Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  But all that are of others bredd doth slay,

  And with their death his cruell life dooth feed; 215

  Nought leaving, but their barren ashes, without seed.

  XXV

  ‘Thus all these fower (the which the ground-work bee

  Of all the world, and of all living wights)

  To thousand sorts of change we subject see:

  Yet are they chang’d (by other wondrous slights) 220

  Into themselves, and lose their native mights:

  The fire to aire, and th’ ayre to water sheere,

  And water into earth: yet water fights

  With fire, and aire with earth, approaching neere:

  Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare. 225

  XXVI

  ‘So in them all raignes Mutabilitie;

  How-ever these, that gods themselves do call,

  Of them doe claime the rule and soverainty:

  As Vesta, of the fire æthereall;

  Vulcan, of this, with us so usuall; 230

  Ops, of the earth; and Juno, of the ayre;

  Neptune, of seas; and nymphes, of rivers all:

  For all those rivers to me subject are;

  And all the rest, which they usurp, be all my share.

  XXVII

  ‘Which to approven true, as I have told, 235

  Vouchsafe, O goddesse, to thy presence call

  The rest which doe the world in being hold:

  As times and seasons of the yeare that fall:

  Of all the which demand in generall,

  Or judge thy selfe, by verdit of thine eye, 240

  Whether to me they are not subject all.’

  Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by,

  Bade Order call them all before her majesty.

  XXVIII

  So forth issew’d the seasons of the yeare:

  First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowres 245

  That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare

  (In which a thousand birds had built their bowres,

  That sweetly sung, to call forth paramours):

  And in his hand a javelin he did beare,

  And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) 250

  A guilt engraven morion he did weare;

  That, as some did him love, so others did him feare.

  XXIX

  Then came the jolly Sommer, being dight

  In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,

  That was unlyned all, to be more light: 255

  And on his head a girlond well beseene

  He wore, from which, as he had chauffed been,

  The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore

  A boawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene

  Had hunted late the libbard or the bore, 260

  And now would bathe his limbes, with labor heated sore.

  XXX

  Then came the Autumne, all in yellow cald,

  As though he joyed in his plentious store,

  Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad

  That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore 265

  Had by the belly oft him pinched sore.

  Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold

  With eares of corne of every sort, he bore:

  And in his hand a sickle he did holde,

  To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold. 270

  XXXI

  Lastly came Winter, cloathed all in frize,

  Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill,

  Whil’st on his hoary beard his breath did freese,

  And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill

  As from a limbeck did adown distill. 275

  In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,

  With which his feeble steps he stayed still:

  For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;

  That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

  XXXII

  These, marching softly, thus in order went, 280

  And after them the monthes all riding came:

  First, sturdy March, with brows full sternly bent,

  And armed strongly, rode upon a ram,

  The same which over Hellespontus swam:

  Yet in his hand a spade he also hent, 285

  And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,

  Which on the earth he strowed as he went,

  And fild her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment.

  XXXIII

  Next came fresh Aprill, full of lustyhed,

  And wanton as a kid whose horne new buds: 290

  Upon a bull he rode, the same which led

  Europa floting through th’ Argolick fluds:

  His hornes were gilden all with golden studs,

  And garnished with garlonds goodly dight

  Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds 295

  Which th’ earth brings forth, and wet he seem’d in sight

  With waves, through which he waded for his loves delight.

  XXXIV

  Then came faire May, the fayrest mayd on ground,

  Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,

  And throwing flowres out of her lap around: 300

  Upon two brethrens shoulders she did ride,

  The twinnes of Leda; which on eyther side

  Supported her like to their soveraine queene.

  Lord! how all creatures laught, when her they spide,

  And leapt and daunc’t as they had ravisht beene! 305

  And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

  XXXV

  And after her came jolly June, arrayd

  All in greene leaves, as he a player were;

  Yet in his time he wrought as well as playd,

  That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare: 310

  Upon a crab he rode, that him did beare

  With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase,

  And backward yode, as bargemen wont to fare

  Bending their force contrary to their face,

  Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest grace. 315

  XXXVI

  Then came hot July boyling like to fire,

  That all his garments he had cast away:

  Upon a lyon raging yet with ire

  He boldly rode, and made him to obay:

  It was the beast that whylome did forray 320

  The Nemæan forrest, till th’ Amphytrionide

  Him slew, and with his hide did him array:

  Behinde his back a sithe, and by his side

  Under his belt he bore a sickle circling wide.

