Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  It was no mortall worke, that seem’d and yet was not. 405

  XLVI

  Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow

  Unto her waste, with flowres bescattered,

  The which ambrosiall odours forth did throw

  To all about, and all her shoulders spred

  As a new spring; and likewise on her hed 410

  A chapelet of sundry flowers she wore,

  From under which the deawy humour shed

  Did tricle downe her haire, like to the hore

  Congealed litle drops, which doe the morne adore.

  XLVII

  On her two pretty handmaides did attend, 415

  One cald the Theise, the other cald the Crane;

  Which on her waited, things amisse to mend,

  And both behind upheld her spredding traine;

  Under the which her feet appeared plaine,

  Her silver feet, faire washt against this day: 420

  And her before there paced pages twaine,

  Both clad in colours like, and like array,

  The Doune and eke the Frith, both which prepard her way.

  XLVIII

  And after these the sea nymphs marched all,

  All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire, 425

  Whom of their sire Nereides men call,

  All which the Oceans daughter to him bare,

  The gray eyde Doris: all which fifty are;

  All which she there on her attending had:

  Swift Proto, milde Eucrate, Thetis faire, 430

  Soft Spio, sweete Eudore, Sao sad,

  Light Doto, wanton Glauce, and Galene glad,

  XLIX

  White hand Eunica, proud Dynamene,

  Joyous Thalia, goodly Amphitrite,

  Lovely Pasithee, kinde Eulimene, 435

  Light foote Cymothoe, and sweete Melite,

  Fairest Pherusa, Phao lilly white,

  Wondred Agave, Poris, and Nesæa,

  With Erato, that doth in love delite,

  And Panopæ, and wise Protomedæa, 440

  And snowy neckd Doris, and milkewhite Galathæa,

  L

  Speedy Hippothoe, and chaste Actea,

  Large Lisianassa, and Pronæa sage,

  Evagore, and light Pontoporea,

  And she that with her least word can asswage 445

  The surging seas, when they do sorest rage,

  Cymodoce, and stout Autonoe,

  And Neso, and Eione well in age,

  And seeming still to smile, Glauconome,

  And she that hight of many heastes Polynome, 450

  LI

  Fresh Alimeda, deckt with girlond greene,

  Hyponeo, with salt bedewed wrests,

  Laomedia, like the christall sheene,

  Liagore, much praisd for wise behests,

  And Psamathe, for her brode snowy brests, 455

  Cymo, Eupompe, and Themiste just,

  And she that vertue loves and vice detests,

  Evarna, and Menippe true in trust,

  And Nemertea, learned well to rule her lust.

  LII

  All these the daughters of old Nereus were, 460

  Which have the sea in charge to them assinde,

  To rule his tides, and surges to uprere,

  To bring forth stormes, or fast them to upbinde,

  And sailers save from wreckes of wrathfull winde.

  And yet besides, three thousand more there were 465

  Of th’ Oceans seede, but Joves and Phœbus kinde;

  The which in floods and fountaines doe appere,

  And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere.

  LIII

  The which, more eath it were for mortall wight

  To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye, 470

  Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right.

  But well I wote that these which I descry

  Were present at this great solemnity:

  And there, amongst the rest, the mother was

  Of luckelesse Marinell, Cymodoce; 475

  Which, for my Muse her selfe now tyred has,

  Unto an other canto I will overpas.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto XII

  Marin, for love of Florimell,

  In languor wastes his life:

  The nymph his mother getteth her,

  And gives to him for wife.

  I

  O WHAT an endlesse worke have I in hand,

  To count the seas abundant progeny,

  Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land,

  And also those which wonne in th’ azure sky!

  For much more eath to tell the starres on hy, 5

  Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation,

  Then to recount the seas posterity:

  So fertile be the flouds in generation,

  So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation.

  II

  Therefore the antique wisards well invented, 10

  That Venus of the fomy sea was bred;

  For that the seas by her are most augmented.

  Witnesse th’ exceeding fry which there are fed,

  And wondrous sholes, which may of none be red.

  Then blame me not, if I have err’d in count 15

  Of gods, of nymphs, of rivers yet unred:

  For though their numbers do much more surmount,

  Yet all those same were there, which erst I did recount.

  III

  All those were there, and many other more,

  Whose names and nations were too long to tell, 20

  That Proteus house they fild even to the dore;

  Yet were they all in order, as befell,

  According their degrees disposed well.

  Amongst the rest was faire Cymodoce,

  The mother of unlucky Marinell, 25

  Who thither with her came, to learne and see

  The manner of the gods when they at banquet be.

  IV

  But for he was halfe mortall, being bred

  Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe,

  He might not with immortall food be fed, 30

  Ne with th’ eternall gods to bancket come;

  But walkt abrode, and round about did rome,

  To view the building of that uncouth place,

  That seem’d unlike unto his earthly home:

  Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace, 35

  There unto him betid a disaventrous case.

  V

  Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe

  He heard the lamentable voice of one

  That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe,

  Which never she before disclosd to none, 40

  But to her selfe her sorrow did bemone.

  So feelingly her case she did complaine,

  That ruth it moved in the rocky stone,

  And made it seeme to feele her grievous paine,

  And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine. 45

  VI

  ‘Though vaine I see my sorrowes to unfold,

  And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare,

  Yet, hoping griefe may lessen being told,

  I will them tell though unto no man neare:

  For Heaven, that unto all lends equall eare, 50

  Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight;

  And lowest Hell, to which I lie most neare,

  Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight;

  And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight.

  VII

  ‘Yet loe! the seas I see by often beating 55

  Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares;

  But his hard rocky hart for no entreating

  Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares,

  Is hardned more with my aboundant teares.

  Yet though he never list to me re
lent, 60

  But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,

  Yet will I never of my love repent,

  But joy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.

  VIII

  ‘And when my weary ghost, with griefe outworne,

  By timely death shall winne her wished rest, 65

  Let then this plaint unto his eares be borne,

  That blame it is to him, that armes profest,

  To let her die, whom he might have redrest.’

  There did she pause, inforced to give place

  Unto the passion that her heart opprest; 70

  And after she had wept and wail’d a space,

  She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case:

  IX

  ‘Ye gods of seas, if any gods at all

  Have care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong,

  By one or other way me, woefull thrall, 75

  Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong,

  In which I daily dying am too long.

  And if ye deeme me death for loving one

  That loves not me, then doe it not prolong,

  But let me die and end my daies attone, 80

  And let him live unlov’d, or love him selfe alone.

  X

  ‘But if that life ye unto me decree,

  Then let mee live as lovers ought to do,

  And of my lifes deare love beloved be:

  And if he shall through pride your doome undo, 85

  Do you by duresse him compell thereto,

  And in this prison put him here with me:

  One prison fittest is to hold us two:

  So had I rather to be thrall then free;

  Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be. 90

  XI

  ‘But O vaine judgement, and conditions vaine,

  The which the prisoner points unto the free!

  The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine,

  He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me.

  So ever loose, so ever happy be. 95

  But where so loose or happy that thou art,

  Know, Marinell, that all this is for thee.’

  With that she wept and wail’d, as if her hart

  Would quite have burst through great abundance of her smart.

  XII

  All which complaint when Marinell had heard, 100

  And understood the cause of all her care

  To come of him, for using her so hard,

  His stubborne heart, that never felt misfare,

  Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare;

  That even for griefe of minde he oft did grone, 105

  And inly wish that in his powre it weare

  Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none,

  He could no more but her great misery bemone.

  XIII

  Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth

  Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide, 110

  Dame Venus sonne, that tameth stubborne youth

  With iron bit, and maketh him abide,

  Till like a victor on his backe he ride,

  Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw,

  That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride: 115

  Then gan he make him tread his steps anew,

  And learne to love, by learning lovers paines to rew.

  XIV

  Now gan he in his grieved minde devise,

  How from that dungeon he might her enlarge:

  Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise 120

  To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge;

  But then he fear’d his mothers former charge

  Gainst womens love, long given him in vaine:

  Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe

  Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine; 125

  But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.

  XV

  Then did he cast to steale her thence away,

  And with him beare, where none of her might know.

  But all in vaine: forwhy he found no way

  To enter in, or issue forth below: 130

  For all about that rocke the sea did flow.

  And though unto his will she given were,

  Yet without ship or bote her thence to row,

  He wist not how her thence away to bere;

  And daunger well he wist long to continue there. 135

  XVI

  At last when as no meanes he could invent,

  Backe to him selfe he gan returne the blame,

  That was the author of her punishment;

  And with vile curses and reprochfull shame

  To damne him selfe by every evill name; 140

  And deeme unworthy or of love or life,

  That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,

  Which him had sought through trouble and long strife,

  Yet had refusde a god that her had sought to wife.

  XVII

  In this sad plight he walked here and there, 145

  And romed round about the rocke in vaine,

  As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where;

  Oft listening if he mote her heare againe,

  And still bemoning her unworthy paine:

  Like as an hynde whose calfe is falne unwares 150

  Into some pit, where she him heares complaine,

  An hundred times about the pit side fares,

  Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved cares.

  XVIII

  And now by this the feast was throughly ended,

  And every one gan homeward to resort. 155

  Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended,

  That his departure thence should be so short,

  And leave his love in that sea-walled fort.

  Yet durst he not his mother disobay;

  But her attending in full seemly sort, 160

  Did march amongst the many all the way:

  And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.

  XIX

  Being returned to his mothers bowre,

  In solitary silence far from wight,

  He gan record the lamentable stowre 165

  In which his wretched love lay day and night,

  For his deare sake, that ill deserv’d that plight:

  The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,

  That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;

  Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe, 170

  But pyn’d, and mourn’d, and languisht, and alone did weepe;

  XX

  That in short space his wonted chearefull hew

  Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quight:

  His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew,

  And brawney armes had lost their knowen might, 175

  That nothing like himselfe he seem’d in sight.

  Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of love

  He woxe, that lenger he note stand upright,

  But to his bed was brought, and layd above,

  Like ruefull ghost, unable once to stirre or move. 180

  XXI

  Which when his mother saw, she in her mind

  Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene,

  Ne could by search nor any meanes out find

  The secret cause and nature of his teene,

  Whereby she might apply some medicine; 185

  But weeping day and night, did him attend,

  And mourn’d to see her losse before her eyne,

  Which griev’d her more that she it could not mend:

  To see an helpelesse evill double griefe doth lend.

  XXII

  Nought could she read the roote of his disease, 190

  Ne weene what mister maladie it is,

  Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease.

  Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis,

  That that same former fatall wound of his

  Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly h
ealed, 195

  But closely rankled under th’ orifis:

  Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed,

  That love it was, which in his hart lay unrevealed.

  XXIII

  Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast,

  And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent, 200

  That fayld the trust which she in him bad plast,

  To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent:

  Who now was falne into new languishment

  Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.

  So backe he came unto her patient: 205

  Where searching every part, her well assured,

  That it was no old sore which his new paine procured;

  XXIV

  But that it was some other maladie,

  Or griefe unknowne, which he could not discerne:

  So left he her withouten remedie. 210

  Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne,

  And inly troubled was, the truth to learne.

  Unto himselfe she came, and him besought,

  Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne,

  If ought lay hidden in his grieved thought, 215

  It to reveale: who still her answered, there was nought.

  XXV

  Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide,

  But leaving watry gods, as booting nought,

  Unto the shinie heaven in haste she hide,

  And thence Apollo, king of leaches, brought. 220

  Apollo came; who, soone as he had sought

  Through his disease, did by and by out find

  That he did languish of some inward thought,

  The which afflicted his engrieved mind;

  Which love he red to be, that leads each living kind. 225

  XXVI

  Which when he had unto his mother told,

  She gan thereat to fret and greatly grieve;

  And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold

  And chyde at him, that made her misbelieve:

  But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieve, 230

  And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose

  Which of the nymphes his heart so sore did mieve;

  For sure she weend it was some one of those

  Which he had lately seene, that for his love he chose.

  XXVII

  Now lesse she feared that same fatall read, 235

  That warned him of womens love beware:

  Which being ment of mortall creatures sead,

  For love of nymphes she thought she need not care,

  But promist him, what ever wight she weare,

  That she her love to him would shortly gaine: 240

  So he her told: but soone as she did heare

  That Florimell it was, which wrought his paine,

  She gan a fresh to chafe, and grieve in every vaine.

  XXVIII

  Yet since she saw the streight extremitie,

  In which his life unluckily was layd, 245