Spenser's The Faerie Queene Part 23

And after, all the raskall many ran, Heaped together in rude rablement, 75 To see the face of that victorious man: Whom all admired, as from heaven sent, And gazd upon with gaping wonderment.

But when they came where that dead Dragon lay, Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent, 80 The sight with idle feare did them dismay, Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once a.s.say.

X

Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd; One that would wiser seeme then all the rest, Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd 85 Some lingring life within his hollow brest, Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest Of many Dragonets, his fruitfull seed; Another said, that in his eyes did rest Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed; 90 Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed.

XI

One mother, when as her foolehardie chyld Did come too neare, and with his talants play, Halfe dead through feare, her little babe revyld, And to her gossips gan in counsell say; 95 How can I tell, but that his talants may Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?

So diversly themselves in vaine they fray; Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand, To prove how many acres he did spread of land.

XII

100 Thus flocked all the folke him round about, The whiles that h.o.a.rie king, with all his traine, Being arrived where that champion stout After his foes defeasance did remaine, Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine 105 With princely gifts of yvorie and gold, And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.

Then when his daughter deare he does behold, Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.

XIII

And after to his Pallace he them brings, 110 With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet; And all the way the joyous people sings, And with their garments strowes the paved street: Whence mounting up, they find purveyance meet Of all that royall Princes court became, 115 And all the floore was underneath their feet Bespred with costly scarlot of great name, On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame.

XIV

What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize, In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?

120 What needs of dainty dishes to devize, Of comely services, or courtly trayne?

My narrow leaves cannot in them containe The large discourse of royall Princes state.

Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine: 125 For th' antique world excesse and pride did hate; Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.

XV

Then when with meates and drinkes of every kinde Their fervent appet.i.tes they quenched had, That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde, 130 Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad, Which in his travell him befallen had, For to demaund of his renowmed guest: Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance sad, From point to point, as is before exprest, 135 Discourst his voyage long, according his request.

XVI

Great pleasures mixt with pittiful regard, That G.o.dly King and Queene did pa.s.sionate, Whiles they his pittifull adventures heard, That oft they did lament his lucklesse state, 140 And often blame the too importune fate, That heaped on him so many wrathfull wreakes: For never gentle knight, as he of late, So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes; And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.

XVII

145 Then sayd the royall Pere in sober wise; Deare Sonne, great beene the evils which ye bore From first to last in your late enterprise, That I note whether prayse, or pitty more: For never living man, I weene, so sore 150 In sea of deadly daungers was distrest; But since now safe ye seised have the sh.o.r.e, And well arrived are, (high G.o.d be blest) Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest.

XVIII

Ah, dearest Lord, said then that doughty knight, 155 Of ease or rest I may not yet devize, For by the faith, which I to armes have plight, I bounden am streight after this emprize, As that your daughter can ye well advize, Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene, 160 And her to serve six yeares in warlike wize, Gainst that proud Paynim king that workes her teene Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have beene.

XIX

Unhappie falles that hard necessitie, (Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace, 165 And vowed foe of my felicitie; Ne I against the same can justly preace: But since that band ye cannot now release, Nor doen undo; (for vowes may not be vaine,) Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease, 170 Ye then shall hither backe returne againe, The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.

XX

Which for my part I covet to performe, In sort as through the world I did proclame, That whoso kild that monster most deforme, 175 And him in hardy battaile overcame, Should have mine onely daughter to his Dame, And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee: Therefore since now to thee perteines the same, By dew desert of n.o.ble chevalree, 180 Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo, I yield to thee.

XXI

Then forth he called that his daughter faire, The fairest Un' his onely daughter deare, His onely daughter, and his onely heyre; Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare, 185 As bright as doth the morning starre appeare Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight, To tell that dawning day is drawing neare, And to the world does bring long wished light: So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.

XXII

190 So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; For she had layd her mournefull stole aside, And widow-like sad wimple throwne away, Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide, Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride; 195 And on her now a garment she did weare, All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride, That seemd like silke and silver woven neare, But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.

XXIII

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, 200 And glorious light of her sunshyny face, To tell, were as to strive against the streame; My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace, Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.

Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight, 205 All were she dayly with himselfe in place, Did wonder much at her celestiall sight: Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.

XXIV

So fairely dight, when she in presence came, She to her Sire made humble reverence, 210 And bowed low, that her right well became, And added grace unto her excellence: Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said, With flying speede, and seeming great pretence 215 Came running in, much like a man dismaid, A Messenger with letters, which his message said.

XXV

All in the open hall amazed stood At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight, And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood.

220 But he for nought would stay his pa.s.sage right, Till fast before the king he did alight; Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make, And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight; Then to his hands that writ he did betake, 225 Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake.

XXVI

To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire, Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest, The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire Of that great Emperour of all the West; 230 And bids thee be advized for the best, Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest: For he already plighted his right hand Unto another love, and to another land.

XXVII

235 To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, He was affiaunced long time before, And sacred pledges he both gave, and had, False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore: Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore, 240 And guiltie heavens of his bold perjury, Which though he hath polluted oft of yore, Yet I to them for judgement just do fly, And them conjure t'avenge this shamefull injury.

XXVIII

Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond, 245 Or false or trew, or living or else dead, Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond From knitting league with him, I you aread; Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread, Through weaknesse of my widowhed, or woe; 250 For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead, And shall find friends, if need requireth soe.

So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, Fidessa.

XXIX

When he these bitter byting wordes had red, The tydings straunge did him abashed make, 255 That still he sate long time astonished, As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.

At last his solemne silence thus he brake, With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest; Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake 260 Thy life and honour late adventurest, Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.

x.x.x

What meane these b.l.o.o.d.y vowes, and idle threats, Throwne out from womanish impatient mind?

What heavens? what altars? what enraged heates 265 Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind?

High G.o.d be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame.

But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find, Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame, 270 With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same.

x.x.xI

To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd, Till well ye wote by grave intendiment, What woman, and wherefere doth me upbrayd 275 With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd.

It was in my mishaps, as. .h.i.therward I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard; That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.

x.x.xII

280 There did I find, or rather I was found Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight, Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground, Most false Duessa, royall richly dight, That easy was to invegle weaker sight: 285 Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will, And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.

x.x.xIII

Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, 290 And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd; O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show The secret treasons, which of late I know To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse.

295 She onely she it is, that earst did throw This gentle knight into so great distresse, That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.

x.x.xIV

And now it seemes, that she suborned hath This craftie messenger with letters vaine, 300 To worke new woe and unprovided scath, By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine; Wherein she used hath the practicke paine Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse, Whom if ye please for to discover plaine, 305 Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse, The falsest man alive; who tries shall find no lesse.

x.x.xV

The king was greatly moved at her speach, And, all with suddein indignation fraight, Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach.

310 Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait: Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band, As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait, With idle force did faine them to withstand, 315 And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand.

x.x.xVI

But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, And bound him hand and foote with yron chains And with continual watch did warely keepe: Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains 320 He could escape fowle death or deadly paines?

Thus when that princes wrath was pacifide, He gan renew the late forbidden bains, And to the knight his daughter dear he tyde, With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.

x.x.xVII