The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  And comfort those, in point of death which lay;

  For them most needeth comfort in the end,

  When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay

  The feeble soule departing hence away.

  All is but lost, that liuing we bestow,

  If not well ended at our dying day.

  O man haue mind of that last bitter throw;

  For as the tree does fall, so lyes it euer low.

  The sixt had charge of them now being dead,

  In seemely sort their corses to engraue,

  And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,

  That to their heauenly spouse both sweet and braue

  They might appeare, when he their soules shall saue.

  The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,

  Whose face he made, all beasts to feare, and gaue

  All in his hand, euen dead we honour should.

  Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.

  The seuenth now after death and buriall done,

  Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead

  And widowes ayd, least they should be vndone:

  In face of iudgement he their right would plead,

  Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread

  In their defence, nor would for gold or fee

  Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread:

  And when they stood in most necessitee,

  He did supply their want, and gaue them euer free.

  There when the Elfin knight arriued was,

  The first and chiefest of the seuen, whose care

  Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:

  Where seeing Mercie, that his steps vp bare,

  And alwayes led, to her with reuerence rare

  He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse,

  And seemely welcome for her did prepare:

  For of their order she was Patronesse,

  Albe Charissa were their chiefest founderesse.

  There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest,

  That to the rest more able he might bee:

  During which time, in euery good behest

  And godly worke of Almes and charitee

  She him instructed with great industree;

  Shortly therein so perfect he became,

  That from the first vnto the last degree,

  His mortall life he learned had to frame

  In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

  Thence forward by that painfull way they pas,

  Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;

  On top whereof a sacred chappell was,

  And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,

  Wherein an aged holy man did lye,

  That day and night said his deuotion,

  Ne other worldly busines did apply;

  His name was heauenly Contemplation;

  Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.

  Great grace that old man to him giuen had;

  For God he often saw from heauens hight,

  All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,

  And through great age had lost their kindly sight,

  Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,

  As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:

  That hill they scale with all their powre and might,

  That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne

  Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.

  There they do finde that godly aged Sire,

  With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,

  As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire

  The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.

  Each bone might through his body well be red,

  And euery sinew seene through his long fast:

  For nought he car'd his carcas long vnfed;

  His mind was full of spirituall repast,

  And pyn'd his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.

  Who when these two approching he aspide,

  At their first presence grew agrieued sore,

  That forst him lay his heauenly thoughts aside;

  And had he not that Dame respected more,

  Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,

  He would not once haue moued for the knight.

  They him saluted standing far afore;

  Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,

  And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height.

  What end (quoth she) should cause vs take such paine,

  But that same end, which euery liuing wight

  Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?

  Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right

  To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright

  With burning starres, and euerliuing fire,

  Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight

  By wise Fidelia? she doth thee require,

  To shew it to this knight, according his desire.

  Thrise happy man, said then the father graue,

  Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,

  And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to saue.

  Who better can the way to heauen aread,

  Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred

  In heauenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?

  Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead

  Present before the maiestie diuine,

  And his auenging wrath to clemencie incline.

  Yet since thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne.

  Then come thou man of earth, and see the way,

  That neuer yet was seene of Faeries sonne,

  That neuer leads the traueiler astray,

  But after labours long, and sad delay,

  Brings them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.

  But first thou must a season fast and pray,

  Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,

  And haue her strength recur'd from fraile infirmitis.

  That done, he leads him to the highest Mount;

  Such one, as that same mighty man of God,

  That bloud-red billowes like a walled front

  On either side disparted with his rod,

  Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,

  Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in stone

  With bloudy letters by the hand of God,

  The bitter doome of death and balefull mone

  He did receiue, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

  Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie,

  Adornd with fruitfull Oliues all arownd,

  Is, as it were for endlesse memory

  Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,

  For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:

  Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay

  Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,

  On which the thrise three learned Ladies play

  Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.

  From thence, far off he vnto him did shew

  A litle path, that was both steepe and long,

  Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;

  Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong

  Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong

  Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;

  Too high a ditty for my simple song;

  The Citie of the great king hight it well,

  Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

  As he thereon stood gazing, he might see

  The blessed Angels to and fro descend

  From highest heauen, in gladsome companee,

  And with great ioy into that Citie wend,

  As commonly as friend does with his frend.

  Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,

  What stately building durst so high extend

  Her loftie towres vnto the starry sphere,

  And wh
at vnknowen nation there empeopled were.

  Faire knight (quoth he) Hierusalem that is,

  The new Hierusalem, that God has built

  For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,

  His chosen people purg'd from sinfull guilt,

  With pretious bloud, which cruelly was spilt

  On cursed tree, of that vnspotted lam,

  That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:

  Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,

  More deare vnto their God, then yoũglings to their dam.

  Till now, said then the knight, I weened well,

  That great Cleopolis, where I haue beene,

  In which that fairest Faerie Queene doth dwell,

  The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;

  And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,

  Panthea, seemd the brightest thing, that was:

  But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;

  For this great Citie that does far surpas,

  And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.

  Most trew, then said the holy aged man;

  Yet is Cleopolis for earthly frame,

  The fairest peece, that eye beholden can:

  And well beseemes all knights of noble name,

  That couet in th'immortall booke of fame

  To be eternized, that same to haunt,

  And doen their seruice to that soueraigne Dame,

  That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:

  For she is heauenly borne, and heauen may iustly vaunt.

