Chapter VII: Appendix: Stanzas Omitted in the Second Edition (1596) 517 (5)

And afterwards them to his Dame he leades, viii
That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place:
Who all this while was busie at her beades:
Which doen, she vp arose with seemely grace,
And toward them full matronely did pace.
Where when that fairest _Vna_ she beheld,
Whom well she knew to spring from heauenly race,
Her hart with ioy vnwonted inly sweld,
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.

And her embracing said, O happie earth, ix
Whereon thy innocent feet doe euer tread,
Most vertuous virgin borne of heauenly berth,
That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,
From tyrans rage, and euer-dying dread,
Hast wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceasest not thy wearie soles to lead,
What grace hath thee now hither brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet vnweeting hither stray?

Strange thing it is an errant knight to see x
Here in this place, or any other wight,
That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee,
That chose[327] the narrow path, or seeke the right:
All keepe the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go astray,
And be partakers of their euill plight,
Then with a few to walke the rightest way;
O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay?

Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbs to rest, xi
O matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came,
And this good knight his way with me addrest,
Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame,
That vp to heauen is blowne. The auncient Dame[328]
Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,
And entertaynd them both, as best became,
With all the court’sies, that she could deuise,
Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.

Thus as they gan of sundry things deuise, xii
Loe two most goodly virgins came in place,
Ylinked arme in arme in louely wise,
With countenance demure, and modest grace,
They numbred euen steps and equall pace:
Of which the eldest, that _Fidelia_ hight,
Like sunny beames threw from her Christall face,
That could haue dazd the rash beholders sight,
And round about her head did shine like heauens light.

She was araied all in lilly white, xiii
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fild vp to the hight,
In which a Serpent did himselfe enfold,
That horrour made to all, that did behold;
But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood:
And in her other hand she fast did hold
A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood,
Wherein darke things were writ, hard to be vnderstood.

Her younger sister, that _Speranza_ hight, xiv
Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well;
Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight,
As was her sister; whether dread did dwell,
Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell:
Vpon her arme a siluer anchor lay,
Whereon she leaned euer, as befell:
And euer vp to heauen, as she did pray,
Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarued other way.

They seeing _Vna_, towards her gan wend, xv
Who them encounters with like courtesie;
Many kind speeches they betwene them spend,
And greatly ioy each other well[329] to see:
Then to the knight with shamefast modestie
They turne themselues, at _Vnaes_ meeke request,
And him salute with well beseeming glee;
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best,
And goodly gan[330] discourse of many a noble gest.

Then _Vna_ thus; But she your sister deare; xvi
The deare _Charissa_ where is she become?
Or wants she health, or busie is elsewhere?
Ah no, said they, but forth she may not come:
For she of late is lightned of her wombe,
And hath encreast the world with one sonne more,
That her to see should be but troublesome.
Indeede (quoth she) that should her[331] trouble sore,
But thankt be God, and her encrease so euermore.

Then said the aged _Cœlia_, Deare dame, xvii
And you good Sir, I wote that of your toyle,
And labours long, through which ye hither came,
Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle
I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle.
Then called she a Groome, that forth him led
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile
Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed;
His name was meeke _Obedience_ rightfully ared.

Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, xviii
And bodies were refresht with due repast,
Faire _Vna_ gan _Fidelia_ faire request,
To haue her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,
That of her heauenly learning he might taste,
And heare the wisedome of her words diuine.
She graunted, and that knight so much agraste,
That she him taught celestiall discipline,
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.

And that her sacred Booke, with bloud ywrit, xix
That none could read, except she did them teach,
She vnto him disclosed euery whit,
And heauenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker wit of man could neuer reach,
Of God, of grace, of iustice, of free will,
That wonder was to heare her goodly speach:
For she was able, with her words to kill,
And raise againe to life the hart, that she did thrill.

And when she list poure out her larger spright, xx
She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay,
Or backward turne his course from heauens hight;
Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay,
Dry-shod to passe, she parts the flouds in tway;[332]
And eke huge mountaines from their natiue seat
She would commaund, themselues to beare away,
And throw in raging sea with roaring threat.
Almightie God her gaue such powre, and puissance great.

The faithfull knight now grew in litle space, xxi
By hearing her, and by her sisters lore,
To such perfection of all heauenly grace,
That wretched world he gan for to abhore,
And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore,
Greeu’d with remembrance of his wicked wayes,
And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore,
That he desirde[333] to end his wretched dayes:
So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.

But wise _Speranza_ gaue him comfort sweet, xxii
And taught him how to take assured hold
Vpon her siluer anchor, as was meet;
Else had his sinnes so great, and manifold
Made him forget all that _Fidelia_ told.
In this distressed doubtfull agonie,
When him his dearest _Vna_ did behold,
Disdeining life, desiring leaue to die,
She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.

