Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  And his pure streames with guiltles blood oft stained, 145

  From my unhappie neighborhood farre fled,

  And his sweete waters away with him led.

  ‘There also where the winged ships were seene

  In liquid waves to cut their fomie waie,

  And thousand fishers numbred to have been, 150

  In that wide lake looking for plenteous praie

  Of fish, which they with baits usde to betraie,

  Is now no lake, nor anie fishers store,

  Nor ever ship shall saile there anie more.

  ‘They all are gone, and all with them is gone: 155

  Ne ought to me remaines, but to lament

  My long decay, which no man els doth mone,

  And mourne my fall with dolefull dreriment.

  Yet it is comfort in great languishment,

  To be bemoned with compassion kinde, 160

  And mitigates the anguish of the minde.

  ‘But me no man bewaileth, but in game,

  Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable eie:

  Nor anie lives that mentioneth my name

  To be remembred of posteritie, 165

  Save one, that maugre Fortunes injurie,

  And Times decay, and Envies cruell tort,

  Hath writ my record in true-seeming sort.

  ‘Cambden, the nourice of antiquitie,

  And lanterne unto late succeeding age, 170

  To see the light of simple veritie

  Buried in ruines, through the great outrage

  Of her owne people, led with warlike rage,

  Cambden, though Time all moniments obscure,

  Yet thy just labours ever shall endure. 175

  ‘But whie (unhappie wight) doo I thus crie,

  And grieve that my remembrance quite is raced

  Out of the knowledge of posteritie,

  And all my antique moniments defaced?

  Sith I doo dailie see things highest placed, 180

  So soone as Fates their vitall thred have shorne,

  Forgotten quite as they were never borne.

  ‘It is not long, since these two eyes beheld

  A mightie Prince, of most renowmed race,

  Whom England high in count of honour held, 185

  And greatest ones did sue to gaine his grace;

  Of greatest ones he greatest in his place,

  Sate in the bosome of his Soveraine,

  And Right and loyall did his word maintaine.

  ‘I saw him die, I saw him die, as one 190

  Of the meane people, and brought foorth on beare;

  I saw him die, and no man left to mone

  His dolefull fate that late him loved deare:

  Scarse anie left to close his eylids neare;

  Scarse anie left upon his lips to laie 195

  The sacred sod, or requiem to saie.

  ‘O trustlesse state of miserable men,

  That builde your blis on hope of earthly thing,

  And vainly thinke your selves halfe happie then,

  When painted faces with smooth flattering 200

  Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing,

  And when the courting masker louteth lowe,

  Him true in heart and trustie to you trow!

  ‘All is but fained, and with oaker dide,

  That everie shower will wash and wipe away, 205

  All things doo change that under heaven abide,

  And after death all friendship doth decaie.

  Therefore, what ever man bearst worldlie sway,

  Living, on God and on thy selfe relie;

  For when thou diest, all shall with thee die. 210

  ‘He now is dead, and all is with him dead,

  Save what in heavens storehouse he uplaid:

  His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread,

  And evill men (now dead) his deeds upbraid:

  Spite bites the dead, that living never baid. 215

  He now is gone, the whiles the foxe is crept

  Into the hole the which the badger swept.

  ‘He now is dead, and all his glorie gone,

  And all his greatnes vapoured to nought,

  That as a glasse upon the water shone, 220

  Which vanisht quite, so soone as it was sought:

  His name is worne alreadie out of thought,

  Ne anie poet seekes him to revive;

  Yet manie poets honourd him alive.

  ‘Ne doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, 225

  Care now his idle bagpipe up to raise,

  Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout

  Of shepherd groomes, which wont his songs to praise:

  Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise,

  Untill he quite him of this guiltie blame: 230

  Wake, shepheards boy, at length awake for shame!

  ‘And who so els did goodnes by him gaine,

  And who so els his bounteous minde did trie,

  Whether he shepheard be, or shepheards swaine,

  (For manie did, which doo it now denie) 235

  Awake, and to his song a part applie:

  And I, the whilest you mourne for his decease,

  Will with my mourning plaints your plaint increase.

  ‘He dyde, and after him his brother dyde,

  His brother prince, his brother noble peere, 240

  That whilste he lived was of none envyde,

  And dead is now, as living, counted deare,

  Deare unto all that true affection beare,

  But unto thee most deare, O dearest dame,

  His noble spouse and paragon of fame. 245

  ‘He, whilest he lived, happie was through thee,

  And, being dead, is happie now much more;

  Living, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee,

  And dead, because him dead thou dost adore

  As living, and thy lost deare love deplore. 250

  So whilst that thou, faire flower of chastitie,

  Dost live, by thee thy lord shall never die.

  ‘Thy lord shall never die, the whiles this verse

  Shall live, and surely it shall live for ever:

  For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse 255

  His worthie praise, and vertues dying never,

  Though death his soule doo from his bodie sever.

  And thou thy selfe herein shalt also live;

  Such grace the heavens doo to my verses give.

  ‘Ne shall his sister, ne thy father die, 260

  Thy father, that good earle of rare renowne,

  And noble patrone of weake povertie;

  Whose great good deeds, in countrey and in towne,

  Have purchast him in heaven an happie crowne;

  Where he now liveth in eternall blis, 265

  And left his sonne t’ ensue those steps of his.

  ‘He, noble bud, his grandsires livelie hayre,

  Under the shadow of thy countenaunce

  Now ginnes to shoote up fast, and flourish fayre

  In learned artes and goodlie governaunce, 270

  That him to highest honour shall advaunce.

  Brave impe of Bedford, grow apace in bountie,

  And count of wisedome more than of thy countie.

  ‘Ne may I let thy husbands sister die,

  That goodly ladie, sith she eke did spring 275

  Out of this stocke and famous familie,

  Whose praises I to future age doo sing,

  And foorth out of her happie womb did bring

  The sacred brood of learning and all honour,

  In whom the heavens powrde all their gifts upon her. 280

  ‘Most gentle spirite breathed from above,

  Out of the bosome of the Makers blis,

  In whom all bountie and all vertuous love

  Appeared in their native propertis,

  And did enrich that noble breast of his 285

  With treasure passing all this worldes worth,

  Worthie of
heaven it selfe, which brought it forth.

  ‘His blessed spirite, full of power divine

  And influence of all celestiall grace,

  Loathing this sinfull earth and earthlie slime, 290

  Fled backe too soone unto his native place,

  Too soone for all that did his love embrace,

  Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he

  Robd of all right and true nobilitie.

  ‘Yet ere his happie soule to heaven went 295

  Out of this fleshlie goale, he did devise

  Unto his heavenlie Maker to present

  His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise;

  And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies

  Should powre forth th’ offring of his guiltles blood: 300

  So life exchanging for his countries good.

  ‘O noble spirite, live there ever blessed,

  The worlds late wonder, and the heavens new joy,

  Live ever there, and leave me here distressed

  With mortall cares, and cumbrous worlds anoy. 305

  But where thou dost that happines enjoy,

  Bid me, O bid me quicklie come to thee,

  That happie there I maie thee alwaies see.

  ‘Yet, whilest the Fates affoord me vitall breath,

  I will it spend in speaking of thy praise, 310

  And sing to thee, untill that timelie death

  By heavens doome doo ende my earthlie daies:

  Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise,

  And into me that sacred breath inspire,

  Which thou there breathest perfect and entire. 315

  ‘Then will I sing; but who can better sing

  Than thine owne sister, peerles ladie bright,

  Which to thee sings with deep harts sorrowing,

  Sorrowing tempered with deare delight,

  That her to heare I feele my feeble spright 320

  Robbed of sense, and ravished with joy:

  O sad joy, made of mourning and anoy!

  ‘Yet will I sing; but who can better sing,

  Than thou thy selfe, thine owne selfes valiance,

  That, whilest thou livedst, madest the forrests ring, 325

  And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce,

  And shepheards leave their lambs unto mischaunce,

  To runne thy shrill Arcadian pipe to heare:

  O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were!

  ‘But now more happie thou, and wretched wee, 330

  Which want the wonted sweetnes of thy voice,

  Whiles thou now in Elisian fields so free,

  With Orpheus, and with Linus, and the choice

  Of all that ever did in rimes rejoyce,

  Conversest, and doost heare their heavenlie layes, 335

  And they heare thine, and thine doo better praise.

  ‘So there thou livest, singing evermore,

  And here thou livest, being ever song

  Of us, which living loved thee afore,

  And now thee worship, mongst that blessed throng 340

  Of heavenlie poets and heroes strong.

  So thou both here and there immortall art,

  And everie where through excellent desart.

  ‘But such as neither of themselves can sing,

  Nor yet are sung of others for reward, 345

  Die in obscure oblivion, as the thing

  Which never was, ne ever with regard

  Their names shall of the later age be heard,

  But shall in rustie darknes ever lie,

  Unles they mentiond be with infamie. 350

  ‘What booteth it to have been rich alive?

  What to be great? what to be gracious?

  When after death no token doth survive

  Of former being in this mortall hous,

  But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious, 355

  Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is,

  And hath no hope of happinesse or blis.

  ‘How manie great ones may remembred be,

  Which in their daies most famouslie did florish,

  Of whome no word we heare, nor signe now see, 360

  But as things wipt out with a sponge to-perishe,

  Because they, living, cared not to cherishe

  No gentle wits, through pride or covetize,

  Which might their names for ever memorize!

  ‘Provide therefore (ye princes) whilst ye live, 365

  That of the Muses ye may friended bee,

  Which unto men eternitie do give;

  For they be daughters of Dame Memorie

  And Jove, the father of Eternitie,

  And do those men in golden thrones repose, 370

  Whose merits they to glorifie do chose.

  ‘The seven fold yron gates of grislie Hell,

  And horrid house of sad Proserpina,

  They able are with power of mightie spell

  To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie 375

  Out of dread darkenesse to eternall day,

  And them immortall make, which els would die

  In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie.

  ‘So whilome raised they the puissant brood

  Of golden girt Alcmena, for great merite, 380

  Out of the dust to which the Oetæan wood

  Had him consum’d, and spent his vitall spirite,

  To highest heaven, where now he doth inherite

  All happinesse in Hebes silver bowre,

  Chosen to be her dearest paramoure. 385

  ‘So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlick twinnes,

  And interchanged life unto them lent,

  That, when th’ one dies, th’ other then beginnes

  To shew in heaven his brightnes orient;

  And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, 390

  Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make,

  Her back againe to life sent for his sake.

  ‘So happie are they, and so fortunate,

  Whom the Pierian sacred sisters love,

  That freed from bands of impacable fate, 395

  And power of death, they live for aye above,

  Where mortall wreakes their blis may not remove:

  But with the gods, for former vertues meede,

  On nectar and ambrosia do feede.

  ‘For deeds doe die, how ever noblie donne, 400

  And thoughts of men do as themselves decay,

  But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne,

  Recorded by the Muses, live for ay,

  Ne may with storming showers be washt away;

  Ne bitter breathing windes with harmfull blast, 405

  Nor age, nor envie, shall them ever wast.

  ‘In vaine doo earthly princes then, in vaine,

  Seeke with pyramides, to heaven aspired,

  Or huge colosses, built with costlie paine,

  Or brasen pillours, never to be fired, 410

  Or shrines, made of the mettall most desired,

  To make their memories for ever live:

  For how can mortall immortalitie give?

  ‘Such one Mausolus made, the worlds great wonder,

  But now no remnant doth thereof remaine: 415

  Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder:

  Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine:

  Such one King Edmond, but was rent for gaine.

  All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse,

  Devour’d of Time, in time to nought doo passe. 420

  ‘But Fame with golden wings aloft doth flie,

  Above the reach of ruinous decay,

  And with brave plumes doth beate the azure skie,

  Admir’d of base-borne men from farre away:

  Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay 425

  To mount to heaven, on Pegasus must ride,

  And with sweete poets verse be glorifide.

  ‘For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake

  Could save the sonne of Thetis from to
die;

  But that blinde bard did him immortall make 430

  With verses, dipt in deaw of Castalie:

  Which made the Easterne conquerour to crie,

  O fortunate yong-man, whose vertue found

  So brave a trompe thy noble acts to sound.

  ‘Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read 435

  Good Melibæ, that hath a poet got

  To sing his living praises being dead,

  Deserving never here to be forgot,

  In spight of envie, that his deeds would spot:

  Since whose decease, learning lies unregarded, 440

  And men of armes doo wander unrewarded.

  ‘Those two be those two great calamities,

  That long agoe did grieve the noble spright

  Of Salomon with great indignities;

  Who whilome was alive the wisest wight: 445

  But now his wisedome is disprooved quite:

  For he that now welds all things at his will

  Scorns th’ one and th’ other in his deeper skill.

  ‘O griefe of griefes! O gall of all good heartes!

  To see that vertue should dispised bee 450

  Of him that first was raisde for vertuous parts,

  And now, broad spreading like an aged tree,

  Lets none shoot up, that nigh him planted bee.

  O let the man of whom the Muse is scorned,

  Nor alive nor dead, be of the Muse adorned! 455

  ‘O vile worlds trust, that with such vaine illusion

  Hath so wise men bewitcht and overkest,

  That they see not the way of their confusion!

  O vainesse to be added to the rest,

  That do my soule with inward griefe infest! 460

  Let them behold the piteous fall of mee,

  And in my case their owne ensample see.

  ‘And who so els that sits in highest seate

  Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,

  Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threate, 465

  Let him behold the horror of my fall,

  And his owne end unto remembrance call;

  That of like ruine he may warned bee,

  And in himselfe be moov’d to pittie mee.’

  Thus having ended all her piteous plaint, 470

  With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away,

  That I, through inward sorrowe wexen faint,

  And all astonished with deepe dismay

  For her departure, had no word to say;

  But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, 475

  Looking still, if I might of her have sight.

  Which when I missed, having looked long,

  My thought returned greeved home againe,

  Renewing her complaint with passion strong,

  For ruth of that same womans piteous paine; 480

  Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine,

  I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart,