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There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea;
The sandy Slane; the stony Aubrian;
The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea;
The pleasant Boyne; the fishy fruitfull Ban;
Swift Awniduff, which of the English man
Is cal'de Blacke-water; and the Liffar deep;
Sad Trowis, that once his people over-ran;
Strong Allo tombling from Slewlogher steep; [weep.
And Mulla mine, whose waves I whilom taught to

And there the three renowmed brethren were,
Which that great gyant Blomius begot
Of the faire nimph Rheüsa wandring there :
One day, as she to shunne the scason whot
Under Slewboome in shady grove was got,
This gyant found her and by force deflowr'd;
Whereof conceiving, she in time forth brought
These three faire sons, which being thenceforth powrd
In three great rivers ran, and many countreis scowrd.

The first the gentle Shure that, making way
By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford;
The next, the stubborne Newre, whose waters gray
By faire Kilkenny and Rosseponte boord;
The third, the goodly Barow which doth hoord
Great heaps of salmons in his deepe bosóme:
All which, long sundred, doe at last accord
To joyne in one, ere to the sea they come;
So, flowing all from one, all one at last become.

There also was the wide embayed Mayre;
The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood;
The spreading Lee that, like an island fayre,
Encloseth Corke with his divided flood;
And balefull Oure late staind with English blood:
With many more whose names no tongue can tell.
All which that day in order seemly good
Did on the Thames attend, and waited well
To doe their dueful service, as to them befell.

Then came the bride, the lovely Medua came,
Clad in a vesture of unknowen geare
And uncouth fashion, yet her well became,
That seem'd like silver sprinckled here and theare
With glittering spangs that did like starres appeare,
And wav'd upon, like water chamelot,
To hide the metall, which yet every where
Bewrayd itselfe, to let men plainely wot

It was no mortall worke, that seem'd and yet was not.

Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow
Unto her waste, with flowres bescattered,
The which ambrosiall odours forth did throw
To all about, and all her shoulders spred
As a new spring; and likewise on her hed
A chapelet of sundry flowers she wore,
From under which the deawy humour shed
Did tricle downe her haire, like to the hore
Congealed litle drops which doe the morne adore.

On her two pretty handmaides did attend,
One cald the Theise, the other cald the Crane;
Which on her waited things amisse to mend,
And both behind upheld her spredding traine;
Under the which her feet appeared plaine,
Her silver feet, faire washt against this day;
And her before there paced pages twaine,

Both clad in colours like and like array,

The Doune and eke the Frith, both which prepard

her way.

And after these the sea-nymphs marched all,
All goodly damzels, deckt with long greene haire,
Whom of their sire Nereïdes men call,
All which the Oceans daughter to him bare,
The gray-eyde Doris; all which fifty are;
All which she there on her attending had:
Swift Proto; milde Eucratè; Thetis faire;
Soft Spio; sweete Endorè; Sao sad;
Light Doto; wanton Glaucè; and Galenè glad;

White-hand Eunica; proud Dynamenè;
Ioyous Thalia; goodly Amphitrite;
Lovely Pasithee; kinde Eulimene;
Light-foote Cymothoë; and sweete Melitè;
Fairest Pherusa; Phao hilly white;
Wondred Agavè; Poris; and Nesæa ;
With Erato that doth in love delite;
And Panopæ; and wise Protomedæa;

And snowy-neckd Doris; and milke-white Gala. tha;

Speedy Hippothoë; and chaste Actea;
Large Lisianassa; and Pronæa sage;
Euagorè; and light Pontoporea;

And, she that with her least word can asswage
The surging seas when they do sorest rage,
Cymodocè; and stout Autonoë;

And Neso; and Eionè well in age;
And seeming still to smile Glauconomè;
And, she that hight of many heastes, Polynomè

Fresh Alimeda deckt with girlond greene;
Hyponeo with salt-bedewed wrests;
Laomedia like the christall sheene;
Liagorè much praisd for wise behests;
And Psamathè for her brode snowy brests;
Cymo; Eupompè; and Themistè iust;
And, she that vertue loves and vice detests,
Euarna; and Menippè true in trust;
And Nemertea learned well to rule her lust.

All these the daughters of old Nereus were,
Which have the sea in charge to them assinde,
To rule his tides, and surges to uprere,
To bring forth stormes, or fast them to upbinde,
And sailers save from wreckes of wrathfull winde.
And yet besides, three thousand more there were
Of th' Oceans seede, but loves and Phoebus kinde
The which in floods and fountaines doe appere,
And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere.

The which, more eath it were for mortall wight
To tell the sands, or count the starres on hye,
Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon right,
But well I wote that these, which I descry,
Were present at this great solemnity:
And there, amongst the rest, the mother was
Of luckelesse Marinell, Cymodocè;
Which, for my Muse herselfe now tyred has
Unto an other canto I will overpas.

CANTO XII.

Marin, for love of Florimell,

In languor wastes his life:

The nymph, his mother, getteth her
And gives to him for wife.

O WHAT an endlesse worke have I in hand,
To count the seas abundant progeny,
Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land,
And also those which wonne in th' azure sky!
For much more eath to tell the starres on hy,
Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation,
Then to recount the seas posterity:
So fertile be the flouds in generation,

"Yet loe! the seas I see by often beating

Doe pearce the rockes; and hardest marble weares;
But his hard rocky hart for no entreating
Will yeeld, but, when my piteous plaints he heares,

Is hardned more with my aboundant teares:
Yet though he never list to me relent,
But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares,
Yet will I never of my love repent,

But ioy that for his sake I suffer prisonment.

"And when my weary ghost, with griefe outworne,
By timely death shall winne her wished rest,
Let then this plaint unto his eares be borne,
That blame it is, to him that armes profest,
To let her die whom he might have redrest!"
There did she pause, inforced to give place
Unto the passion that her heart opprest;

So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their And, after she had wept and wail'd a space,
nation.

Therefore the antique wisards well invented
That Venus of the fomy sea was bred;
For that the seas by her are most augmented.
Witnesse th' exceeding fry which there are fed,
And wondrous sholes which may of none be red.
Then blame me not if I have err'd in count
Of gods, of nymphs, of rivers, yet unred:
For though their numbers do much more surmount,
Yet all those same were there which erst I did re-
count.

All those were there, and many other more,
Whose names and nations were too long to tell,
That Proteus house they fild even to the dore;
Yet were they all in order, as befell,
According their degrees disposed well.
Amongst the rest was faire Cymodocè,
The mother of unlucky Marinell,

Who thither with her came, to learne and see
The manner of the gods when they at banquet be.

But for he was halfe mortall, being bred
Of mortal sire, though of immortall wombe,
He might not with immortall food be fed,
Ne with th' eternall gods to bancket come;
But walkt abrode, and round about did rome
To view the building of that uncouth place,
That seem'd unlike unto his earthly home:
Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace,
There unto him betid a disadventrous case.

Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe
He heard the lamentable voice of one,
That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe,
Which never she before disclosd to none,
But to herselfe her sorrow did bemone:
So feelingly her case she did complaine,
That ruth it moved in the rocky stone,
And made it seeme to feele her grievous paine,
And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine:

"Though vaine I see my sorrowes to unfold
And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare;
Yet, hoping griefe may lessen being told,
I will them tell though unto no man neare:
For Heaven, that unto all lends equall eare,
Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight;
And lowest Hell, to which I lie most neare,
Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight:
And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight.

She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case:

"Ye gods of seas, if any gods at all
Have care of right or ruth of wretches wrong,
By one or other way me woefull thrall
Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong,
In which I daily dying am too long:
And if ye deeme me death for loving one
That loves not me, then doe it not prolong,
But let me die and end my daies attone,
And let him live unlov'd, or love himselfe alone.

"But if that life ye unto me decree,
Then let mee live, as lovers ought to do,
And of my lifes deare love beloved be:
And, if he should through pride your doome undo,
Do you by duresse him compell thereto,
And in this prison put him here with me;
One prison fittest is to hold us two:
So had I rather to be thrall then free;
Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.

"But O vaine iudgment, and conditions vaine,
The which the prisoner points unto the free!
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine,
He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me:
So ever loose, so ever happy be!

But whereso loose or happy that thou art,
Know, Marinell, that all this is for thee!"
With that she wept and wail'd, as if her hart
Would quite have burst through great abundance
of her smart.

All which complaint when Marinell had heard,
And understood the cause of all her care
To come of him for using her so hard;
His stubborne heart, that never felt misfare,
Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare;
That even for griefe of minde he oft did grone,
And inly wish that in his powre it weare
Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none,
He could no more but her great misery bemone.

Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide,
Dame Venus sonne that tameth stubborne youth
With iron bit, and maketh him abide
Till like a victor on his backe he ride,
Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw,
That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride:
Then gan he make him tread his steps anew,
And learne to love by learning lovers paines to rew.

Now gan he in his grieved minde devise,
How from that dungeon he might her enlarge:
Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise
To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge:
But then he fear'd his mothers former charge
Gainst womens love, long given him in vaine:
Then gan he thinké, perforce with sword and targe
Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine:
But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.

Then did he cast to steale her thence away,
And with him beare where none of her might know.
But all in vaine: for why? he found no way
To enter in, or issue forth below;

For all about that rocke the sea did flow.
And though unto his will she given were,
Yet, without ship or bote her thence to row,
He wist not how her thence away to bere;
And daunger well he wist long to continue there.

At last, whenas no meanes he could invent,
Backe to himselfe he gan rcturue the blame,
That was the author of her punishment;
And with vile curses and reprochfull shame
To damne himselfe by every evil name,
And deeme unworthy or of love or life,
That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,
Which him had sought through trouble and long
strife;

Yet had refusde a god that her had sought to wife.

In this sad plight he walked here and there,
And romed round about the rocke in vaine,
As he had lost himselfe he wist not where;
Oft listening if he mote her heare againe;
And still bemoning her unworthy paine:
Like as an hynde whose calfe is falne unwares
Into some pit, where she him heares complaine,
An hundred times about the pit side fares,
Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved cares.
And now by this the feast was throughly ended,
And every one gan homeward to resort:
Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended
That his departure thence should be so short,
And leave his love in that sea-walled fort:
Yet durst he not his mother disobay;
But, her attending in full seemly sort,
Did march amongst the many all the way;
And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.

Being returned to his mothers bowre,
In solitary silence far from wight
He gan record the lamentable stowre,

In which his wretched love lay day and night,
For his deare sake, that ill deserv'd that plight:
The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe,
But pyn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, and alone
did weepe;

That in short space his wonted chearefull hew
Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quight:
His cheeke-bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew,
And brawney armes had lost their knowen might,
That nothing like himselfe he seem'd in sight.
Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of love
He woxe, that lenger he note stand upright,
But to his bed was brought, and layd above,
Like ruefull ghost, unable once to stir or move.

Which when his mother saw, she in her mind
Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene;
Ne could by search nor any meanes out find
The secret cause and nature of his teene,
Whereby she might apply some medicine;
But weeping day and night did him attend,
And mourn'd to see her losse before her eyne,
Which griev'd her more that she it could not mend:
To see an helplesse evill double griefe doth lend.

Nought could she read the root of his disease,
Ne weene what mister maladie it is,
Whereby to seeke some means it to appease.
Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis,
That that same former fatall wound of his
Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed,
But closely rankled under th' orifis:

Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed,
That love it was, which in his hart lay unrevealed.

Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast,
And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent,
That fayld the trust, which she in him had plast,
To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent;
Who now was falne into new languishment
Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.
So backe he came unto her patient;
Where searching every part, her well assured
That it was no old sore which his new paine procured;

But that it was some other maladie,

Or grief unknowne, which he could not discerne :
So left he her withouten remedie.

Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne,
And inly troubled was, the truth to learne.
Unto himselfe she came, and him besought,
Now with faire speeches, now with threatnings sterne,
If ought lay hidden in his grieved thought,

It to reveale: who still her answered, there was nought.

Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide;
But leaving watry gods, as booting nought,
Unto the shinie Heaven in haste she hide,
And thence Apollo king of leaches brought.
Apollo came; who, soone as he had sought
Through his disease, did by and by out find
That he did languish of some inward thought,
The which afflicted his engrieved mind;
Which love he red to be, that leads each living kind.

Which when he had unto his mother told,
She gan thereat to fret and greatly grieve:
And, comming to her sonne, gan first to scold
And chyde at him that made her misbelieve:
But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieve,
And wooe with fair intreatie, to disclose
Which of the nymphes his heart so sore did mieve:
For sure she weend it was some one of those,
Which he had lately secne, that for his love he chose.

Now lesse she feared that same fatall read,
That warned him of womens love beware:
Which being ment of mortal creatures sead,
For love of nymphes she thought she need not care,
But promist him, whatever wight she weare,
That she her love to him would shortly gaine:
So he her told: but soone as she did heare
That Florimell it was which wrought his paine,
She gan afresh to chafe, and grieve in every vaine.

Yet since she saw the streight extremitie,
In which his life unluckily was layd,
It was no time to scan the prophecie,
Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd,
That his decay should happen by a mayd;
(It's late, in death, of daunger to advize;
Or love forbid him, that his life denayd ;)
But rather gan in troubled mind devize
How she that ladies libertie might enterprize.

To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it vaine,
Who was the root and worker of her woe;
Nor unto any meaner to complaine;
But unto great king Neptune selfe did goe,
And, on her knee before him falling lowe,
Made humble suit upto his maiestie

To graunt to her her sonnes life, which his foe,
A cruell tyrant, had presumpteouslie

[die. By wicked doome condemn'd a wretched death to

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He graunted it: and streight his warrant made,
Under the sea-god's seale autenticall,
Commaunding Proteus streight t' enlarge the mayd
Which wandring on his seas imperiall

He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall.
Which she receiving with meete thankefulnesse,
Departed straight to Proteus therewithall:
Who, reading it with inward loathfulnesse,
Was grieved to restore the pledge he did possesse

Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand,
But unto her delivered Florimell.

Whom she receiving by the lilly hand,
Admyr'd her beautie much, as she mote well,
For she all living creatures did excell,
And was right joyous that she gotten had
So faire a wife for her sonne Marinell.
So home with her she streight the virgin lad,
And shewed her to him then being sore bestad.

Who soone as he beheld that angels face
Adorn'd with all divine perfection,
His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace
Sad Death, revived with her sweet inspection,
And feeble spirit inly felt refection;

As withered weed through cruell winters tine,
That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection,
Liftes up his head that did before decline,

But would some rightfull cause pretend, though And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunrightly nought."

To whom she answer'd; "Then it is by name
Proteus, that hath ordayn'd my sonne to die;
For that a waift, the which by fortune came
Upon your seas, he claym'd as propertie:
And yet nor his, nor his in equitie,
But yours the waift by high prerogative:
Therefore I humbly crave your majestie
It to replevie, and my sonne reprive:

So shall you by one gift save all us three alive."

shine.

Right so himselfe did Marinell upreare,

When he in place his dearest love did spy;
And though his limbs could not his bodie beare,
Ne former strength returne so suddenly,
Yet chearefull signes he shewed outwardly.
Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected,
But that she masked it with modestie,

For feare she should of lightnesse be detected:
Which to another place I leave to be perfected.

VOL. IIL

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