The Faerie Queene (54 page)

For thy from that same roome not to depart

Till morrow next, she did her selfe auize,

When that same Maske againe should forth arize.

The morrow next appeard with ioyous cheare,

Calling men to their daily exercize,

Then she, as morrow fresh, her selfe did reare

Out of her secret stand, that day for to out weare.

29
All that day she outwore in wandering,

And gazing on that Chambers ornament,

Till that againe the second euening

Her couered with her sable vestiment,

Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she hath blent:

Then when the second watch was almost past,

That brasen dore flew open, and in went

Bold
Britomart,
as she had late forecast,

Neither of idle shewes, nor of false charmes aghast.

30
So soone as she was entred, round about

She cast her eies, to see what was become

Of all those persons, which she saw without:

But lo, they streight were vanisht all and some,

Ne liuing wight she saw in all that roome,

Saue that same woefull Ladie, both whose hands

Were bounden fast, that did her ill become,

And her small wast girt round with yron bands,

Vnto a brasen pillour, by the which she stands.

31
And her before the vile Enchaunter sate,

Figuring straunge characters of his art,

With liuing bloud he those characters wrate,

Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart,

Seeming transfixed with a cruell dart,

And all perforce to make her him to loue.

Ah who can loue the worker of her smart?

A thousand charmes he formerly did proue;

Yet thousand charmes could not her stedfast heart remoue.

32
Soone as that virgin knight he saw in place,

His wicked bookes in hast he ouerthrew,

Not caring his long labours to deface,

And fiercely ronning to that Lady trew,

A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew,

The which he thought, for villeinous despight,

In her tormented bodie to embrew:

But the stout Damzell to him leaping light,

His cursed hand withheld, and maistered his might.

33
From her, to whom his fury first he ment,

The wicked weapon rashly he did wrest,

And turning to her selfe his fell intent,

Vnwares it strooke into her snowie chest,

That little drops empurpled her faire brest.

Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin grew,

Albe the wound were nothing deepe imprest,

And fiercely forth her mortall blade she drew,

To giue him the reward for such vile outrage dew.

34
So mightily she smote him, that to ground

He fell halfe dead; next stroke him should haue slaine..

Had not the Lady, which by him stood bound,

Dernely vnto her called to abstaine,

From doing him to dy. For else her paine

Should be remedilesse, sith none but hee,

Which wrought it, could the same recure againe.

Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd to bee;

For life she him enuyde, and long'd reuenge to see.

35
And to him said, Thou wicked man, whose meed

For so huge mischiefe, and vile villany

Is death, or if that ought do death exceed,

Be sure, that nought may saue thee from to dy,

But if that thou this Dame doe presently

Restore vnto her health, and former state;

This doe and liue, else die vndoubtedly.

He glad of life, that lookt for death but late,

Did yield himselfe right willing to prolong his date.

36
And rising vp, gan streight to ouerlooke

Those cursed leaues, his charmes backe to reuerse;

Full dreadfull things out of that balefull booke

He red, and measur'd many a sad verse,

That horror gan the virgins hart to perse,

And her faire lockes vp stared stiffe on end,

Hearing him those same bloudy lines reherse;

And all the while he red, she did extend

Her sword high ouer him, if ought he did offend.

37
Anon she gan perceiue the house to quake,

And all the dores to rattle round about;

Yet all that did not her dismaied make,

Nor slacke her threatfull hand for daungers dout,

But still with stedfast eye and courage stout

Abode, to weet what end would come of all.

At last that mightie chaine, which round about

Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan fall,

And that great brasen pillour broke in peeces small.

38
The cruell Steele, which thrild her dying hart,

Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord,

And the wyde wound, which lately did dispart

Her bleeding brest, and riuen bowels gor'd,

Was closed vp, as it had not bene bor'd,

And euery part to safety full sound,

As she were neuer hurt, was soone restor'd:

Tho when she felt her selfe to be vnbound,

And perfect hole, prostrate she fell vnto the ground.

39
Before faire
Britomart,
she fell prostrate,

Saying, Ah noble knight, what worthy meed

Can wretched Lady, quit from wofull state,

Yield you in liew of this your gratious deed?

Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall breed,

Euen immortall praise, and glory wyde,

Which I your vassall, by your prowesse freed,

Shall through the world make to be notifyde,

And goodly well aduance, that goodly well was tryde.

40
But
Britomart
vprearing her from ground,

Said, Gentle Dame, reward enough I weene

For many labours more, then I haue found,

This, that in safety now I haue you seene,

And meane of your deliuerance haue beene:

Henceforth faire Lady comfort to you take,

And put away remembrance of late teene;

In
stead thereof know, that your louing Make,

Hath no lesse griefe endured for your gentle sake.

41
She much was cheard to heare him mentiond,

Whom of all liuing wights she loued best.

