Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  To tell her how the heavens had her graste,

  To save her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaste.

  XVII

  The sober mother, seeing such her mood, 145

  Yet knowing not what meant that sodaine thro,

  Askt her, how mote her words be understood,

  And what the matter was, that mov’d her so.

  ‘My liefe,’ sayd she, ‘ye know that long ygo,

  Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gave 150

  A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho;

  The same againe if now ye list to have,

  The same is yonder lady, whom High God did save.’

  XVIII

  Much was the lady troubled at that speach,

  And gan to question streight how she it knew. 155

  ‘Most certaine markes,’ sayd she, ‘do me it teach,

  For on her brest I with these eyes did vew

  The litle purple rose which thereon grew,

  Whereof her name ye then to her did give.

  Besides, her countenaunce and her likely hew, 160

  Matched with equall yeares, do surely prieve

  That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet doth live.’

  XIX

  The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire,

  But forth in hast ran to the straunger mayd;

  Whom catching greedily for great desire, 165

  Rent up her brest, and bosome open layd,

  In which that rose she plainely saw displayd.

  Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine,

  She long so held, and softly weeping sayd:

  ‘And livest thou, my daughter, now againe? 170

  And art thou yet alive, whom dead I long did faine?’

  XX

  Tho further asking her of sundry things,

  And times comparing with their accidents,

  She found at last by very certaine signes,

  And speaking markes of passed monuments, 175

  That this young mayd, whom chance to her presents,

  Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare.

  Tho, wondring long at those so straunge events,

  A thousand times she her embraced nere,

  With many a joyfull kisse, and many a melting teare. 180

  XXI

  Who ever is the mother of one chylde,

  Which having thought long dead, she fyndes alive,

  Let her by proofe of that which she hath fylde

  In her owne breast, this mothers joy descrive:

  For other none such passion can contrive 185

  In perfect forme, as this good lady felt,

  When she so faire a daughter saw survive,

  As Pastorella was, that nigh she swelt

  For passing joy, which did all into pitty melt.

  XXII

  Thence running forth unto her loved lord, 190

  She unto him recounted all that fell:

  Who joyning joy with her in one accord,

  Acknowledg’d for his owne faire Pastorell

  There leave we them in joy, and let us tell

  Of Calidore, who, seeking all this while 195

  That monstrous beast by finall force to quell,

  Through every place, with restlesse paine and toile,

  Him follow’d by the tract of his outragious spoile.

  XXIII

  Through all estates he found that he had past,

  In which he many massacres had left, 200

  And to the clergy now was come at last;

  In which such spoile, such havocke, and such theft

  He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft,

  That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin knight,

  Who now no place besides unsought had left, 205

  At length into a monastere did light,

  Where he him found despoyling all with maine and might.

  XXIV

  Into their cloysters now he broken had,

  Through which the monckes he chaced here and there,

  And them pursu’d into their dortours sad, 210

  And searched all their cels and secrets neare;

  In which what filth and ordure did appeare

  Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule beast,

  Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare,

  And ransacke all their dennes from most to least, 215

  Regarding nought religion, nor their holy heast.

  XXV

  From thence into the sacred church he broke,

  And robd the chancell, and the deskes downe threw,

  And altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke,

  And th’ images, for all their goodly hew, 220

  Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew;

  So all confounded and disordered there.

  But seeing Calidore, away he flew,

  Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;

  But he him fast pursuing, soone approched neare 225

  XXVI

  Him in a narrow place he overtooke,

  And fierce assailing forst him turne againe:

  Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke

  With his sharpe steele, and ran at him amaine

  With open mouth, that seemed to containe 230

  A full good pecke within the utmost brim,

  All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,

  That terrifide his foes, and armed him,

  Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim.

  XXVII

  And therein were a thousand tongs empight, 235

  Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality;

  Some were of dogs, that barked day and night,

  And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry,

  And some of beares, that groynd continually,

  And some of tygres, that did seeme to gren 240

  And snar at all that ever passed by:

  But most of them were tongues of mortall men,

  Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor when.

  XXVIII

  And them amongst were mingled here and there

  The tongues of serpents with three forked stings, 245

  That spat out poyson and gore bloudy gere

  At all that came within his ravenings,

  And spake licentious words and hatefull things

  Of good and bad alike, of low and hie;

  Ne kesars spared he a whit, nor kings, 250

  But either blotted them with infamie,

  Or bit them with his banefull teeth of injury.

  XXIX

  But Calidore, thereof no whit afrayd,

  Rencountred him with so impetuous might,

  That th’ outrage of his violence he stayd, 255

  And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite,

  And spitting forth the poyson of his spight,

  That fomed all about his bloody jawes.

  Tho, rearing up his former feete on hight,

  He rampt upon him with his ravenous pawes, 260

  As if he would have rent him with his cruell clawes.

  XXX

  But he right well aware, his rage to ward,

  Did cast his shield atweene, and therewithall

  Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu’d so hard,

  That backeward he enforced him to fall, 265

  And being downe, ere he new helpe could call,

  His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held,

  Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall

  Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld,

  Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld. 270

  XXXI

  Full cruelly the beast did rage and rore,

  To be downe held, and maystred so with might,

  That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore,

  Striving in vaine to rere him selfe upright.

  For still the more he strove, the more the knight 275

  Did him suppresse, and forc
ibly subdew;

  That made him almost mad for fell despight.

  He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw,

  And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew:

  XXXII

  Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine 280

  That great Alcides whilome overthrew,

  After that he had labourd long in vaine

  To crop his thousand heads, the which still new

  Forth budded, and in greater number grew.

  Such was the fury of this hellish beast, 285

  Whilest Calidore him under him downe threw;

  Who nathemore his heavy load releast,

  But aye the more he rag’d, the more his powre increast.

  XXXIII

  Tho when the beast saw he mote nought availe

  By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply, 290

  And sharpely at him to revile and raile,

  With bitter termes of shamefull infamy;

  Oft interlacing many a forged lie,

  Whose like he never once did speake, nor heare,

  Nor ever thought thing so unworthily: 295

  Yet did he nought, for all that, him forbeare,

  But strained him so streightly that he chokt him neare.

  XXXIV

  At last, when as he found his force to shrincke,

  And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell strong

  Of surest yron, made with many a lincke; 300

  Therewith he mured up his mouth along,

  And therein shut up his blasphemous tong,

  For never more defaming gentle knight,

  Or unto lovely lady doing wrong:

  And thereunto a great long chaine he tight, 305

  With which he drew him forth, even in his own despight.

  XXXV

  Like as whylome that strong Tirynthian swaine

  Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell,

  Against his will fast bound in yron chaine,

  And roring horribly, did him compell 310

  To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell

  To griesly Pluto what on earth was donne,

  And to the other damned ghosts, which dwell

  For aye in darkenesse, which day light doth shonne:

  So led this knight his captyve with like conquest wonne. 315

  XXXVI

  Yet greatly did the beast repine at those

  Straunge bands, whose like till then he never bore,

  Ne ever any durst till then impose,

  And chauffed inly, seeing now no more

  Him liberty was left aloud to rore: 320

  Yet durst he not draw backe, nor once withstand

  The proved powre of noble Calidore,

  But trembled underneath his mighty hand,

  And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land.

  XXXVII

  Him through all Faery Land he follow’d so, 325

  As if he learned had obedience long,

  That all the people, where so he did go,

  Out of their townes did round about him throng,

  To see him leade that beast in bondage strong,

  And seeing it, much wondred at the sight; 330

  And all such persons as he earst did wrong

  Rejoyced much to see his captive plight,

  And much admyr’d the beast, but more admyr’d the knight.

  XXXVIII

  Thus was this monster, by the maystring might

  Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed, 335

  That never more he mote endammadge wight

  With his vile tongue, which many had defamed,

  And many causelesse caused to be blamed:

  So did he eeke long after this remaine,

  Untill that, whether wicked fate so framed, 340

  Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine,

  And got into the world at liberty againe.

  XXXIX

  Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath he wrought

  To mortall men, then he had done before;

  Ne ever could, by any, more be brought 345

  Into like bands, ne maystred any more:

  Albe that long time after Calidore,

  The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand,

  And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore,

  And all his brethren borne in Britaine land; 350

  Yet none of them could ever bring him into band.

  XL

  So now he raungeth through the world againe,

  And rageth sore in each degree and state;

  Ne any is, that may him now restraine,

  He growen is so great and strong of late, 355

  Barking and biting all that him doe bate,

  Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime:

  Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,

  Ne spareth he the gentle poets rime,

  But rends without regard of person or of time. 360

  XLI

  Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest,

  Hope to escape his venemous despite,

  More then my former writs, all were they cleanest

  From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite,

  With which some wicked tongues did it backebite, 365

  And bring into a mighty peres displeasure,

  That never so deserved to endite.

  Therfore do you, my rimes, keep better measure,

  And seeke to please, that now is counted wisemens threasure.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Faerie Queene: Book VII. Two. Cantos of Mutabilitie

  Canto VI

  TWO CANTOS

  OF

  MUTABILITIE

  WHICH, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTER, APPEARE TO BE PARCELL OF SOME FOLLOWING BOOKE OF THE

  FAERIE QUEENE

  UNDER THE LEGEND

  OF

  CONSTANCIE

  NEVER BEFORE IMPRINTED

  CANTO VI

  Proud Change (not pleasd in mortall things

  Beneath the moone to raigne)

  Pretends, as well of gods as men,

  To be the soveraine.

  I

  WHAT man that sees the ever-whirling wheele

  Of Change, the which all mortall things doth sway,

  But that therby doth find, and plainly feele,

  How Mutability in them doth play

  Her cruell sports, to many mens decay? 5

  Which that to all may better yet appeare,

  I will rehearse that whylome I heard say,

  How she at first her selfe began to reare

  Gainst all the gods, and th’ empire sought from them to beare.

  II

  But first, here falleth fittest to unfold 10

  Her antique race and linage ancient,

  As I have found it registred of old

  In Faery Land mongst records permanent.

  She was, to weet, a daughter by descent

  Of those old Titans that did whylome strive 15

  With Saturnes sonne for heavens regiment;

  Whom though high Jove of Kingdome did deprive,

  Yet many of their stemme long after did survive.

  III

  And many of them afterwards obtain’d

  Great power of Jove, and high authority: 20

  As Hecatè, in whose almighty hand

  He plac’t all rule and principality,

  To be by her disposed diversly,

  To gods and men, as she them list divide;

  And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie 25

  Warres and allarums unto nations wide,

  That makes both heaven and earth to tremble at her pride.

  IV

  So likewise did this Titanesse aspire,

  Rule and dominion to her selfe to gaine;

  That as a goddesse men might her admire, 30

  And heavenly honours yield, as to them twaine.

>   And first, on earth she sought it to obtaine;

  Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed

  Of her great power, to many ones great paine,

  That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed), 35

  But eke all other creatures, her bad dooings rewed.

  V

  For she the face of earthly things so changed,

  That all which Nature had establisht first

  In good estate, and in meet order ranged,

  She did pervert, and all their statutes burst: 40

  And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst

  Of gods or men to alter or misguide)

  She alter’d quite, and made them all accurst

  That God had blest, and did at first provide

  In that still happy state for ever to abide. 45

  VI

  Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake,

  But eke of Justice, and of Policie;

  And wrong of right, and bad of good did make,

  And death for life exchanged foolishlie:

  Since which, all living wights have learn’d to die, 50

  And all this world is woxen daily worse.

  O pittious worke of Mutabilitie!

  By which we all are subject to that curse,

  And death, in stead of life, have sucked from our nurse.

  VII

  And now, when all the earth she thus had brought 55

  To her behest, and thralled to her might,

  She gan to cast in her ambitious thought

  T’ attempt the empire of the heavens hight,

  And Jove himselfe to shoulder from his right.

  And first, she past the region of the ayre, 60

  And of the fire, whose substance thin and slight

  Made no resistance, ne could her contraire,

  But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire.

  VIII

  Thence to the circle of the Moone she clambe,

  Where Cynthia raignes in everlasting glory, 65

  To whose bright shining palace straight she came,

  All fairely deckt with heavens goodly story:

  Whose silver gates (by which there sate an hory

  Old aged sire, with hower-glasse in hand,

  Hight Tyme) she entred, were he liefe or sory: 70

  Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand,

  Where Cynthia did sit, that never still did stand.

  IX

  Her sitting on an ivory throne shee found,

  Drawne of two steeds, th’ one black, the other white,

  Environd with tenne thousand starres around, 75

  That duly her attended day and night;

  And by her side there ran her page, that hight

  Vesper, whom we the evening-starre intend:

  That with his torche, still twinkling like twylight,

  Her lightened all the way where she should wend, 80

  And joy to weary wandring travailers did lend: