SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 8)

The theues fall out for Pastorell, Whilest Melibee is slaine: Her Calidore from them redeemes, And bringeth backe againe.

The ioyes of loue, if they should euer last, i Without affliction or disquietnesse, That worldly chaunces doe amongst them cast, Would be on earth too great a blessednesse, Liker to heauen, then mortall wretchednesse. Therefore the winged God, to let men weet, That here on earth is no sure happinesse, A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet, To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet. Like as is now befalne to this faire Mayd, ii Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song, Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd, Amongst those theeues, which her in bondage strong Detaynd, yet Fortune not with all this wrong Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw, And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng; That who so heares her heauinesse, would rew And pitty her sad plight, so chang’d from pleasaunt hew. Whylest thus she in these hellish dens remayned, iii Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts vnrest, It so befell (as Fortune had ordayned) That he, which was their Capitaine profest, And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest, One day as he did all his prisoners vew, With lustfull eyes,[575] beheld that louely guest, Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull hew Like the faire Morning clad in misty fog did shew. At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired, iv And inly burnt with flames most raging whot, That her alone he for his part desired Of all the other pray, which they had got, And her in mynde did to him selfe allot. From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,[576] And sought her loue, by all the meanes he mote; With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed; And mixed threats among, and much vnto her vowed. But all that euer he could doe or say, v Her constant mynd could not a whit remoue, Nor draw vnto the lure of his lewd lay, To graunt him fauour, or afford him loue. Yet ceast he not to sew and all waies proue, By which he mote accomplish his request, Saying and doing all that mote behoue; Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest, But her all night did watch, and all the day molest. At last when him she so importune saw, vi Fearing least he at length the raines would lend Vnto his lust, and make his will his law, Sith in his powre she was to foe or frend, She thought it best, for shadow to pretend Some shew of fauour, by him gracing small, That she thereby mote either freely wend, Or at more ease continue there his thrall: A little well is lent, that gaineth more withall. So from thenceforth, when loue he to her made, vii With better tearmes she did him entertaine, Which gaue him hope, and did him halfe perswade, That he in time her ioyaunce should obtaine. But when she saw, through that small fauours gaine, That further, then she willing was, he prest, She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine A sodaine sickenesse, which her sore opprest, And made vnfit to serue his lawlesse mindes behest. By meanes whereof she would not him permit viii Once to approch to her in priuity, But onely mongst the rest by her to sit, Mourning the rigour of her malady, And seeking all things meete for remedy. But she resolu’d no remedy to fynde, Nor better cheare to shew in misery, Till Fortune would her captiue bonds vnbynde, Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde. During which space that she thus sicke did lie, ix It chaunst a sort of merchants, which were wount To skim those coastes, for bondmen there to buy, And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt, Arriued in this Isle though bare and blunt, T’inquire for slaues; where being readie met By some of these same theeues at the instant[577] brunt, Were brought vnto their Captaine, who was set By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret. To whom they shewed, how those marchants were x Arriu’d in place, their bondslaues for to buy, And therefore prayd, that those same captiues there Mote to them for their most commodity Be sold, and mongst them shared equally. This their request the Captaine much appalled; Yet could he not their iust demaund deny, And willed streight the slaues should forth be[578] called, And sold for most aduantage not to be forstalled. Then forth the good old Melibœ was brought, xi And Coridon, with many other moe, Whom they before in diuerse spoyles had caught: All which he to the marchants sale did showe. Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe, Gan to inquire for that[579] faire shepherdesse, Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe, And gan her forme and feature to expresse, The more t’augment her price, through praise of comlinesse. To whom the Captaine in full angry wize xii Made answere, that the Mayd of whom they spake, Was his owne purchase and his onely prize, With which none had to doe, ne ought partake, But he himselfe, which did that conquest make; Litle for him to haue one silly lasse: Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake, That nothing meet in marchandise to passe. So shew’d them her, to proue how pale and weake she was. The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard, xiii And eke but hardly seene by candle-light, Yet like a Diamond of rich regard, In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night, With starrie beames about her shining bright, These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze, That what through wonder, and what through delight, A while on her they greedily did gaze, And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize. At last when all the rest them offred were, xiv And prises[580] to them placed at their pleasure, They all refused in regard of her, Ne ought would buy, how euer prisd with measure, Withouten her, whose worth aboue all threasure They did esteeme, and offred store of gold. But then the Captaine fraught with more displeasure, Bad them be still, his loue should not be sold: The rest take if they would, he her to him would hold. Therewith some other of the chiefest theeues xv Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare; For that same mayd, how euer it him greeues, Should with the rest be sold before him theare, To make the prises[581] of the rest more deare. That with great rage he stoutly doth denay; And fiercely drawing forth his blade, doth sweare, That who so hardie hand on her doth lay, It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay. Thus as they words amongst them multiply, xvi They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke, And the mad steele about doth fiercely fly, Not sparing wight, ne leauing any balke, But making way for death at large to walke: Who in the horror of the griesly night, In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke, And makes huge hauocke, whiles the candlelight Out quenched, leaues no skill nor difference of wight. Like as a sort of hungry dogs ymet xvii About some carcase by the common way, Doe fall together, stryuing each to get The greatest portion of the greedie pray; All on confused heapes themselues assay, And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare; That who them sees, would wonder at their tray, And who sees not, would be affrayd to heare. Such was the conflict of those cruell Brigants there. But first of all, their captiues they doe kill, xviii Least they should ioyne against the weaker side, Or rise against the remnant at their will; Old Melibœ is slaine, and him beside His aged wife, with many others wide, But Coridon escaping craftily, Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide, And flyes away as fast as he can hye, Ne stayeth leaue to take, before his friends doe dye. But Pastorella, wofull wretched Elfe, xix Was by the Captaine all this while defended, Who minding more her safety then himselfe, His target alwayes ouer her pretended;[582] By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended, He at the length was slaine, and layd on ground, Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended Fayre Pastorell, who with the selfe same wound Launcht through the arme, fell down with him in drerie swound. There lay she couered with confused preasse xx Of carcases, which dying on her fell. Tho when as he was dead, the fray gan ceasse, And each to other calling, did compell To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell, Sith they that were the cause of all, were gone. Thereto they all attonce agreed well, And lighting candles new, gan search anone, How many of their friends were slaine, how many fone. Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild, xxi And in his armes the dreary dying mayd, Like a sweet Angell twixt two clouds vphild: Her louely light was dimmed and decayd, With cloud of death vpon her eyes displayd; Yet did the cloud make euen that dimmed light Seeme much more louely in that darknesse layd, And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright, To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night. But when they mou’d the carcases aside, xxii They found that life did yet in her remaine: Then all their helpes they busily applyde, To call the soule backe to her home againe; And wrought so well with labour and long paine, That they to life recouered her at last. Who sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine Had riuen bene, and all her hart strings brast, With drearie drouping eyne lookt vp like one aghast. There she beheld, that sore her grieu’d to see, xxiii Her father and her friends about her lying, Her selfe sole left, a second spoyle to bee Of those, that hauing saued her from dying, Renew’d her death by timely death denying: What now is left her, but to wayle and weepe, Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying? Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe, Albe with all their might those Brigants her did keepe. But when they saw her now reliu’d[583] againe, xxiv They left her so, in charge of one the best Of many worst, who with vnkind disdaine And cruell rigour her did much molest; Scarse yeelding her due food, or timely rest, And scarsely suffring her infestred wound, That sore her payn’d, by any to be drest. So leaue we her in wretched thraldome bound, And turne we backe to Calidore, where we him found. Who when he backe returned from the wood, xxv And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight, And his loue reft away, he wexed wood, And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight, That euen his hart for very fell despight, And his owne flesh he readie was to teare, He chauft, he grieu’d, he fretted, and he sight, And fared like a furious wyld Beare, Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere. Ne wight he found, to whom he might complaine, xxvi Ne wight he found, of whom he might inquire; That more increast the anguish of his paine. He sought the woods; but no man could see there:[584] He sought the plaines; but could no tydings heare. The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound; The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare: Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound, And feed an hundred flocks, there now not one he found. At last as there he romed vp and downe, xxvii He chaunst one comming towards him to spy, That seem’d to be some sorie simple clowne, With ragged weedes, and lockes vpstaring hye, As if he did from some late daunger fly, And yet his feare did follow him behynd: Who as he vnto him approched nye, He mote perceiue by signes, which he did fynd, That Coridon it was, the silly shepherds hynd. Tho to him running fast, he did not stay xxviii To greet him first, but askt where were the rest; Where Pastorell? who full of fresh dismay, And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest, That he no word could speake, but smit his brest, And vp to heauen his eyes fast streming threw. Whereat the knight amaz’d, yet did not rest, But askt againe, what ment that rufull hew; Where was his Pastorell? where all the other crew? Ah well away (sayd he then sighing sore) xxix That euer I did liue, this day to see, This dismall day, and was not dead before, Before I saw faire Pastorella dye. Die? out alas![585] then Calidore did cry: How could the death dare euer her to quell? But read thou shepheard, read what destiny, Or other dyrefull hap from heauen or hell Hath wrought this wicked deed, doe feare away, and tell. Tho when the shepheard breathed had a whyle, xxx He thus began: Where[586] shall I then commence This wofull tale? or how those Brigants vyle, With cruell rage and dreadfull violence Spoyld all our cots, and caried vs from hence? Or how faire Pastorell should haue bene sold To marchants, but was sau’d with strong defence? Or how those theeues, whilest one sought her to hold, Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold. In that same conflict (woe is me) befell xxxi This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident, Whose heauy tydings now I haue to tell. First all the captiues, which they here had hent, Were by them slaine by generall consent; Old Melibœ and his good wife withall These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament: But when the lot to Pastorell did fall, Their Captaine long withstood, and did her death forstall. But what could he gainst all them doe alone?[587] xxxii It could not boot, needs mote she die at last: I onely scapt through great confusione Of cryes and clamors, which amongst them past, In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast; That better were with them to haue bene dead, Then here to see all desolate and wast, Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead,[588] Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead. When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught, xxxiii His hart quite deaded was with anguish great, And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught, That he his face, his head, his brest did beat, And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat; Oft cursing th’heauens, that so cruell were To her, whose name he often did repeat; And wishing oft, that he were present there, When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere. But after griefe awhile had had his course, xxxiv And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last Began to mitigate his swelling sourse, And in his mind with better reason cast, How he might saue her life, if life did last; Or if that dead, how he her death might wreake, Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past; Or if it to reuenge he were too weake, Then for to die with her, and his liues threed to breake. Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew xxxv The readie way vnto that theeuish wonne, To wend with him, and be his conduct trew Vnto the place, to see what should be donne. But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne, Would not for ought be drawne to former drede, But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne: Yet Calidore so well him wrought with meed, And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed. So forth they goe together (God before) xxxvi Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably, And both with shepheards hookes: But Calidore Had vnderneath, him armed priuily. Tho to the place when they[589] approched nye, They chaunst, vpon an hill not farre away, Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy; To whom they both agreed to take their way, In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay. There did they find, that which they did not feare, xxxvii The selfe same flocks, the which those theeues had reft From Melibœ and from themselues[590] whyleare, And certaine of the theeues there by them left, The which for want of heards themselues then kept. Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe, And seeing them, for tender pittie wept: But when he saw the theeues, which did them keepe,[591] His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe. But Calidore recomforting his griefe, xxxviii Though not his feare; for nought may feare disswade; Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade, Whom Coridon him counseld to inuade Now all vnwares, and take the spoyle away; But he, that in his mind had closely made A further purpose, would not so them slay, But gently waking them, gaue them the time of day. Tho sitting downe by them vpon the greene, xxxix Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine; That he by them might certaine tydings weene Of Pastorell, were she aliue or slaine. Mongst which the theeues them questioned againe, What mister men, and eke from whence they were. To whom they answer’d, as did appertaine, That they were poore heardgroomes, the which whylere Had from their maisters fled, and now sought hyre elswhere. Whereof right glad they seem’d, and offer made xl To hyre them well, if they their flockes would keepe: For they themselues were euill groomes, they sayd, Vnwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe, But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe. Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke, To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe: For they for better hyre did shortly looke, So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke. Tho when as towards darksome night it drew, xli Vnto their hellish dens those theeues them brought, Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew, And all the secrets of their entrayles sought. There did they find, contrarie to their thought, That Pastorell yet liu’d, but all the rest Were dead, right so as Coridon had taught: Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest, But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had most possest. At length when they occasion fittest found, xlii In dead of night, when all the theeues did rest After a late forray, and slept full sound, Sir Calidore him arm’d, as he thought best, Hauing of late by diligent inquest, Prouided him a sword of meanest sort: With which he streight went to the Captaines nest. But Coridon durst not with him consort, Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse effort. When to the Caue they came, they found it fast: xliii But Calidore with huge resistlesse might, The dores assayled, and the locks vpbrast. With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light, Vnto the entrance ran: where the bold knight Encountring him with small resistance slew; The whiles faire Pastorell through great affright Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new Some vprore were like that, which lately she did vew. But when as Calidore was comen in, xliv And gan aloud for Pastorell to call, Knowing his voice although not heard long sin, She sudden was reuiued therewithall, And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall: Like him that being long in tempest tost, Looking each houre into deathes mouth to fall, At length espyes at hand the happie cost, On which he safety hopes, that earst feard to be lost. Her gentle hart, that now long season past xlv Had neuer ioyance felt, nor chearefull thought, Began some smacke of comfort new to tast, Like lyfull[592] heat to nummed senses brought, And life to feele, that long for death had sought; Ne lesse in hart reioyced Calidore, When he her found, but like to one distraught And robd of reason, towards her him bore, A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more. But now by this, with noyse of late vprore, xlvi The hue and cry was raysed all about; And all the Brigants flocking in great store, Vnto the caue gan preasse, nought hauing dout Of that was doen, and entred in a rout. But Calidore in th’entry close did stand, And entertayning them with courage stout, Still slew the formost, that came first to hand, So long till all the entry was with bodies mand. Tho when no more could nigh to him approch, xlvii He breath’d his sword, and rested him till day, Which when he spyde vpon the earth t’encroch, Through the dead carcases he made his way, Mongst which he found a sword of better say, With which he forth went into th’open light: Where all the rest for him did readie stay, And fierce assayling him, with all their might Gan all vpon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight. How many flyes in whottest sommers day xlviii Do seize vpon some beast, whose flesh is bare, That all the place with swarmes do ouerlay, And with their litle stings right felly fare, So many theeues about him swarming are, All which do him assayle on euery side, And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare: But he doth with his raging brond diuide Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth wide. Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere, xlix Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray, So did he fly amongst them here and there, And all that nere him came, did hew and slay, Till he had strowd with bodies all the way; That none his daunger daring to abide, Fled from his wrath, and did themselues conuay Into their caues, their heads from death to hide, Ne any left, that victorie to him enuide. Then backe returning to his dearest deare, l He her gan to recomfort, all he might, With gladfull speaches, and with louely cheare, And forth her bringing to the ioyous light, Whereof she long had lackt the wishfull sight, Deuiz’d all goodly meanes, from her to driue The sad remembrance of her wretched plight. So her vneath at last he did reuiue, That long had lyen dead, and made againe aliue. This doen, into those theeuish dens he went, li And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take, Which they from many long had robd and rent, But fortune now the victors meed did make; Of which the best he did his loue betake; And also all those flockes, which they before Had reft from Melibœ and from his make, He did them all to Coridon restore.[593] So droue them all away, and his loue with him bore.

Fayre Pastorella by great hap her parents understands, Calidore doth the Blatant beast subdew, and bynd in bands.

Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde i Directs her course vnto one certaine cost, Is met of many a counter winde and tyde, With which her winged speed is let and crost, And she her selfe in stormie surges tost; Yet making many a borde, and many a bay, Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost: Right so it fares with me in this long way, Whose course is often stayd, yet neuer is astray. For all that hetherto hath long delayd ii This gentle knight, from sewing his first quest, Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd, To shew the courtesie by him profest, Euen vnto the lowest and the least. But now I come into my course againe, To his atchieuement of the Blatant beast; Who all this while at will did range and raine, Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine. Sir Calidore when thus he now had raught iii Faire Pastorella from those Brigants powre, Vnto the Castle of Belgard her brought, Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure; Who whylome was in his youthes freshest flowre A lustie knight, as euer wielded speare, And had endured many a dreadfull stoure In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare, The fayrest Ladie then of all that liuing were. Her name was Claribell, whose father hight iv The Lord of Many Ilands, farre renound For his great riches and his greater might. He through the wealth, wherein he did abound, This daughter thought in wedlocke to haue bound Vnto the Prince of Picteland bordering nere, But she whose sides before with secret wound Of loue to Bellamoure empierced were, By all meanes shund to match with any forrein fere. And Bellamour againe so well her pleased, v With dayly seruice and attendance dew, That of her loue he was entyrely seized, And closely did her wed, but knowne to few. Which when her father vnderstood, he grew In so great rage, that them in dongeon deepe Without compassion cruelly he threw; Yet did so streightly them a sunder keepe, That neither could to company of th’other creepe. Nathlesse Sir Bellamour, whether through grace vi Or secret guifts so with his keepers wrought, That to his loue sometimes he came in place, Whereof her wombe vnwist to wight was fraught, And in dew time a mayden child forth brought. Which she streight way for dread least, if her syre Should know thereof, to slay he would haue sought, Deliuered to her handmayd, that for hyre She should it cause be fostred vnder straunge attyre. The trustie damzell bearing it abrode vii Into the emptie fields, where liuing wight Mote not bewray the secret of her lode, She forth gan lay vnto the open light The litle babe, to take thereof a sight. Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold, Vpon the litle brest like christall bright, She mote perceiue a litle purple mold, That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold. Well she it markt, and pittied the more, viii Yet could not remedie her wretched case, But closing it againe like as before, Bedeaw’d with teares there left it in the place: Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde, To weet what mortall hand, or heauens grace Would for the wretched infants helpe prouyde, For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde. At length a Shepheard, which there by did keepe ix His fleecie flocke vpon the playnes around, Led with the infants cry, that loud did weepe, Came to the place, where when he wrapped found Th’abandond spoyle, he softly it vnbound; And seeing there, that did him pittie sore, He tooke it vp, and in his mantle wound; So home vnto his honest wife it bore, Who as her owne it nurst, and named euermore. Thus long continu’d Claribell a thrall, x And Bellamour in bands, till that her syre Departed life, and left vnto them all. Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre. Thenceforth they ioy’d in happinesse together, And liued long in peace and loue entyre, Without disquiet or dislike of ether[594], Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella thether Both whom they goodly well did entertaine; xi For Bellamour knew Calidore right well, And loued for his prowesse, sith they twaine Long since had fought in field. Als Claribell No lesse did tender the faire Pastorell, Seeing her weake and wan, through durance long. There they a while together thus did dwell In much delight, and many ioyes among, Vntill the damzell gan to wex more sound and strong. Tho gan Sir Calidore him to aduize xii Of his first quest, which he had long forlore, Asham’d to thinke, how he that enterprize, The which the Faery Queene had long afore Bequeath’d to him, forslacked had so sore; That much he feared, least reprochfull blame With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore; Besides the losse of so much loos[595] and fame, As through the world thereby should glorifie his name. Therefore resoluing to returne in hast xiii Vnto so great atchieuement, he bethought To leaue his loue, now perill being past, With Claribell, whylest he that monster sought Throughout[596] the world, and to destruction brought. So taking leaue of his faire Pastorell, Whom to recomfort, all the meanes he wrought, With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell, He went forth on his quest, and did, that him befell. But first, ere I doe his aduentures tell, xiv In this exploite, me needeth to declare, What did betide to the faire Pastorell, During his absence left in heauy care, Through daily mourning, and nightly misfare: Yet did that auncient matrone all she might, To cherish her with all things choice and rare; And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight, Appointed to attend her dewly day and night. Who in a morning, when this Mayden faire xv Was dighting her, hauing her snowy brest As yet not laced, nor her golden haire Into their comely tresses dewly drest, Chaunst to espy vpon her yuory chest The rosie marke, which she remembred well That litle Infant had, which forth she kest, The daughter of her Lady Claribell, The which she bore, the whiles in prison she did dwell. Which well auizing, streight she gan to cast xvi In her conceiptfull mynd, that this faire Mayd Was that same infant, which so long sith[597] past She in the open fields had loosely layd To fortunes spoile, vnable it to ayd. So full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast Vnto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd, To tell her, how the heauens had her graste, To saue her chylde, which in misfortunes mouth was plaste. The sober mother seeing such her mood, xvii Yet knowing not, what meant that sodaine thro, Askt her, how mote her words be vnderstood, And what the matter was, that mou’d her so. My liefe (sayd she) ye know, that long ygo, Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gaue A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho; The same againe if now ye list to haue, The same is yonder Lady, whom high God did saue. Much was the Lady troubled at that speach, xviii And gan to question streight how she it knew. Most certaine markes, (sayd she) do me it teach, For on her brest I with these eyes did vew The litle purple rose, which thereon grew, Whereof her name ye then to her did giue. Besides her countenaunce, and her likely hew, Matched with equall yeares, do surely prieue That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet doth liue[598]. The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire, xix But forth in hast ran to the straunger Mayd; Whom catching greedily for great desire, Rent vp her brest, and bosome open layd, In which that rose she plainely saw displayd. Then her embracing twixt her armes twaine, She long so held, and softly weeping sayd; And liuest thou my daughter now againe? And art thou yet aliue, whom dead I long did faine[599]? Tho further asking her of sundry things, xx And times comparing with their accidents, She found at last by very certaine signes, And speaking markes of passed monuments, That this young Mayd, whom chance to her presents Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare. Tho wondring long at those so straunge euents, A thousand times she her embraced nere, With many a ioyfull kisse, and many a melting teare. Who euer is the mother of one chylde, xxi Which hauing thought long dead, she fyndes aliue, Let her by proofe of that, which she hath fylde In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descriue: For other none such passion can contriue In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt, When she so faire a daughter saw suruiue, As Pastorella was, that nigh she swelt For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt. Thence running forth vnto her loued Lord, xxii She vnto him recounted, all that fell: Who ioyning ioy with her in one accord, Acknowledg’d for his owne faire Pastorell. There leaue we them in ioy, and let vs tell Of Calidore, who seeking all this while That monstrous Beast by finall force to quell, Through euery place, with restlesse paine and toile Him follow’d, by the tract[600] of his outragious spoile. Through all estates he found that he had past, xxiii In which he many massacres had left, And to the Clergy now was come at last; In which such spoile, such hauocke, and such theft He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft, That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin Knight, Who now no place besides vnsought had left, At length into a Monastere did light, Where he him found despoyling all with maine and might. Into their cloysters now he broken had, xxiv Through which the Monckes he chaced here and there, And them pursu’d into their dortours sad, And searched all their cels and secrets neare; In which what filth and ordure did appeare, Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule Beast Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare, And ransacke all their dennes from most to least, Regarding nought religion, nor their holy heast. From thence into the sacred Church he broke, xxv And robd the Chancell, and the deskes downe threw, And Altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke, And th’Images for all their goodly hew, Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew; So all confounded and disordered there. But seeing Calidore, away he flew, Knowing his fatall hand by former feare; But he him fast pursuing, soone approched neare. Him in a narrow place he ouertooke, xxvi And fierce assailing forst him turne againe: Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke With his sharpe steele, and ran at him amaine With open mouth, that seemed to containe A full good pecke within the vtmost brim, All set with yron teeth in raunges[601] twaine, That terrifide his foes, and armed him, Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim. And therein were a thousand tongs empight, xxvii Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality, Some were of dogs, that barked day and night, And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry, And some of Beares, that groynd continually, And some of Tygres, that did seeme to gren, And snar at all, that euer passed by: But most of them were tongues of mortall men, Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor when. And them amongst were mingled here and there, xxviii The tongues of Serpents with three forked stings, That spat out poyson and gore bloudy gere At all, that came within his rauenings, And spake licentious words, and hatefull things Of good and bad alike, of low and hie; Ne Kesars spared he a whit, nor Kings, But either blotted them with infamie, Or bit them with his banefull teeth of iniury. But Calidore thereof no whit afrayd, xxix Rencountred him with so impetuous might, That th’outrage of his violence he stayd, And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to bite, And spitting[602] forth the poyson of his spight, That fomed all about his bloody iawes. Tho rearing vp his former feete on hight, He rampt vpon him with his rauenous pawes, As if he would haue rent him with his cruell clawes. But he right well aware, his rage to ward, xxx Did cast his shield atweene, and therewithall Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu’d so hard, That backeward he enforced him to fall, And being downe, ere he new helpe could call, His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held, Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall Of butchers balefull hand to ground is feld, Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld. Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore, xxxi To be downe held, and maystred so with might, That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore, Striuing in vaine to rere him selfe vpright. For still the more he stroue, the more the Knight Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew; That made him almost mad for fell despight. He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw, And fared like a feend, right horrible in hew. Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine xxxii That great Alcides whilome ouerthrew, After that he had labourd long in vaine, To crop his thousand heads, the which still new Forth budded, and in greater number grew. Such was the fury of this hellish Beast, Whilest Calidore him vnder him downe threw; Who nathemore his heauy load releast, But aye the more he rag’d, the more his powre increast. Tho when the Beast saw, he mote nought auaile, xxxiii By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply, And sharpely at him to reuile and raile, With bitter termes of shamefull infamy; Oft interlacing many a forged lie, Whose like he neuer once did speake, nor heare, Nor euer thought thing so vnworthily: Yet did he nought for all that him forbeare, But strained him so streightly, that he chokt him neare. At last when as he found his force to shrincke, xxxiv And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzell strong Of surest yron, made with many a lincke; Therewith he mured vp his mouth along, And therein shut vp his blasphemous tong, For neuer more defaming gentle Knight, Or vnto louely Lady doing wrong: And thereunto a great long chaine he tight, With which he drew him forth, euen in his own despight. Like as whylome that strong Tirynthian swaine, xxxv Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell, Against his will fast bound in yron chaine, And roring horribly, did him compell To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell To griesly Pluto, what on earth was donne, And to the other damned ghosts, which dwell For aye in darkenesse, which day light doth shonne. So led this Knight his captyue with like conquest wonne. Yet greatly did the Beast repine at those xxxvi Straunge bands, whose like till then he neuer bore, Ne euer any durst till then impose, And chauffed inly, seeing now no more Him liberty was left aloud to rore: Yet durst he not draw backe; nor once withstand The proued powre of noble Calidore, But trembled vnderneath his mighty hand, And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land. Him through all Faery land he follow’d so, xxxvii As if he learned had obedience long, That all the people where so he did go, Out of their townes did round about him throng, To see him leade that Beast in bondage strong, And seeing it, much wondred at the sight; And all such persons, as he earst did wrong, Reioyced much to see his captiue plight, And much admyr’d the Beast, but more admyr’d the Knight. Thus was this Monster by the maystring might xxxviii Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed, That neuer more he mote endammadge wight With his vile tongue, which many had defamed, And many causelesse caused to be blamed: So did he eeke long after this remaine, Vntill that, whether wicked fate so framed, Or fault of men, he broke his yron chaine, And got into the world at liberty againe. Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath[603] he wrought xxxix To mortall men, then he had done before; Ne euer could by any more be brought Into like bands, ne maystred any more: Albe that long time after Calidore, The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand, And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore, And all his brethren borne in Britaine land; Yet none of them could euer bring him into band. So now he raungeth through the world againe, xl And rageth sore in each degree and state; Ne any is, that may him now restraine, He growen is so great and strong of late, Barking and biting all that him doe bate, Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime: Ne spareth he most learned[604] wits to rate, Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime, But rends without regard of person or of time. Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest, xli Hope[605] to escape his venemous despite, More then my former writs, all were they clearest[606] From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite, With which some wicked tongues[607] did it backebite, And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure, That neuer so deserued to endite. Therfore do you my rimes keep better measure, And seeke to please, that now is counted wisemens threasure.

Proud Change (not pleasd, in mortall things, beneath the Moone, to raigne) Pretends, as well of Gods, as Men, to be the Soueraine.

What man that sees the euer-whirling wheele i Of Change, the which all mortall things doth sway, But that therby doth find, and plainly feele, How MVTABILITY in them doth play Her cruell sports, to many mens decay? Which that to all may better yet appeare, I will rehearse that whylome I heard say, How she at first her selfe began to reare, Gainst all the Gods, and th’empire sought from them to beare. But first, here falleth fittest to vnfold ii Her antique race and linage ancient, As I haue found it registred of old, In Faery Land mongst records permanent: She was, to weet, a daughter by descent Of those old Titans, that did whylome striue With Saturnes sonne for heauens regiment. Whom, though high Ioue of kingdome did depriue, Yet many of their stemme long after did surviue. And many of them, afterwards obtain’d iii Great power of Ioue, and high authority; As Hecaté, in whose almighty hand, He plac’t all rule and principality, To be by her disposed diuersly, To Gods, and men, as she them list diuide: And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie Warres and allarums vnto Nations wide, That makes both heauen and earth to tremble at her pride. So likewise did this Titanesse aspire, iv Rule and dominion to her selfe to gaine; That as a Goddesse, men might her admire, And heauenly honours yield, as to them twaine. At first, on earth she sought it to obtaine; Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed Of her great power, to many ones great paine, That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed) But eke all other creatures, her bad dooings rewed. For, she the face of earthly things so changed, v That all which Nature had establisht first In good estate, and in meet order ranged, She did pervert, and all their statutes burst: And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst Of Gods or men to alter or misguide) She alter’d quite, and made them all accurst That God had blest; and did at first prouide In that still happy state for euer to abide. Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake, vi But eke of Iustice, and of Policie; And wrong of right, and bad of good did make, And death for life exchanged foolishlie: Since which, all liuing wights haue learn’d to die, And all this world is woxen daily worse. O pittious worke of MVTABILITIE! By which, we all are subiect to that curse, And death in stead of life haue sucked from our Nurse. And now, when all the earth she thus had brought vii To her behest, and thralled to her might, She gan to cast in her ambitious thought, T’attempt the empire[608] of the heauens hight, And Ioue himselfe to shoulder from his right. And first, she past the region of the ayre, And of the fire, whose substance thin and slight, Made no resistance, ne could her contraire, But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire. Thence, to the Circle of the Moone she clambe, viii Where Cynthia raignes in euerlasting glory, To whose bright shining palace straight she came, All fairely deckt with heauens goodly story; Whose siluer gates (by which there sate an hory Old aged Sire, with hower-glasse in hand, Hight Tyme) she entred, were he liefe or sory: Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand, Where Cynthia did sit, that neuer still did stand. Her sitting on an Iuory throne shee found, ix Drawne of two steeds, th’one black, the other white, Environd with tenne thousand starres around, That duly her attended day and night; And by her side, there ran her Page, that hight Vesper, whom we the Euening-starre intend: That with his Torche, still twinkling like twylight, Her lightened all the way where she should wend, And ioy to weary wandring trauailers did lend: That[609] when the hardy Titanesse beheld x The goodly building of her Palace bright, Made of the heauens substance, and vp-held With thousand Crystall pillors of huge hight, Shee gan to burne in her ambitious spright, And t’envie her that in such glorie raigned. Eftsoones she cast by force and tortious might, Her to displace; and to her selfe to haue gained The kingdome of the Night, and waters by her wained. Boldly she bid the Goddesse downe descend, xi And let her selfe into that Ivory throne; For, shee her selfe more worthy thereof wend, And better able it to guide alone: Whether to men, whose fall she did bemone, Or vnto Gods, whose state she did maligne, Or to th’infernall Powers, her need giue lone Of her faire light, and bounty most benigne, Her selfe of all that rule shee deemed most condigne. But shee that had to her that soueraigne seat xii By highest Ioue assign’d, therein to beare Nights burning lamp, regarded not her threat, Ne yielded ought for fauour or for feare; But with sterne countenaunce and disdainfull cheare, Bending her horned browes, did put her back: And boldly blaming her for comming there, Bade her attonce from heauens coast to pack, Or at her perill bide the wrathfull Thunders wrack. Yet nathemore the Giantesse forbare: xiii But boldly preacing-on, raught forth her hand To pluck her downe perforce from off her chaire; And there-with lifting vp her golden wand, Threatned to strike her if she did with-stand. Where-at the starres, which round about her blazed, And eke the Moones bright wagon, still did stand, All beeing with so bold attempt amazed, And on her vncouth habit and sterne looke still gazed. Meane-while, the lower World, which nothing knew xiv Of all that chaunced here, was darkned quite; And eke the heauens, and all the heauenly crew Of happy wights, now vnpurvaide of light, Were much afraid, and wondred at that sight; Fearing least Chaos broken had his chaine, And brought againe on them eternall night: But chiefely Mercury, that next doth raigne, Ran forth in haste, vnto the king of Gods to plaine. All ran together with a great out-cry, xv To Ioues faire Palace, fixt in heauens hight; And beating at his gates full earnestly, Gan call to him aloud with all their might, To know what meant that suddaine lack of light. The father of the Gods when this he heard, Was troubled much at their so strange affright, Doubting least Typhon were againe vprear’d, Or other his old foes, that once him sorely fear’d. Eftsoones the sonne of Maia forth he sent xvi Downe to the Circle of the Moone, to knowe The cause of this so strange astonishment, And why shee did her wonted course forslowe; And if that any were on earth belowe That did with charmes or Magick her molest, Him to attache, and downe to hell to throwe: But, if from heauen it were, then to arrest The Author, and him bring before his presence prest. The wingd-foot God, so fast his plumes did beat, xvii That soone he came where-as the Titanesse Was striuing with faire Cynthia for her seat: At whose strange sight, and haughty hardinesse, He wondred much, and feared her no lesse. Yet laying feare aside to doe his charge, At last, he bade her (with bold stedfastnesse) Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at large, Or come before high Ioue, her dooings to discharge. And there-with-all, he on her shoulder laid xviii His snaky-wreathed Mace, whose awfull power Doth make both Gods and hellish fiends affraid: Where-at the Titanesse did sternely lower, And stoutly answer’d, that in euill hower He from his Ioue such message to her brought, To bid her leaue faire Cynthias siluer bower; Sith shee his Ioue and him esteemed nought, No more then Cynthia’s selfe; but all their kingdoms sought. The Heauens Herald staid not to reply, xix But past away, his doings to relate Vnto his Lord; who now in th’highest sky, Was placed in his principall Estate, With all the Gods about him congregate: To whom when Hermes had his message told, It did them all exceedingly amate, Saue Ioue; who, changing nought his count’nance bold, Did vnto them at length these speeches wise vnfold; Harken to mee awhile yee heauenly Powers; xx Ye may remember since th’Earths cursed seed Sought to assaile the heauens eternall towers, And to vs all exceeding feare did breed: But how we then defeated all their deed, Yee all doe knowe, and them destroied quite; Yet not so quite, but that there did succeed An off-spring of their bloud, which did alite Vpon the fruitfull earth, which doth vs yet despite. Of that bad seed is this bold woman bred, xxi That now with bold presumption doth aspire To thrust faire Phœbe from her siluer bed, And eke our selues from heauens high Empire, If that her might were match to her desire: Wherefore, it now behoues vs to advise What way is best to driue her to retire; Whether by open force, or counsell wise, Areed ye sonnes of God, as best ye can deuise. So hauing said, he ceast; and with his brow xxii (His black eye-brow, whose doomefull dreaded beck Is wont to wield the world vnto his vow, And euen the highest Powers of heauen to check) Made signe to them in their degrees to speake: Who straight gan cast their counsell graue and wise. Meane-while, th’Earths daughter, thogh she nought did reck Of Hermes message; yet gan now advise, What course were best to take in this hot[610] bold emprize. Eftsoones she thus resolv’d; that whil’st the Gods xxiii (After returne of Hermes Embassie) Were troubled, and amongst themselues at ods, Before they could new counsels re-allie, To set vpon them in that extasie; And take what fortune time and place would lend: So, forth she rose, and through the purest sky To Ioues high Palace straight cast to ascend, To prosecute her plot: Good on-set boads good end. Shee there arriuing, boldly in did pass; xxiv Where all the Gods she found in counsell close, All quite vnarm’d, as then their manner was. At sight of her they suddaine all arose, In great amaze, ne wist what way to chose. But Ioue, all fearelesse, forc’t them to aby; And in his soueraine throne, gan straight dispose Himselfe more full of grace and Maiestie, That mote encheare his friends, and foes mote terrifie. That, when the haughty Titanesse beheld, xxv All were she fraught with pride and impudence, Yet with the sight thereof was almost queld; And inly quaking, seem’d as reft of sense, And voyd of speech in that drad audience; Vntill that Ioue himselfe, her selfe bespake: Speake thou fraile woman, speake with confidence, Whence art thou, and what doost thou here now make? What idle errand hast thou,[611] earths mansion to forsake? Shee, halfe confused with his great commaund, xxvi Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride, Him boldly answer’d thus to his demaund: I am a daughter, by the mothers side, Of her that is Grand-mother magnifide Of all the Gods, great Earth, great Chaos child: But by the fathers (be it not envide) I greater am in bloud (whereon I build) Then all the Gods, though wrongfully from heauen exil’d. For, Titan (as ye all acknowledge must) xxvii Was Saturnes elder brother by birth-right; Both, sonnes of Vranus: but by vniust And guilefull meanes, through Corybantes slight, The younger thrust the elder from his right: Since which, thou Ioue, iniuriously hast held The Heauens rule from Titans sonnes by might; And them to hellish dungeons downe hast feld: Witnesse ye Heauens the truth of all that I haue teld. Whil’st she thus spake, the Gods that gaue good eare xxviii To her bold words, and marked well her grace, Beeing of stature tall as any there Of all the Gods, and beautifull of face, As any of the Goddesses in place, Stood all astonied, like a sort of Steeres; Mongst whom, some beast of strange and forraine race, Vnwares is chaunc’t, far straying from his peeres: So did their ghastly gaze bewray their hidden feares. Till hauing pauz’d awhile, Ioue thus bespake; xxix Will neuer mortall thoughts ceasse to aspire, In this bold sort, to Heauen claime to make, And touch celestiall seates with earthly mire? I would haue thought, that bold Procrustes[612] hire, Or Typhons fall, or proud Ixions paine, Or great Prometheus, tasting of our ire, Would haue suffiz’d, the rest for to restraine; And warn’d all men by their example to refraine: But now, this off-scum of that cursed fry, xxx Dare to renew the like bold enterprize, And chalenge th’heritage of this our skie; Whom what should hinder, but that we likewise Should handle as the rest of her allies, And thunder-driue to hell? With that, he shooke His Nectar-deawed locks, with which the skyes And all the world beneath for terror quooke, And eft his burning levin-brond in hand he tooke. But, when he looked on her louely face, xxxi In which, faire beames of beauty did appeare, That could the greatest wrath soone turne to grace (Such sway doth beauty euen in Heauen beare) He staide his hand: and hauing chang’d his cheare, He thus againe in milder wise began; But ah! if Gods should striue with flesh yfere, Then shortly should the progeny of Man Be rooted out, if Ioue should doe still what he can: But thee faire Titans child, I rather weene, xxxii Through some vaine errour or inducement light, To see that mortall eyes haue neuer seene; Or through ensample of thy sisters might, Bellona; whose great glory thou doost spight, Since thou hast seene her dreadfull power belowe, Mongst wretched men (dismaide with her affright) To bandie Crownes, and Kingdomes to bestowe: And sure thy worth, no lesse then hers doth seem to showe. But wote thou this, thou hardy Titanesse, xxxiii That not the worth of any liuing wight May challenge ought in Heauens interesse; Much lesse the Title of old Titans Right: For, we by Conquest of our soueraine might, And by eternall doome of Fates decree, Haue wonne the Empire of the Heauens bright; Which to our selues we hold, and to whom wee Shall worthy deeme partakers of our blisse to bee. Then ceasse thy idle claime thou foolish gerle, xxxiv And seeke by grace and goodnesse to obtaine That place from which by folly Titan fell; There-to thou maist perhaps, if so thou faine Haue Ioue thy gratious Lord and Soueraigne. So, hauing said, she thus to him replide; Ceasse Saturnes sonne, to seeke by proffers vaine Of idle hopes t’allure mee to thy side, For to betray my Right, before I haue it tride. But thee, O Ioue, no equall Iudge I deeme xxxv Of my desert, or of my dewfull Right; That in thine owne behalfe maist partiall seeme: But to the highest him, that is behight Father of Gods and men by equall might; To weet, the God of Nature, I appeale. There-at Ioue wexed wroth, and in his spright Did inly grudge, yet did it well conceale; And bade Dan Phœbus Scribe her Appellation seale. Eftsoones the time and place appointed were, xxxvi Where all, both heauenly Powers, and earthly wights, Before great Natures presence should appeare, For triall of their Titles and best Rights: That was, to weet, vpon the highest hights Of Arlo-hill (Who knowes not Arlo-hill?) That is the highest head (in all mens sights) Of my old father Mole, whom Shepheards quill Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill. And, were it not ill fitting for this file, xxxvii To sing of hilles and woods, mongst warres and Knights, I would abate the sternenesse of my stile, Mongst these sterne stounds to mingle soft delights; And tell how Arlo through Dianaes spights (Beeing of old the best and fairest Hill That was in all this holy-Islands hights) Was made the most vnpleasant, and most ill. Meane while, O Clio, lend Calliope thy quill. Whylome, when IRELAND florished in fame xxxviii Of wealths[613] and goodnesse, far aboue the rest Of all that beare the British Islands name, The Gods then vs’d (for pleasure and for rest) Oft to resort there-to, when seem’d them best: But none of all there-in more pleasure found, Then Cynthia; that is soueraine Queene profest Of woods and forrests, which therein abound, Sprinkled with wholsom waters, more then most on ground. But mongst them all, as fittest for her game, xxxix Either for chace of beasts with hound or boawe, Or for to shroude in shade from Phœbus flame, Or bathe in fountaines that doe freshly flowe, Or from high hilles, or from the dales belowe, She chose this Arlo; where shee did resort With all her Nymphes enranged on a rowe, With whom the woody Gods did oft consort: For, with the Nymphes, the Satyres loue to play and sport. Amongst the which, there was a Nymph that hight xl Molanna; daughter of old father Mole, And sister vnto Mulla, faire and bright: Vnto whose bed false Bregog whylome stole, That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole, And made her lucklesse loues well knowne to be. But this Molanna were she not so shole, Were no lesse faire and beautifull then shee: Yet as she is, a fairer flood may no man see. For, first, she springs out of two marble Rocks, xli On which, a groue of Oakes high mounted growes, That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks Of som faire Bride, brought forth with pompous showes Out of her bowre, that many flowers strowes: So, through the flowry Dales she tumbling downe, Through many woods, and shady coverts flowes (That on each side her siluer channell crowne) Till to the Plaine she come, whose Valleyes shee doth drowne. In her sweet streames, Diana vsed oft xlii (After her sweatie chace and toilesome play) To bathe her selfe; and after, on the soft And downy grasse, her dainty limbes to lay In couert shade, where none behold her may: For, much she hated sight of liuing eye. Foolish God Faunus, though full many a day He saw her clad, yet longed foolishly To see her naked mongst her Nymphes in priuity. No way he found to compasse his desire, xliii But to corrupt Molanna, this her maid, Her to discouer for some secret hire: So, her with flattering words he first assaid; And after, pleasing gifts for her purvaid, Queene-apples, and red Cherries from the tree, With which he her allured and betraid, To tell what time he might her Lady see When she her selfe did bathe, that he might secret bee. There-to hee promist, if shee would him pleasure xliv With this small boone, to quit her with a better; To weet, that where-as shee had out of measure Long lov’d the Fanchin, who by nought did set her, That he would vndertake, for this to get her To be his Loue, and of him liked well: Besides all which, he vow’d to be her debter For many moe good turnes then he would tell; The least of which, this little pleasure should excell. The simple maid did yield to him anone; xlv And eft him placed where he close might view That neuer any saw, saue onely one; Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew, Was of his hounds devour’d in Hunters hew. Tho, as her manner was on sunny day, Diana, with her Nymphes about her, drew To this sweet spring; where, doffing her array, She bath’d her louely limbes, for Ioue a likely pray. There Faunus saw that pleased much his eye, xlvi And made his hart to tickle in his brest, That for great ioy of some-what he did spy, He could him not containe in silent rest; But breaking forth in laughter, loud profest His foolish thought. A foolish Faune indeed, That couldst not hold thy selfe so hidden blest, But wouldest needs thine owne conceit areed. Babblers vnworthy been of so diuine a meed. The Goddesse, all abashed with that noise, xlvii In haste forth started from the guilty brooke; And running straight where-as she heard his voice, Enclos’d the bush about, and there him tooke, Like darred Larke; not daring vp to looke On her whose sight before so much he sought. Thence, forth they drew him by the hornes, and shooke Nigh all to peeces, that they left him nought; And then into the open light they forth him brought. Like as an huswife, that with busie care xlviii Thinks of her Dairie to make wondrous gaine, Finding where-as some wicked beast vnware That breakes into her Dayr’house, there doth draine Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine; Hath in some snare or gin set close behind, Entrapped him, and caught into her traine, Then thinkes what punishment were best assign’d, And thousand deathes deuiseth in her vengefull mind: So did Diana and her maydens all xlix Vse silly Faunus, now within their baile: They mocke and scorne him, and him foule miscall; Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the taile, And by his goatish beard some did him haile: Yet he (poore soule) with patience all did beare; For, nought against their wils might countervaile: Ne ought he said what euer he did heare; But hanging downe his head, did like a Mome appeare. At length, when they had flouted him their fill, l They gan to cast what penaunce him to giue. Some would haue gelt him, but that same would spill The Wood-gods breed, which must for euer liue: Others would through the riuer him haue driue, And ducked deepe: but that seem’d penaunce light; But most agreed and did this sentence giue, Him in Deares skin to clad; and in that plight, To hunt him with their hounds, him selfe saue how hee might. But Cynthia’s selfe, more angry then the rest, li Thought not enough, to punish him in sport, And of her shame to make a gamesome iest; But gan examine him in straighter sort, Which of her Nymphes, or other close consort, Him thither brought, and her to him betraid? He, much affeard, to her confessed short, That ’twas Molanna which her so bewraid. Then all attonce their hands vpon Molanna laid. But him (according as they had decreed) lii With a Deeres-skin they couered, and then chast With all their hounds that after him did speed; But he more speedy, from them fled more fast Then any Deere: so sore him dread aghast. They after follow’d all with shrill out-cry, Shouting as they the heauens would haue brast: That all the woods and dales where he did flie, Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie. So they him follow’d till they weary were; liii When, back returning to Molann’ againe, They, by commaund’ment of Diana, there Her whelm’d with stones. Yet Faunus (for her paine) Of her beloued Fanchin did obtaine, That her he would receiue vnto his bed. So now her waues passe through a pleasant Plaine, Till with the Fanchin she her selfe doe wed, And (both combin’d) themselues in one faire riuer spred. Nath’lesse, Diana, full of indignation, liv Thence-forth abandond her delicious brooke; In whose sweet streame, before that bad occasion, So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke: Ne onely her, but also quite forsooke All those faire forrests about Arlo hid, And all that Mountaine, which doth over-looke The richest champian[614] that may else be rid, And the faire Shure, in which are thousand Salmons bred. Them all, and all that she so deare did way, lv Thence-forth she left; and parting from the place, There-on an heauy haplesse curse did lay, To weet, that Wolues, where she was wont to space, Should harbour’d be, and all those Woods deface, And Thieues should rob and spoile that Coast around. Since which, those Woods, and all that goodly Chase, Doth to this day with Wolues and Thieues abound: Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since haue found.

Pealing, from Ioue, to Natur’s Bar, bold Alteration pleades Large Euidence: but Nature soone her righteous Doome areads.

Ah! whither doost thou now thou greater Muse i Me from these woods and pleasing forrests bring? And my fraile spirit (that dooth oft refuse This too high flight, vnfit for her weake wing) Lift vp aloft, to tell of heauens King (Thy soueraine Sire) his fortunate successe, And victory, in bigger noates to sing, Which he obtain’d against that Titanesse, That him of heauens Empire sought to dispossesse. Yet sith I needs must follow thy behest, ii Doe thou my weaker wit with skill inspire, Fit for this turne; and in my feeble[615] brest Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire, Which learned minds inflameth with desire Of heauenly things: for, who but thou alone, That art yborne of heauen and heauenly Sire, Can tell things doen in heauen so long ygone; So farre past memory of man that may be knowne. Now, at the time that was before agreed, iii The Gods assembled all on Arlo hill; As well those that are sprung of heauenly seed, As those that all the other world doe fill, And rule both sea and land vnto their will: Onely th’infernall Powers might not appeare; Aswell for horror of their count’naunce ill, As for th’vnruly fiends which they did feare; Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there. And thither also came all other creatures, iv What-euer life or motion doe retaine, According to their sundry kinds of features; That Arlo scarsly could them all containe; So full they filled euery[616] hill and Plaine: And had not Natures Sergeant (that is Order) Them well disposed by his busie paine, And raunged farre abroad in euery border, They would haue caused much confusion and disorder. Then forth issewed (great goddesse) great dame Nature, v With goodly port and gracious Maiesty; Being far greater and more tall of stature Then any of the gods or Powers on hie: Yet certes by her face and physnomy, Whether she man or woman inly were, That could not any creature well descry: For, with a veile that wimpled euery where, Her head and face was hid, that mote to none appeare. That some doe say was so by skill deuized, vi To hide the terror of her vncouth hew, From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized; For that her face did like a Lion shew, That eye of wight could not indure to view: But others tell that it so beautious was, And round about such beames of splendor threw, That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass, Ne could be seene, but like an image in a glass. That well may seemen true: for, well I weene vii That this same day, when she on Arlo sat, Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene, That my fraile wit cannot deuize to what It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that, As those three sacred Saints, though else most wise, Yet on mount Thabor quite their wits forgat, When they[617] their glorious Lord in strange disguise Transfigur’d sawe; his garments so did daze their eyes. In a fayre Plaine vpon an equall Hill, viii She placed was in a pauilion; Not such as[618] Craftes-men by their idle skill Are wont for Princes states to fashion: But th’earth her self of her owne motion, Out of her fruitfull bosome made to growe Most dainty trees; that, shooting vp anon, Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full lowe, For homage vnto her, and like a throne did shew[619]. So hard[620] it is for any liuing wight, ix All her array and vestiments to tell, That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright The pure well head of Poesie did dwell) In his Foules parley durst not with it mel, But it transferd to Alane, who he thought Had in his Plaint of kindes[621] describ’d it well: Which who will read set forth so as it ought, Go seek he out that Alane where he may be sought. And all the earth far vnderneath her feete x Was dight with flowres, that voluntary grew Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet; Tenne thousand mores[622] of sundry sent and hew, That might delight the smell, or please the view: The which, the Nymphes, from all the brooks thereby Had gathered, which[623] they at her foot-stoole threw; That richer seem’d then any tapestry, That Princes bowres adorne with painted imagery. And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more, xi Did deck himself in freshest faire attire, And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore With hardned frosts of former winters ire, He with an Oaken girlond now did tire, As if the loue of some new Nymph late seene, Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire, And made him change his gray attire to greene; Ah gentle Mole! such ioyance hath thee well beseene. Was neuer[624] so great ioyance since the day, xii That all the gods whylome assembled were, On Hæmus hill in their diuine array, To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare, Twixt Peleus[625], and dame Thetis pointed there; Where Phœbus self, that god of Poets hight, They say did sing the spousall hymne full cleere, That all the gods were rauisht with delight Of his celestiall song, and Musicks wondrous might. This great Grandmother of all creatures bred xiii Great Nature, euer young yet full of eld, Still moouing, yet vnmoued from her sted; Vnseene of any, yet of all beheld; Thus sitting in her throne as I haue teld, Before her came dame Mutabilitie; And being lowe before her presence feld, With meek obaysance and humilitie, Thus gan her plaintif Plea, with words to amplifie; To thee O greatest goddesse, onely great, xiv An humble suppliant loe, I lowely fly Seeking for Right, which I of thee entreat; Who Right to all dost deale indifferently, Damning all Wrong and tortious Iniurie, Which any of thy creatures doe to other (Oppressing them with power, vnequally) Sith of them all thou art the equall mother, And knittest each to each[626], as brother vnto brother. To thee therefore of this same Ioue I plaine, xv And of his fellow gods that faine to be, That challenge to themselues the whole worlds raign; Of which, the greatest part is due to me, And heauen it selfe by heritage in Fee: For, heauen and earth I both alike do deeme, Sith heauen and earth are both alike to thee; And, gods no more then men thou doest esteeme[627]: For, euen the gods to thee, as men to gods do seeme. Then weigh, O soueraigne goddesse, by what right xvi These gods do claime the worlds whole souerainty; And that is onely dew vnto thy[628] might Arrogate to themselues ambitiously: As for the gods owne principality, Which Ioue vsurpes vniustly; that to be My heritage, Ioue’s self cannot deny, From my great Grandsire Titan, vnto mee, Deriv’d by dew descent; as is well knowen to thee. Yet mauger Ioue, and all his gods beside, xvii I doe possesse the worlds most regiment; As, if ye please it into parts diuide, And euery parts inholders to conuent, Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent. And first, the Earth (great mother of vs all) That only seems vnmov’d and permanent, And vnto Mutability not thrall; Yet is she chang’d in part, and eeke in generall. For, all that from her springs, and is ybredde, xviii How-euer fayre it flourish for a time, Yet see we soone decay; and, being dead, To turne again vnto their earthly slime: Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime, We daily see new creatures to arize; And of their Winter spring another Prime, Vnlike in forme, and chang’d by strange disguise: So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise. As for her tenants; that is, man and beasts, xix The beasts we daily see massacred dy, As thralls and vassalls vnto mens beheasts: And men themselues doe change continually, From youth to eld, from wealth to pouerty, From good to bad, from bad to worst of all. Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly: But eeke their minds (which they immortall call) Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall. Ne is the water in more constant case; xx Whether those same on high, or these belowe. For, th’Ocean moueth stil, from place to place; And euery Riuer still doth ebbe and flowe: Ne any Lake, that seems most still and slowe, Ne Poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde, When any winde doth vnder heauen blowe; With which, the clouds are also tost and roll’d; Now like great Hills; and, streight, like sluces, them vnfold. So likewise are all watry liuing wights xxi Still tost, and turned, with continuall change, Neuer abyding in their stedfast plights. The fish, still floting, doe at randon range, And neuer rest; but euermore exchange Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie: Ne haue the watry foules a certaine grange, Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry; But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary. Next is the Ayre: which who feeles not by sense xxii (For, of all sense it is the middle meane) To flit still? and, with subtill influence Of his thin spirit, all creatures to maintaine, In state of life? O weake life! that does leane On thing so tickle as th’vnsteady ayre; Which euery howre is chang’d, and altred cleane With euery blast that bloweth fowle or faire: The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it impaire. Therein the changes infinite beholde, xxiii Which to her creatures euery minute chaunce; Now, boyling hot: streight, friezing deadly cold: Now, faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce: Streight, bitter storms and balefull countenance, That makes them all to shiuer and to shake: Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance, And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake) With flames and flashing lights that thousand changes make. Last is the fire: which, though it liue for euer, xxiv Ne can be quenched quite; yet, euery day, Wee see his parts, so soone as they do seuer, To lose their heat, and shortly to decay; So, makes himself his owne consuming pray. Ne any liuing creatures doth he breed: But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay; And, with their death, his cruell life dooth feed; Nought leaning, but their barren ashes, without seede. Thus, all these fower (the which the ground-work bee xxv Of all the world, and of all liuing wights) To thousand sorts of Change we subiect see: Yet are they chang’d (by other wondrous slights) Into themselues, and lose their natiue mights; The Fire to Aire, and th’Ayre to Water sheere, And Water into Earth: yet Water fights With Fire, and Aire with Earth approaching neere: Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare. So, in them all raignes Mutabilitie; xxvi How-euer these, that Gods themselues do call, Of them doe claime the rule and souerainty: As, Vesta, of the fire æthereall; Vulcan, of this, with vs so vsuall; Ops, of the earth; and Iuno of the Ayre; Neptune, of Seas; and Nymphes, of Riuers all. For, all those Riuers to me subiect are: And all the rest, which they vsurp, be all my share. Which to approuen true, as I haue told, xxvii Vouchsafe, O goddesse, to thy presence call The rest which doe the world in being hold: As, times and seasons of the yeare that fall: Of all the which, demand in generall, Or iudge thy selfe, by verdit of thine eye, Whether to me they are not subiect all. Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by, Bade Order call them all, before her Maiesty. So, forth issew’d the Seasons of the yeare; xxviii First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaues of flowres That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare (In which a thousand birds had built their bowres That sweetly sung, to call forth Paramours): And in his hand a iauelin he did beare, And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) A guilt engrauen morion he did weare; That as some did him loue, so others did him feare. Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight xxix In a thin silken cassock coloured greene, That was vnlyned all, to be more light: And on his head a girlond well beseene He wore, from which as he had chauffed been The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore A boawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene Had hunted late the Libbard or the Bore, And now would bathe his limbes, with labor heated sore. Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad, xxx As though he ioyed in his plentious store, Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore Had by the belly oft him pinched sore. Vpon his head a wreath that was enrold With eares of corne, of euery sort he bore: And in his hand a sickle he did holde, To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold. Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in frize, xxxi Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill, Whil’st on his hoary beard his breath did freese; And the dull drops that from his purpled bill As from a limbeck did adown distill. In his right hand a tipped staffe he held, With which his feeble steps he stayed still: For, he was faint with cold, and weak with eld; That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld. These, marching softly, thus in order went, xxxii And after them, the Monthes all riding came; First, sturdy March with brows full sternly bent, And armed strongly, rode vpon a Ram, The same which ouer Hellespontus swam: Yet in his hand a spade he also hent, And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame, Which on the earth he strowed as he went, And fild her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment. Next came fresh Aprill full of lustyhed, xxxiii And wanton as a Kid whose horne new buds: Vpon a Bull he rode, the same which led Europa floting through th’ Argolick fluds: His homes were gilden all with golden studs And garnished with garlonds goodly dight Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds Which th’earth brings forth, and wet he seem’d in sight With waues, through which he waded for his loues delight. Then came faire May, the fayrest mayd on ground, xxxiv Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde, And throwing flowres out of her lap around: Vpon two brethrens shoulders she did ride, The twinnes of Leda; which on eyther side Supported her like to their soueraine Queene. Lord! how all creatures laught, when her they spide, And leapt and daunc’t as they had rauisht beene! And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene. And after her, came iolly Iune, arrayd xxxv All in greene leaues, as he a Player were; Yet in his time, he wrought as well as playd, That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare: Vpon a Crab he rode, that him did beare With crooked crawling steps an vncouth pase, And backward yode, as Bargemen wont to fare Bending their force contrary to their face, Like that vngracious crew which faines demurest grace. Then came hot Iuly boyling like to fire, xxxvi That all his garments he had cast away: Vpon a Lyon raging yet with ire He boldly rode and made him to obay: It was the beast that whylome did forray The Nemæan forrest, till th’Amphytrionide Him slew, and with his hide did him array; Behinde his back a sithe, and by his side Vnder his belt he bore a sickle circling wide. The sixt was August, being rich arrayd xxxvii In garment all of gold downe to the ground: Yet rode he not, but led a louely Mayd Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround With eares of corne, and full her hand was found; That was the righteous Virgin, which of old Liv’d here on earth, and plenty made abound; But, after Wrong was lov’d and Iustice solde, She left th’vnrighteous world and was to heauen extold. Next him, September marched eeke on foote; xxxviii Yet was he heauy laden with the spoyle Of haruests riches, which he made his boot, And him enricht with bounty of the soyle: In his one hand, as fit for haruests toyle, He held a knife-hook; and in th’other hand A paire of waights, with which he did assoyle Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand, And equall gaue to each as Iustice duly scann’d. Then came October full of merry glee: xxxix For, yet his noule was totty of the must, Which he was treading in the wine-fats see, And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust Made him so frollick and so full of lust: Vpon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride, The same which by Dianaes doom vniust Slew great Orion: and eeke by his side He had his ploughing share, and coulter ready tyde. Next was Nouember, he full[629] grosse and fat, xl As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme; For, he had been a fatting hogs of late, That yet his browes with sweat, did reek and steem, And yet the season was full sharp and breem; In planting eeke he took no small delight: Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme; For it a dreadfull Centaure was in sight, The seed of Saturne, and faire Nais, Chiron hight. And after him, came next the chill December: xli Yet he through merry feasting which he made, And great bonfires, did not the cold remember; His Sauiours birth his mind so much did glad: Vpon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode, The same wherewith Dan Ioue in tender yeares, They say, was nourisht by th’Idæan[630] mayd; And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he beares; Of which, he freely drinks an health to all his peeres. Then came old Ianuary, wrapped well xlii In many weeds to keep the cold away; Yet did he quake and quiuer like to quell, And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may: For, they were numbd with holding all the day An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood, And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray: Vpon an huge great Earth-pot steane he stood; From whose wide mouth, there flowed forth the Romane floud. And lastly, came cold February, sitting xliii In an old wagon, for he could not ride; Drawne of two fishes for the season fitting, Which through the flood before did softly slyde And swim away: yet had he by his side His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground, And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round: So past the twelue Months forth, and their dew places found. And after these, there came the Day, and Night, xliv Riding together both with equall pase, Th’one on a Palfrey blacke, the other white; But Night had couered her vncomely face With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace, On top whereof the moon and stars were pight, And sleep and darknesse round about did trace: But Day did beare, vpon his scepters hight, The goodly Sun, encompast all with beames bright. Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high Ioue, xlv And timely Night, the which were all endewed With wondrous beauty fit to kindle loue; But they were Virgins all, and loue eschewed, That might forslack the charge to them fore-shewed By mighty Ioue; who did them Porters make Of heauens gate (whence all the gods issued) Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake By euen turnes, ne euer did their charge forsake. And after all came Life, and lastly Death; xlvi Death with most grim and griesly visage seene, Yet is he nought but parting of the breath; Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene, Vnbodied, vnsoul’d, vnheard, vnseene. But Life was like a faire young lusty boy, Such as they faine Dan Cupid to haue beene, Full of delightfull health and liuely ioy, Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold fit to employ. When these were past, thus gan the Titanesse; xlvii Lo, mighty mother, now be iudge and say, Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse CHANGE doth not raign and beare the greatest sway: For, who sees not, that Time on all doth pray? But Times do change and moue continually. So nothing here long standeth in one stay: Wherefore, this lower world who can deny But to be subiect still to Mutabilitie? Then thus gan Ioue; Right true it is, that these xlviii And all things else that vnder heauen dwell Are chaung’d of Time, who doth them all disseise Of being: But, who is it (to me tell) That Time himselfe doth moue and still compell To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee Which poure that vertue from our heauenly cell, That moues them all, and makes them changed be? So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee. To whom, thus Mutability: The things xlix Which we see not how they are mov’d and swayd, Ye may attribute to your selues as Kings, And say they by your secret powre are made: But what we see not, who shall vs perswade? But were they so, as ye them faine to be, Mov’d by your might, and ordred by your ayde; Yet what if[631] I can proue, that euen yee Your selues are likewise chang’d, and subiect vnto mee? And first, concerning her that is the first, l Euen you faire Cynthia, whom so much ye make Ioues dearest darling, she was bred and nurst On Cynthus hill, whence she her name did take: Then is she mortall borne, how-so ye crake; Besides, her face and countenance euery day We changed see, and sundry forms partake, Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and gray: So that as changefull as the Moone men vse to say. Next, Mercury, who though he lesse appeare li To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one; Yet, he his course doth altar euery yeare, And is of late far out of order gone: So Venus eeke, that goodly Paragone, Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day; And Phœbus self, who lightsome is alone, Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way, And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay. Now Mars that valiant man is changed most: lii For, he some times so far runs out of square, That he his way doth seem quite to haue lost, And cleane without his vsuall sphere to fare; That euen these Star-gazers stonisht are At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes: So likewise, grim Sir Saturne oft doth spare His sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes: So many turning cranks these haue, so many crookes. But you Dan Ioue, that only constant are, liii And King of all the rest, as ye do clame, Are you not subiect eeke to this misfare? Then let me aske you this withouten blame, Where were ye borne? some say in Crete by name, Others in Thebes, and others other-where; But wheresoeuer they comment the same, They all consent that ye begotten were, And borne here in this world, ne other can appeare. Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me, liv Vnlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make Immortall, and vnchangeable to bee; Besides, that power and vertue which ye spake, That ye here worke, doth many changes take, And your owne natures change: for, each of you That vertue haue, or this, or that to make, Is checkt and changed from his nature trew, By others opposition or obliquid view. Besides, the sundry motions of your Spheares, lv So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine, Some in short space, and some in longer yeares; What is the same but alteration plaine? Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine: Yet do the Starres and Signes therein still moue, And euen it self is mov’d, as wizards saine[632]. But all that moueth, doth mutation loue: Therefore both you and them to me I subiect proue. Then since within this wide great Vniuerse lvi Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare, But all things tost and turned by transuerse: What then should let, but I aloft should reare My Trophee, and from all, the triumph beare? Now iudge then (O thou greatest goddesse trew!) According as thy selfe doest see and heare, And vnto me addoom that is my dew; That is the rule of all, all being rul’d by you. So hauing ended, silence long ensewed, lvii Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space, But with firme eyes affixt, the ground still viewed. Meane while, all creatures, looking in her face, Expecting th’end of this so doubtfull case, Did hang in long suspence what would ensew, To whether side should fall the soueraigne place: At length, she looking vp with chearefull view, The silence brake, and gaue her doome in speeches few. I well consider all that ye have sayd, lviii And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate And changed be: yet being rightly wayd They are not changed from their first estate; But by their change their being doe dilate: And turning to themselues at length againe, Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate: Then ouer them Change doth not rule and raigne; But they raigne ouer change, and doe their states maintaine. Cease therefore daughter further to aspire, lix And thee content thus to be rul’d by me: For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire; But time shall come that all shall changed bee, And from thenceforth, none no more change shall see. So was the Titaness put downe and whist, And Ioue confirm’d in his imperiall see. Then was that whole assembly quite dismist, And Natur’s selfe did vanish, whither no man wist.

When I bethinke me on that speech whyleare, i Of Mutability, and well it way: Me seemes, that though she all vnworthy were Of the Heav’ns Rule; yet very sooth to say, In all things else she beares the greatest sway. Which makes me loath this state of life so tickle, And loue of things so vaine to cast away; Whose flowring pride, so fading and so fickle, Short Time shall soon cut down with his consuming sickle. Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd, ii Of that same time when no more Change shall be, But stedfast rest of all things firmely stayd Vpon the pillours of Eternity, That is contrayr to Mutabilitie: For, all that moueth, doth in Change delight: But thence-forth all shall rest eternally With Him that is the God of Sabbaoth[633] hight: O that great Sabbaoth God[634], graunt me that Sabaoths sight.