A Note on the Renascence Editions text:

This HTML etext of The Faerie Queene was prepared from The Complete Works in Verse and Prose of Edmund Spenser [Grosart, London, 1882] by R.S. Bear at the University of Oregon. Inside lines of stanzas may appear left-justified due to limitations of proportional fonts in html. The text is in the public domain. Unique content is copyright © 1995 University of Oregon; this text is distributed for nonprofit use only.

I T falles me here to write of Chastity,
  That fairest vertue, farre aboue the rest;
  For which what needs me fetch from Faery
  Forreine ensamples, it to haue exprest?
  Sith it is shrined in my Soueraines brest,
  And form'd so liuely in each perfect part
  That to all Ladies, which haue it profest,
  Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart,
If pourtrayd it might be by any liuing art.

But liuing art may not least part expresse,
  Nor life-resembling pencill it can paint,
  All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles:
  His daedale hand would faile, and greatly faint,
  And her perfections with his error taint:
  Ne Poets wit, that passeth Painter farre
  In picturing the parts of beautie daint,
  So hard a workmanship aduenture darre,
For fear through want of words her excellence to marre.

How then shall I, Apprentice of the skill,
  That whylome in diuinest wits did raine,
  Presume so high to stretch mine humble quill?
  Yet now my lucklesse lot doth me constraine
  Hereto perforce. But ô dred Soueraine
  Thus farre forth pardon, sith that choicest wit
  Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure plaine
  That I in colourd showes may shadow it,
And antique praises vnto present persons fit.

But if in liuing colours, and right hew,
  Your selfe you couet to see pictured,
  Who can it doe more liuely, or more trew,
  Then that sweet verse, with Nectar sprinckeled,
  In which a gracious seruant pictured
  His Cynthia, his heauens fairest light?
  That with his melting sweetnesse rauished,
  And with the wonder of her beames bright,
My senses lulled are in slomber of delight.

But let that same delitious Poet lend
  A little leaue vnto a rusticke Muse
  To sing his mistresse prayse, and let him mend,
  If ought amis her liking may abuse:
  Ne let his fairest Cynthia refuse,
  In mirrours more then one her selfe to see,
  But either Gloriana let her chuse,
  Or in Belphoebe fashioned to bee:
In th'one her rule, in th'other her rare chastitee.

Guyon encountreth Britomart,
  faire Florimell is chaced:
Duessaes traines and Malecastaes
  champions are defaced.

T He famous Briton Prince and Faerie knight,
  After long wayes and perilous paines endured,
  Hauing their wearie limbes to perfect plight
  Restord, and sory wounds right well recured,
  Of the faire Alma greatly were procured,
  To make there lenger soiourne and abode;
  But when thereto they might not be allured,
  From seeking praise, and deeds of armes abrode,
They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode.

But the captiu'd Acrasia he sent,
  Because of trauell long, a nigher way,
  With a strong gard, all reskew to preuent,
  And her to Faerie court safe to conuay,
  That her for witnesse of his hard assay,
  Vnto his Faerie Queene he might present:
  But he him selfe betooke another way,
  To make more triall of his hardiment,
And seeke aduentures, as he with Prince Arthur went.

Long so they trauelled through wastefull wayes,
  Where daungers dwelt, and perils most did wonne,
  To hunt for glorie and renowmed praise;
  Full many Countries they did ouerronne,
  From the vprising to the setting Sunne,
  And many hard aduentures did atchieue;
  Of all the which they honour euer wonne,
  Seeking the weake oppressed to relieue,
And to recouer right for such, as wrong did grieue.

At last as through an open plaine they yode,
  They spide a knight, that towards pricked faire,
  And him beside an aged Squire there rode,
  That seem'd to couch vnder his shield three-square,
  As if that age bad him that burden spare,
  And yield it those, that stouter could it wield:
  He them espying, gan himselfe prepare,
  And on his arme addresse his goodly shield
That bore a Lion passant in a golden field.

Which seeing good Sir Guyon, deare besought
  The Prince of grace, to let him runne that turne.
  He graunted: then the Faery quickly raught
  His poinant speare, and sharpely gan to spurne
  His fomy steed, whose fierie feete did burne
  The verdant grasse, as he thereon did tread;
  Ne did the other backe his foot returne,
  But fiercely forward came withouten dread,
And bent his dreadfull speare against the others head.

They bene ymet, and both their points arriued,
  But Guyon droue so furious and fell,
  That seem'd both shield & plate it would haue riued;
  Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell,
  But made him stagger, as he were not well:
  But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware,
  Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell,
  Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare,
That mischieuous mischance his life & limbes did spare.

Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke;
  For neuer yet, sith warlike armes he bore,
  And shiuering speare in bloudie field first shooke,
  He found himselfe dishonored so sore.
  Ah gentlest knight, that euer armour bore,
  Let not thee grieue dismounted to haue beene,
  And brought to ground, that neuer wast before;
  For not thy fault, but secret powre vnseene,
That speare enchaunted was, which layd thee on the greene.

But weenedst thou what wight thee ouerthrew,
  Much greater griefe and shamefuller regret
  For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew,
  That of a single damzell thou wert met
  On equall plaine, and there so hard beset;
  Euen the famous Britomart it was,
  Whom straunge aduenture did from Britaine fet,
  To seeke her louer (loue farre sought alas,)
Whose image she had seene in Venus looking glas.

Full of disdainefull wrath, he fierce vprose,
  For to reuenge that foule reprochfull shame,
  And snatching his bright sword began to close
  With her on foot, and stoutly forward came;
  Die rather would he, then endure that same.
  Which when his Palmer saw, he gan to feare
  His toward perill and vntoward blame,
  Which by that new rencounter he should reare:
For death sate on the point of that enchaunted speare.

And hasting towards him gan faire perswade,
  Not to prouoke misfortune, nor to weene
  His speares default to mend with cruell blade;
  For by his mightie Science he had seene
  The secret vertue of that weapon keene,
  That mortall puissance mote not withstond:
  Nothing on earth mote alwaies happie beene.
  Great hazard were it, and aduenture fond,
To loose long gotten honour with one euill hond.

By such good meanes he him discounselled,
  From prosecuting his reuenging rage;
  And eke the Prince like treaty handeled,
  His wrathfull will with reason to asswage,
  And laid the blame, not to his carriage,
  But to his starting steed, that swaru'd asyde,
  And to the ill purueyance of his page,
  That had his furnitures not firmely tyde:
So is his angry courage fairely pacifyde.

Thus reconcilement was betweene them knit,
  Through goodly temperance, and affection chaste,
  And either vowd with all their power and wit,
  To let not others honour be defaste,
  Of friend or foe, who euer it embaste,
  Ne armes to beare against the others syde:
  In which accord the Prince was also plaste,
  And with that golden chaine of concord tyde.
So goodly all agreed, they forth yfere did ryde.

O goodly vsage of those antique times,
  In which the sword was seruant vnto right;
  When not for malice and contentious crimes,
  But all for praise, and proofe of manly might,
  The martiall brood accustomed to fight:
  Then honour was the meed of victorie,
  And yet the vanquished had no despight:
  Let later age that noble vse enuie,
Vile rancour to auoid, and cruell surquedrie.

Long they thus trauelled in friendly wise,
  Through countries waste, and eke well edifyde,
  Seeking aduentures hard, to exercise
  Their puissance, whylome full dernely tryde:
  At length they came into a forrest wyde,
  Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sound
  Full griesly seem'd: therein they long did ryde,
  Yet tract of liuing creatures none they found,
Saue Beares, Lions, & Buls, which romed them around.

All suddenly out of the thickest brush,
  Vpon a milk-white Palfrey all alone,
  A goodly Ladie did foreby them rush,
  Whose face did seeme as cleare as Christall stone,
  And eke through feare as white as whales bone:
  Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold,
  And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone,
  Which fled so fast, that nothing mote him hold,
And scarse them leasure gaue, her passing to behold.

Still as she fled, her eye she backward threw,
  As fearing euill, that pursewd her fast;
  And her faire yellow locks behind her flew,
  Loosely disperst with puffe of euery blast:
  All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast
  His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispred,
  At sight whereof the people stand aghast:
  But the sage wisard telles, as he has red,
That it importunes death and dolefull drerihed.

So as they gazed after her a while,
  Lo where a griesly Foster forth did rush,
  Breathing out beastly lust her to defile:
  His tyreling iade he fiercely forth did push,
  Through thicke and thin, both ouer banke and bush
  In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke,
  That from his gorie sides the bloud did gush:
  Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke,
And in his clownish hand a sharp bore speare he shooke.

Which outrage when those gentle knights did see,
  Full of great enuie and fell gealosy,
  They stayd not to auise, who first should bee,
  But all spurd after fast, as they mote fly,
  To reskew her from shamefull villany.
  The Prince and Guyon equally byliue
  Her selfe pursewd, in hope to win thereby
  Most goodly meede, the fairest Dame aliue:
But after the foule foster Timias did striue.

The whiles faire Britomart, whose constant mind,
  Would not so lightly follow beauties chace,
  Ne reckt of Ladies Loue, did stay behind,
  And them awayted there a certaine space,
  To weet if they would turne backe to that place:
  But when she saw them gone, she forward went,
  As lay her iourney, through that perlous Pace,
  With stedfast courage and stout hardiment;
Ne euill thing she fear'd, ne euill thing she ment.

At last as nigh out of the wood she came,
  A stately Castle farre away she spyde,
  To which her steps directly she did frame.
  That Castle was most goodly edifyde,
  And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde:
  But faire before the gate a spatious plaine,
  Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde,
  On which she saw sixe knights, that did darraine
Fierce battell against one, with cruell might and maine.

Mainly they all attonce vpon him laid,
  And sore beset on euery side around,
  That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid,
  Ne euer to them yielded foot of ground
  All had he lost much bloud through many a wound,
  But stoutly dealt his blowes, and euery way
  To which he turned in his wrathfull stound,
  Made them recoile, and fly from dred decay,
That none of all the sixe before, him durst assay.

Like dastard Curres, that hauing at a bay
  The saluage beast embost in wearie chace,
  Dare not aduenture on the stubborne pray,
  Ne byte before, but rome from place to place,
  To get a snatch, when turned is his face.
  In such distresse and doubtfull ieopardy,
  When Britomart him saw, she ran a pace
  Vnto his reskew, and with earnest cry,
Bad those same sixe forbeare that single enimy.

But to her cry they list not lenden eare,
  Ne ought the more their mightie strokes surceasse,
  But gathering him round about more neare,
  Their direfull rancour rather did encreasse;
  Till that she rushing through the thickest preasse,
  Perforce disparted their compacted gyre,
  And soone compeld to hearken vnto peace:
  Tho gan she myldly of them to inquyre
The cause of their dissention and outrageous yre.

Whereto that single knight did answere frame;
  These sixe would me enforce by oddes of might,
  To chaunge my liefe, and loue another Dame,
  That death me liefer were, then such despight,
  So vnto wrong to yield my wrested right:
  For I loue one, the truest one on ground,
  Ne list me chaunge; she th'Errant Damzell hight,
  For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd,
I haue endur'd, and tasted many a bloudy wound.

Certes (said she) then bene ye sixe to blame,
  To weene your wrong by force to iustifie:
  For knight to leaue his Ladie were great shame,
  That faithfull is, and better were to die.
  All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamie,
  Then losse of loue to him, that loues but one;
  Ne may loue be compeld by maisterie;
  For soone as maisterie comes, sweet loue anone
Taketh his nimble wings, and soone away is gone.

Then spake one of those sixe, There dwelleth here
  Within this castle wall a Ladie faire,
  Whose soueraine beautie hath no liuing pere,
  Thereto so bounteous and so debonaire,
  That neuer any mote with her compaire.
  She hath ordaind this law, which we approue,
  That euery knight, which doth this way repaire,
  In case he haue no Ladie, nor no loue,
Shall doe vnto her seruice neuer to remoue.

But if he haue a Ladie or a Loue,
Then must he her forgoe with foule defame,
Or else with vs by dint of sword approue,
That she is fairer, then our fairest Dame,
As did this knight, before ye hither came.
Perdie (said Britomart) the choise is hard:
But what reward had he, that ouercame?
He should aduaunced be to high regard,
(Said they) and haue our Ladies loue for his reward.

Therefore a read Sir, if thou haue a loue.
  Loue haue I sure, (quoth she) but Lady none;
  Yet will I not fro mine owne loue remoue,
  Ne to your Lady will I seruice done,
  But wreake your wrongs wrought to this knight alone,
  And proue his cause. With that her mortall speare
  She mightily auentred towards one,
  And downe him smot, ere well aware he weare,
Then to the next she rode, & downe the next did beare.

Ne did she stay, till three on ground she layd,
  That none of them himselfe could reare againe;
  The fourth was by that other knight dismayd,
  All were he wearie of his former paine,
  That now there do but two of six remaine;
  Which two did yield, before she did them smight.
  Ah (said she then) now may ye all see plaine,
  That truth is strong, and trew loue most of might,
That for his trusty seruaunts doth so strongly fight.

Too well we see, (said they) and proue too well
  Our faulty weaknesse, and your matchlesse might:
  For thy, faire Sir, yours be the Damozell,
  Which by her owne law to your lot doth light,
  And we your liege men faith vnto you plight.
  So vnderneath her feet their swords they mard,
  And after her besought, well as they might,
  To enter in, and reape the dew reward:
She graunted, and then in they all together far'd.

Long were it to describe the goodly frame,
  And stately port of Castle Ioyeous,
  (For so that Castle hight by commune name)
  Where they were entertaind with curteous
  And comely glee of many gracious
  Faire Ladies, and of many a gentle knight,
  Who through a Chamber long and spacious,
  Eftsoones them brought vnto their Ladies sight,
That of them cleeped was the Lady of delight.

But for to tell the sumptuous aray
  Of that great chamber, should be labour lost:
  For liuing wit, I weene, cannot display
  The royall riches and exceeding cost,
  Of euery pillour and of euery post;
  Which all of purest bullion framed were,
  And with great pearles and pretious stones embost,
  That the bright glister of their beames cleare
Did sparckle forth great light, and glorious did appeare.

These straunger knights through passing, forth were led
  Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee
  And rich purueyance might vneath be red;
  Mote Princes place beseeme so deckt to bee.
  Which stately manner when as they did see,
  The image of superfluous riotize,
  Exceeding much the state of meane degree,
  They greatly wondred, whence so sumptuous guize
Might be maintaynd, and each gan diuersely deuize.

The wals were round about apparelled
  With costly clothes of Arras and of Toure,
  In which with cunning hand was pourtrahed
  The loue of Venus and her Paramoure
  The faire Adonis, turned to a flowre,
  A worke of rare deuice, and wondrous wit.
  First did it shew the bitter balefull stowre,
  Which her assayd with many a feruent fit,
When first her tender hart was with his beautie smit.

Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she
  Entyst the Boy, as well that art she knew,
  And wooed him her Paramoure to be;
  Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew,
  To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew;
  Now leading him into a secret shade
  From his Beauperes, and from bright heauens vew,
  Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade,
Or bathe him in a fountaine by some couert glade.

And whilst he slept, she ouer him would spred
  Her mantle, colour'd like the starry skyes,
  And her soft arme lay vnderneath his hed,
  And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes;
  And whilest he bath'd, with her two crafty spyes,
  She secretly would search each daintie lim,
  And throw into the well sweet Rosemaryes,
  And fragrant violets, and Pances trim,
And euer with sweet Nectar she did sprinkle him.

So did she steale his heedelesse hart away,
  And ioyd his loue in secret vnespyde.
  But for she saw him bent to cruell play,
  To hunt the saluage beast in forrest wyde,
  Dreadfull of daunger, that mote him betyde,
  She oft and oft aduiz'd him to refraine
  From chase of greater beasts, whose brutish pryde
  Mote breede him scath vnwares: but all in vaine;
For who can shun the chaunce, that dest'ny doth ordaine?

Lo, where beyond he lyeth languishing,
  Deadly engored of a great wild Bore,
  And by his side the Goddesse groueling
  Makes for him endlesse mone, and euermore
  With her soft garment wipes away the gore,
  Which staines his snowy skin with hatefull hew:
  But when she saw no helpe might him restore,
  Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew,
Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it liuely grew.

So was that chamber clad in goodly wize,
  And round about it many beds were dight,
  As whilome was the antique worldes guize,
  Some for vntimely ease, some for delight,
  As pleased them to vse, that vse it might:
  And all was full of Damzels, and of Squires,
  Dauncing and reueling both day and night,
  And swimming deepe in sensuall desires,
And Cupid still emongst them kindled lustfull fires.

And all the while sweet Musicke did diuide
  Her looser notes with Lydian harmony;
  And all the while sweet birdes thereto applide
  Their daintie layes and dulcet melody,
  Ay caroling of loue and iollity,
  That wonder was to heare their trim consort.
  Which when those knights beheld, with scornefull eye,
  They sdeigned such lasciuious disport,
And loath'd the loose demeanure of that wanton sort.

Thence they were brought to that great Ladies vew,
  Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous bed,
  That glistred all with gold and glorious shew,
  As the proud Persian Queenes accustomed:
  She seemd a woman of great bountihed,
  And of rare beautie, sauing that askaunce
  Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed,
  Did roll too highly, and too often glaunce,
Without regard of grace, or comely amenaunce.

Long worke it were, and needlesse to deuize
  Their goodly entertainement and great glee:
  She caused them be led in curteous wize
  Into a bowre, disarmed for to bee,
  And cheared well with wine and spiceree:
  The Redcrosse Knight was soone disarmed there,
  But the braue Mayd would not disarmed bee,
  But onely vented vp her vmbriere,
And so did let her goodly visage to appere.

As when faire Cynthia, in darkesome night,
  Is in a noyous cloud enueloped,
  Where she may find the substaunce thin and light,
  Breakes forth her siluer beames, and her bright hed
  Discouers to the world discomfited;
  Of the poore traueller, that went astray,
  With thousand blessings she is heried;
  Such was the beautie and the shining ray,
With which faire Britomart gaue light vnto the day.

And eke those six, which lately with her fought,
  Now were disarmd, and did them selues present
  Vnto her vew, and company vnsoght;
  For they all seemed curteous and gent,
  And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent,
  Which had them traynd in all ciuilitee,
  And goodly taught to tilt and turnament;
  Now were they liegemen to this Lady free,
And her knights seruice ought, to hold of her in fee.

The first of them by name Gardante hight,
  A iolly person, and of comely vew;
  The second was Parlante, a bold knight,
  And next to him Iocante did ensew;
  Basciante did him selfe most curteous shew;
  But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and keene;
  And yet in armes Noctante greater grew:
  All were faire knights, and goodly well beseene,
But to faire Britomart they all but shadowes beene.

For she was full of amiable grace,
  And manly terrour mixed therewithall,
  That as the one stird vp affections bace,
  So th'other did mens rash desires apall,
  And hold them backe, that would in errour fall;
  As he, that hath espide a vermeill Rose,
  To which sharpe thornes and breres the way forstall,
  Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose,
But wishing it far off, his idle wish doth lose.

Whom when the Lady saw so faire a wight.
  All ignoraunt of her contrary sex,
  (For she her weend a fresh and lusty knight)
  She greatly gan enamoured to wex,
  And with vaine thoughts her falsed fancy vex:
  Her fickle hart conceiued hasty fire,
  Like sparkes of fire, which fall in sclender flex,
  That shortly brent into extreme desire,
And ransackt all her veines with passion entire.

Eftsoones she grew to great impatience
  And into termes of open outrage brust,
  That plaine discouered her incontinence,
  Ne reckt she, who her meaning did mistrust;
  For she was giuen all to fleshly lust,
  And poured forth in sensuall delight,
  That all regard of shame she had discust,
  And meet respect of honour put to flight:
So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a loathy sight.

Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre,
  And chaste desires do nourish in your mind,
  Let not her fault your sweet affections marre,
  Ne blot the bounty of all womankind;
  'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find:
  Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds;
  For this was not to loue, but lust inclind;
  For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds,
And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds.

Nought so of loue this looser Dame did skill,
  But as a coale to kindle fleshly flame,
  Giuing the bridle to her wanton will,
  And treading vnder foote her honest name:
  Such loue is hate, and such desire is shame.
  Still did she roue at her with crafty glaunce
  Of her false eyes, that at her hart did ayme,
  And told her meaning in her countenaunce;
But Britomart dissembled it with ignoraunce.

Supper was shortly dight and downe they sat,
  Where they were serued with all sumptuous fare,
  Whiles fruitfull Ceres, and Lyæus fat
  Pourd out their plenty, without spight or spare:
  Nought wanted there, that dainty was and rare;
  And aye the cups their bancks did ouerflow,
  And aye betweene the cups, she did prepare
  Way to her loue, and secret darts did throw;
But Britomart would not such guilfull message know.

So when they slaked had the feruent heat
  Of appetite with meates of euery sort,
  The Lady did faire Britomart entreat,
  Her to disarme, and with delightfull sport
  To loose her warlike limbs and strong effort,
  But when she mote not thereunto be wonne,
  (For she her sexe vnder that straunge purport
  Did vse to hide, and plaine apparaunce shonne:)
In plainer wise to tell her grieuaunce she begonne.

And all attonce discouered her desire
  With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, & piteous griefe,
  The outward sparkes of her in burning fire;
  Which spent in vaine, at last she told her briefe,
  That but if she did lend her short reliefe,
  And do her comfort, she mote algates dye.
  But the chaste damzell, that had neuer priefe
  Of such malengine and fine forgerie,
Did easily beleeue her strong extremitie.

Full easie was for her to haue beliefe,
  Who by self-feeling of her feeble sexe,
  And by long triall of the inward griefe,
  Wherewith imperious loue her hart did vexe,
  Could iudge what paines do louing harts perplexe.
  Who meanes no guile, be guiled soonest shall,
  And to faire semblaunce doth light faith annexe;
  The bird, that knowes not the false fowlers call,
Into his hidden net full easily doth fall.

For thy, she would not in discourteise wise,
  Scorne the faire offer of good will profest;
  For great rebuke it is, loue to despise,
  Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request;
  But with faire countenaunce, as beseemed best,
  Her entertaynd; nath'lesse she inly deemd
  Her loue too light, to wooe a wandring guest:
  Which she misconstruing, thereby esteemd
That from like inward fire that outward smoke had steemd.

Therewith a while she her flit fancy fed,
  Till she mote winne fit time for her desire,
  But yet her wound still inward freshly bled,
  And through her bones the false instilled fire
  Did spred it selfe, and venime close inspire.
  Tho were the tables taken all away,
  And euery knight, and euery gentle Squire
  Gan choose his dame with Basciomani gay,
With whom he meant to make his sport & courtly play.

Some fell to daunce, some fell to hazardry,
  Some to make loue, some to make meriment,
  As diuerse wits to diuers things apply;
  And all the while faire Malecasta bent
  Her crafty engins to her close intent.
  By this th'eternall lampes, wherewith high Ioue
  Doth light the lower world, were halfe yspent,
  And the moist daughters of huge Atlas stroue
Into the Ocean deepe to driue their weary droue.

High time it seemed then for euery wight
  Them to betake vnto their kindly rest;
  Eftsoones long waxen torches weren light,
  Vnto their bowres to guiden euery guest:
  Tho when the Britonesse saw all the rest
  Auoided quite, she gan her selfe despoile,
  And safe commit to her soft fethered nest,
  Where through long watch, & late dayes weary toile,
She soundly slept, & carefull thoughts did quite assoile.

Now whenas all the world in silence deepe
  Yshrowded was, and euery mortall wight
  Was drowned in the depth of deadly sleepe,
  Faire Malecasta, whose engrieued spright
  Could find no rest in such perplexed plight,
  Lightly arose out of her wearie bed,
  And vnder the blacke vele of guilty Night,
  Her with a scarlot mantle couered,
That was with gold and Ermines faire enueloped.

Then panting soft, and trembling euerie ioynt,
  Her fearfull feete towards the bowre she moued;
  Where she for secret purpose did appoynt
  To lodge the warlike mayd vnwisely loued,
  And to her bed approching, first she prooued,
  Whether she slept or wakt, with her soft hand
  She softly felt, if any member mooued,
  And lent her wary eare to vnderstand,
If any puffe of breath, or signe of sence she fand.

Which whenas none she fond, with easie shift,
  For feare least her vnwares she should abrayd,
  Th'embroderd quilt she lightly vp did lift,
  And by her side her selfe she softly layd,
  Of euery finest fingers touch affrayd;
  Ne any noise she made, ne word she spake,
  But inly sigh'd. At last the royall Mayd
  Out of her quiet slomber did awake,
And chaungd her weary side, the better ease to take.

Where feeling one close couched by her side,
  She lightly lept out of her filed bed,
  And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride
  The loathed leachour. But the Dame halfe ded
  Through suddein feare and ghastly drerihed,
  Did shrieke alowd, that through the house it rong,
  And the whole family therewith adred,
  Rashly out of their rouzed couches sprong,
And to the troubled chamber all in armes did throng.

And those six Knights that Ladies Champions,
  And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the stownd,
  Halfe armd and halfe vnarmd, with them attons:
  Where when confusedly they came, they fownd
  Their Lady lying on the sencelesse grownd;
  On th'other side, they saw the warlike Mayd
  All in her snow-white smocke, with locks vnbownd,
  Threatning the point of her auenging blade,
That with so troublous terrour they were all dismayde.

About their Lady first they flockt arownd,
  Whom hauing laid in comfortable couch,
  Shortly they reard out of her frosen swownd;
  And afterwards they gan with fowle reproch
  To stirre vp strife, and troublous contecke broch:
  But by ensample of the last dayes losse,
  None of them rashly durst to her approch,
  Ne in so glorious spoile themselues embosse;
Her succourd eke the Champion of the bloudy Crosse.

But one of those sixe knights, Gardante hight,
  Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene,
  Which forth he sent with felonous despight,
  And fell intent against the virgin sheene:
  The mortall steele stayd not, till it was seene
  To gore her side, yet was the wound not deepe,
  But lightly rased her soft silken skin,
  That drops of purple bloud thereout did weepe,
Which did her lilly smock with staines of vermeil steepe.

Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at them flew,
  And with her flaming sword about her layd,
  That none of them foule mischiefe could eschew,
  But with her dreadfull strokes were all dismayd:
  Here, there, and euery where about her swayd
  Her wrathfull steele, that none mote it abide;
  And eke the Redcrosse knight gaue her good aid,
  Ay ioyning foot to foot, and side to side,
That in short space their foes they haue quite terrifide.

Tho whenas all were put to shamefull flight,
  The noble Britomartis her arayd,
  And her bright armes about her body dight:
  For nothing would she lenger there be stayd,
  Where so loose life, and so vngentle trade
  Was vsd of Knights and Ladies seeming gent:
  So earely ere the grosse Earthes gryesy shade
  Was all disperst out of the firmament,
They tooke their steeds, & forth vpo[n] their iourney went.

The Redcrosse knight to Britomart
  describeth Artegall:
The wondrous myrrhour, by which she
  in loue with him did fall.

H Ere haue I cause, in men iust blame to find,
  That in their proper prayse too partiall bee,
  And not indifferent to woman kind,
  To whom no share in armes and cheualrie
  They do impart, ne maken memorie
  Of their braue gestes and prowesse martiall;
  Scarse do they spare to one or two or three,
  Rowme in their writs; yet the same writing small
Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all.

But by record of antique times I find,
  That women wont in warres to beare most sway,
  And to all great exploits them selues inclind:
  Of which they still the girlond bore away,
  Till enuious Men fearing their rules decay,
  Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their liberty;
  Yet sith they warlike armes haue layd away:
  They haue exceld in artes and pollicy,
That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t'enuy.

Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent,
  Be thou faire Britomart, whose prayse I write,
  But of all wisedome be thou precedent,
  O soueraigne Queene, whose prayse I would endite,
  Endite I would as dewtie doth excite;
  But ah my rimes too rude and rugged arre,
  When in so high an obiect they do lite,
  And striuing, fit to make, I feare do marre:
Thy selfe thy prayses tell, and make them knowen farre.

She trauelling with Guyon by the way,
  Of sundry things faire purpose gan to find,
  T'abridg their iourney long, and lingring day;
  Mongst which it fell into that Faeries mind,
  To aske this Briton Mayd, what vncouth wind,
  Brought her into those parts, and what inquest
  Made her dissemble her disguised kind:
  Faire Lady she him seemd, like Lady drest,
But fairest knight aliue, when armed was her brest.

Thereat she sighing softly, had no powre
  To speake a while, ne ready answere make,
  But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter stowre,
  As if she had a feuer fit, did quake,
  And euery daintie limbe with horrour shake;
  And euer and anone the rosy red,
  Flasht through her face, as it had been a flake
  Of lightning, through bright heauen fulmined;
At last the passion past she thus him answered.

Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from the howre
  I taken was from nourses tender pap,
  I haue beene trained vp in warlike stowre,
  To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap
  The warlike ryder to his most mishap;
  Sithence I loathed haue my life to lead,
  As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap,
  To finger the fine needle and nyce thread;
Me leuer were with point of foemans speare be dead.

All my delight on deedes of armes is set,
  To hunt out perils and aduentures hard,
  By sea, by land, where so they may be met,
  Onely for honour and for high regard,
  Without respect of richesse or reward.
  For such intent into these parts I came,
  Withouten compasse, or withouten card,
  Far fro my natiue soyle, that is by name
The greater Britaine, here to seeke for prayse and fame.

Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond
  Do many famous Knightes and Ladies wonne,
  And many straunge aduentures to be fond,
  Of which great worth and worship may be wonne;
  Which I to proue, this voyage haue begonne.
  But mote I weet of you, right curteous knight,
  Tydings of one, that hath vnto me donne
  Late foule dishonour and reprochfull spight,
The which I seeke to wreake, and Arthegall he hight.

The word gone out, she backe againe would call,
  As her repenting so to haue missayd,
  But that he it vp-taking ere the fall,
  Her shortly answered; Faire martiall Mayd
  Certes ye misauised beene, t'vpbrayd
  A gentle knight with so vnknightly blame:
  For weet ye well of all, that euer playd
  At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game,
The noble Arthegall hath euer borne the name.

For thy great wonder were it, if such shame
  Should euer enter in his bounteous thought,
  Or euer do, that mote deseruen blame:
  The noble courage neuer weeneth ought,
  That may vnworthy of it selfe be thought.
  Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well aware,
  Least that too farre ye haue your sorrow sought:
  You and your countrey both I wish welfare,
And honour both; for each of other worthy are.

The royall Mayd woxe inly wondrous glad,
  To heare her Loue so highly magnifide,
  And ioyd that euer she affixed had,
  Her hart on knight so goodly glorifide,
  How euer finely she it faind to hide:
  The louing mother, that nine monethes did beare,
  In the deare closet of her painefull side,
  Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare,
Doth not so much reioyce, as she reioyced theare.

But to occasion him to further talke,
  To feed her humour with his pleasing stile,
  Her list in strifull termes with him to balke,
  And thus replide, How euer, Sir, ye file
  Your curteous tongue, his prayses to compile,
  It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort,
  Such as ye haue him boasted, to beguile
  A simple mayd, and worke so haynous tort,
In shame of knighthood, as I largely can report.

Let be therefore my vengeaunce to disswade,
  And read, where I that faytour false may find.
  Ah, but if reason faire might you perswade,
  To slake your wrath, and mollifie your mind,
  (Said he) perhaps ye should it better find:
  For hardy thing it is, to weene by might,
  That man to hard conditions to bind,
  Or euer hope to match in equall fight,
Whose prowesse paragon saw neuer liuing wight.

Ne soothlich is it easie for to read,
Where now on earth, or how he may be found;
  For he ne wonneth in one certaine stead,
  But restlesse walketh all the world around,
  Ay doing things, that to his fame redound,
  Defending Ladies cause, and Orphans right,
  Where so he heares, that any doth confound
  Them comfortlesse, through tyranny or might:
So is his soueraine honour raisde to heauens hight.

His feeling words her feeble sence much pleased,
  And softly sunck into her molten hart;
  Hart that is inly hurt, is greatly eased
  With hope of thing, that may allegge his smart;
  For pleasing words are like to Magick art,
  That doth the charmed Snake in slomber lay:
  Such secret ease felt gentle Britomart,
  Yet list the same efforce with faind gainesay;
So dischord oft in Musick makes the sweeter lay.

And said, Sir knight, these idle termes forbeare,
  And sith it is vneath to find his haunt,
  Tell me some markes, by which he may appeare,
  If chaunce I him encounter parauaunt;
  For perdie one shall other slay, or daunt:
  What shape, what shield, what armes, what steed, what sted,
  And what so else his person most may vaunt?
  All which the Redcrosse knight to point ared,
And him in euery part before her fashioned.

Yet him in euery part before she knew,
  How euer list her now her knowledge faine,
  Sith him whilome in Britaine she did vew,
  To her reuealed in a mirrhour plaine,
  Whereof did grow her first engraffed paine;
  Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did tast,
  That but the fruit more sweetnesse did containe,
  Her wretched dayes in dolour she mote wast,
And yield the pray of loue to lothsome death at last.

By strange occasion she did him behold,
  And much more strangely gan to loue his sight,
  As it in bookes hath written bene of old.
  In Deheubarth that now South-wales is hight,
  What time king Ryence raign'd, and dealed right,
  The great Magitian Merlin had deuiz'd,
  By his deepe science, and hell-dreaded might,
  A looking glasse, right wondrously aguiz'd,
Whose vertues through the wyde world soone were solemniz'd.

It vertue had, to shew in perfect sight,
  What euer thing was in the world contaynd,
  Betwixt the lowest earth and heauens hight,
  So that it to the looker appertaynd;
  What euer foe had wrought, or frend had faynd,
  Therein discouered was, ne ought mote pas,
  Ne ought in secret from the same remaynd;
  For thy it round and hollow shaped was,
Like to the world it selfe, and seem'd a world of glas.

Who wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke?
  But who does wonder, that has red the Towre,
  Wherein th'Ægyptian Phao long did lurke
  From all mens vew, that none might her discoure,
  Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre?
  Great Ptolomæe it for his lemans sake
  Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre,
  And also it impregnable did make;
Yet when his loue was false, he with a peaze it brake.

Such was the glassie globe that Merlin made,
  And gaue vnto king Ryence for his gard,
  That neuer foes his kingdome might inuade,
  But he it knew at home before he hard
  Tydings thereof, and so them still debar'd.
  It was a famous Present for a Prince,
  And worthy worke of infinite reward,
  That treasons could bewray, and foes conuince;
Happie this Realme, had it remained euer since.

One day it fortuned, faire Britomart
Into her fathers closet to repayre;
  For nothing he from her reseru'd apart,
  Being his onely daughter and his hayre;
  Where when she had espyde that mirrhour fayre,
  Her selfe a while therein she vewd in vaine;
  Tho her auizing of the vertues rare,
  Which thereof spoken were, she gan againe
  Her to bethinke of, that mote to her selfe pertaine.

But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts
  Imperious Loue hath highest set his throne,
  And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts
  Of them, that to him buxome are and prone:
  So thought this Mayd (as maydens vse to done)
  Whom fortune for her husband would allot,
  Not that she lusted after any one;
  For she was pure from blame of sinfull blot,
Yet wist her life at last must lincke in that same knot.

Eftsoones there was presented to her eye
  A comely knight, all arm'd in complete wize,
  Through whose bright ventayle lifted vp on hye
  His manly face, that did his foes agrize,
  And friends to termes of gentle truce entize,
  Lookt foorth, as Phoebus face out of the east,
  Betwixt two shadie mountaines doth arize;
  Portly his person was, and much increast
Through his Heroicke grace, and honorable gest.

His crest was couered with a couchant Hound,
  And all his armour seem'd of antique mould,
  But wondrous massie and assured sound,
  And round about yfretted all with gold,
  In which there written was with cyphers old,
  Achilles armes, which Arthegall did win.
  And on his shield enueloped seuenfold
  He bore a crowned litle Ermilin,
  That deckt the azure field with her faire pouldred skin.

The Damzell well did vew his personage,
  And liked well, ne further fastned not,
  But went her way; ne her vnguilty age
  Did weene, vnwares, that her vnlucky lo t
  Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot;
  Of hurt vnwist most daunger doth redound:
  But the false Archer, which that arrow shot
  So slyly, that she did not feele the wound,
Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse wofull stound.

Thenceforth the feather in her loftie crest,
  Ruffed of loue, gan lowly to auaile,
  And her proud portance, and her princely gest,
  With which she earst tryumphed, now did quail
  Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies fraile
  She woxe; yet wist she neither how, nor why,
  She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did aile,
  Yet wist, she was not well at ease perdy,
Yet thought it was not loue, but some melancholy.

So soone as Night had with her pallid hew
  Defast the beautie of the shining sky,
  And reft from men the worlds desired vew,
  She with her Nourse adowne to sleepe did lye;
  But sleepe full farre away from her did fly:
  In stead thereof sad sighes, and sorrowes deepe
  Kept watch and ward about her warily,
  That nought she did but wayle, and often steepe
He daintie couch with teares, which closely she did weepe.

And if that any drop of slombring rest
  Did chaunce to still into her wearie spright,
  When feeble nature felt her selfe opprest,
  Streight way with dreames, and with fantasticke sight
  Of dreadfull things the same was put to flight,
  That oft out of her bed she did astart,
  As one with vew of ghastly feends affright:
  Tho gan she to renew her former smart,
And thinke of that faire visage, written in her hart.

One night, when she was tost with such vnrest,
  Her aged Nurse, whose name was Glauce hight,
  Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest,
  Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight,
  And downe againe in her warme bed her dight;
  Ah my deare daughter, ah my dearest dread,
  What vncouth fit (said she) what euill plight
  Hath thee opprest, and with sad drearyhead
Chaunged thy liuely cheare, and liuing made thee dead?

For not of nought these suddeine ghastly feares
  All night afflict thy naturall repose,
  And all the day, when as thine equall peares,
  Their fit disports with faire delight doe chose,
  Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe inclose,
  Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest spred
  Abroad thy fresh youthes fairest flowre, but lose
  Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely shed,
As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.

The time, that mortall men their weary cares
  Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest,
  And euery riuer eke his course forbeares
  Then doth this wicked euill thee infest,
  And riue with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest;
  Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed griefe,
  Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest,
  Whence forth it breakes in sighes and anguish rife,
As smoke and sulphure mingled with confused strife.

Aye me, how much I feare, least loue it bee;
  But if that loue it be, as sure I read
  By knowen signes and passions, which I see,
  Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead,
  Then I auow by this most sacred head
  Of my deare foster child, to ease thy griefe,
  And win thy will: Therefore away doe dread;
  For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe
Shall me debarre, tell me therefore my liefest liefe.

So hauing said, her twixt her armes twaine
  She straightly straynd, and colled tenderly,
  And euery trembling ioynt, and euery vaine
  She softly felt, and rubbed busily,
  To doe the frosen cold away to fly;
  And her faire deawy eies with kisses deare
  She oft did bath, and oft againe did dry;
  And euer her importund, not to feare
To let the secret of her hart to her appeare.

The Damzell pauzd, and then thus fearefully;
  Ah Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my paine?
  Is not enough, that I alone doe dye,
  But it must doubled be with death of twaine?
  For nought for me but death there doth remaine.
  O daughter deare (said she) despaire no whit;
  For neuer sore, but might a salue obtaine:
  That blinded God, which hath ye blindly smit,
Another arrow hath your louers hart to hit.

But mine is not (quoth she) like others wound;
  For which no reason can find remedy.
  Was neuer such, but mote the like be found,
  (Said she) and though no reason may apply
  Salue to your sore, yet loue can higher stye,
  Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne.
  But neither God of loue, nor God of sky
  Can doe (said she) that, which cannot be donne.
Things oft impossible (quoth she) seeme, ere begonne.

These idle words (said she) doe nought asswage
  My stubborne smart, but more annoyance breed,
  For no no vsuall fire, no vsuall rage
  It is, ô Nurse, which on my life doth feed,
  And suckes the bloud, which from my hart doth bleed.
  But since thy faithfull zeale lets me not hyde
  My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed.
  Nor Prince, nor pere it is, whose loue hath gryde
My feeble brest of late, and launched this wound wyde.

Nor man it is, nor other liuing wight;
For then some hope I might vnto me draw,
  But th'only shade and semblant of a knight,
  Whose shape or person yet I neuer saw,
  Hath me subiected to loues cruell law:
  The same one day, as me misfortune led,
  I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw,
  And pleased with that seeming goodly-hed,
  Vnwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed.

Sithens it hath infixed faster hold
  Within my bleeding bowels, and so sore
  Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould,
  That all mine entrailes flow with poysnous gore,
  And th'vlcer groweth daily more and more;
  Ne can my running sore find remedie,
  Other then my hard fortune to deplore,
  And languish as the leafe falne from the tree,
Till death make one end of my dayes and miserie.

Daughter (said she) what need ye be dismayd,
  Or why make ye such Monster of your mind?
  Of much more vncouth thing I was affrayd;
  Of filthy lust, contrarie vnto kind:
  But this affection nothing straunge I find;
  For who with reason can you aye reproue,
  To loue the semblant pleasing most your mind,
  And yield your heart, whence ye cannot remoue?
No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of loue.

Not so th'Arabian Myrrhe did set her mind;
  Nor so did Biblis spend her pining hart,
  But lou'd their natiue flesh against all kind,
  And to their purpose vsed wicked art:
  Yet playd Pasiphaë a more monstrous part,
  That lou'd a Bull, and learnd a beast to bee;
  Such shamefull lusts who loaths not, which depart
  From course of nature and of modestie?
Sweet loue such lewdnes bands from his faire companie.

But thine my Deare (welfare thy heart my deare)
  Though strange beginning had, yet fixed is
  On one, that worthy may perhaps appeare;
  And certes seemes bestowed not amis:
  Ioy thereof haue thou and eternall blis.
  With that vpleaning on her elbow weake,
  Her alablaster brest she soft did kis,
  Which all that while she felt to pant and quake,
As it an Earth-quake were; at last she thus bespake.

Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease;
  For though my loue be not so lewdly bent,
  As those ye blame, yet may it nought appease
  My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent,
  But rather doth my helpelesse griefe augment.
  For they, how euer shamefull and vnkind,
  Yet did possesse their horrible intent:
  Short end of sorrowes they thereby did find;
So was their fortune good, though wicked were their mind.

But wicked fortune mine, though mind be good,
  Can haue no end, nor hope of my desire,
  But feed on shadowes, whiles I die for food,
  And like a shadow wexe, whiles with entire
  Affection, I doe languish and expire.
  I fonder, then Cephisus foolish child,
  Who hauing vewed in a fountaine shere
  His face, was with the loue thereof beguild;
I fonder loue a shade, the bodie farre exild.

Nought like (quoth she) for that same wretched boy
  Was of himselfe the idle Paramoure;
  Both loue and louer, without hope of ioy,
  For which he faded to a watry flowre.
  But better fortune thine, and better howre,
  Which lou'st the shadow of a warlike knight;
  No shadow, but a bodie hath in powre:
  That bodie, wheresoeuer that it light,
May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might.

But if thou may with reason yet represse
  The growing euill, ere it strength haue got,
  And thee abandond wholly doe possesse,
  Against it strongly striue, and yield thee not,
  Till thou in open field adowne be smot.
  But if the passion mayster thy fraile might,
  So that needs loue or death must be thy lot,
  Then I auow to thee, by wrong or right
To compasse thy desire, and find that loued knight.

Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright
  Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd
  In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might;
  And the old-woman carefully displayd
  The clothes about her round with busie ayd;
  So that at last a little creeping sleepe
  Surprisd her sense: she therewith well apayd,
  The drunken lampe downe in the oyle did steepe,
And set her by to watch, and set her by to weepe.

Earely the morrow next, before that day
  His ioyous face did to the world reueale,
  They both vprose and tooke their readie way
  Vnto the Church, their prayers to appeale,
  With great deuotion, and with litle zeale:
  For the faire Damzell from the holy herse
  Her loue-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale;
  And that old Dame said many an idle verse,
Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reuerse.

Returned home, the royall Infant fell
  Into her former fit; for why, no powre
  Nor guidance of her selfe in her did dwell.
  But th'aged Nurse her calling to her bowre,
  Had gathered Rew, and Sauine, and the flowre
  Of Camphara, and Calamint, and Dill,
  All which she in a earthen Pot did poure,
  And to the brim with Colt wood did it fill,
And many drops of milke and bloud through it did spill.

Then taking thrise three haires from off her head,
  Them trebly breaded in a threefold lace,
  And round about the pots mouth, bound the thread,
  And after hauing whispered a space
  Certaine sad words, with hollow voice and bace,
  She to the virgin said, thrise said she it;
  Come daughter come, come; spit vpon my face,
  Spit thrise vpon me, thrise vpon me spit;
Th'vneuen number for this businesse is most fit.

That sayd, her round about she from her turnd,
  She turned her contrarie to the Sunne,
  Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd,
  All contrary, for she the right did shunne,
  And euer what she did, was streight vndonne.
  So thought she to vndoe her daughters loue:
  But loue, that is in gentle brest begonne,
  No idle charmes so lightly may remoue,
That well can witnesse, who by triall it does proue.

Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle,
  Ne slake the furie of her cruell flame,
  But that she still did waste, and still did wayle,
  That through long languour, and hart-burning brame
  She shortly like a pyned ghost became,
  Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond.
  That when old Glauce saw, for feare least blame
  Of her miscarriage should in her be fond,
She wist not how t'amend, nor how it to withstond.

Merlin bewrayes to Britomart,
  the state of Artegall.
And shewes the famous Progeny
  which from them springen shall.

M Ost sacred fire, that burnest mightily
  In liuing brests, ykindled first aboue,
  Emongst th'eternall spheres and lamping sky,
  And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue;
  Not that same, which doth base affections moue
  In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame,
  But that sweet fit, that doth true beautie loue,
  And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame,
Whence spring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame:

Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme,
  That ouer mortall minds hast so great might,
  To order them, as best to thee doth seeme,
  And all their actions to direct aright;
  The fatall purpose of diuine foresight,
  Thou doest effect in destined descents,
  Through deepe impression of thy secret might,
  And stirredst vp th'Heroes high intents,
Which the late world admyres for wondrous monime[n]ts.

But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more,
  Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre
  Shew'dst thou, then in this royall Maid of yore,
  Making her seeke an vnknowne Paramoure,
  From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre:
  From whose two loynes thou afterwards did rayse
  Most famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre,
  Which through the earth haue spred their liuing prayse,
That fame in trompe of gold eternally displayes.

Begin then, ô my dearest sacred Dame,
  Daughter of Phoebus and of Memorie,
  That doest ennoble with immortall name
  The warlike Worthies, from antiquitie,
  In thy great volume of Eternitie:
  Begin, ô Clio, and recount from hence
  My glorious Soueraines goodly auncestrie,
  Till that by dew degrees and long pretence,
Thou haue it lastly brought vnto her Excellence.

Full many wayes within her troubled mind,
  Old Glauce cast, to cure this Ladies griefe:
  Full many waies she sought, but none could find,
  Nor herbes, nor charmes, nor counsell, that is chiefe
  And choisest med'cine for sicke harts reliefe:
  For thy great care she tooke, and greater feare,
  Least that it should her turne to foule repriefe,
  And sore reproch, when so her father deare
Should of his dearest daughters hard misfortune heare.

At last she her auisd, that he, which made
  That mirrhour, wherein the sicke Damosell
  So straungely vewed her straunge louers shade,
  To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell,
  Vnder what coast of heauen the man did dwell,
  And by what meanes his loue might best be wrought:
  For though beyond the Africk Ismaell,
  Or th'Indian Peru he were, she thought
Him forth through infinite endeuour to haue sought.

Forthwith themselues disguising both in straunge
  And base attyre, that none might them bewray,
  To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge
  Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way:
  There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)
  To make his wonne, low vnderneath the ground,
  In a deepe delue, farre from the vew of day,
  That of no liuing wight he mote be found,
When so he counseld with his sprights enco[m]past round.

And if thou euer happen that same way
  To trauell, goe to see that dreadfull place:
  It is an hideous hollow caue (they say)
  Vnder a rocke that lyes a little space
  From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace,
  Emongst the woodie hilles of Dyneuowre:
  But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace,
  To enter into that same balefull Bowre,
For fear the cruell Feends should thee vnwares deuowre.

But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare,
  And there such ghastly noise of yron chaines,
  And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling heare,
  Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines
  Doe tosse, that it will stonne thy feeble braines,
  And oftentimes great grones, and grieuous stounds,
  When too huge toile and labour them constraines:
  And oftentimes loud strokes, and ringing sounds
From vnder that deepe Rocke most horribly rebounds.

The cause some say is this: A litle while
  Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend,
  A brasen wall in compas to compile
  About Cairmardin, and did it commend
  Vnto these Sprights, to bring to perfect end.
  During which worke the Ladie of the Lake,
  Whom long he lou'd, for him in hast did send,
  Who thereby forst his workemen to forsake,
Them bound till his returne, their labour not to slake.

In the meane time through that false Ladies traine,
  He was surprisd, and buried vnder beare,
  Ne euer to his worke returnd againe:
  Nath'lesse those feends may not their worke forbeare,
  So greatly his commaundement they feare,
  But there doe toyle and trauell day and night,
  Vntill that brasen wall they vp doe reare:
  For Merlin had in Magicke more insight,
Then euer him before or after liuing wight.

For he by words could call out of the sky
  Both Sunne and Moone, and make them him obay:
  The land to sea, and sea to maineland dry,
  And darkesome night he eke could turne to day:
  Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay,
  And hostes of men of meanest things could frame,
  When so him list his enimies to fray:
  That to this day for terror of his fame,
The feends do quake, when any him to them does name.

And sooth, men say that he was not the sonne
  Of mortall Syre, or other liuing wight,
  But wondrously begotten, and begonne
  By false illusion of a guilefull Spright,
  On a faire Ladie Nonne, that whilome hight
  Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,
  Who was the Lord of Mathrauall by right,
  And coosen vnto king Ambrosius:
Whence he indued was with skill so maruellous.

They here ariuing, staid a while without,
  Ne durst aduenture rashly in to wend,
  But of their first intent gan make new dout
  For dread of daunger, which it might portend:
  Vntill the hardie Mayd (with loue to frend)
  First entering, the dreadfull Mage there found
  Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end,
  And writing strange characters in the ground,
With which the stubborn feends he to his seruice bound.

He nought was moued at their entrance bold:
  For of their comming well he wist afore,
  Yet list them bid their businesse to vnfold,
  As if ought in this world in secret store
  Were from him hidden, or vnknowne of yore.
  Then Glauce thus, Let not it thee offend,
  That we thus rashly through thy darkesome dore,
  Vnwares haue prest: for either fatall end,
Or other mightie cause vs two did hither send.

He bad tell on; and then she thus began.
  Now haue three Moones with borrow'd brothers light,
  Thrice shined faire, and thrice seem'd dim and wan,
  Sith a sore euill, which this virgin bright
  Tormenteth, and doth plonge in dolefull plight,
  First rooting tooke; but what thing it mote bee,
  Or whence it sprong, I cannot read aright:
  But this I read, that but if remedee
Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see.

Therewith th'Enchaunter softly gan to smyle
  At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well,
  That she to him dissembled womanish guyle,
  And to her said, Beldame, by that ye tell,
  More need of leach-craft hath your Damozell,
  Then of my skill: who helpe may haue elsewhere,
  In vaine seekes wonders out of Magicke spell.
  Th'old woman wox half blanck, those words to heare;
And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare.

And to him said, If any leaches skill,
  Or other learned meanes could haue redrest
  This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill,
  Certes I should be loth thee to molest:
  But this sad euill, which doth her infest,
  Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed,
  And housed is within her hollow brest,
  That either seemes some cursed witches deed,
Or euill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.

The wisard could no lenger beare her bord,
  But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd;
  Glauce, what needs this colourable word,
  To cloke the cause, that hath it selfe bewrayd?
  Ne ye faire Britomartis, thus arayd,
  More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele;
  Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd,
  Hath hither brought, for succour to appele;
The which the powres to thee are pleased to reuele.

The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe descryde,
  Was all abasht, and her pure yuory
  Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde;
  As faire Aurora rising hastily,
  Doth by her blushing tell, that she did lye
  All night in old Tithonus frosen bed,
  Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly.
  But her old Nourse was nought dishartened,
But vauntage made of that, which Merlin had ared.

