Yet, till that thou thy poeme wilt make knowne,
Let thy faire Cinthias praises be thus rudely showne.

E. S. SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM, KNIGHT,

TO THE RIGHT HON.

PRINCIPALL SECRETARY TO HER MAJESTY, AND ONE OF HER

HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNSELL.

TO THE RIGHT HON. AND MOST VERTUOUS LADY,

THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKE.

That Mantuane poets incompared spirit,
Whose girland now is set in highest place,
Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit,
It first advaunst to great Augustus grace,
Might long perhaps have 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 unto your patronage,
(That are the great Mecænas of this age,
As well to all that civil artes professe,
As those that are inspir'd with martial rage,)
And craves protection of her feeblenesse:
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse
In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse.

REMEMBRAUNCE of that most heroicke spirit,
The Hevens pride, the glory of our daies,
Which now triumpheth (through immortall merit
Of his brave vertues) crown'd with lasting baies
Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies;
Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore,
To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies;
Bids me, most noble lady, to adore
His goodly image living evermore
In the divine resemblaunce of your face;
Which with your vertues ye embellish more,
And native beauty deck with heavenly grace:
For his, and for your owne especial sake,
Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to

take.

E. $.

E. S.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST VALIAUNT CAPTAINE,

SIR JOHN NORRIS, KNIGHT,

TO THE MOST VERTUOUS AND BEAUTIFULL LADY,

THE LADY CAREW.

LORD PRESIDENT OF MOUNSTER.

Who ever gave more honourable prize
To the sweet Muse then did the martiall crew,
That their brave deeds she might immortalize
Io her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?
Who then ought more to favour ber then you,
Most noble lord, the honor of this age,
And precedent of all that armes ensue?
Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,
Tempred with reason and advizement 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,
Love him that hath eternized your name.

Ne may I, without blot of endlesse blame,
Yon, fairest lady, leave out of this place;
But, with remembraunce of your gracious name,
(Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace
And deck the world) adorne these verses base :
Not that these few lines can in them comprise
Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace,
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes,
And in subdued harts do tyranyse;
(For thereunto doth need a golden quill
And silver leaves, them rightly to devise ;)
But to make humble present of good will:
Wbich, whenas timely meanes it purchase may,
In ampler wise itselfe will forth display.

E. S.

E. S.

TO ALL THE GRATIOUS AND BEAUTIFULL

OF CORNEWAILE.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT,

LADIES IN THE COURT.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH,
LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERYES, AND LIEFTENAUNT The Chian peincter, when he was requir'd

To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew;

To make his worke more absolute, desir'd To thee, that art the sommers nightingale,

Of all the fairest maides to have the vew. Thy soveraine goddesses most deare delight, Much more me needs, (to draw the semblant trew Why doe I send this rusticke madrigale,

Of beauties queene, the worlds sole wonderment) That may thy tunefull care unseason quite ? To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew, Thou onely fit this argument to write, [bowre, And steale from each some part of ornament. In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her If all the world to secke I overwent, And dainty Love learnd sweetly to endite.

A fairer crew yet no where could I see My rimes I know unsavory and sowre,

Then that brave court doth to mine eje present; To tast the streames that, like a golden showre, That the world's pride seemes gathered there to bee. Flow from thy fruitfull head of thy love's praise; Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte: Fitter perhaps to thonder martiall stowre,

Forgive it me, faire dames, sith lesse ye have not Whenso thee list thy lofty Muse to raise:

THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNING THE

LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE, OR OF HOLINESSE.

0! I, the man whose Muse whylome did maske,

CANTO 1.
Am now enforst, a farre anfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds,
And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds;

The patron of true Holinesse

Foule Errour doth defeate;
Whose praises having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

Hypocrisie, him to entrappe,

Doth to his home entreate.
To blazon broade emongst her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my
song.

A Gentle knight was pricking on the plaine,

Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Help then, O holy virgin, chiefe of nyne,

Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine, Thy weaker novice to perform thy will ;

The cruel markes of many' a bloudy fielde; Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne

Yet armies till that time did he never wield:
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,

His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
Of Faerie knights, and fayrest Tanaquill
Whom that most noble Briton prince so long

As much disdayning to the curbe to yield: Sought through the world, and suffered so much inl, Pulliolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, That I must rue his undeserved wrong: (tong !

As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters

fitt. O, belpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull

And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore, And thoa, most dreaded impe of highest love,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he At that good knight so cunningly didst rove, That glorious fire it kindled in his hart;

worc,

And dead, as living ever, him ador'd : Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart, And, with thy mother mylde, come to mine ayde; Upon his shield the like was also scord, Come, both; and with you bring triumphant Mart, For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he bad.

Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word ; In loves and gentle iollities arraid, After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd. Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; And with them eke, O goddesse heavenly bright, Mirrour of grace and majestie divine,

Upon a great adventure he was bond, Great ladie of the greatest isle, whose light That greatest Gloriana to bim gave, Like Phæbus lampe throughout the world doth shine, (That greatest glorious queene of Faery lond) Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have, And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile, Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave : To thinke of that true glorious type of thine, And ever, as he rode, his hart did earne The argument of mine afflicted stile:

To prove his puissance in battell brave The which to heare vouchsafe, 0 dearest dread, a l'pon his foo, and his new force to learne; while.

Cpon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne. VOL. III.

A lovely ladie rode him faire beside,

At last resolving forward still to fare, Upon a lowly asse more white then snow;

Till that some end they finde, or in or out, Yet she much whiter ; but the same did hide That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare, Under a vele, that wimpled was full low;

And like to lead the labyrinth about ; And over all a blacke stole shee did throw : Which when by tract they bunted had throughout, As one that inly mournd, so was she sad,

At length it brought them to a hollowe cave, And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow;

Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout Seemed in heart some hidden care she had; Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave, And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad. And to the dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave.

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, “ Be well aware," quoth then that ladie milde,
She was in life and every vertuous lore;

“ Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke: And by descent from royall lynaye came

The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde, Of ancient kinges and qneenes, that had of yore Breedes dreadfull doubts; oft fire is without smoke, Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore, And perill without show: therefore your stroke, And a l the world in their subjection held; Sr Knight, with-hold, till further tryall made." Till that infernal feend with foule uprore

“ Ah, ladie,” sayd he, “ shame were to revoke Forwasted all their land, and them expeld; (peld. The forward footing for an hidden shade: [wade." Whom to avenge, she bad this knight from far com- Vertue gives her selfe light through darknesse for to

Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,

“ Yea but,” quoth she, “the perill of this place That lasje seemd, in beng ever last,

I better wot then you: Though nowe too late Or wearied with bearing of her bag

To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace, Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate, The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast, To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate. And angry Jove an hidcous storme of raine This is the Wandring Wood, this Errours Den, Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,

A monster vile, whom God and man does hate : That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain; (fain. | Therefore I read beware.”-“Fly, fly," quoth then And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were The fearefulldwarfe; “this is no place for living men."

Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove not farr away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand ;
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, triat Heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr :
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farr:
Faire barbour that them seems; so in they entred ar.

But, full of fire and greedy hardiment,
The youthful knight could not for ought be staide ;
But forth unto the darksom hole he went,
And looked in: bis glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade;
By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,
But th’ other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, And, as she lay upon the durtie ground,
loying to heare the birdes sweete harmony, Her huge long taile her den all overspred,
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred, Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky. Pointed with mortall sting: of her there bred
Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy, | A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
The sayling pine; the cedar proud and tall; Sucking upon her poisnons dugs; each one
The vine-propp elme; the poplar never dry; Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill-favored :
The builder oake, sole king of forrests all; Soone as tbat úncouth light upon them shone,
The aspine good for staves; the cypresse funerall; Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.
The laurell, meed of mighty conquerours

Their dam upstart out of her den effraide,
And poets sage; the firre that weepeth still ;/ And rushed forth, hurling her bideons taile
The willow, worne of forlorne paramours;

About her cursed head; whose folds displaid The eugh, obedient to the benders will;

Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile. The birch for shaftes; the sallow for the mill; She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle, The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound; Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe ; The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill; For light she hated as the deadly bale, The fruitfull olive; and the platane round; Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine, [plaine. The carver holme; the maple seeldom inward Where plain none might her see, nor sbe see any sound.

Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he lept Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, As lyon fierce upon the flying pray, Cotill the blustring storme is over blowne;

And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept When, weening to returne whence they did stray, From turning backe, and forced her to stay: They cannot finde that path, which first was showne, Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray, But wander too and fro in waies unknowne, And turning fierce her speckled taile advaunst, Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene, Threatning ber angrie sting, him to dismay; That makesthein doubt their wits be not their owne: Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhannst; So many pathes, so many turnings seene, [been. The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder That, which of thein to take, in diverse doubt they glaunst.

Mach daunted with that dint her sence was dazd; Her scattred brood, soone as their parent deare
Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round, They saw so rudely falling to the ground,
And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd

Groning full deadly all with troublous feare
With doubled forces high above the ground: Gathred themselves about her body round,
Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd, Weening their wonted entrance to have found
Lepi perce upon his shield, and her huge traine At her wide mouth; but, being there withstood,
All suddenly about his body wound,

They flocked all about her bleeding wound, That hand or foot to stirr he strore-in vaine. And sucked up their dying mothers bloud; (good. Gud helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their

[traine! His lady, sad to see his sore constraint,

That détestable sight him much amazde, (rideout, “ Now, now, sir Knight, shewwhat ye bee; To see th' unkindly impes, of lieaven accurst, Add faith unto your force, and be not faint; Devoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd, Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee." Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst, That when he heard, in great perplexitie,

Their belies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst, His gall did grate for griefe and high d sdaine ; And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end And, knitting all his force, got one hand free, Of such, as drunke her life, the which them nurst! Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine, Now needeth him no lenger labour spend, That soone to loose her wicked bapds did her con- His foes have slaine themselves, with whom he should straine.

contend.

Therewith she spewd out of her filthie maw His lady seeing all, that chaunst, from farre,
A fived of poyson horrible and blacke,

Approcht in hast to greet his victorie;
Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw, And saide, “ Faire knight, borne under happie starre,
Which stupck so vildly, that it forst him slacke Wbo see your vanquisht foes before you lye;
His grasping bold, and from her turne him backe: Well worthie be you of that armory,
Her fonit full of bookes and papers was,

Wherein ye have great glory wonne this day,
With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke, And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie;
And creeping sought way in the werdy gras: Your first adventure: many such I pray,
Her filtbie parbreake all the place defiled has. And henceforth ever wish that like succeed it may!”
As shen old father Nilas gins to swell

Then mounted he upon his steede againe,
With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale, And with the la ly backward sought to wend:
His fattie waves doe fertile slime outwell,

That path be kept, which beaten was most plaine, Aud overflow each plaine and lowly dale:

Ne ever would to any by-way bend ;. But, when his later spring gips to avale,

But still did follow one unto the end, Huge heaps of mudd he leaves, wherin there breed | The which at last out of the wood them brought. Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male So forward on his way (with God to frend) As partly femall, of his fruitful seed; (reed. He passed forth, and new adventure sought: Such ugly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man Long way he traveiled, before he heard of ought. The same so sore annoyed has the knight, At length they chaunst to meet upon the way Tiat, wel-nigh choked with the deadly stinke, An aged sire, in long blacke weedes yclad, His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight.

His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray, Whose corage when the feend perceivd to shrinke, And by his belt his booke he hanging had; She poured forth out of her hellish sinke

Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad;
Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small, And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,) Sinple in shew, and voide of malice bad;
Woicb svarining all about his legs did crall, And all the way he prayed, as he went,
Aad bim encombred sore, but could not hurt at all. And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.
As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide,

He faire the knight saluted, louting low,
When mddy Phebus gins to welke in west, Who faire him quited, as that courteous was;
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,

And after asked him, if he did know
Markes which doe byte their hasty supper best ; Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas.
Acvad of cumbrous goattes doe him molest, “Ah! my dear sonne,"quoth he,“ how should, alas!
Als striving to infixe their feeble stinges,

Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell,
That from their noyance he no where can rest; Bidding his beades all day for his trespás,
But with bis clownish hands their tender wings Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

He brusbeth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings. With holy father sits not w.th such thinges to mell.
• Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame “ But if of daunger, which hereby doth dwell,
Then of the certeine perill he stood in,

And homebredd evil ye desire to heare, Halte furious unto his foe he came,

Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell, Resoled in minde all suddenly to win,

That wasteth all this countr'e farre and neare." Or sone to lose, before be once would lin; “ Of such," saide he, “I chiefly due inquere; And stroke at her with more then manly force, And shall thee well rewarde to shew the place, That from her body, full of filthie sin,

In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare : He raft her hatefull heade without remorse: corse. For to a'l knighthood it is foule disgrace, á streame of cole-black blood fortb gushed frun her That such a cursed creature lives so long a space.”

“ Far hence," quoth he, " in wastfull wildernesse He, making speedy way torough spersed ayre, His dwelling is, by which no living wight

And through the world of waters wide and deepe, May ever passe, but thorough great distresse." To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire. “ Now," saide the ladie, “ draweth toward night; Amid the bowels of the Farth full steepe, And well I wote, that of your later fight

And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, Ye all foruvaried be; for what so strong,

His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed But, wanting rest, will also want of inight?

Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth stecpe The Sunne, that measures Heaven all day long, In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, [spred. At night doth baite bis steedes the ocean waves Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth emong

Whose double gates he findeth locked fast; “ Then with the Sunne take, sir, your timely rest, The one faire fram'd of burnisht yvory, And with new day new worke at once begin: The other all with silver overcast; Untroubled night, they say, gives counsell best." And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye, “ light well, sir Knight, ye have advised bin," Watching to banish Care their enimy, Quoth then that aged man; “ the way to win Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe. Is wisely to advise : now day is spent ;

By then the sprite doth passe in quietly, Therefore with me ye may take up your in And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe For this same night.” The knight was well content: In drowsie fit he findes; of nothing he takes keepe. So with that godly father to his home they went.

And, more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A litle lowly hermitage it was,

A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,

And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Far from resort of people, that did pas

Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne In traveill to and froe: a litle wyde

Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne. 'There was an holy chappell edifyde,

No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, Wherein the hermite dewly wont to say

As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, His holy things each morne and eventyde:

Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes, Thereby a christall streame did gently play, Wrapt in eternall silence farre from 'enimyes. Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth away.

The messenger approching to him spake; Arrived there, the litle house they fill,

But his waste wordes retournd to him in vaine: Ne looke for entertainement, where none was; So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake. Rest is their feast, and all thinges at their will: Then rudely he bim thrust, and pusht with paine, The noblest mind the best contentinent has. Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe With faire discourse the evening so they pas; Shooke him so bard, that forced him to speake. For that olde man of pleasing wordes had store, As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine And well could file his tongue, as smooth as glas: Is tost with troubled sights and fanc'es weake, He told of saintes and popes, and evermore He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before.

breake, The drouping night thus creepeth on them fast; The sprite then gan more boldly him to wake, And the sad humor loading their eye-liddes, And threatned urto him the dreaded name As inessenger of Morpheus, on them cast (biddes. Of Hecate : whereat he gan to quake, Sweet slomnbring deaw, the which to sleep them And, lifting up his lompish head, with blame into their lodgings then his guestes he riddes : Halfe angrie asked him, for what he came. Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes, “ Hether," quoth he, “me Archimago sent, He to his studie goes; and there amiddes

He that the stubborne sprites can wisely tame, Dis magick bookes, and artes of sundrie kindes, He bids thee to him send for his intent Ble seeks out mightycharmes to trouble sleepy minds. | A fit false Dreame, that can clude the sleepers sent.” Then choosing out few words most horrible, The god obayde; and, calling forth straight way (Let none them read!) thereof did verses frame: A diverse dreame out of his prison darke, With which, and other spelles like terrible, Delivered it to him, and downe did lay He bail awake blacke Plutoes griesly dame; His heavie head, devoide of careful carke; And cursed Heven; and spake reprochful shame Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke. Of highest God, the Lord of life and light.

He, backe returning by the yvorie dore, A bold bad man! that dar'd to call by name Remounted up as light as chearefull larke ; Great Gorgon, prince of darknes and dead night; And on his litle winges the Dreame be bore At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to Hight. In hast unto his lord, where he him left afore.

And forth he cald ont of deepe darknes dredd
Iegions of sprights, the which, like litle flyes,
Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd,
Awaite whereto their service he applyes,
To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies :
Of those he chose: out two, the faisest twoo,
Anil fittest for to forge trie-seeming lyes;
The one of t. on he gare a message too,
The wher by bileselfe staide other worke to doo.

Who all this while, with charmes and hidden artes,
Had made a lady of that other spright,
And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes,
So lively, and so like in all mens sight,
That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:
The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight.
Her all in wbite he clad, and over it
Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit.