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With him went Danger, cloth'd in rugged weed, For, from her back her garments she did tear,
In her right hand a firebrand she did toss
About her head, still roaming here and there;
As a dismayed deer in chace embost,
After them, went Displeasure and pleasance;
He looking lumpish and full sullen sad,
And hanging down his heavy countenance;
That evil matched pair they seemed to be :
Th’ other in her's a honey-lady bee ;
Thus marched these six couples forth in fair degree,
The other cleped Cruelty by name :
Call’d by strong charms out of eternal night, In silken samite she was light array'd,
Had death's own image figur'd in her face, And her fair locks were woven up in gold;
Full of sad signs, fearful to living sight;
And with her feeble feet did move a comely pace.
Her breast all naked, as neat ivory,
Without adorn of gold or silver bright,
Wherewith the craftsman wonts it beautify, And after them Dissemblance and Suspect
Of her due honour was despoiled quite, March'd in one rank, yet an unequal pair;
And a wide wound therein (O rueful sight!) For, she was gentle, and of mild aspect,
Entrenched deep with knife accursed keen, Courteous to all, and seeming debonnair,
Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting sprite
(The work of cruel hand) was to be seen,
At that wide orifice, her trembling heart
Was drawn forth, and in silver bason laid,
Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart, But he was foul, ill-favoured, and grim,
And in her blood yet steaming fresh embay'd ; Under his eyebrows looking still askance;
And those two villains, which her steps upstaid,
When her weak feet could scarcely her sustain,
Her forward still with torture did constrain,
And evermore increased her consuming pain.
Next after her, the winged God himself
Taught to obey the manage of that elf, Next him went Grief and Fury match'd yfere; That man and beast with power imperious Grief, all in sable sorrowfully clad,
Subdueth to his kingdom tyrannous: Down hanging his dull head, with heavy cheer, His blindfold eyes he bade awhile unbind, Yet inly being more, than seeming sad:
That his proud spoil of that same dolorous
Fair dame, he might behold in perfect kind;
Of which full proud, himself uprearing high,
And did survey his goodly company : But Fury was full ill appareled
And marshalling the evil ordered train, In rags, that naked nigh she did appear,
With that the darts which his right hand did strain, With ghastful looks and dreadful drearihead; Full dreadfully he shook that all did quake,
Whereby his strength’s essay he might him teach.
The veil, which did his powerful light impeach;
And coming full before his horses' view,
As they upon him press'd, it plain to them did shew.
That back again upon themselves they turned,
And with their rider ran perforce away:
Nor could the Soldan them from flying stay,
With reins, or wonted rule, as well he knew.
Nought feared they, what he could do or say,
But th' only fear that was before their view;
From which, like mazed deer, dismayfully they flew.
High over hills, and lowly over dales,
As they were follow'd of their former fear.
In vain the Pagan banns, and swears, and rails,
And back with both his hands unto him hailes
The resty reins, regarded now no more :
He to them calls and speaks, yet nought avails ;
They hear him not, they have forgot his lore, [lore.
But go which way they list, their guide they have for-
As when the fiery-mouthed steeds, which drew
The sun's bright wain to Phaeton's decay,
Soon as they did the monstrous scorpion view,
With ugly craples crawling in their way,
The dreadful sight did them so sore affray,
That their well knowen courses they forwent;
And leading the ever burning lamp astray,
This lower world nigh all to ashes brent;
And left their scorched path yet in the firmament.
Such was the fury of these headstrong steeds,
Soon as the infant's sun-like shield they saw,
That all obedience, both to words and deeds,
They quite forgot, and scorn'd all former law;
Through woods, and rocks, and mountains they did
The iron chariot, and the wheels did tear, (draw
From side to side they toss'd him here and there,
Yet still the Prince pursued him close behind,
Oft making offer him to smite, but found
No easy means according to his mind.
At last, they have all overthrown to ground
Quite topside turvey, and the Pagan bound
Amongst the iron hooks and grapples keen,
Torn all to rags, and rent with many a wound,
That no whole piece of him was to be seen,
But scattered all about, and strow'd upon the green.
Like as the cursed son of Theseus,
That following his chace in dewy morn,
To fly his stepdame's love outrageous,
Of his own steeds was all to pieces torn,
And his fair limbs left in the woods forlorn;
That for his sake Diana did lament,
And all the woody nymphs did wail and mourn : Devis'd to work delight, was gathered there,
And there by her were poured forth at fill,
Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, That might remain for an eternal token
And many feet fast thumping th' hollow ground, To all, mongst whom this story should be spoken, That through the woods their echo did rebound. How worthily, by heaven's high decree,
He nigher drew, to weet what might it be; Justice that day of wrong herself had wroken; There he a troop of ladies dancing found That all men which that spectacle did see,
Full merrily, and making gladful glee, By like example might for ever warned be.
And in the midst a shepherd piping he did see.
He durst not enter into the open green
For dread of them unwares to be descried,
For breaking of their dance, if he were seen; While Calidore does follow that fair maid,
But in the covert of the wood did bide,
Beholding all, yet of them unespied.
That even he himself his eyes envied,
An hundred naked maidens lily white,
All they without were ranged in a ring, engrieved;
And danced round; but in the midst of them
Three other ladies did both dance and sing, That from henceforth he means no more to sue That while the rest them round about did hem, His former guest, so full of toil and pain;
And like a garland did in compass stem : Another guest, another game in view
And in the midst of those same three was placed He hath, the guerdon of his love to gain;
Another damsel, as a precious gem With whom he minds for ever to remain,
Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced, [graced. And set his rest among the rustic sort,
That with her goodly presence all the rest much
Look how the crown, which Ariadne wore
That Theseus her unto his bridal bore
(When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray From so high step, to stoop unto so low.
With the fierce Lapithes which did them dismay)
Being now placed in the firmament,
Which round about her move in order excellent:
Such was the beauty of this goodly band,
Whose sundry parts were here too long to tell:
But she that in the midst of them did stand,
Those were the Graces, daughters of delight,
Handmaids of Venus, which are wont to haunt
Upon this hill, and dance there day and night: One day as he did range the fields abroad,
Those three to men all gifts of grace do grant, While his fạir Pastorella was elsewhere,
And all, that Venus in herself doth vaunt,
That in the midst was placed paravant,
That made him pipe so merrily, as never none.
She was to weet that jolly shepherd's lass, As he this way coming from feastful glee
Of Thetis wedding with Æacidee,
In summer's shade himself here rested weary.
Sweet goddesses all three which me in mirth do
“ These three on men all gracious gifts bestow,
To make them lovely or well favoured show:
Sweet semblant, friendly offices that bind,
And all the compliments of courtesy:
To friends, to foes: which skill men call civility.
“ Therefore they always smoothly seem to smile, Out of the wood he rose, and toward them did go.
That we likewise should mild and gentle be;
And also naked are, that without guile But soon as he appeared to their view,
Or false dissemblance all them plain may see,
Simple and true from covert malice free:
That two of them still forward seem'd to be,
Who can aread, what creature might she be, (traced,
But whatso'er she was, she worthy was
Yet was she certes but a country lass,
Yet she all other country lasses far did pass.
“ So far as doth the daughter of the day, Butwhy, when I them saw, fled they away from me?"
All other lesser lights in light excel,
So far doth she in beautiful array, “Not I so happy," answered then that swain, Above all other lasses bear the bell: " As thou unhappy, which them thence didst chace, Nor less in virtue that beseems her well, Whom by no means thou canst recall again.
Doth she exceed the rest of all her race;
For which the Graces that here wont to dwell,
Have for more honour brought her to this place,
And graced her so much to be another Grace.
“ Another Grace she well deserves to be,
In whom so many graces gathered are,
Excelling much the mean of her degree;
Divine resemblance, beauty sovereign rare,
All which she with such courtesy doth grace,
That all her peers cannot with her compare,
But quite are dimmed, when she is in place.
She made me often pipe, and now to pipe apace.
“ Sun of the world, great glory of the sky,
That all the earth dost lighten with thy rays,
Great Gloriana, greatest Majesty,
Pardon thy shepherd ʼmongst so many lays,
As he hath sung of thee in all his days,
To make one minime of thy poor handmaid,
And underneath thy feet to place her praise ; Keeping your beasts in the budded brooms;
And when the shining sun laugheth once,
Tho gin you, fond flies! the cold to scorn, When thus that shepherd ended had his speech,
And, crowing in pipes made of green corn, Said Calidore, “Now sure it irketh me,
You thinken to be lords of the year; 'That to thy bliss I made this luckless breach,
But eft when ye count you freed from fear, As now the author of thy bale to be,
Comes the breme winter with chamfred brows, Thus to bereave thy love's dear sight from thee:
Full of wrinkles and frosty furrows, But, gentle shepherd, pardon thou my shame,
Drearily shooting his stormy dart, Who rashly sought that which I might not see.”
Which cruddles the blood and pricks the heart: Thus did the courteous knight excuse his blame,
Then is your careless courage accoyd, And to recomfort him all comely means did frame.
Your careful herds with cold be annoyed: In such discourses they together spent
Then pay you the price of your surquedry, Long time, as fit occasion forth them led;
With weeping, and wailing, and misery. With which the knight himself did much content,
Cuddy. Ah, foolish old man! I scorn thy skill, And with delight his greedy fancy fed,
That wouldst me my springing youth to spill; Both of his words, which he with reason red;
I deem thy brain emperish'd be And also of the place, whose pleasures rare
Through rusty eld, that hath rotted thee; With such regard his senses ravished,
Or siker thy head very totty is, That thence he had no will away to fare, [ing share.
So on thy corb shoulder it leans amiss.
Now thyself hath lost both lop and top,
To other delights they would incline:
Tho wouldest thou learn to carol of love, (FROM THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.)
And hery with hymus thy lass's glove; Cuddy. Ah, for pity! will rank winter's rage Tho wouldest thou pipe of Phillis' praise, These bitter blasts never 'gin t' assuage?
But Phillis is mine for many days: The keen cold blows through my beaten hide,
I won her with a girdle of gelt, All as I were through the body gride:
Emboss'd with bugle about the belt; My ragged ronts all shiver and shake,
Such an one shepherds would make full fain, As done high towers in an earthquake:
Such an one would make thee young again. They wont in the wind wag their wriggle tails Thenot. Thou art a son of thy love to bost; Peark as a peacock; but now it avails.
All that is lent to love will be lost. Thenot. Leudly complainest, thou lazy lad,
Cuddy. Seest how brag yond bullock bears, Of winter's wrack for making thee sad?
So smirk, so smooth, his pricked ears ? Must not the world wend in his common course,
His horns been as brade as rainbow bent, From good to bad, and from bad to worse,
His dewlap as lythe as lass of Kent? From worse unto that is worst of all,
See how he venteth into the wind, And then return to his former fall ?
Weenest of love is not his mind ? Who will not suffer the stormy time,
Seemeth thy flock thy counsel can, Where will he live till the lusty prime?
So lustless been they, so weak, so wan; Self have I worn out thrice thirty years,
Clothed with cold, and hoary with frost, Some in much joy, many in many tears,
Thy flock's father his courage hath lost. Yet never complained of cold nor heat,
Thy ewes that wont to have blown bags, Of summer's flame, nor of winter's threat,
Like wailful widows hanging their crags ; Ne never was to Fortune foe-man,
The rather lambs been starv'd with cold, But gently took that ungently came ;
All for their master is lustless and old. And ever my flock was my chief care,
Thenot. Cuddy, I wot thou kenst little good, Winter or summer they mought well fare.
So vainly to advance thy headless hood; Cuddy. No marvel, Thenot, if thou can bear For youth is a bubble blown up with breath, Chearfully the winter's wrathful chear,
Whose wit is weakness, whose wage is death; For age and winter accord full nigh,
Whose way is wilderness, whose inn penaunce, This chill, that cold; this crooked, that wry; And stoop gallant age, the host of grievaunce. And as the low'ring weather looks down,
But shall I tell thee a tale of truth So seemest thou like Good Friday to frown;
Which I cond of Tityrus in my youth, But my flow'ring youth is foe to frost,
Keeping his sheep on the hills of Kent ? My ship unwont in storms to be tost.
Cuddy. To nought more, Thenot, my mind is bent Thenot. The sovereign of seas he blames in vain, Than to hear novels of his devise; That once sea-beat will to sea again:
They been so well thewed, and so wise, So loytrin glive you little heard-grooms,
What ever that good old man bespake.