The Faerie Queene (46 page)

Her
Amoretta
cald, to comfort her dismayd.

29
She brought her to her ioyous Paradize,

Where most she wonnes, when she on earth does dwel.

So faire a place, as Nature can deuize:

Whether in
Paphos,
or
Cytheron
hill,

Or it in
Gnidus
be, I wote not well;

But well I wote by tryall, that this same

All other pleasant places doth excell,

And called is by her lost louers name,

The
Gardin
of
Adonis,
farre renowmd by fame.

30
In that same Gardin all the goodly flowres,

Wherewith dame Nature doth her beautifie,

And decks the girlonds of her paramoures,

Are fetcht: there is the first seminarie

Of all things, that are borne to liue and die,

According to their kindes. Long worke it were,

Here to account the endlesse progenie

Of all the weedes, that bud and blossome there;

But so much as doth need, must needs be counted here.

31
It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old,

And girt in with two walles on either side;

The one of yron, the other of bright gold,

That none might thorough breake, nor ouer-stride:

And double gates it had, which opened wide,

By which both in and out men moten pas;

Th'one faire and fresh, the other old and dride:

Old
Genius
the porter of them was,

Old
Genius,
the which a double nature has.

32
He letteth in, he letteth out to wend,

All that to come into the world desire;

A thousand thousand naked babes attend

About him day and night, which doe require,

That he with fleshly weedes would them attire:

Such as him list, such as eternall fate

Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull mire,

And sendeth forth to liue in mortall state,

Till they againe returne backe by the hinder gate.

33
After that they againe returned beene,

They in that Gardin planted be againe;

And grow afresh, as they had neuer seene

Fleshly corruption, nor mortall paine.

Some thousand yeares so doen they there remaine;

And then of him are clad with other hew,

Or sent into the chaungefull world againe,

Till thither they returne, where first they grew:

So like a wheele around they runne from old to new.

34
Ne needs there Gardiner to set, or sow,

To plant or prune: for of their owne accord

All things, as they created were, doe grow,

And yet remember well the mightie word,

Which first was spoken by th'Almightie lord,

That bad them to increase and multiply:

Ne doe they need with water of the ford,

Or of the clouds to moysten their roots dry;

For in themselues eternall moisture they imply.

35
Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred,

And vncouth formes, which none yet euer knew,

And euery sort is in a sundry bed

Set by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew:

Some fit for reasonable soules t'indew,

Some made for beasts, some made for birds to weare,

And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew

In endlesse rancks along enraunged were,

That seem'd the
Ocean
could not containe them there.

36
Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent

Into the world, it to replenish more;

Yet is the stocks not lessened, nor spent,

But still remaines in euerlasting store,

As it at first created was of yore.

For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes,

In hatefull darkenesse and in deepe horrore,

An huge eternall
Chaos,
which supplyes

The substances of natures fruitfull progenyes.

37
All things from thence doe their first being fetch,

And borrow matter, whereof they are made,

Which when as forme and feature it does ketch,

Becomes a bodie, and doth then inuade

The state of life, out of the griesly shade.

That substance is eterne, and bideth so,

Ne when the life decayes, and forme does fade,

Doth it consume, and into nothing go,

But chaunged is, and often altred to and fro.

38
The substance is not chaunged, nor altered,

But th'only forme and outward fashion;

For euery substance is conditioned

To change her hew, and sundry formes to don,

Meet for her temper and complexion:

For formes are variable and decay,

By course of kind, and by occasion;

And that faire flowre of beautie fades away,

As doth the lilly fresh before the sunny ray.

39
Great enimy to it, and to all the rest,

That in the
Gardin
of
Adonis
springs,

Is wicked
Time,
who with his scyth addrest,

Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly things,

And all their glory to the ground downe flings,

Where they doe wither, and are fowly mard:

He flyes about, and with his flaggy wings

Beates down both leaues and buds without regard,

Ne euer pittie may relent his malice hard.

40
Yet pittie often did the gods relent,

To see so faire things mard, and spoyled quight:

And their great mother
Venus
did lament

The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight;

Her hart was pierst with pittie at the sight,

When walking through the Gardin, them she spyde,

Yet no'te she find redresse for such despight.

For all that liues, is subiect to that law:

All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.

41
But were it not, that
Time
their troubler is,

All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,

Should happie be, and haue immortall blis:

For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,

And sweet loue gentle fits emongst them throwes,

Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie;

Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,

Each bird his mate, ne any does enuie

Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.

42
There is continuall spring, and haruest there

Continuall, both meeting at one time:

For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare,

And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime,

And eke attonce the heauy trees they clime,

Which seeme to labour vnder their fruits lode:

The whiles the ioyous birdes make their pastime

Emongst the shadie leaues, their sweet abode,

And their true loues without suspition tell abrode.

