The Faerie Queene (85 page)

Faire
Emiline,
conceiuing then great feare

Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might

Of him, that did the kingly Scepter beare,

Whose gealous dread induring not a peare,

Is wont to cut off all, that doubt may breed,

Thought best away me to remoue somewhere

Into some forrein land, where as no need

Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull humor feed.

30
So taking counsell of a wise man red,

She was by him aduiz'd, to send me quight

Out of the countrie, wherein I was bred,

The which the fertile
Lionesse
is hight,

Into the land of
Faerie,
where no wight

Should weet of me, nor worke me any wrong.

To whose wise read she hearkning, sent me streight

Into this land, where I haue wond thus long,

Since I was ten yeares old, now growen to stature strong.

31
All which my daies I haue not lewdly spent,

Nor spilt the blossome of my tender yeares

In ydlesse, but as was conuenient,

Haue trayned bene with many noble feres

In gentle thewes, and such like seemely leres.

Mongst which my most delight hath alwaies been,

To hunt the saluage chace amongst my peres,

Of all that raungeth in the forrest greene;

Of which none is to me vnknowne, that eu'r was seene.

32
Ne is there hauke, which mantleth her on pearch,

Whether high towring, or accoasting low,

But I the measure of her flight doe search,

And all her pray, and all her diet know.

Such be our ioyes, which in these forrests grow:

Onely the vse of armes, which most I ioy,

And fitteth most for noble swayne to know,

I haue not tasted yet, yet past a boy,

And being now high time these strong ioynts to imploy.

33
Therefore, good Sir, sith now occasion fit

Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome may,

Let me this craue, vnworthy though of it,

That ye will make me Squire without delay,

That from henceforth in batteilous array

I may beare armes, and learne to vse them right;

The rather since that fortune hath this day

Giuen to me the spoile of this dead knight,

These goodly gilden armes, which I haue won in fight.

34
All which when well Sir
Calidore
had heard,

Him much more now, then earst he gan admire,

For the rare hope which in his yeares appear'd,

And thus replide; faire chyld, the high desire

To loue of armes, which in you doth aspire,

I may not certes without blame denie;

But rather wish, that some more noble hire,

(Though none more noble then is cheualrie,)

I had, you to reward with greater dignitie.

35
There him he causd to kneele, and made to sweare

Faith to his knight, and truth to Ladies all,

And neuer to be recreant, for feare

Of perill, or of ought that might befall:

So he him dubbed, and his Squire did call.

Full glad and ioyous then young
Tristram
grew,

Like as a flowre, whose silken leaues small,

Long shut vp in the bud from heauens vew,

At length breakes forth, and brode displayes his smyling hew.

36
Thus when they long had treated to and fro,

And
Calidore
betooke him to depart,

Chyld
Tristram
prayd, that he with him might goe

On his aduenture, vowing not to start,

But wayt on him in euery place and part

Whereat Sir
Calidore
did much delight,

And greatly ioy'd at his so noble hart,

In hope he sure would proue a doughtie knight:

Yet for the time this answere he to him behight.

37
Glad would I surely be, thou courteous Squire,

To haue thy presence in my present quest,

That mote thy kindled courage set on fire,

And flame forth honour in thy noble brest:

But I am bound by vow, which I profest

To my dread Soueraine, when I it assayd,

That in atchieuement of her high behest,

I should no creature ioyne vnto mine ayde,

For thy I may not graunt, that ye so greatly prayde.

38
But since this Ladie is all desolate,

And needeth safegard now vpon her way,

Ye may doe well in this her needfull state

To succour her, from daunger of dismay;

That thankfull guerdon may to you repay.

The noble ympe of such new seruice fayne,

It gladly did accept, as he did say.

So taking courteous leaue, they parted twayne,

And
Calidore
forth passed to his former payne.

39
But
Tristram
then despoyling that dead knight

Of all those goodly implements of prayse,

Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire sight

Of the bright mettall, shyning like Sunne rayes;

Handling and turning them a thousand wayes.

And after hauing them vpon him dight,

He tooke that Ladie, and her vp did rayse

Vpon the steed of her owne late dead knight,

So with her marched forth, as she did him behight

40
There to their fortune leaue we them awhile,

And turne we backe to good Sir
Calidore;

Who ere he thence had traueild many a mile,

Came to the place, whereas ye heard afore

This knight, whom
Tristram
slew, had wounded sore

Another knight in his despiteous pryde;

There he that knight found lying on the flore,

With many wounds full perilous and wyde,

That all his garments, and the grasse in venneill dyde.

