Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  That body, wheresoever that it light,

  May learned be by cyphers, or by magicke might. 405

  XLVI

  ‘But if thou may with reason yet represse

  The growing evill, ere it strength have gott,

  And thee abandoned wholy doe possesse,

  Against it strongly strive, and yield thee nott,

  Til thou in open fielde adowne be smott. 410

  But if the passion mayster thy fraile might,

  So that needs love or death must bee thy lott,

  Then I avow to thee, by wrong or right

  To compas thy desire, and find that loved knight.’

  XLVII

  Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright 415

  Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd

  In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might;

  And the old-woman carefully displayd

  The clothes about her round with busy ayd,

  So that at last a litle creeping sleepe 420

  Surprisd her sence. Shee, therewith well apayd,

  The dronken lamp down in the oyl did steepe,

  And sett her by to watch, and sett her by to weepe.

  XLVIII

  Earely the morrow next, before that day

  His joyous face did to the world revele, 425

  They both uprose and tooke their ready way

  Unto the church, their praiers to appele,

  With great devotion, and with litle zele:

  For the faire damzell from the holy herse

  Her love-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale; 430

  And that old dame said many an idle verse,

  Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reverse.

  XLIX

  Retourned home, the royall infant fell

  Into her former fitt; forwhy no powre

  Nor guidaunce of her selfe in her did dwell. 435

  But th’ aged nourse, her calling to her bowre,

  Had gathered rew, and savine, and the flowre

  Of camphora, and calamint, and dill,

  All which she in a earthen pot did poure,

  And to the brim with colt wood did it fill, 440

  And many drops of milk and blood through it did spill.

  L

  Then, taking thrise three heares from of her head,

  Them trebly breaded in a threefold lace,

  And round about the pots mouth bound the thread,

  And after having whispered a space 445

  Certein sad words, with hollow voice and bace,

  Shee to the virgin sayd, thrise sayd she itt:

  ‘Come, daughter, come, come; spit upon my face,

  Spitt thrise upon me, thrise upon me spitt;

  Th’ uneven nomber for this business is most fitt.’ 450

  LI

  That sayd, her rownd about she from her turnd,

  She turned her contrary to the sunne,

  Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd

  All contrary, for she the right did shunne,

  And ever what she did was streight undonne. 455

  So thought she to undoe her daughters love:

  But love, that is in gentle brest begonne,

  No ydle charmes so lightly may remove;

  That well can witnesse, who by tryall it does prove.

  LII

  Ne ought it mote the noble mayd avayle, 460

  Ne slake the fury of her cruell flame,

  But that shee still did waste, and still did wayle,

  That through long languour and hart-burning brame

  She shortly like a pyned ghost became,

  Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond. 465

  That when old Glauce saw, for feare least blame

  Of her miscarriage should in her be fond,

  She wist not how t’ amend, nor how it to withstond.

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto III

  Merlin bewrayes to Britomart

  The state of Arthegall:

  And shews the famous progeny,

  Which from them springen shall.

  I

  MOST sacred fyre, that burnest mightily

  In living brests, ykindled first above,

  Emongst th’ eternall spheres and lamping sky,

  And thence pourd into men, which men call Love;

  Not that same which doth base affections move 5

  In brutish mindes, and filthy lust inflame,

  But that sweete fit that doth true beautie love,

  And choseth Vertue for his dearest dame,

  Whence spring all noble deedes and never dying fame:

  II

  Well did antiquity a god thee deeme, 10

  That over mortall mindes hast so great might,

  To order them as best to thee doth seeme,

  And all their actions to direct aright:

  The fatall purpose of divine foresight

  Thou doest effect in destined descents, 15

  Through deepe impression of thy secret might,

  And stirredst up th’ heroes high intents,

  Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments.

  III

  But thy dredd dartes in none doe triumph more,

  Ne braver proofe, in any, of thy powre 20

  Shew’dst thou, then in this royall maid of yore,

  Making her seeke an unknowne paramoure,

  From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre:

  From whose two loynes thou afterwardes did rayse

  Most famous fruites of matrimoniall bowre, 25

  Which through the earth have spredd their living prayse,

  That Fame in tromp of gold eternally displayes.

  IV

  Begin then, O my dearest sacred dame,

  Daughter of Phœbus and of Memorye,

  That doest ennoble with immortall name 30

  The warlike worthies, from antiquitye,

  In thy great volume of eternitye:

  Begin, O Clio, and recount from hence

  My glorious Soveraines goodly auncestrye,

  Till that by dew degrees and long protense, 35

  Thou have it lastly brought unto her Excellence.

  V

  Full many wayes within her troubled mind

  Old Glauce east, to cure this ladies griefe:

  Full many waies she sought, but none could find,

  Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsel, that is chiefe 40

  And choisest med’cine for sick harts reliefe:

  Forthy great care she tooke, and greater feare,

  Least that it should her turne to fowle repriefe

  And sore reproch, when so her father deare

  Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune heare. 45

  VI

  At last she her avisde, that he which made

  That mirrhour, wherein the sicke damosell

  So straungely vewed her straunge lovers shade,

  To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell,

  Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell, 50

  And by what means his love might best be wrought:

  For though beyond the Africk Ismael

  Or th’ Indian Peru he were, she thought

  Him forth through infinite endevour to have sought.

  VII

  Forthwith them selves disguising both in straunge 55

  And base atyre, that none might them bewray,

  To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge

  Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way:

  There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)

  To make his wonne, low underneath the ground, 60

  In a deepe delve, farre from the vew of day,

  That of no living wight he mote be found,

  When so he counseld with his sprights encompast round.

  VIII

  And if thou ever happen that same way
<
br />   To traveill, go to see that dreadfull place: 65

  It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)

  Under a rock, that lyes a litle space

  From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace

  Emongst the woody hilles of Dynevowre:

  But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace, 70

  To enter into that same balefull bowre,

  For feare the cruell feendes should thee unwares devowre.

  IX

  But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare,

  And there such ghastly noyse of yron chaines

  And brasen caudrons thou shalt rombling heare, 75

  Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines

  Doe tosse, that it will stonn thy feeble braines;

  And oftentimes great grones, and grievous stownds,

  When too huge toile and labour them constraines,

  And oftentimes loud strokes, and ringing sowndes, 80

  From under that deepe rock most horribly rebowndes.

  X

  The cause, some say, is this: A litle whyle

  Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend

  A brasen wall in compas to compyle

  About Cairmardin, and did it commend 85

  Unto these sprights, to bring to perfect end.

  During which worke the Lady of the Lake,

  Whom long he lov’d, for him in hast did send;

  Who, thereby forst his workemen to forsake,

  Them bownd, till his retourne, their labour not to slake. 90

  XI

  In the meane time, through that false ladies traine,

  He was surprisd, and buried under beare,

  Ne ever to his worke returnd againe:

  Nath’lesse those feends may not their work forbeare,

  So greatly his commandement they feare, 95

  But there doe toyle and traveile day and night,

  Untill that brasen wall they up doe reare:

  For Merlin had in magick more insight

  Then ever him before or after living wight.

  XII

  For he by wordes could call out of the sky 100

  Both sunne and moone, and make them him obay:

  The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry,

  And darksom night he eke could turne to day:

  Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay,

  And hostes of men of meanest thinges could frame, 105

  When so him list his enimies to fray:

  That to this day, for terror of his fame,

  The feends do quake, when any him to them does name.

  XIII

  And sooth, men say that he was not the sonne

  Of mortall syre or other living wight, 110

  But wondrously begotten, and begonne

  By false illusion of a guilefull spright

  On a faire lady nonne, that whilome hight

  Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,

  Who was the lord of Mathraval by right, 115

  And coosen unto King Ambrosius:

  Whence he indued was with skill so merveilous.

  XIV

  They, here ariving, staid a while without,

  Ne durst adventure rashly in to wend,

  But of their first intent gan make new dout, 120

  For dread of daunger, which it might portend:

  Untill the hardy mayd (with love to frend)

  First entering, the dreadfull mage there fownd

  Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end,

  And writing straunge characters in the grownd, 125

  With which the stubborne feendes he to his service bownd.

  XV

  He nought was moved at their entraunce bold,

  For of their comming well he wist afore;

  Yet list them bid their businesse to unfold,

  As if ought in this world in secrete store 130

  Were from him hidden, or unknowne of yore.

  Then Glauce thus: ‘Let not it thee offend,

  That we thus rashly through thy darksom dore

  Unwares have prest: for either fatall end,

  Or other mightie cause, us two did hether send.’ 135

  XVI

  He bad tell on; and then she thus began:

  ‘Now have three moones with borrowd brothers light

  Thrise shined faire, and thrise seemd dim and wan,

  Sith a sore evill, which this virgin bright

  Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight, 140

  First rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee,

  Or whence it sprong, I can not read aright;

  But this I read, that, but if remedee

  Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see.’