  And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race,

  How euer now accompted Elfins sonne,

  Well worthy doest thy seruice for her grace,

  To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.

  But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,

  And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,

  Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,

  And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:

  For bloud can nought but sin, & wars but sorrowes yield.

  Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage,

  Which after all to heauen shall thee send;

  Then peaceably thy painefull pilgrimage

  To yonder same Hierusalem do bend,

  Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:

  For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,

  Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend

  And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee,

  Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.

  Vnworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace,

  How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?

  These that haue it attaind, were in like cace

  (Quoth he) as wretched, and liu'd in like paine.

  But deeds of armes must I at last be faine,

  And Ladies loue to leaue so dearely bought?

  What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,

  (Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?

  As for loose loues they are vaine, and vanish into nought.

  O let me not (quoth he) then turne againe

  Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;

  But let me here for aye in peace remaine,

  Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,

  That nothing may my present hope empare.

  That may not be (said he) ne maist thou yit

  Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,

  Who did her cause into thy hand commit,

  Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit.

  Then shall I soone, (quoth he) so God me grace,

  Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,

  And shortly backe returne vnto this place,

  To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.

  But now aread, old father, why of late

  Didst thou behight me borne of English blood,

  Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?

  That word shall I (said he) auouchen good,

  Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.

  For well I wote, thou springst from ancient race

  Of Saxon kings, that haue with mightie hand

  And many bloudie battailes fought in place

  High reard their royall throne in Britane land,

  And vanquisht them, vnable to withstand:

  From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reft,

  There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,

  And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.

  Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaungd by Faeries theft.

  Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond,

  And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,

  Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,

  As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,

  And brought thee vp in ploughmans state to byde,

  Whereof Georgos he thee gaue to name;

  Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,

  To Faery court thou cam'st to seeke for fame,

  And proue thy puissaunt armes, as seemes thee best became.

  O holy Sire (quoth he) how shall I quight

  The many fauours I with thee haue found,

  That hast my name and nation red aright,

  And taught the way that does to heauen bound?

  This said, adowne he looked to the ground,

  To haue returnd, but dazed were his eyne,

  Through passing brightnesse, which did quite cõfound

  His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne.

  So darke are earthly things compard to things diuine.

  At last whenas himselfe he gan to find,

  To Vna back he cast him to retire;

  Who him awaited still with pensiue mind.

  Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre,

  He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.

  So came to Vna, who him ioyd to see,

  And after litle rest, gan him desire,

  Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.

  So leaue they take of Coelia, and her daughters three.

  Cant. XI.

  The knight with that old Dragon fights

  two dayes incessantly:

  The third him ouerthrowes, and gayns

  most glorious victory.

  HIgh time now gan it wex for Vna faire,

  To thinke of those her captiue Parents deare,

  And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:

  Whereto whenas they now approched neare,

  With hartie words her knight she gan to cheare,

  And in her modest manner thus bespake;

  Deare knight, as deare, as euer knight was deare,

  That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake,

  High heauen behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take.

  Now are we come vnto my natiue soyle,

  And to the place, where all our perils dwell;

  Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle,

  Therefore henceforth be at your keeping well,

  And euer ready for your foeman fell.

  The sparke of noble courage now awake,

  And striue your excellent selfe to excell;

  That shall ye euermore renowmed make,

  Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vndertake.

  And pointing forth, lo yonder is (said she)

  The brasen towre in which my parents deare

  For dread of that huge feend emprisond be

  Whom I from far see on the walles appeare

  Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:

  And on the top of all I do espye

  The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare,

  That ô my parents might I happily

  Vnto you bring, to ease you of your misery.

  With that they heard a roaring hideous sound,

  That all the ayre with terrour filled wi
de,

  And seemd vneath to shake the stedfast ground.

  Eftsoones that dreadfull Dragon they espide,

  Where stretcht he lay vpon the sunny side

  Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.

  But all so soone, as he from far descride

  Those glistring armes, that heauen with light did fill,

  He rousd himselfe full blith, and hastned them vntill.

  Then bad the knight his Lady yede aloofe,

  And to an hill her selfe with draw aside,

  From whence she might behold that battailles proof

  And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:

  She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.

  Now O thou sacred Muse, most learned Dame,

  Faire ympe of Phoebus, and his aged bride,

  The Nourse of time, and euerlasting fame,

  That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name;

  O gently come into my feeble brest,

  Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,

  Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,

  And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,

  That nought their kindled courage may aswage,

  Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd;

  The God of warre with his fiers equipage

  Thou doest awake, sleepe neuer he so sownd,

  And scared nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.

  Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit aside,

  Till I of warres and bloudy Mars do sing,

  And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,

  Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim king,

  That with their horrour heauen and earth did ring,

  A worke of labour long, and endlesse prayse:

  But now a while let downe that haughtie string,

  And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,

  That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.

  By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand,

  Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his hast,

  That with his largenesse measured much land,

  And made wide shadow vnder his huge wast;

  As mountaine doth the valley ouercast.

  Approching nigh, he reared high afore

  His body monstrous, horrible, and vast,

  Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more,