The Faerie Queene

by The Faerie Queen(Lit)

  Yet leaue vnto his sorrow did not yeeld,

  But rather stird to vengeance and despight,

  Through secret feeling of his generous spright,

  Rusht fiercely forth, the battell to renew,

  As in reuersion of his brothers right;

  And chalenging the Virgin as his dew.

  His foe was soone addrest: the trompets freshly blew.

  With that they both together fiercely met,

  As if that each ment other to deuoure;

  And with their axes both so sorely bet,

  That neither plate nor mayle, whereas their powre

  They felt, could once sustaine the hideous stowre,

  But riued were like rotten wood a sunder,

  Whilest through their rifts the ruddie bloud did showre

  And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder,

  That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth and wonder.

  As when two Tygers prickt with hungers rage,

  Haue by good fortune found some beasts fresh spoyle,

  On which they weene their famine to asswage,

  And gaine a feastfull guerdon of their toyle,

  Both falling out doe stirre vp strifefull broyle,

  And cruell battell twixt themselues doe make,

  Whiles neither lets the other touch the soyle,

  But either sdeignes with other to partake:

  So cruelly these Knights stroue for that Ladies sake.

  Full many strokes, that mortally were ment,

  The whiles were enterchaunged twixt them two;

  Yet they were all with so good wariment

  Or warded, or auoyded and let goe,

  That still the life stood fearelesse of her foe:

  Till Diamond disdeigning long delay

  Of doubtfull fortune wauering to and fro,

  Resolu'd to end it one or other way;

  And heau'd his murdrous axe at him with mighty sway.

  The dreadfull stroke in case it had arriued,

  Where it was ment, (so deadly it was ment)

  The soule had sure out of his bodie riued,

  And stinted all the strife incontinent.

  But Cambels fate that fortune did preuent:

  For seeing it at hand, he swaru'd asyde,

  And so gaue way vnto his fell intent:

  Who missing of the marke which he had eyde,

  Was with the force nigh feld whilst his right foot did slyde.

  As when a Vulture greedie of his pray,

  Through hunger long, that hart to him doth lend,

  Strikes at an Heron with all his bodies sway,

  That from his force seemes nought may it defend;

  The warie fowle that spies him toward bend

  His dreadfull souse auoydes, it shunning light,

  And maketh him his wing in vaine to spend;

  That with the weight of his owne weeldlesse might,

  He falleth nigh to ground, and scarse recouereth flight.

  Which faire aduenture when Cambello spide,

  Full lightly, ere himselfe he could recower,

  From daungers dread to ward his naked side,

  He can let driue at him with all his power,

  And with his axe him smote in euill hower,

  That from his shoulders quite his head he reft:

  The headlesse tronke, as heedlesse of that stower,

  Stood still a while, and his fast footing kept,

  Till feeling life to fayle, it fell, and deadly slept.

  They which that piteous spectacle beheld,

  Were much amaz'd the headlesse tronke to see

  Stand vp so long, and weapon vaine to weld,

  Vnweeting of the Fates diuine decree,

  For lifes succession in those brethren three.

  For notwithstanding that one soule was reft,

  Yet, had the bodie not dismembred bee,

  It would haue liued, and reuiued eft;

  But finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse it left.

  It left; but that same soule, which therein dwelt,

  Streight entring into Triamond, him fild

  With double life, and griefe, which when he felt,

  As one whose inner parts had bene ythrild

  With point of steele, that close his hartbloud spild,

  He lightly lept out of his place of rest,

  And rushing forth into the emptie field,

  Against Cambello fiercely him addrest;

  Who him affronting soone to fight was readie prest.

  Well mote ye wonder how that noble Knight,

  After he had so often wounded beene,

  Could stand on foot, now to renew the fight.

  But had ye then him forth aduauncing seene,

  Some newborne wight ye would him surely weene:

  So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight;

  Like as a Snake, whom wearie winters teene,

  Hath worne to nought, now feeling sommers might,

  Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth him dight.

  All was through vertue of the ring he wore,

  The which not onely did not from him let

  One drop of bloud to fall, but did restore

  His weakned powers, and dulled spirits whet,

  Through working of the stone therein yset.

  Else how could one of equall might with most,

  Against so many no lesse mightie met,

  Once thinke to match three such on equall cost,

  Three such as able were to match a puissant host.

  Yet nought thereof was Triamond adredde,

  Ne desperate of glorious victorie,

  But sharpely him assayld, and sore bestedde,

  With heapes of strokes, which he at him let flie,

  As thicke as hayle forth poured from the skie:

  He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, he lasht,

  And did his yron brond so fast applie,

  That from the same the fierie sparkles flasht,

  As fast as water-sprinckles gainst a rocke are dasht.

  Much was Cambello daunted with his blowes,

  So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent,

  That he was forst from daunger of the throwes

  Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent,

  Till th'heat of his fierce furie he had spent:

  Which when for want of breath gan to abate,

  He then afresh with new encouragement

  Did him assayle, and mightily amate,

  As fast as forward erst, now backward to retrate.

  Like as the tide that comes fro th'Ocean mayne,

  Flowes vp the Shenan with contrarie forse,

  And ouerruling him in his owne rayne,

  Driues backe the current of his kindly course,

  And makes it seeme to haue some other sourse:

  But when the floud is spent, then backe againe

  His borrowed waters forst to redisbourse,

  He sends the sea his owne with double gaine,

  And tribute eke withall, as to his Soueraine.

  Thus did the battell varie to and fro,

  With diuerse fortune doubtfull to be deemed:

  Now this the better had, now had his fo;

  Then he halfe vanquisht, then the other seemed,

  Yet victors both them selues alwayes esteemed.

  And all the while the disentrayled blood

  Adowne their sides like litle riuers stremed,

  That with the wasting of his vitall flood,

  Sir Triamond at last full faint and feeble stood.

  But Cambell still more strong and greater grew,

  Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres emperisht,

  Through that rings vertue, that with vigour new,

  Still when as he enfeebled was, him cherisht,

  And all his wounds, and all his bruses guarisht,

  Like as a withered tree through husbands toyle

  Is often seene full freshly to haue florisht,
/>   And fruitfull apples to haue borne awhile,

  As fresh as when it first was planted in the soyle.

  Through which aduantage, in his strength he rose,

  And smote the other with so wondrous might,

  That through the seame, which did his hauberk close,

  Into his throate and life it pierced quight,

  That downe he fell as dead in all mens sight:

  Yet dead he was not, yet he sure did die,

  As all men do, that lose the liuing spright:

  So did one soule out of his bodie flie

  Vnto her natiue home from mortall miserie.

  But nathelesse whilst all the lookers on

  Him dead behight, as he to all appeard,

  All vnawares he started vp anon,

  As one that had out of a dreame bene reard,

  And fresh assayld his foe; who halfe affeard

  Of th'vncouth sight, as he some ghost had seene,

  Stood still amaz'd, holding his idle sweard;

  Till hauing often by him stricken beene,

  He forced was to strike, and saue him selfe from teene.

  Yet from thenceforth more warily he fought,

  As one in feare the Stygian gods t'offend,

  Ne followd on so fast, but rather sought

  Him selfe to saue, and daunger to defend,

  Then life and labour both in vaine to spend.

  Which Triamond perceiuing, weened sure

  He gan to faint, toward the battels end,

  And that he should not long on foote endure,

  A signe which did to him the victorie assure.

  Whereof full blith, eftsoones his mightie hand

  He heav'd on high, in mind with that same blow

  To make an end of all that did withstand:

  Which Cambell seeing come, was nothing slow

  Him selfe to saue from that so deadly throw;

  And at that instant reaching forth his sweard

  Close vnderneath his shield, that scarce did show,

  Stroke him, as he his hand to strike vpreard,

  In th'arm-pit full, that through both sides the wound appeard.

  Yet still that direfull stroke kept on his way,

  And falling heauie on Cambelloes crest,

  Strooke him so hugely, that in swowne he lay,

  And in his head an hideous wound imprest:

  And sure had it not happily found rest

  Vpon the brim of his brode plated shield,

  It would haue cleft his braine downe to his brest.

  So both at once fell dead vpon the field,

  And each to other seemd the victorie to yield.

  Which when as all the lookers on beheld,

  They weened sure the warre was at an end,

  And Iudges rose, and Marshals of the field

  Broke vp the listes, their armes away to rend;

  And Canacee gan wayle her dearest frend.

  All suddenly they both vpstarted light,

  The one out of the swownd, which him did blend,

  The other breathing now another spright,

  And fiercely each assayling, gan afresh to fight.

  Long while they then continued in that wize,

  As if but then the battell had begonne:

  Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they did despise,

  Ne either car'd to ward, or perill shonne,

  Desirous both to haue the battell donne;

  Ne either cared life to saue or spill,

  Ne which of them did winne, ne which were wonne.

  So wearie both of fighting had their fill,

  That life it selfe seemd loathsome, and long safetie ill.

  Whilst thus the case in doubtfull ballance hong,

  Vnsure to whether side it would incline,

  And all mens eyes and hearts, which there among

  Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine,

  And secret feare, to see their fatall fine,

  All suddenly they heard a troublous noyes,

  That seemd some perilous tumult to desine,

  Confusd with womens cries, and shouts of boyes,

  Such as the troubled Theaters oftimes annoyes.

  Thereat the Champions both stood still a space,

  To weeten what that sudden clamour ment;

  Lo where they spyde with speedie whirling pace,

  One in a charet of straunge furniment,

  Towards them driuing like a storme out sent.

  The charet decked was in wondrous wize,

  With gold and many a gorgeous ornament,

  After the Persian Monarks antique guize,

  Such as the maker selfe could best by art deuize.

  And drawne it was (that wonder is to tell)

  Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood,

  In which their powre all others did excell;

  Now made forget their former cruell mood,

  T'obey their riders hest, as seemed good.

  And therein sate a Ladie passing faire

  And bright, that seemed borne of Angels brood,

  And with her beautie bountie did compare,

  Whether of them in her should haue the greater share.

  Thereto she learned was in Magicke leare,

  And all the artes, that subtill wits discouer,

  Hauing therein bene trained many a yeare,

  And well instructed by the Fay her mother,

  That in the same she farre exceld all other.

  Who vnderstanding by her mightie art,

  Of th'euill plight, in which her dearest brother

  Now stood, came forth in hast to take his part,

  And pacifie the strife, which causd so deadly smart.

  And as she passed through th'vnruly preace

  Of people, thronging thicke her to behold,

  Her angrie teame breaking their bonds of peace,

  Great heapes of them, like sheepe in narrow fold,

  For hast did ouer-runne, in dust enrould,

  That thorough rude confusion of the rout,

  Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed hould,

  Some laught for sport, some did for wonder shout,

  And some that would seeme wise, their wonder turnd to dout.

  In her right hand a rod of peace shee bore,

  About the which two Serpents weren wound,

  Entrayled mutually in louely lore,

  And by the tailes together firmely bound,

  And both were with one oliue garland crownd,

  Like to the rod which Maias sonne doth wield,

  Wherewith the hellish fiends he doth confound.

  And in her other hand a cup she hild,

  The which was with Nepenthe to the brim vpfild.

  Nepenthe is a drinck of souerayne grace,

  Deuized by the Gods, for to asswage

  Harts grief, and bitter gall away to chace,

  Which stirs vp anguish and contentious rage:

  In stead thereof sweet peace and quiet age

  It doth establish in the troubled mynd.

  Few men, but such as sober are and sage,

  Are by the Gods to drinck thereof assynd;

  But such as drinck, eternall happinesse do fynd.

  Such famous men, such worthies of the earth,

  As Ioue will haue aduaunced to the skie,

  And there made gods, though borne of mortall berth,

  For their high merits and great dignitie,

  Are wont, before they may to heauen flie,

  To drincke hereof, whereby all cares forepast

  Are washt away quite from their memorie.

  So did those olde Heroes hereof taste,

  Before that they in blisse amongst the Gods were plaste.

  Much more of price and of more gratious powre

  Is this, then that same water of Ardenne,

  The which Rinaldo drunck in happie howre,

  Described by that famous Tuscane penne:

  For that had might to chang
e the hearts of men

  Fro loue to hate, a change of euill choise:

  But this doth hatred make in loue to brenne,

  And heauy heart with comfort doth reioyce.

  Who would not to this vertue rather yeeld his voice?

  At last arriuing by the listes side,

  Shee with her rod did softly smite the raile,

  Which straight flew ope, and gaue her way to ride.

  Eftsoones out of her Coch she gan auaile,

  And pacing fairely forth, did bid all haile,

  First to her brother, whom she loued deare,

  That so to see him made her heart to quaile:

  And next to Cambell, whose sad ruefull cheare

  Made her to change her hew, and hidden loue t'appeare.

  They lightly her requit (for small delight

  They had as then her long to entertaine.)

  And eft them turned both againe to fight;

  Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy plaine

  Her selfe she threw, and teares gan shed amaine;

  Amongst her teares immixing prayers meeke,

  And with her prayers reasons to restraine

  From blouddy strife, and blessed peace to seeke,

  By all that vnto them was deare, did them beseeke.

  But when as all might nought with them preuaile,

  Shee smote them lightly with her powrefull wand.

  Then suddenly as if their hearts did faile,

  Their wrathfull blades downe fell out of their hand,

  And they like men astonisht still did stand.

  Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully distraught,

  And mighty spirites bound with mightier band,

  Her golden cup to them for drinke she raught,

  Whereof full glad for thirst, ech drunk an harty draught.

  Of which so soone as they once tasted had,

  Wonder it is that sudden change to see:

  Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad,

  And louely haulst from feare of treason free,

  And plighted hands for euer friends to be.

  When all men saw this sudden change of things,

  So mortall foes so friendly to agree,

  For passing ioy, which so great maruaile brings,

  They all gan shout aloud, that all the heauen rings.

  All which, when gentle Canacee beheld,

  In hast she from her lofty chaire descended,