Then laid the noble Championesse strong hond

Vpon th'enchaunter, which had her distrest

So sore, and with foule outrages opprest:

With that great chaine, wherewith not long ygo

He bound that pitteous Lady prisoner, now relest,

Himselfe she bound, more worthy to be so,

And captiue with her led to wretchednesse and wo.

42
Returning backe, those goodly roomes, which erst

She saw so rich and royally arayd,

Now vanisht vtterly, and cleane subuerst

She found, and all their glory quite decayd,

That sight of such a chaunge her much dismay!

Thence forth descending to that perlous Porch,

Those dreadfull flames she also found delayd,

And quenched quite, like a consumed torch,

That erst all entrers wont so cruelly to scorch.

43
More easie issew now, then entrance late

She found: for now that fained dreadfull flame,

Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted gate,

And passage bard to all, that thither came,

Was vanisht quite, as it were not the same,

And gaue her leaue at pleasure forth to passe.

Th'Enchaunter selfe, which all that fraud did frame,

To haue efforst the loue of that faire lasse,

Seeing his worke now wasted deepe engrieued was.

44
But when the victoresse arriued there,

Where late she left the pensife
Scudamore,

With her owne trusty Squire, both full of feare,

Neither of them she found where she them lore:

Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore;

But most faire
Amoret,
whose gentle spright

Now gan to feede on hope, which she before

Concerned had, to see her owne deare knight,

Being thereof beguyld was fild with new affright,

45
But he sad man, when he had long in drede

Awayted there for
Britomarts
returne,

Yet saw her not nor signe of her good speed,

His expectation to despaire did turne,

Misdeeming sure that her those flames did burne;

And therefore gan aduize with her old Squire,

Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse did mourne,

Thence to depart for further aide t'enquire:

Where let them wend at will, whilest here I doe respire.

[The 1590 edition concluded
Book III
with the following stanzas.
Stanzas 43–5were substituted in 1596.]

43a
At last she came vnto the place, where late

She left Sir
Scudamour
in great distresse,

Twixt dolour and despight halfe desperate,

Of his loues succour, of his owne redresse,

And of the bardie
Britomarts
successe:

There on the cold earth him now thrown she found,

In wilfull anguish, and dead heauinesse,

And to him cald; whose voices knowen sound

Soone as he heard, himself he reared light from ground.

44a
There did he see, that most on earth him ioyd,

His dearest loue, the comfort of his dayes,

Whose too long absence him had sore annoyd,

And wearied his life with dull delayes:

Straight he vpstarted from the loathed layes,

And to her ran with hasty egernesse,

Like as a Deare, that greedily embayes

In the coole soile, after long thirstinesse,

Which he in chace endured hath, now nigh breathlesse.

45a
Lightly he clipt her twixt his armes twaine,

And streightly did embrace her body bright,

Her body, late the prison of sad paine,

Now the sweet lodge of loue and deare delight:

But she faire Lady ouercommen quight

Of huge affection, did in pleasure melt,

And in sweete rauishment pourd out her spright;

No word they spake, nor earthly thing they felt,

But like two senceles stocks in long embracement dwelt.

46a
Had ye them seene, ye would haue surely thought,

That they had beene that faire
Hermaphrodite,

Which that rich
Romane
of white marble wrought,

And in his costly Bath causd to bee site:

So seemd those two, as growne together quite,

That
Britomart
halfe enuying their blesse,

Was much empassiond in her gentle sprite,

And to herselfe oft wisht like happinesse,

In vaine she wisht, that fate n'ould let her yet possesse.

47a
Thus doe those louers with sweet counteruayle,

Each other of loues bitter fruit despoile.

But now my teme begins to faint and fayle,

All woxen weary of their iournall toyle:

Therefore I will their sweatie yokes assoyle

At this same furrowes end, till a new day:

And ye faire Swayns, after your long turmoyle,

Now cease your worke, and at your pleasure play;

Now cease your worke; to morrow is an holy day.

CONTAYNING
THE LEGEND OF CAMBEL AND TELAMOND,
OR
OF FRIENDSHIP.

1
The rugged forhead that with graue foresight

Welds kingdomes causes, & affaires of state,

My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite,

For praising loue, as I haue done of late,

And magnifying louers deare debate;

By which fraile youth is oft to follie led,

Through false allurement of that pleasing baite,

That better were in vertues discipled,

Then with vaine poemes weeds to haue their fancies fed.

2
Such ones ill iudge of loue, that cannot loue,

Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly flame:

For thy they ought not thing vnknowne reproue,

Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame,

For fault of few that haue abusd the same.

For it of honor and all vertue is

The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame,

That crowne true louers with immortall blis,

The meed of them that loue, and do not liue amisse.

3
Which who so list looke backe to former ages,

And call to count the things that then were donne,

Shall find, that all the workes of those wise sages,

And braue exploits which great Heroes wonne,

In loue were either ended or begunne:

Witnesse the father of Philosophie,

Which to his
Critias,
shaded oft from sunne,

Of loue full manie lessons did apply,

The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny.

4
To such therefore I do not sing at all,

But to that sacred Saint my soueraigne Queene,

In whose chast breast all bountie naturall,

And treasures of true loue enlocked beene,

Boue all her sexe that euer yet was seene;

To her I sing of loue, that loueth best,

And best is lou'd of all aliue I weene:

To her this song most fitly is addrest,

The Queene of loue, & Prince of peace from heauen blest

5
Which that she may the better deigne to heare,

Do thou dred infant,
Venus
dearling doue,

From her high spirit chase imperious feare,

And vse of awfull Maiestie remoue:

In sted thereof with drops of melting loue,

Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee gotten

From thy sweete smyling mother from aboue,

Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage soften,

That she may hearke to loue, and reade this lesson often.

Fayre Britomart saues Amoret,
   Duessa discord breedes
Twixt Scudamour and Blandamour:
   Their fight and warlike deedes.

1
Of louers sad calamities of old,

Full many piteous stories doe remaine,

But none more piteous euer was ytold,

Then that of
Amorets
hart-binding chaine,

And this of
Florimels
vnworthie paine:

The deare compassion of whose bitter fit

My softened heart so sorely doth constraine,

That I with teares full oft doe pittie it,

And oftentimes doe wish it neuer had bene writ

2
For from the time that
Scudamour
her bought

In perilous fight, she neuer ioyed day,

A perilous fight when he with force her brought

From twentie Knights, that did him all assay:

Yet fairely well he did them all dismay:

And with great glorie both the shield of loue,

And eke the Ladie selfe he brought away,

Whom hauing wedded as did him behoue,

A new vnknowen mischiefe did from him remoue.

3
For that same vile Enchauntour
Busyran,

The very selfe same day that she was wedded,

Amidst the bridale feast, whilest euery man

Surcharg'd with wine, were heedlesse and ill hedded,

All bent to mirth before the bride was bedded,

Brought in that mask of loue which late was showen:

And there the Ladie ill of friends bestedded,

By way of sport, as oft in maskes is knowen,

Conueyed quite away to liuing wight vnknowen.

4
Seuen moneths he so her kept in bitter smart,

Because his sinfull lust she would not serue,

Vntill such time as noble
Britomart

Released her, that else was like to sterue,

Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerue.

And now she is with her vpon the way,

Marching in louely wise, that could deserue

No spot of blame, though spite did oft assay

To blot her with dishonor of so faire a pray.

5
Yet should it be a pleasant tale, to tell

The diuerse vsage and demeanure daint,

That each to other made, as oft befell.

For
Atnoret
right fearefull was and faint,

Lest she with blame her honor should attaint,

That euerie word did tremble as she spake,

And euerie looke was coy, and wondrous quaint,

And euerie limbe that touched her did quake:

Yet could she not but curteous countenance to her make.

6
For well she wist, as true it was indeed,

That her liues Lord and patrone of her health

Right well deserued as his duefull meed,

Her loue, her seruice, and her vtmost wealth.

All is his iustly, that all freely dealth:

Nathlesse her honor dearer then her life,

She sought to saue, as thing reseru'd from stealth;

Die had she leuer with Enchanters knife,

Then to be false in loue, profest a virgine wife.

7
Thereto her feare was made so much the greater

Through fine abusion of that Briton mayd:

Who for to hide her fained sex the better,

And maske her wounded mind, both did and sayd

Full many things so doubtfull to be wayd,

That well she wist not what by them to gesse,

For other whiles to her she purpos made

Of loue, and otherwhiles of lustfulnesse,

That much she feard his mind would grow to some ezcesse.

8
His will she feard; for him she surely thought

To be a man, such as indeed he seemed,

And much the more, by that he lately wrought,

When her from deadly thraldome he redeemed,

For which no seruice she too much esteemed;

Yet dread of shame, and doubt of fowle dishonor

Made her not yeeld so much, as due she deemed.

Yet
Britomart
attended duly on her,

As well became a knight, and did to her all honor.

9
It so befell one euening, that they came

Vnto a Castell, lodged there to bee,

Where many a knight, and many a louely Dame

Was then assembled, deeds of armes to see:

Amongst all which was none more faire then shee,

That many of them mou'd to eye her sore.

The custome of that place was such, that hee

Which had no loue nor lemman there in store,

Should either winne him one, or lye without the dore.

10
Amongst the rest-there was a iolly knight,

Who being asked for his loue, auow'd

That fairest
Amoret
was his by right,

And offred that to iustifie alowd.

