The Faerie Queene (7 page)

His mery oaten pipe, but shund th'vnlucky ground.

29
But this good knight soone as he them can spie,

For the coole shade him thither hastly got:

For golden
Phœbus
now ymounted hie,

From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot

Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,

That liuing creature mote it not abide;

And his new Lady it endured not

There they alight, in hope themselues to hide

From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.

30
Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes,

With goodly purposes there as they sit:

And in his falsed fancy he her takes

To be the fairest wight, that liued yit;

Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit,

And thinking of those braunches greene to frame

A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,

He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came

Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the same.

31
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,

Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teare

My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,

But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare

Least to you hap, that happened to me heare,

And to this wretched Lady, my deare loue,

O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.

Astond he stood, and vp his haire did houe,

And with that suddein horror could no member moue.

32
At last whenas the dreadfull passion

Was ouerpast, and manhood well awake,

Yet musing at the straunge occasion,

And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;

What voyce of damned Ghost from
Limbo
lake,

Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,

Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,

Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,

And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?

33
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,)

Nor guilefull sprite to thee these wordes doth speake,

But once a man
Fradubio
, now a tree,

Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake,

A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,

Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,

Where
Boreas
doth blow full bitter bleake,

And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:

For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.

34
Say on
Fradubio
then, or man, or tree,

Quoth then the knight, by whose mischieuous arts

Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see?

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;

But double griefs afflict concealing harts,

As raging flames who striueth to suppresse.

The author then (said he) of all my smarts,

Is one
Duessa
a false sorceresse,

That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.

35
In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot

The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree

First kindled in my brest, it was my lot

To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye see,

Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;

With whom as once I rode accompanyde;

Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,

That had a like faire Lady by his syde,

Like a faire Lady, but did fowle
Duessa
hyde.

36
Whose forged beauty he did take in hand,

All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;

I in defence of mine did likewise stand,

Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:

So both to battell fierce arraunged arre,

In which his harder fortune was to fall

Vnder my speare: such is the dye of warre:

His Lady left as a prise martiall,

Did yield her comely person, to be at my call.

37
So doubly lou'd of Ladies vnlike faire,

Th'one seeming such, the other such indeede,

One day in doubt I cast for to compare,

Whether in beauties glorie did exceede;

A Rosy girlond was the victors meede:

Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee,

So hard the discord was to be agreede.

Frœlissa
was as faire, as faire mote bee,

And euer false
Duessa
seemde as faire as shee.

38
The wicked witch now seeing all this while

The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,

What not by right, she cast to win by guile,

And by her hellish science raisd streightway

A foggy mist, that ouercast the day,

And a dull blast, that breathing on her face,

Dimmed her former beauties shining ray,

And with foule vgly forme did her disgrace:

Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.

39
Then cride she out, fye, fye, deformed wight,

Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine

To haue before bewitched all mens sight;

O leaue her soone, or let her soone be slaine.

Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,

Eftsoones I thought her such, as she me told,

And would haue kild her; but with faigned paine,

The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;

So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.

40
Thensforth I tooke
Duessa
for my Dame,

And in the witch vnweening ioyd long time,

Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,

Till on a day (that day is euery Prime,

When Witches wont do penance for their crime)

I chaunst to see her in her proper hew,

Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme:

A filthy foule old woman I did vew,

That euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.

41
Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous,

Were hidd in water, that I could not see,

But they did seeme more foule and hideous,

Then womans shape man would beleeue to bee.

Thensforth from her most beastly companie

I gan refraine, in minde to slip away,

Soone as appeard safe oportunitie:

For danger great, if not assur'd decay

I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

42
The diuelish hag by chaunges of my cheare

Perceiu'd my thought, and drownd in sleepie night,

With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare

My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,

That all my senses were bereaued quight:

Then brought she me into this desert waste,

And by my wretched louers side me pight,

Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,

Banisht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waste.

43
But how long time, said then the Elfin knight,

Are you in this misformed house to dwell?

We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,

Till we be bathed in a liuing well;

That is the terme prescribed by the spell.

O how, said he, mote I that well out find,

That may restore you to your wonted well?

Time and suffused fates to former kynd

Shall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.

44
The false
Duessa,
now
Fidessa
hight,

Heard how in vaine
Fradubio
did lament,

And knew well all was true. But the good knight

Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment,

When all this speech the liuing tree had spent,

The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground,

That from the bloud he might be innocent,

And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:

Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.

45
Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare,

As all vnweeting of that well she knew,

And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare

Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew

And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew

At last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheare

Her vp he tooke, too simple and too trew,

And oft her kist. At length all passed feare,

He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.

Forsaken Truth long seekes her loue,
   And makes the Lyon mylde,
Manes blind Deuotions mart, and fals
   In hand of leachour vylde
.

1
Nought is there vnder heau'ns wide hollownesse,

That moues more deare compassion of mind,

Then beautie brought t'vnworthy wretchednesse

Through enuies snares or fortunes freakes vnkind:

I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind,

Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,

Which I do owe vnto all woman kind,

Feele my heart perst with so great agonie,

When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.

2
And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest
Vnaes
sake, of whom I sing,

That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe,

To thinke how she through guilefull handeling,

Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,

Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,

Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,

Is from her knight diuorced in despaire

And her due loues deriu'd to that vile witches share.

3
Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while

Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd

Farre from all peoples prease, as in exile,

In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight; who subtilly betrayd

Through that late vision, which th'Enchaunter wrought,

Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,

Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought;

Yet wished tydings none of him vnto her brought.

4
One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,

From her vnhastie beast she did alight,

And on the grasse her daintie limbes did lay

In secret shadow, farre from all mens sight;

From her faire head her fillet she vndight,

And laid her stole aside. Her angels face

As the great eye of heauen shyned bright,

And made a sunshine in the shadie place;

Did neuer mortall eye behold such heauenly grace.

5
It fortuned out of the thickest wood

A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly,

Hunting full greedie after saluage blood;

Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To haue attonce deuour'd her tender corse:

But to the pray when as he drew more ny,

His bloudie rage asswaged with remorse,

And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

6
In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet,

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,

As he her wronged innocence did weet.

O how can beautie maister the most strong,

And simple truth subdue auenging wrong?

Whose yeelded pride and proud submission,

Still dreading death, when she had marked long,

Her hart gan melt in great compassion,

7
And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

The Lyon Lord of euery beast in field

Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,

Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late

Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:

But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord

How does he find in cruell hart to hate

Her that him lou'd, and euer most adord,

As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?

8
Redounding teares did choke th'end of her plaint,

Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;

And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint

The kingly beast vpon her gazing stood;

With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.

At last in close hart shutting vp her paine,

Arose the virgin borne of heauenly brood,

And to her snowy Palfrey got againe,

To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.

9
The Lyon would not leaue her desolate,

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:

Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,

And when she wakt, he waited diligent,

With humble seruice to her will prepard:

From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,

And euer by her lookes concerned her intent.

10
Long she thus traueiled through deserts wyde,

By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas,

Yet neuer shew of liuing wight espyde;

Till that at length she found the troden gras,

In which the tract of peoples footing was,

Vnder the steepe foot of a mountaine hore;

The same she followes, till at last she has

A damzell spyde slow footing her before,

That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.

11
To whom approching she to her gan call,

To weet, if dwelling place were nigh at hand;

But the rude wench her answer'd nought at all,

She could not heare, nor speake, nor vnderstand;

Till seeing by her side the Lyon stand,

With suddaine feare her pitcher downe she threw,

And fled away: for neuer in that land

Face of faire Ladie she before did vew,

And that dread Lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.

12
Full fast she fled, ne euer lookt behynd,

As if her life vpon the wager lay,

And home she came, whereas her mother blynd

Sate in eternall night: nought could she say,

But suddaine catching hold, did her dismay

With quaking hands, and other signes of feare:

Who full of ghastly fright and cold affray,

Gan shut the dore. By this arriued there

Dame
Vna,
wearie Dame, and entrance did requere.

13
Which when none yeelded, her vnruly Page

With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,

And let her in; where of his cruell rage

Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment,

She found them both in darkesome corner pent;

Where that old woman day and night did pray

Vpon her beades deuoutly penitent;

Nine hundred
Pater nosters
euery day,

And thrise nine hundred
Aues
she was wont to say.

14
And to augment her painefull pennance more,

Thrise euery weeke in ashes she did sit,

And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,

And thrise three tunes did fast from any bit:

But now for feare her beads she did forget.

Whose needlesse dread for to remoue away,

Faire
Vna
framed words and count'nance fit:

Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray,

That in their cotage small, that night she rest her may.