  XXXVII

  The sixt was August, being rich arrayd 325

  In garment all of gold downe to the ground:

  Yet rode he not, but led a lovely mayd

  Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround

  With eares of corne, and full her hand was found:

  That was the righteous virgin which of old 330

  Liv’d here on earth, and plenty made abound;

  But, after wrong was lov’d and justice solde,

  She left th’ unrighteous world and was to heaven extold.

  XXXVIII

  Next him September marched eeke on foote;

  Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle 335

  Of harvests riches, which he made his boot,

  And him enricht with bounty of the soyle:

  In his one hand, as fit for harvests toyle.

  He held a knife-hook; and in th’ other hand

  A paire of waights, with which he did assoyle 340

  Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,

  And equall gave to each as justice duly scann’d.

  XXXIX

  Then came October full of merry glee:

  For yet his noule was totty of the must,

  Which he was treading in the wine-fats see, 345

  And of the joyous oyle, whose gentle gust

  Made him so frollick a
nd so full of lust:

  Upon a dreadfull scorpion he did ride,

  The same which by Dianaes doom unjust

  Slew great Orion: and eeke by his side 350

  He had his ploughing-share and coulter ready tyde.

  XL

  Next was November; he full grosse and fat,

  As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;

  For he had been a fatting hogs of late,

  That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steem, 355

  And yet the season was full sharp and breem;

  In planting eeke he took no small delight.

  Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme;

  For it a dreadfull centaure was in sight,

  The seed of Saturne and faire Nais, Chiron hight. 360

  XLI

  And after him came next the chill December:

  Yet he, through merry feasting which he made,

  And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;

  His Saviours birth his mind so much did glad:

  Upon a shaggy-bearded goat he rade, 365

  The same wherewith Dan Jove in tender yeares,

  They say, was nourisht by th’ Idæan mayd;

  And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he beares,

  Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.

  XLII

  Then came old January, wrapped well 370

  In many weeds to keep the cold away;

  Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,

  And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may:

  For they were numbd with holding all the day

  An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood, 375

  And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray:

  Upon an huge great earth-pot steane he stood,

  From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane floud.

  XLIII

  And lastly came cold February, sitting

  In an old wagon, for he could not ride; 380

  Drawne of two fishes for the season fitting,

  Which through the flood before did softly slyde

  And swim away: yet had he by his side

  His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground,

  And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride 385

  Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round.

  So past the twelve months forth, and their dew places found.

  XLIV

  And after these there came the Day and Night,

  Riding together both with equall pase,

  Th’ one on a palfrey blacke, the other white: 390

  But Night had covered her uncomely face

  With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace,

  On top whereof the moon and stars were pight,

  And Sleep and Darknesse round about did trace:

  But Day did beare, upon his scepters hight, 395

  The goodly sun, encompast all with beames bright.

  XLV

  Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high Jove

  And timely Night, the which were all endewed

  With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love;

  But they were virgins all, and love eschewed, 400

  That might forslack the charge to them fore-shewed

  By mighty Jove; who did them porters make

  Of heavens gate (whence all the gods issued)

  Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake

  By even turnes, ne ever did their charge forsake. 405

  XLVI

  And after all came Life, and lastly Death:

  Death with most grim and griesly visage seene,

  Yet is he nought but parting of the breath;

  Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene,

  Unbodied, unsoul’d, unheard, unseene: 410

  But Life was like a faire young lusty boy,

  Such as they faine Dan Cupid to have beene,

  Full of delightfull health and lively joy,

  Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold fit to employ.

  XLVII

  When these were past, thus gan the Titanesse: 415

  ‘Lo! mighty mother, now be judge, and say

  Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse

  Change doth not raign and beare the greatest sway:

  For who sees not that Time on all doth pray?

  But times do change and move continually: 420

  So nothing here long standeth in one stay:

  Wherefore, this lower world who can deny

  But to be subject still to Mutabilitie?’

  XLVIII

  Then thus gan Jove: ‘Right true it is, that these,

  And all things else that under heaven dwell, 425

  Are chaung’d of Time, who doth them all disseise

  Of being: but who is it (to me tell)

  That Time himselfe doth move and still compell

  To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee,

  Which poure that vertue from our heavenly cell 430

  That moves them all, and makes them changed be?

  So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee.’

  XLIX

  To whom thus Mutability: ‘The things

  Which we see not how they are mov’d and swayd

  Ye may attribute to your selves as kings, 435

  And say they by your secret powre are made:

  But what we see not, who shall us perswade?

  But were they so, as ye them faine to be,

  Mov’d by your might, and ordred by your ayde;

  Yet what if I can prove, that even yee 440

  Your selves are likewise chang’d, and subject unto mee?

  L

  ‘And first, concerning her that is the first,

  Even you, faire Cynthia, whom so much ye make

  Joves dearest darling; she was bred and nurst

  On Cynthus hill, whence she her name did take: 445

  Then is she mortall borne, how-so ye crake;

  Besides, her face and countenance every day

  We changed see, and sundry forms partake,

  Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and gray;

  So that as changefull as the moone men use to say. 450

  LI

  ‘Next Mercury, who though he lesse appeare

  To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one,

  Yet he his course doth alter every yeare,

  And is of late far out of order gone:

  So Venus eeke, that goodly paragone, 455

  Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day;

  And Phœbus self, who lightsome is alone,

  Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way,

  And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.

  LII

  ‘Now Mars, that valiant man, is changed most: 460

  For he some times so far runs out of square,

  That he his way doth seem quite to have lost,

  And cleane without his usuall sphere to fare;

  That even these star-gazers stonisht are

  At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes: 465

  So likewise grim Sir Saturne oft doth spare

  His sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes:

  So many turning cranks these have, so many crookes.

  LIII

  ‘But you, Dan Jove, that only constant are,

  And king of all the rest, as ye do clame, 470

  Are you not subject eeke to this misfare?

  Then let me aske you this withouten blame:

  Where were ye borne? Some say in Crete by name,

  Others in Thebes, and others other-where;

  But wheresoever they comment the same, 475

  They all consent that ye begotten were

  And borne here in this world, ne other can appeare.

  LIV

  ‘Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me,

  Unlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make

  Immortall and unchangeable to
be: 480

  Besides, that power and vertue which ye spake,

  That ye here worke, doth many changes take,

  And your owne natures change: for each of you,

  That vertue have, or this or that to make,

  Is checkt and changed from his nature trew, 485

  By others opposition or obliquid view.

  LV

  ‘Besides, the sundry motions of your spheares,

  So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine,

  Some in short space, and some in longer yeares;

  What is the same but alteration plaine? 490

  Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine:

  Yet do the starres and signes therein still move,

  And even it self is mov’d, as wizards saine.

  But all that moveth doth mutation love:

  Therefore both you and them to me I subject prove. 495

  LVI

  ‘Then since within this wide great universe

  Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare,

  But all things tost and turned by transverse:

  What then should let, but I aloft should reare

  My trophee, and from all the triumph beare? 500

  Now judge then (O thou greatest goddesse trew!)

  According as thy selfe doest see and heare,

  And unto me addoom that is my dew;

  That is the rule of all, all being rul’d by you.’

  LVII

  So having ended, silence long ensewed; 505

  Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space,

  But, with firme eyes affixt, the ground still viewed.

  Meane while, all creatures, looking in her face,

  Expecting th’ end of this so doubtfull case,

  Did hang in long suspence what would ensew, 510

  To whether side should fall the soveraigne place:

  At length, she, looking up with chearefull view,

  The silence brake, and gave her doome in speeches few:

  LVIII

  ‘I well consider all that ye have sayd,

  And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate 515

  And changed be: yet being rightly wayd,

  They are not changed from their first estate;

  But by their change their being doe dilate:

  And turning to themselves at length againe,

  Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate: 520

  Then over them Change doth not rule and raigne;

  But they raigne over Change, and doe their states maintaine.

  LIX

  ‘Cease therefore, daughter, further to aspire,

  And thee content thus to be rul’d by me:

  For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire: 525

  But time shall come that all shall changed bee,

  And from thenceforth none no more change shall see.’

  So was the Titaness put downe and whist,

  And Jove confirm’d in his imperiall see.

  Then was that whole assembly quite dismist, 530