.’

  Then gan Sir Guyon all the story shew

  Of false Acrasia, and her wicked wiles,

  Which to avenge, the palmer him forth drew

  From Faery court. So talked they, the whiles 80

  They wasted had much way, and measurd many miles.

  X

  And now faire Phoebus gan decline in haste

  His weary wagon to the westerne vale,

  Whenas they spide a goodly castle, plaste

  Foreby a river in a pleasaunt dale; 85

  Which choosing for that evenings hospitale,

  They thether marcht: but when they came in sight,

  And from their sweaty coursers did avale,

  They found the gates fast barred long ere night,

  And every loup fast lockt, as fearing foes despight. 90

  XI

  Which when they saw, they weened fowle reproch

  Was to them doen, their entraunce to forstall,

  Till that the squire gan nigher to approch,

  And wind his horne under the castle wall,

  That with the noise it shooke, as it would fall. 95

  Eftsoones forth looked from the highest spire

  The watch, and lowd unto the knights did call,

  To weete what they so rudely did require:

  Who gently answered, they entraunce did desire.

  XII

  ‘Fly, fly, good knights,’ said he, ‘fly fast away, 100

  If that your lives ye love, as meete ye should;

  Fly fast, and save your selves from neare decay;

  Here may ye not have entraunce, though we would:

  We would and would againe, if that we could;

  But thousand enemies about us rave, 105

  And with long siege us in this castle hould:

  Seven yeares this wize they us besieged have,

  And many good knights slaine, that have us sought to save.’

  XIII

  Thus as he spoke, loe! with outragious cry

  A thousand villeins rownd about them swarmd 110

  Out of the rockes and caves adjoyning nye:

  Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, deformd,

  All threatning death, all in straunge manner armd;

  Some with unweldy clubs, some with long speares,

  Some rusty knifes, some staves in fier warmd. 115

  Sterne was their looke, like wild amazed steares,

  Staring with hollow eies, and stiffe upstanding heares.

  XIV

  Fiersly at first those knights they did assayle,

  And drove them to recoile: but, when againe

  They gave fresh charge, their forces gan to fayle, 120

  Unhable their encounter to sustaine;

  For with such puissaunce and impetuous maine

  Those champions broke on them, that forst them fly,

  Like scattered sheepe, whenas the shepherds swaine

  A lyon and a tigre doth espye, 125

  With greedy pace forth rushing from the forest nye.

  XV

  A while they fled, but soone retournd againe

  With greater fury then before was fownd;

  And evermore their cruell capitaine

  Sought with his raskall routs t’ enclose them rownd, 130

  And ov
erronne to tread them to the grownd.

  But soone the knights with their bright-burning blades

  Broke their rude troupes, and orders did confownd,

  Hewing and slashing at their idle shades;

  For though they bodies seem, yet substaunce from them fades. 135

  XVI

  As when a swarme of gnats at eventide

  Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise,

  Their murmuring small trompetts sownden wide,

  Whiles in the aire their clustring army flies,

  That as a cloud doth seeme to dim the skies; 140

  Ne man nor beast may rest, or take repast,

  For their sharpe wounds and noyous injuries,

  Till the fierce northerne wind with blustring blast

  Doth blow them quite away, and in the ocean cast.

  XVII

  Thus when they had that troublous rout disperst, 145

  Unto the castle gate they come againe,

  And entraunce crav’d, which was denied erst.

  Now when report of that their perlous paine,

  And combrous conflict which they did sustaine,

  Came to the ladies eare, which there did dwell, 150

  Shee forth issewed with a goodly traine

  Of squires and ladies equipaged well,

  And entertained them right fairely, as befell.

  XVIII

  Alma she called was, a virgin bright,

  That had not yet felt Cupides wanton rage; 155

  Yet was shee wooed of many a gentle knight,

  And many a lord of noble parentage,

  That sought with her to lincke in marriage,

  For shee was faire, as faire mote ever bee,

  And in the flowre now of her freshest age; 160

  Yet full of grace and goodly modestee,

  That even heven rejoyced her sweete face to see.

  XIX

  In robe of lilly white she was arayd,

  That from her shoulder to her heele downe raught;

  The traine whereof loose far behind her strayd, 165

  Braunched with gold and perle, most richly wrought,

  And borne of two faire damsels, which were taught

  That service well. Her yellow golden heare

  Was trimly woven, and in tresses wrought,

  Ne other tire she on her head did weare, 170

  But crowned with a garland of sweete rosiere.

  XX

  Goodly shee entertaind those noble knights,

  And brought them up into her castle hall;

  Where gentle court and gracious delight

  Shee to them made, with mildnesse virginall, 175

  Shewing her selfe both wise and liberall.

  There when they rested had a season dew,

  They her besought, of favour speciall,

  Of that faire castle to affoord them vew:

  Shee graunted, and them leading forth, the same did shew. 180

  XXI

  First she them led up to the castle wall,

  That was so high as foe might not it clime,

  And all so faire and fensible withall;

  Not built of bricke, ne yet of stone and lime,

  But of thing like to that Ægyptian slime, 185

  Whereof King Nine whilome built Babell towre:

  But O great pitty that no lenger time

  So goodly workemanship should not endure!

  Soone it must turne to earth: no earthly thing is sure.

  XXII

  The frame thereof seemd partly circulare, 190

  And part triangulare: O worke divine!

  Those two the first and last proportions are;

  The one imperfect, mortall, fœminine,

  Th’ other immortall, perfect, masculine:

  And twixt them both a quadrate was the base, 195

  Proportioned equally by seven and nine;

  Nine was the circle sett in heavens place:

  All which compacted made a goodly diapase.

