The Faerie Queene

  Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought

  To put away out of his carefull brest.

  By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought,

  Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest;

  To her faire Vna brought this vnacquainted guest.

  30 She was a woman in her freshest age,

  Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,

  With goodly grace and comely personage,

  That was on earth not easie to compare;

  Full of great loue, but Cupids wanton snare

  As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;

  Her necke and breasts were euer open bare,

  That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill;

  The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.

  31 A multitude of babes about her hong,

  Playing their sports, that ioyd her to behold,

  Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake & young,

  But thrust them forth still, as they wexed old:

  And on her head she wore a tyre of gold,

  Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire,

  Whose passing price vneath was to be told;

  And by her side there sate a gentle paire

  Of turtle doues, she sitting in an yuorie chaire.

  32 The knight and Vna entring, faire her greet,

  And bid her ioy of that her happie brood;

  Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,

  And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.

  Then Vna her besought, to be so good,

  As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,

  Now after all his torment well withstood,

  In that sad house of Penaunce, where his spright

  Had past the paines of hell, and long enduring night.

  33 She was right ioyous of her iust request,

  And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,

  Gan him instruct in euery good behest,

  Of loue, and righteousnesse, and well to donne,

  And wrath, and hatred warely to shonne,

  That drew on men Gods hatred, and his wrath,

  And many soules in dolours had fordonne:

  In which when him she well instructed hath,

  From thence to heauen she teacheth him the ready path.

  34 Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide,

  An auncient matrone she to her does call,

  Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:

  Her name was Mercie, well knowne ouer all,

  To be both gratious, and eke liberall:

  To whom the carefull charge of him she gaue,

  To lead aright, that he should neuer fall

  In all his waes through this wide worldes waue,

  That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might saue.

  35 The godly Matrone by the hand him beares

  Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,

  Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,

  Which still before him she remou’d away,

  That nothing might his ready passage stay:

  And euer when his feet encombred were,

  Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,

  She held him fast, and firmely did vpbeare,

  As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

  36 Eftsoones vnto an holy Hospitall,

  That was fore by the way, she did him bring,

  In which seuen Bead-men that had vowed all

  Their life to sendee of high heauens king

  Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing:

  There gates to all were open euermore,

  That by the wearie way were traueiling,

  And one sate wayting euer them before,

  To call in commers-by, that needy were and pore.

  37 The first of them that eldest was, and best,

  Of all the house had charge and gouernement,

  As Guardian and Steward of the rest:

  His office was to giue entertainement

  And lodging, vnto all that came, and went:

  Not vnto such, as could him feast againe,

  And double quite, for that he on them spent,

  But such, as want of harbour did constraine:

  Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.

  38 The second was as Almner of the place,

  His office was, the hungry for to feed,

  And thristy giue to drinke, a worke of grace:

  He feard not once him selfe to be in need,

  Ne car’d to hoord for those, whom he did breede:

  The grace of God he layd vp still in store,

  Which as a stocke he left vnto his seede;

  He had enough, what need him care for more?

  And had he lesse, yet some he would giue to the pore.

  39 The third had of their wardrobe custodie,

  In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,

  The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,

  But clothes meet to keepe keene could away,

  And naked nature seemely to aray;

  With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,

  The images of God in earthly clay;

  And if that no spare cloths to giue he had,

  His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

  40 The fourth appointed by his office was,

  Poore prisoners to relieue with gratious ayd,

  And captiues to redeeme with price of bras,

  From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd,

  And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,

  That God to vs forgiueth euery howre

  Much more then that, why they in bands were layd,

  And he that harrowd hell with heauie stowre,

  The faultie soules from thence brought to his heauenly bowre.

  41 The fift had charge sicke persons to attend,

  And comfort those, in point of death which lay;

  For them most needeth comfort in the end.

  When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay

  The feeble soule departing hence away.

  All is but lost, that liuing we bestow,

  If not well ended at our dying day.

  O man haue mind of that last bitter throw;

  For as the tree does fall, so lyes it euer low.

  42 The sixt had charge of them now being dead,

  In seemely sort their corses to engraue,

  And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,

  That to their heauenly spouse both sweet and braue

  They might appeare, when he their soules shall saue.

  The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,

  Whose face he made, all beasts to feare, and gaue

  All in his hand, euen dead we honour should.

  Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.

  43 The seuenth now after death and buriall done,

  Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead

  And widowes ayd, least they should be vndone:

  In face of iudgement he their right would plead,

  Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread

  In their defence, nor would for gold or fee

  Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread:

  And when they stood in most necessitee,

  He did supply their want, and gaue them euer free.

  44 There when the Elfin knight arriued was,

  The first and chiefest of the seuen, whose care

  Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:

  Where seeing Merck, that his steps vp bare,

  And alwayes led, to her with reuerence rare

  He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse,

  And seemely welcome for her did prepare:

  For of their order she was Patronesse,

  Albe Charissa were their chiefest founderesse.

  45 There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest,


  That to the rest more able he might bee:

  During which time, in euery good behest

  And godly worke of Almes and cliaritee

  She him instructed with great industree;

  Shortly therein so perfect he became,

  That from the first vnto the last degree,

  His mortall life he learned had to frame

  In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

  46 Thence forward by that painfull way they pas,

  Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;

  On top whereof a sacred chappell was,

  And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,

  Wherein an aged holy man did lye,

  That day and night said his deuotion,

  Ne other worldly busines did apply;

  His name was heauenly Contemplation;

  Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.

  47 Great grace that old man to him giuen had;

  For God he often saw from heauens hight,

  All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,

  And through great age had lost their kindly sight,

  Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,

  As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:

  That hill they scale with all their powre and might,

  That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne

  Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.

  48 There they do finde that godly aged Sire,

  With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,

  As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire

  The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.

  Each bone might through his body well be red,

  And euery sinew seene through his long last:

  For nought he car’d his carcas long vnfed;

  His mind was full of spirituall repast,

  And pyn’d his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.

  49 Who when these two approching he aspide,

  At their first presence grew agrieued sore,

  That font him lay his heauenly thoughts aside;

  And had he not that Dame respected more,

  Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,

  He would not once haue moued for the knight.

  They him saluted standing far afore;

  Who well them greeting, humbly did requight,

  And asked, to what end they clomb that tedious height

  50 What end (quoth she) should cause vs take such paine,

  But that same end, which euery liuing wight

  Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?

  Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right

  To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright

  With burning starres, and euerliuing fire,

  Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight

  By wise Fidelia? she doth thee require,

  To shew it to this knight, according his desire.

  51 Thrise happy man, said then the father graue,

  Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,

  And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to saue.

  Who better can the way to heauen aread,

  Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred

  In heauenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?

  Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead

  Present before the maiestie diuine,

  And his auenging wrath to clemence incline.

  52 Yet since thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne.

  Then come thou man of earth, and see the way,

  That neuer yet was seene of Faeries sonne,

  That neuer leads the traueiler astray,

  But after labours long, and sad delay,

  Brings them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.

  But first thou must a season fast and pray,

  Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,

  And haue her strength recur’d from fraile infirmitis.

  53 That done, he leads him to the highest Mount;

  Such one, as that same mighty man of God,

  That bloud-red billowes like a walled front

  On either side disparted with his rod,

  Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,

  Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in stone

  With bloudy letters by the hand of God,

  The bitter doome of death and balefull mone

  He did receiue, whiles flashing fire about him shone.

  54 Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie,

  Adornd with fruitful! Oliues all arownd,

  Is, as it were for endlesse memory

  Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,

  For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:

  Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay

  Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,

  On which the thrise three learned Ladies play

  Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.

  55 From thence, far off he vnto him did shew

  A Me path, that was both steepe and long,

  Which to a goodly Citie led his vew;

  Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong

  Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong

  Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell;

  Too high a ditty for my simple song;

  The Citie of the great king hight it well,

  Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.

  56 As he thereon stood gazing, he might see

  The blessed Angels to and fro descend

  From highest heauen, in gladsome companee,

  And with great ioy into that Citie wend,

  As commonly as friend does with his frend.

  Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,

  What stately building durst so high extend

  Her loftie towres vnto the starry sphere,

  And what vnknowen nation there empeopled were.

  57 Faire knight (quoth he) Hierusalem that is,

  The new Hierusalem, that God has built

  For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,

  His chosen people purg’d from sinfull guilt,

  With pretious bloud, which cruelly was spilt

  On cursed tree, of that vnspotted lam,

  That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:

  Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,

  More deare vnto their God, then younglings to their dam.

  58 Till now, said then the knight, I weened well,

  That great Cleopolis, where I haue beene,

  In which that fairest Faerie Queene doth dwell

  The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;

  And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,

  Panthea, seemd the brightest thing, that was:

  But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;

  For this great Citie that does far surpas,

  And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.

  59 Most trew, then said the holy aged man;

  Yet is Cleopolis for earthly frame,

  The fairest peece, that eye beholden can:

  And well beseemes all knights of noble name,

  That couet in th’immortall booke of fame

  To be eternized, that same to haunt,

  And doen their sendee to that soueraigne Dame,

  That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:

  For she is heauenly borne, and heauen may iustly vaunt

  60 And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race,

  How euer now accompted Elfins sonne,

  Well worthy doest thy seruice for her grace,

  To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.

  But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,

  And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,

  Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,

  And wash thy han
ds from guilt of bloudy field:

  For bloud can nought but sin, & wars but sorrowes yield.

  61 Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage,

  Which after all to heauen shall thee send;

  Then peaceably thy painefull pilgrimage

  To yonder same Hierusalem do bend,

  Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:

  For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,

  Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend

  And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee,

  Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.

  62 Vnworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace,

  How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?

  These that haue it attaind, were in like cace

  (Quoth he) as wretched, and liu’d in like paine.

  But deeds of armes must I at last be faine.

  And Ladies loue to leaue so dearely bought?

  What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,

  (Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?

  As for loose loues they’are vaine, and vanish into nought.

  63 O let me not (quoth he) then turne againe

  Backe to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;

  But let me here for aye in peace remaine,

  Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,

  That nothing may my present hope empare.

  That may not be (said he) ne maist thou yit

  Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,

  Who did her cause into thy hand commit,

  Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit.

  64 Then shall I soone, (quoth he) so God me grace,

  Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,

  And shortly backe returne vnto this place,

  To walke this way in Pilgrims poore estate.

  But now aread, old father, why of late

  Didst thou behight me borne of English blood,

  Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nominate?

  That word shall I (said he) auouchen good,

  Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.

  65 For well I wote, thou springst from ancient race

  Of Saxon kings, that haue with mightie hand

  And many bloudie battailes fought in place

  High reard their royall throne in Britane land,

  And vanquisht them, vnable to withstand:

  From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reft,

  There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,

  And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.

  Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaunged by Faeries theft.

  66 Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond,

  And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,

  Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,

  As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,

  And brought thee vp in ploughmans state to byde,