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Her gentle hart, that now long season past
Had never loyance felt nor chearefull thought,

CANTO XII.
Began some smacke of comfort new to tast,
Like lyfeful heat to nummed senses brought,
And life to feele that long for death had sought :

Fayre Pastorella by great bap
Ne lesse in bart reioyced Calidore,

Her parents anderstands. When he ber found; but, like to one distraught

Calidore doth the Blatant Beast And robd of reason, towards her him bore;

Subdew, and bynd in bands. A thousand times embrast, and kist a thousand more.

I.IKE as a ship, that through the ocean wyde But now by this, with noyse of late uprore, Directs her course unto one certaine cost, The bue and cry was raysed all about;

Is met of many a counter winde and tyde, And all the brigants Rocking in great store With which her winged speed is let and crost, Unto the care gan preasse, nought having dout And she herselfe in storinie surges tost; Of that was doen, and entred in a rout.

Yet, making many a borde and many a bay, But Calidore in th' entry close did stand,

Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse lost; And, entertayning them with courage stout, Right so it fares with me in this long way, Still slew the formost that came first to hand; Whose course is often stayd, yet never is astray. So long, till all the entry was with bodies mand.

For all that hetherto hath long delayd Tho, when no more could nigh to him approch, This gentle knight from sewing his first quest, He breath'd his sword, and rested himn till day; Though out of course, yet hath not bene inis-sayd, Which when he spyde upon the earth tencroch, To shew the courtesie by him profest Through the dead carcases he made his way, Even unto the lowest and the least. Mongst which he found a sword of better say, But now I come into my course againe, With which he forth went into th' open light, To his atchievement of the Blatant Beast; Where all the rest for him did readie stay,

Who all this while at will did range and raine, And, fierce assayling him, with all their might Whilst none was him to stop, nor none bim to reGan all upon him lay: there gan a dreadfull fight.

straine.
How many Ayes in whottest summers day Sir Calidore, when thus he now had raught
Do seize upon some beast, whose flesh is bare, Faire Pastorella from those brigants powre,
That all the place with swarmes doe overlay, Unto the castle of Belgard her brought,
And with their litle stings right felly fare;

Whereof was lord the good sir Bellamoure;
So many theeves about him swarming are, Who whylome was in his youthes freshest flowre,
All which do him assayle on every side,

A lustie knight as ever wielded speare, And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare; And had endured many a dreadfull stoure But he doth with his raging brond divide

In bloudy battell for a ladie deare, Their thickest troups, and round about him scattreth The fayrest ladie then of all that living were: wide.

Her name was Claribell; whose father hight Like as a lion mongst an heard of dere,

The lord of many ilands, farre renound Disperseth them to catch his choysest pray; Por his great riches and his greater might: So did he fly' amongst them here and there, He, through the wealth wherein he did abound, And all that nere him came did hew and slay, This daughter thought in wedlocke to have bound Till he had strowd with bodies all the way; Unto the prince of Picteland, bordering nere; That none his daunger daring to abide

But she, whose sides before with secret wound Fled from his wrath, and did themselves convay

Of love to Bellamoure empierced were, Into their caves, their heads from death to hide, By all meanes shund to match with any forreign Ne any left that victorie to him envide.

fere :
Then, backe returning to his dearest deare, And Bellamour againe so well her pleased
He ber gap to recomfort, all he might,

With dayly service and attendance dew,
With gladfull speaches and with lovely cheare; That of her love he was entyrely seized,
And forth her bringing to the joyous light, And closely did her wed, but knowne to few:
Whereof she long had lackt tbe wishfull sight, Which when her father understood, he grew
Deviz'd all goodiy meanes from her to drive In so great rage that them in dongeon deepe
The sad remembrance of her wretched plight: Without compassion cruelly be threw;
So her uneath at last he did revive

Yet did so streightly them asunder keepe,
That long had lyen dead, and made againe alive. That neither could to company of th' other creepe.
This doen, into those theevish dens he went, Nathlesse sir Bellamour, whether through grace
And therice did all the spoyles and threasures take, Or secret guifts, so with his keepers wrought,
Which they from many long had robd and rent: That to his love sometimes he came in place;
Bat Fortune now the victors meed did make; Whereof her wombe unwist to wight was fraught,
Of which the best he did his love betake;

And in dew time a mayden child forth brought : And also all those flockes, which they before Which she streightway (for dread least if her syre Had reft from Melibee and from his make, Should know thereof to slay he would have sought) He did them all to Coridon restore:

Delirered to her handmayd, that for hyre So drove them all away, and his love with him bore. She should it cause be fostred under straunge attyre. The trustie damzell bearing it abrode

But first, ere I doe his adventures tell Into the emptie fields, where living wight

In this exploite, me needeth to declare Mote not bewray the secret of her lode,

What did betide to the faire Pastorell, She forth gan lay unto the open light

During his absence left in heavy care, The litle babe, to take thereof a sight:

Through daily mourning and nightly misfare : Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold, Yet did that auncient matrone all she might, Upon the litle brest, like christall bright,

To cherish her with all things choice and rare; She mote perceive a litle purple mold,

And her owne handmayd, that Melissa hight, That like a rose her silken leaves did faire unfold. Appointed to attend her dewly day and night.

Well she it markt, and pittied the more,
Yet could not remedie her wretched case ;
But, closing it againe like as before,
Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the place ;
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space
Behind the bushes, where she her did hyde,
To weet what mortall hand, or Heavens grace,
Would for the wretched infants helpe provyde ;
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully cryde.

Who in a morning, when this maiden faire
Was dighting her, having her snowy brest
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire
Into their comely tresses dewly drest,
Chaunst to espy upon her yvory chest
The rosie marke, which she remernbred well
That litle infant had, which forth she kest,
The daughter of her lady Claribell, [dwell.
The which she bore the whiles in prison she did

At length a shepheard, which thereby did keepe Which well avizing, streight she

gan

to cast His fleecie flocke upon the playnes around,

In her conceiptfull mynd that this faire mayd Led with the infants cry that loud did weepe, Was that same infant, which so long sith past Came to the place; where when he wrapped found She in the open fields had loosely layd Th' abandond spoyle, he softly it unbound; To Fortunes spoile, unable it to ayd : And, seeing there that did him pittie sore,

So, full of ioy, streight forth she ran in hast He tooke it up and in his mantle wound;

Unto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd, So home unto his honest wife it bore,

To tell her, how the Heavens had her graste, Who as her owne it nurst and named evermore. To save her chylde, which in Misfortunes mouth

was plaste.
Thus long continu'd Claribell a thrall,
And Bellamour in bands; till that her syre The sober mother seeing such her mood,
Departed life, and left unto them all :

Yet knowing not u bat mcant that sodajne thro, Then all the stormes of Fortunes former yre Askt ber, how mote her words be understoud, Were turnd, and they to freedome did retyre. And what tbe matter was that mov'd her so. Thenceforth they joy'd in happinesse together, “ My liefe," sayd she, “ ye know that long ygo, And lived long in peace and love entyre,

Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me gave Without disquiet or dislike of ether,

A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho, Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella thether. The same againe if now ye list to have,

The same is yonder lady, whom high God did sare." Both whom they goodly well did entertaine ; For Bellamour knew Calidore right well,

Much was the lady troubled at that speach, And loved for his prowesse, sith they twaine

And gan to question streight how she it knew, Long since had fought in field : als Claribell

“Most certaine markes,” sayd she, “do me itteach; Ne lesse did tender the faire Pastorell,

For on her breast I with these eyes did vew Seeing her weake and wan through durance long.

The litle purple rose which thereon grew, There they awhile together thus did dwell

Whereof her name ye then to her did give. In much delight, and many ioyes among,

Besides, her countenaunce and her likely hew, Untill the damzell gan to wex more sound and strong.

Matched with equall years, do surely prieve
That yond same is your daughter sure, which yet

doth live."
Tho gan sir Calidore him to advize
Of his first quest, which he had long forlore,

The matrone stayd no lenger to enquire, Asham'd to thinke how he that enterprize,

But forth in hast ran to the straunger mayd; The which the Faery queene had long afore Bequeath'd to him, forslacked had so sore;

Whom catching greedily, for great desire That much he feared least reproachfull blame

Rent up her brest, and bosome open layd,

In which that rose she plainely saw displayd: With foule dishonour him mote blot therefore; Besides the losse of so much loos and fame,

Then, her embracing twixt her armës twaine,

She long so held, and softly weeping sayd; As through the world thereby should glorifie bis

“ And livest thou, my daughter, now againe?

And art thou yet alive, whom dead I long did faine ?" Therefore, resolving to returne in hast

Tho farther asking her of sundry things, Unto so great atchievement, he bethought And tiines comparing with their accidents, To leave his love, now perill being past,

She found at last, by very certaine signes With Claribell; whylest he that monster sought And speaking markes of passed monuments, Throughout the world, and to destruction brought. That this young mayd, whom chance to her presents, So taking leave of his faire Pastorell,

Is her owne daughter, her owne infant deare. Whom to recomfort all the meanes he wrought, Tho, wondring long at those so straunge events, With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell,

A thousand times she ber embraced nere, (teare. He went forth on his quest, and did that him befell. With many a joyfull kisse and many a melting

name.

