SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 8)

Bold Marinell of Britomart, Is throwne on the Rich strond: Faire Florimell of Arthur is Long followed, but not fond.

Where is the Antique glory now become, i That whilome wont in women to appeare? Where be the braue atchieuements doen by some? Where be the battels, where the shield and speare, And all the conquests, which them high did reare, That matter made for famous Poets verse, And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare? Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herse? Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reuerse? If they be dead, then woe is me therefore: ii But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake: For all too long I burne with enuy sore, To heare the warlike feates, which Homere spake Of bold Penthesilee[934], which made a lake Of Greekish bloud so oft in Troian plaine; But when I read, how stout Debora strake Proud Sisera, and how Camill’ hath slaine The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdaine. Yet these, and all that else had puissaunce, iii Cannot with noble Britomart compare, Aswell for glory of great valiaunce, As for pure chastitie and vertue rare, That all her goodly deeds do well declare. Well worthy stock, from which the branches sprong, That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare, As thee, O Queene, the matter of my song, Whose lignage from this Lady I deriue along.

Who when through speaches with the Redcrosse knight, iv She learned had th’estate of Arthegall, And in each point her selfe informd aright, A friendly league of loue perpetuall She with him bound, and Congé tooke withall. Then he forth on his iourney did proceede, To seeke aduentures, which mote him befall, And win him worship through his warlike deed, Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefest meed. But Britomart kept on her former course, v Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way Grew pensiue through that amorous discourse, By which the Redcrosse knight did earst display Her louers shape, and cheualrous aray; A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind, And in her feigning fancie did pourtray Him such, as fittest she[935] for loue could find, Wise, warlike, personable, curteous, and kind. With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fed, vi And thought so to beguile her grieuous smart; But so her smart was much more grieuous bred, And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart, That nought but death her dolour mote depart. So forth she rode without repose or rest, Searching all lands and each remotest part, Following the guidaunce of her blinded guest, Till that to the sea-coast at length she her[936] addrest. There she alighted from her light-foot beast, vii And sitting downe vpon the rocky shore, Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creast; Tho hauing vewd a while the surges hore, That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore, And in their raging surquedry disdaynd, That the fast earth affronted them so sore, And their deuouring[937] couetize restraynd, Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.

Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe, viii Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long, Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe, Why[938] do thy cruell billowes beat so strong, And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng, Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life? O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife, Which in these[939] troubled bowels raignes, and rageth rife. For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt ix Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes, Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes, The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes; Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes, But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind: How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind? Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas, x That raignest also in the Continent, At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease, The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent, Vnto the gladsome port of her intent: Then when I shall my selfe in safety see, A table for eternall moniment Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee, Great Neptune, I auow to hallow vnto thee. Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe, xi She shut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe; For her great courage would not let her weepe, Till that old Glauce gan with sharpe repriefe, Her to restraine, and giue her good reliefe, Through hope of those, which Merlin had her told Should of her name and nation be chiefe, And fetch their being from the sacred mould Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.

Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde, xii Where farre away one all in armour bright, With hastie gallop towards her did ryde; Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light: Her former sorrow into suddein wrath, Both coosen passions of distroubled spright, Conuerting, forth she beates the dustie path; Loue and despight attonce her courage kindled hath. As when a foggy mist hath ouercast xiii The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engrost, The world in darkenesse dwels, till that at last The watry Southwinde from the seabord cost Vpblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo’st, And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre; So the faire Britomart hauing disclo’st Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre, The mist of griefe dissolu’d, did[940] into vengeance powre.[941] Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire, xiv That mortall speare she in her hand did take, And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire. The knight approching, sternely her bespake; Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make By this forbidden way in my despight, Ne doest by others death ensample take, I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might, Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight. Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat, xv She shortly thus; Fly they, that need to fly; Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy. Ne lenger stayd for th’other to reply, But with sharpe speare[942] the rest made dearly knowne. Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her crowne.

But she againe him in the shield did smite xvi With so fierce furie and great puissaunce, That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite, And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce; Him so transfixed she before her bore Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce, Till sadly soucing on the sandie shore, He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore. Like as the sacred Oxe, that carelesse stands, xvii With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd, Proud of his dying honor and deare bands, Whiles th’altars fume with frankincense arownd, All suddenly with mortall stroke astownd, Doth groueling fall, and with his streaming gore Distaines the pillours, and the holy grownd, And the faire flowres, that decked him afore; So fell proud Marinell vpon the pretious shore. The martiall Mayd stayd not him to lament, xviii But forward rode, and kept her readie way Along the strond, which as she ouer-went, She saw bestrowed all with rich aray Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay, And all the grauell mixt with golden owre; Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre, But them despised all; for all was in her powre. Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment, xix Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare; His mother was the blacke-browd Cymoent[943], The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare This warlike sonne vnto an earthly peare, The famous Dumarin; who on a day Finding the Nymph a sleepe in secret wheare, As he by chaunce did wander that same way, Was taken with her loue, and by her closely lay.

There he this knight of her begot, whom borne xx She of his father Marinell did name, And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne, Long time she fostred vp, till he became A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame Did get through great aduentures by him donne: For neuer man he suffred by that same Rich strond to trauell, whereas he did wonne, But that he must do battell with the Sea-nymphes sonne. An hundred knights of honorable name xxi He had subdew’d, and them his vassals made, That through all Farie lond his noble fame Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade, That none durst passen through that perilous glade. And to aduance his name and glorie more, Her Sea-god syre she dearely did perswade, T’endow her sonne with threasure and rich store, Boue all the sonnes, that were of earthly wombes ybore. The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund, xxii To doen his Nephew in all riches flow; Eftsoones his heaped waues he did commaund, Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw All the huge threasure, which the sea below Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe, And him enriched through the ouerthrow And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe, And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe. Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was, xxiii Exceeding riches and all pretious things, The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas The wealth of th’East, and pompe of Persian kings; Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings, And all that else was pretious and deare, The sea vnto him voluntary brings, That shortly he a great Lord did appeare, As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare.

Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight, xxiv Tryde often to the scath[944] of many deare, That none in equall armes him matchen might, The which his mother seeing, gan to feare Least his too haughtie hardines might reare Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life: For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife, But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife. And for his more assurance, she inquir’d xxv One day of Proteus by his mightie spell, (For Proteus was with prophecie inspir’d) Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell, And the sad end of her sweet Marinell. Who through foresight of his eternall skill, Bad her from womankind to keepe him well: For of a woman he should haue much ill, A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill. For thy she gaue him warning euery day, xxvi The loue of women not to entertaine; A lesson too too hard for liuing clay, From loue in course of nature to refraine: Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine, And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly; Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine, That they for loue of him would algates dy: Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy. But ah, who can deceiue his destiny, xxvii Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate? That when he sleepes in most security, And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate, And findeth dew effect or soone or late. So feeble is the powre of fleshly[945] arme. His mother bad him womens loue to hate, For she of womans force did feare no harme; So weening to haue arm’d him, she did quite disarme.

This was that woman, this that deadly wound, xxviii That Proteus prophecide should him dismay, The which his mother vainely did expound, To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay To bring her sonne vnto his last decay. So tickle be the termes of mortall state, And full of subtile sophismes, which do play With double senses, and with false debate, T’approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate. Too true the famous Marinell it fownd, xxix Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond Inglorious now lies in senselesse swownd, Through heauy stroke of Britomartis hond. Which when his mother deare did vnderstond, And heauy tydings heard, whereas she playd Amongst her watry sisters by a pond, Gathering sweet daffadillyes, to haue made Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to shade;[946] Eftsoones both flowres and girlonds farre away xxx She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent, To sorrow huge she turnd her former play, And gamesom[947] merth to grieuous dreriment: She threw her selfe downe on the Continent, Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne[948], Whiles all her sisters did for her lament, With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne; And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne. Soone as she vp out of her deadly fit xxxi Arose, she bad her charet to be brought, And all her sisters, that with her did sit, Bad eke attonce their charets to be sought; Tho full of bitter griefe and pensiue[949] thought, She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest, And forth together went, with sorrow fraught. The waues obedient to their beheast, Them yielded readie passage, and their rage surceast.

Great Neptune stood amazed at their sight, xxxii Whiles on his broad round backe they softly slid And eke himselfe mournd at their mournfull plight, Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did For great compassion of their sorrow, bid His mightie waters to them buxome bee: Eftsoones the roaring billowes still abid, And all the griesly Monsters of the See Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see. A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray, xxxiii Drew the smooth charet of sad Cymoent; They were all taught by Triton, to obay To the long raynes[950], at her commaundement: As swift as swallowes, on the waues they went, That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare, Ne bubbling roundell they behind them sent; The rest of other fishes drawen weare, Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare. Soone as they bene arriu’d vpon the brim xxxiv Of the Rich strond, their charets they forlore, And let their temed fishes softly swim Along the margent of the fomy shore, Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore Their tender feet vpon the stony ground: And comming to the place, where all in gore And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found The lucklesse Marinell, lying in deadly swound; His mother swowned thrise, and the third time xxxv Could scarce recouered be out of her paine; Had she not bene deuoyd of mortall slime, She should not then haue bene reliu’d againe, But soone as life recouered had the raine, She made so piteous mone and deare wayment, That the hard rocks could scarse from teares refraine, And all her sister Nymphes with one consent Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.

Deare image of my selfe (she said) that is, xxxvi The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne, Is this thine high aduauncement, O is this Th’immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne Thy Gransire Nereus promist to adorne? Now lyest thou of life and honor reft; Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne, Ne of thy late life memory is left, Ne can thy irreuocable destiny be weft? Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis, xxxvii And they more fond, that credit to thee giue, Not this the worke of womans hand ywis, That so deepe wound through these deare members driue. I feared loue: but they that loue do liue, But they that die, doe neither loue nor hate. Nath’lesse to thee thy folly I forgiue, And to my selfe, and to accursed fate The guilt I doe ascribe: deare wisedome bought too late. O what auailes it of immortall seed xxxviii To beene ybred and neuer borne to die? Farre better I it deeme to die with speed, Then waste in woe and wailefull miserie. Who dyes the vtmost dolour doth abye, But who that liues, is left to waile his losse: So life is losse, and death felicitie. Sad life worse then glad death: and greater crosse To see friends graue, then dead the graue selfe to engrosse. But if the heauens did his dayes enuie, xxxix And my short blisse maligne, yet mote they well Thus much afford me, ere that he did die That the dim eyes of my deare Marinell I mote haue closed, and him bed[951] farewell, Sith other offices for mother meet They would not graunt. Yet maulgre them farewell, my sweetest sweet; Farewell my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall meet[952].

Thus when they all had sorrowed their fill, xl They softly gan to search his griesly wound: And that they might him handle more at will, They him disarm’d, and spredding on the ground Their watchet mantles frindgd with siluer round, They softly wipt away the gelly blood From th’orifice; which hauing well vpbound, They pourd in soueraine balme, and Nectar good, Good both for earthly med’cine, and for heauenly food. Tho when the lilly handed Liagore, xli (This Liagore whylome had learned skill In leaches craft, by great Appolloes lore, Sith her whylome vpon high Pindus hill, He loued, and at last her wombe did fill With heauenly seed, whereof wise Pæon sprong) Did feele his pulse, she knew their staied still Some litle life his feeble sprites emong; Which to his mother told, despeire she from her flong. Tho vp him[953] taking in their tender hands, xlii They easily vnto her charet beare: Her teme at her commaundement quiet stands, Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare, And strow with flowres the lamentable beare: Then all the rest into their coches clim, And through the brackish waues their passage sheare; Vpon great Neptunes necke they softly swim, And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him. Deepe in the bottome of the sea, her bowre xliii Is built of hollow billowes heaped hye, Like to thicke cloudes, that threat a stormy showre, And vauted[954] all within, like to the sky, In which the Gods do dwell eternally: There they him laid in easie couch well dight; And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply Salues to his wounds, and medicines of might: For Tryphon of sea gods the soueraine leach is hight.

The whiles the Nymphes sit all about him round, xliv Lamenting his mishap and heauy plight; And oft his mother vewing his wide wound, Cursed the hand, that did so deadly smight Her dearest sonne, her dearest harts delight. But none of all those curses ouertooke The warlike Maid, th’ensample of that might, But fairely well she thriu’d, and well did brooke Her noble deeds, ne her right course for ought forsooke. Yet did false Archimage her still pursew, xlv To bring to passe his mischieuous intent, Now that he had her singled from the crew Of courteous knights, the Prince, and Faery gent, Whom late in chace of beautie excellent She left, pursewing that same foster strong; Of whose foule outrage they impatient, And full of fiery zeale, him followed long, To reskew her from shame, and to reuenge her wrong. Through thick and thin, through mountaines and through plains, xlvi Those two great champions did attonce pursew The fearefull damzell, with incessant paines: Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew Of hunter[955] swift, and sent of houndes trew. At last they came vnto a double way, Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew, Themselues they did dispart, each to assay, Whether more happie were, to win so goodly pray. But Timias, the Princes gentle Squire, xlvii That Ladies loue vnto his Lord forlent, And with proud enuy, and indignant ire, After that wicked foster fiercely went. So beene they three three sundry wayes ybent. But fairest fortune to the Prince befell, Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did repent,[956] To take that way, in which that Damozell Was fled afore, affraid of him, as feend of hell.

At last of her farre off he gained vew: xlviii Then gan he freshly pricke his fomy steed, And euer as he nigher to her drew, So euermore he did increase his speed, And of each turning still kept warie heed: Aloud to her he oftentimes did call, To doe away vaine doubt, and needlesse dreed: Full myld to her he spake, and oft let fall Many meeke wordes, to stay and comfort her withall. But nothing might relent her hastie flight; xlix So deepe the deadly feare of that foule swaine Was earst impressed in her gentle spright: Like as a fearefull Doue, which through the raine, Of the wide aire her way does cut amaine, Hauing farre off espyde a Tassell gent, Which after her his nimble wings doth straine, Doubleth her haste for feare to be for-hent[957], And with her pineons cleaues the liquid firmament. With no lesse haste, and eke with no lesse dreed, l That fearefull Ladie fled from him, that ment To her no euill thought, nor euill deed; Yet former feare of being fowly shent, Carried her forward with her first intent: And though oft looking backward, well she vewd, Her selfe freed from that foster insolent, And that it was a knight, which now her sewd, Yet she no lesse the knight feard, then that villein rude. His vncouth shield and straunge armes her dismayd, li Whose like in Faery lond were seldome[958] seene, That fast she from him fled, no lesse affrayd, Then of wilde beastes if she had chased beene: Yet he her followd still with courage keene, So long that now the golden Hesperus Was mounted high in top of heauen sheene, And warnd his other brethren ioyeous, To light their blessed lamps in Ioues eternall hous.

All suddenly dim woxe the dampish ayre, lii And griesly shadowes couered heauen bright, That now with thousand starres was decked fayre; Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull sight, And that perforce, for want of lenger light, He mote surcease his suit, and lose the hope Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte His wicked fortune, that had turnd aslope, And cursed night, that reft from him so goodly scope. Tho when her wayes he could no more descry, liii But to and fro at disauenture strayd; Like as a ship, whose Lodestarre suddenly Couered with cloudes, her Pilot hath dismayd; His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd, And from his loftie steed dismounting low, Did let him forage. Downe himselfe he layd Vpon the grassie ground, to sleepe a throw; The cold earth was his couch, the hard steele his pillow. But gentle Sleepe enuyde him any rest; liv In stead thereof sad sorrow, and disdaine Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest, And thousand fancies bet his idle braine With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine: Oft did he wish, that Lady faire mote bee His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine: Or that his Faery Queene were such, as shee: And euer hastie Night he blamed bitterlie. Night thou foule Mother of annoyance sad, lv Sister of heauie death, and nourse of woe, Which wast begot in heauen, but for thy bad And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below, Where by the grim floud of Cocytus slow Thy dwelling is, in Herebus blacke hous, (Blacke Herebus thy husband is the foe Of all the Gods) where thou vngratious, Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous.

What had th’eternall Maker need of thee, lvi The world in his continuall course to keepe, That doest all things deface, ne lettest see The beautie of his worke? Indeed in sleepe The slouthfull bodie, that doth loue to steepe His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind, Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe Calles thee, his goddesse in his error blind, And great Dame Natures handmaide, chearing euery kind. But well I wote, that to an heauy hart lvii Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares, Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts: In stead of rest thou lendest rayling teares, In stead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares, And dreadfull visions, in the which aliue The drearie image of sad death appeares: So from the wearie spirit thou doest driue Desired rest, and men of happinesse depriue. Vnder thy mantle blacke there hidden lye, lviii Light-shonning theft, and traiterous intent, Abhorred bloudshed, and vile felony, Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent; Foule horror, and eke hellish dreriment: All these I wote in thy protection bee, And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent: For light ylike is loth’d of them and thee, And all that lewdnesse loue, doe hate the light to see. For day discouers all dishonest wayes, lix And sheweth each thing, as it is indeed: The prayses of high God he faire displayes, And his large bountie rightly doth areed. Dayes dearest children[959] be the blessed seed, Which darknesse shall subdew, and heauen win: Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed, Most sacred virgin, without spot of sin. Our life is day, but death with darknesse doth begin.

O when will day then turne to me againe, lx And bring with him his long expected light? O Titan, haste to reare thy ioyous waine: Speed thee to spred abroad thy beames bright,[960] And chase away this too long lingring night, Chase her away, from whence she came, to hell. She, she it is, that hath me done despight: There let her with the damned spirits dwell, And yeeld her roome to day, that can it gouerne well. Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare, lxi In restlesse anguish and vnquiet paine: And earely, ere the morrow did vpreare His deawy head out of the Ocean maine, He vp arose, as halfe in great disdaine, And clombe vnto his steed. So forth he went, With heauie looke and lumpish pace, that plaine In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent: His steed eke seem’d t’apply his steps to his intent.

Prince Arthur heares of Florimell: three fosters Timias wound, Belphebe finds him almost dead, and reareth out of sownd[961].

Wonder it is to see, in diverse minds, i How diversly loue doth his pageants play, And shewes his powre in variable kinds: The baser wit, whose idle thoughts alway Are wont to cleave vnto the lowly clay, It stirreth vp to sensuall desire, And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day: But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire, That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.

Ne suffereth it vncomely idlenesse, ii In his free thought to build her sluggish nest: Ne suffereth it thought of vngentlenesse, Euer to creepe into his noble brest, But to the highest and the worthiest Lifteth it vp, that else would lowly fall: It lets not fall, it lets it not to rest: It lets not scarse this Prince to breath[962] at all, But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call. Who long time wandred through the forrest wyde, iii To finde some issue thence, till that at last[963] He met a Dwarfe, that seemed terrifyde With some late perill, which he hardly past, Or other accident, which him aghast; Of whom he asked, whence he lately came, And whither now he trauelled so fast: For sore he swat, and running through that same Thicke forest, was bescratcht, and both his feet nigh lame. Panting for breath, and almost out of hart, iv The Dwarfe him answerd, Sir, ill mote I stay To tell the same. I lately did depart From Faery court, where I haue many a day Serued a gentle Lady of great sway, And high accompt[964] through out all Elfin land, Who lately left the same, and tooke this way: Her now I seeke, and if ye vnderstand Which way she fared hath, good Sir tell out of hand. What mister wight (said he) and how arayd? v Royally clad (quoth he) in cloth of gold, As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd; Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold, A[965] fairer wight did neuer Sunne behold, And on a Palfrey rides more white then snow, Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold: The surest signe, whereby ye may her know, Is, that she is the fairest wight aliue, I trow.

Now certes swaine (said he) such one I weene, vi Fast flying through this forest from her fo, A foule ill fauoured foster, I haue seene; Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho, But could not stay; so fast she did foregoe, Carried away with wings of speedy feare. Ah dearest God (quoth he) that is great woe, And wondrous ruth to all, that shall it heare. But can ye read Sir, how I may her find, or where?[966] Perdy me leuer were to weeten that, vii (Said he) then ransome of the richest knight, Or all the good that euer yet I gat: But froward fortune, and too forward Night Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me spight, And fro me reft both life and light attone. But Dwarfe aread, what is that Lady bright, That through this forest wandreth thus alone; For of her errour straunge I haue great ruth and mone. That Lady is (quoth he) where so she bee, viii The bountiest virgin, and most debonaire, That euer liuing eye I weene did see; Liues none this day, that may with her compare In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare, The goodly ornaments of beautie bright; And is ycleped Florimell the faire, Faire Florimell belou’d of many a[967] knight, Yet she loues none but one, that Marinell is hight. A Sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is hight, ix Of my deare Dame is loued dearely well; In other none, but him, she sets delight, All her delight is set on Marinell; But he sets nought at all by Florimell: For Ladies loue his mother long ygoe Did him, they say, forwarne through sacred spell. But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe He is yslaine, which is the ground of all our woe.

Fiue dayes there be, since he (they say) was slaine, x And foure, since Florimell the Court for-went, And vowed neuer to returne againe, Till him aliue or dead she did inuent. Therefore, faire Sir, for loue of knighthood gent, And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may By your good counsell, or bold hardiment, Or succour her, or me direct the way; Do one, or other good, I you most humbly pray. So may ye[968] gaine to you full great renowme, xi Of all good Ladies through the world so wide, And haply in her hart find highest rowme, Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide: At least eternall meede shall you abide. To whom the Prince; Dwarfe, comfort to thee take, For till thou tidings learne, what her betide, I here auow thee neuer to forsake. Ill weares he armes, that nill them vse for Ladies sake. So with the Dwarfe he backe return’d againe, xii To seeke his Lady, where he mote her find; But by the way he greatly gan complaine The want of his good Squire late left behind, For whom he wondrous pensiue grew in mind, For doubt[969] of daunger, which mote him betide; For him he loued aboue all mankind, Hauing him trew and faithfull[970] euer tride, And bold, as euer Squire that waited by knights side. Who all this while full hardly was assayd xiii Of deadly daunger, which to him betid; For whiles his Lord pursewd that noble Mayd, After that foster fowle he fiercely rid, To bene auenged of the shame, he did To that faire Damzell: Him he chaced long Through the thicke woods, wherein he would haue hid His shamefull head from his auengement strong,[971] And oft him threatned death for his outrageous wrong.

Nathlesse the villen sped him selfe so well, xiv Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast,[972] Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell, That shortly he from daunger was releast, And out of sight escaped at the least; Yet not escaped from the dew reward Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast, Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard. For soone as he was vanisht out of sight, xv His coward courage gan emboldned bee, And cast t’auenge him of that fowle despight, Which he had borne of his bold enimee. Tho to his brethren came: for they were three Vngratious children of one gracelesse sire, And vnto them complained, how that he Had vsed bene of that foolehardy Squire; So them with bitter words he stird to bloudy ire. Forthwith themselues with their sad instruments xvi Of spoyle and murder they gan arme byliue, And with him forth into the forest went, To wreake the wrath, which he did earst reuiue In their sterne brests, on him which late did driue Their brother to reproch and shamefull flight: For they had vow’d, that neuer he aliue Out of that forest should escape their might; Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with such despight. Within that wood there was a couert glade, xvii Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne, Through which it was vneath for wight to wade[973]; And now by fortune it was ouerflowne: By that same way they knew that Squire vnknowne Mote algates passe; for thy themselues they set There in await, with thicke woods ouer growne, And all the while their malice they did whet With cruell threats, his passage through the ford to let.

It fortuned, as they deuized had, xviii The gentle Squire came ryding that same way, Vnweeting of their wile and treason bad, And through the ford to passen did assay; But that fierce foster, which late fled away, Stoutly forth stepping on the further shore, Him boldly bad his passage there to stay, Till he had made amends, and full restore For all the damage, which he had him doen afore. With that at him a quiu’ring dart he threw, xix With so fell force and villeinous despighte, That through his haberieon[974] the forkehead flew, And through the linked mayles empierced quite, But had no[975] powre in his soft flesh to bite: That stroke the hardy Squire did sore displease, But more that him he could not come to smite; For by no meanes the high banke he could sease, But labour’d long in that deepe ford with vaine disease. And still the foster with his long bore-speare xx Him kept from landing at his wished will; Anone one sent out of the thicket neare A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill, And fethered with an vnlucky quill; The wicked steele stayd not, till it did light In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill: Exceeding griefe that wound in him empight, But more that with his foes he could not come to fight. At last through wrath and vengeaunce making way, xxi He on the bancke arriu’d with mickle paine, Where the third brother him did sore assay, And droue at him with all his might and maine A forrest bill, which both his hands did straine; But warily he did auoide the blow, And with his speare requited him againe, That both his sides were thrilled with the throw, And a large streame of bloud[976] out of the wound did flow.

He tombling downe, with gnashing teeth did bite xxii The bitter earth, and bad to let him in Into the balefull house of endlesse night, Where wicked ghosts do waile their former sin. Tho gan the battell freshly to begin; For nathemore for that spectacle bad, Did th’other two their cruell vengeaunce blin, But both attonce on both sides him bestad, And load vpon him layd, his life for to haue had. Tho when that villain he auiz’d, which late xxiii Affrighted had the fairest Florimell, Full of fiers fury, and indignant hate, To him he turned, and with rigour fell Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell, That to the chin he cleft his head in twaine: Downe on the ground his carkas groueling fell; His sinfull soule with desperate disdaine, Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place of paine. That seeing now the onely last of three, xxiv Who with that wicked shaft him wounded had, Trembling with horrour, as that did foresee The fearefull end of his auengement sad, Through which he follow should his brethren bad, His bootelesse bow in feeble hand vpcaught, And therewith shot an arrow at the lad; Which faintly fluttring, scarce his helmet raught, And glauncing fell to ground, but him annoyed naught. With that he would haue fled into the wood; xxv But Timias him lightly ouerhent, Right as he entring was into the flood, And strooke at him with force so violent, That headlesse him into the foord he sent: The carkas with the streame was carried downe, But th’head fell backeward on the Continent. So mischief fel vpon the meaners crowne; They three be dead with shame, the Squire liues with renowne.

He liues, but takes small ioy of his renowne; xxvi For of that cruell wound he bled so sore, That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne; Yet still the bloud forth gusht in so great store, That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore. Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest Squire aliue, Else shall thy louing Lord thee see no more, But both of comfort him thou shalt depriue, And eke thy selfe of honour, which thou didst atchiue. Prouidence heauenly passeth liuing thought, xxvii And doth for wretched mens reliefs make way; For loe great grace or fortune thither brought Comfort to him, that comfortlesse now lay. In those same woods, ye well remember may, How that a noble hunteresse did wonne, She, that base Braggadochio did affray, And made him fast out of the forrest runne; Belphœbe was her name, as faire as Phœbus sunne. She on a day, as she pursewd the chace xxviii Of some wild beast, which with her arrowes keene She wounded had, the same along did trace By tract of bloud, which she had freshly seene, To haue besprinckled all the grassy greene; By the great persue, which she there perceau’d, Well hoped she the beast engor’d had beene, And made more hast, the life to haue bereau’d: But ah, her expectation greatly was deceau’d. Shortly she came, whereas that woefull Squire xxix With bloud deformed, lay in deadly swownd: In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire, The Christall humour stood congealed rownd; His locks, like faded leaues fallen to grownd, Knotted with bloud, in bounches rudely ran, And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd The bud of youth to blossome faire began, Spoild of their rosie red, were woxen pale and wan.

Saw neuer liuing eye more heauy sight, xxx That could haue made a rocke of stone to rew, Or riue in twaine: which when that Lady bright Besides all hope with melting eyes did vew, All suddeinly abasht she chaunged hew, And with sterne horrour backward gan to start: But when she better[977] him beheld, she grew Full of soft passion and vnwonted smart: The point of pitty perced through her tender hart. Meekely she bowed downe, to weete if life xxxi Yet in his frosen members did remaine, And feeling by his pulses beating rife, That the weake soule her seat did yet retaine, She cast to comfort him with busie paine: His double folded necke she reard vpright, And rubd his temples, and each trembling vaine; His mayled haberieon she did vndight, And from his head his heauy burganet did light. Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went, xxxii To seeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy; For she of hearbes had great intendiment, Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancy Her nourced[978] had in trew Nobility: There, whether it diuine Tobacco were, Or Panachæa or Polygony, She found, and brought it to her patient deare Who al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare. The soueraigne weede betwixt two marbles plaine xxxiii She pownded small, and did in peeces bruze, And then atweene her lilly handes twaine, Into his wound the iuyce thereof did scruze, And round about, as she could well it vze, The flesh therewith she suppled and did steepe, T’abate all spasme, and soke the swelling bruze, And after hauing searcht the intuse deepe, She with her scarfe did bind the wound from cold to keepe.

By this he had sweete life recur’d againe, xxxiv And groning inly deepe, at last his eyes, His watry eyes, drizling like deawy raine, He vp gan lift toward the azure skies, From whence descend all hopelesse remedies: Therewith he sigh’d, and turning him aside, The goodly Mayd full of diuinities, And gifts of heauenly grace he by him spide, Her bow and gilden quiuer lying him beside. Mercy deare Lord (said he) what grace is this, xxxv That thou hast shewed to me sinfull wight, To send thine Angell from her bowre of blis, To comfort me in my distressed plight? Angell, or Goddesse do I call thee right? What seruice may I do vnto thee meete, That hast from darkenesse me returnd to light, And with thy heauenly salues and med’cines sweete, Hast drest my sinfull wounds? I kisse thy blessed feete. Thereat she blushing said, Ah gentle Squire, xxxvi Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell, but the Mayd, And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desire No seruice, but thy safety and ayd; Which if thou gaine, I shalbe well apayd. We mortall wights, whose liues and fortunes bee To commun[979] accidents still open layd, Are bound with commun[980] bond of frailtee, To succour wretched wights, whom we captiued see. By this her Damzels, which the former chace xxxvii Had vndertaken after her, arriu’d[981], As did Belphœbe, in the bloudy place, And thereby deemd the beast had bene depriu’d Of life, whom late their Ladies arrow ryu’d: For thy the bloudy tract they follow fast, And euery one to runne the swiftest stryu’d; But two of them the rest far ouerpast, And where their Lady was, arriued at the last.

Where when they saw that goodly boy, with blood xxxviii Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd, They wondred much, and shortly vnderstood, How him in deadly case their Lady fownd, And reskewed out of the heauy stownd. Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd Farre in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd, She made those Damzels search, which being stayd, They did him set thereon, and forth with[982] them conuayd. Into that forest farre they thence him led, xxxix Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade, With mountaines round about enuironed, And mighty woods, which did the valley shade, And like a stately Theatre it made, Spreading it selfe into a spatious plaine. And in the midst a little riuer plaide Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine With gentle murmure, that his[983] course they did restraine. Beside the same a dainty place there lay, xl Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene, In which the birds song many a louely lay Of gods high prayse, and of their loues sweet[984] teene, As it an earthly Paradize had beene: In whose enclosed shadow there was pight A faire Pauilion, scarcely to be seene, The which was all within most richly dight, That greatest Princes liuing[985] it mote well delight. Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd xli In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest, He rested him a while, and then the Mayd His ready wound with better salues new drest; Dayly she dressed him, and did the best His grieuous hurt to garish[986], that she might, That shortly she his dolour hath redrest, And his foule sore reduced to faire plight: It she reduced, but himselfe destroyed quight.

O foolish Physick, and vnfruitfull paine, xlii That heales vp one and makes another wound: She his hurt thigh to him recur’d againe, But hurt his hart, the which before was sound, Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce. What bootes it him from death to be vnbound, To be captiued in endlesse duraunce Of sorrow and despaire without aleggeaunce? Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole, xliii So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd: Madnesse to saue a part, and lose the whole. Still whenas he beheld the heauenly Mayd, Whiles dayly plaisters to his wound she layd, So still his Malady the more increast, The whiles her matchlesse beautie him dismayd. Ah God, what other could he do at least, But loue so faire a Lady, that his life releast? Long while he stroue in his courageous brest, xliv With reason dew the passion to subdew, And loue for to dislodge out of his nest: Still when her excellencies he did vew, Her soueraigne bounty, and celestiall hew, The same to loue he strongly was constraind: But when his meane estate he did reuew[987], He from such hardy boldnesse was restraind, And of his lucklesse lot and cruell loue thus plaind. Vnthankfull wretch (said he) is this the meed, xlv With which her soueraigne mercy thou doest quight? Thy life she saued by her gracious deed, But thou doest weene with villeinous despight, To blot her honour, and her heauenly light. Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light: Faire death it is to shonne more shame, to dy: Dye rather, dy, then euer loue disloyally.

But if to loue disloyalty it bee, xlvi Shall I then hate her, that from deathes dore Me brought? ah farre be such reproch fro mee. What can I lesse do, then her loue therefore, Sith I her dew reward cannot restore?[988] Dye rather, dye, and dying do her serue, Dying her serue, and liuing her adore; Thy life she gaue, thy life she doth deserue: Dye rather, dye, then euer from her seruice swerue. But foolish boy, what bootes thy seruice bace xlvii To her, to whom the heauens do serue and sew? Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place, She heauenly borne, and of celestiall hew. How then? of all loue taketh equall vew: And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take The loue and seruice of the basest crew? If she will not, dye meekly for her sake; Dye rather, dye, then euer so faire loue forsake. Thus warreid he long time against his will, xlviii Till that through weaknesse he was forst at last, To yield himselfe vnto the mighty ill: Which as a victour proud, gan ransack fast His inward parts, and all his entrayles wast, That neither bloud in face, nor life in hart It left, but both did quite drye vp, and blast; As percing leuin, which the inner part Of euery thing consumes, and calcineth by art. Which seeing faire Belphœbe, gan to feare, xlix Least that his wound were inly well not healed, Or that the wicked steele empoysned were: Litle she weend, that loue he close concealed; Yet still he wasted, as the snow congealed, When the bright sunne his beams thereon doth beat; Yet neuer he his hart to her reuealed, But rather chose to dye for sorrow great, Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.

She gracious Lady, yet no paines did spare, l To do him ease, or do him remedy: Many Restoratiues of vertues rare, And costly Cordialles she did apply, To mitigate his stubborne mallady: But that sweet Cordiall, which can restore A loue-sick hart, she did to him enuy; To him, and to all[989] th’vnworthy world forlore She did enuy that soueraigne salue, in secret store. That dainty Rose, the daughter of her Morne, li More deare then life she tendered, whose flowre The girlond of her honour did adorne: Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching powre, Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to showre, But lapped vp her silken leaues most chaire, When so the froward skye began to lowre: But soone as calmed was the Christall aire, She did it faire dispred, and let to florish faire. Eternall God in his almighty powre, lii To make ensample of his heauenly grace, In Paradize whilome did plant this flowre, Whence he it fetcht out of her natiue place, And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace, That mortall men her glory should admire:[990] In gentle Ladies brest, and bounteous race Of woman kind it fairest flowre doth spire, And beareth fruit of honour and all chast desire. Faire ympes of beautie, whose bright shining beames liii Adorne the world with like to heauenly light, And to your willes both royalties and Realmes[991] Subdew, through conquest of your wondrous might, With this faire flowre your goodly girlonds dight, Of chastity and vertue virginall, That shall embellish more your beautie bright, And crowne your heades with heauenly coronall, Such as the Angels weare[992] before Gods tribunall.

To youre faire selues a faire ensample frame, liv Of this faire virgin, this Belphœbe faire, To whom in perfect loue, and spotlesse fame Of chastitie, none liuing may compaire: Ne poysnous Enuy iustly can empaire The prayse of her fresh flowring Maidenhead; For thy she standeth on the highest staire Of th’honorable stage of womanhead, That Ladies all may follow her ensample dead. In so great prayse of stedfast chastity, lv Nathlesse she was so curteous and kind, Tempred with grace, and goodly modesty, That seemed those two vertues stroue to find The higher place in her Heroick mind: So striuing each did other more augment, And both encreast the prayse of woman kind, And both encreast her beautie excellent; So all did make in her a perfect complement.

The birth of faire Belphœbe and Of Amoret is told. The Gardins of Adonis fraught With pleasures manifold.

Well may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while i Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell So great perfections did in her compile, that in saluage forests she did dwell, So farre from court and royall Citadell, The great schoolmistresse[993] of all curtesy: Seemeth that such wild woods should far expell All ciuill vsage and gentility, And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

But to this faire Belphœbe in her berth ii The heauens so fauourable were and free, Looking with myld aspect vpon the earth, In th’Horoscope of her natiuitee, That all the gifts of grace and chastitee On her they poured forth of plenteous horne; Ioue laught on Venus from his soueraigne see, And Phœbus with faire beames did her adorne, And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne. Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew, iii And her conception of the ioyous Prime, And all her whole creation did her shew Pure and vnspotted from all loathly crime, That is ingenerate in fleshly slime. So was this virgin borne, so was she bred, So was she trayned vp from time to time, In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed Till to her dew perfection she was[994] ripened. Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee, iv The daughter of Amphisa, who by race A Faerie was, yborne of high degree, She bore Belphœbe, she bore in like cace Faire Amoretta in the second place: These two were twinnes, and twixt them two did share The heritage of all celestiall grace. That all the rest it seem’d they robbed bare Of bountie, and of beautie, and all vertues rare. It were a goodly storie, to declare, v By what straunge accident faire Chrysogone Conceiu’d these infants, and how them she bare[995], In this wild forrest wandring all alone, After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone: For not as other wemens commune brood, They were enwombed in the sacred throne Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food, As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood.

But wondrously they were begot, and bred vi Through influence of th’heauens fruitfull ray, As it in antique bookes is mentioned. It was vpon a Sommers shynie day, When Titan faire his beames[996] did display, In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew, She bath’d her brest, the boyling heat t’ allay; She bath’d with roses red, and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew. Till faint through irkesome wearinesse, adowne vii Vpon the grassie ground her selfe she layd To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne Vpon her fell all naked bare displayd; The sunne-beames bright vpon her body playd, Being through former bathing mollifide, And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd With so sweet sence and secret power vnspide, That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide. Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades viii So straunge ensample of conception; But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades Of all things liuing, through impression Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion, Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd: So after Nilus invndation, Infinite shapes of creatures[997] men do fynd, Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd. Great father he of generation ix Is rightly cald, th’author of life and light; And his faire sister for creation Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight. So sprong these twinnes in wombe of Chrysogone, Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright, Wondred to see her belly so vpblone, Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.

Whereof conceiuing shame and foule disgrace, x Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard, She fled into the wildernesse a space, Till that vnweeldy burden she had reard, And shund dishonor, which as death she feard: Where wearie of long trauell, downe to rest Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard; There a sad cloud of sleepe her ouerkest, And seized euery sense with sorrow sore opprest. It fortuned, faire Venus hauing lost xi Her little sonne, the winged god of loue, Who for some light displeasure, which him crost, Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue, And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue, (So from her often he had fled away, When she for ought him sharpely did reproue, And wandred in the world in strange aray, Disguiz’d in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.) Him for to seeke, she left her heauenly hous, xii The house of goodly formes and faire aspects, Whence all the world deriues the glorious Features of beautie[998], and all shapes select, With which high God his workmanship hath deckt; And searched euery way, through which his wings Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect: She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings. First she him sought in Court, where most he vsed xiii Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not; But many there she found, which sore accused His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot: Ladies and Lords she euery where mote heare Complayning, how with his empoysned shot Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare, And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.

She then the Citties sought from gate to gate, xiv And euery one did aske, did he him see; And euery one her answerd, that too late He had him seene, and felt the crueltie Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie; And euery one threw forth reproches rife Of his mischieuous deedes, and said, That hee Was the disturber of all ciuill life, The enimy of peace, and author of all strife. Then in the countrey she abroad him sought, xv And in the rurall cottages inquired, Where also many plaints to her were brought, How he their heedlesse harts with loue had fyred, And his false venim through their veines inspyred; And eke the gentle shepheard swaynes, which sat Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred, She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat. But when in none of all these she him got, xvi She gan auize, where else he mote him hyde: At last she her bethought, that she had not Yet sought the saluage woods and forrests wyde, In which full many louely Nymphes abyde, Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye, Or that the loue of some of them him tyde: For thy she thither cast her course t’apply, To search the secret haunts of Dianes company. Shortly vnto the wastefull woods she came, xvii Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew, After late chace of their embrewed game, Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew, Some of them washing with the liquid dew From off[999] their dainty limbes the dustie sweat, And soyle which did deforme their liuely hew; Others[1000] lay shaded from the scorching heat; The rest vpon her person gaue attendance great.

She hauing hong vpon a bough on high xviii Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaste Her siluer buskins from her nimble thigh, And her lancke loynes vngirt, and brests vnbraste, After her heat the breathing cold to taste; Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright Embreaded were for hindring of her haste, Now loose about her shoulders hong vndight, And were with sweet Ambrosia all besprinckled light. Soone as she Venus saw behind her backe, xix She was asham’d to be so loose surprized, And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacke, That had not her thereof before auized, But suffred her so carelesly disguized Be ouertaken. Soone her garments loose Vpgath’ring, in her bosome she comprized, Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose, Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose. Goodly she gan faire Cytherea greet, xx And shortly asked her, what cause her brought Into that wildernesse for her vnmeet, From her sweete bowres, and beds with pleasures fraught: That suddein change she strange aduenture thought. To whom halfe weeping, she thus answered, That she her dearest sonne Cupido sought, Who in his frowardnesse from her was fled; That she repented sore, to haue him angered. Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne xxi Of her vaine plaint, and to her scoffing sayd; Great pittie sure, that ye be so forlorne Of your gay sonne, that giues ye so good ayd To your disports: ill mote ye bene apayd. But she was more engrieued, and replide; Faire sister, ill beseemes it to vpbrayd A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride; The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.

As you in woods and wanton wildernesse xxii Your glory set, to chace the saluage beasts, So my delight is all in ioyfulnesse, In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feasts: And ill becomes you with your loftie creasts, To scorne the ioy, that Ioue is glad to seeke; We both are bound to follow heauens beheasts, And tend our charges with obeisance meeke: Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my paine to eeke. And tell me, if that ye my sonne haue heard, xxiii To lurke emongst your Nymphes in secret wize; Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard, Least he like one of them him selfe disguize, And turne his arrowes to their exercize: So may he long himselfe full easie hide: For he is faire and fresh in face and guize, As any Nymph (let not it be enuyde.) So saying euery Nymph full narrowly she eyde. But Phœbe therewith sore was angered, xxiv And sharply said; Goe Dame, goe seeke your boy, Where you him lately left, in Mars his bed; He comes not here, we scorne his foolish ioy, Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy: But if I catch him in this company, By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy The Gods doe dread, he dearely shall abye: Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more shall fly. Whom when as Venus saw so sore displeased, xxv She inly sory was, and gan relent, What she had said: so her she soone appeased, With sugred words and gentle blandishment, Which as[1001] a fountaine from her sweet lips went, And welled goodly forth, that in short space She was well pleasd, and forth her damzels sent, Through all the woods, to search from place to place, If any tract of him or tydings they mote trace.

To search the God of loue, her Nymphes she sent xxvi Throughout the wandring forrest euery where: And after them her selfe eke with her went To seeke the fugitiue, both farre and nere,[1002] So long they sought, till they arriued were In that same shadie couert, whereas lay Faire Chrysogone in slombry traunce whilere: Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to say) Vnwares had borne two babes, as faire as springing day. Vnwares she them conceiu’d, vnwares she bore: xxvii She bore withouten paine, that she conceiued Withouten pleasure: ne her need implore Lucinaes aide: which when they both perceiued, They were through wonder nigh of sense bereaued, And gazing each on other, nought bespake: At last they both agreed, her seeming grieued Out of her heauy swowne not to awake, But from her louing side the tender babes to take. Vp they them tooke, each one a babe vptooke, xxviii And with them carried, to be fostered; Dame Phœbe to a Nymph her babe betooke, To be vpbrought in perfect Maydenhed, And of her selfe her name Belphœbe red: But Venus hers thence[1003] farre away conuayd, To be vpbrought in goodly womanhed, And in her litle loues stead, which was strayd, Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dismayd. She brought her to her ioyous Paradize, xxix Where most she wonnes, when she on earth does dwel. So faire a place, as Nature can deuize: Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill, Or it in Gnidus[1004] be, I wote not well; But well I wote by tryall, that this same All other pleasant places doth excell, And called is by her lost louers name, The Gardin of Adonis, farre renowmd by fame.

In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres, xxx Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie, And decks the girlonds of her paramoures, Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie Of all things, that are borne to liue and die, According to their kindes. Long worke it were, Here to account the endlesse progenie Of all the weedes, that bud and blossome there; But so much as doth need, must needs be counted here. It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old, xxxi And girt in with two walles on either side; The one of yron, the other of bright gold, That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-stride: And double gates it had, which opened wide, By which both in and out men moten pas; Th’one faire and fresh, the other old and dride: Old Genius the porter of them was, Old Genius, the which a double nature has. He letteth in, he letteth out to wend, xxxii All that to come into the world desire; A thousand thousand naked babes attend About him day and night, which doe require, That he with fleshly weedes would them attire: Such as him list, such as eternall fate Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire, And sendeth forth to liue in mortall state, Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate. After that they againe returned beene, xxxiii They in that Gardin planted be againe; And grow afresh, as they had neuer seene Fleshly corruption, nor mortall paine. Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine;[1005] And then of him are clad with other hew, Or sent into the chaungefull world againe, Till thither they returne, where first they grew: So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.

Ne needs there Gardiner to set, or sow, xxxiv To plant or prune[1006]: for of their owne accord All things, as they created were, doe grow, And yet remember well the mightie word, Which first was spoken by th’Almightie lord, That bad them to increase and multiply: Ne doe they need with water of the ford, Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry; For in themselues eternall moisture they imply. Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred, xxxv And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew, And euery sort is in a sundry bed Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew: Some fit for reasonable soules t’indew, Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare, And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew In endlesse rancks along enraunged were, That seem’d the Ocean could not containe them there. Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent xxxvi Into the world, it to replenish more; Yet is the stocke not lessened, nor spent, But still remaines in euerlasting store, As it at first created was of yore. For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes, In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore, An huge eternall Chaos, which supplyes The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes. All things from thence doe their first being fetch, xxxvii And borrow matter, whereof they are made, Which when as forme and feature it does ketch, Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade The state of life, out of the griesly shade. That substance is eterne, and bideth so, Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade, Doth it consume, and into nothing go, But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.

The substance is not chaunged, nor altered, xxxviii But th’only forme and outward fashion; For euery substance is conditioned To change her hew, and sundry formes to don, Meet for her temper and complexion: For formes are variable and decay, By course of kind, and by occasion; And that faire flowre of beautie fades away, As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray. Great enimy to it, and to all the rest, xxxix That in the Gardin of Adonis springs, Is wicked Time, who with his scyth addrest, Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things, And all their glory to the ground downe flings, Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard: He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings Beates downe both leaues and buds without regard, Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard. Yet pittie often did the gods relent, xl To see so faire things mard, and spoyled quight: And their great mother Venus did lament The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight: Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight, When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde[1007], Yet no’te she find redresse for such despight. For all that liues, is subiect to that law: All things decay in time, and to their end do draw. But were it not, that Time their troubler is, xli All that in this delightfull Gardin growes, Should happie be, and haue immortall blis: For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes, And sweet loue gentle fits emongst them throwes, Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie; Franckly each paramour his leman knowes, Each bird his mate, ne any does enuie Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.

There is continuall spring, and haruest there xlii Continuall, both meeting at one time: For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare, And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime, And eke attonce the heauy[1008] trees they clime, Which seeme to labour vnder their fruits lode: The whiles the ioyous birdes make their pastime Emongst the shadie leaues, their sweet abode, And their true loues without suspition tell abrode. Right in the middest of that Paradise, xliii There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top A gloomy groue of mirtle trees did rise, Whose shadie boughes sharpe steele did neuer lop, Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop, But like a girlond compassed the hight, And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop, That all the ground with precious deaw bedight, Threw forth most dainty odours, and most sweet delight. And in the thickest couert of that shade, xliv There was a pleasant arbour, not by art, But of the trees owne inclination made, Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part, With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart, And Eglantine, and Caprifole emong, Fashiond aboue within their inmost part, That nether Phœbus beams could through them throng, Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong. And all about grew euery sort of flowre, xlv To which sad louers were transformd of yore; Fresh Hyacinthus, Phœbus paramoure, And dearest loue,[1009] Foolish Narcisse[1010], that likes the watry shore, Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late, Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate, To whom sweet Poets verse hath giuen endlesse date.

There wont faire Venus often to enioy xlvi Her deare Adonis ioyous company, And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy; There yet, some say, in secret he does ly, Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery, By her hid from the world, and from the skill Of Stygian Gods, which doe her loue enuy; But she her selfe, when euer that she will, Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill. And sooth it seemes they say: for he may not xlvii For euer die, and euer buried bee In balefull night, where all things are forgot; All be he subiect to mortalitie, Yet is eterne in mutabilitie, And by succession made perpetuall, Transformed oft, and chaunged diuerslie: For him the Father of all formes they call; Therefore needs mote he liue, that liuing giues to all. There now he liueth in eternall blis, xlviii Ioying his goddesse, and of her enioyd: Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his, Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd: For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd, She firmely hath emprisoned for ay, That her sweet loue his malice mote auoyd, In a strong rocky Caue, which is they say, Hewen vnderneath that Mount, that none him losen may. There now he liues in euerlasting ioy, xlix With many of the Gods in company, Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy Sporting himselfe in safe felicity: Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts Of many wretches set his triumphes hye, Thither resorts, and laying his sad darts Aside, with faire Adonis playes his wanton parts.

And his true loue faire Psyche with him playes, l Faire Psyche to him lately reconcyld, After long troubles and vnmeet vpbrayes, With which his mother Venus her reuyld, And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld: But now in stedfast loue and happy state She with him liues, and hath him borne a chyld, Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate, Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late. Hither great Venus brought this infant faire, li The younger daughter of Chrysogonee, And vnto Psyche with great trust and care Committed her, yfostered to bee, And trained vp in true feminitee: Who no lesse carefully her tendered, Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee Made her companion, and her lessoned In all the lore of loue, and goodly womanhead. In which when she to perfect ripenesse grew, lii Of grace and beautie noble Paragone, She brought her forth into the worldes vew, To be th’ensample of true loue alone, And Lodestarre of all chaste affectione, To all faire Ladies, that doe liue on ground. To Faery court she came, where many one Admyrd her goodly haueour, and found His feeble hart wide launched[1011] with loues cruell wound. But she to none of them her loue did cast, liii Saue to the noble knight Sir Scudamore, To whom her louing hart she linked fast In faithfull[1012] loue, t’abide for euermore, And for his dearest sake endured sore, Sore trouble of an hainous enimy; Who her would forced haue to haue forlore Her former loue, and stedfast loialty, As ye may elsewhere read that ruefull history.

But well I weene, ye first desire to learne, liv What end vnto that fearefull Damozell, Which fled so fast from that same foster stearne, Whom with his brethren Timias slew, befell: That was to weet, the goodly Florimell; Who wandring for to seeke her louer deare, Her louer deare, her dearest Marinell, Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare, And from Prince Arthur fled with wings of idle feare.

The witches sonne loues Florimell: she flyes, he faines to die. Satyrane saues the Squire of Dames from Gyants[1013] tyrannie.

Like as an Hynd forth singled from the heard, i That hath escaped from a rauenous beast, Yet flyes away of her owne feet affeard, And euery leafe, that shaketh with the least Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast; So fled faire Florimell from her vaine feare, Long after she from perill was releast: Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did[1014] heare, Did seeme to be the same, which she escapt whyleare. All that same euening she in flying spent, ii And all that night her course continewed: Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent, Nor wearinesse to slacke her hast, but fled Euer alike, as if her former dred Were hard behind, her readie to arrest: And her white Palfrey hauing conquered The maistring raines out of her weary wrest, Perforce her carried, where euer he thought best.

So long as breath, and hable puissance iii Did natiue courage vnto him supply, His pace he freshly forward did aduaunce, And carried her beyond all ieopardy, But nought that wanteth rest, can long aby. He hauing through incessant trauell spent His force, at last perforce a downe did ly, Ne foot could further moue: The Lady gent Thereat was suddein strooke with great astonishment. And forst t’alight, on foot mote algates fare, iv A traueller vnwonted to such way: Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare, That fortune all in equall launce doth sway, And mortall miseries doth make her play. So long she trauelled, till at length she came To an hilles side, which did to her bewray A little valley, subiect to the same, All couerd with thick woods, that quite it ouercame. Through the tops[1015] of the high trees she did descry v A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light, Reeking aloft, vprolled to the sky: Which, chearefull signe did send vnto her sight, That in the same did wonne some liuing wight. Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyde, And came at last in weary wretched plight Vnto the place, to which her hope did guyde, To find some refuge there, and rest her weary syde. There in a gloomy hollow glen she found vi A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes In homely wize, and wald with sods around, In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes, And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes; So choosing solitarie to abide, Far from all neighbours, that her deuilish deedes And hellish arts from people she might hide, And hurt far off vnknowne, whom euer she enuide.

The Damzell there arriuing entred in; vii Where sitting on the flore the Hag she found, Busie (as seem’d) about some wicked gin: Who soone as she beheld that suddein stound, Lightly vpstarted from the dustie ground, And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze Stared on her awhile, as one astound, Ne had one word to speake, for great amaze,[1016] But shewd by outward signes, that dread her sence did daze. At last turning her feare to foolish wrath, viii She askt, what deuill had her thither brought, And who she was, and what vnwonted path Had guided her, vnwelcomed, vnsought? To which the Damzell full of doubtfull thought, Her mildly answer’d; Beldame be not wroth With silly Virgin by aduenture brought Vnto your dwelling, ignorant and loth, That craue but rowme to rest, while tempest ouerblo’th. With that adowne out of her Christall eyne ix Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall, That like two[1017] Orient pearles, did purely shyne Vpon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall She sighed soft, that none so bestiall, Nor saluage hart, but ruth of her sad plight Would make to melt, or pitteously appall; And that vile Hag, all were her whole delight In mischiefe, was much moued at so pitteous sight. And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse, x With womanish compassion of her plaint, Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes, And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint And wearie limbs a while. She nothing quaint Nor s’deignfull of so homely fashion, Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint, Sate downe vpon the dusty ground anon, As glad of that small rest, as Bird of tempest gon.

Tho gan she gather vp her garments rent, xi And her loose lockes to dight in order dew, With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament; Whom such whenas the wicked Hag did vew, She was astonisht at her heauenly hew, And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight, But or some Goddesse, or of Dianes crew, And thought her to adore with humble spright; T’adore thing so diuine as beauty, were but right. This wicked woman had a wicked sonne, xii The comfort of her age and weary dayes, A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne, But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes, Ne euer cast his mind to couet prayse, Or ply him selfe to any honest trade, But all the day before the sunny rayes He vs’d to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade: Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him made. He comming home at vndertime, there found xiii The fairest creature, that he euer saw, Sitting beside his mother on the ground; The sight whereof did greatly him adaw, And his base thought with terrour and with aw So inly smot, that as one, which had gazed On the bright Sunne vnwares, doth soone withdraw His feeble eyne, with too much brightnesse dazed, So stared he on her, and stood long while amazed. Softly at last he gan his mother aske, xiv What mister wight that was, and whence deriued, That in so straunge disguizement there did maske, And by what accident she there arriued: But she, as one nigh of her wits depriued, With nought but ghastly lookes him answered, Like to a ghost, that lately is reuiued From Stygian shores, where late it wandered; So both at her, and each at other wondered.

But the faire Virgin was so meeke and mild, xv That she to them vouchsafed to embace Her goodly port, and to their senses vild, Her gentle speach applide, that in short space She grew familiare in that desert place. During which time, the Chorle through her so kind And curteise vse conceiu’d affection bace, And cast to loue her in his brutish mind; No loue, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind. Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent, xvi And shortly grew into outrageous fire; Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment, As vnto her to vtter his desire; His caytiue thought durst not so high aspire, But with soft sighes, and louely semblaunces, He ween’d that his affection entire She should aread; many resemblaunces To her he made, and many kind remembraunces. Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring, xvii Whose sides empurpled were with smiling red, And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing His mistresse[1018] prayses, sweetly caroled, Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire hed He fine would dight; sometimes the squirell wild He brought to her in bands, as conquered To be her thrall, his fellow seruant vild; All which, she of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild. But past awhile, when she fit season saw xviii To leaue that desert mansion, she cast In secret wize her selfe thence to withdraw, For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast Might be by[1019] the witch or that[1020] her sonne compast: Her wearie Palfrey closely, as she might, Now well recouered after long repast, In his proud furnitures she freshly dight, His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.

And earely ere the dawning day appeard, xix She forth issewed, and on her iourney went; She went in perill, of each noyse affeard, And of each shade, that did it selfe present; For still she feared to be ouerhent, Of that vile hag, or her[1021] vnciuile sonne: Who when too late awaking, well they kent, That their faire guest was gone, they both begonne To make exceeding mone, as they had bene vndonne. But that lewd louer did the most lament xx For her depart, that euer man did heare; He knockt his brest with desperate intent, And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare: That his sad mother seeing his sore plight, Was greatly woe begon, and gan to feare, Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight, And loue to frenzy turnd, sith loue is franticke hight. All wayes she sought, him to restore to plight, xxi With herbs, with charms, with counsell, and with teares, But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell might Asswage the fury, which his entrails teares: So strong is passion, that no reason heares. Tho when all other helpes she saw to faile, She turnd her selfe backe to her wicked leares And by her deuilish arts thought to preuaile, To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale. Eftsoones out of her hidden caue she cald xxii An hideous beast, of horrible aspect, That could the stoutest courage haue appald; Monstrous[1022] mishapt, and all his backe was spect With thousand spots of colours queint elect, Thereto so swift, that it all beasts did pas: Like neuer yet did liuing eye detect; But likest it to an Hyena was, That feeds on womens flesh, as others feede on gras.

It forth she cald, and gaue it streight in charge, xxiii Through thicke and thin her to pursew apace, Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large, Till her he[1023] had attaind, and brought in place, Or quite deuourd her beauties scornefull grace. The Monster swift as word, that from her went, Went forth in hast, and did her footing trace So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent, And passing speede, that shortly he her ouerhent. Whom when the fearefull Damzell nigh espide, xxiv No need to bid her fast away to flie; That vgly shape so sore her terrifide, That it she shund no lesse, then dread to die, And her flit Palfrey did so well apply His nimble feet to her concerned feare, That whilest his breath did strength to him supply, From perill free he her away did beare: But when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare. Which whenas she perceiu’d, she was dismayd xxv At that same last extremitie full sore, And of her safetie greatly grew afrayd; And now she gan approch to the sea shore, As it befell, that she could flie no more, But yield her selfe to spoile of greedinesse. Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore, From her dull horse, in desperate distresse, And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickernesse. Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha fled xxvi From dread of her reuenging fathers hond: Nor halfe so fast to saue her maidenhed, Fled fearefull Daphne on th’Ægæan strond, As Florimell fled from that Monster yond, To reach the sea, ere she of him were raught: For in the sea to drowne her selfe she fond, Rather then of the tyrant to be caught: Thereto feare gaue her wings, and neede her courage taught.

It fortuned (high God did so ordaine) xxvii As she arriued on the roring shore, In minde to leape into the mighty maine, A little boate lay houing her before, In which there slept a fisher old and pore, The whiles his nets were drying on the sand: Into the same she leapt, and with the ore Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand: So safetie found at sea, which she found not at land. The Monster ready on the pray to sease, xxviii Was of his forward hope deceiued quight; Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas, But greedily long gaping at the sight, At last in vaine was forst to turne his flight, And tell the idle tidings to his Dame: Yet to auenge his deuilish despight, He set vpon her Palfrey tired lame, And slew him cruelly, ere any reskew came. And after hauing him embowelled, xxix To fill his hellish[1024] gorge, it chaunst a knight To passe that way, as forth he trauelled; It was a goodly Swaine, and of great might, As euer man that bloudy field did fight; But in vaine sheows, that wont yong knights bewitch, And courtly seruices tooke no delight, But rather ioyd to be, then seemen sich: For both to be and seeme to him was labour lich. It was to weete the good Sir Satyrane, xxx That raungd abroad to seeke aduentures wilde, As was his wont in forrest, and in plaine; He was all armd in rugged steele vnfilde, As in the smoky forge it was compilde, And in his Scutchin bore a Satyres hed: He comming present, where the Monster vilde Vpon that milke-white Palfreyes carkas fed, Vnto his reskew ran, and greedily him sped.

There well perceiu’d he, that it was the horse, xxxi Whereon faire Florimell was wont to ride, That of that feend was rent without remorse: Much feared he, least ought did ill betide To that faire Mayd, the flowre of womens pride; For her he dearely loued, and in all His famous conquests highly magnifide: Besides her golden girdle, which did fall From her in flight, he found, that did him sore apall. Full of sad feare, and doubtfull agony, xxxii Fiercely he flew vpon that wicked feend, And with huge strokes, and cruell battery Him forst to leaue his pray, for to attend Him selfe from deadly daunger to defend: Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh He did engraue, and muchell bloud did spend, Yet might not do him dye, but aye more fresh And fierce he still appeard, the more he did him thresh. He wist not, how him to despoile of life, xxxiii Ne how to win the wished victory, Sith him he saw still stronger grow through strife, And him selfe weaker through infirmity; Greatly he grew enrag’d, and furiously Hurling his sword away, he lightly lept Vpon the beast, that with great cruelty Rored, and raged to be vnder-kept: Yet he perforce him held, and strokes vpon him hept. As he that striues to stop a suddein flood, xxxiv And in strong banckes his violence enclose[1025], Forceth it swell aboue his wonted mood, And largely ouerflow the fruitfull plaine, That all the countrey seemes to be a Maine, And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonne: The wofull husbandman doth lowd complaine, To see his whole yeares labour lost so soone, For which to God he made so many an idle boone.

So him he held, and did through might amate: xxxv So long he held him, and him bet so long, That at the last his fiercenesse gan abate, And meekely stoup vnto the victour strong: Who to auenge the implacable wrong, Which he supposed donne to Florimell, Sought by all meanes his dolour to prolong, Sith dint of steele his carcas could not quell: His maker with her charmes had framed him so well. The golden ribband, which that virgin wore xxxvi About her sclender[1026] wast, he tooke in hand, And with it bound the beast, that lowd did rore For great despight of that vnwonted band, Yet dared not his victour to withstand, But trembled like a lambe, fled from the pray, And all the way him followd on the strand, As he had long bene learned to obay; Yet neuer learned he such seruice, till that day. Thus as he led the Beast along the way, xxxvii He spide far off a mighty Giauntesse, Fast flying on a Courser dapled gray, From a bold knight, that with great hardinesse Her hard pursewd, and sought for to suppresse; She bore before her lap a dolefull Squire, Lying athwart her horse in great distresse, Fast bounden hand and foote with cords of wire, Whom she did meane to make the thrall of her desire. Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in hast xxxviii He left his captiue Beast at liberty, And crost the nearest way, by which he cast Her to encounter, ere she passed by: But she the way shund nathemore for thy, But forward gallopt fast; which when he spyde, His mighty speare he couched warily, And at her ran: she hauing him descryde, Her selfe to fight addrest, and threw her lode aside.

Like as a Goshauke, that in foote doth beare xxxix A trembling Culuer, hauing spide on hight An Egle, that with plumy wings doth sheare The subtile ayre, stouping with all his might, The quarrey throwes to ground with fell despight, And to the battell doth her selfe prepare: So ran the Geauntesse vnto the fight; Her firie eyes with furious sparkes did stare, And with blasphemous bannes high God in peeces tare. She caught in hand an huge great yron mace, xl Wherewith she many had of life depriued, But ere the stroke could seize his aymed place, His speare amids her sun-broad shield arriued; Yet nathemore the steele a sunder riued, All were the beame in bignesse like a mast, Ne her out of the stedfast sadle driued, But glauncing on the tempred mettall, brast In thousand shiuers, and so forth beside her past. Her Steed did stagger with that puissaunt strooke; xli But she no more was moued with that might, Then it had lighted on an aged Oke; Or on the marble Pillour, that is pight Vpon the top of Mount Olympus hight, For the braue youthly Champions to assay, With burning charet wheeles it nigh to smite: But who that smites it, mars his ioyous play, And is the spectacle of ruinous decay. Yet therewith sore enrag’d, with sterne regard xlii Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest, Which on his helmet martelled so hard, That made him low incline his lofty crest, And bowd his battred visour to his brest: Wherewith he was[1027] so stund[1028], that he n’ote ryde, But reeled to and fro from East to West: Which when his cruell enimy espyde, She lightly vnto him adioyned side to syde;

And on his collar laying puissant hand, xliii Out of his wauering seat him pluckt perforse, Perforse him pluckt, vnable to withstand, Or helpe himselfe, and laying thwart her horse, In loathly wise like to a carion corse, She bore him fast away. Which when the knight, That her pursewed, saw[1029], with great remorse[1030] He neare[1031] was touched in his noble spright, And gan encrease his speed, as she encreast her flight. Whom when as nigh approching she espyde, xliv She threw away her burden angrily; For she list not the battell to abide, But made her selfe more light, away to fly: Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye, That almost in the backe he oft her strake: But still when him at hand she did espy, She turnd, and semblaunce of faire fight did make; But when he stayd, to flight againe she did her take. By this the[1032] good Sir Satyrane gan wake[1033] xlv Out of his dreame, that did him long entraunce, And seeing none in place, he gan to make Exceeding mone, and curst that cruell chaunce, Which reft from him[1034] so faire a cheuisaunce: At length he spide, whereas that wofull Squire, Whom he had reskewed from captiuaunce Of his strong foe, lay tombled in the myre, Vnable to arise, or foot or hand to styre. To whom approching, well he mote perceiue xlvi In that foule plight a comely personage, And louely face, made fit for to deceiue Fraile Ladies hart with loues consuming rage, Now in the blossome of his freshest age: He reard him vp, and loosd his yron bands, And after gan inquire his parentage, And how he fell into that[1035] Gyaunts hands, And who that was, which chaced her along the lands.

Then trembling yet through feare, the Squire bespake, xlvii That Geauntesse Argante is behight, A daughter of the Titans which did make Warre against heauen, and heaped hils on hight, To scale the skyes, and put Ioue from his right: Her sire Typhœus was, who mad through merth, And drunke with bloud of men, slaine by his might, Through incest, her of his owne mother Earth Whilome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth. For at that berth another Babe she bore, xlviii To weet the mighty Ollyphant, that wrought Great wreake to many errant knights of yore, And many hath to foule[1036] confusion brought. These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought) Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosed they were, Ere they into the lightsome world were brought, In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere, And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere. So liu’d they euer after in like sin, xlix Gainst natures law, and good behauioure: But greatest shame was to that maiden twin, Who not content so fowly to deuoure Her natiue flesh, and staine[1037] her brothers bowre, Did wallow in all other fleshly myre, And suffred beasts her body to deflowre: So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre, Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre. But ouer all the countrey she did raunge, l To seeke young men, to quench her flaming thrust[1038], And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge: Whom so she fittest finds to serue her lust, Through her maine strength, in which she most doth trust, She with her brings into a secret Ile, Where in eternall bondage dye he must, Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile, And in all shamefull sort him selfe with her defile.

Me seely wretch she so at vauntage caught, li After she long in waite for me did lye, And meant vnto her prison to haue brought, Her lothsome pleasure there to satisfye; That thousand deathes me leuer were to dye, Then breake the vow, that to faire Columbell I plighted haue, and yet keepe stedfastly: As for my name, it mistreth not to tell; Call me the Squyre of Dames, that me beseemeth well. But that bold knight, whom ye pursuing saw lii That Geauntesse, is not such, as she seemed, But a faire virgin, that in martiall law, And deedes of armes aboue all Dames is[1039] deemed, And aboue many knights is eke esteemed, For her great worth; She Palladine is hight: She you from death, you me from dread redeemed. Ne any may that Monster match in fight, But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight. Her well beseemes that Quest (quoth Satyrane) liii But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what vow is this, Which thou vpon thy selfe hast lately ta’ne? That shall I you recount (quoth he) ywis, So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis. That gentle Lady, whom I loue and serue, After long suit and weary seruicis, Did aske me, how I could her loue deserue, And how she might be sure, that I would neuer swerue. I glad by any meanes her grace to gaine, liv Bad her commaund my life to saue, or spill. Eftsoones she bad me, with incessaunt paine To wander through the world abroad at will, And euery where, where with my power or skill I might do seruice vnto gentle Dames, That I the same should faithfully fulfill, And at the twelue monethes end should bring their names And pledges; as the spoiles of my victorious games.