And most unjust; that, by unrighteous
And wicked doome, to Jewes despiteous
Delivered up the Lord of life to dye,
And did acquite a murdrer felonous;
The whiles my handes I washt in purity,
The whiles my soule was soyld with fowle
iniquity.'

63

Infinite moe tormented in like paine

He there beheld, too long here to be told: Ne Mammon would there let him long remayne,

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 fruite of gold?
Ne sittest downe on that same silver stoole,
To rest thy weary person in the shadow
coole ?"

64

All which he did to do him deadly fall In frayle intemperaunce through sinfull bayt;

To which if he inclyned had at all,

That dreadful feend, which did behinde him

wayt,

Would him have rent in thousand peeces

strayt:

But he was wary wise in all his way, And well perceived his deceipt full sleight, Ne suffred lust his safety to betray.

So goodly did beguile the Guyler of his

pray.

65

And now he has so long remained theare, That vital powres gan wexe both weake and wan

For want of food and sleepe, which two upbeare,

Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of man, That none without the same enduren can: For now three dayes of men were full outwrought,

Since he this hardy enterprize began: Forthy great Mammon fayrely he besought Into the world to guyde him backe, as he him brought.

66

The God, though loth, yet was constraynd

t' obay;

For lenger time then that no living wight Below the earth might suffred be to stay: So backe againe him brought to living light, But all so soone as his enfeebled spright

Gan sucke this vitall ayre into his brest,
As overcome with too exceeding might,
The life did flit away out of her nest,
And all his sences were with deadly fit
opprest.

THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY

EDMUND SPENSER

[From An Hymn in Honor of Beauty] What time this world's great Workmaster did cast

To make all things such as we now behold,
It seems that he before his eyes had placed
A goodly pattern, to whose perfect mould
He fashioned them as comely as he could,
That now so fair and seemly they appear
As nought may be amended anywhere.
That wondrous pattern, whereso'er it be,
Whether in earth laid up in secret store,
Or else in heaven, that no man may it see
With sinful eyes, for fear it to deflore,
Is perfect Beauty, which all men adore;
Whose face and feature doth so much excel
All mortal sense, that none the same may
tell.

Thereof as every earthly thing partakes
Or more or less, by influence divine,
So it more fair accordingly it makes,
And the gross matter of this earthly mine
Which clotheth it, thereafter doth refine,
Doing away the dross which dims the light
Of that fair beam which therein is empight.

For, through infusion of celestial power, The duller earth it quickeneth with delight, And life-full spirits privily doth pour Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight

They seem to please. That is thy sovereign might,

O Cyprian queen! which, flowing from the beam

Of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream.

That is the thing which giveth pleasant grace

To all things fair, that kindleth lively fire, Light of thy lamp; which, shining in the face,

Thence to the soul darts amorous desire, And robs the hearts of those which it admire;

Therewith thou pointest thy son's poisoned arrow,