And came to _Cœlia_ to declare her smart, xxiii
Who well acquainted with that commune plight,
Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart,
Her wisely comforted all that she might,
With goodly counsell and aduisement right;
And streightway sent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight
In that disease of grieued conscience,
And well could cure the same; His name was _Patience_.

Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, xxiv
Could hardly him intreat, to tell his griefe:
Which knowne, and all that noyd his heauie spright[334]
Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply reliefe[335]
Of salues and med’cines, which had passing priefe,
And thereto added words of wondrous might:
By which to ease he him recured briefe,
And much asswag’d the passion of his plight,
That he his paine endur’d, as seeming now more light.

But yet the cause and root of all his ill, xxv
Inward corruption, and infected sin,
Not purg’d nor heald, behind remained still,
And festring sore did rankle yet within,
Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.
Which to extirpe, he laid him priuily
Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in,
Whereas he meant his corrosiues to apply,
And with streight[336] diet tame his stubborne malady.

In ashes and sackcloth he did array xxvi
His daintie corse, proud humors to abate,
And dieted with fasting euery day,
The swelling of his wounds to mitigate,
And made him pray both earely and eke late:
And euer as superfluous flesh did rot
_Amendment_ readie still at hand did wayt,
To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,
That soone in him was left no one corrupted iot.

And bitter _Penance_ with an yron whip, xxvii
Was wont him once to disple euery day:
And sharpe _Remorse_ his hart did pricke and nip,
That drops of bloud thence like a well did play;
And sad _Repentance_ vsed to embay[337]
His bodie in salt water smarting sore,[338]
The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.
So in short space they did to health restore
The man that would not liue, but earst lay at deathes dore.

In which his torment often was so great, xxviii
That like a Lyon he would cry and rore,
And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat.
His owne deare _Vna_ hearing euermore
His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore
Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare,
For pitty of his paine and anguish sore;
Yet all with patience wisely she did beare;
For well she wist, his crime could else be neuer cleare.

Whom thus recouer’d by wise _Patience_, xxix
And trew _Repentance_ they to _Vna_ brought:
Who ioyous of his cured conscience,
Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought
Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought
To put away out of his carefull brest.
By this _Charissa_, late in child-bed brought,
Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest;
To her faire _Vna_ brought this vnacquainted guest.

She was a woman in her freshest age, xxx
Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,
With goodly grace and comely personage,
That was on earth not easie to compare;
Full of great loue, but _Cupids_ wanton snare
As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;
Her necke and breasts were euer open bare,
That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill;
The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.

A multitude of babes about her hong, xxxi
Playing their sports, that ioyd her to behold,
Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake and young,
But thrust them forth still, as they wexed old:
And on her head she wore a tyre of gold,
Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire,[339]
Whose passing price vneath was to be told;
And by her side there sate a gentle paire
Of turtle doues, she sitting in an yuorie chaire.

The knight and _Vna_ entring, faire her greet, xxxii
And bid her ioy of that her happie brood;
Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,
And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.
Then _Vna_ her besought, to be so good,
As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,
Now after all his torment well withstood,
In that sad house of _Penaunce_, where his spright
Had past the paines of hell, and long enduring night.

She was right ioyous of her iust request, xxxiii
And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,
Gan him instruct in euery good behest,
Of loue, and righteousnesse, and well to donne,
And wrath, and hatred warely to shonne,
That drew on men Gods hatred, and his wrath,
And many soules in dolours had fordonne:
In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heauen she teacheth him the ready path.

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide, xxxiv
An auncient matrone she to her does call,
Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:
Her name was _Mercie_, well knowne ouer all,
To be both gratious, and eke liberall:
To whom the carefull charge of him she gaue,
To lead aright, that he should neuer fall
In all his wayes through this wide worldes[340] waue,
That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might saue.

The godly Matrone by the hand him beares xxxv
Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,
Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,
Which still before him she remou’d away,
That nothing might his ready passage stay:
And euer when his feet encombred were,
Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,
She held him fast, and firmely did vpbeare,
As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

Eftsoones vnto an holy Hospitall, xxxvi
That was fore by the way, she did him bring,
In which seuen Bead-men that had vowed all
Their life to seruice of high heauens king
Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing:
Their[341] gates to all were open euermore,
That by the wearie way were traueiling,
And one sate wayting euer them before,
To call in commers-by[342], that needy were and pore.

The first of them that eldest was, and best, xxxvii
Of all the house had charge and gouernement,
As Guardian and Steward of the rest:
His office was to giue entertainement
And lodging, vnto all that came, and went:
Not vnto such, as could him feast againe,
And double quite, for that he on them spent,
But such, as want of harbour did constraine:
Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

The second was as[343] Almner of the place, xxxviii
His office was, the hungry for to feed,
And thristy giue to drinke, a worke of grace:
He feard not once him selfe to be in need,
Ne car’d to hoord for those, whom he did breede:
The grace of God he layd vp still in store,
Which as a stocke he left vnto his seede;
He had enough, what need him care for more?
And had he lesse, yet some he would giue to the pore.

The third had of their wardrobe custodie, xxxix
In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,
The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,
But clothes[344] meet to keepe keene could away,
And naked nature seemely to aray;
With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,
The images of God in earthly clay;
And if that no spare cloths[345] to giue he had,
His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

The fourth appointed by his office was, xl
Poore prisoners to relieue with gratious ayd,
And captiues to redeeme with price of bras,
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd;
And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,
That God to vs forgiueth euery howre
Much more then that, why they in bands were layd,
And he that harrowd hell with heauie stowre,
The faultie soules from thence brought to his heauenly bowre.

The fift had charge sicke persons to attend, xli
And comfort those, in point of death which lay;
For them most needeth comfort in the end,
When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay
The feeble soule departing hence away.
All is but lost, that liuing we bestow,
If not well ended at our dying day.
O man haue mind of that last bitter throw;
For as the tree does fall, so lyes it euer low.

The sixt had charge of them now being dead, xlii
In seemely sort their corses to engraue,
And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,
That to their heauenly spouse both sweet and braue
They might appeare, when he their soules shall saue.
The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,
Whose face he made, all beasts to feare, and gaue
All in his hand, euen dead we honour should.
Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.

The seuenth now after death and buriall done, xliii
Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead
And widowes ayd, least they should be vndone:
In face of iudgement he their right would plead,
Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread
In their defence, nor would for gold or fee
Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread:
And when they stood in most necessitee,
He did supply their want, and gaue them euer free.

There when the Elfin knight arriued was, xliv
The first and chiefest of the seuen, whose care
Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:
Where seeing _Mercie_, that his steps vp bare,
And alwayes led, to her with reuerence rare
He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse,
And seemely welcome for her did prepare:
For of their order she was Patronesse,
Albe _Charissa_ were their chiefest founderesse.

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest, xlv
That to the rest more able he might bee:
During which time, in euery good behest
And godly worke of Almes and charitee
She him instructed with great industree;
Shortly therein so perfect he became,
That from the first vnto the last degree,
His mortall life he learned had to frame
In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

Thence forward by that painfull way they pas, xlvi
Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;
On top whereof a sacred chappell was,
And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,
Wherein an aged holy man did lye,
That day and night said his deuotion,
Ne other worldly busines did apply;
His name was heauenly _Contemplation_;
Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.

Great grace that old man to him giuen had; xlvii
For God he often saw from heauens hight,
All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,
And through great age had lost their kindly sight,
Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,
As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:
That hill they scale with all their powre and might,
That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne
Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.

There they do finde that godly aged Sire, xlviii
With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,
As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire
The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.
Each bone might through his body well be red,
And euery sinew seene through his long fast:
For nought he car’d his carcas long vnfed;
His mind was full of spirituall repast,
And pyn’d his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.

Who when these two approching he aspide xlix
At their first presence grew agrieued sore,
That forst him lay his heauenly thoughts aside;
And had he not that Dame respected more,
Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,
He would not once haue moued for the knight.
They him saluted standing far afore;
Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,
And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height.

What end (quoth she[346]) should cause vs take such paine, l
But that same end, which euery liuing wight
Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right
To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright
With burning starres, and euerliuing fire,
Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight
By wise _Fidelia_? she doth thee require,
To shew it to this knight, according his desire.

Thrise happy man, said then the father graue, li
Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,
And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to saue.
Who better can the way to heauen aread,
Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred
In heauenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?
Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead
Present before the maiestie diuine,
And his auenging wrath to clemencie incline.

Yet since[347] thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne. lii
Then come thou man of earth, and see the way,
That neuer yet was seene of Faeries sonne,
That neuer leads the traueiler astray,
But after labours long, and sad delay,
Brings[348] them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.
But first thou must a season fast and pray,
Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,
And haue her strength recur’d from fraile infirmitis.

That done, he leads him to the highest Mount; liii
Such one, as that same mighty man of God,
That bloud-red billowes like a walled front
On either side disparted with his rod,
Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,
Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in stone
With bloudy letters by the hand of God,
The bitter doome of death and balefull mone
He did receiue, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie, liv
Adornd with fruitfull Oliues all arownd,
Is, as it were for endlesse memory
Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,
For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:
Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay
Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,
On which the thrise three learned Ladies play
Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.

From thence, far off he vnto him did shew lv
A litle path, that was both steepe and long,
Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;
Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong
Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;
Too high a ditty for my simple song;
The Citie of the great king hight it well,
Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see lvi
The blessed Angels to and fro descend
From highest heauen, in gladsome companee,
And with great ioy into that Citie wend,
As commonly as friend does with his frend.
Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,
What stately building durst so high extend
Her loftie towres vnto the starry sphere,
And what vnknowen nation there empeopled were.

Faire knight (quoth he) _Hierusalem_ that is, lvii
The new _Hierusalem_, that God has built
For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,
His chosen people purg’d from sinfull guilt,
With pretious[349] bloud, which cruelly was spilt
On cursed tree, of that vnspotted lam,
That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:
Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,
More deare vnto their God, then younglings to their dam.

Till now, said then the knight, I weened well, lviii
That great _Cleopolis_, where I haue beene,
In which that fairest _Faerie Queene_ doth dwell,[350]
The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;
And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,
_Panthea_, seemd the brightest thing, that was:
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;
For this great Citie that does far surpas,
And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.

Most trew, then said the holy aged man; lix
Yet is _Cleopolis_ for earthly frame[351],
The fairest peece, that eye beholden can:
And well beseemes all knights of noble name,
That couet in th’immortall booke of fame
To be eternized, that same to haunt,
And doen their seruice to that soueraigne Dame,
That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:
For she is heauenly borne, and heauen may iustly vaunt.

And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race, lx
How euer now accompted[352] Elfins sonne,
Well worthy doest thy seruice for her grace,
To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.
But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,
And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,
Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,
And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:
For bloud can nought but sin, and wars but sorrowes yield.

Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage, lxi
Which after all to heauen shall thee send;
Then peaceably thy[353] painefull pilgrimage
To yonder same _Hierusalem_ do bend,
Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:
For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,
Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend
And Patrone: thou Saint _George_ shalt called bee,
Saint _George_ of mery England, the signe of victoree.

Vnworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace, lxii
How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?
These that haue it attaind, were in like cace
(Quoth he) as wretched, and liu’d in like paine.[354]
But deeds of armes must I at last be faine,
And Ladies loue to leaue so dearely bought?
What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,
(Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?[355]
As for loose loues are vaine,[356] and vanish into nought.

O let me not (quoth he) then turne[357] againe lxiii
Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;
But let me here for aye in peace remaine,
Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,
That nothing may my present hope empare.
That may not be (said he) ne maist thou yit
Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,
Who did her cause into thy hand commit,
Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit.

Then shall I soone, (quoth he) so God me grace, lxiv
Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,
And shortly backe returne vnto this place,
To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.
But now aread, old father, why of late
Didst thou behight me borne of English blood,
Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?[358]
That word shall I (said he) auouchen good,
Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.

For well I wote, thou springst from ancient race lxv
Of _Saxon_ kings, that haue with mightie hand
And many bloudie battailes fought in place[359]
High reard their royall throne in _Britane_[360] land,
And vanquisht them, vnable to withstand:
From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reft,
There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,
And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.
Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaungd by Faeries theft.

Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond, lxvi
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,
Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,
As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,
And brought thee vp in ploughmans state to byde,
Whereof _Georgos_ he thee gaue to name;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,
To Faery court thou cam’st to seeke for fame,
And proue thy puissaunt armes, as seemes thee best became.

O holy Sire (quoth he) how shall I quight lxvii
The many fauours I with thee haue found,
That hast my name and nation red aright,
And taught the way that does to heauen bound?
This said, adowne he looked to the ground,
To haue returnd, but dazed were his eyne,
Through passing brightnesse, which did quite confound
His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne.
So darke are earthly things compard to things diuine.

At last whenas himselfe he gan to find, lxviii
To _Vna_ back he cast him to retire;
Who him awaited still with pensiue mind.
Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre,
He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.
So came to _Vna_, who him ioyd to see,
And after litle rest, gan him desire,
Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.
So leaue they take of _Cœlia_, and her daughters three.

FOOTNOTES:

[325] ii 4 imprisonment _1609_

[326] vii 8 simple, trew _Morris_

[327] x 4 chuse _1609_

[328] xi 5 Dame, _1590 &c._

[329] xv 4 well] for _1590_

[330] 9 gan] can _1609_

[331] xvi 8 her] be _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[332] xx 5 _om. omitted?] 1590, 1596_: _add. 1609_

[333] xxi 8 desirde, _1590_, _1596_

[334] xxiv 3 spright, _1590 &c._

[335] 4 relief, _1590_: reliefe, _1596_

[336] xxv 9 streight] streict _1609_

[337] xxvii 5 embay, _1590 &c._

[338] 6 His blamefull body in salt water sore, _1590_

[339] xxxi 6 faire. _1596_

[340] xxxiv 8 worlds _1609_

[341] xxxvi 6 Their _1609_: There _1590_, _1596_

[342] 9 in-commers by _1590_, _1596_

[343] xxxviii 1 as] an _1609_

[344] xxxix 4 clothez _1609_

[345] 8 clothes _1590_, _1609_

[346] l she] he _1596_

[347] lii 1 since] sith _1609_

[348] 6 Brings] Bring _1590_, _1596_

[349] lvii 5 pretious] piteous _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[350] lviii 3 dwell _1590 &c._

[351] lix 2 frame] fame _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[352] lx 2 accounted _1609_

[353] lxi 3 to thy _1596_

[354] lxii 4 As wretched men, and liued in like paine. _1590_

[355] 8 and bitter battailes all are fought? _1590_

[356] 9 they are vaine, _1590_

[357] lxiii 1 then turne] returne _1609_

[358] lxiv 7 doen then nominate? _1596_

[359] lxv 3 place] face _1590_

[360] 4 _Britans_ _1590_

_Cant. XI._

_The knight with that old Dragon fights
two dayes incessantly:
The third him ouerthrowes, and gayns
most glorious victory._
]

High time now gan it wex for _Vna_ faire[361], i
To thinke of those her captiue Parents deare,
And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:
Whereto whenas they now approched neare,
With hartie words her knight she gan to cheare,
And in her modest manner thus bespake;
Deare knight, as deare, as euer knight was deare,
That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake,
High heauen behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take.

Now are we come vnto my natiue soyle, ii
And to the place, where all our perils dwell;
Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle,
Therefore henceforth be at[362] your keeping well,
And euer ready for your foeman fell.
The sparke of noble courage now awake,
And striue your excellent selfe to excell;
That shall ye euermore renowmed make,
Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vndertake.

And pointing forth, lo yonder is (said she) iii[363]
The brasen towre in which my parents deare
For dread of that huge feend emprisond be,[364]
Whom I from far[365] see on the walles appeare,
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:
And on the top of all I do espye
The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare,
That O my parents might I happily
Vnto you bring, to ease you of your misery.

With that they heard a roaring hideous sound, iv
That all the ayre with terrour filled wide,
And seemd vneath to shake the stedfast ground.
Eftsoones that dreadfull Dragon they espide,
Where stretcht[366] he lay vpon the sunny side[367]
Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.
But all so soone, as he from far descride
Those glistring armes, that heauen with light did fill,
He rousd himselfe full blith, and hastned them vntill.

Then bad the knight his[368] Lady yede aloofe, v
And to an hill her selfe with draw aside,
From whence she might behold that battailles proof
And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.
Now O thou sacred Muse, most learned Dame,
Faire ympe of _Phœbus_ and his aged bride,
The Nourse of time, and euerlasting fame,
That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name;

O gently come into my feeble brest, vi
Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,
And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,
That nought their kindled courage may aswage,[369]
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd;[370]
The God of warre with his fiers equipage
Thou doest awake, sleepe neuer he so sownd,
And scared[371] nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.

Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit aside, vii
Till I of warres and bloudy _Mars_ do sing,
And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,
Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim king,
That with their horrour heauen and earth did ring,
A worke of labour long, and endlesse prayse:
But now a while let downe that haughtie string,
And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,
That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.

By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand, viii
Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his hast,
That with his largenesse measured much land,
And made wide shadow vnder his huge wast;
As mountaine doth the valley ouercast.
Approching nigh, he reared high afore
His body monstrous, horrible, and vast[372],
Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more,
Was swolne with wrath, and poyson, and with bloudy gore.

And ouer, all with brasen scales was armd, ix
Like plated coate of steele, so couched neare,
That nought mote perce, ne might his corse be harmd
With dint of sword[373], nor push of pointed speare;
Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare,
His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely dight,
So shaked he, that horrour was to heare,
For as the clashing of an Armour bright,
Such noyse his rouzed scales did send vnto the knight.

His flaggy wings when forth he did display, x
Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd
Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way:
And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd,[374]
Were like mayne-yards, with flying canuas lynd[375],
With which whenas him list the ayre to beat,
And there by force vnwonted passage find,
The cloudes before him fled for terrour great,
And all the heauens stood still amazed with his threat.

His huge long tayle wound vp in hundred foldes, xi
Does ouerspred his long bras-scaly backe,
Whose wreathed boughts when euer he vnfoldes,
And thicke entangled knots adown does slacke,[376]
Bespotted as[377] with shields of red and blacke,
It sweepeth all the land behind him farre,
And of three furlongs does but litle lacke;
And at the point two stings in-fixed arre,
Both deadly sharpe, that sharpest steele exceeden farre.

But stings and sharpest steele did far exceed xii
The sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes;
Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed,
What euer thing does touch his rauenous pawes,
Or what within his reach he euer drawes.
But his most hideous head my toung to tell[378]
Does tremble: for his deepe deuouring iawes
Wide gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell,
Through which into his darke abisse all rauin fell.

And that more wondrous was, in either iaw xiii
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were,
In which yet trickling bloud and gobbets raw
Of late deuoured bodies did appeare,
That sight thereof bred cold congealed feare:
Which to increase, and all atonce to kill,
A cloud of smoothering smoke and sulphur seare
Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed still,
That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did fill.

His blazing eyes, like two bright shining shields, xiv
Did burne with wrath, and sparkled liuing fyre;
As two broad Beacons, set in open fields,
Send forth their flames farre off to euery shyre,
And warning giue, that enemies conspyre,
With fire and sword the region to inuade;
So flam’d his eyne with rage and rancorous yre:
But farre within, as in a hollow glade,
Those glaring lampes were set, that made a dreadfull shade.

So dreadfully he towards him did pas, xv
Forelifting vp aloft his speckled brest,
And often bounding on the brused gras,
As for great ioyance of his newcome guest.
Eftsoones he gan aduance his haughtie crest,
As chauffed Bore his bristles doth vpreare,
And shoke his scales to battell readie drest;
That made the _Redcrosse_ knight nigh quake for feare,
As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare.

The knight gan fairely couch his steadie speare, xvi
And fiercely ran at him with rigorous might:
The pointed steele arriuing rudely theare,
His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight,
But glauncing by forth passed forward right;
Yet sore amoued with so puissant push,
The wrathfull beast about him turned light,
And him so rudely passing by, did brush
With his long tayle, that horse and man to ground did rush.

Both horse and man vp lightly rose againe, xvii
And fresh encounter towards him addrest:
But th’idle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,
And found no place his deadly point to rest.
Exceeding rage enflam’d the furious beast,
To be auenged of so great despight;
For neuer felt his imperceable brest
So wondrous force, from hand of liuing wight;
Yet had he prou’d the powre of many a puissant knight.

Then with his wauing wings displayed wyde, xviii
Himselfe vp high he lifted from the ground,
And with strong flight did forcibly diuide
The yielding aire, which nigh too feeble found
Her flitting partes, and element vnsound,
To beare so great a weight: he cutting way
With his broad sayles, about him soared round:
At last low stouping with vnweldie sway,
Snatcht vp both horse and man, to beare them quite away.

Long he them bore aboue the subiect plaine, xix
So farre as Ewghen bow a shaft may send,
Till struggling strong did him at last constraine,
To let them downe before his flightes end:
As hagard hauke presuming to contend
With hardie fowle, aboue his hable might,
His wearie pounces all in vaine doth spend,
To trusse the pray too heauie for his flight;
Which comming downe to ground, does free it selfe by fight.

He so disseized of his gryping grosse, xx
The knight his thrillant speare againe assayd
In his bras-plated body to embosse,
And three mens strength vnto the stroke he layd;
Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked, as affrayd,
And glauncing from his scaly necke, did glyde
Close vnder his left wing, then broad displayd.
The percing steele there wrought a wound full wyde,
That with the vncouth smart the Monster lowdly cryde.

He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore, xxi
When wintry storme his wrathfull wreck does threat,
The rolling billowes beat the ragged shore,
As they the earth would shoulder from her seat,
And greedie gulfe does gape, as he would eat
His neighbour element in his reuenge:
Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat,
To moue the world from off his stedfast henge,
And boystrous battell make, each other to auenge.

The steely head stucke fast still in his flesh, xxii
Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood,
And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh
A gushing riuer of blacke goarie blood,
That drowned all the land, whereon he stood;
The streame thereof would driue a water-mill.
Trebly augmented was his furious mood
With bitter sense of his deepe rooted ill,
That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethrill.

His hideous tayle then hurled he about, xxiii
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes
Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout
Striuing to loose the knot, that fast him tyes,
Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash implyes,
That to the ground he is perforce constraynd
To throw his rider: who can quickly ryse
From off[379] the earth, with durty bloud distaynd,
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd.

And fiercely tooke his trenchand blade in hand, xxiv
With which he stroke so furious and so fell,
That nothing seemd the puissance could withstand:
Vpon his crest the hardned yron fell,
But his more hardned crest was armd so well,
That deeper dint therein it would not make;
Yet so extremely did the buffe him quell,
That from thenceforth he shund the like to take,
But when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.

The knight was wrath[380] to see his stroke beguyld, xxv
And smote againe with more outrageous might;
But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld,
And left not any marke, where it did light;
As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.
The beast impatient of his smarting wound,
And of so fierce and forcible despight,
Thought with his wings to stye aboue the ground;
But his late wounded wing vnseruiceable found.

Then full of griefe and anguish vehement, xxvi
He lowdly brayd, that like was neuer heard,
And from his wide deuouring ouen sent
A flake of fire, that flashing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almost made affeard:
The scorching flame sore swinged[381] all his face,
And through his armour all his bodie seard,
That he could not endure so cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leaue, and helmet to vnlace.

Not that great Champion of the antique world, xxvii
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt[382],
And hath for twelue huge labours high extold,
So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poysoned garment did enchaunt
With _Centaures_ bloud, and bloudie verses charm’d,
As did this knight twelue thousand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm’d,
That erst him goodly arm’d, now most of all him harm’d.

Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieued, brent xxviii
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire
That neuer man such mischiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft desire,
But death will neuer come, when needes require.
Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
He cast to suffer him no more respire,
But gan his sturdie sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

It fortuned (as faire it then befell) xxix
Behind his backe vnweeting, where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a springing well,
From which fast trickled forth a siluer flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
That happie land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld those sacred waues, it rightly hot
_The well of life_, ne yet his vertues had forgot.

For vnto life the dead it could restore, xxx
And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
Those that with sicknesse were infected sore,
It could recure, and aged long decay
Renew, as one[383] were borne that very day.
Both _Silo_ this, and _Iordan_ did excell,
And th’English _Bath_, and eke the german _Spau_,
Ne can _Cephise_, nor _Hebrus_ match this well:
Into the same the knight backe ouerthrowen, fell.

Now gan the golden _Phœbus_ for to steepe xxxi
His fierie face in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their iournall labours they did rest,
When that infernall Monster, hauing kest
His wearie foe into that liuing well,
Can high aduance his broad discoloured brest,
Aboue his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.

Which when his pensiue Ladie saw from farre, xxxii
Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,
As weening that the sad end of the warre,
And gan to highest God entirely pray,
That feared chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent
All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.

The morrow next gan early to appeare, xxxiii
That _Titan_ rose to runne his daily race;
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire _Titans_ deawy face,
Vp rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loued knight to moue his manly pace:
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.

At last she saw, where he vpstarted braue xxxiv
Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay;
As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean waue,
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay,
Like Eyas hauke vp mounts vnto the skies,
His newly budded pineons to assay,
And marueiles[384] at himselfe, still as he flies:
So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy, xxxv
No wonder if he wondred at the sight,
And doubted, whether his late enemy
It were, or other new supplied knight.
He, now to proue his late renewed might,
High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,
Vpon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,
That to the scull a yawning wound it made:
The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid.

I wote not, whether the reuenging steele xxxvi
Were hardned with that holy water dew,
Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,
Or his baptized hands now greater grew;
Or other secret vertue did ensew;
Else neuer could the force of fleshly arme,
Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:
For till that stownd could neuer wight him harme,
By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

The cruell wound enraged him so sore, xxxvii
That loud he yelded[385] for exceeding paine;
As hundred ramping Lyons seem’d to rore,
Whom rauenous hunger did thereto constraine:
Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,
And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore,
That to his force to yeelden it was faine;
Ne ought his sturdie strokes might stand afore,
That high trees ouerthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.

The same aduauncing high aboue his head, xxxviii
With sharpe intended sting so rude him smot,
That to the earth him droue, as stricken dead,
Ne liuing wight would haue him life behot:
The mortall sting his angry needle shot
Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,
Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got:
The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,
Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.

But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, xxxix
Then of the grieuous smart, which him did wring,
From loathed soile he can him lightly reare,
And stroue to loose the farre infixed sting[386]:
Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,
Inflam’d with wrath, his raging blade he heft,
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string[387]
Of his huge taile he quite a sunder[388] cleft,
Fiue ioynts thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.

Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes, xl
With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,
The hell-bred beast threw forth vnto the skyes,
That all was couered with darknesse dire:
Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,
He cast at once him to auenge for all,
And gathering vp himselfe out of the mire,
With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall[389]
Vpon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.

Much was the man encombred with his hold, xli
In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,
Ne wist yet, how his talants to vnfold;
Nor[390] harder was from _Cerberus_ greedie iaw
To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw
To reaue by strength[391] the griped gage away:
Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,
And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,
It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.

Tho when he saw no power might preuaile, xlii
His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,
And double blowes about him stoutly laid,
That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;
As sparckles from the Anduile vse to fly,
When heauie hammers on the wedge are swaid;
Therewith at last he forst him to vnty
One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

The other foot, fast fixed on his shield,[392] xliii
Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,
He smot thereat with all his might and maine,
That nought so wondrous puissance might sustaine;
Vpon the ioynt the lucky steele did light,
And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine;
The paw yet missed not his minisht might,
But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

For griefe thereof, and diuelish despight, xliv
From his infernall fournace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimmed all the heauens light,
Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew;
As burning _Aetna_ from his boyling stew
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,
Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke,
That all the land with stench, and heauen with horror choke.

