He is the young, untried champion of the
old cause whose struggles before the Reformation are referred to in ll.
old cause whose struggles before the Reformation are referred to in ll.
Spenser - Faerie Queene - 1
sent
A flake of fire, that, flashing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almost made affeard: 230
The scorching flame sore swinged all his face,
And through his armour all his body seard,
That he could not endure so cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.
XXVII
Not that great Champion? of the antique world, 235
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,
And hath for twelve huge labours high extold,
So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poysond garment did enchaunt,
With Centaures bloud and bloudie verses charm'd; 240
As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm'd,
That erst him goodly arm'd, now most of all him harm'd.
XXVIII
Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent?
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245
That never man such mischiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft desire,
But death will never come, when needes require.
Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
He cast to suffer him no more respire, 250
But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.
XXIX
It fortuned, (as faire it then befell,)
Behind his backe unweeting, where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a springing well, 255
From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med'cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
That happy land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 260
_The well of life_,? ne yet his vertues had forgot.
XXX
For unto life the dead it could restore,
And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
Those that with sicknesse were infected sore
It could recure, and aged long decay 265
Renew, as one were borne that very day.
Both Silo? this, and Jordan did excell,
And th' English Bath,? and eke the German Spau;
Ne can Cephise,? nor Hebrus match this well:
Into the same the knight back overthrowen, fell. 270
XXXI
Now gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe
His fierie face in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their journall labours they did rest,
When that infernall Monster, having kest 275
His wearie foe into that living well,
Can high advance his broad discoloured brest
Above his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.
XXXII
Which when his pensive Ladie saw from farre, 280
Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,
As weening that the sad end of the warre,
And gan to highest God entirely pray,
That feared chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent, 285
All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.
XXXIII
The morrow next gan early to appeare,
That Titan rose to runne his daily race; 290
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,
Up rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loved knight to move? his manly pace: 295
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.
XXXIV
At last she saw, where he upstarted brave
Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay:
As Eagle? fresh out of the Ocean wave, 300
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay,
Like Eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies,
His newly budded pineons to assay,
And marveiles at himselfe, still as he flies: 305
So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.
XXXV
Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy,
No wonder if he wondred at the sight,
And doubted, whether his late enemy
It were, or other new supplied knight. 310
He, now to prove his late renewed might,
High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,?
Upon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,
That to the scull a yawning wound it made;
The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid. 315
XXXVI
I wote not, whether the revenging steele
Were hardned with that holy water dew,
Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,
Or his baptized hands now greater grew;
Or other secret vertue did ensew; 320
Else never could the force of fleshly arme,
Ne molten mettall in his blood embrew? ;
For till that stownd could never wight him harme,
By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.
XXXVII
The cruell wound enraged him so sore, 325
That loud he yelded for exceeding paine;
As hundred ramping Lyons seem'd to rore,
Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine:
Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,
And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore, 330
That to his force to yeelden it was faine;
Ne ought his sturdy strokes might stand afore,
That high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.
XXXVIII
The same advauncing high above his head,
With sharpe intended sting? so rude him smot, 335
That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead,
Ne living wight would have him life behot:
The mortall sting his angry needle shot
Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,
Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got: 340
The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,
Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.
XXXIX
But yet more mindfull of his honour deare,
Then of the grievous smart, which him did wring,
From loathed soile he can him lightly reare, 345
And strove to loose the far infixed sting:
Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,
Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he heft,
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string
Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft, 350
Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.
XL
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes,
With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,
The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skyes,
That all was covered with darkenesse dire: 355
Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,
He cast at once him to avenge for all,
And gathering up himselfe out of the mire,
With his uneven wings did fiercely fall,
Upon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall. 360
XLI
Much was the man encombred with his hold,
In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,
Ne wist yet, how his talaunts to unfold;
For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw
To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw 365
To reave by strength the griped gage? away:
Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,
And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,
It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.
XLII
Tho when he saw no power might prevaile, 370
His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,
And double blowes about him stoutly laid,
That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;
As sparckles from the Andvile use to fly, 375
When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid;
Therewith at last he forst him to unty
One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.
XLIII
The other foot, fast fixed on his shield,
Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine 380
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,
He smot thereat with all his might and maine,
That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine;
Upon the joint the lucky steele did light,
And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; 385
The paw yett missed not his minisht might,?
But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.
XLIV
For griefe thereof and divelish despight,?
From his infernall fournace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimmed all the heavens light, 390
Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew:
As burning Aetna from his boyling stew
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountains molten new,
Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke, 395
That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke.
XLV
The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence
So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire
A little backward for his best defence,
To save his body from the scorching fire, 400
Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.
It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide,)
As he recoiled backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,
And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. 405
XLVI
There grew a goodly tree? him faire beside,
Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,
As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,
Whereof great vertues over all were red? :
For happy life to all which thereon fed, 410
And life eke everlasting did befall:
Great God it planted in that blessed sted
With his Almighty hand, and did it call
The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall. ?
XLVII
In all the world like was not to be found, 415
Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, 420
Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did know
Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:
That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy.
XLVIII
From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well,
A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine 425
And dainty deare, which on the ground, still fell,
And overflowed all the fertile plaine,
As it had deawed bene with timely raine:
Life and long health that gratious ointment gave,
And deadly wounds could heale and reare againe 430
The senselesse corse appointed for the grave.
Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.
XLIX
For nigh thereto the ever damned beast
Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,?
And all that life preserved did detest: 435
Yet he is oft adventur'd to invade.
By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,
And yield his roome to sad succeeding night,
Who with her sable mantle gan to shade
The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, 440
And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright.
L
When gentle Una saw the second fall
Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,
And faint through losse of blood, mov'd not at all,
But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, 445
Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might
Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,
Againe she stricken was with sore affright,
And for his safetie gan devoutly pray,
And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day. 450
LI
The joyous day gan early to appeare,
And faire Aurora from the deawy bed
Of aged Tithone gan herselfe to reare
With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red;
Her golden locks for haste were loosely shed 455
About her eares, when Una her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred;
From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke,
With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.
LII
Then freshly up arose the doughtie knight, 460
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,
And did himselfe to battell ready dight;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde,
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, 465
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him advaunced neare.
LIII
And in his first encounter, gaping wide,?
He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, 470
And rusht upon him with outragious pride;
Who him r'encountring fierce, as hauke in flight
Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright
Taking advantage of his open jaw,
Ran through his mouth with so importune might, 475
That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,
And back retyrd,? his life blood forth with all did draw.
LIV
So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath,
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;
So downe he fell, that th' earth him underneath 480
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;
So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,
Whose false foundation waves have washt away,
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,
And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; 485
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.
LV
The knight himselfe even trembled at his fall,
So huge and horrible a masse it seem'd,
And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,
Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem'd;? 490
But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend
She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had atchieved so great a conquest by his might. 495
* * * * *
CANTO XII
Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight,
betrouthed is with joy:
Though false Duessa it to barre
her false sleights doe imploy.
I
BEHOLD I see the haven nigh at hand,
To which I meane my wearie course to bend;
Vere the maine shete,? and beare up with the land,
The which afore is fairely to be kend,
And seemeth safe from storms that may offend; 5
There this faire virgin wearie of her way
Must landed be, now at her journeyes end:
There eke my feeble barke a while may stay
Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.
II
Scarsely had Phoebus in the glooming East 10
Yet harnessed his firie-footed teeme,
Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast;
When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme
That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme
Unto the watchman on the castle wall, 15
Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme,
And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,
To tell how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.
III
Uprose with hastie joy, and feeble speed
That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land, 20
And looked forth, to weet if true indeede
Those tydings were, as he did understand,
Which whenas true by tryall he out found,
He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,
Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond? 25
Proclaymed joy and peace through all his state;
For dead now was their foe which them forrayed late.
IV
Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie,
That sent to heaven the ecchoed report
Of their new joy, and happie victorie 30
Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,
And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.
Then all the people, as in solemne feast,
To him assembled with one full consort,
Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast, 35
From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.
V
Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene,
Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,
And sad habiliments right well beseene;
A noble crew about them waited round 40
Of sage and sober Peres, all gravely gownd;
Whom farre before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men,? all hable armes to sownd,
But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;
Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land. 45
VI
Unto that doughtie Conquerour they came,
And him before themselves prostrating low,
Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.
Soone after them all dauncing on a row 50
The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,
As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow,
When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light:
And in their hands sweet Timbrels all upheld on hight.
VII
And them before, the fry of children young 55
Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,
And to the Maydens? sounding tymbrels sung,
In well attuned notes, a joyous lay,
And made delightfull musicke all the way,
Untill they came, where that faire virgin stood; 60
As faire Diana in fresh sommers day,
Beholds her Nymphes enraung'd in shadie wood,
Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood:
VIII
So she beheld those maydens meriment
With chearefull vew; who when to her they came, 65
Themselves to ground with gracious humblesse bent,
And her ador'd by honorable name,
Lifting to heaven her everlasting fame:
Then on her head they set a girland greene,
And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game; 70
Who in her self-resemblance well beseene,?
Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.
IX
And after, all the raskall many? ran,
Heaped together in rude rablement,
To see the face of that victorious man: 75
Whom all admired, as from heaven sent,
And gazd upon with gaping wonderment.
But when they came where that dead Dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,
The sight with idle feare did them dismay, 80
Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.
X
Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd;
One that would wiser seeme then all the rest,
Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd
Some lingring life within his hollow brest, 85
Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest
Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull seed;
Another said, that in his eyes did rest
Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;
Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed. 90
XI
One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld
Did come too neare, and with his talants play,
Halfe dead through feare, her little babe revyld,
And to her gossips gan in counsell say;
How can I tell, but that his talants may 95
Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?
So diversly themselves in vaine they fray;
Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand,
To prove how many acres he did spread of land.
XII
Thus flocked all the folke him round about, 100
The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,
Being arrived where that champion stout
After his foes defeasance did remaine,
Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine
With princely gifts of yvorie and gold, 105
And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.
Then when his daughter deare he does behold,
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.
XIII
And after to his Pallace he them brings,
With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet; 110
And all the way the joyous people sings,
And with their garments strowes the paved street:
Whence mounting up, they find purveyance meet
Of all that royall Princes court became,
And all the floore was underneath their feet 115
Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,?
On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame. ?
XIV
What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize,?
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?
What needs of dainty dishes to devize, 120
Of comely services, or courtly trayne?
My narrow leaves cannot in them containe
The large discourse of royall Princes state.
Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:
For th' antique world excesse and pride did hate; 125
Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.
XV
Then when with meates and drinkes of every kinde
Their fervent appetites they quenched had,
That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde,
Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad, 130
Which in his travell him befallen had,
For to demaund of his renowmed guest:
Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance sad,
From point to point, as is before exprest,
Discourst his voyage long, according his request. 135
XVI
Great pleasures mixt with pittiful regard,
That godly King and Queene did passionate,
Whiles they his pittifull adventures heard,
That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,
And often blame the too importune fate, 140
That heaped on him so many wrathfull wreakes:
For never gentle knight, as he of late,
So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes;
And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.
XVII
Then sayd the royall Pere in sober wise; 145
Deare Sonne, great beene the evils which ye bore
From first to last in your late enterprise,
That I note whether prayse, or pitty more:
For never living man, I weene, so sore
In sea of deadly daungers was distrest; 150
But since now safe ye seised have the shore,
And well arrived are, (high God be blest)
Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest.
XVIII
Ah, dearest Lord, said then that doughty knight,
Of ease or rest I may not yet devize, 155
For by the faith, which I to armes have plight,
I bounden am streight after this emprize,
As that your daughter can ye well advize,
Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene,
And her to serve six yeares in warlike wize, 160
Gainst that proud Paynim king? that workes her teene
Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have beene.
XIX
Unhappie falles that hard necessitie,
(Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace,
And vowed foe of my felicitie; 165
Ne I against the same can justly preace:
But since that band ye cannot now release,
Nor doen undo? ; (for vowes may not be vaine,)
Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,
Ye then shall hither backe returne againe, 170
The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.
XX
Which for my part I covet to performe,
In sort as? through the world I did proclame,
That whoso kild that monster most deforme,
And him in hardy battaile overcame, 175
Should have mine onely daughter to his Dame,
And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee:
Therefore since now to thee perteines the same,
By dew desert of noble chevalree,
Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo, I yield to thee. 180
XXI
Then forth he called that his daughter faire,
The fairest Un' his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter, and his onely heyre;
Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare,
As bright as doth the morning starre appeare 185
Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight,
To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,
And to the world does bring long wished light:
So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.
XXII
So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; 190
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride;
And on her now a garment she did weare, 195
All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride,
That seemd like silke and silver woven neare,
But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.
XXIII
The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,
And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 200
To tell, were as to strive against the streame;
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight,
All were she? dayly with himselfe in place, 205
Did wonder much at her celestiall sight:
Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.
XXIV
So fairely dight, when she in presence came,
She to her Sire made humble reverence,
And bowed low, that her right well became, 210
And added grace unto her excellence:
Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence
Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said,
With flying speede, and seeming great pretence
Came running in, much like a man dismaid, 215
A Messenger with letters, which his message said.
XXV
All in the open hall amazed stood
At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight,
And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood.
But he for nought would stay his passage right, 220
Till fast before the king he did alight;
Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make,
And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight;
Then to his hands that writ he did betake,
Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake. 225
XXVI
To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire,
Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest,
The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire
Of that great Emperour of all the West;
And bids thee be advized for the best, 230
Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest:
For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love, and to another land.
XXVII
To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, 235
He was affiaunced long time before,
And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,
False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore:
Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore,
And guiltie heavens of his bold perjury, 240
Which though he hath polluted oft of yore,
Yet I to them for judgement just do fly,
And them conjure t'avenge this shamefull injury.
XXVIII
Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
Or false or trew, or living or else dead, 245
Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
Through weaknesse of my widowhed, or woe;
For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead, 250
And shall find friends, if need requireth soe.
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, _Fidessa_.
XXIX
When he these bitter byting wordes had red,
The tydings straunge did him abashed make,
That still he sate long time astonished, 255
As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.
At last his solemne silence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake
Thy life and honour late adventurest, 260
Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.
XXX
What meane these bloody vowes, and idle threats,
Throwne out from womanish impatient mind?
What heavens? what altars? what enraged heates
Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265
My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind?
High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame.
But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,
Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame,
With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same. 270
XXXI
To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent
My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd,
Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,
What woman, and wherefere doth me upbrayd
With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd. 275
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward
I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd
Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;
That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.
XXXII
There did I find, or rather I was found 280
Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground,
Most false Duessa, royall richly dight,
That easy was to invegle weaker sight:
Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, 285
Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.
XXXIII
Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd,
And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, 290
With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;
O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show
The secret treasons, which of late I know
To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse.
She onely she it is, that earst did throw 295
This gentle knight into so great distresse,
That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.
XXXIV
And now it seemes, that she suborned hath
This craftie messenger with letters vaine,
To worke new woe and unprovided scath, 300
By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine;
Wherein she used hath the practicke paine
Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,
Whom if ye please for to discover plaine,
Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse, 305
The falsest man alive; who tries shall find no lesse.
XXXV
The king was greatly moved at her speach,
And, all with suddein indignation fraight,
Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach.
Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, 310
Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait:
Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,?
With idle force did faine them to withstand,
And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand. 315
XXXVI
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe,
And bound him hand and foote with yron chains
And with continual watch did warely keepe:
Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains
He could escape fowle death or deadly paines? 320
Thus when that princes wrath was pacifide,
He gan renew the late forbidden bains,
And to the knight his daughter dear he tyde,
With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.
XXXVII
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, 325
That none but death for ever can devide;
His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit,
The housling fire? did kindle and provide,
And holy water thereon sprinckled wide;
At which the bushy Teade a groome did light, 330
And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide,
Where it should not be quenched day nor night,
For feare of evill fates, but burnen ever bright.
XXXVIII
Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine,
And made great feast to solemnize that day; 335
They all perfumde with frankencense divine,
And precious odours fetcht from far away,
That all the house did sweat with great aray:
And all the while sweete Musicke did apply
Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play, 340
To drive away the dull Melancholy;
The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity.
XXXIX
During the which there was an heavenly noise
Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly,
Like as it had bene many an Angels voice 345
Singing before th' eternall Majesty,
In their trinall triplicities? on hye;
Yet wist no creature whence that heavenly sweet
Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly
Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet, 350
And ravished with rare impression in his sprite.
XL
Great joy was made that day of young and old,
And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land,
That their exceeding merth may not be told:
Suffice it heare by signes to understand 355
The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band.
Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,
Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand,
And ever, when his eye did her behold,
His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. 360
XLI
Her joyous presence, and sweet company
In full content he there did long enjoy;
Ne wicked envie, ne vile gealosy,
His deare delights were able to annoy:
Yet swimming in that sea of blissfull joy, 365
He nought forgot how he whilome had sworne,
In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,
Unto his Faerie Queene backe to returne;
The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne.
XLII
Now strike your sailes ye jolly Mariners, 370
For we be come unto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers,
And light this wearie vessell of her lode.
Here she a while may make her safe abode,
Till she repaired have her tackles spent,? 375
And wants supplide. And then againe abroad
On the long voyage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.
* * * * *
NOTES
LINE 1. LO I THE MAN. . . . An imitation of the opening lines of Vergil's
_Aeneid_:--
"Ille ego, qui quondam gracili modulatus avena
Carmen,. . .
Gratum opus agricolis, at nunc horrentia Martis. "
Referring to his _Shepheards Calender_ (1579) Spenser thus gracefully
indicates his change from pastoral to epic poetry.
5-9. KNIGHTS AND LADIES. The poet here imitates the opening of Ariosto's
_Orlando Furioso_.
10. O HOLY VIRGIN CHIEFE OF NINE, refers to Clio, the muse of history.
Spenser should have invoked Calliope, the muse of poetry.
14. OF FAERIE KNIGHTS, the the champions of Gloriana, the queen of
Faerieland. FAIREST TANAQUILL, a British princess, daughter of Oberon, king
of Faerieland. In the allegory she is Queen Elizabeth.
15. THAT MOST NOBLE BRITON PRINCE is Prince Arthur, the perfect knight, who
is in love with Gloriana. In the allegory the Earl of Leicester is probably
meant, though by one tradition Sir Philip Sidney is identified with Prince
Arthur.
19. IMPE OF HIGHEST JOVE, Cupid, the god of love, and son of Jupiter and
Venus. He is represented as armed with an ebony bow (l. 23).
25. TRIUMPHANT MART, Mars, the god of war. The spelling is that of the
Italians and Chaucer.
28. O GODDESSE HEAVENLY BRIGHT, Queen Elizabeth (aged 56), who was fond of
such extravagant flattery, and expected it of all her courtiers.
31. PHOEBUS LAMPE, Apollo, the sun-god.
34. GLORIOUS TYPE OF THINE, the Lady Una, who stands for Truth in the
allegory.
35. THE ARGUMENT OF MINE AFFLICTED STILE, the subject of my humble pen.
"_Afflicted_" has the original Latin sense of "cast down. "
36. O DEAREST DRED, O beloved object of reverence; a common salutation of
royalty.
CANTO I
I. _The Plot:_ At the bidding of Gloriana, the Redcross Knight undertakes
to deliver Una's parents from a dragon who holds them captive. He sets out
upon his quest attended by a dwarf and guided by Una, mounted on an ass and
leading a lamb. They are driven by a storm into a forest, where they
discover the cave of Error, who is slain by the Knight. They are then
beguiled into the house of Archimago, an old enchanter. By his magic he
leads the Knight in a dream to believe that Una is false to him, and thus
separates them.
II. _The Allegory:_ 1. Holiness, the love of God, united with Truth, the
knowledge of God, is to deliver man from the thraldom of the Devil.
Together they are able to overthrow Error; but Hypocrisy deceitfully
alienates Holiness from Truth by making the latter appear unworthy of love.
2. There is a hint of the intrigues of the false Roman church and the
treacherous Spanish king, Philip II, to undermine the religious and
political freedom of the English people. The English nation, following the
Reformed church, overthrows the Catholic faith, but is deceived by the
machinations of Spanish diplomacy.
LINE 1. A GENTLE KNIGHT, the Redcross Knight, representing the church
militant, and Reformed England.
He is the young, untried champion of the
old cause whose struggles before the Reformation are referred to in ll. 3,
4. His shield bore "a cross gules upon a field argent," a red cross on a
silver ground. See _The Birth of St. George_ in Percy's _Reliques_, iii, 3,
and Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, iii, 65.
15. FOR SOVERAINE HOPE, as a sign of the supreme hope.
20. GREATEST GLORIANA, Queen Elizabeth. In other books of _The Faerie
Queene_ she is called Belphoebe, the patroness of chastity, and Britomart,
the military genius of Britain.
27. A DRAGON, "the great dragon, that old serpent, called the devil,"
_Revelation_, xii, 9, also Rome and Spain. Cf. legend of St. George and the
dragon, and Fletcher's _Purple Island_, vii _seq. _
28. A LOVELY LADIE, Una, the personification of truth and true religion.
Her lamb symbolizes innocence.
46. A DWARFE, representing prudence, or common sense; according to Morley,
the flesh.
56. A SHADIE GROVE, the wood of Error. "By it Spenser shadows forth the
danger surrounding the mind that escapes from the bondage of Roman
authority and thinks for itself. "--Kitchin. The description of the wood is
an imitation of Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, i, 37, Chaucer's _Assembly of
Foules_, 176, and Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_, iii, 75. Morley sees in
this grove an allegory of man's life, the trees symbolizing trade,
pleasure, youth, etc.
69. THE SAYLING PINE. Ships were built of pine.
70. THE LOPLAR NEVER DRY, because it grows best in moist soil.
71. THE BUILDER OAKE. In the Middle Ages most manor houses and churches
were built of oak.
72. THE CYPRESSE FUNERALL, an emblem of death among the ancients, and
sacred to Pluto. Sidney says that they were wont to dress graves with
cypress branches in old times.
73. THE LAURELL. Victors at the Pythian games and triumphing Roman generals
were crowned with laurel. It was also sacred to Apollo, the god of poetry,
hence "meed of poets sage. "
74. THE FIRRE THAT WEEPETH STILL. The fir exudes resinous substance.
75. THE WILLOW. "Willows: a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love
make their mourning garlands. "--Fuller's _Worthies_, i, 153. Cf. Heywood's
_Song of the Green Willow_, and Desdemona's song in _Othello_, IV, iii, 39.
76. THE EUGH. Ascham in his _Toxophilus_ tells us that the best bows were
made of yew.
78. THE MIRRHE, the Arabian myrtle, which exudes a bitter but fragrant gum.
The allusion is to the wounding of Myrrha by her father and her
metamorphosis into this tree.
79. THE WARLIKE BEECH, because lances and other arms were made of it. THE
ASH FOR NOTHING ILL. "The uses of the ash is one of the most universal: it
serves the souldier, the carpenter, the wheelwright, cartwright, cooper,
turner, and thatcher. "--Evelyn's _Sylva_. The great tree Igdrasil in the
northern mythology was an ash.
81. THE CARVER HOLME, or evergreen oak, was good for carving.
106. SHAME WERE TO REVOKE, etc. , it would be cowardly not to go forward for
fear of some suspected unseen danger.
114. THE WANDRING WOOD, i. e. which causes men to go astray.
123. MONSTER. The description of the monster Error, or Falsehood, is based
on Hesiod's Echidna, _Theog_. 301, and the locusts in _Revelation_, ix,
7-10. She is half human, half serpent, because error is partly true and
partly false. Dante's Fraud and Milton's Sin are similar monsters.
126. FULL OF VILE DISDAINE, full of vileness that bred disgust in the
beholder.
130. OF HER THERE BRED, etc. , of her were born a thousand young ones. Her
offspring are lies and rumors of many shapes.
141. ARMED TO POINT, completely armed. Cf. Fr. _a point_, to a nicety.
145. THE VALIANT ELFE, because he was the reputed son of an Elfin or
Faerie, though really sprung from "an ancient race of Saxon kings. " Three
kinds of elves are mentioned in the _Edda_: the black dwarfs, and brownies,
who both dwelt under ground, and the fair elves, who dwelt in Fairyland or
Alfheim. "The difference between Spenser's elves and these Teutonic elves
shows how he perverts Fairy mythology in the same way as he does Classical
myths. "--Percival.
168. HIS GALL DID GRATE FOR GRIEFE, his anger was aroused on account of
pain. In the old anatomy anger had its seat in the gallbladder. See
Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_, I, i, 2.
177. HER VOMIT FULL OF BOOKES, etc. From 1570, when Pope Sixtus V issued
his bull of deposition against Queen Elizabeth, to 1590, great numbers of
scurrilous pamphlets attacking the Queen and the Reformed church had been
disseminated by Jesuit refugees.
181. NILUS. Pliny believed that the mud of the Nile had the power of
breeding living creatures like mice. _Hist. Nat. _ ix, 84. So Shakespeare,
_Antony and Cleopatra_, II, vii, 29.
199. GENTLE SHEPHEARD. In this pastoral simile, Spenser imitates Homer's
_Iliad_, ii, 469, and xvii, 641, and Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, xiv, 109.
208. THUS ILL BESTEDD. There is a similar combat in the old romance _Guy of
Warwick_, ix, between the hero and a man-eating dragon.
217. HER SCATTRED BROOD. The poet here follows a belief as old as Pliny
that the young of serpents fed on their mother's blood. In this entire
passage the details are too revolting for modern taste.
232. THE WHICH THEM NURST. The antecedent of _which_ is _her_. In the
sixteenth century _the_ was frequently placed before _which_, which was
also the equivalent of _who_. Cf. the Lord's Prayer.
234. HE SHOULD CONTEND, he should have had to contend.
237. BORNE UNDER HAPPY STARRE. Belief in astrology was once common, and
Spenser being a Pythagorean would hold the doctrine of the influence of the
stars on human destiny.
239. THAT ARMORIE, the armor of the Christian warrior. _Ephesians_, vi, 13.
243. THAT LIKE SUCCEED IT MAY, that like successful adventures may succeed
it. The word order is inverted for the sake of the rhyme.
250. TO FREND, as his friend.
254. AN AGED SIRE, the false enchanter, Archimago, or Hypocrisy, who is
supposed to represent Pope Sixtus V or King Philip II of Spain. In general
he stands for false religion or the Church of Rome. The character and
adventure are taken from _Orlando Furioso_, ii, 12, in which there is a
hypocritical hermit. The Knight at first takes Archimago to be a palmer,
and inquires for the foreign news.
295. TAKE UP YOUR IN, take lodging.
301. A LITTLE WYDE, a little way off.
315. AN AVE-MARY, Hail Mary, a prayer to the Virgin. Cf. _Luke_, i, 28.
317. THE SAD HUMOUR, the heavy moisture, or "slombring deaw. "
318. MORPHEUS, the son of Somnus and god of sleep and dreams, who sprinkled
the dew of sleep on the brow of mortals from his horn or wings or from a
bough dipped in Lethe.
323. HIS MAGICK BOOKES AND ARTES. Monks engaged in scientific
investigation, such as Friar Roger Bacon, were popularly supposed to use
cabalistic books, and to make compacts with the Devil by means of
necromancy, or the black art, as in st. xxxvii. Before the close of the
century Marlowe's _Doctor Faustus_ and Greene's _Friar Bacon and Friar
Bungay_, both based on the popular belief in magic, were presented on the
London stage.
328. BLACKE PLUTOES GRIESLY DAME, Proserpine, the avenger of men, and
inflicter of curses on the dead. She is identified with Shakespeare's
Hecate, the goddess of sorcery, and with Milton's Cotytto, goddess of lust.
To this latter sin the knight is tempted.
332. GREAT GORGON, Demogorgon, whose name might not be uttered, a magician
who had power over the spirits of the lower world. The poet is here
imitating the Latin poets Lucan and Statius.
333. COCYTUS, the river of wailing, and STYX, the river of hate, both in
Hades. There were two others, _Acheron_, the river of sorrow, and
_Phlegethon_, the river of fire.
335. LEGIONS OF SPRIGHTS. In this stanza and the preceding Spenser follows
Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_, xiii, 6-11, where the magician Ismeno,
guarding the Enchanted Wood, conjures "legions of devils" with the "mighty
name" (l. 332).
339. CHOSE. Imitation of Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, ii, 15, in which a
false spirit is called up by a hypocritical hermit. The description of the
House of Sleep in st. xxxix _seq_. is modelled on the same poet, _Orlando
Furioso_, ii, 15 _seq_. The influence of Homer's _Odyssey_, xi, 16 is seen
in st. xxxix, ll. 348 _seq_.
348. TETHYS, the ocean. In classical mythology she is the daughter of
Uranus (heaven) and Gaea (earth), and the wife of Oceanus.
349. CYNTHIA, the moon. The allusion is to the story of Diana and Endymion.
See Lyly's play _Endymion_.
352. WHOSE DOUBLE GATES. Homer, _Odyssey_, xix, 562, and Vergil, _Aeneid_,
vi, 893, give the House of Dreams a horn and an ivory gate. Spenser
substitutes silver for horn, mirrors being overlaid with silver in his
time. From the ivory gate issued false dreams; from the other, true ones.
361. SLUMBER SOFT. This stanza shows Spenser's wonderful technique. His
exquisite effects are produced, it will be noticed, partly by the choice of
musical words and partly by the rhythmical cadence of the verse phrases. It
is an example of perfect "keeping," or adaptation of sound to sense. Cf.
Chaucer's description of the waterfalls in the Cave of Sleep in his _Boke
of the Duchesse_, 162.
376.
A flake of fire, that, flashing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almost made affeard: 230
The scorching flame sore swinged all his face,
And through his armour all his body seard,
That he could not endure so cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.
XXVII
Not that great Champion? of the antique world, 235
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,
And hath for twelve huge labours high extold,
So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poysond garment did enchaunt,
With Centaures bloud and bloudie verses charm'd; 240
As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm'd,
That erst him goodly arm'd, now most of all him harm'd.
XXVIII
Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent?
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245
That never man such mischiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft desire,
But death will never come, when needes require.
Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
He cast to suffer him no more respire, 250
But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.
XXIX
It fortuned, (as faire it then befell,)
Behind his backe unweeting, where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a springing well, 255
From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med'cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
That happy land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 260
_The well of life_,? ne yet his vertues had forgot.
XXX
For unto life the dead it could restore,
And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
Those that with sicknesse were infected sore
It could recure, and aged long decay 265
Renew, as one were borne that very day.
Both Silo? this, and Jordan did excell,
And th' English Bath,? and eke the German Spau;
Ne can Cephise,? nor Hebrus match this well:
Into the same the knight back overthrowen, fell. 270
XXXI
Now gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe
His fierie face in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their journall labours they did rest,
When that infernall Monster, having kest 275
His wearie foe into that living well,
Can high advance his broad discoloured brest
Above his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.
XXXII
Which when his pensive Ladie saw from farre, 280
Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,
As weening that the sad end of the warre,
And gan to highest God entirely pray,
That feared chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent, 285
All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.
XXXIII
The morrow next gan early to appeare,
That Titan rose to runne his daily race; 290
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,
Up rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loved knight to move? his manly pace: 295
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.
XXXIV
At last she saw, where he upstarted brave
Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay:
As Eagle? fresh out of the Ocean wave, 300
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay,
Like Eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies,
His newly budded pineons to assay,
And marveiles at himselfe, still as he flies: 305
So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.
XXXV
Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy,
No wonder if he wondred at the sight,
And doubted, whether his late enemy
It were, or other new supplied knight. 310
He, now to prove his late renewed might,
High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,?
Upon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,
That to the scull a yawning wound it made;
The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid. 315
XXXVI
I wote not, whether the revenging steele
Were hardned with that holy water dew,
Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,
Or his baptized hands now greater grew;
Or other secret vertue did ensew; 320
Else never could the force of fleshly arme,
Ne molten mettall in his blood embrew? ;
For till that stownd could never wight him harme,
By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.
XXXVII
The cruell wound enraged him so sore, 325
That loud he yelded for exceeding paine;
As hundred ramping Lyons seem'd to rore,
Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine:
Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,
And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore, 330
That to his force to yeelden it was faine;
Ne ought his sturdy strokes might stand afore,
That high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.
XXXVIII
The same advauncing high above his head,
With sharpe intended sting? so rude him smot, 335
That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead,
Ne living wight would have him life behot:
The mortall sting his angry needle shot
Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,
Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got: 340
The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,
Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.
XXXIX
But yet more mindfull of his honour deare,
Then of the grievous smart, which him did wring,
From loathed soile he can him lightly reare, 345
And strove to loose the far infixed sting:
Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,
Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he heft,
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string
Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft, 350
Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.
XL
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes,
With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,
The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skyes,
That all was covered with darkenesse dire: 355
Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,
He cast at once him to avenge for all,
And gathering up himselfe out of the mire,
With his uneven wings did fiercely fall,
Upon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall. 360
XLI
Much was the man encombred with his hold,
In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,
Ne wist yet, how his talaunts to unfold;
For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw
To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw 365
To reave by strength the griped gage? away:
Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,
And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,
It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.
XLII
Tho when he saw no power might prevaile, 370
His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,
And double blowes about him stoutly laid,
That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;
As sparckles from the Andvile use to fly, 375
When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid;
Therewith at last he forst him to unty
One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.
XLIII
The other foot, fast fixed on his shield,
Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine 380
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,
He smot thereat with all his might and maine,
That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine;
Upon the joint the lucky steele did light,
And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; 385
The paw yett missed not his minisht might,?
But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.
XLIV
For griefe thereof and divelish despight,?
From his infernall fournace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimmed all the heavens light, 390
Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew:
As burning Aetna from his boyling stew
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountains molten new,
Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke, 395
That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke.
XLV
The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence
So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire
A little backward for his best defence,
To save his body from the scorching fire, 400
Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.
It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide,)
As he recoiled backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,
And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. 405
XLVI
There grew a goodly tree? him faire beside,
Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,
As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,
Whereof great vertues over all were red? :
For happy life to all which thereon fed, 410
And life eke everlasting did befall:
Great God it planted in that blessed sted
With his Almighty hand, and did it call
The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall. ?
XLVII
In all the world like was not to be found, 415
Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, 420
Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did know
Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:
That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy.
XLVIII
From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well,
A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine 425
And dainty deare, which on the ground, still fell,
And overflowed all the fertile plaine,
As it had deawed bene with timely raine:
Life and long health that gratious ointment gave,
And deadly wounds could heale and reare againe 430
The senselesse corse appointed for the grave.
Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.
XLIX
For nigh thereto the ever damned beast
Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,?
And all that life preserved did detest: 435
Yet he is oft adventur'd to invade.
By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,
And yield his roome to sad succeeding night,
Who with her sable mantle gan to shade
The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, 440
And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright.
L
When gentle Una saw the second fall
Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,
And faint through losse of blood, mov'd not at all,
But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, 445
Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might
Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,
Againe she stricken was with sore affright,
And for his safetie gan devoutly pray,
And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day. 450
LI
The joyous day gan early to appeare,
And faire Aurora from the deawy bed
Of aged Tithone gan herselfe to reare
With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red;
Her golden locks for haste were loosely shed 455
About her eares, when Una her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred;
From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke,
With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.
LII
Then freshly up arose the doughtie knight, 460
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,
And did himselfe to battell ready dight;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde,
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, 465
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him advaunced neare.
LIII
And in his first encounter, gaping wide,?
He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, 470
And rusht upon him with outragious pride;
Who him r'encountring fierce, as hauke in flight
Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright
Taking advantage of his open jaw,
Ran through his mouth with so importune might, 475
That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,
And back retyrd,? his life blood forth with all did draw.
LIV
So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath,
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;
So downe he fell, that th' earth him underneath 480
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;
So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,
Whose false foundation waves have washt away,
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,
And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; 485
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.
LV
The knight himselfe even trembled at his fall,
So huge and horrible a masse it seem'd,
And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,
Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem'd;? 490
But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend
She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had atchieved so great a conquest by his might. 495
* * * * *
CANTO XII
Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight,
betrouthed is with joy:
Though false Duessa it to barre
her false sleights doe imploy.
I
BEHOLD I see the haven nigh at hand,
To which I meane my wearie course to bend;
Vere the maine shete,? and beare up with the land,
The which afore is fairely to be kend,
And seemeth safe from storms that may offend; 5
There this faire virgin wearie of her way
Must landed be, now at her journeyes end:
There eke my feeble barke a while may stay
Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.
II
Scarsely had Phoebus in the glooming East 10
Yet harnessed his firie-footed teeme,
Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast;
When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme
That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme
Unto the watchman on the castle wall, 15
Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme,
And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,
To tell how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.
III
Uprose with hastie joy, and feeble speed
That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land, 20
And looked forth, to weet if true indeede
Those tydings were, as he did understand,
Which whenas true by tryall he out found,
He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,
Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond? 25
Proclaymed joy and peace through all his state;
For dead now was their foe which them forrayed late.
IV
Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie,
That sent to heaven the ecchoed report
Of their new joy, and happie victorie 30
Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort,
And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.
Then all the people, as in solemne feast,
To him assembled with one full consort,
Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast, 35
From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.
V
Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene,
Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,
And sad habiliments right well beseene;
A noble crew about them waited round 40
Of sage and sober Peres, all gravely gownd;
Whom farre before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men,? all hable armes to sownd,
But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;
Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land. 45
VI
Unto that doughtie Conquerour they came,
And him before themselves prostrating low,
Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.
Soone after them all dauncing on a row 50
The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,
As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow,
When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light:
And in their hands sweet Timbrels all upheld on hight.
VII
And them before, the fry of children young 55
Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,
And to the Maydens? sounding tymbrels sung,
In well attuned notes, a joyous lay,
And made delightfull musicke all the way,
Untill they came, where that faire virgin stood; 60
As faire Diana in fresh sommers day,
Beholds her Nymphes enraung'd in shadie wood,
Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood:
VIII
So she beheld those maydens meriment
With chearefull vew; who when to her they came, 65
Themselves to ground with gracious humblesse bent,
And her ador'd by honorable name,
Lifting to heaven her everlasting fame:
Then on her head they set a girland greene,
And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game; 70
Who in her self-resemblance well beseene,?
Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.
IX
And after, all the raskall many? ran,
Heaped together in rude rablement,
To see the face of that victorious man: 75
Whom all admired, as from heaven sent,
And gazd upon with gaping wonderment.
But when they came where that dead Dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,
The sight with idle feare did them dismay, 80
Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.
X
Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd;
One that would wiser seeme then all the rest,
Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd
Some lingring life within his hollow brest, 85
Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest
Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull seed;
Another said, that in his eyes did rest
Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;
Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed. 90
XI
One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld
Did come too neare, and with his talants play,
Halfe dead through feare, her little babe revyld,
And to her gossips gan in counsell say;
How can I tell, but that his talants may 95
Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?
So diversly themselves in vaine they fray;
Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand,
To prove how many acres he did spread of land.
XII
Thus flocked all the folke him round about, 100
The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,
Being arrived where that champion stout
After his foes defeasance did remaine,
Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine
With princely gifts of yvorie and gold, 105
And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.
Then when his daughter deare he does behold,
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.
XIII
And after to his Pallace he them brings,
With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet; 110
And all the way the joyous people sings,
And with their garments strowes the paved street:
Whence mounting up, they find purveyance meet
Of all that royall Princes court became,
And all the floore was underneath their feet 115
Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,?
On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame. ?
XIV
What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize,?
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?
What needs of dainty dishes to devize, 120
Of comely services, or courtly trayne?
My narrow leaves cannot in them containe
The large discourse of royall Princes state.
Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:
For th' antique world excesse and pride did hate; 125
Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.
XV
Then when with meates and drinkes of every kinde
Their fervent appetites they quenched had,
That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde,
Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad, 130
Which in his travell him befallen had,
For to demaund of his renowmed guest:
Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance sad,
From point to point, as is before exprest,
Discourst his voyage long, according his request. 135
XVI
Great pleasures mixt with pittiful regard,
That godly King and Queene did passionate,
Whiles they his pittifull adventures heard,
That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,
And often blame the too importune fate, 140
That heaped on him so many wrathfull wreakes:
For never gentle knight, as he of late,
So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes;
And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.
XVII
Then sayd the royall Pere in sober wise; 145
Deare Sonne, great beene the evils which ye bore
From first to last in your late enterprise,
That I note whether prayse, or pitty more:
For never living man, I weene, so sore
In sea of deadly daungers was distrest; 150
But since now safe ye seised have the shore,
And well arrived are, (high God be blest)
Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest.
XVIII
Ah, dearest Lord, said then that doughty knight,
Of ease or rest I may not yet devize, 155
For by the faith, which I to armes have plight,
I bounden am streight after this emprize,
As that your daughter can ye well advize,
Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene,
And her to serve six yeares in warlike wize, 160
Gainst that proud Paynim king? that workes her teene
Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have beene.
XIX
Unhappie falles that hard necessitie,
(Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace,
And vowed foe of my felicitie; 165
Ne I against the same can justly preace:
But since that band ye cannot now release,
Nor doen undo? ; (for vowes may not be vaine,)
Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,
Ye then shall hither backe returne againe, 170
The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.
XX
Which for my part I covet to performe,
In sort as? through the world I did proclame,
That whoso kild that monster most deforme,
And him in hardy battaile overcame, 175
Should have mine onely daughter to his Dame,
And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee:
Therefore since now to thee perteines the same,
By dew desert of noble chevalree,
Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo, I yield to thee. 180
XXI
Then forth he called that his daughter faire,
The fairest Un' his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter, and his onely heyre;
Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare,
As bright as doth the morning starre appeare 185
Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight,
To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,
And to the world does bring long wished light:
So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.
XXII
So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; 190
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride;
And on her now a garment she did weare, 195
All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride,
That seemd like silke and silver woven neare,
But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.
XXIII
The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,
And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 200
To tell, were as to strive against the streame;
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight,
All were she? dayly with himselfe in place, 205
Did wonder much at her celestiall sight:
Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.
XXIV
So fairely dight, when she in presence came,
She to her Sire made humble reverence,
And bowed low, that her right well became, 210
And added grace unto her excellence:
Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence
Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said,
With flying speede, and seeming great pretence
Came running in, much like a man dismaid, 215
A Messenger with letters, which his message said.
XXV
All in the open hall amazed stood
At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight,
And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood.
But he for nought would stay his passage right, 220
Till fast before the king he did alight;
Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make,
And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight;
Then to his hands that writ he did betake,
Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake. 225
XXVI
To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire,
Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest,
The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire
Of that great Emperour of all the West;
And bids thee be advized for the best, 230
Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest:
For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love, and to another land.
XXVII
To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, 235
He was affiaunced long time before,
And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,
False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore:
Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore,
And guiltie heavens of his bold perjury, 240
Which though he hath polluted oft of yore,
Yet I to them for judgement just do fly,
And them conjure t'avenge this shamefull injury.
XXVIII
Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
Or false or trew, or living or else dead, 245
Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
Through weaknesse of my widowhed, or woe;
For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead, 250
And shall find friends, if need requireth soe.
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, _Fidessa_.
XXIX
When he these bitter byting wordes had red,
The tydings straunge did him abashed make,
That still he sate long time astonished, 255
As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.
At last his solemne silence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake
Thy life and honour late adventurest, 260
Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.
XXX
What meane these bloody vowes, and idle threats,
Throwne out from womanish impatient mind?
What heavens? what altars? what enraged heates
Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265
My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind?
High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame.
But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,
Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame,
With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same. 270
XXXI
To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent
My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd,
Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,
What woman, and wherefere doth me upbrayd
With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd. 275
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward
I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd
Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;
That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.
XXXII
There did I find, or rather I was found 280
Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground,
Most false Duessa, royall richly dight,
That easy was to invegle weaker sight:
Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, 285
Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.
XXXIII
Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd,
And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, 290
With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;
O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show
The secret treasons, which of late I know
To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse.
She onely she it is, that earst did throw 295
This gentle knight into so great distresse,
That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.
XXXIV
And now it seemes, that she suborned hath
This craftie messenger with letters vaine,
To worke new woe and unprovided scath, 300
By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine;
Wherein she used hath the practicke paine
Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,
Whom if ye please for to discover plaine,
Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse, 305
The falsest man alive; who tries shall find no lesse.
XXXV
The king was greatly moved at her speach,
And, all with suddein indignation fraight,
Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach.
Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, 310
Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait:
Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,?
With idle force did faine them to withstand,
And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand. 315
XXXVI
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe,
And bound him hand and foote with yron chains
And with continual watch did warely keepe:
Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains
He could escape fowle death or deadly paines? 320
Thus when that princes wrath was pacifide,
He gan renew the late forbidden bains,
And to the knight his daughter dear he tyde,
With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.
XXXVII
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, 325
That none but death for ever can devide;
His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit,
The housling fire? did kindle and provide,
And holy water thereon sprinckled wide;
At which the bushy Teade a groome did light, 330
And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide,
Where it should not be quenched day nor night,
For feare of evill fates, but burnen ever bright.
XXXVIII
Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine,
And made great feast to solemnize that day; 335
They all perfumde with frankencense divine,
And precious odours fetcht from far away,
That all the house did sweat with great aray:
And all the while sweete Musicke did apply
Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play, 340
To drive away the dull Melancholy;
The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity.
XXXIX
During the which there was an heavenly noise
Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly,
Like as it had bene many an Angels voice 345
Singing before th' eternall Majesty,
In their trinall triplicities? on hye;
Yet wist no creature whence that heavenly sweet
Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly
Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet, 350
And ravished with rare impression in his sprite.
XL
Great joy was made that day of young and old,
And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land,
That their exceeding merth may not be told:
Suffice it heare by signes to understand 355
The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band.
Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,
Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand,
And ever, when his eye did her behold,
His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. 360
XLI
Her joyous presence, and sweet company
In full content he there did long enjoy;
Ne wicked envie, ne vile gealosy,
His deare delights were able to annoy:
Yet swimming in that sea of blissfull joy, 365
He nought forgot how he whilome had sworne,
In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,
Unto his Faerie Queene backe to returne;
The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne.
XLII
Now strike your sailes ye jolly Mariners, 370
For we be come unto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers,
And light this wearie vessell of her lode.
Here she a while may make her safe abode,
Till she repaired have her tackles spent,? 375
And wants supplide. And then againe abroad
On the long voyage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.
* * * * *
NOTES
LINE 1. LO I THE MAN. . . . An imitation of the opening lines of Vergil's
_Aeneid_:--
"Ille ego, qui quondam gracili modulatus avena
Carmen,. . .
Gratum opus agricolis, at nunc horrentia Martis. "
Referring to his _Shepheards Calender_ (1579) Spenser thus gracefully
indicates his change from pastoral to epic poetry.
5-9. KNIGHTS AND LADIES. The poet here imitates the opening of Ariosto's
_Orlando Furioso_.
10. O HOLY VIRGIN CHIEFE OF NINE, refers to Clio, the muse of history.
Spenser should have invoked Calliope, the muse of poetry.
14. OF FAERIE KNIGHTS, the the champions of Gloriana, the queen of
Faerieland. FAIREST TANAQUILL, a British princess, daughter of Oberon, king
of Faerieland. In the allegory she is Queen Elizabeth.
15. THAT MOST NOBLE BRITON PRINCE is Prince Arthur, the perfect knight, who
is in love with Gloriana. In the allegory the Earl of Leicester is probably
meant, though by one tradition Sir Philip Sidney is identified with Prince
Arthur.
19. IMPE OF HIGHEST JOVE, Cupid, the god of love, and son of Jupiter and
Venus. He is represented as armed with an ebony bow (l. 23).
25. TRIUMPHANT MART, Mars, the god of war. The spelling is that of the
Italians and Chaucer.
28. O GODDESSE HEAVENLY BRIGHT, Queen Elizabeth (aged 56), who was fond of
such extravagant flattery, and expected it of all her courtiers.
31. PHOEBUS LAMPE, Apollo, the sun-god.
34. GLORIOUS TYPE OF THINE, the Lady Una, who stands for Truth in the
allegory.
35. THE ARGUMENT OF MINE AFFLICTED STILE, the subject of my humble pen.
"_Afflicted_" has the original Latin sense of "cast down. "
36. O DEAREST DRED, O beloved object of reverence; a common salutation of
royalty.
CANTO I
I. _The Plot:_ At the bidding of Gloriana, the Redcross Knight undertakes
to deliver Una's parents from a dragon who holds them captive. He sets out
upon his quest attended by a dwarf and guided by Una, mounted on an ass and
leading a lamb. They are driven by a storm into a forest, where they
discover the cave of Error, who is slain by the Knight. They are then
beguiled into the house of Archimago, an old enchanter. By his magic he
leads the Knight in a dream to believe that Una is false to him, and thus
separates them.
II. _The Allegory:_ 1. Holiness, the love of God, united with Truth, the
knowledge of God, is to deliver man from the thraldom of the Devil.
Together they are able to overthrow Error; but Hypocrisy deceitfully
alienates Holiness from Truth by making the latter appear unworthy of love.
2. There is a hint of the intrigues of the false Roman church and the
treacherous Spanish king, Philip II, to undermine the religious and
political freedom of the English people. The English nation, following the
Reformed church, overthrows the Catholic faith, but is deceived by the
machinations of Spanish diplomacy.
LINE 1. A GENTLE KNIGHT, the Redcross Knight, representing the church
militant, and Reformed England.
He is the young, untried champion of the
old cause whose struggles before the Reformation are referred to in ll. 3,
4. His shield bore "a cross gules upon a field argent," a red cross on a
silver ground. See _The Birth of St. George_ in Percy's _Reliques_, iii, 3,
and Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, iii, 65.
15. FOR SOVERAINE HOPE, as a sign of the supreme hope.
20. GREATEST GLORIANA, Queen Elizabeth. In other books of _The Faerie
Queene_ she is called Belphoebe, the patroness of chastity, and Britomart,
the military genius of Britain.
27. A DRAGON, "the great dragon, that old serpent, called the devil,"
_Revelation_, xii, 9, also Rome and Spain. Cf. legend of St. George and the
dragon, and Fletcher's _Purple Island_, vii _seq. _
28. A LOVELY LADIE, Una, the personification of truth and true religion.
Her lamb symbolizes innocence.
46. A DWARFE, representing prudence, or common sense; according to Morley,
the flesh.
56. A SHADIE GROVE, the wood of Error. "By it Spenser shadows forth the
danger surrounding the mind that escapes from the bondage of Roman
authority and thinks for itself. "--Kitchin. The description of the wood is
an imitation of Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, i, 37, Chaucer's _Assembly of
Foules_, 176, and Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_, iii, 75. Morley sees in
this grove an allegory of man's life, the trees symbolizing trade,
pleasure, youth, etc.
69. THE SAYLING PINE. Ships were built of pine.
70. THE LOPLAR NEVER DRY, because it grows best in moist soil.
71. THE BUILDER OAKE. In the Middle Ages most manor houses and churches
were built of oak.
72. THE CYPRESSE FUNERALL, an emblem of death among the ancients, and
sacred to Pluto. Sidney says that they were wont to dress graves with
cypress branches in old times.
73. THE LAURELL. Victors at the Pythian games and triumphing Roman generals
were crowned with laurel. It was also sacred to Apollo, the god of poetry,
hence "meed of poets sage. "
74. THE FIRRE THAT WEEPETH STILL. The fir exudes resinous substance.
75. THE WILLOW. "Willows: a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love
make their mourning garlands. "--Fuller's _Worthies_, i, 153. Cf. Heywood's
_Song of the Green Willow_, and Desdemona's song in _Othello_, IV, iii, 39.
76. THE EUGH. Ascham in his _Toxophilus_ tells us that the best bows were
made of yew.
78. THE MIRRHE, the Arabian myrtle, which exudes a bitter but fragrant gum.
The allusion is to the wounding of Myrrha by her father and her
metamorphosis into this tree.
79. THE WARLIKE BEECH, because lances and other arms were made of it. THE
ASH FOR NOTHING ILL. "The uses of the ash is one of the most universal: it
serves the souldier, the carpenter, the wheelwright, cartwright, cooper,
turner, and thatcher. "--Evelyn's _Sylva_. The great tree Igdrasil in the
northern mythology was an ash.
81. THE CARVER HOLME, or evergreen oak, was good for carving.
106. SHAME WERE TO REVOKE, etc. , it would be cowardly not to go forward for
fear of some suspected unseen danger.
114. THE WANDRING WOOD, i. e. which causes men to go astray.
123. MONSTER. The description of the monster Error, or Falsehood, is based
on Hesiod's Echidna, _Theog_. 301, and the locusts in _Revelation_, ix,
7-10. She is half human, half serpent, because error is partly true and
partly false. Dante's Fraud and Milton's Sin are similar monsters.
126. FULL OF VILE DISDAINE, full of vileness that bred disgust in the
beholder.
130. OF HER THERE BRED, etc. , of her were born a thousand young ones. Her
offspring are lies and rumors of many shapes.
141. ARMED TO POINT, completely armed. Cf. Fr. _a point_, to a nicety.
145. THE VALIANT ELFE, because he was the reputed son of an Elfin or
Faerie, though really sprung from "an ancient race of Saxon kings. " Three
kinds of elves are mentioned in the _Edda_: the black dwarfs, and brownies,
who both dwelt under ground, and the fair elves, who dwelt in Fairyland or
Alfheim. "The difference between Spenser's elves and these Teutonic elves
shows how he perverts Fairy mythology in the same way as he does Classical
myths. "--Percival.
168. HIS GALL DID GRATE FOR GRIEFE, his anger was aroused on account of
pain. In the old anatomy anger had its seat in the gallbladder. See
Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_, I, i, 2.
177. HER VOMIT FULL OF BOOKES, etc. From 1570, when Pope Sixtus V issued
his bull of deposition against Queen Elizabeth, to 1590, great numbers of
scurrilous pamphlets attacking the Queen and the Reformed church had been
disseminated by Jesuit refugees.
181. NILUS. Pliny believed that the mud of the Nile had the power of
breeding living creatures like mice. _Hist. Nat. _ ix, 84. So Shakespeare,
_Antony and Cleopatra_, II, vii, 29.
199. GENTLE SHEPHEARD. In this pastoral simile, Spenser imitates Homer's
_Iliad_, ii, 469, and xvii, 641, and Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, xiv, 109.
208. THUS ILL BESTEDD. There is a similar combat in the old romance _Guy of
Warwick_, ix, between the hero and a man-eating dragon.
217. HER SCATTRED BROOD. The poet here follows a belief as old as Pliny
that the young of serpents fed on their mother's blood. In this entire
passage the details are too revolting for modern taste.
232. THE WHICH THEM NURST. The antecedent of _which_ is _her_. In the
sixteenth century _the_ was frequently placed before _which_, which was
also the equivalent of _who_. Cf. the Lord's Prayer.
234. HE SHOULD CONTEND, he should have had to contend.
237. BORNE UNDER HAPPY STARRE. Belief in astrology was once common, and
Spenser being a Pythagorean would hold the doctrine of the influence of the
stars on human destiny.
239. THAT ARMORIE, the armor of the Christian warrior. _Ephesians_, vi, 13.
243. THAT LIKE SUCCEED IT MAY, that like successful adventures may succeed
it. The word order is inverted for the sake of the rhyme.
250. TO FREND, as his friend.
254. AN AGED SIRE, the false enchanter, Archimago, or Hypocrisy, who is
supposed to represent Pope Sixtus V or King Philip II of Spain. In general
he stands for false religion or the Church of Rome. The character and
adventure are taken from _Orlando Furioso_, ii, 12, in which there is a
hypocritical hermit. The Knight at first takes Archimago to be a palmer,
and inquires for the foreign news.
295. TAKE UP YOUR IN, take lodging.
301. A LITTLE WYDE, a little way off.
315. AN AVE-MARY, Hail Mary, a prayer to the Virgin. Cf. _Luke_, i, 28.
317. THE SAD HUMOUR, the heavy moisture, or "slombring deaw. "
318. MORPHEUS, the son of Somnus and god of sleep and dreams, who sprinkled
the dew of sleep on the brow of mortals from his horn or wings or from a
bough dipped in Lethe.
323. HIS MAGICK BOOKES AND ARTES. Monks engaged in scientific
investigation, such as Friar Roger Bacon, were popularly supposed to use
cabalistic books, and to make compacts with the Devil by means of
necromancy, or the black art, as in st. xxxvii. Before the close of the
century Marlowe's _Doctor Faustus_ and Greene's _Friar Bacon and Friar
Bungay_, both based on the popular belief in magic, were presented on the
London stage.
328. BLACKE PLUTOES GRIESLY DAME, Proserpine, the avenger of men, and
inflicter of curses on the dead. She is identified with Shakespeare's
Hecate, the goddess of sorcery, and with Milton's Cotytto, goddess of lust.
To this latter sin the knight is tempted.
332. GREAT GORGON, Demogorgon, whose name might not be uttered, a magician
who had power over the spirits of the lower world. The poet is here
imitating the Latin poets Lucan and Statius.
333. COCYTUS, the river of wailing, and STYX, the river of hate, both in
Hades. There were two others, _Acheron_, the river of sorrow, and
_Phlegethon_, the river of fire.
335. LEGIONS OF SPRIGHTS. In this stanza and the preceding Spenser follows
Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_, xiii, 6-11, where the magician Ismeno,
guarding the Enchanted Wood, conjures "legions of devils" with the "mighty
name" (l. 332).
339. CHOSE. Imitation of Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_, ii, 15, in which a
false spirit is called up by a hypocritical hermit. The description of the
House of Sleep in st. xxxix _seq_. is modelled on the same poet, _Orlando
Furioso_, ii, 15 _seq_. The influence of Homer's _Odyssey_, xi, 16 is seen
in st. xxxix, ll. 348 _seq_.
348. TETHYS, the ocean. In classical mythology she is the daughter of
Uranus (heaven) and Gaea (earth), and the wife of Oceanus.
349. CYNTHIA, the moon. The allusion is to the story of Diana and Endymion.
See Lyly's play _Endymion_.
352. WHOSE DOUBLE GATES. Homer, _Odyssey_, xix, 562, and Vergil, _Aeneid_,
vi, 893, give the House of Dreams a horn and an ivory gate. Spenser
substitutes silver for horn, mirrors being overlaid with silver in his
time. From the ivory gate issued false dreams; from the other, true ones.
361. SLUMBER SOFT. This stanza shows Spenser's wonderful technique. His
exquisite effects are produced, it will be noticed, partly by the choice of
musical words and partly by the rhythmical cadence of the verse phrases. It
is an example of perfect "keeping," or adaptation of sound to sense. Cf.
Chaucer's description of the waterfalls in the Cave of Sleep in his _Boke
of the Duchesse_, 162.
376.
