And to her homage made, with humble grace:
Whom when the knights beheld, they gan dispose
Themselves to court, and each a damzell chose. 320
The Prince by chaunce did on a lady light,
That was right faire and fresh as morning rose,
But somwhat sad and solemne eke in sight,
As if some pensive thought constraind her gentle spright.
XXXVII
In a long purple pall, whose skirt with gold 325
Was fretted all about, she was arayd;
And in her hand a poplar braunch did hold:
To whom the Prince in courteous maner sayd:
‘Gentle madame, why beene ye thus dismayd,
And your faire beautie doe with sadnes spill? 330
Lives any, that you hath thus ill apayd?
Or doen you love, or doen you lack your will?
What ever bee the cause, it sure beseemes you ill.’
XXXVIII
‘Fayre sir,’ said she, halfe in disdainefull wise,
‘How is it, that this word in me ye blame, 335
And in your selfe doe not the same advise?
Him ill beseemes, anothers fault to name,
That may unwares bee blotted with the same:
Pensive I yeeld I am, and sad in mind,
Through great desire of glory and of fame; 340
Ne ought I weene are ye therein behynd,
That have twelve moneths sought one, yet no where can her find.’
XXXIX
The Prince was inly moved at her speach,
Well weeting trew what she had rashly told,
Yet with faire semblaunt sought to hyde the breach, 345
Which chaunge of colour did perfoce unfold,
Now seeming flaming whott, now stony cold.
Tho, turning soft aside, he did inquyre
What wight she was, that poplar braunch did hold:
It answered was, her name was Praysdesire, 350
That by well doing sought to honour to aspyre.
XL
The whyles, the Faery knight did entertayne
Another damsell of that gentle crew,
That was right fayre, and modest of demayne,
But that too oft she chaung’d her native hew: 355
Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew,
Close rownd about her tuckt with many a plight:
Upon her fist the bird, which shonneth vew
And keepes in coverts close from living wight,
Did sitt, as yet ashamd, how rude Pan did her dight. 360
XLI
So long as Guyon with her commoned,
Unto the grownd she cast her modest eye,
And ever and anone with rosy red
The bashfull blood her snowy cheekes did dye,
That her became, as polisht yvory 365
Which cunning craftesman hand hath overlayd
With fayre vermilion or pure castory.
Great wonder had the knight, to see the mayd
So straungely passioned, and to her gently said:
XLII
‘Fayre damzell, seemeth by your troubled cheare, 370
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, aryse.
If it be I, of pardon I you pray; 375
But if ought else that I mote not devyse,
I will, if please you it discure, assay
To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may.’
XLIII
She answerd nought, but more abasht for shame,
Held downe her head, the whiles her lovely face 380
The flashing blood with blushing did inflame,
And the strong passion mard her modest grace,
That Guyon mervayld at her uncouth cace;
Till Alma him bespake: ‘Why wonder yee,
Faire sir, at that which ye so much embrace? 385
She is the fountaine of your modestee;
You shamefast are, but Shamefastnes it selfe is shee.’
XLIV
Thereat the Elfe did blush in privitee,
And turnd his face away; but she the same
Dissembled faire, and faynd to oversee. 390
Thus they awhile with court and goodly game
Themselves did solace each one with his dame,
Till that great lady thence away them sought,
To vew her castles other wondrous frame.
Up to a stately turret she them brought, 395
Ascending by ten steps of alablaster wrought.
XLV
That turrets frame most admirable was,
Like highest heaven compassed around,
And lifted high above this earthly masse,
Which it survewd, as hils doen lower ground: 400
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 blood by cruell Greekes was spilt. 405
XLVI
The roofe hereof was arched over head,
And deckt with flowers and herbars daintily:
Two goodly beacons, set in watches stead,
Therein gave light, and flamd continually;
For they of living fire most subtilly 410
Were made, and set in silver sockets bright,
Cover’d with lids deviz’d of substance sly,
That readily they shut and open might.
O who can tell the prayses of that makers might?
XLVII
Ne can I tell, ne can I stay to tell 415
This parts great workemanship and wondrous powre,
That all this other worldes worke doth excell,
And likest is unto that heavenly towre,
That God hath built for his owne blessed bowre.
Therein were divers rowmes, and divers stages, 420
But three the chiefest, and of greatest powre,
In which there dwelt three honorable sages,
The wisest men, I weene, that lived in their ages.
XLVIII
Not he, whom Greece, the nourse of all good arts,
By Phæbus doome, the wisest thought alive, 425
Might be compar’d to these by many parts:
Nor that sage Pylian syre, which did survive
Three ages, such as mortall men contrive,
By whose advise old Priams cittie fell,
With these in praise of pollicies mote strive. 430
These three in these three rowmes did sondry dwell,
And counselled faire Alma, how to governe well.
XLIX
The first of them could things to come foresee;
The next could of thinges present best advize;
The third things past could keepe in memoree: 435
So that no time nor reason could arize,
But that the same could one of these comprize.
Forthy the first did in the forepart sit,
That nought mote hinder his quicke prejudize:
He had a sharpe foresight, and working wit, 440
That never idle was, ne once would rest a whit.
L
His chamber was dispainted all with in
With sondry colours, in the which were writ
Infinite shapes of thinges dispersed thin;
Some such as in the world were never yit, 445
Ne can devized 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, lyons, aegles, owles, fooles, lovers, children, dames. 450
LI
And all the chamber filled was with flyes,
Which buz
zed all about, and made such sound,
That they encombred all mens eares and eyes,
Like many swarmes of bees assembled round,
After their hives with honny do abound: 455
All those were idle thoughtes and fantasies,
Devices, dreames, opinions unsound,
Shewes, visions, sooth-sayes, and prophesies;
And all that fained is, as leasings, tales, and lies.
LII
Emongst them all sate he which wonned there, 460
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, 465
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.
LIII
Whom Alma having shewed to her guestes,
Thence brought them to the second rowme, whose wals 470
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 judgementes, and of decretals; 475
All artes, all science, all philosophy,
And all that in the world was ay thought wittily.
LIV
Of those that rowme was full, and them among
There sate a man of ripe and perfect age,
Who did them meditate all his life long, 480
That through continuall practise and usage,
He now was growne right wise and wondrous sage.
Great pleasure had those straunger knightes, to see
His goodly reason and grave personage,
That his disciples both desyrd to bee; 485
But Alma thence them led to th’ hindmost rowme of three.
LV
That chamber seemed ruinous and old,
And therefore was removed far behind,
Yet were the wals, that did the same uphold,
Right firme and strong, though somwhat they declind; 490
And therein sat an old old man, halfe blind,
And all decrepit in his feeble corse,
Yet lively vigour rested in his mind,
And recompenst him with a better scorse:
Weake body well is chang’d for minds redoubled forse. 495
LVI
This man of infinite remembraunce 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 els, the which this world doth weld, 500
But laid them up in his immortall scrine,
Where they for ever incorrupted dweld:
The warres he well remembred of King Nine,
Of old Assaracus, and Inachus divine.
LVII
The yeares of Nestor nothing were to his, 505
Ne yet Mathusalem, though longest liv’d;
For he remembred both their infancis:
Ne wonder then, if that he were depriv’d
Of native strength now that he them surviv’d.
His chamber all was hangd about with rolls, 510
And old records from auncient times derivd,
Some made in books, some in long parchment scrolls,
That were all worm-eaten and full of canker holes.
LVIII
Amidst them all he in a chaire was sett,
Tossing and turning them withouten end; 515
But for he was unhable them to fett,
A litle boy did on him still attend,
To reach, when ever he for ought did send;
And oft when thinges were lost, or laid amis,
That boy them sought and unto him did lend: 520
Therefore he Anamnestes cleped is,
And that old man Eumnestes, by their propertis.
LIX
The knightes, there entring, did him reverence dew,
And wondred at his endlesse exercise.
Then as they gan his library to vew, 525
And antique regesters for to avise,
There chaunced to the Princes hand to rize
An auncient booke, hight Briton Moniments,
That of this lands first conquest did devize,
And old division into regiments, 530
Till it reduced was to one mans governements.
LX
Sir Guyon chaunst eke on another booke,
That hight Antiquitee of Faery Lond:
In which whenas he greedily did looke,
Th’ ofspring of Elves and Faryes there he fond, 535
As it delivered was from hond to hond.
Whereat they, burning both with fervent fire
Their countreys auncestry to understond,
Crav’d leave of Alma and that aged sire,
To read those bookes; who gladly graunted their desire. 540
Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents
Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’
Canto X
A chronicle of Briton kings,
From Brute to Uthers rayne;
And rolls of Elfin emperours,
Till time of Gloriane.
I
WHO now shall give unto me words and sound,
Equall unto this haughty enterprise?
Or who shall lend me wings, with which from ground
My lowly verse may loftily arise,
And lift it selfe unto the highest skyes? 5
More ample spirit, then hetherto was wount,
Here needes me, whiles the famous auncestryes
Of my most dreaded Soveraigne I recount,
By which all earthly princes she doth far surmount.
II
Ne under sunne, that shines so wide and faire, 10
Whence all that lives does borrow life and light,
Lives ought that to her linage may compaire,
Which, though from earth it be derived right,
Yet doth it selfe stretch forth to hevens hight,
And all the world with wonder overspred; 15
A labor huge, exceeding far my might:
How shall fraile pen, with feare disparaged,
Conceive such soveraine glory, and great bountyhed?
III
Argument worthy of Mœonian quill,
Or rather worthy of great Phoebus rote, 20
Whereon the ruines of great Ossa hill,
And triumphes of Phlegræan Jove, he wrote,
That all the gods admird his lofty note.
But, if some relish of that hevenly lay
His learned daughters would to me report, 25
To decke my song withall, I would assay
Thy name, O soveraine Queene, to blazon far away.
IV
Thy name, O soveraine Queene, thy realme, and race,
From this renowmed Prince derived arre,
Who mightily upheld that royall mace, 30
Which now thou bear’st, to thee descended farre
From mighty kings and conquerours in warre,
Thy fathers and great grandfathers of old,
Whose noble deeds above the northern starre
Immortall Fame for ever hath enrold; 35
As in that old mans booke they were in order told.
V
The land, which warlike Britons now possesse,
And therein have their mighty empire raysd,
In antique times was salvage wildernesse,
Unpeopled, unmannurd, unprovd, unpraysd; 40
Ne was it island then, ne was it paysd
Amid the ocean waves, ne was it sought
Of merchaunts farre, for profits therein praysd;
But was all desolate, a
nd of some thought
By sea to have bene from the Celticke mayn-land brought. 45
VI
Ne did it then deserve a name to have,
Till that the venturous mariner that way,
Learning his ship from those white rocks to save,
Which all along the southerne sea-coast lay,
Threatning unheedy wrecke and rash decay, 50
For safeties sake that same his sea-marke made,
And namd it ALBION. But later day,
Finding in it fit ports for fishers trade,
Gan more the same frequent, and further to invade.
VII
But far in land a salvage nation dwelt 55
Of hideous giaunts, and halfe beastly men,
That never tasted grace, nor goodnes felt,
But like wild beastes lurking in loathsome den,
And flying fast as roebucke through the fen,
All naked without shame or care of cold, 60
By hunting and by spoiling liveden;
Of stature huge, and eke of corage bold,
That sonnes of men amazd their sternesse to behold.
VIII
But whence they sprong, or how they were begott,
Uneath is to assure; uneath to wene 65
That monstrous error, which doth some assott,
That Dioclesians fifty daughters shene
Into this land by chaunce have driven bene,
Where companing with feends and filthy sprights
Through vaine illusion of their lust unclene, 70
They brought forth geaunts, and such dreadful wights
As far exceeded men in their immeasurd mights.
IX
They held this land, and with their filthinesse
Polluted this same gentle soyle long time:
That their owne mother loathd their beastlinesse, 75
And gan abhorre her broods unkindly crime,
All were they borne of her owne native slime:
Until that Brutus, anciently deriv’d
From roiall stocke of old Assaracs line,
Driven by fatall error, here arriv’d, 80
And them of their unjust possession depriv’d.
X
But ere he had established his throne,
And spred his empire to the utmost shore,
He fought great batteils with his salvage fone;
In which he them defeated evermore, 85
And many giaunts left on groning flore,
That well can witnes yet unto this day
The westerne Hogh, besprincled with the gore
Of mighty Goëmot, whome in stout fray
Corineus conquered, and cruelly did slay. 90
XI
And eke that ample pitt, yet far renownd
For the large leape which Debon did compell
Coulin to make, being eight lugs of grownd,
Into the which retourning backe he fell:
But those three monstrous stones doe most excell 95
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 46
