The Faerie Queene

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by Edmund Spenser


  Worthy of heauen and hye felicitie,

  From whence the gods haue her for enuy thrust:

  But sith thou hast found fauour in mine eye,

  Thy spouse I will her make, if that thou lust,

  That she may thee aduance for workes and merites iust.

  50 Gramercy Mammon (said the gentle knight)

  For so great grace and offred high estate;

  But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly wight;

  Vnworthy match for such immortall mate

  My selfe well wote, and mine vnequall fate;

  And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight,

  And loue auowd to other Lady late,

  That to remoue the same I haue no might:

  To chaunge loue causelesse is reproch to warlike knight.

  51 Mammon emmoued was with inward wrath;

  Yet forcing it to faine, him forth thence led

  Through griesly shadowes by a beaten path,

  Into a gardin goodly garnished

  With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be red:

  Not such, as earth out of her fruitfull woomb

  Throwes forth to men, sweet and well sauoured,

  But direfull deadly blacke both leafe and bloom,

  Fit to adorne the dead, and decke the drery toombe.

  52 There moumfull Cypresse grew in greatest store,

  And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben sad,

  Dead sleeping Poppy, and blacke Hellebore,

  Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad,

  Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad,

  Which with th’ vniust Atheniens made to dy

  Wise Socrates, who thereof quaffing glad

  Pourd out his life, and last Philosophy

  To the faire Critias his dearest Belamy.

  53 The Gardin of Proserpina this hight;

  And in the midst thereof a siluer seat,

  With a thicke Arber goodly ouer dight,

  In which she often vsd from open heat

  Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to entreat.

  Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree,

  With braunches broad dispred and body great,

  Clothed with leaues, that none the wood mote see

  And loaden all with fruit as thicke as it might bee.

  54 Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright,

  That goodly was their glory to behold,

  On earth like neuer grew, ne liuing wight

  Like euer saw, but they from hence were sold;

  For those, which Hercules with conquest bold

  Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began,

  And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold:

  And those with which th’Eubœan young man wan

  Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran.

  55 Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit,

  With which Acontius got his louer trew,

  Whom he had long time sought with fruitlesse suit:

  Here eke that famous golden Apple grew,

  The which emongst the gods false Ate threw;

  For which th’Idœan Ladies disagreed,

  Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew,

  And had of her, faire Helen for his meed,

  That many noble Greekes and Troians made to bleed.

  56 The warlike Elfe, much wondred at this tree,

  So faire and great, that shadowed all the ground,

  And his broad braunches, laden with rich fee,

  Did stretch themselues without the vtmost bound

  Of this great gardin, compast with a mound,

  Which ouer-hanging, they themselues did steepe,

  In a blacke flood which flow’d about it round;

  That is the riuer of Cocytus deepe,

  In which full many soules do endlesse waile and weepe.

  57 Which to behold, he clomb vp to the banke,

  And looking downe, saw many damned wights,

  In those sad waues, which direfull deadly stanke,

  Plonged continually of cruell Sprights,

  That with their pitteous cryes, and yelling shrights,

  They made the further shore resounden wide:

  Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sights,

  One cursed creature, he by chaunce espide,

  That drenched lay full deepe, vnder the Garden side.

  58 Deepe was he drenched to the vpmost chin,

  Yet gaped still, as coueting to drinke

  Of the cold liquor, which he waded in,

  And stretching forth his hand, did often thinke

  To reach the fruit, which grew vpon the brincke:

  But both the fruit from hand, and floud from mouth

  Did flie abacke, and made him vainely swinke:

  The whiles he steru’d with hunger and with drouth

  He daily dyde, yet neuer throughly dyen couth.

  59 The knight him seeing labour so in vaine,

  Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby:

  Who groning deepe, thus answerd him againe;

  Most cursed of all creatures vnder skye,

  Lo Tantalus, I here tormented lye:

  Of whom high Ioue wont whylome feasted bee,

  Lo here I now for want of food doe dye:

  But if that thou be such, as I thee see,

  Of grace I pray thee, giue to eat and drinke to mee.

  60 Nay, nay, thou greedie Tantalus (quoth he)

  Abide the fortune of thy present fate,

  And vnto all that liue in high degree,

  Ensample be of mind intemperate,

  To teach them how to vse their present state.

  Then gan the cursed wretch aloud to cry,

  Accusing highest Ioue and gods ingrate,

  And eke blaspheming heauen bitterly,

  As authour of vniustice, there to let him dye.

  61 He lookt a little further, and espyde

  Another wretch, whose carkasse deepe was drent

  Within the riuer, which the same did hyde:

  But both his hands most filthy feculent,

  Aboue the water were on high extent,

  And faynd to wash themselues incessantly;

  Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent,

  But rather fowler seemed to the eye;

  So lost his labour vaine and idle industry.

  62 The knight him calling, asked who he was,

  Who lifting vp his head, him answerd thus:

  I Pilate am the falsest Iudge, alas,

  And most vniust, that by vnrighteous

  And wicked doome, to Iewes despiteous

  Deliuered vp the Lord of life to die,

  And did acquite a murdrer felonous;

  The whiles my hands I washt in puritie,

  The whiles my soule was soyld with foule iniquitie.

  63 Infinite moe, tormented in like paine

  He there beheld, too long here to be told:

  Ne Mammon would there let him long remaine,

  For terrour of the tortures manifold,

  In which the damned soules he did behold,

  But roughly him bespake. Thou fearefull foole,

  Why takest not of that same fruit of gold,

  Ne sittest downe on that same siluer stoole,

  To rest thy wearie person, in the shadow coole.

  64 All which he did, to doe him deadly fall

  In frayle intemperance through sinfull bayt;

  To which if he inclined had at all,

  That dreadfull feend, which did behind him wayt,

  Would him haue rent in thousand peeces strayt:

  But he was warie wise in all his way,

  And well perceiued his deceiptfull sleight,

  Ne suffred lust his safetie to betray;

  So goodly did beguile the Guyler of the pray.

  65 And now he has so long remained there,

  That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan,

  For want of food, and sleepe, which two vpbeare,
/>   Like mightie pillours, this fraile life of man,

  That none without the same enduren can.

  For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,

  Since he this hardie enterprize began:

  For thy great Mammon fairely he besought,

  Into the world to guide him backe, as he him brought.

  66 The God, though loth, yet was constraind t’obay,

  For lenger time, then that, no liuing wight

  Below the earth, might suffred be to stay:

  So backe againe, him brought to liuing light.

  But all so soone as his enfeebled spright

  Gan sucke this vitall aire into his brest,

  As ouercome with too exceeding might,

  The life did flit away out of her nest,

  And all his senses were with deadly fit opprest.

  CANTO VIII

  Sir Guyon laid in swowne is by

  Acrates sonnes despoyld,

  Whom Arthur soone hath reskewed

  And Paynim brethren foyld.

  1 And is there care in heauen? and is there loue

  In heauenly spirits to these creatures bace,

  That may compassion of their euils moue?

  There is: else much more wretched were the cace

  Of men, then beasts. But ô th’exceeding grace

  Of highest God, that loues his creatures so,

  And all his workes with mercy doth embrace,

  That blessed Angels, he sends to and fro,

  To serue to wicked man, to serue his wicked foe.

  2 How oft do they, their siluer bowers leaue,

  To come to succour vs, that succour want?

  How oft do they with golden pineons, cleaue

  The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuiuant,

  Against foule feends to aide vs millitant?

  They for vs fight, they watch and dewly ward,

  And their bright Squadrons round about vs plant,

  And all for loue, and nothing for reward:

  O why should heauenly God to men haue such regard?

  3 During the while, that Guyon did abide

  In Mamons house, the Palmer, whom whyleare

  That wanton Mayd of passage had denide,

  By further search had passage found elsewhere,

  And being on his way, approched neare,

  Where Guyon lay in traunce, when suddenly

  He heard a voice, that called loud and cleare,

  Come hither, come hither, ô come hastily;

  That all the fields resounded with the ruefull cry.

  4 The Palmer lent his eare vnto the noyce,

  To weet, who called so importunely:

  Againe he heard a more efforced voyce,

  That bad him come in haste. He by and by

  His feeble feet directed to the cry;

  Which to that shadie delue him brought at last,

  Where Mammon earst did sunne his threasury:

  There the good Guyon he found slumbring fast

  In senselesse dreame; which sight at first him sore aghast.

  5 Beside his head there sate a faire young man,

  Of wondrous beautie, and of freshest yeares,

  Whose tender bud to blossome new began,

  And flourish faire aboue his equall peares;

  His snowy front curled with golden heares,

  Like Phœbus face adornd with sunny rayes,

  Diuinely shone, and two sharpe winged sheares,

  Decked with diuerse plumes, like painted Iayes,

  Were fixed at his backe, to cut his ayerie wayes.

  6 Like as Cupido on Idœan hill,

  When hauing laid his cruell bow away,

  And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fill

  The world with murdrous spoiles and bloudie pray,

  With his faire mother he him dights to play,

  And with his goodly sisters, Graces three;

  The Goddesse pleased with his wanton play,

  Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to bee,

  The whiles the other Ladies mind their merry glee.

  7 Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he was

  Through feare and wonder, that he nought could say,

  Till him the child bespoke, Long lackt, alas,

  Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay,

  Whiles deadly fit thy pupill doth dismay;

  Behold this heauie sight, thou reuerend Sire,

  But dread of death and dolour doe away;

  For life ere long shall to her home retire,

  And he that breathlesse seemes, shal corage bold respire.

  8 The charge, which God doth vnto me arret,

  Of his deare safetie, I to thee commend;

  Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forget

  The care thereof my selfe vnto the end,

  But euermore him succour, and defend

  Against his foe and mine: watch thou I pray;

  For euill is at hand him to offend.

  So hauing said, eftsoones he gan display

  His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away.

  9 The Palmer seeing his left empty place,

  And his slow eyes beguiled of their sight,

  Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a space,

  Gaz’d after him, as fowle escapt by flight;

  At last him turning to his charge behight,

  With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan try;

  Where finding life not yet dislodged quight,

  He much reioyst, and courd it tenderly,

  As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded destiny.

  10 At last he spide, where towards him did pace

  Two Paynim knights, all armd as bright as skie,

  And them beside an aged Sire did trace,

  And farre before a light-foot Page did flie,

  That breathed strife and troublous enmitie;

  Those were the two sonnes of Acrates old,

  Who meeting earst with Archimago slie,

  Foreby that idle strond, of him were told,

  That he, which earst them combatted, was Guyon bold.

  11 Which to auenge on him they dearely vowd,

  Where euer that on ground they mote him fynd;

  False Archimage prouokt their courage prowd,

  And stryfull Atin in their stubborne mynd

  Coles of contention and whot vengeance tynd.

  Now bene they come, whereas the Palmer sate,

  Keeping that slombred corse to him assynd;

  Well knew they both his person, sith of late

  With him in bloudie armes they rashly did debate.

  12 Whom when Pyrochles saw, inflam’d with rage,

  That sire he foule bespake, Thou dotard vile,

  That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely age,

  Abandone soone, I read, the caitiue spoile

  Of that same outcast carkasse, that erewhile

  Made it selfe famous through false trechery,

  And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile;

  Loe where he now inglorious doth lye,

  To proue he liued ill, that did thus foully dye.

  13 To whom the Palmer fearelesse answered;

  Certes, Sir knight, ye bene too much to blame,

  Thus for to blot the honour of the dead,

  And with foule cowardize his carkasse shame,

  Whose liuing hands immortalizd his name.

  Vile is the vengeance on the ashes cold,

  And enuie base, to barke at sleeping fame:

  Was neuer wight, that treason of him told;

  Your selfe his prowesse prou’d & found him fiers & bold.

  14 Then said Cymochles; Palmer, thou doest dote,

  Ne canst of prowesse, ne of knighthood deeme,

  Saue as thou seest or hearst. But well I wote,

  That of his puissance tryall made extreeme;

  Yet gold all is not, that doth golden seeme,

  Ne all good knights, that shake well spear
e and shield:

  The worth of all men by their end esteeme,

  And then due praise, or due reproch them yield;

  Bad therefore I him deeme, that thus lies dead on field.

  15 Good or bad (gan his brother fierce reply)

  What doe I recke, sith that he dyde entire?

  Or what doth his bad death now satisfy

  The greedy hunger of reuenging ire,

  Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne desire?

  Yet since no way is left to wreake my spight,

  I will him reaue of armes, the victors hire,

  And of that shield, more worthy of good knight;

  For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour bright?

  16 Faire Sir, said then the Palmer suppliaunt,

  For knighthoods loue, do not so foule a deed,

  Ne blame your honour with so shamefull vaunt

  Of vile reuenge. To spoile the dead of weed

  Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed;

  But leaue these relicks of his liuing might,

  To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke steed.

  What herce or steede (said he) should he haue dight,

  But be entombed in the rauen or the kight?

  17 With that, rude hand vpon his shield he laid,

  And th’other brother gan his hehne vnlace,

  Both fiercely bent to haue him disaraid;

  Till that they spide, where towards them did pace

  An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace,

  Whose squire bore after him an heben launce,

  And couerd shield. Well kend him so farre space

  Th’enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce,

  When vnder him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce.

  18 And to those brethren said, Rise rise by liue,

  And vnto battell doe your selues addresse;

  For yonder comes the prowest knight aliue,

  Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobilesse,

  That hath to Paynim knights wrought great distresse,

  And thousand Sar’zins foully donne to dye.

  That word so deepe did in their harts impresse,

  That both eftsoones vpstarted furiously,

  And gan themselues prepare to battell greedily.

  19 But fierce Pyrochles, lacking his owne sword,

  The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine,

  And Archimage besought, him that afford,

  Which he had brought for Braggadocchio vaine.

  So would I (said th’enchaunter) glad and faine

  Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend,

  Or ought that else your honour might maintaine,

  But that this weapons powre I well haue kend,

  To be contrarie to the worke, which ye intend.

  20 For that same knights owne sword this is of yore,

  Which Merlin made by his almightie art

 

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