Spenser's The Faerie Queene, by Edmund Spenser

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CANTO VIII

Faire virgin, to redeeme her deare
brings Arthur to the fight:
Who slayes that Gyant, woundes the beast,
and strips Duessa quight.

I

AY me, how many perils doe enfold
The righteous man, to make him daily fall,
Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold,
And stedfast truth acquite him out of all.
Her love is firme, her care continuall,
So oft as he through his owne foolish pride,
Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall:
Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dydd
For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thither guide.

II

They sadly traveild thus, until they came
Nigh to a castle builded strong and hie:
Then cryde the Dwarfe, Lo yonder is the same,
In which my Lord my liege doth lucklesse lie,
Thrall to that Gyants hateful tyrannie:
Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.
The noble knight alighted by and by
From loftie steede, and bad the Ladie stay,
To see what end of fight should him befall that day.

III

So with the Squire, th' admirer of his might,
He marched forth towards that castle wall;
Whose gates he found fast shut, ne living wight
To ward the same, nor answere commers call.
Then tooke that Squire an horne of bugle small.
Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold
And tassels gay. Wyde wonders over all
Of that same hornes great vertues weren told,
Which had approved bene in uses manifold.

IV

Was never wight that heard that shrilling sownd,
But trembling feare did feel in every vaine;
Three miles it might be easie heard around,
And Ecchoes three answerd it selfe againe:
No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine,
Might once abide the terror of that blast,
But presently was voide and wholly vaine:
No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast,
But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.

V

The same before the Geants gate he blew,
That all the castle quaked from the ground,
And every dore of freewill open flew.
The Gyant selfe dismaied with that sownd,
Where he with his Duessa dalliance fownd,
In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,
With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,
And staggering steps, to weet, what suddein stowre,
Had wrought that horror strange, and dar'd his dreaded powre.

VI

And after him the proud Duessa came
High mounted on her many-headed beast;
And every head with fyrie tongue did flame,
And every head was crowned on his creast,
And bloody mouthed with late cruell feast.
That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild
Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,
And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild,
And eger greedinesse through every member thrild.

VII

Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight,
Inflam'd with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,
And lifting up his dreadfull club on hight,
All arm'd with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,
Him thought at first encounter to have slaine.
But wise and wary was that noble Pere,
And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,
Did faire avoide the violence him nere;
It booted nought to thinke such thunderbolts to beare.

VIII

Ne shame he thought to shunne so hideous might:
The idle stroke, enforcing furious way,
Missing the marke of his misaymed sight
Did fall to ground, and with his heavie sway
So deepely dinted in the driven clay,
That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw:
The sad earth wounded with so sore assay,
Did grone full grievous underneath the blow,
And trembling with strange feare, did like an earthquake show.

IX

As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull mood,
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,
Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,
Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;
The fierce threeforked engin making way
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,
And all that might his angry passage stay,
And shooting in the earth, casts up a mount of clay.

X

His boystrous club, so buried in the ground,
He could not rearen up againe so light,
But that the knight him at avantage found,
And whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight
Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright
He smote off his left arme, which like a blocke
Did fall to ground, depriv'd of native might;
Large streames of bloud out of the truncked stocke
Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riven rocke.

XI

Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound,
And eke impatient of unwonted paine,
He lowdly brayd with beastly yelling sound,
That all the fields rebellowed againe;
As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,
And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,
The neighbour woods around with hollow murmur ring.

XII

That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw
The evil stownd, that daungerd her estate,
Unto his aide she hastily did draw
Her dreadfull beast, who swolne with blood of late
Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous gate,
And threatned all his heads like flaming brands.
But him the Squire made quickly to retrate,
Encountring fierce with single sword in hand,
And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke stand.

XIII

The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull spight,
And fierce disdaine, to be affronted so,
Enforst her purple beast with all her might
That stop out of the way to overthroe,
Scorning the let of so unequall foe:
But nathemore would that courageous swayne
To her yeeld passage, gainst his Lord to goe,
But with outrageous strokes did him restraine,
And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.

XIV

Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup,
Which still she bore, replete with magick artes;
Death and despeyre did many thereof sup,
And secret poyson through their inner parts,
Th' eternall bale of heavie wounded harts;
Which after charmes and some enchauntments said
She lightly sprinkled on his weaker parts;
Therewith his sturdie courage soone was quayd,
And all his senses were with suddeine dread dismayd.

XV

So downe he fell before the cruell beast,
Who on his neck his bloody clawes did seize,
That life nigh crusht out of his panting brest:
No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize.
That when the carefull knight gan well avise,
He lightly left the foe, with whom he fought,
And to the beast gan turne his enterprise;
For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought,
To see his loved Squire into such thraldome brought.

XVI

And high advauncing his blood-thirstie blade,
Stroke one of those deformed heads so sore,
That of his puissance proud ensample made;
His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore,
And that misformed shape mis-shaped more:
A sea of blood gusht from the gaping wound,
That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,
And overflowed all the field around;
That over shoes in bloud he waded on the ground.

XVII

Thereat he roared for exceeding paine,
That to have heard great horror would have bred,
And scourging th' emptie ayre with his long traine,
Through great impatience of his grieved hed
His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted
Would have cast downe, and trod in durtie myre,
Had not the Gyant soone her succoured;
Who all enrag'd with smart and franticke yre,
Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre.

XVIII

The force which wont in two to be disperst,
In one alone left hand he now unites,
Which is through rage more strong than both were erst;
With which his hideous club aloft he dites,
And at his foe with furious rigour smites,
That strongest Oake might seeme to overthrow:
The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites,
That to the ground it doubleth him full low:
What mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous blow?

XIX

And in his fall his shield, that covered was,
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:
The light whereof, that heavens light did pas,
Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw,
That eye mote not the same endure to vew.
Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye,
He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew
His weapon huge, that heaved was on hye
For to have slaine the man, that on the ground did lye.

XX

And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd
At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,
Became starke blind, and all his sences daz'd,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,
And seem'd himselfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maistresse proud perceiv'd to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,
Unto the Gyant loudly she gan call,
O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or else we perish all.

XXI

At her so pitteous cry was much amoov'd
Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proov'd:
But all in vaine: for he has read his end
In that bright shield, and all their forces spend
Themselves in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,
He had no powre to hurt, nor to defend;
As where th' Almighties lightning brond does light,
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the senses quight.

XXII

Whom when the Prince, to battell new addrest,
And threatning high his dreadfull stroke did see,
His sparkling blade about his head he blest,
And smote off quite his right leg by the knee,
That downe he tombled; as an aged tree,
High growing on the top of rocky clift,
Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,
The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.

XXIII

Or as a Castle reared high and round,
By subtile engins and malitious slight
Is undermined from the lowest ground,
And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,
At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight
Her hastie ruine does more heavie make,
And yields it selfe unto the victours might;
Such was this Gyants fall, that seemd to shake
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.

XXIV

The knight then lightly leaping to the pray,
With mortall steele him smot againe so sore,
That headlesse his unweldy bodie lay,
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store.
But soone as breath out of his breast did pas,
That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore,
Was vanisht quite, and of that monstrous mas
Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.

XXV

Whose grievous fall, when false Duessa spide,
Her golden cup she cast unto the ground,
And crowned mitre rudely threw aside;
Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound,
That she could not endure that dolefull stound,
But leaving all behind her, fled away;
The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,
And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay,
So brought unto his Lord, as his deserved pray.

XXVI

The royall Virgin which beheld from farre,
In pensive plight, and sad perplexitie,
The whole atchievement of this doubtfull warre,
Came running fast to greet his victorie,
With sober gladnesse, and myld modestie,
And with sweet joyous cheare him thus bespake:
Faire braunch of noblesse, flowre of chevalrie,
That with your worth the world amazed make,
How shall I quite the paines ye suffer for my sake?

XXVII

And you fresh budd of vertue springing fast,
Whom these sad eyes saw nigh unto deaths dore,
What hath poore Virgin for such perill past
Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore
My simple selfe, and service evermore;
And he that high does sit, and all things see
With equall eyes, their merites to restore,
Behold what ye this day have done for mee,
And what I cannot quite, requite with usuree.

XXVIII

But sith the heavens, and your faire handeling
Have made you master of the field this day,
Your fortune maister eke with governing,
And well begun end all so well, I pray.
Ne let that wicked woman scape away;
For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall,
My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeon lay,
Where he his better dayes hath wasted all.
O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.

XXIX

Forthwith he gave in charge unto his Squire,
That scarlot whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himselfe with greedie great desire
Into the Castle entred forcibly,
Where living creature none he did espye;
Then gan he lowdly through the house to call:
But no man car'd to answere to his crye.
There raignd a solemne silence over all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall.

XXX

At last with creeping crooked pace forth came
An old old man, with beard as white as snow,
That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame,
And guide his wearie gate both to and fro:
For his eye sight him failed long ygo,
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,
The which unused rust did overgrow:
Those were the keyes of every inner dore,
But he could not them use, but kept them still in store.

XXXI

But very uncouth sight was to behold,
How he did fashion his untoward pace,
For as he forward moov'd his footing old,
So backward still was turnd his wrincled face,
Unlike to men, who ever as they trace,
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the auncient keeper of that place,
And foster father of the Gyant dead;
His name Ignaro did his nature right aread.

XXXII

His reverend haires and holy gravitie
The knight much honord, as beseemed well,
And gently askt, where all the people bee,
Which in that stately building wont to dwell.
Who answerd him full soft, he could not tell.
Again he askt, where that same knight was layd,
Whom great Orgoglio with his puissance fell
Had made his caytive thrall, againe he sayde,
He could not tell: ne ever other answere made.

XXXIII

Then asked he, which way he in might pas:
He could not tell, againe he answered.
Thereat the curteous knight displeased was,
And said, Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red
How ill it sits with that same silver hed,
In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed
With natures pen, in ages grave degree,
Aread in graver wise, what I demaund of thee.

XXXIV

His answere likewise was, he could not tell.
Whose sencelesse speach, and doted ignorance
When as the noble Prince had marked well,
He ghest his nature by his countenance,
And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance.
Then to him stepping, from his arme did reach
Those keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.
Each dore he opened without any breach;
There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.

XXXV

There all within full rich arrayd he found,
With royall arras and resplendent gold.
And did with store of every thing abound,
That greatest Princes presence might behold.
But all the floore (too filthy to be told)
With bloud of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew,
Which there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold,
Defiled was, that dreadfull was to vew,
And sacred ashes over it was strowed new.

XXXVI

And there beside of marble stone was built
An Altare, carv'd with cunning ymagery,
On which true Christians bloud was often spilt,
And holy Martyrs often doen to dye,
With cruell malice and strong tyranny:
Whose blessed sprites from underneath the stone
To God for vengeance cryde continually,
And with great griefe were often heard to grone,
That hardest heart would bleede, to hear their piteous mone.

XXXVII

Through every rowme he sought, and every bowr,
But no where could he find that woful thrall:
At last he came unto an yron doore,
That fast was lockt, but key found not at all
Emongst that bounch, to open it withall;
But in the same a little grate was pight,
Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call
With all his powre, to weet, if living wight
Were housed there within, whom he enlargen might.

XXXVIII

Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce
These pitteous plaints and dolours did resound;
O who is that, which brings me happy choyce
Of death, that here lye dying every stound,
Yet live perforce in balefull darkenesse bound?
For now three Moones have changed thrice their hew,
And have been thrice hid underneath the ground,
Since I the heavens chearfull face did vew,
O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.

XXXIX

Which when that Champion heard, with percing point
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore,
And trembling horrour ran through every joynt
For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore:
Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore,
With furious force, and indignation fell;
Where entred in, his foot could find no flore,
But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell,
That breathed ever forth a filthie banefull smell.

XL

But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands,
Nor noyous smell his purpose could withhold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands)
But that with constant zeale, and courage bold,
After long paines and labours manifold,
He found the meanes that Prisoner up to reare;
Whose feeble thighes, unhable to uphold
His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare.
A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere.

XLI

His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits,
Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty sides deceived of their dew,
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;
His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to rive steele plates, and helmets hew,
Were cleane consum'd, and all his vitall powres
Decayd, and all his flesh shronk up like withered flowres.

XLII

Whom when his Lady saw, to him she ran
With hasty joy: to see him made her glad,
And sad to view his visage pale and wan,
Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad.
Tho when her well of teares she wasted had,
She said, Ah dearest Lord, what evill starre
On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad,
That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,
And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth marre?

XLIII

But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe,
Whose presence I have lackt too long a day;
And fie on Fortune mine avowed foe,
Whose wrathful wreakes them selves doe now alay.
And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe.
The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
His long endured famine needed more reliefe.

XLIV

Faire Lady, then said that victorious knight,
The things, that grievous were to do, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare:
But th' onely good, that growes of passed feare,
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.

XLV

Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength,
And maister these mishaps with patient might;
Loe where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous length,
And loe that wicked woman in your sight,
The roote of all your care, and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her live, or dye.
To do her dye (quoth Una) were despight,
And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy;
But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.

XLVI

So as she bad, that witch they disaraid,
And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,
And ornaments that richly were displaid;
Ne spared they to strip her naked all.
Then when they had despoiled her tire and call,
Such as she was, their eyes might her behold,
That her misshaped parts did them appall,
A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill favoured, old,
Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.
* * * * *

XLIX

Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.
Such then (said Una) as she seemeth here,
Such is the face of falshood, such the sight
Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light
Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne.
Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight,
And all her filthy feature open showne,
They let her goe at will, and wander wayes unknowne.

L

She flying fast from heavens hated face,
And from the world that her discovered wide,
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,
From living eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurkt in rocks and caves long unespide.
But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire
Did in that castle afterwards abide,
To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire,
Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare.

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CANTO IX

His loves and lignage Arthur tells:
the Knights knit friendly hands:
Sir Trevisan flies from Despayre,
whom Redcrosse Knight withstands.

I

O GOODLY golden chaine, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in lovely wize:
And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
In brave poursuit of chevalrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid envy to him, in need that stands,
But friendly each did others prayse devize,
How to advaunce with favourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands.

II

Who when their powres empaird through labour long,
With dew repast they had recured well,
And that weake captive wight now wexed strong,
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their adventures fell,
But ere they parted, Una faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in thanklesse thought.

III

Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require
A thing without the compas of my wit:
For both the lignage and the certain Sire,
From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit.
For all so soone as life did me admit
Into this world, and shewed heavens light,
From mothers pap I taken was unfit:
And streight deliver'd to a Faery knight,
To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.

IV

Unto old Timon he me brought bylive,
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene
In warlike feates th'expertest man alive,
And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,
From whence the river Dee as silver cleene,
His tombling billowes roll with gentle rore:
There all my dayes he traind me up in vertuous lore.

V

Thither the great magicien Merlin came,
As was his use, ofttimes to visit me:
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And Tutours nouriture to oversee.
Him oft and oft I askt in privitie,
Of what loines and what lignage I did spring:
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
That I was sonne and heire unto a king,
As time in her just terme the truth to light should bring.

VI

Well worthy impe, said then the Lady gent,
And pupill fit for such a Tutours hand.
But what adventure, or what high intent
Hath brought you hither into Faery land,
Aread Prince Arthur, crowne of Martiall band?
Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright
The course of heavenly cause, or understand
The secret meaning of th' eternall might,
That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of living wight.

VII

For whether he through fatall deepe foresight
Me hither sent, for cause to me unghest,
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest,
With forced fury following his behest,
Me hither brought by wayes yet never found;
You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest.
Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound
Could ever find, to grieve the gentlest hart on ground?

VIII

Deare dame (quoth he) you sleeping sparkes awake,
Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,
Ne ever will their fervent fury slake,
Till living moysture into smoke do flow,
And wasted life do lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow;
I will revele what ye so much desire:
Ah Love, lay down thy bow, the whiles I may respire.

IX

It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares,
When courage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first the coale of kindly heat appeares
To kindle love in every living brest;
But me had warnd old Timons wise behest,
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great unrest,
As miserable lovers use to rew,
Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe still wexeth new.

X

That idle name of love, and lovers life,
As losse of time, and vertues enimy,
I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife,
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy,
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:
Their God himselfe, griev'd at my libertie,
Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent,
But I them warded all with wary government.

XI

But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong,
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sound,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or unawares at disadvantage found:
Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground:
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boasts in beauties chaine not to be bound,
Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most despight.

XII

Ensample make of him your haplesse joy,
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy
Did soone pluck downe and curbd my libertie.
For on a day, prickt forth with jollitie
Of looser life, and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heavens with one consent
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

XIII

For-wearied with my sports, I did alight
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmet faire displayd:
Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So faire a creature yet saw never sunny day.

XIV

Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment
She to me made, and bad me love her deare;
For dearely sure her love was to me bent,
As when just time expired should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was never hart so ravisht with delight,
Ne living man like words did ever heare,
As she to me delivered all that night;
And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.

XV

When I awoke, and found her place devoyd,
And nought but pressed gras, where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lov'd that face divine;
From that day forth I cast in carefull mind
To seeke her out with labour, and long tyne,
And never vowd to rest till her I find,
Nine monethes I seeke in vain, yet ni'll that vow unbind.

XVI

Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale,
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yet still he strove to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke that did his fire display,
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say;
O happy Queene of Faeries, that has found
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:
True Loves are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.

XVII

Thine, O then, said the gentle Recrosse knight,
Next to that Ladies love, shal be the place,
O fairest virgin, full of heavenly light,
Whose wondrous faith exceeding earthly race,
Was firmest fixt in mine extremest case.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace:
For onely worthy you through prowes priefe,
Yf living man mote worthie be, to be her liefe.

XVIII

So diversly discoursing of their loves,
The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
And sad remembraunce now the Prince amoves
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew;
Als Una earnd her traveill to renew.
Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd,
And love establish each to other trew,
Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
And eke the pledges firme, right hands together joynd.

XIX

Prince Arthur gave a boxe of Diamond sure,
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament,
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure,
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wound could heale incontinent:
Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gave
A booke, wherein his Saveours testament
Was writ with golden letters rich and brave;
A worke of wondrous grace, and able soules to save.

XX

Thus beene they parted, Arthur on his way
To seeke his love, and th' other for to fight
With Unaes foe, that all her realme did pray.
But she now weighing the decayed plight,
And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight,
Would not a while her forward course pursew,
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight,
Till he recovered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew.

XXI

So as they traveild, lo they gan espy
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing, that him aghast.
Still as he fled, his eye was backward cast,
As if his feare still followed him behind;
Als flew his steed, as he his bands had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wind,
As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his kind.

XXII

Nigh as he drew, they might perceive his head
To be unarmd, and curld uncombed heares
Upstaring stiffe, dismayd with uncouth dread;
Nor drop of bloud in all his face appeares
Nor life in limbe: and to increase his feares
In fowle reproch of knighthoods faire degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring armes does ill agree;
But he of rope or armes has now no memoree.

XXIII

The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast,
To weet, what mister wight was so dismayd:
There him he finds all sencelesse and aghast,
That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd;
Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd,
Till he these wordes to him deliver might;
Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight:
For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight.

XXIV

He answerd nought at all, but adding new
Feare to his first amazment, staring wide
With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspide
Infernall furies, with their chaines untide.
Him yet againe, and yet againe bespake
The gentle knight; who nought to him replide,
But trembling every joint did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth to shake.

XXV

For Gods deare love, Sir knight, do me not stay;
For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee.
Eft looking back would faine have runne away;
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secret cause of his perplexitie:
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach
Could his bloud-frosen hart emboldned bee,
But through his boldnesse rather feare did reach,
Yet forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach.

XXVI

And am I now in safetie sure (quoth he)
From him, that would have forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this haplesse history?
Feare nought: (quoth he) no daunger now is nye.
Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,
(Said he) the which with this unlucky eye
I late beheld, and had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.

XXVII

I lately chaunst (would I had never chaunst)
With a faire knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe advaunst
In all affaires, and was both bold and free,
But not so happy as mote happy bee:
He lov'd, as was his lot, a Ladie gent,
That him againe lov'd in the least degree:
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And joyd to see her lover languish and lament.

XXVIII

From whom returning sad and comfortlesse,
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen (God from him me blesse)
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that cals himselfe Despaire:
Who first us greets, and after faire areedes
Of tydings strange, and of adventures rare:
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.

XXIX

Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which love had launched with his deadly darts,
With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe,
He pluckt from us all hope of due reliefe,
That earst us held in love of lingring life;
Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade us die, to stint all further strife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rustie knife.

XXX

With which sad instrument of hasty death,
That wofull lover, loathing lenger light,
A wide way made to let forth living breath.
But I more fearfull, or more luckie wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fled fast away, halfe dead with dying feare:
Ne yet assur'd of life by you, Sir knight,
Whose like infirmitie like chaunce may beare:
But God you never let his charmed speeches heare.

XXXI

How may a man (said he) with idle speach
Be wonne, to spoyle the Castle of his health?
I wote (quoth he) whom triall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth:
His subtill tongue, like dropping honny, mealt'h
Into the hart, and searcheth every vaine;
That ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft, and weaknesse doth remaine.
O never Sir desire to try his guilefull traine.

XXXII

Certes (said he) hence shall I never rest,
Till I that treacherours art have heard and tride;
And you Sir knight, whose name mote I request,
Of grace do me unto his cabin guide.
I that hight Trevisan (quoth he) will ride,
Against my liking backe, to do you grace:
But not for gold nor glee will I abide
By you, when ye arrive in that same place
For lever had I die, then see his deadly face.

XXXIII

Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,
Farre underneath a craggie clift ypight,
Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave:
On top whereof aye dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghostes did waile and howle.

XXXIV

And all about old stockes and stubs of trees,
Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene,
Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattered on the greene,
And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there,
That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare,
But th' other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.

XXXV


That darkesome cave they enter, where they find
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind;
His griesie lockes, long growen, and unbound,
Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,
Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dine.

XXXVI

His garment nought but many ragged clouts,
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay upon the gras
A drearie corse, whose life away did pas,
All wallowed in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.

XXXVII

Which piteous spectacle, approving trew
The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,
When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to avenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein said, Thou damned wight,
The author of this fact we here behold,
What justice can but judge against thee right,
With thine owne bloud to price his bloud, here shed in sight.

XXXVIII

What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus distraught
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to give?
What justice ever other judgement taught,
But he should die, who merites not to live?
None else to death this man despayring drive,
But his owne guiltie mind deserving death.
Is then unjust to each his due to give?
Or let him die, that loatheth living breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath?

XXXIX

Who travels by the wearie wandring way,
To come unto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay,
Is not great grace to helpe him over past,
Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast?
Most envious man, that grieves at neighbours good,
And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood
Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?

XL

He there does now enjoy eternall rest
And happy ease, which thou dost want and crave,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some little paine the passage have,
That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave?
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.

XLI

The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit,
And said, The terme of life is limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not move from watchfull sted,
Nor leave his stand, untill his Captaine bed.
Who life did limit by almightie doome
(Quoth he) knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.

XLII

Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne
In heaven and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and have their certaine date.
Who then can strive with strong necessitie,
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.

XLIII

The lenger life, I wote the greater sin,
The greater sin, the greater punishment:
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and blood must blood repay.
Is not enough thy evill life forespent?
For he that once hath missed the right way,
The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray.

XLIV

Then do no further goe, no further stray,
But here lie downe, and to thy rest betake,
Th' ill to prevent, that life ensewen may.
For what hath life, that may it loved make,
And gives not rather cause it to forsake?
Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife,
Paine, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;
And ever fickle fortune rageth rife,
All which, and thousands mo do make a loathsome life.

XLV

Thou wretched man, of death hast greatest need,
If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy state:
For never knight, that dared warlike deede,
More lucklesse disaventures did amate:
Witnesse the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shut up, for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date,
Yet death then would the like mishaps forestall,
Into the which hereafter thou maiest happen fall.

XLVI

Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire
To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree?
Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
High heaped up with huge iniquitie,
Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this Ladie milde
Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjurie,
And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vilde,
With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defilde?

XLVII

Is not he just, that all this doth behold
From highest heaven, and beares an equall eye?
Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold,
And guilty be of thine impietie?
Is not his law, Let every sinner die:
Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,
Then linger, till the glasse be all out ronne?
Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.

XLVIII

The knight was much enmoved with his speach,
That as a swords point through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secret breach,
Well knowing true all that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembraunce did reverse
The ugly vew of his deformed crimes,
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes,
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes.

XLIX

In which amazement, when the Miscreant
Perceived him to waver weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience dant,
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile,
To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
He shew'd him painted in a table plaine,
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile,
And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine
With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall remaine.

L

The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid,
That nought but death before his eyes he saw,
And ever burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law.
Then gan the villein him to overcraw,
And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire:
For death was due to him, that had provokt Gods ire.

LI

But when as none of them he saw him take,
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake,
And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene,
And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene
To come, and goe with tidings from the heart,
As it a running messenger had beene.
At last resolv'd to worke his finall smart,
He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start.

LII

Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but soone reliv'd againe,
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him said, Fie, fie, faint harted knight,
What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?
Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright?

LIII

Come, come away, fraile, seely, fleshly wight,
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,
Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.
In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Where justice growes, there grows eke greater grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.
Arise, Sir knight, arise, and leave this cursed place.

LIV

So up he rose, and thence amounted streight.
Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
Would safe depart for all his subtill sleight,
He chose an halter from among the rest,
And with it hung himselfe, unbid unblest.
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby;
For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,
Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die,
Till he should die his last, that is, eternally.

[admin]

CANTO X

Her faithfull knight faire Una brings
to house of Holinesse,
Where he is taught repentance, and
the way to heavenly blesse.

I

WHAT man is he, that boasts of fleshly might
And vaine assurance of mortality,
Which all so soone as it doth come to fight
Against spirituall foes, yeelds by and by,
Or from the field most cowardly doth fly?
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory.
If any strength we have, it is to ill,
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.

II

But that, which lately hapned, Una saw,
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his sinews woxen weake and raw,
Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint,
Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was unfit for bloudy fight:
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might.
Till he recovered had his late decayed plight.

III

There was an auntient house not farre away,
Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore,
And pure unspotted life: so well they say
It governd was, and guided evermore,
Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore
Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore:
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.

IV

Dame Cœlia men did her call, as thought
From heaven to come, or thither to arise,
The mother of three daughters, well upbrought
In goodly thewes, and godly exercise:
The eldest two, most sober, chast, and wise,
Fidelia and Speranza virgins were,
Though spousd, yet wanting wedlocks solemnize:
But faire Charissa to a lovely fere
Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere.

V

Arrived there, the dore they find fast lockt;
For it was warely watched night and day,
For feare of many foes: but when they knockt,
The Porter opened unto them streight way:
He was an aged syre, all hory gray,
With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow,
Wont on a staffe his feeble steps to stay,
Hight Humiltà. They passe in stouping low;
For streight and narrow was the way which he did show.

VI

Each goodly thing is hardest to begin,
But entred in a spacious court they see,
Both plaine, and pleasant to be walked in,
Where them does meete a francklin faire and free,
And entertaines with comely courteous glee,
His name was Zele, that him right well became,
For in his speeches and behaviour hee
Did labour lively to expresse the same,
And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.

VII

There fairely them receives a gentle Squire,
Of milde demeanure, and rare courtesie,
Right cleanly clad in comely sad attire;
In word and deede that shew'd great modestie,
And knew his good to all of each degree,
Hight Reverence. He them with speeches meet
Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie,
But simple true, and eke unfained sweet,
As might become a Squire so great persons to greet.

VIII

And afterwards them to his Dame he leades,
That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place:
Who all this while was busy at her beades:
Which doen, she up arose with seemely grace,
And toward them full matronely did pace.
Where when that fairest Una she beheld,
Whom well she knew to spring from heavenly race,
Her hart with joy unwonted inly sweld,
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.

IX

And her embracing said, O happie earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread,
Most vertuous virgin borne of heavenly berth,
That, to redeeme thy woefull parents head,
From tyrans rage, and ever dying dread,
Hast wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceasest not thy weary soles to lead,
What grace hath thee now hither brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting hither stray?

X

Strange thing it is an errant knight to see
Here in this place, or any other wight,
That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee
That chose the narrow path, or seeke the right:
All keepe the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go astray,
And be partakers of their evill plight,
Then with a few to walke the rightest way;
O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay?

XI

Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbes to rest,
O matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came;
And this good knight his way with me addrest,
Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame,
That up to heaven is blowne. The auncient Dame
Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,
And entertaynd them both, as best became,
With all the court'sies that she could devise,
Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.

XII

Thus as they gan of sundry things devise,
Loe two most goodly virgins came in place,
Ylinked arme in arme in lovely wise,
With countenance demure, and modest grace,
They numbred even steps and equall pace:
Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hight,
Like sunny beames threw from her christall face,
That could have dazd the rash beholders sight,
And round about her head did shine like heavens light.

XIII

She was araied all in lilly white,
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fild up to the hight,
In which a Serpent did himselfe enfold,
That horrour made to all that did behold;
But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood:
And in her other hand she fast did hold
A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood:
Wherin darke things were writ, hard to be understood.

XIV

Her younger sister, that Speranza hight,
Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well;
Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight,
As was her sister; whether dread did dwell,
Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell:
Upon her arme a silver anchor lay,
Whereon she leaned ever, as befell:
And ever up to heaven, as she did pray,
Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarved other way.

XV

They seeing Una, towards her gan wend,
Who them encounters with like courtesie;
Many kind speeches they betwene them spend,
And greatly joy each other well to see:
Then to the knight with shamefast modestie
They turne themselves, at Unaes meeke request,
And him salute with well beseeming glee;
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best,
And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest.

XVI

Then Una thus; But she your sister deare,
The deare Charissa where is she become?
Or wants she health, or busie is elsewhere?
Ah no, said they, but forth she may not come:
For she of late is lightned of her wombe,
And hath encreast the world with one sonne more,
That her to see should be but troublesome.
Indeed (quoth she) that should be trouble sore;
But thankt be God, and her encrease so evermore.

XVII

Then said the aged Cœlia, Deare dame,
And you good Sir, I wote that of youre toyle,
And labours long, through which ye hither came,
Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle
I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle.
Then called she a Groome, that forth him led
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile
Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed;
His name was meeke Obedience rightfully ared.

XVIII

Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest,
And bodies were refresht with due repast,
Faire Una gan Fidelia faire request,
To have her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,
That of her heavenly learning he might taste,
And heare the wisedom of her words divine.
She graunted, and that knight so much agraste,
That she him taught celestiall discipline,
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.

XIX

And that her sacred Booke, with blood ywrit,
That none could read, except she did them teach,
She unto him disclosed every whit,
And heavenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker wit of man could never reach,
Of God, of grace, of justice, of free will,
That wonder was to heare her goodly speach:
For she was able with her words to kill,
And raise againe to life the hart that she did thrill.

XX

And when she list poure out her larger spright,
She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay,
Or backward turne his course from heavens hight;
Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay;
[Dry-shod to passe she parts the flouds in tway; ]
And eke huge mountaines from their native seat
She would commaund, themselves to beare away,
And throw in raging sea with roaring threat.
Almightie God her gave such powre, and puissaunce great.

XXI

The faithfull knight now grew in litle space,
By hearing her, and by her sisters lore,
To such perfection of all heavenly grace,
That wretched world he gan for to abhore,
And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore,
Greevd with remembrance of his wicked wayes,
And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore,
That he desirde to end his wretched dayes:
So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.

XXII

But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet,
And taught him how to take assured hold
Upon her silver anchor, as was meet;
Else had his sinnes so great and manifold
Made him forget all that Fidelia told.
In this distressed doubtfull agonie,
When him his dearest Una did behold,
Disdeining life, desiring leave to die,
She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.

XXIII

And came to Cœlia to declare her smart,
Who well acquainted with that commune plight,
Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart,
Her wisely comforted all that she might,
With goodly counsell and advisement right;
And streightway sent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight
In that disease of grieved conscience,
And well could cure the same; his name was Patience.

XXIV

Who comming to that soule-diseased knight,
Could hardly him intreat to tell his griefe:
Which knowne, and all that noyd his heavie spright
Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply relief
Of salves and med'cines, which had passing priefe,
And thereto added words of wondrous might;
By which to ease he him recured briefe,
And much aswag'd the passion of his plight,
That he his paine endur'd, as seeming now more light.

XXV

But yet the cause and root of all his ill,
Inward corruption and infected sin,
Not purg'd nor heald, behind remained still,
And festring sore did rankle yet within,
Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.
Which to extirpe, he laid him privily
Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in,
Whereas he meant his corrosives to apply,
And with streight diet tame his stubborne malady.

XXVI

In ashes and sackcloth he did array
His daintie corse, proud humors to abate,
And dieted with fasting every day,
The swelling of his wounds to mitigate,
And made him pray both earely and eke late:
And ever as superfluous flesh did rot
Amendment readie still at hand did wayt,
To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,
That soone in him was left no one corrupted jot.

XXVII

And bitter Penance with an yron whip,
Was wont him once to disple every day:
And sharpe Remorse his hart did pricke and nip,
That drops of blood thence like a well did play:
And sad Repentance used to embay
His bodie in salt water smarting sore,
The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.
So in short space they did to health restore
The man that would not live, but earst lay at deathes dore.

XXVIII

In which his torment often was so great,
That like a Lyon he would cry and rore,
And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat.
His owne deare Una hearing evermore
His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore
Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare,
For pitty of his paine and anguish sore;
Yet all with patience wisely she did beare;
For well she wist his crime could else be never cleare.

XXIX

Whom thus recover'd by wise Patience
And trew Repentaunce they to Una brought:
Who joyous of his cured conscience,
Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought
Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought
To put away out of his carefull brest.
By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought,
Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest;
To her faire Una brought this unacquainted guest.

XXX

She was a woman in her freshest age,
Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,
With goodly grace and comely personage,
That was on earth not easie to compare;
Full of great love, but Cupid's wanton snare
As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;
Her necke and breasts were ever open bare,
That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill;
The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.

XXXI

A multitude of babes about her hong,
Playing their sports, that joyd her to behold,
Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake and young,
But thrust them forth still as they wexed old:
And on her head she wore a tyre of gold,
Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire,
Whose passing price uneath was to be told:
And by her side there sate a gentle paire
Of turtle doves, she sitting in an yvorie chaire.

XXXII

The knight and Una entring faire her greet,
And bid her joy of that her happie brood;
Who them requites with court'sies seeming meet,
And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.
Then Una her besought, to be so good
As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,
Now after all his torment well withstood,
In that sad house of Penaunce, where his spright
Had past the paines of hell, and long enduring night.

XXXIII

She was right joyous of her just request,
And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,
Gan him instruct in every good behest,
Of love, and righteousnesse, and well to donne,
And wrath, and hatred warely to shonne,
That drew on men Gods hatred and his wrath,
And many soules in dolours had fordonne:
In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heaven she teacheth him the ready path.

XXXIV

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide,
An auncient matrone she to her does call,
Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:
Her name was Mercie, well knowne over all,
To be both gratious, and eke liberall:
To whom the carefull charge of him she gave,
To lead aright, that he should never fall
In all his wayes through this wide worldes wave,
That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might save.

XXXV

The godly Matrone by the hand him beares
Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,
Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,
Which still before him she remov'd away,
That nothing might his ready passage stay:
And ever when his feet encombred were,
Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,
She held him fast, and firmely did upbeare,
As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

XXXVI

Eftsoones unto an holy Hospitall,
That was fore by the way, she did him bring,
In which seven Bead-men that had vowed all
Their life to service of high heavens king,
Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing:
Their gates to all were open evermore,
That by the wearie way were traveiling,
And one sate wayting ever them before,
To call in commers by, that needy were and pore.

XXXVII

The first of them that eldest was, and best,
Of all the house had charge and governement,
As Guardian and Steward of the rest:
His office was to give entertainement
And lodging, unto all that came, and went:
Not unto such, as could him feast againe,
And double quite, for that he on them spent,
But such, as want of harbour did constraine:
Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

XXXVIII

The second was as Almner of the place,
His office was, the hungry for to feed,
And thristy give to drinke, a worke of grace:
He feard not once him selfe to be in need,
Ne car'd to hoord for those whom he did breede:
The grace of God he layd up still in store,
Which as a stocke he left unto his seede;
He had enough, what need him care for more?
And had he lesse, yet some he would give to the pore.

XXXIX

The third had of their wardrobe custodie,
In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,
The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,
But clothes meet to keepe keene could away,
And naked nature seemely to aray;
With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,
The images of God in earthly clay;
And if that no spare cloths to give he had,
His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

XL

The fourth appointed by his office was,
Poore prisoners to relieve with gratious ayd,
And captives to redeeme with price of bras,
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd,
And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,
That God to us forgiveth every howre
Much more then that why they in bands were layd,
And he that harrowd hell with heavie stowre,
The faultie soules from thence brought to his heavenly bowre.

XLI

The fift had charge sicke persons to attend,
And comfort those, in point of death which lay;
For them most needeth comfort in the end,
When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay
The feeble soule departing hence away.
All is but lost, that living we bestow,
If not well ended at our dying day.
O man have mind of that last bitter throw
For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever low.

XLII

The sixt had charge of them now being dead,
In seemely sort their corses to engrave,
And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,
That to their heavenly spouse both sweet and brave
They might appeare, when he their soules shall save.
The wondrous workmanship of Gods owne mould,
Whose face he made all beasts to feare, and gave
All in his hand, even dead we honour should.
Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.

XLIII

The seventh, now after death and buriall done,
Had charge the tender orphans of the dead
And widowes ayd, least they should be undone:
In face of judgement he their right would plead,
Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread
In their defence, nor would for gold or fee
Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread:
And, when they stood in most necessitee,
He did supply their want, and gave them ever free.

XLIV

There when the Elfin knight arrived was,
The first and chiefest of the seven, whose care
Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:
Where seeing Mercie, that his steps upbare,
And alwayes led, to her with reverence rare
He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse,
And seemely welcome for her did prepare:
For of their order she was Patronesse,
Albe Charissa were their chiefest founderesse.

XLV

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest,
That to the rest more able he might bee:
During which time, in every good behest
And godly worke of almes and charitee,
She him instructed with great industree;
Shortly therein so perfect he became,
That from the first unto the last degree,
His mortall life he learned had to frame
In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

XLVI

Thence forward by that painfull way they pas,
Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;
On top whereof a sacred chappell was,
And eke a little Hermitage thereby,
Wherein an aged holy man did lye,
That day and night said his devotion,
Ne other worldly busines did apply;
His name was heavenly Contemplation;
Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.

XLVII

Great grace that old man to him given had;
For God he often saw from heavens hight,
All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,
And through great age had lost their kindly sight,
Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,
As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:
That hill they scale with all their powre and might,
That his fraile thighes nigh weary and fordonne
Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.

XLVIII


There they do finde that godly aged Sire,
With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,
As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire
The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.
Each bone might through his body well be red,
And every sinew seene through his long fast:
For nought he car'd his carcas long unfed;
His mind was full of spirituall repast,
And pyn'd his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.

XLIX

Who when these two approaching he aspide,
At their first presence grew agrieved sore,
That forst him lay his heavenly thoughts aside;
And had he not that Dame respected more,
Whom highly he did reverence and adore,
He would not once have moved for the knight.
They him saluted, standing far afore;
Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,
And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height.

L

What end (quoth she) should cause us take such paine,
But that same end which every living wight
Should make his marke, high heaven to attaine?
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right
To that most glorious house that glistreth bright
With burning starres and everliving fire,
Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight
By wise Fidelia? She doth thee require,
To show it to his knight, according his desire.

LI

Thrise happy man, said then the father grave,
Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,
And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to save.
Who better can the way to heaven aread,
Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred
In heavenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?
Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead
Present before the majestie divine,
And his avenging wrath to clemencie incline.

LII

Yet since thou bidst, thy pleasure shal be donne.
Then come thou man of earth, and see the way,
That never yet was seene of Faeries sonne,
That never leads the traveiler astray,
But after labors long, and sad delay,
Brings them to joyous rest and endlesse blis.
But first thou must a season fast and pray,
Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,
And have her strength recur'd from fraile infirmitis.

LIII

That donne, he leads him to the highest Mount;
Such one as that same mighty man of God,
That blood-red billowes like a walled front
On either side disparted with his rod,
Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,
Dwelt forty dayes upon; where writ in stone
With bloudy letters by the hand of God,
The bitter doome of death and balefull mone
He did receive, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

LIV

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie,
Adornd with fruitfull Olives all arownd,
Is, as it were for endlesse memory
Of that deare Lord who oft thereon was fownd,
For ever with a flowring girlond crownd:
Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay
Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,
On which the thrise three learned Ladies play
Their heavenly notes, and make full many a lovely lay.

LV

From thence, far off he unto him did shew
A litle path, that was both steepe and long,
Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;
Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong
Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;
Too high a ditty for my simple song;
The Citie of the great king hight it well,
Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

LVI

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see
The blessed Angels to and fro descend
From highest heaven in gladsome companee,
And with great joy into that Citie wend,
As commonly as friend does with his frend.
Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,
What stately building durst so high extend
Her loftie towres unto the starry sphere,
And what unknowen nation there empeopled were.

LVII

Faire knight (quoth he) Hierusalem that is,
The new Hierusalem, that God has built
For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,
His chosen people purg'd from sinfull guilt
With pretious blood, which cruelly was spilt
On cursed tree, of that unspotted lam,
That for the sinnes of al the world was kilt:
Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,
More dear unto their God then younglings to their dam.

LVIII

Till now, said then the knight, I weened well,
That great Cleopolis, where I have beene,
In which that fairest Faerie Queene doth dwell,
The fairest citie was that might be seene;
And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,
Panthea, seemd the brightest thing that was:
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;
For this great Citie that does far surpas,
And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.

LIX

Most trew, then said the holy aged man;
Yet is Cleopolis, for earthly frame,
The fairest peece that eye beholden can;
And well beseemes all knights of noble name,
That covett in th' immortall booke of fame
To be eternized, that same to haunt,
And doen their service to that soveraigne dame,
That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:
For she is heavenly borne, and heaven may justly vaunt.

LX

And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race,
How ever now accompted Elfins sonne,
Well worthy doest thy service for her grace,
To aide a virgin desolate fordonne.
But when thou famous victory hast wonne,
And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,
Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,
And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:
For blood can nought but sin, and wars but sorrowes yield.

LXI

Then seek this path, that I to thee presage,
Which after all to heaven shall thee send;
Then peaceably thy painefull pilgrimage
To yonder same Hierusalem do bend,
Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:
For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,
Shall be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend
And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee,
Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.

LXII

Unworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace,
How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?
These that have it attaind, were in like cace,
(Quoth he) as wretched, and liv'd in like paine.
But deeds of armes must I at last be faine
And Ladies love to leave so dearely bought?
What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,
(Said he,) and battailes none are to be fought?
As for loose loves, they're vain, and vanish into nought.

LXIII

O let me not (quoth he) then turne againe
Backe to the world, whose joyes so fruitlesse are;
But let me here for aye in peace remaine,
Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,
That nothing may my present hope empare.
That may not be, (said he) ne maist thou yit
Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,
Who did her cause into thy hand commit,
Till from her cursed foe thou have her freely quit.

LXIV

Then shall I soone (quoth he) so God me grace,
Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,
And shortly backe returne unto this place,
To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.
But now aread, old father, why of late
Didst thou behight me borne of English blood,
Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?
That word shall I (said he) avouchen good,
Sith to thee is unknowne the cradle of thy blood.

LXV

For well I wote thou springst from ancient race
Of Saxon kings, that have with mightie hand
And many bloody battailes fought in place
High reard their royall throne in Britane land,
And vanquisht them, unable to withstand:
From thence a Faerie thee unweeting reft,
There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,
And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.
Such men do Chaungelings call, so chang'd by Faeries theft.

LXVI

Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond,
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,
Where thee a Ploughman all unweeting fond,
As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,
And brought thee up in ploughmans state to byde
Whereof Georgos he gave thee to name;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,
To Faerie court thou cam'st to seeke for fame,
And prove thy puissaunt armes, as seemes thee best became.

LXVII

O holy Sire (quoth he) how shall I quight
The many favours I with thee have found,
That hast my name and nation red aright,
And taught the way that does to heaven bound?
This said, adowne he looked to the ground,
To have returnd, but dazed were his eyne
Through passing brightnesse, which did quite confound
His feeble sence and too exceeding shyne.
So darke are earthly things compard to things divine.

LXVIII

At last whenas himselfe he gan to find,
To Una back he cast him to retire;
Who him awaited still with pensive mind.
Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre
He thence departing gave for his paines hyre.
So came to Una, who him joyd to see,
And after little rest, gan him desire
Of her adventure mindfull for to bee.
So leave they take of Cœlia, and her daughters three.

[admin]

CANTO XI

The knight with that old Dragon fights
two dayes incessantly;
The third him overthrowes, and gayns
most glorious victory.

I

HIGH time now gan it wex for Una faire
To thinke of those her captive Parents deare,
And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:
Whereto whenas they now approched neare,
With hartie wordes her knight she gan to cheare,
And in her modest manner thus bespake;
Deare knight, as deare as ever knight was deare,
That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake,
High heaven behold the tedious toyle ye for me take.

II

Now are we come unto my native soyle,
And to the place where all our perils dwell;
Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle;
Therefore henceforth be at your keeping well,
And ever ready for your foeman fell.
The sparke of noble courage now awake,
And strive your excellent selfe to excell:
That shall ye evermore renowmed make,
Above all knights on earth that batteill undertake.

III

And pointing forth, Lo yonder is (said she)
The brasen towre in which my parents deare
For dread of that huge feend emprisond be,
Whom I from far, see on the walles appeare,
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:
And on the top of all I do espye
The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare,
That O my parents might I happily
Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery.

IV

With that they heard a roaring hideous sound,
That all the ayre with terrour filled wide,
And seemd uneath to shake the stedfast ground.
Eftsoones that dreadful Dragon they espide,
Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side,
Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.
But all so soone as he from far descride
Those glistring armes, that heaven with light did fill,
He rousd himselfe full blith, and hastned them untill.

V

Then bad the knight his Lady yede aloofe,
And to an hill her selfe withdraw aside:
From whence she might behold that battailles proof,
And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.
Now O thou sacred muse, most learned Dame,
Faire ympe of Phœbus and his aged bride,
The Nourse of time and everlasting fame,
That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name;

VI

O gently come into my feeble brest
Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,
And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,
That nought their kindled courage may aswage,
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd,
The God of warre with his fiers equipage
Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so sownd,
All scared nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.

VII

Faire Goddesse, lay that furious fit aside,
Till I of warres and bloody Mars do sing,
And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,
Twixt that great Faery Queene, and Paynim king,
That with their horrour heaven and earth did ring;
A worke of labour long and endlesse prayse:
But now a while let downe that haughtie string
And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,
That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.

VIII

By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand,
Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his haste,
That with his largenesse measured much land,
And made wide shadow under his huge wast,
As mountaine doth the valley overcast.
Approching nigh, he reared high afore
His body monstrous, horrible, and vaste,
Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more,
Was swoln with wrath, and poyson, and with bloudy gore.

IX

And over, all with brasen scales was armd,
Like plated coate of steele, so couched neare,
That nought mote perce, ne might his corse be harmd
With dint of sword, nor push of pointed speare;
Which, as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare,
His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely dight;
So shaked he, that horrour was to heare,
For as the clashing of an Armour bright,
Such noyse his rouzed scales did send unto the knight.

X

His flaggy wings when forth he did display,
Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd
Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way:
And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd,
Were like mayne-yards, with flying canvas lynd;
With which whenas him list the ayre to beat,
And there by force unwonted passage find,
The cloudes before him fled for terrour great,
And all the heavens stood still amazed with his threat.

XI

His huge long tayle wound up in hundred foldes,
Does overspred his long bras-scaly backe,
Whose wreathed boughts when ever he unfoldes,
And thicke entangled knots adown does slacke,
Bespotted as with shields of red and blacke,
It sweepeth all the land behind him farre,
And of three furlongs does but litle lacke;
And at the point two stings in-fixed arre,
Both deadly sharpe, that sharpest steele exceeden farre.

XII

But stings and sharpest steele did far exceed
The sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes;
Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed,
What ever thing does touch his ravenous pawes,
Or what within his reach he ever drawes.
But his most hideous head my toung to tell
Does tremble: for his deepe devouring jawes
Wide gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell,
Through which into his darke abisse all ravin fell.

XIII

And that more wondrous was, in either jaw
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were,
In which yet trickling blood, and gobbets raw
Of late devoured bodies did appeare,
That sight thereof bred cold congealed feare:
Which to increase, and as atonce to kill,
A cloud of smoothering smoke and sulphure seare,
Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed still,
That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did fill.

XIV

His blazing eyes, like two bright shining shields,
Did burne with wrath, and sparkled living fyre:
As two broad Beacons, set in open fields,
Send forth their flames far off to every shyre,
And warning give, that enemies conspyre
With fire and sword the region to invade;
So flam'd his eyne with rage and rancorous yre:
But farre within, as in a hollow glade,
Those glaring lampes were set, that made a dreadfull shade.

XV

So dreadfully he towards him did pas,
Forelifting up aloft his speckled brest,
And often bounding on the brused gras,
As for great joyance of his newcome guest.
Eftsoones he gan advance his haughtie crest,
As chauffed Bore his bristles doth upreare,
And shoke his scales to battell ready drest;
That made the Redcrosse knight nigh quake for feare,
As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare.

XVI

The knight gan fairely couch his steadie speare,
And fiercely ran at him with rigorous might:
The pointed steele arriving rudely theare,
His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight,
But glauncing by forth passed forward right;
Yet sore amoved with so puissaunt push,
The wrathfull beast about him turned light,
And him so rudely passing by, did brush
With his long tayle, that horse and man to ground did rush.

XVII

Both horse and man up lightly rose againe,
And fresh encounter towards him addrest:
But th'idle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,
And found no place his deadly point to rest.
Exceeding rage enflam'd the furious beast,
To be avenged of so great despight;
For never felt his imperceable brest
So wondrous force, from hand of living wight;
Yet had he prov'd the powre of many a puissant knight.

XVIII

Then with his waving wings displayed wyde,
Himselfe up high he lifted from the ground,
And with strong flight did forcibly divide
The yielding aire, which nigh too feeble found
Her flitting parts, and element unsound,
To beare so great a weight: he cutting way
With his broad sayles, about him soared round:
At last low stouping with unweldie sway,
Snatcht up both horse and man, to beare them quite away.

XIX

Long he them bore above the subject plaine,
So far as Ewghen bow a shaft may send,
Till struggling strong did him at last constraine
To let them downe before his flightes end:
As hagard hauke, presuming to contend
With hardie fowle, above his hable might,
His wearie pounces all in vaine doth spend
To trusse the pray too heavy for his flight;
Which comming downe to ground, does free it selfe by fight.

XX

He so disseized of his gryping grosse,
The knight his thrillant speare again assayd
In his bras-plated body to embosse,
And three mens strength unto the stroke he layd;
Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked, as affrayd,
And glauncing from his scaly necke, did glyde
Close under his left wing, then broad displayd:
The percing steele there wrought a wound full wyde,
That with the uncouth smart the Monster lowdly cryde.

XXI

He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore,
When wintry storme his wrathfull wreck does threat
The roaring billowes beat the ragged shore,
As they the earth would shoulder from her seat,
And greedy gulfe does gape, as he would eat
His neighbour element in his revenge:
Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat
To move the world from off his steadfast henge,
And boystrous battell make, each other to avenge.

XXII


The steely head stucke fast still in his flesh,
Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood,
And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh
A gushing river of blacke goarie blood,
That drowned all the land, whereon he stood;
The streame thereof would drive a water-mill:
Trebly augmented was his furious mood
With bitter sence of his deepe rooted ill,
That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethrill.

XXIII

His hideous tayle then hurled he about,
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes
Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout
Striving to loose the knot that fast him tyes,
Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash implyes,
That to the ground he is perforce constraynd
To throw his rider: who can quickly ryse
From off the earth, with durty blood distaynd,
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd.

XXIV

And fiercely tooke his trenchand blade in hand,
With which he stroke so furious and so fell,
That nothing seemd the puissaunce could withstand:
Upon his crest the hardned yron fell,
But his more hardned crest was armd so well,
That deeper dint therein it would not make;
Yet so extremely did the buffe him quell,
That from thenceforth he shund the like to take,
But when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.

XXV

The knight was wroth to see his stroke beguyld,
And smote againe with more outrageous might;
But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld,
And left not any marke, where it did light,
As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.
The beast impatient of his smarting wound,
And of so fierce and forcible despight,
Thought with his wings to stye above the ground;
But his late wounded wing unserviceable found.

XXVI

Then full of griefe and anguish vehement,
He lowdly brayd, that like was never heard,
And from his wide devouring oven sent
A flake of fire, that, flashing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almost made affeard:
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,
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;
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,
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,
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,
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
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
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.

XXXI

Now gan the golden Phœbus 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
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,
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,
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;
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:
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,
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:
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.
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.

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;
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,
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,
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,
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:
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,
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,
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:
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.

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
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,
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,
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
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;
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,
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,
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,
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.

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,
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,
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,
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
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
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:
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,
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,
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.

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
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,
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,
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,
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,
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
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;
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;
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.

[admin]

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;
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 Phœbus in the glooming East
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,
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,
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
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
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,
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
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.

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
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
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;
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,
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;
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:
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,
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,
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.

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
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,
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,
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;
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
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,
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;
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,
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.

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,
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;
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;
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,
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,
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;
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,
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,175
And him in hardy battaile overcame,
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.

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
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;
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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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.

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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
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.

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.
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
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,
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,
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
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,
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,
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,
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.

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?
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,
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,
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;
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,
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
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,
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
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.

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,
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,
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,
And wants supplide. And then againe abroad
On the long voyage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.

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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. à 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. whose dryer braine, whose brain too dry. In the old physiology, a dry brain was the cause of slow and weak perception, and a moist brain of quickness.

378. all, entirely, altogether.

381. Hecate, queen of phantoms and demons in Hades, and mistress of witches on earth. See xxxvii.

387. the sleepers sent, the sleeper's sense.

405. most like to seeme, etc.. most likely fit to seem for (represent) Una. Like is an adv. A very awkward inversion.

411. borne without her dew, i.e. created by him in an unnatural manner.

425. Fayre Venus, the daughter of Jupiter, or Zeus, and the sea-nymph Dione. She is the same as Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty.

430. the Graces, Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia, daughters of Zeus and Aphrodite.

431. Hymen Iö Hymen, refrain of an old Roman nuptial song. Hymen, the son of Apollo and the Muse Urania, was the god of marriage.

432. freshest Flora, the goddess of flowers. She typified spring.

447. To prove his sense, etc. To test his perception and prove her feigned truth.

449. Tho can she weepe, then did she weep. Can here is the Northern dialect form for the middle English gan, past tense of ginnen, to begin, which was used as an auxiliary.

454. the blind God, Cupid, Eros, or Amor, the god of love.

478. Like other knights of romance, e.g. Sir Galahad and Sir Gareth in Malory's Morte d'Arthur, iii, 65, etc., the Redcross Knight does not yield to the temptation of the flesh, but overcomes it.

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Part 1 of 2

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR STUDY

(Canto I)

1. Tell in your own words the story of this canto. 2. Which muse does Spenser invoke? 3. Who were the nine muses? 4. What is the difference between pastoral and epic poetry? 5. Illustrate by The Shepheards Calender and the The Faerie Queene. 6. Point out imitations of Homer, Vergil, Lucan, Statius, Ariosto, Tasso, and Chaucer. 7. Explain the reference to the religious questions and politics of Queen Elizabeth's reign. 8. Where does Spenser use classical mythology—mediæval legends? 9. What references to the Bible do you find? 10. Try to make a mental picture of the Knight—of Una—of Error—of Archimago. 11. Is Spenser's character drawing objective or subjective? 12. Is the description of the wood in vii true to nature? Could so many trees grow together in a thick wood? 13. Study the Rembrandt-like effects of light and shade in xiv. 14. What infernal deities are conjured up by Archimago?

15. Paraphrase in your own language ll. 88, 106-107, 116, 267-268.

16. Explain use of of in l. 75. 17. What part of speech is wandering l. 114? to viewen l. 201? parse which l. 232; him and spend l. 233; you and shew l. 276. 18. Find examples of Euphuistic hyperbole in iv, of alliteration in xiv. 19. Explain the use and form of eyne, edified, afflicted, weeds, Hebean, impe, compeld, areeds, blazon, ycladd.

CANTO II

I. The Plot: Deceived by Archimago's phantoms, the Redcross Knight suspects the chastity of Una, and flies at early dawn with his dwarf. He chances to meet the Saracen Sansfoy in company with the false Duessa. They do battle and Sansfoy is slain. Duessa under the name of Fidessa attaches herself to the Knight, and they ride forward. They stop to rest under some shady trees, On breaking a bough, the Knight discovers that the trees are two lovers, Fradubio and Fraelissa, thus imprisoned by the cruel enchantment of Duessa.

II. The Allegory: 1. Hypocrisy under a pious disguise is attractive to Holiness. Truth is also deceived by it, and shamefully slandered. Holiness having abandoned Truth, takes up with Falsehood, who is attended by Infidelity. Unbelief when openly assailing Holiness is overthrown, but Falsehood under the guise of Faith remains undiscovered. The fate of the man (Fradubio) is set forth who halts between two opinions,—False Religion (Duessa) and Heathen Philosophy, or Natural Religion (Fraelissa).

2. The Reformed Church, no longer under the guidance of Truth, rushes headlong into Infidelity, and unwittingly became the defender of the Romish Faith under the name of the True Faith. There is a hint of the intrigues of Mary Queen of Scots and the libels of the Jesuits on Queen Elizabeth designed to bring back the English nation to Romish allegiance.

LINE 1. the Northerne wagoner, the constellation Boötes.

2. his sevenfold teme, the seven stars of Ursa Major, or Charles's Wain. the stedfast starre, the Pole-star, which never sets.

6. chearefull Chaunticlere, the name of the cock in the fabliaux and beast epics, e.g. Roman de Renart and Reineke Fuchs.

7. Phœbus fiery carre, the sun.

11. that faire-forged spright, fair but miscreated spirit (I, xiv). Spenser took suggestions for this stanza from Ariosto and Tasso.

51. faire Hesperus, the evening star.

55. the rosy-fingred Morning. This beautiful epithet of Aurora, the goddess of the dawn, is borrowed from Homer, Hesiod, and other ancient poets.

56. aged Tithones, son of Laomedon, King of Troy. Aurora conferred upon him immortality without youth, hence the epithet "aged."

58. Titan, the sun-god in the Roman myths.

85. Proteus, a sea-god who was endowed with the power of prophecy. He could change himself into any shape in order to avoid having to prophesy. See Homer, Odyssey, iv, 366 seq., and Vergil, Georgics, iv, 387.

90. herbes. In the sixteenth century the belief in potions, magic formulas, etc., was still strongly rooted in the popular mind. The Spanish court and the priests were supposed to employ supernatural agencies against the Protestants.

105. A faithless Sarazin. Spenser uses the word Saracen in the general sense of pagan. During the Middle Ages the Saracen power was a menace to Europe, and the stronghold of infidelity. The names of the three Paynim brethren, Sansfoy, Sansjoy, and Sansloy,—faithless, joyless, and lawless,—suggest the point of view of Spenser's age.

109. a faire companion, the enchantress Duessa, or Falsehood, who calls herself Fidessa. In the allegory Spenser intended her to represent the Romish church and Mary Queen of Scots. Her character and appearance were suggested by the woman of Babylon, in Revelation, viii, 4, Ariosto's Alcina, and Tasso's Armida.

136. As when two rams. This figure is found in Vergil, Apollonius, Malory, Tasso, Dante, and other poets and romancers.

141. the hanging victory, the victory which hung doubtful in the balance.

144. The broken reliques, the shattered lances.

148. Each others equall puissaunce envies, each envies the equal prowess of the other.

149. through their iron sides, etc., through their armored sides with cruel glances, etc.

155. the bitter fit, the bitterness of death.

158. assured sitt, etc., sit firm (in the saddle), and hide (cover) thy head (with thy shield).

160. With rigour so outrageous, with force so violent.

161. That a large share, etc., that a large piece it (the sword) hewed, etc.

162. from blame him fairly blest. 1, fairly preserved him from hurt; 2, fairly acquitted him of blame. Him in (1) refers to the knight, in (2) to the Saracen. (1) is the better interpretation.

169. grudging. Because reluctant to part from the flesh.

196. daughter of an Emperour. Duessa represents the Pope, who exercised imperial authority in Rome, though the seat of the empire had been transferred to Constantinople in 476.

200. the only haire. The dauphin of France, the first husband of Mary Queen of Scots, afterwards King Francis II, son of Henry II. Duessa's story is full of falsehoods.

243. so dainty they say maketh derth, coyness makes desire. The knight is allured on by Duessa's assumed shyness.

251. ne wont there sound, nor was accustomed to sound there.

254. cool shade. The Reformed Church, weakened by Falsehood, is enticed by doubt and skepticism.

262. faire seemly pleasaunce, pleasant courtesies.

263. With goodly purposes, with polite conversation. This whole stanza refers to Mary's candidacy for the English throne and its dangers to Protestantism.

269. He pluckt a bough. In this incident Spenser imitates Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, vi, 26, in which Ruggiero addresses a myrtle which bleeds and cries out with pain. The conception of men turned into trees occurs also in Ovid, Vergil, Tasso, and Dante.

272. O spare with guilty hands, etc. Cf Vergil's account of Polydorus in Aeneid, iii, 41, in which a myrtle exclaims, Parce pias scelerare manus, etc.

284. from Limbo lake, here, the abode of the lost. With the Schoolmen, Limbo was a border region of hell where dwelt the souls of Old Testament saints, pious heathen, lunatics, and unbaptized infants. Cf. Milton's Paradise of Fools, Paradise Lost, iii, 495.

291. Fradubio, as it were "Brother Doubtful," one who hesitates between false religion and pagan religion, Duessa and Fraelissa (Morley). Fraelissa is fair but frail, and will not do to lean upon.

342. faire in place, fair in that place.

351. to treen mould, to the form of a tree. Treen is an adj. like wooden.

354. the same. Supply "as she appeared to be," i.e. fair and true.

357. proper hew. Witches had to appear in their "proper hew" one day in spring and undergo a purifying bath. The old romances make frequent mention of the enchanted herb bath.

370. by chaunges of my cheare, by my changed countenance or expression.

371. drownd in sleepie night. The phrase modifies "body," or is equivalent to "while I was drowned in sleep."

382. in a living well, in a well of running water. This well signifies the healing power of Christianity. John, iv, 14. In Spenser's story this well is never found, and the wretched couple are never restored to human shape.

404. all passed feare, all fear having passed.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto II)

1. How does the knight feel and act while under Archimago's spell? 2. What becomes of Una? 3. How does Archimago plan to deceive her? 4. Tell the story of the lovers turned into trees. 5. Who was Sansfoy? 6. Describe the appearance and character of Duessa. 7. What did she have to do with Fradubio and Fraelissa? 8. What was the old belief about the penance of witches? 9. How only could the lovers be restored to their human shape? Was it done? 10. Who were St. George, Phoebus, Titan, Tithonius? 11. Explain the reference to Chaunticlere in l. 6.

12. Find examples of alliteration in xix; of balance in xxxvii; and of Latinizing in xix; xxxvi; xxxviii, and xl.

13. Paraphrase in your own words ll. 111, 134-135, 162 (giving two interpretations); 335, 386-387.

14. What figure of speech is used in xiii, xvi, and xx?

15. Study the rich word-painting in the description of sunrise in vii. Find other examples of this poet's use of "costly" epithets.

16. Scan the following passages: 148, 174, 178, 193, and 299.

17. Find example of tmesis (separation of prep. from ob.) in xlv.

18. What is the difference between the two wells in xliii?

19. To whom do the pronouns in ll. 174, 175 refer?

20. What is the case of heavens in l. 193? of Sarazin in l. 217?

21. What words are omitted in ll. 188, 313, 398?

CANTO III

I. The Plot: Una wandering in quest of her Knight is guarded by a Lion. With difficulty they gain entrance to the cottage of Corceca and her daughter Abessa, the paramour of Kirkrapine. The latter is killed by the Lion. Fleeing the next day, Una falls in with Archimago disguised as the Redcross Knight. They journey on and meet a second Saracen knight, Sansloy. In the fight which ensues Archimago is unhorsed and his deception unmasked. The Lion is slain, and Una becomes the captive of Sansloy.

II. The Allegory: 1. Truth finds temporary protection in Reason, or Natural Honor (Lion), and with its help puts a stop to the Robbing of Churches (Kirkrapine), which is connived at by Blind Devotion (Corceca) and Secret Sin (Abessa). Truth is then associated with Hypocrisy under the guise of Holiness, but it is soon unmasked by Lawlessness (Sansloy), with which Truth is forced into an unnatural alliance.

2. "The lion is said to represent Henry VIII, overthrowing the monasteries, destroying church-robbers, disturbing the dark haunts of idleness, ignorance and superstition."—Kitchin. The battle between Archimago and Sansloy refers to the contests of the Catholic powers with the Moslems. The whole canto also has a hint of the violence and lawlessness connected with the English conquest of Ireland.

Line 14. though true as touch, though true as if tested on the touchstone (by which true gold was distinguished from counterfeit).

18. And her due loves, etc., the love due to her diverted, etc.

27. Yet wished tydings, etc., yet none brought unto her the wished-for tidings of him. An awkward transposition.

34. the great eye of heaven, the sun. Cf. Paradise Lost, v. 171.

38. A ramping lyon. Reason or Natural Honor; also Henry VIII. According to the ancient belief, no lion would attack a true virgin or one of royal blood. Similar scenes are found in Sir Bevis of Hampton, The Seven Champions of Christendom, etc. Cf. I Henry IV, ii, 4. The allegory signifies that man guided merely by reason will recognize Truth and pay it homage.

51. Whose yeelded pride, etc., object of had marked, l. 52.

77. he kept both watch and ward, he kept awake and guarded her.

89. A damzell spyde, Abessa, who symbolizes Flagrant or Secret Sin.

99. her cast in deadly hew, threw her into a deathly paleness.

101. upon the wager lay, was at stake.

102. whereas her mother blynd, where her blind mother, Corceca, or Blind Devotion.

109. unruly Page. This refers to the violence with which Henry VIII forced Protestantism upon the people. In his Present State of Ireland (p. 645), Spenser speaks of the ignorance and blind devotion of the Irish Papists in the benighted country places.

116. Pater nosters, the Lord's Prayer; Aves, prayers to the Virgin.

136. Aldeboran, the Bull's Eye, a double star of the first magnitude in the constellation Taurus.

137. Cassiopeias chaire, a circumpolar constellation having a fancied resemblance to a chair.

139. One knocked at the dore, Kirkrapine, the plunderer of the Church. Spenser represents in him the peculiar vices of the Irish clergy and laity.

166. stay him to advize, stop to reflect.

172. him booteth not resist, it does him no good to resist. This whole passage refers, perhaps, to Henry VIII's suppression of the monasteries and convents in 1538-39.

185. that long wandring Greeke. Ulysses, or Odysseus, the hero of Homer's Odyssey, who wandered ten years and refused immortality from the goddess Calypso in order that he might return to Penelope.

xxii. Note the rhymes deare, heare, and teare (air). This 16th century pronunciation still survives in South Carolina. See Ellis's Early English Pronunciation, III, 868. This stanza reads like the description of an Irish wake.

238. Or ought have done, or have done something to displease you.

239. That should as death, etc., that should settle like death, etc.

248. And chose in Faery court. See Spenser's letter to Sir W. Raleigh, p. 6.

250. her kindly skill, her natural power.

276. fierce Orions hound, Sirius, the Dog-star, the brightest of the fixed stars. The constellation Orion was named from a giant hunter who was beloved by Aurora and slain by Diana.

279. and Nereus crownes with cups, and Nereus drinks bumpers in his honor. Nereus was a sea-god, son of Ocean and Earth.

282. from ground, from the land.

297. Sans loy symbolizes the pagan lawlessness in Ireland. There is also a wider reference to the struggles between the Turks and the allied Christian powers, which had been going on since the siege of Vienna in 1529.

309. vainly crossed shield, Archimago's false cross lacked the protecting power of St. George's charmed true cross.

321. Lethe lake, a lake or river of Hades, whose water brought oblivion or forgetfulness to all who drank of it.

322. Refers to the ancient custom of sacrificing an enemy on the funeral altar to appease the shade of the dead.

323. The blacke infernall Furies, the Erinyes, or goddesses of vengeance, who dwelt in Erebus. They were robed in black, bloody garments befitting their gloomy character.

325. In romance it was customary for the victor to unlace the helmet of the knight whom he had unhorsed before slaying him. Friends and relatives were sometimes discovered by this precaution.

342. Ne ever wont in field, etc., was never accustomed to fight in the battle-field or in the lists of the tournament.

xliii. Contrast Sansloy's rude treatment of Una with the chivalrous respect and courtesy always shown by a true knight to woman.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto III)

1. What moral reflections does the poet make in the introductory stanza? Note the reference to the Queen. 2. What do you learn of the laws, customs, and sentiments of chivalry in this canto? 3. Give an account of Una's meeting with the Lion. 4. Explain the allegory of the incident of the Lion. 5. Describe the character, appearance, and actions of Corceca, and explain the allegory. 6. Note the use of the stars to indicate time. 7. Under what circumstances does Una meet Archimago? 8. Explain the allegory in ix. 9. Note the Euphuistic balance in xxvii. 10. What figure do you find in xxxi? Note the Homeric style. 11. Describe the fight between Archimago and Sansloy, and explain the double allegory. 12. What is the moral interpretation of xli-xlii?

13. Explain the Latinisms in ll. 37 and 377. 14. How are the adjectives used in l. 57? 15. Note change of pronouns in vii from third person to first. 16. Explain tense of shold pas in l. 83. 17. Note confusion of pronouns in xxii and xxxv. 18. Examine the nominative absolute construction in st. xiv and xxxix. 19. Explain the ambiguous construction in l. 165. 20. Parse her in l. 262. 21. Note careless use of relative in l. 288.

CANTO IV

I. The Plot: In this and the following canto the adventures of the Redcross Knight are continued from Canto II. Guided by Duessa, he enters the House of Pride. There he sees Lucifera, the Queen of Pride, attended by her sinful court. Her six Counselors are described in detail, with an account of a pleasure trip taken by the Queen and her court. Sansjoy unexpectedly arrives and challenges the Knight to mortal combat for the shield of Sansfoy. That night Duessa holds a secret conference with the Saracen knight.

II. The Allegory: 1. The Christian Soldier, under the influence of false ideals (Duessa), is exposed to the temptations of the Seven Deadly Sins, chief among which is Pride. In the midst of these sinful pleasures, he is assailed by Joylessness, on whose side is Falsehood secretly.

2. The religious and political allegory is here vague and somewhat discontinuous. There is a hint, however, of the attempts of Mary Queen of Scots to bring England back to Romanism. The pride and corruption of the false church and its clergy are set forth. There is also a suggestion of the perilous position of the English in Ireland.

20. of each degree and place, of every rank and order of society.

21. having scaped hard, having escaped with difficulty.

24. lazars. Leprosy was a common disease in England even as late as the sixteenth century.

49. Malvenù, ill-come, as opposed to Bienvenu, welcome.

73. like Phœbus fairest childe, Phaethon, the son of Helios. He was killed by a thunderbolt from the hand of Zeus, as a result of his reckless driving of the chariot of the sun.

86. A dreadfull Dragon, Fallen Pride.

94. This genealogy of Pride is invented by the poet in accord with the Christian doctrine concerning this sin.

107. six wizards old, the remaining six of the Seven Deadly Sins, Wrath, Envy, Lechery, Gluttony, Avarice, and Idleness. See Chaucer's Parson's Tale for a sermon on these mortal sins, Gower's Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins, and Laugland's Piers Plowman.

145. coche. Spenser imitates Ovid and Homer in this description of Juno's chariot. The peacock was sacred to the goddess, who transferred to its tail the hundred eyes of the monster Argus. See Ovid's Metamorphoses, i, 625 seq.

157. With like conditions, etc. The behests were of a kind similar to the nature of the six Sins.

174. he chalenged essoyne, he claimed exemption.

185. like a Crane. This refers to Aristotle's story of a man who wished that his neck were as long as a crane's, that he might the longer enjoy the swallowing of his food. Nic. Ethics, iii, 13.

205. a dry dropsie, a dropsy causing thirst.

236. Upon a Camell, etc. The reference is to a story in Herodotus' History (iii, 102 seq.), in which the Indians are described as carrying off on camels gold dust hoarded by enormous ants.

252. unto him selfe unknowne, i.e. being ignorant of his own wretchedness.

309. Unthrifty scath, wicked damage, or mischief that thrives not.

313. The swelling Splene. The spleen was the seat of anger.

314. Saint Fraunces fire, St. Anthony's fire, or erysipelas. Diseases were named from those who were supposed to be able to heal them.

335. With pleasaunce, etc. Fed with enjoyment of the fields, the fresh air of which they went to breathe.

437. And helplesse hap, etc. It does no good to bemoan unavoidable chance.

440. pay his dewties last, pay his last duty to the shade of the slain man by sacrificing his murderer.

443. oddes of armes, chances of mishap in arms due to some advantage of one's antagonist.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto IV)

1. What are the moral reflections in stanza i? 2. What suggestion of the condition of the English roads do you find in st. ii? 3. But few returned, l. 21. What became of the rest? 4. Give a description of the House of Pride. Note resemblance to a typical Elizabethan hall. 5. Explain the allegory of the House, noting the association of ugliness and beauty. 6. How is expectation aroused in vi? 7. Describe the dramatic appearance and character of Pride. Cf. description of Satan on his throne in Paradise Lost, iii. 8. What do you learn in this canto of Elizabethan or chivalric manners and customs? 9. Describe the procession at the court of Pride. 10. What satire of the Romish priesthood in xviii-xx? 11. Note examples of Spenser's humor in xiv and xvi. 12. Point out the classical influence (Dionysus and Silenus) in the description of Gluttony. 13. Subject of the interview between Duessa and Sansjoy. 14. Point out the archaisms in l. 10; alliteration in xxxix and l; the Latinisms in xlvi and xlvii. 15. In what case is way in l. 17? 16. Explain the meaning and historical significance of lazar, l. 24, and diall, l. 36. 17. Explain the references of the pronouns in l. 55, and ll. 418-419. 18. Note the Euphuistic balance and antithesis in xxix and xlv. 19. Explain the suffix in marchen in l. 325. 20. Note the double negative in iv, xlix. 21. Paraphrase in your own words ll. 239, 243, 360, 437.

CANTO V

I. The Plot: (a continuation of Canto IV). The Knight fights in the lists with Sansjoy and defeats him, but is prevented by Duessa's magic from slaying him. Duessa descends to Erebus and obtains the aid of Night, who conveys the wounded Saracen in her chariot to Æsculapius to be healed of his wounds. The tortures of some of the souls in Erebus are described, particularly the cause of Æsculapius' punishment. A roll of the prisoners whom the dwarf discovers in Pride's dungeon is given. The Knight flees with the dwarf from her house.

II. The Allegory: When the Christian Soldier is attacked by Joylessness, he has a far more desperate struggle than that with Infidelity, and comes out wounded though victorious. Joylessness when crushed by Holiness is restored by Pagan Philosophy. The backsliding Christian is warned in time by Prudence of the fearful consequences of sin, and hastens to turn his back on Pride and the other sins. The soul is led to dread Pride, not by Truth, but by its sufferings and other inferior motives.

25. their timely voyces, their voices keeping time with their harps.

27. Old loves, famous love-affairs, the subject of the Minnesängers.

29. In woven maile, in chain armor.

32. Araby, probably here the Orient in general.

33. From furthest Ynd, from farthest India.

39. unto a paled greene, a green inclosure (lists for a tournament) surrounded by a palisade.

44. his. An old method of forming the possessive, based on a misapprehension of the original Anglo-Saxon suffix -es, which was shortened in middle English to -is, and finally to s.

45. Both those, etc. Both Duessa and the shield are to go to the victor.

65. a Gryfon, a fabulous animal, part lion and part eagle. Gryfon is subject of encountereth with Dragon as object.

89. And sluggish german, etc., and sluggish brother dost relax thy strength to send his (Sansfoy's) foe after him, that he may overtake him. In ll. 86-88 Sansjoy addresses his brother, in ll. 89-90 himself. German is any blood relation.

100. The Knight supposed that Duessa's encouraging words were addressed to him.

114. Spenser here, with fine dramatic effect, imitates Homer, who saves Paris and Æneas by a similar device. Iliad, iii, 380, and v, 345.

159. teares. This mention of the man-eating crocodile's tears is based on an old Latin proverb. Sir John Mandeville repeats the story.

172. griesly Night. According to mythology (Hesiod's Theog., 123), one of the first things created, the daughter of Chaos, and mother of Æther (sky) and Hemera (day); also of Deceit, Strife, Old Age, and Vengeance. See xxii and xxvii.

202. on groning beare, on a bier with groaning friends around.

204. O what of gods, etc., O what is it to be born of gods, if old Aveugle's (the father of the three Saracens) sons are so ill treated.

219. and good successes, etc., and good results which follow their foes.

221. or breake the chayne, refers to Jove's proposition to fasten a golden chain to the earth by which to test his strength. Homer's Iliad, viii, 19. Cf. Milton's Paradise Lost, ii, 1051.

225. bad excheat, bad gain by exchange. Escheat is an old legal term, meaning any lands or goods which fall to the lord of a fief by forfeiture. Cf. "rob Peter to pay Paul."

229. shall with his owne bloud, etc., shall pay the price of the blood that he has spilt with his own.

263. Here Spenser imitates Homer's Odyssey, xvi, 163.

267. the ghastly Owle. The poet follows the Latin rather than the Greek poets, who regard the owl as the bird of wisdom.

273. of deep Avernus hole. Avernus in the poets is a cavern (in an ancient crater), supposed to be the entrance to the infernal regions. Cf. Vergil's Æneid, vi, 237. In Strabo's Geography it is a lake in Campania.

298. Cerberus, the dog which guarded the lower regions. This stanza is an imitation of Vergil's Æneid, vi, 417 seq. In Dante's Inferno Vergil appeases him by casting handfuls of earth into his maw.

xxxv. In this stanza we see the influence of Homer and Vergil. Ixion, the king of Lapithæ, was chained by order of Zeus to a fiery-winged wheel for aspiring to the love of the goddess Hera (Juno). Sisyphus had to roll a huge stone forever up a hill for betraying the designs of the gods. Tantalus, for divulging the secrets of Zeus, was condemned to stand tormented by thirst in a lake. Tityus, for an assault on Artemis, was pinioned to the ground with two vultures plucking at his vitals. Typhoeus, a hundred-headed giant, was slain by Zeus' thunderbolt, and buried under Ætna. The gin on which he was tortured was probably the rack of the Middle Ages. Cf. the bed of Procrustes. Theseus, for attempting to carry off Persephone, was fixed to a rock in Tartarus. The "fifty sisters" are the fifty Danaides, who, for slaying their husbands, were condemned to pour water forever into a vessel full of holes.

322. sad Aesculapius, the god of medicine, slain by Zeus for arresting death and diseases.

354. And fates expired, and the threads of life which the fates (Parcæ) had severed.

387. Great paines, and greater praise, etc. His praise, like his pain, is to be eternal.

xlvii. This list of the thralls of Pride is in imitation of a similar one in Chaucer's Monk's Tale, which was based on Boccaccio's De Casibus Illustrium Virorum.

415. proud king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar. See Daniel, iii and iv.

420. king Croesus, the last king of Lydia, who was overthrown by Cyrus in B.C. 646. Herodotus, i, 26.

422. proud Antiochus, Antiochus Epiphanes, king of Syria, who captured Jerusalem twice, and defiled God's altar. He died raving mad B.C. 164. Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, xiii, 5-9.

424. great Nimrod, "the mighty hunter" (Genesis, x, 8), whose game, according to Spenser, was man. Josephus tells us that through pride he built the tower of Babel.

426. old Ninus, the legendary founder of Nineveh, and put to death by his wife, Semiramis.

428. that mighty Monarch, Alexander the Great (B.C. 366-323), king of Macedon. While consulting the oracle of Jupiter Ammon in the Libyan desert he was saluted by the priests as "Ammons Sonne." He died either of poison (Plutarch) or of excessive drink (Diodorus).

437. Great Romulus, legendary founder of Rome (B.C. 753). See Livy, i, 16.

438. Proud Tarquin, Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome. He was banished B.C. 510.

438. too lordly Lentulus, surnamed Sura, member of a haughty patrician family, who conspired with Catiline, and was strangled B.C. 62.

439. Stout Scipio, Cornelius Scipio Africanus (B.C. 287?-183?), the conqueror of Hannibal, and self-exiled from Rome. Livy speaks of his inordinate pride, xxxviii, 50.

439. stubborne Hanniball (B.C. 247-183), the great Carthaginian general, who died by poison to avoid falling into the hands of the Romans.

440. Ambitious Sylla (B.C. 138-78), Cornelius Sulla, the Dictator, who died a loathsome death.

440. sterne Marius (B.C. 157-86), after being seven times consul, he was obliged to take refuge from his rival Sulla amid the ruins of Carthage.

441. High Caesar, Caius Julius Caesar (B.C. 100-44), who was murdered by Brutus and other conspirators.

441. great Pompey. Cn. Pompeius Magnus (B.C. 106-48). After his defeat at Pharsalia, he fled to Egypt, where he was murdered.

441. fierce Antonius, Marcus (B.C. 83-30), the great triumvir, who after his defeat at Actium killed himself in Egypt.

444. The bold Semiramis, the legendary queen of Assyria.

446. Faire Sthenoboea, the wife of Proteus, who on account of her unrequited love for Bellerophon, died by hemlock. Aristophanes' Frogs, 1049 seq.

448. High minded Cleopatra (B.C. 69-30), the beautiful queen of Egypt, who is said by Plutarch to have died in the manner mentioned.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto V)

1. How did Redcross spend the night before the fight with Sansjoy?

2. Study in detail the fine description of Duessa's descent to Erebus.

3. What elements of beauty are seen in the description of dawn and sunrise in ii? and compare Psalms, xix, 5. 4. What arbitrary classification of musicians does Spenser make in iii? 5. Who is the far renowmed Queene in v? 6. Describe the joust between the Knight and Sansjoy. 7. Where do you learn of the laws governing such contests? 8. Observe the dramatic way in which Duessa saves Sansjoy. 9. What dramatic stroke in xxvii? 10. Describe Night and her team. 11. Give an account of her descent to Erebus with Sansjoy. 12. What were some of the tortures of the damned? 13. What effect is produced in xxx and how? 14. Point out some instances in which Spenser has imitated Homer—Vergil.

15. Where does he follow the Latin rather than the Greek poets?

16. Why did Æsculapius hesitate to heal Sansjoy? 17. Whom did the dwarf see in the dungeons of Pride? 18. Why did the Knight flee from the House of Pride?

19. Examine the following grammatical forms: maken, l. 22; woundes, l. 400. 20. What figure of speech is employed in xviii? 21. What illustration is used in viii? 22. Find example of balanced structure in vii; alliteration in viii, xv, xviii. 23. Scan l. 23. 24. Note nom. abs. construction in xlv.

25. Paraphrase the involved constructions in xlii, xix, viii, xxxvi.

CANTO VI

I. The Plot: (Continuation of Canto III). Una is delivered from Sansloy by a band of Satyrs. She remains with them as their teacher. There a knight of the wild-wood, Sir Satyrane, discovers her, and by his assistance, Una succeeds in making her way out of the forest to the plain. On the way they meet Archimago, disguised as a pilgrim, and he deceives them and leads them to Sansloy. While Sir Satyrane and Sansloy are engaged in a bloody battle, Una flees. She is pursued by Archimago but makes her escape.

II. The Allegory: 1. Truth is saved from destruction by Lawless Violence (Sansloy) by the aid of Barbarism or Savage Instinct, which terrorizes Lawlessness but offers natural homage to Truth. Truth finds a temporary home among Ignorant and Rude Folk (Satyrs) and in return imparts divine truth to their unregenerate minds. Natural Heroism or Manly Courage (Sir Satyrane) sides with Truth and defends it against Lawlessness.

2. The religious allegory signifies the extension of Protestantism through the outlying rural districts of England and in Ireland. Upton thinks that Sir Satyrane represents "Sir John Perrot, whose behaviour, though honest, was too coarse and rude for a court. 'Twas well known that he was a son of Henry VIII." Holinshed says that as Lord President of Munster, Sir John secured such peace and security that a man might travel in Ireland with a white stick only in his hand.

16. from one to other Ynd, from the East to the West Indies.

61. A troupe of Faunes and Satyres. The Fauns were the wood-gods of the Romans, the Satyrs the wood-gods of the Greeks. They were half human, half goat, and represented the luxuriant powers of nature.

63. old Sylvanus, the Roman god of fields and woods, young and fond of animal pleasures. Spenser represents him as a feeble but sensuous old man.

90. With chaunge of feare, from the wolf to the lion.

96. rustick horror, bristling hair.

99. Their backward bent knees, like the hinder legs of a goat.

101. their barbarous truth, their savage honor.

103. Late learnd, having been recently taught. She had shown too "hasty trust" in Archimago.

112. without suspect of crime, without suspicion of blame.

117. The olive is the emblem of peace, as the ivy (l. 126) is of sensuousness.

120. with their horned feet, with their hoofs.

128. Or Bacchus merry fruit, etc., whether they did discover grapes.

129. Or Cybeles franticke rites, the wild dances of the Corybantes, priestesses of Cybele, or Rhea, the wife of Chronos and mother of the gods.

132. that mirrhour rare, that model of beauty. So Sidney was called "the mirror of chivalry."

134. faire Dryope, a princess of Æchalia, who became a forest nymph. Pholoe, mentioned in l. 135, is probably a fictitious creation of the author's.

146. dearest Cyparisse, a youth of Cea, who accidentally killed his favorite stag and dying of grief was changed into a cypress. He was beloved by Apollo and Sylvanus.

148. not faire to this, i.e. compared to this.

152. n'ould after joy, would not afterwards be cheerful.

153. selfe-wild annoy, self-willed distress.

154. faire Hamadryades, the nymphs who dwelt in the forest trees and died with them.

156. light-foot Naiades, the fresh water nymphs, companions of the fauns and satyrs.

161. their woody kind, the wood-born creatures of their own kind, e.g. nymphs or satyrs.

163. Una was "luckelesse" in having lost her knights, but "lucky" in the friendship of the Satyrs. Note the Euphuistic phrasing.

169. Idolatryes. The allegory has reference to the idolatrous practices of the ignorant primitive Christians, such as the worship of images of the Saints, the pageant of the wooden ass during Lent (see Matthew, xxi, and Brand's Popular Antiquities, i, 124), and the Feast of the Ass (see Matthew, ii, 14).

172. a noble warlike knight, Sir Satyrane, in whom are united rude untaught chivalry and woodland savagery. He represents natural heroism and instinctive love of truth.

173. by just occasion, just at the right moment.

184. Thyamis is the symbol of Animal Passion; Labryde of the lower appetites; Therion, the human wild beast, who deserts his wife.

xxiv. This account of Sir Satyrane's education is based on that of Rogero by his uncle Atlante in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, vii, 5, 7.

213. maister of his guise, his instructor.

214. at his horrid vew, his shaggy, uncouth appearance.

256. his famous worth was blown, i.e. blazoned by Fame's trumpet.

308. a Jacobs staffe. According to Nares, "A pilgrim's staff; either from the frequent pilgrimages to St. James of Comfortella (in Galicia), or because the apostle St. James is usually represented with one."

371. See Canto III, xxxviii, where Archimago was disguised as St. George.

372. Th' enchaunter vaine, etc., the foolish enchanter (Archimago) would not have rued his (St. George's) crime (i.e. slaying Sansfoy).

373. But them his errour shalt, etc., thou shalt by thy death pay the penalty of his crime and thus prove that he was really guilty. A very obscure passage. Look up the original meaning of shall.

386. This simile is found frequently in the old romances. Cf. Malory's Morte d'Arthur, ii, 104, and Chaucer's Knight's Tale, l. 1160.

416. According to a usage of chivalry, the lover wore a glove, sleeve, kerchief, or other token of his lady-love on his helmet. By "lover's token" Sansloy ironically means a blow.

425. to her last decay, to her utter ruin.

426. Spenser leaves the fight between Sansloy and Sir Satyrane unfinished. Both warriors appear in later books of the Faerie Queene.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto VI)

1. Who rescued Una from Sansloy? 2. How does Una repay their kindness? 3. How was she treated by them? 4. Explain the references to the various classes of nymphs. 5. Look up the classical references in xvi and xviii. 6. Why is Una described as "luckelesse lucky"? 7. What customs of the early Christians are referred to in xix? 8. What does Sir Satyrane symbolize in the allegory? 9. What was his character and education? 10. Note the Elizabethan conception of the goddess Fortune in xxxi. 11. Did Una act ungratefully in leaving the Satyrs as she did? 12. Who is the weary wight in xxxiv? 13. What news of St. George did he give? Was it true? 14. Who is the Paynim mentioned in xl? 15. Note Euphuistic antithesis in xlii. 16. Explain the figures in iv, vi, x, xliv. 17. Paraphrase ll. 289, 296. 18. Find Latinisms in xxv; xxvi; xxviii; xxxi; and xxxvii. 19. Describe the fight at the end of the Canto.

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Part 2 of 2

CANTO VII

I. The Plot: (Continuation of Canto V). Duessa pursues the Redcross Knight, and overtakes him sitting by an enchanted fountain, weary and disarmed. He is beguiled into drinking from the fountain, and is quickly deprived of strength. In this unnerved and unarmed condition he is suddenly set upon by the giant Orgoglio. After a hopeless struggle he is struck down by the giant's club and is thrust into a dungeon. Una is informed by the dwarf of the Knight's misfortune and is prostrated with grief. Meeting Prince Arthur, she is persuaded to tell her story and receives promise of his assistance.

II. The Allegory: 1. The Christian soldier, beguiled by Falsehood, doffs the armor of God, and indulges in sinful pleasures, and loses his purity. He then quickly falls into the power of Carnal Pride, or the brutal tyranny of False Religion (Orgoglio). He can then be restored only by an appeal to the Highest Honor or Magnificence (Prince Arthur) through the good offices of Truth and Common Sense.

2. In the reaction from the Reformation, Protestant England by dallying with Romanism (Duessa, Mary Queen of Scots) falls under the tyrannic power of the Pope (Orgoglio), with whom Catholic England was coquetting. At this juncture National Honor and Consciousness comes to the relief of Protestantism. There is personal compliment to either Lord Leicester or Sir Philip Sidney.

19. He feedes upon, he enjoys. A Latinism: cf. Vergil's Æneid, iii.

37. Phœbe, a surname of Diana, or Artemis, the goddess of the moon.

45. Spenser probably takes the suggestion from the fountain in the gardens of Armida in Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, xiv, 74. Cf. also the fountain of Salmacis in Ovid's Metamorphoses, xv, 819 seq.

56. Pourd out, a metaphor borrowed from Euripides (Herac., 75) and Vergil (Æneid, ix, 317).

62. his looser make, his too dissolute companion.

67. An hideous Geant, Orgoglio, symbolizing Inordinate Pride, and the Pope of Rome, who then claimed universal power over both church and state (x). For a list of many other giants of romance see Brewer's Handbook, pp. 376-379.

104. that divelish yron Engin, cannon. The invention of artillery by infernal ingenuity is an old conception of the poets. There is a suggestion of it in Vergil's Æneid, vi, 585 seq., which is elaborated in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, ix, 91, which Milton in turn imitated in Paradise Lost, vi, 516 seq. So in the romance of Sir Triamour.

112. th' onely breath, the mere breath.

119. do him not to dye, slay him not; cf. "done to death."

138. A monstrous beast, on which the woman of Babylon sat; Revelation, xiii and xvii, 7.

139. This refers to the Romish policy of fostering ignorance among its members.

140. that renowmed Snake, the Lernæan Hydra, a monster with nine or more heads, offspring of Typhon and Echidna. It was slain by Hercules. Stremona is a name of Spenser's own invention.

147. The reference is to the cruelty and insensibility of the Romish Church.

150. Its tail reached to the stars. Revelation, xii, 4.

155. and holy heasts foretaught, and holy commands previously taught (them).

161. his forlorne weed, his abandoned clothing.

165. moniments, the sorrowful, mournful relics.

182. So hardly he, etc. So he with difficulty coaxes the life which has flown to return into her body. According to the Platonic teaching, the body is the prison-house of the soul. Cf Psalms, cxlii, 7.

202. But seeled up with death, but closed in death. "Seel" was a term in falconry, meaning "to sew up" (the eyes of the hawk).

219. the bitter balefull stound, the bitter, grievous moment during which she listens to the story.

220. If lesse then that I feare, etc., if it is less bitter than I fear it is, I shall have found more favor (been more fortunate) than I expected.

231. sorrowfull assay, the assault of sorrow (on her heart).

236. Was never Lady, etc., there never was lady who loved day (life) dearer.

249. A goodly knight. Prince Arthur, son of King Uther Pendragon and Queen Ygerne, the model English gentleman, in whom all the virtues are perfected (Magnificence). According to Upton and most editors, Prince Arthur represents Lord Leicester; according to another tradition, Sir Philip Sidney. Could the author have possibly intended in him compliment to Sir Walter Raleigh? See Spenser's Letter to Raleigh. Arthur is the beau ideal of knighthood, and upon him the poet lavishes his richest descriptive powers. His armor, his shield Pridwen, his lance Roan, and sword Exculibur, were made by the great enchanter Merlin in the isle of Avallon.

259. Shapt like a Ladies head, an effigy of Queen Elizabeth, the Faerie Queene.

260. Like Hesperus, the evening star. Cf. Phosphorus, the morning star.

268. The dragon couchant was also the crest of Arthur's father, Uther, surnamed on this account Pen-dragon. The description in this stanza is imitated from Tasso's description of the helmet of the Sultan in Jerusalem Delivered, ix, 25, which in turn follows Vergil's Æneid, vii, 785 seq.

280. greene Selinis, a town in Sicily.

284. His warlike shield. Spenser here follows closely the description of the shield of the magician Atlante in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, ii, 55.

300. silver Cynthia, the moon. It was popularly supposed that magicians and witches had power to cause eclipses of the moon.

304. All falsehood and deception. Truth and Wisdom are symbolized (Upton).

306. when him list, when it pleased him. Him is dative.

314. It Merlin was. Ambrose Merlin, the prince of enchanters, son of the nun Matilda, and an incubus, "half-angel and half-man." He made, in addition to Prince Arthur's armor and weapons, the Round Table for one hundred and fifty knights at Carduel, the magic fountain of love, and built Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain. He died spellbound by the sorceress Vivien in a hollow oak. See Tennyson's Idylls of the King.

326. did trample as the aire, curveted as lightly as the air.

335. And for her humour, etc., and to suit her (sad) mood framed fitting conversation.

355. The subject of found is the substantive clause who... impart.

xli. Observe the antithetical structure of this stanza, both in the Stichomuthia, or balance of line against line, and in the lines themselves. In this rapid word-play Arthur wins his point by appealing to Una's faith.

363. No faith so fast, etc., no faith is so firm that human infirmity may not injure it.

376. Una, Truth, is the sole daughter of Eden.

377. whilest equal destinies, etc., whilst their destinies (Fates) revolved equally and undisturbed in their orbits. (Astronomical figure.)

381. Phison and Euphrates, etc., three of the four rivers that watered Eden, the Hiddekel being omitted. See Genesis, ii, 11-14. In this stanza the poet strangely mixes Christian doctrine and the classical belief in the envy of the gods working the downfall of men.

385. Tartary, Tartarus (for the rhyme), the lowest circle of torment in the infernal regions.

391. Has this obscure line any reference to prophecy? Cf. Daniel, vii, 25, Revelation, xii, 6, 14.

394. that heaven walks about, under the sky.

404. That noble order, the Order of the Garter, of which the Maiden Queen was head. The figure of St. George slaying the dragon appears on the oval and pendant to the collar of this Order.

405. of Gloriane, Queen Elizabeth.

407. Cleopolis is red, is called Cleopolis, i.e. the city of Glory, or London.

425. my dolefull disadventurous deare, my sad misadventurous injury.

429. That he my captive languor, the languishing captivity of my parents.

432. My loyalty, i.e. the loyalty of me that rather death desire, etc.

441. That brought not backe, etc., (and whence) the body full of evil was not brought back dead.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto VII)

1. Relate how the Knight fell into the hands of the Giant. 2. Note the fine adaptation of sound to sense in vii. 3. Who were the parents and the foster-father of Orgoglio? 4. What are the principal characteristics of the giants of romance as seen in Orgoglio? cf. with the giants in Pilgrim's Progress. 5. In the description of the giant do the last two lines (viii) add to or detract from the impression? Why? 6. To whom does Spenser ascribe the invention of artillery? 7. Explain the allegory involved in the relations of Duessa and Orgoglio. 8. How does Una act on hearing the news of the Knight's capture? 9. What part does the Dwarf play? 10. Is Una just to herself in ll. 200-201? 11. Is she over sentimental or ineffective—and is the pathos of her grief kept within the limits of the reader's pleasure? 12. Express in your own words the main thought in xxii. 13. Note the skillful summary of events in xxvi, and observe that this stanza is the Central Crisis and Pivotal Point of the whole Book. The fortunes of the Knight reach their lowest ebb and begin to turn. The first half of the Book has been the complication of the plot, the second half will be the resolution. 14. Give a description of Prince Arthur. 15. What mysterious power was possessed by his shield? Cf. the Holy Grail. 16. Observe carefully the scene between Una and Arthur, noting the changes in her mood. What light is thrown on her character? What are her feelings toward the Knight? 17. Explain the various threads of allegory in this Canto.

CANTO VIII

I. The Plot: Prince Arthur and Una are conducted by the Dwarf to Orgoglio's Castle. At the blast of the Squire's horn the Giant comes forth attended by Duessa mounted on the seven-headed Beast. In the battle which ensues Arthur wounds the Beast, slays the Giant and captures Duessa. Prince Arthur finds the Redcross Knight half starved in a foul dungeon and releases him. Duessa is stripped of her gaudy clothes and allowed to hide herself in the wilderness.

II. The Allegory: 1. Magnificence, the sum of all the virtues, wins the victory over Carnal Pride, and restores Holiness to its better half, Truth. With the overthrow of Pride, Falsehood, which is the ally of that vice, is stripped of its outward show and exposed in all its hideous deformity.

2. The false Romish Church becomes drunk in the blood of the martyrs. There is a hint of the persecutions in the Netherlands, in Piedmont, of the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day and the burnings under Bloody Mary. Protestant England is delivered from Popish tyranny by the honor and courage of the English people. Militant England (Prince Arthur) is assisted by the clergy (Squire) with his horn (Bible) and is guided by Truth and Common Sense (Dwarf).

23. horne of bugle small, the English Bible. Spenser here imitates the description of the magic horn of Logistilla in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, xv, 15, 53. Such horns are frequently mentioned in romance, e.g., Chanson de Roland, Morte d' Arthur, Hawes' Pastime, Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, Huon of Bordeaux, Romance of Sir Otarel, Cervantes' Don Quixote, etc.

50. late cruell feast, a probable reference to the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day in Paris in 1572, and to the persecutions of Alva's Council of Blood in the Netherlands in 1567.

ix. This stanza is an imitation of Homer's Iliad, xiv, 414.

95. in Cymbrian plaine, probably the Crimea, the ancient Tauric Chersonese. Some connect it with the Cimbric Chersonese, or Jutland, which was famous for its herds of bulls.

96. kindly rage, natural passion.

105. Note the Latinism "threatened his heads," and the imperfect rhyme "brands."

118. her golden cup, suggested by Circe's magic cup in Homer's Odyssey, x, 316, and the golden cup of the Babylonish woman in Revelation, xvii, 4.

148. Through great impatience of his grieved hed, etc., through inability to endure (the pain of) his wounded head, he would have cast down his rider, etc.

155. In one alone left hand, in one hand alone remaining. His left arm had been cut off (x).

xix. The uncovered shield represents the open Bible. The incident is an imitation of Ruggiero's display of his shield in Orlando Furioso, xxii, 85.

246. Your fortune maister, etc., be master of your fortune by good management.

268. unused rust, rust which is due to disuse; a Latinism.

296. With natures pen, etc., i.e. by his gray hairs, at that age to which proper seriousness belongs. "I cannot tell" did not become his venerable looks.

310. That greatest princes, etc. This may mean (1) befitting the presence of the greatest princes, or (2) that the greatest princes might deign to behold in person. The first interpretation is preferable.

312. A general reference to the bloody persecutions without regard to age or sex carried on for centuries by the Romish Church, often under the name of "crusades," "acts of faith," "holy inquisition," etc.

315. This may refer to the burning of heretics, under the pretext that the Church shed no blood. Kitchin thinks that it means "accursed ashes."

317. An Altare, cf. Revelation, vi, 9. Carv'd with cunning ymagery, "in allusion to the stimulus given to the fine arts by the Church of Rome" (Percival).

366. brawned bowrs, brawny muscles.

375. what evill starre, etc. In Spenser's day, belief in astrology, the pseudo-science of the influence of the stars on human lives, was still common.

381. There was an old familiar ballad entitled Fortune my Foe.

384. i.e. your good fortune will be threefold as great as your evil fortune.

384. good growes of evils priefe, good springs out of our endurance of the tests and experience of evil.

391. Best musicke breeds delight, etc. A troublesome passage. Upton and Jortin emend delight to dislike; Church inserts no before delight and omits best; Kitchin suggests despight; Grosart prefers the text as it stands with the meaning that although the best music pleases the troubled mind, it is no pleasure to renew the memory of past sufferings. I venture to offer still another solution, based on the context. When Una shows a desire to hear from her Knight a recountal of his sufferings in the dungeon, and he is silent, being loath to speak of them, Arthur reminds her that a change of subject is best, for the best music is that which breeds delight in the troubled ear.

xlvi. In this passage Spenser follows closely the description of the witch Alcina in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, vii, 73. Rogero has been fascinated by her false beauty, and her real foulness is exposed by means of a magic ring. The stripping of Duessa symbolizes the proscription of vestments and ritual, and the overthrow of images, etc., at the time of the Reformation. Duessa is only banished to the wilderness, not put to death, and reappears in another book of the poem.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto VIII)

1. What moral reflections are found in i? 2. What were the duties of the Squire in chivalry? 3. What part does Arthur's Squire play? 4. What does the Squire's horn symbolize? 5. Observe the classical figure in ix. 6. Describe the battle before the Giant's Castle, stating what part is taken by each of the four engaged. 7. Point out several of the characteristics of a typical battle of romance, and compare with combats in classical and modern times. 8. What additional traits of Una's character are presented in this Canto? Note especially her treatment of the Knight. 9. How is the unchangeableness of truth illustrated in this story? 10. Who is the old man in xxx seq.? 11. Who is the woful thrall in xxxvii? 12. In what condition, mental and physical, is the Knight when liberated? 13. How long was he a captive? 14. What was Duessa's punishment? Was it adequate? Explain its moral and religious meaning. 15. Observe the use of thou and ye (you) in this Canto. 16. Find examples of antithesis, alliteration, Latinisms.

CANTO IX

I. The Plot: Prince Arthur tells Una of his vision of the Faerie Queene and of his quest for her. After exchanging presents with the Redcross Knight, he bids farewell to Una and her companions. These pursue their journey and soon meet a young knight, Sir Trevisan, fleeing from Despair. Sir Trevisan tells of his narrow escape from this old man, and unwillingly conducts the Redcross Knight back to his cave. The Knight enters and is almost persuaded to take his own life. He is saved by the timely interposition of Una. This is the most powerful canto of Book I.

II. The Allegory: 1. The moral allegory in Canto VII presents the transition of the Soul (Redcross) from Pride to Sin (Duessa) through distrust of Truth (Una), and it thus comes into the bondage of Carnal Pride (Orgoglio). In Canto IX the Soul suffers a similar change from Sin to Despair. Having escaped from actual sin, but with spiritual life weakened, it almost falls a victim to Despair through excess of confidence and zeal to perform some good action. The Soul is saved by Truth, by which it is reminded to depend on the grace of God.

2. The allegory on its religious side seems to have some obscure reference to the long and bitter controversies between Protestantism (Calvinism) and Roman Catholicism allied with infidelity.

1. O goodly golden chaine, chivalry or knightly honor, the bond that unites all the virtues.

18. thanklesse, because not knowing whom to thank.

26. In Malory's Morte d'Arthur, Arthur is taken from his mother, Ygerne, at birth, and committed to the care of Sir Ector as his foster-father, i, 3. In Merlin Sir Antor is his foster-father.

33. Rauran mossy hore, Rauran white with moss. A "Rauran-vaur hill" in Merionethshire is mentioned by Selden. Contrary to the older romancers, Spenser makes Prince Arthur a Welshman, not a Cornishman.

34. the river Dee, which rises in Merionethshire and flows through Lake Bala.

39. my discipline to frame, etc., to plan my course of instruction, and, as my tutor, to supervise my bringing up.

45. in her just terme, in due time.

57. or that fresh bleeding wound, i.e. his love for Gloriana.

59. With forced fury, etc., supplying "me" from "my" in l. 58 the meaning is: the wound ... brought ... me following its bidding with compulsive (passionate) fury, etc. In the sixteenth century his was still almost always used as the possessive of it. Its does not occur in the King James Version of the Bible (1611).

63. Could ever find (the heart) to grieve, etc. A Euphuistic conceit.

64. According to the physiology of Spenser's age, love was supposed to dry up the humors ("moysture") of the body.

70. But told, i.e. if it (my love) is told.

100. Ensample make of him, witness him (the Redcross knight).

113. Whiles every sence, etc., while the sweet moisture bathed all my senses.

146. Next to that Ladies love, i.e. next to his love (loyalty) for Gloriana. Does the poet mean that allegiance to queen and country comes before private affection?

149. Was firmest fixt, etc., were strongest in my extremity (in the giant's dungeon).

169. A booke, the New Testament, an appropriate gift from the champions of the Reformed Church.

182. An armed knight, Sir Trevisan, who symbolizes Fear.

189. Pegasus, the winged horse of the Muses. For note on the false possessive with his, see note on V, 44.

233. had not greater grace, etc., had not greater grace (than was granted my comrade) saved me from it, I should have been partaker (with him of his doom) in that place.

249. after faire areedes, afterwards graciously tells.

267. with dying feare, with fear of dying.

269. Whose like infirmitie, etc., i.e. if you are a victim of love, you may also fall into the hands of despair.

270. But God you never let, but may God never let you, etc.

272. to spoyle the Castle of his health, to take his own life. Cf. Eliot's Castell of Helthe, published in 1534.

273. I wote, etc. I, whom recent trial hath taught, and who would not (endure the) like for all the wealth of this world, know (how a man may be so gained over to destroy himself).

275. This simile is a very old one. See Homer's Iliad, i, 249; Odyssey, xviii, 283; Song of Solomon, iv, 11; and Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, ii, 51.

286. for gold nor glee. Cf. for love or money.

294-296. Imitated from Vergil's Æneid, vi, 462.

315. as, as if.

320. A drearie corse, Sir Terwin, mentioned in xxvii.

332. judge against thee right, give just judgment against thee.

333. to price, to pay the price of.

336. What justice, etc., what justice ever gave any other judgment but (this, that) he, who deserves, etc.

340. Is then unjust, etc., is it then unjust to give each man his due?

xxxix. Observe the subtle argument on suicide in this and st. xl.

xli. Spenser here puts into the mouth of the Knight Socrates' argument to Cebes in their dialogue on the immortality of the soul. Plato's Phædo, vi.

367. Quoth he, Despair.

403. thy date, the allotted measure or duration of thy life.

408. thy sinfull hire, thy service of sin.

431. As he were charmed, etc., as if he were under the spell of magic incantation.

438. in a table, in a picture. The horrors of the Last Judgment and the torments of the lost were favorite subjects of the mediæval Catholic painters.

468. fire-mouthed Dragon. The dragons of romance are all described as fire-breathing,

473. that chosen art, a reference to the doctrine of Election. Mark, xiii, 20.

476. accurst hand-writing. A reference to Paul's letter to the Colossians, ii, 14, in which he declares that the gospel of grace has superseded the law of Moses.

484. he so himselfe had drest, he had thus attempted (to take his life).

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto IX)

1. Give an account of Prince Arthur's vision of the Faerie Queene. 2. Interpret his search for her as an allegory of the young man's quest after his ideal. 3. Observe in xvii an allusion to Spenser's patron, Lord Leicester, who was a favored suitor for Elizabeth's hand. 4. What presents did the Knights exchange at parting? 5. Characterize Sir Trevisan by his appearance, speech, and actions. What does he symbolize? 6. Note the skill with which Spenser arouses interest before telling of the interview with Despair. 7. What was the fate of Sir Terwin? Its moral significance? 8. Describe the Cave of Despair, and show what effects are aimed at by the poet. 9. Compare with Despair Bunyan's Giant Despair and the Man in the Iron Cage. 10. Trace the sophistries by which Despair works in the mind of the Knight, e.g. the arguments from necessity (fatalism), humanity, cowardice, discouragement and disgust on account of his past failures, dread of the future, of God's justice, and the relief of death. 11. Does Despair show knowledge of the Knight's past? 12. With what powerful truths does Una meet the arguments of Despair? 13. Where do you find reference to mediæval art?

14. Find examples of Euphuism, metaphors, similes, Latinisms, and alliteration. 15. Explain the verb forms in ll. 154, 321, 336.

CANTO X

I. The Plot: The Redcross Knight is conducted by Una to the House of Holiness, where they are welcomed by Dame Cœlia and graciously entertained. The Knight is instructed by Fidelia, Speranza, and Charissa, the three daughters of Cœlia, in his relations to God and his fellow-men. He is healed in body, and undergoes discipline for his sins. Mercy conducts him through the Hospital of Good Works, where he sees her seven Beadsmen. He then with Una climbs the Hill of Contemplation and hears from a holy man the story of his past with a prophecy of his future, and obtains a view of the City of Heaven.

This must be pronounced the most beautiful canto of the first book.

II. The Allegory: 1. The Soul is brought by the Truth to a knowledge of the Heavenly Life (Cœlia), and is led, through repentance, to seek forgiveness and to desire a holier life. Having learned Faith and Hope, it acquires a zeal for Good Works (Charity), and is strengthened by exercising Patience and Repentance. At last it enjoys a mood of happy Contemplation of the past with bright prospects for the future. The whole canto sets forth the beauty in a life of faith combined with good deeds.

2. The religious allegory presents the doctrine, discipline, and spirit of Protestantism in the sixteenth century. A close parallel may be drawn between this canto and many things in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. For his House of Holiness and its management, Spenser has no doubt taken many suggestions from the great manor house of some Elizabethan gentleman.

19. an auntient house, the House of Holiness.

28. Dame Cœlia, i.e. the Heavenly Lady.

33. Fidelia and Speranza, Faith and Hope.

35. faire Charissa, Charity, or Love. Cf. I Corinthians, xiii, 13.

44. Hight Humiltà, named Humility.

59. And knew his good, etc., and knew how to conduct himself to all of every rank.

77. ever-dying dread, constant dread of death.

78. long a day, many a long day.

79. thy weary soles to lead, to guide thy weary feet (to rescue them).

xiii. The description of Fidelia is full of biblical allusions, viz.; her white robe (Revelation, vii, 9); the sacramental cup filled with wine and water according to the custom of the early Christians (John, xix, 34); the serpent symbolical of healing power (Numbers, xxi, and Mark, xiv, 24); the book sealed with the blood of the Lamb (Revelation, v, 1, and II Corinthians, v, 7).

144. encrease is in the optative subj. with God as subject.

172. And when she list, etc., and when it pleased her to manifest her higher spiritual power. These miracles of Faith are based on the following passages: Joshua, x, 12; II Kings, xx, 10; Judges, vii, 7; Exodus, xiv, 21; Joshua, iii, 17; Matthew, xxi, 21.

176. This line is given in the folio edition of 1609, but is wanting in the edition of 1590 and 1596.

209. hardly him intreat, scarcely prevail on him.

213. The absolutions granted by the clergy.

215. the passion of his plight, his suffering condition.

xxx. Percival points out the resemblance between Spenser's Charity and Andrea del Sarto's famous painting La Charité in the Louvre.

277. Whose passing price, etc., whose surpassing value it was difficult to calculate.

292. well to donne, well doing, right doing.

318. seven Bead-men, seven men of prayer, corresponding to the Seven Deadly Sins of the House of Pride. They represent good works: (1) entertainment of strangers; (2) food to the needy; (3) clothing to the naked; (4) relief to prisoners; (5) comfort to the sick; (6) burial of the dead, and (7) care of widows and orphans.

354. price of bras, ransom in money. Bras is a Latinism from æs.

355. From Turkes and Sarazins. In the sixteenth century thousands of Christians were held captive in Turkish and Saracen prisons, and many of these were ransomed by the charitable of Europe. Prescott tells us that Charles V found 10,000 Christians in Tunis at its capture in 1535.

359. he that harrowd hell. The Harrowing of Hell was the mediæval belief in the descent of Christ to hell to redeem the souls of Old Testament saints, and to despoil the powers of darkness. It is the subject of an old miracle play.

374. The reference is to the resurrection from the dead.

378. I dead be not defould, that I (when) dead be not defiled. This prayer was answered, for the poet received honorable burial in Westminster Abbey.

381. And widowes ayd, i.e. had charge (to) aid widows, etc.

382. In face of judgement, before the judgment-seat.

422-423. his ... her, Redcross Knight...mercy.

430. For nought he car'd, for he cared nought that his body had been long unfed.

470. that same mighty man of God, Moses. See Exodus, xiv, 16, xxiv, and xxxiv.

471. That blood-red billowes, of the Red Sea.

478. that sacred hill, the mount of Olives.

483. that pleasaunt Mount, mount Parnassus, the seat of the nine Muses (l. 485), the patronesses of the arts and of learning. Sacred and profane literature are beautifully blended in the thoughts of the contemplative man.

489. a goodly Citie, the Celestial City, Heaven. The description is suggested by that in Revelation, xxi, 10 seq.

515. That great Cleopolis, London, "the city of glory."

519. Panthea, probably Westminster Abbey, in which Elizabeth's ancestors were buried.

524. for earthly frame, for an earthly structure.

549. Saint George of mery England. St. George became the patron Saint of England in 1344, when Edward III consecrated to him the Order of the Garter. Church and Percival say that merry means pleasant and referred originally to the country, not the people. Cf. Mereweather.

lxii. Observe that lines 1, 2, 5, 6 are spoken by the Knight, the rest by Contemplation.

565. bequeathed care, the charge intrusted to thee (by Una).

579. and many bloody battailes, etc., and fought many bloody pitched battles.

585. Chaungelings. The belief in the power of fairies to substitute their elf-children for human babies is frequently referred to in writers of Spenser's time. In the Seven Champions the witch Kalyb steals away St. George, the son of Lord Albert of Coventry, soon after his birth.

591. Georgos, from the Greek γεωργός, an earth tiller, farmer. Spenser borrows the story in this stanza from that of Tages, son of Earth, who was similarly found and brought up. Ovid's Metamorphoses, xv, 553.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto X)

1. Observe that stanza i contains the moral of Canto IX. 2. What was Una's purpose in bringing the Knight to the House of Holiness? 3. Why should Faith and Hope be represented as betrothed virgins, and Charity a matron? 4. Who were Zeal, Reverence, Obedience, Patience, and Mercy, with the symbolism of each? 5. Who was the door-keeper? Explain the allegory. 6. Find and explain the biblical allusions in this Canto, which shows the influence of the Bible to a remarkable extent. 7. In what was the Knight instructed by Faith (xix seq.)? 8. Compare the mood of the Knight in xxi with that in Canto IX, li. 9. How did the two situations affect Una? 10. Note the teachings in xxiii (prayer), xxiv (absolution), and xxv (mortification of the flesh). 11. Observe that Faith teaches the Knight his relations to God; Charity, those to his fellow-men. 12. Explain the lyric note in l. 378. 13. Give an account of the knight's visit to the Hill of Contemplation. Explain the allegory. 14. Find a stanza complimentary to Queen Elizabeth. 16. What prophecy was made of the Knight?

CANTO XI

I. The Plot: The Redcross Knight reaches the Brazen Tower in which Una's parents, the King and Queen of Eden, are besieged by the Dragon. The monster is described. The first day's fight is described, in which the Knight is borne through the air in the Dragon's claws, wounds him under the wing with his lance, but is scorched by the flames from the monster's mouth. The Knight is healed by a bath in the Well of Life. On the second day the Knight gives the Dragon several sword-wounds, but is stung by the monster's tail and forced to retreat by the flames. That night he is refreshed and healed by the balm from the Tree of Life. On the third day he slays the Dragon by a thrust into his vitals.

II. The Allegory: 1. Mankind has been deprived of Eden by Sin or Satan (Dragon). The Christian overcomes the devil by means of the whole armor of God (shield of faith, helmet of salvation, sword of the Spirit, etc.). The soul is strengthened by the ordinances of religion: baptism, regeneration, etc.

2. There is a hint of the long and desperate struggle between Reformed England (St. George) and the Church of Rome, in which the power of the Pope and the King of Spain was broken in England, the Netherlands, and other parts of Europe. Some may see a remoter allusion to the delivery of Ireland from the same tyranny.

13. be at your keeping well, be well on your guard.

iii. This stanza is not found in the edition of 1590.

30. And seemd uneath, etc., and seemed to shake the steadfast ground (so that it became) unstable. Church and Nares take uneath to mean "beneath" or "underneath"; Kitchin conjectures "almost."

31. that dreadful Dragon, symbolical of Satan. Spenser here imitates the combat between St. George and the Dragon in the Seven Champions of Christendom, i.

32. This description of the dragon watching the tower from the sunny hillside is justly admired for its picturesqueness, power, and suggestiveness. The language is extremely simple, but the effect is awe-inspiring. It has been compared with Turner's great painting of the Dragon of the Hesperides.

42. O thou sacred muse, Clio, the Muse of History, whom Spenser calls the daughter of Phœbus (Apollo) and Mnemosyne (Memory).

56. till I of warres, etc. Spenser is here supposed to refer to his plan to continue the Faerie Queene and treat of the wars of the English with Philip II ("Paynim King") and the Spanish ("Sarazin").

61. let downe that haughtie string, etc., cease that high-pitched strain and sing a second (or tenor) to my (lower) tune.

120. As two broad Beacons. Kitchin thinks this passage is a reminiscence of the beacon-fires of July 29, 1588, which signaled the arrival of the Armada off the Cornish coast.

158. Her flitting parts, her shifting parts; referring to the instability of the air.

161. low stouping, swooping low (to the ground); a term in falconry.

167. hagard hauke, a wild, untamed falcon.

168. above his hable might, beyond the strength of which he is capable.

172. He so disseized, etc., i.e. the dragon being thus dispossessed of his rough grip. The construction is nominative absolute.

185. And greedy gulfe does gape, etc., i.e. the greedy waters gape as if they would devour the land.

187. the blustring brethren, the winds.

228. his wide devouring oven, the furnace of his maw, or belly.

235. that great Champion, Hercules. The charmed garment steeped in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, whom Hercules had slain, was given him by his wife Dejanira in order to win back his love. Instead of acting as a philter, the poison-robe burned the flesh from his body. Ovid's Metamorphoses, ix, 105.

xxviii. Observe the correspondence between the adjectives in l. 244 and the nouns in l. 245. The sense is: "He was so faint," etc.

261. The well of life. This incident is borrowed from Bevis of Hampton. The allegory is based on John, iv, 14, and Revelation, xxii, 1.

267. Silo, the healing Pool of Siloam, John, ix, 7. Jordan, by bathing in which Naaman was healed of leprosy, II Kings, v, 10.

268. Bath, in Somersetshire, a town famous from the earliest times for its medicinal baths. Spau, a town in Belgium noted for its healthful waters, now a generic name for German watering-places.

269. Cephise, the river Cephissus in Bœotia whose waters possessed the power of bleaching the fleece of sheep. Cf. Isaiah, i, 18. Hebrus, a river in Thrace, here mentioned because it awaked to music the head and lyre of the dead Orpheus, as he floated down its stream. Ovid's Metamorphoses, xi, 50.

295. to move, moving. This is a French idiom.

300. As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean wave, etc. There was an ancient belief, that once in ten years the eagle would soar into the empyrean, and plunging thence into the sea, would molt his plumage and renew his youth with a fresh supply of feathers.

312. his bright deaw-burning blade, his bright blade flashing with the "holy water dew" in which it had been hardened (l. 317).

322. Ne molten mettall in his blood embrew, i.e. nor sword bathe itself in his (the dragon's) blood.

335. With sharpe intended sting, with sharp, outstretched sting.

366. the griped gage, the pledge (shield) seized (by the dragon).

386. missed not his minisht might, felt not the loss of its diminished strength; i.e. though cut off, the paw still held to the shield.

xliv. In comparing the fire-spewing dragon to a volcano, Spenser follows Vergil's Æneid, iii, 571, and Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, iv, 8.

406. a goodly tree. Cf. Genesis, ii, 9, and Revelation, xxii, 2.

409. over all were red, everywhere were spoken of.

414. Cf. Genesis, iii, 2. Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden lest they should eat and live forever.

434. deadly made, a creature of death, i.e. hell-born.

469. An imitation of an incident in the Seven Champions in which a winged serpent attempts to swallow St. George; i, 1.

477. And back retyrd, and as it was withdrawn. A Gallicism.

490. which she misdeem'd, in which she was mistaken. Una feared that the dragon was not dead.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto XI)

1. Describe the three days' fight between the Knight and the Dragon. 2. What advantages does each gain? 3. Study the Dragon as a type of the conventional monster of romance, contrasting his brutal nature with the intellectuality and strategy of the Knight. 4. Study the battle as an allegory of the victory of mind over matter, of virtue over vice, of Protestantism over Romanism. 5. By what devices does Spenser obtain the effects of terror? Mystery and terror are prime elements in romance. 6. Find examples of another romantic characteristic, exaggeration. 7. Do you think that in his use of hyperbole and impossibilities Spenser shows that he was deficient in a sense of humor? 8. Observe the lyric note in iii and liv. 9. How does the poet impress the reader with the size of the Dragon? 10. Which Muse does he invoke? 11. Spenser's poetry is richly sensuous: find passages in which he appeals to the sense of sight (iv, viii, xiv), of sound (iv, ix), of touch (x, xi, vii), of smell (xiii), of taste (xiii), of pain (xxxvii, xxvi, xxii), of motion (x, xv, xviii). 12. Where do you find an allegory of baptism? Of regeneration? Of the resurrection of Christ (the three days)? 13. Analyze the descriptions of the coming of darkness and of dawn.

CANTO XII

I. The Plot: The death of the dragon is announced by the watchman on the tower of the city, and Una's parents, the King and Queen, accompanied by a great throng, come forth rejoicing at their deliverance. The Knight and Una are conducted with great honors into the palace. On the eve of their betrothal, Archimago suddenly appears as Duessa's messenger and claims the Knight. Their wicked attempt is frustrated, and the pair are happily betrothed. After a long time spent in Una's society, the Knight sets out to engage in the further service of the Faerie Queene.

II. The Allegory: Holiness, by conquering the devil, frees the whole human race from the tyranny of sin. It is embarrassed by the unexpected appearance of the consequences of its past sins, but makes a manly confession. In spite of hypocritical intrigues (Archimago) and false slanders (Duessa), Holiness is united to Truth, thus forming a perfect character. The champion of the church militant responds cheerfully to the calls of duty and honor.

2. Reformed England, having destroyed the brutal power of Rome, is firmly united to the truth in spite of the intrigues of the Pope to win it back to allegiance. It then goes forth against the King of Spain in obedience to the command of Queen Elizabeth.

3. vere the maine shete, shift the mainsail, beare up with the land, direct the ship toward land.

25. out of hond, at once.

43. Of tall young men. An allusion to Queen Elizabeth's Pensioners, a band of the tallest and handsomest young men, of the best families and fortunes, that could be found (Warton). All hable armes to sownd, all proper to wield armes.

57. to the Maydens, to the accompaniment of the maidens' timbrels.

71. in her self-resemblance well beseene, looking well in her resemblance to her proper self, i.e. a king's daughter.

73. the raskall many, the crowd of common people.

116. of great name, of great celebrity, i.e. value.

117. fitting purpose frame, held fitting conversation.

xiv. Kitchin and Percival think this whole passage a clever compliment to the parsimony of the Queen's court.

161. that proud Paynim king, probably a reference to Philip of Spain.

168. Nor doen undo, nor undo what has been done.

173. In sort as, even as.

205. all were she, although she had been. In place, in various places.

313. bait. In Spenser's time bear-baiting was a favorite pastime of the people and received royal patronage.

328. The housling fire, the sacramental fire. Spenser seems here to have in mind, not the Christian housel or Eucharist, but the Roman marriage rites with their symbolic fire and water.

347. trinall triplicities, the threefold three orders of the celestial hierarchy according to the scholastic theologians. They were as follows: (1) Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones; (2) Dominations, Virtues, Powers; (3) Princedoms, Archangels, and Angels. Cf. Dante's Paradiso, xxviii, Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, xviii, 96, and Milton's Paradise Lost, v, 748.

375. her tackles spent, her worn-out rigging.

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS

(Canto XII)

1. Contrast the tone of this canto with the preceding two. 2. When does Spenser drop into a lighter, humorous vein? 3. Find allusions to sixteenth century customs, e.g. that of sitting on rush-strewn floors. 4. How was the Redcross Knight received by the King? 5. Compare Una's costume with that described in the first canto. Why this change? 6. What hint of the significance of her name in xxi? 7. What is the effect of Archimago's appearance? (For dramatic surprise.) 8. What is the effect of Duessa's letter? (Suspense of fear.) 9. Observe the confusion of Christian and Pagan rites in this canto. 10. Where does Spenser make happy use of maritime figures? 11. Explain the allegory of this canto.

[admin]

GLOSSARY

[The numbers refer to cantos and stanzas.]

A
Abide, v, 17, to attend on.
About, i, 11, out of.
Acquite, viii, 1, release, set free.
Addrest, ii, 11, armed, equipped; x, 11, directed.
Advise, i, 33, consider.
Advizement, iv, 12, counsel, advice.
Afflicted, Int. 4, humble.
Affray, iii, 12, terror, alarm; v, 30, to startle.
Affronted, viii, 13, opposed.
Afore, x, 49, ahead, in front of.
Agraste, x, 18, favor, show grace.
Albe, v, 45, although.
All, x, 47; xii, 23, although.
Almner, x, 38, almoner, distributer of alms.
Als, ix, 18, also, quite so.
Amate, ix, 45, dismay, dishearten.
Amis, iv, 18, linen head-dress.
Amoves, iv, 45; viii, 21; ix, 18, moves.
Andvile, xi, 42, anvil.
Apply, x, 46, attend to, add.
Aread, viii, 31, 33; ix, 6, 23; x, 51, 64, tell, explain; xii, 28, advise; ared, x, 17; explained; areeds, Int. 1, urges.
Arise, vi, 32, depart, rise out of.
Armorie, i, 27, armor.
Arras, iv, 6; viii, 35, tapestry.
Aslake, iii, 36, appease, abate the fury of.
Assay, ii, 13, approved quality, value; vii, 27, trial; viii, 8, assault; ii, 24; iv, 8; viii, 2; xi, 32, try, assail, attempt.
Assoiled, x, 52, absolved.
Astond, ii, 31; vi, 9; ix, 35, astounded, amazed.
Attach, xii, 35, seize, arrest.
Attaine, ii, 8, reach, fall in with.
Attaint, vii, 34, obscure, discolor.
Avale, i, 21, fall, sink.
Avise, v, 40; viii, 15, perceive.

B

Baite, i, 32, feed, refresh.
Bale, i, 16; viii, 4, disaster, destruction; ix, 16, 29, trouble, grief.
Banes, xii, 36, banns of marriage.
Battailous, v, 2, warlike, ready for battle.
Battrie, ix, 11, assault.
Bauldrick, vii, 29, a leather girdle for the sword or bugle, worn pendant across the shoulder and breast.
Bayes, vii, 3, bathes.
Beades, i, 30, prayers.
Beadmen, x, 36, men devoted to prayer for the soul of the founder of the charitable institution in which they lived.
Become, x, 16, gone to; became, x, 66, suited.
Bed, ix, 41, bid.
Bedight, xii, 21, adorned.
Beguyld, xi, 25, foiled.
Beheast, iv, 18, command.
Behight, x, 64, name, declare; x, 50, intrusted, delivered; xi, 38, behot, promised.
Beseemed, viii, 32, suited, was becoming.
Beseene, xii, 5, (good) looking, or (well) dressed.
Bestedd, i, 24, situated, badly off.
Bet, iii, 19, beat; bett, vi, 5.
Betake, xii, 25, intrust to, hand over to.
Bethrall, viii, 28, imprison, take captive.
Bever, vii, 31, the lower and movable part of the helmet.
Bewaile, vi, 1, cause, bring about. Use either forced, or an error (Nares).
Bidding, i, 30, praying.
Bilive, or blive, v, 32, quickly.
Blame, ii, 18, hurt, injury, or blameworthiness.
Blaze, xi, 7, proclaim.
Blent, vi, 42, stained.
Blesse, v, 6; viii, 22, brandish; vii, 12; ix, 28, protect, deliver; pp. blest.
Blubbred, vi, 9, disfigured or swollen with weeping.
Blunt, x, 47, dim (of eyesight).
Bond, i, 3, bound.
Booteth, iii, 20, 40, profits, avails.
Bootlesse, v, 33, without avail.
Bost, iii, 24, vain glory.
Boughtes, i, 15; xi, 11, folds, coils.
Bound, x, 67, lead.
Bouzingcan, iv, 22, drinking vessel.
Bowrs, viii, 41, muscles.
Bras, x, 40, money, cf. Lat. aes.
Brast, v, 31; viii, 4; ix, 21, burst.
Brave, x, 42, fair, beautiful.
Brawned, viii, 41; brawny, muscular.
Breares, x, 35, briars.
Brent, ix, 10; xi, 28, burnt.
Brode, iv, 16, abroad.
Brond, iv, 33; viii, 21, firebrand.
Buffe, ii, 17; xi, 24, blow.
Bugle, viii, 3, wild ox.
Buxome, xi, 37, pliant, yielding.
Bylive, ix, 4, quickly.

C

Call, viii, 46, cap, headdress.
Can, iv, 46, an auxiliary verb with preterite meaning; ix, 5, can=gan, began (Halliwell).
Canon, vii, 37, a smooth, round bit (for horses).
Carefull, v, 52, etc., full of care, anxious, sorrowful.
Careless, i, 41; ii, 45, free from care.
Carke, i, 44, care, sorrow, anxiety.
Carle, ix, 54, churl.
Cast, x, 2; xi, 28, resolve, plan.
Caytive, v, 45, captive; v, 11; viii, 32; ix, 11, base, mean.
Chaufe, vii, 21, chafe, warm by rubbing; iii, 33, 43, vex, heat.
Chaw, iv, 30, jaw.
Chear, ii, 27, 42, face.
Chearen, x, 2, regain cheerfulness, refresh (himself).
Cleare, x, 28, clean.
Cleene, ix, 4, clear, pure, bright.
Compare, iv, 28, collect.
Compel, i, 5, call to aid.
Conceit, conception or design.
Constraint, ii, 8, anguish; vii, 34, binding charms.
Corage, ii, 35, heart.
Corse, iii, 42; iv, 22, etc., body.
Couch, ii, 15, lay (a lance in rest), level, adjust; couched xi, 9, laid in place (of armor plates).
Couched, vii, 31, lying down with head up, ready to spring.
Counterfesaunce, viii, 49, fraud, imposture.
Court, vii, 38, courteous attention.
Crime, x, 28, sin; xi, 46, cause.
Cruddy, v, 29, clotted.
Crudled, vii, 6; ix, 52, curdled, congealed (with cold).
Cure, v, 44, charge.

D

Daint, x, 2, dainty, delicate.
Dalliaunce, ii, 14, trifling, light talk.
Dame, xii, 20, wife.
Damnify, xi, 52, injure.
Darrayne, iv, 40; vii, 11, prepare (for battle).
Deare, vii, 48, hurt, injury.
Deaw-burning, xi, 35, bright with dew.
Debonaire, ii, 23, gracious, courteous.
Defeasaunce, xii, 12, defeat.
Defray, v, 42, appease.
Deitye, iii, 21, immortality.
Derth, ii, 27, dearness, high value.
Deryn'd, iii, 2, diverted, drawn away.
Despight, ii, 6, resentment; iv, 35, 41, etc., malice, spite, contempt; vii, 49; xi, 17, injury.
Despoile, x, 17, strip.
Devise, xii, 17, plan.
Diamond, ix, 19, adamant, steel.
Dight, vii, 8; iv, 14, etc., arrange, dress, adorn.
Disaventrous, vii, 48, ix, 11, unfortunate.
Discipline, vi, 31, teaching.
Discolourd, vii, 32, variegated.
Discourse, xii, 14, description; xii, 15, to narrate.
Disease, xi, 38, render uneasy.
Dishonesty, ii, 23, unchastity.
Dispence, iii, 30, pay for.
Dispiteous, ii, 15, cruel.
Disple, x, 27, discipline.
Disseized, xi, 20, dispossessed.
Dissolute, vii, 51, weak, unstrung.
Distayned, xi, 23, defiled.
Dites, viii, 18, raises (a club).
Diverse, i, 44, distracting.
Divide, v, 17, play (variations).
Documents, x, 19, doctrines.
Donne, x, 33, to do.
Doom, ix, 38, judgment.
Doted, viii, 34, foolish.
Doubt, vi, 1, fear.
Doughty, xi, 52; xii, 6, strong, brave.
Dragonets, xii, 10, little dragons.
Dreed, or dred, Int. 4; vi, 2, object of reverence.
Drere, viii, 40, sorrow.
Drery, v, 30, gloomy; vi, 45, dripping with blood.
Dreriment, ii, 44; xi, 32, sorrow, gloom.
Drest, ix, 54, prepared, arranged.
Drift, viii, 22, impetus.
Droome, ix, 41, drum.
Drousy-hed, ii, 7, drowsiness.
Dry-dropsie, iv, 23 (meaning doubtful).
(1) Dropsy causing thirst (Warton).
(2) A misprint for dire dropsie (Upton).
(3) A misprint for hydropsie (Collier).
Dye, ii, 36, chance, fortune (lit. a small cube used for gaming).

E

Earne, i, 3; vi, 25; ix, 18, yearn, long for.
Edifyde, i, 34, built.
Eeke, v, 42, increase.
Eft, ix, 25, again.
Eftsoones, x, 24, etc., forthwith.
Eke, iii, 21, also.
Eld, x, 8, old age.
Embalme, v, 17, anoint, pour balm into.
Embaye, ix, 13; x, 27, bathe.
Embost, iii, 24, encased; ix, 29, fatigued.
Embosse, xi, 20, plunge.
Embowed, ix, 19, rounded.
Emboyled, xi, 28, agitated, troubled.
Embrew, xi, 36, imbrue, drench.
Empassioned, iii, 2, moved to pity.
Empeach, viii, 34, hinder.
Emperse, xi, 53, pierce.
Emprize, ix, 1, undertaking, adventure.
Enchace, xii, 23, set off in fitting terms.
Endew, iv, 51, endow.
Enfouldred, xi, 40, shot forth (like a thunderbolt).
Engrave, x, 42, bury, entomb.
Enhaunst, i, 17; v, 47, raised.
Enlargen, viii, 37, deliver.
Ensample, ix, 12, witness.
Ensue, iv, 34, pursue; ix, 44, persecute.
Entirely, xi, 32, with all the heart.
Entraile, i, 16, fold, twist.
Envie, ill will, hatred.
Equall, vi, 26, side by side.
Errant, iv, 38; x, 10, wandering (in quest of adventure).
Esloyne, iv, 20, retire.
Essoyne, iv, 20, excuse, exemption.
Eugh, i, 9, yew.
Ewghen, xi, 19, made of yew.
Excheat, v, 25, gain; lit. property forfeited to the lord of a fief.
Extirpe, x, 25, uproot.
Eyas, xi, 34, young untrained hawk, unfledged falcon.
Eyne, eien, eyen, ii, 27, etc., eyes.

F

Fact, iv, 34; ix, 37, feat, evil deed.
Fall, ix, 2, befall.
Fare, i, 11, etc., go, travel.
Fatal, ix, 7, ordained by fate.
Fattie, i, 21, fertilizing.
Fayne, iv, 10, gladly; vi, 12, glad.
Faytor, iv, 47; xii, 35, deceiver, villain, sham.
Fearefull, i, 13, alarmed.
Feature, viii, 49, form.
Fee, x, 43, payment.
Felly, v, 34, fiercely.
Fere, x, 4, husband; lit. companion.
Fillet, iii, 4, snood.
Fit, ii, 18, death agony; iv, 34, struggle, passion; xi, 7, musical strain.
Flaggy, xi, 10, yielding, hanging loose.
Flit, iv, 5, crumble away.
Foile, iv, 4, leaf of metal.
Foltring, vii, 24, stammering.
Fond, ix, 39, foolish.
Fone, ii, 23, foes.
Food, viii, 9, feud.
Foolhappie, vi, 1, happy as a fool, "fortunate rather than provident" (Nares).
Fordonne, v, 41; etc., undone, ruined, wounded to death.
Foreby, vi, 39, near.
Forespent, ix, 43, wasted, squandered.
Foretaught, vii, 18, either
(1) untaught, mistaught, or
(2) taught before, hence, perhaps, despised (Warren).
Forlore, viii, 29; x, 21, forlorn, forsaken.
Forray, xii, 3, ravage, prey upon.
Forsake, xi, 24, avoid.
Forwandring, vi, 34, weary with wandering, or utterly astray.
Forwarned, ii, 18, warded off.
Forwasted, i, 5; xi, 1, ravaged, utterly wasted.
Forwearied, i, 32, etc., tterly weary.
Forworne, vi, 35, much worn.
Fraight, xii, 35, fraught, freighted.
Frame, viii, 30, support, steady.
Francklin, x, 6, freeman, freeholder.
Fray, i, 38, to frighten; ii, 14, an affray.
Freak, iii, 1; iv, 50, whim, caprice.
Frounce, iv, 14, curl, plait, friz (the hair).
Fruitfull-headed, viii, 20, many-headed.
Fry, xii, 7, crowd, swarm.
Funerall, ii, 20, death.
Fyne, iv, 21, thin; v, 28, fine.

G

Gage, xi, 41, pledge, the thing contended for.
Game, xii, 8, sport.
Gan, ii, 2, began, often used as auxiliary verb, "did."
Gate, i, 13, way; viii, 12, manner.
Geaunt, vii, 12, giant.
Gent, ix, 6, 27, gentle, gracious, fair.
German, v, 10, 13, brother.
Gest, x, 15, adventure, exploit.
Ghost, ii, 19, spirit.
Gin, v, 35, engine, instrument (of torture).
Gins, see gan.
Girlond, ii, 30, garland.
Giust, i, 1, tilt, joust.
Glitterand, iv, 16; vii, 29, glittering.
Gnarre, v, 34, gnarl, snarl, growl.
Gobbet, i, 20; xi, 13, lump, piece.
Gorge, i, 19, etc., throat.
Gossip, xii, 11, neighbor, crony.
Government, ix, 10, self-control.
Graile, vii, 6, gravel.
Graine, vii, 1, dye, fast color.
Gree, v, 16, favor, good will, satisfaction.
Greedy, viii, 29, eager.
Gren, vi, 11, grin.
Griesie, ix, 35, horrible.
Griesly, ix, 21, grisly, hideous.
Griple, iv, 31, greedy, grasping.
Groome, servant.
Grosse, xi, 20, fast, heavy.
Grudging, ii, 19, groaning.
Gryfon, v, 8, griffin (a fabulous animal half lion, half eagle).
Guerdon, iii, 40, reward.
Guise, vi, 25; xii, 14, guize, mode (of life).

H

Hable, xi, 19, able, skillful.
Hagard, xi, 19, wild, untrained.
Hanging, ii, 16, doubtful.
Hardiment, ix, 2; i, 14, boldness.
Harrow, x, 40, despoil.
Haught, vi, 29, haughty.
Heare, v, 23, pass for being so unlucky, in such evil case (Kitchin).
Heast, vii, 18, command.
Heben, Int. 3; vii, 37, of ebony wood.
Heft, xi, 39, raised on high.
Henge, xi, 21, orbit; lit, hinge.
Hew, i, 46, etc., form, countenance; iii, 11, color.
Hight, ix, 14; x, 55, called, was called; intrusted.
Hond, out of, xii, 3, at once.
Horrid, vi, 25; vii, 31, rough, bristling.
Hot, xi, 29, was called; see hight.
Housling, xii, 37, sacramental.
Hove, ii, 37, rose, stood on end.
Humour, i, 36, moisture.
Hurtle, iv, 16, 40; viii, 17, rush, clash together.
Hurtlesse, vi, 31, harmless, gentle.
Husher, iv, 13, usher.

I

Imbrew, vii, 47, imbrue, drench.
Impe, Int. 3; ix, 6, etc., child, scion.
Impeach, viii, 34, hinder.
Imperceable, xi, 17, that cannot be pierced.
Imply, vi, 6; xi, 23, infold.
Importune, xi, 53, violent.
Improvided, xii, 34, unforeseen.
In, i, 33, inn, lodging.
Incontinent, ix, 19, at once.
Infected, x, 25, ingrained.
Infest, xi, 6, make fierce or hostile.
Influence, viii, 42, power of the stars.
Intended, xi, 38, armed, stretched out.
Intendiment, xii, 31, attention.
Intent, i, 43; ix, 27, aim, purpose.
Invent, vi, 15, discover.

J

Jealous, suspicious.
Jolly, i, 1; ii, 11, fine, handsome.
Jott, x, 26, speck, small piece.
Journall, xi, 31, daily.
Joy, vi, 17, to be cheerful.
Joyaunce, iv, 37, gladness, merriment.

K

Keepe, i, 40, heed, care.
Keeping, xi, 2, care, guard.
Kend, xii, 1, known.
Kest, xi, 31, cast.
Kindly, iii, 28, etc., natural, according to nature.
Kirtle, iv, 31, coat, tunic.
Knee, ix, 34, projection (of rocks).
Knife, vi, 38, sword.

L

Lad, i, 4, led.
Launch, iii, 42; iv, 46, pierce.
Lay-stall, v, 53, rubbish heap, dunghill.
Lazar, iv, 3, leper.
Leach, v, 17, 44; x, 23, surgeon, physician.
Learne, vi, 25, teach.
Leasing, vi, 48, falsehood, lying.
Leke, v, 35, leaky.
Leman, i, 6; vii, 14, lover, sweetheart, mistress.
Let, viii, 13, hindrance.
Lever, ix, 32, rather.
Libbard, vi, 25, leopard.
Liefe, iii, 28; ix, 17, dear one, darling.
Lilled, v, 34, lolled.
Lin, i, 24; v, 35, cease.
List, ii, 22; vii, 35; x, 20; xi, 10, desired, pleased.
Lively, ii, 24; vii, 20, living.
Loft, i, 41, (doubtful) air, sky, or roof.
Long, iv, 48, belong.
Lore, i, 5, knowledge.
Lorne, iv, 2, lost.
Loute, i, 30; x, 44, bow, stoop.
Lowre, ii, 22, frown, darken.
Lumpish, i, 43, dull, heavy.
Lustlesse, iv, 20, feeble, listless.
Lynd, xi, 10, lined.

M

Mace, iv, 44, club.
Make, vii, 7, 15, mate, companion.
Mall, vii, 51, wooden hammer, or club.
Many, xii, 9, troop, crowd.
Mart, Int. 3, mass.
Mated, ix, 12, overcome, confounded.
Maw, i, 20, stomach.
Maynly, vii, 12, violently.
Mell, i, 30, meddle.
Menage, vii, 37, manage.
Ment, i, 5, joined, mingled.
Mew, v, 20, prison, lit. cage for hawks.
Mirksome, v, 28, dark, murky.
Miscreant, v, 13; ix, 49, infidel, vile fellow.
Misdeeming, ii, 3, misleading; iv, 2, misjudging.
Misfeigning, iii, 40, pretending wrongfully.
Misformed, i, 55; viii, 16, ill formed, or formed for evil.
Misseeming, ix, 23; viii, 42, unseemly; vii, 50, deceit.
Mister, ix, 23, sort of, manner of.
Misweening, iv, 1, wrong thinking, wrong belief.
Moe, mo, v, 50, etc., more.
Mortality, x, 1, state of being mortal.
Mortall, i, 15, deadly.
Mote, iii, 29, etc., may, might.
Mought, i, 42, might.
Muchell, iv, 46; vi, 20, much, great.

N

Nathemore, viii, 13; ix, 25, none the more.
Nephewes, v, 22, grandchildren, descendants.
Ni'll, ix, 15, will not.
Nosethrill, xi, 22, nostril.
Note, xii, 17, know not.
N'ould, vi, 17, would not.
Noyance, i, 23, annoyance.
Noye, x, 24; xi, 45, hurt, harm.
Noyes, Noyce, vi, 8, noise.
Noyous, v, 45; xi, 50, harmful, unpleasant.

O

Offend, xii, 1, injure.
Offspring, vi, 30, ancestors.
Origane, ii, 40, wild marjoram.
Ought, iv, 39, owned, possessed.
Outrage, xi, 40, insult, abuse.
Overcraw, ix, 50, insult, crow over.
Oversight, vi, 1, want of prudence.
Owch, ii, 13; x, 31, jewel or socket in which a jewel was set.

P

Paine, xii, 34, labor, treacherous skill; ii, 39, effort; iv, 15, take pains.
Paire, vii, 41, impair, injure.
Paled, v, 5, fenced off, inclosed with a pale.
Palfrey, i, 4; iii, 40, a lady's saddle horse, here Una's ass.
Paramour, i, 9, lover (not in a bad sense).
Parbreake, i, 20, vomit.
Pardale, vi, 26, leopard.
Parted, iii, 22, departed.
Pas, iv, 11, surpass; xi, 15, step, pace.
Passing, x, 24, surpassing.
Passion, ii, 26, 32, deep feeling, lit. suffering.
Passionate, xii, 16, express feelingly.
Payne, vi, 21, pains, labor.
Paynim, iv, 41; vi, 38; xi, 7, pagan, heathen.
Peece, x, 59, something constructed (Cleopolis).
Penne, xi, 10, feather, quill.
Perceable, i, 7, that can be pierced.
Perdie, perdy, vi, 42, French par Dieu, a common oath.
Pere, viii, 7; xii, 17, noble, prince.
Persaunt, x, 47, piercing.
Pight, ii, 42, etc., pitched, fixed, placed.
Pine, ix, 35, wasting away; viii, 40, pined, wasted away through torment.
Plate, vi, 43; vii, 2, solid armor, as distinguished from the coat of mail, or light chain armor.
Pleasaunce, ii, 30, courtesies; iv, 38; vii, 4, delight, conversational pleasure.
Point, (1) ix, 41, appoint;
(2) ii, 12, not a whit;
(3) i, 16; ii, 12, (armed) at all points.
Pollicie, iv, 12, statecraft, cunning.
Portesse, iv, 19, breviary, small prayer-book.
Posterne, v, 52, small private gate behind.
Pouldred, vii, 12, powdered.
Pounces, xi, 19, a hawk's claws.
Poynant, vii, 19, sharp, piercing.
Poyse, xi, 54, weight, force.
Practicke, xii, 34, deceitful.
Prancke, iv, 14, display gaudily.
Praunce, vii, 11, strut proudly.
Pray, ix, 30, ravage.
Preace, iii, 3, crowd, throng.
Presently, immediately.
Price, ix, 37, pay the price of, atone for.
Pricking, i, 1; iii, 33, riding, usually rapidly, i.e. spurring.
Priefe, viii, 43, trial; ix, 17, proof; x, 24, proved excellence.
Prime, ii, 40; etc., springtime.
Privity, ix, 5, privacy.
Prowesse, vii, 42, bravery.
Prowest, iv, 41; v, 14, bravest.
Puissance, i, 3, etc., power.
Purchas, iii, 16, lit. acquisition, cant term for theft, or robbery (Nares).
Purfled, ii, 13, embroidered on the edge.
Purposes, ii, 30, conversation.
Purveyance, xii, 13, provision.

Q

Quaile, ix, 49, subdue, overpower.
Quayd, viii, 14, subdued.
Quell, xi, 24, disconcert, daunt.
Quight, viii, 10, repay.
Quit, quitt, vi, 6, 10, to free.
Quite, viii, 26, 27; x, 37, repay, return.
Quited, i, 30, return a salute.
Quoth, i, 12, etc., said.

R

Raft, i, 24, struck away (from reave).
Ragged, xii, 23, rough, rugged.
Raile, vi, 43, flow.
Ramping, iii, 5, etc., leaping, bounding, erect; ramp, v, 28.
Rapt, iv, 9, carried away.
Rare, ii, 32, thin-voiced.
Raskall, vii, 35; xii, 9, vulgar, base.
Raught, vi, 20, etc., reached.
Ravine, v, 8, prey.
Raw, x, 2, unpracticed, out of training.
Read, i, 13; x, 17, advise.
Reave, iii, 36; xi, 41, snatch away, rob.
Recoyle, x, 17, retreat.
Recreaunt, iv, 41, base, cowardly.
Recure, v, 44, etc., refresh.
Red, vii, 46, etc., declared.
Redoubted, iv, 40, terrible.
Redound, vi, 30; iii, 8, overflow.
Redresse, v, 30, restore, revive, reunite.
Reed, i, 21, notice, perceive.
Reele, v, 35, roll.
Reft, ix, 31; x, 65, snatched away.
Refte, vi, 39; xii, 39, bereft.
Renverst, iv, 41, turned upside down.
Repaire, vi, 30, return home.
Repining, ii, 17, failing (Percival), angry (Upton).
Repriefe, ix, 29, reproof.
Retrate, i, 13, retreat.
Reverse, ix, 48, bring back.
Revoke, vi, 28, call back.
Ridde, i, 36, remove, dispatch.
Rife, iv, 35; ix, 52, much, exceedingly.
Riotise, iv, 20, riot.
Rode, xii, 42, anchorage, harbor.
Rove, Int. 3, shoot (an arrow with an elevation, not point blank).
Round, vi, 7, dance.
Rowel, vii, 37, ring of a bit.
Ruffin, iv, 34, rough, disordered.
Rusty, v, 32, rust-colored, bloodstained, filthy.
Ruth, v, 9, pity, sorrow.

S

Sacred, viii, 35, accursed—of ashes used impiously to receive the blood of the slain (Upton).
Sad, i, 2; v, 20; x, 7; xii, 5, grave, mournful; iii, 10, firm, steady; i, 36, heavy.
Sallow, i, 9, a kind of willow.
Salvage, iii, 5; vi, 11, etc., wild, woodland (adj.).
Sam, x, 57, together, same.
Say, iv, 31, serge cloth for cloaks (Halliwell).
Scath, iv, 35; xii, 34, hurt, mischief.
Scor'd, i, 2, carved.
Scowre, ii, 20, run fast.
Scryne, Int. 2, chest, or case for keeping books, etc.
Sead, x, 51, seed, posterity.
Sease, xi, 38, fasten; seised, xii, 17, gained, taken possession of.
Seel, vii, 23, lit. sew up the eyes (of hawks), deprive of sight.
Seely, silly, vi, 10; i, 30; ii, 21, simple, innocent.
Seemly, ii, 30, polite.
Scene, v, 16, proved, tested.
Semblaunt, ii, 12, appearance.
Sent, i, 43, perception, sense.
Shadow, represent typically.
Shamefast, x, 15, shy, modest.
Shaume, xii, 13, a wind musical instrument.
Shend, i, 53, shame.
Shew, iii, 10, sign, track.
Shroud, i, 6, 8, shelter.
Single, vi, 12, weak; viii, 12, mere.
Sith, vii, 22, etc., since; sitheng, iv, 51.
Sits, i, 30, becomes, suits.
Slight, vii, 30, device; viii, 23, skill.
Snubbe, viii, 7, knob, snag.
Solemnize, x, 4, rite, solemnizing.
Sooth, iii, 29, truth.
Souce, v, 8, beat.
Soust, iii, 31, drenched.
Sowne, i, 41, sound.
Sperst, i, 39; iv, 48, dispersed.
Spill, iii, 43, destroy.
Stadle, vi, 14, staff.
Stanneries, stannaries, tin mines or tin works.
Starke, i, 44. stiff.
Sted, stedd, viii, 17, etc., place.
Sterne, i, 18; xi, 28, tail.
Stew, xi, 44, warm place.
Stole, i, 4, 45; xii, 22, long robe.
Stound, vii, 12, stunned; vii, 25; viii, 12, 25, 38, moment.
Stowre, ii, 7, etc., distress, peril battle.
Stye, xi, 25, ascend, rise up.
Subject, xi, 19, lying beneath.
Sure, ix, 19, secure.
Swarved, x, 14, swerved.
Swelt, vii, 6, burned.
Swinge, xi, 26, singe.
Swowne, i, 41, heavy sleep; ix, 52, swoon; swound, v, 19.

T

Table, ix, 49, picture.
Tackles, xii, 42, rigging.
Talaunts, xi, 41, talons.
Teade, xii, 37, torch.
Teene, ix, 34; xii, 18, grief, trouble, hurt.
Then, x, 10, than.
Thewes, ix, 3; x, 4, manners.
Tho, i, 18, etc., then.
Thorough, i, 32; x, 1, through.
Thrall, ii, 22; vii, 44; viii, 1, subject; v, 45, 51; viii, 32, 37, prisoner; vi, 6, one in distress.
Three-square, vi, 41, triangular.
Thrill, iii, 42; x, 19; xi, 20, pierce.
Thrist, vi, 38, thirst.
Throw, x, 41, throe, pang.
Tide, ii, 29, time (duration).
Timely, i, 21; iv, 4, keeping time.
Tire, iv, 35, train, rank, company; viii, 40; x, 31, headdress, attire.
Told, iv, 27, counted.
Tort, xii, 4, wrong.
Touch, iii, 2, touchstone.
Toy, vi, 28, sport.
Trace, viii, 31, walk.
Traine, trayne, i, 18; viii, 17; xi, 37, tail; iii, 24; vi, 3, etc., deceit, wiles.
Transmew, vii, 35, transmute.
Treachour, iv, 41; ix, 32, traitor.
Treen, ii, 39; vii, 26, tree-like, of trees.
Trenchand, i, 17; xi, 24, sharp, trenchant.
Trinall, xii, 39, threefold.
Truncked, viii, 10, truncated, with the limbs cut off.
Trusse, xi, 19, to secure a firm hold on.
Turnament, v, 1, tournament, combat of knights in the lists.
Tway, vii, 27, two, twain.
Twyfold, v, 28, twofold.
Twyne, vi, 14, twist.
Tyne, ix, 15, anxiety, pain.

U

Unacquainted, v, 21, unaccustomed.
Unbid, ix, 54, unprayed for.
Uncouth, i, 15; xi, 20, strange.
Undight, iii, 4, unfastened.
Uneath, ix, 38, etc., with difficulty.
Unkindly, i, 26, unnatural.
Unlich, v, 28, unlike.
Untill, xi, 41, unto.
Unty, xi, 41, loosen.
Unwary, xii, 25, unexpected.
Unweeting, ii, 45, etc., unaware, not knowing.

V

Venery, vi, 22, hunting.
Vere, xii, 1, veer, change the direction of.
Vew, vi, 25, aspect, appearance.
Vild, ix, 46, vile.
Vine-prop, i, 8, supporting the vine.
Visour, vii, 1, visor, the part of the helmet which protected the eyes.

W

Wade, i, 12, walk, go, pass.
Wage, iv, 39, reward, pledge.
Wanton, ii, 13, 14, wild, unrestrained.
Ware, vii, 1, wary.
Warray, v, 48, wage war against.
Wastfull, i, 32, etc., barren, wild.
Wastnes, iii, 3, desert, wilderness.
Wax, iv, 34, grow.
Wayne, iv, 9, chariot.
Wayting, x, 36, watching.
Weare, i, 31, spend, pass.
Weedes, Int. 1; ii, 21, clothes, x, 28, armor.
Weene, i, 10; iii, 41, intend; x, 58, think.
Weet, iii, 6, 11, to know; to weete, iii, 17, etc., to wit.
Welke, i, 23, fade, grow dim.
Welkin, iv, 9, sky.
Well, ii, 43, well-being, health; i, 26, etc., quite, very; vii, 4, bubble up.
Wex, xi, 1, grow; woxen, iv, 34.
Whally, iv, 34, streaked (Warren).
Whenas, ii, 32, etc., as soon as.
Whereas, vi, 40, where.
Whot, x, 26, hot.
Whyleare, ix, 28, erewhile.
Whylome, iv, 15, etc., formerly.
Wight, ix, 23, 32, person, creature.
Wimple, xii, 22, veil, lit. covering for the neck;
wimpled, i, 4, folded, provided with a wimple.
Wist, v, 27 knew.
Wonne, vi, 39, fought; wonne, vi, 39, dwell.
Wood, iv, 34; v, 20, mad, furious.
Worshippe, i, 3, honor, respect.
Wot, i, 13; wote, ii, 18; ix, 31, know.
Woxen, see wax.
Wreakes, viii, 43; xii, 16, anger, acts of vengeance.
Wreck, xi, 21, destruction, mischief.
Wrizled, viii, 47, wrinkled (Warren).
Wyde, i, 34, distant.

Y

Yborne, vii, 10, born.
Ycladd, i, 1; yclad, i, 7, 29; ii, 2; ycled, iv, 38, clad.
Ydle, v, 8, airy, purposeless.
Ydrad, i, 2, dreaded.
Yede, xi, 5, go.
Yfere, ix, 1, together.
Ygoe, ii, 18, ago.
Ylike, iv, 27, alike.
Ymp, see impe.
Yod, see yede.
Younglings, x, 57, young of any animal.
Youthly, vi, 34, youthful.
Ypight, ix, 33, pitched, placed.
Yrkesome, ii, 6, weary; iii, 4, painful.
Yts, vii, 39, it is.