Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

OF FRIENDSHIP

  I

  THE RUGGED forhead that with grave foresight

  Welds kingdomes causes and affaires of state,

  My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite,

  For praising love, as I have done of late,

  And magnifying lovers deare debate; 5

  By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,

  Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,

  That better were in vertues discipled,

  Then with vaine poemes weeds to have their fancies fed.

  II

  Such ones ill judge of love, that cannot love, 10

  Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame:

  Forthy they ought not thing unknowne reprove,

  Ne naturall affection faultless blame,

  For fault of few that have abusd the same.

  For it of honor and all vertue is 15

  The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,

  That crowne true lovers with immortall blis,

  The meed of them that love, and do not live amisse.

  III

  Which who so list looke backe to former ages,

  And call to count the things that then were donne, 20

  Shall find, that all the workes of those wise sages,

  And brave exploits which great heroes wonne,

  In love were either ended or begunne:

  Witnesse the father of philosophie,

  Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne, 25

  Of love full manie lessons did apply,

  The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.

  IV

  To such therefore I do not sing at all,

  But to that sacred saint my soveraigne Queene,

  In whose chast breast all bountie naturall 30

  And treasures of true love enlocked beene,

  Bove all her sexe that ever yet was seene:

  To her I sing of love, that loveth best

  And best is lov’d of all alive, I weene;

  To her this song most fitly is addrest, 35

  The queene of love, and prince of peace from heaven blest.

  V

  Which that she may the better deigne to heare,

  Do thou, dred infant, Venus dearling dove,

  From her high spirit chase imperious feare,

  And use of awfull majestie remove: 40

  In sted thereof with drops of melting love,

  Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten

  From thy sweete smyling mother from above,

  Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,

  That she may hearke to love, and reade this lesson often. 45

  CANTO I

  Fayre Britomart saves Amoret:

  Duessa discord breedes

  Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:

  Their fight and warlike deedes.

  I

  OF lovers sad calamities of old

  Full many piteous stories doe remaine,

  But none more piteous ever was ytold,

  Then that of Amorets hart-binding chaine,

  And this of Florimels unworthie paine: 50

  The deare compassion of whose bitter fit

  My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,

  That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,

  And oftentimes doe wish it never had bene writ.

  II

  For from the time that Scudamour her bought 55

  In perilous fight, she never joyed day;

  A perilous fight when he with force her brought

  From twentie knights, that did him all assay:

  Yet fairely well he did them all dismay,

  And with great glorie both the Shield of Love 60

  And eke the ladie selfe he brought away;

  Whom having wedded, as did him behove,

  A new unknowen mischiefe did from him remove.

  III

  For that same vile enchantour Busyran,

  The very selfe same day that she was wedded, 65

  Amidst the bridale feast, whilest every man,

  Surcharg’d with wine, were heedlesse and ill hedded,

  All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,

  Brought in that Mask of Love which late was showen:

  And there the ladie ill of friends bestedded, 70

  By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen,

  Conveyed quite away to living wight unknowen.

  IV

  Seven moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,

  Because his sinfull lust she would not serve,

  Untill such time as noble Britomart 75

  Released her, that else was like to sterve,

  Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerve.

  And now she is with her upon the way,

  Marching in lovely wise, that could deserve

  No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay 80

  To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

  V

  Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell

  The diverse usage, and demeanure daint,

  That each to other made, as oft befell.

  For Amoret right fearefull was and faint, 85

  Lest she with blame her honor should attaint,

  That everie word did tremble as she spake,

  And everie looke was coy and wondrous quaint,

  And everie limbe that touched her did quake:

  Yet could she not but curteous countenance to her make. 90

  VI

  For well she wist, as true it was indeed,

  That her lives lord and patrone of her health

  Right well deserved, as his duefull meed,

  Her love, her service, and her utmost wealth:

  All is his justly, that all freely dealth. 95

  Nathlesse her honor, dearer then her life,

  She sought to save, as thing reserv’d from stealth;

  Die had she lever with enchanters knife,

  Then to be false in love, profest a virgine wife.

  VII

  Thereto her feare was made so much the greater 100

  Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd:

  Who, for to hide her fained sex the better

  And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd

  Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd,

  That well she wist not what by them to gesse; 105

  For other whiles to her she purpos made

  Of love, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse,

  That much she feard his mind would grow to some excesse.

  VIII

  His will she feard; for him she surely thought

  To be a man, such as indeed he seemed, 110

  And much the more, by that he lately wrought,

  When her from deadly thraldome he redeemed,

  For which no service she too much esteemed:

  Yet dread of shame and doubt of fowle dishonor

  Made her not yeeld so much as due she deemed. 115

  Yet Britomart attended duly on her,

  As well became a knight, and did to her all honor.

  IX

  It so befell one evening, that they came

  Unto a castell, lodged there to bee,

  Where many a knight, and many a lovely dame, 120

  Was then assembled, deeds of armes to see:

  Amongst all which was none more faire then shee,

  That many of them mov’d to eye her sore.

  The custome of that place was such, that hee

  Which had no love nor lemman there in store 125

  Should either winne him one, or lye without the dore.

  X

  Amongst the rest there was a jolly knight,

  Who, being asked for his love, avow’d

  That fairest Amoret was his by right,

  And offred that to justifie alowd. 130

  The warlike virgine, seeing his so prowd

  And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wrot
h,

  But for the present did her anger shrowd;

  And sayd, her love to lose she was full loth,

  But either he should neither of them have, or both. 135

  XI

  So foorth they went, and both together giusted;

  But that same younker soone was over throwne,

  And made repent that he had rashly lusted

  For thing unlawfull, that was not his owne:

  Yet since he seemed valiant, though unknowne, 140

  She, that no lesse was courteous then stout,

  Cast how to salve, that both the custome showne

  Were kept, and yet that knight not locked out;

  That seem’d full hard t’ accord two things so far in dout.

  XII

  The seneschall was cal’d to deeme the right: 145

  Whom she requir’d, that first fayre Amoret

  Might be to her allow’d, as to a knight

  That did her win and free from chalenge set:

  Which straight to her was yeelded without let.

  Then, since that strange knights love from him was quitted, 150

  She claim’d that to her selfe, as ladies det,

  He as a knight might justly be admitted;

  So none should be out shut, sith all of loves were fitted.

  XIII

  With that, her glistring helmet she unlaced;

  Which doft, her golden lockes, that were up bound 155

  Still in a knot, unto her heeles downe traced,

  And like a silken veile in compasse round

  About her backe and all her bodie wound:

  Like as the shining skie in summers night,

  What time the dayes with scorching heat abound, 160

  Is creasted all with lines of firie light,

  That it prodigious seemes in common peoples sight.

  XIV

  Such when those knights and ladies all about

  Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,

  And every one gan grow in secret dout 165

  Of this and that, according to each wit:

  Some thought that some enchantment faygned it;

  Some, that Bellona in that warlike wise

  To them appear’d, with shield and armour fit;

  Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise: 170

  So diversely each one did sundrie doubts devise.

  XV

  But that young knight, which through her gentle deed

  Was to that goodly fellowship restor’d,

  Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,

  And, doubly overcommen, her ador’d: 175

  So did they all their former strife accord;

  And eke fayre Amoret, now freed from feare,

  More franke affection did to her afford,

  And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,

  Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare. 180

  XVI

  Where all that night they of their loves did treat,

  And hard adventures, twixt themselves alone,

  That each the other gan with passion great

  And griefull pittie privately bemone.

  The morow next, so soone as Titan shone, 185

  They both uprose, and to their waies them dight:

  Long wandred they, yet never met with none

  That to their willes could them direct aright,

  Or to them tydings tell that mote their harts delight.

  XVII

  Lo! thus they rode, till at the last they spide 190

  Two armed knights, that toward them did pace,

  And each of them had ryding by his side

  A ladie, seeming in so farre a space;

  But ladies none they were, albee in face

  And outward shew faire semblance they did beare; 195

  For under maske of beautie and good grace

  Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,

  That mote to none but to the warie wise appeare.

  XVIII

  The one of them the false Duessa hight,

  That now had chang’d her former wonted hew: 200

  For she could d’on so manie shapes in sight,

  As ever could cameleon colours new;

  So could she forge all colours, save the trew.

  The other no whit better was then shee,

  But that, such as she was, she plaine did shew; 205

  Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,

  And dayly more offensive unto each degree.

  XIX

  Her name was Ate, mother of debate

  And all dissention, which doth dayly grow

  Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state 210

  And many a private oft doth overthrow.

  Her false Duessa, who full well did know

  To be most fit to trouble noble knights,

  Which hunt for honor, raised from below

  Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights, 215

  Where she in darkness wastes her cursed daies and nights.

  XX

  Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

  There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,

  Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse.

  It is a darksome delve farre under ground, 220

  With thornes and barren brakes environd round,

  That none the same may easily out win;

  Yet many waies to enter may be found,

  But more to issue forth when one is in:

  For discord harder is to end then to begin. 225

  XXI

  And all within, the riven walls were hung

  With ragged monuments of times forepast,

  All which the sad effects of discord sung:

  There were rent robes and broken scepters plast,

  Altars defyl’d, and holy things defast, 230

  Disshivered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,

  Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,

  Nations captived, and huge armies slaine:

  Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

  XXII

  There was the signe of antique Babylon, 235

  Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,

  Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion,

  For memorie of which on high there hong

  The golden apple, cause of all their wrong,

  For which the three faire goddesses did strive: 240

  There also was the name of Nimrod strong,

  Of Alexander, and his princes five,

  Which shar’d to them the spoiles that he had got alive:

  XXIII

  And there the relicks of the drunken fray,

  The which amongst the Lapithees befell: 245

  And of the bloodie feast, which sent away

  So many Centaures drunken soules to hell,

  That under great Alcides furie fell:

  And of the dreadfull discord, which did drive

  The noble Argonauts to outrage fell, 250

  That each of life sought others to deprive,

  All mindlesse of the Golden Fleece, which made them strive.

  XXIV

  And eke of private persons many moe,

  That were too long a worke to count them all;

  Some of sworne friends, that did their faith forgoe; 255

  Some of borne brethren, prov’d unnaturall;

  Some of deare lovers, foes perpetuall:

  Witnesse their broken bandes there to be seene,

  Their girlonds rent, their bowres despoyled all;

  The moniments whereof there byding beene, 260

  As plaine as at the first, when they were fresh and greene.

  XXV

  Such was her house within; but all without,

  The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,

  Which she her selfe had sowen all about,

  Now growen great, at first of little seedes, 265

  The seedes of
evill wordes and factious deedes;

  Which, when to ripenesse due they growen arre,

  Bring foorth an infinite increase, that breedes

  Tumultuous trouble and contentious jarre,

  The which most often end in bloudshed and in warre. 270

  XXVI

  And those same cursed seedes doe also serve

  To her for bread, and yeeld her living food:

  For life it is to her, when others sterve

  Through mischievous debate and deadly feood,

  That she may sucke their life and drinke their blood, 275

  With which she from her childhood had bene fed:

  For she at first was borne of hellish brood,

  And by infernall furies nourished,

  That by her monstrous shape might easily be red.

  XXVII

  Her face most fowle and filthy was to see, 280

  With squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended,

  And loathly mouth, unmeete a mouth to bee,

  That nought but gall and venim comprehended,

  And wicked wordes that God and man offended:

  Her lying tongue was in two parts divided, 285

  And both the parts did speake, and both contended;

  And as her tongue, so was her hart discided,

  That never thoght one thing, but doubly stil was guided.

  XXVIII

  Als as she double spake, so heard she double,

  With matchlesse eares deformed and distort, 290

  Fild with false rumors and seditious trouble,

  Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort,

  That still are led with every light report.

  And as her eares, so eke her feet were odde,

  And much unlike, th’ one long, the other short, 295

  And both misplast; that, when th’ one forward yode,

  The other backe retired, and contrarie trode.

  XXIX

  Likewise unequall were her handes twaine:

  That one did reach, the other pusht away;

  That one did make, the other mard againe, 300

  And sought to bring all things unto decay;

  Whereby great riches, gathered manie a day,

  She in short space did often bring to nought,

  And their possessours often did dismay:

  For all her studie was and all her thought, 305

  How she might overthrow the things that Concord wrought.

  XXX

  So much her malice did her might surpas,

  That even th’ Almightie selfe she did maligne,

  Because to man so mercifull he was,

  And unto all his creatures so benigne, 310

  Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne:

  For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride

  Unto his last confusion to bring,

  And that great golden chaine quite to divide,

  With which it blessed Concord hath together tide. 315

  XXXI

  Such was that hag which with Duessa roade,