43
Right in the middest of that Paradise,

There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top

A gloomy groue of mirtle trees did rise,

Whose shadie boughes sharpe Steele did neuer lop,

Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,

But like a girlond compassed the hight,

And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop,

That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,

Threw forth most dainty odours, & most sweet delight.

44
And in the thickest couert of that shade,

There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,

But of the trees owne inclination made,

Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,

With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart,

And Eglantine, and Caprisole emong,

Fashiond aboue within their inmost part,

That nether
Phœbus
beams could through them throng,

Nor
Aeolus
sharp blast could worke them any wrong.

45
And all about grew euery sort of flowre,

To which sad louers were transformd of yore;

Fresh
Hyacinthus, Phæbus
paramoure,

Foolish
Narcisse,
that likes the watry shore,

Sad
Amaranthus,
made a flowre but late,

Sad
Amaranthus,
in whose purple gore

Me seemes I see
Amintas
wretched fete,

To whom sweet Poets verse hath giuen endlesse date.

46
There wont faire
Venus
often to enioy

Her deare
Adonis
ioyous company,

And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy;

There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,

Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery,

By her hid from the world, and from the skill

Of
Stygian
Gods, which doe her loue enuy;

But she her selfe, when euer that she will,

Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.

47
And sooth it seemes they say: for he may not

For euer die, and euer buried bee

In balefull night, where all things are forgot;

All be he subiect to mortalitie,

Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

And by succession made perpetuall,

Transformed oft, and chaunged diuerslie:

For Him the Father of all formes they call;

Therefore needs mote he liue, that liuing giues to all.

48
There now he liues in eternall blis,

Ioying his goddesse, and of her enioyd:

Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,

Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:

For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,

She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,

That her sweet loue his malice mote auoyd,

In a strong rocky Caue, which is they say,

Hewen vndemeath that Mount, that none him losen may.

49
There now he Hues in euerlasting ioy,

With many of the Gods in company,

Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy

Sporting himselfe in safe felicity:

Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty

Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts

Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,

Thither resorts, and laying his sad darts

Aside, with faire
Adonis
playes his wanton parts.

50
And his true loue faire
Psyche
with him playes,

Faire
Psyche
to him lately reconcyld,

After long troubles and vnmeet vpbrayes,

With which his mother
Venus
her reuyld,

And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:

But now in stedfast loue and happy state

She with him liues, and hath him borne a chyld,

Pleasure,
that doth both gods and men aggrate,

Pleasure,
the daughter of
Cupid
and
Psyche
late.

51
Hither great
Venus
brought this infant faire,

The younger daughter of
Chrysogonee,

And vnto
Psyche
with great trust and care

Committed her, yfostered to bee,

And trained vp in true feminitee:

Who no lesse carefully her tendered,

Then her owne daughter
Pleasure,
to whom shee

Made her companion, and her lessoned

In all the lore of loue, and goodly womanhead.

52
In which when she to perfect ripenesse grew,

Of grace and beautie noble Paragone,

She brought her forth into the worldes vew,

To be th'ensample of true loue alone,

And Lodestarre of all chaste affectione,

To all faire Ladies, that doe liue on ground.

To Faery court she came, where many one

Admyrd her goodly haueour, and found

His feeble hart wide launched with loues cruell wound.

53
But she to none of them her loue did cast,

Saue to the noble knight Sir
Scudamore,

To whom her louing hart she linked fast

In faithfull loue, t'abide for euermore,

And for his dearest sake endured sore,

Sore trouble of an hainous enimy;

Who her would forced haue to haue forlore

Her former loue, and stedfast loialty,

As ye may elsewhere read that ruefull history.

54
But well I weene, ye first desire to learne,

What end vnto that fearefull Damozell,

Which fled so fast from that same foster stearne,

Whom with his brethren
Timias
slew, befell:

That was to weet, the goodly
Florimell;

Who wandring for to seeke her louer deare,

Her louer deare, her dearest
Marinell,

Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,

And from Prince
Arthur
fled with wings of idle feare.

The witches sonne loves Florimell:
   she flyes, he faines to die.
Satyrane saues the Squire of Dames
   from Gyants tyrannie.

1
Like as an Hynd forth singled from the heard,

That hath escaped from a rauenous beast,

Yet flyes away of her owne feet affeard,

And euery leafe, that shaketh with the least

Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast;

So fled faire
Florimell
from her vaine feare,

Long after she from perill was releast:

Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did heare,

Did seeme to be the same, which she escapt whyleare.

