And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake 215
A silver sound, that heavenly musicke seemd to make.
XXV
Upon her eyelids many Graces sate,
Under the shadow of her even browes,
Working belgardes and amorous retrate,
And everie one her with a grace endowes, 220
And everie one with meekenesse to her bowes.
So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,
And soveraine moniment of mortall vowes,
How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face,
For feare, through want of skill, her beauty to disgrace? 225
XXVI
So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire,
She seemd, when she presented was to sight;
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,
All in a silken camus lylly whight,
Purfled upon with many a folded plight, 230
Which all above besprinckled was throughout
With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,
Like twinckling starres, and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fringe.
XXVII
Below her ham her weed did somewhat trayne, 235
And her streight legs most bravely were embayld
In gilden buskins of costly cordwayne,
All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld
With curious antickes, and full fayre aumayld:
Before, they fastned were under her knee 240
In a rich jewell, and therein entrayld
The ends of all their knots, that none might see
How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.
XXVIII
Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,
Which doe the temple of the gods support, 245
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festivall resort;
Those same with stately grace and princely port
She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,
But with the woody nymphes when she did sport, 250
Or when the flying libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.
XXIX
And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,
And at her backe a bow and quiver gay,
Stuft with steele-headed dartes, wherewith she queld 255
The salvage beastes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest, and did divide
Her daintie paps; which, like young fruit in May,
Now little gan to swell, and being tide, 260
Through her thin weed their places only signifide.
XXX
Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre,
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,
They waved like a penon wyde dispred, 265
And low behinde her backe were scattered:
And whether art it were, or heedelesse hap,
As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,
In her rude heares sweet flowres themselves did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaves and blossomes did enwrap. 270
XXXI
Such as Diana by the sandy shore
Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,
Where all the nymphes have her unwares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,
To seeke her game: or as that famous queene 275
Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,
The day that first of Priame she was seene,
Did shew her selfe in great triumphant joy,
To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.
XXXII
Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew, 280
He was dismayed in his coward minde,
And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,
Or fly away, or bide alone behinde:
Both feare and hope he in her face did finde,
When she at last, him spying, thus bespake: 285
‘Hayle, groome! didst not thou see a bleeding hynde,
Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?
If thou didst, tell me, that I may her overtake.’
XXXIII
Wherewith reviv’d, this answere forth he threw:
‘O goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee; 290
For nether doth thy face terrestriall shew,
Nor voyce sound mortall) I avow to thee,
Such wounded beast as that I did not see,
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.
To weete which of the gods I shall thee name,
That unto thee dew worship I may rightly frame.’
XXXIV
To whom she thus — But ere her words ensewd,
Unto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewd, 300
And saw it stirre: she lefte her percing launce,
And towards gan a deadly shafte advaunce,
In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,
Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying: ‘O, what ever hevenly powre, 305
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre!
XXXV
‘O stay thy hand! for yonder is no game
For thy fiers arrowes, them to exercize,
But loe! my lord, my liege, whose warlike name
Is far renowmd through many bold emprize; 310
And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.’
She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,
Forth creeping on his caitive hands and thies,
And standing stoutly up, his lofty crest
Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest. 315
XXXVI
As fearfull fowle, that long in secret cave
For dread of soring hauke her selfe hath hid,
Not caring how, her silly life to save,
She her gay painted plumes disorderid,
Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid, 320
Peepes forth, and soone renews her native pride;
She gins her feathers fowle disfigured
Prowdly to prune, and sett on every side;
So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.
XXXVII
So when her goodly visage he beheld, 325
He gan himselfe to vaunt; but when he vewd
Those deadly tooles which in her hand she held,
Soone into other fitts he was transmewd,
Till she to him her gracious speach renewd:
‘All haile, sir knight, and well may thee befall, 330
As all the like, which honor have pursewd
Through deeds of armes and prowesse martiall!
All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.’
XXXVIII
To whom he thus: ‘O fairest under skie,
Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy praise, 335
That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.
Therein have I spent all my youthly daies,
And many battailes fought and many fraies
Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,
Endevoring my dreaded name to raise 340
Above the moone, that Fame may it resound
In her eternall tromp, with laurell girlond cround.
XXXIX
‘But what art thou, O lady, which doest raunge
In this wilde forest, where no pleasure is,
And doest not it for joyous court exchaunge, 345
Emongst thine equall peres, where happy blis
And all delight does raigne, much more then this?
There
thou maist love, and dearly loved be,
And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;
There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see: 350
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fitt for thee.’
XL
‘Who so in pompe of prowd estate,’ quoth she,
‘Does swim, and bathes him selfe in courtly blis,
Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,
And in oblivion ever buried is: 355
Where ease abownds, yt’s eath to doe amis:
But who his limbs with labours, and his mynd
Behaves with cares, cannot so easy mis.
Abroad in armes, at home in studious kynd,
Who seekes with painfull toile, shal Honor soonest fynd. 360
XLI
‘In woods, in waves, in warres she wonts to dwell,
And wilbe found with perill and with paine;
Ne can the man, that moulds in ydle cell,
Unto her happy mansion attaine:
Before her gate High God did sweate ordaine, 365
And wakefull watches ever to abide:
But easy is the way, and passage plaine
To Pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide,
And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.
XLII
‘In princes court—’ The rest she would have sayd, 370
But that the foolish man, fild with delight
Of her sweete words, that all his sence dismayd,
And with her wondrous beauty ravisht quight,
Gan burne in filthy lust, and, leaping light,
Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace. 375
With that she, swarving backe, her javelin bright
Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:
So turned her about, and fled away apace.
