The Faerie Queene

by Edmund Spenser

  Then is the bloosme of comely courtesie,

  Which though it on a lowly stalke doe bowre,

  Yet brancheth forth in braue nobilitie,

  And spreds it selfe through all ciuilitie:

  Of which though present age doe plenteous seeme,

  Yet being matcht with plaine Antiquitie,

  Ye will them all but fayned showes esteeme,

  Which carry colours faire, that feeble eies misdeeme.

  5 But in the triall of true curtesie,

  Its now so farre from that, which then it was,

  That it indeed is nought but forgerie,

  Fashion’d to please the eies of them, that pas,

  Which see not perfect things but in a glas:

  Yet is that glasse so gay, that it can blynd

  The wisest sight, to thinke gold that is bras.

  But vertues seat is deepe within the mynd,

  And not in outward shows, but inward thoughts defynd.

  6 But where shall I in all Antiquity

  So faire a patterne finde, where may be seene

  The goodly praise of Princely curtesie,

  As in your selfe, O soueraine Lady Queene,

  In whose pure minde, as in a mirrour sheene,

  It showes, and with her brightnesse doth inflame

  The eyes of all, which thereon fixed beene;

  But meriteth indeede an higher name:

  Yet so from low to high vplifted is your name.

  7 Then pardon me, most dreaded Soueraine,

  That from your selfe I doe this vertue bring,

  And to your selfe doe it returne againe:

  So from the Ocean all riuers spring,

  And tribute backe repay as to their King.

  Right so from you all goodly vertues well

  Into the rest, which round about you ring,

  Faire Lords and Ladies, which about you dwell,

  And doe adorne your Court, where courtesies excell.

  CANTO I

  Calidore saues from Maleffort,

  A Damzell vsed vylde:

  Doth vanquish Crudor, and doth make

  Briana wexe more mylde.

  1 Of Court it seemes, men Courtesie doe call,

  For that it there most vseth to abound;

  And well beseemeth that in Princes hall

  That vertue should be plentifully found,

  Which of all goodly manners is the ground,

  And roote of ciuill conuersation.

  Right so in Faery court it did redound,

  Where curteous Knights and Ladies most did won

  Of all on earth, and made a matchlesse paragon.

  2 But mongst them all was none more courteous Knight,

  Then Calidore, beloued ouer all,

  In whom it seemes, that gentlenesse of spright

  And manners mylde were planted naturall;

  To which he adding comely guize withall,

  And gracious speach, did steale mens hearts away.

  Nathlesse thereto he was full stout and tall,

  And well approu’d in batteilous affray,

  That him did much renowme, and far his feme display.

  3 Ne was there Knight, ne was there Lady found

  In Faery court, but him did deare embrace,

  For bis faire vsage and conditions sound,

  The which in all mens liking gayned place,

  And with the greatest purchast greatest grace:

  Which he could wisely vse, and well apply,

  To please the best, and th’euill to embase.

  For he loathd leasing, and base flattery,

  And loued simple truth and stedfast honesty.

  4 And now he was in trauell on his way,

  Vppon an hard aduenture sore bestad,

  Whenas by chaunce he met vppon a day

  With Artegall, returning yet halfe sad

  From his late conquest, which he gotten had.

  Who whenas each of other had a sight,

  They knew themselues, and both their persons rad:

  When Calidore thus first; Haile noblest Knight

  Of all this day on ground, that breathen liuing spright.

  5 Now tell, if please you, of the good successe,

  Which ye haue had in your late enterprize.

  To whom Sir Artegall gan to expresse

  His whole exploite, and valorous emprize,

  In order as it did to him arize.

  Now happy man (sayd then Sir Calidore)

  Which haue so goodly, as ye can deuize,

  Atchieu’d so hard a quest, as few before;

  That shall you most renowmed make for euermore.

  6 But where ye ended haue, now I begin

  To tread an endlesse trace, withouten guyde,

  Or good direction, how to enter in,

  Or how to issue forth in waies vntryde,

  In perils strange, in labours long and wide,

  In which although good Fortune me befall,

  Yet shall it not by none be testifyde.

  What is that quest (quoth then Sir Artegall}

  That you into such perils presently doth call?

  7 The Blattant Beast (quoth he) I doe pursew,

  And through the world incessantly doe chase,

  Till I him ouertake, or else subdew:

  Yet know I not or how, or in what place

  To find him out, yet still I forward trace.

  What is that Blattant Beast? (then he replide)

  It is a Monster bred of hellishe race,

  (Then answerd he) which often hath annoyd

  Good Knights and Ladies true, and many else destroyd.

  8 Of Cerberus whilome he was begot,

  And fell Chimœra in her darkesome den,

  Through fowle commixture of his filthy blot;

  Where he was fostred long in Stygian fen,

  Till he to perfect ripenesse grew, and then

  Into this wicked world he forth was sent,

  To be the plague and scourge of wretched men:

  Whom with vile tongue and venemous intent

  He sore doth wound, and bite, and cruelly torment

  9 Then since the saluage Island I did leaue

  Sayd Artegall, I such a Beast did see,

  The which did seeme a thousand tongues to haue,

  That all in spight and malice did agree,

  With which he bayd and loudly barkt at mee,

  As if that he attonce would me deuoure.

  But I that knew my selfe from perill free,

  Did nought regard his malice nor his powre,

  But he the more his wicked poyson forth did poure.

  10 That surely is that Beast (saide Calidore)

  Which I pursue, of whom I am right glad

  To heare these tidings, which of none afore

  Through all my weary trauell I haue had:

  Yet now some hope your words vnto me add.

  Now God you speed (quoth then Sir Artegall)

  And keepe your body from the daunger drad:

  For ye haue much adoe to deale withall;

  So both tooke goodly leaue, and parted seuerall.

  11 Sir Calidore thence trauelled not long,

  When as by chaunce a comely Squire he found,

  That thorough some more mighty enemies wrong,

  Both hand and foote vnto a tree was bound:

  Who seeing him from farre, with piteous sound

  Of his shrill cries him called to his aide.

  To whom approching, in that painefull stound

  When he him saw, for no demaunds he staide,

  But first him losde, and afterwards thus to him saide.

  12 Vnhappy Squire, what hard mishap thee brought

  Into this bay of perill and disgrace?

  What cruell hand thy wretched thraldome wrought,

  And thee captyued in this shamefull place?

  To whom he answerd thus; My haplesse case

  Is not occasiond through my misdesert,

 
; But through misfortune, which did me abase

  Vnto this shame, and my young hope subuert,

  Ere that I in her guilefull traines was well expert.

  13 Not farre from hence, vppon yond rocky hill,

  Hard by a streight there stands a castle strong,

  Which doth obserue a custome lewd and ill,

  And it hath long mayntaind with mighty wrong:

  For may no Knight nor Lady passe along

  That way, (and yet they needs must passe that way,)

  By reason of the streight, and rocks among,

  But they that Ladies lockes doe shaue away,

  And that knights berd for toll, which they for passage pay.

  14 A shamefull vse as euer I did heare,

  Sayd Calidore, and to be ouerthrowne.

  But by what meanes did they at first it reare,

  And for what cause, tell if thou haue it knowne.

  Sayd then that Squire: The Lady which doth owne

  This Castle, is by name Briana bight.

  Then which a prouder Lady liueth none:

  She long time hath deare lou’d a doughty Knight,

  And sought to win his loue by all the meanes she might

  15 His name is Crudor, who through high disdaine

  And proud despight of his selfe pleasing mynd,

  Refused hath to yeeld her loue againe,

  Vntill a Mantle she for him doe fynd,

  With beards of Knights and locks of Ladies lynd.

  Which to prouide, she hath this Castle dight,

  And therein hath a Seneschall assynd,

  Cald Maleffort, a man of mickle might,

  Who executes her wicked will, with worse despight

  16 He this same day, as I that way did come

  With a faire Damzell, my beloued deare,

  In execution of her lawlesse doome,

  Did set vppon vs flying both for feare:

  For little bootes against him hand to reare.

  Me first he tooke, vnhable to withstond;

  And whiles he her pursued euery where,

  Till his returne vnto this tree he bond:

  Ne wote I surely, whether her he yet haue fond.

  17 Thus whiles they spake, they heard a ruefull shrieke

  Of one loud crying, which they streight way ghest,

  That it was she, the which for helpe did seeke.

  Tho looking vp vnto the cry to lest,

  They saw that Carle from farre, with hand vnblest

  Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare,

  That all her garments from her snowy brest,

  And from her head her lockes he nigh did teare,

  Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refraine for feare.

  18 Which haynous sight when Calidore beheld,

  Eftsoones he loosd that Squire, and so him left,

  With hearts dismay and inward dolour queld,

  For to pursue that villaine, which had reft

  That piteous spoile by so iniurious theft.

  Whom ouertaking, loude to him he cryde;

  Leaue faytor quickely that misgotten weft

  To him, that hath it better iustifyde,

  And turne thee soone to him, of whom thou art defyde.

  19 Who hearkning to that voice, him selfe vpreard,

  And seeing him so fiercely towardes make,

  Against him stoutly ran, as nought afeard,

  But rather more enrag’d for those words sake;

  And with sterne count’naunce thus vnto him spake.

  Art thou the caytiue, that defyest me,

  And for this Mayd, whose party thou doest take,

  Wilt giue thy beard, though it but little bee?

  Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome fro me free.

  20 With that he fiercely at him flew, and layd

  On hideous strokes with most importune might,

  That oft he made him stagger as vnstayd,

  And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe despight.

  But Calidore, that was well skild in fight,

  Him long forbore, and still his spirite spar’d,

  Lying in waite, how him he damadge might.

  But when he felt him shrinke, and come to ward,

  He greater grew, and gan to driue at him more hard.

  21 Like as a water streame, whose swelling sourse

  Shall driue a Mill, within strong bancks is pent,

  And long restrayned of his ready course;

  So soone as passage is vnto him lent,

  Breakes forth, and makes his way more violent.

  Such was the fury of Sir Calidore,

  When once he felt his foeman to relent;

  He fiercely him pursu’d, and pressed sore,

  Who as he still decayd, so he encreased more.

  22 The heauy burden of whose dreadfull might

  When as the Carle no longer could sustaine,

  His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke his flight

  Toward the Castle, where if need constraine,

  His hope of refuge vsed to remaine.

  Whom Calidore perceiuing fast to flie,

  He him pursu’d and chaced through the plaine,

  That he for dread of death gan loude to crie

  Vnto the ward, to open to him hastilie.

  23 They from the wall him seeing so aghast,

  The gate soone opened to receiue him in,

  But Calidore did follow him so fast,

  That euen in the Porch he him did win,

  And cleft his head asunder to his chin.

  The carcasse tumbling downe within the dore,

  Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of sin,

  That it could not be shut, whilest Calidore

  Did enter in, and slew the Porter on the flore.

  24 With that the rest, the which the Castle kept,

  About him flockt, and hard at him did lay;

  But he them all from him full lightly swept,

  As doth a Steare, in heat of sommers day,

  With his long taile the bryzes brush away.

  Thence passing forth, into the hall he came,

  Where of the Lady selfe in sad dismay

  He was ymett, who with vncomely shame

  Gan him salute, and fowle vpbrayd with faulty blame.

  25 False traytor Knight, (sayd she) no Knight at all,

  But scorne of armes that hast with guilty hand

  Murdred my men, and slaine my Seneschall;

  Now comest thou to rob my house vnmand,

  And spoile my selfe, that can not thee withstand?

  Yet doubt thou not, but that some better Knight

  Then thou, that shall thy treason vnderstand,

  Will it auenge, and pay thee with thy right:

  And if none do, yet shame shal thee with shame requight.

  26 Much was the Knight abashed at that word;

  Yet answerd thus; Not vnto me the shame,

  But to the shamefull doer it afford.

  Bloud is no blemish; for it is no blame

  To punish those, that doe deserue the same;

  But they that breake bands of ciuilitie,

  And wicked customes make, those doe defame

  Both noble armes and gentle curtesie.

  No greater shame to man then inhnmanitie.

  27 Then doe your selfe, for dread of shame, forgoe

  This euill manner, which ye here maintaine,

  And doe in stead thereof mild curt’sie showe

  To all, that passe. That shall you glory gaine

  More then his loue, which thus ye seeke t’obtaine.

  Wherewith all full of wrath, she thus replyde;

  Vile recreant, know that I doe much disdaine

  Thy courteous lore, that doest my loue deride,

  Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids thee be defyde.

  28 To take defiaunce at a Ladies word

  (Quoth he) I hold it no indignity;

  But were he here, that would it with his sword
r />   Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby.

  Cowherd (quoth she) were not, that thou wouldst fly,

  Ere he doe come, he should be soone in place.

  If I doe so, (sayd he) then liberty

  I leaue to you, for aye me to disgrace

  With all those shames, that erst ye spake me to deface.

  29 With that a Dwarfe she cald to her in hast,

  And taking from her hand a ring of gould,

  A priuy token, which betweene them past,

  Bad him to flie with all the speed he could,

  To Cruder, and desire him that he would

  Vouchsafe to reskue her against a Knight,

  Who through strong powre had now her self in hould,

  Hauing late slaine her Seneschall in fight,

  And all her people murdred with outragious might

  30 The Dwarfe his way did hast, and went all night;

  But Calidore did with her there abyde

  The comming of that so much threatned Knight,

  Where that discourteous Dame with scornfull pryde,

  And fowle entreaty him indignifyde,

  That yron heart it hardly could sustaine:

  Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely guyde,

  Did well endure her womanish disdaine,

  And did him selfe from fraile impatience refraine.

  31 The morrow next, before the lampe of light,

  Aboue the earth vpreard his flaming head,

  The Dwarfe, which bore that message to her knight,

  Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted bread,

  He would her succour, and aliue or dead

  Her foe deliuer vp into her hand:

  Therefore he wild her doe away all dread;

  And that of him she mote assured stand,

  He sent to her his basenet, as a faithfull band.

  32 Thereof full blyth the Lady streight became,

  And gan t’augment her bitternesse much more:

  Yet no whit more appalled for the same,

  Ne ought dismayed was Sir Calidore,

  But rather did more chearefull seeme therefore.

  And hauing soone his armes about him dight,

  Did issue forth, to meete his foe afore;

  Where long he stayed not, when as a Knight

  He spide come pricking on with al his powre and might.

  33 Well weend he streight, that he should be the same,

  Which tooke in hand her quarrell to maintaine;

  Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name,

  But coucht his speare, and ran at him amaine.

  They bene ymett in middest of the plaine,

  With so fell fury, and dispiteous forse,

  That neither could the others stroke sustaine,

  But rudely rowld to ground both man and horse,

  Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse.

  34 But Calidore vprose againe full light,