Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  For whom he could not kill he practizd to entrap.

  XII

  Next him was Feare, all arm’d from top to toe, 100

  Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby,

  But feard each shadow moving too or froe,

  And his owne armes when glittering he did spy,

  Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,

  As ashes pale of hew, and wingyheeld; 105

  And evermore on Daunger fixt his eye,

  Gainst whom he alwayes bent a brasen shield,

  Which his right hand unarmed fearefully did wield.

  XIII

  With him went Hope in rancke, a handsome mayd,

  Of chearefull looke and lovely to behold; 110

  In silken samite she was light arayd,

  And her fayre lockes were woven up in gold;

  She alway smyld, and in her hand did hold

  An holy water sprinckle, dipt in deowe,

  With which she sprinckled facours mainfold 115

  On whom she list, and did great liking sheowe,

  Great liking unto many, but true love of feowe.

  XIV

  And after them Dissemblaunce and Suspect

  Marcht in one rancke, yet an unequall paire:

  For she was gentle and of milde aspect, 120

  Courteous to all and seeming debonaire,

  Goodly adorned and exceeding faire:

  Yet was that all but paynted and pourloynd,

  And her bright browes were deckt with borrowed haire:

  Her deeds were forged, and her words false coynd, 125

  And alwaies in her hand two clewes of silke she twynd.

  XV

  But he was fowle, ill favoured, and grim,

  Under his eiebrowes looking still askaunce;

  And ever as Dissemblaunce laught on him,

  He lowrd on her with daungerous eyeglaunce, 130

  Shewing his nature in his countenaunce;

  His rolling eies did never rest in place,

  But walkte each where, for feare of hid mischaunce;

  Holding a lattis still before his face,

  Through which he stil did peep, as forward he did pace. 135

  XVI

  Next him went Griefe and Fury matcht yfere;

  Griefe all in sable sorrowfully clad,

  Downe hanging his dull head, with heavy chere,

  Yet inly being more then seeming sad:

  A paire of pincers in his hand he had, 140

  With which he pincers people to the hart,

  That from thenceforth a wretched life they ladd,

  In wilfull langnor and consuming smart,

  Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart.

  XVII

  But Fury was full ill appareiled 145

  In rags, that naked nigh she did appeare,

  With ghastly looks and dreadfull drerihed;

  For from her backe her garments she did teare,

  And from her head ofte rent her snarled heare:

  In her right hand a firebrand shee did tosse 150

  About her head, still roming here and there;

  As a dismayed deare in chace embost,

  Forgetfull of his safety, hath his right way lost.

  XVIII

  After them went Displeasure and Pleasaunce,

  He looking lompish and full sullein sad, 155

  And hanging downe his heavy countenaunce;

  She chearfull fresh and full of joyaunce glad,

  As if no sorrow she ne felt ne drad;

  That evill matched paire they seemd to bee:

  An angry waspe th’ one in a viall had, 160

  Th’ other in hers an hony-laden bee.

  Thus marched these six couples forth in faire degree.

  XIX

  After all these there marcht a most faire dame,

  Led of two grysie villeins, th’ one Despight,

  The other cleped Cruelty by name: 165

  She, dolefull lady, like a dreary spright

  Cald by strong charmes out of eternall night,

  Had deathes owne ymage figurd in her face,

  Full of sad signes, fearfull to living sight,

  Yet in that horror shewd a seemely grace, 170

  And with her feeble feete did move a comely pace.

  XX

  Her brest all naked, as nett yvory,

  Without adorne of gold or silver bright,

  Wherewith the craftesman wonts it beautify,

  Of her dew honour was despoyled quight, 175

  And a wide wound therein (O ruefull sight!)

  Entrenched deep with knyfe accursed keene,

  Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting spright,

  (The worke of cruell hand) was to be seene,

  That dyde in sanguine red her skin all snowy cleene. 180

  XXI

  At that wide orifice her trembling hart

  Was drawne forth, and in silver basin layd,

  Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart,

  And in her blood yet steeming fresh embayd:

  And those two villeins, which her steps upstayd, 185

  When her weake feete could scarcely her sustaine,

  And fading vitall powers gan to fade,

  Her forward still with torture did constraine,

  And evermore encreased her consuming paine.

  XXII

  Next after her, the Winged God him selfe 190

  Came riding on a lion ravenous,

  Taught to obay the menage of that elfe,

  That man and beast with powre imperious

  Subdeweth to his kingdome tyrannous:

  His blindfold eies he bad a while unbinde, 195

  That his proud spoile of that same dolorous

  Faire dame he might behold in perfect kinde,

  Which seene, he much rejoyced in his cruell minde.

  XXIII

  Of which ful prowd, him selfe up rearing hye,

  He looked round about with sterne disdayne, 200

  And did survay his goodly company:

  And marshalling the evill ordered traync,

  With that the darts which his right hand did straine

  Full dreadfully he shooke, that all did quake,

  And clapt on hye his coulourd winges twaine, 205

  That all his many it affraide did make:

  Tho, blinding him againe, his way he forth did take.

