The Faerie Queene (4 page)

CONTAYNING
THE LEGENDE OF THE
KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
OR
OF HOLINESSE
.

1
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,

As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,

Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske,

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,

And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;

Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long,

Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:

Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song.

2
Helpe then, ô holy Virgin chiefe of nine,

Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,

Lay forth out of thine euerlasting scryne

The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

Of Faerie knights and fairest
Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:

O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.

3
And thou most dreaded impe of highest
Ioue,

Faire
Venus
sonne, that with thy cruell dart

At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,

That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,

Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,

And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:

Come both, and with you bring triumphant
Mart,

In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,

After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

4
And with them eke, ô Goddesse heauenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and Maiesrie diuine,

Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light

Like
Phœbus
lampe throughout the world doth shine,

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,

To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile:

The which to heare, vouchsafe, ô dearest dred a-while.

The Patron of true Holinesse,
   Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie him to entrape,
   Doth to his home entreate
.

1
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,

Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,

Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,

The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;

Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:

Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,

As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

2
But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,

And dead as liuing euer him ador'd:

Vpon his shield the like was also scor'd,

For soueraine hope, which in his helpe he had:

Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad,

Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad.

3
Vpon a great aduenture he was bond,

That greatest
Gloriana
to him gaue,

That greatest Glorious Queene of
Faerie
land,

To winne him worship, and her grace to haue,

Which of all earthly things he most did craue;

And euer as he rode, his hart did earne

To proue his puissance in battell braue

Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;

Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.

4
A louely Ladie rode him faire beside,

Vpon a lowly Asse more white then snow,

Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide

Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,

And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,

As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,

And heauie sat vpon her palfrey slow;

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,

And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.

5
So pure an innocent, as that same lambe,

She was in life and euery vertuous lore,

And by descent from Royall lynage came

Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore

Their scepters stretcht from East to Westeme shore,

And all the world in their subiection held;

Till that infernall feend with foule vprore

Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:

Whom to auenge, she had this Knight from far compeld.

6
Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd in being euer last,

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,

The day with cloudes was suddeine ouercast.

And angry
Ioue
an hideous storme of raine

Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,

That euery wight to shrowd it did constrain,

And this fair couple eke to shroud themselues were fain.

7
Enforst to seeke some couert nigh at hand,

A shadie groue not far away they spide,

That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:

Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,

Did spred so broad, that heauens light did hide,

Not perceable with power of any starre:

And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

With footing worne, and leading inward farre:

Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.

8
And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,

Ioying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,

The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,

The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,

The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,

The Aspine good for staues, the Cypresse funerall.

9
The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours

And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,

The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,

The Eugh obedient to the benders will,

The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,

The Mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,

The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,

The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,

The caruer Holme, the Maple seeldom inward sound.

10
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,

Vntill the blustring storme is ouerblowne;

When weening to returne. whence they did stray,

They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,

But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,

Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,

That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:

So many pathes, so many turnings seene,

That which of them to take, in diuerse doubt they been.

11
At last resoluing forward still to fere,

Till that some end they finde or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,

And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,

At length it brought them to a hollow caue,

Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout

Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,

And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gaue.

12
Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,

Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:

The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,

Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,

And perill without show: therefore your stroke

Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.

Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke

The forward footing for an hidden shade:

Vertue giues her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.

13
Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place

I better wot then you, though now too late,

To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,

Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.

This is the wandring wood, this
Errours den,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:

Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then

The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for liuing men.

14
But full of fire and greedy hardiment,

The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,

But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,

And looked in: his glistring armor made

A litle glooming light, much like a shade,

By which he saw the vgly monster plaine,

Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,

But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine,

Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

15
And as she lay vpon the durtie ground,

Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred,

Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,

Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred

A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,

Sucking vpon her poisonous dugs, eachone

Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored:

Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone,

Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.

16
Their dam vpstart, out of her den effraide,

And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile

About her cursed head, whose folds displaid

Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.

She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle

Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;

For light she hated as the deadly bale,

Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,

Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any plaine.

17
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu'ed, he lept

As Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,

And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept

From turning backe, and forced her to stay:

Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray,

And turning fierce, her speckled taile aduaunst,

Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:

Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:

The stroke down from her head vnto her shoulder glaunst.

18
Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd,

Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,

And all attonce her beastly body raizd

With doubled forces high aboue the ground:

Tho wrapping vp her wrethed sterne arownd,

Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine

All suddenly about his body wound,

That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine:

God helpe the man so wrapt in
Errours
endlesse traine.

19
His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,

Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee,

Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:

Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.

That when he heard, in great perplexitie,

His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,

And knitting all his force got one hand free,

Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,

That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.

20
Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw

A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,

Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,

Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke

His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:

Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,

With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,

And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:

Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.

21
As when old father
Nilus
gins to swell

With timely pride aboue the
Aegyptian
vale,

His fattie waues do fertile slime outwell,

And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:

But when his later spring gins to auale,

Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed

Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male

And partly female of his fruitfull seed;

Such vgly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man reed.

22
The same so sore annoyed has the knight,

That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,

His forces faile, ne can no longer fight.

Whose corage when the feend perceiu'd to shrinke,

She poured forth out of her hellish sinke

Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,

Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,

Which swarming all about his legs did crall,

And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.

23
As gentle Shepheard in sweete euen-tide,

When ruddy
Phœbus
gins to welke in west,

High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,

Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;

A cloud of combrous gnattes do him molest,

All striuing to infixe their feeble stings,

That from their noyance he no where can rest,

But with his clownish hands their tender wings

He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

24
Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame,

Then of the certaine perill he stood in,

Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,

Resolv'd in minde all suddenly to win,

Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;