Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

With weary pace, he far away espide

  A couple, seeming well to be his twaine,

  Which hoved close under a forest side,

  As if they lay in wait, or els them selves did hide. 180

  XXI

  Well weened hee that those the same mote bee,

  And as he better did their shape avize,

  Him seemed more their maner did agree;

  For th’ one was armed all in warlike wize,

  Whom to be Paridell he did devize; 185

  And th’ other, al yclad in garments light,

  Discolourd like to womanish disguise,

  He did resemble to his lady bright,

  And ever his faint hart much earned at the sight.

  XXII

  And ever faine he towards them would goe, 190

  But yet durst not for dread approchen nie,

  But stood aloofe, unweeting what to doe,

  Till that prickt forth with loves extremity,

  That is the father of fowle gealosy,

  He closely nearer crept, the truth to weet: 195

  But, as he nigher drew, he easily

  Might scerne that it was not his sweetest sweet,

  Ne yet her belamour, the partner of his sheet.

  XXIII

  But it was scornefull Braggadochio,

  That with his servant Trompart hoverd there, 200

  Sith late he fled from his too earnest foe:

  Whom such whenas Malbecco spyed clere,

  He turned backe, and would have fled arere;

  Till Trompart ronning hastely, him did stay,

  And bad before his soveraine lord appere: 205

  That was him loth, yet durst he not gainesay,

  And comming him before, low louted on the lay.

  XXIV

  The boaster at him sternely bent his browe,

  As if he could have kild him with his looke,

  That to the ground him meekely made to bowe, 210

  And awfull terror deepe into him strooke,

  That every member of his body quooke.

  Said he, ‘Thou man of nought, what doest thou here,

  Unfitly furnisht with thy bag and booke,

  Where I expected one with shield and spere, 215

  To prove some deeds of armes upon an equall pere?’

  XXV

  The wretched man at his imperious speach

  Was all abasht, and low prostrating, said:

  ‘Good sir, let not my rudenes be no breach

  Unto your patience, ne be ill ypaid; 220

  For I unwares this way by fortune straid,

  A silly pilgrim driven to distresse,

  That seeke a lady—’ There he suddein staid,

  And did the rest with grievous sighes suppresse,

  While teares stood in his eies, few drops of bitternesse. 225

  XXVI

  ‘What lady, man?’ said Trompart. ‘Take good hart,

  And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye:

  Was never better time to shew thy smart

  Then now that noble succor is thee by,

  That is the whole worlds commune remedy.’ 230

  That chearful word his weak heart much did cheare,

  And with vaine hope his spirits faint supply,

  That bold he sayd: ‘O most redoubted pere,

  Vouchsafe with mild regard a wretches cace to heare.’

  XXVII

  Then sighing sore, ‘It is not long,’ saide hee, 235

  ‘Sith I enjoyd the gentlest dame alive;

  Of whom a knight, no knight at all perdee,

  But shame of all that doe for honor strive,

  By treacherous deceipt did me deprive;

  Through open outrage he her bore away, 240

  And with fowle force unto his will did drive,

  Which al good knights, that armes do bear this day,

  Are bownd for to revenge and punish if they may.

  XXVIII

  ‘And you, most noble lord, that can and dare

  Redresse the wrong of miserable wight, 245

  Cannot employ your most victorious speare

  In better quarell then defence of right,

  And for a lady gainst a faithlesse knight:

  So shall your glory bee advaunced much,

  And all faire ladies magnify your might, 250

  And eke my selfe, albee I simple such,

  Your worthy paine shall wel reward with guerdon rich.’

  XXIX

  With that out of his bouget forth he drew

  Great store of treasure, therewith him to tempt;

  But he on it lookt scornefully askew, 255

  As much disdeigning to be so misdempt,

  Or a war-monger to be basely nempt;

  And sayd: ‘Thy offers base I greatly loth,

  And eke thy words uncourteous and unkempt:

  I tread in dust thee and thy money both, 260

  That, were it not for shame—’ So turned from him wroth.

  XXX

  But Trompart, that his maistres humor knew,

  In lofty looks to hide an humble minde,

  Was inly tickled with that golden vew,

  And in his eare him rownded close behinde: 265

  Yet stoupt he not, but lay still in the winde,

  Waiting advauntage on the pray to sease;

  Till Trompart, lowly to the grownd inclinde,

  Besought him his great corage to appease,

  And pardon simple man, that rash did him displease. 270

  XXXI

  Big looking like a doughty doucepere,

  At last he thus: ‘Thou clod of vilest clay,

  I pardon yield, and with thy rudenes beare;

  But weete henceforth, that all that golden pray,

  And all that els the vaine world vaunten may, 275

  I loath as doung, ne deeme my dew reward:

  Fame is my meed, and glory vertues pay:

  But minds of mortal men are muchell mard

  And mov’d amisse with massy mucks unmeet regard.

  XXXII

  ‘And more, I graunt to thy great misery 280

  Gratious respect; thy wife shall backe be sent,

  And that vile knight, who ever that he bee,

  Which hath thy lady reft, and knighthood shent,

  By Sanglamort my sword, whose deadly dent

  The blood hath of so many thousands shedd, 285

  I sweare, ere long shall dearly it repent;

  Ne he twixt heven and earth shall hide his hedd,

  But soone he shalbe fownd, and shortly doen be dedd.’

  XXXIII

  The foolish man thereat woxe wondrous blith,

  As if the word so spoken were halfe donne, 290

  And humbly thanked him a thousand sith,

  That had from death to life him newly wonne.

  Tho forth the boaster marching, brave begonne

  His stolen steed to thunder furiously,

  As if he heaven and hell would overonne, 295

  And all the world confound with cruelty,

  That much Malbecco joyed in his jollity.

  XXXIV

  Thus long they three together traveiled,

  Through many a wood and many an uncouth way,

  To seeke his wife, that was far wandered: 300

  But those two sought nought but the present pray,

  To weete, the treasure which he did bewray,

  On which their eies and harts were wholly sett,

  With purpose how they might it best betray;

  For sith the howre that first he did them lett 305

  The same behold, therwith their keene desires were whett.

  XXXV

  It fortuned, as they together far’d,

  They spide, where Paridell came pricking fast

  Upon the plaine, the which him selfe prepar’d

  To giust with that brave straunger knight a cast, 310

  As on adventure by the way he past:

  Alone he rode
without his paragone;

  For having filcht her bells, her up he cast

  To the wide world, and let her fly alone;

  He nould be clogd. So had he served many one. 315

  XXXVI

  The gentle lady, loose at randon lefte,

  The greene-wood long did walke, and wander wide

  At wilde adventure, like a forlorne wefte,

  Till on a day the Satyres her espide

  Straying alone withouten groome or guide: 320

  Her up they tooke, and with them home her ledd,

  With them as housewife ever to abide,

  To milk their gotes, and make them cheese and bredd,

  And every one as commune good her handeled:

  XXXVII

  That shortly she Malbecco has forgott, 325

  And eke Sir Paridell, all were he deare;

  Who from her went to seeke another lott,

  And now by fortune was arrived here,

  Where those two guilers with Malbecco were.

  Soone as the oldman saw Sir Paridell, 330

  He fainted, and was almost dead with feare,

  Ne word he had to speake, his griefe to tell,

  But to him louted low, and greeted goodly well;

  XXXVIII

  And after asked him for Hellenore.

  ‘I take no keepe of her,’ sayd Paridell, 335

  ‘She wonneth in the forrest there before.’

  So forth he rode, as his adventure fell;

  The whiles the boaster from his loftie sell

  Faynd to alight, something amisse to mend;

  But the fresh swayne would not his leasure dwell, 340

  But went his way; whom when he passed kend,

  He up remounted light, and after faind to wend.

  XXXIX

  ‘Perdy nay,’ said Malbecco, ‘shall ye not:

  But let him passe as lightly as he came:

  For litle good of him is to be got, 345

  And mickle perill to bee put to shame.

  But let us goe to seeke my dearest dame,

  Whom he hath left in yonder forest wyld:

  For of her safety in great doubt I ame,

  Least salvage beastes her person have despoyld: 350

  Then all the world is lost, and we in vaine have toyld.’

  XL

  They all agree, and forward them addrest:

  ‘Ah! but,’ said crafty Trompart, ‘weete ye well,

  That yonder in that wastefull wildernesse

  Huge monsters haunt, and many dangers dwell; 355

  Dragons, and minotaures, and feendes of hell,

  And many wilde woodmen, which robbe and rend

  All traveilers; therefore advise ye well,

  Before ye enterprise that way to wend:

  One may his journey bring too soone to evill end.’ 360

  XLI

  Malbecco stopt in great astonishment,

  And with pale eyes fast fixed on the rest,

  Their counsell crav’d, in daunger imminent.

  Said Trompart: ‘You, that are the most opprest

  With burdein of great treasure, I thinke best 365

  Here for to stay in safetie behynd;

  My lord and I will search the wide forest.’

  That counsell pleased not Malbeccoes mynd;

  For he was much afraid, him selfe alone to fynd.

  XLII

  ‘Then is it best,’ said he, ‘that ye doe leave 370

  Your treasure here in some security,

  Either fast closed in some hollow greave,

  Or buried in the ground from jeopardy,

  Till we returne againe in safety:

  As for us two, least doubt of us ye have, 375

  Hence farre away we will blyndfolded ly,

  Ne privy bee unto your treasures grave.’

  It pleased: so he did. Then they march forward brave.

  XLIII

  Now when amid the thickest woodes they were,

  They heard a noyse of many bagpipes shrill, 380

  And shrieking hububs them approching nere,

  Which all the forest did with horrour fill:

  That dreadfull sound the bosters hart did thrill

  With such amazment, that in hast he fledd,

  Ne ever looked back for good or ill, 385

  And after him eke fearefull Trompart spedd;

  The old man could not fly, but fell to ground half dedd.

  XLIV

  Yet afterwardes close creeping as he might,

  He in a bush did hyde his fearefull hedd.

  The jolly Satyres, full of fresh delight, 390

  Came dauncing forth, and with them nimbly ledd

  Faire Helenore, with girlonds all bespredd,

  Whom their May-lady they had newly made:

  She, proude of that new honour which they redd,

  And of their lovely fellowship full glade, 395

  Daunst lively, and her face did with a lawrell shade.

  XLV

  The silly man that in the thickeet lay

  Saw all this goodly sport, and grieved sore,

  Yet durst he not against it doe or say,

  But did his hart with bitter thoughts engore, 400

  To see th’ unkindnes of his Hellenore.

  All day they daunced with great lustyhedd,

  And with their horned feet the greene gras wore,

  The whiles their gotes upon the brouzes fedd,

  Till drouping Phœbus gan to hyde his golden hedd. 405

  XLVI

  Tho up they gan their mery pypes to trusse,

  And all their goodly heardes did gather rownd,

  But every Satyre first did give a busse

  To Hellenore: so busses did abound.

  Now gan the humid vapour shed the grownd 410

  With perly deaw, and th’ earthes gloomy shade

  Did dim the brightnesse of the welkin rownd,

  That every bird and beast awarned made

  To shrowd themselves, whiles sleepe their sences did invade.

  XLVII

  Which when Malbecco saw, out of his bush 415

  Upon his hands and feete he crept full light,

  And like a gote emongst the gotes did rush,

  That through the helpe of his faire hornes on hight,

  And misty dampe of misconceyving night,

  And eke through likenesse of his gotish beard, 420

  He did the better counterfeite aright:

  So home he marcht emongst the horned heard.

  That none of all the Satyres him espyde or heard.

  XLVIII

  At night, when all they went to sleepe, he vewd

  Whereas his lovely wife emongst them lay, 425

  Embraced of a Satyre rough and rude,

  Who all the night did minde his joyous play:

  Nine times he heard him come aloft ere day,

  That all his hart with gealosy did swell;

  But yet that nights ensample did swell; 430

  That not for nought his wife them loved so well,

  When one so oft a night did ring his matins bell.

  XLIX

  So closely as he could, he to them crept,

  When wearie of their sport to sleepe they fell,

  And to his wife, that now full soundly slept, 435

  He whispered in her eare, and did her tell,

  That it was he, which by her side did dwell,

  And therefore prayd her wake, to heare him plaine.

  As one out of a dreame not waked well,

  She turnd her, and returned backe againe: 440

  Yet her for to awake he did the more constraine.

  L

  At last with irkesom trouble she abrayd;

  And then perceiving, that it was indeed

  Her old Malbecco, which did her upbrayd

  With loosenesse of her love and loathly deed, 445

  She was astonisht with exceeding dreed,

  And would have wakt the Satyre
by her syde;

  But he her prayd, for mercy or for meed,

  To save his life, ne let him be descryde,

  But hearken to his lore, and all his counsell hyde. 450

  LI

  Tho gan he her perswade to leave that lewd

  And loathsom life, of God and man abhord,

  And home returne, where all should be renewd

  With prefect peace and bandes of fresh accord,

  And she received againe to bed and bord, 455

  As if no trespas ever had beene donne:

  But she it all refused at one word,

  And by no meanes would to his will be wonne,

  But chose emongst the jolly Satyres still to wonne.

  LII

  He wooed her till day spring he espyde; 460

  But all in vaine: and then turnd to the heard,

  Who butted him with hornes on every syde,

  And trode downe in the durst, where his hore beard

  Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard.

  Early, before the heavens fairest light 465

  Out of the ruddy east was fully reard,

  The heardes out of their foldes were loosed quight,

  And he emongst the rest crept forth in sory plight.

  LIII

  So soone as he the prison dore did pas,

  He ran as fast as both his feet could beare, 470

  And never looked who behind him was,

  Ne scarsely who before: like as a beare,

  That creeping close, amongst the hives to reare

  An hony combe, the wakefull full dogs espy,

  And him assayling, sore his carkas teare, 475

  That hardly he with life away does fly,

  Ne stayes, till safe him selfe he see from jeopardy.

  LIV

  Ne stayd he, till he came unto the place,

  Where late his treasure he entombed had;

  Where when he found it not (for Trompart bace 480

  Had it purloyned for his maister bad)

  With extreme fury he became quite mad,

  And ran away, ran with him selfe away:

  That who so straungely had him seene bestadd,

  With upstart haire and staring eyes dismay, 485

  From Limbo lake him late escaped sure would say.

  LV

  High over hilles and over dales he fledd,

  As if the wind him on his winges had borne,

  Ne bancke nor bush could stay him, when he spedd

  His nimble feet, as treading still on thorne: 490

  Griefe, and despight, and gealosy, and scorne

  Did all the way him follow hard behynd,

  And he himselfe himselfe loath’d so forlorne,

  So shamefully forlorne of womankynd;

  That, as a snake, still lurked in his wounded mynd. 495

  LVI

  Still fled he forward, looking backward still,

  Ne stayd his flight, nor fearefull agony,

  Till that he came unto a rocky hill,

  Over the sea suspended dreadfully,