Chapter XVII: Canto VII (1)

_Pealing, from_ Ioue, _to_ Natur’s _Bar,
bold_ Alteration _pleades
Large Euidence: but_ Nature _soone
her righteous Doome areads_.
]

Ah! whither doost thou now thou greater Muse i
Me from these woods and pleasing forrests bring?
And my fraile spirit (that dooth oft refuse
This too high flight, vnfit for her weake wing)
Lift vp aloft, to tell of heauens King
(Thy soueraine Sire) his fortunate successe,
And victory, in bigger noates to sing,
Which he obtain’d against that _Titanesse_,
That him of heauens Empire sought to dispossesse.

Yet sith I needs must follow thy behest, ii
Doe thou my weaker wit with skill inspire,
Fit for this turne; and in my feeble[615] brest
Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall fire,
Which learned minds inflameth with desire
Of heauenly things: for, who but thou alone,
That art yborne of heauen and heauenly Sire,
Can tell things doen in heauen so long ygone;
So farre past memory of man that may be knowne.

Now, at the time that was before agreed, iii
The Gods assembled all on _Arlo_ hill;
As well those that are sprung of heauenly seed,
As those that all the other world doe fill,
And rule both sea and land vnto their will:
Onely th’infernall Powers might not appeare;
Aswell for horror of their count’naunce ill,
As for th’vnruly fiends which they did feare;
Yet _Pluto_ and _Proserpina_ were present there.

And thither also came all other creatures, iv
What-euer life or motion doe retaine,
According to their sundry kinds of features;
That _Arlo_ scarsly could them all containe;
So full they filled euery[616] hill and Plaine:
And had not _Natures_ Sergeant (that is _Order_)
Them well disposed by his busie paine,
And raunged farre abroad in euery border,
They would haue caused much confusion and disorder.

Then forth issewed (great goddesse) great dame _Nature_, v
With goodly port and gracious Maiesty;
Being far greater and more tall of stature
Then any of the gods or Powers on hie:
Yet certes by her face and physnomy,
Whether she man or woman inly were,
That could not any creature well descry:
For, with a veile that wimpled euery where,
Her head and face was hid, that mote to none appeare.

That some doe say was so by skill deuized, vi
To hide the terror of her vncouth hew,
From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized;
For that her face did like a Lion shew,
That eye of wight could not indure to view:
But others tell that it so beautious was,
And round about such beames of splendor threw,
That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass,
Ne could be seene, but like an image in a glass.

That well may seemen true: for, well I weene vii
That this same day, when she on _Arlo_ sat,
Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheene,
That my fraile wit cannot deuize to what
It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that,
As those three sacred _Saints_, though else most wise,
Yet on mount _Thabor_ quite their wits forgat,
When they[617] their glorious Lord in strange disguise
Transfigur’d sawe; his garments so did daze their eyes.

In a fayre Plaine vpon an equall Hill, viii
She placed was in a pauilion;
Not such as[618] Craftes-men by their idle skill
Are wont for Princes states to fashion:
But th’earth her self of her owne motion,
Out of her fruitfull bosome made to growe
Most dainty trees; that, shooting vp anon,
Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full lowe,
For homage vnto her, and like a throne did shew[619].

So hard[620] it is for any liuing wight, ix
All her array and vestiments to tell,
That old _Dan Geffrey_ (in whose gentle spright
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell)
In his _Foules parley_ durst not with it mel,
But it transferd to _Alane_, who he thought
Had in his _Plaint of kindes_[621] describ’d it well:
Which who will read set forth so as it ought,
Go seek he out that _Alane_ where he may be sought.

And all the earth far vnderneath her feete x
Was dight with flowres, that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet;
Tenne thousand mores[622] of sundry sent and hew,
That might delight the smell, or please the view:
The which, the Nymphes, from all the brooks thereby
Had gathered, which[623] they at her foot-stoole threw;
That richer seem’d then any tapestry,
That Princes bowres adorne with painted imagery.

And _Mole_ himselfe, to honour her the more, xi
Did deck himself in freshest faire attire,
And his high head, that seemeth alwaies hore
With hardned frosts of former winters ire,
He with an Oaken girlond now did tire,
As if the loue of some new Nymph late seene,
Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire,
And made him change his gray attire to greene;
Ah gentle _Mole_! such ioyance hath thee well beseene.

Was neuer[624] so great ioyance since the day, xii
That all the gods whylome assembled were,
On _Hæmus_ hill in their diuine array,
To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare,
Twixt _Peleus_[625], and dame _Thetis_ pointed there;
Where _Phœbus_ self, that god of Poets hight,
They say did sing the spousall hymne full cleere,
That all the gods were rauisht with delight
Of his celestiall song, and Musicks wondrous might.

This great Grandmother of all creatures bred xiii
Great _Nature_, euer young yet full of eld,
Still moouing, yet vnmoued from her sted;
Vnseene of any, yet of all beheld;
Thus sitting in her throne as I haue teld,
Before her came dame _Mutabilitie_;
And being lowe before her presence feld,
With meek obaysance and humilitie,
Thus gan her plaintif Plea, with words to amplifie;

To thee O greatest goddesse, onely great, xiv
An humble suppliant loe, I lowely fly
Seeking for Right, which I of thee entreat;
Who Right to all dost deale indifferently,
Damning all Wrong and tortious Iniurie,
Which any of thy creatures doe to other
(Oppressing them with power, vnequally)
Sith of them all thou art the equall mother,
And knittest each to each[626], as brother vnto brother.

