The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  And giue you eke good helpe to their decay,

  But mote I wisely you aduise to doon;

  Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay

  Your selfe of sword before that bloudy day:

  For they be two the prowest knights on ground,

  And oft approu'd in many hard assay,

  And eke of surest steele, that may be found,

  Do arme your selfe against that day, them to confound.

  Dotard (said he) let be thy deepe aduise;

  Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,

  And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise,

  Else neuer should thy iudgement be so fraile,

  To measure manhood by the sword or maile.

  Is not enough foure quarters of a man,

  Withouten sword or shield, an host to quaile?

  Thou little wotest, what this right hand can:

  Speake they, which haue beheld the battailes, which it wan.

  The man was much abashed at his boast;

  Yet well he wist, that who so would contend

  With either of those knights on euen coast,

  Should need of all his armes, him to defend;

  Yet feared least his boldnesse should offend,

  When Braggadocchio said, Once I did sweare,

  When with one sword seuen knights I brought to end,

  Thence forth in battell neuer sword to beare,

  But it were that, which noblest knight on earth doth weare.

  Perdie Sir knight, said then th'enchaunter bliue,

  That shall I shortly purchase to your hond:

  For now the best and noblest knight aliue

  Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond;

  He hath a sword, that flames like burning brond.

  The same by my deuice I vndertake

  Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.

  At which bold word that boaster gan to quake,

  And wondred in his mind, what mote that monster make.

  He stayd not for more bidding, but away

  Was suddein vanished out of his sight:

  The Northerne wind his wings did broad display

  At his commaund, and reared him vp light

  From off the earth to take his aerie flight.

  They lookt about, but no where could espie

  Tract of his foot: then dead through great affright

  They both nigh were, and each bad other flie:

  Both fled attonce, ne euer backe returned eie.

  Till that they come vnto a forrest greene,

  In which they shrowd th&etilde;selues from causelesse feare;

  Yet feare them followes still, where so they beene,

  Each trembling leafe, and whistling wind they heare,

  As ghastly bug their haire on end does reare:

  Yet both doe striue their fearfulnesse to faine.

  At last they heard a horne, that shrilled cleare

  Throughout the wood, that ecchoed againe,

  And made the forrest ring, as it would riue in twaine.

  Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush;

  With noyse whereof he from his loftie steed

  Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush,

  To hide his coward head from dying dreed.

  But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed,

  Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped forth

  A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed,

  That seemd to be a woman of great worth,

  And by her stately portance, borne of heauenly birth.

  Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not,

  But heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew,

  Cleare as the skie, withouten blame or blot,

  Through goodly mixture of complexions dew;

  And in her cheekes the vermeill red did shew

  Like roses in a bed of lillies shed,

  The which ambrosiall odours from them threw,

  And gazers sense with double pleasure fed,

  Hable to heale the sicke, and to reuiue the ded.

  In her faire eyes two liuing lamps did flame,

  Kindled aboue at th'heauenly makers light,

  And darted fyrie beames out of the same,

  So passing persant, and so wondrous bright,

  That quite bereau'd the rash beholders sight:

  In them the blinded god his lustfull fire

  To kindle oft assayd, but had no might;

  For with dredd Maiestie, and awfull ire,

  She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

  Her iuorie forhead, full of bountie braue,

  Like a broad table did it selfe dispred,

  For Loue his loftie triumphes to engraue,

  And write the battels of his great godhed:

  All good and honour might therein be red:

  For there their dwelling was. And when she spake,

  Sweet words, like dropping honny she did shed,

  And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake

  A siluer sound, that heauenly musicke seemd to make.

  Vpon her eyelids many Graces sate,

  Vnder the shadow of her euen browes,

  Working belgards, and amorous retrate,

  And euery one her with a grace endowes:

  And euery one with meekenesse to her bowes.

  So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,

  And soueraine moniment of mortall vowes,

  How shall fraile pen descriue her heauenly face,

  For feare through want of skill her beautie to disgrace?

  So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire

  She seemd, when she presented was to sight,

  And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,

  All in a silken Camus lylly whight,

  Purfled vpon with many a folded plight,

  Which all aboue besprinckled was throughout,

  With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,

  Like twinckling starres, and all the skirt about

  Was hemd with golden fringe

  Below her ham her weed were somewhat traine,

  And her streight legs most brauely were embayld

  In gilden buskins of costly Cordwaine,

  All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld

  With curious antickes, and full faire aumayld:

  Before they fastned were vnder her knee

  In a rich Iewell, and therein entrayld

  The ends of all their knots, that none might see,

  How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.

  Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,

  Which doe the temple of the Gods support,

  Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,

  And honour in their festiuall resort;

  Those same with stately grace, and princely port

  She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,

  But with the wooddie Nymphes when she did play,

  Or when the flying Libbard she did chace,

  She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.

  And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,

  And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,

  Stuft with steele-headed darts, wherewith she queld

  The saluage beastes in her victorious play,

  Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay

  Athwart her snowy brest, and did diuide

  Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May

  Now little gan to swell, and being tide,

  Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

  Her yellow lockes crisped, like golden wyre,

  About her shoulders weren loosely shed,

  And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,

  They waued like a penon wide dispred,

  And low behinde her backe were scattered:

  And whether art it were, or heedlesse hap,

  As through the flouring
forrest rash she fled,

  In her rude haires sweet flowres themselues did lap,

  And flourishing fresh leaues and blossomes did enwrap.

  Such as Diana by the sandie shore

  Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,

  Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,

  Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,

  To seeke her game: Or as that famous Queene

  Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,

  The day that first of Priame she was seene,

  Did shew her selfe in great triumphant ioy,

  To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.

  Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew,

  He was dismayed in his coward mind,

  And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,

  Or fly away, or bide alone behind:

  Both feare and hope he in her face did find,

  When she at last him spying thus bespake;

  Hayle Groome; didst not thou see a bleeding Hind,

  Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?

  If thou didst, tell me, that I may her ouertake.

  Wherewith reviu'd, this answere forth he threw;

  O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)

  For neither doth thy face terrestriall shew,

  Nor voyce sound mortall; I auow to thee,

  Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,

  Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.

  But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,

  To weet, which of the Gods I shall thee name,

  That vnto thee due worship I may rightly frame.

  To whom she thus; but ere her words ensewed,

  Vnto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,

  In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewed,

  And saw it stirre: she left her percing launce,

  And towards gan a deadly shaft aduaunce,

  In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,

  Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,

  Out crying, ô what euer heauenly powre,

  Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.

  O stay thy hand, for yonder is no game

  For thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,

  But loe my Lord, my liege, whose warlike name,

  Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;

  And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.

  She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,

  Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,

  And standing stoutly vp, his loftie crest

  Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest.

  As fearefull fowle, that long in secret caue

  For dread of soaring hauke her selfe hath hid,

  Not caring how, her silly life to saue,

  She her gay painted plumes disorderid,

  Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid,

  Peepes foorth, and soone renewes her natiue pride;

  She gins her feathers foule disfigured

  Proudly to prune, and set on euery side,

  So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.

  So when her goodly visage he beheld,

  He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewed

  Those deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,

  Soone into other fits he was transmewed,

  Till she to him her gratious speach renewed;

  All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,

  As all the like, which honour haue pursewed

  Through deedes of armes and prowesse martiall;

  All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all

  To whom he thus: ô fairest vnder skie,

  True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,

  That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.

  Therein haue I spent all my youthly daies,

  And many battailes fought, and many fraies

  Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,

  Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise

  Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound

  In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.

  But what art thou, ô Ladie, which doest raunge

  In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is,

  And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,

  Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis

  And all delight does raigne, much more then this?

  There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee,

  And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;

  There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:

  The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee.

  Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she)

  Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis,

  Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,

  And in obliuion euer buried is:

  Where ease abounds, yt's eath to doe amis;

  But who his limbs with labours, and his mind

  Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis.

  Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind

  Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honour soonest find.

  In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell,

  And will be found with perill and with paine;

  Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,

  Vnto her happie mansion attaine:

  Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,

  And wakefull watches euer to abide:

  But easie is the way, and passage plaine

  To pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide,

  And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.

  In Princes court,---The rest she would haue said,

  But that the foolish man, fild with delight

  Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid,

  And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight,

  Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light,

  Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.

  With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright

  Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:

  So turned her about, and fled away apace.

  Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood,

  And grieued at her flight; yet durst he not

  Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood;

  Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot

  Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot:

  Ne car'd he greatly for her presence vaine,

  But turning said to Trompart, What foule blot

  Is this to knight, that Ladie should againe

  Depart to woods vntoucht, & leaue so proud disdaine?

  Perdie (said Trompart) let her passe at will,

  Least by her presence daunger mote befall.

  For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)

  But that she is some powre celestiall?

  For whiles she spake, her great words did apall

  My feeble courage, and my hart oppresse,

  That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.

  And I (said Braggadocchio) thought no lesse,

  When first I heard her horne sound with such ghastlinesse.

  For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue

  Me giuen by eternall destinie,

  That earthly thing may not my courage braue

  Dismay with feare, or cause one foot to flie,

  But either hellish feends, or powres on hie:

  Which was the cause, when earst that horne I heard,

  Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,

  I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;

  But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard.

  But now for feare of worse, that may betide,

  Let vs soone hence depart. They soone agree;

  So to his steed he got, and gan to ride,

  As one vnfi
t therefore, that all might see

  He had not trayned bene in cheualree.

  Which well that valiant courser did discerne;

  For he despysd to tread in dew degree,

  But chaufd and fom'd, with courage fierce and sterne,

  And to be easd of that base burden still did erne.

  Cant. IIII.

  Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,

  and stops Occasion:

  Deliuers Phedon, and therefore

  by Strife is rayld vpon.

  I N braue pursuit of honorable deed,

  There is I know not what great difference

  Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,

  Which vnto things of valorous pretence

  Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;

  As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,

  But chiefly skill to ride, seemes a science

  Proper to gentle bloud; some others faine

  To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.

  But he the rightfull owner of that steed,

  Who well could menage and subdew his pride,

  The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,

  With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide;

  Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.

  But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse

  Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,

  He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,

  Teach him the weake to strengthen, & the strõg suppresse.

  It fortuned forth faring on his way,

  He saw from farre, or seemed for to see

  Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,

  Whereto he drew in haste it to agree.

  A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,

  Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,

  A handsome stripling with great crueltee,

  Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many a wound,

  That cheekes with teares, and sides with bloud did all abound.

  And him behind, a wicked Hag did stalke,

  In ragged robes, and filthy disaray,

  Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke,

  But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay;

  Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,

  Grew all afore, and loosely hong vnrold,