And sayd, Sith then thou knowest all our griefe,
  (For what doest not thou know?) of grace I pray,
  Pitty our plaint, and yield vs meet reliefe.
  With that the Prophet still awhile did stay,
  And then his spirite thus gan forth display;
  Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore
  Hast learn'd to loue, let no whit thee dismay
  The hard begin, that meets thee in the dore,
And with sharpe fits thy tender hart oppresseth sore.

For so must all things excellent begin,
  And eke enrooted deepe must be that Tree,
  Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin,
  Till they to heauens hight forth stretched bee.
  For from thy wombe a famous Progenie
  Shall spring, out of the auncient Troian blood,
  Which shall reuiue the sleeping memorie
  Of those same antique Peres, the heauens brood,
Which Greece and Asian riuers stained with their blood.

Renowmed kings, and sacred Emperours,
  Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee descend;
  Braue Captaines, and most mighty warriours,
  That shall their conquests through all lands extend,
  And their decayed kingdomes shall amend:
  The feeble Britons, broken with long warre,
  They shall vpreare, and mightily defend
  Against their forrein foe, that comes from farre,
Till vniuersall peace compound all ciuill iarre.

It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye,
  Glauncing vnwares in charmed looking glas,
  But the streight course of heauenly destiny,
  Led with eternall prouidence, that has
  Guided thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas:
  Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill,
  To loue the prowest knight, that euer was.
  Therefore submit thy wayes vnto his will,
And do by all dew meanes thy destiny fulfill.

But read (said Glauce) thou Magitian
  What meanes shall she out seeke, or what wayes take?
  How shall she know, how shall she find the man?
  Or what needs her to toyle, sith fates can make
  Way for themselues, their purpose to partake?
  Then Merlin thus; Indeed the fates are firme,
  And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake:
  Yet ought mens good endeuours them confirme,
And guide the heauenly causes to their constant terme.

The man whom heauens haue ordaynd to bee
  The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall:
  He wonneth in the land of Fayeree,
  Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all
  To Elfes, but sprong of seed terrestriall,
  And whilome by false Faries stolne away,
  Whiles yet in infant cradle he did crall;
  Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day,
But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.

But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlois,
  And brother vnto Cador Cornish king,
  And for his warlike feates renowmed is,
  From where the day out of the sea doth spring,
  Vntill the closure of the Euening.
  From thence, him firmely bound with faithfull band,
  To this his natiue soyle thou backe shalt bring,
  Strongly to aide his countrey, to withstand
The powre of forrein Paynims, which inuade thy land.

Great aid thereto his mighty puissaunce,
  And dreaded name shall giue in that sad day:
  Where also proofe of thy prow valiaunce
  Thou then shalt make, t'increase thy louers pray.
  Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway,
  Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call,
  And his last fate him from thee take away,
  Too rathe cut off by practise criminall
Of secret foes, that him shall make in mischiefe fall.

Where thee yet shall he leaue for memory
  Of his late puissaunce, his Image dead,
  That liuing him in all actiuity
  To thee shall represent. He from the head
  Of his coosin Constantius without dread
  Shall take the crowne, that was his fathers right,
  And therewith crowne himselfe in th'others stead:
  Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might,
Against his Saxon foes in bloudy field to fight.

Like as a Lyon, that in drowsie caue
  Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake,
  And comming forth, shall spred his banner braue
  Ouer the troubled South, that it shall make
  The warlike Mertians for feare to quake:
  Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win,
  But the third time shall faire accordaunce make:
  And if he then with victorie can lin,
He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly In.

His sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him succeede
  In kingdome, but not in felicity;
  Yet shall he long time warre with happy speed,
  And with great honour many battels try:
  But at the last to th'importunity
  Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield.
  But his sonne Malgo shall full mightily
  Auenge his fathers losse, with speare and shield,
And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field.

Behold the man, and tell me Britomart,
  If ay more goodly creature thou didst see;
  How like a Gyaunt in each manly part
  Beares he himselfe with portly maiestee,
  That one of th'old Heroes seemes to bee:
  He the six Islands, comprouinciall
  In auncient times vnto great Britainee,
  Shall to the same reduce, and to him call
Their sundry kings to do their homage seuerall.

All which his sonne Careticus awhile
  Shall well defend, and Saxons powre suppresse,
  Vntill a straunger king from vnknowne soyle
  Arriuing, him with multitude oppresse;
  Great Gormond, hauing with huge mightinesse
  Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne,
  Like a swift Otter, fell through emptinesse,
  Shall ouerswim the sea with many one
Of his Norueyses, to assist the Britons fone.

He in his furie all shall ouerrunne,
And holy Church with faithlesse hands deface,
  That thy sad people vtterly fordonne,
  Shall to the vtmost mountaines fly apace:
  Was neuer so great wast in any place,
  Nor so fowle outrage doen by liuing men:
  For all thy Cities they shall sacke and race,
  And the greene grasse, that groweth, they shall bren,
  That euen the wild beast shall dy in starued den.

Whiles thus thy Britons do in languour pine,
  Proud Etheldred shall from the North arise,
  Seruing th'ambitious will of Augustine,
  And passing Dee with hardy enterprise,
  Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brockwell twise,
  And Bangor with massacred Martyrs fill;
  But the third time shall rew his foolhardise:
  For Cadwan pittying his peoples ill,
Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand Saxons kill.

But after him, Cadwallin mightily
  On his sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall wreake;
  Ne shall auaile the wicked sorcery
  Of false Pellite, his purposes to breake,
  But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleake
  Shall giue th'enchaunter his vnhappy hire;
  Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake,
  From their long vassalage gin to respire,
And on their Paynim foes auenge their ranckled ire.

Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate,
  Till both the sonnes of Edwin he haue slaine,
  Offricke and Osricke, twinnes vnfortunate,
  Both slaine in battell vpon Layburne plaine,
  Together with the king of Louthiane,
  Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny,
  Both ioynt partakers of the fatall paine:
  But Penda, fearefull of like desteny,
Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty.

Him shall he make his fatall Instrument,
  T'afflict the other Saxons vnsubdewd;
  He marching forth with fury insolent
  Against the good king Oswald, who indewd
  With heauenly powre, and by Angels reskewd,
  All holding crosses in their hands on hye,
  Shall him defeate withouten bloud imbrewd:
  Of which, that field for endlesse memory,
Shall Heuenfield be cald to all posterity.

Where at Cadwallin wroth, shall forth issew,
  And an huge hoste into Northumber lead,
  With which he godly Oswald shall subdew,
  And crowne with martyrdome his sacred head.
  Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like dread,
  With price of siluer shall his kingdome buy,
  And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread,
  Shall tread adowne, and do him fowly dye,
But shall with gifts his Lord Cadwallin pacify.

Then shall Cadwallin dye, and then the raine
  Of Britons eke with him attonce shall dye;
  Ne shall the good Cadwallader with paine,
  Or powre, be hable it to remedy,
  When the full time prefixt by destiny,
  Shalbe expird of Britons regiment.
  For heauen it selfe shall their successe enuy,
  And them with plagues and murrins pestilent
Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spent.

Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge hills
  Of dying people, during eight yeares space,
  Cadwallader not yielding to his ills,
  From Armoricke, where long in wretched cace
  He liu'd, returning to his natiue place,
  Shalbe by vision staid from his intent:
  For th'heauens haue decreed, to displace
  The Britons, for their sinnes dew punishment,
And to the Saxons ouer-giue their gouernment.

Then woe, and woe, and euerlasting woe,
  Be to the Briton babe, that shalbe borne,
  To liue in thraldome of his fathers foe;
  Late King, now captiue, late Lord, now forlorne,
  The worlds reproch, the cruell victors scorne,
  Banisht from Princely bowre to wastfull wood:
  O who shall helpe me to lament, and mourne
  The royall seed, the antique Troian blood,
Whose Empire lenger here, then euer any stood.

The Damzell was full deepe empassioned,
  Both for his griefe, and for her peoples sake,
  Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned,
  And sighing sore, at length him thus bespake;
  Ah but will heauens fury neuer slake,
  Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at last?
  Will not long misery late mercy make,
  But shall their name for euer be defast,
And quite from of th'earth their memory be rast?

Nay but the terme (said he) is limited,
  That in this thraldome Britons shall abide,
  And the iust reuolution measured,
  That they as Straungers shalbe notifide.
  For twise foure hundreth yeares shalbe supplide,
  Ere they to former rule restor'd shalbee,
  And their importune fates all satisfide:
  Yet during this their most obscuritee,
Their beames shall oft breake forth, that men them faire may see.

For Rhodoricke, whose surname shalbe Great,
  Shall of him selfe a braue ensample shew,
  That Saxon kings his friendship shall intreat;
  And Howell Dha shall goodly well indew
  The saluage minds with skill of iust and trew;
  Then Griffyth Conan also shall vp reare
  His dreaded head, and the old sparkes renew
  Of natiue courage, that his foes shall feare,
Least backe againe the kingdome he from them should beare.

Ne shall the Saxons selues all peaceably
  Enioy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne
  First ill, and after ruled wickedly:
  For ere two hundred yeares be full outronne,
  There shall a Rauen far from rising Sunne,
  With his wide wings vpon them fiercely fly,
  And bid his faithlesse chickens ouerronne
  The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty,
In their auenge, tread downe the victours surquedry.

Yet shall a third both these, and thine subdew;
  There shall a Lyon from the sea-bord wood
  Of Neustria come roring, with a crew
  Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood,
  Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood,
  That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend
  Th'vsurped crowne, as if that he were wood,
  And the spoile of the countrey conquered
Emongst his young ones shall diuide with bountyhed.

Tho when the terme is full accomplishid,
  There shall a sparke of fire, which hath long-while
  Bene in his ashes raked vp, and hid,
  Be freshly kindled in the fruitfull Ile
  Of Mona, where it lurked in exile;
  Which shall breake forth into bright burning flame,
  And reach into the house, that beares the stile
  Of royall maiesty and soueraigne name;
So shall the Briton bloud their crowne againe reclame.

Thenceforth eternall vnion shall be made
  Betweene the nations different afore,
  And sacred Peace shall louingly perswade
  The warlike minds, to learne her goodly lore,
  And ciuile armes to exercise no more:
  Then shall a royall virgin raine, which shall
  Stretch her white rod ouer the Belgicke shore,
  And the great Castle smite so sore with all,
That it shall make him shake, and shortly learne to fall.

But yet the end is not. There Merlin stayd,
  As ouercomen of the spirites powre,
  Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd,
  That secretly he saw, yet note discoure:
  Which suddein fit, and halfe extatick stoure
  When the two fearefull women saw, they grew
  Greatly confused in behauioure;
  At last the fury past, to former hew
Hee turnd againe, and chearefull looks as earst did shew.

Then, when them selues they well instructed had
  Of all, that needed them to be inquird,
  They both conceiuing hope of comfort glad,
  With lighter hearts vnto their home retird;
  Where they in secret counsell close conspird,
  How to effect so hard an enterprize,
  And to possesse the purpose they desird:
  Now this, now that twixt them they did deuise,
And diuerse plots did frame, to maske in strange disguise.

At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit
  Conceiu'd a bold deuise, and thus bespake;
  Daughter, I deeme that counsell aye most fit,
  That of the time doth dew aduauntage take;
  Ye see that good king Vther now doth make
  Strong warre vpon the Paynim brethren, hight
  Octa and Oza, whom he lately brake
  Beside Cayr Verolame, in victorious fight,
That now all Britanie doth burne in armes bright.

That therefore nought our passage may empeach,
  Let vs in feigned armes our selues disguize,
  And our weake hands (whom need new strength shall teach)
  The dreadfull speare and shield to exercize:
  Ne certes daughter that same warlike wize
  I weene, would you misseeme; for ye bene tall,
  And large of limbe, t'atchieue an hard emprize,
  Ne ought ye want, but skill, which practize small
Will bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall.

And sooth, it ought your courage much inflame,
  To heare so often, in that royall hous,
  From whence to none inferiour ye came,
  Bards tell of many women valorous
  Which haue full many feats aduenturous
  Performd, in paragone of proudest men:
  The bold Bunduca, whose victorious
  Exploits made Rome to quake, stout Guendolen,
Renowmed Martia, and redoubted Emmilen.

And that, which more then all the rest may sway,
  Late dayes ensample, which these eyes beheld,
  In the last field before Meneuia
  Which Vther with those forrein Pagans held,
  I saw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld
  Great Vlfin thrise vpon the bloudy plaine,
  And had not Carados her hand withheld
  From rash reuenge, she had him surely slaine,
Yet Carados himselfe from her escapt with paine.

Ah read, (quoth Britomart) how is she hight?
  Faire Angela (quoth she) men do her call,
  No whit lesse faire, then terrible in fight:
  She hath the leading of a Martiall
  And mighty people, dreaded more then all
  The other Saxons, which do for her sake
  And loue, themselues of her name Angles call.
  Therefore faire Infant her ensample make
Vnto thy selfe, and equall courage to thee take.

Her harty words so deepe into the mynd
  Of the young Damzell sunke, that great desire
  Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd,
  And generous stout courage did inspire,
  That she resolu'd, vnweeting to her Sire,
  Aduent'rous knighthood on her selfe to don,
  And counseld with her Nourse, her Maides attire
  To turne into a massy habergeon,
And bad her all things put in readinesse anon.

Th'old woman nought, that needed, did omit;
  But all things did conueniently puruay:
  It fortuned (so time their turne did fit)
  A band of Britons ryding on forray
  Few dayes before, had gotten a great pray
  Of Saxon goods, emongst the which was seene
  A goodly Armour, and full rich aray,
  Which long'd to Angela, the Saxon Queene,
All fretted round with gold, and goodly well beseene.

The same, with all the other ornaments,
  King Ryence caused to be hanged hy
  In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moniments
  Of his successe and gladfull victory:
  Of which her selfe auising readily,
  In th'euening late old Glauce thither led
  Faire Britomart, and that same Armory
  Downe taking, her therein appareled,
Well as she might, and with braue bauldrick garnished.

Beside those armes there stood a mighty speare,
  Which Bladud made by Magick art of yore,
  And vsd the same in battell aye to beare;
  Sith which it had bin here preseru'd in store,
  For his great vertues proued long afore:
  For neuer wight so fast in sell could sit,
  But him perforce vnto the ground it bore:
  Both speare she tooke, and shield, which hong by it:
Both speare & shield of great powre, for her purpose fit.

Thus when she had the virgin all arayd,
  Another harnesse, which did hang thereby,
  About her selfe she dight, that the young Mayd
  She might in equall armes accompany,
  And as her Squire attend her carefully:
  Tho to their ready Steeds they clombe full light,
  And through back wayes, that none might them espy,
  Couered with secret cloud of silent night,
Themselues they forth conuayd, & passed forward right.

Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond
  They came, as Merlin them directed late:
  Where meeting with this Redcrosse knight, she fond
  Of diuerse things discourses to dilate,
  But most of Arthegall, and his estate.
  At last their wayes so fell, that they mote part
  Then each to other well affectionate,
  Friendship professed with vnfained hart,
The Redcrosse knight diuerst, but forth rode Britomart.

Bold Marinell of Britomart,
  Is throwne on the Rich strond:
Faire Florimell of Arthur is
  Long followed, but not fond.

VV Here is the Antique glory now become,
  That whilome wont in women to appeare?
  Where be the braue atchieuements doen by some?
  Where be the battels, where the shield and speare,
  And all the conquests, which them high did reare,
  That matter made for famous Poets verse,
  And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare?
  Bene they all dead, and laid in dolefull herse?
Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reuerse?

If they be dead, then woe is me therefore:
  But if they sleepe, ô let them soone awake:
  For all too long I burne with enuy sore,
  To heare the warlike feates, which Homere spake
  Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake
  Of Greekish bloud so oft in Troian plaine;
  But when I read, how stout Debora strake
  Proud Sisera, and how Camill' hath slaine
The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdaine.

Yet these, and all that else had puissaunce,
  Cannot with noble Britomart compare,
  Aswell for glory of great valiaunce,
  As for pure chastitie and vertue rare,
  That all her goodly deeds do well declare.
  Well worthy stock, from which the branches sprong,
  That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare,
  As thee, ô Queene, the matter of my song,
Whose lignage from this Lady I deriue along.

Who when through speaches with the Redcrosse knight,
  She learned had th'estate of Arthegall,
  And in each point her selfe informd aright,
  A friendly league of loue perpetuall
  She with him bound, and Congé tooke withall.
  Then he forth on his iourney did proceede,
  To seeke aduentures, which mote him befall,
  And win him worship through his warlike deed,
Which alwayes of his paines he made the chiefest meed.

But Britomart kept on her former course,
  Ne euer dofte her armes, but all the way
  Grew pensiue through that amorous discourse,
  By which the Redcrosse knight did earst display
  Her louers shape, and cheualrous aray;
  A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind,
  And in her feigning fancie did pourtray
  Him such, as fittest she for loue could find,
Wise, warlike, personable, curteous, and kind.

With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she fed,
  And thought so to beguile her grieuous smart;
  But so her smart was much more grieuous bred,
  And the deepe wound more deepe engord her hart,
  That nought but death her dolour mote depart.
  So forth she rode without repose or rest,
  Searching all lands and each remotest part,
  Following the guidaunce of her blinded guest,
Till that to the sea-coast at length she her addrest.

There she alighted from her light-foot beast,
  And sitting downe vpon the rocky shore,
  Bad her old Squire vnlace her lofty creast;
  Tho hauing vewd a while the surges hore,
  That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore,
  And in their raging surquedry disdaynd,
  That the fast earth affronted them so sore,
  And their deuouring couetize restraynd,
Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd.

Huge sea of sorrow, and tempestuous griefe,
  Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long,
  Far from the hoped hauen of reliefe,
  Why do thy cruell billowes beat so strong,
  And thy moyst mountaines each on others throng,
  Threatning to swallow vp my fearefull life?
  O do thy cruell wrath and spightfull wrong
  At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife,
Which in these troubled bowels raignes, & rageth rife.

For else my feeble vessell crazd, and crackt
  Through thy strong buffets and outrageous blowes,
  Cannot endure, but needs it must be wrackt
  On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shallowes,
  The whiles that loue it steres, and fortune rowes;
  Loue my lewd Pilot hath a restlesse mind
  And fortune Boteswaine no assuraunce knowes,
  But saile withouten starres gainst tide and wind:
How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind?

Thou God of winds, that raignest in the seas,
  That raignest also in the Continent,
  At last blow vp some gentle gale of ease,
  The which may bring my ship, ere it be rent,
  Vnto the gladsome port of her intent:
  Then when I shall my selfe in safety see,
  A table for eternall moniment
  Of thy great grace, and my great ieopardee,
Great Neptune, I auow to hallow vnto thee.

Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe,
  She shut vp all her plaint in priuy griefe;
  For her great courage would not let her weepe,
  Till that old Glauce gan with sharpe repriefe,
  Her to restraine, and giue her good reliefe,
  Through hope of those, which Merlin had her told
  Should of her name and nation be chiefe,
  And fetch their being from the sacred mould
Of her immortall wombe, to be in heauen enrold.

Thus as she her recomforted, she spyde,
  Where farre away one all in armour bright,
  With hastie gallop towards her did ryde;
  Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight
  Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light:
  Her former sorrow into suddein wrath,
  Both coosen passions of distroubled spright,
  Conuerting, forth she beates the dustie path;
Loue and despight attonce her courage kindled hath.

As when a foggy mist hath ouercast
  The face of heauen, and the cleare aire engrost,
  The world in darkenesse dwels, till that at last
  The watry Southwinde from the seabord cost
  Vpblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo'st,
  And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre;
  So the faire Britomart hauing disclo'st
  Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,
The mist of griefe dissolu'd, did into vengeance powre.

Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire,
  That mortall speare she in her hand did take,
  And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire.
  The knight approching, sternely her bespake;
  Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make
  By this forbidden way in my despight,
  Ne doest by others death ensample take,
  I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,
Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.

Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat,
  She shortly thus; Fly they, that need to fly;
  Words fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat
  To passe; but maugre thee will passe or dy.
  Ne lenger stayd for th'other to reply,
  But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne.
  Strongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily
  Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe
Decline her head, & touch her crouper with her crowne.

But she againe him in the shield did smite,
  With so fierce furie and great puissaunce,
  That through his threesquare scuchin percing quite,
  And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce
  The wicked steele through his left side did glaunce;
  Him so transfixed she before her bore
  Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce,
  Till sadly soucing on the sandie shore,
He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore.

Like as the sacred Oxe, that carelesse stands,
  With gilden hornes, and flowry girlonds crownd,
  Proud of his dying honor and deare bands,
  Whiles th'altars fume with frankincense arownd,
  All suddenly with mortall stroke astownd,
  Doth groueling fall, and with his streaming gore
  Distaines the pillours, and the holy grownd,
  And the faire flowres, that decked him afore;
So fell proud Marinell vpon the pretious shore.

The martiall Mayd stayd not him to lament,
  But forward rode, and kept her readie way
  Along the strond, which as she ouer-went,
  She saw bestrowed all with rich aray
  Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay,
  And all the grauell mixt with golden owre;
  Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay
  For gold, or perles, or pretious stones an howre,
But them despised all; for all was in her powre.

Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonishment,
  Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare;
  His mother was the blacke-browd Cymoent,
  The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare
  This warlike sonne vnto an earthly peare,
  The famous Dumarin; who on a day
  Finding the Nymph a sleepe in secret wheare,
  As he by chaunce did wander that same way,
Was taken with her loue, and by her closely lay.

There he this knight of her begot, whom borne
  She of his father Marinell did name,
  And in a rocky caue as wight forlorne,
  Long time she fostred vp, till he became
  A mightie man at armes, and mickle fame
  Did get through great aduentures by him donne:
  For neuer man he suffred by that same
  Rich strond to trauell, whereas he did wonne,
But that he must do battell with the Sea-nymphes sonne.

An hundred knights of honorable name
  He had subdew'd and them his vassals made,
  That through all Farie lond his noble fame
  Now blazed was, and feare did all inuade,
  That none durst passen through that perilous glade.
  And to aduance his name and glorie more,
  Her Sea-god syre she dearely did perswade,
  T'endow her sonne with threasure and rich store,
Boue all the sonnes, that were of earthly wombes ybore.

The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund,
  To doen his Nephew in all riches flow;
  Eftsoones his heaped waues he did commaund,
  Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw
  All the huge threasure, which the sea below
  Had in his greedie gulfe deuoured deepe,
  And him enriched through the ouerthrow
  And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe,
And often waile their wealth, which he from them did keepe.

Shortly vpon that shore there heaped was,
  Exceeding riches and all pretious things,
  The spoyle of all the world, that it did pas
  The wealth of th'East, and pompe of Persian kings;
  Gold, amber, yuorie, perles, owches, rings,
  And all that else was pretious and deare,
  The sea vnto him voluntary brings,
  That shortly he a great Lord did appeare,
As was in all the lond of Faery, or elsewheare.

Thereto he was a doughtie dreaded knight,
  Tryde often to the scath of many deare,
  That none in equall armes him matchen might,
  The which his mother seeing, gan to feare
  Least his too haughtie hardines might reare
  Some hard mishap, in hazard of his life:
  For thy she oft him counseld to forbeare
  The bloudie battell, and to stirre vp strife,
But after all his warre, to rest his wearie knife.

And for his more assurance, she inquir'd
  One day of Proteus by his mightie spell,
  (For Proteus was with prophecie inspir'd)
  Her deare sonnes destinie to her to tell,
  And the sad end of her sweet Marinell.
  Who through foresight of his eternall skill,
  Bad her from womankind to keepe him well:
  For of a woman he should haue much ill,
A virgin strange and stout him should dismay, or kill.

For thy she gaue him warning euery day,
  The loue of women not to entertaine;
  A lesson too too hard for liuing clay,
  From loue in course of nature to refraine:
  Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine,
  And euer from faire Ladies loue did fly;
  Yet many Ladies faire did oft complaine,
  That they for loue of him would algates dy:
Dy, who so list for him, he was loues enimy.

But ah, who can deceiue his destiny,
  Or weene by warning to auoyd his fate?
  That when he sleepes in most security,
  And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate,
  And findeth dew effect or soone or late.
  So feeble is the powre of fleshly arme.
  His mother bad him womens loue to hate,
  For she of womans force did feare no harme;
So weening to haue arm'd him, she did quite disarme.

This was that woman, this that deadly wound,
  That Proteus prophecide should him dismay,
  The which his mother vainely did expound,
  To be hart-wounding loue, which should assay
  To bring her sonne vnto his last decay.
  So tickle be the termes of mortall state,
  And full of subtile sophismes, which do play
  With double senses, and with false debate,
T'approue the vnknowen purpose of eternall fate.

Too true the famous Marinell it fownd,
  Who through late triall, on that wealthy Strond
  Inglorious now lies in senselesse swownd,
  Through heauy stroke of Britomartis hond.
  Which when his mother deare did vnderstond,
  And heauy tydings heard, whereas she playd
  Amongst her watry sisters by a pond,
  Gathering sweet daffadillyes, to haue made
Gay girlonds, from the Sun their forheads faire to shade.

Eftsoones both flowres and girlonds farre away
  She flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent,
  To sorrow huge she turnd her former play,
  And gamesom merth to grieuous dreriment:
  She threw her selfe downe on the Continent,
  Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowne,
  Whiles all her sisters did for her lament,
  With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne;
And euery one did teare her girlond from her crowne.

Soone as she vp out of her deadly fit
  Arose, she bad her charet to be brought,
  And all her sisters, that with her did sit,
  Bad eke attonce their charets to be sought;
  Tho full of bitter griefe and pensiue thought,
  She to her wagon clombe; clombe all the rest,
  And forth together went, with sorrow fraught.
  The waues obedient to their beheast,
Them yielded readie passage, and their rage surceast.

Great Neptune stood amazed at their sight,
  Whiles on his broad round backe they softly slid
  And eke himselfe mournd at their mournfull plight,
  Yet wist not what their wailing ment, yet did
  For great compassion of their sorrow, bid
  His mightie waters to them buxome bee;
  Eftsoones the roaring billowes still abid,
  And all the griesly Monsters of the See
Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see.

A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray,
  Drew the smooth charet of sad Cymoent;
  They were all taught by Triton, to obay
  To the long raynes, at her commaundement:
  As swift as swallowes, on the waues they went,
  That their broad flaggie finnes no fome did reare,
  Ne bubbling roundell they behind them sent;
  The rest of other fishes drawen weare,
Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare.

Soone as they bene arriu'd vpon the brim
  Of the Rich strond, their charets they forlore,
  And let their temed fishes softly swim
  Along the margent of the fomy shore,
  Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore
  Their tender feet vpon the stony ground:
  And comming to the place, where all in gore
  And cruddy bloud enwallowed they found
The lucklesse Marinell, lying in deadly swound;

His mother swowned thrise, and the third time
  Could scarce recouered be out of her paine;
  Had she not bene deuoyd of mortall slime,
  She should not then haue bene reliu'd againe,
  But soone as life recouered had the raine,
  She made so piteous mone and deare wayment,
  That the hard rocks could scarse from teares refraine,
  And all her sister Nymphes with one consent
Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement.

Deare image of my selfe (she said) that is,
  The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne,
  Is this thine high aduauncement, ô is this
  Th'immortall name, with which thee yet vnborne
  Thy Gransire Nereus promist to adorne?
  Now lyest thou of life and honor reft;
  Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorne,
  Ne of thy late life memory is left,
Ne can thy irreuocable destiny be weft?

Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis,
  And they more fond, that credit to thee giue,
  Not this the worke of womans hand ywis,
  That so deepe wound through these deare members driue.
  I feared loue: but they that loue do liue,
  But they that die, doe neither loue nor hate.
  Nath'lesse to thee thy folly I forgiue,
  And to my selfe, and to accursed fate
The guilt I doe ascribe: deare wisedome bought too late.

O what auailes it of immortall seed
  To beene ybred and neuer borne to die?
  Farre better I it deeme to die with speed,
  Then waste in woe and wailefull miserie.
  Who dyes the vtmost dolour doth abye,
  But who that liues, is left to waile his losse:
  So life is losse, and death felicitie.
  Sad life worse then glad death: and greater crosse
To see friends graue, the[m] dead the graue selfe to engrosse.

But if the heauens did his dayes enuie,
  And my short blisse maligne, yet mote they well
  Thus much afford me, ere that he did die
  That the dim eyes of my deare Marinell
  I mote haue closed, and him bed farewell,
  Sith other offices for mother meet
  They would not graunt.
  Yet maulgre them farewell, my sweetest sweet;
Farewell my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall meet.

Thus when they all had sorrowed their fill,
  They softly gan to search his griesly wound:
  And that they might him handle more at will,
  They him disarm'd, and spredding on the ground
  Their watchet mantles frindgd with siluer round,
  They softly wipt away the gelly blood
  From th'orifice; which hauing well vpbound,
  They pourd in soueraine balme, and Nectar good,
Good both for earthly med'cine, and for heauenly food.

Tho when the lilly handed Liagore,
  (This Liagore whylome had learned skill
  In leaches craft, by great Appolloes lore,
  Sith her whylome vpon high Pindus hill,
  He loued, and at last her wombe did fill
  With heauenly seed, whereof wise Pæon sprong)
  Did feele his pulse, she knew their staied still
  Some litle life his feeble sprites emong;
Which to his mother told, despeire she from her flong.

Tho vp him taking in their tender hands,
  They easily vnto her charet beare:
  Her teme at her commaundement quiet stands,
  Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare,
  And strow with flowres the lamentable beare:
  Then all the rest into their coches clim,
  And through the brackish waues their passage sheare;
  Vpon great Neptunes necke they softly swim,
And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him.

Deepe in the bottome of the sea, her bowre
  Is built of hollow billowes heaped hye,
  Like to thicke cloudes, that threat a stormy showre,
  And vauted all within, like to the sky,
  In which the Gods do dwell eternally:
  There they him laid in easie couch well dight;
  And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply
  Salues to his wounds, and medicines of might:
For Tryphon of sea gods the soueraine leach is hight.

The whiles the Nymphes sit all about him round,
  Lamenting his mishap and heauy plight;
  And oft his mother vewing his wide wound,
  Cursed the hand, that did so deadly smight
  Her dearest sonne, her dearest harts delight.
  But none of all those curses ouertooke
  The warlike Maid, th'ensample of that might,
  But fairely well she thriu'd, and well did brooke
Her noble deeds, ne her right course for ought forsooke.

Yet did false Archimage her still pursew,
  To bring to passe his mischieuous intent,
  Now that he had her singled from the crew
  Of courteous knights, the Prince, and Faery gent,
  Whom late in chace of beautie excellent
  She left, pursewing that same foster strong;
  Of whose foule outrage they impatient,
  And full of fiery zeale, him followed long,
To reskew her from shame, and to reuenge her wrong.

Through thick and thin, through mountaines & through plains,
  Those two great cha[m]pions did attonce pursew
  The fearefull damzell, with incessant paines:
  Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew
  Of hunter swift, and sent of houndes trew.
  At last they came vnto a double way,
  Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew,
  Themselues they did dispart, each to assay,
Whether more happie were, to win so goodly pray.

But Timias, the Princes gentle Squire,
  That Ladies loue vnto his Lord forlent,
  And with proud enuy, and indignant ire,
  After that wicked foster fiercely went.
  So beene they three three sundry wayes ybent.
  But fairest fortune to the Prince befell,
&n