Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Withouten pleasure: ne her need implore

  Lucinaes aide: which when they both perceiv’d,

  They were through wonder nigh of sence berev’d,

  And gazing each on other, nought bespake: 240

  At last they both agreed, her seeming griev’d

  Out of her heavie swowne not to awake,

  But from her loving side the tender babes to take.

  XXVIII

  Up they them tooke, eachone a babe uptooke,

  And with them carried, to be fostered: 245

  Dame Phæbe to a nymphe her babe betooke,

  To be upbrought in perfect maydenhed,

  And, of her selfe, her name Belphœbe red:

  But Venus hers thence far away convayd,

  To be upbrought in goodly womanhed, 250

  And in her litle Loves stead, which was strayd,

  Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dismayd.

  XXIX

  Shee brought her to her joyous paradize,

  Wher most she wonnes, when she on earth does dwell:

  So faire a place as Nature can devize: 255

  Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill,

  Or it in Gnidus bee, I wote not well;

  But well I wote by triall, that this same

  All other pleasaunt places doth excell,

  And called is by her lost lovers name, 260

  The Gardin of Adonis, far renowmd by fame.

  XXX

  In that same gardin all the goodly flowres,

  Wherewith Dame Nature doth her beautify,

  And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,

  Are fetcht: there is the first seminary 265

  Of all things that are borne to live and dye,

  According to their kynds. Long worke it were,

  Here to account the endlesse progeny

  Of all the weeds that bud and blossome there;

  But so much as doth need must needs be counted here. 270

  XXXI

  It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old,

  And girt in with two walls on either side,

  The one of yron, the other of bright gold,

  That none might thorough breake, nor overstride:

  And double gates it had, which opened wide, 275

  By which both in and out men moten pas;

  Th’ one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:

  Old Genius the porter of them was,

  Old Genius, the which a double nature has.

  XXXII

  He letteth in, he letteth out to wend, 280

  All that to come into the world desire:

  A thousand thousand naked babes attend

  About him day and night, which doe require

  That he with fleshly weeds would them attire:

  Such as him list, such as eternall Fate 285

  Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,

  And sendeth forth to live in mortall state,

  Till they agayn returne backe by the hinder gate.

  XXXIII

  After that they againe retourned beene,

  They in that gardin planted bee agayne, 290

  And grow afresh, as they had never seene

  Fleshly corruption nor mortall payne.

  Some thousand yeares so doen they there remayne,

  And then of him are clad with other hew,

  Or sent into the chaungefull world agayne, 295

  Till thether they retourne, where first they grew:

  So like a wheele arownd they ronne from old to new.

  XXXIV

  Ne needs there gardiner to sett or sow,

  To plant or prune: for of their owne accord

  All things, as they created were, doe grow, 300

  And yet remember well the mighty word,

  Which first was spoken by th’ Almighty Lord,

  That bad them to increase and multiply:

  Ne doe they need with water of the ford

  Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry; 305

  For in themselves eternall moisture they imply.

  XXXV

  Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred,

  And uncouth formes, which none yet ever knew;

  And every sort is in a sondry bed

  Sett by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew: 310

  Some fitt for reasonable sowles t’ indew,

  Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,

  And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew

  In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,

  That seemd the ocean could not containe them there. 315

  XXXVI

  Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent

  Into the world, it to replenish more;

  Yet is the stocke not lessened nor spent,

  But still remaines in everlasting store,

  As it at first created was of yore: 320

  For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,

  In hatefull darknes and in deepe horrore,

  An huge eternal chaos, which supplyes

  The substaunces of Natures fruitfull progenyes.

  XXXVII

  All things from thence doe their first being fetch, 325

  And borrow matter whereof they are made,

  Which, whenas forme and feature it does ketch,

  Becomes a body, and doth then invade

  The state of life out of the griesly shade.

  That substaunce is eterne, and bideth so, 330

  Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,

  Doth it consume and into nothing goe,

  But chaunged is, and often altred to and froe.

  XXXVIII

  The substaunce is not chaungd nor altered,

  But th’ only forme and outward fashion; 335

  For every substaunce is conditioned

  To chaunge her hew, and sondry formes to don,

  Meet for her temper and complexion:

  For formes are variable, and decay

  By course of kinde and by occasion; 340

  And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,

  As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

  XXXIX

  Great enimy to it, and to all the rest,

  That in the Gardin of Adonis springs,

  Is wicked Tyme, who, with his scyth addrest, 345

  Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things,

  And all their glory to the ground downe flings,

  Where they do wither and are fowly mard:

  He flyes about, and with his flaggy winges

  Beates downe both leaves and buds without regard, 350

  Ne ever pitty may relent his malice hard.