XLIII
Which when the pesaunt saw, amazd he stood,
And grieved at her flight; yet durst he nott 380
Pursew her steps through wild unknowen wood;
Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shott,
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgott:
Ne car’d he greatly for her presence vayne,
But turning said to Trompart: ‘What fowle blott 385
Is this to knight, that lady should agayne
Depart to woods untoucht, and leave so proud disdayne!’
XLIV
‘Perdy,’ said Trompart, ‘lett her pas at will,
Least by her presence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill) 390
But that shee is some powre celestiall?
For whiles she spake, her great words did apall
My feeble corage, and my heart oppresse,
That yet I quake and tremble over all.’
‘And I,’ said Braggadocchio, ‘thought no lesse, 395
When first I heard her horn sound with such ghastlinesse.
XLV
‘For from my mothers wombe this grace I have
Me given by eternall destiny,
That earthly thing may not my corage brave
Dismay with feare, or cause on foote to flye, 400
But either hellish feends, or powres on hye:
Which was the cause, when earst that horne I heard,
Weening it had beene thunder in the skye,
I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;
But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard. 405
XLVI
‘But now, for feare of worse that may betide,
Let us soone hence depart.’ They soone agree;
So to his steed he gott, and gan to ride,
As one unfitt therefore, that all might see
He had not trayned bene in chevalree. 410
Which well that valiaunt courser did discerne;
For he despisd to tread in dew degree,
But chaufd and fom’d, with corage fiers and sterne,
And to be easd of that base burden still did erne.
Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents
Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’
Canto IV
Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,
And stops Occasion:
Delivers Phedon, and therefore
By Strife is rayld uppon.
I
IN brave poursuitt of honorable deed,
There is I know not what great difference
Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,
Which unto things of valorous pretence
Seemes to be borne by native influence; 5
As feates of armes, and love to entertaine;
But chiefly skill to ride seemes a science
Proper to gentle blood: some others faine
To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.
II
But he, the rightfull owner of that steede, 10
Who well could menage and subdew his pride,
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,
With that blacke palmer, his most trusty guide,
Who suffred not his wandring feete to slide;
But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse, 15
Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,
He would, through temperaunce and stedfastnesse,
Teach him the weak to strengthen, and the strong suppresse.
III
It fortuned, forth faring on his way,
He saw from far, or seemed for to see, 20
Some troublous uprore or contentious fray,
Whereto he drew in hast, it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the heare along upon the grownd
A handsom stripling with great crueltee, 25
Whom sore he bett, and gor’d with many a wownd,
That cheekes with teares, and sydes with blood did all abownd.
IV
And him behynd, a wicked hag did stalke,
In ragged robes and filthy disaray:
Her other leg was lame, that she no’te walke, 30
But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay:
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,
Grew all afore, and loosly hong unrold,
But all behinde was bald, and worne away,
That none thereof could ever taken hold, 35
And eke her face ill favourd, full of wrinckles old.
V
And ever as she went, her toung did walke
In fowle reproch and termes of vile despight,
Provoking him, by her outrageous talke,
To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight; 40
Somtimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite,
Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,
Withouten which she could not goe upright;
Ne any evill meanes she did forbeare,
That might him move to wrath, and indignation reare. 45
VI
The noble Guyon, mov’d with great remorse,
Approching, first the hag did thrust away,
And after, adding more impetuous forse,
His mighty hands did on the madman lay,
And pluckt him backe; who, all on fire streight way, 50
Against him turning all his fell intent,
With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,
And smott, and bitt, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,
And did he wist not what in his avengement.
VII
And sure he was a man of mickle might, 55
Had he had governaunce, it well to guyde:
But when the frantick fitt inflamd his spright,
His force was vaine, and strooke more often wyde
Then at the aymed marke which he had eyde:
And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt unwares, 60
Whylest reason, blent through passion, nought descryde,
But as a blindfold bull at randon fares
,
And where he hits, nought knowes, and whom he hurts, nought cares.
VIII
His rude assault and rugged handeling
Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe 65
In fayre defence and goodly menaging
Of armes was wont to fight; yet nathemoe
Was he abashed now, not fighting so,
But, more enfierced through his currish play,
Him sternly grypt, and, hailing to and fro, 70
To overthrow him strongly did assay,
But overthrew him selfe unwares, and lower lay.
IX
And being downe, the villein sore did beate
And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face;
And eke the hag, with many a bitter threat, 75
Still cald upon to kill him in the place.
With whose reproch and odious menace
The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart,
Knitt all his forces, and gan soone unbrace
His grasping hold: so lightly did upstart, 80
And drew his deadly weapon, to maintaine his part.
X
Which when the palmer saw, he loudly cryde,
‘Not so, O Guyon, never thinke that so
That monster can be maistred or destroyd:
He is not, ah! he is not such a foe, 85
As steele can wound, or strength can overthroe.
That same is Furor, cursed cruel wight,
That unto knighthood workes much shame and woe;
And that same hag, his aged mother, hight
Occasion, the roote of all wrath and despight. 90
XI
‘With her, who so will raging Furor tame,
Must first begin, and well her amenage:
First her restraine from her reprochfull blame
And evill meanes, with which she doth enrage
Her frantick sonne, and kindles his corage; 95
Then, when she is withdrawne, or strong withstood,
It’s eath his ydle fury to aswage,
And calme the tempest of his passion wood:
The bankes are overflowne, when stopped is the flood.’
XII
Therewith Sir Guyon left his first emprise, 100
And turning to that woman, fast her hent
By the hoare lockes that hong before her eyes,
And to the ground her threw: yet n’ ould she stent
Her bitter rayling and foule revilement,
But still provokt her sonne to wreake her still torment, 105
And catching hold of her ungratious tonge,
Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and strong.
XIII
Then whenas use of speach was from her reft,
With her two crooked handes she signes did make,
And beckned him, the last help she had left: 110
But he that last left helpe away did take,
And both her handes fast bound unto a stake,