The Faerie Queene (6 page)

53
Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint

Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night

In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,

Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight

Suspect her truth: yet since no'vntruth he knew,

Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight

He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,

That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew

54
Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;

For all so deare as life is to my hart,

I deeme your loue, and hold me to you bound;

Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,

Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

Not all content, yet seemd she to appease

Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,

And fed with words, that could not chuse but please,

So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.

55
Long after lay he musing at her mood,

Much grieu'd to thinke that gentle Dame so light,

For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

At last dull wearinesse of former fight

Hauing yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,

That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,

With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:

But when he saw his labour all was vaine,

With that misformed spright he backe returne againe.

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
   The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead faire falshood steps,
   And workes him wofull ruth
.

1
By this the Northerne wagoner had set

His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,

That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,

But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre

To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:

And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill

Had warned once, that
Phœbus
fiery carre

In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,

Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

2
When those accursed messengers of hell,

That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright

Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell

Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:

Who all in rage to see his skilfull might

Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine

And sad
Proserpines
wrath, them to affright.

But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,

He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

3
Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,

And that false other Spright, on whom he spred

A seeming body of the subtile aire,

Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed.

His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,

Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:

Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,

Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,

Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

4
Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast

Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights

And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,

Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,

As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,

And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,

That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights

Haue knit themselues in
Venus
shamefull chaine;

Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour staine.

5
All in amaze he suddenly vpstart

With sword in hand, and with the old man went;

Who soone him brought into a secret part,

Where that false couple were full closely ment

In wanton lust and lewd embracement:

Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,

The eye of reason was with rage yblent,

And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,

But hardly was restrained of that aged sire.

6
Returning to his bed in torment great,

And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,

He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat,

And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,

Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night

At last faire
Hesperus
in highest skie

Had spent his lampe, & brought forth dawning light,

Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;

The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.

7
Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,

Weary of aged
Tithones
saffron bed,

Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,

And die high hils
Titan
discouered,

The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,

And rising forth out of her baser bowre,

Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,

And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre;

Then gan she waile & weepe, to see that woefull stowre.

8
And after him she rode with so much speede

As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:

For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,

Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,

That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;

Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,

But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine

Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,

He so vngently left her, whom she louest best.

9
But subtill
Archimago,
when his guests

He saw diuided into double parts,

And
Vna
wandring in woods and forrests,

Th'end of his drift, he praisd his diuelish arts,

That had such might ouer true meaning harts;

Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,

How he may worke vnto her further smarts:

For her he hated as the hissing snake,

And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

10
He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;

For by his mightie science he could take

As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,

As euer
Proteus
to himselfe could make:

Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,

Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,

That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,

And oft would flie away. O who can tell

The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?

11
But now seemde best, the person to put on

Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:

In mighty armes he was yclad anon:

And siluer shield, vpon his coward brest

A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest

A bounch of haires discolourd diuersly;

Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,

And when he sate vpon his courser free,

Saint George
himself ye would haue deemed him to be.

12
But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,

The true
Saint George
was wandred far away,

Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;

Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.

At last him chaunst to meete vpon the way

A faithlesse Sarazin all arm'd to point,

In whose great shield was writ with letters gay

Sans Joy:
full large of limbe and euery ioint

He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

13
He had a faire companion of his way,

A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,

Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,

And like a
Persian
mitre on her hed

She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,

The which her lauish louers to her gaue;

Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred

With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,

Whose bridle rang with golden bels and bosses braue.

14
With faire disport and courting dalliaunce

She intertainde her louer all the way:

But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,

She soone left off her mirth and wanton play,

And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:

His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride

And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,

Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side

The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

15
The knight of the
Redcrosse
when him he spide,

Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous,

Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:

Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,

That daunted with their forces hideous,

Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,

And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,

Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,

Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.

16
As when two rams stird with ambitious pride,

Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,

Their horned fronts so fierce on either side

Do meete, that with the terrour of die shocke

Astonied both, stand sencelesse as a blocke,

Forgetfull of the hanging victory:

So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,

Both staring fierce, and holding idely,

The broken reliques of their former cruelty.

17
The
Sarazin
sore daunted with the buffe

Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;

Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:

Each others equall puissaunce enuies,

And through their iron sides with cruel spies

Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields

No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies

As from a forge out of their burning shields,

And streames of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

18
Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the
Sarazin)

That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;

Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,

Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:

But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,

And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest

With rigour so outrageous he smitt,

That a large share it hewd out of the rest,

And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.

19
Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark

Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,

And at his haughtie helmet mating mark,

So hugely stroke, that it the steele did riue,

And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,

With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,

Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue

With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,

Whither the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.

20
The Lady when she saw her champion fall,

Like the old mines of a broken towre,

Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,

But from him fled away with all her powre;

Who after her as hastily gan scowre,

Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away

The
Sarazins
shield, signe of the conqueroure.

Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,

For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

21
She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,

Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show

On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,

And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low

In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,

Did much emmoue his stout heroïcke heart,

And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrow

Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,

And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

22
Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament;

The wretched woman, whom vnhappy howre

Hath now made thrall to your commandement,

Before that angry heauens list to lowre,

And fortune false betraide me to your powre,

Was, (O what now auaileth that I was!)

Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,

He that the wide West vnder his rule has,

And high hath set his throne, where
Tiberis
doth pas.

23
He in the first flowre of my freshest age,

Betrothed me vnto the onely haire

Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;

Was neuer Prince so faithfull and so faire,

Was neuer Prince so meeke and debonaire;

But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,

My dearest Lord fell from high honours stake,

Into the hands of his accursed fone,

And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.

24
His blessed body spoild of liuely breath,

Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid

And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death

When tidings came to me vnhappy maid,

O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.

Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,

And many yeares throughout the world I straid,

A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind

With loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.

25
At last it chaunced this proud
Sarazin,

To meete me wandring, who perforce me led

With him away, but yet could neuer win

The Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.

There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,

Who whiles he liu'de, was called proud
Sans foy,

The eldest of three brethren, all three bred

Of one bad sire, whose youngest is
Sans ioy,

And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold
Sans loy.

26
In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate,

Now miserable I
Fidessa
dwell,

Crauing of you in pitty of my state,

To do none ill, if please ye not do well.

He in great passion all this while did dwell,

More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,

Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;

And said, faire Lady hart of flint would rew

The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.

27
Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest,

Hauing both found a new friend you to aid,

And lost an old foe, that did you molest:

Better new friend then an old foei s said.

With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid

Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth,

And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,

So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,

And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.

28
Long time they thus together traueiled,

Till weary of their way, they came at last,

Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred

Their armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,

And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,

Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:

The fearefull Shepheard often there aghast

Vnder them neuer sat, ne wont there sound