Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky. Much can14 they prayse the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling Pine15, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar never dry,
The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,
The Aspine good for staves, the Cypresse
funerall.
The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours
And Poets sage, the firre that weepeth still,
The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,
The Eughi obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
The Mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter
wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Platane round,
The carver Holme, the Maple seeldom inward
sound.*
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, Untill the blustring storme is overblowne; When weening to returne, whence they did stray,
They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in wayes unknowne, Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.
At last resolving forward still to fare,
Till that some end they finde or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten seemd most
bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
And peril without show: therefore your stroke, Sir Knight, with-hold, till further triall made. Ah Ladie, (said he) shame were to revoke The forward footing for an hidden shade: Vertue gives her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade19.
Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place
I better wot then you, though now too late
To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisdome warnes, whilest foot is in the
gate20,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the wandring wood21, this Errours den,
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read 22 beware. Fly, fly (quoth then
The fearcfull Dwarfe) this is no place for
living men.
But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
The youthfull knight could not for ought be
staide,
But forth unto the darksome hole he went,
And looked in: his glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,
But th 'other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile
disdaine23.
And as she lay upon the durtie ground,
Her huge long taile her den all overspred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes24 up-
wound,
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
Which when by tracti they hunted had A thousand yong ones25, which she dayly fed,
At length it brought them to a hollow cave Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout Eftsoones18 dismounted from his courser brave, And to the Dwarfe awhile his needlesse spere
Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde, Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke: | The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
15 Cp. Paradise Lost, I. 292-294. 17 trace 16 yew 18 forthwith Perhaps such a diversity of trees may be allowed in the Wood of Error. Spenser is nothing if not imaginative.
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle
Armed to point26, sought backe to turne
againe ;
For light she hated as the deadly bale,
Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,
Where plain none might her see, nor she see
any plaine.
His Ladie seeing all that chaunst, from farre
Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,
And said, Faire knight, borne under happy
starre,
Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:
Well worthie be you of that Armorie32,
Wherein ye have great glory wonne this day,
And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie,
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he lept | Your first adventure: many such I pray,
As Lyon fierce upon the flying pray,
And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, and forced her to stay:
Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray,
And turning fierce, her speckled taile advaunst,
Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:
Who nought aghast his mightie hand en-
And henceforth ever wish that like succeed it
Then mounted he upon his Steede againe,
And with the Lady backward sought to wend;
That path he kept which beaten was most
plaine,
Ne33 ever would to any by-way bend,
The stroke down from her head unto her But still did follow one unto the end,
Much daunted with that dint28, her sence was
dazd,
Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,
And all attonce her beastly body raizd
With doubled forces high above the ground:
Tho29 wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine
All suddenly about his body wound,
That hand or foot to stirre he strove in vaine:
The which at last out of the wood them
brought.
So forward on his way (with God to frend)
He passed forth, and new adventure sought;
Long way he travelled, before he heard of
ought.
At length they chaunst to meet upon the way
An aged Sire3+, in long blacke weedes yclad,
His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,
And by his belt his booke he hanging had;
Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,
God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours end- And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,
And all the way he prayed, as he went,
And often knockt his brest, as one that did
repent.
With which and other spelles like terrible,
Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame48,
And cursed heaven and spake reprochfull shame
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;
A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name
Great Gorgon49, Prince of darknesse and dead
night,
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.
Whose double gates55 he findeth locked fast,
The one faire fram'd of burnisht Yvory,
The other all with silver overcast;
The God obayde, and, calling forth straightway
A diverse dreame out of his prison darke,
And wakeful dogges before them farre do lye, Delivered it to him, and downe did lay
Watching to banish Care their enimy,
Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.
By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,
And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned
deepe
In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes
keepe G
And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe,
His heavie head, devoide of carefull carke59,
Whose sences all were straight benumbed and
He backe returning by the Yvorie dore,
Remounted up as light as chearefull Larke,
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
In hast unto his Lord, where he him left
afore.
Who all this while with charmes and hidden
artes,
Had made a Lady of that other Spright,
And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes
And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the So lively60, and so like in all mens sight,
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.*
The messenger approching to him spake,
But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:
So sound he slept, that nought mought him
awake.
That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:
The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:
Her all in white he clad, and over it
Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for
Una fit.
Now when that ydle dreame was
brought,
Unto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
Where he slept soundly void of evil thought,
And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,
In sort as he him schooled privily:
Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with And that new creature, borne without her
The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake, (Saracen, Pagan), named Sansfoy (Faithless).
And threatned unto him the dreaded name
Of Hecate whereat he gan to quake,
And lifting up his lumpish head, with blame
Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.
Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,
he slays him, and proceeds in the company of Sansfoy's lady, Duessa (Falsehood), who passes herself off as Fidessa (Faith).]
He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame, UNA AND THE LION. FROM BOOK I, CANTO III.
Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes un- His bloody rage asswaged with remorse,
I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind,
Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,
Which I do owe unto all woman kind.
Feele my heart perst with so great agonie,
When such I see, that all for pittie I could
die.
And now it is empassioned so deepe,
For fairest Unaes 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 touch1, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as ever living wight was faire,
Though nor in word nor deede il meriting,
Is from her knight divorced in despaire,
And her due loves deriv'de to that vile
Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while
Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd
Far from all peoples prease3, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,
To seeke her knight; who subtilly betraya
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 unto her brought.
One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,
From her unhastie 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 undight,
And laid her stole aside. Her angels face
As the great eye of heaven shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shadie place;
Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly
It fortuned out of the thickest wood
A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly,
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood;
Soone as the royal virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have attonce devourd her tender corse:
But to the pray when as he drew more ny,
1 as if tested by the touchstone
2 the love which is her due diverted
And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.
In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet,
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,
As he her wronged innocence did weet1.
O how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong?
Whose yeelded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked
long,
Her hart gan melt in great compassion, And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.
The Lyon Lord of every 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 lov'd, and ever most adord,
As the God of my life? why hath he me
abhord?
Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;
And sad to see her sorrow full constraint
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At last in close hart shutting up her paine,
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy Palfrey got againe,
'To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.
The Lyon would not leave 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 service to her will prepard:
From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,
And ever by her lookes conceived her in-
tent.
[Una is overtaken by Archimago, disguised as the Redcross Knight, and accompanies him therefore trustingly. But they are met by Sansloy (Lawless, a brother of Sansfoy), who overcomes both Archimago and the Lion and takes Una as his prey.]
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