The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  It were a goodly storie, to declare,

  By what straunge accident faire Chrysogone

  Conceiu'd these infants, and how them she bare,

  In this wild forrest wandring all alone,

  After she had nine moneths fulfild and gone:

  For not as other wemens commune brood,

  They were enwombed in the sacred throne

  Of her chaste bodie, nor with commune food,

  As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall blood.

  But wondrously they were begot, and bred

  Through influence of th'heauens fruitfull ray,

  As it in antique bookes is mentioned.

  It was vpon a Sommers shynie day,

  When Titan faire his beames did display,

  In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,

  She bath'd her brest, the boyling heat t'allay;

  She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew,

  And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.

  Till faint through irkesome wearinesse, adowne

  Vpon the grassie ground her selfe she layd

  To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne

  Vpon her fell all naked bare displayd;

  The sunne-beames bright vpon her body playd,

  Being through former bathing mollifide,

  And pierst into her wombe, where they embayd

  With so sweet sence and secret power vnspide,

  That in her pregnant flesh they shortly fructifide.

  Miraculous may seeme to him, that reades

  So straunge ensample of conception;

  But reason teacheth that the fruitfull seades

  Of all things liuing, through impression

  Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion,

  Doe life conceiue and quickned are by kynd:

  So after Nilus invndation,

  Infinite shapes of creatures men do fynd,

  Informed in the mud, on which the Sunne hath shynd.

  Great father he of generation

  Is rightly cald, th'author of life and light;

  And his faire sister for creation

  Ministreth matter fit, which tempred right

  With heate and humour, breedes the liuing wight.

  So sprong these twinnes in wombe of Chrysogone,

  Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore affright,

  Wondred to see her belly so vpblone,

  Which still increast, till she her terme had full outgone.

  Whereof conceiuing shame and foule disgrace,

  Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard,

  She fled into the wildernesse a space,

  Till that vnweeldy burden she had reard,

  And shund dishonor, which as death she feard:

  Where wearie of long trauell, downe to rest

  Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard;

  There a sad cloud of sleepe her ouerkest,

  And seized euery sense with sorrow sore opprest.

  It fortuned, faire Venus hauing lost

  Her little sonne, the winged god of loue,

  Who for some light displeasure, which him crost,

  Was from her fled, as flit as ayerie Doue,

  And left her blisfull bowre of ioy aboue,

  (So from her often he had fled away,

  When she for ought him sharpely did reproue,

  And wandred in the world in strange aray,

  Disguiz'd in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.)

  Him for to seeke, she left her heauenly hous,

  The house of goodly formes and faire aspects,

  Whence all the world deriues the glorious

  Features of beautie, and all shapes select,

  With which high God his workmanship hath deckt;

  And searched euery way, through which his wings

  Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect:

  She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter things

  Vnto the man, that of him tydings to her brings.

  First she him sought in Court, where most he vsed

  Whylome to haunt, but there she found him not;

  But many there she found, which sore accused

  His falsehood, and with foule infamous blot

  His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did spot:

  Ladies and Lords she euery where mote heare

  Complayning, how with his empoysned shot

  Their wofull harts he wounded had whyleare,

  And so had left them languishing twixt hope and feare.

  She then the Citties sought from gate to gate,

  And euery one did aske, did he him see;

  And euery one her answerd, that too late

  He had him seene, and felt the crueltie

  Of his sharpe darts and whot artillerie;

  And euery one threw forth reproches rife

  Of his mischieuous deedes, and said, that hee

  Was the disturber of all ciuill life,

  The enimy of peace, and author of all strife.

  Then in the countrey she abroad him sought,

  And in the rurall cottages inquired,

  Where also many plaints to her were brought,

  How he their heedlesse harts with loue had fyred,

  And his false venim through their veines inspyred;

  And eke the gentle shepheard swaynes, which sat

  Keeping their fleecie flockes, as they were hyred,

  She sweetly heard complaine, both how and what

  Her sonne had to them doen; yet she did smile thereat.

  But when in none of all these she him got,

  She gan auize, where else he mote him hyde:

  At last she her bethought, that she had not

  Yet sought the saluage woods and forrests wyde,

  In which full many louely Nymphes abyde,

  Mongst whom might be, that he did closely lye,

  Or that the loue of some of them him tyde:

  For thy, she thither cast her course t'apply,

  To search the secret haunts of Dianes company.

  Shortly vnto the wastefull woods she came,

  Whereas she found the Goddesse with her crew,

  After late chace of their embrewed game,

  Sitting beside a fountaine in a rew,

  Some of them washing with the liquid dew

  From off their dainty limbes the dustie sweat,

  And soyle which did deforme their liuely hew;

  Others lay shaded from the scorching heat;

  The rest vpon her person gaue attendance great.

  She hauing hong vpon a bough on high

  Her bow and painted quiuer, had vnlaste

  Her siluer buskins from her nimble thigh,

  And her lancke loynes vngirt, and brests vnbraste,

  After her heat the breathing cold to taste;

  Her golden lockes, that late in tresses bright

  Embreaded were for hindring of her haste,

  Now loose about her shoulders hong vndight,

  And were with sweet Ambrosia all besprinckled light.

  Soone as she Venus saw behind her backe,

  She was asham'd to be so loose surprized,

  And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels slacke,

  That had not her thereof before auized,

  But suffred her so carelesly disguized

  Be ouertaken. Soone her garments loose

  Vpgath'ring, in her bosome she comprized,

  Well as she might, and to the Goddesse rose,

  Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond her enclose.

  Goodly she gan faire Cytherea greet,

  And shortly asked her, what cause her brought

  Into that wildernesse for her vnmeet,

  From her sweet bowres, and beds with pleasures fraught:

  That suddein change she strange aduenture thought.

  To whom halfe weeping, she thus answered,

  That she her dearest sonne Cupido sought,

  Who in his
frowardnesse from her was fled;

  That she repented sore, to haue him angered.

  Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne

  Of her vaine plaint, and to her scoffing sayd;

  Great pittie sure, that ye be so forlorne

  Of your gay sonne, that giues ye so good ayd

  To your disports: ill mote ye bene apayd.

  But she was more engrieued, and replide;

  Faire sister, ill beseemes it to vpbrayd

  A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride;

  The like that mine, may be your paine another tide.

  As you in woods and wanton wildernesse

  Your glory set, to chace the saluage beasts,

  So my delight is all in ioyfulnesse,

  In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in feasts:

  And ill becomes you with your loftie creasts,

  To scorne the ioy, that Ioue is glad to seeke;

  We both are bound to follow heauens beheasts,

  And tend our charges with obeisance meeke:

  Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my paine to eeke.

  And tell me, if that ye my sonne haue heard,

  To lurke emongst your Nymphes in secret wize;

  Or keepe their cabins: much I am affeard,

  Least he like one of them him selfe disguize,

  And turne his arrowes to their exercize:

  So may he long himselfe full easie hide:

  For he is faire and fresh in face and guize,

  As any Nymph (let not it be enuyde,)

  So saying euery Nymph full narrowly she eyde.

  But Phoebe therewith sore was angered,

  And sharply said; Goe Dame, goe seeke your boy,

  Where you him lately left, in Mars his bed;

  He comes not here, we scorne his foolish ioy,

  Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy:

  But if I catch him in this company,

  By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy

  The Gods doe dread, he dearely shall abye:

  Ile clip his wanton wings, that he no more shall fly.

  Whom when as Venus saw so sore displeased,

  She inly sory was, and gan relent,

  What she had said: so her she soone appeased,

  With sugred words and gentle blandishment,

  Which as a fountaine from her sweet lips went,

  And welled goodly forth, that in short space

  She was well pleasd, and forth her damzels sent,

  Through all the woods, to search from place to place,

  If any tract of him or tydings they mote trace.

  To search the God of loue, her Nymphes she sent

  Throughout the wandring forrest euery where:

  And after them her selfe eke with her went

  To seeke the fugitiue, both farre and nere,

  So long they sought, till they arriued were

  In that same shadie couert, whereas lay

  Faire Crysogone in slombry traunce whilere:

  Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to say)

  Vnwares had borne two babes, as faire as springing day.

  Vnwares she them conceiu'd, vnwares she bore:

  She bore withouten paine, that she conceiued

  Withouten pleasure: ne her need implore

  Lucinaes aide: which when they both perceiued,

  They were through wonder nigh of sense bereaued,

  And gazing each on other, nought bespake:

  At last they both agreed, her seeming grieued

  Out of her heauy swowne not to awake,

  But from her louing side the tender babes to take.

  Vp they them tooke, each one a babe vptooke,

  And with them carried, to be fostered;

  Dame Phoebe to a Nymph her babe betooke,

  To be vpbrought in perfect Maydenhed,

  And of her selfe her name Belphoebe red:

  But Venus hers thence farre away conuayd,

  To be vpbrought in goodly womanhed,

  And in her litle loues stead, which was strayd,

  Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dismayd.

  She brought her to her ioyous Paradize,

  Where most she wonnes, wh&etilde; she on earth does dwel.

  So faire a place, as Nature can deuize:

  Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill,

  Or it in Gnidus be, I wote not well;

  But well I wote by tryall, that this same

  All other pleasant places doth excell,

  And called is by her lost louers name,

  The Gardin of Adonis, farre renowmd by fame.

  In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres,

  Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,

  And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,

  Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie

  Of all things, that are borne to liue and die,

  According to their kindes. Long worke it were,

  Here to account the endlesse progenie

  Of all the weedes, that bud and blossome there;

  But so much as doth need, must needs be counted here.

  It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old,

  And girt in with two walles on either side;

  The one of yron, the other of bright gold,

  That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-stride:

  And double gates it had, which opened wide,

  By which both in and out men moten pas;

  Th'one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:

  Old Genius the porter of them was,

  Old Genius, the which a double nature has.

  He letteth in, he letteth out to wend,

  All that to come into the world desire;

  A thousand thousand naked babes attend

  About him day and night, which doe require,

  That he with fleshly weedes would them attire:

  Such as him list, such as eternall fate

  Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,

  And sendeth forth to liue in mortall state,

  Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.

  After that they againe returned beene,

  They in that Gardin planted be againe;

  And grow afresh, as they had neuer seene

  Fleshly corruption, nor mortall paine.

  Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine;

  And then of him are clad with other hew,

  Or sent into the chaungefull world againe,

  Till thither they returne, where first they grew:

  So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.

  Ne needs there Gardiner to set, or sow,

  To plant or prune: for of their owne accord

  All things, as they created were, doe grow,

  And yet remember well the mightie word,

  Which first was spoken by th'Almightie lord,

  That bad them to increase and multiply:

  Ne doe they need with water of the ford,

  Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry;

  For in themselues eternall moisture they imply.

  Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred,

  And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew,

  And euery sort is in a sundry bed

  Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew:

  Some fit for reasonable soules t'indew,

  Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,

  And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew

  In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,

  That seem'd the Ocean could not containe them there.

  Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent

  Into the world, it to replenish more;

  Yet is the stocke not lessened, nor spent,

  But still remaines in euerlasting store,

  As it at first created was of yore.

  For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,

  In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore,

&n
bsp; An huge eternall Chaos, which supplyes

  The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes.

  All things from thence doe their first being fetch,

  And borrow matter, whereof they are made,

  Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,

  Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade

  The state of life, out of the griesly shade.

  That substance is eterne, and bideth so,

  Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,

  Doth it consume, and into nothing go,

  But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.

  The substance is not chaunged, nor altered,

  But th'only forme and outward fashion;

  For euery substance is conditioned

  To change her hew, and sundry formes to don,

  Meet for her temper and complexion:

  For formes are variable and decay,

  By course of kind, and by occasion;

  And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,

  As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

  Great enimy to it, and to all the rest,

  That in the Gardin of Adonis springs,

  Is wicked Time, who with his scyth addrest,

  Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things,

  And all their glory to the ground downe flings,

  Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard:

  He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings

  Beates downe both leaues and buds without regard,

  Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard.

  Yet pittie often did the gods relent,

  To see so faire things mard, and spoyled quight:

  And their great mother Venus did lament

  The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight:

  Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight,

  When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde,

  Yet no'te she find redresse for such despight.

  For all that liues, is subiect to that law:

  All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.

  But were it not, that Time their troubler is,

  All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,

  Should happie be, and haue immortall blis:

  For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,

  And sweet loue gentle fits emongst them throwes,

  Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie;