Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  And byting th’ earth for very deaths disdaine;

  Who, with a cloud of night him covering, bore 125

  Downe to the house of dole, his daies there to deplore.

  XV

  Which when the lady from the castle saw,

  Where she with her two sonnes did looking stand,

  She towards him in hast her selfe did draw,

  To greet him the good fortune of his hand: 130

  And all the people both of towne and land,

  Which there stood gazing from the citties wall

  Uppon these warriours, greedy t’ understand

  To whether should the victory befall,

  Now when they saw it falne, they eke him greeted all. 135

  XVI

  But Belge with her sonnes prostrated low

  Before his feete, in all that peoples sight,

  Mongst joyes mixing some tears, mongst wele some wo,

  Him thus bespake: ‘O most redoubted knight,

  The which hast me, of all most wretched wight, 140

  That earst was dead, restor’d to life againe,

  And these weake impes replanted by thy might;

  What guerdon can I give thee for thy paine,

  But even that which thou savedst, thine still to remaine?’

  XVII

  He tooke her up forby the lilly hand, 145

  And her recomforted the best he might,

  Saying: ‘Deare lady, deedes ought not be scand

  By th’ authors manhood, nor the doers might,

  But by their trueth and by the causes right:

  That same is it, which fought for you this day. 150

  What other meed then need me to requight,

  But that which yeeldeth vertues meed alway?

  That is the vertue selfe, which her reward doth pay.’

  XVIII

  She humbly thankt him for that wondrous grace,

  And further sayd: ‘Ah! sir, but mote ye please, 155

  Sith ye thus farre have tendred my poore case,

  As from my chiefest foe me to release,

  That your victorious arme will not yet cease,

  Till ye have rooted all the relickes out

  Of that vilde race, and stablished my peace.’ 160

  ‘What is there else,’ sayd he, ‘left of their rout?

  Declare it boldly, dame, and doe not stand in dout.’

  XIX

  ‘Then wote you, sir, that in this church hereby,

  There stands an idole of great note and name,

  The which this gyant reared first on hie, 165

  And of his owne vaine fancies thought did frame:

  To whom, for endlesse horrour of his shame,

  He offred up for daily sacrifize

  My children and my people, burnt in flame,

  With all the tortures that he could devize, 170

  The more t’ aggrate his god with such his blouddy guize.

  XX

  ‘And underneath this idoll there doth lie

  An hideous monster, that doth it defend,

  And feedes on all the carkasses that die

  In sacrifize unto that cursed feend: 175

  Whose ugly shape none ever saw, nor kend,

  That ever scap’d: for of a man they say

  It has the voice, that speaches forth doth send,

  Even blasphemous words, which she doth bray

  Out of her poysnous entrails, fraught with dire decay.’ 180

  XXI

  Which when the Prince heard tell, his heart gan earne

  For great desire, that monster to assay,

  And prayd the place of her abode to learne.

  Which being shew’d, he gan him selfe streight way

  Thereto addresse, and his bright shield display. 185

  So to the church he came, where it was told

  The monster underneath the altar lay;

  There he that idoll saw of massy gold

  Most richly made, but there no monster did behold.

  XXII

  Upon the image with his naked blade 190

  Three times, as in defiance, there he strooke;

  And the third time, out of an hidden shade,

  There forth issewd, from under th’ altars smooke,

  A dreadfull feend, with fowle deformed looke,

  That stretcht it selfe, as it had long lyen still; 195

  And her long taile and fethers strongly shooke,

  That all the temple did with terrour fill;

  Yet him nought terrifide, that feared nothing ill.

  XXIII

  An huge great beast it was, when it in length

  Was stretched forth, that nigh fild all the place, 200

  And seem’d to be of infinite great strength;

  Horrible, hideous, and of hellish race,

  Borne of the brooding of Echidna base,

  Or other like infernall Furies kinde:

  For of a mayd she had the outward face, 205

  To hide the horrour which did lurke behinde,

  The better to beguile whom she so fond did finde.

  XXIV

  Thereto the body of a dog she had,

  Full of fell ravin and fierce greedinesse;

  A lions clawes, with powre and rigour clad, 210

  To rend and teare what so she can oppresse;

  A dragons taile, whose sting without redresse

  Full deadly wounds, where so it is empight;

  And eagles wings, for scope and speedinesse,

  That nothing may escape her reaching might, 215

  Whereto she ever list to make her hardy flight.

  XXV

  Much like in foulnesse and deformity

  Unto that monster whom the Theban knight,

  The father of that fatall progeny,

  Made kill her selfe for very hearts despight, 220

  That he had red her riddle, which no wight

  Could ever loose, but suffred deadly doole.