Whoever is the mother of one chylde,

And them amongst were mingled here and there Which having thought long dead she fyndes alive, The tongues of serpents, with three-forked stings, Let her by proofe of that which she bath fylde That spat out poyson, and gore-bloudy gere, In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descrive: At all that came within his ravenings; For other none such passion can contrive

And spake licentious words and batefull things In perfect forme, as this good lady felt,

Of good and bad alike, of low and bie, When she so faire a daughter saw survive, Ne Kesars spared he a whit nor kings; As Pastorella was; that nigh she swelt

But either blotted them with infamie, For passing ioy, which did all into pitty melt. Or bit them with his banefull teeth of iniury. Thence running forth unto her loved lord, But Calidore, thereof no whit afrayd, She unto him recounted all that fell :

Rencountred him with so impetuous might, Who, joyning ioy with her in one accord,

That th' outrage of his violence he stayd, Acknowledg'd, for his owne, faire Pastorell. And bet abacke threatning in vaine to bite, There leave we them in ioy, and let us tell And spitting forth the poyson of his spight Of Calidore; who, seeking all this while

That fomed all about his bloody iawes: That monstrous beast by finall force to quell, Tho, rear ng up his former feete on hight, Through every place with restlesse paine and toile He rampt upon him with his ravenous pawes, Him follow'd by the tract of his outragious spoile.

As if he would have rent him with his cruell clawes : Through all estates he found that he had past, But he right well aware, his rage to ward, In which he many massacres had left,

Did cast his shield atweene; and, therewithall And to the clergy now was come at last ;

Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu'd so hard, lo which such spoile, such havoeke, and such theft That backeward he enforced him to fall; He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he bereft, And, being downe, ere he new helpe could call, Tbat endlesse were to tell. The Elfin knight, His shield he on him threw, and fast downe held; Who now no place besides unsought had left, Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall At length into a monastere did light, (might of butchers balefull band to ground is feld, Where he him found despoyling all with maine and is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly queld. Into their cloysters now he broken had, {there,

Full cruelly the beast did rage and rore Through which the monckes he chaced here and To be downe held, and maystred so with might, And them pursu'd into their dortours sad,

That he gan fret and fome out bloudy gore, And searched all their cels and secrets neare;

Striving in vaine to rere himself upright: In which what filth and ordure did appeare,

For still, the more he strove, the more the knight Were yrkesome to report; yet that foule beast,

Did bim suppresse, and forcibly subdew; Nought sparing them, the more did tosse and teare, That made him almost mad for fell despight : And ransacke all their dennes from most to least,

He grind, he bit, be scracht, he venim threw, Regarding nought religion por their holy heast.

And fared like a feend right borrible in hew :

Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine From thence into the sacred church he broke, And robd the chancell, and the deskes downe tbrew, After that he had labourd long in vaine

That great Alcides whilome overthrew, And altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke,

To crop his thousand heads, the which still new And the images, for all their goodly bew,

Forth budded, and in greater number grew. Did cast to ground, whilest none was them to rew;

Such was the fury of this hellish beast, So all confounded and disordered there:

Whilest Calidore him under him downe threw; But, seeing Calidore, away he fiew,

Who nathëmore his heavy load releast, [creast. Knowing his fatall hand by former feare;

But aye, the more he rag'd, the more his powre inBut he him fast pursuing soone approached neare.

Tho, when the beast saw he mote nought availe, Him in a narrow place be overtooke,

By force, he gan his hundred tongues apply, And fierce assailing forst him turne againe: And sharpely at him to revile and raile Sternely he tund againe, when he him strooke With bitter termes of shamefull infamy; With his sharpe steele, and ran at him amaine Oft interlacing many a forged lie, With open mouth, that seemed to containe Whose like he never once did speake, nor heare, A fall good pecke within the utmost brim, Nor ever thought thing so unworthily: All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine,

Yet did he nought, for all that, bim forbeare, That terrifide his foes, and armed him,

But strained him so streightly that he chokt him Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly grim: And therein were a thousand tongs empight At last, whenas he found his force to shrincke Of sundry kindes and sundry quality;

And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzle strong Some were of dogs, that barked day and night ; Of surest yron made with many a lincke; And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry; Therewith he mured up his mouth along, And some of beares, that groynd continually; And therein shut up his blasphemous tong, And some of tygres, that did seeine to gren For never more defaming gentle knight, And snar at all that ever passed by:

Or unto lovely lady doing wrong: But most of them were tongues of mortall men, And thereunto a great long chaine he tight, Which spake reprochfully, not caring where nor With which he drew him forth, even in his ow when.

despight.

neare.

wonne.

Like as whylóme that strong Tirynthian swaine So did he eeke long after this remaine,
Brought forth with him the dreadfull dog of Hell Untill that, (whether wicked fate so framed
Against his will fast bound in yron chaine, Or fault of nien) he broke his yron chaine,
And roring horribly did him compell

And got into the world at liberty againe.
To see the hatefull Sunne, that he might tell
To griesly Pluto, what on Earth was donne, Thenceforth more mischiefe and more seath he
And to the other damped ghosts which dwell To mortajl men then he had done before; (wrought
For aye in darkenesse which day-light dotb shonne: Ne ever could, by any, more be brought
So led this knight his captyve with like conquest Into like bands, ne maystred any more :

Albe that, long time after Calidore, Yet greatly did the beast repine at those

The good sir Pelleas him tooke in hand;

And after him sir Lamoracke of yore;
Straunge bands, whose like till then be never bore, And all his brethren borve in Britaine land;
Ne ever any durst till then impose;
And chauffed inly, seeing now no more

Yet none of them could ever bring him into band. Him liberty was left aloud to rore:

So now he raungeth through the world againe, Yet durst he not draw backe, nor once withstand

And rageth sore in each degree and state;
The proved powre of noble Calidore;
But trembled underneath his mighty hand, (land. He growen is so great and strong of late,

Ne any is that may him now restraine,
And like a fearefull dog him followed through the Barking and bring all that him doe bate,
Him throngh all Faery land he follow'd so, Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime;
As if he learned had obedience long,

Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,
That all the people, whereso he did go,

Ne sparetb he the gentle poets rime; Out of their townes did round abont him throng,

But rends, without regard of person or of time. To see him leade that beast in bondage strong; And, seeing it, much wondred at the sight:

Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest, And all such persons, as he earst did wrong,

Hope to escape his venemous despite, Reioyced much to see his captive plight, [knight. Froin blamefull blot, and free from all that wite

More than my farmer writs, all were they cleanest And much admyr'd the beast, but more admyrd the with which some wicked tongues did it backebite, Thus was this monster, by the maystring might And bring into a mighty peres displeasure, Of doughty Calidore, supprest and tamed, That never so deserved to endite. That never more he mote endammadge wight Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure, With his vile tongue, which many had defamed, Aud seeke to please; that now is counted wise mens And many causelesse caused to be blamed:

threasure.

TWO CANTOS OF MUTABILITIE:

WHICH, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTER, APPEARE TO BE PARCELL OF SOME FOLLOWING BOOKE OF

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

UNDER THE

LEGEND OF CONSTANCIE.

But first, here falleth fittest to unfold
CANTO VI.

Her antique race and linage ancient,

As I have found it registred of old
Proud Change (not pleasd io mortall things In Faery land mongst records permanent.
Beneath the Moone to raigne)

She was, to weet, a daughter by descent
Pretends, as well of gods as men,

Of those old Titans that did whylome strive
To be the soveraine.

With Saturncs sonne for Heavens regiment;

Whom though high love of kingdome did deprive, What man that sees the ever-whirling wheele

Yet many of their stemme long after did survive: of Change, the which all mortall things doth sway, And many of them afterwards obtain'd But that thereby doth find, and plainly feele, Great power of love, and bigh authority: How Mutability in them dotb play

As Hecatè, in whose almighty hand
Her cruell sports to many mens decay?

He plac't all rnle and principality,
Which that to all may better yet appeare, To be by her disposed diversly
I will rebearse, that whylome I heard say, To gods and men, as she them list divide;
How she at first berselfe began to reare

And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie Gainst all the gods, and th' empire sought from Warres and allarums unto nations wide, (pride. them to beare.

That makes both Hearen and Earth to tremble at ber So likewise did this Titanesse aspire

Boldly she bid the goddesse downe descend, Rule and dominion to berselfe to gaine;

And let herselfe into that ivory throne; That as a goddesse men might ber admire, For she herselfe more worthy thereof wend, And heavenly honours yield, as to them twaine : And better able it to guide alone; And first, on Earth she sought it to obtaine; Whether to men whose fall she did bemone, Where she such proofe and sad examples shewed Or unto gods whose state she did maligne, Of her great power, to many ones great paine, Or to th' infernall powers her need give lone That not men onely (whom she soone subdewed) Of her faire light and bounty most benigne, ). But eke all other creatures her bad dooings rewed. Herselfe of all that rule shee deemed most condigne. For she the face of earthly things 80 changed, But shee that had to her that soveraigne seat That all which Nature bad establisht first

By highest love assign'd, therein to beare In good estate, and in meet order ranged, Nights burning lamp, regarded not her threat, She did pervert, and all their statutes burst: Ne yielded ought for favour or for feare; And all the worlds faire frame (which none yet durst But, with sterne countenaunce and disdainfull cheare Of gods or men to alter or misguide)

Bending her borned browes, did put her back; She alter'd quite; and made them all accurst And, boldly blaming her for coming there, That God had blest, and did at first provide Bade her attonce from Heavens coast to pack, In that still happy state for ever to abide. Or at her perill bide the wratbfull thunders wrack. Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake,

Yet nathëmore the giantesse forbare; But eke of Justice, and of Policie;

But, boldly preacing on, raught forth her hand And wrong of right, and bad of good did make, To pluck her downe perforce from off ber chaire; And death for life exchanged foolishlie:

And, there-with lifting up her golden wand, Since which, all living wights have learn’d to die, Threatned to strike ber if she did with-stand: And all this world is woxen daily worse.

Whereat the starres, which round about her blazed, O pittious worke of Mutabilitie,

And eke the Moones bright wagon still did stand, By which we all are subiect to that curse, (nurse: All beeing with so bold attempt amazed, And death, in stead of life, have sucked from our And on her uncouth habit and sterne lovke still gazed.

And now, when all the Earth she thus had brought Mean while the lower world, which nothing knew To her behest and thralled to her might,

Of all that chaunced here, was darkned quite; She gan to cast in her ambitious th ht

And eke the Heayens, and all the heavenly crew T' attempt the empire of the Heavens bight, Of happy wights, now unpurvaide of light, And love himselfe to shoulder from his right. Were much afraid and wondred at that sight; And first, she past the region of the ayre

Fearing least Chaos broken had his chaine, And of the fire, whose substance thin and slight And brought againe on them eternall night; Made no resistance, ne could her contraire,

But chiefely Mercury, that next doth raigne, But ready passage to her pleasure did prepaire. Kan forth in haste unto the king of gods to plaine. Thence to the circle of the Moone she clambe,

All ran together with a great out-cry
Where Cynthia raignes in everlasting glory,

To loves faire palace fixt in Heavens bight;
To whose bright shining palace straight she came, And, beating at his gates full eamestly,
All fairely deckt with Heaveus goodly story;

Gan call to him aloud with all their might
Whose silver gates (by which there sate an bory

To know what meant that saddaine lack of light Old aged sire, with hower-glasse in hand,

The father of the gods, when this he heard, Hight Tyme) she entred, were he liefe or sory;

Was troubled much at their so strange affiight, Ne staide till she the highest stage had scand,

Doubting least Typhon were againe upreard, Where Cynthia did sit, that never still did stand.

Or other his old foes that once him sorely fear'd. Her sitting on an ivory throne shee found, Drawne of two stсeds, th' one black, the other white, Eftsoones the sonne of Main forth he sent Environd with tenne thousand starres around,

Downe to the circle of the Moone, to knowe That duly her attended day and night;

The cause of this so strange astonishment, And by her side there ran her page, that hight

And why shee did her wonted course forslove; Vesper, whom we the evening-starre intend;

And, if that any were on Earth belowe That with his torche, still twinkling like twylight,

That did with charmes or magick ber molest, Her lightened all the way where she should wend,

Him to attache, and downe to Hell to throwc; And ioy to weary wandring travailers did lend :

But if from Heaven it were, then to arrest

The author, and him bring before his presence prest. That when the hardy Titanesse beheld The goodly building of her palace bright,

The wingd-foot god so fast his plumes did beat, Made of the Heavens substance, and ap-beld That soune he came whereas the Titanesse With thousand crystall pillors of huge hight; Was striving with faire Cynthia for her seat ; Shee gan to burne in her ambitious spright, At whose strange sight and haughty hardinesse And t'envie her that in such glorie raigned. He wondred much, and feared her no lesse : Eftsoones she cast by force and tortious might Yet, laying feare aside to doe his charge, Her to displace, and to herselfe t' have gained At last he bade her, with bold stedfastnesse, The kingdome of the Night, and waters by her Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at large, wained.

Or come before bigh love her dooings to discharge.

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