"But if for me ye fight, or me will serve,
Not this rude kind of battle, nor these arms
Are meet, the which do men in bale to sterve,
And doleful sorrow heap with deadly harms:
Such cruel game my scarmoges disarms.
Another war and other weapons I .

Do love, where love does give his sweet alarms
Without bloodshed, and where the enemy
Does yield unto his foe a pleasant victory.
"Debateful strife and cruel enmity

The famous name of knighthood foully shend;
But lovely peace and gentle amity,
And in amours the passing hours to spend,
The mighty martial hands do most commend;
Of love they ever greater glory bore

Than of their arms: Mars is Cupido's friend,
And is for Venus' loves renowned more
Than all his wars and spoils the which he did of
yore."

Therewith she sweetly smiled. They, though full bent

To prove extremities of bloody fight, Yet at her speech their rages 'gan relent, And calm the sea of their tempestuous spite: Such power have pleasing words: such is the might Of courteous clemency in gentle heart. Now after all was ceased, the Faery Knight Besought that damsel suffer him depart, And yield him ready passage to that other part. She no less glad than he desirous was Of his departure thence; for of her joy And vain delight she saw he light did pass, A foe of folly and immodest toy, Still solemn sad, or still disdainful coy, Delighting all in arms and cruel war, That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy, Troubled with terror and unquiet jar,

That she well pleased was thence to amove him far.

Tho' him she brought abroad, and her swift boat Forthwith directed to that further strand, That which on the dull waves did lightly float, And soon arrived on the shallow sand, Where gladsome Guyon sallied forth to land, And to that damsel thanks gave for reward: Upon that shore he espied Atin stand, There by his master left, when late he fared In Phædria's fleet bark, over that perlous shard....

SIR GUYON, GUIDED BY THE PALMER TEMPERANCE, PASSES THE DANGERS OF THE BOWER OF BLISS.

WITH that the rolling sea resounding soft,
In his big base them fitly answered,
And on the rock the waves breaking aloft,
A solemn mean unto them measured;
The whiles sweet Zephyrus loud whistled
His treble, a strange kind of harmony,
Which Guyon's senses softly tickled,
That he the boatman bade row easily,
And let him hear some part of their rare melody.

But him the palmer from that vanity
With temperate advice discounselled,

That they it past, and shortly 'gan descry The land to which their course they levelled; When suddenly a gross fog overspread With his dull vapour all that desert has, And heaven's cheerful face enveloped, That all things one, and one as nothing was, And this great universe seem'd one confused mass. Thereat they greatly was dismay'd, ne wist How to direct their way in darkness wide, But fear'd to wander in that wasteful mist, For tumbling into mischief unespied: Worse is the danger hidden than descried. Suddenly an innumerable flight

Of harmful fowls about them fluttering cried, And with their wicked wings them oft did smite, And sore annoy'd, groping in that griesly night. Even all the nation of unfortunate And fatal birds about them flocked were, Such as by nature men abhor and hate; The ill-faced owl, death's dreadful messenger; The hoarse night-raven, trump of doleful drear; The leather-winged bat, day's enemy;

The rueful strich, still waiting on the bier; The whistler shrill, that whoso hears doth die, The hellish harpies, prophets of sad destiny;

All those, and all that else does horror breed, About them flew, and fill'd their sails with fear. Yet stay'd they not, but forward did proceed, Whiles th' one did row, and th' other stiffly steer, Till that at last the weather gan to clear, And the fair land itself did plainly show. Said then the palmer, "Lo where does appear The sacred soil where all our perils grow, Therefore, Sir Knight, your ready arms about you throw."

He hearken'd, and his arms about him took, The whiles the nimble boat so well her sped, That with her crooked keel the land she struck; Then forth the noble Guyon sallied, And his sage palmer that him governed; But the other by his boat behind did stay. They marched fairly forth, of nought ydred, Both firmly arm'd for every hard assay, With constancy and care,gainst danger and dismay.

Ere long they heard an hideous bellowing Of many beasts, that roar'd outrageously. As if that Hunger's point, or Venus' sting, Had them enraged with fell surquedry; Yet nought they fear'd, but past on hardily, Until they came in view of those wild beasts, Who all at once, gaping full greedily, And rearing fiercely their upstarting crests, Ran towards to devour those unexpected guests.

But soon as they approach'd with deadly threat, The palmer over them his staff upheld, His mighty staff, that could all charms defeat; Eftsoons their stubborn courages were quell'd, And high-advanced crests down meekly fell'd: Instead of fraying they themselves did fear, And trembled, as them passing they beheld: Such wond'rous power did in that staff appear. All monsters to subdue to him that did it bear.

Of that same wood it framed was cunningly
Of which Caduceus whileome was made,
Caduceus, the rod of Mercury,

With which he wont the Stygian realms invade
Through ghastly horror and eternal shade;
Th' infernal fiends with it he can assuage,
And Orcus tame, whom nothing can persuade,
And rule the furies when they most do rage:
Such virtue in his staff had eke this palmer sage.

Thence passing forth, they shortly do arrive Whereat the Bower of Bliss was situate; A place pick'd out by choice of best alive, That Nature's work by art can imitate: In which whatever in this worldly state Is sweet and pleasing unto living sense, Or that may daintiest fantasy aggrate, Was poured forth with plentiful dispense, And made there to abound with lavish affluence.

Goodly it was, enclosed round about,

As well their enter'd guests to keep within, As those unruly beasts to hold without; Yet was the fence thereof but weak and thin; Nought fear'd they force that fortilage to win, But Wisdom's power, and Temperance's might, By which the mightiest things efforced been: And eke the gate was wrought of substance light, Rather for pleasure than for battery or fight.

It framed was of precious ivory,
That seem'd a work of admirable wit,
And therein all the famous history
Of Jason and Medea was ywrit;
Her mighty charms, her furious loving fit,
His goodly conquest of the Golden Fleece,
His falsed faith, and love too lightly flit,
The wondered Argo, which, in venturous peace,
First through the Euxine seas bore all the flower
of Greece.

Ye might have seen the frothy billows fry
Under the ship, as thorough them she went,
That seem'd the waves were into ivory,
Or ivory into the waves, were sent;
And otherwhere the snowy substance sprent
With vermell, like the boy's blood therein shed,
A piteous spectacle did represent;
And otherwhiles, with gold besprinkled,

It seem'd th' enchanted flame which did Creusa wed.

All this, and more, might in that goodly gate
Be read, that ever open stood to all
Which thither came; but in the porch there sat
A comely personage, of stature tall,
And semblance pleasing, more than natural,
That travellers to him seemed to entice;
His looser garment to the ground did fall,
And flew about his heels in wanton wise,
Nor fit for speedy pace or manly exercise.

They in that place him Genius did call;
Not that celestial power to whom the care
Of life, and generation of all

That lives, pertains in charge particular,
Who wond'rous things concerning our welfare,

And strange phantoms, doth let us oft foresee, And oft of secret ills bids us beware, That is ourself, whom though we do not see, Yet each doth in himself it well perceive to be: Therefore a god him sage antiquity

Did wisely make, and good Agdistes call;
But this same was to that quite contrary,
The foe of life, that good envies to all;
That secretly doth us procure to fall
Through guileful semblance, which he makes us
He of this garden had the governale, [see.
And Pleasure's porter was devised to be,
Holding a staff in hand for more formality.

With divers flowers he daintily was deck'd
And strewed round about, and by his side
A mighty mazer bowl of wine was set,
As if it had to him been sacrificed,
Wherewith all new-come guests he gratified;
So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by:
But he his idle courtesy defied,

And overthrew his bowl disdainfully,

And broke his staff, with which he charged semblants sly.

Thus being enter'd, they behold around
A large and spacious plain, on every side
Strewd with pleasances; whosefair grassy ground,
Mantled with green, and goodly beautified
With all the ornaments of Flora's pride,
Wherewith her mother Art, as half in scorn
Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride,
Did deck her, and too lavishly adorn,

When forth from virgin bow'r she comes in th' early morn.

There with the heavens, always jovial,

Look'd on them lovely, still in stedfast state, Ne suffer'd storm nor frost on them to fall, Their tender buds or leaves to violate; Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate, T' afflict the creatures which therein did dwell; But the mild air, with season moderate, Gently attemper'd, and disposed so well, That still it breathed forth sweet spirit and wholesome smell.

More sweet and wholesome than the pleasant hill Of Rhodope, on which the nymph, that bore A giant babe, herself for grief did kill; Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore Fair Daphne Phœbus' heart with love did gore; Or Ida, where the gods loved to repair Whenever they their heavenly bowers forlore; Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of muses fair; Or Eden self, if aught with Eden mote compare.

Much wonder'd Guyon at the fair aspect Of that sweet place, yet suffer'd no delight To sink into his sense, nor mind affect; But passed forth, and look'd still forward right, Bridling his will, and mastering his might, Till that he came unto another gate; No gate, but like one, being goodly dight With boughs and branches, which did broad dilate Their clasping arms,in wanton wreathings intricate.

So fashioned a porch with rare device,
Arch'd over head with an embracing vine,
Whose bunches hanging down seem'd to entice
All passers by to taste their luscious wine,
And did themselves into their hands incline,
As freely offering to be gathered;
Some deep empurpled as the hyacine,

Some as the rubine, laughing sweetly red, Some like fair emeraudes not yet well ripened:

And them amongst some were of burnish'd gold,
So made by art to beautify the rest,
Which did themselves amongst the leaves enfold,
As lurking from the view of covetous guest,
That the weak boughs, with so rich load oppress'd,
Did bow adown as overburthened.

Under that porch a comely dame did rest,
Clad in fair weeds, but foul disordered,
And garments loose, that seem'd unmeet for
womanhead:

In her left hand a cup of gold she held, And with her right the riper fruit did reach, Whose sappy liquor, that with fullness swell'd, Into her cup she scruzed with dainty breach Of her fine fingers, without foul empeach That so fair wine-press made thewine more sweet: Thereof she used to give to drink to each, Whom passing by she happened to meet: It was her guise all strangers goodly so to greet. So she to Guyon offer'd it to taste: Who, taking it out of her tender hand, The cup to ground did violently cast, That all in pieces it was broken fond, And with the liquor stained all the land: Whereat Excess exceedingly was wroth, Yet no'te the same amend, ne yet withstand, But suffered him to pass, all were she lothe, Who, nought regarding her displeasure, forward goeth.

There the most dainty paradise on ground Itself doth offer to his sober eye, In which all pleasures plenteously abound, And none does other's happiness envy ; The painted flowers, the trees upshooting high; The dales for shade, the hills for breathing space; That trembling groves, the crystal running by; And that which all fair works doth most aggrace, The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place.

One would have thought, (so cunningly the rude
And scorned parts were mingled with the fine,)
That Nature had for wantonness ensude
Art, and that Art at Nature did repine;
So striving each th' other to undermine,
Each did the other's work more beautify,
So differing both in wills agreed in fine:
So all agreed, through sweet diversity,
This garden to adorn with all variety.

And in the midst of all a fountain stood,
Of richest substance that on the earth might be,
So pure and shiny, that the silver flood
Through every channel running one might see:
Most goodly it with curious imagery

Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boys, Of which some seem'd, with lively jollity, To fly about, playing their wanton toys, Whilst others did themselves embay in liquid joys.

And over all of purest gold was spread A trayle of ivy in his native hue; For the rich metal was so coloured, That wight, who did not well advised it view, Would surely deem it to be ivy true: Low his lascivious arms adown did creep, That themselves, dipping in the silver dew Their fleecy flowers, they fearfully did steep, Which drops of crystal seem'd for wantonness to weep.

Infinite streams continually did well

Out of this fountain, sweet and fair to see, The which into an ample laver fell, And shortly grew to so great quantity, That like a little lake it seem'd to be, Whose depth exceeded not three cubits height, That through the waves one might the bottom see, All paved beneath with jasper, shining bright, That seem'd the fountain in that sea did sail upright.

And all the margent round about was set With shady laurel trees, thence to defend The sunny beams which on the billows beat, And those which therein bathed mote offend. As Guyon happen'd by the same to wend, Two naked damsels he therein espied, Which therein bathing, seemed to contend And wrestle wantonly, ne cared to hide Their dainty parts from view of any which them eyed.

...

As that fair star, the messenger of morn, His dewy face out of the sea doth rear; Or as the Cyprian goddess, newly born Of th' ocean's fruitful froth, did first appear: Such seemed they, and so their yellow heare Crystalline humour dropped down apace; Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew him near, And somewhat 'gan relent his earnest pace; His stubborn breast 'gan secret pleasaunce to embrace...

On which when gazing him the palmer saw, He much rebuked those wand'ring eyes of his, And, counsell'd well,him forward thence did draw. Now are they come nigh to the Bower of Bliss, Of her fond favourites so named amiss; When thus the palmer: "Now, Sir, well avise, For here the end of all our travel is; Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must surprise, Else she will slip away, and all our drift despise.” Eftsoons they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a dainty ear, Such as at once might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it hear, To rede what manner music that mote be; For all that pleasing is to living ear, Was there consorted in one harmony; Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree.

The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade, Their notes unto the voice attemper'd sweet; Th' angelical soft trembling voices made To th' instruments divine respondence meet; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmur of the water's fall; The water's fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.

GLAUCE AND BRITOMART EXPLORING THE CAVE OF MERLIN.

FULL many ways within her troubled mind Old Glauce cast to cure this lady's grief; Full many ways she sought, but none could find, Nor herbs, nor charms, nor counsel, that is chief And choicest med'cine for sick heart's relief; Forthy great care she took, and greater fear, Least that it should her turn to foul reprief, And sore reproach, whenso her father dear [hear. Should of his dearest daughter's hard misfortune At last she her advised, that he which made That mirror wherein the sick damosel So strangely viewed her strange lover's shade, To weet the learned Merlin, well could tell Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell, And by what means his love might best be wrought;

For though beyond the Afric Ismael,

Or th' Indian Peru he were, she thought Him forth through infinite endeavour to have sought.

Forthwith themselves disguising both in strange And base attire, that none might them bewray, To Maridunum, that is now by change

Of name Cayr-Merdin call'd, they took their way; There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) To make his wonne, low underneath the ground, In a deep delve, far from the view of day; That of no living wight he mote be found, Whenso he counsell'd, with his sprites encompass'd

round.

And if thou ever happen that same way
To travel, go to see that dreadful place:
It is an hideous hollow cave (they say)
Under a rock that lies a little space
From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace
Amongst the woody hills of Dynevowre:
But dare thou not, I charge, in any case,
To enter into that same baleful bower,

For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour.

But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear,
And there such ghastly noise of iron chains,
And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear,
Which thousand sprites, with long-enduring
pains,

Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains;
And oftentimes great groans and grievous
stounds,

When too huge toil and labour them constrains, And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds, From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.

The cause, some say, is this: a little while Before that Merlin died, he did intend A brazen wall in compass to compile About Cairmardin, and did it commend Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; During which work the Lady of the Lake, Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send, Who thereby forced his workmen to forsake, Them bound till his return their labour not to slake.

In the mean time, through that false lady's train, He was surprised and buried under bier, Ne ever to his work return'd again; Nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, So greatly his commandement they fear, But there do toil and travail day and night, Until that brazen wall they up do rear; For Merlin had in magic more insight Than ever him before or after living wight.

For he by words could call out of the sky Both sun and moon, and make them him obey; The land to sea, and sea to mainland dry, And darksome night he eke could turn to day; Huge hosts of men he could alone dismay, And hosts of men of meanest things could frame, Whenso him list his enemies to fray; That to this day, for terror of his fame, The fiends do quake when any him to them does

name.

And sooth men say, that he was not the son
Of mortal sire, and other living wight,
But wond'rously begotten and begone
By false illusion of a guileful sprite
On a fair lady nun, that whilom hight
Matilda, daughter to Pubidius,

Who was the lord of Mathtraval by right,
And cousin unto king Ambrosius,

Whence he enduëd was with skill so marvellous.

They here arriving, stay'd awhile without, Ne durst adventure rashly in to wend, But of their first intent 'gan make new doubt For dread of danger, which it might portend, Until the hardy maid (with love to friend) First entering, the dreadful mage there found Deep busied 'bout work of wond'rous end, And writing strange characters in the ground, With which the stubborn fiends he to his service bound....

BELPHOEBE FINDS TIMIAS WOUNDED AND CONVEYS HIM TO HER DWELLING.

BOOK III. CANTO V.

SHE on a day, as she pursued the chace Of some wild beast, which, with her arrows keen, She wounded had, the same along did trace By tract of blood, which she had freshly seen To have besprinkled all the grassy green; By the great pursue which she there perceived, Well hoped she the beast engored had been, And made more haste the life to have bereaved; But ah! her expectation greatly was deceived.

Shortly she came whereas that woeful squire, With blood deformed, lay in deadly swound; In whose fair eyes, like lamps of quenched fire, The crystal humour stood congealed round; His locks, like faded leaves, fallen to ground, Knotted with blood, in bunches rudely ran, And his sweet lips, on which, before that stound, The bud of youth to blossom fair began Spoil'd of their rosy red, were waxen pale and wan.

Saw never living eye more heavy sight, That could have made a rock of stone to rue Or rive in twain; which when that lady bright Besides all hope, with melting eyes did view, All suddenly abash'd, she changed hue, And with stern horror backward 'gan to start; But when she better him beheld, she grew Full of soft passion and unwonted smart; The point of pity pierced through her tender heart.

Meekly she bowed down, to weet if life Yet in his frozen members did remain, And feeling by his pulse's beating rife That the weak soul her seat did yet retain, She cast to comfort him with busy pain. His double-folded neck she rear'd upright, And rubb'd his temples and each trembling vein; His mailed haberjon she did undight, And from his head his heavy burganet did light. Into the woods thenceforth in haste she went, To seek for herbs that mote him remedy, For she of herbs had great intendiment, Taught of the nymph which from her infancy Her nursed had in true nobility; There, whether it divine tobacco were, Or panacea, or polygony,

She found, and brought it to her patient dear, Who all this while lay bleeding out his heart-blood

near.

The sovereign weed, betwixt two marbles plain,
She pounded small, and did in pieces bruise,
And then atween her lily handes twain
Into his wound the juice thereof did scruze,
And round about (as she could well it use)
The flesh therewith she suppled and did steep,
T'abate all spasm, and soak the swelling bruise;
And after having search'd the intuse deep,
She with her scarf did bind the wound, from cold
to keep.

By this he had sweet life recur'd again.
And groaning inly deep, at last his eyes,
His watery eyes, drizzling like dewy rain,
He up 'gan lift toward the azure skies,
From whence descend all hopeless remedies:
Therewith he sigh'd; and turning him aside,
The goodly maid, full of divinities,

And gifts of heavenly grace, he by him spied, Her bow and gilden quiver lying him beside.

What service may I do unto thee meet,
That hast from darkness me return'd to light,
And with thy heavenly salves and med'cines sweet
Hast drest my sinful wounds? I kiss thy blessed
feet."

Thereat she blushing said, "Ah! gentle Squire,
Nor goddess I, nor angel, but the maid
And daughter of a woody nymph, desire
No service but thy safety and aid,

Which if thou gain, I shall be well apaid.
We mortal wights, whose lives and fortunes be
To common accidents still open laid,

Are bound with common bond of frailty, To succour wretched wights whom we captived see."

By this her damsels, which the former chace
Had undertaken after her, arrived,

As did Belphoebe, in the bloody place,
And thereby deem'd the beast had been deprived
Of life whom late their lady's arrow rived;
Forthy the bloody tract they follow'd fast,
And every one to run the swiftest strived;
But two of them the rest far overpast,
And where their lady was arrived at the last.

Where, when they saw that goodly boy with blood
Defouled, and their lady dress his wound,
They wonder'd much, and shortly understood
How him in deadly case their lady found,
And rescued out of the heavy stound:
Eftsoons his warlike courser, which was stray'd
Far in the woods, whiles that he lay in swownd,
She made those damsels search; which being
stay'd,

They did him set thereon, and forthwith them convey'd.

Into that forest far they thence him led, Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade, With mountains round about environed, And mighty woods which did the valley shade And like a stately theatre it made. Spreading itself into a spacious plain; And in the midst a little river play'd Amongst the pumice stones, which seem'd to plain With gentle murmur, that his course they did

restrain.

Beside the same a dainty place there lay,
Planted with myrtle trees and laurels green,
In which the birds sang many a lovely lay
Of God's high praise, and of their sweet loves' teen,
As it an earthly paradise had been;
In whose enclosed shadow there was pight
A fair pavilion, scarcely to be seen,

The which was all within most richly dight, That greatest princes living it mote well delight. Thither they brought that wounded squire, and laid

In easy couch his feeble limbs to rest:
He rested him a while, and then the maid
His ready wound with better salves new drest;
Daily she dressed him, and did the best

▲ Sorrow.