  XXIII

  Therein two gates were placed seemly well:

  The one before, by which all in did pas, 200

  Did th’ other far in workmanship excell;

  For not of wood, nor of enduring bras,

  But of more worthy substance fram’d it was:

  Doubly disparted, it did locke and close,

  That, when it locked, none might thorough pas, 205

  And when it opened, no man might it close;

  Still open to their friendes, and closed to their foes.

  XXIV

  Of hewen stone the porch was fayrely wrought,

  Stone more of valew, and more smooth and fine,

  Then jett or marble far from Ireland brought; 210

  Over the which was cast a wandring vine,

  Enchaced with a wanton yvie twine.

  And over it a fayre portcullis hong,

  Which to the gate directly did incline,

  With comely compasse and compacture strong, 215

  Nether unseemly short, nor yet exceeding long.

  XXV

  Within the barbican a porter sate,

  Day and night duely keeping watch and ward;

  Nor wight nor word mote passe out of the gate,

  But in good order, and with dew regard: 220

  Utterers of secrets he from thence debard,

  Bablers of folly, and blazers of cryme:

  His larumbell might lowd and wyde be hard,

  When cause requyrd, but never out of time;

  Early and late it rong, at evening and at prime. 225

  XXVI

  And rownd about the porch on every syde

  Twise sixteene warders satt, all armed bright

  In glistring steele, and strongly fortifyde:

  Tall yeomen seemed they, and of great might,

  And were enraunged ready still for fight. 230

  By them as Alma passed with her guestes,

  They did obeysaunce, as beseemed right,

  And then againe retourned to their restes:

  The porter eke to her did lout with humble gestes.

  XXVII

  Thence she them brought into a stately hall, 235

  Wherein were many tables fayre dispred

  And ready dight with drapets festivall,

  Against the viaundes should be ministred

  At th’ upper end there sate, yclad in red

  Downe to the ground, a comely personage, 240

  That in his hand a white rod menaged:

  He steward was, hight Diet; rype of age,

  And in demeanure sober, and in counsell sage.

  XXVIII

  And through the hall there walked to and fro

  A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same, 245

  Whose name was Appetite: he did bestow

  Both guestes and meate, when ever in they came,

  And knew them how to order without blame,

  As him the steward badd. They both attone

  Did dewty to their lady, as became; 250

  Who, passing by, forth ledd her guestes anone

  Into the kitchin rowme, ne spard for nicenesse none.

  XXIX

  It was a vaut ybuilt for great dispence,

  With many raunges reard along the wall,

  And one great chimney, whose long tonnell thence 255

  The smoke forth threw: and in the midst of all

  There placed was a caudron wide and tall,

  Upon a mightie fornace, burning whott,

  More whott then Aetn’, or flaming Mongiball:

  For day and night it brent, ne ceased not, 260

  So long as any thing it in the caudron gott.

  XXX

  But to delay the heat, least by mischaunce

  It might breake out, and set the whole on fyre,

  There added was by goodly ordinaunce

  An huge great payre of bellowes, which did styre 265

  Continually, and cooling breath inspyre.

  About
the caudron many cookes accoyld,

  With hookes and ladles, as need did requyre:

  The whyles the viaundes in the vessell boyld,

  They did about their businesse sweat, and sorely toyld. 270

  XXXI

  The maister cooke was cald Concoction,

  A carefull man, and full of comely guyse.

  The kitchin clerke, that hight Digestion,

  Did order all th’ achates in seemely wise,

  And set them forth, as well he could devise. 275

  The rest had severall offices assynd:

  Some to remove the scum, as it did rise;

  Others to beare the same away did mynd;

  And others it to use according to his kynd.

  XXXII

  But all the liquour, which was fowle and waste, 280

  Not good nor serviceable elles for ought,

  They in another great rownd vessel plaste,

  Till by a conduit pipe it thence were brought:

  And all the rest, that noyous was and nought,

  By secret wayes, that none might it espy, 285

  Was close convaid, and to the backgate brougt,

  That cleped was Port Esquiline, whereby

  It was avoided quite, and throwne out privily.

  XXXIII

  Which goodly order and great workmans skill

  Whenas those knightes beheld, with rare delight 290

  And gazing wonder they their mindes did fill;

  For never had they seene so straunge a sight.

  Thence backe againe faire Alma led them right,

  And soone into a goodly parlour brought,

  That was with royall arras richly dight, 295

  In which was nothing pourtrahed nor wrought,

  Not wrought nor pourtrahed, but easie to be thought.

  XXXIV

  And in the midst thereof upon the floure,

  A lovely bevy of faire ladies sate,

  Courted of many a jolly paramoure, 300

  The which them did in modest wise amate,

  And eachone sought his lady to aggrate:

  And eke emongst them litle Cupid playd

  His wanton sportes, being retourned late

  From his fierce warres, and having from him layd 305

  His cruel bow, wherewith he thousands hath dismayd.

  XXXV

  Diverse delights they fownd them selves to please;

  Some song in sweet consort, some laught for joy,

  Some plaid with strawes, some ydly satt at ease;

  But other some could not abide to toy, 310

  All pleasaunce was to them griefe and annoy:

  This fround, that faund, the third for shame did blush,

  Another seemed envious, or coy,

  Another in her teeth did gnaw a rush:

  But at these straungers presence every one did hush. 315

  XXXVI

  Soone as the gracious Alma came in place,

  They all attonce out of their seates arose,