Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reverse?

  II

  If they be dead, then woe is me therefore: 10

  But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake!

  For all too long I burne with envy sore,

  To heare the warlike feates which Homere spake

  Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake

  Of Greekish blood so ofte in Trojan plaine; 15

  But when I reade, how stout Debora strake

  Proud Sisera, and how Camill’ hath slaine

  The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdaine.

  III

  Yet these, and all that els had puissaunce,

  Cannot with noble Britomart compare, 20

  Aswell for glorie of great valiaunce,

  As for pure chastitie and vertue rare,

  That all her goodly deedes do well declare.

  Well worthie stock, from which the branches sprong

  That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare 25

  As thee, O Queene, the matter of my song,

  Whose lignage from this lady I derive along.

  IV

  Who when, through speaches with the Redcrosse Knight,

  She learned had th’ estate of Arthegall,

  And in each point her selfe informd aright, 30

  A frendly league of love perpetuall

  She with him bound, and congé tooke withall.

  Then he forth on his journey did proceede,

  To seeke adventures which mote him befall,

  And win him worship through his warlike deed, 35

  Which alwaies of his paines he made the chiefest meed.

  V

  But Britomart kept on her former course,

  Ne ever dofte her armes, but all the way

  Grew pensive through that amarous discourse,

  By which the Redcrosse Knight did earst display 40

  Her lovers shape and chevalrous aray:

  A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind,

  And in her feigning fancie did pourtray

  Him such as fittest she for love could find,

  Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and kind. 45

  VI

  With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fedd,

  And thought so to beguile her grievous smart;

  But so her smart was much more grievous bredd,

  And the deepe wound more deep engord her hart,

  That nought but death her dolour mote depart. 50

  So forth she rode without repose or rest,

  Searching all lands and each remotest part,

  Following the guydaunce of her blinded guest,

  Till that to the seacoast at length she her addrest.

  VII

  There she alighted from her light-foot beast, 55

  And sitting downe upon the rocky shore,

  Badd her old squyre unlace her lofty creast:

  Tho, having vewd a while the surges hore,

  That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore,

  And in their raging surquedry disdaynd 60

  That the fast earth affronted them so sore,

  And their devouring covetize restraynd,

  Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.

  VIII

  ‘Huge sea of sorrow and tempestuous griefe,

  Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long, 65

  Far from the hoped haven of reliefe,

  Why doe thy cruel billowes beat so strong,

  And thy moyst mountaynes each on others throng,

  Threatning to swallow up my fearefull lyfe?

  O! doe thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong 70

  At length allay, and stint thy stormy stryfe,

  Which in these troubled bowels raignes and rageth ryfe.

  IX

  ‘For els my feeble vessell, crazd and crackt

  Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,

  Cannot endure, but needes it must be wrackt 75

  On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,

  The whiles that Love it steres, and Fortune rowes:

  Love, my lewd pilott, hath a restlesse minde,

  And Fortune, boteswaine, no assuraunce knowes,

  But saile withouten starres gainst tyde and winde: 80

  How can they other doe, sith both are bold and blinde?

  X

  ‘Thou god of windes, that raignest in the seas,

  That raignest also in the continent,

  At last blow up some gentle gale of ease,

  The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent, 85

  Unto the gladsome port of her intent:

  Then, when I shall my selfe in safety see,

  A table, for eternall moniment

  Of thy great grace, and my great jeopardee,

  Great Neptune, I avow to hallow unto thee.’ 90

  XI

  Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe,

  She shut up all her plaint in privy griefe;

  For her great courage would not let her weepe;

  Till that old Glauce gan with sharpe repriefe

  Her to restraine, and give her good reliefe, 95

  Through hope of those which Merlin had her told

  Should of her name and nation be chiefe,

  And fetch their being from the sacred mould

  Of her immortall womb, to be in heaven enrold.

  XII

  Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde 100

  Where far away one, all in armour bright,

  With hasty gallop towards her did ryde:

  Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight

  Her helmet, to her courser mounting light:

  Her former sorrow into suddein wrath, 105

  Both coosen passions of distroubled spright,

  Converting, forth she beates the dusty path:

  Love and despight attonce her courage kindled hath.

  XIII

  As when a foggy mist hath overcast

  The face of heven, and the cleare ayre engroste, 110

  The world in darkenes dwels, till that at last

  The watry southwinde, from the seabord coste

  Upblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo’ste,

  And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre;

  So the fayre Britomart, having disclo’ste 115

  Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,

  The mist of griefe dissolv’d did into vengeance powre.

