fl
Ci«1
7m£/?!^
PAULINE FORE MOFFITT
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
GENERAL LIBRARY, BERKELEY
^^^mmmmmm^mm^
•^ ? -v vj o
v../
THE
POETICAL WOKKS
OF
EDMUND SPENSER.
IN FIVE VOLUMES.
VOL. IV.
LONDON:
WILLIAM PICKERING, CHANCERY LANE ;
NATTALI AND COMBE, TAVISTOCK STREET
TALBOVS AND WHEELER, OXFORD.
M.Dcec.xxv.
\
CONTENTS
OF
VOL. IV.
THE FAERIE QUEENE.
BOOK VI.
Canto II.
Canto III.
Canto IV.
Canto V.
Canto VI.
Canto VII.
Canto VIII.
Canto IX.
Canto X.
Canto XI.
Canto XII.
Two Cantos of Mutabilitie : which, both for forme and
matter, appeare to be parcell of some following Booke
of the Faerie Queene, under the Legend of Constancie.
Canto VI. ......
Canto VII. ......
Canto VIII. unperfite ....
Patrc
1
18
36
60
64
79
96
114
130
145
163
177
196
216
VI CONTENTS.
MISCELLANIES.
Page
Colin Clouts come Home againe . . . . 219
Virgils Gnat ...... 255
The Shepheards Calender : conteining Twelve Aeglogues,
proportionable to the Twelve Monethes . . . 283
THE SIXTH BOOKE OF
THE FAERIE QUEENE
CONTAYNING
THE LEGEND OF SIR CALIDORE, OR OF COURTESIE.
CANTO II.
Calidore sees young Tristram slay
A proud discourteous Knight :
He makes him Squire, and of him learnes
His state and present plight.
I.
\\ HAT vertue is so fitting for a Knight,
Or for a Ladie whom a Knight should love,
As Curtesie ; to beare themselves aright
To all of each degree as doth behove ?
For whether they be placed high above
Or low beneath, yet ought they well to know
Their good ; that none them rightly may reprove
Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they owe :
Great skill it is such duties timely to bestow.
VOL. IV. B
>
2 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []b. VI.
11.
Thereto great lielpe Dame Nature selfe doth lend :
For some so goodly gratious are by kind.
That every action doth them much commend.
And in the eyes of men great liking find ;
Which others that have greater skill in mind.
Though they enforce themselves, cannot attaine :
For everie thing, to which one is inclin'd,
Doth best become and greatest grace doth gaine :
Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes enforst with
paine.
III.
Th. . well in courteous Calidore appeares ;
Whose every act and deed, that he did say,
Was like enchantment, that through both the eyes
And both the eares did steale the hart away.
He now againe is on his former way
To follow his first quest, whenas he spyde
A tall young man, from thence not farre away.
Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde,
Against an armed Knight that did on horsebacke ryde.
IV.
And them beside a Ladie faire he saw
Standing alone on foote in foule array ;
To whom himselfe he hastily did draw
To weet the cause of so uncomely fray.
And to depart them, if so be he may :
But, ere he came in place, that Youth had kild
That armed Knight, that low on ground he lay;
Which when he saw, his hart was inly child
With great amazement, and his thought with wonder fild.
C. II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. .3
Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to bee
A goodly youth of amiable grace.
Yet but a slender slip, that scarse did see
Yet seventeene yeares, but tall and faire of face,
That sure he deem'd him borne of noble race :
All in a woodraans iacket he was clad
Of Lincolne greene, belayd with silver lace ;
And on his head an hood with aglets sprad.
And by his side his hunters home he hanging had.
VI.
Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne,
Pinckt upon gold^ and paled part per part.
As then the guize was for each gentle swayne :
In his right hand he held a trembling dart,
Whose fellow he before had sent apart ;
And in his left he held a sharpe bore-speare.
With which he wont to launch the salvage hart
Of many a lyon and of many a beare.
That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare.
VII,
Whom Calidore awhile well having vewed, []Swaine !
At length bespake ; " What meanes this, gentle
Why hath thy hand too bold itselfe embrewed
In blood of Knight, the which by thee is slaine.
By thee no Knight ; which armes impugneth plaine !"
^' Certes," said he, " loth were I to have broken
The Law of Armes ; yet breake it should againe.
Rather then let myselfe of wight be stroken.
So long as these two armes were able to be wroken.
B 2
THE FAERIE QUEENE. |^B. VI
VIII.
'' For not I him, as this his Ladie here
JMay witnesse well, did offer first to MTong,
Ne surely thus unarm'd I likely were ;
But he me first through pride and puissance strong
Assayld, not knowing what to amies doth long."
'^ Perdie great blame/' tlien said Sir Calidore,
"^ For armed Knight a wight unarm'd to "vvrong :
But then aread, thou gentle Chyld, wherefore
Betwixt you two began this strife and sterne uprore."
IX.
" That shall I sooth/' said he, " to you declare.
I^ whose unryper yeares are yet unfit
For thing of weight or worke of greater care.
Doe spend my dayes and bend my carelesse wit
To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit
In all this forrest and wyld woodie raine :
Where, as this day I was enraunging it,
I chaunst to meete this Knight who there Ives slaine.
Together with this Ladie, passing on the plaine.
X.
'• The Knight, as ye did see, on horsebacke was,
And this his Ladie, that him ill became,
On her faire feet by his horse-side did pas
Through thicke and thin, unfit for any Dame :
Yet not content, more to increase his shame,
Whenso she lagged, as she needs mote so.
He with his speare (that was to him great blame)
Would thumpe her forward and inforce to goe,
Weeping to him in vaine and making piteous woe.
II.] THE FAERIi: QUKKNE. 5
XI.
'' Which when I saw, as they me passed by.
Much was I moved in indignant mind,
And gan to blame him for such cruelty
Towards a Ladie, whom with usage kind
He rather should have taken up behind.
Wherewith he wroth and full of proud disdaine
Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did find.
And me in lieu thereof revil'd againe,
Threatning to chastize me, as doth t' a chyld pertaine.
XIT.
" Which I no lesse disdayning, backe returned
His scornefull taunts unto his teeth againe,
That he streightway with haughtie choler burned.
And with his speare strooke me one stroke or twaine ;
Which I, enforst to beare though to my paine.
Cast to requite ; and with a slender dart.
Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in vaine,
Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the hart.
That through the wound his spirit shortly did depart."
XIII.
Much did Sir Calidore admyre his speach
Tempred so well, but more admyr'd the stroke
That through the mayles had made so strong a breach
Into his hart;, and had so sternely wroke
His wrath on him that first occasion broke :
Yet rested not, but further gan inquire
Of that same Ladie, whether what he spoke
Were soothly so, and that th' unrighteous ire
Of her owne Knight had given him his owne due hire.
6 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XIV.
Of all which whenas she could nought deny,
But cleard that Stripling of th' imputed blame ;
Sayd then Sir Calidore ; " Neither will I
Him charge with guilt, but rather doe quite clame :
For, what he spake, for you he spake it. Dame ;
And what he did, he did himselfe to save : []shame :
Against both which that Knight wrought knightlesse
For Knights and ail men this by nature have.
Towards all womenkind them kindly to behave.
XV.
'' But, sith that he is gone irrevocable.
Please it you, Ladie, to us to aread
What cause could make him so dishonourable
To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread
And lackey by him, gainst all womanhead."
" Certes, Sir Knight," sayd she, " full loth I were
To rayse a ly ving blame against the dead :
But, since it me concernes myselfe to clere,
I will the truth discover as it chaunst whylere.
XVI.
*' This day, as he and I together roade
Upon our way to which we weren bent.
We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade
Within a wood, whereas a Ladie gent
Sate with a Knight in ioyous iolliment
Of their frunke loves, free from all gealous spyes :
Faire was the Ladie sure, that mote content
An hart not carried with too curious eyes.
And unto him did shew all lovely courtesyes.
C. II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE.
XVII.
" Whom when my Knight did see so lovely faire.
He inly gan her Lover to envy.
And wish that he part of his spoyle might share :
Whereto whenas my presence he did spy
To be a let, he bad me by and by
For to alight : but, whenas I was loth
My Loves owne part to leave so suddenly.
He with strong hand down from his steed me throw'th.
And with presumpteous powre against that Knight
streight go'th.
XVIII.
" Unarm'd all was the Knight, as then more meete
For Ladies service and for loves delight.
Then fearing any foeman there to meete :
Whereof he taking oddes, streight bids him dight
Himselfe to yeeld his Love or else to fight :
Whereat the other starting up dismayd.
Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly might.
To leave his Love he should be ill apayd.
In which he had good right gaynst all that it gainesayd.
XIX.
" Yet since he was not presently in plight
Her to defend, or his to iustifie.
He him requested, as he was a Knight,
To lend him day his better right to trie.
Or stay till he his armes, which were thereby,
IMight lightly fetch : but he was fierce and whot,
Ne time would give, nor any termes aby.
But at him flew, and with his speare him smot ;
From which to thinke to save himselfe it booted not.
8 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XX.
^' Meane while his Ladie, which this outrage saw^
Whilest they together for the qiiarrey strove.
Into the covert did herselfe withdraw.
And closely hid herselfe within the grove.
My Knight hers soone, as seemes, to daunger drove
And left sore wounded : but, when her he mist.
He woxe halfe mad ; and in that rage gan rove
And range through all the v/ood, whereso he wist
She hidden was, and sought her so long as him list.
XXI.
" But, whenas her he by no meanes could find.
After long search and chauff he turned backe
Unto the place where me he left behind :
There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke
Of that faire bootie, and with bitter wracke
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne wrong :
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe
Strove to appease him, and perswaded long ;
But still his passion grew more violent and strong.
XXII.
" Then, as it were t' avenge his wrath on mee.
When forward we should fare, he flat refused
To take me up (as this young man did see)
Upon his steed, for no iust cause accused.
But forst to trot on foot, and foule misused,
Pounching me with the butt-end of his speare>
In vaine complayning to be so abused ;
For he regarded neither playnt nor teare.
Rut more enforst my paine, the more my plaints to heare.
C. 11.^ THK FAERIE QUKKNE.
XXIII.
" So passed we, till this young man us met ;
And being nioov'd with pittie of my plight
Spake, as was meete, for ease of my regret :
Whereof befell what now is in your sight."
" Now sure," then said Sir Calidore, " and right
Me seemes, that him befell by his owne fault :
Whoever thinkes through confidence of might,
Or through support of count'nance proud and hault.
To wrong the weaker, oft falles in his owne assault."
XXIV.
Then turning backe unto that gentle Boy,
Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit ;
Seeing his face so lovely sterne and coy.
And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant wit.
He praysd it much, and much admyred it ;
That sure he weend him born of noble blood,
With whom those graces did so goodly fit :
And, when he long had him beholding stood.
He burst into these wordes, as to him seemed good ;
XXV.
" Faire gentle Swayne, and yet as stout as fayre,
That in these woods amongst the nymphs dost wonne.
Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre,
As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne
After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne ;
Well may I certes such an one thee read,
As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne,
Or surely borne of some heroicke sead.
That in thy face appeares and gratious goodly-head.
10 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XXVI.
" But, should it not displease thee it to tell,
(Unlesse thou in these woods thyselfe conceale
For love amongst the woodie gods to dwell,)
I would thyselfe require thee to reveale ;
For deare affection and unfayned zeale
Which to thy noble personage I beare.
And wish thee grow in worship and great weale :
For, since the day that amies I first did reare,
I never saw in any greater hope appeare."
xxvii.
To whom then thus the noble Youth ; " May be.
Sir Knight, that, by discovering my estate,
Harme may arise unweeting unto me ;
Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed late.
To you I will not feare it to relate.
Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne,
Sonne of a king, (however thorough fate
Or fortune I my countrie have forlone, (^adorne,)
And lost the crowne M^hich should my head by right
XXVIII.
" And Tristram is my name ; the onely heire
Of good king Meliogras which did rayne
In Cornewale, till that he through lives despeire
Untimely dyde, before I did attaine
Ripe yeares of reason, my right to maintaine :
After whose death his brother, seeing mee
An infant, weake a kingdome to sustaine,
Upon him tooke the roiall high degree.
And sent mc, where him list, instructed for to bee.
C. 11.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. II
XXIX.
"^ The widow queene my mother, which then hight
Faire Emiliiie, conceiving then great feare
Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might
Of him that did the kingly scepter beare.
Whose gealous dread induring not a peare
Is wont to cut otf all that doubt may breed ;
Thought best away me to remove somewhere
Into some forrein land, whereas no need
Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.
XXX.
'' So, taking counsell of a wise man red.
She was by him adviz'd to send me quight
Out of the countrie wherein I was bred.
The which the fertile Lionesse is hight,
Into the Land of Faerie, where no wight
Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong:
To whose wise read she hearkning sent me streight
Into this Land, where I have wond thus long
Since I was ten yeares old, now grown to stature strong.
XXXI.
" All which my daies I have not lewdly spent.
Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares
In ydlenesse ; but, as was convenient.
Have trayned bene with many noble feres
In gentle thewes and such like seemly leres :
Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peres.
Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene.
Of which none is to me unknowne that ev'r was seene.
12 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XXXII.
" Ne is there hauke which maiitieth her on pearch;,
Whether high towring or accoasting low.
But I the measure of her liight doe search,
And ail her pray and all her diet know: -
Such be our ioyes which in these forrests grow :
Oiiely the use of armes, which most I ioy.
And fitteth most for noble Swayne to know,
I have not tasted yet ; yet past a Boy,
And being now high time these strong ioynts to imploy.
XXXIII.
" Therefore, good Sir, sith now occasion fit
Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may.
Let me this crave, unworthy though of it,
That ye will make me Squire without delay.
That from henceforth in batteilous array
I may beare armes, and learne to use them right ;
The rather, since that fortune hath this day
Given to me the spoile of this dead Knight,
These goodly gilden armes which I have "won in fight."
XXXIV.
All which when well Sir Calidore had heard.
Him much more now, then earst, he gan admire
For the rare hope v/hich in his yeares appear'd.
And thus replide ; '' Faire Chyld, the high desire
To love of armes, which in vou doth aspire,
I may not certes without blame denie ;
But rather wish that some more noble hire
(Though none more noble then is Chevalrie)
I had, you to reward with greater dignitie."
C. II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 13
XXXV.
There him he causd to kneele, and made to sweare
Faith to his Knight, and truth to Ladies all,
And never to be recreant for feare
Of perill, or of ought that might befall :
So he him dubbed, and his Squire did call.
Full glad and ioyous then young Tristram grew ;
Like as a floMTe, whose silken leaves small
Long shut up in the bud from heavens vew, []hew.
At length breaks forth, and brode displayes his smvling
XXXVI.
Thus when they long had treated to and fro.
And Calidore betooke him to depart,
Chyld Tristram prayd that he with him might goe
On his adventure, vowing not to start.
But wayt on him in every place and part :
Whereat Sir Calidore did much delight.
And greatly ioy'd at his so noble hart.
In hope he sure would prove a doughtie Knight :
Yet for the time this answere he to him behight ;
XXXVII.
'' Glad would I surely be, thou courteous Squire,
To have thy presence in my present quest.
That mote thy kindled courage set on fire,
And flame forth honour in thy noble brest :
But I am bound by vow, which I profest
To my dread Soveraine, when I it assayd,
That in atchievement of her high behest
I should no creature ioyne unto mine ayde ;
Forthy I may not graunt that ye so greatly prayde.
14 THE FAERIE QUEENK. |[b. VI.
XXXVIII.
" But since this Ladie is all desolate.
And needetli safegard now upon her way.
Ye may doe well in this her needfull state
To succour her from daunger of dismay.
That thankful! guerdon may to you repay."
The noble Ympe, of such new service fayne.
It gladly did accept, as he did say:
So taking courteous leave they parted twayne ;
And Calidore forth passed to his former payne.
XXXIX.
But Tristram, then despoyling that dead Knight
Of all those goodly implements of prayse,
Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire sight
Of the bright mettall shyning like sunne rayes ;
Handling and turning them a thousand wayes :
And, after having them upon him dight.
He tooke that Ladie, and her up did rayse
Upon the steed of her owne late dead Knight :
So with her marched forth, as she did him behight.
XL.
There to their fortune leave we them awhile.
And turne we backe to good Sir Calidore ;
Who, ere he thence had traveild many a mile.
Came to the place whereas ye heard afore
This Knight, whom Tristram slew, had wounded sore
Another Knight in his despiteous pryde ;
There he that Knight found lying on the flore
With many wounds full perilous and wyde.
That all his garments and the grasse in vermeill dyde :
C. II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 15
XLI.
And there beside liim sate upon the ground
His wofull Ladie, piteously complayning
With loud laments that most unluckie stound.
And her sad selfe with carefull hand constrayning
To wype his wounds^ and ease their bitter payning
Which sorie sight when Calidore did vew.
With heavie eyne from teares uneath refrayning,
His mightie hart their mournefull case can rew^,
And for their better comfort to them nie-her drew.
XLII.
Then, speaking to the Ladie^ thus he said ;
'' Ye dolefull Dame, let not your griefe empeach
To tell what cruell hand hath thus arayd
This Knight unarm'd with so unknightly breach
Of amies, that, if I yet him nigh may reach,
I may avenge him of so foule despight."
The Ladie, hearing his so courteous speach,
Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull light.
And from her sory hart few heavie words forth sigh't ;
XLIII.
In which she shew'd, how that discourteous Knight,
Whom Tristram slew, them in that shadow found
loying together in unblam'd delight ;
And him unarm'd, as now he lay on ground,
Charg'd with his speare, and mortally did wound,
Withouten cause, but onely her to reave
From him, to whom she was for ever bound :
Yet, when she fled into that covert greave.
He, her not finding, both them thus nigh dead did leave.
16 THE FAERIE QUEKNE. |^B. VI.
XLIV.
When Calidore this ruefull storie had
Well understood, he gan of her demand.
What manner wight he was, and how yclad.
Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand.
She then, like as she best could understand.
Him thus describ'd, to be of stature large.
Clad all in gildeii armes, with azure band
Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe
A Ladie on rough waves row'd in a sommer barge.
XLV. ^
Then gan Sir Calidore to ghesse streightway.
By many signes which she described had.
That this was he whom Tristram earst did slay.
And to her said; " Dame, be no longer sad;
For he, that hath your Knight so ill bestad.
Is now himselfe in much more wretched plight;
These eyes him saw upon the cold earth sprad.
The meede of his desert for that despight.
Which to yourselfe he wrought and to your loved Knight.
XLVI.
" Therefore, faire Lady, lay aside this griefe.
Which ye have gathered to your gentle hart
For that displeasure ; and thinke what reliefe
Were best devise for this your Lovers smart ;
And how ye may him hence, and to what part,
Convay to be recur'd." She thankt him deare.
Both for that newes he did to her impart,
And for the courteous care Avhich he did beare
J5oth to her Love and to herselfe in that sad dreare.
ir."] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 17
XLVII.
Yet could she not devise by any wit,
How thence she might convay him to some place ;
For him to trouble she it thought unfits,
That was a straunger to her wretched case;
And him to beare, she thought it thing too base.
Which whenas he perceiv'd he thus bespake ;
•^^ Faire Lady, let it not you seeme disgrace
To beare this burden on your dainty backe ;
Myselfe will beare a part^ coportion of your packe."
XLVIII.
So off he did his shield, and downeward layd
Upon the ground, like to an hollow beare ;
And powring balme, which he had long purvayd.
Into his wounds, him up thereon did reare.
And twixt them both with parted paines did beare,
Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne
Thence they him carried to a Castle neare.
In which a worthy auncient Knight did wonne :
Where whatensu'd shall in next Canto be begonne.
VOL. IV.
18 THE FAERIE QUEENE. C^- VI.
CANTO III.
Calidore brings Priscilla home ;
Pursues the Blatant Beast :
Saves Serena, whilest Calepine
By Turpine is opprest.
TuuE is, that whilome that good Poet sayd,
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne :
For a man by nothing is so well be'wrayd
As by his manners ; in which plaine is showne
Of what degree and what race he is growne :
For seldome seene a trotting stalion get
An ambling colt, that is his proper owne :
So seldome seene that one in basenesse set
])oth noble courage shew with curteous manners met.
II.
But evermore contrary hath bene tryde.
That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed ;
As well may be in Calidore descryde.
By late ensample of that courteous deed
Done to that wounded Knight in his great need,
Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought
Unto the Castle where they had decreed :
There of the Knight, the which that Castle ought,
To make abode that night he greatly was besought.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 19
III.
He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,
That in his youth had beene of mickle might,
And borne great sway in armes amongst his peares ;
But now weake age had dimd his candlelight :
Yet was he courteous still to every wight,
And loved all that did to armes incline ;
And was the Father of that wounded Knight,
Whom Calidore thus carried on his chine ;
And Aldus was his name ; and his sonnes, Aladine.
IV.
Who when he saw his sonne so ill bedight
With bleeding wounds, brought home upon a beare
By a faire Lady and a straunger Knight,
Was inly touched with compassion deare.
And deare affection of so dolefull dreare.
That he these words burst forth ; " Ah ! sory Boy 1
Is this the hope that to my hoary heare
Thou brings ? aie me ! is this the timely ioy.
Which I expected long, now turnd to sad annoy ?
V.
" Such is the weakenesse of all mortall hope ;
So tickle is the state of earthly things ;
That, ere they come unto their aymed scope.
They fall too short of our fraile reckonings^
And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings.
Instead of comfort which we should embrace :
This is the state of Keasars and of Kings !
Let none therefore, that is in meaner place.
Too greatly grieve at any his unlucky case I"
c 2
20 THE FAERIE QUEENE. |[b. VI.
VI.
So well and wisely did that good old Knight
Temper his griefe^, and turned it to cheare.
To cheare his guests whom he had stayd that nighty
And make their welcome to them well appeare :
That to Sir Calidore was easie geare ;
But that faire Lady would be cheard for nought.
But sigh'd and sorrow'd for her Lover deare.
And inly did afflict her pensive thought [[brought :
With thinking to what case her name should now be
VII.
For she was daughter to a noble Lord
Which dwelt thereby, who sought her to afFy
To a great Pere ; but she did disaccord,
Ne could her liking to his love apply.
But lov'd this fresh young Knight who dwelt her ny.
The lusty Aladine, though meaner borne
And of lesse livelood and liability.
Yet full of valour the which did adorne [[scorne.
His meanesse much, and make her th' others riches
VIII.
So, having both found fit occasion.
They met together in that luckelesse glade ;
Where that proud Knight in his presumption
The gentle Aladine did earst invade.
Being unarm'd and set in secret shade.
Whereof she now bethinking, gan t' advize
How great a hazard she at earst had made
Of her good fame ; and further gan devize
How she the blame might salve with coloured disguize.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 21
IX.
But Calidore with all good courtesie
Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away
The pensive fit of her melancholie ;
And that old Knight by all meanes did assay
To make them both as merry as he may.
So they the evening past till time of rest ;
When Calidore in seemly good array
Unto his bowre was brought;, and there undrest
Did sleepe all night through weary travell of his quest.
X.
But faire Priscilla (so that Lady hight)
Would to no bed, nor take no kindely sleepe.
But by her Avounded Love did watch all night.
And all the night for bitter anguish weepe.
And with her teares his wounds did wash and steepe.
So well she washt them, and so well she wacht him^
That of the deadly swound, in which full deepe
He drenched was, she at the length dispacht him.
And drove away the stound which mortally attacht him.
XI.
The morrow next, when day gan to uplooke.
He also gan uplooke with drery eye.
Like one that out of deadly dreame awooke :
Wliere when he saw his faire Priscilla by.
He deepely sigh'd, and groaned inwardly.
To thinke of this ill state in which she stood ;
To which she for his sake had weetingly
Now brought herselfe, and blam'd her noble blood :
For first, next after life, he tendered her good.
22 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VJ.
XII.
Which she perceiving did with plenteous teares
His care more then her owne compassionate.
Forgetful! of her owne to minde his feares :
So both conspiring gan to intimate
Each others griefe with zeale affectionate.
And twixt them twaine with equall care to cast
HoAV to save whole her hazarded estate ; -
For which the onely helpe now left them last
Seem'd to be Calidore : all other helpes were past.
XIII.
Him they did deeme, as sure to them he seemed,
A courteous Knight and full of faithfull trust ;
Therefore to him their cause they best esteemed
Whole to commit, and to his dealing iust.
Earely, so soone as Titans beames forth brust
Through the thicke clouds, in which they steeped lay
All night in darkenesse, duld with yron rust,
Calidore rising up as fresh as day
Gan freshly him addresse unto his former way.
XIV.
But first him seemed fit that wounded Knight
To visite, after this nights perillous passe ;
And to salute him if he were in plight.
And eke that Lady his faire lovely lasse.
There he him found much better then he was ;
And moved speach to him of things of course.
The anguisli of his paine to over-passe :
IMongst which he namely did to him discourse
Of former daies mishap, his sorrowes wicked sourse.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 23
XV.
Of which occasion Aldine taking hold
Gan breake to him the fortunes of his love^
And all his disadventures to unfold;
That Calidore it dearly deepe did move :
In th' end, his kyndly courtesie to prove^
He him by all the bands of love besought;,
And as it mote a faithfull friend behove.
To safe-conduct his Love, and not for ought
To leave, till to her fathers house he had her brought.
XVI.
Sir Calidore his faith thereto did plight
It to performer so after little stay.
That she herselfe had to the iourney dight.
He passed forth with her in faire array,
Fearlesse who ought did thinke or ought did say,
Sith his own thought he knew most cleare from wite:
So, as they past together on their way.
He can devize this counter-cast of slight.
To give faire colour to that Ladies cause in sight.
XVII.
Streight to the carkasse of that Knight he went,
(The cause of all this evill, who was slaine
The day before by iust avengement
Of noble Tristram,) where it did remaine;
There he the necke thereof did cut in twaine.
And tooke Avith him the head, the signe of shame.
So forth he passed thorough that daies paine.
Till to that Ladies fathers house he came;
Most pensive man, through feare what of his childe be-
came.
24 THE FAElilE QUEENE. \jB. VI.
XVIII.
There he arriving boldly did present
The fearefuU Lady to her father deare^
Most perfect pure, and guiltlesse innocent
Of blame, as he did on his knighthood swearC;,
Since first he saw her, and did free from feare
Of a discourteous Knight, who her had reft
And by outragious force away did beare :
Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head there left.
And wretched life forloriie for vengement of his theft.
XIX.
Most ioyfull man her sire was, her to see.
And heare th' adventure pf her late mischaunce ;
And thousand thankes to Calidore for fee
Of his large paines in her deliveraunce
Did yeeld; ne lesse the Lady did advaunce.
Thus having her restored trustily.
As he had vow'd, some small continuance
He there did make, and then most carefully
Unto his first exploite he did himselfe apply.
XX.
So, as he was pursuing of his quest.
He chaunst to come whereas a iolly Knight
In covert shade himselfe did safely rest.
To solace with his Lady in delight :
His warlike armes he had from him undight ;
For that himselfe he thought from daunger free^
And far from envious eyes that mote him spight :
And eke the Lady was full faire to see.
And courteous withall, becomming her degree.
C. III.3 THE FAERIK QUEENE. 25
XXI.
To whom Sir Calidore approaching nye.
Ere they were well aware of living wight.
Them much abasht, but more himselfe thereby.
That he so rudely did uppon them light.
And troubled had their quiet loves delight :
Yet since it was his fortune, not his fault,
Himselfe thereof he labour'd to acquite.
And pardon crav'd for his so rash default.
That he gainst courtesie so fowly did default.
XXII.
With which his gentle words and goodly wit
He soone allayd that Knights conceiv'd displeasure^
That he besought him downe by him to sit.
That they mote treat of things abrode at leasure.
And of adventures, which had in his measure
Of so long waies to him befallen late.
So downe he sate, and with delightfull pleasure
His long adventures gan to him relate.
Which he endured had through daungerous debate :
XXIII.
Of which whilest they discoursed both together,
The faire Serena (so his Lady hight)
Allur'd with myldnesse of the gentle wether
And plesaunce of the place, the which was dight
With divers flowres distinct with rare delight,
Wandred about the fields, as liking led
Her wavering lust after her wandring sight.
To make a garland to adorne her hed.
Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden dred.
26 THE FAERIE QUEENE. |_B. VI.
XXIV.
All sodainely out of the forrest iiere
The Blatant Beast forth rushing unaware
Caught her thus loosely wandring here and there.
And in his wide great mouth away her bare
Crying aloud to shew her sad misfare
Unto the Knights, and calling oft for ayde ;
Who with the horrour of her haplesse care
Hastily starting up, like men dismayde.
Ran after fast to reskue the distressed IMayde.
XXV.
The Beast, with their pursuit incited more.
Into the wood was bearing her apace
For to have spoyled her ; when Calidore,
Who was more light of foote and swift in chace.
Him overtooke in middest of his race;
And, fiercely charging him with all his might,
Forst to forgoe his pray there in the place,
And to betake himselfe to fearefull flight ;
For he durst not abide with Calidore to fight.
XXVI.
Who nathelesse, when he the Lady saw
There left on ground, though in full evill plight.
Yet knowing that her Knight now neare did draw,
Staide not to succour her in that afi^right.
But follow'd fast the Monster in his fiight :
Through woods and hils he follow'd him so fast.
That he nould let him breath nor gather spright.
But forst him gape and gaspe, with dread aghast,
As if his lungs and lites were nigh asunder brast.
III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 27
XXVII.
And now by this Sir Calepine,, so liight.
Came to the place where he his Lady found
In dolorous dismay and deadly plight,
All in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground^
Having both sides through grypt with griesly wound :
His weapons soone from him he threw away.
And stouping downe to her in drery swound
Uprear'd her from the ground whereon she lay.
And in his tender armes her forced up to stay.
XXVIII.
So well he did his busie paines apply.
That the faint spright he did revoke againe
To her fraile mansion of mortality :
Then up he tooke her twixt his armes twaine.
And setting on his steede her did sustaine
With carefull hands, soft footing her beside ;
Till to some place of rest they mote attaine.
Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide.
Till she recured were of those her woundes wide.
XXIX.
Now whenas Phoebus with his fiery waine
Unto his inne began to draw apace ;
Tho, wexing weary of that toylesome paine.
In travelling on foote so long a space.
Not wont on foote with heavy armes to trace ;
Downe in a dale forby a rivers syde
He chaunst to spie a faire and stately place.
To which he meant his weary steps to guyde.
In hope there for his Love some succour to provyde.
28 > THE FAERIE QUEENE. [jB. VI.
XXX.
But, comming to the rivers side, he found
That hardly passable on foote it was ;
Therefore there still he stood as in a stound,
Ne wist which way he through the foord mote pas :
Thus whilest he was in this distressed case^
Devising what to doe, he nigh espyde
An armed Knight approaching to the place
With a faire Lady lincked by his syde.
The which themselves prepard thorough the foord to ride.
XXXI.
Whom Calepine saluting, as became.
Besought of courtesie, in that his neede^
For safe conducting of his sickely Dame
Through that same perillous foord with better heede.
To take him up behinde upon his steed;
To whom that other did this taunt returne ;
'' Perdy, thou peasant Knight mightst rightly reed
Me then to be full base and evill borne.
If I would beare behinde a burden of such scorne.
XXXII.
" But, as thou hast thy steed forhirne with shame.
So fare on foote till tliou another gayne.
And let thy Lady likewise doe the same.
Or beare her on thy backe witli pleasing payne.
And prove thy manhood on the billowes vayne."
With which rude speach his Lady mucli displeased
Did him reprove, yet could him not restrayne.
And would on her owne palfrey him have eased
For pitty of his Dame whom she saw so diseased.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 29
XXXIII.
Sir Calepine her thanckt ; yet^ inly wroth
Against her Knight, her gentlenesse refused.
And carelesly into the river go'th.
As in despight to be so fowle abused
Of a rude Churle, whom often he accused
Of fowle discourtesie, unfit for Knight ;
And, strongly wading through the waves unused.
With speare in th' one hand stayd himselfe upright.
With th' other staide his Lady up with steddy might.
xxxiv.
And all the while that same discourteous Knight
Stood on the further bancke beholding him ;
At whose calamity, for more despight.
He laught, and mockt to see him like to swim.
But whenas Calepine came to the brim.
And sav/ his carriage past that perill well.
Looking at that same Carle ^vith count'nance grim.
His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did swell,
And forth at last did breake in speaches sharpe and fell
xxxv.
" Unknightly Knight, the blemish of that name.
And blot of all that armes uppon them take.
Which is the badge of honour and of fame,
Loe ! I defie thee ; and here challenge make.
That thou for ever doe those armes forsake,
And be for ever held a recreant Knight,
Unlesse thou dare, for thy deare Ladies sake
And for thine owne defence, on foote alight
To iustifie thy fault gainst me in equall fight."
30 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. YI.
XXXVI.
The Dastard, that did heare himselfe defyde,
Seem'd not to weigh his threatfull words at all,
But laught them out, as if his greater pryde
Did scorne the challenge of so base a thrall ;
Or had no courage, or else had no gall.
So much the more was Calepine offended.
That him to no revenge he forth could call.
But both his challenge and himselfe contemned,
Ne cared as a coward so to be condemned.
XXXVII.
But he, nought weighing what he sayd or di^,
Turned his steede about another way.
And with his Lady to the Castle rid.
Where was his won ; ne did the other stay.
But after went directly as he may.
For his sicke charge some harbour there to seeke ;
Where he arriving with the fall of day
Drew to the gate, and there with prayers meeke
And myld entreaty lodging did for her beseeke.
XXXVIII.
But the rude Porter that no manners had
Did shut the gate against him in his face,
And entraunce boldly unto him forbad :
Nathlesse the Knight, now in so needy case,
Gan him entreat even with submission base.
And humbly praid to let them in that night :
Who to him aunswer'd, that there was no place
Of lodging fit for any errant Knight,
Unlesse that with his Lord he formerly did fight.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 31
e(
XXXIX.
^' Full loth am I/' quoth he, " as now at earst
When day is spent, and rest us needeth most.
And that this Lady, both whose sides are pearst
With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost ;
Ne would I gladly combate with mine host.
That should to me such curtesie afford,
Unlesse that I were thereunto enforst :
But yet aread to me, how hight thy Lord,
That doth thus strongly ward the Castle of the Ford."
XL.
His name," quoth he, ''' if that thou list to learne,
Is liight Sir Turpine, one of mickle might
And manhood rare, but terrible and stearne
In all assaies to every Errant Knight,
Because of one that wrought him fowle despight."
" 111 seemes," sayd he, " if he so valiaunt be.
That he should be so sterne to stranger wight :
For seldome yet did living creature see
That curtesie and manhood ever disagree.
XLI.
" But go thy waies to him, and fro me say
That here is at his gate an Errant Knight,
That house-rome craves ; yet would be loth t' assay
The proofe of battell now in doubtfull night,
Or curtesie with rudenesse to requite :
Yet, if he needes will fight, crave leave till morne.
And tell withall the lamentable plight
In which this Lady languisheth forlorne,
That pitty craves, as he of woman was yborne."
32 THK FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XLII.
The Groome went streightway in, and to his Lord
Declar'd the message which that Knight did move ;
Who, sitting with his Lady then at bord,
, Not onely did not his demaund approve.
But both himselfe revil'd and eke his Love ;
Albe his Lady, that Blandina hight.
Him of ungentle usage did reprove.
And earnestly entreated that they might
Finde favour to be lodged there for that same night.
XLIII.
Yet would he not perswaded be for ought,
Ne from his currish will awhit reclame.
Which answer when the Groome returning brought
To Calepine, his heart did inly flame
With wrathfuU fury for so foule a shame.
That he could not thereof avenged bee :
But most for pitty of his dearest Dame,
Whom now in deadly daunger he did see ;
Yet had no meanes to comfort, nor procure her glee.
XL IV.
But all in vaine ; for why ? no remedy
He saw the present mischiefe to redresse.
But th* utmost end perforce for to aby.
Which that nights fortune would for him addresse.
So downe he tooke his Lady in distresse.
And layd her underneath a bush to sleepe,
4«5over'd with cold, and wrapt in wretchednesse ;
Whiles he himselfe all night did nought but weepe.
And wary watch about her for her safegard keepe.
III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 33
XLV.
The morrow next, so soone as ioyous day
Did shew itselfe in sunny beames bedight,
Serena full of dolorous dismay,
Twixt darkenesse dread and hope of living light,
Uprear'd her head to see that chearefull sight.
Then Calepine, however inly wroth.
And greedy to avenge that vile despight.
Yet for the feeble Ladies sake, full loth
To make there lenger stay, forth on his iourney go'th.
XLVI.
He go'th on foote all armed by her side,
Upstaying still herselfe uppon her steede.
Being unhable else alone to ride ;
So sore her sides, so much her wounds did bleede ^
Till that at length, in his extreamest neede.
He chaunst far oiF an armed Knight to spy
Pursuing him apace with greedy speede ;
Whom well he wist to be some enemy.
That meant to make advantage of his misery.
XLVII.
Wherefore he stayd, till that he nearer drew.
To weet what issue would thereof betyde :
Tho, whenas he approched nigh in vew.
By certaine signes he plainly him descryde
To be the man that with such scornfull pryde
Had him abusde and shamed yesterday;
Therefore, misdoubting least he should misguyde
His former malice to some new assay.
He cast to keepe himselfe so safely as he may.
^'OL. IV. D
^•i THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XLVIII.
By this the other came in place likewise.
And couching close his speare and all his powre.
As bent to some malicious enterprise.
He bad him stand t' abide the bitter stoure
Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make avoure
Of the lewd words and deedes which he had done :
With that ran at him^ as he would devoure
His life attonce ; who nought could do but shun
The perill of his pride^ or else be over-run.
XLIX.
Yet he him still pursew'd from place to place.
With full intent him cruelly to kill.
And like a wilde goate round about did chace
Flying the fury of his bloudy will :
But his best succour and refuge was still
Behind his Ladies back ; who to him cryde.
And called oft with prayers loud and shrill.
As ever he to Lady was atfyde.
To spare her Knight, and rest with reason pacifyde :
L.
But he the more thereby enraged was.
And with more eager felnesse him pursew'd ;
So that at length, after long weary chace.
Having by chaunce a close advantage vew'd,
He over-raught him, having long eschew'd
His violence in vaine ; and with his spere
Strooke through his shoulder, that the blood ensew'd
In great aboundaiice, as a well it were.
That forth out of an hill fresh gushing did appere.
C. III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 35
LI.
Yet ceast he not for all that cruell wound.
But chaste him still for all his Ladies cry ;
Not satisfyde till on the fatall ground
He saw his life powrd forth dispiteously;
The which was certes in great ieopardy.
Had not a wondrous chaunce his reskue wrought,
And saved from his cruell villany:
Such chaunces oft exceed all humaine thought !
That in another Canto shall to end be brought.
d2
36 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
CANTO IV.
Calepine by a Salvage Man
From Turpine reskewed is ;
And, whylest an Infant from a beare
He saves, his Love dotli misse.
I.
Like as a ship with dreadful! storme long tost.
Having spent all her mastes and her groundhold.
Now farre from harbour likely to be lost.
At last some fisher-barke doth neare behold.
That giveth comfort to her courage cold ;
Such was the state of this most courteous Knight
Being oppressed by that Faytour bold.
That he remayned in most perilous plight.
And his sad Ladie left in pitifull affright :
II.
Till that, by fortune passing all foresight,
A Salvage Man, which in those woods did wonne,
Dra-vvne with that Ladies loud and piteous shright.
Toward the same incessantly did ronne
To understand what there was to be donne :
There he this most discourteous Craven found
As fiercely yet, as when he first begonne.
Chasing the gentle Calepine around,
Ne sparing him the more for all his grievous wound.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. S7
III.
The Salvage IMan, that never till this houre
Did taste of pittie, neither gentlesse knew.
Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure
Was much emmoved at his perils vew,
That even his ruder hart began to rew.
And feele compassion of his evill plight^
Against his foe that did him so pursew;
From whom he meant to free him, if he might.
And him avenge of that so villenous despight.
IV.
Yet armes or weapon had he none to fight,
Ne knew the use of warlike instruments.
Save such as sudden rage him lent to smite ;
But naked, without needfull vestiments
To clad his corpse with meete habiliments.
He cared not for dint of sword nor speere.
No more then for the stroke of strawes or bents :
For from his mothers wombe, which him did beare.
He was invulnerable made by magicke leare.
V.
He stayed not t' advize which way were best
His foe t' assayle, or how himselfe to gard.
But with fierce fury and with force infest
Upon him ran ; who being well prepard
His first assault full warily did ward.
And with the push of his sharp-pointed speare
Full on the breast him strooke, so strong and hard
That forst him backe recoyle and reele areare ;
Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud appeare.
38 THE FAfiRlE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
VI.
With that the Wyld ]Man more enraged grew.
Like to a tygre that hath mist his pray.
And with mad moode againe upon him flew.
Regarding neither speare that mote him slay.
Nor his fierce steed that mote him much dismay :
The salvage nation doth all dread despize :
Tho on his shield he griple hold did lay.
And held the same so hard, that by no wize
He could him force to loose, or leave his enterprize.
VII.
Long did he wrest and wring it to and fro.
And every way did try, but all in vaine ;
For he would not his greedie grype forgoe.
But hayld and puld with all his might and maine,,
That from his steed him nigh he drew againe :
Who having now no use of his long speare
So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to straine,
Both speare and shield, as things that needlesse were.
He quite forsooke, and fled himselfe away for feare.
VIII.
But after him the Wyld Man ran apace.
And him pursewed with importune speed.
For he was swift as any bucke in chace ;
And, had he not in his extreamest need
Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his steed.
He had him overtaken in his flight.
Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed,
Gan cry aloud with horrible aflfright,
And shrieked out ; a thing uncomely for a Knight.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE.
orv
IX.
But, when the Salvage saw his labour vaine
In following of him that fled so fast.
He wearie woxe, and backe return'd againe
With speede unto the place, whereas he last
Had left that couple nere their utmost cast :
There he that Knight full sorely bleeding found.
And eke the Ladie fearefully aghast.
Both for the perill of the present stound.
And also for the sharpnesse of her rankling wound :
X.
For though she were right glad so rid to bee
From that vile Lozell which her late offended ;
Yet now no lesse encombrance she did see
And perill, by this Salvage Man pretended ;
Gainst whom she saw no meanes to be defended
By reason that her Knight was wounded sore :
Therefore herselfe she wholy recommended
To Gods sole grace, whom she did oft implore
To send her succour, being of all hope forlore.
XI.
But the Wyld Man, contrarie to her feare.
Came to her creeping like a fa^vning hound.
And by rude tokens made to her appeare
His deepe compassion of her dolefull stound.
Kissing his hands, and crouching to the ground ;
For other language had he none nor speach,
But a soft murmure and confused sound
Of senselesse words (which Nature did him teach
T' expresse his passions) which his reason did empeach
40 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XII.
And comming likewise to the wounded Knight,
When he beheld the streames of purple blood
Yet flowing fresh^, as moved with the sight.
He made great mone after his salvage mood ;
And, running .streight into the thickest wood,
A certaine herbe from thence unto him brought.
Whose vertue he by use well understood ;
The iuyce whereof into his wound he wrought.
And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it staunched
thought.
XIII.
Then taking up that recreants shield and speare.
Which earst he left, he signes unto them made
With him to wend unto his wonning neare ;
To which he easily did them perswade.
Farre in the forrest, by a hollow glade
Covered with mossie shrubs, which spredding brode
Did underneath them make a gloomy shade.
Where foot of living creature never trode, [|abode.
Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there was this wights
XIV.
Thither he brought these unacquainted guests ;
To whom faire semblance, as he could, he shewed
By signes, by lookps, and all his other gests :
But the bare ground with hoarie mosse bestrowed
Must be their bed ; their pillow was unsowed ;
And the frutes of the forrest was their feast :
For their bad Stuard neither plough'd nor sowed,
Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wyld beast
Did taste the bloud, obaying Natures first beheast.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE.
41
XV.
Yet, howsoever base and meane it were.
They tooke it well, and thanked God for all.
Which had them freed from that deadly feare.
And sav'd from being to that Caytive thrall.
Here they of force (as fortune now did fall)
Compelled were themselves awhile to rest.
Glad of that easement, though it were but small ;
That, having there their wounds awhile redrest.
They mote the abler be to passe unto the rest.
XV J.
During which time that Wyld Man did apply
His best endevour and his daily paine
In seeking all the woods both farre and nye
For herbes to dresse their wounds ; still seeming faine
When ought he did, that did their lyking gaine.
So as ere long he had that Knightes wound
Recured well, and made him whole againe :
But that same Ladies hurts no herbe he found
Which could redresse, for it was inwardly unsound.
XVII.
Now whenas Calepine was woxen strong,
Upon a day he cast abrode to wend.
To take the ayre and heare the thrushes song,
Unarm'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend.
And without sword his person to defend ;
There him befell, unlooked for before.
An hard adventure with unhappie end,
A cruell beare, the which an Infant bore.
Betwixt his bloodie iawes, besprinckled all with gore.
42- THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI,
XVIII.
The litle Babe did loudly scrike and squall.
And all the woods with piteous plaints did till.
As if his cry did meane for helpe to call
To Calepine, whose eares those shrieches shrill,
Percing his hart, with pities point did thrill ; ,
That after him he ran with zealous haste
To rescue th' Infant, ere he did him kill :
Whom though he saw now somewhat overpast.
Yet by the cry he follow' d, and purse wed fast.
XIX.
Well then him chaunst his heavy armes to want.
Whose burden mote empeach his needfuU speed.
And hinder him from libertie to pant :
For having long time, as his daily weed.
Them wont to weare, and wend on foot for need.
Now wanting them he felt himselfe so light.
That like an hauke, which feeling herselfe freed
From bels and iesses which did let her flight.
Him seem'd his feet did fly and in their speed delight.
XX.
So well he sped him, that the wearie beare
Ere long he overtooke and forst to stay;
And, without weapon him assayling neare,
Compeld him soone the spoyle adowne to lay.
Wherewith the beast enrag'd to loose his pray
Upon him turned, and, with greedie force
And furie, to be crossed in his way.
Gaping full wyde, did thinke without remorse
To be aveng'd on him and to devoure his corse.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 43
XXI.
But the bold Knight no whit thereat dismayd.
But catching up in hand a ragged stone
Which lay thereby (so fortune him did ayde)
Upon him ran, and thrust it all attone
Into his gaping throte, that made him grone
And gaspe for breath, that he nigh choked was.
Being unable to digest that bone ;
Ne could it upward come, nor downward passe,
Ne could he brooke the coldnesse of the stony masse.
XXII.
Whom wlienas he thus combred did behold,
Stryving in vaine that nigh his bowels brast.
He with him closd, and, laying mightie hold
Upon his throte, did gripe his gorge so fast.
That wanting breath him downe to ground he cast ;
And, then oppressing him with urgent paine.
Ere long enforst to breath his utmost blast.
Gnashing his cruell teeth at him in vaine.
And threatning his sharpe clawes, now wanting powre
to straine.
XXIII.
Then tooke he up betwixt his armes twaine
The litle Babe, sweet relickes of his pray;
Whom pitying to heare so sore complaine.
From his soft eyes the teares he wypt away.
And from his face the filth that did it ray ;
And every litle limbe he searcht around.
And every part that under sweath-bands lay.
Least that the beasts sharpe teeth had any wound
Made in his tender flesh ; but whole them all he found.
44 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []b. VI.
XXIV.
So, having all his bands againe uptyde,
He with him thought backe to returne againe ;
But when he lookt about on every syde.
To weet which way were best to entertaine
To bring him to the place where he would faine.
He could no path nor tract of foot descry,
Ne by inquirie learne, nor ghesse by ayme ;
For nought but woods and forrests farre and nye.
That all about did close the compasse of his eye.
XXV.
Much was he then encombred, ne could tell
Which way to take : now west he went awhile.
Then north, then neither, but as fortune fell :
So up and downe he wandred many a mile
With wearie travell and uncertaine toile.
Yet nought the nearer to his iourneys end ;
And evermore his lovely litle Spoile
Crying for food did greatly him offend :
So all that day, in wandring, vainely he did spend.
XXVI.
At last, about the setting of the sunne,
Himselfe out of the forest he did wynd.
And by good fortune the plaine champion woniie:
Where, looking all about where he mote fynd
Some place of succour to content his mynd.
At length he heard under the forrests syde
A voice, that seemed of some womankynd.
Which to herselfe lamenting loudly cryde.
And oft complayn'd of fate, and fortune oft defyde.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 45
XXVII.
To whom approaching, whenas she perceived
A stranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd.
As if she doubted to have bene deceived.
Or loth to let her sorrowes be bewrayd :
Whom whenas Calepine saAv so dismayd.
He to her drew, and, with faire blandishment
Her chearing up, thus gently to her sayd ;
" What be you, wofull Dame, which thus lament.
And for what cause, declare ; so mote ye not repent."
XXVIII.
To whom she thus ; " What need me. Sir, to tell
That which yourself have earst ared so right ?
A wofull Dame ye have me termed well;
So much more wofull, as my wofull plight
Cannot redressed be by living wight !"
" Nathlesse," quoth he, " if need doe not you bynd,
Doe it disclose, to ease your grieved spright :
Oftimes it haps that sorrowes of the mynd
Find remedie unsought, which seeking cannot fynd."
XXIX.
Then thus began the lamentable Dame ;
" Sith then ye needs will know the griefe I hoord,
I am th' unfortunate Matilde by name.
The wife of bold Sir Bruin, who is Lord
Of all this land, late conquer'd by his sword
From a great Gyant, called Cormoraunt,
Whom he did overthrow by yonder foord ;
And in three battailes did so deadly daunt.
That he dare not returne for all his daily vaunt.
46 THE FAERIE QUEENE. L^. VI.
XXX.
" So is my Lord now seiz'd of all the land.
As in his fee, with peaceable estate.
And quietly doth hold it in his hand,
Ne any dares with him for it debate :
But to these happie fortunes cruell fate
Hath ioyn'd one evill, which doth overthrow
All these our ioyes, and all our blisse abate ;
And like in time to further ill to grow.
And all this land with endlesse losse to over-flow.
XXXI.
" For th' heavens, envying our prosperitie.
Have not vouchsaft to graunt unto us twaine
The gladfull blessing of posteritie.
Which we might see after ourselves remaine
In th' heritage of our unhappie paine :
So that for want of heires it to defend.
All is in time like to returne againe
To that foule Feend, who dayly doth attend
To leape into the same after our lives end.
XXXII.
'' But most my Lord is grieved herewithall.
And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke
That all this land unto his foe shall fall.
For which he long in vaine did sweat and swinke.
That now the same he greatly doth forthinke.
Yet was it sayd, there should to hiin a sonne
Be gotten, not begotten; which should drinke
And dry up all the water which doth ronne
In the next hrooke, hy whom that Feend should he for
donnc.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 47
XXXIII.
" Well hop't he then, when this was propheside,
That from his sides some noble chyld should rize,
The which through fame should farre be magnifide.
And this proud Gyant should with brave emprize
Quite overthrow, who now ginnes to despize
The good Sir Bruin growing farre in years.
Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.
Lo ! this my cause of griefe to you appeares ;
For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth cease-
lesse teares."
XXXIV.
Which when he heard, he inly touched was
With tender ruth for her unworthy griefe ;
And;, when he had devized of her case.
He ffan in mind conceive a fit reliefe
For all her paine, if please her make the priefe :
And, having cheared her, thus said ; " Faire Dame,
In evils Counsell is the comfort chiefe ;
Which though I be not wise enough to frame.
Yet, as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without blame,
XXXV.
If that the cause of this your languishment
Be lacke of children to supply your place,
Lo ! how good fortune doth to you present
This litle Babe, of sweete and lovely face.
And spotlesse spirit in which ye may enchace
Whatever formes ye list thereto apply.
Being now soft and fit them to embrace ;
Whether ye list him traine in Chevalry,
Or noursle up in lore of learn' d Philosophy, '
cc
48 THE FAERIE QUEENE. \jB. VI.
XXXVI.
^' And, certeS;, it hath oftentimes bene seene.
That of the like, whose linage was unknowne.
More brave and noble Knights have raysed beene
(As their victorious deedes have often showen.
Being with fame through many nations blowen,)
Then those which have bene dandled in the lap.
Therefore some thought that those brave imps were
^ sowen
Here by the gods, and fed witli heavenly sap.
That made them grow so high t' all honorable hap."
xxxvii.
The Ladie, hearkning to his sensefull speach^,
Found nothing that he said unmeet nor geason.
Having oft seene it tryde as he did teach :
Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason.
Agreeing -v^^ell both with the place and season.
She gladly did of that same Babe accept.
As of her owne by liverey and seisin ;
And, having over it a litle wept.
She bore it thence, and ever as her owne it kept.
xxxviii.
Right glad was Calepine to be so rid
Of his young charge whereof he skilled nought ;
Ne she lesse glad ; for she so wisely did.
And with her husband under hand so wrought.
That, when that Infant unto him she brought,
She made him think it surely was his owne ;
And it in goodly thewes so well upbrought.
That it became a famous Knight well knowne,
And did right noble deedes ; the which elswliere are
shoM-ne.
C. IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 49
XXXIX.
But Caleplne, now being left alone
Under the greenewoods side in sorie plight,
Withouten armes or steede to ride upon.
Or house to hide his head from heavens spight ;
Albe that Dame, by all the meanes she might.
Him oft desired home with her to wend,
And offred him, his courtesie to requite.
Both horse and armes and whatso else to lend.
Yet he them all refusd, though thankt her as a frend;
XL.
And, for exceeding griefe which inly grew.
That he his Love so lucklesse now had lost.
On the cold ground maugre himselfe he threw
For fell despight, to be so sorely crost ;
And there all night himselfe in anguish tost.
Vowing that never he in bed againe
His limbes would rest, ne lig in ease embost.
Till that his Ladies sight he mote attaine.
Or understand that she in safetie did remaine.
VOL. IV. E
50 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
CANTO V.
The Salvage serves Serena well.
Till she Prince Arthure fynd ;
Who her, together with his Squyre,
With th' Hemiit leaves behynd.
I.
O WHAT an easie thing is to descry
The gentle bloud;, however it be wrapt
In sad misfortunes foule deformity
And wretched sorrowes^, which have often hapt !
For howsoever it may grow mis-shapt.
Like this Wyld Man being undisciplynd.
That to all vertue it may seeme unapt ;
Yet will it shew some sparkes of gentle mynd.
And at the last breake forth in his owne proper kynd.
II.
That plainely may in this Wyld Man be red.
Who, though he were still in this desert wood,
Mongst salvage beasts, both rudely borne and bred,
Ne ever saw faire guize, ne learned good.
Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood
By gentle usage of that wretched Dame :
For certes he was borne of noble blood.
However by hard hap he hether came ;
As ye may know, when time shall be to tell the same.
■C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 51
III.
Who, wlienas now long time he lacked had
The good Sir Calepine, that farre was strayd.
Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad.
As he of some misfortune were afrayd;
And, leaving there this Ladie all dismayd.
Went forth streightway into the forrest wyde
To seeke if he perchance asleep were layd.
Or whatso else were unto him betyde : []spyde.
He sought him farre and neare, yet him no where he
IV.
Tho, backe returning to that sorie Dame,
He shewed semblant of exceeding mone
By speaking signes, as he them best could frame.
Now wringing both his wretched hands in one.
Now beating his hard head upon a stone.
That ruth it was to see him so lament :
By which she well perceiving what was done,
Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent.
And beat her breast, and piteously herselfe torment.
V.
Upon the ground herselfe she fiercely threw,
Regardlesse of her wounds yet bleeding rife.
That with their bloud did all the flore imbrew.
As if her breast new launcht with murdrous knife
Would streight dislodge the wretched wearie Life :
There she long groveling and deepe groning lay.
As if her vitall powers were at strife
With stronger Death, and feared their decay :
Such were this Ladies pangs and dolorous assay.
■p 9
52 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B, VI.
VI.
Whom when the Salvage saw so sore distrest,
He reared her up from the bloudie ground,
And sought, by all the meanes that he could best.
Her to recure out of that stony swound.
And staunch the bleeding of her dreary wound :
Yet nould she be recomforted for nought.
Nor cease her sorrow and impatient stound.
But day and night did vexe her carefull thought.
And ever more and more her owne affliction wrought.
VII.
At length, whenas no hope of his retourne
She saw now left, she cast to leave the place.
And wend abrode, though feeble and forlorne.
To seeke some comfort in that sorie case :
His steede, now strong through rest so long a space^
Well as she could she got, and did bedight ;
And being thereon mounted forth did pace
Withouten guide her to conduct aright.
Or guard her to defend from bold oppressors might.
VIII.
Whom when her Host saw readie to depart.
He would not suffer her alone to fare.
But gan himselfe addresse to take her part.
Those warlike armes, which Calepine whyleare
Had left behind, he gan eftsoones prepare.
And put them all about himself uniit.
His shield, his helmet, and his curats bare.
But without sword upon his thigh to sit ;
Sir Calepine himselfe away had hidden it.
Aq
C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 06
IX.
So forth they traveld an uneven payre,
That mote to all men seeme an uncouth sight ;
A Salvage Man matcht with a Ladie fayre
That rather seem'd the conquest of his might
Gotten by spoyle then purchaced aright:
But he did her attend most carefully^
And faithfully did serve both day and night
Withouten thought of shame or villeny,
Ne ever shewed signe of foule disloyalty.
X.
Upon a day, as on their way they went.
It chaunst some furniture about her steed
To be disordred by some accident ;
Which to redresse she did th' assistance need
Of this her Groome ; which he by signes did reede ;
And streight his combrous armes aside did lay
Upon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed ;
And, in his homely wize, began to assay
T' amend what was amisse, and put in right aray.
XI.
Bout which whilest he was busied thus hard,
Lo ! where a Knight, together with his Squire,
All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward ;
Which seemed, by their portance and attire.
To be two Errant Knights, that did inquire
After adventures, where they mote them get :
Those were to weet (if that ye it require)
Prince Arthur and young Timias, which met
By straunge occasion, that here needs forth be set.
54 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XII.
After that Timias had againe recured
The favour of Belphebe, as ye heard.
And of her grace did stand againe assured.
To happie blisse he was full high uprear'd.
Nether of envy nor of chaunge afeard :
Though many foes did him maligne therefore.
And with uniust detraction him did beard ;
Yet he himselfe so well and wisely bore,
That in her soveraine lyking he dwelt evermore.
XIII.
But, of them all which did his mine seeke.
Three mightie enemies did him most despight.
Three mightie ones, and cruell minded eeke.
That him not onely sought by open might
To overthrow, but to supplant by slight :
The first of them by name was cald Despetto,
Exceeding all the rest in powre and hight ;
The second, not so strong but wise, Decetto ;
The third, nor strong nor wise but spightfullest, Defetto.
XIV.
Oftimes their sundry powres they did employ.
And several deceipts, but all in vaine ; ^
For neither they by force could him destroy,
Ne yet entrap in treasons subtill traine :
Therefore, conspiring all together plaine.
They did their counsels now in one compound :
Where singled forces faile, conioynd may gaine.
The Blatant Beast the fittest meanes they found
To worke his utter shame, and throughly him confound.
C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 55
XV.
Upon a day, as they the time did waite
When he did raunge the wood for salvage game.
They sent that Blatant Beast to be a baite
To draw him from his deare beloved Dame
Un wares into the daunger of defame :
For well they wist that Squire to be so bold,
That no one beast in forrest wylde or tame
Met him in chase, but he it challenge would.
And plucke the pray oftimes out of their greedy hould.
XVI.
The hardy Boy, as they devised had.
Seeing the ugly Monster passing by.
Upon him set, of perill nought adrad,
Ne skilfull of the uncouth ieopardy ;
And charged him so fierce and furiously.
That, his great force unable to endure.
He forced was to turne from him and fly :
Yet, ere he fled, he with his tooth impure
Him heedlesse bit, the whiles he was thereof secure.
XVII.
Securely he did after him pursew.
Thinking by speed to overtake his flight ; [^drew.
Who through thicke woods and brakes and briers him
To weary him the more and waste his spight.
So that he now has almost spent his spright :
Till that at length unto a woody glade
He came, whose covert stopt his further sight ;
There his three foes shrowded in guilefull shade
Out of their ambush broke, and gan him to invade.
56 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_E. VI.
XVIII.
Sharpely they all attonce did him assaile^
Burning with inward rancour and despight.
And heaped strokes did round about him haile
With so huge force^ that seemed nothing might
- Beare off their blowes from percing thorough quite :
Yet he them all so warily did ward,
That none of them in his soft flesh did bite ;
And all the while his backe for best safegard
He lent against a tree, that backeward onset bard.
XIX.
Like a wylde bull, that, being at a bay,
Is bayted of a mastiffe and a hound
And a curre-dog, that doe him sharpe assay
On every side, and beat about him round ;
But most that curre, barking with bitter sownd,
And creeping still behinde, doth him incomber.
That in his chautfe he digs the trampled ground,
And threats his horns, and bellowes like the thonder
So did that Squire his foes disperse and drive asonder.
XX.
Him well behoved so ; for his three foes
Sought to encompasse him on every side.
And dangerously did round about enclose :
. But, most of all, Defetto him annoyde.
Creeping behinde him still to have destroyde ;
So did Decetto eke him circumvent ;
But stout Despetto in his greater pryde
Did front him, face to face against him bent :
Yet he them all withstood, and often made relent.
C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 57
XXI.
Till that at length nigh tyrd with former chace.
And weary now with carefull keeping ward.
He gan to shrinke and somewhat to give place.
Full like ere long to have escaped hard ;
Whenas unwares he in the forrest heard
A trampling steede, that with his neighing fast
Did warne his rider be uppon his gard ;
With noise whereof the Squire, now nigh aghast;,
Revived was, and sad dispaire away did cast.
XXII.
Eftsoones he spide a Knight approching nye ;
Who, seeing one in so great daunger set
Mongst many foes, himself did faster hye
To reskue him, and his weake part abet.
For pitty so to see him overset :
Whom soone as his three enemies did vew.
They fled, and fast into the wood did get :
Him booted not to thinke them to pursew ;
The covert was so thicke, that did no passage shew.
XXIII.
Then, turning to that Swaine, him well he knew
To be his Timias, his owne true Squire ;
Whereof exceeding glad, he to him drew.
And, him embracing twixt his armes entire.
Him thus bespake ; '^ My liefe, my lifes desire.
Why have ye me alone thus long yleft ?
Tell me what worlds despight, or heavens yre.
Hath you thus long away from me bereft ?
Where have ye all this while bin wandring, where bene
weft ?
58 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []jj. VI.
XXIV.
With that he sighed deepe for inward tyne :
To whom the Squire nought aunswered againe.
But, shedding few soft teares from tender eyne.
His dear affect with silence did restraine.
And shut up all his plaint in privy paine.
There they awhile some gracious speeches spent.
As to them seem'd fit time to entertaine :
After all which up to their steedes they went.
And forth together rode, a comely couplement.
XXV.
So now they be arrived both in sight
Of this Wyld Blan, whom they full busie found
About the sad Serena things to dight.
With those brave armours lying on the ground.
That seem'd the spoile of some right well renownd.
Which when that Squire beheld, he to them stept
Thinking to take them from that hylding hound ;
But he it seeing lightly to him lept, [^kept :
And sternely with strong hand it from his handling
XXVI.
Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly looke.
And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne.
Him with his fist un wares on th' head he strooke.
That made him downe unto the earth encline ;
Whence soone upstarting, much he gan repine.
And laying hand upon his wrathfull blade
Thought therewithall forthwith him to have slaine;
Who it perceiving hand upon him layd.
And greedily him griping his avengement stayd.
C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 59
XXVII.
With that aloude the faire Serena cryde
Unto the Knight, them to dispart in twaine :
Who to them stepping did them soone divide^,
And did from further violence restrains
Albe the Wyld INIan hardly would refraine.
Then gan the Prince of her for to demand
What and from whence she was ; and by what traine
She fell into that Salvage Villaines hand ;
And whether free with him she now were^ or in band.
XXVIII.
To whom she thus ; " 1 am, as now ye see.
The wretchedst Dame that lives this day on ground.
Who both in minde (the which most grieveth me)
And body have receiv'd a mortall wound.
That hath me driven to this drery stound.
I was erewhile the Love of Calepine ;
Who whether he alive be to be found.
Or by some deadly chaunce be done to pine.
Since I him lately lost, uneath is to define.
XXIX.
" In salvage forrest I him lost of late.
Where I had surely long ere this bene dead.
Or else remained in most wretched state.
Had not this Wylde Man in that wofull stead
Kept and delivered me from deadly dread.
In such a salvage wight, of brutish kynd.
Amongst wilde beastes in desert forrests bred.
It is most straunge and wonderful to fynd
So milde humanity and perfect gentle inynd.
60 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XXX.
'•' Let me therefore this favour for him tinde,
That ye will not your wrath upon him \vreake,
Sith he cannot expresse his simple minde,
Ne yours conceive^ ne but by tokens speake :
Small praise to prove your powre on wight so weake I"
With such faire words she did their heate asswage.
And the strong course of their displeasure breake.
That they t» pitty turnd their former rage.
And each sought to supply the office of her Page.
XXXI.
So, having all things well about her dight.
She on her way cast forward to proceede ;
And they her forth conducted, where they might
Finde harbour fit to comfort her great neede ;
For now her wounds corruption gan to breed:
And eke this Squire, who likewise wounded was
Of that same Monster late, for lacke of heed
Now gan to faint, and further could not pas
Through feeblenesse, which all his limbes oppressed has.
XXXIl.
So forth they rode together all in troupe
To seeke some place, the which mote yeeld some ease
To these sicke twaine that now began to droupe ;
And all the way the Prince sought to appease
The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease
By all the courteous meanes he could invent ;
Somewhile with merry purpose, fit to please.
And otherwhile with good encouragement,
To make them to endure the pains did them torment.
C. v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 61
XXXIII.
JMoiigst which:, Serena did to him relate
The foule discourt'sies and unknightly parts^
Which Turpine had unto her shewed late
Without compassion of her cruell smarts :
Although Blandina did with all her arts
Him otherwise perswade all that she might.
Yet he of malice, without her desarts.
Not onely her excluded late at night.
But also trayterously did wound her weary Knight.
XXXIV.
Wherewith the Prince sore moved there avoud
That, soone as he returned backe againe, ,
He would avenge th' abuses of that proud
And shameful Knight, of whom she did complaine.
This wize did they each other entertaine
To passe the tedious travell of the way ;
Till towards night they came unto a plaine.
By which a little Hermitage there lay.
Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.
XXXV.
And nigh thereto a little Chappel stoode.
Which being all with yvy overspred
Deckt all the roofe, and, shadowing the roode,
Seem'd like a grove faire braunched over hed :
Therein the Hermite, which his life here led
In streight observaunce of religious vow.
Was wont his howres and holy things to bed ;
And therein he likewise was praying now,
Whenas these Knights arriv'd, they wist not Avhere nor
how.
62 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XXXVI.
They stayd not there, but streightway in did pas :
Whom when the Hermite present saw in place.
From his devotion streight he troubled was ;
Which breaking off he toward them did pace
With stayed steps and grave beseeming gi-ace :
For well it seem'd that whilome he had beene
Some goodly person, and of gentle race.
That could his good to all ; and well did weene
How each to entertaine with curt'sie well beseene :
XXXVII.
And soothly it was sayd by common fame.
So long as age enabled him thereto.
That he had bene a man of mickle name,
Renowmed much in armes and derring doe :
But being aged now, and weary to
Of warres delight and worlds contentious toyle.
The name of Knighthood he did disavow;
And, hanging up his armes and warlike spoyle.
From all this worlds incombrance did himselfe assoyle.
XXXVIII.
He thence them led into his Hermitage,
Letting their steedes to graze upon the greene ;
Small was his house, and, like a little cage.
For his owne turne ; yet inly neate and clene,
Deckt with greene boughes and flowers gay beseene :
Therein he them full faire did entertaine
Not with such forged showes, as fitter beene
For courting fooles that curtesies would faine.
But with entire affection and appearaunce plaine.
C, v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 63
XXXIX.
Yet was their fare but homely, such as hee
Did use his feeble body to sustaine ;
The which full gladly they did take in glee,
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine.
But, being well suffiz'd, them rested faine :
But fair Serene all night could take no rest,
Ne yet that gentle Squire, for grievous paine
Of their late woundes^ the which the Blatant Beast
Had given them, whose griefe through sufFraunce sore
increast.
XL.
So all that night they past in great disease.
Till that the morning, bringing earely light
To guide mens labours, brought them also ease.
And some asswagement of their painefuU plight.
Then up they rose, and gan themselves to dight
Unto their iourney ; but that Squire and Dame
So faint and feeble were, that they ne might
Endure to travell, nor one foote to frame : |^were lame.
Their hearts were sicke ; their sides were sore ; their feete
XLI.
Therefore the Prince, whom great affaires in mynd
Would not permit to make there lenger stay.
Was forced there to leave them both behynd
In that good Hermits charge, whom he did pray
To tend them well : So forth he went his way,
And with him eke the Salvage (that whyleare
Seeing his royal usage and array
Was greatly growne in love of that brave Pere)
Would needes depart ; as shall declared be elsewhere.
64 THE FAERIE QUEENE. \^B. VI.
CANTO VI.
Tlie Hermite heales both Squire and Dame
Of their sore maladies :
He Turpine doth defeate and shame
For his late villanies.
I.
No ^A'ound, which warlike hand of enemy
Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light
As doth the poysnous sting, which infamy
Infixeth in the name of noble wight :
For, by no art nor any leaches might.
It ever can recured be againe ;
Ne all the skill, which that immortall spright
Of Podalyrius did in it retaine.
Can remedy such hurts ; such hurts are hellish paine.
II.
Such were the wounds the which that Blatant Beast
Made in the bodies of that Squire and Dame ;
And, being such, were now much more increast
For want of taking heede unto the same.
That now corrupt and curelesse they became :
Howbe that carefull Hermite did his best.
With many kindes of medicines meete, to tame
The poysnous luimour which did most infest
Their rancklina: wounds, and everv dav them duelv drest.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 65
III.
For lie right well in leaches craft was seene ;
And, through the long experience of his dayes.
Which had in many fortunes tossed beene
And past through many perillous assayes,
He knew the diverse went of mortall wayeS;,
And in the mindes of men had great insight ;
Which with sage counsell, when they went astray^
He could enforme, and them reduce aright ; (^spright.
And all the passions heale^, which wound the weaker
IV.
For whylome he had bene a doughty Knight,
As any one that lived in his daies^
And proved oft in many perillous fight,
In which he grace and glory wonne alwaies.
And in all battels bore away the baies :
But being now attacht with timely age.
And weary of this worlds unquiet waies,
He tooke himselfe unto this Hermitage,
In which he liv'd alone, like carelesse bird in cage.
V.
One day, as he was searching of their wounds,
He found that they had festred privily ;
And, ranckling inward with unruly stounds.
The inner parts now gan to putrify.
That quite they seem'd past helpe of surgery ;
And rather needed to be disciplinde
With holesome reede of sad sobriety.
To rule the stubborne rage of passion blinde :
Give salves to every sore, but counsell to the minde.
VOL. IV. F
6Q THE FAERIE QUEENE. L^' ^'f-
VI.
So;, taking them apart into his cell.
He to that point fit speaches gan to frame.
As he the art of words knew wondrous well.
And eke could doe as well as say the same ;
And thus he to them sayd ; " Faire Daughter Dame,
And you, faire Sonne, which here thus long now lie
In piteous languor since ye hither came ;
In vaine of me ye hope for remedie.
And I likewise in vaine doe salves to you applie :
VII.
^' For in yourselfe your onely helpe doth lie
To heale yourselves, and must proceed alone
From your owne will to cure your maladie.
Who can him cure that will be cur'd of none ?
If therefore health ye seeke, observe this one :
First learne your outward senses to refraine
From things that stirre up fraile aifection ;
Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your talk restraine
From that they most aifect, and in due termes containe.
VIII.
" For from those outward sences, ill affected,
Tlie seede of all this evill first doth spring,
Which at the first, before it had infected,
Mote easie be supprest with little thing :
But, being growen strong, it forth doth bring
Sorrow, and anguish, and impatient paine.
In th' inner parts ; and lastly, scattering
Contagious poyson close through every vaine.
It never rests till it have wrought his finall bane.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. . 67
IX.
"' For that Beastes teeth, which Avounded you tofore^
Are so exceeding venemous and keene,
Made all of rusty yron ranckling sore,
Thatj, where they bite, it booteth not to weene
With salve, or antidote, or other mene.
It ever to amend : ne marvaile ought ;
For that same Beast was bred of hellish strene.
And long in darksome Stygian den upbreught.
Begot of foule Echidna, as in bookes is taught.
X.
'^ Echidna is a IMonster direfull dred.
Whom gods doe hate, and heavens abhor to see ;
So hideous is her shape, so huge her hed.
That even the hellish fiends affrighted bee
At sight thereof, and from her presence flee :
Yet did her face and former parts professe
A faire young Mayden, full of comely glee ;
But all her hinder parts did plaine expresse
A monstrous Dragon, full of fearfull uglinesse.
XI.
" To her the gods, for her so dreadfull face.
In fearefull darknesse, furthest from the skie
And from the earth, appointed have her place
Mongst rocks and caves, where she enrold doth lie
In hideous horrour and obscurity.
Wasting the strength of her immortall age :
There did Typhaon with her company ;
Cruell Typhaon, whose tempestuous rage
Makes th' heavens tremble oft, and him with vowes
asswage. ^ ^
G{> THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XII.
" Of that commixtion they did then beget
This hellish dog, that hight the Blatant Beast ;
A wicked Monster, that his tongue doth whet
Gainst all, both good and bad, both most and least.
And pours his poysnous gall forth to infest
The noblest wights with notable defame :
Ne ever Knight that bore so lofty creast,
Ne ever Lady of so honest name.
But he them spotted with reproch, or secrete shame.
XIII.
"^ In vaine therefore it were with medicine
To goe about to salve such kind of sore.
That rather needes wise read and discipline
Then outward salves that may augment it more."
" Aye me !" sayd then Serena, sighing sore,
'^ What hope of helpe doth then for us remaine,
If that no salves may us to health restore !"
" But sith we need good counsell," sayd the Swaine,
*' Aread, good Sire, some counsell that may us sustaine."
XIV.
The best," sayd he, " that I can you advize.
Is, to avoide th' occasion of the ill :
For when the cause, whence evill doth arize.
Removed is, th' effect surceaseth still.
Abstaine from pleasure, and restraine your will ;
Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight ;
Use scanted diet, and forbeare your fill ;
Shun secresie, and talke in open sight :
So shall you soone repaire your present evill plight."
((
^
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. C9
XV.
Thus having siiyd, his sickely patients
Did gladly hearken to his grave beheast.
And kept so well his wise commaundements^
That in short space their malady was ceast.
And eke the biting of that harmefull Beast
Was throughly heal'd. Tho when they did perceave
Their wounds recur'd, and forces reincreast^
Of that good Hermite both they tooke their leave^
And went both on their way, ne ech would other leave :
XVI.
But each the other vow'd t' accompany :
The Lady, for that she was much in dred.
Now left alone in great extremity;
The Squire, for that he courteous was indeed.
Would not her leave alone in her great need.
So both together traveld, till they met
With a faire Mayden clad in mourning weed.
Upon a mangy iade unmeetely set.
And a lewd Foole her leading thorough dry and wet.
XVII.
But by what meanes that shame to her befell.
And how thereof lierselfe she did acquite,
I must a while forbeare to you to tell ;
Till that, as comes by course, I doe recite
What fortune to the Briton Prince did lite.
Pursuing that proud Knight, the which whileare
Wrought to Sir Calepine so foule despight ;
And eke his Lady, though she sickly were.
So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately heare.
70 / THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XVIII.
The Prince, according to the former token.
Which faire Serene to him delivered had,
Pursu'd him streight ; in mynd to bene y wroken
Of all the vile demeane and usage bad.
With which he had those two so ill bestad :
Ne wight with him on that adventure went.
But that Wylde Man ; whom though he oft forbad,
Yet for no bidding, nor for being shent.
Would he restrained be from his attendement.
XIX.
Arriving there, as did by chaunce befall.
He found the gate wyde ope, and in he rode,
Ne stayd, till that he came into the hall ;
Where soft dismounting, like a weary lode.
Upon the ground with feeble feete he trode.
As he unable were for very neede
To move one foote, but there must make abode ;
The whiles the Salvage Man did take his steede.
And in some stable neare did set him up to feede.
XX.
Ere long to "him a homely Groome there came.
That in rude wise him asked what he was.
That durst so boldly, without let or shame.
Into his Lords forbidden hall to passe :
To whom the Prince, him fayning to embase,
Mylde answer made, he was an Errant Knight,
The which was fall'n into this feeble case
Through many wounds, which lately he in fight
Received had, and prayd to pitty his ill plight.
C. VI.l THE FAERIE QUEENE. 71
XXI.
But he, the more outrageous and bold,
Sternely did bid him quickely thence avaunt,
Or deare aby ; for why ? his Lord of old
Did hate all Errant Knights which there did haunt,
Ne lodging would to any of them graunt ;
And therefore lightly bad him packe away,
Not sparing him with bitter words to taunt ;
And therewithal! rude hand on him did lay.
To thrust him out of dore doing his worst assay.
XXII.
Which when the Salvage comming now in place
Beheld, eftsoones he all enraged grew.
And, running streight upon that Villaine base.
Like a fell lion at him fiercely flew.
And with his teeth and nailes, in present vew.
Him rudely rent and all to peeces tore ;
So miserably him all helpelesse slew.
That with the noise, whilest he did loudly rore.
The people of the house rose forth in great uprore.
XXIII.
Who when on ground they saw their fellow slaine, .
And that same Knight and Salvage standing by.
Upon them two they fell with might and maine.
And on them layd so huge and horribly.
As if they would have slaine them presently :
But the bold Prince defended him so well.
And their assault withstood so mightily.
That, maugre all their might, he did repell
And beat them back, whilst many underneath him fell.
72 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_B. VI.
XXIV.
Yet he them still so sharpely did pursew.
That few of them he left alive, which fled.
Those evill tidings to their Lord to shew:
AVho, hearing how his people badly sped.
Came forth in hast ; where whenas with the dead
He saw the ground all strow'd, and that same Knight
And Salvage with their bloud fresh steeming red.
He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell despight.
And with reproachfull words him thus bespake on hight ;
XXV.
" Art thou He, traytor, that with treason vile
Hast slaine my men in this unmanly maner.
And now triiimphest in the piteous spoile
Of these poore folk, whose soiiles with black dishonor
And foule defame doe decke thy bloudy baner ?
The meede whereof shall shortly be thy shame.
And wretched end which still attendeth on her."
With that himselfe to battell he did frame ;
So did his forty yeomen, which there with him came.
XXVI.
With dreadfull force they all did him assaile.
And round about with boystrous strokes oppresse.
That on his shield did rattle like to haile
In a great tempest ; that in such distresse
He wist not to which side him to addresse :
And evermore that craven cowherd Knight
Was at his backe with heartlesse lieedinesse,
Wayting if lie un wares him murther might:
For cowardize doth still in villany delight.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 73
XXVII.
Whereof whenas the Prince was well aware.
He to him turnd with furious intent.
And him against his powre gan to prepare ;
Like a fierce bull, that being busie bent
To fight with many foes about him ment,
FeeliuiT some curre behinde his heeles to bite,
Turnes him about with fell avengement :
So likewise turnde the Prince upon the Knight,
And layd at him amaine with all his will and might.
XXVIII.
Who, when he once his dreadful) strokes had tasted.
Durst not the furie of his force abyde.
But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him hasted
Through the thick prease, there thinking him to hyde :
But, when the Prince had once him plainely eyde.
He foot by foot him followed alway,
Ne would him suifer once to shrinke asyde ;
But, ioyning close, huge lode at him did lay;
Who flying still did ward, and warding fly away.
XXIX.
But, when his foe he still so eger saw.
Unto his heeles himselfe he did betake.
Hoping unto some refuge to withdraw:
Ne would the Prince him ever foot forsake
Whereso he went, but after him did make.
He fled from roome to roome, from place to place,
Whylest every ioynt for dread of death did quake.
Still looking after him that did him chace ;
That made him evermore increase his speedie pace.
74 THE FAERIE QUEENE [b. VI.
XXX.
At last he up into the chamber came
Whereas his Love was sitting all alone,
Wayting what tydings of her folke became.
There did the Prince him overtake anone
Crying in vaine to her him to bemone ;
And with his sword him on the head did smyte,
That to the ground he fell in senselesse swone :
Yet, whether thAvart or flatly it did lyte.
The tempred Steele did not into his braynepan byte.
XXXI.
Which when the Ladie saw, with great affright
She starting up began to shrieke aloud ;
And, with her garment covering him from sight,
Seem'd under her protection him to shroud ;
And, falling lowly at his feet, her bowd
Upon her knee, intreating him for grace.
And often him besought, and prayd, and vowd ;
That, with the ruth of her so wretched case.
He stayd his second strooke and did his hand abase.
XXXII.
Her weed she then withdrawing did him discover;
Who now come to himselfe yet would not rize.
But still did lie as dead, and quake, and quiver.
That even the Prince his basenesse did despize ;
And eke his Dame, him seeing in such guize,
Gan him recomfort and from ground to reare :
Who rising up at last in ghastly Avize,
Like troubled ghost, did dreadfully appeare.
As one that had no life him left through former feare.
VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 75
XXXIII.
Whom when the Prince so deadly saw dismayd,
He for such basenesse shamefully him shent,
And with sharpe words did bitterly upbrayd ;
" Vile cowheard Dogge, now doe I much repent,
That ever I this life unto thee lent,
Whereof thou caytive so unworthie art,
That both thy Love, for lacke of hardiment.
And eke thyselfe, for want of manly hart, [^part.
And eke all Knights hast shamed with this knightlesse
XXXIV.
'' Yet further hast thou heaped shame to shame,
And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard feare :
For first it was to thee reprochfull blame,
T' erect this wicked custome, which I heare
Gainst errant Knights and Ladies thou dost reare ;
Whom when thou mayst thou dost of arms despoile.
Or of their upper garment which they weare :
Yet doest thou not with manhood, but with guile,
Maintaine this evil use, thy foes thereby to foile.
XXXV.
'' And lastly, in approvance of thy wrong,
To shew such faintnesse and foule cowardize
Is greatest shame ; for oft it falles, that strong
And valiant Knights doe rashly enterprize
Either for fame, or else for exercize,
A wTongfull quarrell to maintaine by fight ;
Yet have through prowesse and their brave emprize
Gotten great worship in this worldes sight :
For greater force there needs to maintaine wrong then
right.
76 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XXXVI.
'* Yet^ since thy life unto this Ladie fay re
I given have, live in reproch and scorne !
Ne ever armes ne ever knighthood dare
Hence to professe ; for shame is to adorne
With so brave badges one so basely borne ;
But onely breathy sith that I did forgive !"
So having from his craven bodie torne
Those goodly armes^, he them away did give^,
And onely suffred him this wretched life to live.
XXXVII.
There whilest he thus was setling things above,
Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant Knight,
To whom his life he graunted for her love.
He gan bethinke him in what perilous plight
He had behynd him left that salvage wight
Amongst so many foes, whom sure he thought
By this quite slaine in so unequall iight :
Therefore descending backe in haste he sought
If yet he were alive, or to destruction brought.
XXXVIII.
There he him found environed about
With slaughtred bodies, which his hand had slaine ;
And laying yet afresh with courage stout
Upon the rest that did alive remaine ;
Whom he likewise right sorely did constraine.
Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safetic,
After he gotten had with busie paine
vSome of their weapons which thereby did lie.
With which he layd about, and made them fast to flie.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 77
XXXIX.
Whom when the Prince so felly saw to rage.
Approaching to him neare, his hand he stayd.
And sought, by making signes, him to asswage :
Who them perceiving, streight to him obayd.
As to his Lord, and downe his weapons layd.
As if he long had to his heasts bene trayned.
Thence he him brought away, and up convayd
Into the chamber, where that Dame remayned
With her unworthy Knight, who ill him entertayned.
XL.
Whom when the Salvage saw from daunger free.
Sitting beside his Ladie there at ease.
He well remembred that the same was hee,
Which lately sought his Lord for to displease :
Tho all in rage he on him streight did seaze.
As if he would in peeces him have rent ;
And, were not that the Prince did him appeaze.
He had not left one limbe of him unrent:
But streight he held his hand at his commaundement.
'a'
XLI.
Thus having all things well in peace ordayned.
The Prince himselfe there all that night did rest;
Where him Blandina fayrely entertayned
With all the courteous glee and goodly feast
The which for him she could imagine best :
For well she knew the wayes to win good will
Of every wight, that were not too infest ;
And how to please the minds of good and ill.
Through tempering of her words and lookes by won-
drous skill.
78 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XLII.
Yet were her words and lookes but false and fayned^,
To some hid end to make more easie way.
Or to allure such fondlings whom she trayned
Into her trap unto their owne decay:
Thereto, when needed, she could weepe and pray.
And when her listed she could fawne and flatter;
Now smyling smoothly like to sommers day.
Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her matter; [[water.
Yet were her words but ^vynd, and all her tears but
XLIII.
Whether such grace were given her by kynd.
As women wont their guilefull wits to guyde ;
Or learnd the art to please, I doe not fynd :
This well I wote, that she so well apply de
Her pleasing tongue, that soon she pacifyde ([peace :
The wrathfuU Prince, and ^vrought her husbands
Who nathelesse, not therewith satisfyde.
His rancorous despight did not releasse,
Ne secretly from thought of fell revenge surceasse :
XLIV.
For all that night, the whyles the Prince did rest
In carelesse couch not weeting what was ment.
He watcht in close awayt with weapons prest.
Willing to worke his villenous intent
On him, that had so shamefully him shent :
Yet durst he not for very cowardize
Effect the same, whylest all the night was spent.
The morrow next the Prince did early rize.
And passed forth to follow his first enterprize.
C. VII.] THE FAERIK QUEENE. 79
CANTO VII.
Turpine is bafFiild ; his two Knights
Doe gaine their treasons meed.
Fayre Mirabellaes punishment
For Loves disdaine decreed.
I.
Like as the gentle hart itselfe bewrayes
In doing gentle deedes with franke delight.
Even so the baser mind itselfe display es
In cancred malice and revengefuU spight :
For to maligne, t' envisj t' use shifting slight.
Be arguments of a vile donghill mind ;
Which, what it dare not doe by open might.
To worke by wicked treason wayes doth find.
By such discourteous deeds discovering his base kind.
II.
That well appears in this discourteous Knight,
The coward Turpine, whereof now I treat ;
Who notwithstanding that in former fight
He of the Prince his life received late.
Yet in his mind malitious and ingrate
He gan devize to be aveng'd anew
For all that shame, which kindled inward hate :
Therefore, so soone as he was out of vew,
Himselfe in hast he arm'd, and did him fast pursew.
80 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b, VI.
III.
Well did he tract his steps as he did ryde.
Yet would not iieare approch in daungers eye.
But kept aloofe for dread to be descryde,
Untill fit time and place he mote espy.
Where he mote worke him scath and villeny.
At last he met two Knights to him unknowne.
The which were armed both agreeably.
And both combynd, whatever chaunce were blov^'ne.
Betwixt them to divide and each to make his owne.
IV.
To whom false Turpine comming courteously.
To cloke the mischiefe which he inly ment,
Gan to complaine of great discourtesie.
Which a straunge Knight, that neare afore him went.
Had doen to him, and his deare Ladie shent ;
Which if they would afford him ayde at need
For to avenge in time convenient.
They should accomplish both a knightly deed.
And for their paines obtaine of him a goodly meed.
V.
The Knights beleev'd that all he sayd was trew;
And, being fresh and full of youthly spright.
Were glad to heare of that adventure new.
In which they mote make triall of their might
Which never yet they had approv'd in fight.
And eke desirous of the oflfred meed :
Said then the one of them ; " W^here is that wight.
The which hath doen to thee this wrongfull deed.
That we may it avenge, and punish liim with speed?"
C. VII. J THE FAERIE QUEENE. 81
VI.
" He rides/' said Turpine;, " there not farre afore.
With a Wyld Man soft footing by his syde ;
Thatj, if ye list to haste a litle more.
Ye may him overtake in timely tyde."
Eftsoones they pricked forth with forward pryde ;
And, ere that litle while they ridden had.
The gentle Prince not farre away they spyde,
Ryding a softly pace with portance sad.
Devizing of his Love more then of daunger drad.
VII.
Then one of them aloud unto him cryde.
Bidding him turne againe ; " False traytour Knight,
Foule woman- wronger !" — for he him defyde.
With that they both at once with equall spight
Did bend their speares, and both with equall might
Against him ran ; but th' one did misse his marke.
And being carried with his force forthright
Glaunst swiftly by ; like to that heavenly sparke,
L Which glyding through the ayre lights all the heavens
darke.
|. VIIT.
But th' other, ayming better, did him smite
Full in the shield with so impetuous powre.
That all his launce in peeces shivered quite.
And scattered all about fell on the flowre :
But the stout Prince with much more steddy stowre
Full on his bever did him strike so sore.
That the cold Steele through piercing did devowre
His vitall breath, and to the ground him bore.
Where still he bathed lay in his own bloody gore.
VOL. IV. G
i
8;^ THE FAERIE QUEENE. |[b. VI.
IX.
As when a cast of faulcons make their flight
At an herneshavv;, that lyes aloft on wing.
The whyles they strike at him with heedlesse might.
The warie foule his hill doth backward wring ;
On which the first, whose force her first doth bring,
Herselfe quite through the bodie doth engore.
And falleth downe to ground like senselesse thing ;
But th' other, not so swift as she before,
Fayles of her souse^ and passing by doth hurt no more.
X.
By this the other, which was passed by,
Himselfe recovering, was returned to fight ;
Where when he saw his fellow lifelesse ly.
He much was daunted with so dismal sight ;
Yet, nought abating of his former spight.
Let drive at him with so malitious mynd.
As if he would have passed through him quight :
But the steele-head no stedfast hold could fynd.
But glauncing by deceiv'd him of that he desynd.
XI.
Not so the Prince ; for his well-learned speare
Tooke surer hould, and from his horses backe
Above a launces length him forth did beare.
And gainst the cold hard earth so sore him strake,
That all his bones in peeces nigh he brake.
Where seeing him so lie, he left his steed.
And, to him leaping, vengeance thought to take
Of him, for all his former follies meed.
With flaming sword in hand his terror more to breed.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 83
XII.
The fearfull Swayne beholding death so nie
Cryde out aloud^ for mercie^ him to save ;
In lieu whereof he would to him descrie
Great treason to him meant, his life to reave.
The Prince soone hearkned, and his life forgave.
Then thus said he ; '' There is a straunger Knight,
The which, for promise of great meed, us drave
To this attempt, to wreake his hid despight.
For that himselfe thereto did want sufficient might."
XIII.
The Prince much mused at such villenie.
And sayd ; ^' Now sure ye well have earn'd your meed ;
For th' one is dead, and th' other soone shall die^
Unlesse to me thou hither bring with speed
The wretch that hyr'd you to this wicked deed."
He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake
The guilt on him which did this mischiefe breed.
Swore by his sword, that neither day nor weeke
He would surceasse, but him whereso he were would
seeke.
XIV.
So up he rose, and forth streightway he went
Backe to the place where Turpine late he lore ;
There he him found in great astonishment.
To see him so bedight with bloodie gore
And griesly wounds, that him appalled sore.
Yet thus at length he said ; " How now. Sir Knight,
What meaneth this which here I see before ?
How fortuneth this foule uncomely plight,
po different from that which earst ye seem'd in sight }"
G %
84 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_B. VI.
XV.
^' Perdie/' said he, '^' in evill houre it fell,
That ever I for meed did undertake
So hard a taske as life for hyre to sell ;
The which I earst adventur'd for your sake :
Witnesse the wounds, and this wide bloudie lake.
Which ye may see yet all about me steeme.
Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promise make.
My due reward, the which right well I deeme
I yearned have, that life so dearely did redeeme."
XVI.
^' But where then is," quoth he halfe wrothfuUy,
" Where is the bootie, which therefore I bought.
That cursed caytive, my strong enemy.
That recreant Knight, whose hated life I sought ?
And where is eke your friend which halfe it ought?"
" He lyes," said he, '' upon the cold bare ground,
Slayne of that Errant Knight with whom he fought ;
Whom afterwards myselfe with many a wound
Did slay againe, as ye may see there in the stound."
XVII.
Thereof false Turpin was full glad and faine,
And needs with him streight to the place would ryde.
Where he himselfe might see his foeman slaine ;
For else his feare could not be satisfyde.
So, as they rode, he saw the way all dyde
With streames of bloud ; which tracting by the traile.
Ere long they came, whenas in evill tyde
That other Swayne, like ashes deadly pale,
Lay in the lap of death, re wing his wretched bale-
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 85
XVIII.
Much did the Craven seeme to mone his case.
That for his sake his deare life had forgone ;
And, him bewayling with affection base.
Did counterfeit kind pittie where was none :
For where's no courage, there's no ruth nor mone.
Thence passing forth, not farre away he found
Whereas the Prince himselfe lay all alone.
Loosely displayd upon the grassie ground.
Possessed of sweete sleepe that luld him soft in swound-
XIX.
Wearie of travell in his former fight,
He there in shade himselfe had layd to rest.
Having his armes and warlike things undight,
Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace molest ;
The whyles his Salvage Page, that wont be prest>
Was wandred in the wood another way.
To doe some thing, that seemed to him best ;
The whyles his Lord in silver slomber lay.
Like to the evening starre adorn'd with deawy ray.
XX.
Whom whenas Turpin saw so loosely layd.
He weened well that he indeed was dead.
Like as that other Knight to him had sayd :
But, when he nigh approcht, he mote aread
Plaine signes in him of life and livelihead.
Whereat much griev'd against that straunger Knight^
That him too light of credence did mislead.
He would have backe retyred from that sight.
That was to him on earth the deadliest despight.
86 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XXI.
But that same Knight would not once let him start ;
But plainely gan to him declare the case -
Of all his mischiefe and late lucklesse smart ;
How both he and' his fellow there in place
Were vanquished^ and put to foule disgrace ;
And how that he^, in lieu of life him lent^ |
Had vow'd unto the Victor, him to trace
And follow through the world whereso he went.
Till that he him delivered to his punishment. |
XXII. I
He, therewith much abashed and affrayd.
Began to tremble every limbe and vaine ;
And, softly whispering him, entyrely prayd
T' advize him better then by such a traine
Him to betray unto a straunger Swaine :
Yet rather counseld him contrarywize,
Sith he likewise did wrong by him sustaine.
To ioyne with him and vengeance to devize.
Why lest time did offer meanes him sleeping to surprize.
XXIII.
Nathelesse, for all his speach, the gentle Knight
Would not be tempted to such villenie.
Regarding more his faith which he did plight.
All v/ere it to his mortall enemie.
Then to entrap him by false treacherie :
Great shame in lieges blood to be embrew'd !
Thus whylest they were debating diverslie.
The Salvage forth out of the wood issew'd
Backe to the place, whereas his Lord he sleeping vew'd.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 87
XXIV.
There wlien he saw those two so neare him stand.
He doubted much what mote their meaning bee ;
And, throwing downe his load out of his hand,
(To weet, great store of forrest frute which hee
Had for his food late gathered from the tree,)
Himselfe unto his weapon he betooke,
That was an oaken plant, which lately 'hee
Rent by the root ; which he so sternly shooke.
That like an hazell wand it quivered and quooke.
XXV.
Whereat the Prince awaking, when he spyde
The tray tour Turpi n with that other Knight,
He started up ; and snatching neare his syde
His trustie sword, the servant of his might.
Like a fell lyon leaped to him light.
And his left hand upon his collar layd.
Therewith the Cowheard, deaded with affright.
Fell flat to ground, ne word unto him sayd.
But, holding up his hands, with silence mercie prayd.
XXVI.
But he so full of indignation was.
That to his prayer nought he would incline.
But, as he lay upon the humbled gras.
His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe
Of servile yoke, that nobler harts repine.
Then, letting him arise like abiect thrall.
He gan to him obiect his haynous crime.
And to revile, and rate, and recreant call,
And lastly to despoyle of knightly bannerall.
88 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI
XXVII.
And after all^ for greater infamie.
He by the Jieeles him hung upon a tree.
And baffuld so, that all which passed by
The picture of his punishment might see.
And by the like ensample warned bee.
However they through treason doe trespasse.
But turne we now backe to that Ladie free.
Whom late we left ryding upon an asse.
Led by a Carle and Foole which by her side did passe.
XXVIII.
She was a Ladie of great dignitie.
And lifted up to honorable place.
Famous through all the Land of Faerie :
Though of meane parentage and kindred base.
Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of natures grace.
That all men did her person much admire.
And praise the feature of her goodly face ;
The beames whereof did kindle lovely fire
In th' harts of many a Knight, and many a gentle Squire :
XXIX.
But she thereof grew proud and insolent.
That none she worthie thought to be her fere,
But scornd them all that love unto her ment ;
Yet was she lov'd of many a worthy Pere :
Unworthy she to be belov'd so dere.
That could not weigh of worthinesse aright :
For beautie is more glorious bright and clere.
The more it is admir'd of many a wight.
And noblest she that served is of noblest Knight.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 89
XXX.
But this coy Damzell thought contrariwize.
That such proud looks would make her praysed more ;
And thatj the more she did all love despize.
The more would wretched Lovers her adore.
What cared she who sighed for her sore.
Or who did wayle or watch the wearie night ?
Let them that list their lucklesse lot deplore ;
She was borne free, not bound to any wight.
And so would ever live, and love her own delight.
XXXI.
Through such her stubborne stifnesse and hard hart.
Many a \vretch for want of remedie
Did languish long in life-consuming smarts
And at the last through dreary dolour die :
Whylest she, the Ladie of her libertie.
Did boast her beautie had such soveraine might.
That with the onely twinckle of her eye
She could or save or spill whom she would hight :
What could the Gods doe more, but doe it more aright ?
XXXII.
But loe ! the Gods, that mortall follies vew.
Did worthily revenge this Maydens pride ;
And, nought regarding her so goodly hew^,
Did laugh at her that many did deride,
Whilest she did weepe, of no man mercifide :
For on a day, when Cupid kept his Court,
As he is wont at each Saint Valentide,
Unto the which all Lovers doe resort.
That of their Loves successe they there may make report ;
90 THE FAERIE QUEENE. (^B. VI.
XXXIII.
It fortun'd then, that when the roules were red.
In which the names of all Loves folke were fyled.
That many there were missing ; which were ded.
Or kept in bands, or from their Loves exyled,
Or by some other violence despoyled.
Which whenas Cupid heard, he wexed wroth ;
And, doubting to be wronged or beguyled.
He bad his eyes to be unblindfold both.
That he might see his men, and muster them by otli.
xxxiv.
Then found he many missing of his crew.
Which wont doe suit and service to his might ;
Of whom what was becomen no man knew.
Therefore a lurie was impaneld streight
T' enquire of them, whether by force, or sleight.
Or their owne guilt, they were away convayd :
To whom foule Infamie and fell Despight
Gave evidence, that they were all betrayd
And murdred cruelly by a rebellious INIayd.
xxxv.
Fayre IMirabella was her name, whereby
Of all those crymes she there indited was :
All which when Cupid heard, he by and by
In great displeasure wil'd a Capias
Should issue forth t' attach that scornefull Lasse.
The Warrant straight was made, and therewithall
A Baylieffe errant forth in post did passe.
Whom they by name there Portamore did call ;
He which doth summon Lovers to Loves ludgement Hall.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 91
XXXVI.
The Damzell was attacht, and shortly brought
Unto the Barre whereas she was arrayned ;
But she thereto nould pleads nor answere ought^
Even for stubborne pride, which her restrayned :
So iudgement past, as is by law ordayned
In cases like : Which when at last, she saw.
Her stubborne hart, which love before disdayned,
Gan stoupe ; and, falling downe with humble awe,
Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of law.
XXXV II.
The Sonne of Venus, who is myld by kynd.
But where he is provokt with peevishnesse.
Unto her prayers piteously enclynd.
And did the rigour of his doome repressej
Yet not so freely, but that nathelesse
He unto her a penance did impose.
Which was, that through this worlds wyde wildernes
She wander should in companie of those.
Till she had sav'd so many Loves as she did lose.
XXXVIII.
So now she had bene wandring two whole yeares
Throughout the world, in this uncomely case.
Wasting her goodly hew in heavie teares.
And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace ;
Yet had she not in all these two yeares space
Saved but two ; yet in two yeares before.
Through her dispiteous pride, whilest love lackt place^,
She had destroyed two and twenty more.
Aie me, how could her love make half amends therefore ?
92 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_B. VI.
XXXIX.
And now she was uppon the weary way^
Whenas the gentle Squire;, with faire Serene,
Met her in such misseeming foule array ;
The whiles that mighty Man did her demeane
With all the evill termes and cruell meane
That he could make ; and eeke that angry Foole
Which follow'd her, with cursed hands uncleane
Whipping her horse, did with his smarting toole
Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much augment her doole.
XL.
Ne ought it mote avalle her to entreat
The one or th' other better her to use ;
For both so wilfull were and obstinate
That all her piteous plaint they did refuse.
And rather did the more her beate and bruse ;
But most the former Villaine, which did lead
Her tyreling iade, was bent her to abuse ;
Who, though she were with wearinesse nigh dead.
Yet would not let her lite, nor rest a little stead:
XLI.
For he was sterne and terrible by nature.
And eeke of person huge and hideous,
E^tceedirig much the measure of mans stature.
And rather like a Gyant monstruous :
For sooth he was descended of the hous
Of those old Gyants, which did warres darraine
Against the Heaven in order battailous ;
And sib to great Orgolio, which was slaine
By Arthure, whenas Unas Knight he did maintaine. ^
i
C. Vir.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 93
xm.
His lookes were dreadfully and his fiery eies,
Like two great beacons,, glared bright and wyde,
Glauncing askew, as if his enemies
He scorned in his overweening pryde ;
And stalking stately, like a crane, did stryde
At every step uppon the tiptoes hie ;
And, all the way he went, on every syde '
He gaz'd about and stared horriblie.
As if he with his lookes would all men terrifie.
XLIII.
He wore no armour, ne for none did care.
As no whit dreading any living wight ;
But in a iacket, quilted richly rare
Upon checklaton, he was straungely dight ;
And on his head a roll of linnen plight.
Like to the IVIores of Malaber, he wore.
With which his locks, as blacke as pitchy night.
Were bound about and voyded from before ;
And in his hand a mighty yron club he bore.
XLIV.
This was Disdaine, who led that Ladies horse [^plains.
Through thick and thin, through mountains and through
Compelling her, where she would not, by force.
Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines :
But that same Foole, which most increast her paines,
Was Scorne ; who, having in his hand a whip.
Her therewith yirks ; and still, when she complaines.
The more he laughes, and does her closely quip.
To see her sore lament and bite her tender lip.
94 THE FAERIE QUEENE. |^E. VI.
XLV.
Whose cruell handling when that Squire beheld.
And saw those Villaines her so vildely use.
His gentle heart with indignation sweld.
And could no lenger beare s<^ great abuse
As such a Lady so to beate and bruse ;
But, to him stepping, such a stroke him lent.
That forst him th' halter from his hand to loose.
And, maugre all his might, backe to relent :
Else had he surely there bene slaine, or fowly shent.
XLVI.
The Villaine, wroth for greeting him so sore.
Gathered himselfe together soone againe.
And with his yron batton which he bore
Let drive at him so dreadfully amaine.
That for his safety he did him constraine
To give him ground, and shift to every side.
Rather than once his burden to sustaine :
For bootlesse thing him seemed to abide
So mighty blowes, or prove the puissaunce of his pride.
XLVII.
Like as a mastiffe having at a bay
A salvage bull, whose cruell homes doe threat
Desperate daunger, if he them assay,
Traceth his ground, and round about doth beat.
To spy where he may some advantage get.
The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly rore ;
So did the Squire, the whiles the Carle did fret
And fume in his disdainefull mynd the more.
And oftentimes by Turmagant and Mahound swore.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 95
XLVIII.
Natlielesse so sharpely still he him pursewd,
That at advantage him at last he tooke.
When his foote slipt, (that slip he dearely rewd,)
And with his yron club to ground him strooke ;
Where still he lay, ne out of swoune awooke.
Till heavy hand the Carle upon him layd^
And bound him fast : Tho, when he up did looke
And saw himselfe captiv'd, he was dismayd,
Ne powre had to withstand;, ne hope of any ayd.
XLIX.
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.
But with his whip him following behynd
Him often scourg'd, and forst his feete to fynd :
And otherwhiles with bitter mockes and mowes
He would him scorne, that to his gentle mynd
Was much more grievous then the others blowes :
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
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 sav-
96 TJIE FAERIE QUEENE. |^B. VT.
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 unto your hands by gift ;
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,
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 :
Ensample take of Mirabellaes case,
Who from the high degree of happy state
Fell into wretched woes, which slie repented kite.
I
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 97
111.
Who after tliraldome of the gentle Squire,
Which she beheld with lamentable eye.
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;
For aye the more that she did them entreat.
The more they him misnst, and cruelly did beat.
IV.
So as they forward on their way did pas.
Him still reviling and afflicting sore.
They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias,
(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 ;
As if it them should grieve to see his punishment.
V.
The Squire himselfe, whenas 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.
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 therewithal! ;
VOL. IV. H
98 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B.
VI.
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 !
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 awhile,
I will them soone acquite, and both of blame assoile."
VII.
The Prince assented ; and then he, streightway
Dismounting light, his shield about him threw.
With which approaching thus he gan to say;
'' Abide, ye caytive treachetours untrew.
That have with treason thralled unto you
These two, unworthy of your wretched bands ;
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,
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.
Whose doome was death; but, lightly slipping bv,
Unwares defrauded his intended destiny:
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 99
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
Saved himselfe but that he there him slew;
Yet sav'd not so, but that the blood it drew.
And gave his Foe good hope of victory:
Who, therewith flesht, upon him set anew.
And Avith the second stroke thought certainely
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 brond-yron bright
So forcibly, that with his owne hands might
Rebeaten backe upon himselfe 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.
XI.
j 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:
The whiles that other Villaine went about
Him to have bound and thrald without delay;
The whiles the Foole did him revile and flout,
jThreatnittg to yoke them two and tame their corage stout.
H 2
100 THE FAERIE QUEENE. \^B. VI.
xir.
As Avhen a sturdy ploughman with his hynde
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.
He left his lofty steede to aide him neare ;
And, buckling soone himselfe, gan fiercely fly
Upon that Carle, to save his friend from ieopardy.
XIII.
The Villaine, leaving him unto his Mate
To be captiv'd and handled as he list,
Himselfe addrest unto this new debate.
And with his club him all about so blist.
That he which way to turne him scarcely wist ;
Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes alow.
Now here, now there, and oft him neare he mist;
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;
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.
And make one end of him without ruth or remorse.
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 101
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 ;
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.
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,)
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 assayed to rise, but could not for his hurt.
XVII.
Eftsoones the Prince to him full nimbly stept,
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 un wares ye weetlesse doe intend ;
Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be slaine ;
For more on him doth then himselfe depend;
JMy life will by his death have lamentable end."
102 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XVIII.
He staide his hand according her desire.
Yet nathemore him suffred to arize ;
But, still suppressing, gan of her inquire, |
What meaning mote those uncouth words conlprize.
That in that Villaines health her safety lies ;
That were no might in man, nor heart in Knights,
Which durst her dreaded reskue enterprize.
Yet heavens themselves, that favour feeble rights,
Would for itselfe redresse, and punish such despights.
XIX.
Then bursting forth in teares, which gushed fast
Like many water-streams, awhile she stayd;
Till the sharpe passion being overpast.
Her tongue to her restord, then thus she sayd;
''' Nor heavens, nor men, can me most wretched IMayd
Deliver from the doome of my desart.
The which the god of Love hath on me layd.
And damned to endure this direfull smart.
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 ;
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 sigh't,
And to the dore of death for sorrow drew,
Complayning out on me that would not on them rew.
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 103
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 myself I learned had in schoole.
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,
Causde me be called to accompt therefore ;
And for revengement of those wrongfuU smarts.
Which I to others did inflict afore,
Addeem'd me to endure this penaunce sore ;
That in this wize, and this unmeete array.
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 iust.
That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples spoile :
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.
And eeke this wallet at your backe arreare.
That for these Carles to carry much more comely were ?'*
104 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. Vf.
XXIV.
" Here in this bottle," sayd the sory Mayd;,
" I put the tears of my contrition^,
Till to the brim I have it full defrayd :
And in this bag, which 1 behinde me don,
I put repentaunce for things past and gon.
Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne.
That all which 1 put in fals out anon.
And is behinde me trodden downe of Scorne,
Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs the more I
mourn."
XXV.
The Infant hearkned wisely to her tale.
And wondred much at Cupids iudg'ment wise.
That could so meekly make proud hearts avale.
And wreake himselfe on them that him despise.
Then sutfred he Disdaine up to arise.
Who was not able up himselfe to reare.
By meanes his leg, through his late lucklesse prise.
Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish feare
Was holpen up, who him supported standing neare.
XXVI.
But being up he lookt againe aloft.
As if he never had received fall ;
And with Sterne eye-brows stared at him oft.
As if he, would have daunted him withall :
And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall,
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 dispraizea.
I
C. VIII.] THE JPAERIE QUEENE. 105
XXVII.
Then turning backe unto that captive thrall,
Who all this while stood there beside them bounds
Unwillino; to be knowne or seene at all.
He from those bands weend him to have unwound;
But when approaching neare he plainely found
It was his owne true Groom e, the gentle Squire^
He thereat wext exceedingly astound,
And him did oft embrace, and oft admire,
Ne could with seeing satisiie his great desire.
XXVIII.
Meane while the Salvage Man, when he beheld
That huge great Foole oppressing th' other Knight,
Whom with his weight unweldy downe he held.
He flew upon him like a greedy kight
Ujito some CarrioFx offered to his sight ;
And, downe him plucking, with his nayles and teeth
Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, and bite ;
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:
But, being checkt, he did abstaine streightway
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 yourselfe I freely leave to chose.
Whether I shall you leave, or from these Villaines lose."
106 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [jB. Vl,
XXX.
" Ah ! nay. Sir Knight," said she, " it may not be.
But that I needes must by all meanes fullill
This penaunce, which enioyned is to me.
Least unto me betide a greater ill :
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. I
XXXI. "
But first it falleth me by course to tell
Of faire Serena ; who, as earst you heard, 1
When first the gentle Squire at variaunce fell
With those two Carles, fled fast away, afeard
Of villany to be to her inferd :
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. [^breres.
Through hils and dales, through bushes and through
Long thus she fled, till that at last she thought
Herselfe now past the perill of her feares :
Then looking round about, and seeing nought
Which doubt of daunger to her oifer mought,
She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine ;
And, sitting downe, herselfe awhile bethought
Of her long travell and turmoyling paine ;
And often did of love, and oft of lucke, complaine.
i
VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 107
XXXIII.
And evermore she blamed CalepinC;,
The good Sir Calepine, her owne true Knight^
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 :
Who all this while endured for her sake
Great perill of his life, and restlesse paines did take.
XXXIV.
Tho whenas all her plaints she had display d_,
And well disburdened her engrieved brest.
Upon the grasse herselfe adowne she layd ;
Where, being tyrde with travell, and opprest
With sorrow, she betooke herselfe to rest :
There whilest in IMorpheus bosome safe she lay,
Fearelesse of ought that mote her peace molest.
False Fortune did her safety betray
Unto a strange mischaunce, that menac'd her decay,
XXXV. >
In these wylde deserts, where she now abode.
There dwelt a salvage nation, which did live
Of stealth and spoile, and making nightly rode
Into their neighbours borders ; ne did give
Themselves to any trade, (as for to drive
The painefull plough, or cattell for to breed.
Or by adventrous merchandize to thrive,)
But on the labours of poor men to feed.
And serve their owne necessities with others need.
108 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [|jJ. VI.
XXXVI.
Thereto they usde one most accursed order,
To eate the flesh of men, whom they mote fynde.
And straungers to devoure, which on their border
Were brought by errour or by wreckfull Avynde :
A monstrous cruelty gainst course of kynde !
. They, towards evening wandering every way
To seeke for booty, came by fortune blynde
Whereas this Lady, like a sheepe astray.
Now drowned in the depth of sleepe all fearlesse lay.
XXXVII.
wSoone as they spide her, lord ! what gladfull glee
They made amongst themselves ! but when her face
Like the faire yvory shining they did see, 1
Each gan his fellow solace and embrace *
For ioy of such good hap by heavenly grace.
Then gan they to devize what course to take ; *
Whether to slay her there upon the place, j
Or suffer her out of her sleepe to wake, M
And then her eate attonce, or many meales to make. "
XXXVIII.
The best advizement was, of bad, to let her
Sleepe out her fill without encomberment ;
For sleepe, they sayd, would make her battill better :
Then, when she wakt, they all gave one consent
That, since by grace of God she there was sent.
Unto their god they would her sacrifize.
Whose share, her guiltlesse bloud they would present :
But of her dainty flesh they did devize
To make a common feast, and feed with gurmundizc.
C. VTTT.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 109
XXXIX.
So round about her they themselves did place
Upon the grasse, and diversely dispose.
As each thought best to spend the lingring space :
Some with their eyes the daintest morsels chose ;
Some praise her paps ; some praise her lips and nose ;
Some whet their knives, and strip their elboes bare :
The Priest himselfe a garland doth compose
Of finest flowers, and with full busie care
His bloudy vessels wash and holy fire prepare.
XL.
The Damzell wakes ; then all attonce upstart,
And round about her flocke, like many flies.
Whooping and hallowing on every part,
As if they would have rent the brasen skies.
"WHiich when she sees with ghastly grieflful eies.
Her heart does quake, and deadly pallid hew
Benumbes her cheekes : then out aloud she cries.
Where none is nigh to heare, that will her rew^,
And rends her golden locks, and snowy Ijrests embrew
XLI.
But all bootes not ; they hands upon her lay :
And first they spoile her of her iewels deare.
And afterwards of all her rich array ;
The which amongst them they in peeces teare.
And of the pray each one a part doth beare.
Now being naked, to their sordid eyes
The goodly threasures of nature appeare :
Which as they view with lustfull fantasyes,
Each wisheth to himselfe, and to the rest envyes.
110 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VT.
XLII.
Her y vorie neck ; her alablaster brest ;
Her paps, which like white silken pillowes were
For Love in soft delight thereon to rest;
Her tender sides ; her bellie white and clere.
Which like an altar did itselfe uprere
To offer sacrifice divine thereon ;
Her goodly thighes, whose glorie did appeare
Like a triumphall arch, and thereupon
The spoiles of Princes hang'd which were in battel won.
XLIII.
Those daintie parts, the dearlings of delight.
Which mote not be prophan'd of common eyes.
Those Villeins vew'd with loose lascivious sight,
And closely tempted with their craftie spyes ;
And some of them gan mongst themselves devize
Thereof by force to take their beastly pleasure :
But them the Priest rebuking did advize
To dare not to pollute so sacred threasure j^sure.
Vow'd to the gods : Religion held even theeves in mea-
XLIV.
So, being stayd, they her from thence directed
Unto a litle grove not farre asyde.
In which an altar shortly they erected
To slay Jier on. And now the Eventyde
His brode black wings had through the heavens wyde
By this dispred, that was the tyme ordayned
For such a dismall deed, their guilt to hyde:
Of few greene turfes an altar soone they fayned,
And deckt it all with flowres which they nigh hand
obtayned.
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. IH
XLV.
Tlio^ vvlienas all things readie were aright.
The Damzell was before the altar set.
Being alreadie dead with fearefull fright :
To whom the Priest with naked armes full net
Approching nigh, and murdrous knife well whet,
Gan mutter close a certain secret charme.
With other divelish ceremonies met :
Which doen, he gan aloft t' advance his arme.
Whereat they shouted all, and made a loud alarm e.
XLVI.
Then gan the bagpypes and the homes to shrill
And shrieke aloud, that, with the peoples voyce
Confused, did the ayre with terror fill.
And made the wood to tremble at the noyce:
The whyles she wayld, the more they did reioyce.
Now mote ye understand that to this grove
Sir Calepine, by chaunce more then by choyce.
The selfe same evening fortune hether drove.
As he to seeke Serena through the woods did rove.
XLVII.
Long'had he sought her, and through many a soyle
Had traveld still on foot in heavie armes,
Ne ought was tyred with his endlesse toyle,
Ne ought was feared of his certaine harmes :
And now, all weetlesse of the "\\Tetched stormes
In which his Love was lost, he slept full fast ;
Till, being -waked with these loud alarmes.
He lightly started up like one aghast.
And catching up his arms streight to the noise forth past.
112 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XLVIII.
There by th' uncertaine glims of starry night.
And by the twinkling of their sacred fire;,
He mote perceive a litle dawning sight
Of all which there was doing in that quire :
Mongst whom a Woman spoyled of all attire
He spyde lamenting her unluckie strife.
And groning sore from grieved hart entire :
Eftsoones he saw one with a naked knife
Readie to launch her brest, and let out loved life.
XLIX.
With that he thrusts into the thickest throng ;
And, even as his right hand adowne descends.
He him preventing lays on earth along.
And sacrifizeth to th' infernall feends :
Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he bends ;
Of whom he makes such havocke and such hew.
That swarmes of damned soules to hell he sends :
The rest, that scape his sword and death eschew.
Fly like a flocke of doves before a faulcons vew.
L.
From them returnino; to that Ladie backe.
Whom by the altar he doth sitting find
Yet fearing death, and next to death the lacke
Of clothes to cover what she ought by kind ;
He first her hands beginneth to unbind.
And then to question of her present woe ;
And afterwards to cheare with speaches kind :
But she, for nought that he could say or doe,
One word durst speake, or answere him a \\'hit thereto.
C. VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 1 I rj
LI.
So inward shame of her uncomely case
She did conceive, through care of womanhood.
That though the night did cover her disgrace.
Yet she in so unwomanly a mood
Would not bewray the state in which she stood :
So all that night to him unknown she past :
But day, that doth discover bad and good,
Ensewing, made her knowen to him at last :
The end whereof lie keepe untill another cast*
VOL. IV.
114 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI
CANTO IX.
Calidore hostes with JMelibee,
And loves fayre Pastorell :
Coridon envies him, yet he,
For ill, rewards him well.
I.
Now turne againe my teme, thou iolly swayne,
Backe to the furrow which I lately left ;
I lately left a furrow one or twayne
Unplough'd, the which my coulter had not cleft ;
Yet seem'd the soyle both fayre and frutefull eft^
As I it past ; that were too great a shame.
That so rich frute should be from us bereft ;
Besides the great dishonour and defame.
Which should befall to Calidores immortall name.
II.
Great travell hath the gentle Calidore
And toyle endured, sitli I left him last
Sewing the Blatant Beast ; which I forbore
To finish then, for other present hast.
Full many pathes and perils he hath past.
Through hils, through dales, through forests, and
through plaines.
In that same quest which fortune on him cast.
Which he atchieved to his owne great gaines.
Reaping etcrnall glorie of his restlesse paines.
C. JX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 115
III.
So sharply he the Monster did pursew.
That day nor night he suffred him to rest,
Ne rested he himselfe (but natures dew)
For dread of daunger not to be redrest.
If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest.
Him first from court he to the citties coursed^
And from the citties to the townes him presto,
And from the townes into the countrie forsed^
And from the country back to private farmes he scorsed.
IV.
From thence into the open fields he fled.
Whereas the heardes were keeping of their neat,
And shepheards singing, to their flockes that fed,
Layes of sweet love and youthes delightfull heat :
Him thether eke for all his fearefull threat
He followed fast, and chaced him so nie.
That to the folds, where sheepe at night doe seat.
And to the litle cots, where shepherds lie
In winters \vrathfull time, he forced him to flie.
V.
There on a day, as he pursew'd the chace.
He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard groomes
Playing on pypes and caroling apace,
The whyles their beasts there in the budded broomes
Beside them fed, and nipt the tender bloomes ;
For other worldly wealth they cared nought :
To whom Sir Calidore yet sweating comes.
And them to tell him courteously besought.
If such a beast they saw, which he had thether brought.
I 2
116 THE FAERIE QUEENE. ^B. VI.
VI.
They answer'd him that no such beast they saw.
Nor any wicked feend that mote offend
Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them draw ;
But if that such there were (as none they kend)
They prayd High God them farre from them to send:
Then one of them him seeing so to sweat.
After his rusticke wise, that well he weend,
Offred him drinke to quench his thirstie heat.
And, if he hungry were, him offred eke to eat.
VII.
The Knight was nothing nice, where was no need.
And tooke their gentle offer : so adowne
They prayd him sit, and gave him for to feed
Such homely what as serves the simple clowne.
That doth despise the dainties of the towne :
Tho, having fed his fill, he there besyde
Saw a faire Damzell, which did weare a crowne ■
Of sundry flowres with silken ribbands tyde, []dyde.
Yclad in home-made greene that her owne hands had
VIII.
Upon a litle hillocke she was placed
Higher then all the rest, and round about
Environ'd with a girhmd, goodly graced.
Of lovely lasses ; and them all without
The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a rout,
The which did l)ype and sing her prayses dew.
And oft reioyce, and oft for wonder shout.
As if some miracle of heavenly hew
Were downe to them descended in that earthly vew.
e. IX.] THE P^AERIE QUEENE. 117
IX.
And soothly sure she was full fayre of face,
And perfectly wall shapt in every lim.
Which she did more augment with modest grace
And comely carriage of her count'nance trim.
That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim :
Who, her admiring as some heavenly wight.
Did for their soveraine goddesse her esteeme,
And, caroling her name both day and night.
The fayrest Pastorella her by name did hight.
X.
Ne was there heard, ne was there shepheards swayne.
But her did honour; and eke many a one
Burnt in her love, and with sweet pleasing payne
Full many a night for her did sigh and grone:
But most of all the shepheard Coridon
For her did languish, and his deare life spend;
Yet neither she for him nor other none
Did care a whit, ne any liking lend:
Though meane her lot, yet higher did her mind ascend.
XI.
Her whyles Sir Calidore there vewed well.
And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemed
So farre the meane of shepheards to excell.
As that he in his mind her worthy deemed
To be a Princes paragone esteemed.
He was unwares surprisd in subtile bands
Of the Blynd Boy ; ne thence could be redeemed
By any skill out of his cruell hands ;
Caught like the bird which gazing still on others stands.
118 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []b. VI.
XII.
So stood he still long gazing thereupon,
Ne any will had thence to move away.
Although his quest were farre afore him gon:
But after he had fed, yet did he stay
And sate there still, untill the flying day
Was farre forth spent, discoursing diversly
Of sundry things, as fell, to worke delay ;
And evermore his speach he did apply
To th' heards, but meant them to the Damzels fantazy.
XIII.
By this the moystie Night approching fast
Her deawy humour gan on th' earth to shed.
That warn'd the shepheards to their homes to hast
Their tender flocks, now being fully fed.
For feare of wetting them before their bed :
Then came to them a good old aged Syre,
Whose silver lockes bedeckt his beard and hed.
With shepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre,
That wil'd the Damzell rise; the day did now expyre.
XIV.
He was to weet, by common voice, esteemed
The father of the fayrest Pastorell,
And of herselfe in very deede so deemed ;
Yet was not so ; but, as old stories tell.
Found her by fortune, which to him befell,
In th' open fields an infant left alone ;
And, taking up, brought home and noursed well
As his owne chyld; for other he had none;
That she in tract of time accompted was his owne. ,
*.
t
C. IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 119
XV.
She at his bidding meekely did arise.
And streight unto her litle flocke did fare :
Then all the rest about her rose likewise.
And each his sundrie sheepe with severall care
Gathered together, and them homeward bare:
Whylest everie one with helping hands did strive
Amongst themselves, and did their labours share.
To helpe faire Pastorella home to drive
Her fleecie flocke ; but Coridon most helpe did give.
XVI.
But Melibee (so hight that good old man)
Now seeing Calidore left all alone.
And night arrived hard at hand, began
Him to invite unto his simple home;
Which though it were a cottage clad with lome.
And all things therein meane, yet better so
To lodge then in the salvage fields to rome.
The Knight full gladly soone agreed thereto.
Being his harts owne wish; and home with him did go.
XVII.
There he was welcom'd of that honest Syre
And of his aged Beldame homely well ;
Who him besought himselfe to disattyre.
And rest himselfe, till supper time befell ;
By which home came the fayrest Pastorell,
After her flocke she in their fold had tyde ;
And, supper readie dight, they to it fell
With small adoe, and nature satisfy de.
The which doth litle crave contented to abyde.
1:^0 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [jB, VI.
XVIII.
Tho when they had their hunger slaked well.
And the fayre IMayd the table ta'ne away ;
The gentle Knight, as he that did excell
In courtesie and well could doe and say.
For so great kindnesse as he found that day
Gan greatly thanke his Host and his good Wife;
And, drawing thence his speach another way,
Gan highly to commend the happie life
Which shepheards lead, without debate or bitter strife.
XIX.
" How much/' sayd he, '' more happie is the state
In which ye. Father, here doe dwell at ease.
Leading a life so free and fortunate
From all the tempests of these worldly seas.
Which tosse the rest in daungerous disease;
Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked enmitie
Doe them afflict, which no man can appease!
That certes I your happinesse envie.
And wish my lot were plast in such felicitie!"
XX.
" Surely, my Sonne," then answer'd he againe,
'' If happie ; then it is in this intent.
That having small yet doe I not complaine
Of want, ne wish for more it to augment.
But doe myselfe, with that I have, content ;
So taught of nature, which doth litle need
Of forreine helpes to lifes due nourishment :
The fields my food, my flocke my rayment breed;
No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed.
i
C. IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 121
XXI.
" Therefore I doe not any one envy^
Nor am envyde of any one therefore :
They, that have much, feare much to loose thereby,
And store of cares doth follow riches store.
The litle that I have growes dayly more
Without my care, but onely to attend it;
My lambes doe every yeare increase their score.
And my flockes father daily doth amend it. \jt !
What have I, but to praise th' Almighty that doth send
XXII.
" To them, that list, the worlds gay showes I leave.
And to great ones such follies doe forgive;
Which oft through pride do their owne perill weave.
And through ambition downe themselves doe drive
To sad decay, that might contented live.
Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts offend,
Ne once my minds unmoved quiet grieve ;
But all the night in silver sleepe I spend.
And all the day, to what I list, I doe attend.
XXIII.
" Sometimes I hunt the fox, the vowed foe
Unto my lambes, and him dislodge away;
Sometime the fawne I practise from the doe.
Or from the goat her kidde, how to convay;
Another while I baytes and nets display
The birds to catch or fishes to beguyle ;
And, when I wearie am, I downe doe lay
My limbes in every shade to rest from toyle ;
And drinke of every brooke, when thirst my throte doth
boyle.
\22 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XXIV.
'^ The time was once, in my first prime of yeares.
When pride of youth forth pricked my desire,
That I disdain'd amongst mine equall peares
To follow sheepe and shepheards base attire;
For further fortune then I would inquire :
And, leaving home, to roiall court I sought.
Where I did sell myselfe for yearely hire.
And in the Princes gardin daily wrought:
There I beheld such vainenesse as I never thought.
XXV.
" With sight whereof soone cloyd, and long deluded
With idle hopes which them doe entertaine.
After I had ten yeares myselfe excluded
From native home, and spent my youth in vaine,
I gan my follies to myselfe to plaine.
And this sweet peace, whose lacke did then appeare :
Tho, backe returning to my sheepe againe,
I from thenceforth have learn'd to love more deare
This lowly quiet life which I inherite here."
XXVI.
Whylest thus he talkt, the Knight with greedy eare
Hong still upon his melting mouth attent;
Whose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare.
That he was wrapt Math double ravishment.
Both of his speach that wrought him great content.
And also of the obiect of his vew.
On which his hungry eye was alwayes bent;
That twixt his pleasing tongue, and her faire hew.
He lost himselfe, and like one halfe-entraunced grew.
C. IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. \2'i
XXVII.
Yet to occasion meanes to worke his mind,
And to insinuate his harts desire.
He thus reply de; " Now surely, Syre, I find.
That all this worlds gay showes, which we admire.
Be but vaine shadows to this safe retyre
Of life, which here in lowlinesse ye lead,
Fearelesse of foes, or fortunes wrackfull yre.
Which tosseth states, and under foot doth tread
The mightie ones affrayd of every chaunges dred.
XXVIII.
'' That even I, which daily doe behold
The glorie of the great mongst whom I won.
And now have prov'd what happinesse ye hold
In this small plot of your dominion.
Now loath great lordship and ambition;
And wish the heavens so much had graced mee.
As graunt me live in like condition;
Or that my fortunes might transposed bee
From pitch of higher place unto this low degree/'
XXIX.
'' In vaine/' said then old Melibee, '^ doe men
The heavens of their fortunes fault accuse ;
Sith they know best what is the best for them:
For they to each such fortune doe diffuse.
As they doe know each can most aptly use.
For not that, which men covet most, is best ;
Nor that thing worst, which men do most refuse ;
But fittest is, that all contented rest
With that they hold: each hath his fortune in his brest.
124 THE FAERIE QUEENE. |_Ji.
VI.
' XXX.
'' It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill.
That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poorer
For some, that hath abundance at his A\dll,
Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store ;
And other, that hath litle, asks no more,
But in that litle is both rich and wise ;
For wisedome is most riches : fooles therefore
They are, which fortunes doe by vowes devize;
Sith each unto himselfe his life may fortunize."
XXXI.
" Since then in each mans self," said Calidore,
" It is to fashion his owne lyfes estate.
Give leave awhyle, good Father, in this shore
To rest my barcke, which hath bene beaten late
With stormes of fortune and tempestuous fate.
In seas of troubles and of toylesome paine;
That, whether quite from them for to retrate
I shall resolve or backe to turne againe,
I may here with yourselfe some small repose obtaine.
XXXII.
" Not that the burden of so bold a guest
Shall chargefull be, or chaunge to you at all ;
For your meane food shall be my daily feast.
And this your cabin both my bowre and hall :
Besides, for recompence hereof, I shall
You well reward, and golden guerdon give.
That may perhaps you better much withall.
And in this quiet make you safer live."
So forth he dre\\' much gold, and toward him it drive.
C. IX.] THE FAKRIE QUEENE. 125
XXXIII.
But the good man, nought tempted with the offer
Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre away, [proffer
And thus bespake ; '' Sir Knight, your bounteous
Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display
That mucky masse, the cause of mens decay.
That mote empaire my peace with daungers dread :
But, if ye algates covet to assay
This simple sort of life that shepheards lead.
Be it your owne : our rudenesse to yourselfe aread."
XXXIV.
So there that night Sir Calidore did dwell.
And long while after, whilest him list remaine,
Dayly beholding the faire Pastorell,
And feeding on the bayt of his owne bane :
During; which time he did her entertaine
With all kind courtesies he could invent ;
And every day, her companie to gaine.
When to the field she went, he with her went :
So for to quench his fire he did it more augment.
XXXV.
But she that never had acquainted beene
With such quient usage, fit for queens and kings,
Ne ever had such knightly service seene ;
But, being bred under base shepheards wings.
Had ever learn'd to love the lowly things ;
Did litle whit regard his courteous guize.
But cared more for Colins carolings
Then all that he could doe, or e'er devize ;
His layes, his loves, his lookes, she did them all despize.
126 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XXXVI.
Which Calidore perceiving, thought it best
To chaunge the manner of his loftie looke ;
And doffing his bright armes himselfe addrest
In shepheards weed ; and in his hand he tooke,
Instead of steele-head speare, a shepheards hooke ;
That who had seene him then, would have bethought
On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke.
When he the love of fayre Benone sought.
What time the Golden Apple was unto him brought.
XXXVII.
So being clad unto the fields he went
With the faire Pastorella every day,
And kept her sheepe with diligent attent.
Watching to drive the ravenous wolfe away.
The whylest at pleasure she mote sport and play ;
And every evening helping them to fold :
And otherwhiles, for need, he did assay
In his strong hand their rugged teats to hold, [[could.
And out of them to presse the milke : Love so much
XXXVIII.
Which seeing Coridon, who her likewise
Long time had lov'd, and hop'd her love to gaine.
He much was troubled at that Straungers guize.
And many gealous thoughts conceiv'd in vaine.
That this of all his labour and long paine
Should reap the harvest ere it ripened were ;
That made him scoule, and pout, and oft complains
Of Pastorell to all the shepheards there,
That she did love a stranger swayne then him more derc.
C. IX.] THE FAERIE QUBENB. 127
XXXIX.
And ever_, when he came in companie
Wliere Calidore was present^ he would loure
And byte his lip, and even for gealousie
Was readie oft his owne hart to devoure.
Impatient of any paramoure :
Who on the other side did seeme so farre
From mal icing, or grudging his good houre,
That, all he could, he graced him with her,
Ne ever shewed signe of rancour or of iarre.
XL.
And oft, when Coridon unto her brought
Or litle sparrowes stolen from their nest.
Or wanton squirrels in the woods farre sought.
Or other daintie thing for her addrest.
He would commend his guift, and make the best :
Yet she no whit his presents did regard,
Ne him could find to fancie in her brest :
This new-come Shepheard had his market mard.
Old love is litle worth when new is more prefard.
XLI.
One day, whenas the shepheard swaynes together
Were met to make their sports and merrie glee.
As they are wont in faire sunshynie weather.
The whiles their flockes in shadowes shrouded bee;
They fell to daunce: Then did they all agree
That Colin Clout should pipe, as one most fit;
And Calidore should lead the ring, as hee
That most in Pastorellaes grace did sit :
Thereat frown'd Coridon, and his lip closely bit.
128 THE FAERIK QUEENE. fs. VI.
XLII.
But Calidore, of courteous inclination,
Tooke Coridon and set him in his place, j
That he should lead the daunce, as was his fashion ;
For Coridon could daunce, and trimly trace;
And whenas Pastorella, him to grace, d
Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne head.
And plast on his, he did it soone displace.
And did it put on Coridons instead :
Then Coridon woxe frollicke, that earst seemed dead.
XLIII. I
Another time, whenas they did dispose |
To practise games and maisteries to try.
They for their iudge did Pastorella chose ;
A garland was the meed of victory :
There Coridon, forth stepping, openly
Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling game ;
For he, through long and perfect industry.
Therein well practisd was, and in the saine
Thought sure t' avenge his grudge, and worke his foe
great shame.
XLIV.
But Calidore he greatly did mistake ;
For he was strong and mightily stiffe pight.
That with one fall his necke he almost brake;
And, had he not upon him fallen light.
His dearest ioynt he sure had broken quight.
Then was the oaken crowne by Pastorell
Given to Calidore as his due right ; m
But he, that did in courtesie excell, W
Gave it to Coridon, and said he wonne it well.
€. IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 129
XLV.
Thus did the gentle Knight himselfe abeare
Amongst that rusticke rout in all his deeds.
That even they, the which his rivals were.
Could not maligne him, but commend him needs :
For courtesie amongst the rudest breeds
Good will and favour: So it surely wrought
With this faire Mayd, and in her mynde the seeds
Of perfect love did sow, that last forth brought
Ijl The fruite of ioy and blisse, though long time dearely
bought.
XLVI.
Thus Calidore continu'd there long time
To winne the love of the faire Pastorell ;
Which having got, he used without crime
Or blamefull blot ; but menaged so well.
That he, of all the rest which there did dwell.
Was favoured and to her grace commended :
But what straunge fortunes unto him befell.
Ere he attain'd the point by him intended,
J, Shall more conveniently in other place be ended.
4
VOL. IV. K
130 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [[jB. VI.
CANTO X.
Calidore sees the Graces daunce
To Colins melody :
The whiles his Pastorell is led
Into captivity.
I.
AVho now does follow the foule Blatant Beast,
Whilest Calidore does follow that faire Mayd,
Unmyndfull of his vow, and high beheast
Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd.
That he should never leave, nor be delayd
From chacing him, till he had it attchieved ?
But now, entrapt of Love which him betrayd.
He mindeth more how he may be relieved
With grace from her, whose love his heart hath sore
engrieved.
II.
That from henceforth he meanes no more to sew
His former quest, so full of toile and paine ;
Another quest, another game in vew
He hath, the guerdon of his Love to gaine ;
With whom he myndes for ever to remaine.
And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort.
Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine
Of courtly favour fed with light report
Of every blaste, and sayling alwaies in the port.
C. X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 131
III.
Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be "^
' From so high step to stoupe unto so low ;
j For who had tasted once, as oft did he,
' The happy peace which there doth overflow,
i| And prov'd the perfect pleasures which doe grow
Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, in dales ;
Would never more delight in painted show
Of such false blisse, as there is set for stales
T' entrap unwary fooles in their eternall bales.
j For what hath all that goodly glorious gaze
Like to one sight which Calidore did vew?
The glaunce whereof their dimmed eies would daze.
That never more they should endure the shew
Of that shunne-shine, that makes them looke askew:
Ne ought, in all that world of beauties rare,
(Save onely Glorianaes heavenly hew.
To which what can compare?) can it compare;
The which, as commeth now by course, I will declare.
V.
One day, as he did raunge the fields abroad,
Whilest his faire Pastorella was elsewhere.
He chaunst to come, far from all peoples troad.
Unto a place, whose pleasaunce did appere
To passe all others on the earth which were :
For all that ever was by Natures skill
Deviz'd to worke delight was gathered there ;
And there by her were poured forth at fill,
\s if, this to adorne, she all the rest did pill.
K 2
132 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
VI.
It was an Hill plaste in an open plaine^,
That round about was bordered with a wood
Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th' earth to disdaine ;
In which all trees of honour stately stood.
And did all winter as in sommer bud,
Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre.
Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;
And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,
Sitting like king of fowles in maiesty and po\\Te :
VII.
And at the foote thereof a gentle flud
His silver waves did softly tumble downe,
Unmard with ragged mosse or filthy mud ;
Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder clowne,
Thereto approch ; ne filth mote therein, drowne :
But Nymphes and Faeries by the bancks did sit
In the woods shade which did the waters crowne,
Keeping all noysome things away from it.
And to the waters fall tuning their accents fit.
VIII.
And on the top thereof a spacious plaine
Did spred itselfe, to serve to all delight.
Either to daunce, when they to daunce would faine,
Or else to course-about their bases light ;
Ne ought there wanted, which for pleasure might
Desired be, or thence to banish bale :
So pleasauntly the Hill with etpiall hight
Did seeme to overlooke the lowly vale ;
Therefore it rightly cleeped was Mount Acidale.
C. X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 133
IX.
They say that Veniis^ when she did dispose
Herselfe to pleasauiice;, used to resort
Unto tliis place, and therein to repose
And rest herselfe as in a gladsome port^
Or with the Graces there to play and sport ;
That even her owne Cytheron, though in it
She used most to keepe her royall court
And in her soveraine majesty to sit.
She in regard hereof refusde and thought unfit.
X.
Unto this place whenas the Elfin Knight
Approcht, him seemed that the merry sound
Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight.
And many feete fast thum])ing th' hollow ground,
That through the woods their eccho did rebound.
He nigher drew, to weete what mote it be :
There he a troupe of Ladies dauncing found
Full merrily, and making gladfull glee.
And in the midst a Shepheard piping he did see.
XI.
I He durst not enter into th' open greene.
For dread of them unwares to be descryde.
For breaking of their daunce, if he were scene ;
But in the covert of the wood did byde,
Beholding all, yet of them unespyde :
There he did see, that pleased much his sight.
That even he himselfe his eyes envyde.
An hundred naked ^Maidens lilly white
All raunged in a ring and dauncing in delight.
134 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XII.
All they without were raunged in a ring.
And daunced round; but in the midst of them
Three other Ladies did both daunce and sing,
The whilest the rest them round about did hemme.
And like a girlond did in compasse stemme : J
And in the middest of those same three was placed
Another Damzell, as a precious gemme
Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced.
That with her goodly presence all the rest much graced.
XIII.
Looke ! how the crowne, which Ariadne wore
Upon her yvory forehead that same day
That Theseus her unto his bridale bore.
When the bold Centaures made that bloudy fray
With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay; i
Being now placed in the firmament, 1
Through the bright heaven doth her beams display, j
And is unto the starres an ornament, "
Which round about her move in order excellent.
XIV.
Such was the beauty of this goodly band.
Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell :
But she, that in the midst of them did stand,
Seem'd all the rest in beauty to excell,
Crownd with a rosie girlond that right well
Did her beseeme : and ever, as the crew
About her daunst, sweet flowres that far did smell
And fragrant odours they uppon her threw;
But, most of all, those Three did her with gifts endew.
ex.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 135
XV.
Those were the Graces^ daughters of delight,
Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to haunt
Uppon this Hill, and daunce there day and night :
Those Three to men all gifts of grace do graunt ;
And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt.
Is borrowed of them : but that faire one.
That in the midst was placed paravaunt.
Was she to whom that Shepheard pypt alone ;
That made him pipe so merrily, as never none.
XVI.
She was, to weete, that iolly Shepheards Lasse,
Which piped there unto that merry rout ;
That iolly Shepheard, which there piped, was
Poore Colin Clout, (who knows not Colin Clout?)
He pypt apace, whilest they him daunst about.
Pype, iolly Shepheard, pype thou now apace
Unto thy Love that made thee low to lout ;
Thy Love is present there with thee in place;
Thy Love is there advaunst to be another Grace.
XVII.
Much wondred Calidore at this straunge sight.
Whose like before his eye had never seene ;
And standing long astonished in spright.
And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what to weene ;
Whether it were the traine of Beauties Queene,
Or Nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted show.
With which his eyes mote have deluded beene.
Therefore, resolving what it was to know,
' Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.
136 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. Vl-
XVIII.
But, soone as he appeared to their vew.
They vanisht all away out of his sight;,
And cleane were gone;, which way he never knew;
All save the Shepheard, who, for fell despight
Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight.
And made great mone for that unhappy turne :
But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight
For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne.
Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne :
XIX.
And, first him greeting, thus unto him spake ;
'" Haile, iolly Shepheard, which thy ioyous dayes
Here leadest in this goodly merry -make.
Frequented of these gentle Nymphes alwayes.
Which to thee flocke to heare thy lovely layes !
Tell me what mote these dainty Damzels be.
Which herewith thee doe make their pleasant playes:
Right happy thou, that mayest them freely see !
But why, when I them saw, tied they away from me?'
XX.
'^ Not I so happy," answerd then that Swaine,
" As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace.
Whom by no meanes thou canst recall againe;
For, being gene, none can them bring in place.
But whom they of themselves list so to grace."
'' Right sory I,'\ saide then Sir Calidore,
" That my ill fortune did them hence displace :
But since things passed none may now restore.
Tell me what were they all, whose lacke thee grieves
so sore."
C. X.] THE FAERIK QUEENE. 137
XXI.
Tho gaii that Shepheard thus for to dilate;
" Then wote, thou Shepheard, whatsoe'er thou bee.
That all those Ladies, which thou sawest late,
Are Venus Damzels, all within her fee.
But differinsr in honour and deg-ree :
They all are Graces whicli on her depend ;
Besides a thousand more which ready bee
Her to adorne, whenso she forth doth wend ;
But those Three in the midst, doe chiefe on her attend :
XXII.
" They are the Daughters of sky-ruling love.
By him begot of faire Eurynome,
The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant grove.
As he, this way comming from feastful glee
Of Thetis wedding with Aecidee,
In sommers shade himselfe here rested weary.
The first of them hight mylde Euphrosyne,
Next faire Aglaia, last Thalia merry;
Sweete goddesses all Three, which me in mirth do cherry !
XXIII.
'' These Three on men all gracious gifts bestow.
Which decke the body or adorne the mynde.
To make them lovely or well-favoured show;
As comely carriage, entertainment kynde,
Sweete semblaunt, friendly othces that bynde.
And all the complements of curtesie :
They teach us, how to each degree and kynde
We should ourselves demeane, to low, to hie.
To friends, to foes ; which skill men call Civility-
138 THE FAERIE QUEENE. £b. VI.
XXIV.
" Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme to smile.
That we likewise should mylde and gentle be ;
And also naked are, that without guile
Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine may see.
Simple and true from covert malice free ;
And eeke themselves so in their daunce they bore.
That two of them still froward seem'd to bee.
But one still towards shew'd herselfe afore ;
That good should from us goe, then come, in greater store.
XXV.
'' Such were those goddesses which ye did see :
But that fourth May d, which there amidst them traced.
Who can aread what creature mote she bee.
Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced
With heavenly gifts from heven first enraced !
But whatso sure she was, she worthy was
To be the Fourth with those Three other placed :
Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse ;
Yet she all other countrey lasses farre did passe :
xxvr.
'^' So farre, as doth the Daughter of the Day
All other lesser lights in light excell ;
So farre doth she in beautyfull array
Above all other lasses beare the bell ;
Ne lesse in vertue that beseemes her well
Doth she exceede the rest of all her race ;
For which the Graces, that here wont to dwell,
Have for more honor brought her to this place.
And graced her so much to be another Grace.
X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 139
XXVII.
" Another Grace she well deserves to be.
In whom so many graces gathered are.
Excelling much the meane of her degree ;
Divine resemblaunce, beauty soveraine rare,
Firme chastity, that spight ne blemish dare !
All which she with such courtesie doth grace.
That all her peres cannot with her compare.
But quite are dimmed when she is in place :
She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.
xxviii.
" Sunne of the world, great glory of the sky.
That all the earth doest lighten with thy rayes.
Great Gloriana, greatest Maiesty!
Pardon thy Shepheard, mongst so many layes
As he hath sung of Thee in all his dayes.
To make one minime of thy poore Handmayd,
And underneath thy feete to place her prayse ;
That, when thy glory shall be farre displayd
To future age, of her this mention may be made \"
XXIX.
When thus that Shepheard ended had his speach,
Sayd Calidore ; " Now sure it yrketh mee.
That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse breach.
As now the author of thy bale to be.
Thus to bereave thy Loves deare sight from thee :
But, gentle Shepheard, pardon thou my shame.
Who rashly sought that which I mote not see."
Thus did the courteous Knight excuse his blame.
And to recomfort him all comely meanes did frame.
140 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XXX.
In such discourses they together spent
Long time, as fit occasion forth them led ;
With which the Knight himselfe did much content.
And with delight his greedy fancy fed
Both of his words, which he with reason red.
And also of the place, whose pleasures rare
With such regard his sences ravished.
That thence he had no will away to fare, Qshare.
But wisht that with that Shepheard he mote dwelling
XXXI.
But that envenimd sting, the which of yore
His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart
Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore.
And to renue the rigour of his smart ;
Which to recure, no skill of leaches art
IMote him availe, but to returne againe
To his wounds worker, that with lovely dart
Dinting his brest had bred his restlesse paine ;
Like as the wounded whale to shore flies from the maine.
XXXII.
So, taking leave of that same gentle Swaine,
He backe Returned to his rusticke wonne.
Where his faire Pastorella did remaine :
To whome in sort, as he at first begonne.
He daily did ap])ly himselfe to donne
All dewfull service, voide of thoughts impure ;
Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne.
By which he might her to his love allure.
And liking in her yet untamed heart procure.
C. X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 141
XXXIII.
And evermore the sheplieard Coridon,
Whatever thing he did her to aggrate^,
Did strive to match with strong contention,
And all his paines did closely emulate ;
Whether it were to caroll^, as they sate
Keeping their sheepe, or games to exercize,
Or to present her with their labours late ;
Through which if any grace chaiinst to arize
To him, the Shepheard straight with iealousie did frize.
XXXIV.
One day, as they all three together went
To the greene ^vood to gather strawberies.
There chaunst to them a dangerous accident :
A tigre forth out of the wood did rise.
That with fell clawes full of fierce gourmandize.
And greedy mouth wide-gaping like hell-gate.
Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize ;
Whom she beholding, now all desolate,
Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all too late.
XXXV.
Which Coridon first hearing, ran in hast
To reskue her ; but, when he saw the feend,
Through cowherd feare he fled away as fast,
Ne durst abide the daunger of the end ;
His life he steemed dearer then his frend :
But Calidore soone comming to her ayde.
When he the beast saw ready now to rend
His Loves deare spoile, in which his heart was prayde.
He ran at him enraged, instead of being frayde.
14^ THE FAERIE QUEENE. j^B. VI.
XXXVI.
He had no weapon but his shepheards hooke
To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathfull will ;
With which so sternely he the monster strooke, ^
That to the ground astonished he fell ;
Whence ere he could recou'r, he did him quell.
And heaving off his head, it presented
Before the feete of the faire Pastorell ;
Who, scarcely" yet from former feare exempted,
A thousand times him thankt that had her death pre- i
vented. |
xxxvii.
From that day forth she gan him to affect.
And daily more her favour to augment ;
But Coridon for cowherdize reiect.
Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for loves content :
The gentle heart scornes base disparagement.
Yet Calidore did not despise him quight.
But usde him friendly for further intent.
That by his fellowship he colour might
Both his estate and love from skill of any wight.
XXXVIII.
So well he wood her, and so well he wrought her.
With humble service, and with daily sute.
That at the last unto his will he brought her;
Which he so wisely well did prosecute.
That of his love he reapt the timely frute.
And ioyed long in close felicity:
Till Fortune, fraught with malice, blinde and brute.
That envies lovers long prosperity.
Blew up a bitter storme of foule adversity.
C. X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 143
XXXIX.
It fortuned one day, when Calidore
Was hunting in the woods^, as was his trade,
A lawlesse people, Brigants hight of yore.
That never usde to live by plough nor spade.
But fed on spoile and booty, which they made
Upon their neighbours which did nigh them border.
The dwelling of these shepheards did invade ;
And spoyld their houses, and themselves did murder.
And drove away their flocks ; with other much disorder.
XL.
Amongst the rest, the w^hich they then did pray.
They spoyld old Melibee of all he had.
And all his people captive led away;
Mongst which this lucklesse Mayd away was lad,
Faire Pastorella, sorrowfull and sad.
Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sigh't.
Now made the spoile of theeves and Brigants bad.
Which was the conquest of the gentlest Knight
That ever liv'd, and th' onely glory of his might.
XLI.
With them also was taken Coridon,
And carried captive by those theeves away;
Who in the covert of the night, that none
Mote them descry, nor reskue from their pray.
Unto their dwelling did them close convay:
Their dwelling in a little island was.
Covered with shrubby woods, in which no way
Appeared for people in nor out to pas.
Nor any footing fynde for overgrowen gras:
144 THE FAERIE QUEENE. "^ \^B. VI.
XLII.
For underneath the ground their way was made
Through hollow caves, that no man mote discover
For the thicke shrubs, which did them alwaies shade
From view of living wight and covered over;
But Darkenesse dred and daily Night did hover
Through all the inner parts, wherein they dwelt;
Ne lightned was with window, nor with lover^
But with continuall candle light, which delt
A doubtfull sense of things, not so well seene as felt.
XLIII.
Hither those Brigants brought their present pray.
And kept them with continuall watch and ward ;
Meaning, so soone as they convenient may.
For slaves to sell them for no small reward
To Merchants, which them kept in bondage hard.
Or sold againe. Now when faire Pastorell
Into this place was brought, and kept with gard
Of griesly theeves, she thought herself in hell.
Where with such damned fiends she should in dark-j
nesse dwell.
XLIV.
But for to tell the dolefull dreriment
And pittifull com])hiints which there she made,
(Where day and niglit she nought did but lament
Her wretched li shut up in deadly shade.
And waste her goodly beauty, wliich did fade
Like to a fiowre that feeles no heate of sunne
Which may her feeble leaves with comfort glade ;)
And what befell her in that theevish wonne.
Will in another Canto better be begonne.
XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 145
CANTO XI.
The Theeves fall out for Pastorell,
Whilest Meiibeeis slain:
Her Calidore from tliem redeemes,
And bringeth backe againe.
I.
The ioys of love, if they should ever last
Without affliction or disquietnesse
That ^^^orldly chaunces doe amongst them cast,
Would be on earth too great a blessednesse,
Liker to heaven then mortall wretchednesse :
Therefore the winged god, to let men weet
That here on earth is no sure happinesse,
A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet.
To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.
II.
Like as is now befalne to this faire Mayd,
Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song :
Who being now in dreadfull darknesse layd
Amongst those Theeves, which her in bondage strong
Detaynd; yet Fortune, not with all this wrong
Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw.
And sorrowes heapt on her in greater throng;
That whoso heares her heavinesse, would rew
And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from pleasaunt hew.
VOL. IV. L
146 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
I
III.
Why lest thus she in these hellish dens remayned^
Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts unrest.
It so befell, as Fortune had ordayned.
That he which was their Capitaine profest.
And had the chiefe commaund of all the rest,
One day, as he did all his prisoners vew.
With lustfull eyes beheld that lovely guest,
Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull hew j
Like the faire morning clad in misty fog did shew. ^
IV. \
At sight whereof his barbarous heart was fired.
And inly burnt with flames most raging whot.
That her alone he for his part desired
Of all the other pray which they had got.
And her in mynde did to himselfe allot.
From that day forth he kyndnesse to her showed,
And sought her love by all the meanes he mote ;
With looks, with words, with gifts he oft her wowed.
And mixed threats among, and much unto her vowed.
V.
But all that ever he could doe or say
Her constant mynd could not a whit remove,^
Nor draw unto the lure of his lewd lay.
To sraunt him favour or aff"ord him love : '
Yet ceast he not to sew, and all waies prove,
By which he mote accomplish his request.
Saying and doing all that mote behove ;
Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest,
But her all night did watch, and all the day molest.
XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE- 147
VI.
At last, when him she so importune saW;,
Fearing least he at length the raines would lend
Unto his lust, and make his will his law,
Sith in his poAvre she was to foe or friend ;
She thought it best, for shadow, to pretend
Some shew of favour, by him gracing small.
That she thereby mote either freely wend,
Or at more ease continue there his thrall :
A little well is lent that gaineth more withall.
VII.
So from thenceforth, when love he to her made.
With better tearmes she did him entertaine.
Which gave him hope, and did him halfe perswade.
That he in time her ioyance should obtaine :
But when she saw, through that small favours gaine.
That further then she willing was he prest ;
She found no meanes to barre him, but to faine
A sodaine sickenesse which her sore opprest.
And made unfit to serve his lawlesse mindes behest.
VIII.
By meanes whereof she would not him permit
Once to approach to her in privity.
But onely mongst the rest by her to sit,
IMourning the rigour of her malady.
And seeking all things meete for remedy:
But she resolv'd no remedy to fynde.
Nor better cheare to shew in misery.
Till Fortune would her captive bonds unbynde :
Her sickenesse was not of the body but the mynde.
L 2
148 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []b. VI.
IX.
During which space that she thus sicke did lie,
It chaunst a sort of Merchants, which were wount
To skim those coastes for bondmen there to buy,
And by such trafficke after gaines to hunt.
Arrived in this isle, though bare and blunt,
T' inquire for slaves ; where being readie met
By some of these same Theeves at th' instant brunt,
Were brought unto their Captaine, who was set
By his faire patients side with sorrowfull regret.
X.
To whom they shewed, how those Marchants were
Arriv'd in place their bondslaves for to buy;
And therefore prayd that those same captives there
Mote to them for their most commodity
Be sold, and mongst them shared equally.
This their request the Captaine much appalled ;
Yet could he not their iust demaund deny.
And willed streight the slaves should forth be called.
And sold for most advantage not to be forstalled.
XI.
Then forth the good old Melibee was brought.
And Coridon with many other moe.
Whom they before in diverse spoyles had caught ;
All which he to the Marchants sale did showe :
Till some, which did the sundry prisoners knowe,
Gan to inquire for that faire Shepherdesse,
Which with the rest they tooke not long agoe ;
And gan her forme and feature to cxpresse.
The more t' augment her price through^ praise of comli-
nesse.
C. XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 149
XII.
To whom the Captaine in full angry wize
Made answere^, that " the Mayd of whom they spake
Was his owne purchase and his onely prize ;
With which none had to doe^ ne ought partake,
But he himselfe which did that conquest make ;
Litle for him to have one silly lasse ;
Besides through sicknesse now so wan and weake.
That nothing meet in merchandise to passe :" |^was.
So shew'd them her, to prove how pale and weake she
XIII.
The sight of whom, though now decayd and mard.
And eke but hardly seene by candle-light.
Yet, like a diamond of rich regard.
In doubtfull shadow of the darkesome night
With starrie beames about her shining bright.
These Marchants fixed eyes did so amaze,
That what through wonder, and what through delight,
A while on her they greedily did gaze.
And did her greatly like, and did her greatly praize.
XIV.
At last when all the rest them offred were.
And prises to them placed at their pleasure.
They all refused in regard of her ;
Ne ought would buy, however prisd with measure,
Withouten her, whose worth above all threasure
They did esteeme, and ofFred store of gold :
But then the Captaine, fraught with more displeasure.
Bad them be still ; " his Love should not be sold ;
The rest take if they would ; he her to him would hold."
150 THE FAERIE QUEENE. {_B. VI
XV.
Therewith some other of the chiefest Theeves
Boldly him bad such iniurie forbeare ;
For that same Mayd, however it him greeves^
Should with the rest be sold before him theare.
To make the prises of the rest more deare.
That with great rage he stoutly doth d^ay;
And;, fiercely drawing forth his blade^, doth sweare
That whoso hardie hand on her doth lay, 1
It dearely shall aby, and death for handsell pay. .
XVI. *
Thus, as they words amongst them multiply.
They fall to strokes, the frute of too much talke.
And the mad Steele about doth fiercely fly.
Not sparing wight, ne leaving any balke.
But making way for Death at large to walke ;
Who, in the horror of the griesly night.
In thousand dreadful shapes doth mongst them stalke.
And makes huge havocke ; whiles the candle-light
Out-quenched leaves no skill nor difference of wight.
XVII.
Like as a sort of hungry dogs, ymet
About some carcase by the common way.
Doe fall together, stryving each to get
The greatest portion of the greedie pray ;
All on confused heapes themselves assa)''.
And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, and teare,
That who them sees would wonder at their fray.
And who sees not Avould be affray d to heare :
Such was the conflict of those cruell Brigants there.
C. XI.] THE FAERIE QUEBNE. 151
XVIII.
But^ first of all, their captives they doe kill,
Least they should ioyne against the weaker side.
Or rise against the remnant at their will :
Old Melibee is slaine ; and him beside
His aged wife ; with many others wide :
But Coridon, escaping craftily,
Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes him doth hide,
And flyes away as fast as he can hye,
Ne stayeth leave to take before his friends doe dye.
XIX.
But Pastorella, wofull wretched elfe.
Was by the Captaine all this while defended.
Who, minding more her safety then himselfe.
His target alwayes over her pretended ;
By meanes whereof, that mote not be amended.
He at the length was slaine and layd on ground.
Yet holding fast twixt both his armes extended
Fayre Pastorell, who with the selfe same wound
Launcht through the arme fell down with him in drerie
swound.
XX.
There lay she covered with confused preasse
Of carcases, which dying on her fell :
Tho, whenas he was dead, the fray gan ceasse ;
And each to other calling did compell
To stay their cruell hands from slaughter fell,
Sith they that were the cause of all were gone :
Thereto they all attonce agreed well ;
And, lighting candles new, gan search anone.
How many of their friends were slaine, how many fone.
152 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []b. Vt.
XXI.
Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild^
And in his armes the dreary dying Mayd^
Like a sweet angell tvvixt two clouds uphild ;
Her lovely light was dimmed and decayd
With cloud of death upon her eyes display d;
Yet did the cloud make even that dimmed light
Seeme much more lovely in that darknesse layd.
And twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids bright
To sparke out litle beames, like starres in foggie night.
XXII.
But^ when they mov'd the carcases aside.
They found that life did yet in her remaine ;
Then all their helpes they busily applyde
To call the soule backe to her home againe ;
And wrought so well, with labour and long paine^
That they to life recovered her at last :
Who, sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine
Had riven bene and all her hart-strings brast,
With drearie drouping eyne lookt up like one aghast.
XXIII.
There she beheld, that sore her griev'd to see.
Her father and her friends about her lying,
Herseife sole left a second spoyle to bee
Of those, that having saved her from dying
Renew'd her death by timely death denying.
What now is left her but to wayle and weepe.
Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud crying !
Ne cared she her wound in teares to steepe,
Albe with all their might those Brigants her did keepe.
;. XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. ^ 15S
XXIV.
But when they saw her now reliv'd againe.
They left her so, in charge of one, the best
Of many worst, who with unkind disdaine
And cruell rigour her did much molest ;
Scarse yeelding her due food or timely rest,
And scarsely suffring her infestred w^ound.
That sore her payn'd, by any to be drest.
So leave we her in Avretched thraldome bound.
And turne we back to Calidore, where we him found.
■ XXV.
Who when he backe returned from the wood.
And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled quight,
And his Love reft awav : he wexed wood
And halfe enraged at that ruefuU sight ;
That even his hart, for very fell despight.
And his owne flesh he readie was to teare :
He chauft, he griev'd, he fretted, and he sigh't.
And fared like a furious wyld beare.
Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being otherwhere-
XXVI.
Ne wight he found to whom he might complaine,
Ne wight he found of whom he might inquire;
That more increast the anguish of his paine :
He sought the Avoods, but no man could see there;
He sought the plaines, but could no tydings heare :
The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine rebound ;
The playnes all waste and emptie did appeare ;
Where wont the shepheards oft their pypes resound.
And feed an hundred flocks, there now^ not one he found.
154 THE FAERIE QUEENE. £b, VI.
XXVII.
At last, as there he romed up and downe.
He chaunst one coming towards him to spy.
That seem'd to be some sorie simple clowne.
With ragged weedes, and lockes upstaring hye,
As if he did from some late daunger fly.
And yet his feare did follow him behynd :
Who as he nnto him approached nye.
He mote perceive, by signes which he did fynd.
That Coridon it was, the silly shepheards liynd.
XXVIII.
Tho, to him running fast, he did not stay
To greet him first, but askt Where were the rest.
Where Fastorell ? — Who full of fresh dismay.
And gushing forth in teares, was so opprest.
That he no word could speake, but smit his brest,
And up to heaven his eyes fast-streming threw :
Whereat the Knight amaz'd, yet did not rest.
But askt againe. What ment that rufull hew;
Where was his 'Pastor ell ? Where all the other crew ?
XXIX.
" Ah ! well away," sayd he, then sighing sore,
" That ever I did live this day to see.
This dismall day, and was not dead before.
Before I saw faire Pastorella dye !"
" Die ! out alas !" then Calidore did cry,
'' How could the Death dare ever her to quell !
But read thou, Shepheard, read what destiny
Or other dyrefull hap from heaven or hell
Hath wrought this wicked deed : doe feare away, and tell." j
C. XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 155
XXX.
TliOj when the Shepheard breathed had awhyle.
He thus began ; " Where shall I then commence
This wofull tale ? or how those Brigants vyle
With cruell rage and dreadfull violence
Spoyld all our cots, and caried us from hence ;
Or how faire Pastorell should have bene sold
To Marchants, but was sav'd with strong defence ;
Or how those Theeves, whilest one sought her to hold.
Fell all at ods, and fought through fury fierce and bold,
XXXI.
" In that same conflict (woe is me !) befell
This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident,
Whose heavy tydings now I have to tell.
First all the captives, which they here had hent.
Were by them slaine by generall consent ;
Old INIelibee and his good wife withall
These eyes saw die, and dearely did lament :
But, when the lot to Pastorell did fall.
Their Captaine long withstood, and did her death forstall.
XXXII.
'^ But what could he gainst all them doe alone.'*
It could not boot ; needs mote she die at last !
I onely scapt through great confusione
Of cryes and clamors^ which amongst them past.
In dreadfull darknesse, dreadfully aghast ;
That better were with them to have bene dead.
Then here to see all desolate and wast,
Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead.
Which with those gentle shepheards here I wont to lead.'
156 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XXXIII.
When Calidore these ruefull iiewes had raught.
His hart quite deaded was with anguish great.
And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,
That he his face, his head, his brest did beat^
And death itselfe unto himselfe did threat ;
Oft cursing th' heavens, that so cruell were
To her, whose name he often did repeat ;
Aiid wishing oft, that he were present there
When she was slaine, or had bene to her succour nere,
XXXIV.
But after griefe awhile had had his course.
And spent itselfe in mourning, he at last
Began to mitigate his swelling sourse.
And in his mind with better reason cast
How he might save her life, if life did last ;
Or, if that dead, how he her death might wreake ;
Sith otherwise he could not mend thing past ;
Or, if it to revenge he were too weake.
Then for to die with her, and his lives threed to breake.
XXXV.
Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew
The readie way unto that theevish wonne.
To wend with him, and be his conduct trew
Unto the place, to see what should be donne :
But he, whose hart through feare was late fordonne.
Would not for ought be drawne to former drede ;
But by all meanes the daunger knowne did shonne:
Yet Calidore so well him wrought with meed,
And faire bespoke with words, that he at last agreed.
C. XI.] THE FAERIK QUEENE. 157
XXXVI.
So, forth they goe together (God before)
Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably.
And both with shepheards hookes ; but Calidore
Had, underiieathj him armed privily :
Tho, to the place when they approached nye.
They chaunst^, upon an hill not farre away.
Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to espy ;
To whom they both agreed to take their way.
In hope there newes to learne, how they mote best assay.
XXXVil.
There did they find, that which they did not feare.
The self-same flocks the which those Theeves had reft
From IVIelibee and from themselves whyleare ;
And certaine of the Theeves there by them left.
The which, for want of heards, themselves then kept :
Right well knew Coridon his owne late sheepe.
And, seeing them, for tender pittie wept ;
But, when he saw the Theeves which did them keepe,
His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all asleepe.
XXXVIII.
But Calidore recomforting his griefe.
Though not his feare ; for nought may feare disswade;
Him hardly forward drew, whereas the thiefe
Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade.
Whom Coridon him counseld to invade
Now all unwares, and take the spoyle away ;
But he, that in his mind had closely made
A further purpose, would not so them slay,
But gently waking them gave them the time of day.
158 THE FAERIE QUEENE. j^B. VI. i
XXXIX.
Tho^ sitting downe by them upon the greeiie^
Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine.
That he by them might certaine tydings weene
Of Pastorell, were she alive or slaine :
Mongst which the Theeves them questioned againe,
What mister men^ and eke from whence they were.
To whom they answer'd, as did appertaine,
That they were pooreheardgroomes^ the which whylere
Had from their maisters fled, and now sought hyre
elswhere.
XL.
Whereof right glad they seem'd, and offer made
To hyre them well if they their flockes would keepe :
For they themselves were evill groomes, they sayd,
Unwont with heards to watch, or pasture sheepe^
But to forray the land, or scoure the deepe.
Thereto they soone agreed, and earnest tooke
To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and chepe ;
For they for better hyre did shortly looke :
So there all day they bode, till light the sky forsooke.
XLI.
Tho, whenas towards darksome night it drew.
Unto their hellish dens those Theeves them brought;
Where shortly they in great acquaintance grew.
And all the secrets of their entrayles sought :
There did they find, contrarie to their thought,
That Pastorell yet liv'd ; but all the rest
Were dead, right so as Coridon had taught :
Whereof they both full glad and blyth did rest.
But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had most possest.
CXI.] THE FAKRIE QUEENE. 159
XLII.
At length, when they occasion fittest found,
In dead of night, when all the Theeves did rest
After a late forray, and slept full sound.
Sir Calidore him arm'd, as he thought best ;
Having of late by diligent inquest
Provided him a sword of meanest sort ;
With which he streight went to the Captaines nest :
But Coridon durst not with him consort,
Ne durst abide behind for dread of worse effort.
XLIIl.
When to the cave they came, they found it fast :
But Calidore with huge resistlesse might
The dores assayled, and the locks upbrast :
With noyse whereof the theefe awaking light
Unto the entrance ran ; where the bold Knight
Encountring him with small resistence slew :
The whiles faire Pastorell through great affright
Was almost dead, misdoubting least of new
Some uprore were like that which lately she did vew.
XLIV.
But whenas Calidore was comen in^
And gan aloud for Pastorell to call.
Knowing his voice, although not heard long sin.
She sudden was revived therewithall.
And wondrous ioy felt in her spirits thrall :
Like him that being long in tempest tost.
Looking each houre into Deathes mouth to fall.
At length espyes at hand the happie cost.
On which he safety hopes that earst feard to be lost.
160 THE FAERIE QURENE. []b. VI.
XLV.
Her gentle hart^, that now long season past
Had never ioyance felt nor chearefuU thought,
Began some smacke of comfort new to tast.
Like lyfeful heat to nummed senses brought,
And life to feele that long for death had sought :
Ne lesse in hart reioyced Calidore,
When he her found; but, like to one distraught
And robd of reason, towards her him bore;
A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.
XLyi.
But now by this, with noyse of late uprore,
The hue and cry was raysed all about ;
And all the Brigants flocking in great store
Unto the cave gan preasse, nought having dout
' Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.
But Calidore in th' entry close did stand.
And, entertayning them with courage stout.
Still slew the formost that came first to hand;
So long, till all the entry was with bodies mand.
XLVII.
Tho, when no more could nigh to him approch.
He breath'd his sword, and rested him till day ;
Which when he spyde upon the earth t' encroch.
Through the dead carcases he made his way,
Mongst which he found a sword of better say.
With which he forth went into th' open light.
Where all the rest for him did readie stay.
And, fierce assayling him, with all their might
Gan all upon him lay : there gan a dreadfull fight.
XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. IGI
XLVIII.
How many flyes in whottest summers day
Do seize upon some beaSt^ whose flesh is bare,
That all the place with swarmes do overlay.
And with their litle stings right felly fare ;
So many theeves about him swarming are.
All which do him as^ayle on every side^
And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare ;
But he doth with his raging brond divide [^wide.
Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth
XLIX.
Like as a lion mongst an heard of dere,
Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray ;
So did he fly amongst them here and there,
And all that nere him came did hew and slay.
Till he had strowd with bodies all the way ;
That none his daunger daring to abide
Fled from his wrath, and did themselves convay
Into their caves, their heads from death to hide,
Ne any left that victorie to him envide.
L.
Then, backe returning to his dearest Deare,
He her gan to recomfort, all he might.
With gladfull speaches and with lovely cheare ;
And forth her bringing to the ioyous light.
Whereof she long had lackt the wishfuU sight, •
Deviz'd all goodly meanes from her to drive
The sad remembrance of her wretched plight :
So her uneath at last he did revive
I That long had lyen dead, and made againe alive.
VOL. IV. M
16^ THE FAERIE QUEENE. [[b. VI.
LI.
This doen, into those theevish dens he went,
And thence did all the spoyles and threasures take,
Which they from many long had robd and rent :
But Fortune now the victors meed did make ;
Of which the best he did his Love betake ;
And also all those flockes, which they before
Had reft from Melibee and from his Make,
He did them all to Coridon restore :
So drove them all away, and his Love with him bore.
C. XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 163
CANTO XII.
Fayre Pastorella by great iiap
Her parents understands.
Calidore doth the Blatant Beast
Subdew, and bynd in bands.
I.
j Like as a ship, that through the ocean wyde
Directs her course unto one certaine cost^
It met of many a counter winde and tyde.
With which her winged speed is let and crost,
And she herselfe in stormie surges tost ;
Yet, making many a horde and many a bay.
Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost;
Right so it fares with me in this long way,
■ Whose course is often stayd, yet never is astray.
II.
For all that hetherto hath long delayd
This gentle Knight from sewing his first quest.
Though out of course, yet hath not bene mis-sayd,
To shew the courtesie by him profest
Even unto the lowest and the least.
But now I come into my course againe,
^1 To his atchievement of the Blatant Beast ;
Who all this while at will did range and raine.
Whilst none was him to stop, nor none him to restraine.
M 2
164 THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI
III.
8ir Calidore, when thus he now had raught
Faire Pastorella from those Brigants powre.
Unto the Castle of Belgard her brought.
Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bellamoure ;
Who whylome was, in his youthes freshest flowre,
A lustie Knight as ever wielded speare.
And had endured many a dreadfull stoure
In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare.
The fayrest Ladie then of all that living were ;
IV.
Her name was Claribell ; whose father hight
The Lord of many ilands, farre renound
For his great riches and his greater might :
He, through the wealth wherein he did abound.
This Daughter thought in wedloeke to have bound
Unto the Prince of Picteland, bordering nere;
But she, whose sides before with secret wound
Of love to Bellamoure empierced were.
By all meanes shund to match with any forreign fere:
V.
And Bellamour againe so well her pleased
With dayly service and attendance dew.
That of her love he was entyrely seized.
And closely did her wed, but knowne to few :
Which when her father understood, he grew
In so great rage that them in dongeon deepe
Without compassion cruelly he threw ;
Yet did so streightly them asunder keepe.
That neither could to company of th' other creepe.
C. XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 165
TI.
Nathlesse Sir Bellamour;, whether through grace
Or secret giiifts, so with his keepers wrought,
That to his Love sometimes he came in place ;
Whereof her wombe unwist to wight was fraught^
And in dew time a May den Child forth brought :
Which she streightway (for dread least if her syre
Should know thereof to slay he would have sought)
Delivered to her handmayd, that for hyre
She should it cause be fostred under straunge attyre.
VII,
The trustie damzell bearing it abrode
Into the emptie fields, where living wight
Mote not bewray the secret of her lode.
She forth gan lay unto the open light
The litle Babe, to take thereof a sight :
Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold.
Upon the litle brest, like christall bright.
She mote perceive a litle purple mold,
j| That like a rose her silken leaves did faire unfold.
VIII.
Well she it markt, and pittied the more.
Yet could not remedie her wretched case ;
But, closing it againe like as before,
Bedeaw'd with teares there left it ift the place ;
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space
Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde.
To weet what mortall hand, or heavens grace,
II Would for the wretched Infants helpe provyde ;
^^ For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.
166 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_B. VI.
IX.
At length a shepheard, which thereby did keepe
His fleecie flocke upon the playnes around.
Led with the Infants cry that loud did weepe,
Came to the place ; where when he wrapped found
Th' abandond spoyle, he softly it unbound ;
And, seeing there that did him pittie sore,
He tooke it up and in his mantle wound ;
So home unto his honest wife it bore.
Who as her owne it nurst and named evermore.
X.
Thus long continued Claribell a thrall,
And Bellamour in bands ; till that her syre
Departed life, and left unto them all :
Then all the stormes of fortunes former yre
Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre.
Thenceforth they ioy'd in happinesse together.
And lived long in peace and love entyre.
Without disquiet or dislike of ether.
Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella thether.
XI.
Both whom they goodly well did entertaine;
For Bellamour knew Calidore right well.
And loved for his prowesse, sith they twaine
Long since had fought in field: als Claribell
Ne lesse did tender the faire Pastorell,
Seeing her weake and wan through durance long.
There they awhile together thus did dwell
In much delight, and many ioyes among,
Untill the Damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.
C. XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 167
XII.
Tho gan Sir Calidore him to advize
Of his first quest, which he had long forlore,
Asham'd to thinke how he that enterprize^,
The which the Faery Queene had long afore
Bequeath'd to him^, forslacked had so sore ;
That much he feared least reproachfull blame
With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore ;
Besides the losse of so much loos and fame.
As through the world thereby should glorifie his name.
XIII.
Therefore, resolving to returne in hast
Unto so great atchievement, he bethought
To leave his Love, now perill being past.
With Claribell ; whylest he that Monster sought
Throughout the world, and to destruction brought.
So taking leave of his faire Pastorell,
Whom to recomfort all the meanes he wrought.
With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell,
He went forth on his quest, and did that him befell.
XIV.
But first, ere I doe his adventures tell
In this exploite, me needeth to declare
What did betide to the faire Pastorell,
During his absence left in heavy care.
Through daily mourning and nightly misfare :
Yet did that auncient Matrone all she might.
To cherish her with all things choice and rare ;
And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight.
Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.
16S THE FAERIE QUEENE. Qb. VI.
XV.
Who in a morning, when this Maiden faire
Was (lighting her, having her snowy brest
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
Into their comely tresses dewly drest,
Chaunst to espy upon her yvory chest
The rosie marke, which she remembred -well
That litle Infant had, which forth she kest.
The daughter of her Lady Claribell,
The which she bore the whiles in prison she did dwell.
XVI.
Which well avizing, streight she gan to cast
In her conceiptfull mynd that this faire !i\Iayd
Was that same Infant, which so long sith past d
She in the open fields had loosely layd
To Fortunes spoile, unable it to ayd : d
So, full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast
Unto her IMistresse, being halfe dismay d.
To tell her, how the Tieavens had her graste,
To save her Chylde, which in Misfortunes mouth was
plaste.
XVII.
The sober Mother seeing such her mood.
Yet knowing not what meant that sodaine thro,
Askt her, how mote her words be understood.
And what the matter was that mov'd her so.
" My liefe," sayd she, " ye know that long ygo,
Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gave
A little Mayde, the which ye chylded tho ;
The same againe if now ye list to have.
The same is yonder Lady, whom High God did save."
\
XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 169
XVIII.
JMuch was the Lady troubled at that speach,
And gan to question streight how she it knew.
'' Most certaine markes/' sayd she, " do me it teach;
For on her breast I with these eyes did vew
The litle purple rose which thereon grew.
Whereof her name ye then to her did give.
Besides, her countenaunce and her likely hew,
Matched with equall years, do surely prieve
That yond same is your Daughter sure, which yet doth
live."
XIX.
The Matrone stayd no lenger to enquire.
But forth in hast ran to the straunger Mayd ;
Whom catching greedily, for great desire
Rent up her brest, and bosom e open layd.
In which that rose she plainely saw displayd :
Then, her embracing twixt her armes twaine.
She long so held, and softly weeping sayd ;
" And livest thou, my Daughter, now againe ?
And art thou yet alive, whom dead I long did faine ?"
XX.
Tho further asking her of sundry things.
And times comparing with their accidents.
She found at last, by very certaine signes
And speaking markes of passed monuments.
That this young Mayd, whom chance to her presents.
Is her owne Daughter, her owne Infant deare.
Tho, wondring long at those so straunge events,
A thousand times she her embraced nere.
With many a ioyfull kisse and many a melting teare.
170 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [_B. VI.
XXI.
Whoever is the mother of one chylde.
Which having thought long dead she fyndes alive^,
Let her by proofe of that which she hath fylde
In her owne breast, this Mothers ioy descrive :
For other none such passion can contrive
In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt.
When she so faire a Daughter saw survive.
As Pastorella was ; that nigh she swelt
For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt.
XXII.
Thence running forth unto her loved Lord,
She unto him recounted all that fell :
Who, ioyning ioy with her in one accord,
Acknowledg'd, for his owne, faire Pastorell.
There leave we them in ioy, and let us tell
Of Calidore ; who, seeking all this while
That monstrous Beast by finall force to quell.
Through every place with restlesse paine and toile
Him follow'd by the tract of his outragious spoile.
XXIII.
Through all estates he found that he had past.
In which he many massacres had left.
And to the Clergy now was come at last ;
In which such spoile, such havocke, and such theft
He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft,
That endlesse were to tell. Th6 Elfin Knight,
Who now no place besides unsought had left.
At length into a Monastere did light.
Where he him found despoyling all with maine and
might.
C. XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 171
XXIV.
Into their cloysters now he broken had^
Tlirough which the JMonckes he chaced here and there.
And them piirsu'd into their dortours sad.
And searched all their eels and secrets neare ;
In which what filth and ordure did appeare.
Were yrkesome to report ; yet that foule Beast,
Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare.
And ransacke all their dennes from most to least.
Regarding nought religion nor their holy heast.
XXV.
From thence into the sacred church he broke.
And robd the chancell, and the deskes downe threw.
And altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke.
And the images, for all their goodly hew.
Did cast to ground, whilest none -was them to rew ;
So all confounded and disordered there :
But, seeing Calidore, away he flew.
Knowing his fatall hand by former feare ;
But he him fast pursuing soone approached neare.
XXVI.
Him in a narrow place he overtooke.
And fierce assailing forst him turne againe:
Sternely he turnd againe, when he him strooke
With his sharpe Steele, and ran at him amaine
With open mouth, that seemed to containe
A full good pecke within the utmost brim.
All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,
That terrifide his foes, and armed him.
Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim :
172 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [b. VI.
XXVII.
And therein were a thousand tongs empight
Of sundry kindes and sundry quality ;
Some were of dogs, that barked day and night ;
And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry ;
And some of beares, that groynd continually ;
And some of tygres, that did seeme to gren
And snar at all that ever passed by :
But most of them were tongues of mortall men.
Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor when.
XXVIII.
And them amongst were mingled here and there
The tongues of serpents, with three-forked stings.
That spat out poyson, and gore-bloudy gere.
At all that came within his ravenings ;
And spake licentious words and hatefuU things
Of good and bad alike, of low and hie,
Ne kesars spared he a whit nor kings ;
But either blotted them with infamie,
Or bit them with his banefuU teeth of iniury.
XXIX.
But Calidore, thereof no whit afrayd,
Rencountred him with so impetuous might.
That th' outrage of his violence he stayd.
And bet abacke threatning in vaine to bite.
And spitting forth the poyson of his spight
That fomed all aliout his bloody iawes :
The, rearing up his former feete on hight.
He rampt upon him with his ravenous pawes,
As if he would have rent him with his cruell clawes :
C. XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 173
XXX.
But he right well aware, his rage to ward.
Did cast his shield atweene ; and, therewithal!
Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu'd so hard.
That backeward he enforced him to fall ;
And, being downe, ere he new helpe could call.
His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held ;
Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall
Of butchers baleful! hand to ground is feld.
Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld.
XXXI.
Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore
To be downe held, and maystred so with might,
That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore.
Striving in vaine to rere himself upright :
For still, the more he strove, the more the Knight
Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew ;
That made him almost mad for fell despight :
He grind, he bit, he scracht, he venim threw,
And fared like a feend right horrible in hew :
XXXII.
Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine
That great Alcides wliilome overthrew.
After that he had labourd long in vaine
To crop his thousand heads, the which still new
Forth budded, and in greater number grew.
Such was the fury of this hellish Beast,
Whilest Calidore him under him downe threw;
Who nathemore his heavy load releast.
But aye, the more he rag'd, the more his powre increast-
174 THE FAERIE QUEENE. \jB. VI.
XXXIII.
Tho, when the Beast saw he mote nought availe
By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply.
And sharpely at him to revile and raile
With bitter termes of shamefull infamy ;
Oft interlacing many a forged lie.
Whose like he never once did speake, nor heare.
Nor ever thought thing so unworthily :
Yet did he nought, for all that, him forbeare.
But strained him so streightly that he chokt him neare.
XXXIV.
At last, whenas he found his force to shrincke
And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzle strong
Of surest yron made with many a lincke ;
Therewith he mured up his mouth along.
And therein shut up his blasphemous toiig.
For never more defaming gentle Knight,
Or unto lovely Lady doing wrong :
And thereunto a great long chaine he tight.
With which he drew him forth, even in his own despight.
XXXV.
Like as whyldme that strong Tirynthian swaine
Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of hell
Against his will fast bound in yron chaine.
And roring horribly did him compell
To see the hatefull sunne, that he might tell
To griesly Pluto, what on earth was donne,
And to the other damned ghosts which dwell
For aye in Darkenesse which day-light doth shonne :
So led this Knight his capty ve with like conquest wonne.
C. XII.] THE P-AERIE QUEENE. 175
XXXVI.
Yet greatly did the Beast repine at those
Straunge bands^ whose like till then he never bore,
Ne ever any durst till then impose ;
And chauffed inly, seeing now no more
Him liberty was left aloud to rore :
Yet durst he not draw backe, nor once withstand
The proved powre of noble Calidore ;
But trembled underneath his mighty hand;,
And like a fearefull dog him followed through the land.
XXXVII.
Him through all Faery Land he foUow'd so.
As if he learned had obedience long.
That all the people, whereso he did go.
Out of their townes did round about him throng.
To see him leade that Beast in bondage strong ;
And, seeing it, much wondred at the sight :
And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,
Reioyced much to see his captive plight, [[Knight.
And much admyr'd the Beast, but more admyr'd the
xxxviir.
Thus was this Monster, by the maystring might
Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed.
That never more he mote endammadge wight
With his vile tongue, which many had defamed.
And many causelesse caused to be blamed ;
So did he eeke long after this remaine,
Untill that, (whether wicked fate so framed
Or fault of men,) he broke his yron chaine,
^ And got into the world at liberty againe.
176 THE FAERIK QUEENE. [^B. VI.
XXXIX.
Thenceforth more mischiefe and more scath he wrought
To mortall men than he had done before ;
Ne ever could, by any, more be brought
Into like bands, ne maystred any more :
Albe that, long time after Calidore,
The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand ;
And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore ;
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land ;
Yet none of them could ever bring him into band.
XL.
So now he raungeth through the world againe.
And rageth sore in each degree and state ;
Ne any is that may him now restraine.
He growen is so great and strong of late.
Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime ;
Ne spareth he most learned Wits to rate,
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime ;
But rends, without regard of person or of time.
XLI.
Ne may this homely Verse, of many meanest,
Hope to escape his venemous despite, ^
JVIore than my former Writs, all were they cleanest
From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite
With which some wicked tongues did it backebite.
And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure,
That never so deserved to endite.
Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure.
And seeke to please ; that now is counted wise mens
threasure.
TW6 CANTOS
OF MUTABILITIE :
WHICH;, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTJJR,
Appeare to be parceil of some following Booke of
THE FAERIE QUEENE,
UNDER THE
LEGEND OF CONSTANCIE.
CANTO VI.
Proud Change (not pleasd in mortall things
Beneath the moone to raigne)
Pretends, as well of gods as men,
To be the soveraine.
I.
What man that sees the ever- whirling wheele
Of Change, the which all mortall things doth sway,
But that thereby doth find, and plainly feele.
How Mutability in them doth play
Her cruell sports to many mens decay ?
Which that to all may better yet appeare,
I will rehearse, that whylome I heard say.
How she at first herselfe began to reare
Gainst all the gods, and th' empire sought from them
to beare.
VOL. IV. N
178 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [^C VI.
II.
But first;, here falleth fittest to unfold
Her antique race and linage ancient,
As I have found it registred of old
In Faery Land mongst records permanent.
She waS;, to weet, a daughter by descent
Of those old Titans that did whylome strive
With Saturnes sonne for heavens regiment ;
Whom though high love of kingdome did deprive.
Yet many of their stemme long after did survive :
III.
And many of them afterwards obtain'd
Great power of love, and high authority :
As Hecate, in whose almighty hand
He plac't all rule and principality,
To be by her disposed diversly
To gods and men, as she them list divide ;
And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie
Warres and allarums unto nations wide, Q)ride.
That makes both heaven and earth to tremble at her
IV.
►So likewise did this Titanesse aspire
Rule and dominion to herselfe to gaine;
That as a goddesse men might her admire.
And heavenly honours yield, as to them twaine :
And first, on earth she sought it to obtaine ;
Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed
Of her great power, to many ones great paine.
That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed)
But eke all other creatures her bad dooinjrs re wed.
C, VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENK. 179
V.
For slie the face of earthly things so changed.
That all which Nature had establisht first
In good estate, and in meet order ranged.
She did pervert, and all their statutes burst :
And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst
Of gods or men to alter or misguide)
She alter'd quite ; and made them all accurst
That God had blest, and did at first provide
In that still happy state for ever to abide.
VI.
Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake.
But eke of lustice, and of Policie ;
And wrong of right, and bad of good did make.
And death for life exchanged foolishlie :
Since which, all living wights have learn'd to die.
And all this world is woxen daily worse.
O pittious worke of Mutabilitie,
By which we all are subiect to that curse.
And death, in stead of life, have sucked from our nurse !
VII.
And now, when all the earth she thus had brought
To her behest and thralled to her might.
She gan to cast in her ambitious thought
T' attempt the empire of the heavens hight,
And love himselfe to shoulder from his right.
And first, she past the region of the ayre
And of the fire, whose substance thin and slight
Made no resistance, ne coiild her contraire.
But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire.
X 2
ISO THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VI.
VIII.
Thence to the circle of the Moone she clambe.
Where Cynthia raignes in everlasting glory.
To whose bright shining palace straight she came.
All fairely deckt with heavens goodly story ;
Whose silver gates (by which there sate an hory
Old aged Sire, with hower-glasse in hand,
Hight Tyme,) she entred, were he liefe or sory ;
Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand.
Where Cynthia did sit, that never still did stand.
IX.
Her sitting on an ivory throne shee found,
Drawne of two steeds, th' one black, the other white,
Environd with tenne thousand starres around.
That duly her attended day and night ;
And by her side there ran her Page, that hight
Vesper, whom we the evening-starre intend ;
That with his torche, still twinkling like twylight,
Her lightened all the way where she should wend,
And ioy to weary wandring travailers did lend :
X.
That when the hardy Titanesse beheld
The goodly building of her palace bright,
Made of the heavens substance, and up-held
With thousand crystall pillors of huge hight ;
Shee gan to burne in her ambitious spright.
And t' envie her that in such glorie raigned.
Eftsoones she cast by force and tortious might
Her to displace, and to herselfe t' have gained
The kini^dome of the Niurht, and waters by her waineil.
^I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. IJ^ 1
XI.
Boldly she bid the goddesse downe descend,
And let herselfe into that ivory throne ;
For she herselfe more worthy thereof wend_,
And better able it to gnide alone ;
Whether to men whose fall she did bemone.
Or unto gods whose state she did maligne,
Or to th' infernall powers her need give lone
Of her faire light and bounty most benigne,
Herselfe of all that rule shee deemed most condigne.
XII.
But shee that had to her that soveraigne seat
By highest love assign'd, therein to beare
Nights burning lamp, regarded not her threat,
Ne yielded ought for favour or for feare ;
But, with Sterne countenaunce and disdainfull cheare
Bending her horned browes, did put her back ;
And, boldly blaming her for coming there.
Bade her attonce from heavens coast to pack.
Or at her perill bide the wrathfull thunders wrack.
XIII.
Yet nathemore the Giantesse forbare ;
But, boldly preacing on, raught forth her hand
To pluck her downe perforce from off her chaire ;
And, there-with lifting up her golden wand,
Threatned to strike her if she' did with-stand :
Whereat the Starres, which round about her blazed.
And eke the IMooues bright wagon still did stand.
All beeing with so bold attempt amazed.
And on her uncouth habit and sterne iooke still gazed.
182 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c VI,
XIV.
Mean while the lower Worlds, which nothing knew
Of all that chaunced here, was darkned quite ;
And eke the Heavens, and all the heavenly crew
Of happy wights, now unpurvaide of light.
Were much afraid and wondred at that sight ;
Fearing least Chaos broken had his chaine.
And brought againe on them eternall night ;
But chiefely Mercury, that next doth raigne.
Ran forth in haste unto the King of gods to plaine.
XV.
All ran together with a great out-cry
To loves faire palace fixt in heavens hight;
And, beating at his gates full earnestly,
Gan call to him aloud with all their might
To know what meant that suddaine lack of light.
The Father of the gods, when this he heard.
Was troubled much at their so strange affright.
Doubting least Typhon were againe uprear'd.
Or other his old foes that once him sorely fear'd.
XVI.
Fftsoones the Sonne of Maia forth he sent
Downe to the circle of the Moone, to knowe
The cause of this so strange astonishment,
And why shee did her wonted course forslowe ;
And, if that any were on earth belowe
That did with charmes or magick her molest.
Him to attache, and downe to hell to throwe ;
But if from heaven it were, then to arrest
The author, and him bring before his presence prest.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 18
XVII.
The wingd-foot god so fast his plumes did beat.
That soone he came whereas the Titanesse
Was striving with faire Cynthia for her seat ;
At whose strange sight and haughty hardinesse
He wondred much, and feared her no lesse :
Yet, laying feare aside to doe his charge,
At last he bade her, with bold stedfastnesse,
Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at large,
Or come before high love her dooings to discharge.
XVIII.
And therewithal! he on her shoulder laid
His snaky-wreathed mace, whose awfull power
Doth make both gods and hellish fiends afFraid :
Whereat the Titanesse did sternely lower.
And stoutly answer'd ; That in evill hower
He from his love such message to her brought.
To bid her leave faire Cynthias silver bower;
Sith shee his love and him esteemed nought.
No more then Cynthias selfe ; but aU their kingdoms
sought.
XIX.
The heavens Herald staid not to reply.
But past away, his doings to relate
Unto his Lord; who now, in th' highest sky.
Was placed in his principall estate.
With all the gods about him congregate :
To whom when Hermes had his message told.
It did them all exceedingly amate, [^bold.
Save love; who, changing nought his count'nance
Did unto them at length these speeches wise unfold
184 THE FAERIE QUEENE. C<^'' ^l^-
i(
XX.
'•' ILirken to mee awhile, ye heavenly Powers .'
Ye may remember since th' Earths cursed seed
Sought to assaile the heavens eternall towers.
And to us all exceeding feare did breed;
But, how we then defeated all their deed,
Yee all doe knowe, and them destroied quite;
Yet not so quite, but that there did succ?eed
An off-spring of their blond, which did alite
Upon the fruitfuU earth, which doth us yet despite.
xxr.
Of that bad seed is this bold Woman bred.
That now with bold presumption doth aspire
To thrust faire Phoebe from her silver bed.
And eke ourselves from heavens high empire.
If that her might were match to her desire :
Wherefore it now behoves us to advise
What way is best to drive her to retire;
Whether by open force, or counsell wise :
^Vreed, ye Sonnes of God, as best ye can devise."
XXII.
So having said, he ceast; and with his brow
(His black eye-brow, whose doomefull dreaded beck
Is wont to wield the world unto his vow,
And even the highest powers of heaven to check,)
Made signe to them in their degrees to speake :
Who straight gan cast their counsell grave and wise.
iVIeanewhile th' Earths daughter, though she nought
did reck
Of Ilennes message, yet gan how advise
What course were best to take in this hot bold emprize-
C. vr.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 185
XXIII.
Eftsoones she thus resolv'd ; that whil'st the gods
(After returne of Hermes embassie)
Were troubled, and amongst themselves at ods ;
Before they could new counsels re-allie.
To set upon them in that extasie.
And take what fortune, time, and place would lend :
So forth she rose, and through the purest sky
To loves high palace straight cast to ascend.
To prosecute her plot : Good onset boads good end.
xxiv.
Shee there arriving boldly in did pass ;
Where all the gods she found in counsell close.
All quite unarm'd, as then their manner was.
At sight of her they suddaine all arose
In sreat amaze, ne wist what way to chose :
But love, all fearelesse, forc't them to aby;
And in his soveraine throne gan straight dispose
Himselfe, more full of grace and maiestie.
That mote encheare his friends, and foes mote terrifie.
XXV.
That when the haughty Titanesse beheld.
All were she fraught with pride and impudence.
Yet with the sight thereof was almost queld ;
And, inly quaking, seemld as reft of sense
And voyd of speech in that drad audience;
Untill that love himselfe herselfe bespake :
" Speake, thou fraile Woman, speake with confidence ;
Whence art thou, and what doost thou here now make?
What idle errand hast thou earths mansion to forsake?"
186 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []c. VI.
XXVI.
Shee, halfe confused with his great commaund^
Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride.
Him boldly answer'd thus to his demaund;
" I am a daughter, by the mothers side,
Of her that is grand-mother magnifide
Of all the gods, great Earth, great Chaos child :
But by the fathers, be it not envide,
I greater am in bloud, whereon I build.
Then all the gods, though wrongfully from heaven exil'd.
XXVII.
^' For Titan, as ye all acknowledge must,
Was Saturnes elder brother by birth-right;
Both sonnes of Uranus ; but by uniust
And guileful! meanes, through Corybantes slight.
The younger thrust the elder from his right :
Since which thou, love, iniuriously hast held
The heavens rule from Titans sonnes by might ;
And them to hellish dungeons downe hast feld:
Witnesse, ye heavens, the truth of all that I have teld!"
XXVIII.
Whil'st she thus spake, the gods that gave good eare
To her bold words, and marked well her grace,
(Beeing of stature tall as any there
Of all the gods, and beautifull of face
As any of the goddesses in place,)
Stood all astonied ; like a sort of steeres,
Mongst whom some beast of strahge and forraine race
Unwares is chaunc't, far straying from his peeres ;
80 did their ghastly gaze bewray their hidden feares.
Vi.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 187
XXIX.
Tillj having pauz'd awhile, love thus bespake ;
" Will never mortall thoughts ceasse to aspire
In this bold sort to heaven claime to make.
And touch celestiall seates with earthly mire ?
I would have thought that bold Procrustes hire.
Or Typhons fall, or proud Ixions paine.
Or great Prometheus tasting of our ire.
Would have suliiz'd the rest for to restraine.
And warn'd all men, by their example, to refraine :
XXX.
" But now this off-scum of that cursed fry
Dare to renew the like bold enterprize.
And chalenge th' heritage of this our skie ;
Whom what should hinder, but that we likewise
Should handle as the rest of her allies.
And thunder-drive to hell ?" With that, he shooke
His nectar-deawed locks, with which the skyes
And all the world beneath for terror quooke.
And eft his burning levin-brond in hand he tooke.
XXXI.
But when he looked on her lovely face.
In which faire beames of beauty did appeare
That could the greatest wrath soone turne to grace,
(Such sway doth beauty even in heaven beare,)
He staide his hand ; and, having chang'd his cheare^
He thus againe in milder wise began ;
" But ah ! if gods should strive with flesh yfere,
I Then shortly should the progeny of man
Be rooted out, if love should doe still what he can I
188 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c VI.
XXXII.
" But thee, faire Titans child, I rather weene,
Through some vaine errour, or inducement light,
To see that mortall eyes have never seene ;
Or through ensample of thy sisters might,
Bellona, whose great glory thou doost spight,
Since thou hast seene her dreadfull power belowe,
Mongst wretched men, dismaide with her affright,
To handle crownes, and kingdoms to bestowe :
And sure thy worth no lessethen hers doth seem to showe.
XXXIII.
" But wote thou this, thou hardy Titanesse,
That not the worth of any living wight
May challenge ought in heavens interesse ;
Much lesse the title of old Titans right :
For we by conquest, of our soveraine might.
And by eternall doome of Fates decree.
Have wonne the empire of the heavens bright ;
Which to ourselves we hold, and to whom wee
Shall worthy deeme partakers of our blisse to bee.
XXXIV.
" Then ceasse thy idle claim e, thou foolish gerle ;
And seeke by grace and goodnesse to obtaine
That place, from which by folly Titan fell ;
Thereto thou maist perhaps, if so thou faine.
Have love thy gracious Lord and Soveraigne."
So having said, she thus to him reply de ;
" Ceasse, Saturnes Sonne, to seeke by proffers vainc
Of idle hopes t' allure mee to thy side,
For to betray my right before I have it trido.
C VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 189
XXXV.
" But thee, O love, no equall iudge I deeme
Of my desert, or of my dewfull right ;
That in thine owne behalfe maist partiallseeme :
But to the highest him, that is behight
Father of gods and men by equall might,
To weet, the god of Nature, I appeale."
Thereat love wexed wroth, and in his spright
Did inly grudo-e, yet did it well conceale ;
And bade Dan Phoebus scribe her appellation seale.
XXXVI.
Efiaoones the time and place appointed were.
Where all, both heavenly powers and earthly wights.
Before great Natures presence should appeare.
For triall of their titles and best rights :
That was, to weet, upon the highest bights
Of Arlo-hill (who knowes not Arlo-hill?)
That is the highest head, in all mens sights.
Of my old father Mole, whom Shepheards quill
Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a rurall skill.
xxxvii.
And, were it not ill fitting for this file [^Knights,
To sing of hilles and woods mongst warres and
I would abate the sternenesse of my stile,
Mongst these sterne stounds to mingle soft delights ;
And tell how Arlo, through Dianaes spights,
(Beeing of old the best and fairest hill
That was in all this Holy-Islands hights,)
Was made the most unpleasant and most il] :
Meane while, O Clio, lend Calliope thy quill.
190 THE FAERIE QUEKNE. [|c. VI.
XXXVIII.
Whylome when Ireland florished in fame
Of wealth and goodnesse, far above the rest
Of all that beare the British Islands name.
The gods then us'd, for pleasure and for rest.
Oft to resort thereto, when seem'd them best :
But none of all therein more pleasure found
Then Cynthia, that is soveraine Queene profest
Of woods and forrests, which therein abound.
Sprinkled with wholsom waters more then most on
ground :
XXXIX.
But mongst them all, as fittest for her game,
(Either for chace of beasts with hound or bowe,
Or for to shroude in shade from Phcebus flame.
Or bathe in fountaines that doe freshly flowe
Or from high hilles, or from the dales belowe,)
She chose this Arlo ; where shee did resort
" With all her nymphes enranged on a rowe.
With whom the woody gods did oft consort ;
For with the nymphes the satyres love to play and sport :
XL.
Amongst the which there was a Nymph that higlit
Molanna ; daughter of old Father Mole,
And sister unto Mulla faire and bright:
Unto whose bed false Bregog whylome stole.
That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole.
And made her lucklesse loves well knowne to be :
But this Molanna, were she not so shole,
Were no lesse faire and beautifull then shee :
Yet, as she is, a fairer flood mav no man see.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 191
XLI
For first she springs out of two marble rocks.
On which a grove of oakes high-mounted growes.
That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks [^showes
Of some faire bride, brought forth with pompous
Out of her bowre, that many flowers strowes ;
So through the flowry dales she tumbling downe
Through many woods and shady coverts flowes.
That on each side her silver channell crowne,
Till to the plaine she come, whose valleyes shee doth
drowne.
XLII.
In her sweet streames Diana used oft,
After her sweatie chace and toilesome play.
To bathe herselfe ; and, after, on the soft
And downy grasse her dainty limbes to lay
In covert shade, where none behold her may ;
For much she hated sight of living eye:
Foolish god Faunus, though full many a day
He saw her clad, yet longed foolishly
To see her naked mongst her nymphes in privity.
XLIII.
No way he found to compasse his desire.
But to corrupt Molanna, this her Maid,
Her to discover for some secret hire :
So her with flattering words he first assaid ;
And, after, pleasing gifts for her purvaid,
Queene-apples, and red cherries from the tree.
With which he her allured and betraid
To tell what time he might her Lady see
When she herselfe did bathe, that he might secret bee.
192 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VI.
XLIV.
Thereto liee promist, if she would him pleasure
With this small boone, to quit her with a better ;
To weet, that whereas shee had out of measure
Long lov'd the Fanchin, who by nought did set her,
That he would undertake for this to set her ■
To be his Love^, and of him liked well :
Besides all which, he vow'd to be her debter
For many moe good turnes then he would tell ;
The least of which this little pleasure should excel).
XLV.
The simple Maid did yield to him anone ;
And eft him placed where he close might view-
That never any saw, save onely one,
Who, for his hire to so foole-hardy dew.
Was of his hounds devour'd in hunters hew.
Tho, as her manner was on sunny day,
Diana, with her nymphes about her, drew
To this sweet spring; where, doffing her array.
She bath'd her lovely limbes, for love a likely pray.
XLVI.
There Faunus saw that pleased much his eye,
And made his hart to tickle in his brest.
That, for great ioy of somewhat he did spy.
He could him not containe in silent rest ;
But, breaking forth in laughter, loud profest
His foolish thought : a foolish Faune indeed,
That couldst not hold thyselfe so hidden blest,
But would est needs thine owne conceit areed !
Babblers unworthy been of so divine a meed.
C. A'l.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 193
XLVII.
The Goddesse, all abashed with that noise.
In haste forth started from the guilty brooke ;
And, running straight whereas she heard his voice.
Enclosed the bush about, and there hiin tooke
Like darred larke, not daring up to looke
On her whose sight before so much he sought.
Thence forth they drew him by the homes, and shooke
Nigh all to peeces, that they left him nought ;
And then into the open light they forth him brought.
XLVIII.
Like as an huswife, that with busie care
Thinks of her dairie to make wondrous gaine.
Finding whereas some wicked beast unware
That breakes into her dayr' house, there doth draine
Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all her paine;
Hath, in some snare or gin set close behind.
Entrapped him, and caught into her traine.
Then thinkes what punishment were best assign'd,
And thousand deathes deviseth in her vengefull mind :
XLIX.
So did Diana and her maydens all
Use silly Faunus, now within their baile :
They mocke and scorne him, and him foule miscall ;
Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the taile.
And by his goatish beard some did him haile :
Yet he (poore soule !) with patience all did beare ;
For nought against their wils might counter vaile :
Ne ought he said, whatever he did heare ;
But, hanging downe his head, didlikeamome appeare
VOL. IV. o
194 THE FABRIE QUEENE. [c. VI.
At length, when they had flouted him their fill,
They gan to cast what penaunce him to give.
Some would have gelt him ; but that same would spill
The wood-gods breed, which must for ever live :
Others would through the river him have drive
And ducked deepe ; but that seem'd penaunce light :
But most agreed, and did this sentence give.
Him in deares skin to clad ; and in that plight
To hunt him with their hounds, himselfe save how hee
might.
LI.
But Cynthia's selfe, more angry then the rest,
Thought not enough to punish him in sport,
And of her shame to make a gamesome iest ;
But gan examine him in straighter sort.
Which of her nymphes, or other close consort.
Him thither brought, and her to him betraid.
He, much affeard, to her confessed short
That 'twas Molanna which her so bewraid.
Then all attonce their hands upon Molanna laid.
LII.
But him (according as they had decreed)
With a deeres-skin they covered, and then chast
With all their hounds that after him did speed ;
But he, more speedy, from them fled more fast
Then any deere ; so sore him dread aghast.
They after follow'd all with shrill out-cry,
Shouting as they the heavens would have brast ;
That all the woods and dales, where he did flie,
Did ring againe, and loud reeccho to the skie.
C. VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 195
LIII.
So they him foUow'd till they weary were ;
When, back returning to Molann' againe,
They, by commaund'ment of Diana, there
Her whelm'd with stones : Yet Faunus, for her paine,
Of her beloved Fanchin did obtaine.
That her he would receive unto his bed.
So now her waves passe through a pleasant plaine.
Till with the Fanchin she herselfe doe wed.
And, both combin'd, themselves in one faire river spred.
LIV.
Nathlesse Diana, full of indignation.
Thenceforth abandond her delicious brooke;
In whose sweete streame, before that bad occasion.
So much delight to bathe her limbes she tooke :
Ne onely her, but also quite forsooke
All those faire forrests about Arlo hid ;
And all that mountaine, which doth overlooke
The richest champian that may else be rid ;
And the faire Shure, in which are thousand salmons lired.
LV.
Them all, and all that she so deare did way.
Thenceforth she left; and, parting from the place.
Thereon an heavy haplesse curse did lay ;
To weet, that wolves, where she was wont to space,
Shou'd harbour'd be and all those woods deface.
And thieves should rob and spoile that coast around.
Since which, those woods, and all that goodly chase
Doth to this day with wolves and thieves abound :
Which too-too true that lands in-dwellers since have
found ! ^
o 2
196 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VII.
€ANTO VII.
Pealing from love to Natures bar.
Bold Alteration pleades
Large evidence : but Nature soone
Her righteous doome areads.
I.
Ah ! whither doost thou now, thou greater Muse^,
Me from these woods and pleasing forrests bring ?
And my fraile spirit, that dooth oft refuse
This too high flight unfit for her weake wing.
Lift up aloft, to tell of heavens king
(Thy soveraine Sire) his fortunate successe;
And victory in bigger noates to sing.
Which he obtain'd against that Titanesse,
That him of heavens empire sought to dispossesse ?
II.
Yet, sith I needs must follow thy behest.
Doe thou my weaker wit with skill inspire,
Fit for this turne; and in my sable brest
Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire
Which learned minds inflameth with desire
Of heavenly things : for who, but thou alone
Tliat art yborne of heaven and heavenly Sire,
Can tell things doen in heaven so long ygone.
So farre ])ast memory of man that may be knowne ?
C. VII.] THE FAERIK QUEENE- 197
III.
'Now, at the time that was before agreed^
The gods assembled all on Arlo Hill ;
As well those that are sprung of heavenly seed,
As those that all the other world doe fill.
And rule both sea and land unto their will :
Onely th' infernall powers might not appeare ;
As well for horror of their count'naunce ill.
As for th' unruly fiends which they did feare ;
Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present there,
IV.
And thither also came all other creatures.
Whatever life or motion doe retaine.
According to their sundry kinds of features;
That Arlo scarsly could them all containe ;
So full they filled every hill and plaine :
And had not Natures Sergeant (that is Order)
Them well disposed by his busie paine.
And raunged farre abroad in every border.
They would have caused much confusion and disorder.
V.
Then forth issew'd (great Goddesse) great Dame Nature
With goodly port and gracious maiesty.
Being far greater and more tall of stature
Then any of the gods or powers on hie ;
Yet certes by her face and physnomy.
Whether she man or woman inly were.
That could not any creature well descry;
For, with a veile that wimpled every where>
Her head and face was hid that mote to none appeare.
198 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. Vli.
VI.
That, some doe say, was so by skill devized.
To hide the terror of her uncouth hew
From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized;
For that her face did like a lion shew.
That eye of wight could not indure to view:
But others tell that it so beautious was.
And round about such beames of splendor threw.
That it the sunne a thousand times did pass,
Ne could be seene but like an image in a glass.
VII.
That well may seemen true ; for well I weene
That this same day, when she on Arlo sat.
Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene.
That my fraile wit cannot devize to what
It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that :
As those three sacred saints, though else most wise,
Yet on Mount Thabor quite their wits forgat.
When they their glorious Lord in strange disguise
Transfigur'd sawe ; his garments so did daze their eyes.
VIII.
In a fayre plaine upon an equall hill
She placed was in a pavilion ;
Not such as craftesmen by their idle skill
Are wont for princes states to fashion ;
But th' Earth herself, of her owne motion.
Out of her fruitfull bosome m.ade to srowe
Most dainty trees, that, shooting up anon.
Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full lowc
For homage unto her, and like a throne did shew.
VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 199
IX.
So hard it is for any living wight
All her array and vestiments to tell.
That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright.
The pure well-head of poesie did dwell)
In his Foules parley durst not with it mell;,
But it transferd to Alane, who he thought
Had in his Plaint of kindes described it weU :
Which who will read set forth so as it ought.
Go seek he out that Alane where he may be sought.
X. —
And all the earth far underneath her feete
Was dight with flowers, that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet ;
Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and hew.
That might delight the smell, or please the view.
The which the nymphes from all the brooks thereby
Had gathered, they at her foot-stoole threw;
That richer seem'd then any tapestry.
That princes bowres adorne with painted imagery.
XI.
And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more^
Did deck himself in freshest faire attire ;
And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore
With hardned frosts of former winters ire.
He with an oaken girlond now did tire.
As if the love of some new nymph late scene
Had in him kindled youthfuU fresh desire.
And made him change his gray attire to greene :
Ah ! gentle Mole, such ioyance hath thee well beseene.
200
THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VII.
XII.
Was never so great ioyance since the day
That all the gods whylome assembled were
On Hscmus hill in their divine array ;,
To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare
Twixt Peleus and Dame Thetis pointed there ;
Where Phoebus self, that god of poets hight.
They say, did sing the spousall hymne full cleere-
That all the gods were ravisht with delight
Of his celestiall song and musicks wondrous might.
XIII.
This great Grandmother of all creatures bred.
Great Nature, ever young, yet full of eld ;
Still mooving, yet unmoved from her sted ;
Unseene of any, yet of all beheld ;
Thus sitting in her throne, as I have teld.
Before her came Dame Mutabilitie ;
And, being lowe before her presence feld
With meek obaysance and humilitie.
Thus gan her plaintif plea with words to ampliiie ;
XIV.
" To thee, O greatest Goddesse, onely great.
An humble sup])liant loe ! I lowely fly.
Seeking for right, which I of thee entreat;
Who right to all dost deale indiflferently.
Damning all wrong and tortious iniuric.
Which any of thy creatures doe to other
Oppressing them with power unequally,
Sith of them all thou art the equall mother,
And knittest each to each, as brother unto brother:
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 201
XV.
'• To thee therefore of this same love I plaine.
And of his fellow gods that faine to be.
That challenge to themselves the whole worlds raign,
Of which the greatest part is due to me.
And heaven itselfe by heritage in fee :
For heaven and earth I both alike do deeme,
Sith heaven and earth are both alike to thee ;
And gods no more then men thou doest esteeme :
For even the gods to thee, as men to gods, do seeme.
XVI.
" Then weigh, O soveraigne Goddesse, by what right
These gods do claime the worlds whole soverainty;
And that is onely dew unto my might
Arrogate to themselves ambitiously:
As for the gods owne principality.
Which love usurpes uniustly, that to be
My heritage, love's selfe cannot deny.
From my great grandsire Titan unto mee
Deriv'd by dew descent; as is well known to thee.
XVII.
" Yet mauger love, and all his gods beside,
I doe possesse the worlds most regiment ;
As if ye please it into parts divide.
And every parts inholders to convent.
Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent.
And first, the Earth (great mother of us all)
That only seems unmov'd and permanent.
And unto Mutability not thrall.
Yet is she chang'd in part, and eeke in generall :
202 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VII,
XVIII.
" For all that from her springs, and is ybredde.
However fayre it flourish for a time.
Yet see we soone decay ; and, being dead.
To turne again unto their earthly slime :
Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime.
We daily see new creatures to arize.
And of their Winter spring another Prime,
Unlike in forme, and chang'd by strange disguise:
So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.
XIX.
*' As for her tenants ; that is, man and beasts ;
The beasts we daily see massacred dy
As thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts ;
And men themselves doe change continually.
From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty.
From good to bad, from bad to worst of all :
Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly ;
But eeke their minds (which they immortall call)
Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.
XX.
"^ Ne is the Water in more constant case ;
Whether those same on high, or these belowe :
For th' ocean moveth still from place to place ;
And every river still doth ebbe and flowe;
Ne any lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde
When any winde doth under heaven blowe ;
With which the clouds are also tost and roll'd.
Now like great hills ; and streight, like sluces, them
unfold.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. ^OS
XXI.
" So likeAvise are all watry living wights
Still tost and turned with continuall change.
Never abyding in their stedfast plights :
The fish, still fioting, doe at randon range,
And never rest, but evermore exchange
Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie :
Ne have the watry foules a certaine grange
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry ;
But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.
XXII.
" Next is the Ayre : which who feeles not by sense
(For of all sense it is the middle meane)
To flit still, and with subtill influence
Of his thin spirit all creatures to maintaine
In state of life ? O weake life ! that does leane
On thing so tickle as th' unsteady Ayre,
Which every howre is chang'd, and altred cleane
With every blast that bloweth fowle or faire :
The faire doth it prolong ; the fowle doth it impaire.
XXIII.
" Therein the changes infinite beholde.
Which to her creatures every minute chaunce ;
Now boyling hot ; streight friezing deadly cold ;
Now faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce :
Streight bitter storms, and balefull countenance
That makes them all to shiver and to shake :
Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance.
And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake)
With flames and flashing lights that thousand changes
make.
204 THE FAERIE QUEENE. |~C. VII.
XXIV.
'^ Last is the Fire ; which, though it live for ever,
Ne can be quenched quite ; yet, every day.
We see his parts, so soone as they do sever.
To lose their heat and shortly to decay ;
So makes himself his owne consuming pray :
Ne any living creatures doth he breed ;
But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay ;
And with their death his cruell life dooth feed ;
Nought leaving but their barren ashes without seede.
XXV.
'' Thus all these Fower (the which the groundwork bee
Of all the world and of all living wights)
To thousand sorts of change we subject see:
Yet are they chang'd by other wondrous slights
Into themselves, and lose their native mights ;
The Fire to Aire, and th' Ayre to Water sheere.
And Water into Earth ; yet Water fights
With Fire, and Aire with Earth, approaching neere ;
Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare.
XXVI.
" So in them all raignes Mutabilitie ;
However these, that gods themselves do call.
Of them doe claime the rule and soverainty ;
As Vesta, of the fire aethereall ;
Vulcan, of this with us so usuall ;
Ops, of the earth ; and luno, of the ayre ;
Neptune, of seas ; and Nymphes, of rivers all :
For all those rivers to me subiect are ;
And all the rest, which they usurp, be all my share.
VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 205
XXVII.
" Which to approven true, as I have told.
Vouchsafe, O Goddesse, to thy presence call
The rest which doe the world in being hold ;
As Times and Seasons of the yeare that fall :
Of all the which demand in generall.
Or iudge thyselfe, by verdit of thine eye.
Whether to me they are not subiect all."
Nature did yeeld thereto ; and by-and-by
Bade Order call them all before her Maiesty.
XXVIII.
So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare :
First, lusty Spring all dight in leaves of flowres
That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare.
In which a thousand bitds had built their bowres
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours ;
And in his hand a iavelin he did beare.
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engraven morion he did weare ;
That as some did him love, so others did him feare.
XXIX.
Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene.
That was unlyned all, to be more light :
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, from which as he had chauffed been
The sweat did drop ; and in his hand he bore
A bowe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunted late the libbard or the bore.
And now would bathe his limbes with labor heated sore.
206 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [c. VII.
XXX.
Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad.
As though he ioyed in his plentious store.
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore :
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore ;
And in his hand a sickle he did holde.
To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.
XXXI.
Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in frize.
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill ;
Whil'st on his hoary beard his breath did freese.
And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distill :
In his right hand a tipped stafFe he held.
With which his feeble steps he stayed still;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld ;
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.
XXXII.
These, marching softly, thus in order went.
And after them the Monthes all riding came :
First, sturdy March, with brows full sternly bent
And armed strongly, rode upon a Ram,
The same which over Hellespontus swam ;
Yet in his hand a spade he also hent.
And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,
Which on the earth he strowed as he went.
And fild her womb with fruitful! ho]ie of nourishment.
C. Vri.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 207
XXXIII.
Next came fresh Aprill, full of lustyhed.
And wanton as a kid whose home new buds :
Upon a Bull he rode^, the same which led
Europa floting through th' Argolick fluds:
His homes were gilden all with golden studs.
And garnished with garlonds goodly dight
Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds [[sight
Which th' earth brings forth ; and wet he seem'd in
With waves, through which he waded for his Loves
delight.
XXXIV.
Then came faire May, the fayrest Mayd on ground,
Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde.
And throwing flowres out of her lap around : ,
Upon two Brethrens shoulders she did ride.
The Twinnes of Leda ; which on eyther side
Supported her like to their soveraine queene:
Lord ! how all creatures laught when her they spide,
And leapt and daunc't as they had ravisht beene !
And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.
XXXV.
And after her came iolly lune, arrayd
All in greene leaves, as he a player were ;
Yet in his time he wrought as well as playd.
That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare :
Upon a Crab he rode, that him did beare
With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase.
And backward yode, as bargemen wont to fare
Bending their force contrary to their face ;
Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest grace.
!
208 THE TAERIE QUEENE. [_C. VII.
XXXVI.
Then came hot luly boyling like to fire.
That all his garments he had cast away :
Upon a Lyon raging yet with ire
He boldly rode;, and made him to obay :
(It was the beast that whylome did forray
The Nemsean forrest, till th' Amphytrionide
Him slew, and with his hide did him array :)
Behinde his backe a sithe, and by his side
Under his belt he bore a sickle circling wide.
XXXVII.
The sixt was August, being rich arrayd
In garment all of gold downe to the ground :
Yet rode he not, but led a lovely ]\Iayd
Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround
With eares of corne, and full her hand was found :
That was the righteous Virgin, which of old
Liv'd here on earth, and plenty made abound ;
But, after Wrong was lov'd and lustice solde,
She left th' unrighteous world, and was to heaven extold.
xxxviii.
Next him September marched eeke on foote ;
Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle
Of harvests riches, which he made his boot,
And him enricht with bounty of the soyle :
In his one hand, as fit for harvests toyle,
He held a knife-hook ; and in th' other hand
A Paire of Waights, with which he did assoyle
Both more and lesse, whore it in dou])t did stand.
And pquall gave to each as lustice duly scann'd.
C. VII.J THE FAERIK QUEENE. 209
XXXIX.
Then came October full of merry glee ;
For yet his noule was totty of the must.
Which he was treading in the wine-fats see.
And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust
Made him so froUick and so full of lust :
Upon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride.
The same Avhich by Dianaes doom uniust
Slew great Orion ; and eeke by his side
He had his ploughing-share and coulter ready tyde.
XL.
Next was November ; he full grosse and fat
As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme ;
For he had been a fatting hogs of late.
That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steem,
And yet the season was full sharp and breem ;
In planting eeke he took no small delight:
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme ;
For it a dreadfull Centaure was in sight.
The seed of Saturne and faire Nais^ Chiron hight.
XLI.
And after him came next the chill December:
Yet he, through merry feasting which he made
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember ;
His Saviours birth his mind so much did glad:
Upon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode.
The same wherewith Dan love in tender yeares.
They say, was nourisht by th' Igean Mayd ;
And in his hand a broad deepe bowle he beares,
' Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.
VOL.. IV. . p
210 THE FAERIE QUEENE. fc VII.
XLII.
Then came old lanuary-;, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away ;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may ;
For they were numbd with holding all the day
An hatchet keene^, with which he felled wood
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray;
Upon an huge great Earth-pot Steane he stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane
Flood.
XLIII.
And lastly came cold February, sitting
In an old wagon, for he could not ride,
Drawne of two Fishes for the season fitting.
Which through the flood before did softly slyde
And swim away ; yet had he by his side
His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground.
And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round.
So past the Twelve Months forth, and their dew places
found.
XL IV.
And after these there came the Day and Night,
Riding together both with equall pase;
Th' one on a palfrey blacke, the other white :
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace.
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight.
And Sleep and Darknesse round about did trace :
But Day did beare upon his scepters hight
The goodly sun encompast all with beamcs bright.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 2\l
XLV.
Then came the Howres, faire daughters of high love
And timely Night; the v.hich were all endewed
With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love;
But they were virgins all;, and love eschewed
That might forslack the charge to them foreshewed
By mighty love ; who did them porters make
Of heavens gate (whence all the gods issued)
Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake
By even turnes, ne ever did their charge forsake.
XLVI.
And after all came Life ; and lastly Death :
Death with most grim and griesly visage seene.
Yet is he nought but parting of the breath ;
Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene.
Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene :
But Life was like a faire young lusty boy.
Such as they faine Dan Cupid to have beene.
Full of delightfuU health and lively ioy,
Deckt all with flowres and wings of gold fit to employ.
XLVII.
When these were past, thus gan the Titanesse ;
" Lo ! mighty Mother, now be iudge, and say
Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse
Change doth not raigii andbeare the greatest sway
For who sees not that Time on all doth pray ?
But times do change and move continually :
So nothing here long standeth in one stay:
Wherefore this lower world who can deny
But to be subiect still to Mutabilitie .^"
p 2
212 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []c. VII.
XLVIII.
Then thus gan love ; '' Right true it is, that these
And all things else that under heaven dwell
Are chaung'd of Time, who doth them all disseise
Of being : But who is it (to me tell)
That Time himselfe doth move and still compell
To keepe his course ? Is not that namely Wee,
Which poure that vertue from our heavenly cell
That moves them all, and makes them changed be ?
So them We gods doe rule, and in them also Thee."
XLIX.
To whom thus Mutability ; " The things.
Which we see not how they are mov'd and swayd.
Ye may attribute to yourselves as kings.
And say, they by your secret power are made :
But what we see not, who shall us perswade ?
But were they so, as ye them faine to be,
Mov'd by your might, and ordered by your ayde.
Yet what if I can prove, that even Yee
Yourselves are likewise chang'd, and subiect unto Mee.**
L.
^' And first, concerning her that is the first.
Even you, faire Cynthia ; whom so much ye make
loves dearest darling, she was bred and nurst
On Cynthus hill, whence she her name did take ;
Then is she mortall borne, howso ye crake :
Besides, her face and countenance every day
- We changed see and sundry forms partake, \_g^^y '
Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and
So that as changrfvU as the mooue men use to say.
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 213
LT.
" Next Mercury ; who tliougli he lesse appeare
To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one;
Yet he his course doth alter every yeare.
And is of late far out of order gone :
So Venus eeke, that goodly paragone,
Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day r
And Phoebus self, who lightsome is alone.
Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way.
And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.
EII.
*' Now Mars, that valiant man, is changed most ;
For he sometimes so far runs out of square.
That he his way doth seem quite to have lost.
And cleane without his usuall sphere to fare ;
That even these star-gazers stonisht are
At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes:
So likewise grim Sir Saturne oft doth spare
His Sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes :
So many turning cranks these have, so many crookes.
Liri.
" But you, Dan love, that only constant are.
And king of all the rest, as ye do clame.
Are you not subject eeke to this misfare?
Then let me aske you this withouten blame ;
Where were ye borne? Some say in Crete by name.
Others in Thebes, and others otherwhere ;
But, wheresoever they comment the same.
They all consent that ye begotten were
And borne here in this world ; ne other can appeare.
iJl4 THE FAERIE QUIIENE. j^C. VII.
(e
lAV.
'' Then are ye mortall bornC;, and thrall to Me ;
Unlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make
Immortall and unchangeable to be :
Besides^, that power and vertue, which ye spakC;,
That ye here worke, doth many changes take.
And your owne natures change : for each of you.
That vertue have or this or that to make.
Is checkt and changed from his nature trew.
By others opposition or obliquid view.
LV.
Besides, the sundry motions of your spheares.
So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine.
Some in short space, and some in longer yeares ;
What is the same but Alteration plaine ?
Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine :
Yet do the starres and signes therein still move.
And even itself is mov'd, as wizards saine :
But all that moveth doth IVIutation love :
Therefore both you and them to Me I subiect prove.
LVI.
^' Then since within this wide great Universe
Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare.
But all things tost and turned by transverse;
What then should let, but I aloft should reare
My trophee, and from all the triumph beare }
Now iudge then, O thou greatest Goddesse trew,
According as thyselfe doest see and heare.
And unto me addoom that is my dew ;
That is, the Rule of all ; all being rul'd by You."
C. VII.] THE FAERIE QUEKNE. 2\ 5
LVII.
So having ended, silence long ensewed ;
Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space.
But with firme eyes affixt the ground still viewed.
Meane while all creatures, looking in her face.
Expecting th' end of this so doubtfull case.
Did hang in long suspence what would ensew.
To whether side should fall the soveraigne place :
At length she, looking up with chearefull view.
The silence brake, and gave her doome in speeches few :
LVIII.
• '' I well consider all that ye have sayd ;
And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate
And changed be; yet, being rightly wayd.
They are not changed from their first estate ;
But by their change their being doe dilate ;
And, turning to themselves at length againe.
Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate ;
Then over them Change doth not rule and raigne ;
But they raigne over Change, and doe their states
maintaine.
LIX.
• Cease therefore. Daughter, further to aspire.
And thee content thus to be rul'd by Me :
For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire :
But time shall come that all shall changed bee.
And from thenceforth none no more change shall see !"
So was the Titaness put downe and whist.
And love confirm'd in his imperiall see.
Then was that whole assembly quite dismist,
[ And Natures selfe did vanish, whither no man wist.
216 THE FAERIE QUEENE. []c. VIII.
The VIIIth CANTO, unperfite.
I I.
When I bethinke me on that speech whyleare
Of Mutability, and well it way ;
Me seemes, that though she all unworthy were
Of the heav'ns rule ; yet, very sooth to say.
In all things else she bears the greatest sway:
Which makes me loath this state of life so tickle.
And love of things so vaine to cast away ;
Whose fiowring pride, so fading and so fickle.
Short Time shall soon cut down with his consuming
sickle !
It.
Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd.
Of that same time when no more change shall be,
But stedfast rest of all things, firmely stayd
Upon the pillours of Eternity,
That is contrayr to Mutabilitie :
For all that moveth doth in change delight :
But thenceforth all shall rest eternally
With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight :
O! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that Sabbaths
sight !
* * ^ 1^ * •
I
MISCELLANIES.
COLIN CLOUTS
COME HOME AGAINE.
BY ED. SP.
1595.
TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND NOBLE KNIGHT
SIR WALTER RALEIGH,
CAPTAINE OF HER MAIESTIES GUARD, LORD WARDEIN
OF THE STANNERIES, AND LIEUTENANT OF
THE COUNTIE OF CORNWALL.
Sir,
That you may see that I am not alwaies ydle as
yee thinke, though not greatly well occupied, nor al-
togither undutifull, though not precisely officious, I
make you present of this simple Pastorall, unworthie
of your higher conceipt for the meanesse of the stile,
but agreeing with the truth in circumstance and matter.
The which I humbly beseech you to accept in part of
paiment of the infinite debt, in which I acknowledge
my selfe bounden unto you for your singular favours,,
and sundrie good turnes, shewed to me at my late
being in England ; and with your good countenance
protect against the malice of evill mouthes, which are
alwaies wide open to carpe at and misconstrue my
simple meaning. I pray continually for your hap-
pinesse. From my house of Kilcolman, the 27. of
December.
1591. [rather perhaps 1595.]
Yours ever humbly,
Ed. Sp.
COLIN CLOUTS
COME HOME AGAINE.
i HE shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
That after Tityrus first sung his lay^
Laies of sweet love, without rebuke or blame.
Sate (as his custome was) upon a day.
Charming his oaten pipe unto his peres, 5
The shepheard swaines that did about him play:
Who all the while, with greedie listfull eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill.
Like hartlesse deare, dismayd with thunders sound.
At last, when as he piped had his fill, 10
He rested him : and, sitting then around.
One of those groomes (a ioUy groome was he.
As ever piped on an oaten reed.
And lov'd this shepheard dearest in degree,
Hight Hobbinol;) gan thus to him areed. 15
'' Colin, my liefe, my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke !
And I, poore swaine, of many, greatest crosse !
That, sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
222 COLIN CLOUTS
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye, 20
Hast made us all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lie :
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe.
And all their birds with silence to complaine :
The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne, 25
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine :
The running waters wept for thy returne.
And all their fish with lan";uour did lament :
But now both woods and fields and floods revive,
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment, 30
That us, late dead, hast made againe alive :
But were it not too painefull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to us to tell." 35
To whom the shepheard gently answered thus ;
" Hobbin, thou temptest me to that I covet :
For of good passed newly to discus.
By dubble usurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie, 40
Her worlds bright sun, her heavens fairest light.
My mind, full of my thoughts satietie.
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight :
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling have in any earthly pleasure, 45
But in remembrance of that glory bright.
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then, my pipe ; my sleepie INIuse, awake ;
Till I have told her praises lasting long :
COME HOME AGAINE. 222
Hobbin desires^, thou maist it not forsake ; — 50
Harke theii;, ye iolly shepheards, to my song."
With that they all gan throng about him neare.
With hungrie eares to heare his harmonie :
The whiles their flocks, devoyd of dangers feare,
Did round about them feed at libertie. 55
'' One day (quoth he) I sat (as was my trade)
Under the foote of Mole^, that mountaine hore.
Keeping my sheepe amongst the cooly shade
Of the greene alders by the MuUaes shore :
There a straunge shepheard chaunst to find me out^ 60
Whether allured with my pipes delight.
Whose pleasing sound yshrilled far about.
Or thither led by chaunce, I know not right :
Whom when I asked from what place he came.
And how he hight, himselfe he did ycleepe ^5
The Shepheard of the Ocean by name.
And said he came far from the main-sea deepe.
He, sitting me beside in that same shade.
Provoked me to plaie some pleasant fit ;
And, when he heard the musicke which I made, 70
He found himselfe full greatly pleasd at it :
Yet, semuling my pipe, he tooke in bond
My pipe, before that asmuled of many.
And plaid theron ; (for well that skill he cond ;)
Himselfe as skilfull in that art as any. 75
He pip'd, I sung ; and, when he sung, I piped ;
By chaunge of turnes, each making other mery ;
Neither envying other, nor envied.
So piped we, untill we both were weary."
224 COLIN CLOUTS
There interrupting him^, a bonie svvaine, 80
That Cuddy hight, him thus atweene bespake :
^' And, should it not thy readie course restraine;,
I would request thee, Colin, for my sake,
To tell what thou didst sing, when he did plaie ;
For well I weene it worth recounting was, / 85
Whether it were some hymne, or morall laie.
Or carol made to praise thy loved lasse."
" Nor of my love, nor of my lasse, (quoth he,)
I then did sing, as then occasion fell :
For love had me forlorne, forlorne of me, 90
That made me in that desart choose to dwell.
But of my river Bregogs love I soong.
Which to the shiny Mulla he did beare.
And yet doth beare, and ever will, so long
As water doth within his bancks appeare." 95
'' Of fellowship (said then that bony Boy)
Record to us that lovely lay againe :
The staie whereof shall nought these eares annoy.
Who all that Colin makes do covet faine."
" Heare then (quoth he) the tenor of my tale, 100
In sort as I it to that shepheard told :
No leasing new, nor grand ams fable stale.
But auncient truth confirm'd with credence old.
" Old father Mole, (Mole hight that mountain gray
That walls the northside of Armulla dale ;) 1 05
He had a daughter fresh as floure of May,
Which gave that name unto that j)leasant vale ;
Mulla, the daughter of old Mole, so hight
The Nimph. which of that water course has charge,
COME HOME AGAINE. 225
That, springing out of Mole, doth run downe right 110
To Buttevant, where, spreading forth at large,
It giveth name unto that auncient Cittie,
Which Kilneniullah cleped is of old ;
AVhose ragged ruines breed great ruth and pittie
To travailers, which it from far behold. 115
Full faine she lov'd, and was belov'd full faine
Of her owne brother river, Bregog hight.
So hight because of this deceitfull traine.
Which he with MuUa wrought to win delight.
But her old sire more carefull of her good, 120
And meaning her much better to preferre.
Did thinke to match her with the neighbour flood.
Which Alio hight. Broad- water called far re ;
And ^^Tought so well with his continuall paine.
That he that river for his daughter wonne: 125
The dowre agreed, the day assigned plaine.
The place appointed where it should be doone.
Nath'lesse the Nymph her former liking held ;
For love will not be drawne, but must be ledde ;
And Bregog did so well her fancie weld, 130
That her good will he got her first to wedde.
But for her father, sitting still on hie.
Did warily still watch which way she went,
And eke from far observ'd, with iealous eie.
Which way his course the wanton Bregog bent ; 135
Him to deceive, for all his watchfull ward.
The wily lover did devise this slight :
First into many parts his streame he shar'd.
That, whilest the one was watcht, the other might
VOL. IV. Q
226 COLIN CLOUTS
Passe unespide to meete her by the way; 140
And theiij besides^ those little streames so broken
He under ground so closely did convay^
That of their passage doth appeare no token.
Till they into the Mullaes water slide.
So secretly did he his love enioy: 145
Yet not so secret, but it was descride,
And told her father by a shepheards boy.
Who, wondrous wroth for that so foule despight,
In great avenge did roll downe from his hill
Huge mightie stones, the which encomber might 150
His passage, and his water-courses spill.
So of a River, which he was of old.
He none was made, but scattred all to nought ;
And, lost emong those rocks into him rold.
Did lose his name : so deare his love he bought." 155
Which having said, him Thestylis bespake ;
"^ Now by my life this was a mery lay,
Worthie of Colin selfe, that did it make.
But read now eke, of friendship I thee pray.
What dittie did that other shepbeard sing: 160
For I do covet most the same to heare.
As men use most to covet forreine thing."
" That shall I eke (quoth he) to you declare :
His song was all a lamentable lay
Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard, 165
Of Cynthia the Ladie of the Sea,
Wliich from her presence faultlesse him debard.
And ever and anon, with singulfs rife.
He cryed out, to make his undersong ;
COME HOME AGAINE. 227
All ! my loves queene, and goddesse of my life^ 170
Who shall me plttie, Avheii thou doest me wrong ?"
Then gan a gentle bonylasse to speake.
That i\Iarin hight ; '' Right well he sure did plaine.
That could great Cynthiaes sore displeasure breake.
And move to take him to her grace againe. 1 75
But tell on further, Colin, as befell
Twixt him and thee, that thee did hence dissuade."
'' When thus our pipes we both had wearied well,
(Quoth he) and each an end of singing made.
He gan to cast great lyking to my lore, 180
And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot.
That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore.
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot.
The which to leave, theilceforth he counseld mee.
Unmeet for man, in whom was ought regardfull, 1 85
And wend with him, his Cynthia to see ;
Whose grace was great, and bounty most rewardfull.
Besides her peerlesse skill in making well.
And all the ornaments of wondrous wit.
Such as all womankynd did far excell; 190
Such as the world admyr'd, and praised it :
So what with hope of good, and hate of ill.
He me perswaded forth with him to fare.
Nought tooke I with me, but mine oaten quill ;
Small needments else need shepheard to prepare. 1 95
So to the sea we came ; the sea, that is
A world of waters heaped up on hie.
Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse.
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie."
Q 2
228 « COLIN CLOUTS
'• And is the sea (quoth Coridon) so fearfull?" 200
'' Fearful much more (quoth he) then hart can fear :
Thousand wyld beasts with deep mouthes gaping direfull
Therin stil wait poore passengers to teare.
Who life doth loath, and longs death to behold.
Before he die, alreadie dead with feare, 205
And yet would live with heart halfe stonie cold.
Let him to sea, and he shall see it there.
And yet as ghastly dreadfull, as it seemes,
Bold men, presuming life for gaine to sell.
Dare tempt that gulf, and in those wandring stremes
Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to hell. 211
For, lis we stood there waiting on the strond,
Behold, an huge great vessell to us came,
Dauncing upon the waters back to lond.
As if it scornd the daunger of the same ; 215
Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile,
Glewed togither with some subtile matter.
Yet had it armes and wings, and head and taile.
And life to move it selfe upon the water.
Strange thing! how bold and swift the monster was, 220
That neither car'd for wynd, nor haile, nor raine.
Nor swelling waves, but thorough them did passe
So proudly, that she made them roare againe.
The same aboord us gently did receave.
And without harme us farre away did beare, 225
So farre that land, our mother, us did leave.
And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare.
Then hartelesse quite, and full of inward feare,
That shepheard I besought to me to tell.
I
COME komp: againe. 229
Under what skie, or in what world we were, 230
In which I saw no living people dwell.
WhO;, me recomforting all that he might.
Told me that that same was the Regiment
Of a great shepheardesse^ that Cynthia hight,
His liege, his Ladie, and his lifes Regent. — 235
'' If then (quoth I) a shepheardesse she bee.
Where be the flockes and heards, which she doth keep ?
And where may I the hills and pastures see.
On which she useth for to feed her sheepe ?"
"^ These be the hills, (quoth he) the surges hie, 210
On which faire Cynthia her heards doth feed :
Her heards be thousand fishes with their frie.
Which in the bosome of the billowes breed.
Of them the shepheard which hath charge in chief,
Is Triton, blowing loud his wreathed home : 245
At sound whereof, they all for their relief
Wend too and fro at evening and at morne.
And Proteus eke with him does drive his heard
Of stinking seales and porcpisces together.
With hoary head and deawy dropping beard, 250
Compelling them which way he list, and whether.
And I, among the rest, of many least.
Have in the Ocean charge to me assignd ;
Where I will live or die at her beheast.
And serve and honour her with faithfull mind. 255
Besides an hundred Nymphs all heavenly borne,
^\nd of immortall race, doo still attend
To wash faire Cynthiaes sheep, when they be sliorne,
And fold them up, when they have made an end.
250 COLIN CLOUTS
Those be the shepheards which my Cynthia serve 260
At sea, beside a thousand moe at hind :
For land and sea my Cynthia doth deserve
To have in her commandement at hand."
Thereat I wondred much, till, wondring more
And more, at length we land far off descry de : 265
Which sight much gladed me ; for much afore
I feard, least land we never should have eyde :
Thereto our ship her course directly bent.
As if the way she perfectly had knowne.
We Lunday passe; by that same name is ment 270
An island, which the first to west was showne.
From thence another world of land we kend,
Floting amid the sea in ieopardie.
And round about with mightie white rocks hemd.
Against the seas encroching crueltie. 275
Those same, the shepheard told me, were the fields
In which dame Cynthia her landheards fed ;
Faire goodly fields, then which Armulla yields
None fairer, nor more fruitfuU to be red.
The first, to which we nigh approched, was 280
An high headland thrust far into the sea.
Like to an home, whereof the name it has.
Yet seemd to be a goodly pleasant lea :
There did a loftic mount at first us greet.
Which did a stately heape of stones upreare, 285
That seemd amid the surges for to fieet.
Much greater then that frame, which us did beare :
There did our ship lier fruitfuU wombe unlade.
And put us all ashore on Cynthias land.
COME HOME AGAINE. 231
" What land is that thou meanst^ (then Cuddy sayd)
And is there other then whereon we stand?" 291
" Ah I Cuddv:, (then quoth Colin) thous a fon.
That hast not seene least part of natures worke :
jMuch more there is unkend then thou doest kon.
And much more that does from mens knowledge lurke.
For that same land much larger is then this, 296
And other men and beasts and birds doth feed ;
There fruitfull corne, faire trees, fresh herbage is,
And all thino-s else that livin«; creatures need.
Besides most goodly rivers there appeare, 300
No whit inferiour to thy Fanchins praise.
Or unto Alio, or to Mulla cleare :
Nought hast thou, foolish boy, seene in thy daies."
"^ But if that land be there (quoth he) as here.
And is theyr heaven likewise there all one ? 305
And, if like heaven, be heavenly graces there.
Like as in this same world where we do wone ?"
" Both heaven and heavenly graces do much more
(Quoth he) abound in that same land then this.
For there all happie peace and plenteous store 310
Conspire in one to make contented blisse :
No wayling there nor wretchednesse is heard.
No bloodie issues nor no leprosies.
No griesly famine, nor no raging sweard.
No nightly bodrags, nor no hue and cries ; 315
The shepheards there abroad may safely lie.
On hills and downes, withouten dread or daunger :
No ravenous wolves the good mans hope destroy,
Nor outlawes fell affray the forest raunger.
232 COLIN CLOUTS
There learned arts do florisli in great honor, 320
And Poets wits are had in peerlesse price :
Religion hath lay powre to rest upon her,
Advancing vertue and suppressing vice.
For end, all good, all grace there freely growes.
Had people grace it gratefully to use : 325
For God his gifts there plenteously bestowes.
But gracelesse men them greatly do abuse."
" But say on further (then said Corylas)
The rest of thine adventures, that betyded."
" Foorth on our voyage we by land did passe, 330
(Quoth he) as that same shepheard still us guyded,
Untill that we to Cynthiaes presence came :
Whose glorie greater then my simple thought,
I found much greater then the former fame ;
Such greatnes I cannot compare to ought : 335
But if I her like ought on earth might read,
I would her lyken to a crowne of lillies.
Upon a virgin brydes adorned head.
With roses dight and goolds and daffadillies ;
Or like the circlet of a turtle true, 340
In which all colours of the rainbow bee ;
Or like faire Phebes garlond shining new.
In which all pure perfection one may see.
But vaine it is to thinke, by paragone
Of earthly things, to iudge of things divine : 345
Her power, her mercy, and her wisdome, none
Can deeme, but who the Godhead can define.
Why then do I, base shepheard, bold and blind.
Presume the things so sacred to prophane ?
COME HOME AGAINE. 233
jMore fit it is t' adore, with humble mind, 350
The image of the heavens in shape humane."
With that Alexis broke his tale asunder.
Saying; "^ By wondring at thy Cynthiaes praise,
Colin, thy selfe thou mak'st us more to wonder.
And her upraising doest thy selfe upraise. 355
But let us heare what grace she shewed thee,
And how that shepheard strange thy cause advanced."
" The Shepheard of the Ocean (quoth he)
Unto that Goddesse grace me first enhanced.
And to mine oaten pipe enclin'd her eare, 360
That she thenceforth therein gan take delight.
And it desir'd at timely houres to heare.
All were my notes but rude and roughly dight ;
For not by measure of her owne great mynd.
And wondrous worth, she mott my simple song, 365
But ioyd that country shepheard ought could fynd
Worth barkening to, emongst the learned throng."
" Why.f^ (said Alexis then) what needeth shee
That is so great a shepheardesse her selfe,
j And hath so many shepheards in her fee, 370
To heare thee sing, a simple silly elfe }
Or be the shepheards which do serve her laesie.
That they list not their mery pipes applie .''
Or be their pipes untunable and craesie.
That they cannot her honour worthy lie .''" S75
'^ Ah ! nay (said Colin) neither so, nor so :
For better shepheards be not under skie.
Nor better hable, when they list to blow
Their pipes aloud, her name to glorifie.
234; COLIN CLOUTS
There is good Harpalus, now woxen aged 380
In faithful service of faire Cynthia :
And there is Corydon though meanly wdged.
Yet hablest ^vit of mo^t I know this day.
And there is sad Alcyon bent to mourne.
Though fit to frame an everlasting dittie, 385
Whose gentle spright for Daphnes death doth tourn
Sweet layes of love to endlesse plaints of pittie.
Ah ! pensive boy, pursue that brave conceipt.
In thy sweet Eglantine of Meriflure ;
Lift up thy notes unto their wonted height, ^90
That may thy Muse and mates to mirth allure.
There eke is Palin worthie of great praise,
Albe he envie at my rustick quill :
And there is pleasing Alcon, could he raise
His tunes from laies to matter of more skill. 395
And there is old Palemon free from spight.
Whose carefull pipe may make the hearer rew : ^
Yet he himselfe may rewed be more right.
That sung so long untill quite hoarse he grew.
And there is Alabaster throughly taught 400
In all this skill, though knowen yet to few;
Yet, were he knowne to Cynthia as he ought.
His Eliseis would be redde anew.
Who lives that can match that heroick song.
Which he hath of that mightie Princesse made f 405
O dreaded Dread, do not thy selfe that wrong.
To let thy fame lie so in hidden shade :
But call it forth, O call him forth to thee.
To end thy glorie which he hath begun :
COME HOME AGAINE. 235
That:, when he iinisht hath as it should be, 410
No braver Poeme can be under sun.
Nor Po nor Tyburs swans so much renowned,
Nor all the brood of Greece so highly praised,
Can match that Muse when it with bayes is crowned.
And to the pitch of her perfection raised. 415
And there is a new shepheard late up sprong.
The which doth all afore him far surpasse;
Appearing well in that well tuned song.
Which late he sung unto a scornfull lasse.
Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly flie, 420
As daring not too rashly mount on hight,
And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie
In loves soft laies and looser thoughts delight.
Then rouze thy feathers quickly, Daniell,
And to what course thou please thy selfe advance : 425
But most, me seemes, thy accent will excell
In tragick plaints and passionate mischance.
And there that Shepheard of the Ocean is.
That spends his wit in loves consuming smart :
Full sweetly tempred is that Muse of his, 430
That can empierce a Princes mightie hart.
There also is (ah no, he is not now !)
But since I said he is, he quite is gone,
Amyntas quite is gone and lies full low.
Having his Amaryllis left to mone. 435
Helpe, O ye shepheards, helpe ye all in this,
Helpe Amaryllis this her losse to mourne :
Her losse is yours, your losse Amyntas is,
Amyntas, floure of shepheards pride forlorne :
236 COLIN CLOUTS
He whilest he lived was the noblest swaine, 440
That ever piped in an oaten quill :
Both did he other, which could pipe, maintaine.
And eke could pipe himselfe with passing skill.
And there, though last not least, is Aetion ;
A gentler shepheard may no where be found : 445
Whose Muse, full of high thoughts invention.
Doth like himselfe heroically sound.
All these, and many others mo remaine.
Now, after Astrofell is dead and gone :
But, while as Astrofell did live and raine, 450
Amongst all these was none his paragone.
All these do florish in their sundry kynd.
And do their Cynthia immortall make :
Yet found I lyking in her royall mynd.
Not for my skill, but for that shepheards sake." 455
Then spake a lovely lasse, hight Lucida;
'' Shepheard, enough of shepheards thou hast told.
Which favour thee, and honour Cynthia ;
But of so many nymphs, which she doth hold
In her retinew, thou hast nothing sayd; 460
That seems, with none of them thou favor foundest.
Or art ingratefull to each gentle mayd.
That none of all their due deserts resoundest."
" Ah far be it (quoth Colin Clout) fro me.
That I of gentle mayds should ill deserve : 465
For that my selfe I do professe to be
Vassall to one, whom all my dayes I serve ;
The beame of beautie sparkled from above.
The Houre of vertue and pure chastitie.
COME HOME AGAINE. 2S7
The blossome of sweet ioy and perfect love, 470
The pearle of peerlesse grace and modestie :
To her my thoughts I daily dedicate.
To her my heart I nightly martyrize :
To her my love I lowly do prostrate.
To her my life I wholly sacrifice : 475
]\Iy thought, my heart, my love, my life is shee.
And I hers ever onely^ ever one :
One ever I all vowed hers to bee.
One ever I, and others never none."
Then thus Melissa said; " Thrise happie Mayd, 480
Whom thou doest so enforce to deifie :
That woods, and hills, and valleyes thou hast made
Her name to eccho unto heaven hie.
But say, who else vouchsafed thee of grace ?"
'' They all (quoth he) me graced goodly well, 485
That all I praise ; but, in the highest place,
Urania, sister unto Astrofell,
In whose brave mynd, as in a golden cofer.
All heavenly gifts and riches locked are ;
JMore rich then pearles of Ynde, or gold of Opher, 490
And in her sex more wonderfull and rare.
Ne lesse praise-worthie I Theana read.
Whose goodly beames though they be over dight
With mourning stole of carefull wydowhead.
Yet through that darksome*vale do glister bright; 495
She is the well of bountie and brave mynd.
Excelling most in glorie and great light :
She is the ornament of womankind.
And courts chief garlond with all vertues dight.
238 COLIN CLOUTS
Therefore great Cynthia her in chiefest grace 500
Doth hold^ and next unto her selfe advance.
Well worthie of so honourable place.
For her great worth and noble governance.
Ne lesse praise-worthie is her sister deare,
Faire IMarian, the Muses onelv darling; : 505
Whose beautie shyneth as the morning cleare.
With silver deaw upon the roses pearling.
Ne lesse praise-worthie is Mansilia,
Best knowne by bearing up great Cynthiaes traine :
That same is she to whom Daphnaida , 510
Upon her neeces death I did complaine :
She is the paterne of true womanhead.
And onely mirrhor of feminitie :
Worthie next after Cynthia to tread.
As she is next her in nobilitie. 515
Ne lesse praise-worthie Galathea seemes.
Then best of all that honourable crew,
Faire Galathea with bright shining beames.
Inflaming feeble eyes that her do view.
She there then waited upon Cynthia, 520
Yet there is not her won ; but here with us
About the borders of our rich Coshma,
Now made of Maa, the Nymph delitious.
Ne lesse praiswortliie faire Neaera is,
Neacra ours, not tlieirs, though there she be ; 525
For of the famous Shure, the Nympli she is.
For high desert, advaunst to tliat degree.
She is the blosome of grace and curtesie,
Adorned with all honourable parts :
COME HOME AGAINE. 239
She is the braunch of true nobilitie^, 530
Belov'd of high and low with faithfull harts.
Ne lesse praisworthie Stella do I read.
Though nought my praises of her needed arre,
Whom verse of noblest shepheard lately dead
Hath prais'd and rais'd above each other starre. .53.5
Ne lesse praisworthie are the sisters three,
The honor of the noble familie :
Of which I meanest boast my selfe to be.
And most that unto them I am so nie :
Phyllis, Charillis, and sweet Amaryllis. 540
Phyllis, the faire, is eldest of the three :
The next to her is bountifull Charillis :
But th' youngest is the highest in degree.
Phyllis, the floure of rare perfection,
Faire spreading forth her leaves with fresh delight.
That, with their beauties amorous reflexion, 546
Bereave of sence each rash beholders sight.
But sweet Charillis is the paragone
Of peerlesse price, and ornament of praise,
Admyr'd of all, yet envied of none, 550
Through the myld temperance of her goodly raies.
Thrise happie do I hold thee, noble swaine.
The which art of so rich a spoile possest.
And, it embracing deare without disdaine.
Hast sole possession in so chaste a brest: 555
I Of all the shepheards daughters which there bee.
And yet there be the fairest under skie,
lOr that elsewhere I ever yet did see,
A fairer Nymph yet never saw mine eie :
240 COLIN CLOUTS
She is the pride and primrose of the rest, 560
Made by the Maker selfe to be admired ;
And like a goodly beacon high addrest,
That is with sparks of heavenlie beautie fired.
But Amaryllis, whether fortunate
Or else unfortunate may I aread, 56 F)
That freed is from Cupids yoke by fate,
Since which she doth new bands adventure dread ; —
Shepheard, what ever thou hast heard to be
In this or that praysd diversly apart.
In her thou maist them all assembled see, 570
And seald up in the threasure of her hart.
Ne thee lesse worthie, gentle Flavia,
For thy chaste life and vertue I esteeme :
Ne thee lesse worthie, curteous Candida,
For thy true love and loyaltie I deeme. 575
Besides yet many mo that Cynthia serve.
Right noble Nymphs, and high to be commended :
But, if I all should praise as they deserve.
This sun would faile me ere I halfe had ended.
Therefore, in closure of a thankfull mynd, 580
I deeme it best to hold eternally
Their bounteous deeds and noble favours shrynd.
Then by discourse them to indignifie."
So having said, Aglaura him bespake :
" Colin, well worthie were those goodly favours 585
Bestowd on thee, that so of them doest make.
And them requitest with thy thankfull labours.
But of great Cynthiaes goodnesse, and high grace.
Finish the storie which thou hast begunne."
COME HOME AGAINE.
241
'^' More eath (quoth he) it is in such a case 590
How to begin, then know how to have donne.
For everie gift, and everie goodly meed,
Which she on me bestowd, demaunds a day ;
And everie day, in which she did a deed,
Demaunds a yeare it duly to display. 595
Her words were like a streame of honny fleeting.
The which doth softly trickle from the hive:
liable to melt the hearers heart unweeting.
And eke to m.ake the dead againe alive.
Her deeds were like great clusters of ripe grapes, GOO
Which load the bunches of the fruitful! vine;
Offiring to fall into each mouth that gapes.
And fill the same with store of timely wine.
Her lookes were like beames of the morning sun.
Forth looking through the windowes of the east, GO.)
When first the fleecie cattell have begun
Upon the perled grasse to make their feast.
Her thoughts are like the fume of franckincence.
Which from a golden censer forth doth rise.
And throwing forth sweet odours mounts fro thence 6 1
In rolling globes up to the vauted skies.
There she beholds, with high aspiring thought.
The cradle of her owne creation,
Emongst the seats of angels heavenly wrought,
JMuch like an angell in all forme and fashion." G15
" Colin, (said Cuddy then) thou hast forgot
Thy selfe, me seemes, too much, to mount so hie :
Such loftie flight base shepheard seemeth not.
From flocks and fields, to angels and to skie."
VOL. IV. R
242 COLIN CLOUTS
"True, (answered he) but her great excellence, G20
Lifts me above the measure of my might :
That;, being fild with furious insolence,
I feele my selfe like one yrapt in spright.
For when I thinke of her, as oft I ought.
Then want I words to speake it fitly forth: 625
And, when I speake of her what I have thought,
I cannot thinke according to her worth.
Yet will I thinke of her, yet will I speake.
So long as life my limbs doth hold together ;
And, when as death these vitall bands shall breake, 630
Her name recorded I will leave for ever.
Her name in every tree I will endosse.
That, as the trees do grow, her name may grow :
And in the ground each where will it engrosse.
And fill with stones, that all men may it know. 635
The speaking woods, and murmuring waters fall.
Her name He teach in knowen termes to frame:
And eke my lambs, when for their dams they call.
He teach to call for Cynthia by name.
And, long while after I am dead and rotten, 640
Amongst the shepheards daughters dancing roA^oid,
My layes made of her shall not be forgotten,
But sung by them with flowry gyrlonds crownd.
And ye, who so ye be, that shall survive.
When as ye heare her memory renewed, 645
Be witnesse of her bountie here alive,
Which she to Colin her poore shepheard shewed."
iNIuch was the whole assembly of those heards
Moov'd at his speech, so feelingly he spake :
COME HOME AGAINE. 243
And stood awhile astonisht at his words, 650
Till Thestylis at last their silence brake.
Saying; *^*^ Why Colin, since thou foundst such grace
With Cynthia and all her noble crew;
Why didst thou ever leave that happie place.
In which such ^v^ealth misht unto thee accrew : 05.5
And back returnedst to this barrein soyle.
Where cold and care and penury do dwell,
, Here to keep slieepe, with hunger and v/ith toyle?
Most wretched he, that is and cannot tell."
" Happie indeed (said Colin) I him hold, 660
' That may that blessed presence still enioy,
I Of fortune and of envy uncomptrold,
i Which still are wont most happie states t' annoy:
: But I, by that which little while I prooved.
Some part of those enormities did see, 665
The which in court continually hooved.
And followd those which happie seemd to bee.
j Therefore I, silly man, whose former dayes
Had in rude fields bene altogether spent.
Durst not adventure such unknowen wayes, 670
Nor trust the guile of fortunes blandishment ;
But rather chose back to my sheep to tourne.
Whose utmost hardnesse I before had tryde,
I Then, having learnd repentance late, to mourne
Emongst those wretches which I there descryde." Q75
f\ " Shepheard, (said Thestylis) it seemes of spight
'Thou speakest thus gainst their felicitie.
Which thou enviest, rather then of right
That ought in them blameworthie thou doest spie."
R 2
244 COLIN CLOUTS
" Cause have I none (quotlj he) of cancred will 680
To quite them ill;, that me demeand so well :
But selfe-regard of private good or ill
Moves me of each, so as I found, to tell
And eke to warne yong shepheards wandring wit.
Which, through report of that lives painted blisse, 685
Abandon quiet home, to seeke for it.
And leave their lambes to losse misled amisse.
For, sooth to say, it is no sort of life.
For shepheard fit to lead in that same place.
Where each one seeks with malice, and with strife, 690
To thrust downe other into foule disgrace,
Himselfe to raise : and he doth soonest rise
That best can handle his deceitfull wit
In subtil shifts, and finest sleights devise.
Either by slaundring his well deemed name, 695
Through leasings lewd, and fained forgerie ;
Or else by breeding him some blot of blame,
By creeping close into his secrecie ;
To which him needs a guilefull hollow hart.
Masked with faire dissembling curtesie, 7,00
A filed toung furnisht with tearmes of art.
No art of schoole, but courtiers schoolery.
For arts of schoole have there small countenance.
Counted but toyes to busie ydle braines;
And there professours find small maintenance, 705
But to be instruments of others gaines.
Ne is there place for any gentle wit,
Unlesse, to please, it selfe it can applie ;
But shouldred is, or out of doore quite shit.
COME H03II: AGAiNE. 245
As base, or blunt, unmeet for melodic. 710
For each mans ^vort}l is measured by his weed^
As harts by homes, or asses by their eares :
Yet asses been not all whose eares exceed^
Nor yet all harts that homes the highest beares.
I For highest lookes have not the highest mynd, 715
Nor haughtie words most full of highest thoughts :
But are like bladders blowen up with wynd^
That being prickt do vanish into noughts.
Even such is all their vaunted vanitie,
I Nought else but smoke, that fumeth soone away: 720
Such is their glorie that in simple eie
Seeme greatest, when their garments are most gay.
So they themselves for praise of fooles do sell,
"^1 And all their wealth for painting on a wall ;
' With price whereof they buy a golden bell, 725
And purchace highest rowmes in bowre and hall :
Whiles single Truth and simple Honestie
! Do wander up and downe despys'd of all; -
Their plaine attire such glorious gallantry
Disdaines so much, that none them in doth call." 730
" Ah ! Colin, (then said Hobbinol) the blame
Which thou imputest, is too generall.
As if not any gentle wit of name
Nor honest mynd might there be found at all.
[For well I wot, sith I my selfe was there, 735
To wait on Lobbin, (Lobbin well thou knewest,)
Full many worthie ones then waiting were.
As ever else in princes court thou vewest.
Of which, among you many yet remaine.
I
246 COLIN CLOUTS
Whose names I cannot readily now ghesse : 740
Those that poore Sutors papers do retaine.
And those that skill of medicine professe.
And those that do to Cynthia expound
The ledden of straunge languages in charge :
For Cynthia doth in sciences abound, 745
And gives to their professors stipends large.
Therefore uniustly thou doest wyte them all.
For that which thou mislikedst in a few."
'' Blame is (quoth he) more blamelesse generally,
Then that which private errours doth pursew ; 750
For v/ell I wot, that there amongst them bee
Full many persons of right worthie parts.
Both for report of spotlesse honestie.
And for profession of all learned arts.
Whose praise hereby no whit impaired is, 755
Though blame do light on those that faultie bee;
For all the rest do most-what far amis.
And yet their owne misfaring will not see :
For either they be puffed up with pride.
Or fraught with envie that their galls do swell, 760
Or they their dayes to ydlenesse divide.
Or drownded lie in pleasures wastefull well,
In which like moldwarps nousling still they lurke,
Unmindfull of chiefe parts of manlinesse ;
And do themselves, for want of other worke, 765
Vaine votaries of laesie Love professe.
Whose service high so basely they ensew.
That Cupid selfe of them ashamed is,
Andj mustring all his men in Venus vew, >'
COME H031E AGAINE. 2i7
Denies them quite for servitors of his." 770
" And is Love then (said Corylas) once knowne
In Court, and his sweet lore professed there ?
I weened sure he was our god alone, i
And only woond in fields and forests here :"
" Not so, (quoth he) Love most aboundeth there. 775
For all the walls and windows there are writ.
All full of love, and love, and love my deare.
And all their talke and studie is of it.
Ne any there doth brave or valiant seeme,
Unlesse that some gay Mistresse badge he beares : 780
Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme,
Unlesse he swim in love up to the eares.
But they of Love, and of his sacred lere,
(As it should be) all otherwise devise.
Then we poore shepheards are accustomd here, 785
And him do sue and serve all otherwise.
For with lewd speeches, and licentious deeds.
His mightie mysteries they do prophane.
And use his ydle name to other needs.
But as a complement for courting vaine. 790
So him they do not serve as they professe.
But make him serve to them for sordid uses :
Ah ! my dread Lord, that doest liege hearts possesse.
Avenge thy selfe on them for their abuses.
But we poore shepheards whether rightly so, 795
Or through our rudenesse into erroiir led.
Do make religion how we rashly go
To serve that god, that is so greatly dred ;
For him the greatest of the gods we deeme.
^4rS COLIN CLOUTS
Borne without syre or couples of one kynd ; 800
For Venus selfe doth soly couples seeme, >
Both male and female through commixture ioynd :
So pure and spotlesse Cupid forth she brought.
And in the Gardens of Adonis nurst :
Where growing he his owne perfection wrought, 803
And shortly was of all the gods the first.
Then got he bow and shafts of gold and lead.
In which so fell and puissant he grew.
That love himselfe his powre began to dread.
And, taking up to heaven;, him godded new. 810
From thence he shootes his arrowes every where
Into the world, at randon as he will.
On us fraile men, his wretched vassals here.
Like as himselfe us pleaseth save or spill.
So we him worship, so we him adore 8 1 5
With humble hearts to heaven uplifted hie.
That to true loves he may us evermore
Preferre, and of their grace us dignilic :
Ne is there shepheard, ne yet shcpheards swaiuc.
What ever feeds in forest or in field, S'20
That dare with evil deed or leasing vaine
Blaspheme his powre, or termes unworthie yield."
" Shepiieard, it seemes that some celestiall rage
Of love (quoth Cuddy) is breath'd into thy brest,
Tliat pov/reth forth these oracles so sage 8 25
Of that high powre, wherewith thou art possess.
But never wist I till this present day,
Albe of Love I alwayes humbly deemed,
Tliat he was such an one, as thou doest sav.
C03IE HOME AGAIXE. ^249
And so religiously to be esteemed. 8SQ
Well may it seeme, by this thy deep insight^
That of that god the priest thou shouldest bee :
So well thou wot'st the mysterie of his might.
As if his godhead thou didst present see."
" Of Loves perfection perfectly to speake, 835
Or of his nature rightly to define.
Indeed (said Colin) passeth reasons reach.
And needs his priest t' expresse his powre divine.
For long before the world he was ybore,
And bred above in Venus bosome deare : - 840
For by his powre the world was made of yore.
And fill that therein wondrous doth appeare.
For how should else things so far from attone,
And so great enemies as of them bee.
Be ever drawne together into one, 845
And taught in such accordance to agree?
Through him the cold began to covet heat,
And water fire ; the light to mount on hie.
And th' heavie do\vne to peize ; the hungry t' eat.
And voydnesse to seeke full satietie. 850
So, being former foes, they wexed friends.
And gan by litle learne to love each other :
So, being knit, they brought forth other kynds
Out of the fruitfuU wombe of their great mother.
Then first gan heaven out of darknesse dread 855'
For to appeare, and brought forth chearfull day :
Next gan the earth to shew her naked head.
Out of deep waters which her drownd alway:
And, shortly after, everie living wight
250 COLIN CLOUTS
Crept forth like wormes out of her slimie nature. 860
Soone as on them the suns life-giving light
Had powred kindly heat and formall feature.
Thenceforth they gan each one his like to love.
And like himselfe desire for to beget :
The lyon chose his mate, the turtle dove 865
Her deare, the dolphin his owne dolphinet;
But man, that had the sparke of reasons might
More then the rest to rule his passion.
Chose for his love the fairest in his sight.
Like as himselfe was fairest by creation : 870
For Beautie is the bayt which with delight
Doth man allure for to enlarge his kynd ;
Beautie, the burning lamp of heavens light.
Darting her beames into each feeble mynd :
Against whose powre, nor God nor man can fynd 875
Defence, ne ward the daunger of the wound ;
But, being hurt, seeke to be medicynd
Of her that first did stir that mortall stownd.
Then do they cry and call to Love apace.
With praiers lowd importuning the skie, 880
Whence he them heares ; and, when he list shew grace.
Does graunt them grace that otherwise would die.
So Love is lord of all the world by right.
And rules their creatures by his powrfuU saw ;
All being made the vassalls of his might, 885
Through secret sence which therto doth them draw.
Thus ought all lovers of their lord to deeme ;
And with chaste heart to honor him alway :
But who so else doth otherwise esteeme.
COME HOME AGAINE. 251
Are outlawes, and his lore do disobay. 890
For their desire is base, and doth not merit
The name of love, but of disloyall lust :
Ne mongst true lovers they shall place inherit,
But as exuls out of his court be thrust."
So having said, Melissa spake at will; 895
'' Colin, thou now full deeply hast divynd
Of Love and Beautie ; and, with wondrous skill.
Hast Cupid selfe depainted in his kynd.
To thee are all true lovers greatly bound.
That doest their cause so mightily defend : 900
But most, all wemen are thy debtors found,
That doest their bountie still so much commend."
" That ill (said Hobbinol) they him requite.
For havins; loved ever one most deare:
He is repay d with scorne and foule despite, 905
That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare."
" Indeed (said Lucid) I have often heard
Faire Rosalind of divers fowly blamed
For being to that swaine too cruell hard;
That her bright glorie else hath much defamed. 910
But who can tell what cause had that faire Mayd
To use him so that used her so well;
Or who with blame can iustly her upbrayd.
For loving not ? for who can love compell ?
And, sooth to say, it is foolhardie thing, 9 1 5
Rashly to wyten creatures so divine ;
For demigods they be and lirst did spring
From heaven, though graft in frailnesse feminine.
And well I wote, that oft I heard it spoken,
25^ COLIN CLOUTS
How one;, that fairest Helene did revile^, .920
Through iudgement of the gods to been ywroken.
Lost both his eyes and so remaynd long while.
Till he recanted had his wicked rimes.
And made amends to her with treble praise.
Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes, 925
How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise."
" Ah ! shepheards, (then said Colin) ye ne weet
How great a guilt upon your heads ye draw.
To make so bold a doome, with words unmeet.
Of thing celestiail which ye never saw. 930
For she is not like as the other crew
Of shepheards daughters which emongst you bee.
But of divine regard and heavenly hew,
Excelling all that ever ye did see.
Not then to her that scorned thing so base, 935
But to my selfe the blame that lookt so hie :
So hie her thoughts as she her selfe have place.
And loath each lowly thing with loftie eie.
Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant
To simple swaine, sith her I may not love: 940
Yet that I may her honour paravant.
And praise her worth, though far my wit above.
Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe.
And long affliction which I have endured :
Such grace sometimes shall give me some reliefe, 945
And ease of paine which cannot be recured.
And ye, my fellow shepheards, which do see
And hear the languours of my too long dying,
T^nto the world for ever witnesse bee.
COME HOME AGAINE. 253
That liers I die, nought to the world denying, 950
This simple trophe of her great conquest." —
So, having ended, he from ground did rise ;
And after him uprose eke all the rest :
All loth to part, but that the glooming skies
Warnd them to draw their bleating flocks to rest. 955
VIRGILS GNAT.
LONG SINCE DEDICATED
TO THE MOST NOBLE AND EXCELLENT LORD,
THE EARLE OF LEICESTER,
LATE DECEASED.
1591.
Wrong'd, yet not daring to expresse my paine,
To you (great Lord) the causer of my care,
In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine
Unto your selfe, that onely privie are.
But if that any ffidipus unware
Shall chaunce, through power of some divining spright,
To reade the secrete of this riddle rare,
And know the purporte of my evill plight ;
Let him rest pleased with his owne insight,
Ne further seeke to glose upon the text :
For griefe enough it is to grieved wight
To feele his fault, and not be further vext.
But what so by my selfe may not be showen.
May by this Gnatts complaint be easily knowen.
VIRGILS GNAT.
I.
W E now have playde, Augustus, wantonly.
Tuning our song unto a tender Muse,
And, like a cobweb weaving slenderly,
Have onely playde : Let thus much then excuse
This Gnats small Poeme, that th' whole historie
Is but a iest, though envie it abuse :
But who such sports and sweet delights doth blame.
Shall lighter seeme then this Gnats idle name.
II.
Hereafter, when as season more secure
Shall bring forth fruit, this Muse shall speak to thee
In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure.
And for thy worth frame some fit Poesie :
The golden ofspring of Latona pure.
And ornament of great loves progenie,
Phoebus, shall be the author of my song.
Playing on ivorie harp with silver strong.
VOL. IV. S
i!:58 VIRGILS GNAT.
III.
He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood
Of Poets Prince^, whether he woon beside
Faire Xanthus sprincled with Chimseras blood ;
Or in the woods of Astery abide ;
Or whereas mount Parnasse, the Muses brood.
Doth his broad forhead like two homes divide.
And the sweete waves of sounding Castaly
With liquid foote doth slide downe easily.
IV.
Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glorie bee
Of the Pierian streames, fayre Naiades,
Go too ; and, dauncing all in companie,
Adorn e that god : And thou holie Pales,
To whome the honest care of husbandrie
Returneth by continuall successe,
Have care for to pursue his footing light [dight.
Throgh the wide woods, and groves, with green leaves
V.
Professing thee I lifted am aloft
Betwixt the forrest wide and starrie sky :
And thou, most dread Octavius, which oft
To learned wits giv'st courage worthily,
O come, thou sacred childe, come sliding soft.
And favour my beginnings graciously :
For not these leaves do sing that dreadfull stound.
When Giants bloud did staine Phlegraean ground.
VI.
Nor how th' halfe horsy people, Centaures hight,
Fought with the bloudie Lapithaes at bord ;
Nor how the East with tyranous despight
Burnt th' Attick towres, and people slew with sword ;
VIRGILS GNAT. 259
I Nor how mount Athos through exceeding might
1 Was digged downe ; nor yron bands abord
The Pontick sea by their huge Navy cast ;
! My volume shall renowne, so long since past.
VII.
; Nor Hellespont trampled with horses feete,
' When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray :
But my soft Muse^, as for her power more meete.
Delights (with Phoebus friendly leave) to play
An easie running verse with tender feete.
And thoU;, dread sacred child, to thee alway
Let everlasting lightsome glory strive,
Through the worlds endles ages to survive.
VIII.
And let an happie roome remaine for thee
Mongst heavenly ranks, where blessed soules do rest ;
And let long lasting life with ioyous glee,
As thy due meede that thou deservest best.
Hereafter many yeares remembred be
Amongst good men, of whom thou oft art blest ;
Live thou for ever in all happinesse !
But let us turne to our first businesse.
IX.
The fiery Sun was mounted now on hight
Up to the heavenly towers, and shot each where
Out of his golden charet glistering light ;
And fayre Aurora, with her rosie heare.
The hatefull darknes now had put to flight ;
When as the shepheard, seeing day appeare,
His little goats gan drive out of their stalls,
To feede abroad, where pasture best befalls.
s 2
260 VIRGILS GNAT.
To an high mountaines top he with them went,
Where thickest grasse did cloath the open hills :
They now amongst the woods and thickets ment.
Now in the valleies wandring at their wills.
Spread themselves farre abroad through each descent ;
Some on the soft green e grasse feeding their fills ;
Some, clambring through the hollow cliffes on hy.
Nibble the bushie shrubs which growe thereby.
XI.
Others the utmost boughs of trees doe crop,
And brouze the woodbine twigges that freshly bud;
This with full bit doth catch the utmost top
Of some soft willow, or new growen stud ;
This with sharpe teeth the bramble leaves doth lop.
And chaw the tender prickles in her cud ;
The whiles another high doth overlooke
Her owne like image in a christall brooke.
XII.
O the great happines, which shepheards have.
Who so loathes not too much the poore estate,
With minde that ill use doth before deprave,
Ne measures all things by the costly rate
Of riotise, and semblants outward brave !
No such sad cares, as wont to macerate
And rend the greedie mindes of covetous men,
Do ever creepe into the shepheards den.
XIII.
Ne cares he if the fleece, which him arayes.
Be not twice steeped in Assyrian dye ;
Ne glistering of golde, which underlayes
The summer beames, doe blinde his gazing eye ;
VIRGILS GNAT. 261
I
If
Ne pictures beautie, nor the glauncing rayes
Of precious stoneS;, whence no good commeth by ;
Ne yet his cup embost with imagery
Of Boetus or of Alcons vanity.
XIV.
Ne ought the whelky pearles esteemeth hee.
Which are from Indian seas brought far away :
But with pure brest from careful 1 sorrow free.
On the soft grasse his limbs doth oft display.
In sweete spring time, when flowres varietie
With sundrie colours paints the sprinckled lay;
There, lying all at ease from guile or spight,
With pype of fennie reedes doth him delight.
XV.
There he. Lord of himselfe, with palme bedight.
His looser locks doth wrap in wreath of vine :
There his milk-dropping goats be his delight.
And fruitefull Pales, and the forrest greene.
And darkesome caves in pleasaunt vallies pight,
Wheras continuall shade is to be seene.
And where fresh springing wells, as christall neate.
Do alwayes flow, to quench his thirstie heate.
XVI.
! who can lead then a more happie life
Than he, that with cleane minde, and heart sincere.
No greedy riches knowes nor bloudie strife.
No deadly fight of warlick fleete doth feare ;
Ne runs in perill of foes cruell knife.
That in the sacred temples he may reare
^. trophee of his glittering spoyles and treasure.
Or may abound in riches above measure.
'202 VIRGILtJ GNAT.
XVII.
Of him his God is worshipt with his sythe.
And not with skill of craftsman polished:
He ioyes in groves, and makes himselfe full blythe
With sundrie flowers in wilde fieldes gathered;
Ne frankincens he from Panchaea buyth;
Sweete Quiet harbours in his harmeles head,
And perfect Pleasure buildes her ioyous bowre.
Free from sad cares, that rich mens hearts devowre.
XVIII.
This all his care, this all his whole indevour,
To this his minde and senses he doth bend.
How he may flow in quiets matchles treasour.
Content with any food that God doth send;
And how his limbs, resolv'd through idle leisour.
Unto sweete sleepe he may securely lend.
In some coole shadow from the scorching heat.
The whiles his flock their chawed cuds do eate.
XIX.
O Flocks, O Faunes, and O ye pleasaunt Springs
Of Tempe, where the countrey Nymphs are rife.
Through whose not costly care each shepheard sings
As merrie notes upon his rusticke fife.
As that Ascraean bard, whose fame now rings
Through the wide world, and leads as ioyfull life;
Free from all troubles and from worldly toyle.
In which fond men doe all their dayes turmoyle.
XX.
In such delights whilst thus his carelesse time
This Shepheard drives, upleaning on his batt.
And on shrill reedes chaunting his rustick rime ;
Hyperion, throwing foorth his beames full hott.
VIRGILS GNAT. 203
Into the highest top of heaven gan climes,
And, the world parting by an eqiiall lott.
Did shed his whirling flames on either side.
As the great Ocean doth himselfe divide.
XXI.
Then gan the Shepheard gather into one
His stragling goates, and drave them to a foord.
Whose caerule streame, rombling in pible stone,
Crept under mosse as greene as any goord.
Now had the Sun halfe heaven overgone.
When he his lieard back from that water foord
Drave, from the force of Phcebus boyling ray.
Into thick shadowes, there themselves to lay.
XXII.
Soone as he them plac'd in thy sacred wood
(O Delian Goddesse) saw, to Avhich of yore
Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus brood,
Cruell Agave, flying vengeance sore
Of king Nictileus for the guiltie blood,
W^hich she with cursed hands had shed before;
There she halfe frantick, having slaine her sonne.
Did shrowd her selfe like punishment to shonne.
XXIII.
Here also playing on the grassy greene,
Woodgods, and Satyres, and swift Dryades,
With many Fairies oft were dauncing seene.
Not so much did Dan Orpheus represse
The streames of Hebrus with his songs, I weene.
As that faire troupe of woodie Goddesses
Staled thee, O Peneus, powring foorth to thee.
From cheereful lookes, great mirth and gladsome glee.
£64 VIRGILS GNAT.
XXIV.
The verie nature of the place^ resounding
With gentle murmure of the breathing ayre,
A pleasant bowre with all delight abounding
In the fresh shadowe did for them prepayre.
To rest their limbs with wearines redounding.
For first the high palme-trees^, with braunches faire.
Out of the lowly vallies did arise.
And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.
XXV.
And them amongst the wicked Lotos grew.
Wicked, for holding guilefully away
Ulysses men, whom rapt with sweetenes new.
Taking to hoste, it quite from him did stay ;
And eke those trees, in whose transformed hew
The Sunnes sad daughters waylde the rash decay
Of Phaeton, whose limbs with lightening rent
They gathering up, with sweete teares did lament.
XXVI.
And that same tree, in which Demophoon,
By his disloyalty lamented sore,
Eternall hurte left unto many one :
Whom als accompanied the Oke, of yore
Through fatall charmes transform d to such an one :
The Oke, whose acornes were our foode, before
That Ceres seede of mortall men were knowne.
Which first Triptoleme taught how to be sowne.
XXVII.
Here also grew the rougher-rinded Pine,
The great Argoan ships brave ornament,
Whom golden Fleece did make an heavenly signe ;
Which coveting, with his high tops extent.
VIRGILS GNAT. 265
To make the mountaines touch the starres divine.
Decks all the forrest with embellishment ;
And the blacke Holme that loves the watrie vale ;
And the sweete Cypresse, signe of deadly bale.
XXVIII.
Emongst the rest the clambring Yvie grew.
Knitting his wanton armes with grasping hold.
Least that the Poplar happely should rew
Her brothers strokes, whose boughes she doth enfold
With her lythe twigs, till they the top survew.
And paint with pallid greene her buds of gold.
Next did the Myrtle tree to her approach.
Not yet unmindfull of her olde reproach.
XXIX.
But the small birds, in their wide boughs embowring,
Chaunted their sundrie tunes with sweete consent ;
And under them a silver spring, forth powring
His trickling streames, a gentle murmure sent ;
Thereto the frogs, bred in the slimie scowTing
Of the moist moores, their iarring voyces bent ;
And shrill grashoppers chirped them around:
All which the ayrie Echo did resound.
•J
XXX.
In this so pleasant place the Shepheards fiocke
Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest.
On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke,
Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best
The whiles the Shepheard self, tending his stocke.
Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest.
Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed him
Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim.
266 VIRGILS GNAT.
XXXI.
Of trecherie or traines nought tooke he keep;,
But, looslie on the grassie greene dispredd.
His dearest life did trust to careles sleep ;
Which, weighing down his drouping drowsie hedd,
In quiet rest his molten heart did steep.
Devoid of care, and feare of all falshedd:
Had not inconstant fortune, bent to ill.
Bid strange mischance his quietnes to spill.
XXXII.
For at his wonted time in that same place
An huge great Serpent, all with speckles pide.
To drench himselfe in moorish slime did trace.
There from the boyling heate himselfe to hide :
He, passing by with rolling wreathed pace.
With brandisht tongue the emptie aire did gride.
And wrapt his scalie boughts with fell despight.
That all things seem'd appalled at his sight.
xxxiii.
Now, more and more having himselfe enrolde.
His glittering breast he lifteth up on hie.
And with proud vaunt his head aloft doth holde ;
His creste above, spotted with purple die.
On everie side did shine like scalie golde ;
And his bright eyes, glauncing full dreadfullie.
Did seeme to flame out flakes of flashing fyre.
And with Sterne lookes to threaten kindled yrc.
XXXIV.
Thus wise long time he did himselfe dispace
There round about, when as at last he spide.
Lying along before him in that place.
That flocks grand Captaine and most trustie guide :
VIRGILS GNAT. 267
Eftsoones more fierce in visage, and in pace.
Throwing liis firie eyes on everie side.
He commeth on, and all things in his way
Full stearnly rends, that might his passage stay.
XXXV.
Much he disdaines, that anie one should dare
To come unto his haunt ; for which intent
He inly burns, and gins straight to prepare
The weapons, which Nature to him hath lent ;
Fellie he hisseth, and doth fiercely stare,
And hath his iawes with angrie spirits rent.
That all his tract with bloudie drops is stained.
And all his foldes are now in length outstrained.
XXXVI.
Whom, thus at point prepared, to prevent,
A litle noursling of the humid ayre,
A Gnat, unto the sleepie Shepheard went ;
And, marking where his ey-lids twinckling rare
Shewd the two pearles, w^hich sight unto him lent.
Through their thin coverings appearing fayre.
His little needle there infixing deep,
Warnd him awake, from death himselfe to keep.
XXXVII.
Wherewith enrag'd, he fiercely gan upstart.
And with his hand him rashly bruzing slewe
As in avengement of his heedles smart.
That streight the spirite out of his senses flew.
And life out of his members did depart :
When, suddenly casting aside his vew.
He spide his foe with felonous intent.
And fervent eyes to his destruction bent.
26S VIRGILS GNAT.
XXXVIII.
All suddenly dismaid;, and hartles quight^
He fled abacke, and, catching hastie holde
Of a yong alder hard beside him pight.
It rentj and streight about him gan beholde
What God or Fortune would assist his might.
But whether God or Fortune made him bold
Its hard to read : yet hardie will he had
To overcome^ that made him lesse adrad.
XXXIX.
The scalie backe of that most hideous Snake
Enwrapped round, oft faining to retire.
And oft him to assaile, he fiercely strake
Whereas his temples did his creast-front tyre ;
And, for he was but slowe, did slowth off shake
And gazing ghastly on ; (for feare and yre
Had blent so much his sense, that lesse he feard ;)
Yet, when he saw him slaine, himselfe he cheard.
XL.
By this the Night forth from the darksome bowre
Of Herebus her teemed steedes gan call,
And laesie Vesper in his timely howre
From golden Oeta gan proceede withall ;
Whenas the Shepheard after this sharpe stowre,
Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall.
Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare,
And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare.
XLI.
Into whose sense so soone as lighter sleepe
Was entered, and, now loosing everie lim,
Sweete slumbring deaw in carelesnesse did steepe ;
The Image of that Gnat appeard to him.
VIRGILS GNAT. 269
And in sad tearmes gan sorrowfully weepe.
With greislie countenaunce and visage grim.
Wailing the wrong which he had done of late.
In steed of good hastning his cruell fate.
XLII.
Said he, '^ What have I Avretch deserv'd, that thus
Into this bitter bale I am outcast,
Whilest that thy life more deare and precious
Was than mine owne, so long as it did last ?
I now, in lieu of paines so gracious.
Am tost in th' ayre with everie windie blast :
Thou, safe delivered from sad decay.
Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display.
XLiir.
" So livest thou ; but my poore wretched ghost
Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river.
And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost.
Seest thou not how all places quake and quiver,
Lightned with deadly lamps on everie post ?
Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver
Her flaming fier-brond, encountring me.
Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be.
XLIV.
" And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay
And barke out flames, as if on fire he fed ;
Adowne whose necke, in terrible array.
Ten thousand snakes cralling about his hed
Doo hang in heapes, that horribly afiray.
And bloodie eyes doo glister firie red ;
He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten
With painfull torments to be sorely beaten.
270 VIRGILS GNAT.
XLV.
'' Ay me ! that thankes so much should fiiile of meed ;
For that I thee restor'd to life againe^
Even from the doore of death and deadlie dreed.
Where then is now the guerdon of my paine ?
Where the reward of my so piteous deed ?
The praise of Pitie vanisht is in vaine.
And th' antique faith of lustice long agone
Out of the land is fled away and gone.
XLVI.
'*^ I saw anothers fate approaching fast.
And left mine owne his saf etie to tender ;
Into the same mishap I now am cast^,
And shun'd destruction doth destruction render :
Not unto him that never hath trespast.
But punishment is due to the offender.
Yet let destruction be the punishment.
So long as thankfull will may it relent.
XLVII.
'' I carried him into waste wildernesse.
Waste wildernes, amongst Cymerian shades,
Where endles paines and hideous heavinesse
Is round about me heapt in darksome glades.
For there huge Othos sits in sad distresse.
Fast bound with serpents that him oft invades :
Far off beholding Ephialtes tide.
Which once assai'd to burne this world so wide.
XLVIII.
^' And there is mournfuU Tityus, mindefull yet
Of thy displeasure, O Latona faire ;
])ispleasure too implacable was it.
That made him meat for wild foules of the ayre ;
VIRGILS GNAT. 271
Much do I feare among such fiends to sit ;
Much do I feare back to them to repayre,
To the black shadowes of the Stygian shorC;,
Where wretched ghosts sit wailing evermore.
XLIX.
^' There next the utmost brinck doth he abide.
That did the bankets of the gods bewray.
Whose threat through thirst to nought nigh being dride.
His sense to seeke for ease turnes every way:
And he, that in avengement of his pride
For scorning to the sacred gods to pray.
Against a mountaine rolls a mightie stone.
Calling in vaine for rest, and can have none.
'' Go ye with them, go, cursed Damosells,
Whose bridale torches foule Erynnis tynde ;
And Hymen, at your spousalls sad, foretells
Tydings of death and massacre unkinde :
With them that cruell Colchid mother dwells.
The which conceiv'd in her revengefull minde
With bitter woundes her owne deere babes to slay,
And murdred troupes upon great heapes to lay.
LI.
^' There also those two Pandionian maides.
Calling on Itis, Itis evermore.
Whom, wretched boy, they slew with guiltie blades ;
For whome the Thracian king lamenting sore,
Turn'd to a Lapwing, fowlie them upbraydes.
And fluttering round about them still does sore ;
There now they all eternally complaine
Of others wrong, and suffer endles paine.
272 VIRGILS GNAT.
LII.
" But the two brethren borne of Cadmus blood.
Whilst each does for the soveraignty contend,
Blinde through ambition, and with vengeance wood.
Each doth against the others bodie bend
His cursed Steele, of neither well withstood.
And with wide wounds their carcases doth rend ;
That yet they both doe mortall foes remaine,
Sith each with brothers bloudie hand was slaine.
LIII.
" Ah (waladay!) there is no end of paine.
Nor chaunge of labour may intreated bee :
Yet I beyond all these am carried faine.
Where other powers farre different I see.
And must passe over to th' Elisian plaine :
There grim Persephone, encountring mee,
Doth urge her fellow Furies earnestlie
With their bright firebronds me to terrifie.
LIV.
" There chast Alceste lives inviolate.
Free from all care, for that her husbands daies
She did prolong by changing fate for fate :
Lo ! there lives also the immortall praise
Of womankinde, most faithfuU to her mate,
Penelope ; and from her farre awayes
A rulesse route of yongmen, which her wood,
All slaine with darts, lie wallowed in their blood.
LV.
" And sad Eurydice thence now no more
Must turne to life, but there detained bee
For looking back, being forbid before :
Yet was the guilt thereof, Orpheus, in thee !
i
VIRGILS GNAT. 273
Bold sure he waS;, and worthie spirite bore^
That durst those lowest shadowes goe to see.
And could beleeve that anie thing could please
Fell Cerberus, or Stygian powres appease.
LVI.
^' Ne feard the burning waves of Phlegeton,
Nor those same mournefull kingdomes, compassed
With rustie horrour and fowle fashion ;
And deep digd vawtes ; and Tartar covered
With bloodie night, and darke confusion ;
And iudgement seates, whose ludge is deadlie dred,
A ludge, that after death doth punish sorre
The faults, which life hath trespassed before.
LVII.
" But valiant fortune made Dan Orpheus bolde :
For the swift running rivers still did stand.
And the wilde beasts their furie did withhold.
To follow Orpheus musicke through the land :
And th' okes, deep grounded in the earthly molde.
Did move, as if thev could him understand ;
And the shrill woods, which were of sense bereav'd.
Through their hard barke his silver sound receav'd.
LVIII.
'' And eke the Moone her hastie steedes did stay,
Drawing in teemes along the starrie skie ;
And didst, O monthly Virgin, thou delay
Thy nightly course, to heare his melodie ?
The same was able with like lovely lay
The Queene of hell to move as easily,
To yeeld Eurydice unto her fere
Backe to be borne, though it unlawfuU were.
VOL. IV. T
274 V1RGIL3 GNAT.
LIX.
" She, (Ladie) having well before approoved
The feends to be too cruell and severe;,
Observ'd th' appointed way, as her behooved,
Ne ever did her eysight turne arere,
Ne ever spake, ne cause of speaking mooved ;
But, cruell Orpheus, thou much crueller,
Seeking to kisse her, brok'st the 'gods decree,
And thereby mad'st her ever damn'd to be.
LX.
'' Ah ! but sweete love of pardon worthie is^
And doth deserve to have small faults remitted ;
If Hell at least things lightly done amis
Knew how to pardon, when ought is omitted ;
Yet are ye both received into blis.
And to the seates of happie soules admitted :
And you, beside the honourable band
Of great heroes^ doo in order stand.
LXI.
^* There be the two stout sonnes of ^Eacus,
Fierce Peleus, and the bardie Telamon,
Both seeming now full glad and ioyeous
Through their syres dreadfuU iurisdiction.
Being the ludge of all that horrid hous :
And both of them, by strange occasion,
Renown'd in choyce of happie marriage
Through Venus grace, and vertues cariage.
LXIl.
*' For th' one was ravisht of his owne bondmaiae
The faire Ixione captiv'd from Troy :
But th' other was with Thetis love assaid,
Great Nereus his daughter and his ioy.
VIRGILS GNAT. 275
On this side them there is a yongman layd^
Their match in glorie, mightie^ fierce, and coy ;
That from th'Argolick ships, with furious yre,
Bett back the furie of the Troian fyre.
LXIII.
'^ O ! who would not recount the strong divorces
Of that great warre, which Troianes oft behelde,
And oft beheld the warlike Greekish forces.
When Teucrian soyle with bloodie rivers swelde.
And wide Sigsean shores were spred with corses.
And Simois and Xanthus blood outwelde ;
Whilst Hector raged, with outragious minde.
Flames, weapons, wounds, in Greeks fleete to have tynde.
LXIV.
" For Ida selfe, in ayde of that fierce fight,
Out of her mountaines ministred supplies ;
And, like a kindly nourse, did yeeld (for spight)
Store of firebronds out of her nourseries
Unto her foster children, that they might
Inflame the navie of their enemies.
And all the Rhetsean shore to ashes turne.
Where lay the ships, which they did seeke to burne.
LXV.
" Gainst which the noble sonne of Telamon
Oppos'd himselfe, and, thwarting his huge shield.
Them battell bad, gainst whom appeard anon
Hector, the glorie of the Troian field :
Both fierce and furious in contention
Encountred, that their mightie strokes so shrild.
As the great clap of thunder, which doth ryve
The ratling heavens, and cloudes asunder dryve.
T 2
276 VIRGILS GNAT.
LXVI.
" So th' one with fire and weapons did contend
To cut the ships from turning home againe
To Argos ; th' other strove for to defend
The force of Vulcane with his might and maine.
Thus th' one iEacide did his fame extend :
But th' other ioy'd, that, on the Phrygian playne
Having the blood of vanquisht Hector shedd.
He compast Troy thrice with his bodie dedd.
LXVII.
" Againe great dole on either partie grewe.
That him to death unfaithfull Paris sent ;
And also him that false Ulysses slewe,
Drawne into danger through close ambushment ;
Therefore from him Laertes sonne his vewe
Doth turne aside, and boasts his good event
In working of Strymonian Rhaesus fall,
And efte in Dolons subtile siirprysall.
LXVIII.
" Againe the dreadfull Cy cones him dismay.
And blacke Lsestrigones, a people stout ;
Then greedie Scilla, under whom there bay
Manie great bandogs, which her gird about :
Then doo the iEtnean Cyclops him affray.
And deep Charybdis gulphing in and out :
Lastly the squalid lakes of Tartarie,
And griesly feends of hell him terrifie.
LXIX.
" There also goodly Agamemnon hosts,
The glorie of the stock of Tantalus,
And famous light of all the Greekish hosts ;
Under whose conduct most victorious.
VIRGILS GNAT. 277
The Dorick flames consum'd the Iliack posts.
Ah ! but the Greekes themselves^, more dolorous,
To thee, O Troy, paid penaunce for thy fall ;
In th' Hellespont being nigh drowned all.
LXX.
" Well may appeare by proofe of their mischaunce.
The chaungfull turning of mens slipperie state.
That none, whom fortune freely doth advaunce,
Himselfe therefore to heaven should elevate :
For loftie type of honour, through the glaunce
Of envies dart, is downe in dust prostrate ;
And all, that vaunts in worldly vanitie.
Shall fall through fortunes mutabilitie.
LXXI.
" Th' Argolicke Power returning home againe,
Enricht with spoyles of th' Ericthonian towre.
Did happie winde and weather entertaine.
And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre :
No signe of storme, no feare of future paine.
Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre.
Nereis to the seas a token gave.
The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave.
LXXII.
" Suddenly, whether through the gods decree.
Or haplesse rising of some froward starre.
The heavens on everie side enclowded bee :
Black stormes and fogs are bio wen up from farre.
That now the pylote can no loadstarre see.
But skies and seas doo make most dreadfuU warre ;
The billowes striving to the heavens to reach.
And th' heavens striving them for to impeach.
278 VIRGILS GNAT.
LXXIII.
^' And, in avengement of their bold attempt.
Both sun and starres and all the heavenly powres
Conspire in one to wreake their rash contempt.
And downe on them to fall from highest towres :
The skie, in pieces seeming to be rent,
Throwes lightning forth, and haile, and harmful showres.
That death on everie side to them appeares.
In thousand formes, to worke more ghastly feares.
LXXIV.
^' Some in the greedie flouds are sunke and drent ;
Some on the rocks of Caphareus are throwne ;
Some on th' Euboick cliffs in pieces rent ;
Some scattred on the Hercaean shores unknowne ;
And manie lost, of whom no moniment
Remaines, nor memorie is to be showne :
Whilst all the purchase of the Phrigian pray.
Tost on salt billowes, round about doth stray. j
LXXV.
" Here manie other like heroes bee,
Equall in honour to the former crue, -A
Whom ye in goodly seates may placed see.
Descended all from Rome by linage due;
From Rome, that holds the world in sovereigntie, j
And doth all nations unto her subdue :
Here Fabii and Decii doo dwell,
Horatii that in vertue did excell.
LXXVI.
" And here the antique fame of stout Camill
Doth ever live ; and constant Curtius,
Who, stifly bent his vowed life to spill
For countreyes health, a gulph most hideous
VIRGILS GNAT. 279
Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill,
T' appease the Powers ; and prudent Mutius,
Who in his flesh endur'd the scorching flame^,
To daunt his foe by' ensample of the same.
, LXXVII.
"^ And here wise Curius, companion
Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest ;
And stout Flaminius, whose devotion
Taught him the fires scorn'd furie to detest ;
And here the praise of either Scipion
Abides in highest place above the best.
To whom the ruin'd walls of Carthage vow'd ;
Trembling, their forces sound their praises lowd.
LXXVIII.
" Live they for ever through their lasting praise !
But I, poore wretch, am forced to retourne
To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes
Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne ;
And by the wayling shores to waste my dayes.
Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne ;
By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever
From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.
LXXIX.
'' Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell
Girt with long snakes, and thousand yron chaynes.
Through doome of that their cruell ludge, compell
With bitter torture, and impatient paines.
Cause of my death and iust complaint to tell.
For thou art he, whom my poore ghost complaines
To be the author of her ill unwares.
That careles hear'st my' intollerable cares.
^80 VIRGJLS GNAT.
LXXX.
" Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde^
I now depart, returning to thee never,
And leave this lamentable plaint behinde.
But doo thou haunt the soft downe-rolling river;,
And wilde greene woods and fruitful pastures minde ;
And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever/' —
Thus having said, he heavily departed
With piteous crie, that anie would have smarted.
LXXXI.
Now, when the sloathfull fit of lifes sweete rest
Had left the heavie Shepheard, wondrous cares
His inly grieved minde full sore opprest ;
That balefull sorrow he no longer beares
For that Gnats death, which deeply was imprest ;
But bends what ever power his aged yeares
Him lent, yet being such, as through their might
He lately slue his dreadfull foe in fight.
LXXXII.
By that same river lurking under greene,
Eftsoones he gins to fashion forth a place ;
And, squaring it in compasse well beseeney
There plotteth out a tombe by measured space :
His yron-headed spade tho making cleene.
To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse.
His worke he shortly to good purpose brought.
Like as he had conceiv'd it in his thought.
LXXXIII.
An heape of earth he hoorded up on hie.
Enclosing it with banks on everie side,
And thereupon did raise full busily
A little mount, of greene turffs edifide ;
VIRGILS GNAT. 581
And on the top of all, that passers by
Might it behold, the toomb he did provide
Of smoothest marble stone in order set.
That never might his luckie scape forget.
LXXXIV.
And round about he taught sweete flowres to growe ;
The Rose engrained in pure scarlet die ;
The Lilly fresh ; and Violet belowe ;
The Marigolde ; and cherefull Rosemarie ;
The Spartan Mirtle, whence sweet gumb does flowe ;
The purple Hyacinthe ; and fresh Costmarie ;
And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle ;
And Lawrell, th' ornament of Phoebus toyle.
LXXXV.
Fresh Rhododaphne ; and the Sabine flowre.
Matching the wealth of th' auncient Frankincence ;
And pallid Yvie, building his owne bowre ;
And Box, yet mindfuU of his olde offience ;
Red Amaranthus, lucklesse paramour ;
Oxeye still greene ; and bitter Patience ;
Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well
Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell.
LXXXVI.
And whatsoever other flo^vre of worth.
And whatso other hearb of lovely hew.
The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth.
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new ;
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth.
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.
To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved,
The Shepheard hath thy deaths record engraved.
4
i
THE
SHEPHEARDS CALENDER:
CONTEINING
TWELVE AEGLOGUES,
PROPORTIONABLE TO THE TWELVE MONETHES.
Vjiititled to the noble and vertuous Gentleman, most worthie of
all titles both of learning and chivalry,
MAISTER PHILIP SIDNEY.
TO HIS BOOKE.
GoE, little Booke ! thy selfe present,
As childe whose parent is unkent,
To him that is the President
Of Noblenesse and Chevalree :
And if that Envie barke at thee.
As sure it will, for succour flee
Under the shadow of his wing.
And, asked who thee forth did bring,
A shepheards swaine, say, did thee sing,
All as his straying flocke he fedde :
And, when his Honour has thee redde,
Crave pardon for thy hardy-hedde.
But, if that any aske thy name.
Say, thou wert base-begot with blame;
Forthy thereof thou takest shame.
And, when thou art past ieopardee.
Come tell me what was said of mee.
And 1 will send more after thee.
Immerito.
TO THE MOST EXCELLENT AND LEARNED,
BOTH ORATOR AND POET,
MAISTER GABRIEL HARVEY,
His verie speciall and singular good friend E. K. commendeth
the good lyking of this his good labour, and the
patronage of the new Poet.
Uncouth, unkist, said the old famous poet Chaucer :
whom for his excellencie and wonderfull skill in making,
his scholler Lidgate, a worthie scholler of so excellent
a master, calleth the loadstarre of our language : and
whom our Colin Clout in his Eglogue calleth Tityrus
the god of shepheards, comparing him to the worthi-
nesse of the Roman Tityrus, Virgil. Which proverb,
mine owne good friend M. Harvey, as in that good old
poet it served well Pandares purpose for the bolstering
of his bawdie brocage, so very well taketh place in this
our new Poet, who for that hee is uncouth (as sayde
Chaucer) is unkist, and unknowne to most men, is
regarded but of a fewe. But I doubt not, so soone
as his name shall come into the knowledge of men, and
his woorthinesse bee sounded in the trumpe of Fame,
but that hee shall bee not onely kist, but also beloved of
all, imbraced of the most, and wondred at of the best.
286 THE BPISTJLE.
No lesse, I thinke, deserveth his wittinesse in devising,
his pithinesse in uttering, his complaints of love so
lovely, his discourses of pleasure so pleasantlyj, his
pastoral rudenes, his morall wisenesse, his due ob-
serving of Decorum everie where, in personages, in
seasons, in matter, in speech ; and generallie, in all
seemely simplicitie of handling his matters, and framing
his wordes : the which of many things which in him
be straunge, I know will seeme the strangest, and
wordes themselves being so auncient, the knitting of
them so short and intricate, and the whole period and
compasse of speech so delightsom for the roundnesse,
and so grave for the strangenesse. And first of the
wordes to speake, I graunt they bee something hard,
and of most men unused, yet both English, and also
used of most excellent authours, and most famous poets, j
In whom, when as this our Poet hath bin much tra-
vailed and throughly read, how could it be, (as that
worthie Oratour sayde) but that walking in the Sunne,
althouth for other cause he walked, yet needes he
mought be sunburnt ; and, having the sound of those
auncient poets still ringing in his eares, he mought
needes, in singing, hit out some of their tunes. But
whether he useth them by such casualtie and custome,
or of set purpose and choise, as thinking them fittest
for such rustical rudenesse of shepheards, either for
that their rough sound would make his rimes more
ragged and rusticall ; or else because such old and ob-
solete wordes are most used of Country folke, sure I
thinke, and thinke I think not amisse, that they bring
THE EPISTLE. 287
great grace, and, as one would say, authoritie to the
verse. For albe, amongst many other faults, it spe-
cially be obiected of Valla against Livie, and of other
against Salust, that with over much studie they affect
antiquitie, as covering thereby credence and honour of
elder yeares; yet I am of opinon, and eke the best
learned are of the like, that those auncient solemne
words, are a great ornament, both in the one, and in
the other : the one labouring to set forth in his worke
an eternall image of antiquitie, and the other carefully
discoursing matters of gravity and importance. For,
if my memorie faile not, TuUy in that booke, wherein
he endevoureth to set forth the patterne of a perfect
Orator, saith that ofttimes an ancient worde maketh
the stile seeme grave, and as it were reverend, no
otherwise then we honor and reverence gray haires for
a certaine religious regard, which we have of old age.
Yet neither every where must old wordes be stuffed
in, nor the common Dialect and maner of speaking so
corrupted thereby, that, as in olde buildings, it seeme
disorderly and ruynous. But all as in most exquisite
pictures they use to blaze and portraict not only the
daintie lineaments of beautie, but also round about it
to shadowe the rude thickets and craggy clifts, that,
by the basenes of such parts, more excellencie may
accrew to the principall : for oftentimes we find our
selves, I know not how, singularly delighted with the
shew of such naturall rudenesse, and take great pleasure
in that disorderly order. Even so doo those rough and
harsh tearmes enlumine, and make more clearly to
288 THE EPISTLE.
appeare^, the brightnesse of brave and glorious wordes.
So oftentimes a discorde in musike maketh a comely
concordance : so great delight tooke the worthie poet
Alceus to behold a blemish in the ioynt of a well shaped
bodie. But, if any will rashly blame such his purpose
in choise of olde and unwonted wordes, him may I
more iustly blame and condemne, or of witlesse headi-
nesse in iudging, or of heedles hardinesse in condemn-
ing : for, not marking the compasse of his bent, he will
iudge of the length of his cast ; for in my opinion it
is one especiall praise of many, which are due to this
Poet, that he hath labored to restore, as to their right-
full heritage, such good and naturall English wordes,
as have beene long time out of use, and almost cleane
disherited. Which is the only cause, that our mother
tongue, which truly of itself is both full inough for
prose, and stately inough for verse, hath long time
been counted most bare and barren of both. Which
default when as some endevoured to salve and recure,
they patched up the holes with peeces and rags of
other languages, borrowing here of the French, there
of the Italian, every where of the Latin ; not weighing
how ill those tongues accord with themselves, but much
worse with ours : So now they have made our English
tong a gallimaufrey, or hodgepodge of all other speeches.
Other some not so well seene in the English tongue, as
perhaps in other languages, if they happen to heare an
olde word, albeit very naturall and significant, cry out
straightway, that we speake no English, but gibberish,
or rather such as in olde time Evanders mother spake
I
THE EPISTLE. 289
whose first shame is, that they are not ashamed, in
their own mother tongue, to bee counted strangers and
aliens. The second shame no lesse then the first, that
what so they understand not, they streightway deeme
to be senselesse, and not at all to be understoode.
Much like to the Mole in Aesops fable, that, being
blind herself, would in no wise be perswaded, that any
beast could see. The last, more shameful 1 then both,
that of their owne country and natural speach, which
togither with their nurses milke they sucked, they
have so base regard & bastard iudgement, that they
wil not only themselves not labor to garnish and beau-
tifie it, but also repine, that of other it should be em-
bellished. Like to the dogge in the maunger, that
himselfe can eate no hay, and yet barketh at the hun-
grie bullock, that so faine would feed : whose currish
kinde, though it cannot be kept from barking, yet I
conne them thanke that they refraine from byting.
Now, for the knitting of sentences, which they
call the ioynts and members tlierof, & for all the
compasse of the speech, it is round without rough-
nesse, and learned without hardnesse, such in deede
as may be perceyved of the least, understood of the
most, but iudged onely of the learned. For what in
most English writers useth to be loose, and as it
were unright, in this Authour is well grounded^
finely framed, and strongly trussed up togither. In
regarde whereof, I scorne and spew out the rakehelly
rout of our ragged rymers (for so themselves use to
hunt the letter) which without learning boast, with-
VOL. IV. U
290 THE EPISTLE.
out iudgement iangle^, without reason rage and fome,
as if some instinct of poetical spirit had newly ra-
vished them above the meannesse of common capacitie.
And being, in the midst of all their braverie, sud-
denly, either for want of matter, or rime ; or having for-
gotten their former conceit ; they seem to be so pained
and travailed in their remembrance, as it were a
woman in childbirth, or as that same Pythia, when
the traunce came upon her. " Os rabidum fera corda
domans, &c."
Nethlesse, let them a Gods name feed on their
owne folly, so they seeke not to darken the beams of
others glorie. As for Colin, under whose person the
Authors selfe is shadowed, how farre he is from such
vaunted titles and glorious shewes, both himselfe
sheweth, where he sayth :
" Of Muses Hobbin, I conne no skill."
And,
" Enough is me to paint out my unrest, ^c.*'
And also appeareth by the basenesse of the name,
wherein it seemeth he chose rather to unfold great
matter of argument covertly then, professing it, not
suffice thereto accordingly. Which moved him rather
in iEglogues then otherwise to write, doubting perhaps
his ability, which he little needed, or minding to fur-
nish our tongue with this kinde, wherein it faulteth;
or following the example of the best and most an-
cient poets, which devised this kinde of writing, being
both 80 base for the matter, and homely for the maner.
THE KPISTLE. 291
at the first to trie their habilities ; and as yong birdes,
that bee newly crept out of the nest, by little first
prove their tender winges, before they make a greater
flight. So fiew Theocritus, as you may perceyve hee
was alreadie full fledged. So flewe Virgil, as not yet
well feeling his wings. So flew Mantuane, as not
being ful somd. So Petrarque. So Boccace. So
Marot, Sanazarius, and also diverse other excellent
both Italian and French poets, whose footing this
author everie where foloweth : yet so as few, but they
be well sented, can trace him out. So finally flieth
this our new Poet as a birde whose principals be
scarce growne out, but yet as one that in time shall
be able to keepe wing with the best. Now, as touch-
ing the general drift and purpose of his ^Eglogues, I
mind not to say much, himself laboring to conceal it.
Only this appeareth, that his unstayed youth had long
wandred in the common Labirinth of Love, in which
time to mitigate and allay the heate of his passion, or
else to warne (as he saith) the yong shepheards, his
equals and companions, of his unfortunate folly, hee
compiled these twelve Aeglogues^ which, for that
they be proportioned to the state of the twelve
Moneths, he tearmeth it the Shepheards Calender,
applying an olde name to a new work. Hereunto have
I added a certaine Glosse, or scholion,* for the exposi-
tion of olde wordes and harder phrases ; which maner
* This is incorporatfid in the General Glossary.
U 2
292 THE EPISTLE.
of glossing and commenting, well I wote, will seeme
strange and rare in our tongue : y^t^, for so much as
I knewe many excellent and proper devises, both in
wordes and matter, would passe in the speedie course
of reading either as unknowne, or as not marked ; and
that in this kinde, as in other, we might be equal
to the learned of other nations ; I thought good to
take the paines upon me, the rather for that by meanes
of some familiar acquaintance I was made privie to
his counsaile and secret meaning in them, as also in
sundrie other works of his. Which albeit I know he
nothing so much hateth, as to promulgate, yet thus
much have I adventured upon his friendship, himselfe
being for long time farre estraunged ; hoping that
this will the rather occasion him to put foorth diverse
other excellent works of his, which sleep in silence ;
as his Dreams, his Legends, his Court of Cupid, and
sundrie others, whose commendation to set out were
verie vaine, the things though worthie of many, yet
beeing knowne to fewe. These my present paines,
if to any they be pleasurable or profitable, be you
iudge, mine owne maister Harvey, to whom I have
both in respect of your worthines generally, and other-
wise upon some particular and speciall considerations,
vowed this my labour, and the maidenheade of this our
common friends poetrie ; himselfe having alreadie in
the beginning dedicated it to the noble and worthie
Gentleman, the right worshipfull maister Philip Sid-
ney, a speciall favourer and maintainer of all kinde of
THE EPISTLE. ti93
learning. Whose cause, I pray you, sir, if envie shall
stirre up any wrongfull accusation, defend with your
mightie rhetoricke and other your rath gifts of learn-
ing, as you can, and shield with your good will, as
you ought, against the malice and outrage of so many
enemies, as I know will bee set on fire with the
sparkes of his kindled glorie. And thus recommend-
ing the Authour unto you, as unto his most speciall
good friend, and my selfe unto you both, as one mak-
ing singular account of two so very good & so choise
friends, I bid you both most hartily fare well, and
commit you and your commendable studies to the tui-
tion of the Greatest.
Your owne assuredly to be commaunded,
E. K.
Post scr.
Now I trust, M. Harvey, that upon sight of your
speciall friends and fellow poets doings, or else for
envie of so many unworthy Quidams, which catch
at the garland which to you alone is due, you wil be
perswaded to plucke out of the hatefull darknes those
so many excellent English poems of yours which lie
hid, and bring them forth to eternal light. Trust me,
you do both them great wrong, in depriving them of
the desired sun; and also your selfe, in smothering
your deserved praises ; and all men generally, in with-
holding from them so divine pleasures, which they might
294 THE EPISTLE.
(
coiiceyve of your gallant English verses, as they have
alreadie done of your Latin poems, which, in my
opinion, both for invention and elocution are verie deli-
cate and super-excellent. And thus againe I take my
leave of my good M. Harvey. From my lodging at
London this tenth of Aprill, 1579.
4
THE
GENERALL ARGUMENT
OF THE
WHOLE BOOKE.
Little, I hope, needeth me at large to discourse
the first originall of Aeglogues, having alreadie
touched the same. But, for the worde Aeglogues I
know is unknowen to most, and also mistaken of some
of the best learned, (as they thinke,) I will say some-
what thereof, beeing not at all impertinent to my
present purpose.
They were first of the Greekes, the inventours of
them, called Aeglogai, as it were Aegon, or Aeginomon
logi, that is, Goteheardes tales. For although in Vir-
gil and others the speakers be more Shepheards then
Goatheards, yet Theocritus, in whom is more ground
of authoritie then in Virgil, This specially from That
deriving, as from the first heade and wellspring, the
whole invention of these Aeglogues, maketh Goate-
heards the persons and authors of his tales. This
being, who seeth not the grossnesse of such as by
colour of learning would make us beleeve, that they
are more rightly tearmed Eclogai, as they would say,
extraordinarie discourses of unnecessarie matter : which
296 GENERALL ARGUMENT.
definition albe in substance and meaning it agree with
the nature of the things, yet no whit answereth with
the analysis and interpretation of the worde. For they
be not tearmed Eclogues, but Aeglogues ; which sentence
this Authour verie well observing, upon good iudge-
ment, though indeede fewe Goatheards have to doe
herein, neverthelesse doubteth not to call them by the
used and best knowen name. Other curious discourses
hereof I reserve to greater occasion.
These twelve Aeglogues, every where aunswering
to the seasons of the twelve jVIoneths, may be well
divided into three formes or rankes. For either they
be Plaintive, as the first, the sixt, the eleventh, and
the twelfth ; or Recreative, such as all those bee^
which containe matter of love, or commendation of
speciall personages ; or Morall, which for the most part
be mixed with some Satyricall bitternesse; namely,
the second, of reverence due to olde age; the fift, of
coloured deceyte ; the seventh and ninth, of disso-
lute Shepheards and Pastors ; the tenth, of contempt
of Poetrie and pleasant Wittes. And to this division
may everie thing herein bee reasonably applyed ; a few
onelie except, whose speciall purpose and meaning I
am not privie to. And thus much generally of these
twelve Aeglogues. Now will we speake particular lie
of all, and first of the first, which hee calleth by
the first Monethes name, lanuarie: wherein to some
hee may seeme fouly to have faulted, in that he erro-
niously beginneth with that Moneth, which beginneth
not the yeare. For it is well knowne, and stoutlie
GKNERALL ARGUMENT. 297
maintained with strong reasons of the learned, that the
veare beginncth in March ; for then the sunne re-
nueth his finished course, and the seasonable spring
refresheth the earth, and the pleasaunce thereof, being
buried in the sadnesse of the dead winter now worne
away, reliveth.
This opinion maintaine the olde Astrologers and
Philosophers, namely, the reverend Andalo, and Ma-
crobius in his Holy Dayes of Saturne ; which account
also was generally observed both of Grecians and
Romans. But, saving the leave of such learned heades,
wee maintaine a custome of counting the seasons from
the Moneth lanuarie, uppon a more speciall cause then
the heathen Philosophers ever could conceyve, that is,
for the Incarnation of our mightie Saviour, and eternal!
Redeemer the Lorde Christ, who as then renewing the
state of the decayed worlde, and returning the com-
passe of expyred yeares to theyr former date and first
commencement, left to Us his Heyres a memoriall of
his byrth in the end of the last yeare and beginning
of the next. Which reckoning, beside that eternal!
Monument of our salvation, leaneth also upon good
proofe of speciall iudgement.
For albeeit that in elder tymes, when as yet the
count of the yeare was not perfected, as afterward
it was by lulius Caesar, they began to tell the Mo-
nethes from Marches beginning, and according to
the same God (as is sayde in Scripture) commaunded
the people of the lewes, to count the Moneth Abib,
that which wee call March, for the first Moneth, in
298 GENERALL ARGUMENT.
remembraunce that in that Moneth hee brought them
out of the lande of Aegypt: yet^, according to tra-
dition of latter times it hath been otherwise ob-
served^ both in government of the Church and rule
of mightiest realmes. For from lulius Caesar who
first observed the leape yeare, which he called Bissex-
tilem Annum, and brought into a more certaine course
the odde wandring dayes which of the Greekes were
called Hyperhainontes, of the Romans Intej'calarcs,
(for in such matter of learning I am forced to use the
tearmes of the learned,) the Moneths have beene num-
bred twelve, which in the first ordinance of Romulus
were but ten, counting but 304 dayes in everie yeare,
and beginning with March. But Numa Pompilius,
who was the father of al the Romane Ceremonies and
Religion, seeing that reckoning to agree neither with
the course of the Sunne nor the Moone, thereunto
added two Moneths, lanuarie and Februarie ; wherin
it seemeth, that wise king minded upon good reason to
begin the yeare at lanuarie, of him therefore so called
tanquam lanua anni, the gate and enteraunce of the
yeare ; or of the name of the god lanus, to which god
for that the olde Paynims attributed the birth and
beginning of all creatures new comming into the world,
it seemeth that he therefore to him assigned the be-
ginning and first entrance of the yeare. Which ac-
count for the most part hath hitherto continued : Not-
withstanding that the Egyptians beginne their yeare at
September ; for that, according to the opinion of the
best Rabbines and verie purpose of the Scripture it
GENKRALL ARGUMENT. 299
selfcj, God made the worlde in that Moneth, that is
called of them Tisri. And therefore he commanded
them to keepe the feast of Pavilions in the ende of the
yeare, in the xv. day of the seventh Moneth, which
before that time was the first.
But our Authour respecting neither the subtiltie of
the one part, nor the antiquitie of the other, thinketh it
fittest, according to the simplicitie of common under-
standing, to begin with lanuarie ; weening it perhaps
no decorum that Shepheards should be seene in matter
of so deep insight, or canvase a case of so doubtful
judgement. So therefore beginneth he, and so conti-
nueth he throuo:hout.
THE
SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
JANUARIE.
AEGLOGA PRIMA.
ARGUMENT.
In this first Aeglogue Colin Clout, a Shepheards Boy, com-
plaineth himselfe of his unfortunate love, being but newly (as
seemeth) enamoured of a Country Lasse called Rosalinde : with
which strong affection being verie sore travelled, he compareth
his careful case to the sad season of the yeare, to the frostie
ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winterbeaten
flocke. And lastly, finding himselfe robbed of all former plea-
sance and delight, he breaketh his Pipe in peeces, and casteth
himselfe to the ground.
COLIN CLOUT.
A SHEPHEARDS Boy, (no better doe him call,)
When winters wastful spight was almost spent.
All in a sunneshine day, as did befall.
Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent :
So faint they woxe, and feeble in the folde, 5
That now unnethes their feete could them uphold.
302 THE SHKPHEARDS CALENDER.
All as the sheepe, such was the shepheards looke,
For pale and waniie he was, (alas the while !)
May seeme he lovd;, or- else some care hee tooke ;
Well couth hee tune his pipe and frame his stile : 1
Tho to a hill his fainting flocke hee ledde.
And thus him playnde, the while his sheepe there
fedde ;
" Yee gods of love ! that pitie lovers paine,
(If any gods the paine of lovers pitie,)
Looke from above, where you in ioyes remaine, 15
And bow your eares unto my dolefull dittie.
And, Pan ! thou shepheards god, that once didst love,
Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst prove.
" Thou barraine ground^ whom winters wrath hath
wasted.
Art made a mirror to behold my plight : 20
Whilome thy fresh spring Howrd, and after hasted
Thy sommer prowde, with diffadillies dight ;
And now is come thy winters stormie state.
Thy mantle mard wherein thou maskedst late.
'* Such rage as winters raigneth in my hart, 25
My life-bloud freesing with unkindly cold ;
Such stormie stoures do breede my balefull smart,
As if my yeare were wast and woxen old ;
And yet, alas ! but now my spring begonne.
And yet, alas ! it is already donne. 30
t
JANUARIE. .303
" You naked trees, whose shadie leaves are lost.
Wherein the birds were wont to build their bowre,
And now are clothd with mosse and hoarie frost.
In steede of blosomes, wherewith your buds did flowre;
I see your teares that from your boughes do raine, 35
Whose drops in drerie ysicles remaine.
" All so my lustfull leafe is drie and sere.
My timely buds with wayling all are wasted ;
The blossome which my braunch of youth did beare,
With breathed sighes is blowne away and blasted; 40
And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend.
As on your boughes the ysicles depend.
" Thou feeble Flocke ! whose fleece is rough and rent,
Whose knees are weake through fast and evill fare,
IVIaist witnesse well, by thy ill government, 45
Thy maisters mind is overcome with care :
Thou weake, I wanne ; thou leane, I quite fori or ne :
With mourning pyne I ; you with pyning mourne.
"^ A thousand sithes I curse that carefull houre
Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see, 50
And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure
Wherein I sawe so faire a sight as shee :
Yet all for naught : such sight hath bred my bane. -
Ah, God ! that love should breed both ioy and paine !
'^ It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine, bb
Albee my love hee seeke with dayly suit ;
304 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine^
His kiddes, his cracknelleS;, and his early fruit.
Ah, foolish Hobbinol ! thy giftes bene vaine ;
Colin them gives to Rosalind againe. 60
" I love thilke Lasse, (alas ! why doe I love?)
And am forlorne, (alas ! why am I lorne?)
She deignes not my good will, but doth reprove,
And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.
Shepheards devise she hateth as the snake, 65
And laughes the songs that Colin Clout doth make.
I
" Wherefore, my Pype, albee rude Pan thou please.
Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would ;
And thou, unluckie Muse, that wontst to ease
My musing minde, yet canst not when thou should; 70
Both Pype and Muse shall sore the while abye." —
So broke his oaten pype, and down did lye.
By that, the welked Phoebus gan availe
His wearie waine ; and now the frostie Night
Her mantle black through heaven gan overhaile : 75
Which seene, the pensive Boy, halfe in despight.
Arose, and homeward drOve his sunned sheepe.
Whose hanging heades did seeme his carefull case toj
weepe. 71
COLINS EMBLEME.
A?ichora spcme.
305
FEBRUARIE.
AEGLOGA SECUNDA.
ARGUMENT.
This Aeglogue is rather morall and generall then bent to anie
secret or particular purpose. It speciallie containeth a dis-
course of olde age, in the person of Thenot, an old shepheard,
who, for his crookednesse and unlustinesse, is scorned of
Cuddie, an unhappie heardmans boy. The matter verie well
accordeth with the season of the moneth, the yeare now droop-
ing, and as it were drawing to his last age. For as in this
time of yeare, so then in our bodies, there is a drie and wither-
ing cold, which congealeth the crudled blood, and frieseth
the weatherbeaten flesh, with stormes of Fortune and hoare
frosts of Care. To which purpose the olde man telleth a tale
of the Oake and the Brier, so livelie, and so feelinglie, as, if
the thing were set forth in some picture before our eies, more
plainlie could not appeare.
CUDDIE, THENOT.
CUDDIE.
Ah for pittie ! will rancke winters rage
These bitter blastes never gint'asswage?
The kene cold blowes through my beaten hide^,
All as I were through the body gride:
My ragged routes all shiver and shake, .5
As doen high towers in an earthquake ;
VOL. IV. X
306 T^UE 3HiiPHEARDS CALENDER.
1
They woont in the winde wagge their wriggle tayles
Perke as a peacocke ; but now it availes.
The. Lewdly complainest, thou laesie ladde.
Of winters wracke for making thee sadde. 10 jj
Must not the worlde wend in his common course,
From good to bad, and from bad to worse, |
From worse unto that is worst of all.
And then returne to his former fall ?
Who will not suffer the stormie time, 15
Where will he live till the lustie prime?
Selfe have I worne out thrise thirtie yeres,
Some in much ioy, many in many teares.
Yet never complained of cold nor heate.
Of sommers flame, nor of winters threate, 20
Ne ever was to Fortune foeman.
But gently tooke that ungently came ;
And ever my flocke was my chiefe care ;
Winter or sommer they mought well fare.
Cud. No marveile, Thenot, if thou can beare 25
CherefuUy the winters wrathfull cheare ;
For age and winter accord full nie.
This chill, that cold ; this crooked, that wrye ;
And as the lowring wether lookes downe.
So seemest thou like Good Friday to frowne : 30
But my flouring youth is foe to frost.
My shippe unwont in stormes to be tost.
The. The soveraigne of seas he blames in vaine.
That, once sea-beate, will to sea againe :
So loytring live you little heardgroomes, S5
Keeping your beastes in the budded broomes ;
i
PEBRUARIE. 307
And, when the shining sunne laugheth once.
You deemen, the spring is come attonce ;
Tho ginne you, fond Flies ! the cold to scorne,
And, crowing in pypes made of greene come, 40
You thinken to be lords of the yeare ;
But eft, when ye count you freed from feare.
Comes the breme Winter with chamfred browes.
Full of wrinckles and frosty furrowes,
Drerily shooting his stormie darte, 45
Which cruddles the bloud and pricks the harte :
Then is your carelesse courage accoyed.
Your carefull heards with cold bene annoyed ;
Then pay you the price of your surquedrie.
With weeping, and wailing, and miserie. 50
Cud. Ah ! foolish old man ! I scorne thy skill.
That wouldst me my springing youth to spill :
I deeme thy braine emperished bee
Through rustic elde, that hath rotted thee ;
Or sicker thy head verie tottie is, 55
So on thy corbe shoulder it leanes amisse.
Now thy selfe hath lost both lopp and topp,
Als my budding braunch thou wouldest cropp ;
But were thy yeres greene, as now bene mine.
To other delightes they would encline : 60
Tho wouldest thou learne to caroll of love.
And hery with hymnes thy lasses glove ;
[jTho wouldest thou pype of Phillis praise ;
ut Phillis is mine for many dayes ;
wonne her with a girdle of gelt, 65
mbost with buegle about the belt :
X 2
308 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Such an one shepheards would make full faine ;
Such an one would make thee young againe.
The, Thou art a fon, of thy love to boste ;
All that is lent to love will be loste. 70
Cud. Seest how brag yond bullocke beares,
So smirke^, so smoothe^, his pricked eares?
His homes bene as broade as rainebow bent.
His dewelap as lythe as lasse of Kent :
See how he venteth into the winde ; 75
Weenest of love is not his minde ?
Seemeth thy flocke thy counsell can,
So lustlesse bene they, so weake, so wan ;
Clothed with cold, and hoarie with frost.
Thy fiockes father his courage hath lost. SO
Thy ewes, that woont to have blowen bags,
Like wailefull widdowes hangen their crags ;
The rather lambes bene starved with cold.
All for their maister is lustlesse and old.
The. Cuddie, I wote thou kenst little good, 85
So vainely to advaunce thy headlesse hood ;
For youngth is a bubble blowne up with breath.
Whose witte is weakenesse, whose wage is death.
Whose way is wildernesse, whose ynne penaunce.
And stoope gallaunt Age, the hoast of Greevaunce. 90
But shall I tell thee a tale of truth,
Which I cond of Tityrus in my youth,
Keeping his sheepe <m the hilles of Kent ?
Cud. To nought more, Thenot, my minde is bent
Then to heare novells of his devise ; 95
They bene so well tliewed, and so wise,
PEBRUARIE. 309
What ever that good old man bespake.
The. Many meete tales of yonth did hee make;,
And some of love^ and some of chevalrie ;
But none fitter then this to applie. 100
Now listen a while and hearken the end.
'' There grewe an aged tree on the greene^,
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene^,
With armes full strong and largely displayd.
But of their leaves they were disarayde : 105
The bodie bigge, and mightily pight.
Throughly rooted, and of wonderous hight ;
Whilome had bene the king of the fielde.
And mochell mast to the husbande did yieldC;,
And with his nuts larded many swine : 1!
But now the gray mosse marred his rine ;
His bared boughes were beaten with storm es.
His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes.
His honour decayed, his braunches sere.
Hard by his side grewe a bragging Brere, 115
Which prowdly thrust into th' element.
And seemed to threat the firmament :~
It was embellisht with blossomes fayre.
And thereto aye wonted to repayre
The shepheards daughters to gather fiowres, 120
To painte their girlonds with his colowres ;
And in his small bushes used to shrowde
The sweete nightingale singing so lowde ;
' Which made this foolish Brere wexe so bold.
That on a time hee cast him to scold 125
.And snebbe the good Oake, for hee was old.
i
310 THE SHEPHEARDS CALEN1>ER.
' Why standst there (quoth he) thou brutish hlocke ?
' Nor for fruit nor for shadowe serves thy stocke ;
' Seest how fresh my flowers bene spredde^
' Dyed in lilly white and cremsin redde, 130
' With leaves engrained in lustie green;
' Colours meete to clothe a mayden queene?
' Thy waste bignes but combers the ground,
' And dirks the beautie of my blossomes round :
' The mouldie mosse, which thee accloyeth, 135
' My si nam on smell too much annoy eth :
' Wherefore soone I rede thee hence remove,
' Least thou the price of my displeasure prove/
So spake this bold Brere with great disdaine :
Little him aunswered the Oake againe, 1 40
But yeelded, with shame and grief adawed.
That of a weede hee was overcrawed.
It chaunced after upon a day.
The husbandman selfe to come that way,
Of custome for to survewe his grounde, 145
And his trees of state in compasse rounde :
Him when the spightefull Brere had espyed,
Causelesse complayned, and lowdly cryed
Unto his lord, stirring up sterne strife :
'^ O my liege Lord ! the god of my life, 150
' Pleaseth you ponder your suppliaunts plaint,
* Caused of wrong and cruell constraint,
' Which I your poore vassall day lie endure ;
' And, but your goodnes the same recure,
* Am like for desperate doole to die, 155
* Through felonous force of mine enemie.'
FEBRUAnrE. 311
Greatly agast with this piteous plea,
Him rested the goodman on the lea.
And bad the Brere in his plaint proceede.
With painted wordes tho gan this proude weede 160
(As most usen ambitious folke)
His coloured crime with craft to cloke.
' Ah, my Soveraigne ! lord of creatures all,
' Thou placer of plants both humble and tall,
* Was not I planted of thine owne hande, 165
' To bee the primrose of all thy lande ;
' With flowring blossomes to furnish the prime,
' And scarlet berries in sommer time ?
' Howe falls it then that this faded Oake,
' Whose bodie is sere, whose braunches broke, 1 70
' Whose naked arms stretch unto the fire,
* Unto such tyrannie doth aspire ;
* Hindering with his shade my lovely light,
* And robbing mee of the sweete sunnes sight ?
' So beate his old boughes my tender side, , 1 75
* That oft the blonde springeth from woundes wide ;
' Untimely my flouTes forced to fall,
' That bene the honour of your coronall :
' And oft hee lets his cancker-wormes light
' Upon my braunches, to worke me more spight; 180
' And oft his hoarie locks down doth cast,
'Wherewith my fresh flowrets bene defast:
' For this, and many more such outrage,
* Craving your goodlyhead to asswage
' The ranckorous rigour of his might; 185
' Nought aske I, but onely to holde my right ;
312
THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
^ Submitting inee to your good suiferaunce^
* And praying to be garded from greevaunce.'
To this this Oake cast him to replie
Well as hee couth ; but his enemie 190
Had kindled such coles of displeasure^
That the goodman noulde stay his leasure^
But home him hasted with furious heate^
Encreasing his wrath with many a threate :
His harmefull hatchet he hent in hand, 195
(Alas ! that it so readie should stand!)
And to the tielde alone hee speedeth,
(Ay little help to harme there needeth I)
Anger nould let him speake to the tree,
Enaunter his rage mought cooled bee ; 500
But to the roote bent his sturdie stroake.
And made many woundes in the waste Oake.
The axes edge did oft turne againe.
As halfe unwilling to cutte the grained-
Seemed, the senselesse yron did feare^ 205
Or to wrong holy eld did forbeare ;
For it had been an auncient tree.
Sacred with many a mysteree.
And often crost with the priestes crewe.
And often hallowed with holy- water dewe : 2 10
But sike fancies weren foolerie.
And broughten this Oake to this miserie ;
For nought mought they quitten him from decay.
For fiercely the goodman at him did laye.
The blocke oft groned under the blow, 215
And sighed to see his neere overthrow.
PKBRUARIK. 313
In Une, the Steele had pierced his pith,
Tho downe to the earth hee fell forthwith.
His wonderous weight made the ground to quake,
Th' earth shronke under him, and seemed to shake : —
There lyeth the Oake, pitied of none ! 221
Now stands the Brere like a lord alone.
Puffed up with pryde and vaine pleasaunce ;
But all this glee had no continuaunce : ,
For eftsoones winter gan to approchej '225
The blustring Boreas did encroche.
And beate upon the solitarie Brere;
For nowe no succour was seene him neere.
Now gan hee repent his pride too late ;
For, naked left and disconsolate, 230
The byting frost nipt his stalke dead.
The watrie wette weighed downe his head.
And heaped snowe burdned him so sore.
That nowe upright hee can stand no more ;
And, being downe, is trod in the durt 235
Of cattell, and bronzed, and sorely hurt.
Such was th' end of this ambitious Brere,
For scorning eld — "
Cud. Now I pray thee, shepheard, tell it not forth :
Here is a long tale, and little worth. 240
So long have I listened to thy speche.
That grafFed to the ground is my breche;
My heartblood is well nigh frorne I feele,
And my .galage growne fast to my heele ;
But little ease of thy lewde tale I tasted : 245
Hie thee home, Shepheard, the day is nigh wasted.
314 THE 8HEPHEARDS CALENDER,
THENOTS EMBLEMS.
IddiOf percke e vecchio,
Fa suoi al suo essempio.
CUDDIES EMBLEME.
Niuno vecchio
Spavenfa Iddio.
315
MARCH.
AEGLOGA TERTIA.
ARGUMENT.
Ix this Aeglogue two Shepheards Boyes, taking occasion of the
season, beginne to make purpose of love, and other pleasance
which to spring-time is most agreeable. The speciall meaning
hereof, is, to give certaine marks and tokens, to know Cupid
the poets god of Love. But more particularly, I thinke, in
the person of Thomalin, is meant some secret Friend, who
scorned Love and his Knights so long, till at length himselfe
was entangled, and unwares wounded with the dart of some
beautifull regard, which is Cupids arrow.
WILLYE. THOMALIN.
WILLVE.
Thomalin, why sitten wee soe.
As weren overwent with woe.
Upon so fayre a morow?
The ioyous time now nigheth fast.
That shall alegge this bitter blast, 5
And slake the winter sorow.
Tho. Sicker, Willye, thou warnest well ;
For winters wrath beginnes to quell.
And pleasaunt spring appeareth :
The grasse nowe ginnes to be refresht, 10
The swallowe peepes out of her nest.
And clowdie welkin cleareth.
316 THE SHEPHEARUS CALENDER.
WiL. Seest not thilke same hawtliorne studde.
How bragly it begins to budde^
And utter his tender head ? 15
Flora nowe calleth forth eche flower^
And bids make readie ]\Iaias bower.
That newe is upryst from bedd:
Tho shall wee sporten in delight.
And learne with Lettice to wexe light, ^0
That scornefully lookes askaunce ;
Tho will wee little Love awake.
That nowe sleepeth in Lethe lake.
And pray him leaden our daunce.
Tho. Willy e, I ween thou be assot ; 25
For lusty Love still sleepeth not,
But is abroade at his game.
WiL. Howe kenst thou, that hee is awoke ?
Or hast thy selfe his slomber broke ?
Or made privie to the same ? 30
Tho. No; but happily I him spide.
Where in a bush he did him hide.
With winges of purple and blewe ;
And, were not that my sheepe would stray.
The privie markes I M^ould bewray, 35
Whereby by chaunce I him knew.
WiL. Thomalin, have no care for-thy;
My selfe will have a double eye,
Ylike to my flocke and thine ;
For, alas ! at home I have a syre, , 40
A stepdame eke, as hote as fyre, ,
That dewly adayes counts mine.
MARCH.
Q
17
Tho. Nay, but thy seeing will not serve.
My sheep for that may chaunce to swerve.
And fall into some mischiefe : 45
For sithens is but the third morow
That I chaunst to fall asleepe with sorow,
And waked againe with griefe ;
The while thilke same unhappie ewe.
Whose clouted legge her hurt doth shewe, 50
Fell headlono- into a dell.
And there unioynted both her bones :
IMought her neck bene ioynted attones,
She shoulde have neede no more spell ;
Th' elfe was so wanton and so wood, 55
(But now I trowe can better good,)
She mought ne gang on the greene.
WiL. Let be, as may be, that is past ;
That is to come, let be forecast :
Now tell us what thou hast seene. 60
Tho. It was upon a holiday,
AVTien shepheards groomes han leave to play,
I cast to go a shooting;
Long wandring up and downe the land,
With bow and bolts in either hand, 65
For birdes in bushes tooting.
At length within the y vie todde,
(There shrowded was the little god,)
I heard a busie bustling;
I bent my bolt against the bush, 70
Listning if anie thing did rush.
But then heard no more rustling.
318 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Tho, peeping close into the thicke.
Might see the moving of some quicke,
Whose shape appeared not ; 75
But were it faerie, feend, or snake.
My courage earnd it to awake.
And manfully thereat shotte:
With that sprang forth a naked swayne.
With spotted winges like peacocks trayne, 80
And laughing lope to a tree ;
His gylden quiver at his backe.
And silver bowe, which was but slackc;,
Which lightly he bent at me :
That seeing, I leveld againe, 85
And shotte at him with might and maine,
As thicke as it had hayled.
So long I shott, that all was spent ;
Tho pumie stones I hastly hent.
And threw; but nought avayled : 90
He was so wimble and so Avight,
From bough to bough he lepped light,
And oft the pumies latched :
Therewith affrayd I ranne away;
But he, that earst seemd but to play, 95
A shaft in earnest snatched.
And hit me running in the heele :
For then I little smart did feele,
But soone it sore increased ;
And now it ranckleth more and more, 1 00
And inwardly it festreth sore,
Ne wote I how to cease it.
1
MARCH. 319
WiL. Thomalin, I pitie thy plight,
Perdie with Love thou diddest fight ;
I know him by a token : 1 05
For once I heard my father say.
How he him caught upon a day,
(Whereof he will be wroken,)
Entangled in a fowling net.
Which he for carrion crowes had set 110
That in our peare-tree haunted :
The said, he was a winged lad.
But bowe and shaftes as then none had.
Els had he sore been daunted.
But see, the welkin thicks apace, 115
And stouping Phcebus steepes his face;
Yts time to haste us homeward. 117
WILLYES EMBLEMS.
To be wise and eke to love,
Is graunted scarce to gods above,
THOMALINS EMBLEME.
Of hony and ofgaule in love there is store;
The hony is much, but the gaule is more.
S20 THE SHEPHKARDS CALENDER.
APRIL.
AEGLOGA QUARTA.
ARGUMENT.
This Aeglogue is purposely intended to the honour and prayse
of our most gratious soveraigne, Queene Elizabeth. The
speakers hereof bee Hobbinoll and Thenot, two shepheards :
the which Hobbinoll, being before mentioned greatly to have
loved Colin, is here set forth more largely, complaining him
of that boyes great misadventure in love ; whereby his mind
was alienated and withdrawn not onely from him, who most
loved him, but also from all former delights and studies, as
well in pleasant pyping, as cunning ryming and singing, and
other his laudable exercises. Whereby he taketh occasion,
for proofe of his more excellencie and skill in poetrie, to record
a song, which the said Colin sometime made in honour of her
Maiestie, whom abruptly he termeth Elisa.
THENOT. HOBBINOLL.
THENOT.
Tell me, good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
What ! hath some wolfe thy tender lambes ytorne ?
Or is thy bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete ?
Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne ?
Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare^ 5
Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne ?
APRIL. 321
Like Aprill showre so stream the trickling teares
Adowne thy cheeke, to quench tliy thirstie paine.
Hoj3. Nor this, nor that, so much doth make me mourne:>
But for the ladde, whom long I lovd so deare, 1
Now loves a lasse that all his love doth scorne :
He, plunged in paine, his tressed locks doth teare ;
Shepheards delights he doth them all forsweare ;
His pleasaunt pipe, which made us merriment.
He wilfully hath broke, and doth forbeare 1 5
His wonted songs wherein he all outwent.
The. What is he for aladde yon so lament ?
Ys love such pinching paine to them that prove ?
And hath he skill to make so excellent.
Yet hath so little skill to bridle love ? CO
Hob. Colin thou kenst, the southerne shepheards boye ;
Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte :
Whilome on him was all my care and ioye.
Forcing with giftes to winne his wanton heart.
But now from me his madding minde is start, 25
And wooes the widdowes daughter of the glenne ;
So now fayre Rosalind hath bredde his smart ;
So now his friend is chaunged for a frenne.
The. But if his ditties bene so trimly dight,
I pray thee, HobbinoU, recorde some one, 30
The whiles our flockes do graze about in sight.
And we close shrowded in this shade alone.
HoB. Contented I : then will I sing his laye
Of fair Elisa, queene of shepheards all.
Which once he made as by a spring he laye, 35
And tuned it unto the waters fall.
VOL. IV- Y
322 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
'' Ye daiiitie Nymphs, that in this blessed brooke
" Doe bathe your brest,
^' Forsake your watrie bowres, and hether looke,
" At my request. 40
" And eke you Virgins, that on Parnasse dwell,
"^ Whence floweth Helicon, the learned well,
'' Help me to blaze
" Her worthy prayse,
" Which in her sexe doth all excell. 45
" Of fair Elisa be your silver song,
" That blessed wight,
^' The flowre of virgins ; may she florish long
"^ In princely plight !
" For she is Syrinx daughter without spotte, 50
^' Which Pan, the shepheardes god, of her begotte :
" So sprong her grace
" Of heavenly race,
'' No mortall blemishe may her blotte.
" See, where she sits upon the grassie greene, 55
" (O seemely sight !)
*' Yclad in scarlot, like a may den queene,
" And ermines white :
" Upon her head a cremosin coronet,
" With damaske roses and daffadillies set; 60
" Bayleaves betweene,
" And primroses greene,
" Embellish the sweete violet.
APRIL. ' 326
^'^ Tell me, have ye seene her angelike face,
" Like Phoebe fay re ? 6.5
"^^ Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
*' Can you well compare ?
^' The redde rose medled with the white yfere,
" In either cheeke depeincten lively chere :
" Her modest eye^, 70
" Her majestie,
^^ Where have you seene the like but there ?
" I sawe Phoebus thrust out his golden hede;,
'' Upon her to gaze ;
" Butj, when he saw howe broade her beames did sprede^
" It did him amaze. 76
" Hee blusht to see another sunne belowe,
" Ne durst againe his firie face out showe.
^^ Let him, if hee dare,
'^ His brightnesse compare 80
'^' With hers, to have the overthrowe.
" Shewe thyself, Cynthia, with thy silver rays,
" And be not abasht :
" When sliee the beames of her beautie displayes,
" O how art thou dasht ! 8.5
'' But I will not match her with Latonaes seede ;
" Such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede.
" Now shee is a stone,
"^ And makes daylie mone,
" Warning all other to take heede. 90
y 2
^24. THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
" Pan may bee prowde that ever hee begot
** Such a bellibone ;
" And Syrinx reioycC;, that ever was her lot
" To beare such an one.
'^ Soone as my youngiinges cry en for the dam, 95
'' To her will I offer a milk white lamb :
'^ She is my goddesse plaine^,
" And I her shepheardes swain,
'^ Albee forswonck and forswatt I am.
" I see Calliope speede her to the place, 100
'' Where my goddesse shines ;
" And after her the other Muses trace,
" With their violines.
^' Bene they not bay-braunches which they doe beare,
" All for Elisa in her hand to weare ? 105
" So sweetelie they play,
" And sing all the way,
^' That it a heaven is to heare.
" Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote
" To the instrument : 110
" They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
" In their meriment.
" Wants not a fourth Grace, to make the daunce even.^
" Let that rowme to my Lady bee yeven.
" She shalbe a Grace, 115
" To fill the fourth place,
" And reigne with the rest in heaven.
I
APRIL. S25
*^' And whither rennes this bevie of ladies brig-ht,
" Raunged in a rowe ?
" They bene all Ladyes of the Lake behight, 1 20
'' That unto her goe.
'* Chloris, that is the chiefest nymph of all,
" Of olive braunches beares a coronall :
*' Olives bene for peace,
'' When warres do surcease: 125
" Such for a princesse bene principall.
*' Ye shepheards daughters, that dwell on the greene,
" Hye you there apace :
" Let none come there but that virgins bene,
'' To adorn e her grace: 130
*^ And, when you come whereas shee is in place,
" See that your rudenesse doe not you disgrace :
" Binde your fillets faste, *
" And gird in your waste,
" For more fineness, with a tawdrie lace. 135
'' Bring hether the pincke and purple cullambine,
" With gelliflowres ;
** Bring coronations, and sops, in wine,
'' Worne of paramoures :
^' Strowe mee the grounde with daffadowndillies, 140
'^ And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lillies :
'■' The pretie pawnee,
^' And the chevisaunce,
" Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.
3^6 THE SHEPHEAKDS CALENDER.
*' Now rise up, Elisa, decked as thou art 145
'' In royall aray;
'^ And now yee daintie damsells may depart
" Eche one her way.
" I feare, I have troubled your troupes too long ;
" Let Dame Elisa thanke you for her song: 150
'' And, if you come hether
" When damsines I gether,
" I will part them all you among."
The. And was thilk same song of Colins owne making?
Ah ! foolish Boy ! that is with love yblent ; 155
Great pittie is, hee bee in such taking.
For naught caren that bene so lewdly bent.
Hob. Sicker I holde him for a greater fon.
That loves the thing hee cannot purchase.
But let us homeward, for night draweth on, 160
And twinckling starres the daylight hence chase.
THENOTS EMBLEME.
quam te memorem Virgo!
HOBBINOLLS EMBLEME.
Dea certe!
i
S27
MAY.
AEGLOGA QUINTA.
ARGUMENT.
In this fift Aegl<3gxie, under the person of two Shepheards, Piers
and Palinode, be represented two formes of Pastours or Mi-
nisters, or the Protestant and the Catholike ; whose chiefe
talke standeth in reasoning, whether the Hfe of the one must
be like the other ; with whom having shewed, that it is daun-
gerous to maintaine any felowship, or give too much credite to
their colourable and fained good wil, he telleth him a tale of
the Foxe, that, by such a counterpoint of craftinesse, deceyved
and devoured the credulous Kidde.
PALINODE. PIERS.
PALINODE.
Is not thilke the mery moneth of May^,
When love-lads masken in fresh aray.'*
How falles it, then, wee no merrier beene,
Ylike as others, girt in gawdy greene ?
Our bloncket liveries bene all to sadde 5
For thilke same season, when all is ycladde
With pleasaunce ; the ground with grasse, the woods
With greene leaves, the bushes with bloosming buds.
Youngthes folke now flocken in every where.
To gather May-buskets and smelling brere ; 1
32S THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER
And home they hasten the postes to dight.
And all the kirk-pillours eare day-light.
With havvthorne buds, and sweete eglantine.
And girlonds of roses, and soppes in wine.
Such merimake holy saints doth queme, 15
But wee here sitten as drownde in dreme.
Piers. For younkers. Palinode, such follies litte.
But wee tway bene men of elder witte.
Pal. Sicker this morowe, no lenger agoe,
I saw^ a shole of shepheardes outgoe 20 M
With singing, and shouting, and iolly chere :
Before them yode a lustie tabrere.
That to the many a horn-pype playd,
Whereto they dauncen eche one with his mayd.
To see those folks make such iovysaunce, 25
Made my heart after the pype to dauncc :
Tho to the greene wood they speeden hem all.
To fetchen home May with their musicall ;
And home they bringen in a royall throne.
Crowned as king j and his queene attone , 30
Was Lady Flora, on whom did attend
A fayre flocke of faeries, and a fresh bend
Of lovely nymphes. (O that I were there.
To helpen the ladies their May bush beare !) ^
Ah! Piers, bene not thy teeth on edge, to thinke 35 m
How great sport they gaynen with little swinck .''
Piers. Perdie, so farre am I from envie.
That their fondnesse inly I pitie :
Those faytours little regarden their charge.
While they, letting their sheep runne at large, 40
MAY. 329
Passeii their time;, that should be sparely spent,
III lustihede and wanton meryment.
Thilke same bene shepheardes for the devils stedde.
That playen while their flockes be unfedde :
Well it is seene their sheepe bene not their owne, 45
That letten them runne at randon alone :
But they bene hyred for little pay
Of other, that caren as little as they^
What fallen the flocke, so they han the fleece.
And get all the gayne, paying but a peece. 50
I muse, what account both these will make;
The one for the hire, which he doth take.
And th' other for leaving his Lordes taske.
When great Pan account of shepheards shall aske.
Pal. Sicker, now I see thou speakest of spight, 55
All for thou lackest somdele their delight.
I (as I am) had rather be envied.
All were it of my foe, then fonly pitied ;
And yet, if neede were, pitied would be,
Rather then other should scorne at me; 60
For pittied is mishap that nas remedie.
But scorned bene deedes of fond foolerie.
What shoulden shepheards other things tend.
Then, sith their God his good does them send,
Reapen the fruite thereof, that is pleasure, 65
The while they here liven at ease and leasure ?
For, when they bene dead, their good is ygoe.
They sleepen in rest, well as other moe :
Tho with them wends what they spent in cost.
But what they left behinde them is lost. 70
330 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Good is no good, but if it be spend ;
God giveth good for none other end.
Piers. Ah ! Palinode, thou art a worldes child :
Who touches pitch, mought needs be defilde ;
But shepheards (as Algrind used to say) 75
Mought not liv^e ylike as men of the laye.
With them it sits to care for their heire,
Enaunter their heritage doe impaire :
They must provide for meanes of maintenaunce.
And to continue their wont countenaunce : 80
But shepheard must walke another way,
Sike worldly sovenance he must for-say.
The Sonne of his loines why should he regard
To leave enriched with that he hath spard ?
Should not thilke God, that gave him that good, 85
Eke cherish his child, if in his waies he stood ? ^
For if he mislive in leudness and lust.
Little bootes all the wealth, and the trust.
That his father left by inheritaunce ;
All will be soon wasted with misgovernaunce :
But through this, and other their miscreaunce.
They maken many a wrong chevisaunce.
Heaping up waves of wealth and woe.
The flouds whereof shall them overflow.
Sike mens follie I cannot compare 95
Better then to the apes foolish care,
That is so enamoured of her young one,
(And yet, God wote, such cause had shee none,)
That with her hard hold, and straight embracing.
Shoe stoppeth the breath of her youngling. 100
90
i
i
MAY. 331
So oftentimes, when as good is meant.
Evil ensueth of wrong entent.
The time was once, and may again retorne,
(For ought may happen, that hath been beforne,)
When shepheards had none inheritaunce, 105
Ne of land nor fee in sufferaunce,
But what might arise of the bare sheepe,
(Were it more or lesse) which they did keepe.
Well y wis was it with shepheards thoe :
Nought having, nought feared they to forgoe ; 110
For Pan himselfe was their inheritaunce.
And little them served for their maintenaunce.
The shepheards God so well them guided.
That of nought they were unprovided ;
Butter enough, honny, milke, and whay, 11'^
And their flockes fleeces them to araye :
But tract of time, and long prosperitie,
(That nource of vice, this of insolencie,)
Lulled the shepheards in such securitie.
That, not content with loyall obeysaunce, 120
Some gan to gape for greedie governaunce.
And match them selfe with mightie potentates.
Lovers of lordship, and troublers of states :
Tho gan shepheards swaines to looke aloft.
And leave to live hard, and learne to ligge soft: 125
Tho, under colour of shepheards, somewhile
There crept in wolves, full of fraud and guile.
That often devoured their owne sheepe.
And often the shepheards that did hem keep :
This was the first sourse of shepheards sorow, 130
That now nill be quitt with baile nor borow.
332 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Pal. Three thinges to beare bene very burdenous;, a
But the fourth to forbeare is outragious : I
Wemen, that of loves longing once lust.
Hardly forbearen, but have it they must : 135
So when choler is inflamed with rage.
Wanting revenge, is hard to asswage :
And who can counsell a thirstie soule,
With patience to forbeare the olfred bowle ?
But of all burdens, that a man can beare, 1 40
Most is, a fooles talke to beare and to heare.
I weene the geaunt has not such a weight.
That beares on his shoulders the heavens height.
Thou findest fault where nys to be found.
And buildest strong warke upon a weake ground: 145
Thou raylest on right withouten reason.
And blamest hem much for small encheason.
How shoulden shepheardes live, if not so ?
What ? should they pynen in payne and woe ?
Nay, say I thereto, by my dear borrowe, 150
If I may rest, I nill live in sorrowe. j
Sorrowe ne neede be hastened on.
For he will come, without calling, anone.
While times enduren of tranquillitie,
Usen we freely our felicitie ; .155
For, when approchen the stormie stowres.
We mought with our shoulders bear off the sharp showres ;
And, sooth to sayne, nought seemeth sike strife.
That shepheards so witen eche others life.
And layen her faults the worlds beforne, 160
The while their foes done eache of hem scornc.
MAY.
OQ O
Let none mislike of that may not be mended ;
So conteck soone by concord mought be ended.
Piers. Shepheard, I list no accordaunce make
With shepheard, that does the right way forsake ; 165
And of the twaine, if choise were to me.
Had lever my foe then my friend he be ;
For what concord han light and darke sam ?
Or what peace has the lion with the lambe ?
Such faitors, when theyr false hearts bene hidde, 170
Will doe as did the Foxe by the Kidde.
Pal. Now, Piers, of fellowship, tell us that saying ;
For the lad can keep both our flockes from straying.
Piers. Thilke same Kidde (as I can well devise)
Was too very foolish and unwise; 175
For on a time, in sommer season.
The Gate her dame, that had good reason,
Yode forth abroad unto the greene wood,
To bronze, or play, or what she thought good :
But, for she had a motherly care 180
Of her young sonne, and wit to beware,
She set her youngling before her knee.
That was both fresh and lovely to see.
And full of favour as Kidde mought be.
His vellet head began to shoote out, 185
And his wreathed horns gan newly sprout ;
The blossomes of lust to bud did beginne,
And spring forth ranckly under his chinne.
" My Sonne," (quoth she, and with that gan weepe;
For carefull thoughtes in her heart did creepe,-) 190
334 THE 3HEPHEARDS CALENDER.
" God blesse thee, poore Orphane ! as he mought me,
And send thee ioy of thy iollitie.
Thy father/' (that worde she spake with payne.
For a sigh had nigh rent her heart in twaine,)
" Thy father, had he lived this day, 195 ,,
To see the braunche of his body displaye, I
How would he have ioyed at this sweete sight ? *
But ah ! false Fortune such ioy did him spight.
And cut off his dayes with untimely woe.
Betraying him into the traynes of his foe. 200 '
Now I, a wailefull widowe behight.
Of my olde age have this one delight.
To see thee succeede in thy fathers steade.
And flourish in flo^vres of lustihead ; J
For even so thy father his head upheld, 205
And so his hauty homes did he weld."
Tho marking him with melting eyes,
A thrilling throbbe from her heart did arise.
And interrupted all her other speeche
With some olde sorowe that made a new breache ; 210
Seemed she saw in her younglings face
The old lineaments of his fathers grace.
At last her solein silence she broke.
And gan his new-budded beard to stroke.
" Kiddie, (quoth she) thou kenst the great care 215
I have of thy health and thy welfare.
Which many wilde beastes liggen in waite
For to entrap in thy tender state :
But most the Foxe, maister of collusion ;
For he has vowed thy last confusion. 220
MAY.
S25
Forthy, my Kiddie, be rulde by me.
And never give trust to his trecheree ;
And, if he chaunce come when I am abroade,
Sperre the yate fast, for fear of fraude ;
Ne for all his worst, nor for his best, 225
Open the dore at his request."
So schooled the Gate her wanton sonne,
That aunswer'd his mother. All should be done.
Tho went the pensive damme out of dore.
And chaunst to stomble at the threshold fiore ; 2.30
Her stombling steppe somewhat her amazed,
(For such, as signes of ill lucke, bene dispraised ;)
Yet forth she yode, thereat half agast ;
And Kiddie the dore sperred after her fast.
It was not long, after she was gone, 235
But the false Foxe came to the dore anone ;
Not as a foxe, for then he had be kend.
But all as a poore pedler he did wend.
Bearing a trusse of trifles at his backe.
As bells, and babes, and glasses, in his packe : 240
A biggen he had got about his braine ;
For in his headpeace he felt a sore paine :
His hinder heele was wrapt in a clout.
For with great cold he had got the gout :
There at the dore he cast me downe his pack, 245
And layd him downe, and groned, '' Alack 1 alack !
Ah ! dear Lord ! and sweet Saint Charitee !
That some good body would once pitie mee !"
Well heard Kiddie all this sore constraint.
And lengd to know the cause of his complaint ; 250
336 THE L-UEPHEARDS CALENDEK.
Tho, creeping close behinde the wickets clinck,
Privily he peeped out through a chinck.
Yet not so privily but the Foxe him spyed ;_
For deceitfull meaning is double-eyed.
" Ah ! good young Maister" (then gan he crye), 255 \
*^' Jesus blesse that sweete face I espye.
And keep your corpse from the carefull stounds
That in my carrion carcas abounds."
The Kidd, pittying his heavinesse.
Asked the cause of his great distresses 2G0
And also who, and whence that he were.
Tho he, that had well ycond his lere.
Thus me died his talke with m.any a teare :
" Sicke, sicke, alas ! and little lacke of dead,
But I be relieved by your beastlyhead. 265
I am a poore sheepe, albe my colour donne.
For with long travaile I am brent in the sonne ; J
And if that, my grandsire me sayd, be true.
Sicker, I am very sybbe to you ;
So be your goodlihead do not disdaine 270
The base kinred of so simple swaine.
Of mercy and favour then I you pray.
With your ayde to forestall my nere decay."
Tho out of his packe a glasse he tooke.
Wherein while Kiddie unwares did looke, "^27 5
He was so enamored with the newell.
That nought he deemed deare for the iewell :
Tho opened he the dore, and in came
The false Foxe, as he were starke lame :
His tayle he clapt betwixt his legs twayne, 280
Lest he should be descried by his trayne.
(
MAY. S37
Being within, the Kidde made him good glee,
Ail for the love of the glasse he did see.
After his chere, the pedler can chat.
And tell many leasinges of this and that, 285
And how he could shew many a fine knack;
Tlio shewed his ware and opened his packe.
All save a bell, which he left behinde
In the basket for the Kidde to finde ;
Which when the Kidde stouped downe to catch, 290
He popt him in, and his basket did latch ;
Ne stayed he once the dore to make fast.
But ranne away with him in all hast.
Home when the doubtful! damme had her hide.
She mought see the dore stand open wide ; 295
All agast, lowdly she gan to call
Her Kidde; but he nould aunswere at all:
Tho on the flore she saw the merchaundise
Of which her sonne had sette too deere a prise.
What help ! her Kidde she knew well was gone : 300
She weeped, and wayled, and made great mone.
Such end had the Kidde, for he nould warned be
Of craft, coloured with simplicitie ;
And such end^ perdie, does all hem remayne.
That of such falsers friendship bene fayne. 305
Pal. Truely, Piers, thou art beside thy wit.
Furthest fro the marke, weening it to hit.
Now, I pray thee, let me thy tale borowe
For our Sir John, to say to-morowe
At the kerke when it is holiday; 310
For well he meanes, but little can say.
VOL. IV. z
338 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
But, and if foxes bene so craftie as so.
Much needeth all shepheards hem to know. ^
Piers. Of their falshode more could I recount.
But now the bright sunne gynneth to dismount ; 315 |
And, for the deawie night now doth nye,
I hold it best for us home to hye. 317
PALINODES EMBLEME.
Pas men' apistos apistei.
PIERS HIS EMBLEME.
Tis d'ara pistis apisto ?
339
lUNE.
AEGLOGA SEXTA.
ARGUMENT.
This Aeglogue is wholly vowed to the complayning of CoHns
ill successe in his love. For being (as is aforesaid) enamored
of a country lasse Rosalind, and having (as seemeth) found
place in her heart, hee lamenteth to his deare friend Hobbinoll,
that he is now forsaken unfaithfully, and in his steade Menal-
cas another shepheard received disloyally. And this is the
whole Argument of this Aeglogue.
HOBBINOLL. COLIN CLOUT.
HOBBINOLL.
Lo ! Coliiij here the place whose plesaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring minde.
Tell mee, what wants mee here to worke delyte ?
The simple ayre^, the gentle warbling winde.
So calme, so coole;, as no where else I finde ; 5
The grassie grounde with daintie daysies dight.
The bramble bush, where byrdes of every kinde
To the waters fall their tunes attemper right.
Col. O happie Hobbinoll, I blesse thy state,
That Paradise hast founde which Adam lost : 1
Here wander may thy flocke early or late,
Withouten dread of wolves to bene ytost ;
z 2
340 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER-
Thy lovely layes here maist thou freely boste :
But I, unhappie Man ! whom cruell Fate
And angrie gods pursue from coste to coste^, 15
Can no where finde to shroude my lucklesse pate.
Hob. Then, if by mee thou list advised bee.
Forsake the soyle that so doth thee bewitch ;
Leave mee those hilles where harbrough nis to see,
Nor holy-bush, nor brere, nor winding ditch; 20
And to the dales resort, where shepheards ritch.
And fruitfull flocks, bene every where to see:
Here no night-ravens lodge, more black then pitch.
Nor elvish ghosts, nor gastly owles doe flee;
But friendly Faeries, met with many Graces, 25
And lightfoote Nymphes, can chace the lingring Night
With heydeguyes, and trimly trodden traces.
Whilst Systers Nyne, which dwell on Parnasse hight,
Doe make them musick for their more delight :
And Pan himselfe to kisse their christall faces 50
Will pype and daunce, when Phcebe shineth bright :
Such pierlesse pleasures have wee in these places.
/ [yeeres.
Col. And I, wliylst youth, and course of carelesse
Did let mee walke withouten lincks of love.
In such delights did ioy amongst my peeres ; 35
But ryper age such pleasures doth reproove :
IMy fansie eke from former follies moove
To stayed steps ; for time in passing weares,
(As garments doen, which wexen olde above,)
And draweth newe delights with hoarie haires. 40
lUNE. 341
Tlio couth I sing of love, and tune my pype
Unto my plaintive pleas in verses made ;
Tho would I seeke for queene-appies unrype;
To give my Rosalind, and in sommer shade
Dight gaudie girlonds was my common trade, 45
To crowne her golden locks ; but yeeres more rype.
And losse of her, whose love as lyfe I wayde.
Those weary wanton toyes away did wype.
Hob. Colin, to heare thy rymes and roundelayes.
Which thou wert wont on wastefuil hilles to sing, 50
I more delight then larke in sommer dayes.
Whose eccho made the neighbour groves to ring.
And taught the byrdes, which in the lower spring
Did shroude in shady leaves from sunny rayes.
Frame to thy songe their cheerefull cheriping, 55
Or liolde their peace, for shame of thy sweete layes.
I sawe Calliope with IMuses moe,
Soone as thy oaten pype began to sounde.
Their yvory lutes and tamburins forgoe.
And from the fountaine, where they sat around, 60
Renne after hastely thy silver sound;
But, when they came where thou thy skill didst showe.
They drewe abacke, as halfe with shame confound
Shepheard to see, them in their arte outgoe.
Col. Of Muses, Hobbinoll, I conne no skill, 65
For they bene daughters of the highest love.
And holden scorne of homely shepheards quill ;
For sith I heard that Pan with Phoebus strove.
342 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Which him to much rebuke and daunger drove,
I never list presume to Parnasse hill, 70
But, pyping low in shade of lowly grove,
I play to please myselfe, all be it ill.
Nought weigh I, who my song doth praise or blame,
Ne strive to winne renowne, or passe the rest :
With shepheard sittes not foUowe flying Fame, 75
But feede his flocke in fieldes where falls hem best.
I wote my rymes bene rough, and rudely drest ;
The fitter they my carefull case to frame :
Enough is mee to paint out my unrest.
And poure my piteous plaintes out in the same. 80
The god of shepheards, Tityrus, is dead.
Who taught mee homely, as I can, to make:
Hee, whilst hee lived, was the soveraigne head
Of shepheards all that bene with love ytake :
Well couth hee waile his woes, and lightly slake 85
The flames which love within his heart had bredde.
And tell us merry tales to keepe us wake.
The while our sheepe about us safely fedde.
Nowe dead hee is, and lyeth wrapt in lead,
(O why should Death on him such outrage showe!) 90
And all his passing skill Avith him is fledde.
The fame whereof doth daylie greater growe.
But, if on mee some little drops would flowe
Of that the spring was in his learned hedde,
I soone would learne these woods to waile my woe, 95
And teache the trees their trickling teares to shedde.
lUNE.
343
Then should my plaintes, causde of discurtesee.
As messengers of this my plainfuU plight,
Flye to my love where ever that shee bee.
And pierce her heart with poynt of worthy wight, 100
As shee deserves, that wrought so deadly spight.
And thou, INIenalcas ! that by trecheree
Didst underfonge my lasse to wexe so light,
Shouldst well be knowne for such thy villanee.
But since I am not as I wishe I were, 105
Yee gentle Shepheards ! which your flocks doe feede.
Whether on hylles, or dales, or other where,
Beare witnesse all of this so wicked deede;
And tell the lasse, whose flowre is woxe a weede.
And faultlesse faith is turn'd to faithlesse fere, 110
That shee the truest shepheards heart made bleede
That iyves on earth, and loved her most dere.
Hob. O ! carefull Colin, I lament thy case ;
Thy teares would make the hardest flint to flowe !
Ah ! faithless Rosalind, and voyde of grace, 115
That art the roote of all this ruthfull woe !
But now is time, I gesse, homeward to goe :
Then rise, yee blessed Flocks ! and home apace.
Lest night with stealing steppes do you foresloe.
And Avett your tender lambs that by you trace. 1'20
GOLINS EMBLEME.
Gia speme spenta.
344 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
lULY.
AEGLOGA SEPTIMA.
ARGUMENT.
This Aeglogiie is made in the honour and commendation of
good shepheards, and to the shame and dispraise of proud and
ambitious Pastours : Such as Morrell is here imagined to be.
THOMALIN. MORRELL.
TH03IALIN.
Is not thilke same a goteheard prowde.
That sittes on yonder bancke.
Whose straying heard them selfe doth shrowde
Emong the bushes rancke ?
MoR. What;, ho, thou iolly shepheardes swains, 5 ||
Come up the hill to me ;
Better is then the lowly plaine,
Als for thy flocke and thee.
Thom. Ah ! God shield, Man, that I should clime.
And learne to looke alofte ; 10
This rede is rife, that oftentime
Great clymbers fall unsoft.
In humble dales is footing fast,
The trode is not so tickle.
And though one fall through heedless hast, 15
Yet is his misse not mickle. . i
if
lULY.
345
And now the Sunne hatli reared upp
His fierie-footed teme,
IMaking his way between the Cupj)
And golden Diademe ; 20
The rampant Lyon hunts he fast.
With dogges of noysome breath.
Whose balefull barking bringes in hast
Pyne, plagues, and dreerie death.
Against his cruell scortching heate, 25
Where thou hast coverture.
The wastefull hilles unto his threate
Is a plaine overture :
But, if thee lust to holden chat
With seely shepheardes swayne, 30
Come doAvne, and learne the little what.
That Thomalin can sayne.
MoR. Syker thous but a leasie loord.
And rekes much of thy swinck.
That with fond termes, and witlesse wordes, 35
To blere mine eyes doest thinke.
In evill houre thou hentst in bond
Thus holy hilles to blame,
For sacred unto saints they stond.
And of them ban their name. 40
St. IMichels IMount who does not know,
That wardes the Westerne coast ?
And of St. Brigets Bowre I trow
All Kent can rightly boast :
And they that con of Muses skill 45
Sayne most- what, that they dwell
346 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
(As gote-heardes wont) upon a hiil.
Beside a learned well.
And wonned not the great good Pan
Upon mount Olivet, 50
Feeding the blessed flocke of Dan,
Which did himselfe beget ?
Thom. O blessed Sheepe ! O Shepheard great !
That bought his flocke so deare.
And them did save with bloudy sweat 55
From wolves that would them teare.
]\IoR. Beside, as holy Fathers sayne.
There is a holy place
Where Titan riseth from the mayne
To renne his dayly race, 60
Upon whose toppe the starres bene stayed.
And all the skie doth leane ;
There is the cave where Phoebe layed
The shepheard long to dreame.
Whilome there used shepheardes all 65
To feede theyr flockes at will.
Till by his folly one did fall.
That all the rest did spill.
And, sithens shepheards bene foresayd
From places of delight, 70
For-thy I weene thou be afrayd '
To clime this hilles height.
Of Synah can I tell thee more.
And of our Ladyes Bowre ;
But little needes to strow my store, 75
Suffice this hill of our.
lULY. 347
Here ban the holy Fauiies recourse.
And Sylvanes liaunteii rathe ;
Here has the salt Medway his soiirse.
Wherein the Nyniphes doe bathe ; fiO
The salt ]\Iedway, that trickling stremes
Adowne the dales of Kent,
Till with his elder brother Themes
His brackish waves be meynt.
Here growes melampode every where, 85
And teribinth, good for gotes ;
The one my madding kids to smere.
The next to heale their throates.
Hereto, the hilles bene nigher heaven.
And thence tlie passage ethe ; 90
As well can proove the piercing levin.
That seldome falles beneath.
Thom. Syker thou speakes like a lewd lorrell.
Of heaven to demen so ;
How be I am but rude and borrell, 95
Yet nearer waies I know.
To kerke the narre, from God more farre.
Has bene an olde-said sawe ;
And he, that strives to touche a starre.
Oft stombles at a strawe. 100
Alsoone may shepheard ciimbe to skie
That leades in lowly dales.
As goteherd prowd, that, sitting hie.
Upon the mountayne sayles.
My seely sheepe like well beloAve, 1 05
They neede not melampode.
348 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER-
For they bene liale enough^ I trowe.
And lyken their abode ;
But, if they with thy gotes should yede.
They soone might be corrupted, 110
Or like not of the frowie fede.
Or with the weedes be glutted.
The hilles, where dwelled holy saints,
I reverence and adore.
Not for themselfe, but for the saincts 115
Which han bene dead of yore.
And now they bene to heaven forewent.
Their good is with them goe;
Their sample onely to us lent.
That als we mought doe soe. 120
Shepheards they weren of the best.
And lived in lowly leas ;
And, sitli they soules be now at rest.
Why done we them disease ?
Such one he was (as I have heard 125
Old Algrind often sayne)
That whilome was the first shepheard.
And lived with little gayne :
And meeke he was, as meeke mought be.
Simple as simple sheepe ; 1 30
Humble, and like in eche degree
The flocke which he did keepe.
Often he used of his keepe
A sacrifice to bring,
Now with a kidd, now with a sheepe, 135
The altars hallowing.
i
lULY.
349
So lowted he unto his Lord,
Such favour couth he finde.
That never sithens was ahhord
The simple shepheards kinde.
And such, I weene, the brethren were
That came from Canaan,
The bretliren Twelve, that kept yfere
The flockes of mightie Pan.
But nothing such thilke shepheard was
Whom Ida hill did beare.
That left his flocke to fetche a lasse.
Whose love he bought too deare.
For he was proud, that ill was payd,
(No such mought shepheards be !)
And with lewd lust was overlaid ;
Tway things doen ill agree.
But shepheard mought be meek and mild,
Well-eyed, as Argus was.
With Heshly follies undefiled.
And stoute as steede of brasse.
Sike one (sayd Algrind) Moses was.
That sawe his Makers face.
His face, more cleare then cristall glasse.
And spake to him in place.
This had a brother (his name I knewe)
The first of all his cote,
A shepheard true, yet not so true
As he that earst I bote.
Whilome all these were low and liefe.
And loved theyr flockes tafeede;
140
145
150
155
160
165
1l
350 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
i
They never stroven to be chiefe.
And simple was theyr weede :
But now (thanked be God therefore !)
The world is well amend, 170
Theyr weedes bene not so nighly wore;
Such simplesse mought them shend !
They bene yclad in purple and pall.
So hath theyr God them blist ;
They reigne and rulen over all, 175
And lord it as they list;
Ygyrt with beltes of glitterand gold,
(Mought they good shepheards bene !)
Their Pan their sheepe to them has sold,
I say as some have seene. 180
For Palinode (if thou him ken)
Yode late on pilgrimage
To Rome, (if such be Rome,) and then
He sawe thilke misusage ;
For shepheardes (sayd he) there doen lead, 185
As lordes done other where ;
Their sheep han crusts, and they the bread ;
The chippes, and they the cheere : '
They han the fleece, and eke the flesh,
(O seely sheepe the while !) 190
The corne is theyrs, let others thresh.
Their handes they may not file.
They han great store and thriftie stockes,
Great friendes and feeble foes ;
What neede hem caren for their flockes, 195
Theyr boyes can looke to those.
lULY. 351
These wisards welter in wealths waves,
Pampred in pleasures deepe ;
They han fat kernes, and leany knaves.
Their fasting flockes to keepe. 200
Sike mister men bene all misgone,
They heapen hilles of wrath ;
Sike syrlie shepheards han we none.
They keepen all the path.
MoR. Here is a great deale of good matter 205
Lost for lacke of telling ;
Now sicker I see thou dost but clatter,
Harme may come of melling.
Thou meddlest more, then shall have thank.
To witen shepheards wealth ; 210
When folke bene fat, and riches ranck.
It is a signe of health.
But say mee, what is Algrind, hee
That is so oft bynempt ?
Thom. Hee is a shepheard great in gree, 215
But hath bene long ypent :
One day hee sat upon a hill.
As now thou wouldest mee ;
But I am taught, by Algrinds ill.
To love the lowe degree ; 220
For sitting so with bared scalp.
An eagle sored hye.
That, weening his white head was chalke,
A shell-fish downe let flye;
Shee weend the shell-fish to have broke, 225
But therewith bruzd his brayne ;
S52 THE SHEPHi:ARDS CALENDER.
i
So now, astonied with the stroke,
Hee lyes in lingring payne.
MoR. Ah ! good Algrind ! his hap was ill.
But shall be better in time. 230
Now farewell, Shepheard, sith this hill
Thou hast such doubt to clime. 232
PALINODES EMBLEME.
In medio virtus.
MORRELLS E3IBLEME.
In summojhelicitas.
853
AUGUST.
AEGLOGA OCTAVA.
ARGUMENT.
In this Aeglogue is set forth a delectable controversie, made in
imitation of that in Theocritus : whereto also Virgil fashioned
his third and seventh Aeglogue. They chose for Umpere of
their strife, Cuddy, a neat-heards boye; who, having ended
their cause, reciteth also himselfe a proper Song, Avhereof Colin
he saith was Authour.
WILLIE. PERIGOT. CUDDIE.
WILLIE.
Tell mee, Perigot, what shalbe the game,
Wherefore with mine thou dare thy musick matche?
Or bene thy bagpypes renne farre out of frame ?
Or hath the crampe thy ioynts benomd with ache ?
Per. Ah ! Willie, when the hart is ill assayde, 5
How can bagpype or ioynts be well apayde ?
WiL. What the foule evill hath thee so bestad?
Whilom thou was peregall to the best.
And, wont to make the iolly shepheards glad.
With pyping and dauncing didst passe the rest. 1
Per. Ah ! Willie, now I have learnd a new daunce ;
3Iy old musick mard by a new mischaunce.
VOL. IV. 2 A
3.54 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
WiL. Mischiefe mought to that mischaunce befall.
That so hath raft us of our meriment ;
But rede me what paine doth thee so apall ; 15
Or lovest thou, or bene thy younglinges miswent ?
Per. Love hath misled both my younglinges and me;
I pine for payne, and they my paine to see.
WiL. Perdie, and wellawaye ! ill may they thrive ;
Never knew I lovers sheepe in good plight : 20
But and if in rymes with me thou dare strive.
Such fond fantasies shall soone be put to flight.
Per. That shall I doe, though mochell worse I fared :
Never shall be sayde that Perigot was dared.
WiL. Then loe, Perigot, the pledge which I plight, 25
A mazer y wrought of the maple warre.
Wherein is enchased many a fayre sight
Of bears and tygers, that maken fiers warre ;
And over them spred a goodly wilde vine,
Entrailed with a wanton yvy twine. 30
Thereby is a lambe in the wolves iawes ;
But see, how fast renneth the shepheard swain
To save the innocent from the beastes pawes.
And here with his sheepehooke hath him slain.
Tell me, such a cup hast thou ever seene ? 35
Well mought it beseeme any harvest queene.
Per. Thereto will I pawne yonder spotted lambe ;
Of all my flocke there nis sike another.
For I brought him up without the dambe ;
But Colin Clout rafte me of his brother, 40
AUGUST. 355
That he purchast of me in the plaine field ;
Sore against my will was I forst to yeeld.
WiL. Sicker, make like account of his brother;
But who shall iudge the wager wonne or lost ?
Per. That shall yonder heardgrome and none other, 45
Which over the pousse hetherward doth post.
WiL. But, for the sunnbeame so sore doth us beate.
Were not better to shunne the scortching heate ?
Per. Well agreed, Willie ; then set thee downe, swayne ;
Sike a song never heardest thou but Colin sing. -50
Cud. Gynne, when ye list, ye ioUy shepheardes twayne;
Sike a iudge, as Cuddie, were for a king.
Per. " It fell upon a holy eve,
WiL. Hey, ho, holiday!
Per. When holy Fathers wont to shrieve j 55
WiL. Now ginneth this roundelay.
Per. Sitting upon a hill so hie,
WiL. Hey, ho, the high hill !
Per. The while my flocke did feede thereby;
WiL. The while the shepheard selfe did spill ; 60
Per. I saw the bouncing Bellibone,
WiL. Hey, ho, Bonnibell !
Per. Tripping over the dale alone ;
WiL. She can trip it very well.
Per. Weil decked in a frocke of gray, 65
WiL. Hey, ho, gray is greet !
Per. And in a kirtle of greene saye,
Wtl. The greene is for maydens meet.
Per. a chapelet on her head she wore,'
Wjl. Hey, ho, chapelet ! 70
2 A 2
356 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Per. Of sweete violets therein was store,,
WiL. She sweeter then the violet.
Per. My sheepe did leave their wonted food,
WiL. Hey, ho, seely sheepe !
Per. And gazd on her as they were wood, 75
WiL. Wood as he that did them keepe.
Per. As the bonilasse passed bye,
WiL. Hey, ho, bonilasse !
Pef£. She rovde at mee with glauncing eye,
WiL. As cleare as the cristall glasse : 80
Per. All as the sunny beame so bright,
WiL. Hey, ho, the sunne-beame !
Per. Glaunceth from Phoebus face forthright,
WiL. So love into thy heart did streame :
Per. Or as the thonder cleaves the cloudes, 85
WiL. Hey, ho, the thonder !
Per. Wherein the lightsome levin shroudes,
WiL. So cleaves thy soule asonder :
Per. Or as Dame Cynthias silver ray,
WiL. Hey, ho, the moonelight ! 90
Per. Upon the glittering wave doth play,
WiL. Such play is a pitteous plight.
Per. The glaunce into my heart did glide,
WiL. Hey, ho, the glyder !
Per. Therewith my soule was sharply gryde, 95
WiL. Such woundes soon wexen wider.
Per. Hasting to raunch the arrowe out,
WiL. Hey, ho, Perigot !
Per. I left the head in my heart-root,
WiL. It was a desperate shot. 100
AUGUST. ^^7
Per. There it ranckleth aye more and more„
WiL. Hey, ho, the arrow !
Per. Ne can I find salve for my sore,
WiL. Love is a careless sorrow.
Per. And though my bale with death I bought, 105
WiL. Hey, ho, heavie cheere !
Per. Yet should thilk lasse not from my thought,
WiL. So you may buye golde too deere.
Per. But whether in paynefuU love I pyne,
WiL. Hey, ho, pinching payne ! 110
Per. Or thrive in wealth, she shalbe mine,
WiL. But if thou can her obtaine.
Per. And if for gracelesse griefe I dye,
WiL. Hey, ho, gracelesse griefe !
Per. Witnesse she slue me with her eye, 115
WiL. Let thy folly be the priefe.
Per. And you, that sawe it, simple sheepe,
WiL. Hey, ho, the fayre flocke !
Per. For priefe thereof, my death shall weepe,
WiL. And mone with many a mocke. 1 20
Per. So learnd I love on a holy eve,
WiL. Hey, ho, holy-day !
Per. That ever since my heart did greve,
WiL. Now endeth our roundelay."
Cud. Sicker, sike a roundle never heard I none; 125
Little lacketh Perigot of the best.
And Willie is not greatly overgone,
So weren his under-songes well addrest.
WiL. Heardgrome, I fear me thou have a squint eye ;
Areede uprightly, who has the victorie. 130
358 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Cud. Fayth of my soule, I deeme eche have gained;
Forthy let the lambe be Willie his owne;
And for Perigot, so well hath him payned.
To him be the wroughten mazer alone.
Per. Perigot is well pleased with the doome^ 135
Ne can Willie wite the witelesse heardgroome.
WiL. Never dempt more right of beautie^ I weene^
The shepheard of Ida that iudged Beauties queene.
Cud. But tell me, Shepheards, should it not yshend
Your roundels fresh, to heare a dolefuU verse 140
Of Rosalind (who knowes not Rosalind?)
That Colin made ? ylke can I you rehearse.
Per. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a ladde ;
With mery thing its good to medle sadde.
WiL. Fayth of my soule, thou shalt ycrouned be 145
In Colins steede, if thou this song areede ;
For never thing on earth so pleaseth me
As him to heare, or matter of his deede.
■ Cud. Then listen ech unto my heavie lay.
And tune your pypes as ruthfull as yee may. 150
" Ye wastefull Woodes ! bear witnesse of my woe.
Wherein my plaints did oftentimes resounde ;
Ye carelesse Byrds are privy to my cryes.
Which in your songs were woont to make a part:
Thou, pleasaunt Spring, hast luld mee oft asleepe, 155
Whose streames my trickling teares did oft augment !
" Resort of people doth my griefes augment,
The walled towns doe work my greater woe ;
AUGUST. 359
((
((
The forest wide is fitter to resound
The hollow eccho of my carefull cries : 160
I hate the house, since thence my Love did part,
Whose wailefull want debars mine eyes of sleepe.
Let stremes of teares supply the place of sleepe ;
Let all, that sweete is, voyd; and all, that may aug-
ment
Mv dole, draw neere ! More meete to waile my woe
Bene the wilde woods, my sorows to resound, 166
Then bed, nor bowre, both which I fill with cries.
When I them see so waste, and finde no part
Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell apart
In gastfull grove therefore, till my last sleep 170
Doo close mine eyes ; so shall I not augment
With sight of such as chaunge my restlesse woe. .
Help me, yee banefull Byrds ! whose shrieking sound
Is signe of dreery death, my deadly cries
INIost ruthfully to tune : and as my cryes 175
(Which of my woe cannot bewray least part)
You heare all night, when Nature craveth sleep.
Increase, so let your yrksome yelles augment.
Thus all the nightes in plaintes, the daye in woe,
I vowed have to waste, till safe and sound 180
She home returne, whose voyces silver sound
To cheerefull songes can chaunge my cheerelesse cries.
Hence with the nightingale will I take part.
360 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
That blessed byrd, that spendes her time of sleepe
In songes and plaintive pleas^ the more t' augment
The memorie of his misdeede that bred her woe. 186
'^ And you that feel no woe, when as the sound
Of these my nightlie cries ye heare apart.
Let breake your sounder sleepe, and pitie augment."
Per. O Colin, Colin ! the shepheardes ioye, 190
How I admire ech turning of thy verse ;
And Cuddie, freshe Cuddie, the liefest boye,
How dolefully his dole thou didst rehearse !
Cud. Then blow your pypes, Shepheards, till you be
at home ;
The night higheth fast, yts time to be gone. 195
PERIGOT HIS BMBLEME.
Vincenti gloria victi.
WILLYES EMBLEME.
Finto non vitto.
CUDDIES EBIBLEME^
Felice chi puo.
361
SEPTEMBER.
AEGLOGA NONA.
ARGUMENT.
Herein Diggon Davie is devised to be a shepheard that, in hope
of more gaine, drove his sheepe into a farre countrey. The
abuses whereof, and loose Hving of popish prelates, by occasion
of Hobbinols demaund, he discourseth at large.
HOBBINOLL. DIGGON DAVIE.
HOBBINOLL.
BiGGON Davie ! I bid her god day ;
Or Diggon her is, or I missay.
Dig. Her was her, while it was day-light,
But nowe her is a most Avretched wight :
For day, that was, is wightly past, 5
And now at earst the dirke night doth hast.
Hob. Diggon, areede who has thee so dight ;
Never I wist thee in so poore a plight.
Where is the fayre flocke thou wast woont to lead.''
Or bene they chaffred, or at mischiefe dead? 10
Dig. Ah ! for love of that is to thee most leefe,
Hobbinoll, I pray thee gall not my olde greefe ;
Sike question rippeth up cause of new woe.
For one, opened, mote unfold many moe.
362 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Hob. Nay, but sorrow close shrouded in heart, 1 5
I know, to keepe is a burdenous smart :
Ech thing imparted is more eath to beare :
When the rayne is fallen, the clouds waxen cleare.
And now, sithence I saw thy head last,
Thrise three moones bene fully spent and past ; 20
Since when thou hast measured much ground.
And wandred weele about the world round.
So as thou can many thinges relate ;
But tell me first of thy flockes estate.
Dig. My sheepe bene wasted; (wae is me therefore !)
The ioUy shepheard that was of yore, 26
Is now nor iolly, nor shepheard more.
In forreine coastes men sayd was plentie ;
And so there is, but all of miserie :
I dempt there much to have eeked my store, -iO
But such eeking hath made my heart sore.
In tho countries, whereas I have bene.
No beeing for those that truly mene;
But for such, as of guile maken gaine.
No such country as there to remaine ; 35
They setten to sale theyr shops of shame.
And maken a mart of theyr good name :
The shepheards there robben one another.
And layen baytes to beguile her brother ;
Or they will buye his sheepe out of the cote, lO
Or they will carven the shepheardes throte.
The shepheardes swayne you cannot well ken.
But it be by his pride, from other men ;
They looken bigge as buUes that bene bate,
And bearen the cragge so stifFe and so state, 45
SEPTEMBER. '363
aA-S cocke on his dunghill crowing cranck.
Hob. Diggon, I am so stifFe and so stanck,
That uneth may I stand any more ;
And now the westerne winde bloweth sore.
That now is in his chiefe soveraigntee, 50
Beating the withered leafe from the tree ;
Sitte we downe here under the hill ;
Tho may we talke and tellen our fill.
And make a mocke at the blustering blast :
Now say on, Diggon, whatever thou hast. 55
Dig. Hobbin, ah Hobbin ! I curse the stound
That ever I cast to have lorne this ground :
Wel-away the while I was so fond
To leave the good, that I had in hond.
In hope of better that was uncouth ; 60
So lost the dogge the flesh in his mouth.
My seely sheepe (ah ! seely sheepe !)
That here by there I wilome usde to keepe.
All were they lustie as thou diddest see.
Bene all starved with pyne and penuree ; 65
Hardly my selfe escaped thilke paine.
Driven for neede to come home againe.
Hob. Ah ! fon, now by thy losse art taught
That seldom chaunge the better brought :
Content who lives with tryed state, 70
Neede feare no chaunge of frowning Fate ;
But who will seeke for unknowne gayne.
Oft lives by losse, and leaves with payne.
Dig. I wote ne, Hobbin, how I was bewitcht
With vayne desire and hope to be enricht : 75
364 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
But, sicker, so it is, as the bright starre
Seemeth aye greater when it is farre :
I thought the soyle would have made me rich.
But now I wote it is nothing sich;
For eyther the shepheards bene ydle and still, 80
And ledde of theyr sheepe what way they will,
Or they bene false, and full of covetise.
And casten to compasse many wronge emprise :
But the more bene fraight with fraud and spight,
Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight, 85
But kindle coales of conteck and yre.
Wherewith they set all the world on fire;
Which when they thinken againe to quench.
With holy water they doen hem all drench.
They saye they con to heaven the high-way, 90
But by my soule I dare undersaye
They never sette foote in that same troad,
But balke the right way, and strayen abroad.
They boast they han the devill at commaund.
But aske hem therefore what they han paund: 95
Marrie ! that great Pan bought with deare borrow.
To quite it from the blacke bowre of sorrow.
But they han sold thilke same long egoe.
For they woulden draw with hem many moe.
But let hem gauge alone a Gods name ; 100
As they han brewed, so let hem beare blame.
Hob. Diggon, I praye thee speake not so dirke ;
Such myster saying me seemeth to-mirke. [[what.
Dig. Then, plainly to speake of shepheards moste
Badde is the best; (this English is flat.) 105
SEPTEMBER.
365
Their ill haviour garres men missay
Both of theyr doctrine;, and theyr fay.
Thev sayne the world is much war then it wont,
All for her shepheardes bene beastly and blont.
Other sayne, but howe truely I n'ote, 110
All for they holden shame of their cote :
Some sticke not to say, (bote cole on her tongue !)
That sike mischiefe graseth hem emong.
All for they casten too much of worldes care.
To deck her dame, and enrich her heire ; 115
For such encheason, if you goe nie,
Fewe chimnies reeking you shall espie.
The fat oxe, that wont ligge in the stall,
Is nowe fast stalled in her crumenaU.
Thus chatten the people in their steads, 120
Ylike as a monster of many heads :
But they, that shooten nearest the pricke,
Sayne, other the fat from their beards doen lick :
For bigge bulles of Basan brace hem about.
That with their homes butten the more stoute; 1^5
But the leane soules treaden under foot.
And to seeke redresse mought little boote ;
For liker bene they to pluck away more.
Then ought of the gotten good to restore :
For they bene like fowle wagmoires overgrast, 130
That, if thy galage once sticketh fast.
The more to winde it out thou dost swinck,
Thou mought aye deeper and deeper sinck.
Yet better leave off with a little losse.
Then by much uTestling to leese the grosse. 135
S6G THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Hob. Nowe^ Diggon, I see thou speakest too plaine :
Better it were a little to feine.
And cleanely cover that cannot be cured ;
Such ill, as is forced, mought needes bee endured.
But of sike pastoures howe done the flocks creepe ? 140
Dig. Sike as the shepheards, sike bene her sheepe,
For they nill listen to the shepheards voice ;
But if he call hem, at their good choice
They wander at will and stay at pleasure.
And to their folds yeade at their owne leasure. 145
But they had be better come at their call ;
For many han unto mischiefe fall.
And bene of ravenous wolves yrent.
All for they nould be buxome and bent.
Hob. Fie on thee, Diggon, and all thy foule leasing ;
Well is knowne that, sith the Saxon king, . 151
Never was wolf seene, many nor some.
Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendome ;
But the fewer wolves (the sooth to saine)
The more bene the foxes that here remaine. 155
Dig. Yes, but they gang in more secret wise.
And with sheeps clothing doen hem disguise.
They walke not widely as they were wont,
For feare of raungers and the great hunt.
But prively prolling to and froe, 160
Enaunter they mought be inly knowe.
Hob. Or privie or pert if any bin.
We han great bandogs wil teare their skin.
Dig. In deede thy Ball is a bold bigge cur,
And could make a iollv hole in their fur: \G5
SEPTEMBER.
367
But not good dogs hem needeth to chace,
But heedy shepheards to discerne their face ;
For all their craft is in their countenaunce.
They bene so grave and full of maintenaunce.
But shall I tell thee what my self knowe 170
Chaunced to Roffin not long ygoe ?
Hob. Say it out, Diggon, whatever it hight.
For not but well mought him betight :
He is so meeke, wise, and merciable.
And with his word his work is convenable. 175
Colin Clout, I weene, be his selfe boye,
(Ah, for Colin ! he whilome my ioye:)
Shepheards sich, God mought us many send.
That doen so carefully theyr flocks tend.
Dig. Thilke same shepheard mought I well marke.
He has a dogge to bite or to barke; 181
Never had shepheard so keene a cur.
That waketh and if but a leafe stur.
Whilome there wonned a wicked wolfe.
That with many a lambe had gutted his gulfe, 185
And ever at night wont to repayre
Unto the flocke, when the welkin shone fayre,
Yclad in clothing of seely sheepe.
When the good olde man used to sleepe ;
Tho at midnight he would barke and ball, 190
' (For he had eft learned a curres call,)
As if a woolfe were emong the sheepe :
With that the shepheard would breake his sleepe.
And send out Lowder (for so his dog bote)
To raunge the fields with wide open throte. 195
368 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Tho, when as Lowder was far away.
This wolvish sheepe woulde catchen his pray,
A lambe, or a kid, or a weanell wast ;
With that to the wood woukl hee speede him fast.
Long time he used this slippery pranck, 200
Ere Roffy could for his labour him thanck.
At end, the shepheard his practise spyed,
(For RofFy is wise, and as Argus eyed,)
And, when at even he came to the flocke.
Fast in their foldes he did them locke, 205
And tooke out the woolfe in his counterfeit cote.
And let out the sheepes blond at his throte.
Hob. Marry, Diggon, what should him affraye
To take his owne where ever it laye ?
For, had his wesand been a little widder, 210
He woulde have devoured both bidder and shidder.
Dig. Mischiefe light on him, and Gods great curse,
Too good for him had bene a great deale worse;
For it was a perilous beast above all.
And eke had hee cond the shepheards call, 215
And oft in the night came to the sheep-cote^
And called Lowder, with a hollow throte.
As if the olde man selfe had beene :
The dogge his maisters voice did it weene.
Yet lialfe in doubt he opened the dore, 220
And ranne out as he was wont of yore.
No sooner was out, but, swifter then thought.
Fast by the hyde the wolfe Lowder caught ;
And, had not RofFy renne to the Steven,
Lowder had bene slaine thilke same even. 225
SEPTEMBER. 369
Hob. God shield, Man, hee should so ill have thrive.
All for he did his devoyre belive.
If sike bene wolves, as thou hast told.
How mought we, Diggon, hem behold ?
Dig. How, but, with heede and watchfullnesse, 230
Forstallen hem of their wilinesse :
For-thy with shepheard sittes not play.
Or sleepe, as some doen, all the long day;
But ever liggen in watch and ward.
From sodaine force their flocks for to gard. 2S5
Hob. Ah ! Diggon, thilke same rule were too straight.
All the cold season to watch and waiter
We bene of flesh, men as other bee.
Why should we be bound to such miseree ?
What-ever thing lacketh chaungeable rest, 540
Mought needes decay, when it is at best.
Dig. Ah ! but, HobbinoU, all this long tale
Nought easeth the care that doth mee forhaile ;
What shall I doe ? what way shall I wend,
My piteous plight and losse to amend ? 245
Ah ! good HobbinoU, mought I thee pray
Of ayde or counsell in my decaye.
Hob. Now by my soule, Diggon, I lament
The haplesse mischiefe that has thee hent ;
Nethelesse thou seest my lowly saile, 250
That froward Fortune doth ever availe :
But, were HobbinoU as God mought please,
Diggon should soone finde favour and ease :
But if to my cotage thou wilt resort.
So as I can I will thee comfort ; 255
VOL. IV. 2 B
iJ70 THE SHEPHEARD8 CALENDER. i
There mayst thou ligge in a vetchy bed^
Till fairer Fortune shew forth his head.
Dig. Ah ! Hobbinoll, God mought it thee requite ;
Diggon on fewe such friendes did ever lite. 259
DIGGONS EMBLEME.
luopetn v\e copiajecit.
S71
OCTOBER.
AEGLOGA DECIMA.
ARGUMENT.
Ix Cuddie is set out the perfect patern of a Poet, which, finding
no maintenance of his state and studies, complaineth of the
contempt of Poetrie, and the causes thereof : Specially having
bene in all ages, and even amongst the most barbarous, alwaies
of singular account and honour, and being indeed so worthie
and commendable an art ; or rather no art, but a divine gift
and heavenly instinct not to be gotten by labour and learning,
but adorned with both ; and poixred into the witte by a cer-
taine Enthousiasmos and celestiall inspiration, as the Author
hereof else where at large discourseth in his booke called
The English Poet^ which booke being lately come to my
handes, I minde also by Gods grace, upon further advisement,
to publish.
PIERS. CUDDIE.
PIERS.
CuDDiEj for shame, holde up thy heavie head.
And let us cast with what delight to chace
And weary this long lingring Phcebus race.
Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leade
In rimes, in ridles, and in bydding base ; 5
Nowe they in thee, and thou in sleepe, arte deade.
2b 2
372 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
Cud. Piers, I have pyped erst so long with payne.
That all mine oten reedes ben rent and wore.
And my poore Muse hath spent her spared store,
Yet little good hath got, and much lesse gayne. 1
Such pleasaunce makes the grashopper so poore,
And ligge so layd, when winter doth her straine.
The dapper ditties, that I wont devise.
To feede youthes fansie, and the flocking fry,
Delighten much ; what I the bett forthy ? 15
They han the pleasure, I a sclender prise :
I beate the bush, the byrdes to them do flie :
What good thereof to Cuddie can arise ?
Piers. Cuddie, the praise is better then the price.
The glory eke much greater then the gayne : 20
O what an honour is it, to restraine
The lust of lawlesse youth with good advice,
Or pricke them foorth with pleasaunce of thy vaine.
Whereto thou list their trained willes entice !
Soone as thou gynst to sette thy notes in frame, 25
O how the rural routes to thee do cleave !
Seemeth thou doest theyr soule of sense bereave.
All as the shepheard that did fetch his dame
From Plutoes balefuU bowre withouten leave ;
His musickes might the hellish hound did tame. 50
Cud. So praysen babes the peacocks spotted trayne,
And wondren at bright Argus blazing eye ;
OCTOBER. 373
But who rewardes him ere the more forthy.
Or feedes him once the fuller by a graine ?
Sike praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the skie ; S5
Sike words bene winde^, and wasten soone in vaine.
Piers. Abandon then the base and viler clowne ;
Lift up thy selfe out of the lowly dust.
And sing of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts;
Turne thee to those that weld the awfull crowne, 40
To doubted knights, whose woundlesse armour rusts,
And helmes unbruzed wexen daylie browne.
There may thy Muse display her fluttring wing,
And stretch her selfe at large from east to west ;
Whither thou list in fayre Elisa rest, 45
Or, if thee please in bigger notes to sing,
Advaunce the Worthy whom shee loveth best,
That first the White Beare to the Stake did bring.
And, when the stubborne stroke of stronger stounds
Has somewhat slackt the tenor of thy string, 50
Of love and lustihead tho maist thou sing.
And carroU lowde, and leade the Millers rounde.
All were Elisa one of thilk same ring ;
So mought our Cuddies name to heaven sounde.
Cud. In deede the Romish Tityrus, I heare, 55
Through his jVIecsenas left his oaten reede.
Whereon hee earst had taught his flocks to feede,
And laboured lands to yeeld the timely eare.
S74 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
And eft did sing of warres and deadly dreede.
So as the heavens did quake his verse to heare. 60
But ah ! Mecaenas is yclad in claye.
And great Augustus long ygoe is dead.
And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead.
That matter made for poets on to playe :
For ever, who in derring-doe were dread, 65
The loftie verse of hem was loved aye.
But after Vertue gan for age to stoupe^,
And mightie Manhood brought a bedde of ease.
The vaunting poets found nought worth a pease
To put in preace among the learned troupe ; 70
Tho gan the streames of flowing wittes to cease.
And sunnebright honour pend in shamefull coupe.
And if that any buddes of Poesie,
Yet of the old stocke, gan to shoote againe.
Or it mens follies mote to-force to fain, 75
And rolle with rest in rymes of ribaudrie ;
Or, as it sprung, it wither must againe;
Tom Piper makes us better melodie.
Piers. O pierlesse Po'esie ! where is then thy place ?
If nor in princes pallace thou doest sit, 80
(And yet is princes pallace the most fit,)
Ne brest of baser birth doth thee embrace.
Then make thee wings of thine aspiring wit.
And, whence thou camst, flie backe to heaven apac€.
OCTOBER. S75
Cud. Ah ! Percy, it is all-to weake and wanne^, 85
So high to sore and make so large a flight ;
Her peeced pyneons bene not so in plight :
For Colin fits such famous flight to scanne ;
He, Avere he not with love so ill bedight.
Would mount as high and sing as soote as swanne. 90
(^so hie.
Piers. Ah ! fon ; for Love does teach him climbe
And lyftes him up out of the loathsome myre ;
Such immortal mirror, as he doth admire.
Would rayse ones minde above the starrie skie,
And cause a caytive corage to aspire ; 95
For loftie love doth loath a lowly eye.
Cud. All otherwise the state of Poet stands ;
For lordly Love is such a tyranne fell.
That, where he rules, all power he doth expell ;
The vaunted verse a vacant head demaundes, 100
Ne wont with crabbed Care the Muses dwell :
Unwisely weaves, that takes two webbes in hand.
Who ever castes to compasse wightie prise.
And thinkes to throwe out thundring words of threat.
Let powre in lavish cups and thriftie bittes of meate.
For Bacchus fruite is friend to Phoebus wise ; 106
And, when with wine the braine begins to sweat.
The numbers flow as fast as spring doth rise.
Thou kenst not, Percie, how the rime should rage ;
O if my temples were distain'd with wine, 1 1
376 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
And girt in girlonds of wilde yvie twine.
How I could reare the Muse on stately stage^
And teach her tread aloft in buskin fine^,
With queint Bellona in her equipage !
But ah ! my courage cooles ere it be warme : 11 o
Forthy content us in this humble shade.
Where no such troublous tydes han us assayde ;
Here we our slender pipes may safely charme.
Piers. And, when my gates shall han theyr bellyes
layd,
Cuddie shall have a kidde to store his farme. 120
CUDDIES EMBLEME.
Agitanfe calescinius illo, SfC,
377
NOVEMBER.
AEGLOGA UNDECIMA.
ARGUMENT.
In this xi. Aeglogue hee bewaileth the death of some maiden ot
great blood, whom he calleth Dido. The personage is secret,
and to me altogither unknowne, albeit of himselfe I often
required the same. This Aeglogue is made in imitation of
Marot his song, which he made upon the death of Loyes the
French Queen ; but farre passing his reach, and in mine opi-
nion all other the Aeglogues of this Book.
THENOT. COLIN.
THENOT.
Colin, my deare, when shall it please thee sing.
As thou wert wont, songes of some iouisaunce ?
Thy Muse too long slombreth in sorrowing.
Lulled asleepe through Loves misgovernaunce.
Now somewhat sing, whose endlesse sovenaunce 5
Emong the shepheards swaines may aye remaine.
Whether thee list thy loved lass advaunce,
Or honor Pan with himnes of higher vaine.
Col. Thenot, now nis the time of merrimake.
Nor Pan to herie, nor with Love to play ; 1
Sike myrth in May is meetest for to make.
Or sommer shade, under the cocked hay.
But nowe sadde winter welked hath the day.
And Phoebus, wearie of his yearly taske,
Ystabled hath his steedes'in lowly lay, 15
37B THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
And taken up his ynne in Fishes haske :
Thilk soUein season sadder plight doth aske.
And loatheth sike delights as thou doest prayse :
The mornefull Muse in myrth now list ne maske.
As she was wont in youngth and sommer-dayes ; 20
But if thou algate lust light virelayes.
And looser songs of love to under fong.
Who but thy self deserves sike poets praise ?
Relieve thy oaten pypes that sleepen long.
The. The nightingale is sovereigne of song, 25
Before him sits the titmouse silent bee ;
And I, unfit to thrust in skilfull throng.
Should Colin make iudge of my fooleree :
Nay, better learne of hem that learned bee.
And han bene watered at the Muses well ; 30
The kindely dewe drops from the higher tree,
And wets the little plants that lowly dwell :
But if sadde winters wrath, and season chill.
Accord not with thy Muses merriment.
To sadder times thou maist attune thy quill, 35
And sing of sorrowe and deathes dreriment ;
For deade is Dido, deade, alas ! and drent ;
Dido ! the great shepheard his daughter sheene :
The fayrest May shee was that ever went.
Her like shee has not left behinde I weene : 40
And, if thou wilt bewayle my wofuU teene,
I shall thee give yond cosset for thy payne;
And, if thy rymes as rounde and ruefuli beene
As those that did thy Rosalind complayne.
Much greater gifts for guerdon thou shalt gayne, 4a
Than kid or cosset, which I thee bynempt :
NOVEMBER. 379
Then up^ I say, thou ioUy shepheard swayne,^
Let not my small demaunde be so contempt.
Col. Thenot, to that I chose thou doest mee tempt ;
But ah ! too well I wote my humble vayne, 50
And how my nmes bene rugged and unkempt ;
Yet, as I conne, my conning I will strayne.
" Up, then, Melpomene ! the mournefulst Muse of Nine,
Such cause of mourning never hadst afore ;
Up, grislie ghostes ! and up my rufull rime ! My
Matter of myrth now shalt thou have no more ;
For dead shee is, that myrth thee made of yore.
Dido, my deare,. alas ! is dead.
Dead, and lyeth wrapt in lead.
O heavie herse ! 60
Let streaming teares be powred out in store ;
O carefull verse I
[]abyde,
" Shepheards, that by your flocks of Kentish downes
Waile ye this woefull waste of Natures warke ;
Waile we the wight, whose presence was our pryde; (j5
Waile we the wight, whose absence is our carke ;
The sunne of all the world is dimme and darke ;
The earth now lacks her wonted light.
And all we dwell in deadly night.
O heavie herse ! 70
Breake we our pipes, that shrild as lowde as larke ;
O carefull verse !
" Why doe we longer live, (ah! why live we so long?)
Whose better dayes Death hath shut up in woe ?
380 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
The fayrest flowre our girloiid all eijiong 75
Is faded quite, and into dust ygoe.
Sing now, ye shepheards daughters;, sing no moe
The songs that Colin made you in her praise.
But into weeping turn your wanton layes.
O heavie herse ! 80
Nowe is time to die ; nay, time was long ygoe :
O carefull verse !
" Whence is it, that the flowret of the field doth fade.
And lyeth buried long in Winters bale ;
Yet, soone as Spring his mantle hath display de, 85
It flowreth fresh, as it should never fayle ?
But thing on earth that is of most availe.
As vertues branch and beauties bud,
Reliven not for any good.
O heavie herse ! 90
The branch once dead, the bud eke needes must quaile ;
O carefull verse !
" She, while she was, (that was, a wofull word to saine !)
For beauties praise and pleasaunce had no peere ;
So well she couth the shepheards entertaine 95
With cakes and cracknells, and such countrey cheere :
Ne would she scorne the simple shepheards swainc ;
For she would call him often heme.
And give him curds and clouted creame.
O heavie herse ! 100
Als Colin Cloute she would not once disdainc ;
O carefull verse !
NOVEMBER. 381
'^ But now sike happy cheere is turnde to heavy chaunce.
Such pleasaunce now displast by dolors dint ;
All musick sleepes, where Death doth lead the daunce.
And shepheards wonted solace is extinct. 106
The blew in black, the greene in gray, is tinct ;
The gaudy girlonds deck her grave.
The faded flowres her corse embrave.
O heavie herse 1 110
Morne now, my JMuse, now morne with teares besprint;
O carefull verse !
" O thou great shepheard, Lobbin, how great is thy
griefe !
Where bene the nosegayes that she dight for thee ?
The coloured chaplets wrought with a chiefe, 115
The knotted rush-ringes, and gilt rosemaree ?
For shee deemed nothing too deere for thee.
Ah ! they bene all yclad in clay;
One bitter blast blewe all away.
O heavie herse ! 120
Thereof nought remaynes but the memoree ;
O carefull verse !
[stroke,
''^ Ay me ! that dreerie Death should strike so mortall
That can undoe Dame Natures kindely course ;
The faded lockes fall from the loftie oke, \25
The flouds doe gaspe, for dryed is their sourse.
And flouds of teares flow in theyr stead perforce :
The mantled medowes mourne,
Theyr sundrie colours tourne.
382 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
O heavie herse ! ISO
The heavens doe melt in teares without remorse ;
O carefull verse !
" The feeble flocks in field refuse their former foodej,
And hang their heades as they would learne to weepe ;
The beastes in forrest wayle as they were woode, 135
Except the wolves, that chase the wandring sheepe,
Now shee is gone that safely did hem keepe :
The turtle on the bared braunch
Laments the wounde that Death did launch.
O heavie herse ! 140
And Philomeie her song with teares doth steepe ;
O carefull verse !
[^daunce,
*' The water nymphs, that wont with her to sing and
And for her girlond olive braunches beare,
Nowe balefull boughes of cypres doen advaunce ; 14-5
The Muses, that were wont greene bayes to weare,
Now bringen bitter eldre braunches seare ;
The Fatall Sisters eke repent
Her vitall threde so soone was spent.
O heavie herse ! 150
Morne now, my Muse, now morne with heavy cheare;
O carefull verse !
•' O trustlesse state of earthly things, and slipper hope
Of mortall men, that swincke and sweate for nought.
And, shooting wide, doth misse the marked scope ; 1 55
Nowe have I learnde (a lesson deerely bought)
That nis on earth assuraunce to be sought;
NOVEMBER. 38S
For what might bee in earthly mould.
That did her buried body hould ?
O heavie herse ! 1 60
Yet saw I on the beere when it was brought;
O carefuli verse !
" But maugre Death, and dreaded Sisters deadly spight.
And gates of hell, and fyrie furies force.
She hath the bonds broke of eternall night, 165
Her soule unbodied of the burdenous corse.
Why then weepes Lobbin so without remorse ?
O Lobb ! thy losse no longer lament ;
Dido is dead, but into heaven hent.
O happie herse ! ] 70
Cease now, my IMuse, now cease thy sorrowes sourse,
ioyful verse !
[plaintes,
" Why waile we then ? why wearie we the gods with
As if some evill were to her betight ?
She raignes a goddesse now emong the saintes, 1 75
That whilome was the saynt of shepheards light.
And is enstalled nowe in heavens hight.
1 see thee, blessed soule ! I see
• Walk in Elisian fieldes so free.
O happie herse ! 180
Might I once come to thee, (O that I might !)
O ioyfull verse !
'' Unwise and wretched men, to weete what's good or ill.
Wee deeme of death as doome of ill desert ;
But knewe wee, Fooles, what it us bringes untill, 1 85
S84 THE SHEPHKARDS CALENDER.
Dye would we daylie^ once it to expert !
No daunger there the shepheard can assert ;
Fayre fieldes and pleasaunt layes there bene ;
The fieldes aye fresh, the grasse ay greene.
O happie herse ! 190
3Iake haste, yee shepheards, thether to revert.
O ioyfull verse !
'' Dido is gone afore; (whose turne shall be the next?)
There lives shee with the blessed gods in blisse.
There drincks she nectar with ambrosia mixt, 195
And ioyes enioyes that mortall men doe misse.
The honor now of highest gods she is.
That whilome was poore shepheards pride,
"^Vhile here on earth shee did abide.
O happie herse ! 200
Cease now, my song, my woe now wasted is ;
O ioyfull verse I"
Qmeint
The. Ay, franck shepheard, how bene thy verses
With dolefuil pleasaunce, so as I ne wotte
Whether reioyce or weepe for great constraint !
Thine be the cossette, well hast thou it gotte.
Up, Colin up, ynough thou morned hast ;
Now ginnes to mizzle, hye we homeward fast.
COLINS EMBLEME.
La 7nort ny mord.
385
DECEMBER.
AEGLOGA DUODECIMA.
ARGUMENT.
This Aeglogue "(even as the first began) is ended witli a com-
plaint of Colin to god Pan ; wherein, as wearie of his former
waies, hee proportioneth his life to the foure seasons of the
yeare ; comparing his youth to the spring time, Avhen hee was
fresh and free from loves follie. His manhood to the sommer,
which, he saith, was consumed with great heate and excessive
drouth, caused through a Comet or blazing Starre, by which
hee meaneth love ; which passion is commonly compared to
such flames and immoderate heate. His ripest yeares he re-
sembleth to an unseasonable harvest, wherein the fruits fall
ere they be ripe. His latter age to winters chill and frostie
season, now drawing neere to his last ende.
The gentle shepheard sat beside a springe.
All in the shadowe of a bushye brere.
That Colin hight, which well coulde pype and singe.
For hee of Tityrus his songes did lere :
There, as he satte in secret shade alone, 5
Thus gan hee make of love his piteous mone.
'^ O soveraigne Pan ! thou god of shepheardes all,
Which of our tender lambkins takest keepe,
VOL. IV. 2 c
38(3 - THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
And;, when our flockes into mischaimce mought fall,
Boest save from mischiefe the unwarie sheepe, 10
Als of their maisters hast no lesse regard
Then of the flocks, which thou doest watch and ward ;
'' I thee beseeche (so be thou deigne to hear
Rude ditties, tunde to shepheardes oaten reede.
Or if I ever sonet song so cleare, 15
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede,)
Hearken a while, from thy greene cabinet.
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
" Whilome in youth, when flowrd my ioyfull spring.
Like swallow swift I wandred here and there ; 20
For heate of heedlesse lust me so did sting.
That I oft doubted daunger had no feare :
I went the wastefull woodes and forrest wide,
Withouten dread of wolves to bene espide.
" I wont to raunge amid the mazie thicket, 25
And gather nuttes to make my Christmas-game,
And ioyed oft to chace the trembling pricket.
Or liunt the hartlesse hare till she were tame.
What wreaked I of wintrie ages waste ? —
Tho deemed I my spring would ever last. 30
'' How often have I scaled the craggie oke,
All to dislodge the raven of her nest ?
How have I wearied, with many a stroke.
The stately walnut-tree, the while the rest
DECEMBER. 387
Under the tree fell all for nuttes at strife ? 35
For like to me was libertie and life.
" And for I was in tliilke same looser yeeres^
(Whether the Muse so wrought me from my byrth.
Or I too much beleev'd my shepheard peeres,)
Somedele ybent to song and musickes mirth, 40
A good old shepheard, Wrenock was his name.
Made me by arte more cunning in the same.
'^ Fro thence I durst in derring to compare
With shepheardes swayne whatever fed in field ;
And, if that Hobbinoll right iudgement bare, 45
To Pan his own selfe pype I need not yield :
For, if the flocking nymphes did follow Pan,
The wiser Muses after Colin ran.
" But, ah ! such pride at length was ill repay de ;
The shepheards god (perdie god was he none) oO
My hurtlesse pleasaunce did me ill upbraide.
My freedome lorne, my life he left to mone.
Love they him called that gave me check-mate.
But better mought they have behote him Hate.
" Tho gan my lovely spring bid me farewell, 55
And sommer season sped him to display
(For Love then in the Lyons house did dwell,)
The raging fire that kindled at his ray.
A comet stird up that unkindly heate.
That reigned (as men said) in Venus seate. 60
2 c 2
f)
88 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER^
^' Forth was I ledde^ not as I wont afore.
When choise I had to choose my wandring way.
But whether Luck and Loves unbridled lore
Would lead me forth on Fancies bitte to play:
The bush my bed, the bramble was my bowre, 65
The woodes can witnesse many a wofull stowre.
" Where I was wont to seeke the honie bee.
Working her formall rowmes in wexen frame.
The grieslie todestoole growne there mought I see.
And loathed paddockes lording on the same : 70
And, where the chaunting birds luld me asleepe.
The ghastly owle her grievous ynne doth keepe.
" Then as the spring gives place to elder Time,
And bringeth forth the fruite of sommers pride ;
All so my age, now passed youthly prime, 75
To things of riper season selfe applied.
And learnd of lighter timber cotes to frame.
Such as might save my sheepe and me fro shame.
" To make fine cages for the nightingale.
And baskets of bulrushes, was my wont : SO
Who to entrap the fish in winding sale
Was better seene, or hurtfuU beastes to hont ?
I learned als the signs of heaven to ken.
How Plicebe failes, where Venus sits, and when.
*' And tryed time yet tauglit me greater thinges; 85
The sodain rising of the raging seas.
DECEMBBR. 389
The sootlie of byrdes by beating of theyr winges;,
The powre of herbes^ both which can hurt and ease.
And which be wont t' enrage the restlesse sheepe.
And which be wont to worke eternall sleepe. 90
'' But, ah ! unwise and witlesse Colin Cloute,
That kydst the hidden kindes of many a weede.
Yet kydst not ene to cure thy sore heart-roote.
Whose ranckling wound as yet does rifely bleede.
Why livest thou still, and yet hast thy deaths wound ?
Why dyest thou still, and yet alive art found? 96
" Thus is my sommer worne away and wasted.
Thus is my harvest hastened all-to rathe ;
The eare that budded fayre is burnt and blasted.
And all my hoped gaine is turn'd to scathe. 100
Of all the seede, that in my youth was sowne.
Was none but brakes and brambles to be mowne.
*' My boughs with bloosmes that crowned were at first.
And promised of timely fruite such store.
Are left both bare and barrein now at erst ; 105
The flattering fruite is fallen to ground before.
And rotted ere they were halfe mellow ripe ;
My harvest, wast, my hope away did wipe.
'^ The fragrant flowres, that in my garden grewe.
Bene withered, as they had bene gathered long ; 110
Theyr rootes bene dryed up for lack of dewe.
Yet dewed with teares they han be ever among.
TVk 1 I
!<• •
Jff««» I
UIi«*
y
TV
f
Iff
190 THE SHEPHEARD3 CALENDER.
Ah ! who has wrought my Rosalind this spight.
To spill the flowres that should her girlond dight ?
^' And I^ that whilome wont to frame my pype 115
Unto the shifting of the shepheards foote,
Sike follies now have gathered as too ripe^,
And cast hem out as rotten and unsoote.
The loser lasse I cast to please no more ;
One if I please, enough is me therefore. 120
" And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedie crop of care ;
Which, when I thought have thresht in swelling sheave.
Cockle for corn, and chaffe for barley, bare :
Soon as the chaffe should in the fan be fynd, 125
All was blown away of the wavering wynd.
** So now my yeere drawes to his latter terme,
INIy spring is spent, my sommer burnt up quite ;
My harvest hastes to stirre up Winter sterne.
And bids him clayme with rigorous rage his right : 1 30
So now he stormes with many a sturdy stoure ;
So now his blustring blast eche coast doth scoure.
" The carefull cold hath nipt my rugged rynd.
And in my face deepe furrowes eld hath pight :
INIy head besprent with hoarie frost I finde, 135
And by myne eye the crowe his clawe doth wTight :
Delight is layd abedd ; and pleasure, past ;
No sunne now shines ; clouds han all overcast.
DECEMBER. 391
" l^o\y leave, ye Sliepheards Boyes, your merry glee ;
]\Iy IMuse is hoarse and wearie of this stound : 140
Here will I hang my pype upon this tree.
Was never pype of reede did better sound :
Winter is come that blowes the bitter blast.
And after winter dreerie death does hast.
" Gather together ye my little flocke, 145
My little flocke, that was to me so liefe ;
Let me, ah ! let me in your foldes ye lock,
Ere the breme winter breede you greater griefe.
Winter is come, that blows the balefuU breath.
And after winter commeth timely death. 150
" Adieu, Delightes, that lulled me asleepe ;
Adieu, my Deare, whose love I bought so deare ;
Adieu, my little Lambes and loved Sheepe ;
Adieu, ye Woodes, that oft my witnesse were :
Adieu, good Hobbinoll, that was so true, 1 55
Tell Rosalind, her Colin bids her adieu."
COLINS EMBLEME.
Vivitur iyigenio: ccetera mortis erunt.
392 THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
EPILOGUE.
LoE ! I have made a Calender for every yeare,
That Steele in strength, and time in durance, shall outweare ;
And, if I marked well the starres revolution,
It shall continue till the worldes dissolution,
To teach the ruder shepheard how to feede his sheepe,
And from the falsers fraude his folded flocke to keepe.
Goe, little Calender ! thou hast a free passeporte ;
Goe but a lowly gate amongst the meaner sorte :
Dare not to match thy pype with Tityrus his stile.
Nor with the Pilgrim that the plough-man playd a while ;
But follow them farre off, and their high steps adore ;
The better please, the worse despise ; I aske no more.
MERGE NON MEIOEDE.
END OF VOL. IV.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY^ DORSET STREET.
I
r
k
