Chapter XV: Appendix: Stanzas Omitted in the Second Edition (1596) 517 (13)

One night, when she was tost with such vnrest, xxx
Her aged Nurse, whose name was _Glauce_ hight,
Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest,
Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight,
And downe againe in her warme bed her[891] dight;
Ah my deare daughter, ah my dearest dread,
What vncouth fit (said she) what euill plight
Hath thee opprest, and with sad drearyhead
Chaunged thy liuely cheare, and liuing made thee dead?

For not of nought these suddeine ghastly feares xxxi
All night afflict thy naturall repose,
And all the day, when as thine equall peares
Their fit disports with faire delight doe chose,
Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe inclose,
Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest spred
Abroad thy fresh youthes fairest flowre, but lose
Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely shed,
As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.

The time, that mortall men their weary cares xxxii
Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest,
And euery riuer eke his course forbeares,[892]
Then doth this wicked euill thee infest,
And riue with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest;
Like an huge _Aetn’_ of deepe engulfed griefe,
Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest,
Whence forth it breakes in sighes and anguish rife,
As smoke and sulphure mingled with confused strife.

Aye me, how much I feare, least loue it bee; xxxiii
But if that loue it be, as sure I read
By knowen signes and passions, which I see,
Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead,
Then I auow by this most sacred head
Of my deare foster child, to ease thy griefe,
And win thy will: Therefore away doe dread;
For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe
Shall me debarre, tell me therefore my liefest liefe.

So hauing said, her twixt her armes twaine xxxiv
She straightly straynd, and colled tenderly,
And euery trembling ioynt, and euery vaine
She softly felt, and rubbed busily,
To doe the frosen cold away to fly;
And her faire deawy eies with kisses deare
She oft did bath, and oft againe did dry;
And euer her importund, not to feare
To let the secret of her hart to her appeare.

The Damzell pauzd, and then thus fearefully; xxxv
Ah Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my paine?
Is not enough, that I alone doe dye,
But it must doubled be with death of twaine?
For nought for me but death there doth remaine.
O daughter deare (said she) despaire no whit;
For neuer sore, but might a salue obtaine:
That blinded God, which hath ye blindly smit,
Another arrow hath your louers hart to hit.

But mine is not (quoth she) like others[893] wound; xxxvi
For which no reason can find remedy.
Was neuer such, but mote the like be found,
(Said she) and though no reason may apply
Salue to your sore, yet loue can higher stye,
Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne.
But neither God of loue, nor God of sky
Can doe (said she) that, which cannot be donne.
Things oft impossible (quoth she) seeme, ere begonne.

These idle words (said she) doe nought asswage xxxvii
My stubborne smart, but more annoyance breed,
For no no vsuall fire, no vsuall rage
It is, O Nurse, which on my life doth feed,
And suckes the bloud, which from my hart doth bleed.
But since thy faithfull zeale lets me not hyde
My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed.
Nor Prince, nor pere it is, whose loue hath gryde
My feeble brest of late, and launched[894] this wound wyde.

Nor man it is, nor other liuing wight; xxxviii
For then some hope I might vnto me draw,
But th’only shade and semblant of a knight,
Whose shape or person yet I neuer saw,
Hath me subiected to loues cruell law:
The same one day, as me misfortune led,
I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw,
And pleased with that seeming goodly-hed,
Vnwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed.

Sithens it hath infixed faster hold xxxix
Within my bleeding bowels, and so sore
Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould,
That all mine entrailes flow with poysnous gore,
And th’vlcer groweth daily more and more;
Ne can my running sore find remedie,
Other then my hard fortune to deplore,
And languish as the leafe falne from the tree,
Till death make one end of my dayes and miserie.

Daughter (said she) what need ye be dismayd, xl
Or why make ye such Monster of your mind?
Of much more vncouth thing I was affrayd;
Of filthy lust, contrarie vnto kind:
But this affection nothing straunge I find;
For who with reason can you aye reproue,
To loue the semblant pleasing most your mind,
And yield your heart, whence ye cannot remoue?
No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of loue.

Not so th’_Arabian Myrrhe_ did set her mind; xli
Nor[895] so did _Biblis_ spend her pining hart,
But lou’d their natiue flesh against all kind,
And to their purpose vsed wicked art:
Yet playd _Pasiphaë_ a more monstrous part,
That lou’d a Bull, and learnd a beast to bee;
Such shamefull lusts who loaths not, which depart
From course of nature and of modestie?
Sweet loue such lewdnes bands from his faire companie.

But thine my Deare (welfare thy heart my deare) xlii
Though strange beginning had, yet fixed is
On one, that worthy may perhaps appeare;
And certes seemes bestowed not amis:
Ioy thereof haue thou and eternall blis.
With that vpleaning on her elbow weake,
Her alablaster[896] brest she soft did kis,
Which all that while she felt to pant and quake,
As it an Earth-quake were; at last she thus bespake.

Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease; xliii
For though my loue be not so lewdly bent,
As those ye blame, yet may it nought[897] appease
My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent,
But rather doth my helpelesse griefe augment.
For they, how euer shamefull and vnkind,
Yet did possesse their horrible intent:
Short end of sorrowes they thereby did find;
So was their fortune good, though wicked were their mind.

But wicked fortune mine, though mind[898] be good, xliv
Can haue no end, nor hope of my desire,
But feed on shadowes, whiles I die for food,
And like a shadow wexe, whiles with entire
Affection, I doe languish and expire.
I fonder, then _Cephisus_ foolish child,
Who hauing vewed in a fountaine shere
His face, was with the loue thereof beguild;
I fonder loue a shade, the bodie farre exild.

Nought like (quoth she) for that same wretched boy xlv
Was of himselfe the idle Paramoure;
Both loue and louer, without hope of ioy,
For which he faded to a watry flowre.
But better fortune thine, and better howre,
Which lou’st the shadow of a warlike knight;
No shadow, but a bodie hath in powre:
That bodie, wheresoeuer that it light,
May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might.

But if thou may with reason yet represse xlvi
The growing euill, ere it strength haue got,
And thee abandond wholly doe possesse,
Against it strongly striue, and yield thee not,
Till thou in open field adowne be smot.
But if the passion mayster[899] thy fraile might,
So that needs loue or death must be thy lot,
Then I auow to thee, by wrong or right
To compasse thy desire, and find that loued knight.

Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright xlvii
Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd
In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might;
And the old-woman carefully displayd
The clothes about her round with busie ayd;
So that at last a little creeping sleepe
Surprisd her sense: She therewith well apayd,
The drunken lampe downe in the oyle did steepe,
And set her by to watch, and set her by to weepe.

Earely the morrow next, before that day xlviii
His ioyous face did to the world reueale,
They both vprose and tooke their readie way
Vnto the Church, their prayers to appeale,
With great deuotion, and with litle zeale:
For the faire Damzell from the holy herse
Her loue-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale;
And that old Dame said many an idle verse,
Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reuerse.

Returned home, the royall Infant fell xlix
Into her former fit; for why, no powre
Nor guidance of her selfe in her did dwell.
But th’aged Nurse her calling to her bowre,
Had gathered Rew, and Sauine, and the flowre
Of _Camphora_[900], and Calamint, and Dill,
All which she in a[901] earthen Pot did poure,
And to the brim with Colt wood did it fill,
And many drops of milke and bloud through it did spill.

Then taking thrise three haires from off her head, l
Them[902] trebly breaded[903] in a threefold lace,
And round about the pots mouth, bound the thread,
And after hauing whispered a space
Certaine sad words, with hollow voice and bace,
She to the virgin said, thrise said she it;
Come daughter come, come; spit vpon my face,
Spit thrise vpon me, thrise vpon me spit;
Th’vneuen number for this businesse is most fit.

That sayd, her round about she from her turnd, li
She turned her contrarie to the Sunne,
Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd,
All contrary, for she the right did shunne,
And euer what she did, was streight vndonne.
So thought she to vndoe her daughters loue:
But loue, that is in gentle brest begonne,
No idle charmes so lightly may remoue,
That well can witnesse, who by triall it does proue.

Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle, lii
Ne slake the furie of her cruell flame,
But that she still did waste, and still did wayle,
That through long languour, and hart-burning brame
She shortly like a pyned ghost became,
Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond.
That when old _Glauce_ saw, for feare least blame
Of her miscarriage should in her be fond,
She wist not how t’amend, nor how it to withstond.

FOOTNOTES:

[882] ii 2 wemen _1590_

[883] 7 away: _1596_

[884] iv 1 _Guyon_] _Redcrosse_ _MS. corr. in Malone 615_

[885] vii 8 from _1609_

[886] viii 5 Which to proue, I _1590_

[887] xii 3 strife-full _1609_

[888] xvi 9 part] point _1609_

[889] xxiv 2 complet _1596_, _1609_

[890] xxviii 6 there of _1596_

[891] xxx 5 her in her warme bed _1590_

[892] xxxii 3 forbeares _1596_

[893] xxxvi 1 other _1590_

[894] xxxvii 9 launced _1609_

[895] xli 2 Not _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[896] xlii 7 alablasted _1596_

[897] xliii 3 nought] not _1609_

[898] xliv i mind] mine _1609_

[899] xlvi 6 master _1609_

[900] xlix 6 _Camphara_ _1596_, _1609_

[901] 7 a] an _1609_

[902] l 2 Them] Then _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[903] braided _1609_

_Cant. III._

_Merlin bewrayes to Britomart,
the state of Artegall[904].
And shewes the famous Progeny
which from them springen shall._
]

Most[905] sacred fire, that burnest mightily i
In liuing brests, ykindled first aboue,
Emongst th’eternall spheres and lamping sky,
And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue;
Not that same, which doth base affections moue
In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame,
But that sweet fit, that doth true beautie loue,
And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame,
Whence spring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame:

Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme, ii
That ouer mortall minds hast so great might,
To order them, as best to thee doth seeme,
And all their actions to direct aright;
The fatall purpose of diuine foresight,
Thou doest effect in destined descents,
Through deepe impression of thy secret might,
And stirredst vp th’Heroes high intents,
Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments.

But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more, iii
Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre
Shew’dst thou, then in this royall Maid of yore,
Making her seeke an vnknowne Paramoure,
From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre:
From whose two loynes thou afterwards did rayse
Most famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre,
Which through the earth haue spred their liuing prayse,
That fame in trompe of gold eternally displayes.

Begin then, O my dearest sacred Dame, iv
Daughter of _Phœbus_ and of _Memorie_,
That[906] doest ennoble with immortall name
The warlike Worthies, from antiquitie,
In thy great volume of Eternitie:
Begin, O _Clio_, and recount from hence
My glorious Soueraines goodly auncestrie[907],
Till that by dew degrees and long protense[908],
Thou haue it lastly brought vnto her Excellence.

Full many wayes within her troubled mind, v
Old _Glauce_ cast, to cure this Ladies griefe:
Full many waies she sought, but none could find,
Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsell, that is chiefe
And choisest med’cine for sicke harts reliefe:
For thy great care she tooke, and greater feare,
Least that it should her turne to foule repriefe,
And sore reproch, when so her father deare
Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune heare.

At last she her auisd, that he, which made vi
That mirrhour, wherein the sicke Damosell
So straungely vewed her straunge louers shade,
To weet, the learned _Merlin_, well could tell,
Vnder what coast of heauen the man did dwell,
And by what meanes his loue might best be wrought:
For though beyond the _Africk Ismaell_,
Or th’Indian _Peru_ he were, she thought
Him forth through infinite endeuour to haue sought.

Forthwith themselues disguising both in straunge vii
And base attyre, that none might them bewray,
To _Maridunum_, that is now by chaunge
Of name _Cayr-Merdin_ cald, they tooke their way:
There the wise _Merlin_ whylome wont (they say)
To make his wonne, low vnderneath the ground,
In a deepe delue, farre from the vew of day,
That of no liuing wight he mote be found,
When so he counseld with his sprights encompast round.

And if thou euer happen that same way viii
To trauell, goe to see that dreadfull place:
It is an hideous hollow caue (they say)
Vnder a rocke that lyes a little space
From the swift _Barry_, tombling downe apace,
Emongst the woodie hilles of _Dyneuowre_:
But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace,
To enter into that same balefull Bowre,
For fear the cruell Feends should thee vnwares deuowre.

But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare, ix
And there such ghastly noise of yron chaines,
And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling heare,
Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines
Doe tosse, that it will stonne thy feeble braines,
And oftentimes great grones, and grieuous stounds,
When too huge toile and labour them constraines:
And oftentimes loud strokes, and ringing sounds
From vnder that deepe Rocke most horribly rebounds.

The cause some say is this: A litle while x
Before that _Merlin_ dyde, he did intend,
A brasen wall in compas to compile
About _Cairmardin_, and did it commend
Vnto these Sprights, to bring to perfect end.
During which worke the Ladie of the Lake,
Whom long he lou’d, for him in hast did send,
Who thereby forst his workemen to forsake,
Them bound till his returne, their labour not to slake.

In the meane time through that false Ladies traine, xi
He was surprisd, and buried vnder beare,
Ne euer to his worke returnd againe:
Nath’lesse those feends may not their worke forbeare,
So greatly his commaundement they feare,
But there doe toyle and trauell day and night,
Vntill that brasen wall they vp doe reare:
For _Merlin_ had in Magicke more insight,
Then euer him before or after liuing wight.

For he by words could call out of the sky xii
Both Sunne and Moone, and make them him obay:
The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry,
And darkesome night he eke could turne to day:
Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay,
And hostes of men of meanest things could frame,
When so him list his enimies to fray:
That to this day for terror of his fame,
The feends do quake, when any him to them does name.

And sooth, men say that he was not the sonne xiii
Of mortall Syre, or other liuing wight,
But wondrously begotten, and begonne
By false illusion of a guilefull Spright,
On a faire Ladie Nonne, that whilome hight
_Matilda_, daughter to _Pubidius_,
Who was the Lord of _Mathrauall_ by right,
And coosen vnto king _Ambrosius_:
Whence he indued was with skill so maruellous.

They here ariuing, staid a while without, xiv
Ne durst aduenture rashly in to wend,
But of their first intent gan make new dout
For dread of daunger, which it might portend:
Vntill the hardie Mayd (with loue to frend)
First entering, the dreadfull Mage there found
Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end,
And writing strange characters in the ground,
With which the stubborn feends he to his seruice bound.

He nought was moued at their entrance bold: xv
For of their comming well he wist afore,
Yet list them bid their businesse to[909] vnfold,
As if ought in this world in secret store
Were from him hidden, or vnknowne of yore.
Then _Glauce_ thus, Let[910] not it thee offend,
That we thus rashly through thy darkesome dore,
Vnwares haue prest: for either fatall end,
Or other mightie cause vs two did hither send.

He bad tell on; And then she thus began. xvi
Now haue three Moones with borrow’d brothers light,
Thrice shined faire, and thrice seem’d dim and wan,
Sith a sore euill, which this virgin bright
Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight,
First rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee,
Or whence it sprong, I cannot read aright:
But this I read, that but if remedee[911]
Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see.

Therewith th’Enchaunter softly gan to smyle xvii
At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well,
That she to him dissembled womanish guyle,
And to her said, Beldame, by that ye tell,
More need of leach-craft hath your Damozell,
Then of my skill: who helpe may haue elsewhere,
In vaine seekes wonders out of Magicke spell.
Th’old woman wox half blanck, those words to heare;
And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare.

And to him said, If any leaches skill, xviii
Or other learned meanes could haue redrest
This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill,
Certes I should be loth thee to molest:
But this sad euill, which doth her infest,
Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed,
And housed is within her hollow brest,
That either seemes some cursed witches deed,
Or euill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.

The wisard could no lenger[912] beare her bord, xix
But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd;
_Glauce_, what needs this colourable word,
To cloke the cause, that hath it selfe bewrayd?
Ne ye faire _Britomartis_, thus arayd,
More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele;
Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd,
Hath hither brought, for succour to appele:
The which the powres to thee are pleased to reuele.

The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe descryde, xx
Was all abasht, and her pure yuory
Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde;
As faire _Aurora_ rising hastily,
Doth by her blushing tell, that she did lye
All night in old _Tithonus_ frosen bed,
Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly.
But her old Nourse was nought dishartened,
But vauntage made of that, which _Merlin_ had ared.

And sayd, Sith then thou knowest all our griefe, xxi
(For what doest not thou know?) of grace I pray,
Pitty our plaint, and yield vs meet reliefe.
With that the Prophet still awhile did stay,
And then his spirite thus gan forth display;
Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore
Hast learn’d to loue, let no whit thee dismay
The hard begin, that meets thee in the dore,
And with sharpe fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore.

For so must all things excellent begin, xxii
And eke enrooted deepe must be that Tree,
Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin,
Till they to heauens hight forth stretched bee.
For from thy wombe a famous Progenie
Shall spring, out of the auncient _Troian_ blood,
Which shall reuiue the sleeping memorie
Of those same antique Peres, the heauens brood,
Which _Greeke_[913] and _Asian_ riuers stained with their blood.

Renowmed kings, and sacred Emperours, xxiii
Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee descend;
Braue Captaines, and most mighty warriours,
That shall their conquests through all lands extend,
And their decayed kingdomes shall amend:
The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,
They shall vpreare, and mightily defend
Against their forrein foe, that comes from farre,
Till vniuersall peace compound all ciuill iarre.

It was not, _Britomart_, thy wandring eye, xxiv
Glauncing vnwares in charmed looking glas,
But the streight course of heauenly destiny,
Led with eternall prouidence, that has
Guided thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas:
Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill,
To loue the prowest knight, that euer was.
Therefore submit thy wayes vnto his will,
And do by all dew meanes thy destiny fulfill.

But read (said _Glauce_) thou Magitian xxv
What meanes shall she out seeke, or what wayes take?
How shall she know, how shall she find the man?
Or what needs her to toyle, sith fates can make
Way for themselues, their purpose to partake?[914]
Then _Merlin_ thus; Indeed the fates are firme,
And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake:
Yet ought mens good endeuours them confirme,
And guide the heauenly causes to their constant terme.

The man whom heauens haue ordaynd to bee xxvi
The spouse of _Britomart_, is _Arthegall_:
He wonneth in the land of _Fayeree_,
Yet is no _Fary_ borne, ne sib at all
To Elfes, but sprang of seed terrestriall,
And whilome by false _Faries_ stolne away,
Whiles yet in infant cradle he did crall;
Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day,
But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a _Fay_.

But sooth he is the sonne of _Gorlois_, xxvii
And brother vnto _Cador_ Cornish king,
And for his warlike feates renowmed is,
From where the day out of the sea doth spring,
Vntill the closure of the Euening.
From thence, him firmely bound with faithfull band,
To this his natiue soyle thou backe shalt bring,
Strongly to aide his countrey, to withstand
The powre of forrein Paynims, which inuade thy land.

Great aid thereto his mighty puissaunce, xxviii
And dreaded name shall giue in that sad day:
Where also proofe of thy prow valiaunce
Thou then shalt make, t’increase thy louers pray.
Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway,
Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call,
And his last fate him from thee take away,
Too rathe cut off by practise criminall
Of secret foes, that him shall make in mischiefe fall.

With[915] thee yet shall he leaue for memory xxix
Of his late puissaunce, his Image dead,
That liuing him in all actiuity
To thee shall represent. He from the head
Of his coosin _Constantius_ without dread
Shall take the crowne, that was his fathers right,
And therewith crowne himselfe in th’others stead:
Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might,
Against his Saxon foes in bloudy field to fight.

Like as a Lyon, that in drowsie caue xxx
Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake,
And comming forth, shall spred his banner braue
Ouer the troubled South, that it shall make
The warlike _Mertians_ for feare to quake:
Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win,
But the third time shall faire accordaunce make:
And if he then with victorie can lin,
He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly In.

His sonne, hight _Vortipore_, shall him succeede xxxi
In kingdome, but not in felicity;
Yet shall he long time warre with happy speed,
And with great honour many battels try:
But at the last to th’importunity
Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield.
But his sonne _Malgo_ shall full mightily
Auenge his fathers losse, with speare and shield,
And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field.

Behold the man, and tell me _Britomart_, xxxii
If ay more goodly creature thou didst see;
How like a Gyaunt in each manly part
Beares he himselfe with portly maiestee,
That one of th’old _Heroes_ seemes to bee:
He the six Islands, comprouinciall
In auncient times vnto great Britainee,
Shall to the same reduce, and to him call
Their sundry kings to do their homage seuerall.

All which his sonne _Careticus_ awhile xxxiii
Shall well defend, and _Saxons_ powre suppresse,
Vntill a straunger king from vnknowne soyle
Arriuing, him with multitude oppresse;
Great _Gormond_, hauing with huge mightinesse
Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne,
Like a swift Otter, fell through emptinesse,
Shall ouerswim the sea with many one
Of his Norueyses, to assist the Britons fone.

He in his furie all shall ouerrunne, xxxiv
And holy Church with faithlesse hands deface,
That thy sad people vtterly fordonne,
Shall to the vtmost mountaines fly apace:
Was neuer so great wast in any place,
Nor so fowle outrage[916] doen by liuing men:
For all thy Cities they shall sacke and race,
And the greene grasse, that groweth, they shall bren,
That euen the wild beast shall dy in starued den.

Whiles thus thy[917] Britons do in languour pine, xxxv
Proud _Etheldred_ shall from the North arise,
Seruing th’ambitious will of _Augustine_,
And passing _Dee_ with hardy enterprise,
Shall backe repulse the valiaunt _Brockwell_ twise,
And _Bangor_ with massacred Martyrs fill;
But the third time shall rew his foolhardise:
For _Cadwan_ pittying his peoples ill,
Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand _Saxons_ kill.

But after him, _Cadwallin_ mightily xxxvi
On his sonne _Edwin_ all those wrongs shall wreake;
Ne shall auaile the wicked sorcery
Of false _Pellite_, his purposes to breake,
But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleake
Shall giue th’enchaunter his vnhappy hire;[918]
Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake,
From their long vassalage gin to respire,
And on their Paynim foes auenge their ranckled ire.

Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate, xxxvii
Till both the sonnes of _Edwin_ he haue slaine,
_Offricke_ and _Osricke_, twinnes vnfortunate,
Both slaine in battell vpon Layburne plaine,
Together with the king of _Louthiane_,
Hight _Adin_, and the king of _Orkeny_,
Both ioynt partakers of their[919] fatall paine:
But _Penda_, fearefull of like desteny,
Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty.

Him shall he make his fatall Instrument, xxxviii
T’afflict the other _Saxons_ vnsubdewd;
He marching forth with fury insolent
Against the good king _Oswald_, who indewd
With heauenly powre, and by Angels reskewd,
All holding crosses in their hands on hye,
Shall him defeate withouten bloud imbrewd:
Of which, that field for endlesse memory,
Shall _Heuenfield_ be cald to all posterity.

Where at _Cadwallin_ wroth, shall forth issew, xxxix
And an huge hoste into Northumber lead,
With which he godly _Oswald_ shall subdew,
And crowne with martyrdome his sacred head.
Whose brother _Oswin_, daunted with like dread,
With price of siluer shall his kingdome buy,
And _Penda_, seeking him adowne to tread,
Shall tread adowne, and do him fowly dye,
But shall with gifts his Lord _Cadwallin_ pacify.

Then shall _Cadwallin_ dye, and then the raine xl
Of _Britons_ eke with him attonce shall dye;
Ne shall the good _Cadwallader_ with paine,
Or powre, be hable it to remedy,
When the full time prefixt by destiny,
Shalbe expird of _Britons_ regiment.
For heauen it selfe shall their successe enuy,
And them with plagues and murrins pestilent
Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spent.

Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge hills xli
Of dying people, during eight yeares space,
_Cadwallader_ not yielding to his ills,
From _Armoricke_, where long in wretched cace
He liu’d, returning to his natiue place,
Shalbe by vision staid from his intent:
For th’heauens haue decreed, to displace
The _Britons_, for their sinnes dew punishment,
And to the _Saxons_ ouer-giue their gouernment.

Then woe, and woe, and euerlasting woe, xlii
Be to the Briton babe, that shalbe borne,
To liue in thraldome of his fathers foe;
Late King, now captiue, late Lord, now forlorne,
The worlds reproch, the cruell victors scorne,
Banisht from Princely bowre to wastfull wood:
O who shall helpe me to lament, and mourne
The royall seed, the antique _Troian_ blood,
Whose Empire lenger here, then euer any stood.

The Damzell was full deepe empassioned, xliii
Both for his griefe, and for her peoples sake,
Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned,
And sighing sore, at length him thus bespake;
Ah but will heauens fury neuer slake,
Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at last?
Will not long misery late mercy make,
But shall their name for euer be defast,
And quite from of the earth[920] their memory be rast?

Nay but the terme (said he) is limited, xliv
That in this thraldome _Britons_ shall abide,
And the iust reuolution measured,
That they as Straungers shalbe notifide.
For twise foure hundreth yeares shalbe supplide[921],
Ere they to[922] former rule restor’d shalbee,
And their importune fates all satisfide:
Yet during this their most obscuritee,
Their beames shall oft breake forth, that men them faire may see.

For _Rhodoricke_, whose surname shalbe Great, xlv
Shall of him selfe a braue ensample shew,
That Saxon kings his friendship shall intreat;
And _Howell Dha_ shall goodly well indew
The saluage minds with skill of iust and trew;
Then _Griffyth Conan_ also shall vp reare
His dreaded head, and the old[923] sparkes renew
Of natiue courage, that his foes shall feare,
Least backe againe the kingdome he from them should beare.

Ne shall the Saxons selues all peaceably xlvi
Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne
First ill, and after ruled wickedly:
For ere two hundred yeares be full outronne[924],
There shall a Rauen far from rising Sunne,
With his wide wings vpon them fiercely fly,
And bid his faithlesse chickens ouerronne
The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty,
In their auenge, tread downe the victours surquedry.

Yet shall a third both these, and thine subdew; xlvii
There shall a Lyon from the sea-bord wood
Of _Neustria_ come roring, with a crew
Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood,
Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood,
That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend
Th’vsurped crowne, as if that he were wood,
And the spoile of the countrey conquered
Emongst his young ones shall diuide with bountyhed.

Tho when the terme is full accomplishid, xlviii
There shall a sparke of fire, which hath long-while
Bene in his ashes raked vp, and hid,
Be freshly kindled in the fruitfull Ile
Of _Mona_, where it lurked in exile;
Which shall breake forth into bright burning flame,
And reach into the house, that beares the stile
Of royall maiesty and soueraigne name;
So shall the Briton bloud their crowne againe reclame.

Thenceforth eternall vnion shall be made xlix
Betweene the nations different afore,
And sacred Peace shall louingly perswade
The warlike minds, to learne her goodly lore,
And ciuile armes to exercise no more:
Then shall a royall virgin raine, which shall
Stretch her white rod ouer the _Belgicke_ shore,
And the great Castle smite so sore with all,
That it shall make him shake, and shortly learne to fall.

But yet the end is not. There _Merlin_ stayd, l
As ouercomen of the spirites powre,
Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd,
That secretly he saw, yet note discoure:
Which suddein fit, and halfe extatick stoure
When the two fearefull women saw, they grew
Greatly confused in behauioure;
At last the fury past, to former hew
Hee[925] turnd againe, and chearefull looks <as earst>[926] did
shew.

Then, when them selues they well instructed had li
Of all, that needed them to be inquird,
They both conceiuing hope of comfort glad,
With lighter hearts vnto their home retird;
Where they in secret counsell close conspird,
How to effect so hard an enterprize,
And to possesse the purpose they desird:
Now this, now that twixt them they did deuise,
And diuerse plots did frame, to maske in strange disguise[927].

At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit lii
Conceiu’d a bold deuise, and thus bespake;
Daughter, I deeme that counsell aye most fit,
That of the time doth dew aduauntage take;
Ye see that good king _Vther_ now doth make
Strong warre vpon the Paynim brethren, hight
_Octa_ and _Oza_, whom he lately brake
Beside _Cayr Verolame_, in victorious fight,
That now all _Britanie_ doth burne in armes bright.

That therefore nought our passage may empeach, liii
Let vs in feigned armes our selues disguize,
And our weake hands (whom need new strength shall teach)[928]
The dreadfull speare and shield to exercize:
Ne certes daughter that same warlike wize
I weene, would you misseeme; for ye bene tall,
And large of limbe, t’atchieue an hard emprize,
Ne ought ye want, but skill, which practize small
Will bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall.

And sooth, it ought your courage much inflame, liv
To heare so often, in that royall hous,
From whence to none inferiour ye came,[929]
Bards tell of many women valorous
Which haue full many feats aduenturous
Performd, in paragone of proudest men:
The bold _Bunduca_, whose victorious
Exploits made _Rome_ to quake, stout _Guendolen_,
Renowmed _Martia_, and redoubted _Emmilen_.

And that, which more then all the rest may sway, lv
Late dayes ensample, which these eyes beheld,
In the last field before _Meneuia_
Which _Vther_ with those forrein Pagans held,
I saw a _Saxon_ Virgin, the which feld
Great _Vlfin_ thrise vpon the bloudy plaine,
And had not _Carados_ her hand withheld
From rash reuenge, she had him surely slaine,
Yet _Carados_ himselfe from her escapt with paine.

Ah read, (quoth _Britomart_) how is she hight? lvi
Faire _Angela_ (quoth she) men do her call,
No whit lesse faire, then terrible in fight:
She hath the leading of a Martiall
And mighty people, dreaded more then all
The other _Saxons_, which do for her sake
And loue, themselues of her name _Angles_ call.
Therefore faire Infant her ensample make
Vnto thy selfe, and equall courage to thee take.

Her harty words so deepe into the mynd lvii
Of the young Damzell sunke, that great desire
Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd,
And generous stout courage did inspire,
That she resolu’d, vnweeting[930] to her Sire,
Aduent’rous knighthood on her selfe to don,
And counseld with her Nourse, her Maides attire
To turne into a massy habergeon,
And bad her all things put in readinesse anon.

Th’old woman nought, that needed, did omit; lviii
But all things did conueniently[931] puruay:
It fortuned (so time their turne did fit)
A band of Britons ryding on forray
Few dayes[932] before, had gotten a great pray
Of Saxon goods, emongst the which was seene
A goodly Armour, and full rich aray,
Which long’d to _Angela_, the Saxon Queene,
All fretted round with gold, and goodly well beseene.

The same, with all the other ornaments, lix
King _Ryence_ caused to be hanged by
In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moniments
Of his successe and gladfull victory:
Of which her selfe auising readily,
In th’euening late old _Glauce_ thither led
Faire _Britomart_, and that same Armory
Downe taking, her therein appareled,
Well as she might, and with braue bauldrick garnished.

Beside those armes there stood a mighty speare, lx
Which _Bladud_ made by Magick art of yore,
And vsd the same in battell aye to beare;
Sith which it had bin here preseru’d in store,
For his great vertues proued long afore:
For neuer wight so fast in sell could sit,
But him perforce vnto the ground it bore:
Both speare she tooke, and shield, which hong by it:
Both speare and shield of great powre, for her purpose fit.

Thus when she had the virgin all arayd, lxi
Another harnesse, which did hang thereby,
About her selfe she dight, that the young Mayd
She might in equall armes accompany,
And as her Squire attend her carefully:
Tho to their ready Steeds they clombe full light,
And through back wayes, that none might them espy,
Couered with secret cloud of silent night,
Themselues they forth conuayd, and passed forward right.

Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond lxii
They came, as _Merlin_ them directed late:
Where meeting with this _Redcrosse_ knight, she fond
Of diuerse things discourses to dilate,
But most of _Arthegall_, and his estate.
At last their wayes so fell, that they mote part:[933]
Then each to other well affectionate,
Friendship professed with vnfained hart,
The _Redcrosse_ knight diuerst, but forth rode _Britomart_.

FOOTNOTES:

[904] Arg. 2 _Arthegall_ _1590_

[905] i 1 Most] Oh _1609_

[906] iv 3 Thou _1590_

[907] 7 auncestie _1596_

[908] 8 pretence _1596_, _1609_

[909] xv 3 to _om. 1609_

[910] 6 let _1590_, _1596_

[911] xvi 8 remedee, _1590 &c._

[912] xix 1 longer _1609_

[913] xxii 9 _Greece_ _1596_, _1609_

[914] xxv 5 partake _1590_

[915] xxix 1 With] Where _1596_, _1609_

[916] xxxiv 6 autrage _1596_

[917] xxxv 1 thy] the _1596_, _1609_

[918] xxxvi 6 hire _1596_

[919] xxxvii 7 their] the _1596_, _1609_

[920] xliii 9 from th’earth _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[921] xliv 5 yeares _om. 1596, 1609_: shall be full supplide _1609_

[922] 6 to] vnto their _1590_

[923] xlv 7 th’olde _1609_

[924] xlvi 4 outronne] ouerronne _1596_

[925] l 9 Shee _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[926] <as earst> _om. 1590, 1596_: _add. 1609_

[927] li 9 disguise] deuise _1596_, _1609_

[928] liii 3 (need makes good schollers) teach _1590_

[929] liv 3 came: _1590 &c._

[930] lvii 5 vnmeeting _1596_

[931] lviii 2 conuiently _1596_

[932] 5 dryes _1596_

[933] lxii 6 part _1596_

_Cant. IIII._

_Bold Marinell of Britomart,
Is throwne on the Rich strond:
Faire Florimell of Arthur is
Long followed, but not fond._
]

Where is the Antique glory now become, i
That whilome wont in women to appeare?
Where be the braue atchieuements doen by some?
Where be the battels, where the shield and speare,
And all the conquests, which them high did reare,
That matter made for famous Poets verse,
And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare?
Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herse?
Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reuerse?

If they be dead, then woe is me therefore: ii
But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake:
For all too long I burne with enuy sore,
To heare the warlike feates, which _Homere_ spake
Of bold _Penthesilee_[934], which made a lake
Of _Greekish_ bloud so oft in _Troian_ plaine;
But when I read, how stout _Debora_ strake
Proud _Sisera_, and how _Camill’_ hath slaine
The huge _Orsilochus_, I swell with great disdaine.

Yet these, and all that else had puissaunce, iii
Cannot with noble _Britomart_ compare,
Aswell for glory of great valiaunce,
As for pure chastitie and vertue rare,
That all her goodly deeds do well declare.
Well worthy stock, from which the branches sprong,
That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare,
As thee, O Queene, the matter of my song,
Whose lignage from this Lady I deriue along.

Who when through speaches with the _Redcrosse_ knight, iv
She learned had th’estate of _Arthegall_,
And in each point her selfe informd aright,
A friendly league of loue perpetuall
She with him bound, and _Congé_ tooke withall.
Then he forth on his iourney did proceede,
To seeke aduentures, which mote him befall,
And win him worship through his warlike deed,
Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefest meed.

But _Britomart_ kept on her former course, v
Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way
Grew pensiue through that amorous discourse,
By which the _Redcrosse_ knight did earst display
Her louers shape, and cheualrous aray;
A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind,
And in her feigning fancie did pourtray
Him such, as fittest she[935] for loue could find,
Wise, warlike, personable, curteous, and kind.

With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fed, vi
And thought so to beguile her grieuous smart;
But so her smart was much more grieuous bred,
And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart,
That nought but death her dolour mote depart.
So forth she rode without repose or rest,
Searching all lands and each remotest part,
Following the guidaunce of her blinded guest,
Till that to the sea-coast at length she her[936] addrest.

There she alighted from her light-foot beast, vii
And sitting downe vpon the rocky shore,
Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creast;
Tho hauing vewd a while the surges hore,
That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore,
And in their raging surquedry disdaynd,
That the fast earth affronted them so sore,
And their deuouring[937] couetize restraynd,
Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.

Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe, viii
Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long,
Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe,
Why[938] do thy cruell billowes beat so strong,
And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,
Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life?
O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong
At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,
Which in these[939] troubled bowels raignes, and rageth rife.

For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt ix
Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,
Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt
On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,
The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes;
Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind
And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes,
But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind:
How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind?

Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas, x
That raignest also in the Continent,
At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease,
The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,
Vnto the gladsome port of her intent:
Then when I shall my selfe in safety see,
A table for eternall moniment
Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,
Great _Neptune_, I auow to hallow vnto thee.

Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe, xi
She shut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe;
For her great courage would not let her weepe,
Till that old _Glauce_ gan with sharpe repriefe,
Her to restraine, and giue her good reliefe,
Through hope of those, which _Merlin_ had her told
Should of her name and nation be chiefe,
And fetch their being from the sacred mould
Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.

Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde, xii
Where farre away one all in armour bright,
With hastie gallop towards her did ryde;
Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight
Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light:
Her former sorrow into suddein wrath,
Both coosen passions of distroubled spright,
Conuerting, forth she beates the dustie path;
Loue and despight attonce her courage kindled hath.

As when a foggy mist hath ouercast xiii
The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engrost,
The world in darkenesse dwels, till that at last
The watry Southwinde from the seabord cost
Vpblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo’st,
And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre;
So the faire _Britomart_ hauing disclo’st
Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,
The mist of griefe dissolu’d, did[940] into vengeance powre.[941]

Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire, xiv
That mortall speare she in her hand did take,
And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire.
The knight approching, sternely her bespake;
Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make
By this forbidden way in my despight,
Ne doest by others death ensample take,
I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,
Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.

Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat, xv
She shortly thus; Fly they, that need to fly;
Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat
To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy.
Ne lenger stayd for th’other to reply,
But with sharpe speare[942] the rest made dearly knowne.
Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily
Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe
Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her crowne.

But she againe him in the shield did smite xvi
With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,
That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite,
And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce
The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce;
Him so transfixed she before her bore
Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce,
Till sadly soucing on the sandie shore,
He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.

Like as the sacred Oxe, that carelesse stands, xvii
With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd,
Proud of his dying honor and deare bands,
Whiles th’altars fume with frankincense arownd,
All suddenly with mortall stroke astownd,
Doth groueling fall, and with his streaming gore
Distaines the pillours, and the holy grownd,
And the faire flowres, that decked him afore;
So fell proud _Marinell_ vpon the pretious shore.

The martiall Mayd stayd not him to lament, xviii
But forward rode, and kept her readie way
Along the strond, which as she ouer-went,
She saw bestrowed all with rich aray
Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,
And all the grauell mixt with golden owre;
Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay
For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre,
But them despised all; for all was in her powre.

Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment, xix
Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare;
His mother was the blacke-browd _Cymoent_[943],
The daughter of great _Nereus_, which did beare
This warlike sonne vnto an earthly peare,
The famous _Dumarin_; who on a day
Finding the Nymph a sleepe in secret wheare,
As he by chaunce did wander that same way,
Was taken with her loue, and by her closely lay.

There he this knight of her begot, whom borne xx
She of his father _Marinell_ did name,
And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne,
Long time she fostred vp, till he became
A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame
Did get through great aduentures by him donne:
For neuer man he suffred by that same
_Rich strond_ to trauell, whereas he did wonne,
But that he must do battell with the Sea-nymphes sonne.

An hundred knights of honorable name xxi
He had subdew’d, and them his vassals made,
That through all Farie lond his noble fame
Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade,
That none durst passen through that perilous glade.
And to aduance his name and glorie more,
Her Sea-god syre she dearely did perswade,
T’endow her sonne with threasure and rich store,
Boue all the sonnes, that were of earthly wombes ybore.

The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund, xxii
To doen his Nephew in all riches flow;
Eftsoones his heaped waues he did commaund,
Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw
All the huge threasure, which the sea below
Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe,
And him enriched through the ouerthrow
And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe,
And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe.

Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was, xxiii
Exceeding riches and all pretious things,
The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas
The wealth of th’East, and pompe of _Persian_ kings;
Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings,
And all that else was pretious and deare,
The sea vnto him voluntary brings,
That shortly he a great Lord did appeare,
As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare.

Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight, xxiv
Tryde often to the scath[944] of many deare,
That none in equall armes him matchen might,
The which his mother seeing, gan to feare
Least his too haughtie hardines might reare
Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life:
For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare
The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife,
But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife.

And for his more assurance, she inquir’d xxv
One day of _Proteus_ by his mightie spell,
(For _Proteus_ was with prophecie inspir’d)
Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell,
And the sad end of her sweet _Marinell_.
Who through foresight of his eternall skill,
Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:
For of a woman he should haue much ill,
A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill.

For thy she gaue him warning euery day, xxvi
The loue of women not to entertaine;
A lesson too too hard for liuing clay,
From loue in course of nature to refraine:
Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,
And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly;
Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine,
That they for loue of him would algates dy:
Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy.

But ah, who can deceiue his destiny, xxvii
Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate?
That when he sleepes in most security,
And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate,
And findeth dew effect or soone or late.
So feeble is the powre of fleshly[945] arme.
His mother bad him womens loue to hate,
For she of womans force did feare no harme;
So weening to haue arm’d him, she did quite disarme.

This was that woman, this that deadly wound, xxviii
That _Proteus_ prophecide should him dismay,
The which his mother vainely did expound,
To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay
To bring her sonne vnto his last decay.
So tickle be the termes of mortall state,
And full of subtile sophismes, which do play
With double senses, and with false debate,
T’approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate.

Too true the famous _Marinell_ it fownd, xxix
Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond
Inglorious now lies in senselesse swownd,
Through heauy stroke of _Britomartis_ hond.
Which when his mother deare did vnderstond,
And heauy tydings heard, whereas she playd
Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,
Gathering sweet daffadillyes, to haue made
Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to shade;[946]

Eftsoones both flowres and girlonds farre away xxx
She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent,
To sorrow huge she turnd her former play,
And gamesom[947] merth to grieuous dreriment:
She threw her selfe downe on the Continent,
Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne[948],
Whiles all her sisters did for her lament,
With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne;
And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne.

Soone as she vp out of her deadly fit xxxi
Arose, she bad her charet to be brought,
And all her sisters, that with her did sit,
Bad eke attonce their charets to be sought;
Tho full of bitter griefe and pensiue[949] thought,
She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest,
And forth together went, with sorrow fraught.
The waues obedient to their beheast,
Them yielded readie passage, and their rage surceast.

Great _Neptune_ stood amazed at their sight, xxxii
Whiles on his broad round backe they softly slid
And eke himselfe mournd at their mournfull plight,
Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did
For great compassion of their sorrow, bid
His mightie waters to them buxome bee:
Eftsoones the roaring billowes still abid,
And all the griesly Monsters of the See
Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see.

A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray, xxxiii
Drew the smooth charet of sad _Cymoent_;
They were all taught by _Triton_, to obay
To the long raynes[950], at her commaundement:
As swift as swallowes, on the waues they went,
That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare,
Ne bubbling roundell they behind them sent;
The rest of other fishes drawen weare,
Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare.

Soone as they bene arriu’d vpon the brim xxxiv
Of the _Rich strond_, their charets they forlore,
And let their temed fishes softly swim
Along the margent of the fomy shore,
Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore
Their tender feet vpon the stony ground:
And comming to the place, where all in gore
And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found
The lucklesse _Marinell_, lying in deadly swound;

His mother swowned thrise, and the third time xxxv
Could scarce recouered be out of her paine;
Had she not bene deuoyd of mortall slime,
She should not then haue bene reliu’d againe,
But soone as life recouered had the raine,
She made so piteous mone and deare wayment,
That the hard rocks could scarse from teares refraine,
And all her sister Nymphes with one consent
Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.

Deare image of my selfe (she said) that is, xxxvi
The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne,
Is this thine high aduauncement, O is this
Th’immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne
Thy Gransire _Nereus_ promist to adorne?
Now lyest thou of life and honor reft;
Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,
Ne of thy late life memory is left,
Ne can thy irreuocable destiny be weft?