  XIV

  Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing fayre,

  That mortall speare she in her hand did take,

  And unto battaill did her selfe prepayre. 120

  The knight, approching, sternely her bespake:

  ‘Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make

  By this forbidden way in my despight,

  Ne doest by others death ensample take,

  I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might, 125

  Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.’

  XV

  Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat,

  She shortly thus: ‘Fly they, that need to fly;

  Wordes fearen babes: I meane not thee entreat

  To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy:’ 130

  Ne lenger stayd for th’ other to reply,

  But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne.

  Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily

  Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe

  Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her crown. 135

  XVI

  But she againe him in the shield did smite

  With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,

  That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite,

  And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce

  The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce: 140

  Him so transfixed she before her bore

  Beyond his croupe, th
e length of all her launce,

  Till, sadly soucing on the sandy shore,

  He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.

  XVII

  Like as the sacred oxe, that carelesse stands 145

  With gilden hornes and flowry girlonds crownd,

  Proud of his dying honor and deare bandes,

  Whiles th’ altars fume with frankincense arownd,

  All suddeinly with mortall stroke astownd,

  Doth groveling fall, and with his streaming gore 150

  Distaines the pillours and the holy grownd,

  And the faire flowres that decked him afore:

  So fell proud Marinell upon the pretious shore.

  XVIII

  The martiall mayd stayd not him to lament,

  But forward rode, and kept her ready way 155

  Along the strond; which as she over-went,

  She saw bestrowed all with rich aray

  Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,

  And all the gravell mixt with golden owre;

  Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay 160

  For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre,

  But them despised all, for all was in her powre.

  XIX

  Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment,

  Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare:

  His mother was the blacke-browd Cymoent, 165

  The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare

  This warlike sonne unto an earthly peare,

  The famous Dumarin; who on a day

  Finding the nymph a sleepe in secret wheare,

  As he by chaunce did wander that same way, 170

  Was taken with her love, and by her closely lay.

  XX

  There he this knight of her begot, whom borne

  She, of his father, Marinell did name,

  And in a rocky cave, as wight forlorne,

  Long time she fostred up, till he became 175

  A mighty man at armes, and mickle fame

  Did get through great adventures by him donne:

  For never man he suffred by that same

  Rich Strond to travell, whereas he did wonne,

  But that he must do battail with the sea-nymphes sonne. 180

  XXI

  An hundred knights of honorable name

  He had subdew’d, and them his vassals made,

  That through all Farie Lond his noble fame

  Now blazed was, and feare did all invade,

  That none durst passen through that perilous glade. 185

  And to advaunce his name and glory more,

  Her sea-god syre she dearely did perswade,

  T’ endow her sonne with threasure and rich store,

  Bove all the sonnes that were of earthly wombes ybore.

  XXII

  The god did graunt his daughters deare demaund, 190

  To doen his nephew in all riches flow:

  Eftsoones his heaped waves he did commaund

  Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw

  All the huge threasure, which the sea below

  Had in his greedy gulfe devoured deepe, 195

  And him enriched through the overthrow

  And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe

  And often wayle their wealth, which he from them did keepe.

  XXIII

  Shortly upon that shore there heaped was

  Exceeding riches and all pretious things, 200

  The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas

  The wealth of th’ East, and pompe of Persian kings:

  Gold, amber, yvorie, perles, owches, rings,

  And all that els was pretious and deare,

  The sea unto him voluntary brings, 205

  That shortly he a great lord did appeare,

  As was in all the lond of Faery, or else wheare.

  XXIV

  Thereto he was a doughty dreaded knight,

  Tryde often to the scath of many deare,

  That none in equall armes him matchen might: 210

  The which his mother seeing, gan to feare

  Least his too haughtie hardines might reare

  Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life:

  Forthy she oft him counseld to forbeare

  The bloody batteill, and to stirre up strife, 215

  But after all his warre to rest his wearie knife.

  XXV

  And, for his more assuraunce, she inquir’d

  One day of Proteus by his mighty spell

  (For Proteus was with prophecy inspir’d)

  Her deare sonnes destiny to her to tell, 220

  And the sad end of her sweet Marinell.

