The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  And his Loue reft away, he wexed wood,

  And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight;

  That euen his hart for very fell despight,

  And his owne flesh he readie was to teare:

  He chauft, he grieu'd, he fretted, and he sigh't,

  And fared like a furious wyld Beare,

  Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere.

  Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine,

  Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire;

  That more increast the anguish of his paine.

  He sought the woods; but no man could see there;

  He sought the plaines; but could no tydings heare.

  The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound;

  The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare:

  Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound,

  And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found.

  At last as there he romed vp and downe,

  He chaunst one comming towards him to spy,

  That seem'd to be some sorie simple clowne,

  With ragged weedes, and lockes vpstaring hye,

  As if he did from some late daunger fly,

  And yet his feare did follow him behynd:

  Who as he vnto him approched nye,

  He mote perceiue by signes, which he did fynd,

  That Coridon it was, the silly shepherds hynd.

  Tho to him running fast, he did not stay

  To greet him first, but askt were where the rest;

  Where Pastorell? who full of fresh dismay,

  And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest,

  That he no word could speake, but smit his brest,

  And vp to heauen his eyes fast streming threw.

  Whereat the knight amaz'd, yet did not rest,

  But askt againe, what ment that rufull hew;

  Where was his Pastorell? where all the other crew?

  Ah well away (sayd he then sighing sore)

  That euer I did liue, this day to see,

  This dismall day, and was not dead before,

  Before I saw faire Pastorella dye.

  Die? out alas! then Calidore did cry:

  How could the death dare euer her to quell?

  But read thou shepheard, read what destiny,

  Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell

  Hath wrought this wicked deed: doe feare away, and tell.

  Tho when the shepheard breathed had awhile,

  He thus began: Where shall I then commence

  This wofull tale? or how those Brigants vyle,

  With cruell rage and dreadfull violence

  Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence?

  Or how faire Pastorell should haue bene sold

  To marchants, but was sau'd with strong defence?

  Or how those theeues, whilest one sought her to hold,

  Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold.

  In that same conflict (woe is me) befell

  This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,

  Whose heauy tydings now I haue to tell.

  First all the captiues, which they here had hent,

  Were by them slaine by generall consent;

  Old Meliboe and his good wife withall

  These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament:

  But when the lot to Pastorell did fall,

  Their Captaine long withstood, & did her death forstall.

  But what could he gainst all them doe alone?

  It could not boot, needs mote she die at last:

  I onely scapt through great confusione

  Of cryes and clamors, which amongst them past,

  In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast;

  That better were with them to haue bene dead,

  Then here to see all desolate and wast,

  Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead,

  Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead.

  When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught,

  His hart quite deaded was with anguish great,

  And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,

  That he his face, his head, his brest did beat,

  And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat;

  Oft cursing th'heauens, that so cruell were

  To her, whose name he often did repeat;

  And wishing oft, that he were present there,

  When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere.

  But after griefe awhile had had his course,

  And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last

  Began to mitigate his swelling sourse,

  And in his mind with better reason cast,

  How he might saue her life, if life did last;

  Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake,

  Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past;

  Or if it to reuenge he were too weake,

  Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake.

  Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew

  The readie way vnto that theeuish wonne,

  To wend with him, and be his conduct trew

  Vnto the place, to see what should be donne.

  But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne,

  Would not for ought be drawne to former drede,

  But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne:

  Yet Calidore so well him wrought with meed,

  And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.

  So forth they goe together (God before)

  Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably,

  And both with shepheards hookes: But Calidore

  Had vnderneath, him armed priuily.

  Tho to the place when they approched nye,

  They chaunst, vpon an hill not farre away,

  Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy;

  To whom they both agreed to take their way,

  In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay.

  There did they find, that which they did not feare,

  The selfe same flocks, the which those theeues had reft

  From Meliboe and from themselues whyleare,

  And certaine of the theeues there by them left,

  The which for want of heards themselues then kept.

  Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe,

  And seeing them, for tender pittie wept:

  But when he saw the theeues, which did them keepe,

  His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.

  But Calidore recomforting his griefe,

  Though not his feare; for nought may feare disswade;

  Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe

  Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade,

  Whom Coridon him counseld to inuade

  Now all vnwares, and take the spoyle away;

  But he, that in his mind had closely made

  A further purpose, would not so them slay,

  But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day.

  Tho sitting downe by them vpon the greene,

  Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine;

  That he by them might certaine tydings weene

  Of Pastorell, were she aliue or slaine.

  Mongst which the theeues them questioned againe,

  What mister men, and eke from whence they were.

  To whom they answer'd, as did appertaine,

  That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere

  Had from their maisters fled, & now sought hyre elswhere.

  Whereof right glad they seem'd, and offer made

  To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe:

  For they themselues were euill groomes, they sayd,

  Vnwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe,

  But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe.

  Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke,

  To keepe their flo
ckes for litle hyre and chepe:

  For they for better hyre did shortly looke,

  So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke.

  Tho when as towards darksome night it drew,

  Vnto their hellish dens those theeues them brought;

  Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew,

  And all the secrets of their entrayles sought.

  There did they find, contrarie to their thought,

  That Pastorell yet liu'd, but all the rest

  Were dead, right so as Coridon had taught:

  Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest,

  But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had most possest.

  At length when they occasion fittest found,

  In dead of night, when all the theeues did rest

  After a late forray, and slept full sound,

  Sir Calidore him arm'd, as he thought best,

  Hauing of late by diligent inquest,

  Prouided him a sword of meanest sort:

  With which he streight went to the Captaines nest.

  But Coridon durst not with him consort,

  Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort.

  When to the Caue they came, they found it fast:

  But Calidore with huge resistlesse might,

  The dores assayled, and the locks vpbrast.

