Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Himselfe thereby refte of his sences meet, 350

  And ravished with rare impression in his sprite.

  XL

  Great joy was made that day of young and old,

  And solemne feast proclaymd throughout the land,

  That their exceeding merth may not be told:

  Suffice it heare by signes to understand 355

  The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band.

  Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,

  Possessed of his ladies hart and hand,

  And ever, when his eie did her behold,

  His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. 360

  XLI

  Her joyous presence and sweet company

  In full content he there did long enjoy,

  Ne wicked envy, ne vile gealosy,

  His deare delights were hable to annoy:

  Yet, swimming in that sea of blisfull joy, 365

  He nought forgott, how he whilome had sworne,

  In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,

  Unto his Faery Queene backe to retourne:

  The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne.

  XLII

  Now strike your sailes, yee jolly mariners, 370

  For we be come unto a quiet rode,

  Where we must land some of our passengers,

  And light this weary vessell of her lode.

  Here she a while may make her safe abode,

  Till she repaired have her tackles spent, 375

  And wants supplide; and then againe abroad

  On the long voiage whereto she is bent:

  Well may she speede, and fairely finish her intent.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Faerie Queene: Book II. The Legend of Sir Guyon

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto I

  THE SECOND BOOKE

  OF THE FAERIE QUEENE

  CONTAYNING

  THE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON

  OR

  OF TEMPERAUNCE

  I

  RIGHT well I wote, most mighty Soveraine,

  That all this famous antique history

  Of some th’ aboundance of an ydle braine

  Will judged be, and painted forgery,

  Rather then matter of just memory; 5

  Sith none that breatheth living aire does know,

  Where is that happy land of Faery,

  Which I so much doe vaunt, yet no where show,

  But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.

  II

  But let that man with better sence advize, 10

  That of the world least part to us is red:

  And daily how through hardy enterprize

  Many great regions are discovered,

  Which to late age were never mentioned.

  Who ever heard of th’ Indian Peru? 15

  Or who in venturous vessell measured

  The Amazons huge river, now found trew?

  Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever vew?

  III

  Yet all these were when no man did them know,

  Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene; 20

  And later times thinges more unknowne shall show.

  Why then should witlesse man so much misweene,

  That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?

  What if within the moones fayre shining spheare,

  What if in every other starre unseene, 25

  Of other worldes he happily should heare?

  He wonder would much more; yet such to some appeare.

  IV

  Of Faery Lond yet if he more inquyre,

  By certein signes, here sett in sondrie place,

  He may it fynd; ne let him then admyre, 30

  But yield his sence to bee too blunt and bace,

  That no’te without an hound fine footing trace.

  And thou, O fayrest Princesse under sky,

  In this fayre mirrhour maist behold thy face,

  And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery, 35

  And in this antique ymage thy great auncestry.

  V

  The which O pardon me thus to enfold

  In covert vele, and wrap in shadowes light,

  That feeble eyes your glory may behold,

  Which ells could not endure those beames bright, 40

  But would bee dazled with exceeding light.

  O pardon! and vouchsafe with patient eare

  The brave adventures of this Faery knight,

  The good Sir Guyon, gratiously to heare;

  In whom great rule of Temp’raunce goodly doth appeare. 45

  CANTO I

  Guyon, by Archimage abusd,

  The Redcrosse Knight awaytes;

  Fyndes Mordant and Amavia slaine

  With Pleasures poisoned baytes.

  I

  THAT conning architect of cancred guyle,

  Whom princes late displeasure left in bands,

  For falsed letters and suborned wyle,

  Soone as the Redcrosse Knight he understands

  To beene departed out of Eden landes, 50

  To serve againe his soveraine Elfin Queene,

  His artes he moves, and out of caytives handes

  Himselfe he frees by secret meanes unseene;

  His shackles emptie lefte, him selfe escaped cleene.

  II

  And forth he fares full of malicious mynd, 55

  To worken mischiefe and avenging woe,

  Where ever he that godly knight may fynd,

  His onely hart sore and his onely foe;

  Sith Una now he algates must forgoe,

  Whom his victorious handes did earst restore 60

  To native crowne and kingdom late ygoe:

  Where she enjoyes sure peace for evermore,

  As wetherbeaten ship arryv’d on happie shore.

  III

  Him therefore now the object of his spight

  And deadly food he makes: him to offend 65

  By forged treason, or by open fight,

  He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end:

  Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,

  His practick witt, and his fayre fyled tonge,

  With thousand other sleightes: for well he kend 70

  His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong;

  For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong.

  IV

  Still as he went, he craftie stales did lay,

  With cunning traynes him to entrap unwares,

  And privy spyals plast in all his way, 75

  To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;

  To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.

  But now so wise and wary was the knight

  By tryall of his former harmes and cares,

  That he descryde, and shonned still his slight: 80

  The fish that once was caught, new bait wil hardly byte.

  V

  Nath’lesse th’ enchaunter would not spare his payne,

  In hope to win occasion to his will;

  Which when he long awaited had in vayne,

  He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill: 85

  For to all good he enimy was still.

  Upon the way him fortuned to meet,

  Fayre marching underneath a shady hill,

  A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,

  That from his head no place appeared to his feete. 90

  VI

  His carriage was full comely and upright,

  His countenance demure and temperate,

  But yett so sterne and terrible in sight,

  That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate:

  He was an Elfin borne, of noble state 95

  And mickle worship in his native land;

  Well could he tourney and in lists debate,

  And knigh
thood tooke of good Sir Huons hand,

  When with King Oberon he came to Fary Land.

  VII

  Him als accompanyd upon the way 100

  A comely palmer, clad in black attyre,

  Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray,

  That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,

  Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:

  And if by lookes one may the mind aread, 105

  He seemd to be a sage and sober syre,

  And ever with slow pace the knight did lead,

  Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.

  VIII

  Such whenas Archimago them did view,

  He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle, 110

  Eftsoones, untwisting his deceiptfull clew,

  He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle;

  And with faire countenance and flattring style

  To them approching, thus the knight bespake:

  ‘Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike spoyle, 115

  And great atchiev’ments, great your selfe to make,

  Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.’

  IX

  He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,

  And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt;

  Who feigning then in every limb to quake, 120

  Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt,

  With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt:

  ‘Deare lady, how shall I declare thy cace,

  Whom late I left in languorous constraynt?

  Would God, thy selfe now present were in place, 125

  To tell this ruefull tale! Thy sight could win thee grace.

  X

  ‘Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst,

  That you, most noble sir, had present beene

  When that lewd rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst,

  Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene, 130

  To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene

  As on the earth, great mother of us all,

  With living eye more fayre was never seene,

  Of chastity and honour virginall:

  Witnes, ye heavens, whom she in vaine to help did call.’ 135

  XI

  ‘How may it be,’ sayd then the knight halfe wroth,

  ‘That knight should knighthood ever so have shent?’

  ‘None but that saw,’ quoth he, ‘would weene for troth,

  How shamefully that mayd he did torment.

  Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent, 140

  And drew her on the ground, and his sharpe sword

  Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,

  And threatned death with many a bloodie word;

  Tounge hates to tell the rest, that eye to see abhord.’

  XII

  Therewith amoved from his sober mood, 145

  ‘And lives he yet,’ said he, ‘that wrought this act,

  And doen the heavens afford him vitall food?’

  ‘He lives,’ quoth he, ‘and boasteth of the fact,

  Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.’

  ‘Where may that treachour then,’ sayd he, ‘be found, 150

  Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?’

  ‘That shall I shew,’ said he, ‘as sure as hound

  The stricken deare doth chaleng by the bleeding wound.’

  XIII

  He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre

  And zealous haste away is quickly gone, 155

  To seeke that knight, where him that crafty squyre

  Supposd to be. They do arrive anone,

  Where sate a gentle lady all alone,

  With garments rent, and heare discheveled,

  Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone: 160

  Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

  And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

  XIV

  The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said:

  ‘Fayre lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight,

  Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd, 165

  And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:

  Forthy appease your griefe and heavy plight,

  And tell the cause of your conceived payne:

  For if he live that hath you doen despight,

  He shall you doe dew recompence agayne, 170

  Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.’

  XV

  Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise,

  She wilfully her sorrow did augment,

  And offred hope of comfort did despise:

  Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent, 175

  And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment;

  Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,

  But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,

  Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,

  As if her hart with sorow had transfixed beene: 180

  XVI

  Till her that squyre bespake: ‘Madame, my liefe,

  For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent,

  But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,

  The which good fortune doth to you present.

  For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment, 185

  When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,

  And the weake minde with double woe torment?’

  When she her squyre heard speake, she gan appease

  Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

  XVII

  Eftsoone she said: ‘Ah! gentle trustie squyre, 190

  What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave,

  Or why should ever I henceforth desyre

  To see faire heavens face, and life not leave,

  Sith that false traytour did my honour reave?’

  ‘False traytour certes,’ saide the Faerie knight, 195

  ‘I read the man, that ever would deceave

  A gentle lady, or her wrong through might:

  Death were too little paine for such a fowle despight.

  XVIII

  ‘But now, fayre lady, comfort to you make,

  And read who hath ye wrought this shamfull plight, 200

  That short revenge the man may overtake,

  Where so he be, and soone upon him light.’

  ‘Certes,’ saide she, ‘I wote not how he hight,

  But under him a gray steede did he wield,

  Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight; 205

  Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

  He bore a bloodie crosse, that quartred all the field.’

  XIX

  ‘Now by my head,’ saide Guyon, ‘much I muse,

  How that same knight should do so fowle amis,

  Or ever gentle damzell so abuse: 210

  For may I boldly say, he surely is

  A right good knight, and trew of word ywis:

  I present was, and can it witnesse well,

  When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris

  Th’adventure of the Errant Damozell; 215

  In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tell.

  XX

  ‘Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,

  And fairely quit him of th’ imputed blame,

  Els be ye sure he dearely shall abyde,

  Or make you good amendment for the same: 220

  All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame.

  Now therefore, lady, rise out of your paine,

  And see the salving of your blotted name.’

  Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;

  For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine. 225

  XXI

  Her purpose was not such as she did faine,

  Ne yet her person such as it was seene;

  But under simple shew and semblant plaine

  Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene,r />
  As a chaste virgin, that had wronged beene: 230

  So had false Archimago her disguysd,

  To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;

  And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

  To be her squire, and do her service well aguisd.

  XXII

  Her late, forlorne and naked, he had found, 235

  Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,

  Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground,

  And with greene mosse cov’ring her nakednesse,

  To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,

  Sith her Prince Arthur of proud ornaments 240

  And borrowd beauty spoyld. Her nathelesse

  Th’enchaunter finding fit for his intents

  Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

  XXIII

  For all he did was to deceive good knights,

  And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame, 245

  To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,

  And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.

  And now exceeding griefe him overcame,

  To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye;

  Therefore this craftie engine he did frame, 250

  Against his praise to stirre up enmitye

  Of such, as vertues like mote unto him allye.

  XXIV

  So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way

  Through woods and mountaines, till they came at last

  Into a pleasant dale, that lowly lay 255

  Betwixt two hils, whose high heads, overplast,

  The valley did with coole shade overcast:

  Through midst thereof a little river rold,

  By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,

  Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold, 260

  After his travell long, and labours manifold.

  XXV

  ‘Lo! yonder he,’ cryde Archimage alowd,

  ‘That wrought the shamefull fact, which I did shew,

  And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,

  To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew; 265

  But vaine: for ye shall dearely do him rew,

  So God ye speed and send you good successe;

  Which we far off will here abide to vew.’

  So they him left, inflam’d with wrathfulnesse,

  That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse. 270

  XXVI

  Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,

  His warlike armes about him gan embrace,

  And in the rest his ready speare did sticke;

  Tho, when as still he saw him towards pace,

  He gan rencounter him in equall race: 275

  They bene ymett, both ready to affrap,

  When suddeinly that warriour gan abace

  His threatned speare, as if some new mishap

  Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap:

  XXVII