  Who, through foresight of his eternall skill,

  Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:

  For of a woman he should have much ill;

  A virgin straunge and stout him should dismay or kill. 225

  XXVI

  Forthy she gave him warning every day,

  The love of women not to entertaine;

  A lesson too too hard for living clay,

  From love in course of nature to refraine:

  Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine, 230

  And ever from fayre ladies love did fly;

  Yet many ladies fayre did oft complaine,

  That they for love of him would algates dy:

  Dy who so list for him, he was loves enimy.

  XXVII

  But ah! who can deceive his destiny, 235

  Or weene by warning to avoyd his fate?

  That, when he sleepes in most security

  And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate,

  And findeth dew effect or soone or late.

  So feeble is the powre of fleshly arme! 240

  His mother bad him wemens love to hate,

  For she of womans force did feare no harme;

  So weening to have arm’d him, she did quite disarme.

  XXVIII

  This was that woman, this that deadly wownd,

  That Proteus prophecide should him dismay, 245

  The which his mother vainely did expownd,

  To be hart-wownding love, which should assay

  To bring her sonne unto his last decay.

  So ticle be the termes of mortall state

  And full of subtile sophismes, which doe play 250

  With double sences, and with false debate,

  T’ approve the unknowen purpose of eternall fate.

  XXIX

  Too trew the famous Marinell it fownd,

  Who, through late triall, on that wealthy strond

  Inglorious now lies in sencelesse swownd, 255

  Through heavy stroke of Britomartis hond.

  Which when his mother deare did understond,

  And heavy tidings heard, whereas she playd

  Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,

  Gathering sweete daffadillyes, to have made 260

  Gay girlonds, from the sun their forheads fayr to shade,

  XXX

  Eftesoones both flowres and girlonds far away

  Shee flong, and her faire deawy locks yrent;

  To sorrow huge she turnd her former play,

  And gamesome merth to grievous dreriment: 265

  Shee threw her selfe downe on the continent,

  Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne,

  Whiles al her sisters did for her lament,

  With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne;

  And every one did teare her girlond from her crowne. 270

  XXXI

  Soone as shee up out of her deadly fitt

  Arose, shee bad her charett to be brought,

  And all her sisters, that with her did sitt,

  Bad eke attonce their charetts to be sought:

  Tho, full of bitter griefe and pensife thought, 275

  She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest,

  And forth together went, with sorow fraught.

 
The waves, obedient to theyr beheast,

  Them yielded ready passage, and their rage surceast.

  XXXII

  Great Neptune stoode amazed at their sight, 280

  Whiles on his broad rownd backe they softly slid,

  And eke him selfe mournd at their mournfull plight,

  Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did,

  For great compassion of their sorow, bid

  His mighty waters to them buxome bee: 285

  Eftesoones the roaring billowes still abid,

  And all the griesly monsters of the see

  Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see.

  XXXIII

  A teme of dolphins, raunged in aray,

  Drew the smooth charett of sad Cymoent; 290

  They were all taught by Triton to obay

  To the long raynes at her commaundement:

  As swifte as swallowes on the waves they went,

  That their brode flaggy finnes no fome did reare,

  Ne bubling rowndell they behinde them sent; 295

  The rest of other fishes drawen weare,

  Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare.

  XXXIV

  Soone as they bene arriv’d upon the brim

  Of the Rich Strond, their charets they forlore,

  And let their temed fishes softly swim 300

  Along the margent of the fomy shore,

  Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore

  Their tender feete upon the stony grownd:

  And comming to the place, where all in gore

  And cruddy blood enwallowed they fownd 305

  The lucklesse Marinell, lying in deadly swownd;

  XXXV

  His mother swowned thrise, and the third time

  Could scarce recovered bee out of her paine;

  Had she not beene devoide of mortall slime,

  Shee should not then have bene relyv’d againe; 310

  But soone as life recovered had the raine,

  Shee made so piteous mone and deare wayment,

  That the hard rocks could scarse from tears refraine,

  And all her sister nymphes with one consent

  Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement. 315

  XXXVI

  ‘Deare image of my selfe,’ she sayd, ‘that is,

  The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne,

  Is this thine high advauncement? O! is this

  Th’ immortall name, with which thee yet unborne

  Thy gransire Nereus promist to adorne? 320

  Now lyest thou of life and honor refte,

  Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,

  Ne of thy late life memory is lefte,

  Ne can thy irrevocable desteny bee wefte?

  XXXVII

  ‘Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis! 325

  And they more fond, that credit to thee give!

  Not this the worke of womans hand ywis,

  That so deepe wound through these deare members drive.