  With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light,

  Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight

  Encountring him with small resistance slew;

  The whiles faire Pastorell through great affright

  Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new

  Some vprore were like that, which lately she did vew.

  But when as Calidore was comen in,

  And gan aloud for Pastorell to call;

  Knowing his voice although not heard long sin,

  She sudden was reuiued therewithall,

  And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall:

  Like him that being long in tempest tost,

  Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall,

  At length espyes at hand the happie cost,

  On which he safety hopes, that earst feard to be lost.

  Her gentle hart, that now long season past

  Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought,

  Began some smacke of comfort new to tast,

  Like lyfull heat to nummed senses brought,

  And life to feele, that long for death had sought;

  Ne lesse in hart reioyced Calidore,

  When he her found, but like to one distraught,

  And robd of reason, towards her him bore,

  A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.

  But now by this, with noyse of late vprore,

  The hue and cry was raysed all about;

  And all the Brigants flocking in great store,

  Vnto the caue gan preasse, nought hauing dout

  Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.

  But Calidore in th'entry close did stand,

  And entertayning them with courage stout,

  Still slew the formost, that came first to hand,

  So long till all the entry was with bodies mand.

  Tho when no more could nigh to him approch,

  He breath'd his sword, and rested him till day:

  Which when he spyde vpon the earth t'encroch,

  Through the dead carcases he made his way;

  Mongst which he found a sword of better say,

  With which he forth went into th'open light:

  Where all the rest for him did readie stay,

  And fierce assayling him, with all their might

  Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.

  How many flyes in whottest sommers day

  Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare,

  That all the place with swarmes do ouerlay,

  And with their litle stings right felly fare;

  So many theeues about him swarming are,

  All which do him assayle on euery side,

  And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare:

  But he doth with his raging brond diuide

  Their thickest troups, & round about him scattreth wide.

  Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere,

  Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray;

  So did he fly amongst them here and there,

  And all that nere him came, did hew and slay,

  Till he had strowd with bodies all the way;

  That none his daunger daring to abide,

  Fled from his wrath, and did themselues conuay

  Into their caues, their heads from death to hide,

  Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide.

  Then backe returning to his dearest deare,

  He her gan to recomfort, all he might,

  With gladfull speaches, and with louely cheare,

  And forth her bringing to the ioyous light,

  Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight,

  Deuiz'd all goodly meanes, from her to driue

  The sad remembrance of her wretched plight.

  So her vneath at last he did reuiue,

  That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue.

  This doen, into those theeuish dens he went,

  And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,

  Which they from many long had robd and rent,

  But fortune now the victors meed did make;

  Of which the best he did his loue betake;

  And also all those flockes, which they before

  Had reft from Meliboe, and from his make,

  He did them all to Coridon restore.

  So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.

  Cant. XII.

  Fayre Pastorella by great hap

  her parents vnderstands:

  Calidore doth the Blatant beast

  subdew, and bynd in bands.

  L Ike as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde

  Directs her course vnto one certaine cost,

  Is met of many a counter winde and tyde,

  With which her winged speed is let and crost,

  And she her selfe in stormie surges tost;

  Yet making many a borde, and many a bay,

  Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost:

  Right so it fares with me in this long way,

  Whose course is often stayd, yet neuer is astray.

  For all that hetherto hath long delayd

  This gentle knight, from sewing his first quest,

  Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd,

  To shew the courtesie by him profest,

  Euen vnto the lowest and the least.

  But now I come into my course againe,

  To his atchieuement of the Blatant beast;

  Who all this while at will did range and raine,

  Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine.

  Sir Calidore when thus he now had raught

  Faire Pastorella from those Brigants powre,

  Vnto the Castle of Belgard her brought,

  Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure;

  Who whylome was in his youthes freshest flowre

  A lustie knight, as euer wielded speare,

  And had endured many a dreadfull stoure

  In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare,

  The fayrest Ladie then of all that liuing were.

  Her name was Claribell: whose father hight

  The Lord of Many Ilands, farre renound

  For his great riches and his greater might.

  He through the wealth, wherein he did abound,

  This daughter thought in wedlocke to haue bound

  Vnto the Prince of Picteland bordering nere,

  But she whose sides before with secret wound

  Of loue to Bellamoure empierced were,

  By all meanes shund to match with any forrein fere.

  And Bellamour againe so well he
r pleased,

  With dayly seruice and attendance dew,

  That of her loue he was entyrely seized,

  And closely did her wed, but knowne to few.

  Which when her father vnderstood, he grew

  In so great rage, that them in dongeon deepe

  Without compassion cruelly he threw;

  Ye did so streightly them a sunder keepe,

  That neither could to company of th'other creepe.

  Nathlesse Sir Bellamour, whether through grace

  Or secret guifts so with his keepers wrought,

  That to his loue sometimes he came in place,

  Whereof her wombe vnwist to wight was fraught,

  And in dew time a mayden child forth brought.

  Which she streight way for dread least, if her syre

  Should know thereof, to slay he would haue sought,

  Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre

  She should it cause be fostred vnder straunge attyre.

  The trustie damzell bearing it abrode

  Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight

  Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,

  She forth gan lay vnto the open light

  The litle babe, to take thereof a sight.

  Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,

  Vpon the litle brest like christall bright,

  She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,

  That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold.

  Well she it markt, and pittied the more,

  Yet could not remedie her wretched case;

  But closing it againe like as before,

  Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place:

  Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space

  Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde,

  To weet what mortall hand, or heauens grace

  Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde,

  For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

  At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe

  His fleecie flocke vpon the playnes around,

  Led with the infants cry, that loud did weepe,

  Came to the place, where when he wrapped found

  Th'abandond spoyle, he softly it vnbound;

  And seeing there, that did him pittie sore,

  He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound;