XLV
The simple maid did yield to him anone;
And eft him placed where he close might view
That never any saw, save onely one,
Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew, 400
Was of his hounds devour’d in hunters hew.
Tho, as her manner was on sunny day,
Diana, with her nymphes about her, drew
To this sweet spring; where, doffing her array,
She bath’d her lovely limbes, for Jove a likely pray. 405
XLVI
There Faunus saw that pleased much his eye,
And made his hart to tickle in his brest,
That, for great joy of some-what he did spy,
He could him not containe in silent rest;
But breaking forth in laughter, loud profest 410
His foolish thought. A foolish Faune indeed,
That couldst not hold thy selfe so hidden blest,
But wouldest needs thine owne conceit areed!
Babblers unworthy been of so divine a meed.
XLVII
The goddesse, all abashed with that noise, 415
In haste forth started from the guilty brooke;
And running straight where-as she heard his voice,
Enclos’d the bush about, and there him tooke,
Like darred larke, not daring up to looke
On her whose sight before so much he sought. 420
Thence forth they drew him by the hornes, and shooke
Nigh all to peeces, that they left him nought;
And then into the open light they forth him brought.
XLVIII
Like as an huswife, that with busie care
Thinks of her dairie to make wondrous gaine, 425
Finding where-as some wicked beast unware
That breakes into her dayr’ house, there doth draine
Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine,
Hath, in some snare or gin set close behind,
Entrapped him, and caught into her traine, 430
Then thinkes what punishment were best assign’d,
And thousand deathes deviseth in her vengefull mind:
XLIX
So did Diana and her maydens all
Use silly Faunus, now within their baile:
They mocke and scorne him, and him foule miscall; 435
Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the taile,
And by his goatish beard some did him haile:
Yet he (poore soule!) with patience all did beare;
For nought against their wils might countervaile:
Ne ought he said, what ever he did heare; 440
But hanging downe his head, did like a mome appeare.
L
At length, when they had flouted him their fill,
They gan to cast what penaunce him to give.
Some would have gelt him, but that same would spill
The wood-gods breed, which must for ever live: 445
Others would through the river him have drive,
And ducked deepe; but that seem’d penaunce light:
But most agreed, and did this sentence give,
Him in deares skin to clad, and in that plight
To hunt him with their hounds, him selfe save how hee might. 450
LI
But Cynthia’s selfe, more angry then the rest,
Thought not enough to punish him in sport,
And of her shame to make a gamesome jest;
But gan examine him in straighter sort,
Which of her nymphes, or other close consort, 455
Him thither brought, and her to him betraid.
He, much affeard, to her confessed short
That ‘t was Molanna which her so bewraid.
Then all attonce their hands upon Molanna laid.
LII
But him (according as they had decreed) 460
With a deeres-skin they covered, and then chast
With all their hounds, that after him did speed;
But he, more speedy, from them fled more fast
Then any deere: so sore him dread aghast.
They after follow’d all with shrill outcry, 465
Shouting as they the heavens would have brast:
That all the woods and dales, where he did flie,
Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie.
LIII
So they him follow’d till they weary were;
When, back returning to Molann’ againe, 470
They, by commaund’ment of Diana, there
Her whelm’d with stones. Yet Faunus (for her paine)
Of her beloved Fanchin did obtaine,
That her he would receive unto his bed.
So now her waves passe through a pleasant plaine, 475
Till with the Fanchin she her selfe doe wed,
And (both combin’d) themselves in one faire river spred.
LIV
Nath’lesse, Diana, full of indignation,
Thence-forth abandond her delicious brooke;
In whose sweet streame, before that bad occasion, 480
So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke:
Ne onely her, but also quite forsooke
All those faire forrests about Arlo hid,
And all that mountaine, which doth overlooke
The richest champian that may else be rid, 485
And the faire Shure, in which are thousand salmons bred.
LV
Them all, and all that she so deare did way,
Thence-forth she left; and parting from the place,
There-on an heavy haplesse curse did lay,
To weet, that wolves, where she was wont to space, 490
Should harbour’d be, and all those woods deface,
And thieves should rob and spoile that coast around.
Since which, those woods, and all that goodly chase,
Doth to this day with wolves and thieves abound:
Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since have found. 495
Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents
Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’
Canto VII
Pealing from Jove to Natur’s bar,
Bold Alteration pleades
Large evidence: but Nature soone
Her righteous doome areads.
I
AH! whither doost thou now, thou greater Muse,
Me from these woods and pleasing forrests bring?
And my fraile spirit (that dooth oft refuse
This too high flight, unfit for her weake wing)
Lift up aloft, to tell of heavens king 5
(Thy soveraine sire) his fortunate successe,
And victory in bigger noates to sing,
Which he obtain’d against that Titanesse,
That him of heavens empire sought to dispossesse?
II
Yet sith I needs must follow thy behest, 10
Doe thou my weaker wit with skill inspire,
Fit for this turne; and in my feeble brest
Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire
Which learned minds inflameth with desire
Of heavenly things: for who but thou alone, 15
That art yborne of heaven and heavenly sire,
Can tell things doen in heaven so long ygone,
So farre past memory of man that may be knowne?
III
Now, at the time that was before agreed,
The gods assembled all on Arlo hill; 20
As well those that are sprung of heavenly seed,
As those that all the other world doe fill,
And rule both sea and land unto their will:
Onely th’ infernall powers might not appeare;
Aswell for horror of their count’naunce ill, 25
As for th’ unruly fiends which they did feare;
Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there.
IV
And thither also
came all other creatures,
What-ever life or motion doe retaine,
According to their sundry kinds of features; 30
That Arlo scarsly could them all containe;
So full they filled every hill and plaine:
And had not Natures sergeant (that is Order)
Them well disposed by his busie paine,
And raunged farre abroad in every border, 35
They would have caused much confusion and disorder.
V
Then forth issewed (great goddesse) great Dame Nature,
With goodly port and gracious majesty,
Being far greater and more tall of stature
Then any of the gods or powers on hie: 40
Yet certes by her face and physnomy,
Whether she man or woman inly were,
That could not any creature well descry:
For, with a veile that wimpled every where,
Her head and face was hid, that mote to none appeare. 45
VI
That, some doe say, was so by skill devized,
To hide the terror of her uncouth hew
From mortall eyes, that should be sore agrized;
For that her face did like a lion shew,
That eye of wight could not indure to view: 50
But others tell that it so beautious was,
And round about such beames of splendor threw,
That it the sunne a thousand times did pass,
Ne could be seene, but like an image in a glass.
VII
That well may seemen true: for well I weene 55
That this same day, when she on Arlo sat,
Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene,
That my fraile wit cannot devize to what
It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that:
As those three sacred saints, though else most wise, 60
Yet on Mount Thabor quite their wits forgat,
When they their glorious Lord in strange disguise
Transfigur’d sawe; his garments so did daze their eyes.
VIII
In a fayre plaine upon an equall hill
She placed was in a pavilion; 65
Not such as craftes-men by their idle skill
Are wont for princes states to fashion:
But th’ Earth her self, of her owne motion,
Out of her fruitfull bosome made to growe
Most dainty trees, that, shooting up anon, 70
Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full lowe,
For homage unto her, and like a throne did shew.
IX
So hard it is for any living wight
All her array and vestiments to tell,
That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright, 75
The pure well head of poesie did dwell)
In his Foules Parley durst not with it mel,
But it transferd to Alane, who he thought
Had in his Plaint of Kinde describ’d it well:
Which who will read set forth so as it ought, 80
Go seek he out that Alane where he may be sought.
X
And all the earth far underneath her feete
Was dight with flowres, that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet;
Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and hew, 85
That might delight the smell, or please the view;
The which the nymphes from all the brooks thereby
Had gathered, which they at her foot-stoole threw;
That richer seem’d then any tapestry,
That princes bowres adorne with painted imagery. 90
XI
And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more,
Did deck himself in freshest faire attire,
And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore
With hardned frosts of former winters ire,
He with an oaken girlond now did tire, 95
As if the love of some new nymph late seene
Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire,
And made him change his gray attire to greene:
Ah, gentle Mole! such joyance hath thee well beseene.
XII
Was never so great joyance since the day 100
That all the gods whylome assembled were
On Hæmus hill in their divine array,
To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare
Twixt Peleus and Dame Thetis pointed there;
Where Phœbus self, that god of poets hight, 105
They say did sing the spousall hymne full cleere,
That all the gods were ravisht with delight
Of his celestiall song, and musicks wondrous might.
XIII
This great grandmother of all creatures bred,
Great Nature, ever young yet full of eld, 110
Still mooving, yet unmoved from her sted,
Unseene of any, yet of all beheld,
Thus sitting in her throne, as I have teld,
Before her came Dame Mutabilitie;
And being lowe before her presence feld, 115
With meek obaysance and humilitie,
Thus gan her plaintif plea, with words to amplifie:
XIV
‘To thee, O greatest goddesse, onely great,
An humble suppliant loe! I lowely fly,
Seeking for right, which I of thee entreat, 120
Who right to all dost deale indifferently,
Damning all wrong and tortious injurie,
Which any of thy creatures doe to other
(Oppressing them with power, unequally)
Sith of them all thou art the equall mother, 125
And knittest each to each, as brother unto brother.
XV
‘To thee therefore of this same Jove I plaine,
And of his fellow gods that faine to be,
That challenge to themselves the whole worlds raign;
Of which the greatest part is due to me, 130
And heaven it selfe by heritage in fee:
For heaven and earth I both alike to deeme,
Sith heaven and earth are both alike to thee;
And gods no more then men thou doest esteeme:
For even the gods to thee, as men to gods, do seeme. 135
XVI
‘Then weigh, O soveraigne goddesse, by what right
These gods do claime the worlds whole soverainty,
And that is onely dew unto thy might
Arrogate to themselves ambitiously:
As for the gods owne principality, 140
Which Jove usurpes unjustly, that to be
My heritage, Jove’s self cannot deny,
From my great grandsire Titan unto mee
Deriv’d by dew descent; as is well knowen to thee.
XVII
‘Yet mauger Jove, and all his gods beside, 145
I doe possesse the worlds most regiment;
As, if ye please it into parts divide,
And every parts inholders to convent,
Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent.
And first, the Earth (great mother of us all) 150
That only seems unmov’d and permanent,
And unto Mutability not thrall,
Yet is she chang’d in part, and eeke in generall.
XVIII
‘For all that from her springs, and is ybredde,
How-ever fayre it flourish for a time, 155
Yet see we soone decay; and, being dead,
To turne again unto their earthly slime:
Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime,
We daily see new creatures to arize,
And of their winter spring another prime, 160
Unlike in forme, and chang’d by strange disguise;
So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.
XIX
‘As for her tenants, that is, man and beasts,
The beasts we daily see mas
sacred dy,
As thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts: 165
And men themselves doe change continually,
From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty,
From good to bad, from bad to worst of all:
Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly;
But eeke their minds (which they immortall call) 170
Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.
XX
‘Ne is the water in more constant case;
Whether those same on high, or these belowe.
Forth’ ocean moveth stil from place to place;
And every river still doth ebbe and flowe: 175
Ne any lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde,
When any winde doth under heaven blowe;
With which the clouds are also tost and roll’d;
Now like great hills; and streight, like sluces, them unfold. 180
XXI
‘So likewise are all watry living wights
Still tost and turned with continuall change,
Never abyding in their stedfast plights.
The fish, still floting, doe at randon range,
And never rest, but evermore exchange 185
Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie:
Ne have the watry foules a certaine grange
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry;
But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.
XXII
‘Next is the ayre: which who feeles not by sense 190
(For of all sense it is the middle meane)
To flit still? and, with subtill influence
Of his thin spirit, all creatures to maintaine
In state of life? O weake life! that does leane
On thing so tickle as th’ unsteady ayre; 195
Which every howre is chang’d, and altred cleane
With every blast that bloweth fowle or faire:
The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it impaire.
XXIII
‘Therein the changes infinite beholde,
Which to her creatures every minute chaunce: 200
Now, boyling hot: streight, friezing deadly cold:
Now, faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce:
Streight, bitter storms and balefull countenance,
That makes them all to shiver and to shake:
Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance, 205
And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake)
With flames and flashing lights that thousand changes make.
XXIV
‘Last is the fire: which, though it live for ever,
Ne can be quenched quite, yet, every day,
Wee see his parts, so soone as they do sever, 210
To lose their heat, and shortly to decay;
So makes himself his owne consuming pray.
Ne any living creatures doth he breed:
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 123
