SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 3)

Scudamour doth his conquest[169] tell, Of vertuous Amoret: Great Venus Temple is describ’d, And louers life forth set.

True he it said, what euer man it sayd, i That loue with gall and hony doth abound, But if the one be with the other wayd, For euery dram of hony therein found, A pound of gall doth ouer it redound. That I too true by triall haue approued: For since the day that first with deadly wound My heart was launcht, and learned to haue loued, I neuer ioyed howre, but still with care was moued. And yet such grace is giuen them from aboue, ii That all the cares and euill which they meet, May nought at all their setled mindes remoue, But seeme gainst common sence to them most sweet; As bosting in their martyrdome vnmeet. So all that euer yet I haue endured, I count as naught, and tread downe vnder feet, Since[170] of my loue at length I rest assured, That to disloyalty she will not be allured. Long were to tell the trauell and long toile, iii Through which this shield of loue I late haue wonne, And purchased this peerelesse beauties spoile, That harder may be ended, then begonne. But since ye so desire, your will be donne. Then hearke ye gentle knights and Ladies free, My hard mishaps, that ye may learne to shonne; For though sweet loue to conquer glorious bee, Yet is the paine thereof much greater then the fee. What time the fame of this renowmed prise iv Flew first abroad, and all mens eares possest, I hauing armes then taken, gan auise To winne me honour by some noble gest, And purchase me some place amongst the best. I boldly thought (so young mens thoughts are bold) That this same braue emprize for me did rest, And that both shield and she whom I behold, Might be my lucky lot; sith all by lot we hold. So on that hard aduenture forth I went, v And to the place of perill shortly came. That was a temple faire and auncient, Which of great mother Venus bare the name, And farre renowmed through exceeding fame; Much more then that, which was in Paphos built, Or that in Cyprus, both long since this same, Though all the pillours of the one were guilt, And all the others pauement were with yuory spilt. And it was seated in an Island strong, vi Abounding all with delices most rare, And wall’d by nature gainst inuaders wrong, That none mote haue accesse, nor inward fare, But by one way, that passage did prepare. It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wize, With curious Corbes and pendants grauen faire, And arched all with porches, did arize On stately pillours, fram’d after the Doricke guize. And for defence thereof, on th’other end vii There reared was a castle faire and strong, That warded all which in or out did wend, And flancked both the bridges sides along, Gainst all that would it faine to force or wrong. And therein wonned twenty valiant Knights; All twenty tride in warres experience long; Whose office was, against all manner[171] wights By all meanes to maintaine[172] that castels[173] ancient rights. Before that Castle was an open plaine, viii And in the midst thereof a piller placed; On which this shield, of many sought in vaine, The shield of Loue, whose guerdon me hath graced, Was hangd on high with golden ribbands laced; And in the marble stone was written this, With golden letters goodly well enchaced, Blessed the man that well can vse his blis: Whose euer be the shield, faire Amoret be his. Which when I red, my heart did inly earne[174], ix And pant with hope of that aduentures hap: Ne stayed further newes thereof to learne, But with my speare vpon the shield did rap, That all the castle ringed with the clap. Streight forth issewd a Knight all arm’d to proofe, And brauely mounted to his most mishap: Who staying nought to question from aloofe, Ran fierce at me, that fire glaunst from his horses hoofe. Whom boldly I encountred (as I could) x And by good fortune shortly him vnseated. Eftsoones out sprung two more of equall mould; But I them both with equall hap defeated: So all the twenty I likewise entreated, And left them groning there vpon the plaine. Then preacing to the pillour I repeated The read thereof for guerdon of my paine, And taking downe the shield, with me did it retaine. So forth without impediment I past, xi Till to the Bridges vtter gate I came: The which I found sure lockt and chained fast. I knockt, but no man aunswred me by name; I cald, but no man answerd to my clame. Yet I perseuer’d still to knocke and call, Till at the last I spide within the same, Where one stood peeping through a creuis small, To whom I cald aloud, halfe angry therewithall. That was to weet the Porter of the place, xii Vnto whose trust the charge thereof was lent: His name was Doubt, that had a double face, Th’one forward looking, th’other backeward bent, Therein resembling Ianus auncient, Which hath in charge the ingate of the yeare: And euermore his eyes about him went, As if some proued perill he did feare, Or did misdoubt some ill, whose cause did not appeare. On th’one side he, on th’other sate Delay, xiii Behinde the gate, that none her might espy; Whose manner was all passengers to stay, And entertaine with her occasions sly, Through which some lost great hope vnheedily, Which neuer they recouer might againe; And others quite excluded forth, did ly Long languishing there in vnpittied paine, And seeking often entraunce, afterwards in vaine. Me when as he had priuily espide, xiv Bearing the shield which I had conquerd late, He kend it streight, and to me opened wide. So in I past, and streight he closd the gate. But being in, Delay in close awaite Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay, Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate, And time to steale, the threasure of mans day, Whose smallest minute lost, no riches render may. But by no meanes my way I would forslow, xv For ought that euer she could doe or say, But from my lofty steede dismounting low, Past forth on foote, beholding all the way The goodly workes, and stones of rich assay, Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill, That like on earth no where I recken may: And vnderneath, the riuer rolling still With murmure soft, that seem’d to serue the workmans will. Thence forth I passed to the second gate, xvi The Gate of good desert, whose goodly pride And costly frame, were long here to relate. The same to all stoode alwaies open wide: But in the Porch did euermore abide An hideous Giant, dreadfull to behold, That stopt the entraunce with his spacious stride, And with the terrour of his countenance bold Full many did affray, that else faine enter would. His name was Daunger dreaded ouer all, xvii Who day and night did watch and duely ward, From fearefull cowards, entrance to forstall, And faint-heart-fooles, whom shew of perill hard Could terrifie from Fortunes faire adward[175]: For oftentimes faint hearts at first espiall Of his grim face, were from approaching scard; Vnworthy they of grace, whom one deniall Excludes from fairest hope, withouten further triall. Yet many doughty warriours, often tride xviii In greater perils to be stout and bold, Durst not the sternnesse of his looke abide, But soone as they his countenance did behold, Began to faint, and feele their corage cold. Againe some other, that in hard assaies Were cowards knowne, and litle count did hold, Either through gifts, or guile, or such like waies, Crept in by stouping low, or stealing of the kaies. But I though meanest[176] man of many moe, xix Yet much disdaining[177] vnto him to lout, Or creepe betweene his legs, so in to goe, Resolu’d him to assault with manhood stout, And either beat him in, or driue him out. Eftsoones aduauncing that enchaunted shield, With all my might I gan to lay about: Which when he saw, the glaiue which he did wield He gan forthwith t’auale, and way vnto me yield. So as I entred, I did backeward looke, xx For feare of harme, that might lie hidden there; And loe his hindparts, whereof heed I tooke, Much more deformed fearefull vgly were, Then all his former parts did earst appere. For hatred, murther, treason, and despight, With many moe lay in ambushment there, Awayting to entrap the warelesse wight, Which did not them preuent with vigilant foresight. Thus hauing past all perill, I was come xxi Within the compasse of that Islands space; The which did seeme vnto my simple doome, The onely pleasant and delightfull place, That euer troden was of footings trace. For all that nature by her mother wit Could frame in earth, and forme of substance base, Was there, and all that nature did omit, Art playing second natures part, supplyed it. No tree, that is of count, in greenewood growes, xxii From lowest Iuniper to Ceder tall, No flowre in field, that daintie odour throwes, And deckes his branch with blossomes ouer all, But there was planted, or grew naturall: Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice, But there mote find to please it selfe withall; Nor hart could wish for any queint deuice, But there it present was, and did fraile sense entice. In such luxurious plentie of all pleasure, xxiii It seem’d a second paradise to ghesse[178], So lauishly enricht with natures threasure, That if the happie soules, which doe possesse Th’Elysian fields, and liue in lasting blesse, Should happen this with liuing eye to see, They soone would loath their lesser happinesse, And wish to life return’d againe to bee[179], That in this ioyous place they mote haue ioyance free. Fresh shadowes, fit to shroud from sunny ray; xxiv Faire lawnds, to take the sunne in season dew; Sweet springs, in which a thousand Nymphs did play; Soft rombling brookes, that gentle slomber drew; High reared mounts, the lands about to vew; Low looking dales, disloignd from common gaze; Delightfull bowres, to solace louers trew; False Labyrinthes, fond runners eyes to daze; All which by nature made did nature selfe amaze. And all without were walkes and alleyes[180] dight[181] xxv With diuers trees, enrang’d in euen rankes; And here and there were pleasant arbors pight, And shadie seates, and sundry flowring bankes, To sit and rest the walkers wearie shankes, And therein thousand payres of louers walkt, Praysing their god, and yeelding him great thankes, Ne euer ought but of their true loues talkt, Ne euer for rebuke or blame of any balkt. All these together by themselues did sport xxvi Their spotlesse pleasures, and sweet loues content. But farre away from these, another sort Of louers lincked in true harts consent; Which loued not as these, for like intent, But on chast vertue grounded their desire, Farre from all fraud, or fayned blandishment; Which in their spirits kindling zealous fire, Braue thoughts and noble deedes did euermore aspire[182]. Such were great Hercules, and Hylas[183] deare; xxvii Trew Ionathan, and Dauid trustie tryde; Stout Theseus, and Pirithous his feare; Pylades and Orestes by his syde; Myld Titus and Gesippus without pryde; Damon and Pythias whom death could not seuer: All these and all that euer had bene tyde[184] In bands of friendship,[185] there did liue for euer, Whose liues although decay’d, yet loues decayed neuer. Which when as I, that neuer tasted blis, xxviii Nor happie howre, beheld with gazefull eye, I thought there was none other heauen then this; And gan their endlesse happinesse enuye, That being free from feare and gealosye, Might frankely there their loues desire possesse; Whilest I through paines and perlous ieopardie, Was forst to seeke my lifes deare patronesse: Much dearer be the things, which come through hard distresse. Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw, xxix Might not my steps withhold, but that forthright Vnto that purposd place I did me draw, Where as my loue was lodged day and night: The temple of great Venus, that is hight The Queene of beautie, and of loue the mother, There worshipped of euery liuing wight; Whose goodly workmanship farre past all other That euer were on earth, all were they set together. Not that same famous Temple of Diane, xxx Whose hight all Ephesus did ouersee, And which all Asia sought with vowes prophane, One of the worlds seuen wonders sayd to bee, Might match with this by many a degree: Nor that, which that wise King of Iurie framed, With endlesse cost, to be th’Almighties see; Nor all that else through all the world is named To all the heathen Gods, might like to this be clamed. I much admyring that so goodly frame, xxxi Vnto the porch approcht, which open stood; But therein sate an amiable Dame, That seem’d to be of very sober mood, And in her semblant shewed great womanhood: Strange was her tyre; for on her head a crowne She wore much like vnto a Danisk hood, Poudred with pearle and stone, and all her gowne Enwouen was with gold, that raught full low a downe[186]. On either side of her, two young men stood, xxxii Both strongly arm’d, as fearing one another; Yet were they brethren both of halfe the blood, Begotten by two fathers of one mother, Though of contrarie natures each to other: The one of them hight Loue, the other Hate, Hate was the elder, Loue the younger brother; Yet was the younger stronger in his state Then th’elder, and him maystred still in all debate. Nathlesse that Dame so well them tempred both, xxxiii That she them forced hand to ioyne in hand, Albe that Hatred was thereto full loth, And turn’d his face away, as he did stand, Vnwilling to behold that louely band. Yet she was of such grace and vertuous might, That her commaundment he could not withstand, But bit his lip for felonous despight, And gnasht his yron tuskes at that displeasing sight. Concord she cleeped was in common reed, xxxiv Mother of blessed Peace, and Friendship trew; They both her twins, both borne of heauenly seed, And she her selfe likewise diuinely grew; The which right well her workes diuine did shew: For strength, and wealth, and happinesse she lends, And strife, and warre, and anger does subdew: Of litle much, of foes she maketh frends, And to afflicted minds sweet rest and quiet sends. By her the heauen is in his course contained, xxxv And all the world in state vnmoued stands, As their Almightie maker first ordained, And bound them with inuiolable bands; Else would the waters ouerflow the lands, And fire deuoure the ayre, and hell[187] them quight, But that she holds them with her blessed hands. She is the nourse of pleasure and delight, And vnto Venus grace the gate doth open right. By her I entring halfe dismayed was, xxxvi But she in gentle wise me entertayned, And twixt her selfe and Loue[188] did let me pas; But Hatred would my entrance haue restrayned, And with his club me threatned to haue brayned, Had not the Ladie with her powrefull speach Him from his wicked will vneath refrayned; And th’other eke his malice did empeach, Till I was throughly past the perill of his reach. Into the inmost Temple thus I came, xxxvii Which fuming all with frankensence I found, And odours rising from the altars flame. Vpon an hundred marble pillors round The roofe vp high was reared from the ground, All deckt with crownes, and chaynes, and girlands gay, And thousand pretious gifts worth many a pound, The which sad louers for their vowes did pay; And all the ground was strow’d with flowres, as fresh as May[189]. An hundred Altars round about were set, xxxviii All flaming with their sacrifices fire, That with the steme thereof the Temple swet, Which rould in clouds to heauen did aspire, And in them bore true louers vowes entire: And eke an hundred brasen caudrons bright, To bath[190] in ioy and amorous desire, Euery of which was to a damzell hight; For all the Priests were damzels, in soft linnen dight. Right in the midst the Goddesse selfe did stand xxxix Vpon an altar of some costly masse, Whose substance was vneath to vnderstand: For neither pretious stone, nor durefull brasse, Nor shining gold, nor mouldring clay it was; But much more rare and pretious to esteeme, Pure in aspect, and like to christall glasse, Yet glasse was not, if one did rightly deeme, But being faire and brickle, likest glasse did seeme. But it in shape and beautie did excell xl All other Idoles, which the heathen adore, Farre passing that, which by surpassing skill Phidias did make in Paphos Isle of yore, With which that wretched Greeke, that life forlore,[191] Did fall in loue: yet this much fairer shined, But couered with a slender veile afore; And both her feete and legs together twyned Were with a snake, whose head and tail were fast combyned. The cause why she was couered with a vele, xli Was hard to know, for that her Priests the same From peoples knowledge labour’d to concele. But sooth it was not sure for womanish shame, Nor any blemish, which the worke mote blame; But for, they say, she hath both kinds in one, Both male and female, both vnder one name: She syre and mother is her selfe alone, Begets and eke conceiues, ne needeth other none. And all about her necke and shoulders flew xlii A flocke of litle loues, and sports, and ioyes, With nimble wings of gold and purple hew; Whose shapes seem’d not like to terrestriall boyes, But like to Angels playing heauenly toyes; The whilest their eldest[192] brother was away, Cupid their eldest brother; he enioyes The wide kingdome of loue with Lordly sway, And to his law compels all creatures to obay. And all about her altar scattered lay xliii Great sorts of louers piteously complayning, Some of their losse, some of their loues delay, Some of their pride, some paragons disdayning, Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently fayning, As euery one had cause of good or ill. Amongst the rest some one through loues constrayning, Tormented sore, could not containe it still, But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill. Great Venus, Queene of beautie and of grace, xliv The ioy of Gods and men, that vnder skie Doest fayrest shine, and most adorne thy place, That with thy smyling looke doest pacifie The raging seas, and makst the stormes to flie; Thee goddesse, thee the winds, the clouds doe feare, And when thou spredst thy mantle forth on hie, The waters play and pleasant lands appeare, And heauens laugh, and al the world shews ioyous cheare. Then doth the dædale earth throw forth to thee xlv Out of her fruitfull lap aboundant flowres, And then all liuing wights, soone as they see The spring breake forth out of his lusty bowres, They all doe learne to play the Paramours; First doe the merry birds, thy prety pages Priuily pricked with thy lustfull powres, Chirpe loud to thee out of their leauy cages, And thee their mother call to coole their kindly rages. Then doe the saluage beasts begin to play xlvi Their pleasant friskes, and loath their wonted food; The Lyons rore, the Tygres loudly bray, The raging Buls rebellow through the wood, And breaking forth, dare tempt the deepest flood, To come where thou doest draw them with desire: So all things else, that nourish vitall blood, Soone as with fury thou doest them inspire, In generation seeke to quench their inward fire. So all the world by thee at first was made, xlvii And dayly yet thou doest the same repayre: Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad, Ne ought on earth that louely is and fayre, But thou the same for pleasure didst prepayre. Thou art the root of all that ioyous is, Great God of men and women, queene of th’ayre, Mother of laughter, and welspring of blisse, O graunt that of my loue at last I may not misse. So did he say: but I with murmure soft, xlviii That none might heare the sorrow of my hart, Yet inly groning deepe and sighing oft, Besought her to graunt ease vnto my smart, And to my wound her gratious help impart. Whilest thus I spake, behold with happy eye I spyde, where at the Idoles feet apart A beuie of fayre damzels close did lye, Wayting when as the Antheme should be sung on hye. The first of them did seeme of ryper yeares, xlix And grauer countenance then all the rest; Yet all the rest were eke her equall peares, Yet vnto her obayed all the best. Her name was Womanhood, that she exprest By her sad semblant and demeanure wyse: For stedfast still her eyes did fixed rest, Ne rov’d at randon after gazers guyse, Whose luring baytes oftimes doe heedlesse harts entyse. And next to her sate goodly Shamefastnesse, l Ne euer durst her eyes from ground vpreare, Ne euer once did looke vp from her desse, As if some blame of euill she did feare, That in her cheekes made roses oft appeare: And her against sweet Cherefulnesse was placed, Whose eyes like twinkling stars in euening cleare, Were deckt with smyles, that all sad humors chaced, And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced. And next to her sate sober Modestie, li Holding her hand vpon her gentle hart; And her against sate comely Curtesie, That vnto euery person knew her part; And her before was seated ouerthwart Soft Silence, and submisse Obedience, Both linckt together neuer to dispart, Both gifts of God not gotten but from thence, Both girlonds[193] of his Saints against their foes offence. Thus sate they all a round in seemely rate: lii And in the midst of them a goodly mayd, Euen in the lap of Womanhood there sate, The which was all in lilly white arayd, With siluer streames amongst the linnen stray’d; Like to the Morne, when first her shyning face Hath to the gloomy world it selfe bewray’d, That same was fayrest Amoret in place, Shyning with beauties light, and heauenly vertues grace. Whom soone as I beheld, my hart gan throb, liii And wade in doubt, what best were to be donne: For sacrilege me seem’d the Church to rob, And folly seem’d to leaue the thing vndonne, Which with so strong attempt I had begonne. Tho shaking off all doubt and shamefast feare, Which Ladies loue I heard had neuer wonne Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped neare, And by the lilly hand her labour’d vp to reare. Thereat that formost matrone me did blame, liv And sharpe rebuke, for being ouer bold; Saying it was to Knight vnseemely shame, Vpon a recluse Virgin to lay hold, That vnto Venus seruices was sold. To whom I thus, Nay but it fitteth best, For Cupids man with Venus mayd to hold, For ill your goddesse seruices are drest By virgins, and her sacrifices let to rest. With that my shield I forth to her did show, lv Which all that while I closely had conceld[194]; On which when Cupid with his killing bow And cruell shafts emblazond she beheld, At sight thereof she was with terror queld, And said no more: but I which all that while The pledge of faith, her hand engaged held, Like warie[195] Hynd within the weedie soyle, For no intreatie would forgoe so glorious spoyle. And euermore vpon the Goddesse face lvi Mine eye was fixt, for feare of her offence, Whom when I saw with amiable grace To laugh at[196] me, and fauour my pretence, I was emboldned with more confidence, And nought for nicenesse nor for enuy sparing, In presence of them all forth led her thence, All looking on, and like astonisht staring, Yet to lay hand on her, not one of all them daring. She often prayd, and often me besought, lvii Sometime with tender teares to let her goe, Sometime with witching smyles: but yet for nought, That euer she to me could say or doe, Could she her wished freedome fro me wooe; But forth I led her through the Temple gate, By which I hardly past with much adoe: But that same Ladie which me friended late In entrance, did me also friend in my retrate. No lesse did Daunger[197] threaten me with dread, lviii When as he saw me, maugre all his powre, That glorious spoyle of beautie with me lead, Then Cerberus, when Orpheus did recoure His Leman from the Stygian Princes boure. But euermore my shield did me defend, Against the storme of euery dreadfull stoure: Thus safely with my loue I thence did wend. So ended he his tale, where I this Canto end.

Marinells former wound is heald, he comes to Proteus hall, Where Thames doth the Medway wedd, and feasts the Sea-gods all.