  XXIV

  Behind him was Reproch, Repentaunce, Shame;

  Reproch the first, Shame next, Repent behinde:

  Repentaunce feeble, sorowfull, and lame; 210

  Reproch despightful, carelesse, and unkinde;

  Shame most ill favourd, bestiall, and blinde:

  Shame lowrd, Repentaunce sigh’d, Reproch did scould;

  Reproch sharpe stings, Repentaunce whips entwinde,

  Shame burning brond-yrons in her hand did hold: 215

  All three to each unlike, yet all made in one mould.

  XXV

  And after them a rude confused rout

  Of persons flockt, whose names is hard to read:

  Emongst them was sterne Strife, and Anger stout,

  Unquiet Care, and fond Unthriftyhead, 220

  Lewd Losse of Time, and Sorrow seeming dead,

  Inconstant Chaunge, and false Disloyalty,

  Consuming Riotise, and guilty Dread

  Of Heavenly Vengeaunce, faint Infirmity,

  Vile Poverty, and lastly Death with Infamy. 225

  XXVI

  There were full many moe like maladies,

  Whose names and natures I note readen well;

  So many moe, as there be phantasies

  In wavering wemens witt, that none can tell,

  Or paines in love, or punishments in hell; 230

  All which disguized marcht in masking wise

  About the chamber with that damozell,

  And then returned, having marched thrise,

  Into the inner rowme, from whenc
e they first did rise.

  XXVII

  So soone as they were in, the dore streight way 235

  Fast locked, driven with that stormy blast

  Which first it opened; and bore all away.

  Then the brave maid, which al this while was plast

  In secret shade, and saw both first and last,

  Issewed forth, and went unto the dore, 240

  To enter in, but fownd it locked fast:

  It vaine she thought with rigorous uprore

  For to efforce, when charmes had closed it afore.

  XXVIII

  Where force might not availe, there sleights and art

  She cast to use, both fitt for hard emprize: 245

  Forthy from that same rowme not to depart

  Till morrow next shee did her selfe avize,

  When that same maske againe should forth arize.

  The morrowe next appeard with joyous cheare,

  Calling men to their daily exercize: 250

  Then she, as morrow fresh, her selfe did reare

  Out of her secret stand, that day for to outweare.

  XXIX

  All that day she outwore in wandering,

  And gazing on that chambers ornament,

  Till that againe the second evening 255

  Her covered with her sable vestiment,

  Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she hath blent:

  Then, when the second watch was almost past,

  That brasen dore flew open, and in went

  Bold Britomart, as she had late forecast, 260

  Nether of ydle showes nor of false charmes aghast.

  XXX

  So soone as she was entred, rownd about

  Shee cast her eies, to see what was become

  Of all those persons which she saw without:

  But lo! they streight were vanisht all and some, 265

  Ne living wight she saw in all that roome,

  Save that same woefull lady, both whose hands

  Were bounden fast, that did her ill become,

  And her small waste girt rownd with yron bands,

  Unto a brasen pillour, by the which stands. 270

  XXXI

  And her before, the vile enchaunter sate,

  Figuring straunge characters of his art:

  With living blood he those characters wrate,

  Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,

  Seeming transfixed with a cruell dart; 275

  And all perforce to make her him to love.

  Ah! who can love the worker of her smart?

  A thousand charmes he formerly did prove;

  Yet thousand charmes not her stedfast hart remove.

  XXXII

  Soone as that virgin knight he saw in place, 280

  His wicked bookes in hast he overthrew,

  Not caring his long labours to deface;

  And fiercely running to that lady trew,

  A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew,

  The which he thought, for villeinous despight, 285

  In her tormented bodie to embre:

  But the stout damzell to him leaping light,

  His cursed hand withheld, and maistered his might.

  XXXIII

  From her, to whom his fury first he ment,

  The wicked weapon rashly he did wrest, 290

  And turning to herselfe his fell intent,

  Unwares it strooke into her snowie chest,

  That litle drops empurpled her faire brest.

  Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin grew,

  Albe the wound were nothing deepe imprest, 295

  And fiercely forth her mortall blade she drew,

  To give him the reward for such vile outrage dew.

  XXXIV

  So mightily she smote him, that to ground

  He fell halfe dead; next stroke him should have slain,

  Had not the lady, which by him stood bound, 300

  Dernly unto her called to abstaine

  From doing him to dy; for else her paine

  Should be remedilesse, sith none but hee,

  Which wrought it, could the same recure againe.

  Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd to bee; 305

  For life she him envyde, and long’d revenge to see:

  XXXV

  And to him said: ‘Thou wicked man! whose meed

  For so huge mischiefe and vile villany

  Is death, or if that ought doe death exceed,

  Be sure that nought may save thee from to dy, 310

  But if that thou this dame doe presently

  Restore unto her health and former state;

  This doe and live, els dye undoubtedly.’

  He, glad of life, that right willing to prolong his date:

  Did yield him selfe right willing to prolong his date: 315

  XXXVI

  And rising up, gan streight to overlooke

  Those cursed leaves, his charmes back to reverse;

  Full dreadfull thinges out of that balefull booke

  He red, and measur’d many a sad verse,

  That horrour gan the virgins hart to perse, 320

  And her faire locks up stared stiffe on end,

  Hearing him those same bloody lynes reherse;

  And all the while he red, she did extend

  Her sword high over him, if ought he did offend.

  XXXVII

  Anon she gan perceive the house to quake, 325

  And all the dores to rattle round about;

  Yet all that did not her dismaied make,

  Nor slack her threatfull hand for daungers dout,

  But still with stedfast eye and courage stout

  Abode, to weet what end would come of all. 330

  At last that mightie chaine, which round about

  Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan fall,

  And that great brasen pillour broke in peeces small.

  XXXVIII

  The cruell steele, which thrild her dying hart,

  Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord, 335

  And the wyde wound, which lately did dispart

  Her bleeding brest, and riven bowels gor’d,

  Was closed up, as it had not beene bor’d,

  And every part to safety full sownd,

  As she were never hurt, was soone restor’d: 340

  Tho, when she felt her selfe to be unbownd,

  And perfect hole, prostrate she fell unto the grownd.

  XXXIX

  Before faire Britomart she fell prostrate,

  Saying: ‘Ah, noble knight! What worthy meede

  Can wretched lady, quitt from wofull state, 345

  Yield you in lieu of this your gracious deed?

  Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall breed,

  Even immortall prayse and glory wyde,

  Which I, your vassall, by your prowesse freed,

  Shall through the world make to be notifyde, 350

  And goodly well advaunce, that goodly well was tryde.’

  XL

  But Britomart, uprearing her from grownd,

  Said: ‘Gentle dame, reward enough I weene,

  For many labours more then I have found,

  This, that in safetie now I have you seene, 355

  And meane of your deliverance have beene:

  Henceforth, faire lady, comfort to you take,

  And put away remembraunce of late teene;

  In sted thereof, know that your loving make

  Hath no lesse griefe endured for your gentle sake.’ 360

  XLI

  She much was cheard to heare him mentiond,

  Whom of all living wightes she loved best.

  Then laid the noble championesse strong hond

  Upon th’ enchaunter, which had her distrest

  So sore, and with foule outrages opprest: 365

  With that great chaine, wherewith not long ygoe

  He bound that pitteous lady prisoner, now relest,

  Himselfe she bound, more worthy
to be so,

  And captive with her led to wretchednesse and wo.

  XLII

  Returning back, those goodly rowmes, which erst 370

  She saw so rich and royally arayd,

  Now vanisht utterly and cleane subverst

  She found, and all their glory quite decayd,

  That sight of such a chaunge her much dismayd.

  Thence forth descending to that perlous porch, 375

  Those dreadfull flames she also found delayd,

  And quenched quite, like a consumed torch,

  That erst all entrers wont so cruelly to scorch.

  XLIII

  More easie issew now then entrance late

  She found: for now that fained dreadfull flame, 380

  Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted gate,

  And passage bard to all that thither came,

  Was vanisht quite, as it were not the same,

  And gave her leave at pleasure forth to passe.

  Th’ enchaunter selfe, which all that fraud did frame, 385

  To have efforst the love of that faire lasse,

  Seeing his worke now wasted, deepe engrieved was.

  XLIV

  But when the victoresse arrived there

  Where late she left the pensife Scudamore

  With her own trusty squire, both full of feare, 390

  Neither of them she found where she them lore:

  Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore ;

  But most faire Amoret, whose gentle spright

  Now gan to feede on hope, which she before

  Conceived had, to see her own deare knight, 395

  Being thereof beguyld, was fild with new affright.

  XLV

  But he, sad man, when he had long in drede

  Awayted there for Britomarts returne,

  Yet saw her not, nor signe of her good speed,

  His expectation to despaire did turne, 400

  Misdeeming sure that her those flames did burne ;

  And therefore gan advize with her old squire,

  Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse did mourne,

  Thence to depart for further aide t’ enquire:

  Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doe respire. 405

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Faerie Queene: Book IV. The Legend of Cambel and Triamond

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto I

  THE SECOND PART OF THE

  FAERIE QUEENE

  CONTAINING

  THE FOURTH, FIFTH, AND SIXTH BOOKES

  BY ED. SPENSER

  IMPRINTED AT LONDON FOR WILLIAM

  PONSONBY. 1596

  THE FOURTH BOOKE

  OF THE FAERIE QUEENE

  CONTAINING

  THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TRIAMOND

  OR