The Faerie Queene (22 page)

She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.

29
And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,

And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,

Stuft with steele-headed darts, wherewith she queld

The saluage beastes in her victorious play,

Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay

Athwart her snowy brest, and did diuide

Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May

Now little gan to swell, and being tide,

Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

30
Her yellow lockes crisped, like golden wyre,

About her shoulders weren loosely shed,

And when the winde mongst them did inspyre,

They waued like a penon wide dispred,

And low behinde her backe were scattered:

And whether art it were, or heedlesse hap,

As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,

In her rude haires sweet flowres themselues did lap,

And flourishing fresh leaues and blossomes did enwrap.

31
Such as
Diana
by the sandie shore

Of swift
Eurotas,
or on
Cynthus
greene,

Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,

Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,

To seeke her game: Or as that famous Queene

Of
Amazons,
whom
Pyrrhus
did destroy,

The day that first
of Priame
she was seene,

Did shew her selfe in great triumphant ioy,

To succour the weake state of sad afflicted
Troy.

32
Such when as hartlesse
Trompart
her did vew,

He was dismayed in his coward mind,

And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,

Or fly away, or bide alone behind:

Both feare and hope he in her face did find,

When she at last him spying thus bespake;

Hayle Groome; didst not thou see a bleeding Hind,

Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?

If thou didst, tell me, that I may her ouertake.

33
Wherewith reviu'd, this answere forth he threw;

O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)

For neither doth thy face terrestriall shew,

Nor voyce sound mortall; I auow to thee,

Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,

Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.

But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,

To weet, which of the Gods I shall thee name,

That vnto thee due worship I may rightly frame.

34
To whom she thus; but ere her words ensewed,

Vnto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,

In which vaine
Braggadocchio
was mewed,

And saw it stirre: she left her percing launce,

And towards gan a deadly shaft aduaunce,

In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,

Trompart
forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,

Out crying, 6 what euer heauenly powre,

Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.

35
O stay thy hand for yonder is no game

For thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,

But loe my Lord, my liege, whose warlike name,

Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;

And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.

She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,

Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,

And standing stoutly vp, his loftie crest

Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest

36
As fearefull fowle, that long in secret caue

For dread of soaring hauke her selfe hath hid,

Not caring how, her silly life to saue,

She her gay painted plumes disorderid,

Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid,

Peepes foorth, and soone renewes her natiue pride;

She gins her feathers foule disfigured

Proudly to prune, and set on euery side,

So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.

37
So when her goodly visage he beheld,

He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewed

Those deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,

Soone into other fits he was transmewed,

Till she to him her gratious speach renewed;

All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,

As all the like, which honour haue pursewed

Through deedes of armes and prowesse martiall;

All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.

38
To whom he thus;ô fairest vnder skie,

True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,

That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.

Therein haue I spent all my youthly daies,

And many battailes fought, and many fraies

Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,

Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise

Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound

In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.

39
But what art thou, ô Ladie, which doest raunge

In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is,

And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,

Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis

And all delight does raigne, much more then this?

There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee,

And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;

There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:

The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee.

40
Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she)

Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis,

Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,

And in obliuion euer buried is:

Where ease abounds, yt's eath to doe amis;

But who his limbs with labours, and his mind

Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis.

Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind

Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honor soonest find.

41
In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell,

And will be found with perill and with paine;

Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,

Vnto her happie mansion attaine:

Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,

And wakefull watches euer to abide:

But easie is the way, and passage plaine

To pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide,

And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.

42
In Princes court, The rest she would haue said,

But that the foolish man, fild with delight

Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid,

And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight,

Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light,

Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.

With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright

Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:

So turned her about, and fled away apace.

43
Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood,

And greiued at her flight; yet durst he not

Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood;

Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot

Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot:

Ne car'd he greatly for her presence vaine,

But turning said to
Trompart,
What foule blot

Is this to knight, that Ladle should againe

Depart to woods vntoucht, & leaue so proud disdaine?

44
Perdie (said
Trompart)
let her passe at will,

Least by her presence daunger mote befall.

For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)

But that she is some powre celestiall?

For whiles she spake, her great words did apall

My feeble courage, and my hart oppresse,

That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.

And I (said
Braggadocchio)
thought no lesse,

When first I heard her home sound with such ghastlinesse.

45
For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue

Me giuen by eternall destinie,

That earthly thing may not my courage braue

Dismay with feare, or cause on foot to flie,

But either hellish feends, or powres on hie:

Which was the cause, when earst that home I heard,

Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,

I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;

But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard.

46
But now for feare of worse, that may betide,

Let vs soone hence depart. They soone agree;

So to his steed he got, and gan to ride,

As one vnfit therefore, that all might see

He had not trayned bene in cheualree.

Which well that valiant courser did discerne;

For he despysd to tread in dew degree,

But chaufd and fom'd, with courage fierce and sterne,

And to be easd of that base burden still did erne.

Guyon does Furor bind in chatties,
   and stops Occasion:
Deliuers Phedon, and therefore
   by strife is rayld vpon.

1
In braue pursuit of honorable deed,

There is I know not what great difference

Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,

Which vnto things of valorous pretence

Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;

As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,

But chiefly skill to ride, seemes a science

Proper to gentle bloud; some others faine

To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.

2
But he the rightfull owner of that steed,

Who well could menage and subdew his pride,

The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,

With that blacke Palmer, bis most trusty guide;

Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.

But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse

Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,

He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,

Teach him the weake to strengthen, & the strong suppresse.

3
It fortuned forth faring on his way,

He saw from farre, or seemed for to see

Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,

Whereto he drew in haste it to agree.

A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,

Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,

A handsome stripling with great crueltee,

Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many a wound,

That cheekes with teares, and sides with bloud did all abound.

4
And him behind, a wicked Hag did stalke,

In ragged robes, and filthy disaray,

Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke.

But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay;

Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,

Grew all afore, and loosely hong vnrold,

But all behind was bald, and worne away,

That none thereof could euer taken hold,

And eke her face ill fauourd, full of wrinckles old.

5
And euer as she went, her tongue did walke

In foule reproch, and termes of vile despight,

Prouoking him by her outrageous talke,

To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight;

Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite,

Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,

Withouten which she could not go vpright;

Ne any euill meanes she did forbeare,

That might him moue to wrath, and indignation reare.

6
The noble
Guyon
mou'd with great remorse,

Approching, first the Hag did thrust away,

And after adding more impetuous forse,

His mightie hands did on the madman lay,

And pluckt him backe; who all on fire streight way,

Against him turning all his fell intent,

With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,

And smot, and bit, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,

And did he wist not what in his auengement.

7
And sure he was a man of mickle might,

Had he had gouernance, it well to guide:

But when the franticke fit inflamd his spright,

His force was vaine, and strooke more often wide,

Then at the aymed marke, which he had eide:

And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt vnwares,

Whilst reason blent through passion, nought descride,

But as a blindfold Bull at randon fares,     [cares.

And where he hits, nought knowes, & whom he hurts, nought

8
His rude assault and rugged handeling

Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe

In faire defence and goodly menaging

Of armes was wont to fight, yet nathemoe

Was he abashed now not fighting so,

But more enfierced through his currish play,

Him sternely grypt, and haling to and fro,

To ouerthrow him strongly did assay,

But ouerthrew himselfe vnwares, and lower lay.

9
And being downe the villein sore did beat,

And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face:

And eke the Hag with many a bitter threat,

Still cald vpon to kill him in the place.

With whose reproch and odious menace

The knight emboyling in bis haughtie hart,

Knit all his forces, and gan soone vnbrace

His grasping hold: so lightly did vpstart,

And drew his deadly weapon, to maintaine his part.

10
Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly cryde,

Not so, ô
Guyon,
neuer thinke that so

That Monster can be maistred or destroyd:

He is not, ah, he is not such a foe,

As steele can wound, or strength can ouerthroe.

That same is
Furor,
cursed cruell wight,

That vnto knighthood workes much shame and woe;

And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight

Occasion,
the root of all wrath and despight.

11
With her, who so will raging
Furor
tame,

Must first begin, and well her amenage:

First her restraine from her reprochfull blame,

And euill meanes, with which she doth enrage

Her franticke sonne, and kindles his courage,

Then when she is withdrawen, or strong withstood,

It's eath his idle furie to asswage,

And calme the tempest of bis passion wood;

The bankes are ouerflowen, when stopped is the flood.

12
Therewith Sir
Guyon
left his first emprise,

And turning to that woman, fast her hent

By the hoare lockes, that hong before her eyes,

And to the ground her threw: yet n'ould she stent

Her bitter rayling and foule reuilement,

But still prouokt her sonne to wreake her wrong;

But nathelesse he did her still torment,

And catching hold of her vngratious tong,

Thereon an yron lock, did fasten firme and strong.

13
Then when as vse of speach was from her reft,

With her two crooked handes she signes did make,

And beckned him, the last helpe she had left:

But he that last left helpe away did take,

And both her hands fast bound vnto a stake,

That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flie

Full fast away, and did her quite forsake;

But
Guyon
after him in haste did hie,

And soone him ouertooke in sad perplexitie.

14
In his strong armes he stiffely him embraste,

Who him gainstriuing, nought at all preuaild:

For all his power was vtterly defaste,

And furious fits at earst quite weren quaild:

Oft he re'nforst, and oft his forces fayld,

Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour slacke.

Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hayld,

And both his hands fast bound behind his backe,

And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke.

15
With hundred yron chaines he did him bind,

And hundred knots that did him sore constraine:

Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind,

And grimly gnash, threatning reuenge in vaine:

His burning eyen, whom bloudie strakes did staine,

Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fire,

And more for ranck despight, then for great paine,

Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire,

And bit his tawny beard to shew his raging ire.

16
Thus when as
Guyon Furor
had captiu'd,

Turning about he saw that wretched Squire,

Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu'd,

Lying on ground, all soild with bloud and mire:

Whom when as he perceiued to respire,

He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dresse.

Being at last recured, he gan inquire,

What hard mishap him brought to such distresse,

And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchednesse.

17
With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes,

Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can shun the hap,

That hidden lyes vnwares him to surpryse

Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap

The man most warie in her whelming lap.

So me weake wretch, of many weakest one,

Vnweeting, and vnware of such mishap,

She brought to mischiefe through occasion,

Where this same wicked villein did me light vpon.

18
It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse

Of all my sorrow, and of these sad teares,

With whom from tender dug of commune nourse,

Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares

More rype vs reason lent to chose our Peares,

Our selues in league of vowed loue we knit:

In which we long time without gealous feares,

Or faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit;

And for my part I vow, dissembled not a whit

19
It was my fortune commune to that age,

To loue a Ladie faire of great degree,

The which was borne of noble parentage,

And set in highest seat of dignitee,

Yet seemd no lesse to loue, then loued to bee:

Long I her seru'd, and found her faithfull still,

Ne euer thing could cause vs disagree:

Loue that two harts makes one; makes eke one will:

Each stroue to please, and others pleasure to fulfill.

20
My friend, hight
Philemon,
I did partake,

Of all my loue and all my priuitie;

Who greatly ioyous seemed for my sake,

And gratious to that Ladie, as to mee,

Ne euer wight, that mote so welcome bee,

As he to her, withouten blot or blame,

Ne euer thing, that she could thinke or see,

But vnto him she would impart the same:

O wretched man, that would abuse so gentle Dame.

21
At last such grace I found, and meanes I wrought,

That I that Ladie to my spouse had wonne;

Accord of friends, consent of parents sought,

Affiance made, my happinesse begonne,

There wanted nought but few rites to be donne,

Which manage make; that day too farre did seeme:

Most ioyous man, on whom the shining Sunne,

Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme,

And that my falser friend did no lesse ioyous deeme.

22
But ere that wished day his beame disclosd,

He either enuying my toward good,

Or of himselfe to treason ill disposd

One day vnto me came in friendly mood,

And told for secret how he vnderstood

That Ladie whom I had to me assynd,

Had both distaind her honorable blood,

And eke the faith, which she to me did bynd;

And therfore wisht me stay, till I more truth should fynd.

23
The gnawing anguish and sharpe gelosy,

Which his sad speech infixed in my brest,

Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly,

That my engreeued mind could find no rest,

Till that the truth thereof I did outwrest,

And him besought by that same sacred band

Betwixt vs both, to counsell me the best.

He then with solemne oath and plighted hand

Assur'd, ere long the truth to let me vnderstand.

24
Ere long with like againe he boorded mee,

Saying, he now had boulted all the floure,

And that it was a groome of base degree,

Which of my loue was partner Paramoure:

Who vsed in a darkesome inner bowre

Her oft to meet: which better to approue,

He promised to bring me at that howre,

When I should see, that would me nearer moue,

And driue me to withdraw my blind abused loue.

25
This gracelesse man for furtherance of bis guile,

Did court the handmayd of my Lady deare,

Who glad t'embosome his affection vile,

Did all she might, more pleasing to appeare.

One day to worke her to his will more neare,

He woo'd her thus:
Pryene
(so she hight)

What great despight doth fortune to thee beare,

Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright,

That it should not deface all others lesser light?

26
But if she had her least helpe to thee lent,

T'adorne thy forme according thy desart,

Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone haue blent,

And staynd their prayses with thy least good part;

Ne should faire
Claribell
with all her art,

Though she thy Lady be, approch thee neare:

For proofe thereof, this euening, as thou art,

Aray thy selfe in her most gorgeous geare,

That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.

27
The Maiden proud through prayse, and mad through loue

Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe arayd,

The whiles to me the treachour did remoue

His craftie engin, and as he had sayd,

Me leading, in a secret corner layd,

The sad spectatour of my Tragedie;

Where left, he went, and his owne false part playd,

Disguised like that groome of base degree,

Whom he had feignd th'abuser of my loue to bee.

28
Efisoones he came vnto th'appointed place,

And with him brought
Priene,
rich arayd,

In
Claribellaes
clothes. Her proper face

I not descemed in that darkesome shade,

But weend it was my loue, with whom he playd.

Ah God, what horrour and tormenting griefe

My hart, my hands, mine eyes, and all assayd?

Me liefer were ten thousand deathes priefe,

Then wound of gealous worme, and shame of such repriefe.

29
I home returning, fraught with fowle despight,