To thee therefore of this same _Ioue_ I plaine, xv
And of his fellow gods that faine to be,
That challenge to themselues the whole worlds raign;
Of which, the greatest part is due to me,
And heauen it selfe by heritage in Fee:
For, heauen and earth I both alike do deeme,
Sith heauen and earth are both alike to thee;
And, gods no more then men thou doest esteeme[627]:
For, euen the gods to thee, as men to gods do seeme.

Then weigh, O soueraigne goddesse, by what right xvi
These gods do claime the worlds whole souerainty;
And that is onely dew vnto thy[628] might
Arrogate to themselues ambitiously:
As for the gods owne principality,
Which _Ioue_ vsurpes vniustly; that to be
My heritage, _Ioue’s_ self cannot deny,
From my great Grandsire _Titan_, vnto mee,
Deriv’d by dew descent; as is well knowen to thee.

Yet mauger _Ioue_, and all his gods beside, xvii
I doe possesse the worlds most regiment;
As, if ye please it into parts diuide,
And euery parts inholders to conuent,
Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent.
And first, the Earth (great mother of vs all)
That only seems vnmov’d and permanent,
And vnto _Mutability_ not thrall;
Yet is she chang’d in part, and eeke in generall.

For, all that from her springs, and is ybredde, xviii
How-euer fayre it flourish for a time,
Yet see we soone decay; and, being dead,
To turne again vnto their earthly slime:
Yet, out of their decay and mortall crime,
We daily see new creatures to arize;
And of their Winter spring another Prime,
Vnlike in forme, and chang’d by strange disguise:
So turne they still about, and change in restlesse wise.

As for her tenants; that is, man and beasts, xix
The beasts we daily see massacred dy,
As thralls and vassalls vnto mens beheasts:
And men themselues doe change continually,
From youth to eld, from wealth to pouerty,
From good to bad, from bad to worst of all.
Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly:
But eeke their minds (which they immortall call)
Still change and vary thoughts, as new occasions fall.

Ne is the water in more constant case; xx
Whether those same on high, or these belowe.
For, th’Ocean moueth stil, from place to place;
And euery Riuer still doth ebbe and flowe:
Ne any Lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne Poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde,
When any winde doth vnder heauen blowe;
With which, the clouds are also tost and roll’d;
Now like great Hills; and, streight, like sluces, them vnfold.

So likewise are all watry liuing wights xxi
Still tost, and turned, with continuall change,
Neuer abyding in their stedfast plights.
The fish, still floting, doe at randon range,
And neuer rest; but euermore exchange
Their dwelling places, as the streames them carrie:
Ne haue the watry foules a certaine grange,
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarry;
But flitting still doe flie, and still their places vary.

Next is the Ayre: which who feeles not by sense xxii
(For, of all sense it is the middle meane)
To flit still? and, with subtill influence
Of his thin spirit, all creatures to maintaine,
In state of life? O weake life! that does leane
On thing so tickle as th’vnsteady ayre;
Which euery howre is chang’d, and altred cleane
With euery blast that bloweth fowle or faire:
The faire doth it prolong; the fowle doth it impaire.

Therein the changes infinite beholde, xxiii
Which to her creatures euery minute chaunce;
Now, boyling hot: streight, friezing deadly cold:
Now, faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and daunce:
Streight, bitter storms and balefull countenance,
That makes them all to shiuer and to shake:
Rayne, hayle, and snowe do pay them sad penance,
And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them quake)
With flames and flashing lights that thousand changes make.

Last is the fire: which, though it liue for euer, xxiv
Ne can be quenched quite; yet, euery day,
Wee see his parts, so soone as they do seuer,
To lose their heat, and shortly to decay;
So, makes himself his owne consuming pray.
Ne any liuing creatures doth he breed:
But all, that are of others bredd, doth slay;
And, with their death, his cruell life dooth feed;
Nought leaning, but their barren ashes, without seede.

Thus, all these fower (the which the ground-work bee xxv
Of all the world, and of all liuing wights)
To thousand sorts of _Change_ we subiect see:
Yet are they chang’d (by other wondrous slights)
Into themselues, and lose their natiue mights;
The Fire to Aire, and th’Ayre to Water sheere,
And Water into Earth: yet Water fights
With Fire, and Aire with Earth approaching neere:
Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare.

So, in them all raignes _Mutabilitie_; xxvi
How-euer these, that Gods themselues do call,
Of them doe claime the rule and souerainty:
As, _Vesta_, of the fire æthereall;
_Vulcan_, of this, with vs so vsuall;
_Ops_, of the earth; and _Iuno_ of the Ayre;
_Neptune_, of Seas; and Nymphes, of Riuers all.
For, all those Riuers to me subiect are:
And all the rest, which they vsurp, be all my share.

Which to approuen true, as I haue told, xxvii
Vouchsafe, O goddesse, to thy presence call
The rest which doe the world in being hold:
As, times and seasons of the yeare that fall:
Of all the which, demand in generall,
Or iudge thy selfe, by verdit of thine eye,
Whether to me they are not subiect all.
_Nature_ did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by,
Bade _Order_ call them all, before her Maiesty.

So, forth issew’d the Seasons of the yeare; xxviii
First, lusty _Spring_, all dight in leaues of flowres
That freshly budded and new bloosmes did beare
(In which a thousand birds had built their bowres
That sweetly sung, to call forth Paramours):
And in his hand a iauelin he did beare,
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engrauen morion he did weare;
That as some did him loue, so others did him feare.

Then came the iolly _Sommer_, being dight xxix
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,
That was vnlyned all, to be more light:
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, from which as he had chauffed been
The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore
A boawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunted late the Libbard or the Bore,
And now would bathe his limbes, with labor heated sore.

Then came the _Autumne_ all in yellow clad, xxx
As though he ioyed in his plentious store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore.
Vpon his head a wreath that was enrold
With eares of corne, of euery sort he bore:
And in his hand a sickle he did holde,
To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.

Lastly, came _Winter_ cloathed all in frize, xxxi
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill,
Whil’st on his hoary beard his breath did freese;
And the dull drops that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distill.
In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still:
For, he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

These, marching softly, thus in order went, xxxii
And after them, the Monthes all riding came;
First, sturdy _March_ with brows full sternly bent,
And armed strongly, rode vpon a Ram,
The same which ouer _Hellespontus_ swam:
Yet in his hand a spade he also hent,
And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,
Which on the earth he strowed as he went,
And fild her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment.

Next came fresh _Aprill_ full of lustyhed, xxxiii
And wanton as a Kid whose horne new buds:
Vpon a Bull he rode, the same which led
_Europa_ floting through th’ _Argolick_ fluds:
His homes were gilden all with golden studs
And garnished with garlonds goodly dight
Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds
Which th’earth brings forth, and wet he seem’d in sight
With waues, through which he waded for his loues delight.

Then came faire _May_, the fayrest mayd on ground, xxxiv
Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,
And throwing flowres out of her lap around:
Vpon two brethrens shoulders she did ride,
The twinnes of _Leda_; which on eyther side
Supported her like to their soueraine Queene.
Lord! how all creatures laught, when her they spide,
And leapt and daunc’t as they had rauisht beene!
And _Cupid_ selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

And after her, came iolly _Iune_, arrayd xxxv
All in greene leaues, as he a Player were;
Yet in his time, he wrought as well as playd,
That by his plough-yrons mote right well appeare:
Vpon a Crab he rode, that him did beare
With crooked crawling steps an vncouth pase,
And backward yode, as Bargemen wont to fare
Bending their force contrary to their face,
Like that vngracious crew which faines demurest grace.

Then came hot _Iuly_ boyling like to fire, xxxvi
That all his garments he had cast away:
Vpon a Lyon raging yet with ire
He boldly rode and made him to obay:
It was the beast that whylome did forray
The Nemæan forrest, till th’_Amphytrionide_
Him slew, and with his hide did him array;
Behinde his back a sithe, and by his side
Vnder his belt he bore a sickle circling wide.

The sixt was _August_, being rich arrayd xxxvii
In garment all of gold downe to the ground:
Yet rode he not, but led a louely Mayd
Forth by the lilly hand, the which was cround
With eares of corne, and full her hand was found;
That was the righteous Virgin, which of old
Liv’d here on earth, and plenty made abound;
But, after Wrong was lov’d and Iustice solde,
She left th’vnrighteous world and was to heauen extold.

Next him, _September_ marched eeke on foote; xxxviii
Yet was he heauy laden with the spoyle
Of haruests riches, which he made his boot,
And him enricht with bounty of the soyle:
In his one hand, as fit for haruests toyle,
He held a knife-hook; and in th’other hand
A paire of waights, with which he did assoyle
Both more and lesse, where it in doubt did stand,
And equall gaue to each as Iustice duly scann’d.

Then came _October_ full of merry glee: xxxix
For, yet his noule was totty of the must,
Which he was treading in the wine-fats see,
And of the ioyous oyle, whose gentle gust
Made him so frollick and so full of lust:
Vpon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride,
The same which by _Dianaes_ doom vniust
Slew great _Orion_: and eeke by his side
He had his ploughing share, and coulter ready tyde.

Next was _Nouember_, he full[629] grosse and fat, xl
As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;
For, he had been a fatting hogs of late,
That yet his browes with sweat, did reek and steem,
And yet the season was full sharp and breem;
In planting eeke he took no small delight:
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme;
For it a dreadfull _Centaure_ was in sight,
The seed of _Saturne_, and faire _Nais_, _Chiron_ hight.

And after him, came next the chill _December_: xli
Yet he through merry feasting which he made,
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;
His Sauiours birth his mind so much did glad:
Vpon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode,
The same wherewith _Dan Ioue_ in tender yeares,
They say, was nourisht by th’_Idæan_[630] mayd;
And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he beares;
Of which, he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.

Then came old _Ianuary_, wrapped well xlii
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiuer like to quell,
And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may:
For, they were numbd with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood,
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray:
Vpon an huge great Earth-pot steane he stood;
From whose wide mouth, there flowed forth the Romane floud.

And lastly, came cold _February_, sitting xliii
In an old wagon, for he could not ride;
Drawne of two fishes for the season fitting,
Which through the flood before did softly slyde
And swim away: yet had he by his side
His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground,
And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein round:
So past the twelue Months forth, and their dew places found.

And after these, there came the _Day_, and _Night_, xliv
Riding together both with equall pase,
Th’one on a Palfrey blacke, the other white;
But _Night_ had couered her vncomely face
With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace,
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight,
And sleep and darknesse round about did trace:
But _Day_ did beare, vpon his scepters hight,
The goodly Sun, encompast all with beames bright.

Then came the _Howres_, faire daughters of high _Ioue_, xlv
And timely _Night_, the which were all endewed
With wondrous beauty fit to kindle loue;
But they were Virgins all, and loue eschewed,
That might forslack the charge to them fore-shewed
By mighty _Ioue_; who did them Porters make
Of heauens gate (whence all the gods issued)
Which they did dayly watch, and nightly wake
By euen turnes, ne euer did their charge forsake.

And after all came _Life_, and lastly _Death_; xlvi
_Death_ with most grim and griesly visage seene,
Yet is he nought but parting of the breath;
Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene,
Vnbodied, vnsoul’d, vnheard, vnseene.
But _Life_ was like a faire young lusty boy,
Such as they faine _Dan Cupid_ to haue beene,
Full of delightfull health and liuely ioy,
Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold fit to employ.

When these were past, thus gan the _Titanesse_; xlvii
Lo, mighty mother, now be iudge and say,
Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse
_CHANGE_ doth not raign and beare the greatest sway:
For, who sees not, that _Time_ on all doth pray?
But _Times_ do change and moue continually.
So nothing here long standeth in one stay:
Wherefore, this lower world who can deny
But to be subiect still to _Mutabilitie_?

Then thus gan _Ioue_; Right true it is, that these xlviii
And all things else that vnder heauen dwell
Are chaung’d of _Time_, who doth them all disseise
Of being: But, who is it (to me tell)
That _Time_ himselfe doth moue and still compell
To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee
Which poure that vertue from our heauenly cell,
That moues them all, and makes them changed be?
So them we gods doe rule, and in them also thee.

To whom, thus _Mutability_: The things xlix
Which we see not how they are mov’d and swayd,
Ye may attribute to your selues as Kings,
And say they by your secret powre are made:
But what we see not, who shall vs perswade?
But were they so, as ye them faine to be,
Mov’d by your might, and ordred by your ayde;
Yet what if[631] I can proue, that euen yee
Your selues are likewise chang’d, and subiect vnto mee?

And first, concerning her that is the first, l
Euen you faire _Cynthia_, whom so much ye make
_Ioues_ dearest darling, she was bred and nurst
On _Cynthus_ hill, whence she her name did take:
Then is she mortall borne, how-so ye crake;
Besides, her face and countenance euery day
We changed see, and sundry forms partake,
Now hornd, now round, now bright, now brown and gray:
So that _as changefull as the Moone_ men vse to say.

Next, _Mercury_, who though he lesse appeare li
To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as one;
Yet, he his course doth altar euery yeare,
And is of late far out of order gone:
So _Venus_ eeke, that goodly Paragone,
Though faire all night, yet is she darke all day;
And _Phœbus_ self, who lightsome is alone,
Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way,
And fills the darkned world with terror and dismay.

Now _Mars_ that valiant man is changed most: lii
For, he some times so far runs out of square,
That he his way doth seem quite to haue lost,
And cleane without his vsuall sphere to fare;
That euen these Star-gazers stonisht are
At sight thereof, and damne their lying bookes:
So likewise, grim Sir _Saturne_ oft doth spare
His sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed lookes:
So many turning cranks these haue, so many crookes.

But you _Dan Ioue_, that only constant are, liii
And King of all the rest, as ye do clame,
Are you not subiect eeke to this misfare?
Then let me aske you this withouten blame,
Where were ye borne? some say in _Crete_ by name,
Others in _Thebes_, and others other-where;
But wheresoeuer they comment the same,
They all consent that ye begotten were,
And borne here in this world, ne other can appeare.

Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall to me, liv
Vnlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make
Immortall, and vnchangeable to bee;
Besides, that power and vertue which ye spake,
That ye here worke, doth many changes take,
And your owne natures change: for, each of you
That vertue haue, or this, or that to make,
Is checkt and changed from his nature trew,
By others opposition or obliquid view.

Besides, the sundry motions of your Spheares, lv
So sundry waies and fashions as clerkes faine,
Some in short space, and some in longer yeares;
What is the same but alteration plaine?
Onely the starrie skie doth still remaine:
Yet do the Starres and Signes therein still moue,
And euen it self is mov’d, as wizards saine[632].
But all that moueth, doth mutation loue:
Therefore both you and them to me I subiect proue.

Then since within this wide great _Vniuerse_ lvi
Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare,
But all things tost and turned by transuerse:
What then should let, but I aloft should reare
My Trophee, and from all, the triumph beare?
Now iudge then (O thou greatest goddesse trew!)
According as thy selfe doest see and heare,
And vnto me addoom that is my dew;
That is the rule of all, all being rul’d by you.

So hauing ended, silence long ensewed, lvii
Ne _Nature_ to or fro spake for a space,
But with firme eyes affixt, the ground still viewed.
Meane while, all creatures, looking in her face,
Expecting th’end of this so doubtfull case,
Did hang in long suspence what would ensew,
To whether side should fall the soueraigne place:
At length, she looking vp with chearefull view,
The silence brake, and gaue her doome in speeches few.

I well consider all that ye have sayd, lviii
And find that all things stedfastnes doe hate
And changed be: yet being rightly wayd
They are not changed from their first estate;
But by their change their being doe dilate:
And turning to themselues at length againe,
Doe worke their owne perfection so by fate:
Then ouer them Change doth not rule and raigne;
But they raigne ouer change, and doe their states maintaine.

Cease therefore daughter further to aspire, lix
And thee content thus to be rul’d by me:
For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire;
But time shall come that all shall changed bee,
And from thenceforth, none no more change shall see.
So was the _Titaness_ put downe and whist,
And _Ioue_ confirm’d in his imperiall see.
Then was that whole assembly quite dismist,
And _Natur’s_ selfe did vanish, whither no man wist.

FOOTNOTES:

[614] liv 8 champain _1611_

[615] ii 3 feeble] sable _1609_: _corr. Hughes_

[616] iv 5 euery _1609_

[617] vii 8 they] they _1609_

[618] viii 3 as] ar _1609_

[619] 9 showe _1611_

[620] ix 1 hard] heard _1609_: _corr. 1611_

[621] 7 _kindes_] _kinde Morris after Upton_

[622] x 4 mores] more _Hughes &c._

[623] 7 which _om. Hughes &c._

[624] xii 1 neuer _1609_

[625] 5 _Pelene_ _1609_: _corr. 1611_

[626] xiv 9 to’each _1609_: _corr. 1611_

[627] xv 8 esteeeme _1609_

[628] xvi 3 thy] my _1611_

[629] xl i full _bis_ _1609_

[630] xli 7 _Iæan_ _1609_, _1611_: _corr. Upton_

[631] xlix 8 if] If _1609_

[632] lv 7 saine] faine _1611_

_The VIII. Canto, vnperfite._

When I bethinke me on that speech whyleare, i
Of _Mutability_, and well it way:
Me seemes, that though she all vnworthy were
Of the Heav’ns Rule; yet very sooth to say,
In all things else she beares the greatest sway.
Which makes me loath this state of life so tickle,
And loue of things so vaine to cast away;
Whose flowring pride, so fading and so fickle,
Short _Time_ shall soon cut down with his consuming sickle.

Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd, ii
Of that same time when no more _Change_ shall be,
But stedfast rest of all things firmely stayd
Vpon the pillours of Eternity,
That is contrayr to _Mutabilitie_:
For, all that moueth, doth in _Change_ delight:
But thence-forth all shall rest eternally
With Him that is the God of Sabbaoth[633] hight:
O that great Sabbaoth God[634], graunt me that Sabaoths sight.

FOOTNOTES:

[633] ii 8 Sabaoth _1611_

[634] 9 Sabaoth God _1611_ Sabbath’s sight _conj. Church_

_FINIS._

A

Letter[635] of the Authors expounding his

_whole intention in the course of this worke: which_ for that it giueth great light to the Reader, for the better vnderstanding is hereunto annexed.

_To the Right noble, and Valorous, Sir Walter_ Raleigh knight, Lo. Wardein of the Stanneryes, and her Maiesties liefetenaunt of the County of Cornewayll.

_Sir knowing how doubtfully all Allegories may be construed, and this booke of mine, which I haue entituled the Faery Queene, being a continued Allegory, or darke conceit, I haue thought good as well for auoyding of gealous opinions and misconstructions, as also for your better light in reading therof (being so by you commanded,) to discouer vnto you the general intention and meaning, which in the whole course thereof I haue fashioned, without expressing of any particular purposes or by-accidents[636] therein occasioned. The generall end therefore of all the booke is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline: Which for that I conceiued shoulde be most plausible and pleasing, being coloured with an historicall fiction, the which the most part of men delight to read, rather for variety of matter, then for profite of the ensample: I chose the historye of king Arthure, as most fitte for the excellency of his person, being made famous by many mens former workes, and also furthest from the daunger of enuy, and suspition of present time. In which I haue followed all the antique Poets historicall, first Homere, who in the Persons of Agamemnon and Vlysses hath ensampled a good gouernour and a vertuous man, the one in his Ilias, the other in his Odysseis: then Virgil, whose like intention was to doe in the person of Aeneas: after him Ariosto comprised them both in his Orlando: and lately Tasso disseuered them againe, and formed both parts in two persons, namely that part which they in Philosophy call Ethice, or vertues of a priuate man, coloured in his Rinaldo: The other named Politice in his Godfredo. By ensample of which excellente Poets, I labour to pourtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a braue knight, perfected in the twelue priuate morall vertues, as Aristotle hath deuised, the which is the purpose of these first twelue bookes: which if I finde to be well accepted, I may be perhaps encoraged, to frame the other part of polliticke vertues in his person, after that hee came to be king. To some I know this Methode will seeme displeasaunt, which had rather haue good discipline deliuered plainly in way of precepts, or sermoned at large, as they vse, then thus clowdily enwrapped in Allegoricall deuises. But such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the vse of these dayes, seeing all things accounted by their showes, and nothing esteemed of, that is not delightfull and pleasing to commune sence. For this cause is Xenophon preferred before Plato, for that the one in the exquisite depth of his iudgement, formed a Commune welth such as it should be, but the other in the person of Cyrus and the Persians fashioned a gouernement such as might best be: So much more profitable and gratious is doctrine by ensample, then by rule. So haue I laboured to doe in the person of Arthure: whome I conceiue after his long education by Timon, to whom he was by Merlin deliuered to be brought vp, so soone as he was borne of the Lady Igrayne, to haue seene in a dream or vision the Faery Queen, with whose excellent beauty rauished, he awaking resolued to seeke her out, and so being by Merlin armed, and by Timon throughly instructed, he went to seeke her forth in Faerye land. In that Faery Queene I meane glory in my generall intention, but in my particular I conceiue the most excellent and glorious person of our soueraine the Queene, and her kingdoms in Faery land. And yet in some places els, I doe otherwise shadow her. For considering she beareth two persons, the one of a most royall Queene or Empresse, the other of a most vertuous and beautifull Lady, this latter part in some places I doe expresse[637] in Belphœbe, fashioning her name according to your owne excellent conceipt of Cynthia, (Phœbe and Cynthia being both names of Diana.) So in the person of Prince Arthure I sette forth magnificence in particular, which vertue for that (according to Aristotle and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and conteineth in it them all, therefore in the whole course I mention the deedes of Arthure applyable to that vertue, which I write of in that booke. But of the xii. other vertues, I make xii. other knights the patrones, for the more variety of the history: Of which these three bookes contayn three, The first of the knight of the Redcrosse, in whome I expresse Holynes: The seconde of Sir Guyon, in whome I sette forth Temperaunce; The third of Britomartis a Lady knight, in whome I picture Chastity. But because the beginning of the whole worke seemeth abrupte and as depending vpon other antecedents, it needs that ye know the occasion of these three knights seuerall aduentures. For the Methode of a Poet historical is not such, as of an Historiographer. For an Historiographer discourseth of offayres orderly as they were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions, but a Poet thrusteth into the middest, euen where it most concerneth him, and there recoursing to the thinges forepaste, and diuining of thinges to come, maketh a pleasing Analysis of all. The beginning therefore of my history, if it were to be told by an Historiographer should be the twelfth booke, which is the last, where I deuise that the Faery Queene kept her Annuall feaste xii. dayes, vppon which xii. seuerall dayes, the occasions of the xii. seuerall aduentures hapned, which being vndertaken by xii. seuerall knights, are in these xii books seuerally handled and discoursed. The first was this. In the beginning of the feast, there presented him selfe a tall clownishe younge man, who falling before the Queen of Faries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which during that feast she might not refuse: which was that hee might haue the atchieuement of any adventure, which during that feaste should happen, that being graunted, he rested him on the floore, vnfitte through[638] his rusticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire Ladye in mourning weedes, riding on a white Asse, with a dwarfe behind her leading a warlike steed, that bore the Armes of a knight, and his speare in the dwarfes hand. Shee falling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that her father and mother an ancient King and Queene, had bene by an huge dragon many years shut up in a brasen Castle, who thence suffred them not to yssew: and therefore besought the Faery Queene to assygne her some one of her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently that clownish person vpstarting, desired that aduenture: whereat the Queene much wondering, and the Lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his desire. In the end the Lady told him that vnlesse that armour which she brought, would serue him (that is the armour of a Christian man specified by Saint Paul v. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in that enterprise, which being forthwith put vpon him with dewe furnitures thereunto, he seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the Lady. And eftesoones taking on him knighthood, and mounting on that straunge Courser, he went forth with her on that aduenture: where beginneth the first booke, vz._

A gentle knight was pricking on the playne. &c.

_The second day ther came in a Palmer bearing an Infant with bloody hands, whose Parents he complained to haue bene slayn by an Enchaunteresse called Acrasia: and therfore craued of the Faery Queene, to appoint him some knight, to performe that aduenture, which being assigned to Sir Guyon, he presently went forth with that same Palmer: which is the beginning of the second booke and the whole subiect thereof. The third day there came in, a Groome who complained before the Faery Queene, that a vile Enchaunter called Busirane had in hand a most faire Lady called Amoretta, whom he kept in most grieuous torment, because she would not yield him the pleasure of her body. Whereupon Sir Scudamour the louer of that Lady presently tooke on him that aduenture. But being vnable to performe it by reason of the hard Enchauntments, after long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who succoured him, and reskewed his loue._

_But by occasion hereof, many other aduentures are intermedled, but rather as Accidents, then intendments. As the loue of Britomart, the ouerthrow of Marinell, the misery of Florimell, the vertuousnes of Belphœbe, the lasciuiousnes of Hellenora, and many the like._

_Thus much Sir, I haue briefly ouerronne to direct your understanding to the wel-head of the History, that from thence gathering the whole intention of the conceit, ye may as in a handfull gripe al the discourse, which otherwise may happily seeme tedious and confused. So humbly crauing the continuaunce of your honorable fauour towards me, and th’ eternall establishment of your happines, I humbly take leaue._

_23. Ianuary. 1589._

Yours most humbly affectionate.
Ed. Spenser.

FOOTNOTES:

[635] A Letter, &c.] _Om._ _1596 Bodl._

[636] l. 16 _by accidents_ _1590_

[637] l. 16 _ezpresse_ _1590_

[638] l. 43 _through_ _1590_

COMMENDATORY VERSES

¶ A Vision vpon this conceipt of the _Faery Queene_.

Me thought I saw the graue, where _Laura_ lay,
Within that Temple, where the vestall flame
Was wont to burne, and passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of liuing fame,
Whose tombe faire loue, and fairer vertue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Faery Queene:
At whose approch the soule of _Petrarke_ wept,
And from thenceforth those graces were not seene.
For they this Queene attended, in whose steed
Obliuion laid him downe on _Lauras_ herse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed,
And grones of buried ghostes the heauens did perse.
Where _Homers_ spright did tremble all for griefe,
And curst th’accesse of that celestiall theife.

Another of the same.

_The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings,
As doth the Cuckoes song delight when_ Philumena _sings.
If thou hast formed right true vertues face herein:
Vertue her selfe can best discerne, to whom they written bin.
If thou hast beautie praysd, let her sole lookes diuine
Iudge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.
If Chastitie want ought, or Temperance her dew,
Behold her Princely mind aright, and write thy Queene anew.
Meane while she shall perceiue, how farre her vertues sore
Aboue the reach of all that liue, or such as wrote of yore:
And thereby will excuse and fauour thy good will:
Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by an Angels quill.
Of me no lines are lou’d, nor letters are of price,
Of all which speake our English tongue, but those of thy deuice._

W. R.

To the learned Shepheard.

_Collyn I see by thy new taken taske,
some sacred fury bath enricht thy braynes,
That leades thy muse in haughtie verse to maske,
and loath the layes that longs to lowly swaynes.
That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes vnto kings,
So like the liuely Larke that mounting sings._

_Thy louely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne,
and all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight,
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne,
those prety pypes that did thy mates delight.
Those trustie mates, that loued thee so well,
Whom thou gau’st mirth: as they gaue thee the bell._

_Yet as thou earst with thy sweete roundelayes,
didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers:
So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes,
delight the dainty eares of higher powers.
And so mought they in their deepe skanning skill
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quill._

_And fare befall that_ Faerie Queene _of thine,
in whose faire eyes loue linckt with vertue sits.
Enfusing by those bewties fiers deuyne,
such high conceites into thy humble wits,
As raised hath poore pastors oaten reede,
From rusticke tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes._

_So mought thy_ Redcrosse knight _with happy hand
victorious be in that faire Ilands right:
Which thou doest vaile in Type of Faery land
Elyzas blessed field, that_ Albion _hight.
That shieldes her friends, and warres her mightie foes,
Yet still with people, peace, and plentie flowes._

_But (iolly Shepheard) though with pleasing style,
thou feast the humour of the Courtly traine;
Let not conceipt thy setled sence beguile,
ne daunted be through enuy or disdaine.
Subiect thy dome to her Empyring spright,
From whence thy Muse, and all the world takes light._

Hobynoll.

Fayre _Thamis_[639] streams, that from _Ludds_ stately towns,
Runst paying tribute to the Ocean seas,
Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of renowne
Be silent, whyle this Bryttane _Orpheus_ playes:
Nere thy sweet bankes, there liues that sacred crowne,
Whose hand strowes Palme and neuer-dying bayes,
Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne
Present her with this worthy Poets prayes.
For he hath taught hye drifts in shepeherdes weedes,
And deepe conceites now singes in _Faeries_ deedes.

R. S.

_Graue Muses march in triumph and with prayses.
Our Goddesse here hath giuen you leaue to land:
And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces
Bow downe his brow vnto her sacred hand.
Desertes findes dew in that most princely doome.
In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde:
So did that great_ Augustus _erst in Roome
With leaues of fame adorne his Poets hedde.
Faire be the guerdon of your_ Faery Queene,
_Euen of the fairest that the world hath seene._

H. B.

When stout _Achilles_ heard of _Helens_ rape
And what reuenge the States of Greece deuisd:
Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape,
In womans weedes him selfe he then disguisde:
But this deuise _Vlysses_ soone did spy,
And brought him forth, the chaunce of warre to try.

When _Spencer_ saw the fame was spredd so large,
Through Faery land of their renowned Queene:
Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge.
As in such haughty matter to be seene,
To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice,
But _Sydney_ heard him sing, and knew his voice.

And as _Vlysses_ brought faire _Thetis_ sonne
From his retyred life to menage armes:
So _Spencer_ was by _Sidneys_ speaches wonne,
To blaze her fame not fearing future harmes:
For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred
In her high praise, that all the world admired.

Yet as _Achilles_ in those warlike frayes,
Did win the palme from all the _Grecian_ Peeres:
So _Spencer_ now to his immortall prayse,
Hath wonne the Laurell quite from all his feres.
What though his taske exceed a humaine witt,
He is excus’d, sith _Sidney_ thought it fitt.

W. L.

_To looke upon a worke of rare deuise
The which a workman setteth out to view,
And not to yield it the deserued prise,
That vnto such a workmanship is dew[640],
Doth either proue the iudgement to be naught
Or els doth shew a mind with enuy fraught._

_To labour to commend a peece of worke,
Which no man goes about to discommend,
Would raise a iealous doubt that there did lurke,
Some secret doubt, whereto the prayse did tend.
For when men know the goodnes of the wyne,
T’is needlesse for the hoast to haue a sygne._

_Thus then to shew my iudgement to be such
As can discerne of colours blacke, and white,
As alls to free my minde from enuies tuch,
That neuer giues to any man his right,
I here pronounce this[641] workmanship is such,
As that no pen can set it forth too much._

_And thus I hang a garland at the dore,
Not for to shew the goodnes of the ware:
But such hath beene the custome heretofore,
And customes very hardly broken are.
And when your tast shall tell you this is trew,
Then looke you giue your hoast his vtmost dew._

Ignoto.

FOOTNOTES:

[639] Fayre _Thamis._ &c.] _This poem and those that follow are omitted in 1596 Bodl._

[640] l. 17 _dew._ _1590_

[641] l. 30 _this_ _1590_

DEDICATORY SONNETS

_To the right honourable Sir_ Christopher Hatton, Lord high Chauncelor of England. &c.

Those prudent heads, that with theire counsels wise
Whylom the Pillours of th’earth did sustaine,
And taught ambitious _Rome_ to tyrannise,
And in the neck of all the world to rayne,
Oft from those graue affaires were wont abstaine,
With the sweet Lady Muses for to play:
So _Ennius_ the elder Africane,
So _Maro_ oft did _Cæsars_ cares allay.
So you great Lord, that with your counsell sway
The burdeine of this kingdom mightily,
With like delightes sometimes may eke delay,
The[642] rugged brow of carefull Policy:
And to these ydle rymes lend litle space,
Which for their titles sake may find more grace.

_To the right honourable the Lo. Burleigh Lo. high Threasurer of England._

To you right noble Lord, whose carefull brest
To menage of most graue affaires is bent,
And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest
The burdein of this kingdomes gouernement,
As the wide compasse of the firmament,
On _Atlas_ mighty shoulders is vpstayd;
Vnfitly I these ydle rimes present,
The labor of lost time, and wit vnstayd:
Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd,
And the dim vele, with which from comune vew
Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd.
Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you.
Such as they be, vouchsafe them to receaue,
And wipe their faults out of your censure graue.

E. S.

_To the right Honourable the Earle of Oxenford_, Lord high Chamberlayne of England. &c.

Receiue most Noble Lord in gentle gree,
The vnripe fruit of an vnready wit:
Which by thy countenaunce doth craue to bee
Defended from foule Enuies poisnous bit.
Which so to doe may thee right well besit,
Sith th’antique glory of thine auncestry
Vnder a shady vele is therein writ,
And eke thine owne long liuing memory,
Succeeding them in true nobility:
And also for the loue, which thou doest beare
To th’_Heliconian_ ymps, and they to thee,
They vnto thee, and thou to them most deare:
Deare as thou art vnto thy selfe, so loue
That loues and honours thee, as doth behoue.

_To the right honourable the Earle of_ Northumberland.

_The sacred Muses haue made alwaies clame
To be the Nourses of nobility.
And Registres of euerlasting fame,
To all that armes professe and cheualry.
Then by like right the noble Progeny,
Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde
T’embrace the seruice of sweete Poetry,
By whose endeuours they are glorifide,
And eke from all, of whom it is enuide,
To patronize the authour of their praise,
Which giues them life, that els would soone haue dide,
And crownes their ashes with immortall baies.
To thee therefore right noble Lord I send
This present of my paines, it to defend._

_To the right honourable the Earle of Cumberland._

Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind
The flowre of cheualry now bloosming faire,
Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind,
Which of their praises haue left you the haire;
To you this humble present I prepare,
For loue of vertue and of Martiall praise,
To which though nobly ye inclined are,
As goodlie well ye shew’d in late assaies,
Yet braue ensample of long passed daies,
In which trew honor yee may fashiond see,
To like desire of honor may ye raise,
And fill your mind with magnanimitee.
Receiue it Lord therefore as it was ment,
For honor of your name and high descent.

E. S.

_To the most honourable and excellent Lo. the Earle_ of Essex. Great Maister of the Horse to her Highnesse, and knight of the Noble order of the Garter. &c.

_Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent
Doe merit a most famous Poets witt.
To be thy liuing praises instrument,
Yet doe not sdeigne, to let thy name be writt
In this base Poeme, for thee far vnfitt.
Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby,
But when my Muse, whose fethers nothing flitt
Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly
With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty
To the last praises of this Faery Queene,
Then shall it make more famous memory
Of thine Heroicke parts, such as they beene:
Till then vouchsafe thy noble countenaunce,
To these first labours needed furtheraunce[643]._

To the right Honourable the Earle of _Ormond and Ossory_.

Receiue most noble Lord a simple taste
Of the wilde fruit, which saluage soyl hath bred,
Which being through long wars left almost waste,
With brutish barbarisme is ouerspredd:
And in so faire a land, as may be redd,
Not one _Parnassus_, nor one _Helicone_
Left for sweete Muses to be harboured,
But where thy selfe hast thy braue mansione;
There in deede dwel faire Graces many one.
And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned wits,
And in thy person without Paragone
All goodly bountie and true honour sits,
Such therefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield,
Receiue dear Lord in worth, the fruit of barren field.

_To the right honourable the Lo. Ch. Howard, Lo. high Admiral_ of England, knight of the noble order of the Garter, and one of her Maiesties priuie Counsel. &c.

_And ye, braue Lord, whose goodly personage,
And noble deeds each other garnishing,
Make you ensample to the present age,
Of th’old Heroes, whose famous ofspring
The antique Poets wont so much to sing,
In this same Pageaunt haue a worthy place,
Sith those huge castles of Castilian king,
That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace,
Like flying doues ye did before you chace;
And that proud people woxen insolent
Through many victories, didst first deface:
Thy praises euerlasting monument
Is in this verse engrauen semblably,
That it may liue to all posterity._

_To the right honourable the Lord of Hunsdon, high Chamberlaine to her Maiesty._

Renowmed Lord, that for your worthinesse
And noble deeds haue your deserued place,
High in the fauour of that Emperesse[644],
The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace,
Here eke of right haue you a worthie place,
Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,
And for your owne high merit in like cace,
Of which, apparaunt proofe was to be seene,
When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene
Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify,
And their disloiall powre defaced clene,
The record of enduring memory.
Liue Lord for euer in this lasting verse,
That all posteritie thy honour may reherse.

E. S.

To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, the Lord Grey of Wilton, knight of the Noble order of the Garter, &c.

Most Noble Lord the pillor of my life,
And Patrone of my Muses pupillage,
Through whose large bountie poured on me rife,
In the first season of my feeble age,
I now doe liue, bound yours by vassalage:
Sith nothing euer may redeeme, nor reaue
Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage,
Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receaue,
Which in your noble hands for pledge I leaue,
Of all the rest, that I am tyde t’account:
Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weaue
In sauadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount,
And roughly wrought in an vnlearned Loome:
The which vouchsafe dear Lord your fauorable doome.

_To the right honourable the Lord of Buckhurst, one of her Maiesties priuie Counsell._

In vain I thinke right honourable Lord,
By this rude rime to memorize thy name;
Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record,
In golden verse, worthy immortal fame:
Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)
Thy gracious Souerains[645] praises to compile.
And her imperiall Maiestie to frame,
In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.
But sith thou maist not so, giue leaue a while
To baser wit his power therein to spend,
Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file,
And vnaduised ouersights amend.
But euermore vouchsafe it to maintaine
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.

_To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsingham knight, principall Secretary to her Maiesty, and of her honourable priuy Counsell._

That Mantuane Poetes incompared spirit,
Whose girland now is set in highest place,
Had not _Mecænas_ for his worthy merit,
It first aduaunst to great _Augustus_ grace,
Might long perhaps haue lien in silence bace,
Ne bene so much admir’d of later age.
This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,
Flies for like aide vnto your Patronage;
That are the great _Mecenas_ of this age,
As wel to al that ciuil artes professe
As those that are inspird with Martial rage,
And craues protection of her feeblenesse:
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse
In bigger tunes to sound your liuing prayse.

E. S.

_To the right noble Lord and most valiaunt Captaine_, Sir Iohn Norris knight, Lord president of Mounster.

Who euer gaue more honourable prize
To the sweet Muse, then did the Martiall crew;
That their braue deeds she might immortalize
In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?
Who then ought more to fauour her, then you
Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,
And Precedent of all that armes ensue?
Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,
Tempred with reason and aduizement sage
Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile,
In _Fraunce_ and _Ireland_ left a famous gage,
And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile.
Sith then each where thou hast dispredd thy fame,
Loue him, that hath eternized your name.

E. S.