  XL

  Yet pitty often did the gods relent,

  To see so faire thinges mard and spoiled quight:

  And their great mother Venus did lament

  The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight: 355

  Her hart was pierst with pitty at the sight,

  When walking through the gardin them she saw,

  Yet no’te she find redresse for such despight:

  For all that lives is subject to that law:

  All things decay in time, and to their end doe draw. 360

  XLI

  But were it not, that Time their troubler is,

  All that in this delightfull gardin growes

  Should happy bee, and have immortall blis:

  For here all plenty and all pleasure flowes,

  And sweete Love gentle fitts emongst them throwes, 365

  Without fell rancor or fond gealosy:

  Franckly each paramor his leman knowes,

  Each bird his mate, ne any does envy

  Their goodly meriment and gay felicity.

  XLII

  There is continuall spring, and harvest there 370

  Continuall, both meeting at one tyme:

  For both the boughes doe laughing blossoms beare,

  And with fresh colours decke the wanton pryme,<
br />
  And eke attonce the heavy trees they clyme,

  Which seeme to labour under their fruites lode: 375

  The whiles the joyous birdes make their pastyme

  Emongst the shady leaves, their sweet abode,

  And their trew loves without suspition tell abrode.

  XLIII

  Right in the middest of that paradise

  There stood a stately mount, on whose round top 380

  A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise,

  Whose shady boughes sharp steele did never lop,

  Nor wicked beastes their tender buds did crop,

  But like a girlond compassed the hight,

  And from their fruitfull sydes sweet gum did drop, 385

  That all the ground, with pretious deaw bedight,

  Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet delight.

  XLIV

  And in the thickest covert of that shade

  There was a pleasaunt arber, not by art,

  But of the trees owne inclination made, 390

  Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,

  With wanton yvie twyne entrayld athwart,

  And eglantine and caprifole emong,

  Fashiond above within their inmost part,

  That nether Phoebus beams could through them throng, 395

  Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong.

  XLV

  And all about grew every sort of flowre,

  To which sad lovers were transformde of yore;

  Fresh Hyacinthus, Phœbus paramoure

  And dearest love, 400

  Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watry shore,

  Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late,

  Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore

  Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate,

  To whom sweet poets verse hath given endlesse date. 405

  XLVI

  There wont fayre Venus often to enjoy

  Her deare Adonis joyous company,

  And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy:

  There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,

  Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery, 410

  By her hid from the world, and from the skill

  Of Stygian gods, which doe her love envy;

  But she her selfe, when ever that she will,

  Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.

  XLVII

  And sooth, it seemes, they say: for he may not 415

  For ever dye, and ever buried bee

  In balefull night, where all thinges are forgot;

  All be he subject to mortalitie,

  Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

  And by succession made perpetuall, 420

  Transformed oft, and chaunged diverslie:

  For him the father of all formes they call;

  Therfore needs mote he live, that living gives to all.

  XLVIII

  There now he liveth in eternall blis,

  Joying his goddesse, and of her enjoyd: 425

  Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,

  Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:

  For that wilde bore, the which him once annoyd,

  She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,

  That her sweet love his malice mote avoyd, 430

  In a strong rocky cave, which is, they say,

  Hewen underneath that mount, that none him losen may.

  XLIX

  There now he lives in everlasting joy,

  With many of the gods in company,

  Which thether haunt, and with the winged boy 435

  Sporting him selfe in safe felicity:

  Who, when he hath with spoiles and cruelty

  Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts

  Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,

  Thether resortes, and laying his sad dartes 440

  Asyde, with faire Adonis playes his wanton partes.

  L

  And his trew love, faire Psyche, with him playes,

  Fayre Psyche to him lately reconcyld,

  After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes,

  With which his mother Venus her revyld, 445

  And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:

  But now in stedfast love and happy state

  She with him lives, and hath him borne a chyld,

  Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,

  Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late. 450

  LI

  Hether great Venus brought this infant fayre,

  The yonger daughter of Chrysogonee,

  And unto Psyche with great trust and care

  Committed her, yfostered to bee,

  And trained up in trew feminitee: 455

  Who no lesse carefully her tendered

  Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee

  Made her companion, and her lessoned

  In all the lore of love and goodly womanhead.

  LII

  In which when she to perfect ripenes grew, 460

  Of grace and beautie noble paragone,

  She brought her forth into the worldes vew,

  To be th’ ensample of true love alone,

  And lodestarre of all chaste affection

  To all fayre ladies, that doe live on grownd. 465

  To Faery court she came, where many one

  Admyrd her goodly haveour, and fownd

  His feeble hart wide launched with loves cruel wownd.

  LIII

  But she to none of them her love did cast,

  Save to the noble knight, Sir Scudamore, 470

  To whom her loving hart she linked fast

  In faithfull love, t’ abide for evermore,

  And for his dearest sake endured sore,

  Sore trouble of an hainous enimy,

  Who her would forced have to have forlore 475

  Her former love and stedfast loialty,

  As ye may elswhere reade that ruefull history.

  LIV

  But well I weene ye first desire to learne

  What end unto that fearefull damozell,

  Which fledd so fast from that same foster stearne, 480

  Whom with his brethren Timias slew, befell:

  That was, to weet, the goodly Florimell,

  Who, wandring for to seeke her lover deare,

  Her lover deare, her dearest Marinell,

  Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare, 485

  And from Prince Arthure fled with wings of idle feare.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto VII

  The witches sonne loves Florimell:

  She flyes, he faines to dy.

  Satyrane saves the Squyre of Dames

  From gyaunts tyranny.

  I

  LIKE as an hynd forth singled from the heard,

  That hath escaped from a ravenous beast,

  Yet flyes away of her owne feete afeard,

  And every leafe, that shaketh with the least

  Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast; 5

  So fledd fayre Florimell from her vaine feare,

  Long after she from perill was releast:

  Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did heare,

  Did seeme to be the same which she escapt whileare.

  II

  All that same evening she in flying spent, 10

  And all that night her course continewed:

  Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent,

  Nor wearinesse to slack her hast, but fled

  Ever alike, as if her former dred

  Were hard behind, her ready to arrest: 15

  And her white palfrey, having conquered

  The maistring raines out of her weary wrest,

  Perforce her carried where ever he thought best.

  III

  So long as breath and hable puissaunce

  Did native corage unto him supply, 20
<
br />   His pace he freshly forward did advaunce,

  And carried her beyond all jeopardy;

  But nought that wanteth rest can long aby:

  He, having through incessant traveill spent

  His force, at last perforce adowne did ly, 25

  Ne foot could further move. The lady gent

  Thereat was suddein strook with great astonishment;

  IV

  And forst t’ alight, on foot mote algates fare,

  A traveiler unwonted to such way:

  Need teacher her this lesson hard and rare, 30

  That Fortune all in equall launce doth sway,

  And mortall miseries doth make her play.

  So long she traveild, till at length she came

  To an hilles side, which did to her bewray

  A litle valley, subject to the same, 35

  All coverd with thick woodes, that quite it overcame.

  V

  Through the tops of the high trees she did descry

  A litle smoke, whose vapour him and light,

  Reeking aloft, uprolled to the sky:

  Which chearefull signe did send unto her sight 40

  That in the same did wonne some living wight.

  Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyd,

  And came at last, in weary wretched plight,

  Unto the place, to which her hope did guyde,

  To finde some refuge there, and rest her wearie syde. 45

  VI

  There in a gloomy hollow glen she found

  A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes

  In homely wize, and wald with sods around,

  In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes,

  And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes; 50

  So choosing solitarie to abide,

  Far from all neighbours, that her divelish deedes

  And hellish arts from people she might hide,

  And hurt far off unknowne whom ever she envide.

  VII

  The damzell there arriving entred in; 55

  Where sitting on the flore the hag she found,

  Busie (as seem’d) about some wicked gin:

  Who, soone as she beheld that suddein stound,

  Lightly upstarted from the dustie ground,

  And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze 60

  Stared on her awhile, as one astound,

  Ne had one word to speake, for great amaze,

  But shewd by outward signes that dread her sence did daze.

  VIII

  At last, turning her feare to foolish wrath,

  She askt, what devill had her thether brought, 65

  And who she was, and what unwonted path

  Had guided her, unwelcomed, unsought.

  To which the damzell, full of doubtfull thought,

  Her mildly answer’d: ‘Beldame, be not wroth

  With silly virgin, by adventure brought 70

  Unto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,

  That crave but rowme to rest, while tempest overblo’th.’