The Faerie Queene (87 page)

The wife of bold Sir
Bruin,
who is Lord

Of all this land, late conquer'd by his sword

From a great Gyant, called
Cormoraunt;

Whom he did ouerthrow by yonder foord,

And in three battailes did so deadly daunt,

That he dare not returne for all his daily vaunt.

30
So is my Lord now seiz'd of all the land,

As in his fee, with peaceable estate,

And quietly doth hold it in his hand,

Ne any dares with him for it debate.

But to these happie fortunes, cruell fate

Hath ioyn'd one euill, which doth ouerthrow

All these our ioyes, and all our blisse abate;

And like in time to further ill to grow,

And all this land with endlesse losse to ouerflow.

31
For th'heauens enuying our prosperitie,

Haue not vouchsaft to graunt vnto vs twaine

The gladfull blessing of posteritie,

Which we might see after our selues remaine

In tb'heritage of our vnhappie paine:

So that for want of heires it to defend,

All is in time like to returne againe

To that foule feend, who dayly doth attend

To leape into the same after our liues end.

32
But most my Lord is grieued herewithall,

And makes exceeding mone, when he does thinke

That all this land vnto his foe shall fall,

For which he long in vaine did sweat and swinke,

That now the same he greatly doth forthinke.

Yet was it sayd, there should to him a sonne

Be gotten, not begotten,
which should drinke

And dry vp all the water, which doth ronne

In the next brooke, by whom that feend shold be fordonne.

33
Well hop't he then, when this was propheside,

That from his sides some noble chyld should rize,

The which through fame should farre be magnifide,

And this proud gyant should with braue emprize

Quite ouerthrow, who now ginnes to despize

The good Sir
Bruin,
growing farre in yeares;

Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth rize.

Lo this my cause of griefe to you appeares;

For which I thus doe mourne, and poure forth ceaselesse teares.

34
Which when he heard, he inly touched was

With tender ruth for her vnworthy griefe,

And when he had deuized of her case,

He gan in mind conceiue a fit reliefe

For all her paine, if please her make the priefe.

And hauing cheared her, thus said; faire Dame,

In euils counsell is the comfort chiefe,

Which though I be not wise enough to frame,

Yet as I well it meane, vouchsafe it without blame.

35
If that the cause of this your languishment

Be lacke of children, to supply your place,

Low how good fortune doth to you present

This litle babe, of sweete and louely face,

And spotlesse spirit, in which ye may enchace

What euer formes ye list thereto apply,

Being now soft and fit them to embrace;

Whether ye list him traine in cheualry,

Or noursle vp in lore of learn'd Philosophy.

36
And certes it hath oftentimes bene seene,

That of the like, whose linage was vnknowne,

More braue and noble knights haue raysed beene,

As their victorious deedes haue often showen,

Being with fame through many Nations blowen,

Then those, which haue bene dandled in the lap.

Therefore some thought, that those braue imps were sowen

Here by the Gods, and fed with heauenly sap,

That made them grow so high t'all honorable hap.

37
The Ladie hearkning to his sensefull speach,

Found nothing that he said, vnmeet nor geason,

Hauing oft seene it tryde, as he did teach.

Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason,

Agreeing well both with the place and season,

She gladly did of that same babe accept,

As of her owne by liuerey and seisin,

And hauing ouer it a litle wept,

She bore it thence, and euer as her owne it kept.

38
Right glad was
Calepine
to be so rid

Of his young charge, whereof he skilled nought:

Ne she lesse glad; for she so wisely did,

And with her husband vnder hand so wrought,

That when that infant vnto him she brought,

She made him thinke it surely was his owne,

And it in goodly thewes so well vpbrought,

That it became a famous knight well knowne

And did right noble deedes, the which elswhere are showne.

39
But
Calepine,
now being left alone

Vnder the greenewoods side in sorie plight,

Withouten armes or steede to ride vpon,

Or house to hide his head from heauens spight,

Albe that Dame by all the meanes she might,

Him oft desired home with her to wend,

And offred him, his courtesie to requite,

Both horse and armes, and what so else to lend,

Yet he them all refusd, though thankt her as a frend.

40
And for exceeding griefe which inly grew,

That he his loue so lucklesse now had lost,

On the cold ground, maugre himselfe he threw,

For fell despight, to be so sorely crost;

And there all night himselfe in anguish tost,

Vowing, that neuer he in bed againe

His limbes would rest, ne lig in ease embost,

Till that his Ladies sight he mote attaine,

Or vnderstand, that she in safetie did remaine.

The saluage serues Serena well
   till she Prince Arthure fynd,
Who her together with his Squyre
   with th'Hermit leaues behynd.

1
O what an easie thing is to descry

The gentle bloud, how euer it be wrapt

In sad misfortunes foule deformity,

And wretched sorrowes, which haue often hapt?

For howsoeuer it may grow mis-shapt,

Like this wyld man, being vndisciplynd,

That to all vertue it may seeme vnapt,

Yet will it shew some sparkes of gentle mynd,

And at the last breake forth in his owne proper kynd.

2
That plainely may in this wyld man be red,

Who though he were still in his desert wood,

Mongst saluage beasts, both rudely borne and bred,

Ne euer saw faire guize, ne learned good,

Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood,

By gentle vsage of that wretched Dame.

For certes he was borne of noble blood,

How euer by hard hap he hether came;

As ye may know, when time shall be to tell the same.

3
Who when as now long time he lacked had

The good Sir
Calepine,
that farre was strayd,

Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad,

As he of some misfortune were afrayd:

And leauing there this Ladie all dismayd,

Went forth streightway into the forrest wyde,

To seeke, if he perchance a sleepe were layd,

Or what so else were vnto him betyde:

He sought him farre & neare, yet him no where he spyde.

4
Tho backe returning to that sorie Dame,

He shewed semblant of exceeding mone,

By speaking signes, as he them best could frame;

Now wringing both his wretched hands in one,

Now beating his hard head vpon a stone,

That ruth it was to see him so lament.

By which she well perceiuing, what was done,

Gan teare her hayre, and all her garments rent,

And beat her breast, and piteously her selfe torment.

5
Vpon the ground her selfe she fiercely threw,

Regardlesse of her wounds, yet bleeding rife,

That with their bloud did all the flore imbrew,

As if her breast new launcht with murdrous knife,

Would streight dislodge the wretched wearie life.

There she long groueling, and deepe groning lay,

As if her vitall powers were at strife

With stronger death, and feared their decay,

Such were this Ladies pangs and dolorous assay.

6
Whom when the Saluage saw so sore distrest,

He reared her vp from the bloudie ground,

And sought by all the meanes, that he could best

Her to recure out of that stony swound,

And staunch the bleeding of her dreary wound.

Yet nould she be recomforted for nought,

Ne cease her sorrow and impatient stound,

But day and night did vexe her carefull thought,

And euer more and more her owne affliction wrought.

7
At length, when as no hope of his retourne

She saw now left, she cast to leaue the place,

And wend abrode, though feeble and forlorne,

To seeke some comfort in that sorie case.

His steede now strong through rest so long a space,

Well as she could, she got, and did bedight,

And being thereon mounted, forth did pace,

Withouten guide, her to conduct aright,

Or gard her to defend from bold oppressors might.

8
Whom when her Host saw readie to depart,

He would not suffer her alone to fare,

But gan himselfe addresse to take her part.

Those warlike armes, which
Calepine
whyleare

Had left behind, he gan efisoones prepare,

And put them all about himselfe vnfit,

His shield, his helmet, and his curats bare.

But without sword vpon his thigh to sit:

Sir
Calepine
himselfe away had hidden it.

9
So forth they traueld an vneuen payre,

That mote to all men seeme an vncouth sight;

A saluage man matcht with a Ladie fayre,

That rather seem'd the conquest of his might,

Gotten by spoyle, then purchaced aright.

But he did her attend most carefully,

And faithfully did serue both day and night,

Withouten thought of shame or villeny,

Ne euer shewed signe of foule disloyalty.

10
Vpon a day as on their way they went,

It chaunst some furniture about her steed

To be disordred by some accident:

Which to redresse, she did th'assistance need

Of this her groome, which he by signes did reede,

And straight his combrous armes aside did lay

Vpon the ground, withouten doubt or dreed,

And in his homely wize began to assay

T'amend what was amisse, and put in right aray.

11
Bout which whitest he was busied thus hard,

Lo where a knight together with his squire,

All arm'd to point came ryding thetherward,

Which seemed by their portance and attire,

To be two errant knights, that did inquire

After aduentures, where they mote them get.

Those were to weet (if that ye it require)

Prince
Arthur
and young
Timias,
which met

By straunge occasion, that here needs forth be set.

12
After that
Timias
had againe recured

The fauour of
Belphebe,
(as ye heard)

And of her grace did stand againe assured,

To happie blisse he was full high vprear'd,

Nether of enuy, nor of chaunge afeard,

Though many foes did him maligne therefore,

And with vniust detraction him did beard;

Yet he himselfe so well and wisely bore,

That in her soueraine lyking he dwelt euermore.

13
But of them all, which did his ruine seeke

Three mightie enemies did him most despight,

Three mightie ones, and cruell minded eeke,

That him not onely sought by open might

To ouerthrow, but to supplant by slight.

The first of them by name was cald
Despetto,

Exceeding all the rest in powre and hight;

The second not so strong but wise,
Decetto;

The third nor strong nor wise, but spightfullest
Defetto.

14
Oftimes their sundry powres they did employ,

And seuerall deceipts, but all in vaine:

For neither they by force could him destroy,

Ne yet entrap in treasons subtill traine.

Therefore conspiring all together plaine,

They did their counsels now in one compound;

Where singled forces faile, conioynd may gaine.

The
Blatant Beast
the fittest meanes they found,

To worke his vtter shame, and throughly him confound.

15
Vpon a day as they the time did waite,

When he did raunge the wood for saluage game,

They sent that
Blatant Beast
to be a baite,

To draw him from his deare beloued dame,

Vnwares into the daunger of defame.

For well they wist, that Squire to be so bold,

That no one beast in forrest wylde or tame,

Met him in chase, but he it challenge would,

And plucke the pray oftimes out of their greedy hould.

16
The hardy boy, as they deuised had,

Seeing the vgly Monster passing by,

Vpon him set, of perill nought adrad,

Ne skilfull of the vncouth ieopardy;

And charged him so fierce and furiously,

That his great force vnable to endure,

He forced was to turne from him and fly:

Yet ere he fled, he with his tooth impure

Him heedlesse bit, the whiles he was thereof secure.

17
Securely he did after him pursew,

Thinking by speed to ouertake his flight;

Who through thicke woods and brakes & briers him drew,

To weary him the more, and waste his spight,

So that he now has almost spent his spright.

Till that at length vnto a woody glade

He came, whose couert stopt his further sight,

There his three foes shrowded in guilefull shade,

Out of their ambush broke, and gan him to inuade.

18
Sharpely they all attonce did him assaile,

Burning with inward rancour and despight,

And heaped strokes did round about him haile

With so huge force, that seemed nothing might

Beare off their blowes, from percing thorough quite.

Yet he them all so warily did ward,

That none of them in his soft flesh did bite,

And all the while his backe for best safegard,

He lent against a tree, that backeward onset bard.

19
Like a wylde Bull, that being at a bay,

Is bayted of a mastiffe, and a hound,

And a curre-dog; that doe him sharpe assay

On euery side, and beat about him round;

But most that curre barking with bitter sownd,

And creeping still behinde, doth him incomber,

That in his chauffe he digs the trampled ground,

And threats his horns, and bellowes like the thonder,

So did that Squire his foes disperse, and driue asonder.

20
Him well behoued so; for his three foes

Sought to encompasse him on euery side,

And dangerously did round about enclose.

But most of all
Defetto
him annoyde,

Creeping behinde him still to haue destroyde:

So did
Decetto
eke him circumuent,

But stout
Despetto
in his greater pryde,

Did front him face to face against him bent,

Yet he them all withstood, and often made relent.

21
Till that at length nigh tyrd with former chace,

And weary now with carefull keeping ward,

He gan to shrinke, and somewhat to giue place,

Full like ere long to haue escaped hard;

When as vnwares he in the forrest heard

A trampling steede, that with his neighing fast

Did warne his rider be vppon his gard;

With noise whereof the Squire now nigh aghast,

Reuiued was, and sad dispaire away did cast.

22
Eftsoones he spide a Knight approching nye,

Who seeing one in so great daunger set

Mongst many foes, him selfe did faster hye;

To reskue him, and his weake part abet,

For pitty so to see him ouerset.

Whom soone as his three enemies did vew,

They fled, and fast into the wood did get:

Him booted not to thinke them to pursew,

The couert was so thicke, that did no passage shew.

23
Then turning to that swaine, him well he knew

To be his
Timias,
his owne true Squire,

Whereof exceeding glad, he to Him drew,

And him embracing twixt his armes entire,

Him thus bespake; My liefe, my lifes desire,

Why haue ye me alone thus long yleft?

Tell me what worlds despight, or heauens yre

Hath you thus long away from me bereft?

Where haue ye all this while bin wandring, where bene weft?

24
With that he sighed deepe for inward tyne:

To whom the Squire nought aunswered againe,

But shedding few soft teares from tender eyne,

His deare affect with silence did restraine,

And shut vp all his plaint in priuy paine.

There they awhile some gracious speaches spent,

As to them seemed fit time to entertaine.

After all which vp to their steedes they went,

And forth together rode a comely couplement

25
So now they be arriued both in sight

Of this wyld man, whom they full busie found

About the sad
Serena
things to dight,

With those braue armours lying on the ground,

That seem'd the spoile of some right well renownd.

Which when that Squire beheld, he to them stept,

Thinking to take them from that hylding hound:

But he it seeing, lightly to him lept,

And sternely with strong hand it from his handling kept.

26
Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly looke,

And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne,

Him with his fist vnwares on th'head he strooke,

That made him downe vnto the earth encline;

Whence soone vpstarting much he gan repine,

And laying hand vpon his wrathfull blade,

Thought therewithall forthwith him to haue slaine,

Who it perceiuing, hand vpon him layd,

And greedily him griping, his auengement stayd.

27
With that aloude the faire
Serena
cryde

Vnto the Knight, them to dispart in twaine:

Who to them stepping did them soone diuide,

And did from further violence restraine,

Albe the wyld-man hardly would refraine.

Then gan the Prince, of her for to demand,

What and from whence she was, and by what traine

She fell into that saluage villaines hand,

And whether free with him she now were, or in band.

28
To whom she thus; I am, as now ye see,

The wretchedst Dame, that liue this day on ground,

Who both in minde, the which most grieueth me,

And body haue receiu'd a mortall wound,

That hath me driuen to this drery stound.

I was erewhile, the loue of
Calepine,

Who whether he aliue be to be found,

Or by some deadly chaunce be done to pine,

Since I him lately lost, vneath is to define.

29
In saluage forrest I him lost of late,

Where I had surely long ere this bene dead,