"His hound is to the hunting gane, 10 His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en anither mate,

So we may mak our dinner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: 15 Wi'ae lock o' his gowden hair,

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

Mony a one for him maks mane,

But nane sall ken whar he is gane;

O'er his white banes, when they are bare,

20 The wind sall blaw for evermair."

In this ballad with barbaric fitness are woven the strands of a plot as unnatural and gruesome as that in “Hamlet,” — “frailty thy name is woman,'

," man's foul treachery, and a carcass supplying food for the region ravens. (13) Cf. “The Braes O Yarrow":

The noblest mind the best contentment has.

A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre.

Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,

That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.

Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,

Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.

-F. Q. Book I.

So love of soule doth love of bodie passe,
No less than perfect gold surmounts the meanest brasse.

—F. Q. Book IV.

Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.

-F. Q. Book V.

For of the soule the bodie forme doth take;
For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.
An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie.

THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE FAERY QUEENE Contayning the Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Holinesse

I Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst, a far unfitter taske,

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds,
And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds;
Whose praises having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds

To blazon broade emongst her learned throng: Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.

2 Helpe then, O holy virgin chiefe of nine,
Thy weaker novice to performe thy will;
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne

The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton prince so long

Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:

O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.

3 And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove,

Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly heben bow apart,

And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde;
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,
In loves and gentle jollities arrayd,

After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

4 And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright, Mirrour of grace and majestie divine,

Great Lady of the greatest isle, whose light
Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,

And raise my thoughts, too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,

The argument of mine afflicted stile :

The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dread, a while.

CANTO I

The patron of true Holinesse
foule Errour doth defeate;
Hypocrisie him to entrappe

doth to his home entreate.

I A gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruel markes of many a bloudy fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield :
Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.

2 And on his brest a bloudie crosse he bore,

The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,

For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead as living ever him ador'd:

Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,

For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had:

Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

3 Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,

That greatest glorious Queene of Faerie lond,
To winne him worship, and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly things he most did crave;
And ever as he rode, his hart did earne
To prove his puissance in battell brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne.

4 A lovely ladie rode him faire beside,

Upon a lowly asse more white then snow,
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And over all a blacke stole she did throw,
As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
And heavie sat upon her palfrey slow:
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.

5 So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore,

And by descent from royall lynage came

Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore,
And all the world in their subjection held;
Till that infernall feend with foule uprore

Forwasted all their land, and them expeld;

Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld.

6 Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,

That lasie seemd in being ever last,

Or wearied with bearing of her bag

Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,