The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence xlv
So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire
A little backward for his best defence,
To saue his bodie from the scorching fire,
Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.
It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide)
As he recoyled backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,
And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, xlvi
Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,
As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,
Whereof great vertues ouer all were red:
For happie life to all, which thereon fed,
And life eke euerlasting did befall:
Great God it planted in that blessed sted
With his almightie hand, and did it call
_The tree of life_,[393] the crime of our first fathers fall.

In all the world like was not to be found, xlvii
Saue in that soile, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dread Dragon all did ouerthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,
Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know
Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:
That tree through one mans fault hath doen vs all to dy.

From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, xlviii
A trickling streame of Balme, most soueraine
And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell,
And ouerflowed all the fertill plaine,
As it had deawed bene with timely raine:
Life and long health that gratious ointment gaue,
And deadly woundes could heale,[394] and reare againe
The senselesse corse appointed for the graue.
Into that same he fell: which did from death him saue.

For nigh thereto the euer damned beast xlix
Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,
And all that life preserued, did detest:
Yet he it oft aduentur’d to inuade.
By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,
And yeeld his roome[395] to sad succeeding night,
Who with her sable mantle gan to shade
The face of earth, and wayes of liuing wight,
And high her burning torch set vp in heauen bright.

When gentle _Vna_ saw the second fall l
Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,
And faint through losse of bloud, mou’d not at all,
But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight,
Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might
Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,
Againe she stricken was with sore affright,
And for his safetie gan deuoutly pray;
And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioyous day.

The ioyous day gan early to appeare, li
And faire _Aurora_ from the[396] deawy bed
Of aged _Tithone_ gan her selfe to reare,
With rosie cheekes, for shame as blushing red;
Her golden lockes for haste were loosely shed
About her eares, when _Vna_ her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred,[397]
From heauen high to chase the chearelesse darke;[398]
With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.

Then freshly vp arose the doughtie knight, lii
All healed of his hurts and woundes[399] wide,
And did himselfe to battell readie dight;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To haue deuourd, so soone as day he spyde,
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare,
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him aduaunced neare.

And in his first encounter, gaping wide, liii
He thought attonce him to haue swallowd quight,
And rusht vpon him with outragious pride;
Who him r’encountring fierce, as hauke in flight,
Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright
Taking aduantage of his open iaw,
Ran through his mouth with so importune might,
That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,
And back retyrd, his life bloud forth with all did draw.

So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, liv
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;
So downe he fell, that th’earth him vnderneath
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;
So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,
Whose false foundation waues haue washt away,
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,
And rolling downe, great _Neptune_ doth dismay;
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.

The knight himselfe euen trembled at his fall, lv
So huge and horrible a masse it seem’d;
And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,
Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem’d,
But yet at last, when as the direfull feend
She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and saw that ioyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had atchieu’d so great a conquest by his might.

FOOTNOTES:

[361] i 1 faire] _fayre_ _1590_: _faire_ _1596_

[362] ii 4 at] it _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[363] iii _om. 1590_

[364] 3 be _1596_

[365] 4 far, appeare _1596_

[366] iv 5 stretcht] stretch _1596_

[367] side, _1590_, _1596_

[368] v 1 his] this _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[369] vi 5 asswage; _1609_

[370] 6 sound, _1609_

[371] 9 scared] feared _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[372] viii 7 vaste _1590_: wast _1596_

[373] ix 4 swerd _1590_

[374] x 4 bynd _1596_

[375] 5 lynd] kynd _1590_

[376] xi 4 slack. _1590_: slacke. _1596_: slack; _1609_

[377] 5 as] all _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[378] xii 6 tell, _1590_, _1596_

[379] xxiii 8 off] of _1590_

[380] xxv 1 wroth _1590_, _1609_

[381] xxvi 6 swinged] singed _1609_

[382] xxvii 2 vaunt] daunt _1596_, _1609_

[383] xxx 5 one] it _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[384] xxxiv 8 merueiles _1590_

[385] xxxvii 2 yelded] yelled _1609_

[386] xxxix 4 sting] string _1596_, _1609_

[387] 7 string] sting _1596_, _1609_

[388] 8 in sunder _1609_

[389] xl 8 fall, _1590_, _1596_

[390] xli 4 Nor _1609_: For _1590_, _1596_

[391] 6 strength, _1590_, _1596_

[392] xliii 1 shield _1590_, _1596_

[393] xlvi 9 The tree of life, _1590_, _1596_. _But cf._ xxix 9

[394] xlviii 7 heale _1596_

[395] xlix 6 rowme _1590_

[396] li 2 the] her _1596_, _1609_

[397] 7 spred; _1590 &c._

[398] 8 darke, _1590 &c._

[399] lii 2 woundez _1609_

_Cant. XII._