The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  Some, that Bellona in that warlike wise

  To them appear'd, with shield and armour fit;

  Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:

  So diuersely each one did sundrie doubts deuise.

  But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed

  Was to that goodly fellowship restor'd,

  Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,

  And doubly ouercommen, her ador'd:

  So did they all their former strife accord;

  And eke fayre Amoret now freed from feare,

  More franke affection did to her afford,

  And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,

  Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

  Where all that night they of their loues did treat,

  And hard aduentures twixt themselues alone,

  That each the other gan with passion great,

  And griefull pittie priuately bemone.

  The morow next so soone as Titan shone,

  They both vprose, and to their waies them dight:

  Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none,

  That to their willes could them direct aright,

  Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight.

  Lo thus they rode, till at the last they spide

  Two armed Knights, that toward them did pace,

  And ech of them had ryding by his side

  A Ladie, seeming in so farre a space,

  But Ladies none they were, albee in face

  And outward shew faire semblance they did beare;

  For vnder maske of beautie and good grace,

  Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,

  That mote to none but to the warie wise appeare.

  The one of them the false Duessa hight,

  That now had chang'd her former wonted hew:

  For she could d'on so manie shapes in sight,

  As euer could Cameleon colours new;

  So could she forge all colours, saue the trew.

  The other no whit better was then shee,

  But that such as she was, she plaine did shew;

  Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,

  And dayly more offensiue vnto each degree.

  Her name was Ate, mother of debate,

  And all dissention, which doth dayly grow

  Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state

  And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.

  Her false Duessa who full well did know,

  To be most fit to trouble noble knights,

  Which hunt for honor, raised from below,

  Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,

  Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies & nights.

  Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

  There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,

  Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse:

  It is a darksome delue farre vnder ground,

  With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,

  That none the same may easily out win;

  Yet many waies to enter may be found,

  But none to issue forth when one is in:

  For discord harder is to end then to begin.

  And all within the riuen walls were hung

  With ragged monuments of times forepast,

  All which the sad effects of discord sung:

  There were rent robes, and broken scepters plast,

  Altars defyl'd, and holy things defast,

  Disshiuered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,

  Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,

  Nations captiued, and huge armies slaine:

  Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

  There was the signe of antique Babylon,

  Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,

  Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion

  For memorie of which on high there hong

  The golden Apple, cause of all their wrong,

  For which the three faire Goddesses did striue:

  There also was the name of Nimrod strong,

  Of Alexander, and his Princes fiue,

  Which shar'd to them the spoiles that he had got aliue.

  And there the relicks of the drunken fray,

  The which amongst the Lapithees befell,

  And of the bloodie feast, which sent away

  So many Centaures drunken soules to hell,

  That vnder great Alcides furie fell:

  And of the dreadfull discord, which did driue

  The noble Argonauts to outrage fell:

  That each of life sought others to depriue,

  All mindlesse of the Golden fleece, which made them striue.

  And eke of priuate persons many moe,

  That were too long a worke to count them all;

  Some of sworne friends, that did their faith forgoe;

  Some of borne brethren, prov'd vnnaturall;

  Some of deare louers, foes perpetuall:

  Witnesse their broken bandes there to be seene,

  Their girlonds rent, their bowres despoyled all;

  The moniments whereof there byding beene,

  As plaine as at the first, when they were fresh and greene.

  Such was her house within; but all without,

  The barren ground was full of wicked weedes,

  Which she her selfe had sowen all about,

  Now growen great, at first of little seedes,

  The seedes of euill wordes, and factious deedes;

  Which when to ripenesse due they growen arre,

  Bring foorth an infinite increase, that breedes

  Tumultuous trouble and contentious iarre,

  The which most often end in bloudshed and in warre.

  And those same cursed seedes doe also serue

  To her for bread, and yeeld her liuing food:

  For life it is to her, when others sterue

  Through mischieuous debate, and deadly feood,

  That she may sucke their life, and drinke their blood,

  With which she from her childhood had bene fed.

  For she at first was borne of hellish brood,

  And by infernall furies nourished,

  That by her monstrous shape might easily be red.

  Her face most fowle and filthy was to see,

  With squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended,

  And loathly mouth, vnmeete a mouth to bee,

  That nought but gall and venim comprehended,

  And wicked wordes that God and man offended:

  Her lying tongue was in two parts diuided,

  And both the parts did speake, and both contended;

  And as her tongue, so was her hart discided,

  That neuer thoght one thing, but doubly stil was guided.

  Als as she double spake, so heard she double,

  With matchlesse eares deformed and distort,

  Fild with false rumors and seditious trouble,

  Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort,

  That still are led with euery light report.

  And as her eares so eke her feet were odde,

  And much vnlike, th'one long, the other short,

  And both misplast; that when th'one forward yode,

  The other backe retired, and contrarie trode.

  Likewise vnequall were her handes twaine,

  That one did reach, the other pusht away,

  That one did make, the other mard againe,

  And sought to bring all things vnto decay;

  Whereby great riches gathered manie a day,

  She in short space did often bring to nought

  And their possessours often did dismay.

  For all her studie was and all her thought,

  How she might ouerthrow the things that Concord wrought.

  So much her malice did her might surpas,

  That euen th'Almightie selfe she did maligne,

  Because to man
so mercifull he was,

  And vnto all his creatures so benigne,

  Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne:

  For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride,

  Vnto his last confusion to bring,

  And that great golden chaine quite to diuide,

  With which it blessed Concord hath together tide.

  Such was that hag, which with Duessa roade,

  And seruing her in her malitious vse,

  To hurt good knights, was as it were her baude,

  To sell her borrowed beautie to abuse.

  For though like withered tree, that wanteth iuyce,

  She old and crooked were, yet now of late,

  As fresh and fragrant as the floure deluce

  She was become, by chaunge of her estate,

  And made full goodly ioyance to her new found mate.

  Her mate he was a iollie youthfull knight,

  That bore great sway in armes and chiualrie,

  And was indeed a man of mickle might:

  His name was Blandamour, that did descrie

  His fickle mind full of inconstancie.

  And now himselfe he fitted had right well,

  With two companions of like qualitie,

  Faithlesse Duessa, and false Paridell,

  That whether were more false, full hard it is to tell.

  Now when this gallant with his goodly crew,

  From farre espide the famous Britomart,

  Like knight aduenturous in outward vew,

  With his faire paragon, his conquests part,

  Approching nigh, eftsoones his wanton hart

  Was tickled with delight, and iesting sayd;

  Lo there Sir Paridel, for your desart,

  Good lucke presents you with yond louely mayd,

  For pitie that ye want a fellow for your ayd.

  By that the louely paire drew nigh to hond:

  Whom when as Paridel more plaine beheld,

  Albee in heart he like affection fond,

  Yet mindfull how he late by one was feld,

  That did those armes and that same scutchion weld,

  He had small lust to buy his loue so deare,

  But answerd, Sir him wise I neuer held,

  That hauing once escaped perill neare,

  Would afterwards afresh the sleeping euill reare.

  This knight too late his manhood and his might,

  I did assay, that me right dearely cost,

  Ne list I for reuenge prouoke new fight,

  Ne for light Ladies loue, that soone is lost.

  The hot-spurre youth so scorning to be crost,

  Take then to you this Dame of mine (quoth hee)

  And I without your perill or your cost,

  Will chalenge yond same other for my fee:

  So forth he fiercely prickt, that one him scarce could see.

  The warlike Britonesse her soone addrest,

  And with such vncouth welcome did receaue

  Her fayned Paramour, her forced guest,

  That being forst his saddle soone to leaue,

  Him selfe he did of his new loue deceaue:

  And made him selfe thensample of his follie.

  Which done, she passed forth not taking leaue,

  And left him now as sad, as whilome iollie,

  Well warned to beware with whom he dar'd to dallie.

  Which when his other companie beheld,

  They to his succour ran with readie ayd:

  And finding him vnable once to weld,

  They reared him on horsebacke, and vpstayd,

  Till on his way they had him forth conuayd:

  And all the way with wondrous griefe of mynd,

  And shame, he shewd him selfe to be dismayd,

  More for the loue which he had left behynd,

  Then that which he had to Sir Paridel resynd.

  Nathlesse he forth did march well as he might,

  And made good semblance to his companie,

  Dissembling his disease and euill plight;

  Till that ere long they chaunced to espie

  Two other knights, that towards them did ply

  With speedie course, as bent to charge them new.

  Whom when as Blandamour approching nie,

  Perceiu'd to be such as they seemd in vew,

  He was full wo, and gan his former griefe renew.

  For th'one of them he perfectly descride,

  To be Sir Scudamour, by that he bore

  The God of loue, with wings displayed wide,

  Whom mortally he hated euermore,

  Both for his worth, that all men did adore,

  And eke because his loue he wonne by right:

  Which when he thought, it grieued him full sore,

  That through the bruses of his former fight,

  He now vnable was to wreake his old despight.

  For thy, he thus to Paridel bespake,

  Faire Sir, of friendship let me now you pray,

  That as I late aduentured for your sake,

  The hurts whereof me now from battell stay,

  Ye will me now with like good turne repay,

  And iustifie my cause on yonder knight.

  Ah Sir (said Paridel) do not dismay

  Your selfe for this, my selfe will for you fight,

  As ye haue done for me: the left hand rubs the right.

  With that he put his spurres vnto his steed,

  With speare in rest, and toward him did fare,

  Like shaft out of a bow preuenting speed.

  But Scudamour was shortly well aware

  Of his approch, and gan him selfe prepare

  Him to receiue with entertainment meete.

  So furiously they met, that either bare

  The other downe vnder their horses feete,

  That what of them became, themselues did scarsly weete.

  As when two billowes in the Irish sowndes,

  Forcibly driuen with contrarie tydes

  Do meete together, each abacke rebowndes

  With roaring rage; and dashing on all sides,

  That filleth all the sea with fome, diuydes

  The doubtfull current into diuers wayes:

  So fell those two in spight of both their prydes,

  But Scudamour himselfe did soone vprayse,

  And mounting light his foe for lying long vpbrayes.

  Who rolled on an heape lay still in swound,

  All carelesse of his taunt and bitter rayle,

  Till that the rest him seeing lie on ground,

  Ran hastily, to weete what did him ayle.

  Where finding that the breath gan him to fayle,

  With busie care they stroue him to awake,

  And doft his helmet, and vndid his mayle:

  So much they did, that at the last they brake

  His slomber, yet so mazed, that he nothing spake.

  Which when as Blandamour beheld, he sayd,

  False faitour Scudamour, that hast by slight

  And foule aduantage this good Knight dismayd,

  A Knight much better then thy selfe behight,

  Well falles it thee that I am not in plight

  This day, to wreake the dammage by thee donne:

  Such is thy wont, that still when any Knight

  Is weakned, then thou doest him ouerronne:

  So hast thou to thy selfe false honour often wonne.

  He little answer'd, but in manly heart

  His mightie indignation did forbeare,

  Which was not yet so secret, but some part

  Thereof did in his frouning face appeare:

  Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth beare

  An hideous storme, is by the Northerne blast

  Quite ouerblowne, yet doth not passe so cleare,

  But that it all the skie doth ouercast

  With darknes dred, and threatens all the world to wast.

  Ah gentle knight then false Duessa sayd,

  Why do ye striue for Ladies loue so sor
e,

  Whose chiefe desire is loue and friendly aid

  Mongst gentle Knights to nourish euermore?

  Ne be ye wroth Sir Scudamour therefore,

  That she your loue list loue another knight,

  Ne do your selfe dislike a whit the more;

  For Loue is free, and led with selfe delight,

  Ne will enforced be with maisterdome or might.

  So false Duessa, but vile Ate thus;

  Both foolish knights, I can but laugh at both,

  That striue and storme with stirre outrageous,

  For her that each of you alike doth loth,

  And loues another, with whom now she go'th

  In louely wise, and sleepes, and sports, and playes;

  Whilest both you here with many a cursed oth,

  Sweare she is yours, and stirre vp bloudie frayes,

  To win a willow bough, whilest other weares the bayes.

  Vile hag (sayd Scudamour) why dost thou lye?

  And falsly seekst a vertuous wight to shame?

  Fond knight (sayd she) the thing that with this eye

  I saw, why should I doubt to tell the same?

  Then tell (quoth Blandamour) and feare no blame,

  Tell what thou saw'st, maulgre who so it heares.

  I saw (quoth she) a stranger knight, whose name

  I wote not well, but in his shield he beares

  (That well I wote) the heads of many broken speares.

  I saw him haue your Amoret at will,

  I saw him kisse, I saw him her embrace,

  I saw him sleepe with her all night his fill,

  All manie nights, and manie by in place,

  That present were to testifie the case.

  Which when as Scudamour did heare, his heart

  Was thrild with inward griefe, as when in chace

  The Parthian strikes a stag with shiuering dart,

  The beast astonisht stands in middest of his smart.

  So stood Sir Scudamour, when this he heard,

  Ne word he had to speake for great dismay,

  But lookt on Glauce grim, who woxe afeard

  Of outrage for the words, which she heard say,

  Albee vntrue she wist them by assay.

  But Blandamour, whenas he did espie

  His chaunge of cheere, that anguish did bewray,

  He woxe full blithe, as he had got thereby,

  And gan thereat to triumph without victorie.