The Faerie Queene (60 page)

That she was gone, departed thence with speed,

And follow'd them, in mind her to haue reau'd

From wight vnworthie of so noble meed.

In which poursuit how each one did succeede,

Shall else be told in order, as it fell.

But now of
Britomart
it here doth neede,

The hard aduentures and strange haps to tell;

Since with the rest she went not after
Florimell.

29
For soone as she them saw to discord set,

Her list no longer in that place abide;

But taking with her louely
Amoret,

Vpon her first aduenture forth did ride,

To seeke her lou'd, making blind loue her guide.

Vnluckie Mayd to seeke her enemie,

Vnluckie Mayd to seeke him farre and wide,

Whom, when he was vnto her selfe most nie,

She through his late disguizement could him not descrie.

30
So much the more her griefe, the more her toyle:

Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did spare,

In seeking him, that should her paine assoyle;

Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare

Was
Amoret,
companion of her care:

Who likewise sought her louer long miswent,

The gentle
Scudamour,
whose hart whileare

That stryfull hag with gealous discontent

Had fild, that he to fell reueng was fully bent.

31
Bent to reuenge on blamelesse
Britomart

The crime, which cursed
Ate
kindled earst,

The which like thornes did pricke his gealous hart,

And through his soule like poysned arrow perst,

That by no reason it might be reuerst,

For ought that
Glance
could or doe or say.

For aye the more that she the same reherst,

The more it gauld, and grieu'd him night and day,

That nought but dire reuenge his anger mote defray.

32
So as they trauelled, the drouping night

Couered with cloudie storme and bitter showre,

That dreadfull seem'd to euery liuing wight,

Vpon them fell, before her timely howre;

That forced them to seeke some couert bowre,

Where they might hide their heads in quiet rest,

And shrowd their persons from that stormie stowre.

Not farre away, not meete for any guest

They spide a little cottage, like some poore mans nest.

33
Vnder a steepe hilles side it placed was,

There where the mouldred earth had cav'd the banke;

And fast beside a little brooke did pas

Of muddie water, that like puddle stanke,

By which few crooked sallowes grew in ranke:

Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the sound

Of many yron hammers beating ranke,

And answering their wearie turnes around,

That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert ground.

34
There entring in, they found the goodman selfe,

Full busily vnto his worke ybent;

Who was to weet a wretched wearish elfe,

With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes forspent,

As if he had in prison long bene pent:

Full blacke and griesly did his face appeare,

Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent;

With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged heare,

The which he neuer wont to combe, or comely sheare.

35
Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent,

Ne better had he, ne for better cared:

With blistred hands emongst the cinders brent,

And fingers filthie, with long nayles vnpared,

Right fit to rend the food, on which he fared.

His name was
Care;
a blacksmith by his trade,

That neither day nor night, from working spared,

But to small purpose yron wedges made;

Those be vnquiet thoughts, that carefull minds inuade.

36
In which his worke he had size seruants prest,

About the Andvile standing euennore,

With huge great hammers, that did neuer rest

From heaping stroakes, which thereon soused sore:

All sixe strong groomes, but one then other more;

For by degrees they all were disagreed;

So likewise did the hammers which they bore,

Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed,

That he which was the last, the first did farre exceede.

37
He like a monstrous Gyant seem'd in sight,

Farre passing
Bronteus,
or
Pyracmon
great,

The which in
Lipari
doe day and night

Frame thunderbolts for
Ioues
auengefull threate.

So dreadfully he did the anduile beat,

That seem'd to dust he shortly would it driue:

So huge his hammer and so fierce his heat,

That seem'd a rocke of Diamond it could riue,

And rend a sunder quite, if he thereto list striue.

38
Sir
Scudamour
there entring, much admired

The manner of their worke and wearie paine;

And hauing long beheld, at last enquired

The cause and end thereof; but all in vaine;

For they for nought would from their worke refiraine,

Ne let his speeches come vnto their eare.

And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,

Like to the Northren winde, that none could heare,

Those
Pensifenesse
did moue; &
Sighes
the bellows weare.

39
Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,

But in his armour layd him downe to rest:

To rest he layd him downe vpon the flore,

(Whylome for ventrous Knights the bedding best)

And thought his wearie limbs to haue redrest.

And that old aged Dame, his faithfull Squire,

Her feeble ioynts layd eke a downe to rest;

That needed much her weake age to desire,

After so long a trauell, which them both did tire.

40
There lay Sir
Scudamour
long while expecting,

When gentle sleepe his heauie eyes would close;

Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,

Where better seem'd he mote himselfe repose;

And oft in wrath he thence againe vprose;

And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.

But wheresoeuer he did himselfe dispose,

He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:

So euery place seem'd painefull, and ech changing vaine.

41
And euermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,

The hammers sound his senses did molest;

And euermore, when he began to winke,

The bellowes noyse disturb'd his quiet rest,

Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest.

And all the night the dogs did barke and howle

About the house, at sent of stranger guest:

And now the crowing Cocke, and now the Owle

Lowde shriking him afflicted to the very sowle.

42
And if by fortune any litle nap

Vpon his heauie eye-lids chaunst to fall,

Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap

Vpon his headpeece with his yron mall;

That he was soone awaked therewithall,

And lightly started vp as one affrayd;

Or as if one him suddenly did call.

So oftentimes he out of sleepe abrayd,

And then lay musing long, on that him ill apayd.

43
So long he muzed, and so long he lay,

That at the last his wearie sprite opprest

With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may

Long time resist, gaue place to kindly rest,

That all his senses did full soone arrest:

Yet in his soundest sleepe, his dayly feare

His ydle braine gan busily molest,

And made him dreame those two disloyall were:

The things that day most minds, at night doe most appeare.

44
With that, the wicked carle die maister Smith

A paire of redwhot yron tongs did take

Out of the burning cinders, and therewith,

Vnder his side him nipt, that forst to wake,

He felt his hart for very paine to quake,

And started vp auenged for to be

On him, the which his quiet slomber brake:

Yet looking round about him none could see;

Yet did the smart remaine, though he himselfe did flee.

45
In such disquiet and hartfretting payne,

He all that night, that too long night did passe.

And now the day out of the Ocean mayne

Began to peepe aboue this earthly masse,

With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse:

Then vp he rose like heauie lumpe of lead,

That in his face, as in a looking glasse,

The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,

And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread.

46
Vnto his lofty steede he clombe anone,

And forth vpon his former voiage fared,

And with him eke that aged Squire at tone;

Who whatsoeuer perill was prepared,

Both equall paines and equall perill shared:

The end whereof and daungerous euent

Shall for another canticle be spared.

But here my wearie teeme nigh ouer spent

Shall breath it selfe awhile, after so long a went.

Both Scudamour and Arthegall
   Doe fight with Britomart,
He sees her face; doth fall in loue,
   and soone front her depart.

1
What equall torment to the griefe of mind,

And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart,

That inly feeds it selfe with thoughts vnkind,

And nourisheth her owne consuming smart?

What medicine can any Leaches art

Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grieuance hide,

And will to none her maladie impart?

Such was the wound that
Scudamour
did gride;

For which
Dan Phebus
selfe cannot a salue prouide.

2
Who hauing left that restlesse house of
Care
,

The next day, as he on his way did ride,

Full of melancholie and sad misfare,

Through misconceipt; all vnawares espide

An armed Knight vnder a forrest side,

Sitting in shade beside his grazing steede;

Who soone as them approaching he descride,

Gan towards them to pricke with eger speede,

That seem'd he was full bent to some mischieuous deede.

3
Which
Scudamour
perceiuing, forth issewed

To haue rencountred him in equall race;

But soone as th'other nigh approaching, vewed

The armes he bore, his speare he gan abase,

And voide his course: at which so suddain case

He wondred much. But th'other thus can say;

Ah gentle
Scudamour,
vnto your grace

I me submit, and you of pardon pray,

That almost had against you trespassed this day.

4
Whereto thus
Scudamour,
Small harme it were

For any knight, vpon a ventrous knight

Without displeasance for to proue his spere.

But reade you Sir, sith ye my name haue hight,

What is your owne, that I mote you requite.

Certes (sayd he) ye mote as now excuse

Me from discouering you my name aright:

For time yet serues that I the same refuse,

But call ye me the
Saluage Knight,
as others vse.

5
Then this, Sir
Saluage Knight
(quoth he) areede;

Or doe you here within this forrest wonne,

That seemeth well to answere to your weede?

Or haue ye it for some occasion donne?

That rather seemes, sith knowen armes ye shonne.

This other day (sayd he) a stranger knight

Shame and dishonour hath vnto me donne;

On whom I waite to wreake that foule despight,

When euer he this way shall passe by day or night.

6
Shame be his meede (quoth he) that meaneth shame.

But what is he, by whom ye shamed were?

A stranger knight, sayd he, vnknowne by name,

But knowne by fame, and by an Hebene speare,

With which he all that met him, downe did beare.

He in an open Turney lately held,

Fro me the honour of that game did reare;

And hauing me all wearie earst, downe feld,

The fayrest Ladie reft, and euer since withheld.

7
When
Scudamour
heard mention of that speare,

He wist right well, that it was
Britomart,

The which from him his fairest loue did beare.

Tho gan he swell in euery inner part,

For fell despight, and gnaw his gealous hart,

That thus he sharply sayd; Now by my head,

Yet is not this the first vnknightly part,

Which that same knight, whom by his launce I read,

Hath doen to noble knights, that many makes him dread.

8
For lately he my loue hath fro me reft,

And eke defiled with foule villanie

The sacred pledge, which in his faith was left,

In. shame of knighthood and fidelitie;

The which ere long full deare he shall abie.

And if to that auenge by you decreed

This hand may helpe, or succour ought supplie,

It shall not fayle, when so ye shall it need.

So both to wreake their wrathes on
Britomart
agreed.

9
Whiles thus they communed, lo farre away

A Knight soft ryding towards them they spyde,

Attyr'd in forraine armes and straunge aray:

Whom when they nigh approcht, they plaine descryde

To be the same, for whom they did abyde.

Sayd then Sir
Scudamour,
Sir
Saluage
knight

Let me lids craue, sith first I was defyde,

That first I may that wrong to him requite:

And if I hap to fayle, you shall recure my right.

10
Which being yeelded, he his threatfull speare

Gan fewter, and against her fiercely ran.

Who soone as she him saw approaching neare

With so fell rage, her selfe she lightly gan

To dight, to welcome him, well as she can:

But entertaind him in so rude a wise,

That to the ground she smote both horse and man;

Whence neither greatly hasted to arise,

But on their common harmes together did deuise.

11
But
Artegall
beholding bis mischaunce,

New matter added to his former fire;

And eft auentring his steeleheaded launce,

Against her rode, full of despiteous ire,

That nought but spoyle and vengeance did require.

But to himselfe his felonous intent

Returning, disappointed his desire,

Whiles vnawares his saddle he forwent,

And found himselfe on ground in great amazement

12
lightly he started vp out of that stound,

And snatching forth his direfull deadly blade,

Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound

Thrust to an Hynd within some couert glade,

Whom without perill he cannot inuade.

With such fell greedines he her assayled,

That though she mounted were, yet he her made

To giue him ground, (so much his force preuayled)

And shun his mightie strokes, gainst which no armes auayled.

13
So as they coursed here and there, it chaunst

That in her wheeling round, behind her crest

So sorely he her strooke, that thence it glaunst

Adowne her backe, the which it fairely blest

From foule mischance; ne did it euer rest,

Till on her horses hinder parts it fell;

Where byting deepe, so deadly it imprest,

That quite it chynd his backe behind the sell,

And to alight on foote her algates did compell.

14
Like as the lightning brand from riuen side,

Throwne out by angry
Ioue
in his vengeance,

With dreadfull force falles on some steeple hie;

Which battring, downe it on the church doth glance,

And teares it all with terrible mischance.

Yet she no whit dismayd, her steed forsooke,

And casting from her that enchaunted lance,

Vnto her sword and shield her soone betooke;

And therewithall at him right furiously she strooke.

15
So furiously she strooke in her first heat,

Whiles with long fight on foot he breathlesse was,

That she him forced backward to retreat,

And yeeld vnto her weapon way to pas:

Whose raging rigour neither steele nor bras

Could stay, but to the tender flesh it went,

And pour'd the purple bloud forth on the gras;

That all his mayle yriv'd, and plates yrent,

Shew'd all his bodie bare vnto the cruell dent.

16
At length when as he saw her hastie heat

Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle,

He through long sufferance growing now more great,

Rose in his strength, and gan her fresh assayle,

Heaping huge strokes, as thicke as showre of hayle,

And lashing dreadfully at euery part,

As if he thought her soule to disentrayle.

Ah cruell hand, and thrise more cruell hart,

That workst such wrecke on her, to whom thou dearest art.

17
What yron courage euer could endure,

To worke such outrage on so faire a creature?

And in his madnesse thinke with hands impure

To spoyle so goodly workmanship of nature,

The maker selfe resembling in her feature?

Certes some hellish furie, or some feend

This mischiefe framd, for their first loues defeature,

To bath their hands in bloud of dearest freend,

Thereby to make their loues beginning, their liues end.

18
Thus long they trac'd, and trauerst to and fro,

Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes pursewed,

Still as aduantage they espyde thereto:

But toward th'end Sir
Arthegall
renewed

His strength still more, but she still more decrewed.

At last his lucklesse hand he heau'd on hie,

Hauing his forces all in one accrewed,

And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie,

That seemed nought but death mote be her destinie.

19
The wicked stroke vpon her helmet chaunst,

And with the force, which in it selfe it bore,

Her ventayle shard away, and thence forth glaunst

A downe in vaine, ne harm'd her any more.

With that her angels face, vnseene afore,

Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight,

Deawed with siluer drops, through sweating sore,

But somewhat redder, then beseem'd aright,

Through toylesome heate and labour of her weary fight.

20
And round about the same, her yellow heare

Hauing through stirring loosd their wonted band,

like to a golden border did appeare,

Framed in goldsmithes forge with cunning hand:

Yet goldsmithes running could not vnderstand

To frame such subtile wire, so shinie cleare.

For it did glister like the golden sand,

The which
Pactolus
with his waters shere,

Throwes forth vpon the riuage round about him nere.

21
And as his hand he vp againe did reare,

Thinking to worke on her his vtmost wracke,

His powrelesse arme benumbd with secret feare

From his reuengefull purpose shronke abacke,

And cruell sword out of his fingers slacks

Fell downe to ground, as if the steele had sence,

And felt some ruth, or sence his hand did lacke,

Or both of them did thinke, obedience

To doe to so diuine a beauties excellence.

22
And he himselfe long gazing thereupon,

At last fell humbly downe vpon his knee,

And of his wonder made religion,

Weening some heauenly goddesse he did see,

Or else vnweeting, what it else might bee;

And pardon her besought his errour frayle,

That had done outrage in so high degree:

Whilest trembling horrour did his sense assayle,

And made ech member quake, and manly hart to quayle.

23
Nathelesse she full of wrath for that late stroke,

All that long while vpheld her wrathfull hand,

With fell intent, on him to bene ywroke,

And looking sterne, still ouer him did stand,

Threatning to strike, vnlesse he would withstand:

And bad him rise, or surely he should die.

But die or liue for nought he would vpstand

But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie,

Or wreake on him her will for so great iniurie.

24
Which when as
Scudamour,
who now abrayd,

Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside,

He was therewith right wondrously dismayd,

And drawing nigh, when as he plaine descride

That peerelesse paterne of Dame natures pride,

And heauenly image of perfection,

He blest himselfe, as one sore terrifide,

And turning his feare to faint deuotion,

Did worship her as some celestiall vision.

25
But
Glauce,
seeing all that chaunced there,

Well weeting how their errour to assoyle,

Full glad of so good end, to them drew nere,

And her salewd with seemely belaccoyle,

Ioyous to see her safe after long toyle.

Then her besought, as she to her was deare,

To graunt vnto those warriours truce a whyle;

Which yeelded, they their beuers vp did reare,

And shew'd themselues to her, such as indeed they were.

26
When
Britomart
with sharpe auizefull eye

Beheld the louely face of
Artegatt,

Tempred widi sternesse and stout maiestie,

She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call,

To be the same which in her fathers hall

Long since in that enchaunted glasse she saw.

Therewidi her wrathfull courage gan appall,

And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw,

That her enhaunced hand she downe can soft withdraw.

27
Yet she it forst to haue againe vpheld,

As fayning choler, which was turn'd to cold:

But euer when his visage she beheld,

Her hand fell downe, and would no longer hold

The wrathfull weapon gainst his countnance bold:

But when in vaine to fight she oft assayd,

She arm'd her tongue, and thought at him to scold;

Nathlesse her tongue not to her will obayd, [missayd.

But brought forth speeches myld, when she would haue

28
But
Scudamour
now woxen inly glad,

That all his gealous feare he false had found,

And how that Hag his loue abused had

With breach of faith and loyaltie vnsound,

The which long time his grieued hart did wound,

He thus bespake; certes Sir
Artegall,

I ioy to see you lout so low on ground,