15
The day is spent, and commeth drowsie night,

When euery creature shrowded is in sleepe;

Sad
Vna
downe her laies in wearie plight,

And at her feet the Lyon watch doth keepe:

In stead of rest, she does lament, and weepe

For the late losse of her deare loued knight,

And sighes, and grones, and euermore does steepe

Her tender brest in bitter teares all night,

All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light

16
Now when
Aldeboran
was mounted hie

Aboue the shynie
Cassiopeias
chaire,

And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lie,

One knocked at the dore, and in would fare;

He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware,

That readie entrance was not at his call:

For on his backe a heauy load he bare

Of nightly stelths and pillage seuerall,

Which he had got abroad by purchase criminall,

17
He was to weete a stout and sturdie thiefe,

Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments,

And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,

Which giuen was to them for good intents;

The holy Saints of their rich vestiments

He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept,

And spoild the Priests of their habiliments,

Whiles none the holy things in safety kept;

Then he by cunning sleights in at the window crept.

18
And all that he by right or wrong could find,

Vnto this house he brought, and did bestow

Vpon the daughter of this woman blind,

Abessa
daughter of
Corceca
slow,

With whom he whoredome vsd, that few did know,

And fed her fat with feast of offerings,

And plentie, which in all the land did grow;

Ne spared he to giue her gold and rings:

And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.

19
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet,

Yet of those fearefull women none durst rize,

The Lyon frayed them, him in to let:

He would no longer stay him to aduize,

But open breakes the dore in furious wize,

And entring is; when that dissainfull beast

Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize,

And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest,

Vhder his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.

20
Him booteth not resist, nor succour call,

His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand,

Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small,

And quite dismembred hath: the thirstie land

Drunke vp his life; his corse left on the strand.

His fearefull friends weare out the wofull night,

Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to vnderstand

The heauie hap, which on them is alight,

Affraid, least to themselues the like mishappen might.

21
Now when broad day the world discouered has,

Vp
Vna
rose, vp rose the Lyon eke,

And on their former iourney forward pas,

In wayes vnknowne, her wandring knight to seeke,

With paines farre passing that long wandring
Greeke,

That for his loue refused deitie;

Such were the labours of this Lady meeke,

Still seeking him, that from her still did flie,

Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.

22
Soone as she parted thence, the fearefull twaine,

That blind old woman and her daughter deare

Came forth, and finding
Kirkrapine
there slaine,

For anguish great they gan to rend their heare,

And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare.

And when they both had wept and wayld their fill,

Then forth they ranne like two amazed deare,

Halfe mad through malice, and reuenging will,

To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.

23
Whom ouertaking, they gan loudly bray,

With hollow howling, and lamenting cry,

Shamefully at her rayling all the way,

And her accusing of dishonesty,

That was the flowre of faith and chastity;

And still amidst her rayling, she did pray,

That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery

Might fall on her, and follow all the way,

And that in endlesse error she might euer stray.

24
But when she saw her prayers nought preuaile,

She backe returned with some labour lost;

And in the way as she did weepe and waile,

A knight her met in mighty armes embost,

Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost,

But subtill
Archimag,
that
Vna
sought

By traynes into new troubles to haue tost:

Of that old woman tydings he besought,

If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought

25
Therewith she gan her passion to renew,

And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,

Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,

That causd her shed so many a bitter teare,

And so forth told the story of her feare:

Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce,

And after for that Ladie did inquire;

Which being taught, he forward gan aduaunce

His faire enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce.

26
Ere long he came, where
Vna
traueild slow,

And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde:

Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show

Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde

Vnto an hill; from whence when she him spyde,

By his like seeming shield, her knight by name

She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:

Approching nigh, she wist it was the same,

And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came.

27
And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord,

Where haue ye bene thus long out of my sight?

Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,

Or ought haue done, that ye displeasen might,

That should as death vnto my deare hart light:

For since mine eye your ioyous sight did mis,

My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night,

And eke my night of death the shadow is;

But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.

28
He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame,

Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will,

To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame,

As you to leaue, that haue me loued still,

And chose in Faery court of meere goodwill,

Where noblest knights were to be found on earth:

The earth shall sooner leaue her kindly skill

To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,

Then I leaue you, my liefe, yborne of heauenly berth.

29
And sooth to say, why I left you so long,