Online Read Free Novel
  • Home
  • Romance & Love
  • Fantasy
  • Science Fiction
  • Mystery & Detective
  • Thrillers & Crime
  • Actions & Adventure
  • History & Fiction
  • Horror
  • Western
  • Humor

    Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

    Page 31
    Prev Next


      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, 215

      But, when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.

      XXV

      The knight was wroth to see his stroke beguyld,

      And smot againe with more outrageous might;

      But backe againe the sparcling steele recoyld,

      And left not any marke where it did light, 220

      As if in adamant rocke it had beene pight.

      The beast, impatient of his smarting wound,

      And of so fierce and forcible despight,

      Thought with his winges to stye above the ground;

      But his late wounded wing unserviceable found. 225

      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 afeard: 230

      The scorching flame sore swinged all his face,

      And through his armour all his body seard,

      That he could not endure so cruell cace,

      But thought his armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.

      XXVII

      Not that great champion of the antique world, 235

      Whom famous poetes verse so much doth vaunt,

      And hath for twelve huge labours high extold,

      So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,

      When him the poysoned garment did enchaunt,

      With Centaures blood and bloody verses charmd, 240

      As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt,

      Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that erst him armd,

      That erst him goodly armd, now most of all him harmd.

      XXVIII

      Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent

      With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245

      That never man such mischiefes did torment;

      Death better were, death did he oft desire,

      But death will never come, when needes require.

      Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,

      He cast to suffer him no more respire, 250

      But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,

      And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

      XXIX

      It fortuned (as fayre it then befell,)

      Behynd his backe, unweeting, where he stood,

      Of auncient time there was a springing well, 255

      From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,

      Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good.

      Whylome, before that cursed dragon got

      That happy land, and all with innocent blood

      Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 260

      The Well of Life, ne yet his vertues had forgot.

      XXX

      For unto life the dead it could restore,

      And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away;

      Those that with sicknesse were infected sore

      It could recure, and aged long decay 265

      Renew, as one were borne that very day.

      Both Silo this, and Jordan, did excell,

      And th’ English Bath, and eke the German Spau,

      Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus match this well:

      Into the same the knight back overthrowen fell. 270

      XXXI

      Now gan the golden 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 275

      His wearie foe into that living well,

      Can high advaunce 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 lady saw from farre, 280

      Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,

      As weening that the sad end of the warre,

      And gan to highest God entirely pray,

      That feared chaunce from her to turne away:

      With folded hands, and knees full lowly bent, 285

      All night shee watcht, ne once adowne would lay

      Her dainty limbs in her sad dreriment,

      But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.

      XXXIII

      The morrow next gan earely to appeare,

      That Titan rose to runne his daily race; 290

      But earely, ere the morrow next gan reare

      Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,

      Up rose the gentle virgin from her place,

      And looked all about, if she might spy

      Her loved knight to move his manly pace: 295

      For she had great doubt of his safety,

      Since late she saw him fall before his enimy.

      XXXIV

      At last she saw, where he upstarted brave

      Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay:

      As eagle fresh out of the ocean wave, 300

      Where he hath lefte his plumes all hory gray,

      And deckt himselfe with fethers youthly gay,

      Like eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies,

      His newly budded pineons to assay,

      And merveiles at him selfe, stil as he flies: 305

      So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

      XXXV

      Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy,

      No wonder if he wondred at the sight,

      And doubted, whether his late enimy

      It were, or other new supplied knight. 310

      He, now to prove his late renewed might,

      High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,

      Upon his crested scalp so sore did smite,

      That to the scull a yawning wound it made:

      The deadly dint his dulled sences all dismaid. 315

      XXXVI

      I wote not whether the revenging steele

      Were hardned with that holy water dew,

      Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele,

      Or his baptized hands now greater grew,

      Or other secret vertue did ensew; 320

      Els never could the force of fleshly arme,

      Ne molten mettall, in his blood embrew:

      For till that stownd could never wight him harme,

      By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

      XXXVII

      The cruell wound enraged him so sore, 325

      That loud he yelled for exceeding paine;

      As hundred ramping lions seemd to rore,

      Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine:

      Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,

      And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore, 330

      That to his force to yielden 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 smott, 335

      That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead,

      Ne living wight would have him life behott:

      The mortall sting his angry needle shott

      Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,

      Where fast it stucke, ne would thereout be gott: 340

      The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,

      Ne might his rancling paine with patience be appeasd.

      XXXIX

      But yet more mindfull of his honour deare

      Then of the grievous smart, which him did wring,

      From loathed soile he can
    him lightly reare, 345

      And strove to loose the far in fixed sting:

      Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,

      Inflam’d with wrath, his raging blade he hefte,

      And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string

      Of his huge taile he quite a sonder clefte; 350

      Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him lefte.

      XL

      Hart cannot thinke, what outrage and what cries,

      With fowle enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,

      The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skies,

      That all was covered with darknesse dire: 355

      Then fraught with rancour, and engorged yre,

      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 grypt it fast withall. 360

      XLI

      Much was the man encombred with his hold,

      In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,

      Ne wist yett how his talaunts to unfold;

      For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw

      To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw 365

      To reave by strength the griped gage away:

      Thrise he assayd it from his foote to draw,

      And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay;

      It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.

      XLII

      Tho, when he saw no power might prevaile, 370

      His trusty sword he cald to his last aid,

      Wherewith he fiersly did his foe assaile,

      And double blowes about him stoutly laid,

      That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid,

      As sparckles from the andvile use to fly, 375

      When heavy hammers on the wedg are swaid;

      Therewith at last he forst him to unty

      One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

      XLIII

      The other foote, fast fixed on his shield,

      Whenas no strength nor stroks mote him constraine 380

      To loose, ne yet the warlike pledg to yield,

      He smott thereat with all his might and maine,

      That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine:

      Upon the joint the lucky steele did light,

      And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine: 385

      The paw yett missed not his minisht might,

      But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

      XLIV

      For griefe thereof, and divelish despight,

      From his infernall fournace forth he threw

      Huge flames, that dimmed all the hevens light, 390

      Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew;

      As burning Aetna from his boyling stew

      Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,

      And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,

      Enwrapt in coleblacke clowds and filthy smoke, 395

      That al the land with stench, and heven with horror choke.

      XLV

      The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence,

      So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire

      A litle backeward for his best defence,

      To save his body from the scorching fire, 400

      Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.

      It chaunst (Eternall God that chaunce did guide)

      As he recoiled backeward, in the mire

      His nigh foreweried feeble feet did slide,

      And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. 405

      XLVI

      There grew a goodly tree him faire beside,

      Loaden with fruit and apples rosy redd,

      As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,

      Whereof great vertues over all were redd:

      For happy life to all which thereon fedd, 410

      And life eke everlasting did befall:

      Great God it planted in that blessed stedd

      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 fownd, 415

      Save in that soile, where all good things did grow,

      And freely sprong out of the fruitfull grownd,

      As incorrupted Nature did them sow,

      Till that dredd dragon all did overthrow.

      Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, 420

      Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know

      Both good and ill: O mournfull memory!

      That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy.

      XLVIII

      From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well,

      A trickling streame of balme, most soveraine 425

      And dainty deare on the ground still fell,

      And overflowed all the fertile plaine,

      As it had deawed bene with timely raine:

      Life and long health that gracious ointment gave,

      And deadly wounds could heale, and reare againe 430

      The sencelesse 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 al that life preserved did detest: 435

      Yet he it oft adventur’d to invade.

      By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,

      And yield his rowme to sad succeeding night,

      Who with her sable mantle gan to shade

      The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, 440

      And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright.

      L

      When gentle Una saw the second fall

      Of her deare knight, who, weary of long fight,

      And faint through losse of blood, moov’d not at all,

      But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight, 445

      Besmeard with pretious balme, whose vertuous might

      Did heale his woundes, and scorching heat alay,

      Againe she stricken was with sore affright,

      And for his safetie gan devoutly pray,

      And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day. 450

      LI

      The joyous day gan early to appeare,

      And fayre Aurora from the deawy bed

      Of aged Tithone gan her selfe to reare,

      With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red;

      Her golden locks for hast were loosely shed 455

      About her eares, when Una her did marke

      Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred,

      From heven high to chace the chearelesse darke;

      With mery note her lowd salutes the mounting larke.

      LII

      Then freshly up arose the doughty knight, 460

      All healed of his hurts and woundes wide,

      And did himselfe to battaile ready dight;

      Whose early foe awaiting him beside

      To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde,

      When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, 465

      As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,

      He woxe dismaid, and gan his fate to feare;

      Nathlesse with wonted rage he him advaunced neare.

      LIII

      And in his first encounter, gaping wyde,

      He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, 470

      And rusht upon him with outragious pryde;

      Who him rencountring fierce, as hauke in flight,

      Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright,

      Taking advantage of his open jaw,

      Ran through his mouth with so importune might, 475

      That deepe emperst his darksom hollow maw,

      And, back retyrd, his life blood forth with all did draw.

      LIV

      So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath,

      That vanisht into smoke and
    cloudes swift;

      So downe he fell, that th’ earth him underneath 480

      Did grone, as feeble so great load to life;

      So downe he fell, as an huge rocky clift,

      Whose false foundacion waves have washt away,

      With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,

      And, rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; 485

      So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.

      LV

      The knight him selfe even trembled at his fall,

      So huge and horrible a masse it seemd;

      And his deare lady, that beheld it all,

      Durst not approch for dread which she misdeemd; 490

      But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend

      She saw not stirre, of-shaking vaine affright,

      She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:

      Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,

      That had atchievde so great a conquest by his might. 495

      Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents

      Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’

      Canto XII

      Fayre Una to the Redcrosse Knight

      Betrouthed is with joy:

      Though false Duessa, it to barre,

      Her false sleightes 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 fayrly to be kend,

      And seemeth safe from storms that may offend: 5

      There this fayre virgin, wearie of her way,

      Must landed bee, now at her journeyes end;

      There eke my feeble barke a while may stay,

      Till mery wynd and weather call her thence away.

      II

      Scarsely had Phœbus in the glooming east 10

      Yett harnessed his fyrie-footed teeme,

      Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast,

      When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme,

      That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme

      Unto the watchman on the castle wall; 15

      Who thereby dead that balefull beast did deeme,

      And to his lord and lady lowd gan call,

      To tell, how he had seene the dragons fatall fall.

      III

      Uprose with hasty joy, and feeble speed,

      That aged syre, the lord of all that land, 20

      And looked forth, to weet if trew indeed

      Those tydinges were, as he did understand:

      Which whenas trew by tryall he out fond,

      He badd to open wyde his brasen gate,

      Which long time had beene shut, and out of hond 25

      Proclaymed joy and peace through all his state;

      For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late.

      IV

      Then gan triumphant trompets sownd on hye,

      That sent to heven the ecchoed report

     


    Prev Next
Online Read Free Novel Copyright 2016 - 2026