Chapter II: Part 2

So am I made the servant of the manie, And laughing stocke of all that list to scorne, Not honored nor cared for of anie, 225 But loath’d of losels* as a thing forlorne: Therefore I mourne and sorrow with the rest, Untill my cause of sorrow be redrest. [* _Losels_, worthless fellows.]

Therewith she lowdly did lament and shrike, Pouring forth streames of teares abundantly; 230 And all her sisters, with compassion like, The breaches of her singulfs* did supply. So rested shee: and then the next in rew Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. [* I.e. the pauses of her sighs.]

EUTERPE.

Like as the dearling of the summers pryde, 235 Faire Philomele, when winters stormie wrath The goodly fields, that earst so gay were dyde In colours divers, quite despoyled hath, All comfortlesse doth hide her chearlesse head During the time of that her widowhead, 240

So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord All places with our pleasant notes to fill, Whilest favourable times did us afford Free libertie to chaunt our charmes at will, All comfortlesse upon the bared bow*, 245 Like wofull culvers**, doo sit wayling now. [* _Bow_, bough.] [** _Culvers_, doves.]

For far more bitter storme than winters stowre* The beautie of the world hath lately wasted, And those fresh buds, which wont so faire to flowre, Hath marred quite, and all their blossoms blasted; 250 And those yong plants, which wont with fruit t’abound, Now without fruite or leaves are to be found. [* _Stowre_, violence.]

A stonie coldnesse hath benumbd the sence And livelie spirits of each living wight, And dimd with darknesse their intelligence, 255 Darknesse more than Cymerians daylie night: And monstrous Error, flying in the ayre, Hath mard the face of all that semed fayre.

Image of hellish horrour, Ignorance, Borne in the bosome of the black abysse, 260 And fed with Furies milke for sustenaunce Of his weake infancie, begot amisse By yawning Sloth on his owne mother Night,— So hee his sonnes both syre and brother hight,—

He, armd with blindnesse and with boldnes stout, 265 (For blind is bold,) hath our fayre light defaced; And, gathering unto him a ragged rout Of Faunes and Satyres, hath our dwellings raced*, And our chast bowers, in which all vertue rained, With brutishnesse and beastlie filth hath stained. 270 [* _Raced_, razed.]

The sacred springs of horsefoot Helicon, So oft bedeawed with our learned layes, And speaking streames of pure Castalion, The famous witnesse of our wonted praise, They trampled have with their fowle footings trade*, And like to troubled puddles have them made. 276 [* _Trade_, tread.]

Our pleasant groves, which planted were with paines, That with our musick wont so oft to ring, And arbors sweet, in which the shepheards swaines Were wont so oft their pastoralls to sing, 280 They have cut downe, and all their pleasaunce mard, That now no pastorall is to bee hard.

In stead of them, fowle goblins and shriek-owles With fearfull howling do all places fill, And feeble eccho now laments and howles, 285 The dreadfull accents of their outcries shrill. So all is turned into wildernesse, Whilest Ignorance the Muses doth oppresse.

And I, whose ioy was earst with spirit full To teach the warbling pipe to sound aloft, 290 My spirits now dismayd with sorrow dull, Doo mone my miserie in silence soft. Therefore I mourne and waile incessantly, Till please the heavens affoord me remedy.

Therewith shee wayled with exceeding woe, 295 And pitious lamentation did make; And all her sisters, seeing her doo soe, With equall plaints her sorrowe did partake. So rested shee: and then the next in rew Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 300

TERPSICHORE.

Whoso hath in the lap of soft delight Beene long time luld, and fed with pleasures sweet, Feareles through his own fault or Fortunes spight To tumble into sorrow and regreet, Yf chaunce him fall into calamitie, 305 Findes greater burthen of his miserie.

So wee, that earst in ioyance did abound, And in the bosome of all blis did sit, Like virgin queenes, with laurell garlands cround, For vertues meed and ornament of wit, 310 Sith Ignorance our kingdome did confound, Bee now become most wretched wightes on ground.

And in our royall thrones, which lately stood In th’hearts of men to rule them carefully, He now hath placed his accursed brood, 315 By him begotten of fowle Infamy; Blind Error, scornefull Follie, and base Spight, Who hold by wrong that wee should have by right.

They to the vulgar sort now pipe and sing, And make them merrie with their fooleries; 320 They cherelie chaunt, and rymes at randon fling, The fruitfull spawne of their ranke fantasies; They feede the eares of fooles with flattery, And good men blame, and losels* magnify. [* _Losels_, worthless fellows.]

All places they doo with their toyes possesse, 325 And raigne in liking of the multitude; The schooles they till with fond newfanglenesse, And sway in court with pride and rashnes rude; Mongst simple shepheards they do boast their skill, And say their musicke matcheth Phoebus quill. 330

The noble hearts to pleasures they allure, And tell their Prince that learning is but vaine; Faire ladies loves they spot with thoughts impure, And gentle mindes with lewd delights distaine; Clerks* they to loathly idlenes entice, 335 And fill their bookes with discipline of vice. [* _Clerks_, scholars.]

So every where they rule and tyrannize, For their usurped kingdomes maintenaunce, The whiles we silly maides, whom they dispize And with reprochfull scorne discountenaunce, 340 From our owne native heritage exilde, Walk through the world of every one revilde.

Nor anie one doth care to call us in, Or once vouchsafeth us to entertaine, Unlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin, 345 For pitties sake, compassion our paine, And yeeld us some reliefe in this distresse; Yet to be so reliev’d is wretchednesse.

So wander we all carefull comfortlesse, Yet none cloth care to comfort us at all; 350 So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse, Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call; Therefore we mourne and pittilesse complaine, Because none living pittieth our paine.

With that she wept and wofullie waymented, 355 That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie; And all the rest her dolefull din augmented With shrikes, and groanes, and grievous agonie. So ended shee: and then the next in rew Began her piteous plaint, as doth ensew. 360

ERATO.

Ye gentle Spirits breathing from above, Where ye in Venus silver bowre were bred, Thoughts halfe devine, full of the fire of love, With beawtie kindled, and with pleasure fed, Which ye now in securitie possesse, 365 Forgetfull of your former heavinesse,—

Now change the tenor of your ioyous layes, With which ye use your loves to deifie, And blazon foorth an earthlie beauties praise Above the compasse of the arched skie: 370 Now change your praises into piteous cries, And eulogies turne into elegies.

Such as ye wont, whenas those bitter stounds* Of raging love first gan you to torment, And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds 375 Of secret sorrow and sad languishment, Before your loves did take you unto grace; Those now renew, as fitter for this place. [* _Stounds_, hours.]

For I that rule in measure moderate The tempest of that stormie passion, 380 And use to paint in rimes the troublous state Of lovers life in likest fashion, Am put from practise of my kindlie** skill, Banisht by those that love with leawdnes fill. [* _Kindlie_, natural.]

Love wont to be schoolmaster of my skill, 385 And the devicefull matter of my song; Sweete love devoyd of villanie or ill, But pure and spotles, as at first he sprong Out of th’Almighties bosome, where he nests; From thence infused into mortall brests. 390

Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire, The base-borne brood of Blindnes cannot gesse, Ne ever dare their dunghill thoughts aspire Unto so loftie pitch of perfectnesse, But rime at riot, and doo rage in love, 395 Yet little wote what doth thereto behove.

Faire Cytheree, the mother of delight And queene of beautie, now thou maist go pack; For lo! thy kingdoms is defaced quight, Thy scepter rent, and power put to wrack; 400 And thy gay sonne, that winged God of Love, May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed* dove. [* _Ruffed_, ruffled.]

And ye three twins, to light by Venus brought, The sweete companions of the Muses late, From whom whatever thing is goodly thought 405 Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate*, Go beg with us, and be companions still, As heretofore of good, so now of ill. [* _Aggrate_, please.]

For neither you nor we shall anie more Finde entertainment or in court or schoole: 410 For that which was accounted heretofore The learneds meed is now lent to the foole; He sings of love and maketh loving layes, And they him heare, and they him highly prayse.

With that she powred foorth a brackish flood 415 Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone; And all her sisters, seeing her sad mood, With lowd laments her answered all at one. So ended she: and then the next in rew Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensew. 420

To whom shall I my evill case complaine, Or tell the anguish of my inward smart, Sith none is left to remedie my paine, Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart; But rather seekes my sorrow to augment 425 With fowle reproach, and cruell banishment?

For they to whom I used to applie The faithfull service of my learned skill, The goodly off-spring of loves progenie, That wont the world with famous acts to fill, 430 Whose living praises in heroick style, It is my chiefe profession to compyle,—

They, all corrupted through the rust of time, That doth all fairest things on earth deface, Or through unnoble sloth, or sinfull crime, 435 That doth degenerate the noble race, Have both desire of worthie deeds forlorne, And name of learning utterly doo scorne.

Ne doo they care to have the auncestrie Of th’old heroes memorizde anew; 440 Ne doo they care that late posteritie Should know their names, or speak their praises dew, But die, forgot from whence at first they sprong, As they themselves shalbe forgot ere long.

What bootes it then to come from glorious 445 Forefathers, or to have been nobly bredd? What oddes twixt Irus and old Inachus, Twixt best and worst, when both alike are dedd, If none of neither mention should make, Nor out of dust their memories awake? 450

Or who would ever care to doo brave deed, Or strive in vertue others to excell, If none should yeeld him his deserved meed, Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, 455 None would choose goodnes of his owne freewill.

Therefore the nurse of vertue I am hight, And golden trompet of eternitie, That lowly thoughts lift up to heavens hight, And mortall men have powre to deifie: 460 Bacchus and Hercules I raisd to heaven, And Charlemaine amongst the starris seaven.

But now I will my golden clarion rend, And will henceforth immortalize no more, Sith I no more finde worthie to commend 465 For prize of value, or for learned lore: For noble peeres, whom I was wont to raise, Now onely seeke for pleasure, nought for praise.

Their great revenues all in sumptuous pride They spend, that nought to learning they may spare; And the rich fee which poets wont divide 471 Now parasites and sycophants doo share: Therefore I mourne and endlesse sorrow make, Both for my selfe and for my sisters sake.

With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike, 475 And from her eyes a sea of teares did powre; And all her sisters, with compassion like, Did more increase the sharpnes of her showre. So ended she: and then the next in rew Began her plaint, as doth herein ensew. 480

URANIA.

What wrath of gods, or wicked influence Of starres conspiring wretched men t’afflict, Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence, That mortall mindes doth inwardly infect With love of blindnesse and of ignorance, 485 To dwell in darkenesse without sovenance?* [* _Sovenance_, remembrance.]

What difference twixt man and beast is left, When th’heavenlie light of knowledge is put out, And th’ornaments of wisdome are bereft? Then wandreth he in error and in doubt, 490 Unweeting* of the danger hee is in, Through fleshes frailtie and deceipt of sin. [* _Unweeting_, unknowing.]

In this wide world in which they wretches stray, It is the onelie comfort which they have, It is their light, their loadstarre, and their day; 495 But hell, and darkenesse, and the grislie grave, Is Ignorance, the enemie of Grace, That mindes of men borne heavenlie doth debace.

Through knowledge we behold the worlds creation, How in his cradle first he fostred was; 500 And iudge of Natures cunning operation, How things she formed of a formelesse mas: By knowledge wee do learne our selves to knowe, And what to man, and what to God, wee owe.

From hence wee mount aloft unto the skie, 505 And looke into the christall firmament; There we behold the heavens great hierarchie, The starres pure light, the spheres swift movëment, The spirites and intelligences fayre, And angels waighting on th’Almighties chayre. 510

And there, with humble minde and high insight, Th’eternall Makers maiestie wee viewe, His love, his truth, his glorie, and his might, And mercie more than mortall men can vew. O soveraigne Lord, O soveraigne happinesse, 515 To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse!

Such happines have they that doo embrace The precepts of my heavenlie discipline; But shame and sorrow and accursed case Have they that scorne the schoole of arts divine, 520 And banish me, which do professe the skill To make men heavenly wise through humbled will.

However yet they mee despise and spight, I feede on sweet contentment of my thought, And please my selfe with mine owne self-delight, 525 In contemplation of things heavenlie wrought: So, loathing earth, I looke up to the sky, And being driven hence, I thether fly.

Thence I behold the miserie of men, Which want the blis that wisedom would them breed. And like brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den 531 Of ghostly darkenes and of gastlie dreed: For whom I mourne, and for my selfe complaine, And for my sisters eake whom they disdaine.

With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie, 535 As if her eyes had beene two springing wells; And all the rest, her sorrow to supplie, Did throw forth shrieks and cries and dreery yells. So ended shee: and then the next in rew Began her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew. 540

POLYHYMNIA.

A dolefull case desires a dolefull song, Without vaine art or curious complements; And squallid Fortune, into basenes flong, Doth scorne the pride of wonted ornaments. Then fittest are these ragged rimes for mee, 545 To tell my sorrowes that exceeding bee.

For the sweet numbers and melodious measures With which I wont the winged words to tie, And make a tunefull diapase of pleasures, Now being let to runne at libertie 550 By those which have no skill to rule them right, Have now quite lost their naturall delight.

Heapes of huge words uphoorded hideously, With horrid sound, though having little sence, They thinke to be chiefe praise of poetry; 555 And, thereby wanting due intelligence, Have mard the face of goodly poesie, And made a monster of their fantasie.

Whilom in ages past none might professe But princes and high priests that secret skill; 560 The sacred lawes therein they wont expresse, And with deepe oracles their verses fill: Then was shee held in soveraigne dignitie, And made the noursling of nobilitie.

But now nor prince nor priest doth her maintayne, But suffer her prophaned for to bee 566 Of the base vulgar, that with hands uncleane Dares to pollute her hidden mysterie; And treadeth under foote hir holie things, Which was the care of kesars* and of kings. 570 [* _Kesars_, emperors.]

One onelie lives, her ages ornament, And myrrour of her Makers maiestie, That with rich bountie and deare cherishment Supports the praise of noble poesie; Ne onelie favours them which it professe, 575 But is her selfe a peereles poetresse.

Most peereles Prince, most peereles Poetresse, The true Pandora of all heavenly graces, Divine Elisa, sacred Emperesse! Live she for ever, and her royall p’laces 580 Be fild with praises of divinest wits, That her eternize with their heavenlie writs!

Some few beside this sacred skill esteme, Admirers of her glorious excellence; Which, being lightned with her beawties beme, 585 Are thereby fild with happie influence, And lifted up above the worldës gaze, To sing with angels her immortall praize.

But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood, And having beene with acorns alwaies fed, 590 Can no whit savour this celestiall food, But with base thoughts are into blindnesse led, And kept from looking on the lightsome day: For whome I waile and weepe all that I may.

Eftsoones* such store of teares shee forth did powre, As if shee all to water would have gone; 596 And all her sisters, seeing her sad stowre**, Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone, And all their learned instruments did breake: The rest untold no living tongue can speake. 600 [* _Eftsoones_, forthwith.] [** _Stowre_, disturbance, trouble.]

FOOTNOTES:

Ver 15—_Palici._. The Palici were children of Jupiter and Thalia, not Calliope. H.

Ver. 205-210.—There are sufficient reasons for believing that these lines refer to Shakespeare. He had probably written The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and Love’s Labor’s Lost, before the Complaints were published (1591), and no other author had up to this time produced a comedy that would compare with these. For a discussion of this subject, see Collier’s Life, Chap. VII., and Knight’s Biography, pp. 344-348. C.

VIRGILS GNAT.

LONG SINCE DEDICATED

TO THE MOST NOBLE AND EXCELLENT LORD,

THE EARLE OF LEICESTER,

LATE DECEASED.

Wrong’d, yet not daring to expresse my paine, To you, great Lord, the causer of my care, In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine Unto your selfe, that onely privie are. But if that any Oedipus unware Shall chaunce, through power of some divining spright, To reade the secrete of this riddle rare, And know the purporte of my evill plight, Let him rest pleased with his owne insight, Ne further seeke to glose upon the text: For griefe enough it is to grieved wight To feele his fault, and not be further vext. But what so by my selfe may not be showen, May by this Gnatts complaint be easily knowen*.

[* This riddle has never been guessed. Upton conjectures that Leicester’s displeasure was incurred for “some kind of officious sedulity in Spenser, who much desired to see his patron married to the Queen.” C.]

VIRGILS GNAT.

We now have playde, Augustus, wantonly, Tuning our song unto a tender Muse, And, like a cobweb weaving slenderly, Have onely playde: let thus much then excuse This Gnats small poeme, that th’whole history 5 Is but a iest; though envie it abuse: But who such sports and sweet delights doth blame, Shall lighter seeme than this Gnats idle name.

Hereafter, when as season more secure Shall bring forth fruit, this Muse shall speak to thee 10 In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure, And for thy worth frame some fit poesie: The golden ofspring of Latona pure, And ornament of great Ioves progenie, Phoebus, shall be the author of my song, 15 Playing on yvorie harp with silver strong*. [* _Strong_, strung.]

He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood, Of poets prince, whether he woon* beside Faire Xanthus sprincled with Chimaeras blood, Or in the woods of Astery abide, 20 Or whereas Mount Parnasse, the Muses brood, Doth his broad forhead like two hornes divide, And the sweete waves of sounding Castaly With liquid foote doth slide downe easily. [* _Woon_, dwell.]

Wherefore ye Sisters, which the glorie bee 25 Of the Pierian streames, fayre Naiades, Go too, and dauncing all in companie, Adorne that god: and thou holie Pales, To whome the honest care of husbandrie Returneth by continuall successe, 30 Have care for to pursue his footing light Throgh the wide woods and groves with green leaves dight.

Professing thee I lifted am aloft Betwixt the forrest wide and starrie sky: And thou, most dread Octavius, which oft 35 To learned wits givest courage worthily, O come, thou sacred childe, come sliding soft, And favour my beginnings graciously: For not these leaves do sing that dreadfull stound*, When giants bloud did staine Phlegraean ground; 40 [* _Stound_, time.]

Nor how th’halfe-horsy people, Centaures hight, Fought with the bloudie Lapithaes at bord; Nor how the East with tyranous despight Burnt th’Attick towres, and people slew with sword; Nor how Mount Athos through exceeding might 45 Was digged downe; nor yron bands abord The Pontick sea by their huge navy cast, My volume shall renowne, so long since past.

Nor Hellespont trampled with horses feete, When flocking Persians did the Greeks affray: 50 But my soft Muse, as for her power more meete, Delights (with Phoebus friendly leave) to play An easie running verse with tender feete. And thou, dread sacred child, to thee alway Let everlasting lightsome glory strive, 55 Through the worlds endles ages to survive.

And let an happie roome remaine for thee Mongst heavenly ranks, where blessed soules do rest; And let long lasting life with ioyous glee, As thy due meede that thou deservest best, 60 Hereafter many yeares remembred be Amongst good men, of whom thou oft are blest. Live thou for ever in all happinesse! But let us turne to our first businesse.

The fiery Sun was mounted now on Light 65 Up to the heavenly towers, and shot each where Out of his golden charet glistering light; And fayre Aurora, with her rosie heare, The hatefull darknes now had put to flight; When as the Shepheard, seeing day appeare, 70 His little goats gan drive out of their stalls, To feede abroad, where pasture best befalls.

To an high mountaines top he with them went, Where thickest grasse did cloath the open hills: They, now amongst the woods and thickets ment* 75 Now in the valleies wandring at their wills, Spread themselves farre abroad through each descent; Some on the soft greene grasse feeding their fills, Some, clambring through the hollow cliffes on hy, Nibble the bushie shrubs which growe thereby. 80 [* _Ment_, mingled.]

Others the utmost boughs of trees doe crop, And brouze the woodbine twigges that freshly bud; This with full bit* doth catch the utmost top Of some soft willow, or new growen stud**; This with sharpe teeth the bramble leaves doth lop, 85 And chaw the tender prickles in her cud; The whiles another high doth overlooke Her owne like image in a christall brooke. [* _Bit_, bite.] [** _Stud_, stock.]

O the great happines which shepheards have, Who so loathes not too much the poore estate 90 With minde that ill use doth before deprave, Ne measures all things by the costly rate Of riotise, and semblants outward brave! No such sad cares, as wont to macerate And rend the greedie mindes of covetous men, 95 Do ever creepe into the shepheards den.

Ne cares he if the fleece which him arayes Be not twice steeped in Assyrian dye; Ne glistering of golde, which underlayes* The summer beames, doe blinde his gazing eye; 100 Ne pictures beautie, nor the glauncing rayes Of precious stones, whence no good commeth by; Ne yet his cup embost with imagery Of Baetus or of Alcons vanity. [* _Underlayes_, surpasses.]

Ne ought the whelky* pearles esteemeth hee, 105 Which are from Indian seas brought far away: But with pure brest, from carefull sorrow free, On the soft grasse his limbs doth oft display, In sweete spring time, when flowres varietie With sundrie colours paints the sprincled lay**; 110 There, lying all at ease from guile or spight, With pype of fennie reedes doth him delight. [* _Whelky_, shelly (_conchea_).] [** _lay_, lea.]

There he, lord of himselfe, with palme bedight, His looser locks doth wrap in wreath of vine: There his milk-dropping goats be his delight, 115 And fruitefull Pales, and the forrest greene, And darkesome caves in pleasaunt vallies pight*, Wheras continuall shade is to be seene, And where fresh springing wells, as christall neate, Do alwayes flow, to quench his thirstie heate. 120 [* _Pight_, placed.]

O! who can lead then a more happie life Than he, that with cleane minde and heart sincere, No greedy riches knowes nor bloudie strife, No deadly fight of warlick fleete doth feare, Ne runs in perill of foes cruell knife, 125 That in the sacred temples he may reare A trophee of his glittering spoyles and treasure, Or may abound in riches above measure.

Of him his God is worshipt with his sythe, And not with skill of craftsman polished: 130 He ioyes in groves, and makes himselfe full blythe With sundrie flowers in wilde fieldes gathered, Ne frankincens he from Panchaea buyth: Sweete Quiet harbours in his harmeles head, And perfect Pleasure buildes her ioyous bowre, 135 Free from sad cares, that rich mens hearts devowre.

This all his care, this all his whole indevour, To this his minde and senses he doth bend, How he may flow in quiets matchles treasour, Content with any food that God doth send; 140 And how his limbs, resolv’d through idle leisour, Unto sweete sleepe he may securely lend, In some coole shadow from the scorching heat, The whiles his flock their chawed cuds do eate.

O Flocks, O Faunes, and O ye pleasaunt Springs 145 Of Tempe, where the countrey nymphs are rife, Through whose not costly care each shepheard sings As merrie notes upon his rusticke fife As that Ascraean bard*, whose fame now rings Through the wide world, and leads as ioyfull life; 150 Free from all troubles and from worldly toyle, In which fond men doe all their dayes turmoyle. [* I.e. Hesiod]

In such delights whilst thus his carelesse time This shepheard drives, upleaning on his batt*, And on shrill reedes chaunting his rustick rime, 155 Hyperion, throwing foorth his beames full hott, Into the highest top of heaven gan clime, And the world parting by an equall lott, Did shed his whirling flames on either side, As the great Ocean doth himselfe divide. 160 [* _Batt_, stick]

Then gan the shepheard gather into one His stragling goates, and drave them to a foord, Whose caerule streame, rombling in pible stone, Crept under mosse as greene as any goord. Now had the sun halfe heaven overgone, 165 When he his heard back from that water foord Drave, from the force of Phoebus boyling ray, Into thick shadowes, there themselves to lay.

Soone as he them plac’d in thy sacred wood, O Delian goddesse, saw, to which of yore 170 Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus brood, Cruell Agavè, flying vengeance sore Of King Nictileus for the guiltie blood Which she with cursed hands had shed before; There she halfe frantick, having slaine her sonne, 175 Did shrowd her selfe like punishment to shonne.

Here also playing on the grassy greene, Woodgods, and Satyres, and swift Dryades, With many Fairies oft were dauncing seene. Not so much did Dan Orpheus represse 180 The streames of Hebrus with his songs, I weene, As that faire troupe of woodie goddesses Staied thee, O Peneus, powring foorth to thee, From cheereful lookes, great mirth and gladsome glee.

The verie nature of the place, resounding 185 With gentle murmure of the breathing ayre, A pleasant bowre with all delight abounding In the fresh shadowe did for them prepayre, To rest their limbs with wearines redounding. For first the high palme-trees, with braunches faire, Out of the lowly vallies did arise, 191 And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.

And them amongst the wicked lotos grew, Wicked, for holding guilefully away Ulysses men, whom rapt with sweetenes new, 195 Taking to hoste*, it quite from him did stay; And eke those trees, in whose transformed hew The Sunnes sad daughters waylde the rash decay Of Phaëton, whose limbs with lightening rent They gathering up, with sweete teares did lament. 200 [* _Hoste_, entertain.]

And that same tree*, in which Demophoon, By his disloyalty lamented sore, Eternall hurte left unto many one: Whom als accompanied the oke, of yore 204 Through fatall charmes transferred to such an one: The oke, whose acornes were our foode before That Ceres seede of mortall men were knowne, Which first Triptoleme taught how to be sowne. [* I.e. the almond-tree.]

Here also grew the rougher-rinded pine, The great Argoan ships brave ornament, 210 Whom golden fleece did make an heavenly signe; Which coveting, with his high tops extent, To make the mountaines touch the starres divine, Decks all the forrest with embellishment; And the blacke holme that loves the watrie vale; 215 And the sweete cypresse, signe of deadly bale.

Emongst the rest the clambring yvie grew, Knitting his wanton armes with grasping hold, Least that the poplar happely should rew Her brothers strokes, whose boughes she doth enfold 220 With her lythe twigs, till they the top survew, And paint with pallid greene her buds of gold. Next did the myrtle tree to her approach, Not yet unmindfull of her olde reproach.

But the small birds in their wide boughs embowring 225 Chaunted their sundrie tunes with sweete consent; And under them a silver spring, forth powring His trickling streames, a gentle murmure sent; Thereto the frogs, bred in the slimie scowring Of the moist moores, their iarring voyces bent; 230 And shrill grashoppers chirped them around: All which the ayrie echo did resound.

In this so pleasant place the shepheards flocke Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest, On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke, 235 Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best; The whiles the shepheard self, tending his stocke, Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest, Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed him Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim. 240

Of trecherie or traines nought tooke he keep, But, looslie on the grassie greene dispredd, His dearest life did trust to careles sleep; Which, weighing down his drouping drowsie hedd, In quiet rest his molten heart did steep, 245 Devoid of care, and feare of all falshedd: Had not inconstant Fortune, bent to ill, Bid strange mischance his quietnes to spill.

For at his wonted time in that same place An huge great Serpent, all with speckles pide, 250 To drench himselfe in moorish slime did trace, There from the boyling heate himselfe to hide: He, passing by with rolling wreathed pace, With brandisht tongue the emptie aire did gride*, And wrapt his scalie boughts** with fell despight, 255 That all things seem’d appalled at his sight. [* _Gride_, pierce] [** _Boughts_, knots]

Now more and more having himselfe enrolde, His glittering breast he lifteth up on hie, And with proud vaunt his head aloft doth holde; His creste above, spotted with purple die, 260 On everie side did shine like scalie golde; And his bright eyes, glauncing full dreadfullie, Did seeme to flame out flakes of flashing fyre, And with sterne lookes to threaten kindled yre.

Thus wise long time he did himselfe dispace 265 There round about, when as at last he spide, Lying along before him in that place, That flocks grand captaine and most trustie guide: Eftsoones more fierce in visage and in pace, Throwing his firie eyes on everie side, 270 He commeth on, and all things in his way Full stearnly rends that might his passage stay.

Much he disdaines that anie one should dare To come unto his haunt; for which intent He inly burns, and gins straight to prepare 275 The weapons which Nature to him hath lent; Fellie he hisseth, and doth fiercely stare, And hath his iawes with angrie spirits rent, That all his tract with bloudie drops is stained, And all his foldes are now in length outstrained. 280

Whom, thus at point prepared, to prevent, A litle noursling of the humid ayre, A Gnat, unto the sleepie shepheard went, And marking where his ey-lids twinckling rare Shewd the two pearles which sight unto him lent, 285 Through their thin coverings appearing fayre His little needle there infixing deep, Warnd him awake, from death himselfe to keep.

Wherewith enrag’d, he fiercely gan upstart, And with his hand him rashly bruzing slewe 290 As in avengement of his heedles smart, That streight the spirite out of his senses flew. And life out of his members did depart: When, suddenly casting aside his vew, He spide his foe with felonous intent, 295 And fervent eyes to his destruction bent.

All suddenly dismaid, and hartles quight, He fled abacke, and, catching hastie holde Of a yong alder hard beside him pight, It rent, and streight about him gan beholde 300 What god or fortune would assist his might. But whether god or fortune made him bold Its hard to read: yet hardie will he had To overcome, that made him lesse adrad*. [* _Adrad_, terrified]

The scalie backe of that most hideous snake 305 Enwrapped round, oft faining to retire And oft him to assaile, he fiercely strake Whereas his temples did his creast front tyre*; And, for he was but slowe, did slowth off shake, And, gazing ghastly on, (for feare and yre 310 Had blent** so much his sense, that lesse he feard,)— Yet, when he saw him slaine, himselfe he cheard. [* _Tyre_, encircle] [** _Blent_, blinded]

By this the Night forth from the darksome bowre Of Herebus her teemed* steedes gan call, And laesie Vesper in his timely howre 315 From golden Oeta gan proceede withall; Whenas the shepheard after this sharpe stowre**, Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall, Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare, And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare. 320 [* _Teemed_, harnessed in a team] [** _Stowre_, perturbation]

Into whose sense so soone as lighter sleepe Was entered, and now loosing everie lim, Sweete slumbring deaw in carelesnesse did steepe, The image of that Gnat appeard to him, And in sad tearmes gan sorrowfully weepe, 325 With grieslie countenaunce and visage grim, Wailing the wrong which he had done of late, In steed of good, hastning his cruell fate.

Said he, “What have I wretch deserv’d, that thus Into this bitter bale I am outcast, 330 Whilest that thy life more deare and precious Was than mine owne, so long as it did last? I now, in lieu of paines so gracious, Am tost in th’ayre with everie windie blast: Thou, safe delivered from sad decay, 335 Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display.

“So livest thou; but my poore wretched ghost Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river, And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost. Seest thou not how all places quake and quiver, 340 Lightned with deadly lamps on everie post? Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver Her flaming fire-brond, encountring me, Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be.

“And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay, 345 And barke out flames, as if on fire he fed, Adowne whose necke, in terrible array, Ten thousand snakes, cralling about his hed, Doo hang in heapes, that horribly affray, And bloodie eyes doo glister firie red, 350 He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten With painfull torments to be sorely beaten.

“Ay me! that thankes so much should faile of meed, For that I thee restor’d to life againe, Even from the doore of death and deadlie dreed. 355 Where then is now the guerdon of my paine? Where the reward of my so piteous deed? The praise of pitie vanisht is in vaine, And th’antique faith of iustice long agone Out of the land is fled away and gone. 360

“I saw anothers fate approaching fast, And left mine owne his safëtie to tender; Into the same mishap I now am cast, And shun’d destruction doth destruction render: Not unto him that never hath trespást, 365 But punishment is due to the offender: Yet let destruction be the punishment, So long as thankfull will may it relent.

“I carried am into waste wildernesse, Waste wildernes, amongst Cymerian shades, 370 Where endles paines and hideous heavinesse Is round about me heapt in darksome glades. For there huge Othos sits in sad distresse, Fast bound with serpents that him oft invades, Far of beholding Ephialtes tide, 375 Which once assai’d to burne this world so wide.

“And there is mournfull Tityus, mindefull yet Of thy displeasure, O Latona faire; Displeasure too implacable was it, That made him meat for wild foules of the ayre: 380 Much do I feare among such fiends to sit; Much do I feare back to them to repayre, To the black shadowes of the Stygian shore, Where wretched ghosts sit wailing evermore.

“There next the utmost brinck doth he abide 385 That did the bankets of the gods bewray, Whose throat through thirst to nought nigh being dride, His sense to seeke for ease turnes every way: And he that in avengement of his pride, For scorning to the sacred gods to pray, 390 Against a mountaine rolls a mightie stone, Calling in vaine for rest, and can have none.

“Go ye with them, go, cursed damosells, Whose bridale torches foule Erynnis tynde*, And Hymen, at your spousalls sad, foretells 395 Tydings of death and massacre unkinde**: With them that cruell Colchid mother dwells, The which conceiv’d in her revengefull minde With bitter woundes her owne deere babes to slay, And murdred troupes upon great heapes to lay. 400 [* _Tynde_, kindled.] [** _Unkinde_, unnatural.]

“There also those two Pandionian maides, Calling on Itis, Itis evermore, Whom, wretched boy, they slew with guiltie blades; For whome the Thracian king lamenting sore, Turn’d to a lapwing, fowlie them upbraydes, 405 And flattering round about them still does sore; There now they all eternally complaine Of others wrong, and suffer endles paine.

“But the two brethren* borne of Cadmus blood, Whilst each does for the soveraignty contend, 411 Blinde through ambition, and with vengeance wood**, Each doth against the others bodie bend His cursed steele, of neither well withstood, And with wide wounds their carcases doth rend; That yet they both doe mortall foes remaine, 415 Sith each with brothers bloudie hand was slaine. [* I.e. Eteocles and Polynices.] [** _Wood_, mad.]

“Ah (waladay!) there is no end of paine, Nor chaunge of labour may intreated bee: Yet I beyond all these am carried faine, Where other powers farre different I see, 420 And must passe over to th’Elisian plaine: There grim Persephone, encountring mee, Doth urge her fellow Furies earnestlie With their bright firebronds me to terrifie.

“There chast Alceste lives inviolate, 425 Free from all care, for that her husbands daies She did prolong by changing fate for fate: Lo! there lives also the immortall praise Of womankinde, most faithfull to her mate, Penelope; and from her farre awayes 430 A rulesse* rout of yongmen which her woo’d, All slaine with darts, lie wallowed in their blood. [* _Rulesse_, rule-less.]

“And sad Eurydice thence now no more Must turne to life, but there detained bee For looking back, being forbid before: 435 Yet was the guilt thereof, Orpheus, in thee! Bold sure he was, and worthie spirite bore, That durst those lowest shadowes goe to see, And could beleeve that anie thing could please Fell Cerberus, or Stygian powres appease. 440

“Ne feard the burning waves of Phlegeton, Nor those same mournfull kingdomes, compassed With rustle horrour and fowle fashion; And deep digd vawtes*; and Tartar covered With bloodie night and darke confusion; 445 And iudgement seates, whose iudge is deadlie dred, A iudge that after death doth punish sore The faults which life hath trespassed before. [* _Vawtes_, vaults.]

“But valiant fortune made Dan Orpheus bolde: For the swift running rivers still did stand, 450 And the wilde beasts their furie did withhold, To follow Orpheus musicke through the land: And th’okes, deep grounded in the earthly molde, Did move, as if they could him understand; 454 And the shrill woods, which were of sense bereav’d, Through their hard barke his silver sound receav’d.

“And eke the Moone her hastie steedes did stay, Drawing in teemes along the starrie skie; And didst, O monthly Virgin, thou delay Thy nightly course, to heare his melodie? 460 The same was able, with like lovely lay, The Queene of Hell to move as easily To yeeld Eurydice unto her fere, Backe to be borne, though it unlawfull were.

“She, ladie, having well before approoved 465 The feends to be too cruell and severe, Observ’d th’appointed way, as her behooved, Ne ever did her eysight turne arere, Ne ever spake, ne cause of speaking mooved; But, cruell Orpheus, thou much crueller, 470 Seeking to kisse her, brok’st the gods decree, And thereby mad’st her ever damn’d to be.

“Ah! but sweete love of pardon worthie is, And doth deserve to have small faults remitted; If Hell at least things lightly done amis 475 Knew how to pardon, when ought is omitted: Yet are ye both received into blis, And to the seates of happie soules admitted. And you beside the honourable band Of great heroës doo in order stand. 480

“There be the two stout sonnes of AEacus, Fierce Peleus, and the hardie Telamon, Both seeming now full glad and ioyeous Through their syres dreadfull iurisdiction, Being the iudge of all that horrid hous: 488 And both of them, by strange occasion, Renown’d in choyce of happie marriage Through Venus grace, and vertues cariage.

“For th’one was ravisht of his owne bondmaide, The faire Ixione captiv’d from Troy: 490 But th’other was with Thetis love assaid, Great Nereus his daughter and his ioy. On this side them there is a yongman layd, Their match in glorie, mightie, fierce, and coy, That from th’Argolick ships, with furious yre, 495 Bett back the furie of the Troian fyre.

“O! who would not recount the strong divorces Of that great warre, which Troianes oft behelde, And oft beheld the warlike Greekish forces, When Teucrian soyle with bloodie rivers swelde, 500 And wide Sigraean shores were spred with corses, And Simois and Xanthus blood outwelde; Whilst Hector raged, with outragious minde, Flames, weapons, wounds, in Greeks fleete to have tynde.

“For Ida selfe, in ayde of that fierce fight, 505 Out of her mountaines ministred supplies; And like a kindly nourse did yeeld, for spight, Store of firebronds out of her nourseries Unto her foster children, that they might Inflame the navie of their enemies, 510 And all the Rhetaean shore to ashes turne, Where lay the ships which they did seeke to burne.

“Gainst which the noble sonne of Telamon Oppos’d himselfe, and thwarting* his huge shield, Them battell bad; gainst whom appeard anon 515 Hector, the glorie of the Troian field: Both fierce and furious in contention Encountred, that their mightie strokes so shrild As the great clap of thunder, which doth ryve The railing heavens and cloudes asunder dryve. 520 [* _Thwarting_, interposing.]

“So th’one with fire and weapons did contend To cut the ships from turning home againe To Argos; th’other strove for to defend* The force of Vulcane with his might and maine. Thus th’one Aeacide did his fame extend: 525 But th’other ioy’d that, on the Phrygian playne Having the blood of vanquisht Hector shedd, He compast Troy thrice with his bodie dedd. [* _Defend_, keep off.]

“Againe great dole on either partie grewe, That him to death unfaithfull Paris sent; 530 And also him that false Ulysses slewe, Drawne into danger through close ambushment; Therefore from him Laërtes sonne his vewe Doth turn aside, and boasts his good event In working of Strymonian Rhaesus fall, 535 And efte* in Dolons slye surprÿsall. [* _Efte_, again.]

“Againe the dreadfull Cycones him dismay, And blacke Laestrigones, a people stout; Then greedie Scilla, under whom there bay Manie great bandogs, which her gird about; 540 Then doo the AEtnean Cyclops him affray, And deep Charybdis gulphing in and out; Lastly the squalid lakes of Tartarie, And griesly feends of hell him terrifie.

“There also goodly Agamemnon bosts, 545 The glorie of the stock of Tantalus, And famous light of all the Greekish hosts; Under whose conduct most victorious, The Dorick flames consum’d the Iliack posts. Ah! but the Greekes themselves, more dolorous, 550 To thee, O Troy, paid penaunce for thy fall, In th’Hellespont being nigh drowned all.

“Well may appeare by proofe of their mischaunce The chaungfull turning of mens slipperie state, That none whom fortune freely doth advaunce 555 Himselfe therefore to heaven should elevate: For loftie type of honour through the glaunce Of envies dart is downe in dust prostrate, And all that vaunts in worldly vanitie Shall fall through fortunes mutabilitie. 560

“Th’Argolicke power returning home againe, Enricht with spoyles of th’Ericthonian towre, Did happie winde and weather entertaine, And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre: No signe of storme, no feare of future paine, 565 Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre*: Nereïs to the seas a token gave, The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave. [* _Stowre_, turmoil, uproar.]

“Suddenly, whether through the gods decree, Or haplesse rising of some froward starre, 570 The heavens on everie side enclowded bee: Black stormes and fogs are blowen up from farre, That now the pylote can no loadstarre see, But skies and seas doo make most dreadfull warre; The billowes striving to the heavens to reach, 575 And th’heavens striving them for to impeach*. [* _Impeach_, hinder.]

“And, in avengement of their bold attempt, Both sun and starres and all the heavenly powres Conspire in one to wreake their rash contempt, And downe on them to fall from highest towres: 580 The skie, in pieces seeming to be rent, Throwes lightning forth, and haile, and harmful showres, That death on everie side to them appeares, In thousand formes, to worke more ghastly feares.

“Some in the greedie flouds are sunke and drent*; 585 Some on the rocks of Caphareus are throwne; Some on th’Euboick cliffs in pieces rent; Some scattred on the Hercaean** shores unknowne; And manie lost, of whom no moniment Remaines, nor memorie is to be showne: 590 Whilst all the purchase@ of the Phrigian pray, Tost on salt billowes, round about doth stray. [* _Drent_, drowned.] [** _Hercaean_ should probably be AEgean.] [@ _Purchase_, booty.]

“Here manie other like heroës bee, Equall in honour to the former crue, Whom ye in goodly seates may placed see, 595 Descended all from Rome by linage due; From Rome, that holds the world in sovereigntie, And doth all nations unto her subdue: Here Fabii and Decii doo dwell, Horatii that in vertue did excell. 600

“And here the antique fame of stout Camill Doth ever live; and constant Curtius, Who, stifly bent his vowed life to spill For countreyes health, a gulph most hideous Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill, 605 T’appease the Powers; and prudent Mutius, Who in his flesh endur’d the scorching flame, To daunt his foe by ensample of the same.

“And here wise Curius, companion Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest; 610 And stout Flaminius, whose devotion Taught him the fires scorn’d furie to detest; And here the praise of either Scipion Abides in highest place above the best, To whom the ruin’d walls of Carthage vow’d, 615 Trembling their forces, sound their praises lowd.

“Live they for ever through their lasting praise! But I, poore wretch, am forced to retourne To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne; 620 And by the wayling shores to waste my dayes, Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne; By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.

“Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell, 625 Girt with long snakes and thousand yron chaynes, Through doome of that their cruell iudge compell, With bitter torture and impatient paines, Cause of my death and iust complaint to tell. For thou art he whom my poore ghost complaines 630 To be the author of her ill unwares, That careles hear’st my intollerable cares.

“Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde, I now depart, returning to thee never, And leave this lamentable plaint behinde. 635 But doo thou haunt the soft downe-rolling river, And wilde greene woods and fruitful pastures minde, And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever.” Thus having said, he heavily departed With piteous crie that anie would have smarted. 640

Now, when the sloathfull fit of lifes sweete rest Had left the heavie Shepheard, wondrous cares His inly grieved minde full sore opprest; That balefull sorrow he no longer beares For that Gnats death, which deeply was imprest, 645 But bends what ever power his aged yeares Him lent, yet being such as through their might He lately slue his dreadfull foe in fight.

By that same river lurking under greene, Eftsoones* he gins to fashion forth a place, 650 And, squaring it in compasse well beseene**, There plotteth out a tombe by measured space: His yron-headed spade tho making cleene, To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse, His worke he shortly to good purpose brought, 655 Like as he had conceiv’d it in his thought. [* _Eftsoones_, immediately.] [** _Well beseene_, seemly.]

An heape of earth he hoorded up on hie, Enclosing it with banks on everie side, And thereupon did raise full busily A little mount, of greene turffs edifide*; 660 And on the top of all, that passers by Might it behold, the toomb he did provide Of smoothest marble stone in order set, That never might his luckie scape forget. [* _Edifide_, built.]

And round about he taught sweete flowres to growe; 665 The Rose, engrained in pure scarlet die; The Lilly fresh, and Violet belowe; The Marigolde, and cherefull Rosemarie; The Spartan Mirtle, whence sweet gumb does flowe; The purple Hyacinths, and fresh Costmarie, 670 And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle, And Lawrell, th’ornament of Phoebus toyle:

Fresh Rhododaphne, and the Sabine flowre*, Matching the wealth of th’auncient Frankincence; And pallid Yvie, building his owne bowre; 675 And Box, yet mindfull of his olde offence; Red Amaranthus, lucklesse paramour; Oxeye still greene, and bitter Patience; Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell. 680 [* _Sabine flowre_, a kind of juniper, the savine.]

And whatsoever other flowre of worth, And whatso other hearb of lovely hew The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth, To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new, He planted there, and reard a mount of earth, 685 In whose high front was writ as doth ensue:

_To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved,_ _The Shepheard hath thy deaths record engraved._

FOOTNOTES:

VIRGILS GNAT. This is a very skilful elaboration of the Culex, a poem attributed, without reason, to Virgil. The original, which is crabbed and pedantic, where it is not unintelligible from corruption, is here rendered with sufficient fidelity to the sense, but with such perspicuity, elegance, and sweetness, as to make Spenser’s performance too good a poem to be called a translation. C.

PROSOPOPOIA:

OR MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.

BY ED. SP.

DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE,

THE LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.

LONDON. IMPRINTED FOR WILLIAM PONSONBIE, DWELLING IN PAULES CHURCHYARD AT THE SIGNE OF THE BISHOPS HEAD. 1591.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE,

THE LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.[*]

Most faire and vertuous Ladie: having often sought opportunitie by some good meanes to make knowen to your Ladiship the humble affection and faithfull duetie which I have alwaies professed, and am bound to beare, to that house from whence yee spring, I have at length found occasion to remember the same by making a simple present to you of these my idle labours; which having long sithens composed in the raw conceipt of my youth, I lately amongst other papers lighted upon, and was by others, which liked the same, mooved to set them foorth. Simple is the device, and the composition meane, yet carrieth some delight, even the rather because of the simplicitie and meannesse thus personated. The same I beseech your Ladiship take in good part, as a pledge of that profession which I have made to you, and keepe with you untill with some other more worthie labour redeeme it out of your hands, and discharge my utmost dutie. Till then, wishing your Ladiship all increase of honour and happinesse, I humblie take leave.

Your La: ever humbly,
ED. SP.

[* “This lady was Anne, the fifth daughter of Sir John Spencer, distinguished also, in the pastoral of _Colin Clouts come Home again_, by the name of _Charillis_. She was married, first to Sir William Stanley, Lord Mountegle; next to Henry Compton, Lord Compton; and lastly to Robert Sackvilie, Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset.”—TODD.]

PROSOPOPOIA:

OR

MOTHER HUBBERDS TALE.