The Faerie Queene (1590/1596)/Books 1 to 3 (1590)/Book I/Canto II

by Edmund Spenser

Cant. II.

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

 

By this the Northerne wagoner had setHis seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,Bur firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farreTo al, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrillHad warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre,In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

When those accursed messengers of hell,That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged SprightCame to their wicked maister, and gan telTheir bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:Who all in rage to see his skilfull mightDeluded so, gan threaten hellish paineAnd sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,He cast about, and searcht his baleful bokes againe.

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,And that false other Spright, on whom he spredA seeming body of the subtile aire,Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty hed His wanton daies that euer loosely led,Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:Those twoo he tooke, and in a secrete bed,Couered with darkenes and misdeeming night,Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hastVnto his guest, who after troublous sightsAnd dreames gan now to take more sound repast,Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful 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 wightsHaue knit themselues in Venus shameful chaine;Come see, where your false Lady doth her honor staine.

All in amaze he suddenly vp startWith sword in hand, and with the old man went;Who soone him brought into a secret part,Where that false couple were full closely mentIn wanton lust and leud enbracement:Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,The eie of reason was with rage yblent,And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

Retourning to his bed in torment great,And bitter anguish of his guilty 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 skieHad spent his lāpe, and brought forth dawning light,Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;The dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.

Now when the rosy fingred Morning faire,Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,And the high hils Titan discouered,The royall virgin shooke of drousy 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 howre;Then gan she wail and weepe, to see that woeful stowre.

And after him she rode with so much speede,As her slowe 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 hil and dale, each wood and plaineDid search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,He so vngently left her, whome she loued best.

But subtill Archimago when his guestsHe 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.

He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;For by his mighty science he could takeAs 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 ofte for feare would quake,And oft would flie away. O who can tellThe hidden powre of herbes, and might of Magick spel?

But now seemde best, the person to put onOf that good knight, his late beguiled guest:In mighty armes he was yclad anon:And siluer shield, vpon his coward brestA bloody crosse, and on his crauen crestA bounch of heares discolourd diuersly:Full iolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest,And when he sate vppon his courser free,Saint George himselfe ye would haue deemed him to be.

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 wayA faithlesse Sarazin all armde to point,In whose great shield was writ with letters gaySans foy: full large of limbe and euery iointHe was, and cared not for God or man a point.

Hee had a faire companion of his way,A goodly Lady clad in scarlotred,Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,And like a Persian mitre on her hedShee wore, with crowns and owches garnished,The which her lauish louers to her gaue,Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspredWith tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.

With faire disport and courting dalliaunceShe intertainde her louer all the way:But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,Shee soone left of her mirth and wanton play,And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:His foe was nigh at hand. He prickte with prideAnd hope to winne his Ladies hearte that day.Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers sideThe red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

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 theyr forces hideous,Theit steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand,And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,Doe backe rebutte, and ech to other yealdeth land.

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,Doe meete, that with the terror of the shocke.Astonied both, stands fencelesse 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.

The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffeSnatcheth 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 crueltiesDoes seeke to perce: repining courage yieldsNo foote to foe. The flashing fier fliesAs from a forge out of their burning shields,And streams of purple bloud new dies the verdāt fields.

Curse on that Crosse (qd. then the Sarazin)That keepes thy body from the bitter fitt;Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,Had not that charme from thee forwarned itt:But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crestWith rigorso outrageous he smitt,That a large share it hewd out of the rest,And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping sparkOf natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,And at his haughty helmet making 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 striueWith the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,Whether the soules doe fly of men, that liue amis.

The Lady when she saw her champion fall,Like the old ruines 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 awayThe Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure,Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

Shee turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to showOn silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,And to your mighty wil. Her humblesse lowIn so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,Did much emmoue his stout heroïcke heart,And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrowMuch rueth me; but now put feare apart,And tel, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

Melting in teares, then gan shee thus lament;The wreched woman, whom vnhappy howreHath now made thrall to your commandement,Before that angry heauens list to lowre,And fortune false betraide me to thy 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.

He in the first flowre of my freshest age,Betrothed me vnto the onely haireOf 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 honors staire,Into the hands of hys accursed fone,And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.

His blessed body spoild of liuely breath,Was afterward, I know not how, conuaidAnd fro me hid: of whose most innocent deathWhen tidings came to mee vnhappy maid, O how great sorrow my sad soulea ssaid.Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,And many yeares throughout the world I straid,A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mindWith loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.

At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin,To meete me wandring, who perforce me ledWith him away, but yet could neuer winThe Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.There lies he now with foule dishonor dead,Who whiles he liude, was called proud Sans foy,The eldest of three brethren, all three bredOf one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans ioy,And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sansloy.

In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate,Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,Crauing of you in pitty of my state,To doe none ill, if please ye not doe well.He in great passion al this while did dwell,More busying his quicke eies, her face to view,Then his dull eares, to heare what shee did tell,And said, faire Lady hart of flint would rewThe vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.

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 foe is said.With chaunge of chear the seeming simple maidLet fal her eien, as shamefast to the earth,And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain said,So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,And shee coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.

Long time they thus together traueiled,Til weary of their way, they came at last,Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spredTheir armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,Made a calme shadowe far in compasse round:The fearefull Shepheard often there aghastVnder them neuer sat, ne wont there soundHis mery oaten pipe, but shund th'vnlucky ground.

But this good knight soone as he them can spie,For the coole shade him thither hastly got:For golden Phoebus now that mounted hie,From fiery wheeles of his faire chariotHurled 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 hideFrom the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide,

Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes,With goodly purposes there as they sit:And in his falsed fancy he her takesTo be the fairest wight, that liued yit;Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit,And thinking of those braunches greene to frameA girlond for her dainty forehead fit,He pluckt a bough; out of whose rifte there cameSmal drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the same.

Therewith a piteous yelling voice was heard,Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teareMy 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 heare did houe,And with that suddein horror could no member moue.

At last whenas the dreadfull passionWas ouerpast, and manhood well awake,Yet musing at the straunge occasion,And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;What voice of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake,Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare,And tuefull plants, me bidding guiltlesse blood to spare?

Then groning deep, Nor damned Ghost, (qd. he,)Nor guileful sprite to thee these words doth speake,But once a man Fradubio, now a tree,Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weakeA 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 seme, yet cold & heat me paines.

Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,Qd. then the knight, by whose mischieuous artsArt 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 errāt knights hath broght to wretchednesse.

In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hottThe fire of loue and ioy of cheualreeFirst kindled in my brest, it was my lottTo loue this gentle Lady, whome ye see,Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;With whome as once I rode accompanyde,Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,That had a like faire Lady by his syde,Lyke a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.

Whose forged beauty he did take in hand,All other Dames to haue exceded farre;I in defence of mine did likewise stand,Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre,In which his harder fortune was to fallVnder 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.

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.Fralissa was as faire, as faire mote bee,And euerfalse Duessa seemde as faire as shee.

The wicked witch now seeing all this whileThe doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,What not by right, she cast to win by guile,And by her hellish science raisd streight way 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 fayre alone, when none was faire in place.

Then cride she out, fye, fye, deformed wight,Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaineTo 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.

Then forth I tooke Duessa for my Dame,And in the witch vnweeting ioyd long time,Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,Till on a day (that day is euerie 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.

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.Then forth from her most beastly companieI gan refraine, in minde to slipp away,Soone as appeard safe opportunitie:For danger great, if not assurd decayI saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

The diuelish hag by chaunges of my chearePerceiu'd my thought; and drownd in sleepie night,With wicked herbes and oyntments did besmeareMy body 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 daies we waste.

But how long time, said then the Elfin knight,Are you in this misformed hous to dwell?We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euill plight,Till we be bathed in a liuing well;That is the terme prescribed by the spell.O how, sayd'he, mote I that well out find,That may restore you to your wonted well?Time and suffised fates to former kyndShall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight,Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,And knew well all was true, But the good knightFull 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 blood he might be innocent,And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her fownd.

Her seeming dead he fownd with feigned feare,As all vnweeting of that well she knew,And paynd himselfe with busie care to reareHer out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew And dimmed fight with pale and deadly hewAt last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheareHer 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.