  XVII

  Therewith th’ enchaunter softly gan to smyle 145

  At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well

  That she to him dissembled womanish guyle,

  And to her said: ‘Beldame, by that ye tell,

  More neede of leach-crafte hath your damozell,

  Then of my skill: who helpe may have elswhere, 150

  In vaine seekes wonders out of magick spell.’

  Th’ old woman wox half blanck those wordes to heare;

  And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare;

  XVIII

  And to him said: ‘Yf any leaches skill,

  Or other learned meanes, could have redrest 155

  This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill,

  Certes I should be loth thee to molest:

  But this sad evill, which doth her infest,

  Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed,

  And housed is within her hollow brest, 160

  That either seemes some cursed witches deed,

  Or evill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.’

  XIX

  The wisard could no lenger beare her bord,

  But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd:

  ‘Glauce, what needes this colourable word, 165

  To cloke the cause that hath it selfe bewrayd?

  Ne ye, fayre Britomartis, thus arayd,

  More hidden are then sunne in cloudy vele;

  Whom thy good fortune, having fate obayd,

  Hath hether brought, for succour to appele: 170

  The which the Powres to thee are pleased to revele.’

  XX

  The doubtfull mayd, seeing her selfe descryde,

  Was all abasht, and her pure yvory

  Into a cleare carnation suddeine dyde;

  As fayre Aurora, rysing hastily, 175

  Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye

  All night in old Tithonus frosen bed,

  Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly.

  But her olde nourse was nought dishartened,

  But vauntage made of that which Merlin had ared; 180

  XXI

  And sayd: ‘Sith then thou knowest all our griefe,

  (For what doest not thou knowe?) of grace, I pray,

  Pitty our playnt, and yield us meet reliefe.’

  With that the prophet still awhile did stay,

  And then his spirite thus gan foorth display: 185

  ‘Most noble virgin, that by fatall lore

  Hast learn’d to love, let no whit thee dismay

  The hard beginne that meetes thee in the dore,

  And with sharpe fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore.

  XXII

  ‘For so must all things excellent begin, 190

  And eke enrooted deepe must be that tree,

  Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin,

  Till they to hevens hight forth stretched bee.

  For from thy wombe a famous progenee

  Shall spring, out of the auncient Trojan blood, 195

  Which shall revive the sleeping memoree

  Of those same antique peres, the hevens brood,

  Which Greeke and Asian rivers stayned with their blood.

  XXIII

 
‘Renowmed kings and sacred emperours,

  Thy fruitfull ofspring, shall from thee descend; 200

  Brave captaines and most mighty warriours,

  That shall their conquests through all lands extend,

  And their decayed kingdomes shall amend:

  The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,

  They shall upreare, and mightily defend 205

  Against their forren foe, that commes from farre,

  Till universall peace compound all civill jarre.

  XXIV

  ‘It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye,

  Glauncing unwares in charmed looking glas,

  But the streight course of hevenly destiny, 210

  Led with Eternall Providence, that has

  Guyded thy glaunce, to bring His will to pas:

  Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill,

  To love the prowest knight that ever was:

  Therefore submit thy wayes unto His will, 215

  And doe, by all dew meanes, thy destiny fulfill.’

  XXV

  ‘But read,’ saide Glauce, ‘thou magitian,

  What meanes shall she out seeke, or what waies take?

  How shall she know, how shall she finde the man?

  Or what needes her to toyle, sith Fates can make 220

  Way for themselves, their purpose to pertake?’

  Then Merlin thus: ‘Indeede the Fates are firme,

  And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake:

  Yet ought mens good endevours them confirme,

  And guyde the heavenly causes to their constant terme. 225

  XXVI

  ‘The man, whom heavens have ordaynd to bee

  The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall:

  He wonneth in the land of Fayeree,

  Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all

  To Elfes, but sprong of seed terrestriall, 230

  And whylome by false Faries stolne away,

  Whyles yet in infant cradle he did crall;

  Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day,

  But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.

  XXVII

  ‘But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlois, 235

  And brother unto Cador, Cornish king,

  And for his warlike feates renowmed is,

  From where the day out of the sea doth spring

  Untill the closure of the evening.

  From thence him, firmely bound with faithfull band, 240

  To this his native soyle thou backe shalt bring,

  Strongly to ayde his countrey to withstand

  The powre of forreine Paynims, which invade thy land.

  XXVIII

  ‘Great ayd thereto his mighty puissaunce

  And dreaded name shall give in that sad day: 245

  Where also proofe of thy prow valiaunce

  Thou then shalt make, t’ increase thy lovers pray.

  Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway,

  Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call,