Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Then up he made him rise, and forward fare,

  Led in a rope, which both his hands did bynd;

  Ne ought that foole for pitty did him spare, 435

  But with his whip him following behynd,

  Him often scourg’d, and forst his feete to fynd:

  And other whiles with bitter mockes and mowes

  He would him scorne, that to his gentle mynd

  Was much more grievous then the others blowes: 440

  Words sharpely wound, but greatest griefe of scorning growes.

  L

  The faire Serena, when she saw him fall

  Under that villaines club, then surely thought

  That slaine he was, or made a wretched thrall,

  And fled away with all the speede she mought, 445

  To seeke for safety; which long time she sought,

  And past through many perils by the way,

  Ere she againe to Calepine was brought;

  The which discourse as now I must delay,

  Till Mirabellaes fortunes I doe further say. 450

  Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

  Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

  Canto VIII

  Prince Arthure overcomes Disdaine;

  Quites Mirabell from dreed;

  Serena, found of salvages,

  By Calepine is freed.

  I

  YE gentle ladies, in whose soveraine powre

  Love hath the glory of his kingdome left,

  And th’ hearts of men, as your eternall dowre,

  In yron chaines, of liberty bereft,

  Delivered hath into your hands by gift; 5

  Be well aware, how ye the same doe use,

  That pride doe not to tyranny you lift;

  Least, if men you of cruelty accuse,

  He from you take that chiefedome, which ye doe abuse.

  II

  And as ye soft and tender are by kynde, 10

  Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties grace,

  So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde;

  But cruelty and hardnesse from you chace,

  That all your other praises will deface,

  And from you turne the love of men to hate. 15

  Ensample take of Mirabellaes case,

  Who from the high degree of happy state

  Fell into wretched woes, which she repented late.

  III

  Who after thraldome of the gentle squire,

  Which she beheld with lamentable eye, 20

  Was touched with compassion entire,

  And much lamented his calamity,

  That for her sake fell into misery:

  Which booted nought for prayers, nor for threat

  To hope for to release or mollify; 25

  For aye the more that she did them entreat,

  The more they him misust, and cruelly did beat.

  IV

  So as they forward on their way did pas,

  Him still reviling and afficting sore,

  They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias, 30

  (That was that courteous knight, whom he before

  Having subdew’d, yet did to life restore,)

  To whom as they approcht, they gan augment

  Their cruelty, and him to punish more,

  Scourging and haling him more vehement; 35

  As if it them should grieve to see his punishment.

  V

  The squire him selfe, when as he saw his lord,

  The witnesse of his wretchednesse, in place,

  Was much asham’d, that with an hempen cord

  He like a dog was led in captive case, 40

  And did his head for bashfulnesse abase,

  As loth to see, or to be seene at all:

  Shame would be hid. But whenas Enias

  Beheld two such, of two such villaines thrall,

  His manly mynde was much emmoved therewithall; 45

  VI

  And to the Prince thus sayd: ‘See you, sir knight,

  The greatest shame that ever eye yet saw,

  Yond lady and her squire with foule despight

  Abusde, against all reason and all law,

  Without regard of pitty or of awe? 50

  See how they doe that squire beat and revile!

  See how they doe the lady hale and draw!

  But if ye please to lend me leave a while,

  I will them soone acquite, and both of blame assoile.’

  VII

  The Prince assented, and then he streight way 55

  Dismounting light, his shield about him threw,

  With which approching, thus he gan to say:

  ‘Abide, ye caytive treachetours untrew,

  That have with treason thralled unto you

  These two, unworthy of your wretched bands; 60

  And now your crime with cruelty pursew.

  Abide, and from them lay your loathly hands;

  Or else abide the death that hard before you stands.’

  VIII

  The villaine stayd not aunswer to invent,

  But with his yron club preparing way, 65

  His mindes sad message backe unto him sent;

  The which descended with such dreadfull sway,

  That seemed nought the course thereof could stay,

  No more then lightening from the lofty sky:

  Ne list the knight the powre thereof assay, 70

  Whose doome was death, but lightly slipping by,

  Unwares defrauded his intended destiny.

  IX

  And to requite him with the like againe,

  With his sharpe sword he fiercely at him flew,

  And strooke so strongly, that the carle with paine 75

  Saved him selfe, but that he there him slew:

  Yet sav’d not so, but that the bloud it drew,

  And gave his foe good hope of victory.

  Who therewith flesht, upon him set anew,

  And with the second stroke thought certainely 80

  To have supplyde the first, and paide the usury.

  X

  But Fortune aunswerd not unto his call;

  For as his hand was heaved up on hight,

  The villaine met him in the middle fall,

  And with his club bet backe his brondyron bright 85

  So forcibly, that with his owne hands might

  Rebeaten backe upon him selfe againe,

  He driven was to ground in selfe despight;

  From whence ere he recovery could gaine,

  He in his necke had set his foote with fell disdaine. 90

  XI

  With that the foole, which did that end awayte,

  Came running in, and whilest on ground he lay,

  Laide heavy hands on him, and held so strayte,

  That downe he kept him with his scornefull sway,

  So as he could not weld him any way. 95

  The whiles that other villaine went about

  Him to have bound, and thrald without delay;

  The whiles the foole did him revile and flout,

  Threatning to yoke them two and tame their corage shout.

  XII

  As when a sturdy ploughman with his hynde 100

  By strength have overthrowne a stubborne steare,

  They downe him hold, and fast with cords do bynde,

  Till they him force the buxome yoke to beare:

  So did these two this knight oft tug and teare.

  Which when the Prince beheld, there standing by, 105

  He left his lofty steede to aide him neare,

  And buckling soone him selfe, gan fiercely fly

  Uppon that carle, to save his friend from jeopardy.

  XIII

  The villaine, leaving him unto his mate,

  To be captiv’d and handled as he list, 110

  Himselfe addrest unto this new debate,

  And with his club him all about so blist,

  That he which way to turne him scarcely wist:

&nb
sp; Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes alow,

  Now here, now there, and oft him neare he mist; 115

  So doubtfully, that hardly one could know

  Whether more wary were to give or ward the blow.

  XIV

  But yet the Prince so well enured was

  With such huge strokes, approved oft in fight,

  That way to them he gave forth right to pas; 120

  Ne would endure the daunger of their might,

  But wayt advantage, when they downe did light.

  At last the caytive after long discourse,

  When all his strokes he saw avoyded quite,

  Resolved in one t’ assemble all his force, 125

  And make one end of him without ruth or remorse.

  XV

  His dreadfull hand he heaved up aloft,

  And with his dreadfull instrument of yre

  Thought sure have pownded him to powder soft,

  Or deepe emboweld in the earth entyre: 130

  But Fortune did not with his will conspire;

  For ere his stroke attayned his intent,

  The noble childe, preventing his desire,

  Under his club with wary boldnesse went,

  And smote him on the knee, that never yet was bent. 135

  XVI

  It never yet was bent, ne bent it now,

  Albe the stroke so strong and puissant were,

  That seem’d a marble pillour it could bow;

  But all that leg, which did his body beare,

  It crackt throughout (yet did no bloud appeare) 140

  So as it was unable to support

  So huge a burden on such broken geare,

  But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of durt,

  Whence he assayd to rise, but could not for his hurt.

  XVII

  Eftsoones the Prince to him full nimbly stept, 145

  And least he should recover foote againe,

  His head meant from his shoulders to have swept.

  Which when the lady saw, she cryde amaine:

  ‘Stay, stay, sir knight, for love of God abstaine

  From that unwares ye weetlesse doe intend; 150

  Slay not that carle, though worthy to be slaine:

  For more on him doth then him selfe depend;

  My life will by his death have lamentable end.’

  XVIII

  He staide his hand according her desire,

  Yet nathemore him suffred to arize; 155

  But still suppressing, gan of her inquire,

  What meaning mote those uncouth words comprize,

  That in that villaines health her safety lies:

  That, were no might in man, nor heart in knights,

  Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize, 160

  Yet heavens them selves, that favour feeble rights,

  Would for it selfe redresse, and punish such despights.

  XIX

  Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast

  Like many water streames, a while she stayd;

  Till the sharpe passion being overpast, 165

  Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd:

  ‘Nor heavens, nor men can me, most wretched mayd,

  Deliver from the doome of my desart,

  The which the God of Love hath on me layd,

  And damned to endure this direfull smart, 170

  For penaunce of my proud and hard rebellious hart.

  XX

  ‘In prime of youthly yeares, when first the flowre

  Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme delight,

  And Nature me endu’d with plenteous dowre

  Of all her gifts, that pleasde each living sight, 175

  I was belov’d of many a gentle knight,

  And sude and sought with all the service dew:

  Full many a one for me deepe groand and sight,

  And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,

  Complayning out on me, that would not on them rew. 180

  XXI

  ‘But let them love that list, or live or die;

  Me list not die for any lovers doole:

  Ne list me leave my loved libertie,

  To pitty him that list to play the foole:

  To love my selfe I learned had in schoole. 185

  Thus I triumphed long in lovers paine,

  And sitting carelesse on the scorners stoole,

  Did laugh at those that did lament and plaine:

  But all is now repayd with interest againe.

  XXII

  ‘For loe! the winged god, that woundeth harts, 190

  Causde me be called to accompt therefore,

  And for revengement of those wrongfull smarts,

  Which I to others did inflict afore,

  Addeem’d me to endure this penaunce sore;

  That in this wize, and this unmeete array, 195

  With these two lewd companions, and no more,

  Disdaine and Scorne, I through the world should stray,

  Till I have sav’d so many, as I earst did slay.’

  XXIII

  ‘Certes,’ sayd then the Prince, ‘the god is just,

  That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile. 200

  For were no law in love, but all that lust

  Might them oppresse, and painefully turmoile,

  His kingdome would continue but a while.

  But tell me, lady, wherefore doe you beare

  This bottle thus before you with such toile, 205

  And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare,

  That for these carles to carry much more comely were?’

  XXIV

  ‘Here in this bottle,’ sayd the sory mayd,

  ‘I put the teares of my contrition,

  Till to the brim I have it full defrayd: 210

  And in this bag, which I behinde me don,

  I put repentaunce for things past and gon.

  Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne

  That all which I put in fals out anon,

  And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne, 215

  Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs the more I mourn.’

  XXV

  The infant hearkned wisely to her tale,

  And wondred much at Cupids judg’ment wise,

  That could so meekly make proud hearts avale,

  And wreake him selfe on them that him despise. 220

  Then suffred he Disdaine up to arise,

  Who was not able up him selfe to reare,

  By meanes his leg, through his late luckelesse prise,

  Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare

  Was holpen up, who him supported standing neare. 225

  XXVI

  But being up, he lookt againe aloft,

  As if he never had received fall;

  And with sterne eye-browes stared at him oft,

  As if he would have daunted him with all:

  And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall, 230

  Downe on his golden feete he often gazed,

  As if such pride the other could apall;

  Who was so far from being ought amazed,

  That he his lookes despised,and his boast dispraized.

  XXVII

  Then turning backe unto that captive thrall, 235

  Who all this while stood there beside them bound,

  Unwilling to be knowne, or seene at all,

  He from those bands weend him to have unwound.

  But when, approching neare, he plainely found

  It was his owne thrue groome. the gentle squire, 240

  He thereat wext exceedingly astound,

  And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,

  Ne could with seeing satisfie his great desire.

  XXVIII

  Meane while the salvage man, when he beheld

  That huge great foole oppressing th’ other knight, 245

  Whom with his weight unweldy downe he held,

  He flew upon him, like a greedy kight

&nb
sp; Unto some carrion offered to his sight,

  And downe him plucking, with his nayles and teeth

  Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite; 250

  And from him taking his owne whip, therewith

  So sore him scourgeth, that the bloud downe followeth.

  XXIX

  And sure I weene, had not the ladies cry

  Procur’d the Prince his cruell hand to stay,

  He would with whipping him have done to dye: 255

  But being checkt, he did abstaine streight way,

  And let him rise. Then thus the Prince gan say:

  ‘Now, lady, sith your fortunes thus dispose,

  That, if ye list have liberty, ye may,

  Unto your selfe I freely leave to chose, 260

  Whether I shall you leave, or from these villaines lose.’

  XXX

  ‘Ah! nay, sir knight,’ sayd she, ‘it may not be,

  But that I needes must by all meanes fulfill

  This penaunce, which enjoyned is to me,

  Least unto me betide a greater ill; 265

  Yet no lesse thankes to you for your good will.’

  So humbly taking leave, she turnd aside:

  But Arthure with the rest went onward still

  On his first quest, in which did him betide

  A great adventure, which did him from them devide. 270

  XXXI

  But first it falleth me by course to tell

  Of faire Serena, who, as earst you heard,

  When first the gentle squire at variaunce fell

  With those two carles, fled fast away, afeard

  Of villany to be to her inferd: 275

  So fresh the image of her former dread,

  Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard,

  That every foote did tremble, which did tread,

  And every body two, and two she foure did read.

  XXXII

  Through hils and dales, through bushes and through breres 280

  Long thus she fled, till that at last she thought

  Her selfe now past the perill of her feares.

  Then looking round about, and seeing nought

  Which doubt of daunger to her offer mought,

  She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine, 285

  And sitting downe, her selfe a while bethought

  Of her long travell and turmoyling paine:

  And often did of love, and oft of lucks complaine.

  XXXIII

  And evermore she blamed Calepine,

  The good Sir Calepine, her owne true knight, 290

  As th’ onely author of her wofull tine:

  For being of his love to her so light,

  As her to leave in such a piteous plight.

  Yet never turtle truer to his make,

  Then he was tride unto his lady bright: 295

  Who all this while endured for her sake

  Great perill of his life, and restlesse paines did take.

  XXXIV