  So also did this monster use like slight

  To many a one which came unto her schoole,

  Whom she did put to death, deceived like a foole. 225

  XXVI

  She comming forth, when as she first beheld

  The armed Prince, with shield so blazing bright,

  Her ready to assaile, was greatly queld,

  And much dismayd with that dismayfull sight,

  That backe she would have turnd for great affright. 230

  But he gan her with courage fierce assay,

  That forst her turne againe in her despight,

  To save her selfe, least that he did her slay:

  And sure he had her slaine, had she not turnd her way.

  XXVII

  Tho, when she saw that she was forst to fight, 235

  She flew at him, like to an hellish feend,

  And on his shield tooke hold with all her might,

  As if that it she would in peeces rend,

  Or reave out of the hand that did it hend.

  Strongly he strove out of her greedy gripe 240

  To loose his shield, and long while did contend:

  But when he could not quite it, with one stripe

  Her lions clawes he from her feete away did wipe.

  XXVIII

  With that aloude she gan to bray and yell,

  And fowle blasphemous speaches forth did cast, 245

  And bitter curses, horrible to tell,

  That even the temple, wherein she was plast,

  Did quake to heare, and nigh asunder brast.

  Tho with her huge long taile she at him strooke,

  That made him stagger, and stand halfe agast 250

  With trembling joynts, as he for terrour shooke;

  Who nought was terrifide, but greater courage tooke.

  XXIX

  As when the mast of some well timbred hulke

  Is with the blast of some outragious storme

  Blowne downe, it shakes the bottome of the bulke, 255

>   And makes her ribs to cracke, as they were torne,

  Whilest still she stands as stonisht and forlorne:

  So was he stound with stroke of her huge taile.

  But ere that it she backe againe had borne,

  He with his sword it strooke, that without faile 260

  He joynted it, and mard the swinging of her flaile.

  XXX

  Then gan she cry much louder then afore,

  That all the people there without it heard,

  And Belge selfe was therewith stonied sore,

  As if the onely sound thereof she feard. 265

  But then the feend her selfe more fiercely reard

  Uppon her wide great wings, and strongly flew

  With all her body at his head and beard,

  That had he not foreseene with heedfull vew,

  And thrown his shield atween, she had him done to rew. 270

  XXXI

  But as she prest on him with heavy sway,

  Under her wombe his fatall sword he thrust,

  And for her entrailes made an open way

  To issue forth; the which, once being brust,

  Like to a great mill damb forth fiercely gusht, 275

  And powred out of her infernall sinke

  Most ugly filth, and poyson therewith rusht,

  That him nigh choked with the deadly stinke:

  Such loathly matter were small lust to speake, or thinke.

  XXXII

  Then downe to ground fell that deformed masse, 280

  Breathing out clouds of sulphure fowle and blacke,

  In which a puddle of contagion was,

  More loathd then Lerna, or then Stygian lake,

  That any man would nigh awhaped make.

  Whom when he saw on ground, he was full glad, 285

  And streight went forth his gladnesse to partake

  With Belge, who watcht all this while full sad,

  Wayting what end would be of that same daunger drad.

  XXXIII

  Whom when she saw so joyously come forth,

  She gan rejoyce, and shew triumphant chere, 290

  Lauding and praysing his renowmed worth

  By all the names that honorable were.

  Then in he brought her, and her shewed there

  The present of his paines, that monsters spoyle,

  And eke that idoll deem’d so costly dere; 295

  Whom he did all to peeces breake, and foyle

  In filthy durt, and left so in the loathely soyle.

  XXXIV

  Then all the people, which beheld that day,

  Gan shout aloud, that unto heaven it rong;

  And all the damzels of that towne in ray 300

  Came dauncing forth, and joyous carrols song:

  So him they led through all their streetes along,

  Crowned with girlonds of immortall baies,

  And all the vulgar did about them throng,

  To see the man, whose everlasting praise 305

  They all were bound to all posterities to raise.

  XXXV

  There he with Belgæ did a while remaine,

  Making great feast and joyous merriment,

  Untill he had her settled in her raine,

  With safe assuraunce and establishment. 310

  Then to his first emprize his mind he lent,

  Full loath to Belgæ and to all the rest:

  Of whom yet taking leave, thenceforth he went

  And to his former journey him addrest,

  On which long way he rode, ne ever day did rest. 315

  XXXVI

  But turne we now to noble Artegall;

  Who, having left Mercilla, streight way went

  On his first quest, the which him forth did call,

  To weet, to worke Irenaes franchisement,

  And eke Grantortoes worthy punishment. 320

  So forth he fared as his manner was,

  With onely Talus wayting diligent,

  Through many perils and much way did pas,

  Till nigh unto the place at length approcht he has.

  XXXVII

  There as he traveld by the way, he met 325

  An aged wight, wayfaring all alone,

  Who through his yeares long since aside had set

  The use of armes, and battell quite forgone:

  To whom as he approcht, he knew anone

  That it was he which whilome did attend 330

  On faire Irene in her affliction,

  When first to Faery court he saw her wend,

  Unto his Soveraine Queene her suite for to commend.

  XXXVIII

  Whom by his name saluting, thus he gan:

  ‘Haile, good Sir Sergis, truest knight alive, 335

  Well tride in all thy ladies troubles than

  When her that tyrant did of crowne deprive;

  What new ocasion doth thee hither drive,

  Whiles she alone is left, and thou here found?

  Or is she thrall, or doth she not survive?’ 340

  To whom he thus: ‘She liveth sure and sound;

  But by that tyrant is in wretched thraldome bound.

  XXXIX

  ‘For she, presuming on th’ appointed tyde,

  In which ye promist, as ye were a knight,

  To meete her at the Salvage Ilands syde, 345

  And then and there for triall of her right

  With her unrighteous enemy to fight,

  Did thither come, where she, afrayd of nought,

  By guilefull treason and by subtill slight

  Surprized was, and to Grantorto brought, 350

  Who her imprisond hath, and her life often sought.

  XL

  ‘And now he hath to her prefixt a day,

  By which if that no champion doe appeare,

  Which will her cause in battailous array

  Against him justifie, and prove her cleare 355

  Of all those crimes that he gainst her doth reare,

  She death shall sure aby.’ Those tidings sad

  Did much abash Sir Artegall to heare,

  And grieved sore, that through his fault she had

  Fallen into that tyrants hand and usage bad. 360

  XLI

  Then thus replide: ‘Now sure and by my life,

  Too much am I too blame for that faire maide,

  That have her drawne to all this troublous strife,

  Through promise to afford her timely aide,

  Which by default I have not yet defraide. 365

  But witnesse unto me, ye heavens, that know

  How cleare I am from blame of this upbraide:

  For ye into like thraldome me did throw,

  And kept from complishing the faith which I did owe.

  XLII

  ‘But now aread, Sir Sergis, how long space 370

  Hath he her lent, a champion to provide.’

  ‘Ten daies,’ quoth he, ‘he graunted hath of grace,

  For that he weeneth well, before that tide

  None can have tidings to assist her side.

  For all the shores, which to the sea accoste, 375

  He day and night doth ward both far and wide,

  That none can there arrive without an hoste:

  So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste.’

  XLIII

  ‘Now turne againe,’ Sir Artegall then sayd;

  ‘For if I live till those ten daies have end, 380

  Assure your selfe, sir knight, she shall have ayd,

  Though I this dearest life for her doe spend.’

  So backeward he attone with him did wend.

  Tho, as they rode together on their way,

  A rout of people they before them kend, 385

  Flocking together in confusde array,

  As if that there were some tumultuous affray.

  XLIV

  To which as they approcht, the cause to know,

  They saw a knight in daungerous distresse

  Of a rude r
out him chasing to and fro, 390

  That sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse,

  And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse:

  And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,

  They spide a lady left all succourlesse,

  Crying, and holding up her wretched hands 395

  To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage withstands.

  XLV

  Yet still he strives, ne any perill spares,

  To reskue her from their rude violence,

  And like a lion wood amongst them fares,

  Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large dispence, 400

  Gainst which the pallid death findes no defence.

  But all in vaine; their numbers are so great,

  That naught may boot to banishe them from thence:

  For soone as he their outrage backe doth beat,

  They turne afresh, and oft renew their former threat. 405

  XLVI

  And now they doe so sharpely him assay,

  That they his shield in peeces battred have,

  And forced him to throw it quite away,

  Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to save;

  Albe that it most safety to him gave, 410

  And much did magnifie his noble name:

  For from the day that he thus did it leave,

  Amongst all knights he blotted was with blame,

  And counted but a recreant knight, with endles shame.

  XLVII

  Whom when they thus distressed did behold, 415

  They drew unto his aide; but that rude rout

  Them also gan assaile with outrage bold,

  And forced them, how ever strong and stout

  They were, as well approv’d in many a doubt,

  Backe to recule; untill that yron man 420

  With his huge flaile began to lay about,

  From whose sterne presence they diffused ran,

  Like scattred chaffe, the which the wind away doth fan.

  XLVIII

  So when that knight from perill cleare was freed,

  He, drawing neare, began to greete them faire, 425

  And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed,

  In saving him from daungerous despaire

  Of those which sought his life for to empaire.

  Of whom Sir Artegall gan then enquire

  The whole occasion of his late misfare, 430

  And who he was, and what those villaines were,

  The which with mortall malice him pursu’d so nere.

  XLIX

  To whom he thus: ‘My name is Burbon hight,

  Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,

  Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light, 435

  That all my former praise hath blemisht sore;

  And that faire lady, which in that uprore

  Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis hight,

  Is mine owne love, though me she have forlore,

  Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might, 440