2
All that same euening she in flying spent,

And all that night her course continewed:

Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent,

Nor wearinesse to slacke her hast, but fled

Euer alike, as if her former dred

Were hard behind, her readie to arrest:

And her white Palfrey hauing conquered

The maistring raines out of her weary wrest,

Perforce her carried, where euer he thought best

3
So long as breath, and liable puissance

Did natiue courage vnto him supply,

His pace he freshly forward did aduaunce,

And carried her beyond all ieopardy,

But nought that wanteth rest, can long aby.

He hauing through incessant trauell spent

His force, at last perforce adowne did ly,

Ne foot could further moue: The Lady gent

Thereat was suddein strooke with great astonishment.

4
And forst t'alight, on foot mote algates fire,

A traueller vnwonted to such way:

Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare,

That fortune all in equall launce doth sway,

And mortall miseries doth make her play.

So long she trauelled, till at length she came

To an hilles side, which did to her bewray

A little valley, subiect to the same,

All couerd with thick woods, that quite it ouercame.

5
Through the tops of the high trees she did descry

A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light,

Reeking aloft, vprolled to the sky:

Which, chearefull signe did send vnto her sight,

That in the same did wonne some liuing wight.

Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyde,

And came at last in weary wretched plight

Vnto the place, to which her hope did guyde,

To find some refuge there, and rest her weary syde.

6
There in a gloomy hollow glen she found

A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes

In homely wize, and wald with sods around,

In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes,

And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes;

So choosing solitarie to abide,

Far from all neighbours, that her deuilish deedes

And hellish arts from people she might hide,

And hurt far off vnknowne, whom euer she enuide.

7
The Damzell there arriuing entred in;

Where sitting on the flore the Hag she found,

Busie (as seem'd) about some wicked gin:

Who soone as she beheld that suddein stound,

Lightly vpstarted from the dustie ground,

And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze

Stared on her awhile, as one astound,

Ne had one word to speake, for great amaze,

But shewd by outward signes, that dread her sence did daze.

8
At last turning her feare to foolish wrath,

She askt, what deuill had her thither brought,

And who she was, and what vnwonted path

Had guided her, vnwelcomed, vnsought?

To which the Damzell full of doubtfull thought,

Her mildly answer'd; Beldame be not wroth

With silly Virgin by aduenture brought

Vnto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,

That craue but rowme to rest, while tempest ouerblo'th.

9
With that adowne out of her Christall eyne

Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall,

That like two Orient pearles, did purely shyne

Vpon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall

She sighed soft, that none so bestiall,

Nor saluage hart, but ruth of her sad plight

Would make to melt, or pitteously appall;

And that vile Hag, all were her whole delight

In mischiefe, was much moued at so pitteous sight.

10
And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse,

With womanish compassion of her plaint,

Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes,

And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint

And wearie limbs a while. She nothing quaint

Nor s'deignfull of so homely fashion,

Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint,

Sate downe vpon the dusty ground anon,

As glad of that small rest, as Bird of tempest gon.

11
Tho gan she gather vp her garments rent,

And her loose lockes to dight in order dew,

With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament;

Whom such whenas the wicked Hag did vew,

She was astonisht at her heauenly hew,

And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,

But or some Goddesse, or of
Dianes
crew,

And thought her to adore with humble spright;

T'adore thing so diuine as beauty, were but right.

12
This wicked woman had a wicked sonne,

The comfort of her age and weary dayes,

A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne,

But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes,

Ne euer cast his mind to couet prayse,

Or ply him selfe to any honest trade,

But all the day before the sunny rayes

He vs'd to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade:

Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him made.

13
He comming home at vndertime, there found

The fairest creature, that he euer saw,

Sitting beside his mother on the ground;

The sight whereof did greatly him adaw,

And his base thought with terrour and with aw

So inly smot, that as one, which had gazed

On the bright Sunne vnwares, doth soone withdraw

His feeble eyne, with too much brightnesse dazed;

So stared he on her, and stood long while amazed.

14
Softly at last he gan his mother aske,

What mister wight that was, and whence deriued,

That in so straunge disguizement there did maske,

And by what accident she there arriued:

But she, as one nigh of her wits depriued,

With nought but ghastly lookes him answered,

Like to a ghost, that lately is reuiued

From
Stygian
shores, where late it wandered;

So both at her, and each at other wondered.

15
But the faire Virgin was so meeke and mild,

That she to them vouchsafed to embace

Her goodly port, and to their senses vild,

Her gentle speach applide, that in short space

She grew familiare in that desert place.

During which time, the Chorle through her so kind

And curteise vse concein'd affection bace,

And cast to loue her in his brutish mind;

No loue, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind.

16
Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent,

And shortly grew into outrageous fire;

Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment,

As vnto her to vtter his desire;

His caytiue thought durst not so high aspire,

But with soft sighes, and louely semblaunces,

He ween'd that his affection entire

She should aread; many resemblaunces

To her he made, and many kind remembraunces.

17
Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring,

Whose sides empurpled were with smiling red,

And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing

His mistresse prayses, sweetly caroled,

Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire hed

He fine would dight; sometimes the squirell wild

He brought to her in bands, as conquered

To be her thrall, his fellow seruant vild;

All which, she of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild.

18
But past awhile, when she fit season saw

To leaue that desert mansion, she cast

In secret wize her selfe thence to withdraw,

For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast

Might by the witch or by her sonne compast:

Her wearie Palfrey closely, as she might,

Now well recouered after long repast,

In his proud furnitures she freshly dight,

His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.

19
And earely ere the dawning day appeard,

She forth issewed, and on her iourney went;

She went in perill, of each noyse affeard,

And of each shade, that did it selfe present,

For still she feared to be ouerhent,

Of that vile hag, or her vnciuile sonne:

Who when too late awaking, well they kent,

That their faire guest was gone, they both begonne

To make exceeding mone, as they had bene vndonne.

20
But that lewd louer did the most lament

For her depart, that euer man did heare;

He knockt his brest with desperate intent,

And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare

His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare:

That his sad mother seeing his sore plight,

Was greatly woe begon, and gan to feare,

Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight,

And loue to frenzy turnd, sith loue is franticke hight

21
All wayse she sought, him to restore to plight,

With herbs, with charms, with counsell, & with teares,

But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell might

Asswage the fury, which his entrails teares:

So strong is passion, that no reason heares.

Tho when all other helpes she saw to faile,

She turnd her selfe backe to her wicked leares

And by her deuilish arts thought to preuaile,

To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale.

22
Eftsoones out of her hidden caue she cald

An hideous beast, of horrible aspect,

That could the stoutest courage haue appald;

Monstrous mishapt, and all his backe was spect

With thousand spots of colours queint elect,

Thereto so swift, that it all beasts did pas:

Like neuer yet did liuing eye detect;

But likest it to an
Hyena
was,

That feeds on womens flesh, as others feede on gras.

23
It forth she cald, and gaue it streight in charge,

Through thicke and thin her to pursew apace,

Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large,

Till her he had attaind, and brought in place,

Or quite deuourd her beauties scornefull grace.

The Monster swift as word, that from her went,

Went forth in hast, and did her footing trace

So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent,

And passing speede, that shortly he her ouerhent.

24
Whom when the fearefull Damzell nigh espide,

No need to bid her fast away to flie;

That vgly shape so sore her terrifide,

That it she shund no lesse, then dread to die,

And her flit Palfrey did so well apply

His nimble feet to her concerned feare,

That whilest his breath did strength to him supply,

From perill free he her away did beare:

But when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare.

25
Which whenas she perceiu'd, she was dismayd

At that same last extremitie full sore,

And of her safetie greatly grew afrayd;

And now she gan approch to the sea shore,

As it befell, that she could flie no more,

But yield her selfe to spoile of greedinesse.

Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore,

From her dull horse, in desperate distresse,

And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickernesse.

26
Not halfe so fast the wicked
Myrrha
fled

From dread of her reuenging fathers hond:

Nor halfe so fast to saue her maidenhed,

Fled fearefull
Daphne
on th'
Ægœan
strond,

As
Florimell
fled from that Monster yond,

To reach the sea, ere she of him were raught:

For in the sea to drowne her selfe she fond,

Rather then of the tyrant to be caught:

Thereto feare gaue her wings, and neede her courage taught.

27
It fortuned (high God did so ordaine)

As she arriued on the roring shore,

In minde to leape into the mighty maine,

A little boate lay houing her before,

In which there slept a fisher old and pore,

The whiles his nets were drying on the sand:

Into the same she leapt, and with the ore

Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand:

So safetie found at sea, which she found not at land.

28
The Monster ready on the pray to sease,

Was of his forward hope deceiued quight;

Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas,

But greedily long gaping at the sight,

At last in vaine was forst to turne his flight,

And tell the idle tidings to his Dame:

Yet to auenge his deuilish despight,

He set vpon her Palfrey tired lame,

And slew him cruelly, ere any reskew came.

29
And after hauing him embowelled,

To fill his hellish gorge, it chaunst a knight

To passe that way, as forth he trauelled;

It was a goodly Swaine, and of great might,

As euer man that bloudy field did fight;