Bvt ah for pittie that I haue thus long i Left a fayre Ladie languishing in payne: Now well away[198], that I haue doen such wrong, To let faire Florimell in bands remayne, In bands of loue, and in sad thraldomes chayne; From which vnlesse some heauenly powre her free By miracle, not yet appearing playne, She lenger yet is like captiu’d to bee: That euen to thinke thereof, it inly pitties mee. Here neede you to remember, how erewhile ii Vnlouely Proteus, missing to his mind That Virgins loue to win by wit or wile, Her threw into a dongeon[199] deepe and blind, And there in chaynes her cruelly did bind, In hope thereby her to his bent to draw: For when as neither gifts nor graces kind Her constant mind could moue at all he saw, He thought her to compell by crueltie and awe. Deepe in the bottome of an huge great rocke iii The dongeon was, in which her bound he left, That neither yron barres, nor brasen locke Did neede to gard from force, or secret theft Of all her louers, which would her haue reft. For wall’d it was with waues, which rag’d and ror’d As they the cliffe in peeces would haue cleft; Besides ten thousand monsters foule abhor’d Did waite about it, gaping griesly all begor’d. And in the midst thereof did horror dwell, iv And darkenesse dredd, that neuer viewed day, Like to the balefull house of lowest hell, In which old Styx her aged bones alway, Old Styx the Grandame[200] of the Gods, doth lay. There did this lucklesse mayd seuen[201] months abide, Ne euer euening saw, ne mornings ray, Ne euer from the day the night descride, But thought it all one night, that did no houres diuide. And all this was for loue of Marinell, v Who her despysd (ah who would her despyse?) And wemens loue did from his hart expell, And all those ioyes that weake mankind entyse. Nathlesse his pride full dearely he did pryse; For of a womans hand it was ywroke, That of the wound he yet in languor lyes, Ne can be cured of that cruell stroke Which Britomart him gaue, when he did her prouoke. Yet farre and neare the Nymph his mother sought, vi And many salues did to his sore applie, And many herbes did vse. But when as nought She saw could ease his rankling maladie, At last to Tryphon she for helpe did hie, (This Tryphon is the seagods surgeon hight) Whom she besought to find some remedie: And for his paines a whistle him behight That of a fishes shell was wrought with rare delight. So well that Leach did hearke[202] to her request, vii And did so well employ his carefull paine, That in short space his hurts he had redrest, And him restor’d to healthfull state againe: In which he long time after did remaine There with the Nymph his mother, like her thrall; Who sore against his will did him retaine, For feare of perill, which to him mote fall, Through his too ventrous prowesse proued ouer all. It fortun’d then, a solemne feast was there viii To all the Sea-gods and their fruitfull seede, In honour of the spousalls, which then were Betwixt the Medway and the Thames agreed. Long had the Thames (as we in records reed) Before that day her wooed to his bed; But the proud Nymph would for no worldly meed, Nor no entreatie to his loue be led; Till now at last relenting, she to him was wed. So both agreed, that this their bridale feast ix Should for the Gods in Proteus house be made; To which they all repayr’d, both most and least, Aswell which in the mightie Ocean trade, As that in riuers swim, or brookes doe wade. All which not if an hundred tongues to tell, And hundred mouthes, and voice of brasse I had, And endlesse memorie, that mote excell, In order as they came, could I recount them well. Helpe therefore, O thou sacred imp of Ioue, x The noursling of Dame Memorie his deare, To whom those rolles, layd vp in heauen aboue, And records of antiquitie appeare, To which no wit of man may comen neare; Helpe me to tell the names of all those floods, And all those Nymphes, which then assembled were To that great banquet of the watry Gods, And all their sundry kinds, and all their hid abodes. First came great Neptune with his threeforkt mace, xi That rules the Seas, and makes them rise or fall; His dewy lockes did drop with brine apace, Vnder his Diademe imperiall: And by his side his Queene with coronall, Faire Amphitrite, most diuinely faire, Whose yuorie shoulders weren couered all, As with a robe, with her owne siluer haire, And deckt with pearles, which th’Indian seas for her prepaire. These marched farre afore the other crew; xii And all the way before them as they went, Triton his trompet[203] shrill before them blew, For goodly triumph and great iollyment, That made the rockes to roare, as they were rent. And after them the royall issue came, Which of them sprung by lineall descent: First the Sea-gods, which to themselues doe clame The powre to rule the billowes, and the waues to tame. Phorcys, the father of that fatall brood, xiii By whom those old Heroes wonne such fame; And Glaucus, that wise southsayes[204] vnderstood; And tragicke Inoes sonne, the which became A God of seas through his mad mothers blame, Now hight Palemon, and is saylers frend; Great Brontes, and Astræus, that did shame Himselfe with incest of his kin vnkend; And huge Orion, that doth tempests still portend. The rich Cteatus, and Eurytus long; xiv Neleus and Pelias louely brethren both; Mightie Chrysaor, and Caïcus strong; Eurypulus, that calmes the waters wroth; And faire Euphœmus, that vpon them goth As on the ground, without dismay or dread: Fierce Eryx, and Alebius that know’th The waters depth, and doth their bottome tread; And sad Asopus, comely with his hoarie head. There also some most famous founders were xv Of puissant Nations, which the world possest; Yet sonnes of Neptune, now assembled here: Ancient Ogyges, euen th’auncientest, And Inachus renowmd aboue the rest; Phœnix, and Aon, and Pelasgus old, Great Belus, Phœax, and Agenor best; And mightie Albion, father of the bold And warlike people, which the Britaine Islands hold. For Albion the sonne of Neptune was, xvi Who for the proofe of his great puissance, Out of his Albion did on dry-foot pas Into old Gall, that now is cleeped France, To fight with Hercules, that did aduance To vanquish all the world with matchlesse might, And there his mortall part by great mischance Was slaine: but that which is th’immortall spright Liues still: and to this feast with Neptunes seed was dight. But what doe I their names seeke to reherse, xvii Which all the world haue with their issue fild? How can they all in this so narrow verse Contayned be, and in small compasse hild? Let them record them, that are better skild, And know the moniments of passed times[205]: Onely what needeth, shall be here fulfild, T’expresse some part of that great equipage, Which from great Neptune do deriue their parentage. Next came the aged Ocean, and his Dame, xviii Old Tethys, th’oldest two of all the rest, For all the rest of those two parents came, Which afterward both sea and land possest: Of all which Nereus th’eldest, and the best, Did first proceed, then which none more vpright, Ne more sincere in word and deed profest; Most voide of guile, most free from fowle despight, Doing him selfe, and teaching others to doe right. Thereto he was expert in prophecies, xix And could the ledden of the Gods vnfold, Through which, when Paris brought his famous prise The faire Tindarid lasse, he him fortold, That her all Greece with many a champion bold Should fetch againe, and finally destroy Proud Priams towne. So wise is Nereus old, And so well skild; nathlesse he takes great ioy Oft-times amongst the wanton Nymphs to sport and toy. And after him the famous riuers came, xx Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie: The fertile Nile, which creatures new doth frame; Long Rhodanus, whose sourse springs from the skie; Faire Ister, flowing from the mountaines hie; Diuine Scamander, purpled yet with blood Of Greekes and Troians, which therein did die; Pactolus glistring with his golden flood, And Tygris fierce, whose streames of none may be withstood. Great Ganges, and immortall Euphrates, xxi Deepe Indus, and Mæander intricate, Slow Peneus, and tempestuous Phasides, Swift Rhene, and Alpheus still immaculate: Ooraxes,[206] feared for great Cyrus fate; Tybris, renowmed for the Romaines fame, Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late; And that huge Riuer, which doth beare his name Of warlike Amazons, which doe possesse the same. Ioy on those warlike women, which so long xxii Can from all men so rich a kingdome hold; And shame on you, O men, which boast your strong And valiant hearts, in thoughts lesse hard and bold, Yet quaile in conquest of that land of gold. But this to you, O Britons, most pertaines, To whom the right hereof it selfe hath sold; The which for sparing litle cost or paines, Loose so immortall glory, and so endlesse gaines. Then was there heard a most celestiall sound, xxiii Of dainty musicke, which did next ensew Before the spouse: that was Arion crownd; Who playing on his harpe, vnto him drew The eares and hearts of all that goodly crew, That euen yet the Dolphin, which him bore Through the Ægæan[207] seas from Pirates vew, Stood still by him astonisht at his lore, And all the raging seas for ioy forgot to rore. So went he playing on the watery plaine, xxiv Soone after whom the louely Bridegroome came, The noble Thamis, with all his goodly traine, But him before there went, as best became,[208] His auncient parents, namely th’auncient Thame. But much more aged was his wife then he, The Ouze, whom men doe Isis rightly name; Full weake and crooked creature seemed shee, And almost blind through eld, that scarce her way could see. Therefore on either side she was sustained xxv Of two smal grooms, which by their names were hight The Churne, and Charwell, two small streames, which pained Them selues her footing to direct aright, Which fayled oft through faint and feeble plight: But Thame was stronger, and of better stay; Yet seem’d full aged by his outward sight, With head all hoary, and his beard all gray, Deawed with siluer drops, that trickled downe alway. And eke he somewhat seem’d to stoupe afore xxvi With bowed backe, by reason of the lode, And auncient heauy burden, which he bore Of that faire City, wherein make abode[209] So many learned impes, that shoote abrode, And with their braunches spred all Britany, No lesse then do her elder sisters broode. Ioy to you both, ye double noursery[210] Of Arts, but Oxford thine doth Thame most glorify. But he their sonne full fresh and iolly was, xxvii All decked in a robe of watchet hew, On which the waues, glittering like Christall glas, So cunningly enwouen were, that few Could weenen, whether they were false or trew. And on his head like to a Coronet He wore, that seemed strange to common vew, In which were many towres and castels set, That it encompast round as with a golden fret. Like as the mother of the Gods, they say, xxviii In her great iron charet wonts to ride, When to Ioues pallace she doth take her way: Old Cybele, arayd with pompous pride, Wearing a Diademe embattild wide With hundred turrets, like a Turribant. With such an one was Thamis beautifide; That was to weet the famous Troynouant, In which her kingdomes throne is chiefly resiant. And round about him many a pretty Page xxix Attended duely, ready to obay; All little Riuers, which owe vassallage To him, as to their Lord, and tribute pay: The chaulky Kenet, and the Thetis gray, The morish Cole, and the soft sliding Breane, The wanton Lee, that oft doth loose his way, And the still Darent, in whose waters cleane Ten thousand fishes play, and decke his pleasant streame. Then came his neighbour flouds, which nigh him dwell, xxx And water all the English soile throughout; They all on him this day attended well; And with meet seruice waited him about; Ne none[211] disdained low to him to lout: No not the stately Seuerne grudg’d at all, Ne storming Humber, though he looked stout; But both him honor’d as their principall, And let their swelling waters low before him fall. There was the speedy Tamar, which deuides xxxi The Cornish and the Deuonish confines; Through both whose borders swiftly downe it glides, And meeting Plim, to Plimmouth thence declines: And Dart, nigh chockt[212] with sands of tinny mines. But Auon marched in more stately path, Proud of his Adamants, with which he shines And glisters wide, as als’ of wondrous Bath, And Bristow faire, which on his waues he builded hath. And there came Stoure with terrible aspect, xxxii Bearing his sixe deformed heads on hye, That doth his course through Blandford plains direct, And washeth Winborne meades in season drye. Next him went Wylibourne with passage slye, That of his wylinesse his name doth take, And of him selfe doth name the shire thereby: And Mole, that like a nousling Mole doth make His way still vnder ground, till Thamis he ouertake. Then came the Rother, decked all with woods xxxiii Like a wood God, and flowing fast to Rhy: And Sture, that parteth with his pleasant floods The Easterne Saxons from the Southerne ny, And Clare, and Harwitch both doth beautify: Him follow’d Yar, soft washing Norwitch wall, And with him brought a present ioyfully Of his owne fish vnto their festiuall, Whose like none else could shew, the which they Ruffins call. Next these the plenteous Ouse came far from land, xxxiv By many a city, and by many a towne, And many riuers taking vnder hand Into his waters, as he passeth downe, The Cle, the Were, the Grant[213], the Sture, the Rowne. Thence doth by Huntingdon and Cambridge flit, My mother Cambridge, whom as with a Crowne He doth adorne, and is adorn’d of it With many a gentle Muse, and many a learned wit. And after him the fatall Welland went, xxxv That if old sawes proue true (which God forbid) Shall drowne all Holland with his excrement, And shall see Stamford, though now homely hid, Then shine in learning, more then euer did Cambridge or Oxford, Englands goodly beames. And next to him the Nene[214] downe softly slid; And bounteous Trent, that in him selfe enseames Both thirty sorts of fish, and thirty sundry streames. Next these came Tyne, along whose stony bancke xxxvi That Romaine Monarch built a brasen wall, Which mote the feebled Britons strongly flancke Against the Picts, that swarmed ouer all, Which yet thereof Gualseuer they doe call: And Twede the limit betwixt Logris land And Albany: And Eden though but small, Yet often stainde with bloud of many a band Of Scots and English both, that tyned on his strand. Then came those sixe sad brethren, like forlorne, xxxvii That whilome were (as antique fathers tell) Sixe valiant Knights, of one faire Nymphe yborne, Which did in noble deedes of armes excell, And wonned there, where now Yorke people dwell; Still Vre, swift Werfe, and Oze the most of might, High Swale, vnquiet Nide, and troublous Skell; All whom a Scythian king, that Humber hight, Slew cruelly, and in the riuer drowned quight. But past not long, ere Brutus warlicke[215] sonne xxxviii Locrinus them aueng’d, and the same date, Which the proud Humber vnto them had donne, By equall dome[216] repayd on his owne pate: For in the selfe same riuer, where he late Had drenched them, he drowned him againe; And nam’d the riuer of his wretched fate; Whose bad condition yet it doth retaine, Oft tossed with his stormes, which therein still remaine. These after, came the stony shallow Lone, xxxix That to old Loncaster his name doth lend; And following Dee, which Britons long ygone Did call diuine, that doth by Chester tend; And Conway which out of his streame doth send Plenty of pearles to decke his dames withall, And Lindus that his pikes doth most commend, Of which the auncient Lincolne men doe call; All these together marched toward Proteus hall. Ne thence the Irishe Riuers absent were, xl Sith no lesse famous then the rest they bee, And ioyne in neighbourhood of kingdome nere, Why should they not likewise in loue agree, And ioy likewise this solemne day to see?[217] They saw it all, and present were in place; Though I them all according their degree, Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race, Nor read the saluage cuntreis, thorough which they pace. There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea, xli The sandy Slane, the stony Aubrian, The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea, The pleasant Boyne, the fishy fruitfull Ban, Swift Awniduff, which of the English man Is cal’de Blacke water, and the Liffar deep, Sad Trowis, that once his people ouerran, Strong Allo[218] tombling from Slewlogher steep, And Mulla[219] mine, whose waues I whilom taught to weep. And there the three renowmed brethren were, xlii Which that great Gyant Blomius begot, Of the faire Nimph Rheusa wandring there. One day, as she to shunne the season whot,[220] Vnder Slewbloome in shady groue was got, This Gyant found her, and by force deflowr’d, Whereof conceiuing, she in time forth brought These three faire sons, which being thence forth powrd In three great riuers ran, and many countreis scowrd. The first, the gentle Shure that making way xliii By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford; The next, the stubborne Newre, whose waters gray By faire Kilkenny and Rosseponte boord, The third, the goodly Barow, which doth hoord Great heapes of Salmons in his deepe bosome: All which long sundred, doe at last accord To ioyne in one, ere to the sea they come, So flowing all from one, all one at last become. There also was the wide embayed Mayre, xliv The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood, The spreading Lee, that like an Island fayre Encloseth Corke with his deuided[221] flood; And balefull Oure, late staind with English blood: With many more, whose names no tongue can tell. All which that day in order seemly good Did on the Thamis attend, and waited well To doe their duefull seruice, as to them befell. Then came the Bride, the louely[222] Medua came, xlv Clad in a vesture of vnknowen geare, And vncouth fashion, yet her well became; That seem’d like siluer, sprinckled here and theare With glittering spangs, that did like starres appeare, And wau’d vpon, like water Chamelot, To hide the metall, which yet euery where Bewrayd it selfe, to let men plainely wot, It was no mortall worke, that seem’d and yet was not. Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow xlvi Vnto her waste, with flowres bescattered, The which ambrosiall odours forth did throw To all about, and all her shoulders spred As a new spring; and likewise on her hed A Chapelet of sundry flowers she wore, From vnder which the deawy humour shed, Did tricle downe her haire, like to the hore Congealed litle drops, which doe the morne adore. On her two pretty handmaides did attend, xlvii One cald the Theise, the other cald the Crane; Which on her waited, things amisse to mend, And both behind vpheld her spredding traine; Vnder the which, her feet appeared plaine, Her siluer feet, faire washt against this day: And her before there paced Pages twaine, Both clad in colours like, and like array, The Doune and eke the Frith, both which prepard her way. And after these the Sea Nymphs marched all, xlviii All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire, Whom of their sire Nereides men call, All which the Oceans daughter to him bare The gray eyde Doris: all which fifty are; All which she there on her attending had. Swift Proto, milde Eucrate, Thetis faire, Soft Spio, sweete Eudore[223], Sao sad, Light Doto, wanton Glauce, and Galene glad. White hand Eunica, proud Dynamene, xlix Ioyous Thalia, goodly Amphitrite, Louely Pasithee, kinde Eulimene, Light foote Cymothoe, and sweete Melite, Fairest Pherusa, Phao lilly white, Wondred Agaue, Poris, and Nesæa, With Erato that doth in loue delite, And Panopæ, and wise Protomedæa, And snowy neckd Doris, and milkewhite Galathæa. Speedy Hippothoe, and chaste Actea, l Large Lisianassa, and Pronæa sage, Euagore, and light Pontoporea, And she, that with her least word can asswage The surging seas, when they do sorest rage, Cymodoce, and stout Autonoe, And Neso, and Eione well in age, And seeming still to smile, Glauconome, And she that hight of many heastes Polynome. Fresh Alimeda, deckt with girlond greene; li Hyponeo, with salt bedewed wrests: Laomedia, like the christall sheene; Liagore, much praisd for wise behests; And Psamathe, for her brode snowy brests; Cymo, Eupompe, and Themiste iust; And she that vertue loues and vice detests Euarna, and Menippe true in trust, And Nemertea learned well to rule her lust. All these the daughters of old Nereus were, lii Which haue the sea in charge to them assinde, To rule his tides, and surges to vprere, To bring forth stormes, or fast them to vpbinde,[224] And sailers saue from wreckes of wrathfull winde. And yet besides three thousand more there were Of th’Oceans seede, but[225] Ioues and Phœbus kinde; The which in floods and fountaines doe appere, And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere. The which, more eath it were for mortall wight, liii To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye, Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right. But well I wote, that these which I descry, Were present at this great solemnity: And there amongst the rest, the mother was Of luckelesse Marinell Cymodoce. Which, for my Muse her selfe now tyred has, Vnto an other Canto I will ouerpas.

Marin for loue of Florimell, In languor wastes his life: The Nymph his mother getteth her, And giues to him for wife.

