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Authors: Edmund Spenser

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BOOK: The Faerie Queene
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That is the riuer of
Cocytus
deepe,

In which full many soules do endlesse waile and weepe.

57
Which to behold, he clomb vp to the banke,

And looking downe, saw many damned wights,

In those sad waues, which direfull deadly stanke,

Plonged continually of cruell Sprights,

That with their pitteous cryes, and yelling shrights,

They made the further shore resounden wide:

Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sights,

One cursed creature, he by chaunce espide,

That drenched lay full deepe, vnder the Garden side.

58
Deepe was he drenched to the vpmost chin,

Yet gaped still, as coueting to drinke

Of the cold liquor, which he waded in,

And stretching forth his hand, did often thinke

To reach the fruit, which grew vpon the brincke:

But both the fruit from hand, and floud from mouth

Did flie abacke, and made him vainely swinke:

The whiles he steru'd with hunger and with drouth

He daily dyde, yet neuer throughly dyen couth.

59
The knight him seeing labour so in vaine,

Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby:

Who groning deepe, thus answerd him againe;

Most cursed of all creatures vnder skye,

Lo
Tantalus,
I here tormented lye:

Of whom high
Ioue
wont whylome feasted bee,

Lo here I now for want of food doe dye:

But if that thou be such, as I thee see,

Of grace I pray thee, giue to eat and drinke to mee.

60
Nay, nay, thou greedie
Tantalus
(quoth he)

Abide the fortune of thy present fate,

And vnto all that liue in high degree,

Ensample be of mind intemperate,

To teach them how to vse their present state.

Then gan the cursed wretch aloud to cry,

Accusing highest
Ioue
and gods ingrate,

And eke blaspheming heauen bitterly,

As authour of vniustice, there to let him dye.

61
He lookt a little further, and espyde

Another wretch, whose carkasse deepe was drent

Within the riuer, which the same did hyde:

But both his hands most filthy feculent,

Aboue the water were on high extent,

And faynd to wash themselues incessantly;

Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent,

But rather fowler seemed to the eye;

So lost his labour vaine and idle industry.

62
The knight him calling, asked who he was,

Who lifting vp his head, him answerd thus:

I
Pilate
am the falsest Iudge, alas,

And most vniust, that by vnrighteous

And wicked doome, to Iewes despiteous

Deliuered vp the Lord of life to die,

And did acquite a murdrer felonous;

The whiles my hands I washt in puritie,

The whiles my soule was soyld with foule iniquitie.

63
Infinite moe, tormented in like paine

He there beheld, too long here to be told:

Ne
Mammon
would there let him long remaine,

For terrour of the tortures manifold,

In which the damned soules he did behold,

But roughly him bespake. Thou fearefull foole,

Why takest not of that same fruit of gold,

Ne sittest downe on that same siluer stoole,

To rest thy wearie person, in the shadow coole.

64
All which he did, to doe him deadly fall

In frayle intemperance through sinfull bayt;

To which if he inclined had at all,

That dreadfull feend, which did behind him wayt,

Would him haue rent in thousand peeces strayt:

But he was warie wise in all his way,

And well perceiued his deceiptfull sleight,

Ne suffred lust his safetie to betray;

So goodly did beguile the Guyler of the pray.

65
And now he has so long remained there,

That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan,

For want of food, and sleepe, which two vpbeare,

Like mightie pillours, this fraile life of man,

That none without the same enduren can.

For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,

Since he this hardie enterprize began:

For thy great
Mammon
fairely he besought,

Into the world to guide him backe, as he him brought.

66
The God, though loth, yet was constraind t'obay,

For lenger time, then that, no liuing wight

Below the earth, might suffred be to stay:

So backe againe, him brought to liuing light.

But all so soone as his enfeebled spright

Gan sucke this vitall aire into his brest,

As ouercome with too exceeding might,

The life did flit away out of her nest,

And all his senses were with deadly fit opprest.

CANTO VIII

Sir
Guyon laid in swowne is by
   Acrates sonnes despoyld,
Whom Arthur soone hath reskewed
   And Paynim brethren foyld.

1
And is there care in heauen? and is there loue

In heauenly spirits to these creatures bace,

That may compassion of their euils moue?

There is: else much more wretched were the cace

Of men, then beasts. But ô th'exceeding grace

Of highest God, that loues his creatures so,

And all his workes with mercy doth embrace,

That blessed Angels, he sends to and fro,

To serue to wicked man, to serue his wicked foe.

2
How oft do they, their siluer bowers leaue,

To come to succour vs, that succour want?

How oft do they with golden pineons, cleaue

The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuiuant,

Against foule feends to aide vs millitant?

They for vs fight, they watch and dewly ward,

And their bright Squadrons round about vs plant,

And all for loue, and nothing for reward:

O why should heauenly God to men haue such regard?

3
During the while, that
Guyon
did abide

In
Mamons
house, the Palmer, whom whyleare

That wanton Mayd of passage had denide,

By further search had passage found elsewhere,

And being on his way, approched neare,

Where
Guyon
lay in traunce, when suddenly

He heard a voice, that called loud and cleare,

Come hither, come hither, ô come hastily;

That all the fields resounded with the ruefull cry.

4
The Palmer lent his eare vnto the noyce,

To weet, who called so importunely:

Againe he heard a more efforced voyce,

That bad him come in haste. He by and by

His feeble feet directed to the cry;

Which to that shadie delue him brought at last,

Where
Mammon
earst did sunne his threasury:

There the good
Guyon
he found slumbring fast

In senselesse dreame; which sight at first him sore aghast.

5
Beside his head there sate a faire young man,

Of wondrous beautie, and of freshest yeares,

Whose tender bud to blossome new began,

And flourish faire aboue his equall peares;

His snowy front curled with golden heares,

Like
Phœbus
face adornd with sunny rayes,

Diuinely shone, and two sharpe winged sheares,

Decked with diuerse plumes, like painted Iayes,

Were fixed at his backe, to cut his ayerie wayes.

6
Like as
Cupido
on
Idœan
hill,

When hauing laid his cruell bow away,

And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fill

The world with murdrous spoiles and bloudie pray,

With his faire mother he him dights to play,

And with his goodly sisters,
Graces
three;

The Goddesse pleased with his wanton play,

Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to bee,

The whiles the other Ladies mind their merry glee.

7
Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he was

Through feare and wonder, that he nought could say,

Till him the child bespoke, Long lackt, alas,

Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay,

Whiles deadly fit thy pupill doth dismay;

Behold this heauie sight, thou reuerend Sire,

But dread of death and dolour doe away;

For life ere long shall to her home retire,

And he that breathlesse seemes, shal corage bold respire.

8
The charge, which God doth vnto me arret,

Of his deare safetie, I to thee commend;

Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forget

The care thereof my selfe vnto the end,

But euermore him succour, and defend

Against his foe and mine: watch thou I pray;

For euill is at hand him to offend.

So hauing said, eftsoones he gan display

His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away.

9
The Palmer seeing his left empty place,

And his slow eyes beguiled of their sight,

Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a space,

Gaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight;

At last him turning to his charge behight,

With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan try;

Where finding life not yet dislodged quight,

He much reioyst, and courd it tenderly,

As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded destiny.

10
At last he spide, where towards him did pace

Two Paynim knights, all armd as bright as skie,

And them beside an aged Sire did trace,

And farre before a light-foot Page did flie,

That breathed strife and troublous enmitie;

Those were the two sonnes of
Acrates
old,

Who meeting earst with
Archimago
slie,

Foreby that idle strond, of him were told,

That he, which earst them combatted, was
Guyon
bold.

11
Which to auenge on him they dearely vowd,

Where euer that on ground they mote him fynd;

False
Archimage
prouokt their courage prowd,

And stryfull
Atin
in their stubborne mynd

Coles of contention and whot vengeance tynd.

Now bene they come, whereas the Palmer sate,

Keeping that slombred corse to him assynd;

Well knew they both his person, sith of late

With him in bloudie armes they rashly did debate.

12
Whom when
Pyrochles
saw, inflam'd with rage,

That sire he foule bespake, Thou dotard vile,

That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely age,

Abandone soone, I read, the caitiue spoile

Of that same outcast carkasse, that erewhile

Made it selfe famous through false trechery,

And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile;

Loe where he now inglorious doth lye,

To proue he liued ill, that did thus foully dye.

13
To whom the Palmer fearelesse answered;

Certes, Sir knight, ye bene too much to blame,

Thus for to blot the honour of the dead,

And with foule cowardize his carkasse shame,

Whose liuing hands immortalizd his name.

Vile is the vengeance on the ashes cold,

And enuie base, to barke at sleeping fame:

Was neuer wight, that treason of him told;

Your selfe his prowesse prou'd & found him fiers & bold.

14
Then said
Cymochles;
Palmer, thou doest dote,

Ne canst of prowesse, ne of knighthood deeme,

Saue as thou seest or hearst. But well I wote,

That of his puissance tryall made extreeme;

Yet gold all is not, that doth golden seeme,

Ne all good knights, that shake well speare and shield:

The worth of all men by their end esteeme,

And then due praise, or due reproch them yield;

Bad therefore I him deeme, that thus lies dead on field.

15
Good or bad (gan his brother fierce reply)

What doe I recke, sith that he dyde entire?

Or what doth his bad death now satisfy

The greedy hunger of reuenging ire,

Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne desire?

Yet since no way is left to wreake my spight,

I will him reaue of armes, the victors hire,

And of that shield, more worthy of good knight;

For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour bright?

16
Faire Sir, said then the Palmer suppliaunt,

For knighthoods loue, do not so foule a deed,

Ne blame your honour with so shamefull vaunt

Of vile reuenge. To spoile the dead of weed

Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed;

But leaue these relicks of his liuing might,

To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke steed.

What herce or steede (said he) should he haue dight,

But be entombed in the rauen or the kight?

17
With that, rude hand vpon his shield he laid,

And th'other brother gan his hehne vnlace,

Both fiercely bent to haue him disaraid;

Till that they spide, where towards them did pace

An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace,

Whose squire bore after him an heben launce,

And couerd shield. Well kend him so farre space

Th'enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce,

When vnder him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce.

18
And to those brethren said, Rise rise by liue,

And vnto battell doe your selues addresse;

For yonder comes the prowest knight aliue,

Prince
Arthur,
flowre of grace and nobilesse,

That hath to Paynim knights wrought great distresse,

And thousand Sar'zins foully donne to dye.

That word so deepe did in their harts impresse,

That both eftsoones vpstarted furiously,

And gan themselues prepare to battell greedily.

19
But fierce
Pyrochles,
lacking his owne sword,

The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine,

And
Archimage
besought, him that afford,

Which he had brought for
Braggadocchio
vaine.

So would I (said th'enchaunter) glad and faine

Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend,

Or ought that else your honour might maintaine,

But that this weapons powre I well haue kend,

To be contrarie to the worke, which ye intend.

20
For that same knights owne sword this is of yore,

Which
Merlin
made by his almightie art

For that his noursling, when he knighthood swore,

Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart.

The metall first he mixt with
Medœwart,

That no enchauntment from his dint might saue;

Then it in flames of
Aetna
wrought apart,

And seuen times dipped in the bitter waue

Of hellish
Styx,
which hidden vertue to it gaue.

21
The vertue is, that neither steele, nor stone

The stroke thereof from entrance may defend;

Ne euer may be vsed by his fone,

Ne forst his rightfull owner to offend,

Ne euer will it breake, ne euer bend.

Wherefore
Morddure
it rightfully is hight.

In vaine therefore,
Pyrochles,
should I lend

The same to thee, against his lord to fight,

For sure it would deceiue thy labour, and thy might

22
Foolish old man, said then the Pagan wroth,

That weenest words or charmes may force withstand:

Soone shalt thou see, and then beleeue for troth,

That I can carue with this inchaunted brond

His Lords owne flesh. Therewith out of his hond

That vertuous steele he rudely snatcht away,

And
Guyons
shield about his wrest he bond;

So readie dight, fierce battaile to assay,

And match his brother proud in battailous array.

23
By this that straunger knight in presence came,

And goodly salued them; who nought againe

Him answered, as courtesie became,

But with sterne lookes, and stomachous disdaine,

Gaue signes of grudge and discontentment vaine:

Then turning to the Palmer, he gan spy

Where at his feete, with sorrowfull demaine

And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye,

In whose dead face he red great magnanimity.

24
Said he then to the Palmer, Reuerend syre,

What great misfortune hath betidd this knight?

Or did his life her fatall date expyre,

Or did he fall by treason, or by fight?

How euer, sure I rew his pitteous plight.

Not one, nor other, (said the Palmer graue)

Hath him befalne, but cloudes of deadly, night

A while his heauie eylids couer'd haue,

And all his senses drowned in deepe senselesse waue.

25
Which, his cruell foes, that stand hereby,

Making aduantage, to reuenge their spight,

Would him disarme, and treaten shamefully,

Vnworthy vsage of redoubted knight.

But you, faire Sir, whose honorable sight

Doth promise hope of helpe, and timely grace,

Mote I beseech to, succour his sad plight,

And by your powre protect his feeble cace.

First praise of knighthood is, foule outrage to deface.

26
Palmer, (said he) no knight so rude, I weene,

As to doen outrage to a sleeping ghost:

Ne was there euer noble courage seene,

That in aduauntage would his puissance bost:

Honour is least, where oddes appeareth most.

May be, that better reason will asswage,

The rash reuengers heat. Words well dispost

Haue secret powre, t'appease inflamed rage:

If not, leaue vnto me thy knights last patonage.

27
Tho turning to those brethren, thus bespoke,

Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might

It seemes, iust wrongs to vengeance doe prouoke,

To wreake your wrath on this dead seeming knight,

Mote ought allay the storme of your despight,

And settle patience in so furious heat?

Not to debate the chalenge of your right,

But for this carkasse pardon I entreat,

Whom fortune hath alreadie laid in lowest seat

28
To whom
Cymochles
said; For what art thou,

That mak'st thy selfe his dayes-man, to prolong

The vengeance prest? Or who shall let me now,

On this vile bodie from to wreake my wrong,

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