41
And there beside him sate vpon the ground

His wofull Ladie, piteously complayning

With loud laments that most vnluckie stound,

And her sad selfe with carerull hand constrayning

To wype his wounds, and ease their bitter payning.

Which sorie sight when
Calidore
did vew

With heauie eyne, from teares vneath refrayning,

His mightie hart their mournefull case can rew,

And for their better comfort to them nigher drew.

42
Then speaking to the Ladie, thus he sayd:

Ye dolefull Dame, let not your griefe empeach

To tell, what cruell hand hath thus arayd

This knight vnarm'd, with so vnknightly breach

Of armes, that if I yet him nigh may reach,

I may auenge him of so foule despight.

The Ladie hearing his so courteous speach,

Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull light,

And from her sory hart few heauie words forth sight

43
In which she shew'd, how that discourteous knight

(Whom
Tristram
slew) them in that shadow found,

Ioying together in vnblam'd delight,

And him vnarm'd, as now he lay on ground,

Charg'd with his speare and mortally did wound,

Withouten cause, but onely her to reaue

From him, to whom she was for euer bound:

Yet when she fled into that couert greaue,

He her not finding, both them thus nigh dead did leaue.

44
When
Calidore
this ruefull storie had

Well vnderstood, he gan of her demand,

What manner wight he was, and how yclad,

Which had this outrage wrought with wicked hand.

She then, like as she best could vnderstand,

Him thus describ'd, to be of stature large,

Clad all in gilden armes, with azure band

Quartred athwart, and bearing in his targe

A Ladie on rough waues, row'd in a sommer barge.

45
Then gan Sir
Calidore
to ghesse streight way

By many signes, which she described had,

That this was he, whom
Tristram
earst did slay,

And to her said; Dame be no longer sad:

For he, that hath your Knight so ill bestad,

Is now him selfe in much more wretched plight;

These eyes him saw vpon the cold earth sprad,

The meede of his desert for that despight,

Which to your selfe he wrought, & to your loued knight

46
Therefore faire Lady lay aside this griefe,

Which ye haue gathered to your gentle hart,

For that displeasure; and thinke what reliefe

Were best deuise for this your louers smart,

And how ye may him hence, and to what part

Conuay to be recur'd. She thankt him deare,

Both for that newes he did to her impart,

And for the courteous care, which he did beare

Both to her loue; and to her selfe in that sad dreare.

47
Yet could she not deuise by any wit,

How thence she might conuay him to some place.

For him to trouble she it thought vnfit,

That was a straunger to her wretched case;

And him to beare, she thought it thing too base.

Which when as he perceiu'd, he thus bespake;

Faire Lady let it not you seeme disgrace,

To beare this burden on your dainty backe;

My selfe will beare a part, coportion of your packe.

48
So off he did his shield, and downeward layd

Vpon the ground, like to an hollow beare;

And powring balme, which he had long puruayd,

Into his wounds, him vp thereon did reare,

And twixt them both with parted paines did beare,

Twixt life and death, not knowing what was donne.

Thence they him carried to a Castle neare,

In which a worthy auncient Knight did wonne:

Where what ensu'd, shall in next Canto be begonne.

Calidore brings Priscilla home,
   Pursues the Blatant Beast:
Saues Serena whitest Calepine
   By Turpine is opprest.

1
True is, that whilome that good Poet sayd,

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.

For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd,

As by his manners, in which plaine is showne

Of what degree and what race he is growne.

For seldome seene, a trotting Stalion get

An ambling Colt, that is his proper owne:

So seldome seene, that one in basenesse set

Doth noble courage shew, with curteous manners met.

2
But euermore contrary hath bene tryde,

That gentle bloud will gentle manners breed;

As well may be in
Calidore
descryde,

By late ensample of that courteous deed,

Done to that wounded Knight in his great need,

Whom on his backe he bore, till he him brought

Vnto the Castle where they had decreed.

There of the Knight, the which that Castle ought,

To make abode that night he greatly was besought.

3
He was to weete a man of full ripe yeares,

That in his youth had beene of mickle might,

And borne great sway in armes amongst bis peares:

But now weake age had dimd his candle light.

Yet was he courteous still to euery wight,

And loued all that did to annes incline.

And was the father of that wounded Knight,

Whom
Calidore
thus carried on his chine,

And
Aldus
was his name, and his sonnes
Aladine.

4
Who when he saw his sonne so ill bedight,

With bleeding wounds, brought home vpon a Beare,

By a faire Lady, and a straunger Knight,

Was inly touched with compassion deare,

And deare affection of so dolefull dreare,

That he these words burst forth; Ah sory boy,

Is this the hope that to my hoary heare

Thou brings? aie me, is this the timely ioy,

Which I expected long, now turnd to sad annoy?

5
Such is the weakenesse of all mortall hope;

So tickle is the state of earthly things,

That ere they come vnto their aymed scope,

They fall too short of our fraile reckonings,

And bring vs bale and bitter sorrowings,

In stead of comfort, which we should embrace:

This is the state of Keasars and of Kings.

Let none therefore, that is in meaner place,

Too greatly grieue at any his vnlucky case.

6
So well and wisely did that good old Knight

Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare,

To cheare his guests, whom he had stayd that night,

And make their welcome to them well appeare:

That to Sir
Calidore
was easie geare;

But that faire Lady would be cheard for nought,

But sigh'd and sorrow'd for her louer deare,

And inly did afflict her pensiue thought,

With thinking to what case her name should now be brought.

7
For she was daughter to a noble Lord,

Which dwelt thereby, who sought her to affy

To a great pere; but she did disaccord,

Ne could her liking to his loue apply,

But lou'd this fresh young Knight, who dwelt her ny,

The lusty
Aladine,
though meaner borne,

And of lesse liuelood and liability,

Yet full of valour, the which did adorne

His meanesse much, & make her th'others riches scorne.

8
So hauing both found fit occasion,

They met together in that luckelesse glade;

Where that proud Knight in his presumption

The gentle
Aladine
did earst inuade,

Being vnarm'd, and set in secret shade.

Whereof she now bethinking, gan t'aduize,

How great a hazard she at earst had made

Of her good feme, and further gan deuize,

How she the blame might salue with coloured disguize.

9
But
Calidore
with all good courtesie

Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away

The pensiue fit of her melancholie;

And that old Knight by all meanes did assay,

To make them both as merry as he may.

So they the euening past, till time of rest,

When
Calidore
in seemly good array

Vnto his bowre was brought, and there vndrest,

Did sleepe all night through weary trauell of his quest.

10
But faire
Priscilla
(so that Lady hight)

Would to no bed, nor take no kindely sleepe,

But by her wounded loue did watch all night,

And all the night for bitter anguish weepe,

And with her teares his wounds did wash and steepe.

So well she washt them, and so well she wacht him,

That of the deadly swound, in which full deepe

He drenched was, she at the length dispacht him,

And droue away the stound, which mortally attacht him.

11
The morrow next, when day gan to vplooke,

He also gan vplooke with drery eye,

Like one that out of deadly dreame awooke:

Where when he saw his faire
Prisdlla
by,

He deepely sigh'd, and groaned inwardly,

To thinke of this ill state, in which she stood,

To which she for his sake had weetingly

Now brought her selfe, and blam'd her noble blood:

For first, next after life, he tendered her good.

12
Which she perceiuing, did with plenteous teares

His care more then her owne compassionate,

Forgetfull of her owne, to minde his feares:

So both conspiring, gan to intimate

Each others griefe with zeale affectionate,

And twixt them twaine with equall care to cast,

How to saue whole her hazarded estate;

For which the onely helpe now left them last

Seem'd to be
Calidore:
all other helpes were past.

13
Him they did deeme, as sure to them he seemed,

A courteous Knight, and full of faithfull trust:

Therefore to him their cause they best esteemed

Whole to commit, and to his dealing iust.

Earely, so soone as
Titans
beames forth brust

Through the thicke clouds, in which they steeped lay

All night in darkenesse, duld with yron rust,

Calidore
rising vp as fresh as day,

Gan freshly him addresse vnto his former way.

14
But first him seemed fit, that wounded Knight

To visite, after this nights perillous passe,

And to salute him, if he were in plight,

And eke that Lady his faire louely lasse.

There he him found much better then he was,

And moued speach to him of things of course,

The anguish of his paine to ouerpasse:

Mongst which he namely did to him discourse,

Of former daies mishap, his sorrowes wicked sourse.

15
Of which occasion
Aldine
taking hold,

Gan breake to him the fortunes of his loue,

And all his disaduentures to vnfold;

That
Calidore
it dearly deepe did moue.

In th'end his kyndly courtesie to proue,

He him by all the bands of loue besought,

And as it mote a faithfull friend behoue,

To safeconduct his loue, and not for ought

To leaue, till to her fathers house he had her brought.

16
Sir
Calidore
his faith thereto did plight,

It to perforate: so after little stay,

That she her selfe had to the iourney dight,

He passed forth with her in faire array,

Fearelesse, who ought did thinke, or ought did say,

Sith his own thought he knew most cleare from wite.

So as they past together on their way,

He can deuize this counter-cast of slight,

To giue faire colour to that Ladies cause in sight.

17
Streight to the carkasse of that Knight he went,

The cause of all this euill, who was slaine

The day before by iust auengement

Of noble
Tristram,
where it did remaine:

There he the necke thereof did cut in twaine,

And tooke with him the head, the signe of shame.

So forth he passed thorough that daies paine,

Till to that Ladies fathers house he came,

Most pensiue man, through feare, what of his childe became.

18
There he arriuing boldly, did present

The fearefull Lady to her father deare,

Most perfect pure, and guiltlesse innocent

Of blame, as he did on his Knighthood sweare,

Since first he saw her, and did free from feare

Of a discourteous Knight, who her had reft,

And by outragious force away did beare:

Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head there left,

And wretched life forlorne for vengement of his theft.

19
Most ioyfull man her sire was her to see,

And heare th'aduenture of her late mischaunce;

And thousand thankes to
Calidore
for fee

Of his large paines in her deliueraunce

Did yeeld; Ne lesse the Lady did aduaunce.

Thus hauing her restored trustily,

As he had vow'd, some small continuaunce

He there did make, and then most carefully

Vnto his first exploite he did him selfe apply.

20
So as he was pursuing of his quest

He chaunst to come whereas a iolly Knight,

In couert shade him selfe did safely rest,

To solace with his Lady in delight:

His warlike armes he had from him vndight;

For that him selfe he thought from daunger free,

And far from enuious eyes that mote him spight

And eke the Lady was full faire to see,

And courteous withall, becomming her degree.

21
To whom Sir
Calidore
approaching nye,

Ere they were well aware of liuing wight,

Them much abasht, but more him selfe thereby,

That he so rudely did vppon them light,

And troubled had their quiet loues delight

Yet since it was his fortune, not his fault,

Him selfe thereof he labour'd to acquite,

And pardon crau'd for his so rash default,

That he gainst courtesie so fowly did default.

22
With which his gentle words and goodly wit

He soone allayd that Knights conceiu'd displeasure,

That he besought him downe by him to sit,

That they mote treat of things abrode at leasure;

And of aduentures, which had in his measure

Of so long waies to him befallen late.

So downe he sate, and with delightfull pleasure

His long aduentures gan to him relate,

Which he endured had through daungerous debate.

23
Of which whilest they discoursed both together,

The faire
Serena
(so his Lady hight)

Allur'd with myldnesse of the gentle wether,

And pleasaunce of the place, the which was dight

With diuers flowres distinct with rare delight;

Wandred about the fields, as liking led

Her wauering lust after her wandring sight,

To make a garland to adorne her hed,

Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden dred.

24
All sodainely out of the forrest nere

The
Blatant Beast
forth rushing vnaware,

Caught her thus loosely wandring here and there,

And in his wide great mouth away her bare.

Crying aloud in vaine, to shew her sad misfare

Vnto the Knights, and calling oft for ayde,

Who with the horrour of her haplesse care

Hastily starting vp, like men dismayde,

Ran after fast to reskue the distressed mayde.

25
The Beast with their pursuit incited more,

Into the wood was bearing her apace

For to haue spoyled her, when
Calidore

Who was more light of foote and swift in chace,

Him ouertooke in middest of his race:

And fiercely charging him with all his might,

Forst to forgoe his pray there in the place,

And to betake him selfe to fearefull flight;

For he durst not abide with
Calidore
to fight

26
Who nathelesse, when he the Lady saw

There left on ground, though in full euill plight,

Yet knowing that her Knight now neare did draw,

Staide not to succour her in that affright,

But follow'd fast the Monster in his flight:

Through woods and hils he follow'd him so fast,

That he nould let him breath nor gather spright,

But forst him gape and gaspe, with dread aghast,

As if his lungs and lites were nigh a sunder brast.

27
And now by this Sir
Calepine
(so hight)

Came to the place, where he his Lady found

In dolorous dismay and deadly plight,

All in gore bloud there tumbled on the ground,

Hauing both sides through grypt with griesly wound.

His weapons soone from him he threw away,

And stouping downe to her in drery swound,

Vprear'd her from the ground, whereon she lay,

And in his tender armes her forced vp to stay.

28
So well he did his busie paines apply,

That the faint sprite he did reuoke againe,

To her fraile mansion of mortality.

Then vp he tooke her twixt his armes twaine,

And setting on his steede, her did sustaine

With carefull hands soft footing her beside,

Till to some place of rest they mote attaine,

Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide,