The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

  And where their Lady was, arriued at the last.

  38 Where when they saw that goodly boy, with blood

  Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd,

  They wondred much, and shortly vnderstood,

  How him in deadly case their Lady fownd,

  And reskewed out of the heauy stownd.

  Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd

  Farre in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd,

  She made those Damzels search, which being stayd,

  They did him set thereon, and forth with them conuayd.

  39 Into that forest farre they thence him led,

  Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade,

  With mountaines round about enuironed,

  And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,

  And like a stately Theatre it made,

  Spreading it selfe into a spatious plaine.

  And in the midst a little riuer plaide

  Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine

  With gentle murmure, that his course they did restraine.

  40 Beside the same a dainty place there lay,

  Planted with mirtle trees and laurels greene,

  In which the birds song many a louely lay

  Of gods high prayse, and of their loues sweet teene

  As it an earthly Paradize had beene:

  In whose enclosed shadow there was pight

  A faire Pauilion, scarcely to be seene,

  The which was all within most richly dight,

  That greatest Princes liuing it mote well delight.

  41 Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and layd

  In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest;

  He rested him a while, and then the Mayd

  His ready wound with better salues new drest;

  Dayly she dressed him, and did the best

  His grieuous hurt to garish, that she might,

  That shortly she his dolour hath redrest,

  And his foule sore reduced to faire plight:

  It she reduced, but himselfe destroyed quight.

  42 O foolish Physick, and vnfruitfull paine,

  That heales vp one and makes another wound:

  She his hurt thigh to him recur’d againe,

  But hurt his hart, the which before was sound,

  Through an vnwary dart, which did rebound

  From her faire eyes and gracious countenaunce.

  What bootes it him from death to be vnbound,

  To be captiued in endlesse duraunce

  Of sorrow and despaire without aleggeaunce?

  43 Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole,

  So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd:

  Madnesse to saue a part, and lose the whole.

  Still whenas he beheld the heauenly Mayd,

  Whiles dayly plaisters to his wound she layd,

  So still his Malady the more increast,

  The whiles her matchlesse beautie him dismayd.

  Ah God, what other could he do at least,

  But loue so faire a Lady, that his life releast?

  44 Long while he stroue in his courageous brest,

  With reason dew the passion to subdew,

  And loue for to dislodge out of his nest:

  Still when her excellencies he did vew,

  Her soueraigne bounty, and celestiall hew,

  The same to loue he strongly was constraind:

  But when his meane estate he did reuew,

  He from such hardy boldnesse was restraind,

  And of his lucklesse lot and cruell loue thus plaind.

  45 Vnthankfull wretch (said he) is this the meed,

  With which her soueraigne mercy thou doest quight?

  Thy life she saued by her gracious deed,

  But thou doest weene with villeinous despight,

  To blot her honour, and her heauenly light.

  Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally

  Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light:

  Faire death it is to shonne more shame, to dy:

  Dye rather, dy, then euer loue disloyally.

  46 But if to loue disloyalty it bee,

  Shall I then hate her, that from deathes dore

  Me brought? ah farre be such reproch fro mee.

  What can I lesse do, then her loue therefore,

  Sith I her dew reward cannot restore:

  Dye rather, dye, and dying do her serue,

  Dying her serue, and liuing her adore;

  Thy life she gaue, thy life she doth deserue:

  Dye rather, dye, then euer from her seruice swerue.

  47 But foolish boy, what bootes thy seruice bace

  To her, to whom the heauens do serue and sew?

  Thou a meane Squire, of meeke and lowly place,

  She heauenly borne, and of celestiall hew.

  How then? of all loue taketh equall vew:

  And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take

  The loue and seruice of the basest crew?

  If she will not, dye meekly for her sake;

  Dye rather, dye, then euer so faire loue forsake.

  48 Thus warreid he long time against his will,

  Till that through weaknesse he was forst at last,

  To yield himselfe vnto the mighty ill:

  Which as a victour proud, gan ransack fast

  His inward parts, and all his entrayles wast,

  That neither bloud in face, nor life in hart

  It left, but both did quite drye vp, and blast;

  As percing leuin, which the inner part

  Of euery thing consumes, and calcineth by art.

  49 Which seeing faire Belphœbe, gan to feare,

  Least that his wound were inly well not healed,

  Or that the wicked steele empoysned were:

  Litle she weend, that loue he close concealed;

  Yet still he wasted, as the snow congealed,

  When the bright sunne his beams thereon doth beat;

  Yet neuer he his hart to her reuealed,

  But rather chose to dye for sorrow great,

  Then with dishonorable termes her to entreat.

  50 She gracious Lady, yet no paines did spare,

  To do him ease, or do him remedy:

  Many Restoratiues of vertues rare,

  And costly Cordialles she did apply,

  To mitigate his stubborne mallady:

  But that sweet Cordiall, which can restore

  A loue-sick hart, she did to him enuy;

  To him, and to all th’vnworthy world forlore

  She did enuy that soueraigne salue, in secret store.

  51 That dainty Rose, the daughter of her Morne,

  More deare then life she tendered, whose flowre

  The girlond of her honour did adorne:

  Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching powre,

  Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to showre,

  But lapped vp her silken leaues most chaire,

  When so the froward skye began to lowre:

  But soone as calmed was the Christall aire,

  She did it faire dispred, and let to florish faire.

  52 Eternall God in his almighty powre,

  To make ensample of his heauenly grace,

  In Paradize whilome did plant this flowre,

  Whence he it fetcht out of her natiue place,

  And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace,

  That mortall men her glory should admire

  In gentle Ladies brest, and bounteous race

  Of woman kind it fairest flowre doth spire,

  And beareth fruit of honour and all chast desire.

  53 Faire ympes of beautie, whose bright shining beames

  Adorne the world with like to heauenly light,

  And to your willes both royalties and Realmes

  Subdew, through conquest of your wondrous might,

  With this faire flowre your goodly girlonds dight,

  Of chastity and ver
tue virginall,

  That shall embellish more your beautie bright,

  And crowne your heades with heauenly coronall,

  Such as the Angels weare before Gods tribunall.

  54 To your faire selues a faire ensample frame,

  Of this faire virgin, this Belphœbe faire,

  To whom in perfect loue, and spotlesse fame

  Of chastitie, none liuing may compaire:

  Ne poysnous Enuy iustly can empaire

  The prayse of her fresh flowring Maidenhead;

  For thy she standeth on the highest staire

  Of th’honorable stage of womanhead,

  That Ladies all may follow her ensample dead.

  55 In so great prayse of stedfast chastity,

  Nathlesse she was so curteous and kind,

  Tempred with grace, and goodly modesty,

  That seemed those two vertues stroue to find

  The higher place in her Heroick mind:

  So striuing each did other more augment,

  And both encreast the prayse of woman kind,

  And both encreast her beautie excellent;

  So all did make in her a perfect complement.

  CANTO VI

  The birth of faire Belphœbe and

  Of Amoret is told.

  The Gardins of Adonis fraught

  With pleasures manifold.

  1 Well may I weene, faire Ladies, all this while

  Ye wonder, how this noble Damozell

  So great perfections did in her compile,

  Sith that in saluage forests she did dwell,

  So farre from court and royall Citadell,

  The great schoolmistresse of all curtesy:

  Seemeth that such wild woods should far expell,

  All ciuill vsage and gentility,

  And gentle sprite deforme with rude rusticity.

  2 But to this faire Belphœbe in her berth

  The heauens so fauourable were and free,

  Looking with myld aspect vpon the earth,

  In th’Horoscope of her natiuitee,

  That all the gifts of grace and chastitee

  On her they poured forth of plenteous horne;

  Ioue laught on Venus from his soueraigne see,

  And Phœbus with faire beames did her adorne,

  And all the Graces rockt her cradle being borne.

  3 Her berth was of the wombe of Morning dew,

  And her conception of the ioyous Prime,

  And all her whole creation did her shew

  Pure and vnspotted from all loathly crime,

  That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.

  So was this virgin borne, so was she bred,

  So was she trayned vp from time to time,

  In all chast vertue, and true bounti-hed

  Till to her dew perfection she was ripened.

  4 Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee,

  The daughter of Amphisa, who by race

  A Faerie was, yborne of high degree,

  She bore Belphœbe, she bore in like cace

  Faire Amoretta in the second place:

  These two were twinnes, & twixt them two did share

  The heritage of all celestiall grace.

  That all the rest it seem’d they robbed bare

  Of bountie, and of beautie, and all vertues rare.

  5 It were a goodly storie, to declare,

  By what straunge accident faire Chrysogone

  Conceiu’d these infants, and how them she bare,

  In this wild forrest wandring all alone,

  After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone:

  For not as other wemens commune brood,

  They were enwombed in the sacred throne

  Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food,

  As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood.

  6 But wondrously they were begot, and bred

  Through influence of th’heauens fruitfull ray,

  As it in antique bookes is mentioned.

  It was vpon a Sommers shynie day,

  When Titan faire his beames did display,

  In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,

  She bath’d her brest, the boyling heat t’allay;

  She bath’d with roses red, and violets blew,

  And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.

  7 Till faint through irkesome wearinesse, adowne

  Vpon the grassie ground her selfe she layd

  To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne

  Vpon her fell all naked bare displayd;

  The sunne-beames bright vpon her body playd,

  Being through former bathing mollifide,

  And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd

  With so sweet sence and secret power vnspide,

  That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.

  8 Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades

  So straunge ensample of conception;

  But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades

  Of all things liuing, through impression

  Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion,

  Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd:

  So after Nilus invndation,

  Infinite shapes of creatures men do fynd,

  Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd.

  9 Great rather he of generation

  Is rightly cald, th’author of life and light;

  And his faire sister for creation

  Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right

  With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight.

  So sprong these twinnes in wombe of Chrysogone,

  Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright,

  Wondred to see her belly so vpblone,

  Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.

  10 Whereof concerning shame and foule disgrace,

  Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard,

  She fled into the wildernesse a space,

  Till that vnweeldy burden she had reard,

  And shund dishonor, which as death she feard:

  Where wearie of long trauell, downe to rest

  Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard;

  There a sad cloud of sleepe her ouerkest,

  And seized euery sense with sorrow sore opprest.

  11 It fortuned, faire Venus hauing lost

  Her little sonne, the winged god of loue,

  Who for some light displeasure, which him crost,

  Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue,

  And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue,

  (So from her often he had fled away,

  When she for ought him sharpely did reproue,

  And wandred in the world in strange aray,

  Disguiz’d in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.)

  12 Him for to seeke, she left her heauenly hous,

  The house of goodly formes and faire aspects,

  Whence all the world deriues the glorious

  Features of beauties, and all shapes select,

  With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;

  And searched euery way, through which his wings

  Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect:

  She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things

  Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.

  13 First she him sought in Court, where most he vsed

  Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not;

  But many there she found, which sore accused

  His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot

  His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot:

  Ladies and Lords she euery where mote heare

  Complayning, how with his empoysned shot

  Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,

  And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.

  14 She then the Citties sought from gate to gate,

  And euery one did aske, did he him see
;

  And euery one her answerd, that too late

  He had him seene, and felt the crueltie

  Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie;

  And euery one threw forth reproches rife

  Of his mischieuous deedes, and said, That hee

  Was the disturber of all ciuill life,

  The enimy of peace, and author of all strife.

  15 Then in the countrey she abroad him sought,

  And in the rurall cottages inquired,

  Where also many plaints to her were brought,

  How he their heedlesse harts with loue had fyred,

  And his false venim through their veines inspyred;

  And eke the gentle shepheard swaynes, which sat

  Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred,

  She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what

  Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat.

  16 But when in none of all these she him got,

  She gan auize, where else he mote him hyde:

  At last she her bethought, that she had not

  Yet sought the saluage woods and forrests wyde,

  In which full many louely Nymphes abyde,

  Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye,

  Or that the loue of some of them him tyde:

  For thy she thither cast her course t’apply,

  To search the secret haunts of Dianes company.

  17 Shortly vnto the wastefull woods she came,

  Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew,

  After late chace of their embrewed game,

  Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew,

  Some of them washing with the liquid dew

  From off their dainty limbes the dustie sweat,

  And soyle which did deforme their liuely hew,

  Others lay shaded from the scorching heat;

  The rest vpon her person gaue attendance great.

  18 She hauing hong vpon a bough on high

  Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaste

  Her siluer buskins from her nimble thigh,

  And her lancke loynes vngirt, and brests vnbraste,

  After her heat the breathing cold to taste;

  Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright

  Embreaded were for hindring of her haste,

  Now loose about her shoulders hong vndight,

  And were with sweet Ambrosia all besprinckled light.

  19 Soone as she Venus saw behind her backe,

  She was asham’d to be so loose surprized

  And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacke,

  That had not her thereof before auized,

  But suffred her so carelesly disguized

  Be ouertaken. Soone her garments loose

  Vpgath’ring, in her bosome she comprized,

  Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose,

  Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose.