There where the mouldred earth had cav’d the banke; 290
And fast beside a little brooke did pas
Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,
By which few crooked sallowes grew in ranke:
Wherto approaching nigh, they heard the sound
Of many yron hammers beating ranke, 295
And answering their wearie turnes around,
That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert ground.
XXXIV
There entring in, they found the goodman selfe
Full busily unto his worke ybent;
Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe, 300
With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,
As if he had in prison long bene pent:
Full blacke and griesly did his face appeare,
Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eyesight blent;
With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare, 305
The which he never wont to combe, or comely sheare.
XXXV
Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,
Ne better had he, ne for better cared:
With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent,
And fingers filthie, with long nayles unpared, 310
Right fit to rend the food on which he fared.
His name was Care; a blacksmith by his trade,
That neither day nor night from working spared,
But to small purpose yron wedges made;
Those be unquiet thoughts, that carefull minds invade. 315
XXXVI
In which his worke he had sixe servants prest,
About the andvile standing evermore,
With huge great hammers, that did never rest
From heaping stroakes, which thereon soused sore:
All sixe strong groomes, but one then other more: 320
For by degrees they all were disagreed;
So likewise did the hammers which they bore
Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed,
That he which was the last the first did farre exceede.
XXXVII
He like a monstrous gyant seem’d in sight, 325
Farre passing Bronteus or Pyracmon great,
The which in Lipari doe day and night
Frame thunderbolts for Joves avengefull threate.
So dreadfully he did the andvile beat,
That seem’d to dust he shortly would it drive: 330
So huge his hammer and so fierce his heat,
That seem’d a rocke of diamond it could rive,
And rend a sunder quite, if he thereto list strive.
XXXVIII
Sir Scudamour, there entring, much admired
The manner of their worke and wearie paine; 335
And having long beheld, at last enquired
The cause and end thereof: but all in vaine;
For they for nought would from their worke refraine,
Ne let his speeches come unto their eare;
And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine, 340
Like to the northren winde, that none could heare:
Those Pensifenesse did move; and Sighes the bellows weare.
XXXIX
Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,
But in his armour layd him downe to rest:
To rest he layd him downe upon the flore, 345
(Whylome for ventrous knights the bedding best,)
And thought his wearie limbs to have redrest.
And that old aged dame, his faithfull squire,
Her feeble joynts layd eke a downe to rest;
That needed much her weake age to desire, 350
After so long a travell, which them both did tire.
XL
There lay Sir Scudamour long while expecting.
When gentle sleepe his heavie eyes would close;
Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,
Where better seem’d he mote himselfe repose; 355
And oft in wrath he thence againe uprose;
And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.
But wheresoever he did himselfe dispose,
He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:
So every place seem’d painefull, and ech changing vaine. 360
XLI
And evermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,
The hammers sound his senses did molest;
And evermore, when he began to winke,
The bellowes noyse disturb’d his quiet rest,
Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest. 365
And all the night the dogs did barke and howle
About the house, at sent of stranger guest:
And now the crowing cocke, and now the owle
Lowde shriking, him afflicted to the very sowle.
XLII
And if by fortune any litle nap 370
Upon his heavie eye-lids chaunst to fall,
Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap
Upon his headpeece with his yron mall,
That he was soone awaked therewithall,
And lightly started up as one affrayd, 375
Or as if one him suddenly did call:
So oftentimes he out of sleepe abrayd,
And then lay musing long on that him ill apayd.
XLIII
So long he muzed, and so long he lay,
That at the last his wearie sprite opprest 380
With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may
Long time resist, gave place to kindly rest,
That all his senses did full soone arrest:
Yet, in his soundest sleepe, his dayly feare
His ydle braine gan busily molest, 385
And made him dreame those two disloyall were:
The things that day most minds, at night doe most appeare.
XLIV
With that, the wicked carle, the maister smith,
A paire of redwhote yron tongs did take
Out of the burning cinders, and therewith 390
Under his side him nipt, that, forst to wake,
He felt his hart for very paine to quake,
And started up avenged for to be
On him the which his quiet slomber brake:
Yet, looking round about him, none could see; 395
Yet did the smart remaine, though he himselfe did flee.
XLV
In such disquiet and hartfretting payne
He all that night, that too long night, did passe.
And now the day out of the ocean mayne
Began to peepe above this earthly masse, 400
With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse:
Then up he rose like heavie lumpe of lead,
That in his face, as in a looking glasse,
The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,
And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread. 405
XLVI
Unto his lofty steede he clombe anone,
And forth upon his former voiage fared,
And with him eke that aged squire attone;
Who, whatsoever perill was prepared,
Both equall paines and equall perill shared: 410
The end whereof and daungerous event
Shall for another canticle be spared:
But here my wearie teeme, nigh over spent,
Shall breath it selfe awhile, after so long a went.
Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents
Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’
Canto VI
Both Scudamour and Arthegall
Doe fight with Britomart:
He sees her face; doth fall in love,
And soone from her depart.
I
WHAT equall torment to the griefe of mind,
And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart,
That inly feeds it selfe with thoughts unkind,
And nourisheth her owne consuming smart?
What medicine can
any leaches art 5
Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance hide,
And will to none her maladie impart?
Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride;
For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salve provide.
II
Who having left that restlesse House of Care, 10
The next day, as he on his way did ride,
Full of melancholie and sad misfare,
Through misconceipt, all unawares espide
An armed knight under a forrest side,
Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede; 15
Who, soone as them approaching he descride,
Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,
That seem’d he was full bent to some mischievous deede.
III
Which Scudamour perceiving, forth issewed
To have rencountred him in equall race; 20
But soone as th’ other, nigh approaching, vewed
The armes he bore, his speare he gan abase,
And voide his course: at which so suddain case
He wondred much. But th’ other thus can say:
‘Ah! gentle Scudamour, unto your grace 25
I me submit, and you of pardon pray,
That almost had against you trespassed this day.’
IV
Whereto thus Scudamour: ‘Small harme it were
For any knight upon a ventrous knight
Without displeasance for to prove his spere. 30
But reade you, sir, sith ye my name have hight,
What is your owne, that I mote you requite?’
‘Certes,’ sayd he, ‘ye mote as now excuse
Me from discovering you my name aright:
For time yet serves that I the same refuse; 35
But call ye me the Salvage Knight, as others use.’
V
‘Then this, Sir Salvage Knight,’ quoth he, ‘areede;
Or doe you here within this forrest wonne,
That seemeth well to answere to your weede?
Or have ye it for some occasion donne? 40
That rather seemes, sith knowen armes ye shonne.’
‘This other day,’ sayd he, ‘a stranger knight
Shame and dishonour hath unto me donne;
On whom I waite to wreake that foule despight,
When ever he this way shall passe by day or night.’ 45
VI
‘Shame be his meede,’ quoth he, ‘that meaneth shame.
But what is he by whom ye shamed were?’
‘A stranger knight,’ sayd he, ‘unknowne by name,
But knowne by fame, and by an hebene speare,
With which he all that met him downe did beare. 50
He in an open turney, lately held,
Fro me the honour of that game did reare;
And having me, all wearie earst, downe feld,
The fayrest ladie reft, and ever since withheld.’
VII
When Scudamour heard mention of that speare, 55
He wist right well that it was Britomart,
The which from him his fairest love did beare.
Tho gan he swell in every inner part,
For fell despight, and gnaw his gealous hart,
That thus he sharply sayd: ‘Now by my head, 60
Yet is not this the first unknightly part,
Which that same knight, whom by his launce I read,
Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread.
VIII
‘For lately he my love hath fro me reft,
And eke defiled with foule villanie 65
The sacred pledge which in his faith was left,
In shame of knighthood and fidelitie;
The which ere long full deare he shall abie.
And if to that avenge by you decreed
This hand may helpe, or succour aught supplie, 70
It shall not fayle, when so ye shall it need.’
So both to wreake their wrathes on Britomart agreed.
IX
Whiles thus they communed, lo! farre away
A knight soft ryding towards them they spyde,
Attyr’d in forraine armes and straunge aray: 75
Whom when they nigh approcht, they plaine descryde
To be the same for whom they did abyde.
Sayd then Sir Scudamour, ‘Sir Salvage Knight,
Let me this crave, sith first I was defyde,
That first I may that wrong to him requite: 80
And, if I hap to fayle, you shall recure my right.’
X
Which being yeelded, he his threatfull speare
Gan fewter, and against her fiercely ran.
Who soone as she him saw approaching neare
With so fell rage, her selfe she lightly gan 85
To dight, to welcome him well as she can:
But entertaind him in so rude a wise,
That to the ground she smote both horse and man;
Whence neither greatly hasted to arise,
But on their common harmes together did devise. 90
XI
But Artegall, beholding his mischaunce,
New matter added to his former fire;
And eft aventring his steeleheaded launce,
Against her rode, full of despiteous ire,
That nought but spoyle and vengeance did require. 95
But to himselfe his felonous intent
Returning, disappointed his desire,
Whiles unawares his saddle he forwent,
And found himselfe on ground in great amazement.
XII
Lightly he started up out of that stound, 100
And snatching forth his direfull deadly blade,
Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound
Thrust to an hynd within some covert glade,
Whom without perill he cannot invade.
With such fell greedines he her assayled, 105
That though she mounted were, yet he her made
To give him ground, (so much his force prevayled)
And shun his mightie strokes, gainst which no armes avayled.
XIII
So as they coursed here and there, it chaunst
That, in her wheeling round, behind her crest 110
So sorely he her strooke, that thence it glaunst
Adowne her backe, the which it fairely blest
From foule mischance; ne did it ever rest,
Till on her horses hinder parts it fell;
Where byting deepe, so deadly it imprest, 115
That quite it chynd his backe behind the sell,
And to alight on foote her algates did compell.
XIV
Like as the lightning brond from riven skie,
Throwne out by angry Jove in his vengeance,
With dreadfull force falles on some steeple hie; 120
Which battring, downe it on the church doth glance,
And teares it all with terrible mischance.
Yet she no whit dismayd, her steed forsooke,
And casting from her that enchaunted lance,
Unto her sword and shield her soone betooke; 125
And therewithall at him right furiously she strooke.
XV
So furiously she strooke in her first heat,
Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was,
That she him forced backward to retreat,
And yeeld unto her weapon way to pas: 130
Whose raging rigour neither steele nor bras
Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went,
And pour’d the purple bloud forth on the gras;
That all his mayle yriv’d, and plates yrent,
Shew’d all his bodie bare unto the cruell dent. 135
XVI
At length, when as he saw her hastie heat
Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,
He, through long sufferance growing now more great,
Ros
e in his strength, and gan her fresh assayle,
Heaping huge strokes, as thicke as showre of hayle, 140
And lashing dreadfully at every part,
As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.
Ah! cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,
That workst such wrecke on her to whom thou dearest art!
XVII
What yron courage ever could endure, 145
To worke such outrage on so faire a creature?
And in his madnesse thinke with hands impure
To spoyle so goodly workmanship of nature,
The Maker selfe resembling in her feature?
Certes some hellish furie, or some feend, 150
This mischiefe framd, for their first loves defeature,
To bath their hands in bloud of dearest freend,
Thereby to make their loves beginning their lives end.
XVIII
Thus long they trac’d and traverst to and fro,
Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes pursewed, 155
Still as advantage they espyde thereto:
But toward th’ end Sir Arthegall renewed
His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.
At last his lucklesse hand he heav’d on hie,
Having his forces all in one accrewed, 160
And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie,
That seemed nought but death mote be her destinie.
XIX
The wicked stroke upon her helmet chaunst,
And with the force which in it selfe it bore
Her ventayle shard away, and thence forth glaunst 165
Adowne in vaine, ne harm’d her any more.
With that, her angels face, unseene afore,
Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight,
Deawed with silver drops, through sweating sore,
But somewhat redder then beseem’d aright, 170
Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary fight.
XX
And round about the same, her yellow heare,
Having through stirring loosd their wonted band,
Like to a golden border did appeare,
Framed in goldsmithes forge with cunning hand: 175
Yet goldsmithes cunning could not understand
To frame such subtile wire, so shinie cleare.
For it did glister like the golden sand,
The which Pactolus, with his waters shere,
Throwes forth upon the rivage round about him nere. 180
XXI
And as his hand he up againe did reare,
Thinking to worke on her his utmost wracke,
His powrelesse arme, benumbd with secret feare,
From his revengefull purpose shronke abacke,
And cruell sword out of his fingers slacke 185
Fell downe to ground, as if the steele had sence,
And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,
Or both of them did thinke, obedience
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