The Faerie Queene (61 page)

And now become to liue a Ladies thrall,

That whylome in your minde wont to despise them all.

29
Soone as she heard the name of
Artegall,

Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble,

For sudden ioy, and secret feare withall,

And all her vitall powres with motion nimble,

To succour it, themselues gan there assemble,

That by the swift recourse of flushing blood

Right plaine appeard, though she it would dissemble,

And fayned still her former angry mood,

Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood.

30
When
Glauce
thus gan wisely all vpknit;

Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought,

To be spectators of this vncouth fit,

Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought,

Against the course of kind, ne meruaile nought,

Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo

Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,

Fearing least she your loues away should woo,

Feared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there wants theretoo.

31
And you Sir
Artegall,
the saluage knight,

Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand

Hath conquered you anew in second fight:

For whylome they haue conquerd sea and land.

And heauen it selfe, that nought may them withstand.

Ne henceforth be rebellious vnto loue,

That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band

Of noble minds deriued from aboue,

Which being knit with vertue, neuer will remoue.

32
And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame,

Relent the rigour of your wrathfull will,

Whose fire were better turn'd to other flame;

And wiping out remembrance of all ill,

Graunt him your grace, but so that he fulfill

The penance, which ye shall to him empart:

For louers heauen must passe by sorrowes hell.

Thereat full inly blushed
Britomart;

But
Artegall
close smyling ioy'd in secret hart.

33
Yet durst he not make loue so suddenly,

Ne thinke th'affection of her hart to draw

From one to other so quite contrary:

Besides her modest countenance he saw

So goodly graue, and full of princely aw,

That it his ranging fancie did refraine,

And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw;

Whereby the passion grew more fierce and faine,

Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would restraine.

34
But
Scudamour
whose hart twixt doubtfull feare

And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,

Desiring of his
Amoret
to heare

Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence,

Her thus bespake; But Sir without offence

Mote I request you tydings of my loue,

My
Amoret,
sith you her freed fro thence,

Where she captiued long, great woes did proue;

That where ye left, I may her seeke, as doth behoue.

35
To whom thus
Britomart,
certes Sir knight,

What is of her become, or whether reft,

I can not vnto you aread a right.

For from that time I from enchaunters theft

Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,

I her preseru'd from perill and from feare,

And euermore from villenie her kept:

Ne euer was there wight to me more deare

Then she, ne vnto whom I more true loue did beare.

36
Till on a day as through a desert wyld

We trauelled, both wearie of the way

We did alight, and sate in shadow myld;

Where fearelesse I to sleepe me downe did lay.

But when as I did out of sleepe abray,

I found her not, where I her left whyleare,

But thought she wandred was, or gone astray.

I cal'd her loud, I sought her farre and neare;

But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare.

37
When
Scudamour
those heauie tydings heard,

His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare;

Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard,

But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare,

That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth beare.

Till
Glauce
thus; Faire Sir, be nought dismayd

With needelesse dread, till certaintie ye heare:

For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd;

Its best to hope the best, though of the worst aflrayd.

38
Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech

Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight

Shew'd change of better cheare: so sore a breach

That sudden newes had made into his spright;

Till
Britomart
him fairely thus benight;

Great cause of sorrow certes Sir ye haue:

But comfort take: for by this heauens light

I vow, you dead or liuing not to leaue,

Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reaue.

39
Therewith he rested, and well pleased was.

So peace being confirm'd amongst them all,

They tooke their steeds, and forward thence did pas

Vnto some resting place, which mote befall,

All being guided by Sir
Artegall.

Where goodly solace was vnto them made,

And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,

Vntill that they their wounds well healed had,

And wearie limmes recur'd after late vsage bad.

40
In all which time, Sir
Artegall
made way

Vnto the loue of noble
Britomart,

And with meeke seruice and much suit did lay

Continuall siege vnto her gentle hart,

Which being whylome launcht with louely dart,

More eath was new impression to receiue,

How euer she her paynd with womanish art

To hide her wound, that none might it perceiue:

Vaine is the art that seekes it selfe for to deceiue.

41
So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her,

With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,

That at the length vnto a bay he brought her,

So as she to his speeches was content

To lend an eare, and softly to relent.

At last through many vowes which forth he pour'd,

And many othes, she yeelded her consent

To be his loue, and take him for her Lord,

Till they with mariage meet might finish that accord.

42
Tho when they had long time there taken rest,

Sir
Artegall,
who all this while was bound

Vpon an hard aduenture yet in quest,

Fit time for him thence to depart it found,

To follow that, which he did long propound;

And vnto her his congee came to take.

But her therewith full sore displeasd he found,

And loth to leaue her late betrothed make,

Her dearest loue full loth so shortly to forsake.

43
Yet he with strong perswasions her asswaged,

And wonne her will to suffer him depart;

For which his faith with her he fast engaged,

And thousand vowes from bottome of his hart,

That all so soone as he by wit or art

Could that atchieue, whereto he did aspire,

He vnto her would speedily reuert:

No longer space thereto he did desire,

But till the horned moone three courses did expire.

44
With which she for the present was appeased,

And yeelded leaue, how euer malcontent

She inly were, and in her mind displeased.

So early in the morrow next he went

Forth on his way, to which he was ybent.

Ne wight him to attend, or way to guide,

As whylome was the custome ancient

Mongst Knights, when on aduentures they did ride,

Saue that she algates him a while accompanide.

45
And by the way she sundry purpose found

Of this or that, the time for to delay,

And of the perils whereto he was bound,

The feare whereof seem'd much her to affray:

But all she did was but to weare out day.

Full oftentimes she leaue of him did take;

And eft againe deuiz'd some what to say,

Which she forgot, whereby excuse to make:

So loth she was his companie for to forsake.

46
At last when all her speeches she had spent,

And new occasion fayld her more to find,

She left him to his fortunes gouernment,

And backe returned with right heauie mind,

To
Scudamour,
whom she had left behind,

With whom she went to seeke faire
Amoret,

Her second care, though in another kind;

For vertues onely sake, which doth beget

True loue and faithfull friendship, she by her did set.

47
Backe to that desert forrest they retyred,

Where sorie
Britomart
had lost her late;

There they her sought, and euery where inquired,

Where they might tydings get of her estate;

Yet found they none. But by what haplesse fate,

Or hard misfortune she was thence conuayd,

And stolne away from her beloued mate,

Were long to tell; therefore I here will stay

Vntill another tyde, that I it finish may.

Amoret rapt by greedie lust
   Belphebe saues from dread,
The Squire her hues, and being blam'd
   his dayes in dole doth lead.

1
Great God of loue, that with thy cruell darts

Doest conquer greatest conquerors on ground,

And setst thy kingdome in the captiue harts

Of Kings and Keasars, to thy seruice bound,

What glorie, or what guerdon hast thou found

In feeble Ladies tyranning so sore;

And adding anguish to the bitter wound,

With which their liues thou lanchedst long afore,

By heaping stormes of trouble on them daily more?

2
So whylome didst thou to faire
Florimell;

And so and so to noble
Britomart:

So doest thou now to her, of whom I tell,

The louely
Amoret,
whose gentle hart

Thou martyrest with sorow and with smart,

In saluage forrests, and in deserts wide,

With Beares and Tygers taking heauie part,

Withouten comfort, and withouten guide,

That pittie is to heare the perils, which she tride.

3
So soone as she with that braue Britonesse

Had left that Turneyment for beauties prise,

They trauel'd long, that now for wearinesse,

Both of the way, and warlike exercise,

Both through a forest ryding did deuise

T'alight, and rest their wearie limbs awhile.

There heauie sleepe the eye-lids did surprise

Of
Britomart
after long tedious toyle,

That did her passed paines in quiet rest assoyle.

4
The whiles faire
Antoret,
of nought affeard,

Walkt through the wood, for pleasure, or for need;

When suddenly behind her backe she heard

One rushing forth out of the thickest weed,

That ere she backe could turne to taken heed,

Had vnawares her snatched vp from ground.

Feebly she shriekt, but so feebly indeed,

That
Britomart
heard not the shrilling sound,

There where through weary trauel she lay sleeping sound.

5
It was to weet a wilde and saluage man,

Yet was no man, but onely like in shape,

And eke in stature higher by a span,

All ouergrowne with haire, that could awhape

An hardy hart, and his wide mouth did gape

With huge great teeth, like to a tusked Bore:

For he liu'd all on rauin and on rape

Of men and beasts; and fed on fleshly gore,

The signe whereof yet stain'd his bloudy lips afore.

6
His neather lip was not like roan nor beast,

But like a wide deepe poke, downe hanging low,

In which he wont the relickes of his feast,

And cruell spoyle, which he had spard, to stow:

And ouer it his huge great nose did grow,

Full dreadfully empurpled all with bloud;

And downe both sides two wide long eares did glow,

And raught downe to his waste, when vp he stood,

More great then th'eares of Elephants by
Indus
flood.

7
His wast was with a wreath of yuie greene

Engirt about, ne other garment wore:

For all his haire was like a garment seene;

And in his hand a tall young oake he bore,

Whose knottie snags were sharpned all afore,

And beath'd in fire for steele to be in sted.

But whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,

Of beasts, or of the earth, I haue not red:

But certes was with milke of Wolues and Tygres fed.

8
This vgly creature in his armes her snatcht,

And through the forrest bore her quite away,

With briers and bushes all to rent and scratcht;

Ne care he had, ne pittie of the pray,

Which many a knight had sought so many a day.

He stayed not, but in his armes her bearing

Ran, till he came to th'end of all his way,

Vnto his caue farre from all peoples hearing,

And there he threw her in, nought feeling, ne nought fearing.

9
For the deare Ladie all the way was dead,

Whilest he in armes her bore; but when she felt

Her selfe downe soust, she waked out of dread

Streight into griefe, that her deare hart nigh swelt,

And eft gan into tender teares to melt.

Then when she lookt about, and nothing found

But darknesse and dread horrour, where she dwelt,

She almost fell againe into a swound,

Ne wist whether aboue she were, or vnder ground.

10
With that she heard some one close by her side

Sighing and sobbing sore, as if the paine

Her tender hart in peeces would diuide:

Which she long listning, softly askt againe

What mister wight it was that so did plaine?

To whom thus aunswer'd was: Ah wretched wight

That seekes to know anothers griefe in vaine,

Vnweeting of thine owne like haplesse plight:

Selfe to forget to mind another, is ouersight.

11
Aye me (said she) where am I, or with whom?

Emong the liuing, or emong the dead?

What shall of me vnhappy maid become?

Shall death be th'end, or ought else worse, aread.

Vnhappy mayd (then answerd she) whose dread

Vntride, is lesse then when thou shalt it try:

Death is to him, that wretched life doth lead,

Both grace and gaine; but he in hell doth lie,

That liues a loathed life, and wishing cannot die.

12
This dismall day hath thee a caytiue made,

And vassall to the vilest wretch aliue,

Whose cursed vsage and vngodly trade

The heauens abhorre, and into darkenesse driue.

For on the spoile of women he doth liue,

Whose bodies chast, when euer in his powre

He may them catch, vnable to gainestriue,

He with his shamefull lust doth first deflowre,

And afterwards themselues doth cruelly deuoure.

13
Now twenty daies, by which die sonnes of men

Diuide their works, haue past through heuen sheene,

Since I was brought into this dolefull den;

During which space these sory eies haue seen

Seauen women by him slaine, and eaten clene.

And now no more for him but I alone,

And this old woman here remaining beene;

Till thou cam'st hither to augment our mone,

And of vs three to morrow he will sure eate one.

14
Ah dreadfull tidings which thou doest declare,

(Quoth she) of all that euer hath bene knowen:

Full many great calamities and rare

This feeble brest endured hath, but none

Equall to this, where euer I haue gone.

But what are you, whom like vnlucky lot

Hath linckt with me in the same chaine attone?

To tell (quoth she) that which ye see, needs not;

A wofull wretched maid, of God and man forgot.

15
But what I was, it irkes me to reherse;

Daughter vnto a Lord of high degree;

That ioyd in happy peace, till fates peruerse

With guilefull loue did secretly agree,

To ouerthrow my state and dignitie.

It was my lot to loue a gentle swaine,

Yet was he but a Squire of low degree;

Yet was he meet, vnlesse mine eye did faine,

By any Ladies side for Leman to haue laine.

16
But for his meannesse and disparagement,

My Sire, who me too dearely well did loue,

Vnto my choise by no meanes would assent,

But often did my folly fowle reproue.

Yet nothing could my fixed mind remoue,

But whether willed or nilled friend or foe,

I me resolu'd the vtmost end to proue,

And rather then my loue abandon so,

Both sire, and friends, and all for euer to forgo.

17
Thenceforth I sought by secret meanes to worke

Time to my will, and from his wrathfull sight

To hide th'intent, which in my heart did lurke,

Till I thereto had all things ready dight.

So on a day vnweeting vnto wight,

I with that Squire agreede away to flit,

And in a priuy place, betwixt vs bight,

Within a groue appointed him to meete;

To which I boldly came vpon my feeble feete.

18
But ah vnhappy houre me thither brought:

For in that place where I him thought to find,

There was I found, contrary to my thought,

Of this accursed Carle of hellish kind,

The shame of men, and plague of womankind,

Who trussing me, as Eagle doth his pray,

Me hether brought with him, as swift as wind,

Where yet vntouched till this present day,

I rest his wretched thrall, the sad
Æmylxa.

19
Ah sad
Æmylia
(then sayd
Amoret,)

Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne.

But read to me, by what deuise or wit,

Hast thou in all this time, from him vnknowne

Thine honor sau'd, though into thraldome throwne.

Through helpe (quoth she) of this old woman here

I haue so done, as she to me hath showne.

For euer when he burnt in lustfull fire,

She in my stead supplide his bestiall desire.

20
Thus of their euils as they did discourse,

And each did other much bewaile and mone;

Loe where the villaine selfe, their sorrowes sourse,

Came to the caue, and rolling thence the stone,

Which wont to stop the mouth thereof, that none

Might issue forth, came rudely rushing in,

And spredding ouer all the flore alone,

Gan dight him selfe vnto his wonted sinne;

Which ended, then his bloudy banket should beginne.

21
Which when as fearefull
Amoret
perceiued,

She staid not the vtmost end thereof to try,

But hke a ghastly Gelt, whose wits are reaued,

Ran forth in hast with hideous outcry,

For horrour of his shamefull villany.

But after her full lightly he vprose,

And her pursu'd as fast as she did flie:

Full fast she flies, and farre afore him goes,

Ne feeles the thorns and thickets pricke her tender toes.

22
Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she staies,

But ouerleapes them all, like Robucke light,

And through the thickest makes her nighest waies;

And euermore when with regardfull sight

She looking backe, espies that griesly wight

Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace,

And makes her feare a spur to hast her flight:

More swift then
Myrrh'
or
Daphne
in her race,

Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in saluage chase.

23
Long so she fled, and so he follow'd long;

Ne liuing aide for her on earth appeares,

But if the heauens helpe to redresse her wrong,

Moued with pity of her plenteous teares.

It fortuned
Belphebe
with her peares

The woody Nimphs, and with that louely boy,

Was hunting then the Libbards and the Beares,

In these wild woods, as was her wonted ioy,

To banish sloth, that oft doth noble tnindes annoy.

24
It so befell, as oft it fals in chace,

That each of them from other sundred were,

And that same gentle Squire arriu'd in place,

Where this same cursed caytiue did appeare,

Pursuing that fake Lady full of feare,

And now he her quite ouertaken had;

And now he her away with him did beare

Vnder his arme, as seeming wondrous glad,

That by his grenning laughter mote farre off be rad.

25
Which drery sight the gentle Squire espying,

Doth hast to crosse him by the nearest way,

Led with that wofull Ladies piteous crying,

And him assailes with all the might he may,

Yet will not he the louely spoile downe lay,

But with his craggy club in his right hand,

Defends him selfe, and saues his gotten pray.

Yet had it bene right hard him to withstand,

But that he was full light and nimble on the land.

26
Thereto the villaine vsed craft in fight;

For euer when the Squire his iauelin shooke,

He held the Lady form before him right,

And with her body, as a buckler, broke

The puissance of his intended stroke.

And if it chaunst, (as needs it must in fight)

Whilest he on him was greedy to be wroke,

That any little blow on her did light,

Then would he laugh aloud, and gather great delight.

27
Which subtill sleight did him encumber much,

And made him oft, when he would strike, forbeare;

For hardly could he come the carle to touch,

But that he her must hurt, or hazard neare:

Yet he his hand so carefully did beare,

That at the last he did himselfe attaine,

And therein left the pike head of his speare.

A streame of coleblacke bloud thence gusht amaine,

That all her silken garments did with bloud bestaine.

28
With that he threw her rudely on the flore,

And laying both his hands vpon his glaue,

With dreadfull strokes let driue at him so sore,

That forst him flie abacke, himselfe to saue:

Yet he therewith so felly still did raue,

That scarse the Squire his hand could once vpreare,

But for aduantage ground vnto him gaue,

Tracing and trauersing, now here, now there;

For bootlesse thing it was to think such blowes to beare.

29
Whilest thus in battell they embusied were,