O what an endlesse worke haue I in hand, i To count the seas abundant progeny, Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land, And also those which wonne in th’azure sky? For much more eath to tell the starres on hy, Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation, Then to recount the Seas posterity: So fertile be the flouds in generation, So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation. Therefore the antique wisards well inuented, ii That Venus of the fomy sea was bred; For that the seas by her are most augmented. Witnesse th’exceeding fry, which there are fed, And wondrous sholes, which may of none be red. Then blame me not, if I haue err’d in count Of Gods, of Nymphs, of riuers yet vnred: For though their numbers do much more surmount, Yet all those same were there, which erst I did recount. All those were there, and many other more, iii Whose names and nations were too long to tell, That Proteus house they fild euen to the dore; Yet were they all in order, as befell, According their degrees disposed well. Amongst the rest, was faire Cymodoce, The mother of vnlucky Marinell, Who thither with her came, to learne and see The manner of the Gods when they at banquet be. But for he was halfe mortall, being bred iv Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe, He might not with immortall food be fed, Ne with th’eternall Gods to bancket[226] come; But walkt abrode, and round about did rome, To view the building of that vncouth place, That seem’d vnlike vnto his earthly home: Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace, There vnto him betid a disauentrous[227] case. Vnder the hanging of an hideous clieffe, v He heard the lamentable voice of one, That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe, Which neuer she before disclosd to none,[228] But to her selfe her sorrow did bemone.[229] So feelingly her case she did complaine, That ruth it moued in the rocky stone, And made it seeme to feele her grieuous paine, And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine. Though vaine I see my sorrowes to vnfold, vi And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare, Yet hoping griefe may lessen being told, I will them tell though vnto no man neare: For heauen that vnto all lends equall eare, Is farre from hearing of my heauy plight; And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare, Cares not what euils hap to wretched wight; And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight. Yet loe the seas I see by often beating, vii Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares; But his hard rocky hart for no entreating Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares, Is hardned more with my aboundant teares. Yet though he neuer list to me relent, But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares, Yet will I neuer of my loue repent, But ioy that for his sake I suffer prisonment. And when my weary ghost with griefe outworne, viii By timely death shall winne her wished rest, Let then this plaint vnto his eares be borne, That blame it is to him, that armes profest, To let her die, whom he might haue redrest. There did she pause, inforced to giue place, Vnto the passion, that her heart opprest, And after she had wept and wail’d a space, She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case. Ye Gods of seas, if any Gods at all ix Haue care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong, By one or other way me woefull thrall, Deliuer hence out of this dungeon strong, In which I daily dying am too long. And if ye deeme me death for louing one, That loues not me, then doe it not prolong, But let me die and end my daies attone, And let him liue vnlou’d, or loue him selfe alone. But if that life ye vnto me decree, x Then let mee liue, as louers ought to do, And of my lifes deare loue beloued be: And if he shall[230] through pride your doome vndo, Do you by duresse him compell thereto, And in this prison put him here with me: One prison fittest is to hold vs two: So had I rather to be thrall, then free; Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be. But O vaine iudgement, and conditions vaine, xi The which the prisoner points vnto the free, The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine, He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me. So euer loose, so euer happy be. But where so loose or happy that thou art, Know Marinell that all this is for thee. With that she wept and wail’d, as if her hart Would quite haue burst through great abundance[231] of her smart. All which complaint when Marinell had heard, xii And vnderstood the cause of all her care To come of him, for vsing her so hard, His stubborne heart, that neuer felt misfare Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare; That euen for griefe of minde he oft did grone, And inly wish, that in his powre it weare Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none He could no more but her great misery bemone. Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth xiii Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide[232], Dame Venus sonne that tameth stubborne youth With iron bit, and maketh him abide, Till like a victor on his backe he ride, Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw, That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride: Then gan he make him tread his steps anew, And learne to loue, by learning louers paines to rew. Now gan he in his grieued minde deuise, xiv How from that dungeon he might her enlarge: Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge: But then he fear’d his mothers former charge Gainst womens loue, long giuen him in vaine. Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine: But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe. Then did he cast to steale her thence away, xv And with him beare, where none of her might know. But all in vaine: for why he found no way To enter in, or issue forth below: For all about that rocke the sea did flow. And though vnto his will she giuen were, Yet without ship or bote her thence to row, He wist not how her thence away to bere; And daunger well he wist long to continue there. At last when as no meanes he could inuent, xvi Backe to him selfe[233] he gan returne the blame, That was the author of her punishment; And with vile curses, and reprochfull shame To damne him selfe by euery euill name; And deeme vnworthy or of loue or life, That had despisde so chast and faire a dame, Which him had sought through trouble and long strife; Yet had refusde a God that her had sought to wife. In this sad plight he walked here and there, xvii And romed round about the rocke in vaine, As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where; Oft listening if he mote her heare againe; And still bemoning her vnworthy paine. Like as an Hynde whose calfe is falne vnwares Into some pit, where she him heares complaine, An hundred times about the pit side fares, Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaued cares. And now by this the feast was throughly ended, xviii And euery one gan homeward to resort. Which seeing Marinell, was sore offended, That his departure thence should be so short, And leaue his loue in that sea-walled fort. Yet durst he not his mother disobay, But her attending in full seemly sort, Did march amongst the many all the way: And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray. Being returned to his mothers bowre, xix In solitary silence far from wight, He gan record the lamentable stowre, In which his wretched loue lay day and night, For his deare sake, that ill deseru’d that plight: The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe, That of no worldly thing he tooke delight; Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe, But pyn’d, and mourn’d, and languisht, and alone did weepe. That in short space his wonted chearefull hew xx Gan fade, and liuely spirits deaded quight: His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew, And brawney armes had lost their knowen might, That nothing like himselfe he seem’d in sight. Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of loue He woxe, that lenger he note stand vpright, But to his bed was brought, and layd aboue, Like ruefull ghost, vnable once to stirre or moue. Which when his mother saw, she in her mind xxi Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene, Ne could by search nor any meanes out find The secret cause and nature of his teene, Whereby she might apply some medicine; But weeping day and night, did him attend, And mourn’d to see her losse before her eyne, Which grieu’d her more, that she it could not mend: To see an helpelesse euill, double griefe doth lend. Nought could she read the roote of his disease, xxii Ne weene what mister maladie it is, Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease. Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis, That that same former fatall wound of his Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed, But closely rankled vnder th’orifis: Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed, That loue it was, which in his hart lay vnreuealed. Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast, xxiii And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent, That fayld the trust, which she in him had plast, To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent: Who now was falne into new languishment Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured. So backe he came vnto her patient, Where searching euery part, her well assured, That it was no old sore, which his new paine procured. But that it was some other maladie, xxiv Or griefe vnknowne, which he could not discerne: So left he her withouten remedie. Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne, And inly troubled was, the truth to learne. Vnto himselfe she came, and him besought, Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne, If ought lay hidden in his grieued thought, It to reueale: who still her answered, there was nought. Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide, xxv But leauing watry gods, as booting nought, Vnto the shinie heauen in haste she hide, And thence Apollo King of Leaches brought. Apollo came; who soone as he had sought Through his disease, did by and by out find, That he did languish of some inward thought, The which afflicted his engrieued mind; Which loue he red to be, that leads each liuing kind. Which when he had vnto his mother told, xxvi She gan thereat to fret, and greatly grieue. And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold, And chyde at him, that made her misbelieue: But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieue, And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose, Which of the Nymphes his heart so sore did mieue. For sure she weend it was some one of those, Which he had lately seene, that for his loue he chose. Now lesse she feared that same fatall read, xxvii That warned him of womens loue beware: Which being ment of mortall creatures sead, For loue of Nymphes she thought she need not care, But promist him, what euer wight she weare, That she her loue[234] to him would shortly gaine: So he her told: but soone as she did heare That Florimell it was, which wrought his paine, She gan a fresh[235] to chafe, and grieue in euery vaine. Yet since she saw the streight extremitie, xxviii In which his life vnluckily was layd, It was no time to scan the prophecie, Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd, That his decay should happen by a mayd. It’s late in death of daunger to aduize, Or loue forbid him, that is life denayd: But rather gan in troubled mind deuize, How she that Ladies libertie might enterprize. To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it vaine, xxix Who was the root and worker of her woe: Nor vnto any meaner to complaine, But vnto great king Neptune selfe did goe, And on her knee before him falling lowe, Made humble suit vnto his Maiestie, To graunt to her, her sonnes life, which his foe A cruell Tyrant had presumpteouslie[236] By wicked doome condemn’d, a wretched death to die. To whom God Neptune softly smyling, thus; xxx Daughter me seemes of double wrong ye plaine, Gainst one that hath both wronged you, and vs: For death t’adward[237] I ween’d did appertaine To none, but to the seas sole Soueraine. Read therefore who it is, which this hath wrought, And for what cause; the truth discouer plaine. For neuer wight so euill did or thought, But would some rightfull cause pretend, though rightly nought. To whom she answerd, Then it is by name xxxi Proteus, that hath ordayn’d my sonne to die; For that a waift, the which by fortune came Vpon your seas, he claym’d as propertie: And yet nor his, nor his in equitie, But yours the waift by high prerogatiue. Therefore I humbly craue your Maiestie, It to repleuie, and my sonne repriue: So shall you by one gift saue all vs three aliue. He graunted it: and streight his warrant made, xxxii Vnder the Sea-gods seale autenticall, Commaunding Proteus straight t’enlarge the mayd, Which wandring on his seas imperiall, He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall. Which she receiuing with meete thankefulnesse, Departed straight to Proteus therewithall: Who reading it with inward loathfulnesse, Was grieued to restore the pledge, he did possesse. Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand, xxxiii But vnto her deliuered Florimell. Whom she receiuing by the lilly hand, Admyr’d her beautie much, as she mote well: For she all liuing creatures did excell; And was right ioyous, that she gotten had So faire a wife for her sonne Marinell. So home with her she streight the virgin lad, And shewed her to him, then being sore bestad. Who soone as he beheld that angels face, xxxiv Adorn’d with all diuine perfection, His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace Sad death, reuiued with her sweet inspection, And feeble spirit inly felt refection; As withered weed through cruell winters tine, That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection, Liftes vp his head, that did before decline And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine. Right so himselfe did Marinell vpreare, xxxv When he in place his dearest loue did spy; And though his limbs could not his bodie beare, Ne former strength returne so suddenly, Yet chearefull signes he shewed outwardly. Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected, But that she masked it with modestie, For feare she should of lightnesse be detected: Which to another place I leaue to be perfected.

So oft as I with state of present time, i The image of the antique world compare, When as mans age was in his freshest prime,[238] And the first blossome of faire vertue bare, Such oddes I finde twixt those, and these which are, As that, through long continuance of his course, Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square, From the first point of his appointed sourse, And being once amisse growes daily wourse and wourse[239]. For from the golden age, that first was named, ii It’s now at earst[240] become a stonie one; And men themselues, the which at first were framed Of earthly mould, and form’d of flesh and bone, Are now transformed into hardest stone: Such as behind their backs (so backward bred) Were throwne by Pyrrha and Deucalione: And if then those may any worse be red, They into that ere long will be degendered. Let none then blame me, if in discipline iii Of vertue and of ciuill vses lore, I doe not forme them to the common line Of present dayes, which are corrupted sore, But to the antique vse, which was of yore, When good was onely for it selfe desyred, And all men sought their owne, and none no more; When Iustice was not for most meed outhyred, But simple Truth did rayne, and was of all admyred. For that which all men then did vertue call, iv Is now cald vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight vertue, and so vs’d of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right, As all things else in time are chaunged quight. Ne wonder; for the heauens reuolution Is wandred farre from[241] where it first was pight, And so doe make contrarie constitution Of all this lower world, toward his dissolution. For who so list into the heauens looke, v And search the courses of the rowling spheares, Shall find that from the point, where they first tooke Their setting forth[242], in these few thousand yeares They all are wandred much; that plaine appeares. For that same golden fleecy Ram, which bore Phrixus and Helle from their stepdames feares, Hath now forgot, where he was plast of yore, And shouldred hath the Bull, which fayre Europa bore. And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent horne vi So hardly butted those two twinnes of Ioue, That they haue crusht the Crab, and quite him borne Into the great Nemæan lions groue. So now all range, and doe at randon roue Out of their proper places farre away, And all this world with them amisse doe moue, And all his creatures from their course astray, Till they arriue at their last ruinous decay. Ne is that same great glorious lampe of light, vii That doth enlumine all these lesser fyres, In better case, ne keepes his course more right, But is miscaried with the other Spheres. For since the terme of fourteene hundred yeres, That learned Ptolomæe his hight did take, He is declyned from that marke of theirs, Nigh thirtie minutes to the Southerne lake; That makes me feare in time he will vs quite forsake. And if to those Ægyptian wisards old, viii Which in Star-read were wont haue best insight, Faith may be giuen, it is by them told, That since the time they first tooke the Sunnes hight, Foure times his place he shifted hath in sight, And twice hath risen, where he now doth West, And wested twice, where he ought rise aright. But most is Mars amisse of all the rest, And next to him old Saturne, that was wont be best. For during Saturnes ancient raigne it’s sayd, ix That all the world with goodnesse did abound: All loued vertue, no man was affrayd Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found: No warre was knowne, no dreadfull trompets sound, Peace vniuersall rayn’d mongst men and beasts, And all things freely grew out of the ground: Iustice sate high ador’d with solemne feasts, And to all people did diuide her dred beheasts. Most sacred vertue she of all the rest, x Resembling God in his imperiall might; Whose soueraine powre is herein most exprest, That both to good and bad he dealeth right, And all his workes with Iustice hath bedight. That powre he also doth to Princes lend, And makes them like himselfe in glorious sight, To sit in his owne seate, his cause to end, And rule his people right, as he doth recommend. Dread Souerayne Goddesse, that doest highest sit xi In seate of iudgement, in th’Almighties stead[243], And with magnificke might and wondrous wit Doest to thy people righteous doome aread, That furthest Nations filles with awfull dread, Pardon the boldnesse of thy basest thrall, That dare discourse of so diuine a read, As thy great iustice praysed ouer all: The instrument whereof loe here thy Artegall[244].

Artegall trayn’d in Iustice lore Irenaes quest pursewed, He doeth auenge on Sanglier his Ladies bloud embrewed.

Though vertue then were held in highest price, i In those old times, of which I doe intreat, Yet then likewise the wicked seede of vice Began to spring which shortly grew full great, And with their boughes the gentle plants did beat. But euermore some of the vertuous race Rose vp, inspired with heroicke heat, That cropt the branches of the sient base, And with strong hand their fruitfull rancknes did deface. Such first was Bacchus, that with furious might ii All th’East before vntam’d did ouerronne, And wrong repressed, and establisht right, Which lawlesse men had formerly fordonne. There Iustice first her princely rule begonne. Next Hercules his like ensample shewed, Who all the West with equall conquest wonne, And monstrous tyrants with his club subdewed; The club of Iustice dread, with kingly powre endewed. And such was he, of whom I haue to tell, iii The Champion of true Iustice Artegall, Whom (as ye lately mote remember well) An hard aduenture, which did then befall, Into redoubted perill forth did call; That was to succour a distressed Dame, Whom a strong tyrant did vniustly thrall, And from the heritage, which she did clame, Did with strong hand withhold: Grantorto was his name. Wherefore the Lady, which Irena[245] hight, iv Did to the Faery Queene her way addresse, To whom complayning her afflicted plight, She her besought of gratious redresse. That soueraine Queene, that mightie Emperesse, Whose glorie is to aide all suppliants pore, And of weake Princes to be Patronesse, Chose Artegall to right her to restore; For that to her he seem’d best skild in righteous lore. For Artegall in iustice was vpbrought v Euen from the cradle of his infancie, And all the depth of rightfull doome was taught By faire Astræa, with great industrie, Whilest here on earth she liued mortallie. For till the world from his perfection fell Into all filth and foule iniquitie, Astræa here mongst earthly men did dwell, And in the rules of iustice them instructed well. Whiles through the world she walked in this sort, vi Vpon a day she found this gentle childe, Amongst his peres playing his childish sport: Whom seeing fit, and with no crime defilde, She did allure with gifts and speaches milde, To wend with her. So thence him farre she brought Into a caue from companie exilde, In which she noursled him, till yeares he raught, And all the discipline of iustice there him taught. There she him taught to weigh both right and wrong vii In equall ballance with due recompence, And equitie to measure out along, According to the line of conscience, When so it needs with rigour to dispence. Of all the which, for want there of mankind, She caused him to make experience Vpon wyld beasts, which she in woods did find, With wrongfull powre oppressing others of their kind. Thus she him trayned, and thus she him taught, viii In all the skill of deeming wrong and right, Vntill the ripenesse of mans yeares he raught; That euen wilde beasts did feare his awfull sight, And men admyr’d his ouerruling might; Ne any liu’d on ground, that durst withstand His dreadfull heast, much lesse him match in fight, Or bide the horror of his wreakfull hand, When so he list in wrath lift vp his steely brand. Which steely brand, to make him dreaded more, ix She gaue vnto him, gotten by her slight And earnest search, where it was kept in store In Ioues eternall house, vnwist of wight, Since he himselfe it vs’d in that great fight Against the Titans, that whylome rebelled Gainst highest heauen; Chrysaor it was hight; Chrysaor that all other swords excelled, Well prou’d in that same day, when Ioue those Gyants quelled. For of most perfect metall it was made, x Tempred with Adamant amongst the same, And garnisht all with gold vpon the blade In goodly wise, whereof it tooke his name, And was of no lesse vertue, then of fame. For there no substance was so firme and hard, But it would pierce or cleaue, where so it came; Ne any armour could his dint out ward, But wheresoeuer it did light, it throughly shard. Now when the world with sinne gan to abound, xi Astræa loathing lenger here to space Mongst wicked men, in whom no truth she found, Return’d to heauen, whence she deriu’d her race; Where she hath now an euerlasting place, Mongst those twelue signes, which nightly we doe see The heauens bright-shining baudricke to enchace; And is the Virgin, sixt in her degree, And next her selfe her righteous ballance hanging bee. But when she parted hence, she left her groome xii An yron man, which did on her attend Alwayes, to execute her stedfast doome, And willed him with Artegall to wend, And doe what euer thing he did intend. His name was Talus, made of yron mould, Immoueable, resistlesse, without end. Who in his hand an yron flale did hould, With which he thresht out falshood, and did truth vnfould. He now went with him in this new inquest, xiii Him for to aide, if aide he chaunst to neede, Against that cruell Tyrant, which opprest The faire Irena with his foule misdeede, And kept the crowne in which she should succeed. And now together on their way they bin, When as they saw a Squire in squallid weed, Lamenting sore his sorowfull sad tyne, With many bitter teares shed from his blubbred eyne. To whom as they approched, they espide xiv A sorie sight, as euer seene with eye; An headlesse Ladie lying him beside, In her owne blood all wallow’d wofully, That her gay clothes did in discolour die. Much was he moued at that ruefull sight; And flam’d with zeale of vengeance inwardly,[246] He askt, who had that Dame so fouly dight; Or whether his owne hand, or whether other wight? Ah woe is me, and well away[247] (quoth hee) xv Bursting forth teares, like springs out of a banke, That euer I this dismall day did see: Full farre was I from thinking such a pranke; Yet litle losse it were, and mickle thanke, If I should graunt that I haue doen the same, That I mote drinke the cup, whereof she dranke: But that I should die guiltie of the blame, The which another did, who now is fled with shame. Who was it then (sayd Artegall) that wrought? xvi And why?[248] doe it declare vnto me trew. A knight (said he) if knight he may be thought, That did his hand in Ladies bloud embrew, And for no cause, but as I shall you shew. This day as I in solace sate hereby With a fayre loue, whose losse I now do rew, There came this knight, hauing in companie This lucklesse Ladie, which now here doth headlesse lie. He, whether mine seem’d fayrer in his eye, xvii Or that he wexed weary of his owne, Would change with me; but I did it denye; So did the Ladies both, as may be knowne, But he, whose spirit was with pride vpblowne, Would not so rest contented with his right, But hauing from his courser her downe throwne, Fro me reft mine away by lawlesse might, And on his steed her set, to beare her out of sight. Which when his Ladie saw, she follow’d fast, xviii And on him catching hold, gan loud to crie Not so to leaue her, nor away to cast, But rather of his hand besought to die. With that his sword he drew all wrathfully, And at one stroke cropt off her head with scorne, In that same place, whereas it now doth lie. So he my loue away with him hath borne, And left me here, both his and mine owne loue to morne. Aread (sayd he) which way then did he make? xix And by what markes may he be knowne againe? To hope (quoth he) him soone to ouertake, That hence so long departed, is but vaine: But yet he pricked ouer yonder plaine, And as I marked, bore vpon his shield, By which it’s easie him to know againe, A broken sword within a bloodie field; Expressing well his nature, which the same did wield. No sooner sayd, but streight he after sent xx His yron page, who him pursew’d so light, As that it seem’d aboue the ground he went: For he was swift as swallow in her flight, And strong as Lyon in his Lordly might. It was not long, before he ouertooke Sir Sanglier; (so cleeped was that Knight) Whom at the first he ghessed by his looke, And by the other markes, which of his shield he tooke. He bad him stay, and backe with him retire; xxi Who full of scorne to be commaunded so, The Lady to alight did eft require, Whilest he reformed that vnciuill fo: And streight at him with all his force did go. Who mou’d no more therewith, then when a rocke Is lightly stricken with some stones throw; But to him leaping, lent him such a knocke, That on the ground he layd him like a sencelesse blocke. But ere he could him selfe recure againe, xxii Him in his iron paw he seized had; That when he wak’t out of his warelesse paine, He found him selfe,[249] vnwist, so ill bestad, That lim he could not wag. Thence he him lad, Bound like a beast appointed to the stall: The sight whereof the Lady sore adrad, And fain’d to fly for feare of being thrall; But he her quickly stayd, and forst to wend withall. When to the place they came, where Artegall xxiii By that same carefull Squire did then abide, He gently gan him to demaund of all, That did betwixt him and that Squire betide. Who with sterne countenance and indignant pride Did aunswere, that of all he guiltlesse stood, And his accuser thereuppon defide: For neither he did shed that Ladies bloud, Nor tooke away his loue, but his owne proper good. Well did the Squire perceiue him selfe too weake, xxiv To aunswere his defiaunce in the field, And rather chose his challenge off to breake, Then to approue his right with speare and shield. And rather guilty chose him selfe to yield. But Artegall by signes perceiuing plaine, That he it was not, which that Lady kild, But that strange Knight, the fairer loue to gaine, Did cast about by sleight the truth thereout to straine. And sayd, Now[250] sure this doubtfull causes right xxv Can hardly but by Sacrament be tride, Or else by ordele, or by blooddy fight; That ill perhaps mote fall to either side. But if ye please, that I your cause decide, Perhaps I may all further quarrell end, So ye will sweare my iudgement to abide. Thereto they both did franckly condiscend, And to his doome with listfull eares did both attend. Sith then (sayd he) ye both the dead deny, xxvi And both the liuing Lady claime your right, Let both the dead and liuing equally Deuided be betwixt you here in sight, And each of either take his share aright. But looke who does dissent from this my read, He for a twelue moneths day shall in despight Beare for his penaunce that same Ladies head; To witnesse to the world, that she by him is[251] dead. Well pleased with that doome was Sangliere, xxvii And offred streight the Lady to be slaine. But that same Squire, to whom she was more dere, When as he saw she should be cut in twaine, Did yield, she rather should with him remaine Aliue, then to him selfe be shared dead; And rather then his loue should suffer paine, He chose with shame to beare that Ladies head. True loue despiseth shame, when life is cald in dread. Whom when so willing Artegall perceaued; xxviii Not so thou Squire, (he sayd) but thine I deeme The liuing Lady, which from thee he reaued: For worthy thou of her doest rightly seeme. And you, Sir Knight, that loue so light esteeme, As that ye would for little leaue the same, Take here your owne, that doth you best beseeme, And with it beare the burden of defame; Your owne dead Ladies head, to tell abrode your shame. But Sangliere disdained much his doome, xxix And sternly gan repine at his beheast; Ne would for ought obay, as did become, To beare that Ladies head before his breast. Vntill that Talus had his pride represt, And forced him, maulgre, it vp to reare. Who when he saw it bootelesse to resist, He tooke it vp, and thence with him did beare, As rated Spaniell takes his burden vp for feare. Much did that Squire Sir Artegall adore, xxx For his great iustice, held in high regard; And as his Squire him offred euermore To serue, for want of other meete reward, And wend with him on his aduenture hard. But he thereto would by no meanes consent; But leauing him forth on his iourney far’d: Ne wight with him but onely Talus went. They two enough t’encounter an whole Regiment.

Artegall heares of Florimell, Does with the Pagan fight: Him slaies, drownes Lady Munera[252], Does race her castle quight.

Nought is more honorable to a knight, i Ne better doth beseeme braue cheualry, Then to defend the feeble in their right, And wrong redresse in such as wend awry. Whilome those great Heroes got thereby Their greatest glory, for their rightfull deedes, And place deserued with the Gods on hy. Herein the noblesse of this knight exceedes, Who now to perils great for iustice sake proceedes. To which as he now was vppon the way, ii He chaunst to meet a Dwarfe in hasty course; Whom he requir’d his forward hast to stay, Till he of tidings mote with him discourse. Loth was the Dwarfe, yet did he stay perforse, And gan of sundry newes his store to tell, As[253] to his memory they had recourse: But chiefely of the fairest Florimell, How she was found againe, and spousde to Marinell. For this was Dony, Florimels owne Dwarfe, iii Whom hauing lost (as ye haue heard whyleare) And finding in the way the scattred scarfe, The fortune of her life long time did feare. But of her health when Artegall did heare, And safe returne, he was full inly glad, And askt him where, and when her bridale cheare Should be solemniz’d: for if time he had, He would be there, and honor to her spousall ad. Within three daies (quoth hee[254]) as I do here, iv It will be at the Castle of the strond; What time if naught me let, I will be there To doe her seruice, so as I am bond. But in my way a little here beyond A cursed cruell Sarazin doth wonne, That keepes a Bridges passage by strong hond, And many errant Knights hath there fordonne; That makes all men for feare that passage for to shonne. What mister wight (quoth he) and how far hence v Is he, that doth to trauellers such harmes? He is (said he) a man of great defence; Expert in battell and in deedes of armes; And more emboldned by the wicked charmes, With which his daughter doth him still support; Hauing great Lordships got and goodly farmes, Through strong oppression of his powre extort; By which he stil them holds, and keepes with strong effort. And dayly he his wrongs encreaseth more, vi For neuer wight he lets to passe that way,[255] Ouer his Bridge, albee he rich or poore, But he him makes his passage-penny pay: Else he doth hold him backe or beat away. Thereto he hath a groome of euill guize, Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray, Which pols and pils the poore in piteous wize; But he him selfe vppon the rich doth tyrannize. His name is hight Pollente, rightly so vii For that he is so puissant and strong, That with his powre he all doth ouergo, And makes them subiect to his mighty wrong; And some by sleight he eke doth vnderfong. For on a Bridge he custometh to fight, Which is but narrow, but exceeding long; And in the same are many trap fals pight, Through which the rider downe doth fall through ouersight.[256] And vnderneath the same a riuer flowes, viii That is both swift and dangerous deepe withall; Into the which whom so he ouerthrowes, All destitute of helpe doth headlong fall, But he him selfe, through practise vsuall, Leapes forth into the floud, and there assaies His foe confused through his sodaine fall, That horse and man he equally dismaies, And either both them drownes, or trayterously slaies. Then doth he take the spoile of them at will, ix And to his daughter brings, that dwels thereby: Who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill The coffers of her wicked threasury; Which she with wrongs hath heaped vp so hy, That many Princes she in wealth exceedes, And purchast all the countrey lying ny With the reuenue of her plenteous meedes, Her name is Munera, agreeing with her deedes. Thereto she is full faire, and rich attired, x With golden hands and siluer feete beside, That many Lords haue her to wife desired: But she them all despiseth for great pride. Now by my life (sayd he) and God to guide, None other way will I this day betake, But by that Bridge, whereas he doth abide: Therefore me thither lead. No more he spake, But thitherward forthright his ready way did make. Vnto the place he came within a while, xi Where on the Bridge he ready armed saw The Sarazin, awayting for some spoile. Who[257] as they to the passage gan to draw, A villaine to them came with scull all raw, That passage money did of them require, According to the custome of their law. To whom he aunswerd wroth, Loe[258] there thy hire; And with that word him strooke, that streight he did expire. Which when the Pagan saw, he wexed wroth, xii And streight him selfe vnto the fight addrest, Ne was Sir Artegall behinde: so both Together ran with ready speares in rest. Right in the midst, whereas they brest to brest Should meete, a trap was letten downe to fall Into the floud: streight leapt the Carle vnblest, Well weening that his foe was falne withall: But he was well aware, and leapt before his fall. There being both together in the floud, xiii They each at other tyrannously flew; Ne ought the water cooled their whot bloud, But rather in them kindled choler new. But there the Paynim, who that vse well knew To fight in water, great aduantage had, That oftentimes him nigh he ouerthrew: And eke the courser, whereuppon he rad, Could swim like to a fish, whiles he his backe bestrad. Which oddes when as Sir Artegall espide, xiv He saw no way, but close with him in hast; And to him driuing strongly downe the tide, Vppon his iron coller griped fast, That with the straint his wesand nigh he brast. There they together stroue and struggled long, Either the other from his steede to cast; Ne euer Artegall his griple strong For any thing wold[259] slacke, but still vppon him hong. As when a Dolphin and a Sele are met, xv In the wide champian of the Ocean plaine: With cruell chaufe their courages they whet, The maysterdome of each by force to gaine, And dreadfull battaile twixt them do darraine: They snuf, they snort, they bounce, they rage, they rore, That all the sea disturbed with their traine, Doth frie with fome aboue the surges hore. Such was betwixt these two the troublesome vprore. So Artegall at length him forst forsake xvi His horses backe, for dread of being drownd, And to his handy swimming him betake. Eftsoones him selfe he from his hold vnbownd, And then no ods at all in him he fownd: For Artegall in swimming skilfull was, And durst the depth of any water sownd. So ought each Knight, that vse of perill has, In swimming be expert through waters force to pas. Then very doubtfull was the warres euent, xvii Vncertaine whether had the better side: For both were skild in that experiment, And both in armes well traind and throughly tride. But Artegall was better breath’d beside, And towards th’end, grew greater in his might, That his faint foe no longer could abide His puissance, ne beare him selfe vpright, But from the water to the land betooke his flight. But Artegall pursewd him still so neare, xviii With bright Chrysaor in his cruell hand, That as his head he gan a litle reare Aboue the brincke, to tread vpon the land, He smote it off, that tumbling on the strand It bit the earth for very fell despight, And gnashed with his teeth, as if he band High God, whose goodnesse he despaired quight, Or curst the hand, which did that vengeance on him dight.[260] His corps was carried downe along the Lee, xix Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned: But his blasphemous head, that all might see, He pitcht vpon a pole on high ordayned; Where many years it afterwards remayned, To be a mirrour to all mighty men, In whose right hands great power is contayned, That none of them the feeble ouerren, But alwaies doe their powre within iust compasse pen. That done, vnto the Castle he did wend, xx In which the Paynims daughter did abide, Guarded of many which did her defend: Of whom he entrance sought, but was denide, And with reprochfull blasphemy defide, Beaten with stones downe from the battilment, That he was forced to withdraw aside; And bad his seruant Talus to inuent Which way he enter might, without endangerment. Eftsoones his Page drew to the Castle gate, xxi And with his iron flale at it let flie, That all the warders it did sore amate, The which erewhile spake so reprochfully, And made them stoupe, that looked earst so hie. Yet still he bet, and bounst vppon the dore, And thundred strokes thereon so hideouslie, That all the peece he shaked from the flore, And filled all the house with feare and great vprore. With noise whereof the Lady forth appeared xxii Vppon the Castle wall, and when she saw The daungerous state, in which she stood, she feared The sad effect of her neare ouerthrow; And gan entreat that iron man below, To cease his outrage, and him faire besought, Sith neither force of stones which they did throw, Nor powr of charms, which she against him wrought, Might otherwise preuaile, or make him cease for ought. But when as yet she saw him to proceede, xxiii Vnmou’d with praiers, or with piteous thought, She ment him to corrupt with goodly meede; And causde great sackes with endlesse riches fraught, Vnto the battilment to be vpbrought, And powred forth ouer the Castle wall, That she might win some time, though dearly bought Whilest he to gathering of the gold did fall. But he was nothing mou’d, nor tempted therewithall. But still continu’d his assault the more, xxiv And layd on load with his huge yron flaile, That at the length he has yrent the dore, And made way for his maister to assaile. Who being entred, nought did then auaile For wight, against his powre them selues to reare: Each one did flie; their hearts began to faile, And hid them selues in corners here and there; And eke their dame halfe dead did hide her self for feare. Long they her sought, yet no where could they finde her, xxv That sure they ween’d she was escapt away: But Talus, that could like a limehound winde her, And all things secrete wisely could bewray, At length found out, whereas she hidden lay Vnder an heape of gold. Thence he her drew By the faire lockes, and fowly did array, Withouten pitty of her goodly hew, That Artegall him selfe her seemelesse plight did rew. Yet for no pitty would he change the course xxvi Of Iustice, which in Talus hand did lye; Who rudely hayld her forth without remorse, Still holding vp her suppliant hands on hye, And kneeling at his feete submissiuely. But he her suppliant hands, those hands of gold, And eke her feete, those feete of siluer trye, Which sought vnrighteousnesse, and iustice sold, Chopt off, and nayld on high, that all might them behold. Her selfe then tooke he by the sclender[261] wast, xxvii In vaine loud crying, and into the flood Ouer the Castle wall adowne her cast, And there her drowned in the durty mud: But the streame washt away her guilty blood. Thereafter all that mucky pelfe he tooke, The spoile of peoples euill gotten good, The which her sire had scrap’t by hooke and crooke, And burning all to ashes, powr’d it downe the brooke. And lastly all that Castle quite he raced, xxviii Euen from the sole of his foundation, And all the hewen stones thereof defaced, That there mote be no hope of reparation, Nor memory thereof to any nation. All which when Talus throughly had perfourmed, Sir Artegall vndid the euill fashion, And wicked customes of that Bridge refourmed. Which done, vnto his former iourney he retourned. In which they measur’d mickle weary way, xxix Till that at length nigh to the sea they drew; By which as they did trauell on a day, They saw before them, far as they could vew, Full many people gathered in a crew; Whose great assembly they did much admire. For neuer there the like resort they knew. So towardes them they coasted, to enquire What thing so many nations met, did there desire. There they beheld a mighty Gyant stand xxx Vpon a rocke, and holding forth on hie An huge great paire of ballance in his hand, With which he boasted in his surquedrie, That all the world he would weigh equallie, If ought he had the same to counterpoys. For want whereof he weighed vanity, And hid his ballaunce full of idle toys: Yet was admired much of fooles, women, and boys. He sayd that he would all the earth vptake, xxxi And all the sea, deuided each from either: So would he of the fire one ballaunce make, And one of th’ayre, without or wind, or wether: Then would he ballaunce heauen and hell together, And all that did within them all containe; Of all whose weight, he would not misse a fether. And looke what surplus did of each remaine, He would to his owne part restore the same againe. For why, he sayd they all vnequall were, xxxii And had encroched vppon others share, Like as the sea (which plaine he shewed there) Had worne the earth[262], so did the fire the aire, So all the rest did others parts empaire. And so were realmes and nations run awry. All which he vndertooke for to repaire, In sort as they were formed aunciently; And all things would reduce vnto equality. Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke, xxxiii And cluster thicke vnto his leasings vaine, Like foolish flies about an hony crocke, In hope by him great benefite to gaine, And vncontrolled freedome to obtaine. All which when Artegall did see, and heare, How he mis-led the simple peoples traine, In sdeignfull wize he drew vnto him neare, And thus vnto him spake, without regard or feare. Thou that presum’st to weigh the world anew, xxxiv And all things to an equall to restore, In stead of right me seemes great wrong dost shew, And far aboue thy forces pitch to sore. For ere thou limit what is lesse or more In euery thing, thou oughtest first to know, What was the poyse of euery part of yore: And looke then how much it doth ouerflow, Or faile thereof, so much is more then iust to trow. For at the first they all created were xxxv In goodly measure, by their Makers might, And weighed out in ballaunces so nere, That not a dram was missing of their right, The earth was in the middle centre pight, In which it doth immoueable abide, Hemd in with waters like a wall in sight; And they with aire, that not a drop can slide: Al which the heauens containe, and in their courses guide. Such heauenly iustice doth among them raine, xxxvi That euery one doe know their certaine bound, In which they doe these many yeares remaine, And mongst them al no change hath yet beene found. But if thou now shouldst weigh them new in pound, We are not sure they would so long remaine: All change is perillous, and all chaunce vnsound. Therefore leaue off to weigh them all againe, Till we may be assur’d they shall their course retaine. Thou foolishe Elfe (said then the Gyant wroth) xxxvii Seest not, how badly all things present bee, And each estate quite out of order goth? The sea it selfe doest thou not plainely see Encroch vppon the land there vnder thee; And th’earth it selfe how daily its increast, By all that dying to it turned be?[263] Were it not good that wrong were then surceast, And from the most, that some were giuen to the least? Therefore I will throw downe these[264] mountaines hie, xxxviii And make them leuell with the lowly plaine: These towring rocks, which reach vnto the skie, I will thrust downe into the deepest maine, And as they were, them equalize againe. Tyrants that make men subiect to their law, I will suppresse, that they no more may raine; And Lordings curbe, that commons ouer-aw; And all the wealth of rich men to the poore will draw. Of things vnseene how canst thou deeme aright, xxxix Then answered the righteous Artegall, Sith thou misdeem’st so much of things in sight? What though the sea with waues continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all: Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought, For whatsoeuer from one place doth fall, Is with the tide vnto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought. Likewise the earth is not augmented more, xl By all that dying into it doe fade. For of the earth they formed were of yore, How euer gay their blossome or their blade Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade. What wrong then is it, if that when they die, They turne to that, whereof they first were made? All in the powre of their great Maker lie: All creatures must obey the voice of the most hie. They liue, they die, like as he doth ordaine, xli Ne euer any asketh reason why. The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine; The dales doe not the lofty hils enuy. He maketh Kings to sit in souerainty; He maketh subiects to their powre obay; He pulleth downe, he setteth vp on hy; He giues to this, from that he takes away. For all we haue is his: what he list doe, he may. What euer thing is done, by him is donne, xlii Ne any may his mighty will withstand; Ne any may his soueraine power shonne, Ne loose that he hath bound with stedfast band. In vaine therefore doest thou now take in hand, To call to count, or weigh his workes anew, Whose counsels depth thou canst not vnderstand, Sith of things subiect to thy daily vew Thou doest not know the causes, nor their courses dew. For take thy ballaunce, if thou be so wise, xliii And weigh the winde, that vnder heauen doth blow; Or weigh the light, that in the East doth rise; Or weigh the thought, that from mans mind doth flow. But if the weight of these thou canst not show, Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall. For how canst thou those greater secrets know, That doest not know the least thing of them all? Ill can he rule the great, that cannot reach the small. Therewith the Gyant much abashed sayd; xliv That he of little things made reckoning light, Yet the least word that euer could be layd Within his ballaunce, he could way aright. Which is (sayd he) more heauy then in weight, The right or wrong, the false or else the trew? He answered, that he would try it streight, So he the words into his ballaunce threw, But streight the winged words out of his ballaunce flew. Wroth wext he then, and sayd, that words were light, xlv Ne would within his ballaunce well abide. But he could iustly weigh the wrong or right. Well then, sayd Artegall, let it be tride. First in one ballance set the true aside. He did so first; and then the false he layd In th’other scale; but still it downe did slide, And by no meane could in the weight be stayd. For by no meanes the false will with the truth be wayd. Now take the right likewise, sayd Artegall, xlvi And counterpeise the same with so much wrong. So first the right he put into one scale; And then the Gyant stroue with puissance strong To fill the other scale with so much wrong. But all the wrongs that he therein could lay, Might not it peise; yet did he labour long, And swat, and chauf’d, and proued euery way: Yet all the wrongs could not a litle right downe way[265]. Which when he saw, he greatly grew in rage, xlvii And almost would his balances haue broken: But Artegall him fairely gan asswage, And said; Be[266] not vpon thy balance wroken: For they doe nought but right or wrong betoken; But in the mind the doome of right must bee; And so likewise of words, the which be spoken, The eare must be the ballance, to decree And iudge, whether with truth or falshood they agree. But set the truth and set the right aside, xlviii For they with wrong or falshood will not fare; And put two wrongs together to be tride, Or else two falses, of each equall share; And then together doe them both compare. For truth is one, and right is euer one. So did he, and then plaine it did appeare, Whether of them the greater were attone. But right sate in the middest of the beame alone. But he the right from thence did thrust away, xlix For it was not the right, which he did seeke; But rather stroue extremities to way, Th’one to diminish, th’other for to eeke. For of the meane he greatly did misleeke. Whom when so lewdly minded Talus found, Approching nigh vnto him cheeke by cheeke, He shouldered him from off the higher ground, And down the rock him throwing, in the sea him dround. Like as a ship, whom cruell tempest driues l Vpon a rocke with horrible dismay, Her shattered ribs in thousand peeces riues, And spoyling all her geares and goodly ray, Does make[267] her selfe misfortunes piteous pray. So downe the cliffe the wretched Gyant tumbled; His battred ballances in peeces lay, His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled, So was the high aspyring with huge ruine humbled. That when the people, which had there about li Long wayted, saw his sudden desolation, They gan to gather in tumultuous rout, And mutining, to stirre vp ciuill faction, For certaine losse of so great expectation. For well they hoped to haue got great good,[268] And wondrous riches by his innouation. Therefore resoluing to reuenge his blood, They rose in armes, and all in battell order stood. Which lawlesse multitude him comming too lii In warlike wise, when Artegall did vew, He much was troubled, ne wist what to doo. For loth he was his noble hands t’embrew In the base blood of such a rascall crew; And otherwise, if that he should retire, He fear’d least they with shame would him pursew. Therefore he Talus to them sent, t’inquire The cause of their array, and truce for to desire. But soone as they him nigh approching spide, liii They gan with all their weapons him assay, And rudely stroke[269] at him on euery side: Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought dismay. But when at them he with his flaile gan lay, He like a swarme of flyes them ouerthrew; Ne any of them durst come in his way, But here and there before his presence flew, And hid themselues in holes and bushes from his vew. As when a Faulcon hath with nimble flight liv Flowne at a flush of Ducks, foreby the brooke, The trembling foule dismayd with dreadfull sight Of death, the which them almost ouertooke, Doe hide themselues from her astonying looke, Amongst the flags and couert round about. When Talus saw they all the field forsooke And none appear’d of all that raskall rout, To Artegall he turn’d, and went with him throughout.