The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  Gathred themselues about her body round,

  Weening their wonted entrance to haue found

  At her wide mouth: but being there withstood

  They flocked all about her bleeding wound,

  And sucked vp their dying mothers blood,

  Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.

  That detestable sight him much amazde,

  To see th'vnkindly Impes of heauen accurst,

  Deuoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,

  Hauing all satisfide their bloudy thurst,

  Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst,

  And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end

  Of such as drunke her life, the which them nurst;

  Now needeth him no lenger labour spend,

  His foes haue slaine themselues, with whom he should contend.

  His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre

  Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,

  And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,

  Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:

  Well worthy be you of that Armorie,

  Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,

  And proou'd your strength on a strong enimie,

  Your first aduenture: many such I pray,

  And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.

  Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe,

  And with the Lady backward sought to wend;

  That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,

  Ne euer would to any by-way bend,

  But still did follow one vnto the end,

  The which at last out of the wood them brought.

  So forward on his way (with God to frend)

  He passed forth, and new aduenture sought;

  Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.

  At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way

  An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,

  His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,

  And by his belt his booke he hanging had;

  Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,

  And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,

  Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,

  And all the way he prayed, as he went,

  And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.

  He faire the knight saluted, louting low,

  Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:

  And after asked him, if he did know

  Of straunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.

  Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas,

  Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,

  Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,

  Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

  With holy father sits not with such things to mell.

  But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell,

  And homebred euill ye desire to heare,

  Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell,

  That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.

  Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,

  And shall you well reward to shew the place,

  In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:

  For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,

  That such a cursed creature liues so long a space.

  Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse

  His dwelling is, by which no liuing wight

  May euer passe, but thorough great distresse.

  Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,

  And well I wote, that of your later fight

  Ye all forwearied be: for what so strong,

  But wanting rest will also want of might?

  The Sunne that measures heauen all day long,

  At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waues emong.

  Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest,

  And with new day new worke at once begin:

  Vntroubled night they say giues counsell best.

  Right well Sir knight ye haue aduised bin,

  (Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win

  Is wisely to aduise: now day is spent;

  Therefore with me ye may take vp your In

  For this same night. The knight was well content:

  So with that godly father to his home they went.

  A little lowly Hermitage it was,

  Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,

  Far from resort of people, that did pas

  In trauell to and froe: a little wyde

  There was an holy Chappell edifyde,

  Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say

  His holy things each morne and euentyde:

  Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,

  Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.

  Arriued there, the little house they fill,

  Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:

  Rest is their feast, and all things at their will;

  The noblest mind the best contentment has.

  With faire discourse the euening so they pas:

  For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,

  And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;

  He told of Saintes and Popes, and euermore

  He strowd an Aue-Mary after and before.

  The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast,

  And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,

  As messenger of Morpheus on them cast

  Sweet slõbring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.

  Vnto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:

  Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,

  He to his study goes, and there amiddes

  His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,

  He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes

  Then choosing out few wordes most horrible,

  (Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,

  With which and other spelles like terrible,

  He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame,

  And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame

  Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;

  A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name

  Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night,

  At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.

  And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred

  Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes

  Fluttring about his euer damned hed,

  A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes,

  To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:

  Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,

  And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;

  The one of them he gaue a message too,

  The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.

  He making speedy way through spersed ayre,

  And through the world of waters wide and deepe,

  To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.

  Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,

  And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe,

  His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed

  Doth euer wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe

  In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,

  Whiles sad Night ouer him her mãtle black doth spred

  Whose double gates he findeth locked fast,

  The one faire fram'd of burnisht Yuory,

  The other all with siluer ouercast;

  And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,

  Watching to banish Care their enimy,

  Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.

  By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,

  And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe

  In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.

  And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft,

&
nbsp; A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe

  And euer-drizling raine vpon the loft,

  Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne

  Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:

  No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,

  As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,

  Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,

  Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.

  The messenger approching to him spake,

  But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:

  So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.

  Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,

  Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe

  Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.

  As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine

  Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,

  He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.

  The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,

  And threatned vnto him the dreaded name

  Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,

  And lifting vp his lompish head, with blame

  Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.

  Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,

  He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,

  He bids thee to him send for his intent

  A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent.

  The God obayde, and calling forth straight way

  A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,

  Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay

  His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,

  Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.

  He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,

  Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,

  And on his litle winges the dreame he bore

  In hast vnto his Lord, where he him left afore.

  Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,

  Had made a Lady of that other Spright,

  And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes

  So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,

  That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:

  The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,

  Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:

  Her all in white he clad, and ouer it

  Cast a blacke stole, most like to seeme for Vna fit.

  Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,

  Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,

  Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,

  And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,

  In sort as he him schooled priuily:

  And that new creature borne without her dew,

  Full of the makers guile, with vsage sly

  He taught to imitate that Lady trew,

  Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.

  Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast,

  And comming where the knight in slomber lay,

  The one vpon his hardy head him plast,

  And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,

  That nigh his manly hart did melt away,

  Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:

  Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,

  And to him playnd, how that false winged boy,

  Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame pleasures toy.

  And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene,

  Faire Venus seemde vnto his bed to bring

  Her, whom he waking euermore did weene,

  To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring

  On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,

  Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:

  And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,

  Hymen iô Hymen, dauncing all around,

  Whilst freshest Flora her with Yuie girlond crownd.

  In this great passion of vnwonted lust,

  Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,

  He started vp, as seeming to mistrust,

  Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:

  Lo there before his face his Lady is,

  Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,

  And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,

  With gentle blandishment and louely looke,

  Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.

  All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight,

  And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,

  He thought haue slaine her in his fierce despight:

  But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,

  He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise

  To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.

  Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,

  Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,

  Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.

  And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue,

  Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,

  And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,

  Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,

  For hoped loue to winne me certaine hate?

  Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

  Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state

  You, whom my hard auenging destinie

  Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.

  Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue

  My Fathers kingdome,--There she stopt with teares;

  Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,

  And then againe begun, My weaker yeares

  Captiu'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares,

  Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:

  Let me not dye in languor and long teares.

  Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?

  What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?

  Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint

  Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night

  In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,

  Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

  Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight

  Suspect her truth: yet since no' vntruth he knew,

  Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight

  He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,

  That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew.

  Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;

  For all so deare as life is to my hart,

  I deeme your loue, and hold me to you bound;

  Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,

  Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

  Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

  Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,

  And fed with words, that could not chuse but please,

  So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.

  Long after lay he musing at her mood,

  Much grieu'd to thinke that gentle Dame so light,

  For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

  At last dull wearinesse of former fight

  Hauing yrockt a sleepe his irkesome spright,

  That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,

  With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:

  But when he saw his labour all was vaine,

  With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

  Cant. II.

  The guilefull great Enchaunter parts

  The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:

  Into whose stead faire falshood steps,

  And workes him wofull ruth.

  BY this the Northerne wagoner had set

  His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,

  That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,

  But firme is fixt, and sendet
h light from farre

  To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:

  And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill

  Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre

  In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,

  Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

  When those accursed messengers of hell,

  That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright

  Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

  Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:

  Who all in rage to see his skilfull might

  Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine

  And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.

  But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

  He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

  Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,

  And that false other Spright, on whom he spred

  A seeming body of the subtile aire,

  Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed

  His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,

  Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:

  Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,

  Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,

  Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

  Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast

  Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights

  And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,

  Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,

  As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,

  And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,

  That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights

  Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;

  Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour staine.

  All in amaze he suddenly vp start

  With sword in hand, and with the old man went;

  Who soone him brought into a secret part,

  Where that false couple were full closely ment

  In wanton lust and lewd embracement:

  Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,

  The eye of reason was with rage yblent,

  And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,

  But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

  Returning to his bed in torment great,