Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  But made him stagger, as he were not well: 95

  But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware,

  Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell;

  Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare,

  That mischievous mischaunce his life and limbs did spare.

  VII

  Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke; 100

  For never yet, sith warlike armes he bore,

  And shivering speare in bloody field first shooke,

  He fownd him selfe dishonored so sore.

  Ah! gentlest knight that ever armor bore,

  Let not thee grieve dismounted to have beene, 105

  And brought to grownd, that never wast before;

  For not thy fault, but secret powre unseene:

  That speare enchaunted was, which layd thee on the greene.

  VIII

  But weenedst thou what wight thee overthrew,

  Much greater griefe and shamefuller regrett 110

  For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew,

  That of a single damzell thou wert mett

  On equall plaine, and there so hard besett:

  Even the famous Britomart it was,

  Whom straunge adventure did from Britayne fett, 115

  To seeke her lover, (love far sought, alas!)

  Whose image shee had seene in Venus looking glas.

  IX

  Full of disdainefull wrath, he fierce uprose,

  For to revenge that fowle reprochefull shame,

  And snatching his bright sword, began to close 120

  With her on foot, and stoutly forward came;

  Dye rather would he then endure that same.

  Which when his palmer saw, he gan to feare

  His toward perill and untoward blame,

  Which by that new rencounter he should reare: 125

  For death sate on the point of that enchaunted speare.

  X

  And hasting towards him gan fayre perswade,

  Not to provoke misfortune, nor to weene

  His speares default to mend with cruell blade:

  For by his mightie science he had seene 130

  The secrete vertue of that weapon keene,

  That mortall puissaunce mote not withstond:

  Nothing on earth mote alwaies happy beene.

  Great hazard were it, and adventure fond,

  To loose long gotten honour with one evill hond. 135

  XI

  By such good meanes he him discounselled

  From prosecuting his revenging rage;

  And eke the Prince like treaty handeled,

  His wrathfull will with reason to aswage,

  And laid the blame, not to his carriage, 140

  But to his starting steed, that swarv’d asyde,

  And to the ill purveyaunce of his page,

  That had his furnitures not firmely tyde:

  So is his angry corage fayrly pacifyde.

  XII

  Thus reconcilement was betweene them knitt, 145

  Through goodly temperaunce and affection chaste;

  And either vowd with all their power and witt,

  To let not others honour be defaste

  Of friend or foe, who ever it embaste,

  Ne armes to beare against the others syde: 150

  In which accord the Prince was also plaste,

  And with that golden chaine of concord tyde.

  So goodly all agreed, they forth yfere did ryde.

  XIII

  O goodly usage of those antique tymes,

  In which the sword was servaunt unto right! 155

  When not for malice and contentious crymes,

  But all for prayse, and proofe of manly might,

  The martiall brood accustomed to fight:

  Then honour was the meed of victory,

  And yet the vanquished had no despight: 160

  Let later age that noble use envy,

  Vyle rancor to avoid, and cruel surquedry.

  XIV

  Long they thus traveiled in friendly wise,

  Through countreyes waste and eke well edifyde,

  Seeking adventures hard, to exercise 165

  Their puissaunce, whylome full dernly tryde:

  At length they came into a forest wyde,

  Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sownd

  Full griesly seemd: therein they long did ryde,

  Yet tract of living creature none they fownd, 170

  Save beares, lyons, and buls, which romed them arownd.

  XV

  All suddenly out of the thickest brush,

  Upon a milkwhite palfrey all alone,

  A goodly lady did foreby them rush,

  Whose face did seeme as cleare as christall stone, 175

  And eke through feare as white as whales bone:

  Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold,

  And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone,

  Which fledd so fast that nothing mote him hold,

  And scarse them leasure gave, her passing to behold. 180

  XVI

  Still as she fledd her eye she backward threw,

  As fearing evill that poursewd her fast;

  And her faire yellow locks behind her flew,

  Loosely disperst with puff of every blast:

  All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast 185

  His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispredd,

  At sight whereof the people stand aghast:

  But the sage wisard telles, as he has redd,

  That it importunes death and dolefull dreryhedd.

  XVII

  So as they gazed after her a whyle, 190

  Lo! where a griesly foster forth did rush,

  Breathing out beastly lust her to defyle:

  His tyreling jade he fiersly forth did push,

  Through thicke and thin, both over banck and bush,

  In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke, 195

  That from his gory sydes the blood did gush:

  Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke,

  And in his clownish hand a sharp bore speare he shooke.

  XVIII

  Which outrage when those gentle knights did see,

  Full of great envy and fell gealosy, 200

  They stayd not to avise who first should bee,

  But all spurd after fast as they mote fly,

  To reskew her from shamefull villany.

  The Prince and Guyon equally bylive

  Her selfe pursewd, in hope to win thereby 205

  Most goodly meede, the fairest dame alive:

  But after the foule foster Timias did strive.

  XIX

  The whiles faire Britomart, whose constant mind

  Would not so lightly follow beauties chace,

  Ne reckt of ladies love, did stay behynd, 210

  And them awayted there a certaine space,

  To weet if they would turne backe to that place:

  But when she saw them gone, she forward went,

  As lay her journey, through that perlous pace,

  With stedfast corage and stout hardiment; 215

  Ne evil thing she feard, ne evill thing she ment.

  XX

  At last, as nigh out of the wood she came,

  A stately castle far away she spyde,

  To which her steps directly she did frame.

  That castle was most goodly edifyde, 220

  And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde:

  But faire before the gate a spatious playne,

  Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde,

  On which she saw six knights, that did darrayne

  Fiers battaill against one, with cruel might and mayne. 225

  XXI

  Mainely they all attonce upon him laid,

  And sore beset on every side arownd,

  That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid,

  Ne ever to them yielded foot of grownd,

 
All had he lost much blood through many a wownd, 230

  But stoutly dealt his blowes, and every way,

  To which he turned in his wrathfull stownd,

  Made them recoile, and fly from dredd decay,

  That none of all the six before him durst assay.

  XXII

  Like dastard curres, that, having at a bay 235

  The salvage beast embost in wearie chace,

  Dare not adventure on the stubborne pray,

  Ne byte before, but rome from place to place,

  To get a snatch, when turned is his face.

  In such distresse and doubtfull jeopardy 240

  When Britomart him saw, she ran apace

  Unto his reskew, and with earnest cry

  Badd those same sixe forbeare that single enimy.

  XXIII

  But to her cry they list not lenden eare,

  Ne ought the more their mightie strokes surceasse, 245

  But gathering him rownd about more neare,

  Their direfull rancour rather did encreasse;

  Till that she, rushing through the thickest preasse,

  Perforce disparted their compacted gyre,

  And soone compeld to hearken unto peace: 250

  Tho gan she myldly of them to inquyre

  The cause of their dissention and outrageous yre.

  XXIV

  Whereto that single knight did answere frame:

  ‘These six would me enforce by oddes of might,

  To chaunge my liefe, and love another dame, 255

  That death me liefer were then such despight,

  So unto wrong to yield my wrested right:

  For I love one, the truest one on grownd,

  Ne list me chaunge; she th’ Errant Damzell hight;

  For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd 260

  I have endurd, and tasted many a bloody wownd.’

  XXV

  ‘Certes,’ said she, ‘then beene ye sixe to blame,

  To weene your wrong by force to justify:

  For knight to leave his lady were great shame,

  That faithfull is, and better were to dy. 265

  All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamy,

  Then losse of love to him that loves but one:

  Ne may love be compeld by maistery;

  For soone as maistery comes, sweet Love anone

  Taketh his nimble winges, and soone away is gone.’ 270

  XXVI

  Then spake one of those six: ‘There dwelleth here,

  Within this castle wall, a lady fayre,

  Whose soveraine beautie hath no living pere;

  Thereto so bounteous and so debonayre,

  That never any mote with her compayre. 275

  She hath ordaind this law, which we approve,

  That every knight, which doth this way repayre,

  In case he have no lady nor no love,

  Shall doe unto her service, never to remove.

  XXVII

  ‘But if he have a lady or a love, 280

  Then must he her forgoe with fowle defame,

  Or els with us by dint of sword approve,

  That she is fairer then our fairest dame;

  As did this knight, before ye hether came.’

  ‘Perdy,’ said Britomart, ‘the choise is hard: 285

  But what reward had he that overcame?’

  ‘He should advaunced bee to high regard,’

  Said they, ‘and have our ladies love for his reward.

  XXVIII

  ‘Therefore aread, sir, if thou have a love.’

  ‘Love have I sure,’ quoth she, ‘but lady none; 290

  Yet will I not fro mine owne love remove,

  Ne to your lady will I service done,

  But wreake your wronges wrought to this knight alone,

  And prove his cause.’ With that, her mortall speare

  She mightily aventred towards one, 295

  And downe him smot ere well aware he weare;

  Then to the next she rode, and downe the next did beare.

  XXIX

  Ne did she stay, till three on ground she layd,

  That none of them himselfe could reare againe;

  The fourth was by that other knight dismayd, 300

  All were he wearie of his former paine,

  That now there do but two of six remaine;

  Which two did yield before she did them smight.

  ‘Ah!’ sayd she then, ‘now may ye all see plaine,

  That truth is strong, and trew love most of might, 305

  That for his trusty servaunts doth so strongly fight.’

  XXX

  ‘Too well we see,’ saide they, ‘and prove too well

  Our faulty weakenes, and your matchlesse might:

  Forthy, faire sir, yours be the damozell,

  Which by her owne law to your lot doth light, 310

  And we your liege men faith unto you plight.’

  So underneath her feet their swords they mard,

  And after, her besought, well as they might,

  To enter in and reape the dew reward:

  She graunted, and then in they all together far’d. 315

  XXXI

  Long were it to describe the goodly frame

  And stately port of Castle Joyeous,

  (For so that castle hight by commun name)

  Where they were entertaynd with courteous

  And comely glee of many gratious 320

  Faire ladies, and of many a gentle knight,

  Who through a chamber long and spacious,

  Eftsoones them brought unto their ladies sight,

  That of them cleeped was the Lady of Delight.

  XXXII

  But for to tell the sumptuous aray 325

  Of that great chamber should be labour lost:

  For living wit, I weene, cannot display

  The roiall riches and exceeding cost

  Of every pillous and of every post;

  Which all of purest bullion framed were, 330

  And with great perles and pretious stones embost,

  That the bright glister of their beames cleare

  Did sparckle forth great light, and glorious did appeare.

  XXXIII

  These stranger knights, through passing, forth were led

  Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee 335

  And rich purveyance might uneath be red;

  Mote princes place beseeme so deckt to bee.

  Which stately manner when as they did see,

  The image of superfluous riotize,

  Exceeding much the state of meane degree, 340

  They greatly wondred whence so sumpteous guize

  Might be maintaynd, and each gan diversely devize.

  XXXIV

  The wals were round about appareiled

  With costly clothes of Arras and of Toure,

  In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed 345

  The love of Venus and her paramoure,

  The fayre Adonis, turned to a flowre,

  A worke of rare device and wondrous wit.

  First did it shew the bitter balefull stowre,

  Which her assayd with many a fervent fit, 350

  When first her tender hart was with his beautie smit:

  XXXV

  Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she

  Entyst the boy, as well that art she knew,

  And wooed him her paramoure to bee;

  Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew, 355

  To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew;

  Now leading him into a secret shade

  From his beauperes, and from bright heavens vew,

  Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade,

  Or bathe him in a fountaine by some covert glade. 360

  XXXVI

  And whilst he slept, she over him would spred

  Her mantle, colour’d like the starry skyes,

  And her soft arme lay underneath his hed,

>   And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes;

  And whilst he bath’d, with her two crafty spyes 365

  She secretly would search each daintie lim,

  And throw into the well sweet rosemaryes,

  And fragrant violets, and paunces trim,

  And ever with sweet nectar she did sprinkle him.

  XXXVII

  So did she steale his heedelesse hart away, 370

  And joyd his love in secret unespyde.

  But for she saw him bent to cruell play,

  To hunt the salvage beast in forrest wyde,

  Dreadfull of daunger, that mote him betyde,

  She oft and oft adviz’d him to refraine 375

  From chase of greater beastes, whose brutish pryde

  Mote breede him scath unwares: but all in vaine;

  For who can shun the chance that dest’ny doth ordaine?

  XXXVIII

  Lo! where beyond he lyeth languishing,

  Deadly engored of a great wilde bore, 380

  And by his side the goddesse groveling

  Makes for him endlesse mone, and evermore

  With her soft garment wipes away the gore,

  Which staynes his snowy skin with hatefull hew:

  But when she saw no helpe might him restore, 385

  Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew,

  Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it lively grew.

  XXXIX

  So was that chamber clad in goodly wize:

  And rownd about it many beds were dight,

  As whylome was the antique worldes guize, 390

  Some for untimely ease, some for delight,

  As pleased them to use, that use it might:

  And all was full of damzels and of squyres,

  Dauncing and reveling both day and night,

  And swimming deepe in sensuall desyres; 395

  And Cupid still emongest them kindled lustfull fyres.

  XL

  And all the while sweet musicke did divide

  Her looser notes with Lydian harmony;

  And all the while sweet birdes thereto applide

  Their daintie layes and dulcet melody, 400

  Ay caroling of love and jollity,

  That wonder was to heare their trim consort.

  Which when those knights beheld, with scornefull eye,

  They sdeigned such lascivious disport,

  And loath’d the loose demeanure of that wanton sort. 405

  XLI

  Thence they were brought to that great ladies vew,

  Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous bed,

  That glistred all with gold and glorious shew,

  As the proud Persian queenes accustomed:

  She seemed a woman of great bountihed 410

  And of rare beautie, saving that askaunce

  Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed,

  Did roll too lightly, and too often glaunce,

  Without regard of grace or comely amenaunce.

  XLII

  Long worke it were, and needlesse, to devize 415