SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 7)

All this, and more might in that goodly gate xlvi Be red; that euer open stood to all, Which thither came: but in the Porch there sate A comely personage of stature tall, And semblaunce pleasing, more then naturall, That trauellers to him seemd to entize; His looser garment to the ground did fall, And flew about his heeles in wanton wize, Not fit for speedy pace, or manly exercize. They in that place him Genius did call: xlvii Not that celestiall powre, to whom the care Of life, and generation of all That liues, pertaines in charge particulare, Who wondrous things concerning our welfare, And straunge phantomes doth let vs oft forsee, And oft of secret ill bids vs beware: That is our Selfe, whom though we do not see, Yet each doth in him selfe it well perceiue to bee. Therefore a God him sage Antiquity xlviii Did wisely make, and good Agdistes call: But this same was to that quite contrary, The foe of life, that good enuyes to all, That secretly doth vs procure to fall, Through guilefull semblaunts, which he makes vs see. He of this Gardin had the gouernall, And Pleasures porter was deuizd to bee, Holding a staffe in hand for more formalitee. With diuerse flowres he daintily was deckt, xlix And strowed round about, and by his side A mighty Mazer bowle of wine was set, As if it had to him bene sacrifide; Wherewith all new-come guests he gratifide: So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by: But he his idle curtesie defide, And ouerthrew his bowle disdainfully; And broke his staffe, with which he charmed semblants sly.

Thus being entred, they behold around l A large and spacious plaine, on euery side Strowed with pleasauns, whose faire grassy ground Mantled with greene, and goodly beautifide With all the ornaments of Floraes pride, Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in scorne Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride Did decke her, and too lauishly adorne, When forth from virgin bowre she comes in th’early morne. Thereto[850] the Heauens alwayes Iouiall, li Lookt on them louely, still in stedfast state, Ne suffred storme nor frost on them to fall, Their tender buds or leaues to violate, Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate T’afflict the creatures, which therein did dwell, But the milde aire with season moderate Gently attempred, and disposd so well, That still it breathed forth sweet spirit and holesome smell. More sweet and holesome, then the pleasaunt hill lii Of Rhodope, on which the Nimphe, that bore A gyaunt babe, her selfe for griefe did kill; Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore Faire Daphne Phœbus hart with loue did gore; Or Ida, where the Gods lou’d to repaire, When euer they their heauenly bowres forlore; Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of Muses faire; Or Eden selfe, if ought[851] with Eden mote compaire. Much wondred Guyon at the faire aspect liii Of that sweet place, yet suffred no delight To sincke into his sence, nor mind affect, But passed forth, and lookt still forward right, Bridling his will, and maistering his might: Till that he came vnto another gate; No gate, but like one, being goodly dight With boughes and braunches, which did broad dilate Their clasping armes, in wanton wreathings intricate.

So fashioned a Porch with rare deuice, liv Archt ouer head with an embracing vine, Whose bounches hanging downe, seemed to entice All passers by, to tast their lushious wine, And did themselues into their hands incline, As freely offering to be gathered: Some deepe empurpled as the Hyacint, Some as the Rubine, laughing sweetly red, Some like faire Emeraudes, not yet well ripened. And them amongst, some were of burnisht gold, lv So made by art, to beautifie the rest, Which did themselues emongst the leaues enfold, As lurking from the vew of couetous guest, That the weake bowes, with so rich load opprest, Did bow adowne, as ouer-burdened. Vnder that Porch a comely dame did rest, Clad in faire weedes, but fowle disordered, And garments loose, that seemd vnmeet for womanhed. In her left hand a Cup of gold she held, lvi And with her right the riper fruit did reach, Whose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse sweld, Into her cup she scruzd, with daintie breach Of her fine fingers, without fowle empeach, That so faire wine-presse made the wine more sweet: Thereof she vsd to giue to drinke to each, Whom passing by she happened to meet: It was her guise, all Straungers goodly so to greet. So she to Guyon offred it to tast; lvii Who taking it out of her tender hond, The cup to ground did violently cast, That all in peeces it was broken fond, And with the liquor stained all the lond: Whereat Excesse exceedingly was wroth, Yet no’te the same amend, ne yet withstand, But suffered him to passe, all were she loth; Who nought[852] regarding her displeasure forward goth.

There the most daintie Paradise on ground, lviii It selfe doth offer to his sober eye, In which all pleasures plenteously abound, And none does others happinesse enuye: The painted flowres, the trees vpshooting hye, The dales for shade, the hilles for breathing space, The trembling groues, the Christall running by; And that, which all faire workes doth most aggrace, The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place. One would haue thought, (so cunningly, the rude, lix And scorned parts were mingled with the fine,) That nature had for wantonesse ensude Art, and that Art at nature did repine; So striuing each th’other to vndermine, Each did the others worke more beautifie; So diff’ring both in willes, agreed in fine: So all agreed through sweete diuersitie, This Gardin to adorne with all varietie. And in the midst of all, a fountaine stood, lx Of richest substaunce, that on earth might bee, So pure and shiny, that the siluer flood Through euery channell running one might see; Most goodly it with curious[853] imageree Was ouer-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes, Of which some seemd with liuely iollitee, To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, Whilest others did them selues embay in liquid ioyes. And ouer all, of purest gold was spred, lxi A trayle of yuie in his natiue hew: For the rich mettall was so coloured, That wight, who did not well auis’d it vew, Would surely deeme it to be yuie trew: Low his lasciuious armes adown did creepe, That themselues dipping in the siluer dew, Their fleecy flowres they tenderly[854] did steepe, Which drops of Christall seemd for wantones to weepe.

Infinit streames continually did well lxii Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, The which into an ample lauer fell, And shortly grew to so great quantitie, That like a little lake it seemd to bee; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, That through the waues one might the bottom see, All pau’d beneath with Iaspar shining bright, That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle vpright. And all the margent round about was set, lxiii With shady Laurell trees, thence to defend The sunny beames, which on the billowes bet, And those which therein bathed, mote offend. As Guyon hapned by the same to wend, Two naked Damzelles he therein espyde, Which therein bathing, seemed to contend, And wrestle wantonly, ne car’d to hyde, Their dainty parts from vew of any, which them eyde. Sometimes the one would lift the other quight lxiv Aboue the waters, and then downe againe Her plong, as ouer maistered by might, Where both awhile would couered remaine, And each the other from to rise restraine; The whiles their snowy limbes, as through a vele, So through the Christall waues appeared plaine: Then suddeinly both would themselues vnhele, And th’amarous sweet spoiles to greedy eyes reuele. As that faire Starre, the messenger of morne, lxv His deawy face out of the sea doth reare: Or as the Cyprian goddesse, newly borne Of th’Oceans fruitfull froth, did first appeare: Such seemed they, and so their yellow heare Christalline humour dropped downe apace. Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew him neare, And somewhat gan relent his earnest pace, His stubborne brest gan secret pleasaunce to embrace.

The wanton Maidens him espying, stood lxvi Gazing a while at his vnwonted guise; Then th’one her selfe low ducked in the flood, Abasht, that her a straunger did a vise: But th’other rather higher did arise, And her two lilly paps aloft displayd, And all, that might his melting hart entise To her delights, she vnto him bewrayd: The rest hid vnderneath, him more desirous made. With that, the other likewise vp arose, lxvii And her faire lockes, which formerly were bownd Vp in one knot, she low adowne did lose: Which flowing long and thick, her cloth’d arownd, And th’yuorie in golden mantle gownd: So that faire spectacle from him was reft, Yet that, which reft it, no lesse faire was fownd: So hid in lockes and waues from lookers theft, Nought but her louely face she for his looking left. Withall she laughed, and she blusht withall, lxviii That blushing to her laughter gaue more grace, And laughter to her blushing, as did fall: Now when they spide the knight to slacke his pace, Them to behold, and in his sparkling face The secret signes of kindled lust appeare, Their wanton meriments they did encreace, And to him beckned, to approch more neare, And shewd him many sights, that courage cold could reare. On which when gazing him the Palmer saw, lxix He much rebukt those wandring eyes of his, And counseld well, him forward thence did draw. Now are they come nigh to the Bowre of blis Of her fond fauorites so nam’d amis: When thus the Palmer; Now Sir, well auise; For here the end of all our trauell is: Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must surprise, Else she will slip away, and all our drift despise.

Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, lxx Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, Such as attonce might not on liuing ground, Saue in this Paradise, be heard elswhere: Right hard it was, for wight, which did it heare, To read, what manner musicke that mote bee: For all that pleasing is to liuing eare, Was there consorted in one harmonee, Birdes, voyces, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. The ioyous birdes shrouded in chearefull shade, lxxi Their notes vnto the voyce attempred sweet; Th’Angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th’instruments diuine respondence meet: The siluer sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall: The waters fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, vnto the wind did call: The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. There, whence that Musick seemed heard to bee, lxxii Was the faire Witch her selfe now solacing, With a new Louer, whom through sorceree And witchcraft, she from farre did thither bring: There she had him now layd a slombering, In secret shade, after long wanton ioyes: Whilst round about them pleasauntly did sing Many faire Ladies, and lasciuious boyes, That euer mixt their song with light licentious toyes. And all that[855] while, right ouer him she hong, lxxiii With her false eyes fast fixed in his sight, As seeking medicine, whence she was stong, Or greedily depasturing delight: And oft inclining downe with kisses light, For feare of waking him, his lips bedewd, And through his humid eyes did sucke his spright, Quite molten into lust and pleasure lewd; Wherewith she sighed soft, as if his case she rewd.

The whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay; lxxiv Ah see, who so faire thing doest faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day; Ah see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe forth with bashfull modestee, That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may; Lo see soone after, how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display; Loe see soone after, how she fades, and falles away. So passeth, in the passing of a day, lxxv Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre, Ne more doth flourish after first decay, That earst was sought to decke both bed and bowre, Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre: Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime, For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre: Gather the Rose of loue, whilest yet is time, Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime. He ceast, and then gan all the quire of birdes lxxvi Their diuerse notes t’attune vnto his lay, As in approuance of his pleasing words. The constant paire heard all, that he did say, Yet swarued not, but kept their forward way, Through many couert groues, and thickets close, In which they creeping did at last display That wanton Ladie, with her louer lose, Whose sleepie head she in her lap did soft dispose. Vpon a bed of Roses she was layd, lxxvii As faint through heat, or dight to pleasant sin, And was arayd, or rather disarayd, All in a vele of silke and siluer thin, That hid no whit her alablaster skin, But rather shewd more white, if more might bee: More subtile web Arachne cannot spin, Nor the fine nets, which oft we wouen see Of scorched deaw, do not in th’aire more lightly flee.

Her snowy brest was bare to readie spoyle lxxviii Of hungry eies, which n’ote therewith be fild, And yet through languour of her late sweet toyle, Few drops, more cleare then Nectar, forth distild, That like pure Orient perles adowne it trild, And her faire eyes sweet smyling in delight, Moystened their fierie beames, with which she thrild Fraile harts, yet quenched not; like starry light Which sparckling on the silent waues, does seeme more bright. The young man sleeping by her, seemd to bee lxxix Some goodly swayne of honorable place, That certes it great pittie was to see Him his nobilitie so foule deface; A sweet regard, and amiable grace, Mixed with manly sternnesse did appeare Yet sleeping, in his well proportiond face, And on his tender lips the downy heare Did now but freshly spring, and silken blossomes beare. His warlike armes, the idle instruments lxxx Of sleeping praise, were hong vpon a tree, And his braue shield, full of old moniments, Was fowly ra’st, that none the signes might see; Ne for them, ne for honour cared hee, Ne ought, that did to his aduauncement tend, But in lewd loues, and wastfull luxuree, His dayes, his goods, his bodie he did spend: O horrible enchantment, that him so did blend. The noble Elfe, and carefull Palmer drew lxxxi So nigh them, minding nought, but lustfull game, That suddein forth they on them rusht, and threw A subtile net, which onely for the[856] same The skilfull Palmer formally did frame. So held them vnder fast, the whiles the rest Fled all away for feare of fowler shame. The faire Enchauntresse, so vnwares opprest, Tryde all her arts, and all her sleights, thence out to wrest.

And eke her louer stroue: but all in vaine; lxxxii For that same net so cunningly was wound, That neither guile, nor force might it distraine. They tooke them both, and both them strongly bound In captiue bandes, which there they readie found: But her in chaines of adamant he tyde; For nothing else might keepe her safe and sound; But Verdant (so he hight) he soone vntyde, And counsell sage in steed thereof to him applyde. But all those pleasant bowres and Pallace braue, lxxxiii Guyon broke downe, with rigour pittilesse; Ne ought their goodly workmanship might saue Them from the tempest of his wrathfulnesse, But that their blisse he turn’d to balefulnesse: Their groues he feld, their gardins did deface, Their arbers spoyle[857], their Cabinets suppresse, Their banket houses burne, their buildings race, And of the fairest late, now made the fowlest place. Then led they her away, and eke that knight lxxxiv They with them led, both sorrowfull and sad: The way they came, the same retourn’d they right, Till they arriued, where they lately had Charm’d those wild-beasts, that rag’d with furie mad. Which now awaking, fierce at them gan fly, As in their mistresse reskew, whom they lad; But them the Palmer soone did pacify. Then Guyon askt, what meant those beastes, which there did ly. Said he, These[858] seeming beasts are men indeed, lxxxv Whom this Enchauntresse hath transformed thus, Whylome her louers, which her lusts did feed, Now turned into figures hideous, According to their mindes like monstruous. Sad end (quoth he) of life intemperate, And mournefull meed of ioyes delicious: But Palmer, if it mote thee so aggrate, Let them returned be vnto their former state.

Streight way he with his vertuous staffe them strooke, lxxxvi And streight of beasts they comely men became; Yet being men they did vnmanly looke, And stared ghastly, some for inward shame, And some for wrath, to see their captiue Dame: But one aboue the rest in speciall, That had an hog beene late, hight Grille by name, Repined greatly, and did him miscall, That had from hoggish forme him brought to naturall. Said Guyon, See the mind of beastly man, lxxxvii That hath so soone forgot the excellence Of his creation, when he life began, That now he chooseth, with vile difference, To be a beast, and lacke intelligence. To whom the Palmer thus, The donghill kind Delights in filth and foule incontinence: Let Grill be Grill, and haue his hoggish mind, But let vs hence depart, whilest wether serues and wind.

It falls me here to write of Chastity, i That[859] fairest vertue, farre aboue the rest; For which what needs me fetch from Faery Forreine ensamples, it to haue exprest? Sith it is shrined in my Soueraines brest, And form’d so liuely in each perfect part, That to all Ladies, which haue it profest, Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart, If pourtrayd it might be by any liuing art. But liuing art may not least part expresse, ii Nor life-resembling pencill it can paint, All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles: His dædale hand would faile, and greatly faint, And her perfections with his error taint: Ne Poets wit, that passeth Painter farre In picturing the parts of beautie daint, So hard a workmanship aduenture darre, For fear through want of words her excellence to marre.

How then shall I, Apprentice of the skill, iii That whylome in diuinest wits did raine, Presume so high to stretch mine humble quill? Yet now my lucklesse lot doth me constraine Hereto perforce. But O dred Soueraine Thus farre forth pardon, sith that choicest wit Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure plaine That I in colourd showes may shadow it, And antique praises vnto present persons fit. But if in liuing colours, and right hew, iv Your selfe you[860] couet to see pictured, Who can it doe more liuely, or more trew, Then that sweet verse, with Nectar sprinckeled, In which a gracious seruant pictured His Cynthia, his heauens fairest light? That with his melting sweetnesse rauished, And with the wonder of her beames bright, My senses lulled are in slomber of delight. But let that same delitious Poet lend v A little leaue vnto a rusticke Muse To sing his mistresse prayse, and let him mend, If ought amis her liking may abuse: Ne let his fairest Cynthia refuse, In mirrours more then one her selfe to see, But either Gloriana let her chuse, Or in Belphœbe fashioned to bee: In th’one her rule, in th’other her rare chastitee.

Guyon encountreth Britomart, faire Florimell is chaced: Duessaes traines and Malecastaes[861] champions are defaced.

The famous Briton Prince and Faerie knight, i After long wayes and perilous paines endured, Hauing their wearie limbes to perfect plight Restord, and sory wounds right well recured, Of the faire Alma greatly were procured, To make there lenger soiourne and abode; But when thereto they might not be allured, From seeking praise, and deeds of armes abrode, They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode. But the captiu’d Acrasia he sent, ii Because of trauell long, a nigher way, With a strong gard, all reskew to preuent, And her to Faerie court safe to conuay, That her for witnesse of his hard assay, Vnto his Faerie Queene he might present: But he him selfe betooke another way, To make more triall of his hardiment, And seeke aduentures, as he with Prince Arthur went. Long so they trauelled through wastefull wayes, iii Where daungers dwelt, and perils most did wonne, To hunt for glorie and renowmed praise; Full many Countries they did ouerronne, From the vprising to the setting Sunne, And many hard aduentures did atchieue; Of all the which they honour euer wonne, Seeking the weake oppressed to relieue, And to recouer right for such, as wrong did grieue.

At last as through an open plaine they yode, iv They spide a knight, that towards pricked faire, And him beside an aged Squire there rode, That seem’d to couch vnder his shield three-square, As if that age bad him that burden spare, And yield it those, that stouter could it wield: He them espying, gan himselfe prepare, And on his arme addresse his goodly shield That bore a Lion passant in a golden field. Which seeing good Sir Guyon, deare besought v The Prince of grace, to let him runne that turne. He graunted: then the Faery quickly raught His poinant speare, and sharpely gan to spurne His fomy steed, whose fierie feete did burne The verdant grasse, as he thereon did tread; Ne did the other backe his foot returne, But fiercely forward came withouten dread, And bent his dreadfull speare against the others head. They bene ymet, and both their points arriued, vi But Guyon droue so furious and fell, That seem’d both shield and plate it would haue riued; Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell, But made him stagger, as he were not well: But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware, Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell, Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare, That mischieuous mischance his life and limbes did spare. Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke; vii For neuer yet, sith[862] warlike armes he bore, And shiuering speare in bloudie field first shooke, He found himselfe dishonored so sore. Ah gentlest knight, that euer armour bore, Let not thee grieue dismounted to haue beene, And brought to ground, that neuer wast before; For not thy fault, but secret powre vnseene, That speare enchaunted was, which layd thee on the greene.

But weenedst thou what wight thee ouerthrew, viii Much greater griefe and shamefuller regret For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew, That of a single damzell thou wert met On equall plaine, and there so hard beset; Euen the famous Britomart it was, Whom straunge aduenture did from Britaine fet, To seeke her louer (loue farre sought alas,) Whose image she had seene in Venus looking glas. Full of disdainefull wrath, he fierce vprose, ix For to reuenge that foule reprochfull shame, And snatching his bright sword began to close With her on foot, and stoutly forward came; Die rather would he, then endure that same. Which when his Palmer saw, he gan to feare His toward perill and vntoward blame, Which by that new rencounter he should reare: For death sate on the point of that enchaunted speare. And hasting towards him gan faire perswade, x Not to prouoke misfortune, nor to weene His speares default to mend with cruell blade; For by his mightie Science he had seene The secret vertue of that weapon keene, That mortall puissance mote not withstond: Nothing on earth mote alwaies happie beene. Great hazard were it, and aduenture fond, To loose long gotten honour with one euill hond. By such good meanes he him discounselled, xi From prosecuting his reuenging rage; And eke the Prince like treaty handeled, His wrathfull will with reason to asswage, And laid the blame, not to his carriage, But to his starting steed, that swaru’d asyde, And to the ill purueyance of his page, That had his furnitures not firmely tyde: So is his angry courage fairely pacifyde.

Thus reconcilement was betweene them knit, xii Through goodly temperance, and affection chaste, And either vowd with all their power and wit, To let not others honour be defaste, Of friend or foe, who euer it embaste, Ne armes to beare against the others syde: In which accord the Prince was also plaste, And with that golden chaine of concord tyde. So goodly all agreed, they forth yfere did ryde. O goodly vsage of those antique times, xiii In which the sword was seruant vnto right; When not for malice and contentious crimes, But all for praise, and proofe of manly might, The martiall brood accustomed to fight: Then honour was the meed of victorie, And yet the vanquished had no despight: Let later age that noble vse enuie, Vile rancour to auoid, and cruell surquedrie. Long they thus trauelled in friendly wise, xiv Through countries waste, and eke well edifyde, Seeking aduentures hard, to exercise Their puissance, whylome full dernely tryde: At length they came into a forrest wyde, Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sound Full griesly seem’d: Therein they long did ryde, Yet tract of liuing creatures[863] none they found, Saue Beares, Lions, and Buls, which romed them around. All suddenly out of the thickest brush, xv Vpon a milk-white Palfrey all alone, A goodly Ladie did foreby them rush, Whose face did seeme as cleare as Christall stone, And eke through feare as white as whales bone: Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold, And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone, Which fled so fast, that nothing mote him hold, And scarse them leasure gaue, her passing to behold.

Still as she fled, her eye she backward threw, xvi As fearing euill, that pursewd her fast; And her faire yellow locks behind her flew, Loosely disperst with puffe of euery blast: All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispred, At sight whereof the people stand aghast: But the sage wisard telles, as he has red, That it importunes death and dolefull drerihed. So as they gazed after her a while, xvii Lo where a griesly Foster forth did rush, Breathing out beastly lust her to defile: His tyreling iade he fiercely forth did push, Through thicke and thin, both ouer banke and bush In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke, That from his gorie sides the bloud did gush: Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke, And in his clownish hand a sharp bore speare he shooke. Which outrage when those gentle knights did see, xviii Full of great enuie and fell gealosy, They stayd not to auise, who first should bee, But all spurd after fast, as they mote fly, To reskew her from shamefull villany. The Prince and Guyon equally byliue Her selfe pursewd, in hope to win thereby Most goodly meede, the fairest Dame aliue: But after the foule foster Timias did striue. The whiles faire Britomart, whose constant mind, xix Would not so lightly follow beauties chace, Ne reckt of Ladies Loue, did stay behind, And them awayted there a certaine space, To weet if they would turne backe to that place: But when she saw them gone, she forward went, As lay her iourney, through that perlous Pace, With stedfast courage and stout hardiment; Ne euill thing she fear’d, ne euill thing she ment.

At last as nigh out of the wood she came, xx A stately Castle farre away she spyde, To which her steps directly she did frame. That Castle was most goodly edifyde, And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde: But faire before the gate a spatious plaine, Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde, On which she saw sixe knights, that did darraine Fierce battell against one, with cruell might and maine. Mainly they all attonce vpon him laid, xxi And sore beset on euery side around, That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid, Ne euer to them yielded foot of ground All had he lost much bloud through many a wound, But stoutly dealt his blowes, and euery way To which he turned in his wrathfull stound, Made them recoile, and fly from dred decay, That none of all the sixe before, him durst assay. Like dastard Curres, that hauing at a bay xxii The saluage beast embost in wearie chace, Dare not aduenture on the stubborne pray, Ne byte before, but rome from place to place, To get a snatch, when turned is his face, In such distresse and doubtfull ieopardy, When Britomart him saw, she ran a pace Vnto his reskew, and with earnest cry, Bad those same sixe forbeare that single enimy. But to her cry they list not lenden eare, xxiii Ne ought the more their mightie strokes surceasse, But gathering him round about more neare, Their direfull rancour rather did encreasse; Till that she rushing through the thickest preasse, Perforce disparted their compacted gyre, And soone compeld to hearken vnto peace: Tho gan she myldly of them to inquyre The cause of their dissention and outrageous yre.

Whereto that single knight did answere frame; xxiv These sixe would me enforce by oddes of might, To chaunge my liefe, and loue another Dame, That death me liefer were, then such despight, So vnto wrong to yield my wrested right: For I loue one, the truest one on ground, Ne list me chaunge; she th’Errant Damzell hight, For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd, I haue endur’d, and tasted many a bloudy wound. Certes (said she) then bene ye sixe to blame, xxv To weene your wrong by force to iustifie: For knight to leaue his Ladie were great shame, That faithfull is, and better were to die. All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamie, Then losse of loue to him, that loues but one; Ne may loue be compeld by maisterie; For soone as maisterie comes, sweet loue anone Taketh his nimble wings, and soone away is gone. Then spake one of those sixe, There dwelleth here xxvi Within this castle wall a Ladie faire, Whose soueraine beautie hath no liuing pere, Thereto so bounteous and so debonaire, That neuer any mote with her compaire. She hath ordaind this law, which we approue, That euery knight, which doth this way repaire, In case he haue no Ladie, nor no loue, Shall doe vnto her seruice neuer to remoue. But if he haue a Ladie or a Loue, xxvii Then must he her forgoe with foule defame, Or else with vs by dint of sword approue, That she is fairer, then our fairest Dame, As did this knight, before ye hither came. Perdie (said Britomart) the choise is hard: But what reward had he, that ouercame? He should aduaunced be to high regard, (Said they) and haue our Ladies loue for his reward.

Therefore a read Sir, if thou haue a loue. xxviii Loue haue I sure, (quoth she) but Lady none; Yet will I not fro mine owne loue remoue, Ne to your Lady will I seruice done, But wreake your wrongs wrought to this knight alone, And proue his cause. With that her mortall speare She mightily auentred towards one, And downe him smot, ere well aware he weare, Then to the next she rode, and downe the next did beare. Ne did she stay, till three on ground she layd, xxix That none of them himselfe could reare againe; The fourth was by that other knight dismayd, All were he wearie of his former paine, That now there do but two of six remaine; Which two did yield, before she did them smight. Ah (said she then) now may ye all see plaine, That truth is strong, and trew loue most of might, That for his trusty seruaunts doth so strongly fight. Too well we see, (said they) and proue too well xxx Our faulty weaknesse, and your matchlesse might: For thy, faire Sir, yours be the Damozell, Which by her owne law to your lot doth light, And we your liege men faith vnto you plight. So vnderneath her feet their swords they mard[864], And after her besought, well as they might, To enter in, and reape the dew reward: She graunted, and then in they all together far’d. Long were it to describe the goodly frame, xxxi And stately port of Castle Ioyeous, (For so that Castle hight by commune name) Where they were entertaind with curteous And comely glee of many gracious Faire Ladies, and of[865] many a gentle knight, Who through a Chamber long and spacious, Eftsoones them brought vnto their Ladies sight,[866] That of them cleeped was the Lady of delight.

But for to tell the sumptuous aray xxxii Of that great chamber, should be labour lost: For liuing wit, I weene, cannot display The royall riches and exceeding cost, Of euery pillour and of euery post; Which all of purest bullion framed were, And with great pearles and pretious stones embost, That the bright glister of their beames cleare Did sparckle forth great light, and glorious did appeare. These straunger knights through passing, forth were led xxxiii Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee And rich purueyance might vneath be red; Mote Princes place beseeme[867] so deckt to bee. Which stately manner when as they did see, The image of superfluous riotize, Exceeding much the state of meane degree, They greatly wondred, whence so sumptuous guize Might be maintaynd, and each gan diuersely deuize. The wals were round about apparelled xxxiv With costly clothes of Arras and of Toure, In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed The loue of Venus and her Paramoure The faire Adonis, turned to a flowre, A worke of rare deuice, and wondrous wit. First did it shew the bitter balefull stowre, Which her assayd with many a feruent fit, When first her tender hart was with his beautie smit. Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she xxxv Entyst the Boy, as well that art she knew, And wooed him her Paramoure to be; Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew, To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew; Now leading him into a secret shade From his Beauperes, and from bright heauens vew, Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade, Or bathe him in a fountaine by some couert glade.

And whilst he slept, she ouer him would spred xxxvi Her mantle, colour’d like the starry skyes, And her soft arme lay vnderneath his hed, And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes; And whilest he bath’d, with her two crafty spyes, She secretly would search each daintie lim, And throw into the well sweet Rosemaryes, And fragrant violets, and Pances trim, And euer with sweet Nectar she did sprinkle him. So did she steale his heedelesse hart away, xxxvii And ioyd his loue in secret vnespyde. But for she saw him bent to cruell play, To hunt the saluage beast in forrest wyde, Dreadfull of daunger, that mote him betyde, She oft and oft aduiz’d him to refraine From chase of greater beasts, whose brutish pryde Mote breede him scath[868] vnwares: but all in vaine; For who can shun the chaunce, that dest’ny doth ordaine? Lo, where beyond he lyeth languishing, xxxviii Deadly engored of a great wild Bore, And by his side the Goddesse groueling Makes for him endlesse mone, and euermore With her soft garment wipes away the gore, Which staines his snowy skin with hatefull hew: But when she saw no helpe might him restore, Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew, Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it liuely grew. So was that chamber clad in goodly wize, xxxix And round about it many beds were dight, As whilome was the antique worldes guize, Some for vntimely ease, some for delight, As pleased them to vse, that vse it might: And all was full of Damzels, and of Squires, Dauncing and reueling both day and night, And swimming deepe in sensuall desires, And Cupid still emongst them kindled lustfull fires.

And all the while sweet Musicke did diuide xl Her looser notes with Lydian harmony; And all the while sweet birdes thereto applide Their daintie layes and dulcet melody, Ay caroling of loue and iollity, That wonder was to heare their trim consort. Which when those knights beheld, with scornefull eye, They sdeigned such lasciuious disport, And loath’d the loose demeanure of that wanton sort. Thence they were brought to that great Ladies vew, xli Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous bed, That glistred all with gold and glorious shew, As the proud Persian Queenes accustomed: She seemd a woman of great bountihed, And of rare beautie, sauing that askaunce Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed, Did roll too lightly[869], and too often glaunce, Without regard of grace, or comely amenaunce. Long worke it were, and needlesse to deuize xlii Their goodly entertainement and great glee: She caused them be led in curteous wize Into a bowre, disarmed for to bee, And cheared well with wine and spiceree: The Redcrosse Knight was soone disarmed there, But the braue Mayd would not disarmed bee, But onely vented vp her vmbriere, And so did let her goodly visage to appere. As when faire Cynthia, in darkesome night, xliii Is in a noyous cloud enueloped, Where she may find the substaunce thin and light, Breakes forth her siluer beames, and her bright hed Discouers to the world discomfited; Of the poore traueller, that went astray, With thousand blessings she is heried; Such was the beautie and the shining ray, With which faire Britomart gaue light vnto the day.

And eke those six, which lately with her fought, xliv Now were disarmd, and did them selues present Vnto her vew, and company vnsoght; For they all seemed curteous and gent, And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent, Which had them traynd in all ciuilitee, And goodly taught to tilt and turnament; Now were they liegemen to this Lady free, And her knights seruice ought, to hold of her in fee. The first of them by name Gardante hight, xlv A iolly person, and of comely vew; The second was Parlante, a bold knight, And next to him Iocante did ensew; Basciante did him selfe most curteous shew; But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and keene; And yet in armes Noctante greater grew: All were faire knights, and goodly well beseene, But to faire Britomart they all but shadowes beene. For she was full of amiable grace, xlvi And manly terrour mixed therewithall, That as the one stird vp affections bace, So th’other did mens rash desires apall, And hold them backe, that would in errour fall; As he, that hath espide a vermeill Rose, To which sharpe thornes and breres[870] the way forstall, Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose, But wishing it far off, his idle wish doth lose. Whom when the Lady saw so faire a wight,[871] xlvii All ignoraunt of her contrary sex, (For she her weend a fresh and lusty knight) She greatly gan enamoured to wex, And with vaine thoughts her falsed fancy vex: Her fickle hart conceiued hasty fire, Like sparkes of fire, which[872] fall in sclender[873] flex, That shortly brent into extreme desire, And ransackt all her veines with passion entire.

Eftsoones she grew to great impatience xlviii And into termes of open outrage brust[874], That plaine discouered her incontinence, Ne reckt she, who her meaning did mistrust; For she was giuen all to fleshly lust, And poured forth in sensuall delight, That all regard of shame she had discust, And meet respect of honour put to flight: So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a loathly[875] sight.[876] Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre, xlix And chaste desires do nourish in your mind, Let not her fault your sweet affections marre, Ne blot the bounty of all womankind; ’Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find: Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds; For this was not to loue, but lust inclind; For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds, And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds. Nought so of loue this looser Dame did skill, l But as a coale to kindle fleshly flame, Giuing the bridle to her wanton will, And treading vnder foote her honest name: Such loue is hate, and such desire is shame. Still did she roue at her with crafty glaunce Of her false eyes, that at her hart did ayme, And told her meaning in her countenaunce; But Britomart dissembled it with ignoraunce. Supper was shortly dight and downe they sat, li Where they were serued with all sumptuous fare, Whiles fruitfull Ceres, and Lyæus fat Pourd out their plenty, without spight or spare: Nought wanted there, that dainty was and rare; And aye the cups their bancks did ouerflow, And aye betweene the cups, she did prepare Way to her loue, and secret darts did throw; But Britomart would not such guilfull message know.

So when they slaked had the feruent heat lii Of appetite with meates of euery sort, The Lady did faire Britomart entreat, Her to disarme, and with delightfull sport To loose her warlike limbs and strong effort, But when she mote not thereunto be wonne, (For she her sexe vnder that straunge purport Did vse to hide, and plaine apparaunce shonne:) In plainer wise to tell her grieuaunce she begonne. And all attonce discouered her desire liii With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, and piteous griefe, The outward sparkes of her in burning fire; Which spent in vaine, at last she told her briefe, That but if she did lend her short reliefe, And do her comfort, she mote algates dye. But the chaste damzell, that had neuer priefe Of such malengine and fine forgerie, Did easily beleeue her strong extremitie. Full easie was for her to haue beliefe, liv Who by self-feeling of her feeble sexe, And by long triall of the inward griefe, Wherewith imperious loue her hart did vexe, Could iudge what paines do louing harts perplexe. Who meanes no guile, be guiled[877] soonest shall, And to faire semblaunce doth light faith annexe; The bird, that knowes not the false fowlers call, Into his hidden net full easily doth fall. For thy she would not in discourteise wise, lv Scorne the faire offer of good will profest; For great rebuke it is, loue to despise, Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request; But with faire countenaunce, as beseemed best, Her entertaynd; nath’lesse she inly deemd Her loue too light, to wooe a wandring guest: Which she misconstruing, thereby esteemd That from like inward fire that outward smoke had steemd.

Therewith a while she her flit fancy fed, lvi Till she mote winne fit time for her desire, But yet her wound still inward freshly bled, And through her bones the false instilled fire Did spred it selfe, and venime close inspire. Tho were the tables taken all away, And euery knight, and euery gentle Squire Gan choose his dame with Basciomani[878] gay, With whom he meant to make his sport and courtly play. Some fell to daunce, some fell to hazardry, lvii Some to make loue, some to make meriment, As diuerse wits to diuers things apply; And all the while faire Malecasta bent Her crafty engins to her close intent. By this th’eternall lampes, wherewith high Ioue Doth light the lower world, were halfe yspent, And the moist daughters of huge Atlas stroue Into the Ocean deepe to driue their weary droue. High time it seemed then for euery wight lviii Them to betake vnto their kindly rest; Eftsoones long waxen torches weren light, Vnto their bowres to guiden euery guest: Tho when the Britonesse saw all the rest Auoided quite, she gan her selfe despoile, And safe commit to her soft fethered nest, Where through long watch, and late dayes weary toile, She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile. Now whenas all the world in silence deepe lix Yshrowded was, and euery mortall wight Was drowned in the depth of deadly sleepe, Faire Malecasta, whose engrieued spright Could find no rest in such perplexed plight, Lightly arose out of her wearie bed, And vnder the blacke vele of guilty Night, Her with a scarlot mantle couered, That was with gold and Ermines faire enueloped.

Then panting soft, and trembling euerie ioynt, lx Her fearfull feete towards the bowre she moued; Where she for secret purpose did appoynt To lodge the warlike mayd vnwisely loued, And to her bed approching, first she prooued, Whether she slept or wakt, with her soft hand She softly felt, if any member mooued, And lent her wary[879] eare to vnderstand, If any puffe of breath, or signe of sence she fond[880]. Which whenas none she fond, with easie shift, lxi For feare least her vnwares she should abrayd, Th’embroderd quilt she lightly vp did lift, And by her side her selfe she softly layd, Of euery finest fingers touch affrayd; Ne any noise she made, ne word she spake, But inly sigh’d. At last the royall Mayd Out of her quiet slomber did awake, And chaungd her weary side, the better ease to take. Where feeling one close couched by her side, lxii She lightly lept out of her filed bed, And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride The loathed leachour. But the Dame halfe ded Through suddein feare and ghastly drerihed, Did shrieke alowd, that through the house it rong, And the whole family therewith adred, Rashly out of their rouzed couches sprong, And to the troubled chamber all in armes did throng. And those six Knights that Ladies Champions, lxiii And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the stownd, Halfe armd and halfe vnarmd, with them attons: Where when confusedly they came, they fownd Their Lady lying on the sencelesse grownd; On th’other side, they saw the warlike Mayd All in her snow-white smocke, with locks vnbownd, Threatning the point of her auenging blade, That with so troublous terrour they were all dismayde.

About their Lady first they flockt arownd, lxiv Whom hauing laid in comfortable couch, Shortly they reard out of her frosen swownd; And afterwards they gan with fowle reproch To stirre vp strife, and troublous contecke broch: But by ensample of the last dayes losse, None of them rashly durst to her approch, Ne in so glorious spoile themselues embosse; Her succourd eke the Champion of the bloudy Crosse. But one of those sixe knights, Gardante hight, lxv Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene, Which forth he sent with felonous despight, And fell intent against the virgin sheene: The mortall steele stayd not, till it was seene To gore her side, yet was the wound not deepe, But lightly rased her soft silken skin, That drops of purple bloud thereout did weepe, Which did her lilly smock with staines of vermeil steepe. Wherewith enrag’d she fiercely at them flew, lxvi And with her flaming sword about her layd, That none of them foule mischiefe could eschew, But with her dreadfull strokes were all dismayd: Here, there, and euery where about her swayd Her wrathfull steele, that none mote it abide; And eke the Redcrosse knight gaue her good aid, Ay ioyning foot to foot, and side to side, That in short space their foes they haue quite terrifide. Tho whenas all were put to shamefull flight, lxvii The noble Britomartis her arayd, And her bright armes about her body dight: For nothing would she lenger there be stayd, Where so loose life, and so vngentle trade Was vsd of Knights and Ladies seeming gent: So earely ere the grosse Earthes gryesy shade[881] Was all disperst out of the firmament, They tooke their steeds, and forth vpon their iourney went.

The Redcrosse knight to Britomart describeth Artegall: The wondrous myrrhour, by which she in loue with him did fall.

Here haue I cause, in men iust blame to find, i That in their proper prayse too partiall bee, And not indifferent to woman kind, To whom no share in armes and cheualrie They do impart, ne maken memorie Of their braue gestes and prowesse martiall; Scarse do they spare to one or two or three, Rowme in their writs; yet the same writing small Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all. But by record of antique times I find, ii That women[882] wont in warres to beare most sway, And to all great exploits them selues inclind: Of which they still the girlond bore away, Till enuious Men fearing their rules decay, Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their liberty; Yet sith they warlike armes haue layd away,[883] They haue exceld in artes and pollicy, That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t’enuy. Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent, iii Be thou faire Britomart, whose prayse I write, But of all wisedome be thou precedent, O soueraigne Queene, whose prayse I would endite, Endite I would as dewtie doth excite; But ah my rimes too rude and rugged arre, When in so high an obiect they do lite, And striuing, fit to make, I feare do marre: Thy selfe thy prayses tell, and make them knowen farre.

She trauelling with Guyon[884] by the way, iv Of sundry things faire purpose gan to find, T’abridg their iourney long, and lingring day; Mongst which it fell into that Faeries mind, To aske this Briton Mayd, what vncouth wind, Brought her into those parts, and what inquest Made her dissemble her disguised kind: Faire Lady she him seemd, like Lady drest, But fairest knight aliue, when armed was her brest. Thereat she sighing softly, had no powre v To speake a while, ne ready answere make, But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter stowre, As if she had a feuer fit, did quake, And euery daintie limbe with horrour shake; And euer and anone the rosy red, Flasht through her face, as it had been a flake Of lightning, through bright heauen fulmined; At last the passion past she thus him answered. Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from the howre vi I taken was from nourses tender pap, I haue beene trained vp in warlike stowre, To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap The warlike ryder to his most mishap; Sithence I loathed haue my life to lead, As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap, To finger the fine needle and nyce thread; Me leuer were with point of foemans speare be dead. All my delight on deedes of armes is set, vii To hunt out perils and aduentures hard, By sea, by land, where so they may be met, Onely for honour and for high regard, Without respect of richesse or reward. For such intent into these parts I came, Withouten compasse, or withouten card, Far fro[885] my natiue soyle, that is by name The greater Britaine, here to seeke for prayse and fame.

Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond viii Do many famous Knightes and Ladies wonne, And many straunge aduentures to be fond, Of which great worth and worship may be wonne; Which I to proue,[886] this voyage haue begonne. But mote I weet of you, right curteous knight, Tydings of one, that hath vnto me donne Late foule dishonour and reprochfull spight, The which I seeke to wreake, and Arthegall he hight. The word gone out, she backe againe would call, ix As her repenting so to haue missayd, But that he it vp-taking ere the fall, Her shortly answered; Faire martiall Mayd Certes ye misauised beene, t’vpbrayd A gentle knight with so vnknightly blame: For weet ye well of all, that euer playd At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game, The noble Arthegall hath euer borne the name. For thy great wonder were it, if such shame x Should euer enter in his bounteous thought, Or euer do, that mote deseruen blame: The noble courage neuer weeneth ought, That may vnworthy of it selfe be thought. Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well aware, Least that too farre ye haue your sorrow sought: You and your countrey both I wish welfare, And honour both; for each of other worthy are. The royall Mayd woxe inly wondrous glad, xi To heare her Loue so highly magnifide, And ioyd that euer she affixed had, Her hart on knight so goodly glorifide, How euer finely she it faind to hide: The louing mother, that nine monethes did beare, In the deare closet of her painefull side, Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare, Doth not so much reioyce, as she reioyced theare.

But to occasion him to further talke, xii To feed her humour with his pleasing stile, Her list in strifull[887] termes with him to balke, And thus replide, How euer, Sir, ye file Your curteous tongue, his prayses to compile, It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort, Such as ye haue him boasted, to beguile A simple mayd, and worke so haynous tort, In shame of knighthood, as I largely can report. Let be therefore my vengeaunce to disswade, xiii And read, where I that faytour false may find. Ah, but if reason faire might you perswade, To slake your wrath, and mollifie your mind, (Said he) perhaps ye should it better find: For hardy thing it is, to weene by might, That man to hard conditions to bind, Or euer hope to match in equall fight, Whose prowesse paragon saw neuer liuing wight. Ne soothlich is it easie for to read, xiv Where now on earth, or how he may be found; For he ne wonneth in one certaine stead, But restlesse walketh all the world around, Ay doing things, that to his fame redound, Defending Ladies cause, and Orphans right, Where so he heares, that any doth confound Them comfortlesse, through tyranny or might; So is his soueraine honour raisde to heauens hight. His feeling words her feeble sence much pleased, xv And softly sunck into her molten hart; Hart that is inly hurt, is greatly eased With hope of thing, that may allegge his smart; For pleasing words are like to Magick art, That doth the charmed Snake in slomber lay: Such secret ease felt gentle Britomart, Yet list the same efforce with faind gainesay; So dischord oft in Musick makes the sweeter lay.

And said, Sir knight, these idle termes forbeare, xvi And sith it is vneath to find his haunt, Tell me some markes, by which he may appeare, If chaunce I him encounter parauaunt; For perdie one shall other slay, or daunt: What shape, what shield, what armes, what steed, what sted, And what so else his person most may vaunt? All which the Redcrosse knight to point ared, And him in euery part[888] before her fashioned. Yet him in euery part before she knew, xvii How euer list her now her knowledge faine, Sith him whilome in Britaine she did vew, To her reuealed in a mirrhour plaine, Whereof did grow her first engraffed paine; Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did tast, That but the fruit more sweetnesse did containe, Her wretched dayes in dolour she mote wast, And yield the pray of loue to lothsome death at last. By strange occasion she did him behold, xviii And much more strangely gan to loue his sight, As it in bookes hath written bene of old. In Deheubarth that now South-wales is hight, What time king Ryence raign’d, and dealed right, The great Magitian Merlin had deuiz’d, By his deepe science, and hell-dreaded might, A looking glasse, right wondrously aguiz’d, Whose vertues through the wyde world soone were solemniz’d. It vertue had, to shew in perfect sight, xix What euer thing was in the world contaynd, Betwixt the lowest earth and heauens hight, So that it to the looker appertaynd; What euer foe had wrought, or frend had faynd, Therein discouered was, ne ought mote pas, Ne ought in secret from the same remaynd; For thy it round and hollow shaped was, Like to the world it selfe, and seem’d a world of glas.

Who wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke? xx But who does wonder, that has red the Towre, Wherein th’Ægyptian Phao long did lurke From all mens vew, that none might her discoure, Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre? Great Ptolomæe it for his lemans sake Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre, And also it impregnable did make; Yet when his loue was false, he with a peaze it brake. Such was the glassie globe that Merlin made, xxi And gaue vnto king Ryence for his gard, That neuer foes his kingdome might inuade, But he it knew at home before he hard Tydings thereof, and so them still debar’d. It was a famous Present for a Prince, And worthy worke of infinite reward, That treasons could bewray, and foes conuince; Happie this Realme, had it remained euer since. One day it fortuned, faire Britomart xxii Into her fathers closet to repayre; For nothing he from her reseru’d apart, Being his onely daughter and his hayre: Where when she had espyde that mirrhour fayre, Her selfe a while therein she vewd in vaine; Tho her auizing of the vertues rare, Which thereof spoken were, she gan againe Her to bethinke of, that mote to her selfe pertaine. But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts xxiii Imperious Loue hath highest set his throne, And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts Of them, that to him buxome are and prone: So thought this Mayd (as maydens vse to done) Whom fortune for her husband would allot, Not that she lusted after any one; For she was pure from blame of sinfull blot, Yet wist her life at last must lincke in that same knot.

Eftsoones there was presented to her eye xxiv A comely knight, all arm’d in complete[889] wize, Through whose bright ventayle lifted vp on hye His manly face, that did his foes agrize, And friends to termes of gentle truce entize, Lookt foorth, as Phœbus face out of the east, Betwixt two shadie mountaines doth arize; Portly his person was, and much increast Through his Heroicke grace, and honorable gest. His crest was couered with a couchant Hound, xxv And all his armour seem’d of antique mould, But wondrous massie and assured sound, And round about yfretted all with gold, In which there written was with cyphers old, Achilles armes, which Arthegall did win. And on his shield enueloped seuenfold He bore a crowned litle Ermilin, That deckt the azure field with her faire pouldred skin. The Damzell well did vew his personage, xxvi And liked well, ne further fastned not, But went her way; ne her vnguilty age Did weene, vnwares, that her vnlucky lot Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot; Of hurt vnwist most daunger doth redound: But the false Archer, which that arrow shot So slyly, that she did not feele the wound, Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse wofull stound. Thenceforth the feather in her loftie crest, xxvii Ruffed of loue, gan lowly to auaile, And her proud portance, and her princely gest, With which she earst tryumphed, now did quaile: Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies fraile She woxe; yet wist she neither how, nor why, She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did aile, Yet wist, she was not well at ease perdy, Yet thought it was not loue, but some melancholy.

So soone as Night had with her pallid hew xxviii Defast the beautie of the shining sky, And reft from men the worlds desired vew, She with her Nourse adowne to sleepe did lye; But sleepe full farre away from her did fly: In stead thereof[890] sad sighes, and sorrowes deepe Kept watch and ward about her warily, That nought she did but wayle, and often steepe Her daintie couch with teares, which closely she did weepe. And if that any drop of slombring rest xxix Did chaunce to still into her wearie spright, When feeble nature felt her selfe opprest, Streight way with dreames, and with fantasticke sight Of dreadfull things the same was put to flight, That oft out of her bed she did astart, As one with vew of ghastly feends affright: Tho gan she to renew her former smart, And thinke of that faire visage, written in her hart. One night, when she was tost with such vnrest, xxx Her aged Nurse, whose name was Glauce hight, Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest, Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight, And downe againe in her warme bed her[891] dight; Ah my deare daughter, ah my dearest dread, What vncouth fit (said she) what euill plight Hath thee opprest, and with sad drearyhead Chaunged thy liuely cheare, and liuing made thee dead? For not of nought these suddeine ghastly feares xxxi All night afflict thy naturall repose, And all the day, when as thine equall peares Their fit disports with faire delight doe chose, Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe inclose, Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest spred Abroad thy fresh youthes fairest flowre, but lose Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely shed, As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.

The time, that mortall men their weary cares xxxii Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest, And euery riuer eke his course forbeares,[892] Then doth this wicked euill thee infest, And riue with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest; Like an huge Aetn’ of deepe engulfed griefe, Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest, Whence forth it breakes in sighes and anguish rife, As smoke and sulphure mingled with confused strife. Aye me, how much I feare, least loue it bee; xxxiii But if that loue it be, as sure I read By knowen signes and passions, which I see, Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead, Then I auow by this most sacred head Of my deare foster child, to ease thy griefe, And win thy will: Therefore away doe dread; For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe Shall me debarre, tell me therefore my liefest liefe. So hauing said, her twixt her armes twaine xxxiv She straightly straynd, and colled tenderly, And euery trembling ioynt, and euery vaine She softly felt, and rubbed busily, To doe the frosen cold away to fly; And her faire deawy eies with kisses deare She oft did bath, and oft againe did dry; And euer her importund, not to feare To let the secret of her hart to her appeare. The Damzell pauzd, and then thus fearefully; xxxv Ah Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my paine? Is not enough, that I alone doe dye, But it must doubled be with death of twaine? For nought for me but death there doth remaine. O daughter deare (said she) despaire no whit; For neuer sore, but might a salue obtaine: That blinded God, which hath ye blindly smit, Another arrow hath your louers hart to hit.

But mine is not (quoth she) like others[893] wound; xxxvi For which no reason can find remedy. Was neuer such, but mote the like be found, (Said she) and though no reason may apply Salue to your sore, yet loue can higher stye, Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne. But neither God of loue, nor God of sky Can doe (said she) that, which cannot be donne. Things oft impossible (quoth she) seeme, ere begonne. These idle words (said she) doe nought asswage xxxvii My stubborne smart, but more annoyance breed, For no no vsuall fire, no vsuall rage It is, O Nurse, which on my life doth feed, And suckes the bloud, which from my hart doth bleed. But since thy faithfull zeale lets me not hyde My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed. Nor Prince, nor pere it is, whose loue hath gryde My feeble brest of late, and launched[894] this wound wyde. Nor man it is, nor other liuing wight; xxxviii For then some hope I might vnto me draw, But th’only shade and semblant of a knight, Whose shape or person yet I neuer saw, Hath me subiected to loues cruell law: The same one day, as me misfortune led, I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw, And pleased with that seeming goodly-hed, Vnwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed. Sithens it hath infixed faster hold xxxix Within my bleeding bowels, and so sore Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould, That all mine entrailes flow with poysnous gore, And th’vlcer groweth daily more and more; Ne can my running sore find remedie, Other then my hard fortune to deplore, And languish as the leafe falne from the tree, Till death make one end of my dayes and miserie.

Daughter (said she) what need ye be dismayd, xl Or why make ye such Monster of your mind? Of much more vncouth thing I was affrayd; Of filthy lust, contrarie vnto kind: But this affection nothing straunge I find; For who with reason can you aye reproue, To loue the semblant pleasing most your mind, And yield your heart, whence ye cannot remoue? No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of loue. Not so th’Arabian Myrrhe did set her mind; xli Nor[895] so did Biblis spend her pining hart, But lou’d their natiue flesh against all kind, And to their purpose vsed wicked art: Yet playd Pasiphaë a more monstrous part, That lou’d a Bull, and learnd a beast to bee; Such shamefull lusts who loaths not, which depart From course of nature and of modestie? Sweet loue such lewdnes bands from his faire companie. But thine my Deare (welfare thy heart my deare) xlii Though strange beginning had, yet fixed is On one, that worthy may perhaps appeare; And certes seemes bestowed not amis: Ioy thereof haue thou and eternall blis. With that vpleaning on her elbow weake, Her alablaster[896] brest she soft did kis, Which all that while she felt to pant and quake, As it an Earth-quake were; at last she thus bespake. Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease; xliii For though my loue be not so lewdly bent, As those ye blame, yet may it nought[897] appease My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent, But rather doth my helpelesse griefe augment. For they, how euer shamefull and vnkind, Yet did possesse their horrible intent: Short end of sorrowes they thereby did find; So was their fortune good, though wicked were their mind.

But wicked fortune mine, though mind[898] be good, xliv Can haue no end, nor hope of my desire, But feed on shadowes, whiles I die for food, And like a shadow wexe, whiles with entire Affection, I doe languish and expire. I fonder, then Cephisus foolish child, Who hauing vewed in a fountaine shere His face, was with the loue thereof beguild; I fonder loue a shade, the bodie farre exild. Nought like (quoth she) for that same wretched boy xlv Was of himselfe the idle Paramoure; Both loue and louer, without hope of ioy, For which he faded to a watry flowre. But better fortune thine, and better howre, Which lou’st the shadow of a warlike knight; No shadow, but a bodie hath in powre: That bodie, wheresoeuer that it light, May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might. But if thou may with reason yet represse xlvi The growing euill, ere it strength haue got, And thee abandond wholly doe possesse, Against it strongly striue, and yield thee not, Till thou in open field adowne be smot. But if the passion mayster[899] thy fraile might, So that needs loue or death must be thy lot, Then I auow to thee, by wrong or right To compasse thy desire, and find that loued knight. Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright xlvii Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might; And the old-woman carefully displayd The clothes about her round with busie ayd; So that at last a little creeping sleepe Surprisd her sense: She therewith well apayd, The drunken lampe downe in the oyle did steepe, And set her by to watch, and set her by to weepe.

Earely the morrow next, before that day xlviii His ioyous face did to the world reueale, They both vprose and tooke their readie way Vnto the Church, their prayers to appeale, With great deuotion, and with litle zeale: For the faire Damzell from the holy herse Her loue-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale; And that old Dame said many an idle verse, Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reuerse. Returned home, the royall Infant fell xlix Into her former fit; for why, no powre Nor guidance of her selfe in her did dwell. But th’aged Nurse her calling to her bowre, Had gathered Rew, and Sauine, and the flowre Of Camphora[900], and Calamint, and Dill, All which she in a[901] earthen Pot did poure, And to the brim with Colt wood did it fill, And many drops of milke and bloud through it did spill. Then taking thrise three haires from off her head, l Them[902] trebly breaded[903] in a threefold lace, And round about the pots mouth, bound the thread, And after hauing whispered a space Certaine sad words, with hollow voice and bace, She to the virgin said, thrise said she it; Come daughter come, come; spit vpon my face, Spit thrise vpon me, thrise vpon me spit; Th’vneuen number for this businesse is most fit. That sayd, her round about she from her turnd, li She turned her contrarie to the Sunne, Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd, All contrary, for she the right did shunne, And euer what she did, was streight vndonne. So thought she to vndoe her daughters loue: But loue, that is in gentle brest begonne, No idle charmes so lightly may remoue, That well can witnesse, who by triall it does proue.

Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle, lii Ne slake the furie of her cruell flame, But that she still did waste, and still did wayle, That through long languour, and hart-burning brame She shortly like a pyned ghost became, Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond. That when old Glauce saw, for feare least blame Of her miscarriage should in her be fond, She wist not how t’amend, nor how it to withstond.

Merlin bewrayes to Britomart, the state of Artegall[904]. And shewes the famous Progeny which from them springen shall.

Most[905] sacred fire, that burnest mightily i In liuing brests, ykindled first aboue, Emongst th’eternall spheres and lamping sky, And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue; Not that same, which doth base affections moue In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame, But that sweet fit, that doth true beautie loue, And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame, Whence spring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame: Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme, ii That ouer mortall minds hast so great might, To order them, as best to thee doth seeme, And all their actions to direct aright; The fatall purpose of diuine foresight, Thou doest effect in destined descents, Through deepe impression of thy secret might, And stirredst vp th’Heroes high intents, Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments.

But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more, iii Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre Shew’dst thou, then in this royall Maid of yore, Making her seeke an vnknowne Paramoure, From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre: From whose two loynes thou afterwards did rayse Most famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre, Which through the earth haue spred their liuing prayse, That fame in trompe of gold eternally displayes. Begin then, O my dearest sacred Dame, iv Daughter of Phœbus and of Memorie, That[906] doest ennoble with immortall name The warlike Worthies, from antiquitie, In thy great volume of Eternitie: Begin, O Clio, and recount from hence My glorious Soueraines goodly auncestrie[907], Till that by dew degrees and long protense[908], Thou haue it lastly brought vnto her Excellence. Full many wayes within her troubled mind, v Old Glauce cast, to cure this Ladies griefe: Full many waies she sought, but none could find, Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsell, that is chiefe And choisest med’cine for sicke harts reliefe: For thy great care she tooke, and greater feare, Least that it should her turne to foule repriefe, And sore reproch, when so her father deare Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune heare. At last she her auisd, that he, which made vi That mirrhour, wherein the sicke Damosell So straungely vewed her straunge louers shade, To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell, Vnder what coast of heauen the man did dwell, And by what meanes his loue might best be wrought: For though beyond the Africk Ismaell, Or th’Indian Peru he were, she thought Him forth through infinite endeuour to haue sought.

Forthwith themselues disguising both in straunge vii And base attyre, that none might them bewray, To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way: There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) To make his wonne, low vnderneath the ground, In a deepe delue, farre from the vew of day, That of no liuing wight he mote be found, When so he counseld with his sprights encompast round. And if thou euer happen that same way viii To trauell, goe to see that dreadfull place: It is an hideous hollow caue (they say) Vnder a rocke that lyes a little space From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace, Emongst the woodie hilles of Dyneuowre: But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace, To enter into that same balefull Bowre, For fear the cruell Feends should thee vnwares deuowre. But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare, ix And there such ghastly noise of yron chaines, And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling heare, Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines Doe tosse, that it will stonne thy feeble braines, And oftentimes great grones, and grieuous stounds, When too huge toile and labour them constraines: And oftentimes loud strokes, and ringing sounds From vnder that deepe Rocke most horribly rebounds. The cause some say is this: A litle while x Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend, A brasen wall in compas to compile About Cairmardin, and did it commend Vnto these Sprights, to bring to perfect end. During which worke the Ladie of the Lake, Whom long he lou’d, for him in hast did send, Who thereby forst his workemen to forsake, Them bound till his returne, their labour not to slake.

In the meane time through that false Ladies traine, xi He was surprisd, and buried vnder beare, Ne euer to his worke returnd againe: Nath’lesse those feends may not their worke forbeare, So greatly his commaundement they feare, But there doe toyle and trauell day and night, Vntill that brasen wall they vp doe reare: For Merlin had in Magicke more insight, Then euer him before or after liuing wight. For he by words could call out of the sky xii Both Sunne and Moone, and make them him obay: The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry, And darkesome night he eke could turne to day: Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay, And hostes of men of meanest things could frame, When so him list his enimies to fray: That to this day for terror of his fame, The feends do quake, when any him to them does name. And sooth, men say that he was not the sonne xiii Of mortall Syre, or other liuing wight, But wondrously begotten, and begonne By false illusion of a guilefull Spright, On a faire Ladie Nonne, that whilome hight Matilda, daughter to Pubidius, Who was the Lord of Mathrauall by right, And coosen vnto king Ambrosius: Whence he indued was with skill so maruellous. They here ariuing, staid a while without, xiv Ne durst aduenture rashly in to wend, But of their first intent gan make new dout For dread of daunger, which it might portend: Vntill the hardie Mayd (with loue to frend) First entering, the dreadfull Mage there found Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end, And writing strange characters in the ground, With which the stubborn feends he to his seruice bound.

He nought was moued at their entrance bold: xv For of their comming well he wist afore, Yet list them bid their businesse to[909] vnfold, As if ought in this world in secret store Were from him hidden, or vnknowne of yore. Then Glauce thus, Let[910] not it thee offend, That we thus rashly through thy darkesome dore, Vnwares haue prest: for either fatall end, Or other mightie cause vs two did hither send. He bad tell on; And then she thus began. xvi Now haue three Moones with borrow’d brothers light, Thrice shined faire, and thrice seem’d dim and wan, Sith a sore euill, which this virgin bright Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight, First rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee, Or whence it sprong, I cannot read aright: But this I read, that but if remedee[911] Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see. Therewith th’Enchaunter softly gan to smyle xvii At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well, That she to him dissembled womanish guyle, And to her said, Beldame, by that ye tell, More need of leach-craft hath your Damozell, Then of my skill: who helpe may haue elsewhere, In vaine seekes wonders out of Magicke spell. Th’old woman wox half blanck, those words to heare; And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare. And to him said, If any leaches skill, xviii Or other learned meanes could haue redrest This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill, Certes I should be loth thee to molest: But this sad euill, which doth her infest, Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed, And housed is within her hollow brest, That either seemes some cursed witches deed, Or euill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.

The wisard could no lenger[912] beare her bord, xix But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd; Glauce, what needs this colourable word, To cloke the cause, that hath it selfe bewrayd? Ne ye faire Britomartis, thus arayd, More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele; Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd, Hath hither brought, for succour to appele: The which the powres to thee are pleased to reuele. The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe descryde, xx Was all abasht, and her pure yuory Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde; As faire Aurora rising hastily, Doth by her blushing tell, that she did lye All night in old Tithonus frosen bed, Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly. But her old Nourse was nought dishartened, But vauntage made of that, which Merlin had ared. And sayd, Sith then thou knowest all our griefe, xxi (For what doest not thou know?) of grace I pray, Pitty our plaint, and yield vs meet reliefe. With that the Prophet still awhile did stay, And then his spirite thus gan forth display; Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore Hast learn’d to loue, let no whit thee dismay The hard begin, that meets thee in the dore, And with sharpe fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore. For so must all things excellent begin, xxii And eke enrooted deepe must be that Tree, Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin, Till they to heauens hight forth stretched bee. For from thy wombe a famous Progenie Shall spring, out of the auncient Troian blood, Which shall reuiue the sleeping memorie Of those same antique Peres, the heauens brood, Which Greeke[913] and Asian riuers stained with their blood.

Renowmed kings, and sacred Emperours, xxiii Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee descend; Braue Captaines, and most mighty warriours, That shall their conquests through all lands extend, And their decayed kingdomes shall amend: The feeble Britons, broken with long warre, They shall vpreare, and mightily defend Against their forrein foe, that comes from farre, Till vniuersall peace compound all ciuill iarre. It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye, xxiv Glauncing vnwares in charmed looking glas, But the streight course of heauenly destiny, Led with eternall prouidence, that has Guided thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas: Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill, To loue the prowest knight, that euer was. Therefore submit thy wayes vnto his will, And do by all dew meanes thy destiny fulfill. But read (said Glauce) thou Magitian xxv What meanes shall she out seeke, or what wayes take? How shall she know, how shall she find the man? Or what needs her to toyle, sith fates can make Way for themselues, their purpose to partake?[914] Then Merlin thus; Indeed the fates are firme, And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake: Yet ought mens good endeuours them confirme, And guide the heauenly causes to their constant terme. The man whom heauens haue ordaynd to bee xxvi The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall: He wonneth in the land of Fayeree, Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all To Elfes, but sprang of seed terrestriall, And whilome by false Faries stolne away, Whiles yet in infant cradle he did crall; Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day, But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.

But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlois, xxvii And brother vnto Cador Cornish king, And for his warlike feates renowmed is, From where the day out of the sea doth spring, Vntill the closure of the Euening. From thence, him firmely bound with faithfull band, To this his natiue soyle thou backe shalt bring, Strongly to aide his countrey, to withstand The powre of forrein Paynims, which inuade thy land. Great aid thereto his mighty puissaunce, xxviii And dreaded name shall giue in that sad day: Where also proofe of thy prow valiaunce Thou then shalt make, t’increase thy louers pray. Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway, Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call, And his last fate him from thee take away, Too rathe cut off by practise criminall Of secret foes, that him shall make in mischiefe fall. With[915] thee yet shall he leaue for memory xxix Of his late puissaunce, his Image dead, That liuing him in all actiuity To thee shall represent. He from the head Of his coosin Constantius without dread Shall take the crowne, that was his fathers right, And therewith crowne himselfe in th’others stead: Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might, Against his Saxon foes in bloudy field to fight. Like as a Lyon, that in drowsie caue xxx Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake, And comming forth, shall spred his banner braue Ouer the troubled South, that it shall make The warlike Mertians for feare to quake: Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win, But the third time shall faire accordaunce make: And if he then with victorie can lin, He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly In.

His sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him succeede xxxi In kingdome, but not in felicity; Yet shall he long time warre with happy speed, And with great honour many battels try: But at the last to th’importunity Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield. But his sonne Malgo shall full mightily Auenge his fathers losse, with speare and shield, And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field. Behold the man, and tell me Britomart, xxxii If ay more goodly creature thou didst see; How like a Gyaunt in each manly part Beares he himselfe with portly maiestee, That one of th’old Heroes seemes to bee: He the six Islands, comprouinciall In auncient times vnto great Britainee, Shall to the same reduce, and to him call Their sundry kings to do their homage seuerall. All which his sonne Careticus awhile xxxiii Shall well defend, and Saxons powre suppresse, Vntill a straunger king from vnknowne soyle Arriuing, him with multitude oppresse; Great Gormond, hauing with huge mightinesse Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne, Like a swift Otter, fell through emptinesse, Shall ouerswim the sea with many one Of his Norueyses, to assist the Britons fone. He in his furie all shall ouerrunne, xxxiv And holy Church with faithlesse hands deface, That thy sad people vtterly fordonne, Shall to the vtmost mountaines fly apace: Was neuer so great wast in any place, Nor so fowle outrage[916] doen by liuing men: For all thy Cities they shall sacke and race, And the greene grasse, that groweth, they shall bren, That euen the wild beast shall dy in starued den.

Whiles thus thy[917] Britons do in languour pine, xxxv Proud Etheldred shall from the North arise, Seruing th’ambitious will of Augustine, And passing Dee with hardy enterprise, Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brockwell twise, And Bangor with massacred Martyrs fill; But the third time shall rew his foolhardise: For Cadwan pittying his peoples ill, Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand Saxons kill. But after him, Cadwallin mightily xxxvi On his sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall wreake; Ne shall auaile the wicked sorcery Of false Pellite, his purposes to breake, But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleake Shall giue th’enchaunter his vnhappy hire;[918] Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake, From their long vassalage gin to respire, And on their Paynim foes auenge their ranckled ire. Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate, xxxvii Till both the sonnes of Edwin he haue slaine, Offricke and Osricke, twinnes vnfortunate, Both slaine in battell vpon Layburne plaine, Together with the king of Louthiane, Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny, Both ioynt partakers of their[919] fatall paine: But Penda, fearefull of like desteny, Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty. Him shall he make his fatall Instrument, xxxviii T’afflict the other Saxons vnsubdewd; He marching forth with fury insolent Against the good king Oswald, who indewd With heauenly powre, and by Angels reskewd, All holding crosses in their hands on hye, Shall him defeate withouten bloud imbrewd: Of which, that field for endlesse memory, Shall Heuenfield be cald to all posterity.

Where at Cadwallin wroth, shall forth issew, xxxix And an huge hoste into Northumber lead, With which he godly Oswald shall subdew, And crowne with martyrdome his sacred head. Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like dread, With price of siluer shall his kingdome buy, And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread, Shall tread adowne, and do him fowly dye, But shall with gifts his Lord Cadwallin pacify. Then shall Cadwallin dye, and then the raine xl Of Britons eke with him attonce shall dye; Ne shall the good Cadwallader with paine, Or powre, be hable it to remedy, When the full time prefixt by destiny, Shalbe expird of Britons regiment. For heauen it selfe shall their successe enuy, And them with plagues and murrins pestilent Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spent. Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge hills xli Of dying people, during eight yeares space, Cadwallader not yielding to his ills, From Armoricke, where long in wretched cace He liu’d, returning to his natiue place, Shalbe by vision staid from his intent: For th’heauens haue decreed, to displace The Britons, for their sinnes dew punishment, And to the Saxons ouer-giue their gouernment. Then woe, and woe, and euerlasting woe, xlii Be to the Briton babe, that shalbe borne, To liue in thraldome of his fathers foe; Late King, now captiue, late Lord, now forlorne, The worlds reproch, the cruell victors scorne, Banisht from Princely bowre to wastfull wood: O who shall helpe me to lament, and mourne The royall seed, the antique Troian blood, Whose Empire lenger here, then euer any stood.

The Damzell was full deepe empassioned, xliii Both for his griefe, and for her peoples sake, Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned, And sighing sore, at length him thus bespake; Ah but will heauens fury neuer slake, Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at last? Will not long misery late mercy make, But shall their name for euer be defast, And quite from of the earth[920] their memory be rast? Nay but the terme (said he) is limited, xliv That in this thraldome Britons shall abide, And the iust reuolution measured, That they as Straungers shalbe notifide. For twise foure hundreth yeares shalbe supplide[921], Ere they to[922] former rule restor’d shalbee, And their importune fates all satisfide: Yet during this their most obscuritee, Their beames shall oft breake forth, that men them faire may see. For Rhodoricke, whose surname shalbe Great, xlv Shall of him selfe a braue ensample shew, That Saxon kings his friendship shall intreat; And Howell Dha shall goodly well indew The saluage minds with skill of iust and trew; Then Griffyth Conan also shall vp reare His dreaded head, and the old[923] sparkes renew Of natiue courage, that his foes shall feare, Least backe againe the kingdome he from them should beare. Ne shall the Saxons selues all peaceably xlvi Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne First ill, and after ruled wickedly: For ere two hundred yeares be full outronne[924], There shall a Rauen far from rising Sunne, With his wide wings vpon them fiercely fly, And bid his faithlesse chickens ouerronne The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty, In their auenge, tread downe the victours surquedry.

Yet shall a third both these, and thine subdew; xlvii There shall a Lyon from the sea-bord wood Of Neustria come roring, with a crew Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood, Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood, That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend Th’vsurped crowne, as if that he were wood, And the spoile of the countrey conquered Emongst his young ones shall diuide with bountyhed. Tho when the terme is full accomplishid, xlviii There shall a sparke of fire, which hath long-while Bene in his ashes raked vp, and hid, Be freshly kindled in the fruitfull Ile Of Mona, where it lurked in exile; Which shall breake forth into bright burning flame, And reach into the house, that beares the stile Of royall maiesty and soueraigne name; So shall the Briton bloud their crowne againe reclame. Thenceforth eternall vnion shall be made xlix Betweene the nations different afore, And sacred Peace shall louingly perswade The warlike minds, to learne her goodly lore, And ciuile armes to exercise no more: Then shall a royall virgin raine, which shall Stretch her white rod ouer the Belgicke shore, And the great Castle smite so sore with all, That it shall make him shake, and shortly learne to fall. But yet the end is not. There Merlin stayd, l As ouercomen of the spirites powre, Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd, That secretly he saw, yet note discoure: Which suddein fit, and halfe extatick stoure When the two fearefull women saw, they grew Greatly confused in behauioure; At last the fury past, to former hew Hee[925] turnd againe, and chearefull looks <as earst>[926] did shew.

Then, when them selues they well instructed had li Of all, that needed them to be inquird, They both conceiuing hope of comfort glad, With lighter hearts vnto their home retird; Where they in secret counsell close conspird, How to effect so hard an enterprize, And to possesse the purpose they desird: Now this, now that twixt them they did deuise, And diuerse plots did frame, to maske in strange disguise[927]. At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit lii Conceiu’d a bold deuise, and thus bespake; Daughter, I deeme that counsell aye most fit, That of the time doth dew aduauntage take; Ye see that good king Vther now doth make Strong warre vpon the Paynim brethren, hight Octa and Oza, whom he lately brake Beside Cayr Verolame, in victorious fight, That now all Britanie doth burne in armes bright. That therefore nought our passage may empeach, liii Let vs in feigned armes our selues disguize, And our weake hands (whom need new strength shall teach)[928] The dreadfull speare and shield to exercize: Ne certes daughter that same warlike wize I weene, would you misseeme; for ye bene tall, And large of limbe, t’atchieue an hard emprize, Ne ought ye want, but skill, which practize small Will bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall. And sooth, it ought your courage much inflame, liv To heare so often, in that royall hous, From whence to none inferiour ye came,[929] Bards tell of many women valorous Which haue full many feats aduenturous Performd, in paragone of proudest men: The bold Bunduca, whose victorious Exploits made Rome to quake, stout Guendolen, Renowmed Martia, and redoubted Emmilen.

And that, which more then all the rest may sway, lv Late dayes ensample, which these eyes beheld, In the last field before Meneuia Which Vther with those forrein Pagans held, I saw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld Great Vlfin thrise vpon the bloudy plaine, And had not Carados her hand withheld From rash reuenge, she had him surely slaine, Yet Carados himselfe from her escapt with paine. Ah read, (quoth Britomart) how is she hight? lvi Faire Angela (quoth she) men do her call, No whit lesse faire, then terrible in fight: She hath the leading of a Martiall And mighty people, dreaded more then all The other Saxons, which do for her sake And loue, themselues of her name Angles call. Therefore faire Infant her ensample make Vnto thy selfe, and equall courage to thee take. Her harty words so deepe into the mynd lvii Of the young Damzell sunke, that great desire Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd, And generous stout courage did inspire, That she resolu’d, vnweeting[930] to her Sire, Aduent’rous knighthood on her selfe to don, And counseld with her Nourse, her Maides attire To turne into a massy habergeon, And bad her all things put in readinesse anon. Th’old woman nought, that needed, did omit; lviii But all things did conueniently[931] puruay: It fortuned (so time their turne did fit) A band of Britons ryding on forray Few dayes[932] before, had gotten a great pray Of Saxon goods, emongst the which was seene A goodly Armour, and full rich aray, Which long’d to Angela, the Saxon Queene, All fretted round with gold, and goodly well beseene.

The same, with all the other ornaments, lix King Ryence caused to be hanged by In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moniments Of his successe and gladfull victory: Of which her selfe auising readily, In th’euening late old Glauce thither led Faire Britomart, and that same Armory Downe taking, her therein appareled, Well as she might, and with braue bauldrick garnished. Beside those armes there stood a mighty speare, lx Which Bladud made by Magick art of yore, And vsd the same in battell aye to beare; Sith which it had bin here preseru’d in store, For his great vertues proued long afore: For neuer wight so fast in sell could sit, But him perforce vnto the ground it bore: Both speare she tooke, and shield, which hong by it: Both speare and shield of great powre, for her purpose fit. Thus when she had the virgin all arayd, lxi Another harnesse, which did hang thereby, About her selfe she dight, that the young Mayd She might in equall armes accompany, And as her Squire attend her carefully: Tho to their ready Steeds they clombe full light, And through back wayes, that none might them espy, Couered with secret cloud of silent night, Themselues they forth conuayd, and passed forward right. Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond lxii They came, as Merlin them directed late: Where meeting with this Redcrosse knight, she fond Of diuerse things discourses to dilate, But most of Arthegall, and his estate. At last their wayes so fell, that they mote part:[933] Then each to other well affectionate, Friendship professed with vnfained hart, The Redcrosse knight diuerst, but forth rode Britomart.