The warlike virgine seeing his so prowd

And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie wroth,

But for the present did her anger shrowd;

And sayd, her loue to lose she was full loth,

But either he should neither of them haue, or both.

11
So foorth they went, and both together giusted;

But that same younker soone was ouerthrowne,

And made repent, that he had rashly lusted

For thing vnlawfull, that was not his owne:

Yet since he seemed valiant, though vnknowne,

She that no lesse was courteous then stout,

Cast how to salue, that both the custome showne

Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked out,

That seem'd full hard t'accord two diings so far in dout.

12
The Seneschall was cal'd to deeme the right,

Whom she requir'd, that first fayre
Amoret

Might be to her allow'd, as to a Knight,

That did her win and free from chalehge set:

Which straight to her was yeelded without let.

Then since that strange Knights loue from him was quitted,

She claim'd that to her selfe, as Ladies det,

He as a Knight might iustly be admitted;

So none should be outshut, sith all of loues were fitted.

13
With that her glistring helmet she vnlaced;

Which doft, her golden lockes, that were vp bound

Still in a knot, vnto her heeles downe traced,

And like a silken veile in compasse round

About her backe and all her bodie wound:

Like as the shining skie in summers night,

What time the dayes with scorching heat abound,

Is creasted all with lines of firie light,

That it prodigious seemes in common peoples sight.

14
Such when those Knights and Ladies all about

Beheld her, all were with amazement smit,

And euery one gan grow in secret dout

Of this and that, according to each wit:

Some thought that some enchantment faygned it;

Some, that
Bellona
in that warlike wise

To them appear'd, with shield and armour fit;

Some, that it was a maske of strange disguise:

So diuersely each one did sundrie doubts deuise.

15
But that young Knight, which through her gentle deed

Was to that goodly fellowship restor'd,

Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for her meed,

And doubly ouercommen, her ador'd:

So did they all their former strife accord;

And eke fayre
Amoret
now freed from feare,

More franke affection did to her afford,

And to her bed, which she was wont forbeare,

Now freely drew, and found right safe assurance theare.

16
Where all that night they of their loues did treat,

And hard aduentures twixt themselues alone,

That each the other gan with passion great,

And griefull pittie priuately bemone.

The morow next so soone as
Titan
shone,

They both vprose, and to their waies them dight:

Long wandred they, yet neuer met with none,

That to their willes could them direct aright,

Or to them tydings tell, that mote their harts delight,

17
Lo thus they rode, till at the last they spide

Two armed Knights, that toward them did pace,

And ech of them had ryding by his side

A Ladie, seeming in so farre a space,

But Ladies none they were, albee in face

And outward shew faire semblance they did beare:

For vnder maske of beautie and good grace,

Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden were,

That mote to none but to the warie wise appeare.

18
The one of them the false Duessa hight,

That now had chang'd her former wonted hew:

For she could d'on so manie shapes in sight,

As euer could Cameleon colours new;

So could she forge all colours, saue the trew.

The other no whit better was then shee,

But that such as she was, she plaine did shew;

Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might bee,

And dayly more offensiue vnto each degree.

19
Her name was
Ate,
mother of debate,

And all dissention, which doth dayly grow

Amongst fraile men, that many a publike state

And many a priuate oft doth ouerthrow.

Her false
Duessa
who full well did know,

To be most fit to trouble noble knights,

Which hunt for honor, raised from below,

Out of the dwellings of the damned sprights,

Where she in darknes wastes her cursed daies & nights.

20
Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

There whereas all the plagues and harmes abound,

Which punish wicked men, that walke amisse,

It is a darksome delue farre vnder ground,

With thornes and barren brakes enuirond round,

That none the same may easily out win;

Yet many waies to enter may be found,

But none to issue forth when one is in:

For discord harder is to end then to begin.

21
And all within the riuen walls were hung

With ragged monuments of times forepast,

All which the sad effects of discord sung:

There were rent robes, and broken scepters plast,

Altars defyl'd, and holy things defast,

Disshiuered speares, and shields ytorne in twaine,

Great cities ransackt, and strong castles rast,

Nations captiued, and huge armies slaine:

Of all which ruines there some relicks did remaine.

22
There was the signe of antique Babylon,

Of fatall Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,

Of sacred Salem, and sad Ilion,

For memorie of which on high there hong

The golden Apple, cause of all their wrong,

For which the three faire Goddesses did striue:

There also was the name
of Nimrod
strong,

Of
Alexander,
and his Princes flue,

Which shar'd to them the spoiles that he had got aliue.

23
And there the relicks of the drunken fray,

The which amongst the
Lapithees
befell,

And of the bloodie feast, which sent away

So many
Centimes
drunken soules to hell,

That vnder great
Alcides
furie fell: