Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach? 345

  The carefull cold beginneth for to creep,

  And in my heart his yron arrow steep,

  Soone as I thinke upon my bitter bale:

  Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keep,

  Then rip up griefe, where it may not availe; 350

  My last left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.’

  XL

  ‘Ah! lady deare,’ quoth then the gentle knight,

  ‘Well may I ween your grief is wondrous great;

  For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright,

  Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat. 355

  But, woefull lady, let me you intrete

  For to unfold the anguish of your hart:

  Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete,

  And counsell mitigates the greatest smart;

  Found never help, who never would his hurts impart.’ 360

  XLI

  ‘O but,’ quoth she, ‘great griefe will not be tould,

  And can more easily be thought then said.’

  ‘Right so,’ quoth he; ‘but he, that never would,

  Could never: will to might gives greatest aid.’

  ‘But griefe,’ quoth she, ‘does greater grow displaid, 365

  If then it find not helpe, and breeds despaire.’

  ‘Despaire breeds not,’ quoth he, ‘where faith is staid.’

  ‘No faith so fast,’ quoth she, ‘but flesh does paire.’

  ‘Flesh may empaire,’ quoth he, ‘but reason can repaire.’

  XLII

  His goodly reason and well guided speach 370

  So deepe did settle in her gracious thought,

  That her perswaded to disclose the breach,

  Which love and fortune in her heart had wrought,

  And said: ‘Faire sir, I hope good hap hath brought

  You to inquere the secrets of my griefe, 375

  Or that your wisedome will direct my thought,

  Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe:

  Then heare the story sad, which I shall tell you briefe.

  XLIII

  ‘The forlorne maiden, whom your eies have seene

  The laughing stocke of Fortunes mockeries, 380

  Am th’ onely daughter of a king and queene;

  Whose parents deare, whiles equal destinies

  Did ronne about, and their felicities

  The favourable heavens did not envy,

  Did spred their rule through all the territories, 385

  Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by,

  And Gehons golden waves doe wash continually.

  XLIV

  ‘Till that their cruell cursed enemy,

  An huge great dragon, horrible in sight,

  Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary, 390

  With murdrous ravine, and devouring might,

  Their kingdome spoild, and countrey wasted quight:

  Themselves, for feare into his jawes to fall,

  He forst to castle strong to take their flight,

  Where, fast embard in mighty brasen wall, 395

  He has them now fowr years besiegd, to make them thrall.

  XLV

  ‘Full many knights, adventurous and stout,

  Have enterprizd that monster to subdew;

  From every coast, that heaven walks about,

  Have thither come the noble martial crew, 400

  That famous harde atchievements still pursew;

  Yet never any could that girlond win,

  But all still shronke, and still he greater grew:

  All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin,

  The pitteous pray of his fiers cruelty have bin. 405

  XLVI

  ‘At last, yled with far reported praise,

  Which flying fame throughout the world had spred,

  Of doughty knights, whom Fary Land did raise,

  That noble order hight of Maidenhed,

  Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped, 410

  Of Gloriane, great queene of glory bright,

  Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis is red,

  There to obtaine some such redoubted kinght,

  That parents deare from tyrants powre deliver might.

  XLVII

  ‘Yt was my chaunce (my chaunce was faire and good) 415

  There for to find a fresh unproved knight,

  Whose manly hands imbrewd in guilty blood

  Had never beene, ne ever by his might

  Had throwne to ground the unregarded right:

  Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made 420

  (I witnes am) in many a cruell fight;

  The groning ghosts of many one dismaide

  Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging blade.

  XLVIII

  ‘And ye, the forlorne reliques of his powre,

  His biting sword, and his devouring speare, 425

  Which have endured many a dreadfull stowre,

  Can speake his prowesse, that did earst you beare,

  And well could rule: now he hath left you heare,

  To be the record of his ruefull losse,

  And of my dolefull disaventurous deare: 430

  O heavie record of the good Redcrosse,

  Where have yee left your lord, that could so well you tosse?

  XLIX

  ‘Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had,

  That he my captive languor should redeeme;

  Till, all unweeting, an enchaunter bad 435

  His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme

  My loyalty, not such as it did seeme,

  That rather death desire then such despight.

  Be judge, ye heavens, that all things right esteeme,

  How I him lov’d, and love with all my might! 440

  So thought I eke of him, and think I thought aright.

  L

  ‘Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke,

  To wander where wilde fortune would me lead,

  And other by waies he himselfe betooke,

  Where never foote of living wight did tread, 445

  That brought not backe the balefull body dead;

  In which him chaunced false Duessa meete,

  Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread,

  Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming sweete,

  Inveigled him to follow her desires unmeete. 450

  LI

  ‘At last, by subtile sleights she him betraid

  Unto his foe, a gyaunt huge and tall;

  Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,

  Unwares surprised, and with mighty mall

  The monster mercilesse him made to fall, 455

  Whose fall did never foe before behold;

  And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,

  Remedilesse, for aie he doth him hold;

  This is my cause of griefe, more great then may be told.’

  LII

  Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint; 460

  But he her comforted, and faire bespake:

  ‘Certes, madame, ye have great cause of plaint,

  That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.

  But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:

  For till I have acquitt your captive knight, 465

  Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.’

  His chearefull words reviv’d her chearelesse spright:

  So forth they went, the dwarfe them guiding ever right.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto VIII

  Faire virgin, to redeeme her deare,

  Brings Arthure to the fight:

  Who slayes the gyaunt, wounds the beast,

  And strips Duessa quight.

  I

  AY me! how many perils doe enfold

  The righteous man, to make him daily fall,

  Were not that Heavenly Grace doth him uphold,
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  And stedfast Truth acquite him out of all!

  Her love is firme, her care continuall, 5

  So oft as he, through his own foolish pride

  Or weaknes, is to sinfull bands made thrall:

  Els should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dyde,

  For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thether guyd.

  II

  They sadly traveild thus, untill they came 10

  Nigh to a castle builded strong and hye:

  Then cryde the dwarfe, ‘Lo! yonder is the same,

  In which my lord, my liege, doth lucklesse ly,

  Thrall to that gyaunts hatefull tyranny:

  Therefore, deare sir, your mightie powres assay.’ 15

  The noble knight alighted by and by

  From liftie steed, and badd the ladie stay,

  To see what end of fight should him befall that day.

  III

  So with the squire, th’admirer of his might,

  He marched forth towardes that castle wall; 20

  Whose gates he fownd fast shutt, ne living wight

  To warde the same, nor answere commers call.

  Then tooke that squire an horne of bugle small,

  Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold

  And tasselles gay. Wyde wonders over all 25

  Of that same hornes great vertues weren told,

  Which had approved bene in uses manifold.

  IV

  Was never wight that heard that shrilling sownd,

  But trembling feare did feel in every vaine:

  Three miles it might be easy heard arownd, 30

  And ecchoes three aunswerd it selfe againe:

  No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine

  Might once abide the terror of that blast,

  But presently was void and wholly vaine:

  No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast, 35

  But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.

  V

  The same before the geaunts gate he blew,

  That all the castle quaked from the grownd,

  And every dore of freewill open flew:

  The gyaunt selfe dismaied with that sownd, 40

  Where he with his Duessa dalliaunce fownd,

  In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,

  With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,

  And staggering steps, to weet what suddein stowre

  Had wrought that horror strange, and dar’d his dreaded powre. 45

  VI

  And after him the proud Duessa came,

  High mounted on her many headed beast;

  And every head with fyrie tongue did flame,

  And every head was crowned on his creast,

  And bloody mouthed with late cruell feast. 50

  That when the knight beheld, his mighti shild

  Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,

  And at him fiersly flew, with corage fild,

  And eger greedinesse through every member thrild.

  VII

  Therewith the gyant buckled him to fight, 55

  Inflamd with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,

  And lifting up his dreadful club on hight,

  All armed with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,

  Him thought at first encounter to have slaine.

  But wise and wary was that noble pere, 60

  And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,

  Did fayre avoide the violence him nere;

  It booted nought to thinke such thunderbolts to beare.

  VIII

  Ne shame he thought to shonne so hideous might.

  The ydle stroke, enforeing furious way, 65

  Missing the marke of his misaymed sight,

  Did fall to ground, and with his heavy sway

  So deepely dinted in the driven clay,

  That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw;

  The sad earth, wounded with so sore assay, 70

  Did grone full grievous underneath the blow,

  And trembling with strange feare, did like an erthquake show.

  IX

  As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull mood,

  To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,

  Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food, 75

  Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,

  Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;

  The fiers threeforked engin, making way,

  Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent

  And all that might his angry passage stay, 80

  And shooting in the earth casted up a mount of clay.

  X

  His boystrous club, so buried in the grownd,

  He could not rearen up againe so light,

  But that the knight him at advantage fownd,

  And whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight 85

  Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright

  He smott of his left arme, which like a block

  Did fall to ground, depriv’d of native might:

  Large streames of blood out of the truncked stock

  Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riven rocke. 90

  XI

  Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound,

  And eke impatient of unwonted payne,

  He lowdly brayd with beastly yelling sownd,

  That all the fieldes rebellowed againe:

  As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine 95

  An heard of bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,

  Doe for the milky mothers want complaine,

  And fill the fieldes with troublous bellowing:

  The neighbor woods arownd with hollow murmur ring.

  XII

  That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw 100

  The evill stownd that daungerd her estate,

  Unto his aide she hastily did draw

  Her dreadfull beast, who, swolne with blood of late,

  Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous gate,

  And threatned all his heades like flaming brandes. 105

  But him the squire made quickly to retrate,

  Encountring fiers with single sword in hand,

  And twixt him and his lord did like a bulwarke stand.

  XIII

  The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull spight

  And fiers disdaine, to be affronted so, 110

  Enforst her purple beast with all her might,

  That stop out of the way to overthroe,

  Scorning the let of so unequall foe:

  But nathemore would that corageous swayne

  To her yeeld passage, gainst his lord to goe, 115

  But with outrageous strokes did him restraine,

  And with his body bard the way atwixt them twaine.

  XIV

  Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup,

  Which still she bore, replete with magick artes;

  Death and despeyre did many thereof sup, 120

  And secret poyson through their inner partes,

  Th’ eternall bale of heavie wounded harts;

  Which, after charmes and some enchauntments said,

  She lightly sprinkled on his weaker partes;

  Therewith his sturdie corage soone was quayd, 125

  And all his sences were with suddein dread dismayd.

  XV

  So downe he fell before the cruell beast,

  Who on his neck his bloody clawes did seize,

  That life nigh crusht out of his panting brest:

  No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize. 130

  That when the carefull knight gan well avise,

  He lightly left the foe with whom he fought,

  And to the beast gan turne his enterprise;

  For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought,

  To see his loved squyre into such thraldom brought. 135

  XVI

  And high advauncing his blood-thirstie blade,


  Stroke one of those deformed heades so sore,

  That of his puissaunce proud ensample made;

  His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore,

  And that misformed shape misshaped more: 140

  A sea of blood gusht from the gaping wownd,

  That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,

  And overflowed all the field arownd;

  That over shoes in blood he waded on the grownd.

  XVII

  Thereat he rored for exceeding paine, 145

  That, to have heard, great horror would have bred,

  And scourging th’ emptie ayre with his long trayne,

  Through great impatience of his grieved hed,

  His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted

  Would have cast downe, and trodd in durty myre, 150

  Had not the gyaunt soone her succoured;

  Who, all enrag’d with smart and frantick yre,

  Came hurtling in full fiers, and forst the knight retyre.

  XVIII

  The force, which wont in two to be disperst,

  In one alone left hand he now unites, 155

  Which is through rage more strong then both were erst;

  With which his hideous club aloft he dites,

  And at his foe with furious rigor smites,

  That strongest oake might seeme to overthrow:

  The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites, 160

  That to the ground it doubleth him full low:

  What mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous blow?

  XIX

  And in his fall his shield, that covered was,

  Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:

  The light whereof, that hevenes light did pas, 165

  Such blazing brightnesse through the ayer threw,

  That eye mote not the same endure to vew.

  Which when the gyaunt spyde with staring eye,

  He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew

  His weapon huge, that heaved was on hye, 170

  For to have slain the man, that on the ground did lye.

  XX

  And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd

  At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,

  Became stark blind, and all his sences dazd,

  That downe he tumbled on the durtie field, 175

  And seemd himselfe as conquered to yield.

  Whom when his maistresse proud perceiv’d to fall,

  Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,

  Unto the gyaunt lowdly she gan call,

  ‘O helpe, Orgoglio, helpe! or els we perish all.’ 180

  XXI

  At her so pitteous cry was much amoov’d

  Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,

  Againe his wonted angry weapon proov’d:

  But all in vaine: for he has redd his end

  In that bright shield, and all his forces spend 185

  Them selves in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,